Trying this again
Same old stuff as last time, 'cept maybe this time I'll get it right! Wish me luck! Hope you're all still feasting on chocolate.
PETSHOP PERPETUAL
Orcot shifted from one foot to the other, his legs stiff from the wait. His pocket chittered inquiringly. Leon patted it for reassurance and slipped in some more sunflower seeds. It was still a little chilly, even standing out of the wind in the thin early morning sunshine, and he and the little guy were getting cold. The white cardboard box in his other hand tilted precariously within its cage of string and he shifted again to keep it steady, leaning back against the wooden shop wall behind him. There’d be hell to pay if the cakes were damaged. The Count - if it was indeed him behind those wrought iron security gates- wouldn’t be happy with a slightly smushed offering. Plus, Leon had waited patiently for nearly an hour very early this morning to get them; he wasn’t going to dare ruin them now. They were the best to be had and if he was lucky, he’d need them.
Leon sighed, tucking his chin lower into his jacket to ward off the chill. Early spring in Japan was not a particularly warm place for a stakeout. He sure as hell hoped this was the Pet Shop he was looking for. The minute he’d hit Japan he’d started scouring the streets of Tokyo, searching determinedly for what eluded him every time: the latest incarnation of the Count’s Pet Shop. It would damned well kill him if he missed D yet again. In Sydney he’d been only a couple days too late. In Paris, though, there’d been only old, cold rumors to keep him going. New York’s Chinatown had been his best lead by far, but the Count had already been long gone by the time Leon had gotten his act together to go look.
When he started thinking back to all places he’d been, all in vain, it seemed like one hell of a long time since he’d left the US. Years. Ages. If he’d been with D this whole thing might of been kinda fun, but no, it wasn’t; he was still separated by some unknowable distance from the one he wanted. Still, here he was, once again patiently waiting in front of yet another possible pet shop in yet another Chinatown.
It wasn’t like he had a choice.
Leon had come out of the hospital drained and empty, a ‘mere shadow of his former self.’ He’d gone back to work still in zombie mode, steadfastly trying to put his Pet Shop days behind him and bury himself in work, but…the thrill of the chase was gone. He’d lost the spark, the conviction that he was on the side of justice. All that had been bright and clear had gone grey, dingy and careworn, like his apartment, like his heart. Work was dreary, food was tasteless and he couldn’t sleep. Nothing truly roused him from his deepening depression, not even Chris’s weekly phone calls. Even copious amounts of alcohol couldn’t dull the pain of D’s final rejection, the one he’d never even had a chance to argue. D’s mask had remained in place till the very end - Leon must have only imagined the tears. He’d been dumped, anyway - literally, figuratively, in every way that mattered.
The D-shaped hole in his heart gaped wider as the days dragged on, till Leon thought he could feel the wind in the alleys whistling through him. He felt transparent, as though his spirit really had departed with D. He grew thinner and gaunter and sharp-edged, till Jill took to bringing him food as well as coffee in the morning. Leon vaguely appreciated the gesture but the sight of Danish and doughnuts killed his weak appetite entirely. It was not the same, it would never be. He wanted strawberry tartes and cheesecake and Earl Grey tea in thin painted porcelain cups, all meant to be consumed while sitting opposite a beautiful Chinese man in a dress -- if only he could taste them again. But he couldn’t even dream of the possibility of seeing D once more. What if the Count turned away yet again, disgusted? Leon couldn’t help being human. He ate meat, and killed people for a living and worst of all, he’d been the one to kill D’s father. How could the Count ever forgive that?
Nearly six months passed before Leon bottomed out and began the slow crawl back up. Six months wasted before he’d figured out finally what he needed to do. Pining away wasn’t cutting it. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could sit still and die of a broken heart. He was still Detective Leon Orcot, his mother’s son, and he could not give up, not just yet.
On that note, he’d called Chris, told him he was coming to New York, ready to start his search for D. Chris had been supportive but he hadn’t really understood why Leon was suddenly so frantic. All Chris had been told was that the Count had gone on a long trip. Leon couldn’t explain it all to an eight-year-old, even a really perceptive one. His own decision had been a lightning strike, a perfect wave on a flat ocean, the first positive thing he’d felt in longer than he could remember. Of course, it was purely a hunch, as Leon wasn’t actually sure that the Count could be found. Maybe he’d retired, gone into hiding with only his animals. Maybe he’d found some other nosy policeman to watch over him. Maybe he’d moved on, returned to the dream world that Leon could never hope to enter by himself. Whatever, he had gone; it hurt constantly to be without him and in all his useless soul-searching, Leon had come up with only one cure.
In New York City, Orcott continued in the force. It was familiar, he knew what to do and he could get by. LAPD, NYPD - it no longer made a difference as long as he could use his police connections to locate D. He’d transferred there in early spring with a good word from his boss and started his search the moment he got off the plane. Within a few short weeks he knew he wasn’t going to find D there. Oh, he’d located the Shop alright, but there was old Chinese guy running it, a squat tubby man with droopy mustaches who seemed vaguely familiar. And, yes, the NYPD did have a few records of odd incidents involving exotic and recalcitrant pets but there was very little else official to go on. The only odd thing was the lack of fatalities. Then again, D was not his father, so Leon figured it made sense.
Leon started using his hard-won detective skills then. He hunted down the Count’s pet-owners and grilled them gently for information, but to no avail. He checked out the zoos and the museums and then went to every single bakery in the city and all the boroughs. He visited every Chinese dentist he could find and kept surveillance on the pretty ones, especially the two who favored leather in their off hours. He hung out in Chinatown for months, asking around, nosing out the locals who had known D. He ate there and shopped there and even got a room to rent right on the outskirts. Eventually it paid off - the Chinese shop owners ceased viewing him as a threat and a kook and he finally got hold of his first real information in what seemed a very long time.
A couple of the Shop’s neighbors had known the Count a little, at least in passing. They remembered odd scraps of conversation, along with the Count’s penchant for sweets. The Count had been disappointed - he’d been looking for some rare animal and New York had not panned out. So D had gone - where? Some other large city, they thought, some place that might be more fruitful. London, maybe? Paris? Beijing? The various shop keepers weren’t sure, but they agreed those were all good possibilities. One thing was certain, though: the trail in NYC was stone cold - it had taken 8 months altogether to get even this far. The only course left was to search outside the U.S. - leave his job, his country, his brother, all that was familiar. Leon considered long and hard but there was never really a choice. Yes, being a cop was important, but finding D was more so. There was no question that he would follow -- it was only a question of how.
So he’d quit without a single regret. He sent Chris his stuff, except the drawing his little brother had done so long ago. It was Leon’s family that Chris had captured in his child’s sketch. It was the one thing he carried everywhere, the one thing that had given him any hope at all. D was smiling…not the fake one, either, but something loving and warm. Even captured in a child’s scrawl it was the most precious thing Leon owned.
Leon debated back and forth - keep it or send it to Chris. After all, he really didn’t need the actual image at this point; it was already burned in his heart. Chris, well, he might be the one who’d need it more. Especially if Leon didn’t come back. He knew his search would not be easy; that it might even be dangerous, but it had been with a glad heart he made his decision. He could not stay in the good ol’ USA if the Count was out there somewhere. He could not turn back to what he had been before.
Fortune smiled and Leon landed the job he was hoping for - a security gig with the largest import/export company in Chinatown -- and hopped a cargo ship as a guard as soon as he decently could. He ended up keeping the drawing, though. Maybe the Count might want it back someday - it might be his ticket in the door.
The job with Sing’s took him all over the world. He’d been to Sydney twice, Taiwan at least five times and the port cities of Europe more often than he could count in the year and some he’d been doing this job. Every time he was ashore he’d search frantically. There was always a Chinatown, always a pet shop, but never the right one. He’d ended up concentrating on the major cities, travelling farther inland when he had to so he could check out places like Munich and Paris. He was positive D would never settle anywhere but a major metropolis, if only for the bakeries. The Count was creature who thrived in a big city. But there were so many possibilities, it was staggering. Orcot hadn’t gotten to Cairo or Rio de Janiero yet. The Count could be in Istanbul or Moscow and he hadn’t managed to get to those places either. It could take years.
Fucking years.
Of course, in Sydney he’d picked up Hamlin, the dwarf hamster whose utter cuteness belayed his nasty habit of biting unwary fingers and voraciously sucking blood. Leon regarded it as his first sign that he was even close to finding the Count and it had been purely serendipity. Orcot had been simply standing there outside the Count’s barred shop, cursing the fates that had delayed him from finding D’s latest hangout just one day sooner, when an irate Australian parent arrived, clutching a little plastic cage. The woman was incensed; her precious son had been bitten severely when he poked his probing fingers in the hamster’s miniature Tiki hut. Worse yet, the kid had woken screaming with nightmares every night, begging and sobbing for ‘it’ to ‘get away.’ Orcot immediately recognized the Count’s handiwork, wondering what sort of issues the tyke had that prompted D to land him with such a pet. Bully, maybe? Whatever. Hamlin was cute for a rodent and he was company, something Leon sorely missed. Nights on the cargo ships were lonely and he himself was plagued with nightmares. After he took Hamlin in, it got better. There were even good dreams, ones that left him hot and bothered in the morning but happy and full of hope.
Tokyo was a more likely choice than some of the cities he’d visited. The Count was Chinese. He could probably speak Japanese. Leon had picked up bits and pieces of the language here and there, from the sailors and in the ports, enough to help him find a cheap hotel and some information about the city, enough to get around. The blonde guy and his Japanese friend at the bar last night had helped as well. The man was probably an ex-patriot and maybe even a New Yorker; he spoke English so fluently. His buddy Okamura knew all bakeries, oddly enough, and had recommended the one called Antique when Leon said he needed a really stellar one. They couldn’t help with the pet shops, but at least he’d gotten a better idea of where to look for the price of a few beers. He had tried any number of pet shops yesterday and the one before him now was one of the last left on his list. It was the most likely yet, he had thought when he came upon it yesterday evening, well after closing. But he could not read the sign and the ship sailed in less than 48 hours. Time was running out.
He checked his watch, a present from his aunt and uncle, given when they’d ‘stopped by’ the Christmas Chris lived with the Count. It was almost 8 am, and with luck the pet shop would open soon. The Count had always been an early riser. Leon wasn’t as relaxed as he’d been when he had first arrived here a couple of hours ago, offering in hand, hamster in pocket. His breathing was noticeably faster now and he could feel his pulse quickening. It was hope, he knew, and the fear of disappointment. It happened every time he thought he might have finally found the Count. He remembered odd things at times like these, flashes of images and warmth that left him hungry for more. His mind skittered nervously away from them as he tried to think of what he might say to the man he’d been seeking for so long. It was enough that he knew why he was here - he didn’t have to actually think about it.
The street was coming alive with morning shoppers. The soba shop served yet another customer and the bell rang constantly on the swinging shop door of the convenience store next to that. More people were out and about, after the lull in the commuter rush, and the sidewalk was getting crowded. Shuffled by the growing crowd from his safe harbor behind the welcome banners of the soba shop, Leon nearly missed the sight of the wrought-iron safety gate swinging open across the street. There was a man there, in Asian garb, dark hair, the right height and build. He slipped back inside the shop before Orcot got a really good look, but the glimpse left Leon weak with relief.
Leon made his across the street, hands shaking, the box rattling a little from the movement. He tried to remember how to breathe normally. Hamlin caught his nervousness and began to chirrup in Leon’s pocket, poking his little head out to see what was going on. Leon took deep breaths, tucked the cake box firmly under one arm and then reached out for the door handle, an ornate brass one shaped like a lion’s head. His palm slipped a little with sweat as he turned it. The carved wooden door opened too easily, bells jangling madly as Leon inadvertently swung it wide. With a lurch, he stumbled through the door into a 19th century Oriental boudoir, stuffed to the gills with potted palm trees and large porcelain vases, tasseled silk hangings and wicker whatnots.
Leon blinked in the dimmer light inside, cursing a little under his breath at the bells still clanging. Yup, it was the same - thank god, thank god! - the same faint sweet scent he remembered, the same crowded and subtly well-used opulence, even if the furniture was a little different from before. This had to be the right place - no other pet shop was quite like the Count’s.
“You tell me I shall meet him soon? What, I wonder, is he like?” an unfamiliar voice was saying. Teacups clinked on saucers a little distance away.
There were two men inside the shop, a tea table between them. The one Leon had seen earlier was seated on a flowered couch, turned away from the door. In a matching armchair that faced the couch sat the other man and he - he was simply incredible. He was truly exotic - there was no other way to describe him. Two tendrils of his waist-length light brown hair hung down his chest, caught at chin level with round golden clasps, and he wore a fancy hat that reminded Leon of a tiara with feathers. His robe was gorgeous, a delicate pale silk painted with flowers and vines, with a brilliant blue silk surcoat over top. His lavender eyes were outlined with kohl and seemed depthless, and his face was exquisite. He was male, though, no doubt about it. Leon was sure of that, even with the get-up and the eyeliner. Leon’s eyes widened at the sight of the two in intimate conversation; his first thought was that he was interrupting, and his rude intrusion was made painfully obvious when the fabulous creature turned to look his way, eyebrows raised in faint surprise. The other man turned as well in response to the jingling door bells and Leon forgot his incipient embarrassment, nearly dropping the cake box clutched to his chest.
It was D!
The sight of him filled Leon’s entire universe, and there was no room for any other than D.
Leon opened his mouth but no words came out. The beautiful creature opposite him was utterly forgotten; Leon looked only at the Count, easily recognizable now as he turned to face the doorway. It was surreal moment, a scene ripped from one the dreams Leon had after Hamlin came, one of the good ones, when his endless chase had resulted in capture…and D smiling at him again.
The Count had stood hastily in his surprise. His odd eyes locked on Leon’s and as he moved a little too swiftly around the sofa, he nearly stumbled. The other man reached out to steady him with great grace, his action entirely unnoticed by both Orcot and D himself as he rapidly crossed to the tiled entryway where Leon stood playing statues.
“Mr. Detective? Leon?”
“D!”
Leon reached out unthinking and once again remembered the cake box just in time. He caught it and offered it wordlessly, drinking in the sight of his elegant Count, clad in a matte black satin tunic and thin silk trousers. A scarlet dragon undulated up D’s chest and shoulder, frozen in embroidered threads, and his lips were only a shade darker than the thread. He was beautiful, a wondrous vision for a man left half-alive and starving for so long.
Hamlin trilled, loudly and suddenly, as the Count moved hastily forward to take the bakery box Leon shoved at him and the piercing sound startled the Count further. He pitched forward, just a little too far off-balance, and ended up in Leon’s arms, the cake box, now slightly crumpled around the edges, wedged between them like a shield. There was a moment’s uncomfortable pause and the slight sound of D catching his breath. Almost immediately D stepped back and Leon let his now empty arms slowly drop to his sides, his heart ricocheting around his chest like an eight ball. D stared at him, silent and now very pale, and the beautiful man Leon had noticed earlier moved swiftly and quietly to stand just behind him, pressing up against D’s back. Jealousy clogged Leon’s throat as he watched D subtly relax and regain a remnant of his usual smile.
What the fuck was this?
“Leon, this is a surprise. I never expected to see here in Japan.” The Count smiled - the fake one, the one he used to hide behind - and nervously stroked the bakery box. “I see you’ve brought me something from Antique. Everything they prepare is first-rate. You must taste their choux. Simply delicious! Please, come and have tea with us.” The Count had obviously recovered, even if Leon had not. The beautiful man behind him smiled at politely Leon as well but his lavender eyes were curiously opaque. Leon shivered, uneasy. He hadn’t expected this.
The Count waved an airy hand toward the tea table and the sofa, beckoning Leon to sit. Leon stumbled forward stiffly and sullenly, nearly tripping over the beautiful man’s hem in the process. He sat down heavily on the couch, disconcerted by this turn-of-events, and then suddenly remembered Hamlin. Opening his pocket flap, he coaxed the curious little brown-and-cream hamster out on his palm. Hamlin sat up, gnawing on the sunflower seed Orcot had thoughtfully given him, and stared at the Count, emitting almost soundless noises of excitement.
“Oh, you’ve found Hamlin!” the Count positively cooed. “That’s wonderful, Leon. I was worried about him, there with that nasty boy. I am so glad he came to you.” D leaned over and rubbed a gentle fingertip across the top of Hamlin’s little head. The hamster chirruped in return, apparently greeting him.
“I thought so,” Leon muttered to himself and took the teacup the Count offered in his other hand. The Count continued to smile in his direction and Leon felt himself growing a little calmer. It was just like it used to be, he thought, sipping tea and trying to figure out how he would juggle Hamlin and the cake plate the Count offered next.
The beautiful man chuckled, obviously amused at Orcot’s predicament. Leon’s brief calm fled as he focused once again on this potential rival. Just who was this guy? One of D’s friends? A pet? A client, maybe? He looked carefully at the two of them, now chatting amiably away, and decided the pretty guy was damned hard to read. He didn’t seem quite ‘right’ and that outfit sure as shit wasn’t what you saw on the streets in Tokyo nowadays. Still, the guy was certainly very much at home here. Leon didn’t like that one bit but he didn’t know how to pry him out of that chair and out the door without pissing off the Count. Stymied and disgruntled, Leon watched the Count yukking it up at pretty boy’s remarks until Hamlin ran out of seeds and bit him gently on the forefinger to let him know. Leon quickly balanced the cake plate on his cup and perched Hamlin on his knee, fumbling in the breast pocket of his denim jacket for more. He knew what came next if Hamlin didn’t get his seeds and he didn’t think D wanted him bleeding all over the furniture. Or maybe he did. Leon wasn’t so sure anymore. He wasn’t sure of much.
Finally, the Count turned back to him. “Leon, I almost neglected to introduce you. This is Lord Sohki, an honored and recent friend, and Lord Sohki, may I introduce you to Detective Leon Orcot, of the LAPD, come to visit me from America. He is a gentleman renowned for ‘getting his man,’ as they say in the force.”
Lord Sohki smiled and nodded politely in his general direction and Leon’s hackles rose. Those emotionless purple eyes gave him the shivers. Just as politely, Leon smiled and nodded in return, but his smile felt more like a rictus creasing his stiff face. ‘Lord’ was it? Great, just great. He was just a lowly security guard, with not even a badge to hide behind. No wonder he felt he’d been intruding - this Sohki dude outclassed him 10 times over. The whole situation sucked. It was nothing liked he hoped his meeting with Count would be.
PETSHOP PERPETUAL
Orcot shifted from one foot to the other, his legs stiff from the wait. His pocket chittered inquiringly. Leon patted it for reassurance and slipped in some more sunflower seeds. It was still a little chilly, even standing out of the wind in the thin early morning sunshine, and he and the little guy were getting cold. The white cardboard box in his other hand tilted precariously within its cage of string and he shifted again to keep it steady, leaning back against the wooden shop wall behind him. There’d be hell to pay if the cakes were damaged. The Count - if it was indeed him behind those wrought iron security gates- wouldn’t be happy with a slightly smushed offering. Plus, Leon had waited patiently for nearly an hour very early this morning to get them; he wasn’t going to dare ruin them now. They were the best to be had and if he was lucky, he’d need them.
Leon sighed, tucking his chin lower into his jacket to ward off the chill. Early spring in Japan was not a particularly warm place for a stakeout. He sure as hell hoped this was the Pet Shop he was looking for. The minute he’d hit Japan he’d started scouring the streets of Tokyo, searching determinedly for what eluded him every time: the latest incarnation of the Count’s Pet Shop. It would damned well kill him if he missed D yet again. In Sydney he’d been only a couple days too late. In Paris, though, there’d been only old, cold rumors to keep him going. New York’s Chinatown had been his best lead by far, but the Count had already been long gone by the time Leon had gotten his act together to go look.
When he started thinking back to all places he’d been, all in vain, it seemed like one hell of a long time since he’d left the US. Years. Ages. If he’d been with D this whole thing might of been kinda fun, but no, it wasn’t; he was still separated by some unknowable distance from the one he wanted. Still, here he was, once again patiently waiting in front of yet another possible pet shop in yet another Chinatown.
It wasn’t like he had a choice.
Leon had come out of the hospital drained and empty, a ‘mere shadow of his former self.’ He’d gone back to work still in zombie mode, steadfastly trying to put his Pet Shop days behind him and bury himself in work, but…the thrill of the chase was gone. He’d lost the spark, the conviction that he was on the side of justice. All that had been bright and clear had gone grey, dingy and careworn, like his apartment, like his heart. Work was dreary, food was tasteless and he couldn’t sleep. Nothing truly roused him from his deepening depression, not even Chris’s weekly phone calls. Even copious amounts of alcohol couldn’t dull the pain of D’s final rejection, the one he’d never even had a chance to argue. D’s mask had remained in place till the very end - Leon must have only imagined the tears. He’d been dumped, anyway - literally, figuratively, in every way that mattered.
The D-shaped hole in his heart gaped wider as the days dragged on, till Leon thought he could feel the wind in the alleys whistling through him. He felt transparent, as though his spirit really had departed with D. He grew thinner and gaunter and sharp-edged, till Jill took to bringing him food as well as coffee in the morning. Leon vaguely appreciated the gesture but the sight of Danish and doughnuts killed his weak appetite entirely. It was not the same, it would never be. He wanted strawberry tartes and cheesecake and Earl Grey tea in thin painted porcelain cups, all meant to be consumed while sitting opposite a beautiful Chinese man in a dress -- if only he could taste them again. But he couldn’t even dream of the possibility of seeing D once more. What if the Count turned away yet again, disgusted? Leon couldn’t help being human. He ate meat, and killed people for a living and worst of all, he’d been the one to kill D’s father. How could the Count ever forgive that?
Nearly six months passed before Leon bottomed out and began the slow crawl back up. Six months wasted before he’d figured out finally what he needed to do. Pining away wasn’t cutting it. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could sit still and die of a broken heart. He was still Detective Leon Orcot, his mother’s son, and he could not give up, not just yet.
On that note, he’d called Chris, told him he was coming to New York, ready to start his search for D. Chris had been supportive but he hadn’t really understood why Leon was suddenly so frantic. All Chris had been told was that the Count had gone on a long trip. Leon couldn’t explain it all to an eight-year-old, even a really perceptive one. His own decision had been a lightning strike, a perfect wave on a flat ocean, the first positive thing he’d felt in longer than he could remember. Of course, it was purely a hunch, as Leon wasn’t actually sure that the Count could be found. Maybe he’d retired, gone into hiding with only his animals. Maybe he’d found some other nosy policeman to watch over him. Maybe he’d moved on, returned to the dream world that Leon could never hope to enter by himself. Whatever, he had gone; it hurt constantly to be without him and in all his useless soul-searching, Leon had come up with only one cure.
In New York City, Orcott continued in the force. It was familiar, he knew what to do and he could get by. LAPD, NYPD - it no longer made a difference as long as he could use his police connections to locate D. He’d transferred there in early spring with a good word from his boss and started his search the moment he got off the plane. Within a few short weeks he knew he wasn’t going to find D there. Oh, he’d located the Shop alright, but there was old Chinese guy running it, a squat tubby man with droopy mustaches who seemed vaguely familiar. And, yes, the NYPD did have a few records of odd incidents involving exotic and recalcitrant pets but there was very little else official to go on. The only odd thing was the lack of fatalities. Then again, D was not his father, so Leon figured it made sense.
Leon started using his hard-won detective skills then. He hunted down the Count’s pet-owners and grilled them gently for information, but to no avail. He checked out the zoos and the museums and then went to every single bakery in the city and all the boroughs. He visited every Chinese dentist he could find and kept surveillance on the pretty ones, especially the two who favored leather in their off hours. He hung out in Chinatown for months, asking around, nosing out the locals who had known D. He ate there and shopped there and even got a room to rent right on the outskirts. Eventually it paid off - the Chinese shop owners ceased viewing him as a threat and a kook and he finally got hold of his first real information in what seemed a very long time.
A couple of the Shop’s neighbors had known the Count a little, at least in passing. They remembered odd scraps of conversation, along with the Count’s penchant for sweets. The Count had been disappointed - he’d been looking for some rare animal and New York had not panned out. So D had gone - where? Some other large city, they thought, some place that might be more fruitful. London, maybe? Paris? Beijing? The various shop keepers weren’t sure, but they agreed those were all good possibilities. One thing was certain, though: the trail in NYC was stone cold - it had taken 8 months altogether to get even this far. The only course left was to search outside the U.S. - leave his job, his country, his brother, all that was familiar. Leon considered long and hard but there was never really a choice. Yes, being a cop was important, but finding D was more so. There was no question that he would follow -- it was only a question of how.
So he’d quit without a single regret. He sent Chris his stuff, except the drawing his little brother had done so long ago. It was Leon’s family that Chris had captured in his child’s sketch. It was the one thing he carried everywhere, the one thing that had given him any hope at all. D was smiling…not the fake one, either, but something loving and warm. Even captured in a child’s scrawl it was the most precious thing Leon owned.
Leon debated back and forth - keep it or send it to Chris. After all, he really didn’t need the actual image at this point; it was already burned in his heart. Chris, well, he might be the one who’d need it more. Especially if Leon didn’t come back. He knew his search would not be easy; that it might even be dangerous, but it had been with a glad heart he made his decision. He could not stay in the good ol’ USA if the Count was out there somewhere. He could not turn back to what he had been before.
Fortune smiled and Leon landed the job he was hoping for - a security gig with the largest import/export company in Chinatown -- and hopped a cargo ship as a guard as soon as he decently could. He ended up keeping the drawing, though. Maybe the Count might want it back someday - it might be his ticket in the door.
The job with Sing’s took him all over the world. He’d been to Sydney twice, Taiwan at least five times and the port cities of Europe more often than he could count in the year and some he’d been doing this job. Every time he was ashore he’d search frantically. There was always a Chinatown, always a pet shop, but never the right one. He’d ended up concentrating on the major cities, travelling farther inland when he had to so he could check out places like Munich and Paris. He was positive D would never settle anywhere but a major metropolis, if only for the bakeries. The Count was creature who thrived in a big city. But there were so many possibilities, it was staggering. Orcot hadn’t gotten to Cairo or Rio de Janiero yet. The Count could be in Istanbul or Moscow and he hadn’t managed to get to those places either. It could take years.
Fucking years.
Of course, in Sydney he’d picked up Hamlin, the dwarf hamster whose utter cuteness belayed his nasty habit of biting unwary fingers and voraciously sucking blood. Leon regarded it as his first sign that he was even close to finding the Count and it had been purely serendipity. Orcot had been simply standing there outside the Count’s barred shop, cursing the fates that had delayed him from finding D’s latest hangout just one day sooner, when an irate Australian parent arrived, clutching a little plastic cage. The woman was incensed; her precious son had been bitten severely when he poked his probing fingers in the hamster’s miniature Tiki hut. Worse yet, the kid had woken screaming with nightmares every night, begging and sobbing for ‘it’ to ‘get away.’ Orcot immediately recognized the Count’s handiwork, wondering what sort of issues the tyke had that prompted D to land him with such a pet. Bully, maybe? Whatever. Hamlin was cute for a rodent and he was company, something Leon sorely missed. Nights on the cargo ships were lonely and he himself was plagued with nightmares. After he took Hamlin in, it got better. There were even good dreams, ones that left him hot and bothered in the morning but happy and full of hope.
Tokyo was a more likely choice than some of the cities he’d visited. The Count was Chinese. He could probably speak Japanese. Leon had picked up bits and pieces of the language here and there, from the sailors and in the ports, enough to help him find a cheap hotel and some information about the city, enough to get around. The blonde guy and his Japanese friend at the bar last night had helped as well. The man was probably an ex-patriot and maybe even a New Yorker; he spoke English so fluently. His buddy Okamura knew all bakeries, oddly enough, and had recommended the one called Antique when Leon said he needed a really stellar one. They couldn’t help with the pet shops, but at least he’d gotten a better idea of where to look for the price of a few beers. He had tried any number of pet shops yesterday and the one before him now was one of the last left on his list. It was the most likely yet, he had thought when he came upon it yesterday evening, well after closing. But he could not read the sign and the ship sailed in less than 48 hours. Time was running out.
He checked his watch, a present from his aunt and uncle, given when they’d ‘stopped by’ the Christmas Chris lived with the Count. It was almost 8 am, and with luck the pet shop would open soon. The Count had always been an early riser. Leon wasn’t as relaxed as he’d been when he had first arrived here a couple of hours ago, offering in hand, hamster in pocket. His breathing was noticeably faster now and he could feel his pulse quickening. It was hope, he knew, and the fear of disappointment. It happened every time he thought he might have finally found the Count. He remembered odd things at times like these, flashes of images and warmth that left him hungry for more. His mind skittered nervously away from them as he tried to think of what he might say to the man he’d been seeking for so long. It was enough that he knew why he was here - he didn’t have to actually think about it.
The street was coming alive with morning shoppers. The soba shop served yet another customer and the bell rang constantly on the swinging shop door of the convenience store next to that. More people were out and about, after the lull in the commuter rush, and the sidewalk was getting crowded. Shuffled by the growing crowd from his safe harbor behind the welcome banners of the soba shop, Leon nearly missed the sight of the wrought-iron safety gate swinging open across the street. There was a man there, in Asian garb, dark hair, the right height and build. He slipped back inside the shop before Orcot got a really good look, but the glimpse left Leon weak with relief.
Leon made his across the street, hands shaking, the box rattling a little from the movement. He tried to remember how to breathe normally. Hamlin caught his nervousness and began to chirrup in Leon’s pocket, poking his little head out to see what was going on. Leon took deep breaths, tucked the cake box firmly under one arm and then reached out for the door handle, an ornate brass one shaped like a lion’s head. His palm slipped a little with sweat as he turned it. The carved wooden door opened too easily, bells jangling madly as Leon inadvertently swung it wide. With a lurch, he stumbled through the door into a 19th century Oriental boudoir, stuffed to the gills with potted palm trees and large porcelain vases, tasseled silk hangings and wicker whatnots.
Leon blinked in the dimmer light inside, cursing a little under his breath at the bells still clanging. Yup, it was the same - thank god, thank god! - the same faint sweet scent he remembered, the same crowded and subtly well-used opulence, even if the furniture was a little different from before. This had to be the right place - no other pet shop was quite like the Count’s.
“You tell me I shall meet him soon? What, I wonder, is he like?” an unfamiliar voice was saying. Teacups clinked on saucers a little distance away.
There were two men inside the shop, a tea table between them. The one Leon had seen earlier was seated on a flowered couch, turned away from the door. In a matching armchair that faced the couch sat the other man and he - he was simply incredible. He was truly exotic - there was no other way to describe him. Two tendrils of his waist-length light brown hair hung down his chest, caught at chin level with round golden clasps, and he wore a fancy hat that reminded Leon of a tiara with feathers. His robe was gorgeous, a delicate pale silk painted with flowers and vines, with a brilliant blue silk surcoat over top. His lavender eyes were outlined with kohl and seemed depthless, and his face was exquisite. He was male, though, no doubt about it. Leon was sure of that, even with the get-up and the eyeliner. Leon’s eyes widened at the sight of the two in intimate conversation; his first thought was that he was interrupting, and his rude intrusion was made painfully obvious when the fabulous creature turned to look his way, eyebrows raised in faint surprise. The other man turned as well in response to the jingling door bells and Leon forgot his incipient embarrassment, nearly dropping the cake box clutched to his chest.
It was D!
The sight of him filled Leon’s entire universe, and there was no room for any other than D.
Leon opened his mouth but no words came out. The beautiful creature opposite him was utterly forgotten; Leon looked only at the Count, easily recognizable now as he turned to face the doorway. It was surreal moment, a scene ripped from one the dreams Leon had after Hamlin came, one of the good ones, when his endless chase had resulted in capture…and D smiling at him again.
The Count had stood hastily in his surprise. His odd eyes locked on Leon’s and as he moved a little too swiftly around the sofa, he nearly stumbled. The other man reached out to steady him with great grace, his action entirely unnoticed by both Orcot and D himself as he rapidly crossed to the tiled entryway where Leon stood playing statues.
“Mr. Detective? Leon?”
“D!”
Leon reached out unthinking and once again remembered the cake box just in time. He caught it and offered it wordlessly, drinking in the sight of his elegant Count, clad in a matte black satin tunic and thin silk trousers. A scarlet dragon undulated up D’s chest and shoulder, frozen in embroidered threads, and his lips were only a shade darker than the thread. He was beautiful, a wondrous vision for a man left half-alive and starving for so long.
Hamlin trilled, loudly and suddenly, as the Count moved hastily forward to take the bakery box Leon shoved at him and the piercing sound startled the Count further. He pitched forward, just a little too far off-balance, and ended up in Leon’s arms, the cake box, now slightly crumpled around the edges, wedged between them like a shield. There was a moment’s uncomfortable pause and the slight sound of D catching his breath. Almost immediately D stepped back and Leon let his now empty arms slowly drop to his sides, his heart ricocheting around his chest like an eight ball. D stared at him, silent and now very pale, and the beautiful man Leon had noticed earlier moved swiftly and quietly to stand just behind him, pressing up against D’s back. Jealousy clogged Leon’s throat as he watched D subtly relax and regain a remnant of his usual smile.
What the fuck was this?
“Leon, this is a surprise. I never expected to see here in Japan.” The Count smiled - the fake one, the one he used to hide behind - and nervously stroked the bakery box. “I see you’ve brought me something from Antique. Everything they prepare is first-rate. You must taste their choux. Simply delicious! Please, come and have tea with us.” The Count had obviously recovered, even if Leon had not. The beautiful man behind him smiled at politely Leon as well but his lavender eyes were curiously opaque. Leon shivered, uneasy. He hadn’t expected this.
The Count waved an airy hand toward the tea table and the sofa, beckoning Leon to sit. Leon stumbled forward stiffly and sullenly, nearly tripping over the beautiful man’s hem in the process. He sat down heavily on the couch, disconcerted by this turn-of-events, and then suddenly remembered Hamlin. Opening his pocket flap, he coaxed the curious little brown-and-cream hamster out on his palm. Hamlin sat up, gnawing on the sunflower seed Orcot had thoughtfully given him, and stared at the Count, emitting almost soundless noises of excitement.
“Oh, you’ve found Hamlin!” the Count positively cooed. “That’s wonderful, Leon. I was worried about him, there with that nasty boy. I am so glad he came to you.” D leaned over and rubbed a gentle fingertip across the top of Hamlin’s little head. The hamster chirruped in return, apparently greeting him.
“I thought so,” Leon muttered to himself and took the teacup the Count offered in his other hand. The Count continued to smile in his direction and Leon felt himself growing a little calmer. It was just like it used to be, he thought, sipping tea and trying to figure out how he would juggle Hamlin and the cake plate the Count offered next.
The beautiful man chuckled, obviously amused at Orcot’s predicament. Leon’s brief calm fled as he focused once again on this potential rival. Just who was this guy? One of D’s friends? A pet? A client, maybe? He looked carefully at the two of them, now chatting amiably away, and decided the pretty guy was damned hard to read. He didn’t seem quite ‘right’ and that outfit sure as shit wasn’t what you saw on the streets in Tokyo nowadays. Still, the guy was certainly very much at home here. Leon didn’t like that one bit but he didn’t know how to pry him out of that chair and out the door without pissing off the Count. Stymied and disgruntled, Leon watched the Count yukking it up at pretty boy’s remarks until Hamlin ran out of seeds and bit him gently on the forefinger to let him know. Leon quickly balanced the cake plate on his cup and perched Hamlin on his knee, fumbling in the breast pocket of his denim jacket for more. He knew what came next if Hamlin didn’t get his seeds and he didn’t think D wanted him bleeding all over the furniture. Or maybe he did. Leon wasn’t so sure anymore. He wasn’t sure of much.
Finally, the Count turned back to him. “Leon, I almost neglected to introduce you. This is Lord Sohki, an honored and recent friend, and Lord Sohki, may I introduce you to Detective Leon Orcot, of the LAPD, come to visit me from America. He is a gentleman renowned for ‘getting his man,’ as they say in the force.”
Lord Sohki smiled and nodded politely in his general direction and Leon’s hackles rose. Those emotionless purple eyes gave him the shivers. Just as politely, Leon smiled and nodded in return, but his smile felt more like a rictus creasing his stiff face. ‘Lord’ was it? Great, just great. He was just a lowly security guard, with not even a badge to hide behind. No wonder he felt he’d been intruding - this Sohki dude outclassed him 10 times over. The whole situation sucked. It was nothing liked he hoped his meeting with Count would be.