Thunder boomed in the distant sky. Flashes of lightning lit the all-too-familiar darkness. All of Earth's creations sought shelter as the skies wept; its tears pelting heavily on the world below.

She watched the outside world from the window of the Devil May Cry office, her intense blue eyes now cloudy and unfocused. Her long, blond tresses flowed beautifully down her slender back, save a few stray strands that framed her flawless face. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

He watched her silently.

Anyone who saw her at this moment would never have believed that she was capable of killing in cold blood. He felt a shiver down his spine. The combination of her looks and skills were deadly.. she was designed to kill.

He watched as her mouth moved seemingly unconsciously; she bit on her full pink lips and released. She may have been a born killer, but her every action seemed to comfort him. The smallest things she never thought anyone would notice, the most minute of things, brought such a strong sense of familiarity to him. Familiarity.. and warmth. Almost like regaining a precious gem he had once lost. A gem he would now treasure and protect from harm. A gem he would never lose again.

He gazed at her picture perfect face and sighed. Her face was the most familiar aspect of them all. It pulled at something deep in his chest, causing him the deepest, purest pain he had ever felt. That face would never be taken away from him ever again. Never, he swore to himself. He felt a pang of guilt.

And then he saw it, shining in the dim lights. Small; fast- but it was definitely there. He watched as it caressed her smooth cheek and glistened in the light as it fell to her feet.

A single tear.

Taken aback, he squinted and eyed her even more closely. Her body seemed perfectly still.

Her tears shone like tiny diamonds in the dim light.

"Trish.."

In a split second he was behind her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder as he watched her still frame. He was at a loss for words. He hated seeing her beautiful face- his mother's face- tainted with tears. The last time he had seen her cry, she had run into his arms in a storm of emotions; she was apologetic, lost, filled with regrets; and he'd held her, forgiven her.

"Trish..Devils never cry.. these tears.. tears are a gift only humans have.."

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were downcast; her face unsmiling. He heard her catch her breath.

Her muscles tensed up.

"Excuse me, "she said, steadying her voice and walking away from him, brushing his hand off her shoulder as she turned away, chin held high.

Dante lifted his hands in desperation. "Trish, I- Hey-"

She opened the front door.

"Trish! It's raining out!"

She slammed it shut.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours; and hours felt like days. The rain was merciless; raindrops speared from the Heavens as the winds howled unforgivingly, and the sky lit up with flashes of fury. Each successive crash of thunder grew louder still.

He paced around his office restlessly. She had not returned. He felt the worry pump through his heart and course through his veins, infiltrating every part of his being. This was foreign to him. He hardly ever had reason to worry.

He couldn't wait any longer.

He kicked his front door open and ran into the rain. The bitter cold soaked through his skin and ate into his flesh.

He looked up . Lightning tore through the sky violently, a hint of pure terror evident in its magnificence. The eye of the storm was close. Something told him he had to get to the source.

He followed the flashes of light to an abandoned building; by then, the lightning was so bright it nearly blinded his semi-human eyes. As another flash appeared, he noticed a lone figure on the roof. He smirked to himself. He knew he'd find her.

With great skill he jumped to the top of the building, landing as gracefully as would a cat. He took small, slow steps towards her as she unleashed her anger and frustration to the sky. Anger, frustration… and sorrow. If she had heard him coming, she didn't seem to care.

She was drenched. Soaked to the bone. Streaks of blond clung to her trembling body. This was a far cry from the Trish he knew; the strong, independent, sharp-witted woman who, to him, could take on anything. At that very moment she was almost… fragile. Almost.

What had done this to her?

He propped himself down next to her and cleared his throat.

"Lovely weather we're having."

She didn't turn to look at his boyish grin. She merely scoffed in return.

She moved her knees from her chest to a cross-legged position and leaned back on her arms. She threw her head back, mouth opening slightly, and indulged in the rain that showered so heavily onto her. She tasted the agony of the sky and felt each drop deep within her. He bit his lip in a desperate attempt not to gape at the view before him. She looked like an angel. An angel, who'd fallen from the Heavens; crushed by the cold cruel reality that is this earth. An angel… even if she really was a demon.

'Beautiful…'

"What did you say?"

It was almost a whisper. Dante felt his eyes widen as she whipped her head around to face him, the deep, cold blue transfixed on him. Had he said that aloud?

For a moment all that was heard was the pitter-patter of the rain and the angry bangs of thunder. What he saw in those eyes sent a cold, painful stab to his heart, a heart he hardly knew he had. Flashes of pain danced in deep pools of sorrow as fresh, pure tears mingled freely with the cold, raw, rain. He had never, ever seen his partner, his best friend, like this before. Dante felt his mouth run dry. He couldn't give her an answer.

"You did have a beautiful mother," she murmured, looking down, realizing she wasn't going to get an answer out of him. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "What I am is what she was."

Dante furrowed his brow in confusion. In one quick, sweeping movement he wrapped his arms around her small frame. Almost instinctively, she buried her face in his chest and wept.

"Trish.." he began, running his fingers through her hair, pulling it back. He rubbed his hand up and down her back comfortingly. She must have been so cold.

"You may look a little like her, but you're not a complete copy of her you know? I mean, She didn't have your..assets. Didn't flaunt them as much either. If she did, I'd have been a pretty disturbed child, don't you think?"

He chuckled softly . Even if he didn't get any response, he was sure that his miserable attempt at humour would have at least softened her up a little. He was pretty sure she broke into a small smile, despite her crying.

" You, Trish, are a beautiful, strong, independent woman. You and my mother look similar, but not the same. When I look at you, I see a spark- a spark that's uniquely yours. You.. you're the most amazing woman I know." He finished in almost a whisper. There was so much he wanted to tell her; like how he'd be so painfully lonely without her, how happy she made him, how amazing she looked without trying, how she kept him going…

"This has never bothered you before… what's wrong?"

He rested his chin on her head. Her trembling had seemingly stopped, she was now still as she contemplated his words. He felt her melt in his arms; as her own arms crept up around his chest to his back, holding him in a tight embrace; holding him like she would never let him go. She was strong yet gentle. He felt her longing, her frustration, her warmth.. A sudden realisation came over him.

"Oh.. oh Trish.."

He looked down to find her in deep slumber, her sharp features softened in all serenity. He smiled as the warmth he had felt steadily growing threatened to erupt from his chest.

How could he not have known?

The sun graced the sky as its warm rays blanketed the earth as far as the eye could see. All that remained of the night's chaos were puddles in the ground.

He watched as she lay under the blankets of his bed, just as he had all night; her haunting beauty filling him with a kind of warmth he'd never felt before. This was the woman he fought with, trained with, joked with… this was the woman who made him feel the comfort and familiarity, in all the ways he never realised.

He watched her silently.

He could watch her forever.