Witch Hunter Robin is property of its respective owners and the author receives no compensation for this work.

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+ Author's Notes +
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Warning: This is an edited version of the original story intended for the Adult Fanfiction site. However, this story is still rated M and contains mature subject matter, frank sexual discussion, sexual situations, cultural taboos regarding relationships, some violence and language.

This is a revised version. You can read the original story at AFF.

Tattoo was originally a quick story I had written with little editing and intended to remain unfinished. It was also written at an earlier stage in my writing experience. A couple of months ago, I opened up Tattoo in Word and just about fell off of my chair at the errors I saw. It was then that I knew I had to complete a revision. At the time I wrote the story, I used a newer version of Word that was apparently incompatible with my system and would crash on startup about 50 of the time. I instead used a freeware writing program. I later installed an older Word (version 97), which is what I use now. It's less Gucci, but it doesn't crash (and it spell-checks).

The story isn't as revised as I would like, but I don't think that's a possibility. In any case, this is a better version of Tattoo. Enjoy.

Claire

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+ Prologue +
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Another day. Another hotel.

This one was better than the last, but that didn't mean much. The hotels in which they stayed were always surprisingly upscale. In any case, the two never stayed at one hotel for very long, choosing to change locales every week or so, whenever the guardian decided it was time.

Amon shifted to a more comfortable position atop the still made bed, resting his back against the headboard as he shuffled through the pages of his newspaper. It seemed to him rather odd, but it had become his nightly ritual to read the paper before bed. From his position on the mattress, Amon could hear the low sound of water running in the bathroom sink. A few moments later, the water turned off and the door opened. He didn't look up as Robin and a cloud of mist emerged from the bathroom, the former freshly cleaned and ready to sleep.

From the corner of his eye, Amon watched as Robin stopped just short of the vacant bed alongside his. She looked at it with disinterest, then turned and hopped into his bed. The mattress bounced ever so slightly as Robin landed next to him. Though his concentration for the latest news had abandoned him, Amon nonetheless kept his eyes glued to the paper and not on the girl snuggling into his side. Robin moved closer still, her face brushing against his shirt as she peered over his shoulder to read the news. Suppressing an exhalation of frustration, Amon let the newspaper fall to his lap. Robin's expectant gaze shifted to look into his face.

Amon's turned to his little ward. Before he could realize he had done so, his disobedient eyes flicked over her body, his subconscious noting the pastel light cotton pants and frighteningly thin camisole she wore. Robin had long stopped dressing in the repressive clothing she had in the past, but still remained hesitant to wear anything that was "revealing" in public--verboten items like tank tops or shorts. Clothing which showed off Robin's legs seemed particularly bothersome for a reason elusive to Amon. Of course, he never pressed the matter in an effort to avoid Robin any embarrassment (or so he told himself). Only at night, when she was alone with him, did Robin wear more revealing attire.

Lucky him.

Amon caught himself staring and brought his eyes back up to her face, only to be distracted once more, this time by her hair. He never could decide if it was more brown or blonde in coloring and God knew he had spent enough time staring at it. Since leaving her life behind after the fall of the Factory, Robin had begun wearing it down, letting it fall over her shoulders. Amon never said anything, but he preferred it this way (though, admittedly, anything was better than how she used to wear her hair as a Hunter). Moreover, Amon suspected that Robin had somehow realized that he preferred her this way.

Amon started. Robin still remained kneeling at his side, patient as ever, waiting for him to speak.

"What are you doing?" he asked, already knowing what Robin wanted.

She tilted her head to the side. "Could I sleep in your bed tonight?"

There it was; the question Amon dreaded. She always asked so directly and innocently, as though it was common for young girls to share a bed with their older and male guardians. And try as he might, he could never refuse when she asked--which was now almost every night.

"Do I have a say in the matter anymore?" Amon asked in his usual resigned tone. He urged his voice to sound annoyed at the intrusion into his bed, despite the irritating part of him that liked the nights when a peaceful little Robin slept at his side.

Her face lit up at his words of defeat and she busied making herself at home under the blankets. Amon, meanwhile, resumed his reading of the paper, his mind temporarily distracted by the oddly appealing obituary section. Before long, Robin had closed her eyes and her breathing became steady and rhythmic. Amon began to relax, even becoming so bold to sneak an occasional look at the girl beside him. He smiled despite himself, watching her tranquil face resting upon the pillow. Amon turned back to the newspaper, only to be startled by a rustling beside him as Robin sat upright.

"I've been thinking of getting a tattoo," she said, looking not at him, but across the room. Her expression was thoughtful.

"You're not serious," Amon responded on auto-pilot, thoroughly bewildered by both the abrupt subject matter and the discovery that Robin had been awake the entire time. He waited until her gaze drifted to him. "You don't even have pierced ears," he added.

"I really think I want one," Robin said and placed a hand upon his arm. Amon glanced down to it, the hand small and smooth, before his eyes returned to her face.

"Absolutely not."

Her expression turned pouty. "Why not?"

Amon once more returned to the paper. "I am your guardian. You are in my care and as such I feel it is inappropriate for a girl to get a tattoo at your age."

Robin's mouth pulled down further into a frown, before she brightened again. "But you could get one with me!" She tilted her head and gazed at him. Was she actually fluttering her lashes? Be strong, a voice within warned. One thing he had trouble resisting was a coy Robin. This Look was partially the reason she slept in his bed at night, despite his apprehension. "I could pick one out for you," she suggested as she pressed into his arm, completely oblivious to the inner struggle she herself had created in Amon.

"Still no. I don't need another." He gritted his teeth as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

She straightened as she seized onto his words. "Another?" she asked. Robin's face was curious as she stared at him. "You already have a tattoo?"

Amon flipped through the paper, nearly ripping the pages in half. "Yes," he said, voice terse.

Robin leaned forward, blocking his view of the paper and peered into his face. "Where?" she asked suspiciously. "I've never seen it."

"A place I don't want people looking."

As predicted, Robin's face turned beet red. Despite her embarrassment, her curiosity and tenacity won out. "Oh?"

Knowing there was nowhere he could distract the conversation, Amon put aside the paper and turned to face her. "On my arm." He indicated the upper part of his left arm with his forefinger.

"Really?" she asked, still looking rather suspicious at this latest piece of information, albeit visibly relieved that the tattoo was not located somewhere more…personal. "I want to see it."

He stared at her a moment, then his fingers moved to unbutton his shirt. Amon pushed the left side of his shirt over his shoulder, exposing the upper area of his arm with the tattoo and the top part of his bare chest. He decided to ignore the flush that had crept over Robin's face as she leaned forward to study it.

"How old were you when you got this?" she asked, her finger coming up to brush against the design.

Amon forced himself not to jerk away from Robin's touch.

"Older than you," he answered and pulled the shirt back onto his shoulder. He made no move to re-button it. Amon sighed when she waited, patient yet expectant and ever so insistent. "Eighteen."

"That's only a year older than I am now."

Amon shook his head. "I still don't think it's a good idea. You should start out with something a little tamer--like ear piercing." He paused, watching Robin. "Why a tattoo, of all things?" he asked. Amon was legitimately curious as to this sudden interest in painful ritual body decor.

She shrugged and looked to the bed in apparent defeat. "I don't know. It seemed like a good idea."

"It seems rather drastic--especially for you."

"There's nothing else to do," Robin muttered.

Amon regarded her a moment. "Is that what this is about? You're bored?"

"No," she answered, retreating into a rare sullen-teenage-girl episode. "I just wanted a tattoo." Looking more than a bit disgruntled, Robin scooted down under the covers and stared up at the ceiling. "Did you get that tattoo because of someone?" she asked after a moment.

"No," he said, regretting that the word sounded unconvincing to his own ears.

"Hmm."

Amon relaxed ever so slightly, hoping the questions had passed. No such luck.

"You must get frustrated looking after me."

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully. This felt too much like a lead into much more uncomfortable territory. Especially when it was Robin asking the questions.

"You probably want to get married at some point."

"At some point," he said, trying to sound both agreeable and aloof--if such a thing was possible.

It didn't work.

"Don't you ever want to go out?" she persisted, turning her head to look at him. "Like with a woman?" Robin felt compelled to add.

"It's not a possibility at the moment," Amon said, hoping his this-subject-is-closed tone would put a definite end to matters.

"Why is that?" Robin asked with a blank face, pointedly ignoring the warning.

"Because right now, my responsibility is to look after you," he answered after the briefest of pauses.

"I thought it was a necessary part of life to be in a relationship with someone."

Growing more uncomfortable that the conversation was dangerously close to discussing his sex life, Amon shifted on the bed.

"No, it's not a necessity," he said slowly. Amon was acutely aware that a lack of a sexual partner did not equate with a lack of sexual activity. "Priests and nuns don't marry," he added. "Isn't that what you were going to be before you left Solomon?"

Robin scrutinized him, leaving Amon to feel as though he would break down and go mad if she didn't say anything. After a moment, her expression turned coy again.

"What are you going to do after I get married?" she asked. "I'll have someone else to watch over me then. You can do whatever you want after that."

Amon glanced to her from the corner of his eye. "I'll still need to watch you. Your future husband most likely will not have the skills necessary to protect you. Besides…" he trailed off in anticipation for the words he would utter next, feeling Robin tense beside him, "…I did make a promise to you."

"I guess that's true," she said at length. "Though that still doesn't leave much time for you to find someone of your own in the meantime."

Amon squeezed his eyes shut and held his hand over his forehead. "And I thought you had already fallen asleep for the night," he growled in frustration.

"Are you going to follow me around if I start dating?" Robin asked, breaking into his thoughts of woe.

Amon dropped his hand from his face. He stared across the room at a framed picture on the hotel wall before answering. It was one of those drab pastoral paintings that hotel managers loved considering that nearly every hotel in which they had stayed had the near identical picture. "I guess that I would have to. I hadn't given it much thought."

"That doesn't sound too romantic," Robin said and shifted closer to Amon.

"No, it doesn't," he said.

"That still doesn't leave much time for you," she persisted.

Amon sighed. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. It's time for us to go to bed anyway." With that, he tossed the bedspread over Robin's head. Her face re-emerged, looking back to him in amusement. His brow creased as he frowned at her. "I'm not really looking for anyone at the moment," Amon said, answering Robin's earlier statement.

He could have groaned aloud at the happy expression on his ward's face at his words.

"You shouldn't look so pleased at your guardian's marital status, Robin."

She slid down under the covers, pulling the comforter over the lower half of her face. Even still, Amon could see that Robin smiled beneath the blankets.

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+ Next Chapter +
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Chapter 1: Of Gods and Lolitas