The persocom couple, walked towards a nearby coffee shop downtown. Zima smiled as he rolled Dita's wheelchair into the fragrant smelling small shop that was now identified to Dita as The Corner Coffee House.
Dita peered around senselessly, smelling the delightful fragrance as it slowly fogged through the room, in an almost eerie way.
Hey, Dita remembered, weren't we supposed to get something to eat, but wait that's impossible also because persocoms don't eat?
" Two medium coffees," Zima said simply to the clerk, " French Vanilla flavor please."
" Coming right up, sir." the persocom clerk replied.
" Wait, Zima," Dita exclaimed, " what are we doing here, and we…"
Zima, yet again, clasped his hand firmly over her mouth. After deciding that Zima probably didn't want to explain it right now, Dita decided not to think about all the confusing thoughts that stormed her mind.
Knowing Zima, Dita thought, he'll probably explain it to me later, just to be a jerk
Dita continued just to stare up at Zima, not really having anything else to do. Zima's cheerful expression wouldn't leave; it always stayed there, annoying the crap out of Dita.
Why can't that moron be more serious? Dita questioned herself.
Zima parked her metallic wheelchair into an empty space in between the two cushion seats, as he sat on the edge of the left side.
" Are you faring well, Dita love?" Zima asked, in that cheerful, gay tone that Dita hated.
" I would if you would tell me what's going on!" Dita raged.
" You're so cute when you're angry!" Zima exclaimed, happily.
Will he stop saying that, Dita thought painfully, he's in love with Chi…why doesn't he tell her that?
" What, it's only the truth." Zima stated, in a matter of fact sort of way.
" Forget it," Dita retorted, " I'm not talking to you until you tell me."
" Aw," Zima sighed, " that's no fun, love."
The chubby human waiter approached them with the piping hot steaming, clay coffee cups full of none other than the melodic coffee itself.
" Thank you much, sir!" the waiter chimed, placing the two coffee cups down on the short wooden table.
" Our coffee's here, Dita love." Zima reminded her, as if she had just got there and sat down.
There was nothing but the complete serene silence that came from the stuffy wheelchair.
" Don't be difficult now." Zima mumbled.
There was an even eerier silence now.
" Okay, okay," Zima shrugged, " the truth is that a coffee shop is way more relaxing than any other restaurant, so I sort of changed my mind."
" Why did you buy coffee if we can't drink it, Zima?" Dita asked.
" Well," Zima started, his voice getting more harsh and husky, " what's the point the point in coming to a coffee shop if you're not going to buy coffee."
" It is kind of nice." Dita mumbled, her voice kind of cracking.
" Yeah," Zima chimed, his personality kind of changing in the spur of the moment, " the nice warm steam against your face feels wonderful!"
" Zima," Dita shouted getting angry again, " don't you remember, it's impossible for us to feel even the slightest thing because…because…"
" We're persocoms." Zima said, finishing her sentence for her in a bit of a pained tone.
Dita's face was cumbered as she stared at Zima's completely hurt expression and regretted that she brought up such a subject.
Why do I feel this aching in my heart? Dita continued to question herself.
Dita placed her hand on Zima's stiff shoulder blade, wishing that his gleesome smile would spread across his face, even if it was a façade. She actually wished that he would be his annoying self, instead of being half-dead.
" I'm sorry Dita." Zima apologized.
Why is he apologizing? Dita thought confused.
" For what?" Dita asked, not understanding him right now.
" For letting you get hurt," Zima said, confessing what he was feeling to her, he never had done this before, " it was my fault it happened."
It wasn't his fault, Dita thought, it was my selfishness, my own will that caused me to do that.
" It's not your fault," Dita exclaimed, wanting to cry but of course that was not possible for persocoms, "it was my own selfishness that did this, not you!"
" Dita." Zima mumbled, not really expecting her to reply like that.
" Please, Zima," Dita begged, " don't blame yourself….if you want to blame someone….blame me!"
" I would never blame you, Dita." Zima simply said.
" Zima…I…" she started.
RING!RING!RING!
" Dita, be silent for a minute." Zima said, clutching onto a cell phone, hooked onto his belt.
Zima pressed the TALK button and rested the small cell phone close to his ear, waiting for a response on the other line.
" Hello." Zima greeted the person.
Dita observed Zima as he talked on the phone, for she seriously doubted that Zima would tell her anything, even if it were something important.
" Yes, this Zima." he said as if answering to someone.
There was a long silence as Zima listened, his facial expression turning gloomy and depressed, soon his face eventually showing no sign of emotion whatsoever, she could tell he was trying to stay calm. Dita also noticed that he hand started to shake as he grasp onto the phone.
" Yes," Zima said obediently, " I understand."
Zima clicked the OFF button. His gaze seemed far away, distant from Dita's, as he clicked his cell phone onto his belt buckle.
" Who was it, Zima?" Dita asked.
"…."
" Who Zima?" Dita asked, again.
"…."
" Please tell me," Dita started, trying to get at least a little information out of her melancholy partner, "what was they told you about?"
" Chi…" Zima said, his voice seeming really distant, " we need to stop the program that she will run….we…we…need to…. destroy her to stop the program so it will… never run again."
TO BE CONTINUEDA/N:OMG! I love the Dita/Zima coupling so much! Please review and I'll try to finish the 5th chapter as soon as possible.