Zantafio & Seccotine - We're Good When We're Bad Together

-Part 2: Their definition for the great big word-

Time went on, and Zantafio and Seccotine stayed together. They had a good relationship, healthy if peculiar, both of them happy with what they had.

Zantafio did not change his ways, but for all his eccentricities and all his criminal activities, he always tried to put his Seccotine first. He took her to such lovely places, though it did seem they had to move from one country to another fairly often. Irritated, she warned him to be more subtle with his plots, at the very least, and he agreed that was best, promising to be more careful the next time. They moved to Portugal after that, and then spent some time in French Polynesia, before heading back home to Belgium for a spell, the one place no one would ever expect Zantafio to show his face. They were never bored.

Not too long after that last move, she spotted them. It was a strange feeling for Seccotine, seeing Spirou and Fantasio again for the first time since she'd gotten together with Zantafio. They knew that he was here, they were looking for him. They wanted to stop him from doing whatever it was he was doing. They asked her what she was doing in their usual ways- Spirou perfectly polite and Fantasio rather a bit begrudging.

Of course, she took Zantafio's side. "I'm out here for a story of my own," she told them. "I'm afraid I haven't seen Zantafio anywhere. Why, what's he done this time?"

"We're afraid he's after the museum's new exhibit," Spirou answered, telling too much just like always. "They've got a bunch of new artifacts from Peru, and we know that Zantafio's been scouting it out."

"That sounds just like the scoundrel," Seccotine said. She meant it, and she knew Spirou was right about the brunet scouting it out. So much for being careful. "Well, I'll do whatever I can to help, just let me know, okay?" She smiled as sweetly as she could, and next to Spirou, Fantasio frowned. Did he suspect something, or did he just dislike her tone?

That was the end of their conversation. The young men both thanked her politely and she bid them farewell and went off on her way. Back to Zantafio. And she really didn't feel badly about that. Still, as something of a quiet gesture, she decided to see if she could get him to call it off, ignore the exhibit. It would be best for everyone, since it would keep Spirou and Fantasio from getting hurt, and Zantafio from getting hurt worse, and probably arrested.

The thoughts followed her through the afternoon, and so, that evening, she approached him about it.

"Call it off? Just because of those two?" Zantafio asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Seccotine said firmly. "They know you're coming; all you'll end up doing is getting yourself arrested."

Zantafio huffed. "After all the work I've put into this heist..." He grumbled, and turned to face her, look her in the eyes. He stood silently for a moment, looking deep into her blue eyes, seeing the earnesty in them, and then finally sighed roughly. "You're right, damn it, I know you are!" He turned and threw his arms up into the air. "What am I supposed to do with those two idiots sniffing around?" Suddenly he wheeled around again. "I've got it! Yes! I'll have my men lie in wait for them, and when they come, I'll take them both out in one fell swoop!" He brought his fist down onto his flat palm for emphasis.

Seccotine frowned. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." She said uneasily. Really, they had their differences, but that didn't mean she wanted Spirou and Fantasio dead. No matter how strongly she felt about Zantafio, she wasn't sure she could look him in the eye if he'd killed the both of them, especially seeing as Fantasio was his own cousin, flesh and blood.

Zantafio tipped his head to one side. "What do you mean?" He asked. Did he really not get it?

"I just... I don't want all of this getting out of hand. I don't want them dead, I don't want you getting killed yourself, or hurt, or sent up for murder or some combination of those things..." Seccotine rubbed her arm uneasily as she spoke. "Why don't you just let this one go and we'll find you some other big shiny treasure to steal? Something even better? Something that Spirou and Fantasio aren't already protecting? Come on, you've got to know that isn't worth it, there's no way this is going to work out!"

Zantafio rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Seccotine was the only one who could make him reconsider something like this, when he had his black heart all good and set on it. She hoped that he would agree with her. They both knew she was absolutely right about this, and one exhibit was not worth the damage they would certainly suffer.

Finally, thankfully, he conceded. "Bah, you're probably right. There are just- too many ways for this to get messy." He said, tossing his hand out dramatically. "Perhaps we should try a different approach, or... perhaps even just look elsewhere."

Deep down- and Seccotine had a feeling this was the case- Zantafio still wanted to go ahead and try it anyway, as foolish as it was. He was not the most sensible man, no matter how clever he truly was.

But she had implored him not to, and even though he knew that was partly for the sake of his enemies, and not just for himself, he agreed. There were many complicated lines of thought in that head of his, and many reasons for him to agree with her, but in the end it was the fact that he did that mattered.

Satisfied and relieved, Seccotine kissed him, and pulled his jacket down his arms, initiating something much more. A distraction and reward both.

That event pushed their relationship further and deeper. Zantafio had proven how he felt, how satisfying her and keeping himself out of a potentially deadly situation was more important than a chance at revenge against his two least favorite individuals.

And it kept on building that way, give and take. They were both such flawed creatures, who would take them but one another? And finally Seccotine was ready to put a name on it, to say that great big word that for so long, neither of them had been willing to utter.

It was night, the stars were out, and they were together on the well-lit walkway outside their current hotel. It was a beautiful night, a moving night, and the word had been on the tip of her tongue all until this moment, getting bigger and bigger until she had no choice but to stop him and tell him, to say it out loud.

"Zantafio, listen," she started, uneasily. She never thought she should want to say this to anyone. But here she was. And so was he, the scoundrel; that dreadful, selfish, vain, wonderful, charming and fiercely loyal man... She would say it to him. She would give him herself.

"Yes, my dove?" Zantafio stopped, looked at her, still smiling. But that smile faded quickly as he saw how serious she looked, she way her face and stance were now. He wasn't sure he liked that look- after all, what did it mean? "Seccotine, what's wrong?"

"I just- there's something you need you to know. Look, Zantafio..." Seccotine paused, took a deep breath. "I love you." Her eyes were deadly serious, and her lower lip trembled just slightly, as if to underscore the words.

Zantafio froze. His expression just then was hard to read, he looked at her as if she'd said something utterly foreign to him, something he almost understood, but not quite. For the first time in his life, he was speechless, trying to find words that slipped easily away from him.

His thoughts came quickly, fluid but hazy. What was this? Was he paralyzed by the words? Was this a spell that Seccotine had cast over Zantafio to enslave him?

Well, if it was a spell... he was certain it had worked.

He opened his mouth, but still found it impossible to speak. Finally, he turned away from her, but he could feel his heart pounding, and it made him feel afraid in a way that nothing else could, not enemy guns or Spirou's fists or the threat of defeat. But he would not leave.

"I don't know what to say," he said, and he hated how the words sounded because he always knew what to say. This was just so unexpected, so suddenly real. It wasn't as though he hadn't known what he felt for Seccotine, but the words were foreign to him, like a sorceress's runes. What did they mean to him? How was he supposed to react?

"Don't say anything if you can't." Seccotine replied, taking a step toward him. With her long, slender fingers, she touched his jaw, turned his head so that he had no choice but to face her, look into those deep blue eyes and see, understand how much she had meant what she said.

Zantafio thought this over, and finally said, "I want you to stay with me."

Seccotine smiled understandingly. Even though she had bared her heart to him, he wasn't trying to push her away, or deflect her feelings. He just wasn't ready yet to say out loud that he felt the same way, and the difference was vast and important. She knew this. She accepted it.

Her fingers slid up to cradle Zantafio's cheek, and she leaned up to kiss him. His arms slid around her, holding her against himself. After a moment, he deepened the kiss, and squeezed her like he might never let go. There were so many feelings in that scoundrel that he had never explored, but that was something he could do with Seccotine without ever having to worry about being expected to change who he was in order to indulge them.

In truth, there truly was no changing Zantafio, no taming him or redeeming him from his selfish and criminal ways. Seccotine understood that. What he had may be a false dove, but what she had was a true leopard, wild and free- and a leopard can never change his spots. And she would have him no other way.