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Seven Nights Down Under	By : SilverSpider Category: +G through L > Gargoyles Views: 1718 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: It's been forever, I know, but I haven't abandoned this or any other of my stories. The only thing is I'm lifting my previous self-imposed NC rule. Not all the night chapters will have a hard NC rating. Most – like this one – be light to regular R actually. Just can't write force myself to write smut sometimes ^^;;. Also I mentioned I was planning to scale down on the number of chapters, but I changed my mind. The story will still have 14 chapters (7 nights, 7 days) because I reread one of my old reviews and remembered there was a reason I designed it like this. Other than that, enjoy and please review!

Night 3
Scars

Something was wrong.

Dingo could not put his finger on what it was, but something had been bugging him all day from the museum to the Rocks and back to the hotel. If he did not know better, he could have sworn they were being followed, but he had no idea who would want to. Sure, he was a wanted fugitive in the States, but he had managed to keep his nose clean in his home country thus far. So what the hell was wrong?

His companion obviously picked up on his distracted state because on several occasions she inquired if he was alright. Night was fast approaching which made him feel no better. Not that Dingo couldn't handle himself, and it was not like that part of the city was prone to random outbursts of violence, but if his old life was about to catch up with him, he did not want an innocent woman caught in the crossfire. He was still hoping it was all in his imagination. Maybe it was, but Dingo was still relived when they returned to the hotel without incident. It was not a conscious decision, but apparently they were spending the night in his room. And apparently, whether it was their earlier discourse or his current lack of focus, a cold shower would not have been able to kill the mood more than it already had been.

“I'll be back in a bit,” Robyn promised. By the cell sliding out of her pocket and the motion of the general direction of her own room, Dingo guessed she was checking in with her brothers.

He drummed his fingers on the top of the television screen as the door closed behind her then abruptly grabbed the swipe card from the counter and headed out as well. One circle around the building and parking lot should settle his nerves. It did seem to help, but just as he was about to make a final round and take the stairs back up to the second floor, Dingo noticed a man a few steps to the side of the door to the front office.

He frowned a little, wondering why he should take any note of him, when it finally clicked. It was the same three-piece suit and news paper from the train. In flash he veered from his course to the stairs and made long pointed strides towards the man who suddenly found his watch very interesting and made a move to leave as if he realized he had to be somewhere urgently. Dingo did not buy it for a second.

Reaching the man quickly without actually drawing attention to them, he grabbed his upper arm and squeezed tightly. The message was clear: make a sound, and you'll regret it. Dingo dragged him into the shadows and roughly tossed the man against a wall, his forearm pressed to his throat so the stranger was gasping for breath.

“Wanna tell me why you've been following me all day, mate?” the Australian had not actually seen the man all day but had a pretty good idea he was the cause of his unease.

“Coat pocket,” the man gasped. “Check my coat pocket.”

Definitely American. Dingo scowled but did so, pulling out a once-folded card and opened it..

Xanatos Enterprises.

Now he was pissed.

“What the bloody hell does Xanatos want with me? I cut all ties with him and his horror show back in the States after the last botched fiasco.”

“Not him,” the man shook his head. “His wife.”

“Fox?” he was more confused than angry now and released the man.

“My instructions were just to find you,” the American confessed. “She told me to let you know to call her at that number,” he nodded at the hand-written digits on the back of the card. “Said she has a job offer for you.”

His anger was back in an instant. “Go back to the States and tell 'er she can take 'er job offer and shove it. I ain't interested.”

Giving the man one good shove for emphasis, he stepped back, arms crossed, and watched him scramble out of the way and to the parking lot and towards a navy colored car. Suddenly Dingo had a flash of inspiration.

“Nice Jeep,” he smirked. “Four-by-four?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Robyn had decided to call Jon more out of something to occupy herself than a real need. Harry seemed to have something on his mind, so she decided to give him some space. Her cell had been off for the past two days, but now, despite her need to get away from her family, Robyn found herself wondering what would happen if a real emergency had occurred. Better to check in and make sure, just in case.

“Morning,” her little brother sounded cheerful, “or whatever time it is where you are.”

“It's nighttime, Jonny,” usually she would not have given any clue as to where in the world she was, but it was not much to go on and Robyn trusted him to say nothing to their brother. “How are things on your end? Where are you?”

“Italy, but you probably don't want to know why. We're fine.”

“Ah, that's good to hear,” if he thought she did not want to know what they were doing in Italy, it probably meant it had something to do with the usual family business.

“How is your vacation going?”

“Good,” she toyed with the pendant from the Rocks market that still hung around her neck.

“'Good' like you're finding the sights mildly interesting, or 'good' like I shouldn't be asking for details?” her brother teased.

Robyn couldn't help but smile. “Love you, Jonny,”

“That good, huh? Okay, I'll tell Jason not to expect you back early.”

“No, definitely not. Don't even bother telling him I called. He'll just harass you about it. I just wanted to check in.”

“Then my lips are sealed,” he promised. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

“I will. See you in a few days.”

“Night, sis.”

Harry nowhere in sight by the time she returned to his hotel room with a few fresh articles of clothes, but that was fine. Robyn headed over to the bathroom and turned on the tap. The heatwave from the first day was receding, but it was still hot enough for her to be glad even for the wall air condition unit.

On second thought, she eyed the shower. Why not? Who knew when he'd be back, and it would only be a quick rinse.

She heard the front door opening just as she stepped out and wrapped the towel around her body and then slam suddenly. The bathroom was still locked, but she could hear him toss something on the table, curse, then pace for a moment outside. Robyn picked up a brush and loosened her hair which has been pinned up for the shower, letting him cool down a bit before raising her voice to call through the door.

“What?”

She heard him stop and sigh. “For the record, if I've been off, it's got nothing to do with you.”

“Alright..,” it was said slowly, like a prompt for him to continue. Dingo made a face.

“I got a call from Fox, a former friend of mine.”

“I take it he's not someone you're particularly happy to hear from,” satisfied with her hair, Robyn unlocked the door and padded out to get her clothes.

“'Fox' isn't short for Foxworth or anythin' like that. Fox is a woman,” he laughed a little at the need to correct her but quickly realized maybe he should not have. She was frowning. Standing in the bathroom doorway in a towel and frowning. “A happily married woman with a baby on the way, last I heard. She's just a friend. Was a friend.”

“Oh,” Dingo tried not to feel a little satisfied at the jealousy and embarrassment that flashed across her face all within the span of seconds before it returned to a more neutral expression. After all this was a woman he has known for less than 72 hours.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “No, I'm not happy to hear from her. Before she... settled down, she used to run with some rough folks. We both did. She's not exactly a bad person, but I came back here t' get away from that part of my life and I'm not 'bout t' invite anyone from there back in.”

He tried not to make it sound terribly ominous so that she would not be wondering just what kind of life it was he was running away from. Robyn looked thoughtful, arms folded, lips pressed together in a line. Finally she shrugged a shoulder.

“I don't know what your friend wants,” she said carefully, “but sometimes you have to do what's best for yourself.”

The statement sounded somewhat cryptically, like she was talking not entirely to him, but Dingo was not about to dwell on it. Not when there was a much better way to forget all of the day's foul-ups. He did not even give her a chance to turn off the light in the bathroom or hang the towel. That's what housekeeping was for, anyway.

* * * * * * * * * *

He loved touching her. It may have been far too sentimental for a couple nights worth of admittedly really good sex, but more than anything else she felt cool and somehow exotic to him. It was ironic. Most people in Europe or North America would have found Australia to be the land of wonder and mystery, but to him this tough northern woman was the curiosity. He ran a feather light touch along the curve of her hips, tight flat belly, breasts and arms.

Then he suddenly stopped.

“What are these?”

He lightly skimmed the pale scars barely visible to the naked eye. If they were not so physically close and he had never seen knife wounds in his life, Dingo may not have noticed at all. Whoever patched her up did a damn good job, but that did not preclude the fact that her body bore the remnants of obvious battle wounds. His frown deepened, and he looked to her for an explanation. Robyn sighed , disentangled herself from him, and reached for the sheets, feeling too naked, too open.

“Do you always ask about everyone's scars?”

“If they're on a woman I'm in bed with,” he retorted. “Scars like that means a man put his hands on her in a way he shouldn't have. Who did that to you?”

An instant realization at what he was implying washed over her, and Robyn suddenly found herself unable to keep from laughing. She dispensed with the sheets and leaned across the bed to kiss him full on the mouth, the hair on his chest lightly tickling her breasts as they grazed his pecks. Surprised, Dingo kissed her back but hesitantly, as he was still not at all sure what was going on. Robyn pulled back, still smiling, and took his right hand.

“This,” she placed it on the slightly raised scar on her hip. “My elder brother nicked me with a four inch harpy. And this,” she moved his hand to one on her arm, “is from the younger getting sloppy with a lockback. Don't worry. They have souvenirs from me, too.”

It was obvious from his more than a little horrified expression that he wanted to ask just what kind of family she had, but Robyn just waved her hand.

“We lost our father when I was fourteen,” she explained, “to... well, unnatural causes. After that my elder brother insisted that we all train in various forms of combat and defense, especially me, being the only girl. They can be rather overprotective at times, my brothers. Believe me, no man puts his hands on me in a way I don't like.”

He seemed satisfied with that explanation, and the mixture of lust and mischief returned to his face. In one smooth motion, Dingo rolled them over so that he was poised above her on his elbows. He bent his head to nip lightly at the smooth skin that stretched across her collar bone.

“Well, then,” his lips curved into a sly smile. “Guess I'll just have to figure out what that is.”

Later in the night, the slight post-sex euphoria still hanging in the air, Dingo pulled her close to his chest, never allowing their bodies to separate, and cupped her left breast stroking his thumb over the nipple. Robyn stifled an uncharacteristic giggle. Some people did not appreciate laughter during or even after sex which was something she never understood. Both were supposed to feel good.

“You're a breast man,” she accused teasingly.

He gave her a look of utter innocence then rolled them over so they were facing one another.

“I have kind of a crazy proposition.”
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Seven Nights Down Under