disclaimer: Darker than Black and its characters are not mine.

note one: I hope this doesn't come across as shippy, because that's not my intention. Hei/Yin is my ship, man. First, last, forever, always.

note two: Rewatching this anime has destroyed my life. LEAVE ME TO DIE.

Empty Sky

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Misaki awoke to a groggy head and blurry vision. She was in the corner of what looked like an abandoned warehouse, lying on a thin mattress surrounded by empty shipping containers. A chilly breeze stirred her hair, coming from a hole in the ceiling where the panels must have collapsed, revealing the crisp night sky. The only light came from a dim electric lantern placed on the dirty floor. She tried to stand only to find that her hands were knotted behind her back by thick rope. Instead, she negotiated her stiff limbs into an awkward kneeling position. Whoever was responsible for this, she was at least glad they had left her glasses on so she could see well enough to formulate an escape plan.

She tried to recall what exactly had happened. She remembered she'd been on her way to investigate some criminal's lair when someone had knocked her out, but her memory was too foggy to bring back any details. Misaki doubted her kidnapper had any idea who they were dealing with. Her own natural steadiness settled over her in a cool blanket, and she took a breath to stay calm.

There was a sudden rustling behind her. Misaki started and twisted around on her knees to see a silhouette leaning against the wall. It took only a moment for her to take in the dark cloak, the cracked mask, and the familiar knife resting in his gloved hands. It was BK-201.

"Oh," she muttered under her breath, her heart pounding in her ribcage. This was the criminal she'd been searching for. A surge of conflicting emotions washed over her like a tsunami; hope and elation and fear and uncertainty. Yet, somehow, Misaki wasn't terribly surprised. She'd always known that this was inevitable. It was a feeling pressed deep in her bones, nostalgic and familiar; like the weight of her gun in her hands or the acrid stench of Kanami's cigarettes. She opened her mouth to tell him…what, exactly? After all this time, all this chasing and waiting, and she wasn't even sure that what she felt could be put into words.

"Yin…" he murmured suddenly, stirring restlessly until he settled again. The blade, pointed at her like a warning, stayed in his grip. Misaki frowned. That was when she noticed his slow, heavy breathing and the slump of his shoulders, the loll of his head against the wall. He was asleep.

Misaki laughed herself silly.

She was supposed to be afraid, but then, she had never really played by the rules.

BK-201 flinched at the sound. "Yin!" he cried again, then jerked and leaped to his feet with his weapon raised—instinct, she suspected, pounded into him after years of fighting for the Syndicate and, more recently, running from them. It looked like it took him a moment to register her presence, from the quick rise and fall of his chest and the eventual lowering of his knife.

"What's so funny?" came his muffled voice, and Misaki could detect the change in it—raw, exhausted, older and so much sadder. She pressed her lips together.

"The notorious Black Reaper dozing on guard duty," she retorted. To her surprise, his back hit the wall, and he slid down until he collapsed on the floor, bringing up a gloved hand to run through his messy hair. Misaki watched the strength seep out of him as the weariness set in, and wondered what exactly had happened to him after he went rogue. "When was the last time you had a full night of sleep? Or a good meal?" she asked in a much gentler tone.

There was no response. Maybe he didn't even know the answer to her question himself. "Aren't you going to ask why I brought you here?"

"Well, I've wondered. But if you wanted to kill me, I'd already be dead. So is it information you want?"

He sighed low and deep in his throat. "I want to know your motives. You showed up at several of my jobs when I worked for the Syndicate; too many to be coincidental. You were there when I destroyed the anti-contractor weapon. And you found this place, even after I'd been so careful to cover my tracks. So what the hell is it that you want so badly from me?"

Misaki drew breath to answer, but his voice took on a harsh edge, a vicious one. "Is it Izanami? Because you're too late. She's—she's gone." His voice broke on the last word.

"I—what? I've never even heard of Izanami. I just…I just want to talk."

He was silent for a moment, and she figured he was thinking, weighing his options and his solutions. BK-201 was clever, even despite how different he was from the cold logic of most contractors. But then, Misaki had spent enough time with November and his team to know that contractors were not the monsters the world believed them to be.

"Fine," he said finally. "We'll have your talk. But in return, you leave me alone. Is that clear?"

"I can't promise—"

"Kirihara, I need you to stop hunting me." He sounded desperate, almost pleading. "I'm already running from the Syndicate and PANDORA and dozens of other organizations who want me dead. I've killed the some of the most skilled contractors in existence. Do you actually think your police can stop me? If you keep tracking me, their bodies and yours will be added to that pile. I don't want that."

She drew back in surprise. "Fine. I accept your terms. But why are you so concerned about my safety?"

"None of your business."

"Look, you promised we'd talk. You'll be completely honest with me and vice versa. Consider this where we start. Why?"

BK-201 sighed and let his head fall back against the wall, making a dull thud as it connected to the cement. "Because you have a good heart. You try to do what's right. The world needs more people like you. And because I…" he grew quiet, and his fingers tightened around his knife. "I have so much blood on my hands."

She supposed she should be shocked to learn that the great Black Reaper hated killing, but she found herself feeling nothing but sympathy. She'd seen his face when he spoke of the hell he and his sister had lived in; the darkening of his eyes, the subtle trembling of his hands. He'd had to kill people there, too, but it was never what he wanted. This was one thing about him that Misaki thought she could understand. "Will you take off your mask?" she asked hesitantly.

"Why?"

"You don't need it," she pressed. "I already know what you look like, Li."

"Don't call me that," he growled, but he took the mask off all the same, avoiding Misaki's gaze. There was a scar on his left cheek that hadn't been there the last time they had met, and his lower lip was split. The beginnings of a beard grew on his jawline, and the circles ringing his eyes looked as deep and dark as the crevasses of Hell's Gate. His irises were bloodshot, and dull, and empty. It was no wonder he had fallen asleep while guarding her. He looked exhausted.

"What happened to you?" she breathed.

Silence. He turned his face away.

"Look, Li—"

"I told you not to call me by that name!" he snapped, raising his voice and making Misaki jump. His fist shot out and slammed against the wall, denting the cement with his strength. "Don't you get it? Li is the name I use to get close to people, to gain their trust until I betray them and they get killed! Do you have any idea how many lives I've taken? You don't—I can't—"

"It's the name you gave me when we met," she protested. "It's how I've thought of you since then."

It was a while before he answered, but this time, he raised his head and locked his gaze on her. "I still don't know what it is that you want, but you need to understand one thing. That was not me, those times we met. That was Li, and he doesn't exist. I'm dangerous. If you keep at this, you will end up hurt. I am the reason Izanami awoke." There it was again—the pain in his voice, the misery settled deep in his eyes. He hated himself, Misaki realized. The things he had done—they ate away at him until there was nothing left but guilt.

Her breath caught, and her lips tightened together. She wasn't sure if it was from pity or because of what he was saying, but something that felt suspiciously like a sob worked its way up her throat. She swallowed it down; crying would only be a setback. "I know it was acting some of those times," she said. "I know you were on missions. But you look me in the eye and tell me we didn't have a genuine connection, at least once. Or was every word you told me a lie?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looked away. "That night everyone thought the real stars were going to return," he said roughly. "I told you about Heaven's Gate. And my sister. That was the truth."

Relief blossomed inside her, but Misaki quelled it before it could grow into something more. Hope was a dangerous thing, for someone like her, in a situation like this, and she was sick of being let down. He was finally opening up, lowering his guard, realizing that she was not a threat. But that would only last so long.

"What's Izanami?" she asked. "Or…who is Izanami?"

"It's…she's..." Misaki could see a muscle in his jaw working, struggling for the right words. "I don't really know," he admitted at last. "Izanami is a weapon that kills contractors. I don't know how or why. It…possessed my former partner when we were inside Hell's Gate. That's how she was able to save my life." He took a shuddering breath. "Izanami awakened not long ago, and Yin…" he trailed off, unable to continue.

Yin. That was the name he'd muttered in his sleep. Misaki recognized it now—the codename for the doll that had been on BK-201's team when he worked for the Syndicate. "Yin asked you to kill her," Misaki breathed, her voice growing somber with the realization. She could see from the look on his face that her guess was correct. He looked so vulnerable and so broken in that moment that she felt a fresh wave of compassion. She tried to imagine her father, or Kanami, or Saitō asking the same thing of her. Would she be able to pull the trigger? Would anyone?

"I couldn't do it," he said flatly. "She was all I had left in the world, and I wasn't strong enough to let that go."

"I'm so sorry," Misaki whispered. "I shouldn't have asked."

Silence reigned for several long minutes after that; there was nothing but the cold wind howling through the empty warehouse and the distant sounds of traffic from the highway. It occurred to Misaki during that quiet that she had spent two years chasing after Li; but Li was just the forgotten shadow of a ruse that had never been genuine. She had never stopped to think about the man sitting in front of her; about how the world had taken, taken, taken from him until there was nothing but the blood on his hands and the heaviness of his heart; about how he still managed to be kind when no one was looking; about how everyone he cared for had left him, time and time again. She was only just beginning to sort out her own feelings for him, but she knew now what he needed was not someone pining after him, pursuing him restlessly. He just needed someone who was safe, someone who understood; a place where he didn't have to wear that mask.

"How about we go get something to eat?" Misaki suggested, breaking the silence. "I know a great ramen place just around the corner. I'll pay."

She saw the distrust on his face, but maybe the offer was too tempting to back down from. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

Half an hour later, every single dish on the restaurant's menu was being set before them by several bemused waitresses. BK-201 was wearing a button-down shirt and plain jeans, and looked almost exactly like the charming Chinese student Misaki had first met, even though that seemed so long ago. Only now, she was constantly aware of the outline of the knife he had strapped under his sleeve, a detail she never would have noticed before.

He had always had a large appetite, but the urgency he ate with today showed how truly hungry he was. He scarfed down every bite as if it would be his last. She took note of the hollowness in his cheeks and the stiffness of his movements, something she hadn't noticed in the darkness of the warehouse. He was likely injured, and badly enough that he couldn't conceal it.

To Misaki's astonishment, BK-201's eyes were filled with tears when she looked back up at his face. He wasn't eating so quickly now. She opened her mouth to say something, but for once, Misaki was at a loss for words.

"Sorry," he mumbled, swiping angrily at his eyes. "It's just, the last time someone did this for me…it was Yin."

Misaki hated herself for the twinge of jealousy she felt then. It was wrong and she knew it, but she couldn't help the sinking feeling that she would never mean to him what Yin had. Misaki didn't really know what had occurred between the two of them, and it wasn't her business to know; but that doll had touched him in a way that she never could, and that made her sad.

She took a deep breath and pushed her glasses up on her nose. "Look, you need a safe place to rest and recover your strength for a few days. Why don't you come stay at my apartment?" He opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted. "I highly doubt the Syndicate will look for you there. They probably aren't even aware of my existence."

"How do I know I'm not walking into a trap?"

It stung a little that he thought she would do that to him, but given the people he'd worked for and the things he'd been through, Misaki supposed she couldn't blame him. There wasn't anything she could say that would change that. "You don't know," she replied. "You just have to trust me."

"I don't like taking charity."

She sighed exasperatedly. Men and their damn pride. "This isn't charity, it's helping out a friend. And you clearly need it." It felt strange calling him a friend, but she hoped it could be true.

He relented carefully. He wasn't letting his guard tumbling down anytime soon, but he wasn't so wary of her now, and that was enough for Misaki. After he finished his enormous meal, they made their way to her home. Misaki flicked on the light, yawning, and glanced at the digital clock on the counter. It was past midnight. She went to the closet and pulled out some spare blankets and a pillow, tossing them on the couch.

"I'd better turn in. I've got work tomorrow. The shower's that way if you want to use it." She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. Misaki had just realized how strange this was, inviting the Black Reaper into her apartment, treating him the same way she'd treat Kanami if she needed a place to spend the night. "We'll figure out breakfast in the morning. Goodnight." She turned towards the door to her bedroom, but something stopped her.

"Can I call you Hei?" Misaki asked suddenly, uncharacteristically rash.

He nodded slowly. He looked a thousand times more tired than she felt, so she swiveled back around and reached to twist open the doorknob.

"Misaki?"

She jerked at the sound of her first name; it was the first time he'd called her by it. When she looked back at him, there was a small smile on his face, the first real smile he'd ever given her. It lit up his eyes, but it was a sad smile too, and she knew what he was going to do.

"Thank you," Hei murmured. Misaki smiled back, and slipped inside her room.

By morning, he was gone.

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