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He’d crashed somewhere over Alberta. Which is at least where he was aiming to begin with, but that’s all he’s managed to conclude over the course of this nightmare of a journey.

One that Lupin had decided that he was going to go alone.

Why? Well, Jigen got pissy about the cold and Goemon was busy with training in the Arctic instead of helping Lupin. Not that Lupin thought he needed the help anyway. So, seeing as the shipment he was searching for wasn’t going to be that hard of a job, and it was in the area… Lupin was calling the partial crash landing a win. He was the great thief of the century after all, he’d done jobs before he had his partners and… well, he wasn’t sure if he’d do jobs after, but he likes to think he might. In their honor, if anything.

Still, without his trio, the job was going to be more work than it would be if he had them.

He’d come with enough supplies to last the week up in the chilly taiga of the Canadian wilderness. If not more in case of any unforeseen circumstances. That being in case a certain Inspector showed up out of the blue and trapped them both in some dire situation.

Lupin wasn’t that worried though as he snapped his skis on. Adjusting the goggles over his face as he gazed out into the massive pine trees surrounding him. Thick globs of snow dropping from their limbs and hitting the ground with massive thunks of noise. The snow from last night was finally settling. It was part of the reason he’d had such a rough landing in the first place.

He slides, testing the skis before taking off between the trees.

It’ll be easy, really easy, with everything he’s got all he has to do is find the shipment that crashed out here, grab the gold and go.

Simple.

Lupin’s trying his best to keep up that mantra as he flies down another hill, skidding across the fresh powder hiding packed snow beneath. He curves across it, taking a sharp left as the world around him remains deathly silent. The snow falling from the pines is the only real sound despite the mass of nature around him. As if the entire forest is holding its breath for something. It’s eerie to say the least.

Even in winter there’s at least some sound of activity, on quiet days like this after such a storm squirrels should be coming down from their nests and searching for food long since stashed away under the snow. The rare crow should be calling out in annoyance from above. But, there’s nothing.

Not a peep.

It’s strange enough to give Lupin pause as he checks his compass, comparing it to the GPS in his other hand. There’s only ten miles of this, a long enough journey that Lupin had planned on probably spending one night out in the snow. Not that that bothered him too much anyway, it was relaxing to get away from everything. Sure, it wasn’t a relaxing vacation home in Tahiti, but other people went to Tahiti, people were willing to go to Tahiti if it meant possibly getting a chunk out of Lupin’s hide. Not so many people were willing to follow some hair-brained thief into the wilds of the freezing north just for a chance at his skin.

So, yes, Lupin thought that was borderline relaxing.

If not fucking freezing.

He follows the GPS another couple of miles, flying between trees and brush. Occasionally running into a loose vine or something along the way. Much to his dismay. All in all, it’s pretty non-eventful, the coordinates he’d obtained were near correct to the exact location the shipment would be in. All he had to do was narrow down exactly where the crates were in the wreckage, that’s it.

Lupin lifts the goggles from his face, setting them on the top of his hat as he squints down at the little device in his hand. Tapping the screen and setting it aside again as he unscrews the lid of his canteen. Eyeing the blinding white of the snow as he takes a sip. No need to worry about keeping his water cool, he supposes. Just have to keep it from freezing. He squints, looking at a bank of snow that’s covered by a small outcropping. He’s pretty sure it’s sitting over the creek he’d spotted in flight earlier. Best not to go that way.

He places the canteen back on his pack and checks the straps around his hands one last time before a sort of feeling crawls across his spine. Goemon often called it ‘the awful sense of being known by another’.

The thief remains casual as he feels the eyes on him rather than sees them. Exhaling a cloudy breath as he glances around for any sign of a scope. Of another human in the woods other than himself. It could be an animal, he supposes, but somehow Lupin finds that it doesn’t seem right for it to be an animal. The gaze feels human, like he’s not being hunted but observed by another.

He smirks under his bandana, his eyebrow involuntarily quirking up as he pretends to crack his neck.

So much for a relaxing ski trip, but at least this just got a lot more interesting.

…

He makes it the whole ten miles and starts seeing the beginnings of the wreckage from the plane. A piece of aluminum there, a fuselage here, part of a turbine in that tree. He’d heard that the thing had practically exploded for some reason or another. Something to do with the fuel, not that it mattered too much.

The crates he was looking for contained a number of important artifacts from when the French still held Canada as a settlement. Smuggling gold out of their home country and keeping it out of the hands of the royals in an attempt to fund the revolution. During which the whole place was pretty much filled with trappers and natives. Both of whom were getting damn tired of people stomping all over the place. That being said, the gold was lost for a few decades and was recovered recently. Ready to be shipped off, only for the plane to just… explode.

So, it was Lupin’s now.

Granted, he was only after the golden Francs he’d heard about, nothing else was that interesting. Besides, if he wanted to, he could come back later. During a warmer time of year.

He spots a large part of the plane and heads to it, tossing up snow as he does. A piece of the tail, he reckons as he takes out his pick, moving the tarps inside around with it. During which he still feels those eyes on the back of his head.

Closer, now.

Lupin throws the black tarp and slings it out into the snow, only packing it back down into the plane when he finds there to be nothing of use in this part. He eyes over his shoulder once, noting the sun starting to fade as he tries to locate his own tail in the trees. He finds he’s not really a fan of the whole ‘stalking’ thing that’s going on. Usually, his constant follower is rather loud on his approach, announcing his presence with a loud roar. This current one is dead silent.

He moves across the snow again, moving away from the plane and scouting out a good area to set up camp for the night. Eventually settling on a spot between some close pines, staring up at them with narrowed eyes as he listens to the surrounding forest. Trying desperately to locate where his compatriot might be. All that greets him is the snow falling from the trees.

Lupin moves through the motions quickly, gathering firewood that’s not too soaked from the snow and scaling trees to grab dead branches from their limbs. He hasn’t been ‘just camping’ in years, and apparently he isn’t about to start now. Even if this trip was supposed to be more about the camping than the adventure. He piles it all just beyond the bundle of trees as he scales the pines and wraps the straps he needs for his tent across the wiry trunks. Strapping and securing them before spreading his shelter for the night out.

He’s always preferred sleeping off the ground.

He’s leaning against one of the branches when he finally hears a twig snap and tampers his immediate reaction to look at it. Instead, eyeing the area where he’d heard it over his shoulder. The sun’s practically gone, but the faintest amount of light is giving him the vaguest outline that he can see.

Lupin swipes his hand across the side of his ski goggles, activating the night vision mode he’d installed previously on them. Because, frankly, what good was just a pair of plain old goggles?

The green image that he gets does give him a better idea of who he’s dealing with, and finds himself somewhat disappointed that it isn’t who he’d hoped for. He adjusts another strap with an annoyed tug, tightening it against the trunk and securing it properly. Instead of the outline he’d hoped for, he finds himself staring at the blurry image of someone clad in winter camo just beyond a small drift, their body pressed into the snow and covered by a large tarp to keep them warm.

If he had to guess, Lupin may assume they intend to spend the night there, watching… either waiting to kill the thief or otherwise.

He supposes it could be Fujiko, but Lupin finds he has some hefty doubts on that. The figure is too large for the woman, and he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t spend her time out here in the wilderness for such a small score.

If anything, she’d intercept him on the way back. Now there was a thought.

Lupin crawls into his tent above the snow with that thought, curling into the sleeping bag and listening to the utter silence from outside.

He admittedly had been hoping for Pops to appear, if only slightly.

Turns out the man couldn’t be bothered with Lupin this time.

…

It happens just before dawn.

Lupin hadn’t really been expecting his current friend to get any friendlier until he found the treasure. Apparently, that had been a miscalculation on his part, as he hears the sound of the straps to his tent being tampered with.

Ah, he’d liked this tent too.

They slice through one of the straps and Lupin’s body falls from the small height, the thief slashing the wall of the shelter open, flying out with his pack and boots already on. He flings past the man clad in camo and ricochets off the side of the pine before clicking into his skis, rapidly skidding off to the best of his abilities. The night vision in his goggles is doing its best to work in incomplete darkness. He supposes that his attacker might’ve planned to take him at the brink of dawn for that very reason.

Lupin slides between trees with his knees bent and gaze narrowed, noting that his follower is nowhere to be seen as he avoids another bush. Even then, he finds that he’s not convinced that the other being isn’t just a few steps behind him.

His heart still thumps in his ears despite that.

He does pause when he’s practically run three whole miles at breakneck speed. Not slowing down for anything, just to take a sip of his water. Panting as his breath comes out in short puffs of white, the sun now beginning to bear down on him in red and pink hues. He gulps the liquid down greedily before he picks out the eyes on his back again. Almost immediately, setting the hair on the back of his neck up as he whirls around. Disengaging the night vision in his goggles and placing them on his forehead.

Lupin’s not an easy man to keep up with, that he knows, but right now, he finds he is impressed that his hunter has kept up so well. Even if it does make his pulse increase dizzily in his ears.

The thief takes off like a shot, taking the shortest, most difficult path back to his ride in a harried pace that would leave most men stumbling in his wake. Not this man, though, apparently. Lupin’s pursuer keeps a steady pace behind him, not too far away, but not close enough that Lupin never gets a good look at what he’s dealing with. If it weren’t for the fact that Lupin knew damn well that he doesn’t have a tracker on him, he’d assume he’s been tagged or something. Instead, he’s just being followed by a relentless hunter.

In the wilderness.

Alone.

He covers his tracks and makes it back to the chopper in one piece, surprisingly. Relieved to find that the thing hasn’t been sabotaged in his absence. Still, he does have a backup in place if that goes awry as well.

As he’s loading up his belongings and checking the rotors, he finds himself dawning with the realization that he’d been scared enough to abandon the treasure in his wake. That thought is enough to give him pause as he checks the fuel. Glancing over his shoulder one last time before reaching out for his pack. He’s not about to turn around if his instincts are telling him to run. No use in sticking around if your body is telling you might die, and Lupin’s is quite often right about his stakes.

When he reaches for the bag, he gets a split second to feel the eyes on him again before he spots a hook flying towards him. The metal catching on his jacket and yanking him forward, his body stumbling out of the aircraft with an ‘oof’.

He hears the fabric rip as he scrambles up from the ground, yanking the offending weapon out of the arm of the jacket and kneeling, glaring outward as the hook retracts to its owner. Slinking across the snow and into the hand of Lupin’s pursuer.

Lupin feels his spine coil as the corners of his mouth curl, a laziness settling into his eyes as he stares at the man before him. “You’re pretty good with that thing,” he remarks, “but not good enough to hook a fish like me.”

The large figure doesn’t make a sound, no clever quip, no laugh as they surge forward. The hook swinging outward towards Lupin’s form again.

The thief finds the attack ultimately rather boring, as he parries, flying off to the left and avoiding the onslaught altogether. “C’mon,” he whines, hoping to catch his attacker’s eye as he slips past. “At least give me a little challenge.”

The man before him turns, throwing his body towards the thief again, only for the wiry man to slip off to the side with practiced ease. Until, he feels something coil around his midsection, and Lupin finds himself flying forward with a yank. Heading straight into the chest of his attacker with a yelp. A gloved hand reaches out and snatches the front of the thief’s jacket, pulling the man off his feet as the hook swings around and snags into the front of the fabric.

Lupin squirms, wriggling out of the coat as the man in front of him continues to clamp down further, his grasp tightening. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” The thief snarks, chuckling through clenched teeth, as the jacket starts to give way.

He throws his legs up, shoving his boots into the other man’s chest as he pushes off the form before him. To which, the larger man staggers, losing his grip on the coat and his purchase, as Lupin smiles in triumph. Untangling the hook from around his middle in the process as the camo clad figure falls. Their form twisting as they stumble.

Lupin’s about to turn tail and hit the open skies before the weapon flies out yet again, and he has to avoid the damn thing going straight into the meat of his shoulder. “Woah! Watch where you’re throwing that thing!” He exclaims.

The figure seems to huff in response, pulling themselves from the ground and spinning the bit of metal, winding up for another throw.

And that in itself is rather familiar to the thief.

He finds himself cocking his head at the sight, avoiding another throw aimed at his wrists, of all places. Lupin makes his approach quickly, throwing himself off the side of the chopper and nearing the larger man. He’s not sure if he can win in a one on one tussle. Actually, he’s pretty sure the guy can overwhelm him damn easily if it comes to it, but the thief’s reliant on his ability to squirm out of most situations if needed.

Lupin’s tackled in a flurry of snow, the powder flying as he’s pressed into the ground, the hefty body above him a silent snarl as gloved hands clamp onto Lupin’s shoulders.

Even through the fabric, the thief can feel some sort of shake there.

The wiry man curls, flipping their positions as he knocks the larger man onto his back, swiping at the ski mask over the bottom half of his pursuer’s mouth.

A familiar jawline is exposed to the cold, the tanned skin dry and pale beneath the fabric.

Lupin feels something settle between his shoulder blades at the sight.

Knowing with utmost certainty who the man beneath him is.

…

The fight ends with uncharacteristic silence between the two of them. With Lupin flying off as he stares down into the gaze of a man he does not recognize. Somehow, he has no doubt that Zenigata survived the Canadian wilderness long enough to escape it.

Still, it leaves him with some burning questions on his mind.

Pops had been absent from Lupin’s heels the last month, which in itself wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. The detective did have other cases to work on besides Lupin. If the thief happened to give Zenigata a particularly hard crook to pursue along the way, then the man could be gone from Lupin’s sights for a while. It was both a welcome relief and a bore. But, again, not completely out of the ordinary, nothing that would set off alarms in Lupin’s head.

Still, as he sits on Yata’s desk with his brows set in a hard line and a grin wiped from his face, he thinks perhaps he should have sensed it to be out of the norm.

Zenigata’s loyal assistant is currently slumped over, his shoulders down and entire upper body facing the floor, as he holds his head in his hands. Fingers coiled in his black hair as he remains like that in silence. It’s an image that does give Lupin some sense of remorse, perhaps pity, as he looks down at the kid. But, there is a sense of annoyance that covers that up and buries it deep within Lupin’s chest as he taps his fingers across the wood beneath him. Because, apparently, Pops has been missing for over a month and nobody bothered to tell Lupin a thing.

Lupin had appeared out of the woodwork, demanded information, and Yata had crumbled immediately. He barely even put up a fight as he’d seen the thief come in, actually, he damn near cried at the sight of the red jacket clad man.

The kid had given Lupin practically everything that he wasn’t supposed to have. Where the Inspector had last been seen, any enemies that would have wished the man harm, where the man frequented for God’s sake. All the while, Yata looked like he was a smile away from actually breaking down into tears. To which, Lupin wasn’t sure if he could handle that right now, so he stuck to acting stern but friendly.

Yata curled in on himself impossibly further, his knuckles white as he dug his fingers into his knees. “Please,” the man choked. “If anyone can find him, it’s you.”

Lupin merely stared down at the younger man with wide eyes. Could he find Zenigata?

Turns out, he damn well could.

If only because it was obvious where Zenigata was as soon as you looked hard enough. To which, apparently ICPO wasn’t really doing for whatever reason.

One of your top Inspectors goes missing, and you don’t even bat an eye? Suspicious.

Nonetheless, Lupin finds himself staring at the missing man before him, just over the brim of a martini in his hand.

Zenigata looks good.

If it weren’t for the fresh mark over the top of the man’s lip and the minor bags under the man’s eyes, Lupin might say the man looks great. But, instead, he’s settling on ‘good’. Because he does, he looks well-dressed for one, and healthy for another. The black turtle-neck and suit combo looks rather dashing on the taller man as he’s guided around the party by another figure. His dark gaze flittering among the guests with practiced ease that’s only hindered by a sort of glaze that’s settled only partially over his eyes.

Lupin takes another sip from his glass and crosses his legs as he watches. Observing the man that Zenigata is with, interest obvious on his face.

"Zenigata looks handsome tonight," Is whispered into Lupin’s ear by cherry red lips. The scent of Fujiko’s cocktail lingering with her words.

He glances over his shoulder at her, eyeing the 'Pink Lady' sitting on the table and twirling his own drink. "He's being paraded." Lupin adds in a hushed tone.

Fujiko’s eyes are sharp, cunning as they track the man that’s been dubbed Zenigata’s handler. "He should be," she purrs, "he's being dressed as 'bodyguard' arm candy, and he’s doing an excellent job of looking the part."

Lupin flashes a quick glare at her before returning his eyes to his Inspector.

“What do you think of it all, Lupin?” The woman adds, pushing herself further into his space.

To which, Lupin doesn’t mind in the slightest as he leans back into her. Even if his eyes never lose sight of his target. “I think he’s being drugged.”

Fujiko hums, taking a sip of her cocktail, “What makes you say that?” She murmurs in response, sounding less convinced.

The thief lolls his head over his shoulder, finally looking at Fujiko with a bit more sobriety. “His eyes are dilated.”

“That doesn’t always mean drugs, lover.”

He glares over his shoulder, teeth beginning to show, “Then what else could it mean?”

She hides behind her drink for a moment before her gaze is directed outwards again. To which, Lupin follows, facing the other side of the room as he catches the sight of Zenigata’s captor holding the man’s hand. Clasping it gently between his fingers as he presses a chaste kiss to the worn knuckles. There’s nothing particularly hungry about the act that Lupin can see, but the man looks… perhaps flirtatious if not happy as his lips curl upward.

That being said, Lupin doesn’t miss the way Zenigata’s mouth seems to twitch at the action. The man had a stoic demeanor at the best of times, but still…

Lupin catalogs the entire interaction in his mind, flipping through each moment frame by frame like some sort of movie.

When he meets Fujiko’s eyes again, he can’t help but dart away from her gaze.

“Your eyes dilate when you’re looking at someone you love, or just because of a dopamine release. You should know that.” She adds, setting her drink down on the table and closing her own eyes.

The thief huffs, drumming his fingers on the table, “He didn’t blush.”

Fujiko merely tilts her head, “What?”

Lupin leans across the table, pressing his elbows into the cloth and looking the woman in the eye. A smarmy grin crosses his face as he does, “You should know that Pops is a gushing mess under the slightest hint of affection.”

A soft laugh escapes her perfect, red lips, “You know him so well.”

“I do,” he remarks, his grin only spreading as he looks back to the scene across the room again. “I also know he’s going to be pissed when he gets rescued by me.”

The night drags out, and with every little brush across Zenigata’s skin, Lupin feels something in his chest twist. He’s not used to sharing the Inspector’s attention, he finds he quite likes it when the attention is only on him and him alone. Although, he will share it with his inner circle…

Eventually, he does get up from his seat and wander to the small group that’s gathered around the Inspector and his… captor, Lupin guesses. He does so quite lazily, angling himself to look as though the man before him is a mere speck of interest in his otherwise languid life.

He panics when Zenigata’s eyes lock onto him in a way he isn’t familiar with.

Lupin feels something tangle behind his ribs and drag him down like a brick.

Because those eyes are so cold… so murky… like a mad dog.

…

Lupin has always attributed Zenigata to some sort of dog, half the time. A hunting dog perhaps, maybe a hound. A bulldog even, something that's an excellent tracker and stubborn to a fault. Maybe a guard dog on certain days.

Tonight, as he stares across the party, watching Zenigata follow the Baron he's attached to around, he thinks the man's a loyal terrier.

The thief has been spending most of his weekends figuring out where Pops is going to be next. Drinking champagne across the room with a glare hidden under latex and spirit gum as if he’s some jealous ex. He's been doing it alone on top of everything, so, it really does look like he’s some upset lover. Fujiko long since moved on from her last job.

And Jigen only entertained him once before choosing to remain as backup.

The gunman hadn't been able to handle the Baron.

Lupin shotguns the rest of his champagne, circling the tables and getting closer to Zenigata. Baron Zaroff is the man that's trapped Pops under some sort of spell. An ex-KGB agent from Belarus, fled the country after the fall of the Soviet Union. Although it was rumored he was working for the CIA most of the time anyway. He seemed like the type to be a double agent, so Lupin wouldn’t be surprised. His family was supposedly well respected too, aside from himself. Lupin wondered if Zaroff is even his real identity.

All in all, he's decided he really hates the Baron.

The man is roughly just above Lupin’s height when he stands up straight, when he’s not leaning against that gold handled cane of his. Or against Zenigata’s wide shoulders. He’s a lean creature, toned muscles of a runner hidden beneath his silver suites that match the watch he wears. The man’s glass eye also has a tendency to throw Lupin off whenever he’s not paying attention.

Baron Zaroff is an interesting piece of work, and Lupin finds he hates him.

He's finally gotten over that look that crosses Zenigata’s face when he's near enough to get a good look at the man. Admittedly, each time he does, he's hit with a sort of breathlessness. Because, as much as he's entertained the idea of the man’s off kilter rugged beauty on certain nights. This is different. He’s not sure if he’s mourning the loss of the alleyway stray dog look, or if he's head over heels for this one.

Zenigata in well-fitting clothes, with his back straight and body well rested, is like Lupin’s nectar. A thief is never known for their restraint to things they may desire.

Perhaps he’s lured a little too close when the Inspector’s eyes lock onto his form, and he doesn’t shirk away in time.

The Baron follows Zenigata’s gaze and smiles, all teeth, as he looks at Lupin with his lone eye. The murky waters within it clouding over with a sort of glee that makes Lupin worry about his safety for a moment. Only, for a moment, mind you, as he hikes his shoulders forward and stares right back at the man.

Zaroff nears him, and that glee never quite disappears from his eyes as his loyal dog follows. A large shadow in his wake. “Why, good evening,” the man remarks, “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you at any of these events.”

Lupin swallows the lump in his throat, exchanging it for the snarl caught there instead. “I try not to stay too long,” he taps his glass, “I’m here for the drinks.” He laughs, keeping up his character.

The Baron laughs in return, “Yes, the alcohol is quite good, but I would venture to assume you’re not here for just them.” The man reaches his hand out for a shake, “I am Baron Alexander Zaroff.”

He takes the hand without thinking, his gaze lingering on Zenigata’s lack of reaction. At the ‘deadness’ that’s settled into his eyes, the very oddness of it. The thief barely has time for a retort when he feels something prick into his skin. Barely a bite as he looks down at the hand he’s just clasped. When the Baron removes his own, Lupin sees the flash of something sharp between his fingers.

There’s a moment of clarity as he looks down at his hand and sees the pinprick of red, before his vision swims and he stumbles.

He’s sure he’s about to fall before he feels large arms wrap around his body and when he looks up, the world spinning, all he sees is Pops looking down on him. He’s not seeing the mad dog haze over the man’s eyes when he feels safe there for a moment. All he’s seeing is Zenigata and thinking that nothing bad can happen when he’s fallen into one of the old man’s traps.

Pops would never hurt him so plainly.

Not anymore.

Lupin falls into a dreamless slumber as he’s carted off as some drunk.

…

Lupin maybe wakes up a few times in transport. He remembers water, that much is clear to him as he lifts his head that feels far too heavy for his body. Everything feels, in fact, heavy.

He twitches his fingers as he comes to, out of reflex if anything. Keeping his body lax as he tries to narrow down where he is and what’s going on around him.

The feeling of an uncomfortable wooden chair under him is the first thing he grasps. The second are the ropes that are tying him to it, as well as the way he’s tied. His upper body, as well as his lower, made to appear as if he’s sitting up in the chair. An interesting detail, he supposes. Not to mention that there are lights on beyond his closed eyelids.

Nobody is talking around him, but he can feel a presence or two near despite that.

He can also hear the soft sound of music playing in the background.

Finally, Lupin chooses to open his eyes.

Blinking rapidly to clear the film that’s crusted over them. He feels like shit. Actually, he feels like he’s been drugged with an anesthetic, something fairly potent.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

The Baron’s voice sounds far away.

As Lupin’s eyes focus, he finds himself looking down upon a dinner table covered in fine courses. Game hens and scallops litter the surface as the thief’s gaze locks on the other man across the table from him. Smirking at the man, “Good morning, Zaroff, or is it evening?”

A chuckle erupts from the one-eyed man. “It is seven in the evening, dear thief. I must say, you slept soundly.”

Lupin yawns for effect, his eyes tracking across the room to spot Zenigata with his legs crossed in a plush chair next to the wall. His form prim, but his head leaned back, eyes closed. As if he’s dozed off in the chair while waiting.

The Baron laughs again, standing from his seat and striding up to Lupin like he’s not the most dangerous man in this room right now. “You are quite the man, Lupin.” He says, as he leans against the table, his limp far more evident without the cane.

“Cut the crap, why am I here? Why’d you take Pops? You're obviously playing your villain monologue over in your head. Get to the good part.” Lupin snarks, with the same amount of whine in his voice any other twelve-year-old might have.

Zaroff’s back tightens as a glare settles over his eyes, obviously annoyed. “You are here to be arrested by Inspector Zenigata.”

Lupin quirks a brow, “He hasn’t been following my sweet butt for weeks now. Besides, I have a feeling that this place isn’t in ICPO jurisdiction.”

The Baron makes a noise in the back of his throat, a choked back laugh if anything. “That doesn’t matter, not for this.”

If Lupin were in the mood, he might entertain the man with whatever he had in mind, but it’s not, he’s impatient right now. So instead, he whines in annoyance, as if this whole thing is a terrible inconvenience for him. “Spit it out, either tell me or get to your point. I’m just going to get out of here with everything you own anyway.”

Unfortunately, the other man doesn’t rise to the thief’s words. He smirks back, confident, cocksure, “If you insist.”

Somehow, the thief fears if he’s actually been played.

Zaroff looks across the room, eyes half lidded as he locks his gaze on Zenigata.

Lupin feels something twist in his gut.

The Baron emits a low whistle, and Zenigata’s eyes flicker open, as if he was never even asleep. Only on standby. Their murky color seems dimmer in this lighting. Another whistle, slightly different pitch, and the Inspector twitches before standing to his feet.

Lupin halfway expects jerky, robotic-like movements, but he's met with languid, sure movements of Zenigata’s form. Not mechanical, if anything the man's moving far more graceful than usual.

Zenigata stands there, at attention before the Baron as Zaroff smiles anew and jerks his head, "Come, Pertias."

The taller man strides forward until he’s standing before both Lupin and Zaroff. His eyes locked onto the Baron's form.

Lupin hates that with a passion.

Up close, though, he’s privy to more little details than he had realized previously. Despite Zenigata’s shoulders shoved back and his form prim, he’s rather relaxed looking. His muscles aren’t taught in a way that screams of stress… he looks good… way better than he ever does when he’s chasing the gentleman thief. Still, Lupin finds he can’t break his gaze away from those blown pupils.

Zaroff hums, carding his hand down the side of the Inspector’s face before running it beneath the man's jaw. "Quite the spectacle you two are." He changes his direction, running his fingers through Zenigata’s shiny hair, the locks recently cut and cropped. All the while, he remains motionless, barely a twitch through his ever expressive form. It's unnerving to say the least.

Nonetheless, Zenigata is well groomed and the thought of that mixes with the mass of emotion Lupin’s desperately trying to shove down.

"Two dangerous men," the Baron mulls, "one an excellent hunter, the other the perfect prey."

Normally, Lupin might scowl at that, refute it with a smart statement or coy smile. Right now, he's focused on watching Zaroff's hands roam Zenigata’s body. As if he’s some animal to be pet. Like a prized show hound being shown off by his master. The more the other man speaks, the more the analogy really starts to set in.

Lupin can clearly see the collar that's around his Inspector’s neck now. Hidden previously under tight-fitting turtlenecks and well suited dress. Here, just above a padded sweater, it's on full display. The black leather is encrusted with gold-plated panels, studded with diamonds that lead the way to four separate closed hooks on each side. Beyond that, he spots a still healing earring marring the upper cartilage, silver and lithe, not unlike that of a lamb's ear tag.

Zaroff smiles anew down at the thief before him. "I take excellent care of all my hunting dogs."

Lupin feels nauseous. "You're a sick old fuck."

The Baron laughs, a haughty sound that dies down to a cackle. "I'm a cripple, not ill, my dear fox."

The thief’s face twists at the nickname.

"I may not be able to chase you," the man continues, running his hand down Zenigata’s side and grasping the larger man's thigh. "But, he can."

Lupin wants to rip Zaroff to pieces the longer he sits there. He wants to watch the man choke on his own blood. How dare he even look at Zenigata, how dare he steal Zenigata and snare him in whatever trap. Steal the man’s conniving mind and turn him into some servant.

Zaroff never stops smiling as he looks down at Lupin with glee written on his face. "I now have the full set, the fox and the hound."

Lupin’s going to kill this man with his bare hands.

…

Zaroff unleashes Lupin onto the island he'd transported them to. The thief being freed like wild game onto the taiga like forests that are wholly unfamiliar to him.

When the doors of the cage open, he breaks off into a sprint, if only to amuse the Baron and keep the man thinking that he's one step ahead of Lupin himself. If the man wants Lupin’s fear, then he'll get a decent performance tonight. If only due to the fact that Lupin isn't entirely sure how this little dance with Zenigata is going to play out.

He runs and Pops follows.

That's how it's been for over a decade now. It's not unfamiliar to him, but he hadn't realized how efficient the man was at following him on damn near nothing but instinct until now.

Pops is nothing if not a marathoner when it comes to his pursuit.

Where Lupin sprints and rests, Zenigata creeps up from behind and is there in mere moments.

He's relentless.

It goes on like that for at least a few hours before Zenigata stops in the middle of his press on Lupin and turns around. Recalled to Zaroff’s stronghold.

The night gives Lupin time to work.

He doesn't sleep, he has no need for it, as he walks around the island, getting a good lay of the land. He thinks about the multitude of ways he can kill Zaroff with his hands. How he can strangle the Baron or snap his neck. Those thoughts keep the fire in his veins ignited when the sun rises again the next day.

The cycle repeats anew.

Lupin jogs through the trees and listens as Zenigata finds him.

When he runs, Zenigata follows.

The Baron armed the man with the hook, a tool similar enough to the throwing cuffs that the man assumed it'd be used the same. However, Zenigata didn't seem to take to the hook as well, it tended to make him sloppy, giving Lupin openings he otherwise wouldn't have.

Besides that, Zenigata does have a gun as well.

One that the Inspector barely inches towards during any confrontation with the thief. Lupin’s sure that it drives Zaroff mad.

And, Zaroff is in fact watching, that much is clear. That little tag he'd marked Zenigata with wasn't just for show, that was for sure. It took most of the second day to figure out that the slip of metal was some sort of radio or comm device. Used to relay the commands he'd used on Zenigata in the dining hall through it.

Lupin has to be careful as he takes his time figuring out the layout of the island. Trying to find where there are hidden cameras and where there aren’t. A task that each time he takes a little too long doing, Zenigata appears out of the woodwork and starts chasing him again. A time or two, Lupin had tried to lead the man astray, but to no avail. Apparently, being drugged out of his mind did not hinder the Inspector’s instincts when it came to Lupin’s tricks.

On the third day, Pops apparently is coherent enough to actually claw at the tag. Which forces Zaroff to recall him early. Sending out actual dogs to chase Lupin in Zenigata’s stead. It leaves Lupin seething as he watches the mutts clamber at the tree he’s holed up in for the moment.

On the fourth day, Zenigata doesn't respond to the recall back to the mansion. Chasing Lupin through the night as the Baron whistles from his mansion on high. And that night in itself is a nightmare. Lupin is far from defenseless, but the man chasing him is like a zombie. Any hits Zenigata takes are shaken off with a growl, so unlike his normal expressive self.

Lupin had a nasty right hook, one that the man had bit into and thrown aside. Slapping away the offending fist and leaping towards the thief with renewed vigor.

The thief finds that he can’t sleep that night.

On the fifth, Lupin leads the man around in circles until he’s too tired to continue. To which, Lupin assumes something he shouldn't and tries to talk some sense into the other man. He gets a swift kick to his shins for that.

On the sixth day, when Zaroff manages to get Zenigata back to the mansion, Lupin finally has a solid, concrete plan on how to get Pops free.

He returns to his base, slinking through the narrow tunnel and sliding down between the rocks into the seaside cavern, where he's met with two familiar faces.

Jigen looks up from his gun, a glint in his eye that’s quickly smothered out when he realizes it's Lupin. Goemon barely even twitches in his meditation.

"You look beat." The gunman comments.

Lupin shrugs and sets himself on a rock beside the other two, eyeing the yacht on the other end of the cavern. Bobbing in the gentle waves. "He ran me around a lot."

"He does that every day" Jigen fires back.

The thief merely sighs, dropping his head in his hand. "Pops is starting to wear down, tomorrow we'll get him."

The gunman gives the other man a sideways glance from under his hat. "Are you going to be able to do that?"

"I have to," Is all Lupin responds with.

"We could have just called Interpol."

"It'd take too long."

"It's nearly been a week, Lupin."

The thief’s brow twitches, but he remains absolute. "I can't just leave him like this."

Jigen stares silently at the other man, his body motionless, before curling further in on himself. "No one's saying we'd leave him."

Lupin sighs, a hard glare setting across his face as he closes his eyes, taking a breath. "I know… but I won't leave him like this."

The gunman cocks his head, “He’s not that bad off, that Baron’s been feeding him. Heck, that guy treats Zenigata pretty damn well up there.”

There’s a dark glare that crosses Lupin’s face as Jigen speaks. Usually, the thief might be a little more laid back, jovial, more joking, but right now… right now he’s so tired. “That Baron is holding Pops against his will and drugging him to the point he’s practically being mind-controlled. I wouldn’t call that the good life.”

Jigen unscrews part of a scope he’d set aside, unbothered by the thief’s hostility. “Pops is a tough old man, he can hold out until Interpol comes. Besides, he gets good food, nice clothes, Zaroff practically makes sure he gets a spa day when he gets back to that house.” The dark haired man smirks, tapping his finger against the scope for good measure. “Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

Lupin lolls his head forward, letting it drop as he sighs. “What else have you seen?”

“Nothing too hanky-panky”

The thief merely lifts his head enough to show that his brow is raised at the statement.

The gunman huffs, “Zaroff’s not fucking Pops, if that’s what you’re asking.”

There’s a faint dusting of pink that crosses Goemon’s cheeks as Jigen speaks. Lupin merely sighs again, “We’re getting him out, if I leave the island Zaroff is just going to send Pops after me and we won’t be able to send ICPO here to find him.”

Jigen opens his mouth, a retort on his lips, before a certain samurai starts speaking instead.

“I agree with Lupin.”

The gunman’s eyes pop up from underneath his hat. “Goemon, you-”

“Our comrade is in danger, in part due to Lupin’s involvement with him,” Lupin shoots a razor sharp glare at the mention of his name.

“Hey!” The thief starts.

Goemon continues unbothered, “I feel it is our responsibility to free him, the cost does not matter.”

Jigen remains quiet after that, as does Lupin.

The silence between them stretches into nightfall, an understanding between the trio being reached with so little words.

…

Luring Zenigata anywhere is the easiest part. Where Lupin goes, Zenigata follows. It's getting the man in the exact position needed that’s the most difficult part.

Lupin ends up in a bit of a struggle, slipping through the larger man's grip each time and slinking a little closer to the trap he'd set up. He just needs Zenigata to step on it, that's all, so why is it so hard?

He dodges again, hopping off to the left as the Inspector swings to grab him. Moving a little quicker on the drawback and finally, finally , Zenigata’s shoe just barely goes over the edge of the pit trap as the branches crack, and he begins to waver. His body scrambling as it's suddenly thrown into free fall. Lupin, admittedly, does feel a little guilty about it as Zenigata clamors against the side before succumbing to gravity.

At least the bottom is padded.

Still, the little grunt that’s heard from above is enough to make Lupin wince as he looks down. Quickly eyeing the trees surrounding him as he gazes over the edge at Pops. Who, in turn, is already staring back up from the bottom with mirth written across his features.

“Jeez, you really are scary when you’re mad.” Lupin quips, more to himself than anything.

The larger man glares back up before prowling along the edges of the pit, his shoes sinking into the old mattress he’d landed on at the bottom. Zenigata jumps once, launching himself against the dirt wall and clawing against the earth as he tries to scale it. Clumps fall alongside him and roots are ripped free as Lupin gives a low whistle.

The thief rifles through his tattered jacket, assembling a small blow dart gun from bits of tubing. “Stop that, you’re just going to hurt yourself.” He finds himself grumbling, grabbing the little dart he’d hidden away in a canister and popping it in the gun. “Now,” Lupin starts, readying himself. “Stay still.”

Pops must have some level of comprehension because he does the exact opposite of Lupin’s request and decides to slide down back onto the floor of the pit. Luckily, Lupin’s a pretty decent shot and the dart lands the man in the neck. Effectively drawing him out of whatever he’d been planning on doing and grabbing his throat, pulling the little device out almost immediately.

Admittedly, Lupin does find it a little funny as Zenigata stares at the needle for a moment before promptly dropping to the ground in a heap.

He can’t help the little snicker that escapes. “Same ol’ Pops.” Lupin puts the blow dart gun away, hopping over to one of the trees and pulling out the rope and pulley he’d stashed last night. Sometimes the simplest contraptions were the most effective. “Don’t even think about trying to get back up.” He mutters to himself, “There were enough sedatives in there to down a race horse for at least two hours.” Lupin glances over his shoulder at the pit, some part of him already waiting for Zenigata’s garbled reply. An annoyed yell, anything really, but the silence is all that meets him.

He ties the rope off and tosses the other end in the pit, and finds himself staring at Zenigata’s limp form.

Lupin frowns, “You’ll be okay, Pops, I swear.”

…

Dragging Zenigata through the woods and avoiding detection is no easy feat, but Lupin manages it nonetheless.

He makes it to the rendezvous point where Jigen is waiting with the yacht in the open water. The engines not even running as Lupin scales down to the shore, hopping over rocks as he keeps the body slung over his shoulders steady.

Goemon appears out of the woodwork and helps Lupin until the boat, taking the dead weight from the lithe man. Even then, Lupin can’t help but dwell on how light Zenigata had felt.

They move Pops to the underbelly of the ship and Lupin gives the signal for Jigen to hit the engines. The gunman does so without another word, expertly avoiding all the traps and bombs the Baron had left in the shallow waters of his island.

Lupin finds himself staring at the fading light of the mansion as he glares out at it on the deck. A cruel smirk crossing his features as he spots a shadow moving across a window.

He’ll be back for Zaroff, there’s no question about it, he’s going to make the man pay for what he’s done.

How dare he take something from Lupin the Third.

…

The first thing on the agenda is medical attention.

Lupin doesn't fuss as Goemon gives him a good once over. He just watches the unconscious form of Zenigata on the cot with his arm draped over his chest and head tossed to the side as Jigen does some basic med on the scrapes on the man’s hands. The thief does fuss when Goemon takes his sweet time, checking every inch of the other man with the speed of a snail.

“I’m fine!”

The worst part about Goemon is that he’s not the talkative sort. So, when Lupin gripes, often the samurai won’t respond. The best he gets is a soft ‘hm’ before the swordsman is wrapping another bandage around the scuffs on Lupin’s arms.

Lupin bats at the gauze, to which Goemon merely catches his hand and restrains him as he finishes his work with another wordless nod. “You will be fine.” The samurai states plainly, glancing back at Zenigata’s form once before the thief shuffles towards it.

He swears he hears Goemon sigh once before the samurai is going to the upper decks of the yacht, joining Jigen.

A thief is never good at restraint, not once they have their prize.

It’s like a compulsion, the way he runs his hands over the white gauze, flexing the fingers in the slightest, testing the joints. Running his own fingers up the arm and across the soft sweater, ragged nails catching on the fabric. Still, the man under the fabric doesn’t even twitch. Lupin’s pretty sure he’s never seen Zenigata so motionless. The man’s always moving, always doing something, never so quiet.

The man looks borderline peaceful, actually.

Eventually, after what feels like a second, those large eyes do pop open and Lupin finds himself staring into the depths of the mad dog haze. Luckily, the man’s still pretty out of it as he goes up to grab the thief and only loosely grasps the front of the wiry man’s lapels. To which, in response, Lupin finds himself gripping the taller man’s wrists in a near delicate touch. “Easy! Easy, Pops, this is a new jacket, I just got changed.”

Zenigata’s grip loosens before he’s back to trying to tangle his fingers in the fabric, attempting to pull himself upward with Lupin’s form.

“Hey! Stop that!” Lupin chides, pushing the other man back down.

The Inspector’s grip falters again as his eyes flicker, pupils rolling back as he blinks and shakes his head weakly.

Lupin takes the moment to detangle the man’s fingers, “Just go back to sleep, old man, I took a gamble with that tranq, I don’t wanna dose you with anything else.”

The man’s hands falter and the thief finds himself holding the bandaged fingers between his own as Zenigata starts fighting a losing battle with sleep. “Lu…” He starts, retracting a hand and resting it on the piece of leather that Lupin had failed to take off. The digits start to curl under the collar as Lupin frowns.

“Here, let me get that for you.” As soon as Lupin reaches for the latches on the back, he feels the man under his hands coil.

Zenigata’s strength comes back in a second, and suddenly Lupin finds himself pinned to the floor. A large hand clawed against his chest and pressing down, keeping him there. The thief remains still as he watches the man before him falter and droop. Lupin can’t help but attribute the movements to that of an animal dying of rabies. A snarling mess whose strength is failing them.

Vaguely, Lupin wonders if Zenigata ever got his rabies shots.

“Pops,” the thief starts, keeping his voice calm and even.

The Inspector’s arms buckle again as he breathes, sagging as he tries to keep himself up. The hand pressing down on Lupin’s chest is quickly removed and placed back around his throat. “Lupin,” the man’s voice cracks, the first thing that Lupin’s heard from him in ages.

Lupin smothers the smirk that plays across his lips, “Yes, hello, that’s my name.” He remarks softly.

A blink and there’s a moment in the mad dog haze that clears. For a second, Lupin swears that he sees some sobriety take over Zenigata’s form and as suddenly as that happens, he feels the man’s lips crash into his own. He’s too startled to even push the act away or savor it as he’s enveloped in a sloppy kiss that’s all teeth. As soon as it starts, it’s over. Zenigata finally falls, his entire body nothing but dead weight as he smothers Lupin’s body with his own.

Leaving the thief staring with wide eyes at the ceiling of the yacht.

Hm, he apparently might have a shot at Zenigata’s heart after all.

…

Lupin manages to shove Zenigata’s limp body back onto the cot and brush off some of the dirt that’s still clinging to the man’s clothes. Sighing to himself as he eventually makes his way back up to the deck, gazing out across the boat’s wake before going to the control room.

Jigen isn’t even startled when he opens the door and leans against the wall of the yacht.

“When are we coming back?” The gunman pipes up.

The thief shrugs, “After we check Pops into a hospital, then I’m going to blow that place sky-high.” He starts, a bit of venom returning into his tone.

“Would Zenigata approve of such methods?” Goemon chimes in from his perch to the far side of the room.

Lupin shoots a withered glance at the samurai, “It doesn’t matter what Zenigata would approve of or not. I was also taken hostage!”

Goemon remains silent in response, which is arguably more accusing than any words the man might say.

Instead, Jigen starts up again, “Yeah, well, if you’d just kept your distance we could have done this all a lot easier.”

The thief coils, crossing his arms and glaring out the window, “We did it already, get off my case!”

The boat suddenly lurches, the occupants jerking as the vehicle is thrown slightly.

“The hell?” Jigen barks, grabbing his hat and leaning over the gauges, the lights flickering as he does so. “Power’s been cut.”

Lupin scrambles back to his feet, shoving himself right beside Jigen as he looks down at the indicators, watching the lights flash before him. “I thought this thing was ‘pretty good’?”

“It was,” the gunman snaps, removing Lupin from his side. “Something must have severed the connection to the batteries.”

A dawning realization creeps through Lupin’s being, a guilty smirk crawling across his face before he starts to slink backwards. “I’ll go check, it can’t be too hard to fix, right?”

Unfortunately, Jigen and Goemon know him far too well for his current expression to not be suspicious. “Lupin?” Goemon starts, hopping off his perch and staring the thief down.

Lupin smiles wider, “Yes, Goemon?”

“What have you tampered with?”

The thief doesn’t get to answer as something bangs below deck, drawing the attention of all three outlaws. Lupin merely chuckles unevenly, “Pops woke up earlier.”

The death glare he receives over Jigen’s shoulder is enough to make most men cower. However, Lupin is not most men, as he smiles under its fire. “He what? You didn’t dose him again?”

Lupin shirks further back, wringing a hand, “Well, no,” another accusatory glance in his direction and the thief feels the effects of being cornered. “I don’t know what Zaroff dosed him with! Drug interactions are no joke!” He defends, waving his arms around in attempt to get his point across.

The gunman merely rolls his eyes under his hat before grabbing the gun holstered against his back. Cocking it for good measure as he brings it up and glares back at Lupin. “Take care of it, or I will.”

Turns out, Lupin didn’t need to go looking.

Zenigata bashes through the deck door, shoulder first, as he stumbles into the room with a crowbar grasped loosely in his hand. He shakes his head, once, twice before glaring outward at the occupants of the room. Each remaining still as they watch the man with wide eyes.

Lupin shirks forward, and suddenly the man is a shambling blur as he heads for Lupin. Diving towards the man and attempting a tackle that’s merely dodged by the thief. “Hey! Pops!” The wiry man starts, shuffling back a few steps, “We were just talking about you.”

The larger man shakes his head again, fingers clasping the collar around his neck before falling away. A growl on his lips as he looks up at the thief.

Once again, Lupin finds himself struck by the contrast of the piece of jewelry around the man’s neck and the actual man before him. The black leather shining in the light, the gold offsetting the diamonds that glisten with every little shift of Zenigata’s form.

It’s like putting Prada on a doberman…

Zenigata lunges again, leaping from his position on the floor and tripping over himself in an attempt to get to Lupin. Who, in turn, merely rushes back, dodging each mad swipe of the man’s hands. “Okay!” Lupin starts, jumping away from another swipe and kicking the crowbar out of the man’s hand. “I get it! I get it! Just calm down, Pops!”

The man merely slips again, his knees hitting the floor as he hands come out to catch him. Leaving him off kilter enough for Lupin to come in close and wrap his clever hands around the collar. “You want this off?” He remarks, grasping the latch in the back, feeling the man under him still and coil. Readying himself for another leap.

Lupin hits the latch, and feels the thing come free, only for Zenigata to shoot up from the floor, hitting the thief with the top of his head and knocking Lupin’s jaw hard enough to see stars. Forcing the lithe man to stumble back, grabbing the lower half of his face as he watches Goemon rush the man. Lupin finds himself in a bit of a tizzy as he works the joint and stares at the offending accessory still around Zenigata’s throat.

“Goemon, the collar!” The thief yells.

It’s enough information that the samurai knows without needing further clarification, his sword unsheathing and slicing through the leather with a single clean cut. Still, the offending piece remains, the golden paneling sliced and leather broken, it remains on the man’s neck.

Zenigata shakes his head again, turning as he regards Goemon over his shoulder, only to snarl and flounder at Lupin again. This time, managing to actually throw the thief against the window, shoving his frame against the wall with all the Inspector’s might. Which, Lupin feels, as he squirms under his captor’s grasp, is way more than is necessary for him. “Ow! Ow!”

A hand wraps around the back of his throat as Zenigata’s large build presses into him and for once, in Lupin’s long life of being chased by the other man, he does find he is a little afraid. He’s more afraid when he hears the familiar sound of the safety being taken off a gun. The thief goes rigid, and the plea for Jigen to not shoot dies on his lips as the shot rips through the room.

The sound reverberates in the thief’s skull, causing his ears to ring as he’s suddenly let go, dropping to his knees as he’s released. He’s quick to get his bearings under him as he grasps an ear and looks down at Zenigata’s crumpled form. The Inspector holding the side of his head as he stumbles, attempting to get to his feet. There’s blood on the man’s fingers as he falls again and remains there against the floor for a moment.

It’s enough time for Lupin to reach his hand out and grasp the edge of the leather around the man’s throat. Pulling it free as Zenigata lets out a screech, Lupin doesn’t let the sound faze him as he yanks the other side off. The two severed pieces of the collar grasped in his hands as he looks down at them. Thumbing the four needles placed inside the accessory.

He glares at them, fingers running across the bloodily tinged metal before finding the flexible hardware underneath. He’d been right when he thought his Inspector was being drugged, he just didn’t know how the drugs were getting in. Lupin winces, popping the remains of the thing into his pocket and flicking the medical glue from his fingers as he kneels before Zenigata.

The man looking far more pacified than he had a moment ago, hand falling from the side of his head as Lupin drapes an open palm across his back. “Pops?”

A dark eye finds Lupin, the mad dog haze ebbing as he stares. “Lupin.”

…

Jigen had shot the ear tag clean off.

There was no telling where the stupid thing had ended up after the slug went through the window, but one thing was for sure, Zenigata had been freed.

Lupin, with the help of the wonderful Goemon, had managed to move Zenigata back down to the lower decks again. Dropping the man in the cot for the third time that night before heading off to see what sort of damage the Inspector had done on the ship.

Somehow, Lupin found himself unsurprised what the ‘human wrecking ball’ could do with nothing but his hands and a crowbar.

All easily fixable though, nothing outside of Lupin’s expertise, so they certainly weren’t stranded.

Once the thief had finished his work on the yacht, they were home free again. Leaving Lupin time to take apart the collar that had been ripped from Zenigata’s throat. Sitting across from the man as he did so, not willing to let his Inspector out of his sight. Totally out of fear that the man would go ham again and start ripping the ship apart.

Not because Lupin was worried, no, far from it.

The hardware in the collar was pretty simple, Lupin found as he tore out another tube from the thing. There were a bunch of vials on each side, connected to the needles that were apparently glued into Zenigata’s skin, set on a timer on when to administer the drug. That drug being… well… Lupin flicked the tiny vial, watching the liquid swirl in its container. If he were to take a completely random guess, maybe Devil’s Breath? But, really, this wasn’t his field.

Swapping the vials had been made easy by access of the golden panels.

All in all, simple, yet elaborate, well-thought-out.

Movement draws his attention as he sets the thing down, watching the Inspector’s hand fall off the edge of the cot. With a stiff movement, the man lolls his head to the side, tired eyes gazing outward as they land on Lupin. No haze comes over them as they look at the thief, no cold stare, just a look of recognition. Lupin might hazard to say, a warm look of recognition.

“Lupin,” the man coughs, blinking as he shuffles a bit before wincing and choosing to remain still.

The thief smirks, moving away from his workbench and standing before the other man. “Zenigata.”

The Inspector winces again, sneering at the catlike grin above him. “I must look pathetic if you’re calling me that.”

Lupin merely huffs a laugh, lowering himself, so he can place his head on the cot, crossing his arms under his jaw and resting there. “No more than usual.”

Zenigata rolls his head away for a moment before returning to look at Lupin anew. “Is Zaroff dead?”

The thief blinks, taken back, “No.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“I can’t say.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Lupin feels his back coil, a rock settling in his stomach as his head shoots up, “No! Why would I kill you?!”

Zenigata merely looks back at him with wide eyes, pinpricks of tears glistening in them as he stares. “I tried to kill you.”

“Not very hard!” The thief retorts, glaring at the end of the cot for a moment. “Besides, I think you owe me a few near-death experiences.”

The larger man huffs a laugh that’s cut off far too early, “Nothing like that.”

Lupin sighs, shoulders sagging, “Enough of that, what’s Zaroff’s deal?”

There’s a soft noise in the back of the other man’s throat as he sits up slightly. Perhaps a whine if one were to listen closely, “CIA operative,” the man runs a hand subconsciously over his throat. “Remember that stint they did with mind control?”

Zenigata doesn’t have to say much else as the thief lowers his head back onto his arms. “Damn.”

“Damn,” the other man repeats, dropping his hand.

It leaves a lot of things unsaid between them as Lupin gazes back up at the Inspector. The man’s looking at the far wall with a lost look across his face, gaze far away he stares at it. Lupin finds himself staring at the same wall before slowly standing up and nudging the other man on the cot. Shifting him over as they both manage to squeeze into the small space.

“I’m sorry,” Zenigata murmurs under his breath.

Lupin merely drops his head onto the man’s shoulder, taking solace in the fact that he can hear a pulse if he presses his head close enough. “You’re not even threatening to arrest me.”

The Inspector remains still, “Zaroff wanted me to catch you, I’m thinking we’re on a temporary truce.”

The thief huffs, “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever initiated one.”

“Second time.” Zenigata adds, leaning his body against Lupin’s own, falling into the thief so easily.

“Why not make this one longer?”

Lupin feels the man beside him startle in the slightest, “I still… need to arrest you.”

“You have me right now, you’ve had me before, why not take me in then?”

“You’re too clever, you’ll slip away before I even get a chance to get you somewhere you can’t get out of.”

Lupin shifts again, turning his eyes up towards the man before him. “Nothing else?”

Zenigata moves, facing his head up so that the thief can’t see the blush across his features. “The circumstances have to be right, it’s not fair otherwise.”

The thief purrs, pressing himself against the other man’s side. “Not fair?”

The man nods, keeping his gaze up as Lupin presses himself closer. “You know what’s not fair?”

Zenigata pauses, daring to look down as he spots the thief’s warm eyes looking up at him.

“Kissing me and not giving me a chance to kiss you back.”

Zenigata feels his entire form heat up as Lupin removes himself from his shoulder. Slipping himself over the taller man’s form and straddling his waist, hands fisting into the ruined sweater across the Inspector’s form. Grasping it as he pulls the larger man forward. Zenigata obeys the order given to him with his own free will as he meets the thief’s lips. Slotting against Lupin’s mouth as the other man holds him there.

He finds that a kiss from Lupin does feel like he imagined it.

Like the warm sun hitting you after a dark and rainy storm.

Lupin grasps the sides of the man’s face, fingers digging into the back of his head as if he were to let go, Zenigata would disappear again. When they finally part, the taller man takes a shaky breath, eyes roving over Lupin’s face. Looking for something in the thief’s eyes. “Why now?” He utters.

The lithe figure leans, drawing himself closer until his head is buried in Zenigata’s shoulder. Face pressed in the crook of the man’s neck, his eyes stuck on the little pinpricks in the tanned skin. “Because you’re mine.” Lupin murmurs, as soft as he can. Wincing before speaking again, “If you want to be.”

Hands creep up along Lupin’s sides, heavy arms wrapping around the thief’s body until the other man is in a loose embrace. Almost delicate, “I’ve wanted… something, I have wanted you.”

Lupin manages a quiet laugh, “That was never a question.”

“You never gave up on me.”

The thief twitches, unsure of what Zenigata meant by the statement.

“I hurt you, hunted you, why would you still want me?” It is near whispered as the Inspector speaks, his grasp around Lupin still loose, as if he’s afraid to apply his strength to it. “You should hate me, you do hate me.”

Lupin removes himself from the man’s shoulder, looking at the other man with soft eyes. Watching the way Zenigata keeps his gaze to the far wall, not daring to look at Lupin. “It wasn’t you, not really.” He ends up brushing his thumb over the ear that’s missing the tip off of it, the notch taped over and bandaged. “I watched you fight it.”

Zenigata merely glares harder at the wall, face twisting as he hears the words.

The thief tilts his head, hand coming up under the man’s jaw and gently turning his gaze. To which, the man relents and lets Lupin move him, allows him such. Still, his eyes remain away from the other man. “I could never hate you, I’ve never hated you.”

That does cause the Inspector’s eyes to shift, looking back at Lupin finally.

“I think, in some way, I’ve always loved you.”

The hands on Lupin’s sides seize, fingers digging softly into his skin at the admission. “You’re lying…”

Lupin dips, his lips grazing across Zenigata’s forehead before placing a delicate kiss there. “I wish I was, that would make things a lot easier.”

Zenigata curls into the other man, grasping him tighter, actually holding on as he hugs the man before him. Sinking himself into Lupin’s cologne, into the earthy scent that still lingers across his skin. “I love you too.”

…

When the light flicks on, Lupin doesn’t even blink at the change, he merely stares out with his legs crossed. Holding his head in his hand as he watches the Baron move across the room with indifference.

“Hello, fox.” The man remarks, setting his coat on the rack and hanging his umbrella.

“Zaroff,” Lupin says, kicking his legs as he stands, shoving his hands in his pockets and striding forward. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

The other man merely glances over his shoulder, “I expected nothing less.”

The thief’s expression flits from playful to annoyed, “Did you?”

Zaroff turns, pressing himself against the wall and leaning on it, getting the weight off of one of his legs. “You retrieved your hound, but I’m not a fool to think that you wouldn’t return with another motive in mind. I will admit, watching that game you play with your friend up close was quite riveting.”

Lupin smirks, rounding the man and dipping, “I’m glad you thought it was a good show, not everyone enjoys it.”

The Baron allows a small upturn of his lips, “So, what is it that you plan to do with me, dear fox?”

“Tell me about the collar,” the thief starts, reaching into his jacket.

Zaroff’s eyebrows fly upward, “The collar?” He chuckles, “Why would you want to know about that?”

Lupin takes the gun out of it’s holster, aiming the thing at the man before him. “What was it for?”

The Baron tilts his head, curious, “You are not a man of empty threats, will you shoot me if I tell you?”

The thief merely stares back, aim steady as he regards the other man, “I will.”

“It’s my own creation, a sedative mixture, you might be familiar with it being used for a certain group of,” the man hums gathering his words, “man-made assassins. I was curious if a specimen such as your dear Inspector would be able to resist it.” He shrugs, “All in the name of science, nothing too personal. Even if that man is quite the beautiful hunter himself.”

Lupin watches the other man, a blank look across his face before the smile creeps back across his features, taking the safety off the gun. “You really are a sick, old man.”

The shot rings out and the other man drops, his entire form becoming like that of a rag doll as he crumbles to his knees.

The thief rolls his shoulder, eyeing the man as he pops the gun open, checking the darts inside. “Sedative mixture,” he repeats, glancing over at the dart sticking out of the man’s chest. “Pretty effective stuff,” he mutters to himself.

Lupin kneels before the man, looking over his limp form and smirking to himself. “I did shoot, but I did promise a certain man that he’d get the first shot at you. I just helped a little, don’t you think?”

The man remains unresponsive as the thief stands, wiping the gun down with a cloth and tossing it aside. Checking his watch as he does so, “And I’m not even late for my date tonight.” He bows, saluting the other man as he opens the door.

“Catch ya later, Zaroff.”