Sorry folks... its been a while (since New Year's, right?). I got two people to displace blame upon and they are KuroAlma and Shadow-of-a-wolf. I blame Kuro for getting me a DMC doujinshi (I have to figure out what it says... 'Cuz I can't read kanji) Grr! But thanks anyway dude, its still awesome! I also blame Shadow for bringing up very good fic ideas and causing me to get sidetracked. Oh! And the weather... because a week ago we had a bitchin’ snowstorm and now its 80 degrees! WTF!

Anyhoo... on with the show!

Chapter 7: Truth on Both Fronts

Tony sprang up in his bed in a cold sweat. It took him a moment to realize that he was in his bed and Hailey was lying asleep to his left.

“That dream again,” he quietly uttered. He looked over at his wife who was still caught up in a very contented dream, evidenced by the smile that stretched across her lips. He got up and walked downstairs to the kitchen. In the last few months, he found that walking helped him come to grips with the dreams. It always ended with him being run through with the O-katana. The assailant’s face had been unclear, but he still had that firm belief that he knew his attacker. The guy appeared to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties. He wore a royal blue, Asian styled trench coat with yellow trim. It was possible that he dealt with some shady characters before he awoke in DeSoto and it was still possible that the man in his dreams was the one that nearly killed him.

And what did he mean that might controls everything? When he spoke about father, did he refer to his biological father or a code name for some gang leader? It may have been some memories reemerging, but in the end it left Tony with more questions than answers.

Tony went upstairs and changed into some work out sweats. He rummaged though the refrigerator before emerging with a bottle of water. He grabbed his keys before heading out for a pre-dawn run. Hailey blinked her eyes open and groped the area where Tony would have been sleeping.

“Tony,” she called quietly. His side of the bed no longer held its warmth, telling her that he had gotten up a while ago. She glanced at the alarm clock on the night table that displayed the current time of three forty-eight in the morning. She rolled back over and closed her eyes.

Tony ran the half mile to White Rock Lake Park with the full intention of running the ten miles of trails that snaked around the lake. If he kept a steady pace, which was more like a brisk jog for him, he could have the whole thing done in about ten minutes. Still, he was in no hurry. He hoped that the run would clear his head.

He ran the trails, eyeing the shimmering moonlight on the water. Tony sprinted the first nine miles and walked the final. Not that he was tired, which he thought it odd, since he never seemed to get worn-out; but he wanted to take his time, trying to review his dreams. Lately, he had been constantly trying to psychoanalyze himself, wondering why he had certain habits; why he loved the color red and why he didn’t seem to tire of pizza, beer and ice cream, more specifically strawberry ice cream. He often wondered how he was able to aim accurately as he fired ambidextrously. Each question seemed push farther into the past he couldn’t remember. Who was he? What is he? And who is this ‘son of Sparda’ the man at the bank spoke about?

Tony stopped along the boathouse, lost in thought, kicking stray rocks into the water. He titled his head upward to the heavens, sensing that it would soon rain. A thunder clap boomed above him and little water droplets pattered onto the pavement below him. He didn’t mind getting wet; there was something about the rain that comforted him... Something so familiar about it. He aimlessly skipped more rocks into the lake until the trail he walked curved back into his neighborhood.

Some fifteen minutes later, the sun crept over the horizon, telling Tony that he had spent about three hours at the lake. He shuffled back to his home, downed the last bits of water in his bottle. He quietly opened the front door, just in time to hear the phone ring.

“Hello,” he tiredly answered it.

First came the heavy, short breaths and the curt, ‘ah-uh’s,’ as if the person on the other end had parted their lips to speak, but clamped their mouth shut at the last second.

“Hello,” he repeated.

CLICK and the line went dead. Tony let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. He followed suit and hung up the phone. For the better part of a week, it had been a sad routine. At first, he thought that the word-less phone calls were someone realizing that they had dialed the wrong number. But they had been happening much too frequently to be mere mistakes.

-----

Lady hung up the phone and glanced at the clock on Dante’s desk. The face plainly showed that time was marching closely to five o’clock in the morning. She inhaled deeply and questioned herself mentally, what am I doing? She knew that there was the time difference between them, but it didn’t stop her from looking up his phone number online and calling him. She’d call once in the morning and twice in the evening. Sometimes, his girl would pick up the phone. It had finally come down to her agonizing to be with him; it was anything and everything she could do at the moment just to hear his voice again.

Well, there was Vergil, but he could never hold a candle to the cockiness that Dante’s voice held.

To her it was almost laughable. A year and a half ago, she wouldn’t have thought that she could fall in love... let alone with Dante. Back then, she would have scolded herself for being so emotionally dependent on any man; human or otherwise. It was almost as if a younger version of herself had stepped out of her body to scream out. What is wrong with you, she screamed with the intensity of a drill sergeant, Get your head in the game! What happened to you fighting no matter what?

She was a mess and by God, she knew it. So far wrought with abandonment issues, she sought any and all means to drown her sorrows. First there was the demon hunting and then there was Dante. Without the two her life was incomplete.

If she’d ever been to psychologists, they would tell her about the many complexes from which she suffered. They’d tell her about the stages of grief and implore her to deal with them. And Lady had seen each of them; she felt like she had been to Hell and back. If she had any say in the matter, she’d tell them that she will come through like a champ, despite not getting any closer. She had even become a stalker from half a world away. How did she get here?

Nevertheless, this morning’s objective was complete. She had heard his voice. Something that she had longed for, what she waited to do for over a year. Yes, she felt bad about the circumstance of how she got her way. He sounded tired over the phone. Perhaps he had been asleep. Or maybe he was growing frustrated with her constant calls without saying a word. She simply couldn’t wait until Enzo planned the trip to Texas. Neither Trish nor Vergil knew about her games of ‘ring-ring-ditch’. Nero had caught her once, but kept his word about saying nothing.

Even Nero was taking it hard. Not nearly at the magnitude as Lady, but he was running through the motions too. He had soft spot for the arrogant hunter. Dante had in a way, been his only family since Credo and Kyrie. He loved her and she knew he did. She was the one who suggested that he pursue Dante for the answers to his questions. Dante knew something about Nero’s past that he wasn’t willing to let on it. After all he looked like the guy and he needed to know why.

His pursuit of the answer all but went up in smoke when Dante made his disappearing act. Trish had assured him that it didn’t exactly mean that the man was dead, but all the same... Sure, he’d ask Vergil, but keeping his distance from the guy who managed to possess him seemed to be the more prudent decision. He just didn’t seem like the type to sit and talk. He was sure if the guy ever had kids and if they asked them about sex, he’d toss them a book so that they could read up on it.

So what? Vergil was unapproachable and frankly scared the shit out of Nero. Maybe it was the semi-permanent scowl that he always wore. Trish had nagged them into to spending time with each other. And they did. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out as well as she hoped. Vergil sat in silence, not particularly eager to bring up his exploits in the Underworld and other parts of his lurid past concerning Dante. On the other hand, Nero proved to be much too timid strike up a conversation with the blue clad twin. So much attitude and nothing to back it up.

He could have questioned Trish, but he had issues with trusting her. He felt a little betrayed when he found that ‘Gloria’ was merely Trish in disguise. Sure, she had her reasons for doing so, but it still didn’t sit right with him.

Then there was Lady. Before all of this, she seemed like a sensible woman. More importantly she was a human and Nero hadn’t had much luck in fully trusting in demons, despite finding out that he was one himself. There were the ones, like Dante, who turned out to be decent in the end; but Nero couldn’t shake the anxiety and the ultimate treachery of the only family that he had known... the Order. How could have been so blind and gullible? They turned out to be nothing but a bunch of devils disguised as humans. And Credo of all people...

He had thought that he made his peace with it, but that old unspoken promise he made to himself about not trusting demons came back to haunt him. He even began to deny his own heritage.

But, back to Lady. He would have asked her, but it just seemed inappropriate to bring up the issue of her long bygone lover. If he did, would she cry... sink deeper into depression? He wrestled with the questions and decided to put them aside and stay away from the shop, unless needed of course. Strange how a loose cannon of a devil hunter was the glue that held this dysfunctional surrogate family together.

For now, he’d make due without knowing about his origins. He’d push aside the questions of whether or not he was related to the twins. He’d do what he could to keep the peace.

------

Vergil sat on the old moth-eaten coach in reception area of Devil May Cry polishing Yamato. He had indeed felt sorrow for his missing brother, but he dared not to show it. His demon pride wouldn’t allow it. Instead of letting his emotions over take him, Vergil decided that he would keep his mind busy and at least be strong for everyone else.

There was the daily ritual of meticulously polishing his sword, whether it saw any action or not. His lone sparring sessions in the basement and even taking on any extra jobs he could. He slipped a cloth through his fingers and over his blade.

“Trish,” he calmly spoke as he spied the reflection of the blonde demoness behind him, “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. When are you going to tell Nero... Are you going to tell him?”

“So it was you, using the boy to cajole an answer out of me. Are you interested in his origins as well?”

“I can’t say that I am and I can’t say that I am not. What I can say that he needs to know. There no use in withholding such information from him.”

Vergil poured more clove oil onto the cloth and caressed it across Yamato.

“Hmm,” he hummed a simple answer, “I doubt that he’d appreciate the answer... no... It is more likely he would not accept it.”

“Why? He’s a big boy and I’m sure that he’s more than able to handle it. He turned out okay after Dante dropped the bomb in Fortuna, telling him that he was a demon.”

“No. This runs far deeper than that, which I am sure that you, yourself will scarcely understand.”

“Is this a crack on my inability to understand humans at times?”

Vergil was silent for a moment. He performed an Iaido, fluidly twirling his sword before sheathing it. He then laid it across his lap, talking the time deduce how he would word his statement for Trish. “I in no way mean to insult your intelligence. I could tell the boy and the truth could drive him mad. Imagine if you will, that you have learned that Mundus did not create you, but rather some other entity... or that you were not made for the purposes that you thought you were. In that sense, you would have found out that your whole existence is a lie. I could not do it to him, because I know that sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

For every time he spouted that knowledge was power, Vergil also knew when people were better off not knowing.

“It’s still better to learn it from the horse’s mouth rather than to find out some other, ‘less than favorable’ way,” Trish sagely commented, air quotes and all.

Vergil let out a small sigh and said, “Perhaps I could try and tell you what I would say, then I’ll gauge your reaction.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Nero was one of the experiments of the Order.”

Trish’s eyes went wide for a moment, “Wait— What?”

There was another sigh and he explained, “He was born to human parents who died while he was an infant. He was also born with the silver hair that much of the Sparda bloodline has. Since his birth and his placement in an orphanage, the Order kept an eye on him, believing that he was blood relative of Father’s. It seemed that they never suspected that the boy had a genetic mutation of melanin pigments. Credo and Kyrie’s family took him in and the Order took the opportunity to recreate their savior with the young orphan. They mixed and matched the abilities that they believed Sparda possessed. That is until I faced a Knight that had entered the Demon’s World to collect more specimens. He and I fought until he managed to spill some of my blood, which he then gathered and most likely used for their trials.”

Trish was utterly speechless for a moment. She was then able to rationalize, “That would explain why he is able to wield Yamato— he has your blood!”

------

Tony stepped into his steaming shower. He rested his forearm on the shower tiles and then his head on top. He allowed the hot water to relax him, lull him close to sleep. Tony loved showers. To him, they produced a sense of euphoria close to sex. Once he got started with a good one, there was no stopping him. Showers were his chance to get away, to wash away the world.

He felt slender hands snake their way around his waist and up his abdomen before stopping at his chest. Then he felt her bare body press against his back.

He brought a massive hand up to meet hers. “Did I wake you,” he uttered softly.

“No,” Hailey replied, matching his volume, “Where did you go?”

“I went for a walk to clear my head,” he turned to face her. His unbelievably azure eyes met her baby blues just before a short kiss.

“Come back to bed, baby” she said before stepping back out of the shower.

Tony stayed for about five more minutes before drying off and obliging her request. Dressed in only underwear, Tony let out a sensual growl crawled into bed like a tiger on the prowl.

He tickled her for a moment and laid down a trail of kisses starting at her belly and ending up at her mouth. His eyes met with the alarm clock on the night table. He dropped his head to the bed and let out a groan of disappointment.

“What’s the matter,” she questioned.

His eyes met hers again and he answered, “So sorry, babe, I gotta head out to the shooting range to meet George. Hold that thought for me, okay?” He planted another kiss on her lips and dressed for work. “I’ll see you around three... Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today? I could probably get off early to take you.”

“No... Its okay,” she said, “I have to meet with the girls to talk about the baby shower also.”

“Hey... isn’t it the job between your friends and me to plan the shower so that you can have a stress free day?” Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I don’t mind it and I think it would be fun.”

“Okay,” he put up his placating hands, “I’m not one to argue... So are you going to tell me the sex of the baby after the appointment?”

“Not if it’s going to be a surprise,” she replied slyly as she wagged her finger.

“But—”

“Bye Tony. Be safe,” she crooned as she playfully pushed him out of the bedroom door.

------

The room was filled the loud bangs of live rounds, lulling only when the shooters decided to reload. Tony squeezed off a few shots which ended up mere centimeters away from the bullseye.

“What’s up Tony,” George had noticed that his aim was a little off, “Something on your mind?” George pressed a button on the side of their stall to recall the paper target.

“Aw, it’s nothing,” Tony reloaded with flair, spinning a new magazine before tossing it into the pistol George provided. The older officer was secretly envious of the fairly new hotshot.

George clipped a new target on and sent it down the line.

Tony took aim and said before the starting bell rang, “I just feel like I forgot where I left something and I’m starting to remember bits and pieces of where I left it. I feel like I'm missing the punch line and everyone's in on it.” The commencment bell screeched, making sure to be heard over all manner of ear plugs. He left no time for George to respond. Tony immediately unleashed a hail of bullets at the chest of the figure with impeccable accuracy.

Jealous or not, George was sure not to get on the white-haired rookie’s bad side.

----

The doctor passed an imaging wand producing a sonogram image of Hailey’s unborn baby. She wore a white blouse and simple black pencil skirt with some very alluring heels. She wore her curly brunette hair pulled back into a pony tail. Her hazel eyes studied the screen, scrutinizing every detail. She didn’t become one of state’s best obstetrician/gynecologists by sitting on her duff.

“Good, good. It looks like you are taking great care of yourself and the baby,” the OB/GYN commented as she recorded her findings.

“I try,” Hailey chuckled.

“Taking your prenatal vitamins?”

Hailey nodded in response.

The doctor set aside her pen and charts. “Now, Hailey... This off the record... girl talk. How are things with your husband?”

“They’re great. He’s so devoted despite him having to work long hours. He’s been a sweetheart.”

“How’s he been coping with the amnesia? Any new memories?”

“He’s doing better... but he doesn’t know that I know about his nightmares. Sometimes he wakes up sweating, almost close to screaming. I ask him what they were about and he just smiles and says ‘nothing’. Some nights I swear he doesn’t sleep at all. Sometimes he’s just so emotionally unavailable.”

“Is he getting any help?”

“Yes, but he’s so tightlipped to the psychiatrist.” The doctor nodded and pushed her questioning into a new direction.

“Do you ever considered telling him the truth?”

Hailey shook her head, “It’s like a dream I never want to end. I’m so lucky to have him and I won’t lose him over a singular moment of weakness.”

“You can’t do this to him... Hails, this is me Gracie, your best friend from school talking. We’ve been keeping each other’s secrets since grade school. Hell, I shouldn’t have even kept this secret. He’s a great guy and I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

“What? And violate your patient confidentiality agreement? You are bound by law.” The blonde raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Still, at some point, you’re going to have to tell him that you are not carrying his child.”

Uh oh... Looks like Hailey’s been whoring around and Nero’s gonna flip if Vergil ever tells him the truth. Stay tuned.

By the way: Drop me a line, tell me how you feel about the recent turn of events.