Title: Fermata

Rating: PG

Summary: Dante reminisces about the past.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and characters belong to Capcom.

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my Mom, who is a music teacher. Thanks Mom for beating all those music lessons into my head! You know I love you!

Fermata (Italian): Musical term means to hold. To hold a tone or rest beyond the written value at the discretion of the performer.

Dante was frustrated. He sat at his drum set with his sticks in hand. The room was so quiet and he couldn't stand it. It had been several months after the fall of Temen-ni-gru and the disappearance of his brother, Vergil. Vergil…

Dante had tried not to care, tried not to think about it, but he couldn't help it. He was left alone in the world, not that it mattered much. But, Lady had awoken something in him. Something he thought had died with his mother. It was the security that only family could give. With the death of his parents, Vergil was his only living blood relative.

They had been close. Very close, that is until the death of his mother. Then Vergil disappeared. But, after battling with him, Dante realized Vergil wasn't the brother he knew. This one was more corrupt and certainly more coldhearted then he remembered.

Dante frowned, the rolled his eyes. "Vergil, you were such an idiot." Dante could almost hear Vergil's retort.

Idiot? I think not, brother. At least I finished my music lessons, unlike some slacker brother I know.

Dante grinned, remembering the past. They took music lesson together, at their mother's request. Dropping the drumsticks, he rummaged through a nearby closet. After a loud thump, a crash and a bit of swearing, Dante victoriously emerged with a box. The box had been sealed since he was a kid. Tearing open the box, he began going through some of the contents.

There was an old action figure, a dented model car, his old music books and a photo album. Going for the album first, he flipped through the baby pictures until he found one he remembered. He had tied poor Vergil to a tree and took his picture. The whole time, Vergil looked as if his gaze would burn Dante to a smocking cinder.

There was one of his mother playing the piano with him sitting on her lap. There was another of Vergil sleeping on the couch with a book on his chest. "Vergil, you bookworm. Not to mention, a loud snorer."

I least I know how to read, you moron. Trying picking up a book once in a while.

Dante then moved to the music books. Most of them had little drawings by him or Vergil. Some, surprisingly, were from his father. One depicted a little house with four little stick figures.

He kept flipping through the pages until he saw one that made him stop. It was the lesson on the Fermata. The Fermata had been his mother's favorite musical term. She would look at either him or Vergil and say I'm a Fermata, hold me. This meant for them to give her a hug.

When Dante read what the term meant, it made him think of how he felt of his family. He held on to their memories, but at times he held on for so long that it made him sick at heart. But, at the same time, he chose to do this to himself. He wanted to feel the pain for their loss, because at least he felt something.

Placing the items back into the box, Dante felt a little better. Sure, he missed his family, but he carried their memories with him where ever he went. Some day, one day, he and Vergil will be reunited. This time, perhaps as brothers instead of enemies. Until then, he would continue searching for, continue fighting for and continue protecting what he believed in.

"I'm a Fermata. Somebody hold me."

Don't worry, brother. I am with you, always.

The End

I'm an Accent! Attack me!... with reviews of course. Nah, just kidding. I know it's short, but it's just meant to be a snippet of Dante's past, nothing major. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the story and thanks for reading!