#I can't believe this is my first non-prompted piece for this fandom... I don't hate it honestly. XD

[theimpossiblescheme]

The Rebirth of Lupin III

(I was rewatching Part 4, and this plot bunny took me hostage after watching Episode 14, “The End of Lupin III”.  After what was probably Lupin’s most harrowing near-death fakeout yet, I couldn’t help but wonder about the aftermath, and before I knew it I’d written this.  I hope everyone enjoys it!)

It wouldn’t have been the first time Lupin the Third “died.”  Hell, given his track record, it probably wouldn’t be the last either.  But damn if he hadn’t put on one hell of a show.  Old Pops had been wrapped around his little finger the entire time—the discarded meals, the weakened voice, the repeated talk about the end being near… that final scene with the shared cigarette… the genuine sorrow in Zenigata’s voice, even moreso than all the other times… it was his finest performance yet.

It might also have been his stupidest.

Turned out skipping meals for multiple months, only eating what he absolutely had to in order to finish the painting on the cell floor… that kind of stunt tended to really negatively impact your health.  Go figure. The amount of times he’d blacked out midway through mixing his makeshift paints, or he’d felt the acid from his own empty stomach rising into his throat as he worked… he’d honestly lost count.  Walking made him dizzy, and that last cigarette tasted like nothing so much as burning tar on his lips, even as he forced himself to finish it.  That final scene, hearing his ears ring as Pops spoke and feeling his hands shake under his blanket, really did feel like one.  Empty stage as Lupin collapses before he can even unveil his master plan. Before he can live up to Pops’ faith in him.  Lights out. Curtain.

It had been an honest to God miracle he’d made it farther than that.  Standing to gloat over his victory as Zenigata finally opened the cell made his legs teeter dangerously, and his throat still felt raw, but if he was going to live to see the finale, by God he was going to make it an unforgettable one.  He’d managed to walk away smiling as Pops could do nothing but laugh in hysterical disbelief, and Lupin felt a bit of that hysteria bubbling up in his own lungs, too.  He’d actually pulled it off… damn, somebody up there must really like him.

Somebody out on the bay liked him, too, apparently.  As soon as Rebecca and Robson’s motorboat sped into view, Lupin wasted no time leaping into the water after it.  Finally, another familiar face—even if his limbs felt like they might snap at any moment, he was still going to make it out to them.  To know that Rebecca had made it out alive, that she hadn’t given up on him even after so long.  When she hauled him up into the boat, his head lolled onto her shoulder against her neck, and he noticed her perfume had changed.  Some new label must have sent her fresh samples… she smelled nice, like a fruity cocktail on a summer day…

Rebecca brushed a lock of hair out of his face, and he suddenly became very aware of how long he’d let it get.  “You look terrible,” she said with a very faint smile.

Lupin managed a wheezing chuckle in response.  “Yeah, probably.”

And then he blacked out again.

*

When he came to, he was in an actual bed.  With sheets and a pillow.  What a difference it made on his neck—sleeping on concrete had done him no favors.  On the endtable beside him was a bowl of stew, still hot, and a cup of what smelled like lemon tea.  Not his favorite, but beggars and choosers and all that, and Robson really didn’t have to go to the trouble.  Besides, after so long actively avoiding any food provided him, it smelled goddamn delicious.  Even with his arms and legs still feeling like matchsticks, Lupin still managed to sit up and help himself.  The stew was gone in nothing flat, and the tea was half-finished and cooling by the time Lupin felt strong enough to stand up.  The Rosselini’s guest rooms were comparatively plain next to the rest of the house, but they could still stand up respectably with any of Fujiko’s favorite upscale hotels.  

(Where the hell was Fujiko… or Jigen or Goemon for that matter… best not to think of that right now. He’d only just woken up, after all. There was still time… there was nothing but time now.)

And of course, the décor was hardly the highlight.  Propping himself against the wall, he turned the latch on the window and opened it, letting the morning breeze waft in and the sun warm his face for the second time in God knew how many days.

San Marino was still beautiful.  A jewel too big to pocket, but not too small to admire.  Lupin stood for a long moment drinking in the view before turning to the guest bathroom.

The sight that greeted him there was less than beautiful.  He still had the damn beard and long tangled hair, but that wasn’t the worst of it.  His cheeks had hollowed out into nothing, and his skin had gone so grey and cold from darkness and malnutrition it may as well not be there at all.  A skull framed with dark hair stared back at him from the mirror, and it took all of Lupin’s self-control not to hurl the half-digested stew and tea into the sink.  Of all the times he had to actually almost die, it had to be when he didn’t even look like himself.  A disguise would be one thing—his true face and body would still be underneath—but this…

This wouldn’t do.

Luckily, a razor and shaving cream had been left on the counter for him.  Lupin immediately snatched them up and began to fill the sink with hot water, actually tapping his foot impatiently as it didn’t fill fast enough.  He needed to see his face again, needed to know that it was still him under all this. When the sink was full, he wet the razor and hurriedly slathered the shaving cream across his chin and cheeks, even carelessly getting some into his hair.  This would be fine.  He’d be fine. Good as new, even.

If only his hands would stop freaking shaking…

He lifted the razor to the underside of his chin and instantly felt his hand slip.  A few seconds of panic preceded the bolt of pain as he felt blood drip into his fingers.  Damn it all… dammit dammit dammit, why’d he have to let it go this far?

“Lupin?”

The voice didn’t come from the door, but instead the window.  Lupin barely even processed that before wheeling around, knees weak and face burning with embarrassment.  He couldn’t let anybody see him like this, not even—

“Goemon!”

His samurai still had one leg out the window as he climbed through, but he froze in place upon seeing Lupin framed in the bathroom door.  A hundred different emotions warred in his eyes, and Lupin wanted so badly to run over and hug him before Goemon’s face settled into its usual stoicism. “Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“Ah… not exactly,” Lupin said sheepishly, reaching a hand to the back of his neck and internally cursing the cold sweat that had gathered in his hair.  “I’m not really sure how long I’ve been here.  Rebecca and her butler came to get me after I got away from Pops.”  Another poor excuse for a chuckle wheezed out of him.  “Lemme tell you… they don’t half kid around locking somebody up here if they want ‘em locked up… it’s a lot worse if you don’t have the key.”

“I can see that.” Goemon finally drew closer, studying Lupin intently.  “You don’t look like you had an easy time of it.”

“Honestly, does anybody have an easy time in prison?  That’s why I try to stay out of it, y’know.”  But it was hard to keep even a weak smile in place, looking at Goemon now… God, he really could have died.  He could have never seen him again, or any of his gang.  Faking a grand exit for the benefit of Interpol, knowing he could return when the coast was clear, was so much different.  And Goemon looked so healthy next to him—he’d even put on a bit of weight for once, which told Lupin that Jigen must have found him a nice Japanese place outside San Marino.  Hell, compared to Lupin’s sorry state, he looked downright beautiful.  It felt like it had been years… Lupin could stand there staring at him for even longer than that.  How must Jigen and Fujiko look at this exact moment?  Were they worried about him?  Were they okay?  All at once, he wished they were all here, together, and that he didn’t look like the freaking Crypt Keeper when he went to greet them.

Goemon reached up and touched Lupin’s cheek with his fingertips, and Lupin tried very hard not to lean into the touch as he had with Rebecca.  “I’m not sure if the beard suits you, though.  Or the long hair.  You look a bit like something else crawled onto your head and died.”

That got a stronger, if extremely wry, smile out of him.  Nice to know both their senses of humor were intact.  “Yeah, not a fan myself… I don’t suppose you could…?”  He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not using my sword to give you a shave, Lupin.”

“No, not with Zantetsuken, dummy—just use the razor.”  There was the arch, fussy side of Goemon… he had to admit, he’d missed that, too.  Nodding as if he’d understood all along, Goemon picked up the razor and washed away the blood before cupping a hand around the back of Lupin’s neck and letting him lean back as he worked.  His hands were much steadier, almost gentle in their grip, and he was always a few degrees warmer than Lupin himself.  Endless physical exercise would do that, Lupin supposed—ironic, considering how much time he spent under freezing cold waterfalls and out in the snow. Fujiko’s hands were always just on the comfortable side of cold, but she avoided that kind of exertion if she possibly could.

“Where are the other two?” Lupin asked, trying to move his jaw as little as possible so he wouldn’t obstruct Goemon’s work.  “Are they--?”

“They’re both fine.  Fujiko had rented out a beach house on the Italian mainland to wait for you, and Jigen had been spending time at one of the casinos. When I called to let them know you’d escaped, they told me they were on their day—they should be here this evening.”

Thank God…  “So you finally figured out that phone I gave you, huh?”

“I’m not actually from the Sengoku Period, Lupin—I know what a cell phone is and how to use it.” He paused to wash off the razor again, and a very light pink stained his cheeks.  “Fujiko also helped a great deal.  Especially our first night in San Marino.”

“Oh, I’ll bet.”  For once, Lupin hadn’t meant it with any lewd intent, but it didn’t stop Goemon from yanking his head back a trifle harshly as he found a new angle with the razor.  “They’ve gotta be pretty pissed, too… that I took so long.  I know I would be.”

“They’re upset, certainly. But no more than usual for you.” It wasn’t said with any real malice, just as a blunt statement of the truth, but it still stung.  Did it make it any better or worse that for once—out of all the times he’d faked his death—he actually feared it might be for real? Instead of just an act he’d strung them along on for the sake of the greater plan?

Probably worse.  At least all those other times, the plan was to come back.

“I’ll do better next time.” And he really did mean it. Although he’d probably stave off the “next time” for as long as he could—one impregnable prison cell full of rotten uneaten food was enough.  “And I’m definitely not gonna let it go this far.  Believe it or not, the beard isn’t even the worst of it.  With my hands the way they are, I’d hate to think what’ll happen when I need to pee.”

“As long as Jigen doesn’t have to hold you up.”  There was no smile on Goemon’s face, but there was one in his voice.  “And I know for a fact he’ll hold you to that promise.”

Lupin couldn’t help but grimace.  As much as he’d love to see his gunman again… “Yeah, not looking forward to that conversation.  Not just ‘cause I’m gonna bruise like a banana if he punches me.”

“I’ll do my best to separate you.” There was the smile—it softened up the prematurely harsh lines of Goemon’s face as it always did, and Lupin had to remember to keep his head still and resist the temptation to kiss his cheeks until his lips went numb.  Rinsing off the razor again, Goemon tilted Lupin’s head slightly to his right.  “I might be at this for a while—please promise me you’ll never grow a beard again.”

“You got it, man.  And I got all the time in the world.”

#lupin iii #my fanfic #I can't believe this is my first non-prompted piece for this fandom... I don't hate it honestly. XD #But yeah that episode is both really good and a little wild because he's apparently back to 'normal' in the end #(after an apparent time skip but still) and I'm just sitting there like... *dude you almost died.* #I know it takes a lot to knock you out of the running but *come on.* #So that was where this came from (and his relationship with Goemon doesn't get enough love so that's why he's here too. <3).