Explanations and Explorations Chapter 1 Decisions in the Wolf's Den, a rurouni kenshin fanfic

Explanations and Explorations

Chapter 1: In the Wolf's Den

Saitoh Part I

Date: Monday, February 6, 2060
Time: Late Afternoon - Early Evening
Location: New Meiji Department of Justice (Police Wing, Armory, Shooting Range)
Characters: NPC, Saitoh, Tokio

"YOU HAVE ACCESSED THE NEW MEIJI POLICE DEPARTMENT ANSWERING SYSTEM. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE FOLLOWING OPTIONS BEFORE MAKING YOUR SELECTION."

Saitoh took an impatient drag on his cigarette and listened.

"TO CHANGE YOUR PERSONAL GREETING, PLEASE PRESS 1. TO LISTEN TO YOUR PERSONAL GREETING, PLEASE PRESS 2. TO FORWARD CALLS, PLEASE PRESS 3. TO ACCEPT FORWARDED CALLS, PLEASE PRESS 4. TO FORWARD A CALL TO A FORWARDED NUMBER, PLEASE PRESS 5."

Saitoh swore, and tried to resist the urge to throw his office phone out the window, wishing that they would stop changing the options every few weeks.

"TO CHANGE YOUR RINGTONE, PLEASE PRESS 6, TO LISTEN TO AVAILABLE RING TONES, PLEASE PRESS 7. TO REQUEST A CUSTOM RING TONE FOR ALL FORWARDED CALLS PLEASE PRESS 8"

Exhaling smoke out of his nostrils in a murderous sounding snort, Saitoh slammed the phone down onto the charger with enough force that his terminal and desk shook.

"Yorimoto!"

Saitoh's new secretary jumped in his seat, knocked over a picture of his mother and her passel of pugs, and then tried to give his commanding officer a smart, manly sort of salute. "Yes, Saitoh-sama!" Newly promoted from the office accounting pool, Yorimoto Katsume was a twitchy little ferret of a man, one whom Saitoh suspected had an unholy fixation with fountain pens. "How may I provide you with assistance, Sir!"

(Holy freaking hell…) Saitoh gave his newest secretary a long measured look. "What is the prompt on the automated phone system so I can listen to my messages?"

"That's easy, Sir! It's option 18. Would you like me to assist you in button pressing, Saitoh-sama?" Yorimoto said hopefully, eager to prove his worth.

"No." Saitoh pinched the bridge of his narrow nose and prayed for patience, since his preferred course of action, that being strangling his secretary and shoving the body where the sun didn't shine was generally speaking, frowned upon.

"Oh," Yorimoto's face fell. "Well, if you have any trouble, please know that you can safely rely on me to provide you with timely assistance."

Saitoh pinched harder, reminding himself that slaying evil instantly was not applicable to the mentally deficient, no matter how annoying they might be, "I will keep that in mind."

"Oh, and if you are wondering about that voicemail you received fifteen minutes ago, the transcript is on your desk."

Saitoh glanced down at his desk and saw that there was in fact, a memo near his cigarette ash covered keyboard. (Unlike most people, he preferred typing rather than relying on voice recognition software) He frowned (due mostly to the smiley face stamp that was by Yorimoto's name) and began reading.

MEMO:

To: Captain H. Saitoh

From: Office Secretary K. Yorimoto (recently promoted)

Subject: Voicemail from O. Murakami, DOJ (13:35:05)

Dear Captain Saitoh-sama,

Here is the transcript of a voicemail you received from one O. Murakami. Please review and let me know if you need any further assistance in this, or any other matter.

With the most profound respect that you could ever imagine,

K. Yorimoto ^_^

Start Message

"Hello, this is a message for Captain Saitoh-san. This is Oharu Murakami. I'm not sure if you remember me, but I was the secretary to the late Fujita Hiroshi? Yes, well… I am now working for Takagi Tokio, Assistant Prosecuting Attorney. She asked me to call and let you know that she will be stopping by your office to return an item that you lent her the other day and that you should anticipate her arrival no later than 15:30….

Saitoh-san, I heard about your injuries sustained in the line of duty. I hope that you will make a speedy recovery and that your boys, bless their hearts, are safe and well. If you have any questions, or can't speak with Takagi-san during this time, please call me directly or send an email so that I can reschedule.

Warmest Regards,

O. Murakami"

End Message.

Saitoh set the memo down, frowning slightly, recalling first the name, face and background of Takagi's new secretary. He knew the woman, had met her a few times when he'd been over to Fujuta's for a meeting and had watched her cry until her eyes were puffy and red at the family's funeral. She was, he supposed, a capable if overly sentimental employee.

Saitoh glanced over at his secretary, who appeared to be happily fiddling with yet another fountain pen and sourly wondered how much trouble he'd get in if he tried to swap secretaries with the attorney. (Hell, I'd be half tempted to let her keep the gun if she took this moron back with her…)

So, Takagi was coming to return the gun. He wondered if she'd have her regular issue side arm with her. (She better, or there will be hell to pay) While she'd dodged a bullet (several in fact) the day before, he knew all too well that luck generally didn't last and that if the woman wanted to stay alive long enough to ever collect her pension, she was going to be more careful.

He frowned, took a deep breath of cigarette smoke, and exhaled slowly as an idea began to form. Several minutes passed, in which time he finished his cigarette, made a phone call and did some research on a certain grey eyed attorney.

It was immediately apparent that the woman was over-qualified for her position as an Assistant Prosecutor. Despite being relatively young, she was an experienced, successful attorney and had a highly commendable case record, with an impressive conviction rate. Saitoh noted that she'd taken on more than her fair share of corruption cases in Yokohama and surprisingly managed to win more than she lost, no small feat considering the rampant corruption that plagued every level of the New Meiji governmental bureaucracy.

The second issue that stood out was the fact that her brother, Takagi Morinosuki, the lead prosecutor for the National Department of Justice, had assigned his younger sister to her current position. While Saitoh frowned upon any sort of familial favoritism, he also frowned on the notion that her brother would put place her in an office that had the highest employee mortality and corruption rates in the country. He knew Morinosuki and had worked with the man on a couple of cases and up until this point, always assumed that the man had his head on straight. (The damn fool has thrown his sister to the wolves…) Saitoh had a pretty good idea about why this had occurred, but intended to verify his theory when Takagi stopped by.

He looked at her employee picture and compared it against his recollection of the woman from the day before. It didn't do her justice, not by a long shot. The woman he'd protected and who he had been protected by was intelligent, capable and surprisingly kind, a quality that was in very short supply. She was also tough, capable of sending a bullet into a man's brain, and resourceful, using a blouse to tie a tourniquet around a severed artery.

The picture could also never hope to convey the sense of peace she carried within her or how soft her skin was. Waking on that floor, in her arms had been a life-altering experience. Saitoh stood up and walked over to the window in his office and looked outside at the sprawling, festering megapolis that he'd called home for most of his adult life. (Something occurred between us, some sort of recognition) While Saitoh wouldn't go so far as to say he was a religious man, he did have a deep respect and awareness that his existence and the lives of those he cared for was more than the mere sum of this mortal life. He'd seen too much while serving his country to believe otherwise.

Saitoh Part II

(I know her. Not as she is now, but as she once was.)

He was certain of this fact, even if the evidence was still rather lacking. He'd seen in her eyes a similar measure of awareness, coupled with a deep sense of confusion and a gut wrenching degree of longing and loneliness.

Saitoh pondered these things, deliberated on potential courses of action and the most likely ramifications of said actions and found that there were two roads, two paths to take; one was easy, bland and safe while the other was fraught with peril, heartache and the potential for a measure of peace and completion that he'd assumed he would never experience again.

Saitoh stood for several more minutes, his angular features indecipherable as he looked out at a city, at a society that was falling apart faster than he and others like him could put it back together and wondered at the wisdom and risks in choosing the path least taken, of risking so much for something so uncertain. A memory (if it was truly a memory rather than a hope made mentally manifest) blossomed in the back of his mind, of that woman, a woman he suspected had once been his wife, cradling a child in her arms, a child of their making) He'd dreamt of this boy, this missing son, even before Yaso passed away, but never in this context.

And then he thought of Yaso, of his sweet wife, who he still missed and mourned. He thought about how he'd failed her, just as surely as he'd failed their children, and how she'd passed so painfully, so violently from this life and from his side not fully knowing how dear she was to him, how deeply he loved and respected her. He wondered what she would think of this situation, how she would react to the knowledge that for the first time since her death, that the man she'd wed was considering the concept of permitting another woman to enter his life and the lives of their children. He wondered if this made him a less than loyal husband, if desiring one who was living was disloyal to one who was dead.

Saitoh leaned against the window and closed his eyes, which were burning with unshed grief. (I miss you) he thought. He felt a breeze that he assumed came from the slightly opened office window.

(I miss you too) there was no sound, no voice, just the whispery sensation of thought being pulled across his mind, like silk over steel.

(The boys…) he thought about how despite his best efforts, their home was not the happy place of memory, how his children were growing up far too somber and silent.

(They need their mother…)

(And they will have her…) the breeze moved around him, through him. (She has waited for them…) Despite it being winter, the breeze from his window seemed warm; as if it had moved through leaf laden trees during the height of summer (…she has waited for you, for so long…)

(I don't understand)

(You will…) Saitoh felt the wind, so strangely warm, move through his hair, almost like a comforting caress, and then with a parting sigh, it vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared.

He stood there for several minutes, his back to the door, until the phone rang, and Yorimoto jumped and knocked over his cup of tea and began apologizing profusely. It was not until late in the afternoon, a few minutes before his meeting with Takagi that Saitoh realized that the window to his office was shut and locked.

Tokio

Tokio let out an exasperated sigh. This was Monday of her second week working at the New Meiji branch of the DOJ. She wasn't an idiot. She usually had a decent sense of direction. But this building was hopeless. It was some sort of mega maze. That was the only way to describe it. She supposed that this was probably a good thing because any thugs looking for a specific office, like she was trying to do at the moment, would never find it, ever.

Oharu, her secretary, had given her directions, which at the time seemed quite easy to follow. The young attorney was reasonably sure that she *was* on the correct floor, but she had no idea which wing of this monster of a complex lay before her. All the hallways looked the same; there were no signs on the walls, or doors, which again confirmed her thought that no one had to worry about unauthorized intruders. Even the crime syndicate lackeys wouldn't be able to find their way around. That thought made her acutely aware of the body hugging shoulder holster underneath her blouse. Somehow she felt safer carrying his small side arm next to her body, than she ever did when hers was holstered. Her standard issue model was currently in her shoulder bag.

Tokio glanced down again at her phone's screen. She studied the directions Oharu had texted to the hand-held device, trying to figure out exactly where she'd made a wrong turn.

The most frustrating was that the halls were empty, empty, empty. There should be people around at this time of day, unless everyone in this wing worked an earlier shift than those in the other departments. Maybe the personnel in this wing used some sort of secret 'I'm invisible' app, she smirked to herself. All she wanted was to find a flesh and blood person, so she could ask for directions.

Most of the government's law enforcement divisions, courts, and legal services were located in this behemoth of a building. Supposedly -as stated in the new employee orientation that she'd been forced to attend last week- the offices were located at the same place to make it easy for the different branches of the justice system to work together efficiently. What a joke, the woman thought. There was no way anyone could work together, period, if they couldn't find who they were looking for. The orientation packet she'd received at that meeting didn't even have an electronic link to a map of the place. Most of the offices could be located by the gps app on a person's phone, but for some reason the gps coordinates for *his* office weren't even listed in the building's electronic directory.

Okay, now she was sure she had it correct. All she needed to do was to go down the hallway to her left, make a right turn at the first place she found intersecting hallways. Then look for a blue and white colored door… That should take her to his department. Perhaps, if that door wasn't locked, there might be a real person behind it to direct her the rest of the way.

Saitoh

"I disagree with your assessment, Captain," Umagoe argued, his voice rising with frustration.

"You can disagree with my assessment all you want," Saitoh didn't bother looking up from his terminal, his fingers flying as he worked on yet another briefing, "but it won't change the reality of the situation." Trying to recall the name of an intersection, he paused for a moment, and then upon remembering, started typing again.

"I've already scheduled an intercept," The younger captain, recently promoted and the son of a high ranking justice minister, was not used to being dismissed so easily and continued to push his case.

"Then reschedule the damn intercept," Saitoh said shortly as he finished the last paragraph of his briefing and started to review to ensure that no pertinent information had been missed. "A few hours will not make a difference in whether you succeed apprehending the suspect or not. Take the time you need to determine what you are going up against."

"I can't reschedule," Umagoe said petulantly, "there are…extenuating circumstances that must be considered."

Saitoh did look up at the officer, his eyes narrowing in sudden comprehension. "You've notified the press, haven't you?"

Umagoe's face flushed with indignation at the utter contempt in the older officer's tone. "My father…"

"Is a moron and so are you if you actually think that this is going to end well," Saitoh said flatly, no hint of compromise in his demeanor.

"You have issues with freedom of the press?"

"I have issues with people getting injured or killed needlessly," Saitoh said as he went back to proofreading, already knowing that Umagoe was not going to listen to reason, only to ratings. It was a disturbing trend among some of the other squadrons, tipping off the press about upcoming raids or intercepts. Successful raids always made the news channels and were trumpeted as proof that the government was succeeding in its attempts to stamp out corruption and vice within the city of New Meiji. Monitored raids that went poorly were also sent out on the news web as proof that the cops in the city were incompetent or unsympathetic to the plight of the average citizen.

"This is a high visibility case, and if it goes well,"

"IF being the operative word," Saitoh muttered as he scanned through the briefing pages.

"If it goes well, and I am confident it will, the intercept will bring needed positive publicity to our department!"

"You don't give a damn about this department, or the officers who are going to be put at risk for the sake of your overinflated ego," Saitoh said quietly as he saved the briefing file and started the encryption process.

"I am leading a group of highly trained officers on this intercept," Umagoe sniffed.

"How many are you taking?" Saitoh asked.

"Five."

"Idiot," Saitoh hit the submit button. "Are you so eager to die?"

"We have weapons and training."

"You are going up against a new drug class that we have never seen before and a man who is also well armed and has received advanced training." Saitoh warned, "You are underestimating your adversary and overestimating your abilities, Captain. That makes for a very bad ending."

"You seemed to do well enough," Umagoe pointed out rather snidely.

"He wasn't trying to kill me and I also had assistance from Takagi-san," Saitoh took out a cigarette and rolled it between his fingers. "Had either of those variables changed, I would have not survived."

"Yeah, the new PA was a real big help, wasn't she?" The young and exceptionally foolish officer continued, "I heard she went above and beyond the call of duty and went topless…put on a nice show for everybody."

"If by put on a show, you mean that she saved the life of a police officer and shot and killed an armed AMP user, then yes, you are correct," Saitoh stood up and tucked in his chair. "If you are unwise enough to be inferring something else, something that reflects poorly on that woman's character, then you will answer to me, do I make myself clear?" Gone was the dry, slightly sarcastic tone that he used when normally dealing with morons who didn't know their heads from a posthole. Saitoh walked over to where the shorter man was standing and looked down at him, wondering how the force was ever going to survive if there were such weak, unprincipled officers serving on it. "Get out of my office."

Umagoe started to argue, then seeing that the older man was not bluffing, shut his mouth and turned to leave. "This isn't over, Saitoh, not by a long shot."

"It will be if you don't re-examine your strategy," Saitoh said, appealing to the man one last time. "For the sake of the officers that you'll be taking with you, scan the building, confirm that there are no civilians and then dust the place with a nerve inhibitor and make the arrest. You'll have your positive press, if that is what truly matters to you and the narcotics squad will get the intel it needs about the drug he was using and if it's already in distribution on the streets."

"You lead your squadron; I'll lead mine," Umagoe snapped as he turned and stomped out of Saitoh's office. "And let's see who ends up ahead."

Tokio

F I N A L L Y …the blue and white door. How she'd managed to find it, she really couldn't tell. It was almost like she had a little breeze pushing at her back. Maybe her instincts kicked in and helped her; only kami knew for sure. She only hoped that she could find her way back to her own office, once she returned his property. It was late in the afternoon, and she didn't relish the thought of wandering the hallways until people arrived for work the next morning to point her in the right direction. She then noticed a little detail that her secretary forgot to tell her. There was a small number 3 painted in the center of the door.

Reaching down with her right hand she touched the knob, only to have it jerked away from her by someone opening the door from the other side. There in front of her stood a short young man with such a scowl on his face that the prosecutor was momentarily stunned into silence. After regaining her composure, she gave a little bow and asked, "Do you know where I can find Captain Saitoh's office?" She supposed that she should have introduced herself, but something told her that it would not be wise.

The man glared at her, his face beginning to turn an angry shade of red before spitting out, "It's here." She took a step back. His reaction to her question was….interesting to say the least. Tokio would bet that there was no love shared between the Captain and this man, whom ever he might be.

She stood in silence while the man stomped past her, then she took a tentative step inside. The office was neatly appointed; there were some chairs, and an empty desk. The closed door had to be the one she was looking for.

Walking up to it, she knocked on it firmly.

Saitoh

"Do you know where I can find Captain Saitoh's Office?"

Saitoh's eyes narrowed into menacing slits at Umagoe's less than civil answer to Takagi's question. Dangerously close to losing his temper, (An early afternoon bout with Yorimoto weeping…WEEPING for crying out loud…over spilt tea and a ruined report had not helped) the officer was of half a mind to provide the self-absorbed, press hungry little asshat with a complementary (and badly needed) attitude adjustment when she knocked on his office door.

Saitoh opened the door.

"Takagi-san," he began to properly greet the woman, then glanced over her shoulder and saw that Umagoe was gawking at the office entrance, clearly trying to eavesdrop, or be clever, which considering the quality of grey matter between the man' ears was impossible.

"*This* is who you had your meeting with?" The shorter man taunted as bits of information clicked in his mind, trying to salvage his bruised pride at the expense of another, "you have a lot of nerve, giving me shit over wanting to get good coverage and appreciating the benefits of positive relations." The insinuation was clear in both the man's tone and his demeanor, as to what sort of coverage and relations he had on his mind.

(That's it)

While his general expression remained stoic, Satioh's eyes were blazing. "Please have a seat, Takagi-san," he said tightly, motioning to one of the chairs next to his desk. "I have a matter of business to attend to and will be right back."

Moving with great purpose (and great menace) Saitoh crossed the length of his office easily, bearing down on the shorter officer like a blizzard in winter. Umagoe opened his mouth to argue, then shut it with a nervous little snap as the tall rangy officer took hold of the scruff of his uniform and quickly assisted him in moving down the hallway, so quickly in fact that his polished boots were barely skittering along the polished floor.

THREE MINUTES (and a serious attitude adjustment later)

Saitoh calmly re-entered his office, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Please accept my apologies," he said simply as he walked over to his desk and leaned on it, folding his arms across his chest as his looked down at Takagi. His eyes were still snapping with annoyance, but a pleased little smirk started to form as he caught a glimpse of the woman's own sidearm on her body.

"You're carrying. Good," he said rather bluntly, never one to engage in idle chatter. "I'm assuming that it's standard DOJ issue?"

Tokio

Her knock on the door was promptly answered by the tall captain, but after his brief greeting, he looked past her toward the outer door of his office. She was tempted to turn and glance over her shoulder to see what he was looking at, but she didn't. It was one of those strange feelings again, one that told her that she must defer to him and let him handle it, whatever 'it' was.

"*This* is who you had your meeting with?"

Tokio was a little rattled and very confused; her face showed it. How would that little man with the nasty countenance know that she was meeting with Captain Saitoh today? She was sure that her secretary could be trusted to be discrete.

Apprehensiveness washed over her. Did the people in her department, who were out for no good, already know her comings and goings? That could be a problem. Her concerted efforts not to call attention to herself were failing. Most likely due to what happened at that café. Both of them had been there, albeit not together. Not until they had to protect each other from the carnage. Probably every officer on duty yesterday responded to that incident, not to mention the med-evac units. Her state of dress, or lack of it, was great grist for the gossip mill. The press had a field day.

"You have a lot of nerve, giving me shit over wanting to get good coverage and appreciating the benefits of positive relations."

Tokio may be virginal, but she was not naive, having been exposed to the ways of the world, courtesy of her chosen profession. She knew there could be more than one meaning to a statement like that, and she didn't like what was being insinuated one bit. Her face flushed, but not in embarrassment. She was getting angry.

"Please have a seat, Takagi-san…I have a matter of business to attend to and will be right back."

She nodded and obeyed. It was amazing how easy it was to do what he said. She usually questioned anyone who tried to direct her, even when it was her father or brother, who was making an attempt.

Tokio took a seat and waited for the captain to return. When he did, offering an apology, she responded quietly, looking into his amber eyes, "Thank you captain, but it is not necessary for you to apologize for someone else's rudeness."

But Hajime was Hajime, she thought with a start. It was in his nature to have consideration for her. The far reaches of her mind could even imagine what might have transpired in the hallway, but her conscious self did not want to think about it.

"Yes, I am carrying. But I am carrying *yours*. Mine, which is as you suspected, a standard issue model, is in my shoulder bag."

Tokio then stood and excused herself. Turning her back to him, she lifted her blouse and withdrew his small side arm from her concealed shoulder holster. She had a fleeting thought that it wasn't necessary to turn away from him, as he had seen her bare midriff before. But that was back at the café, he was injured and she had no choice but to strip off her blouse to use it as a tourniquet. Her mind told her no. It was another time, another place, but he had seen her, *all* of her. She felt a light panic rise in her chest. These idiotic thoughts were back. The drug shouldn't be so long acting, should it? This type had to be really strong, maybe some sort of timed-release, if she was still emotionally hallucinating almost 24 hours later.

Turning to face him again, she gently laid his gun on his desk, taking care that it was not pointed toward either of them. Then she laid her hand on it, placing her fingers in all the right places to remove her genetic signature from the lock.

"Thank you for loaning me your gun," she dipped her head as she said it. "I won't be so careless from now on. I did intend to take my brother's advice, to get some body armor, but I underestimated the danger here in New Meiji, and did not do that as soon as I should have."

"I also need to apologize to you for my behavior yesterday," she was embarrassed for touching him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to grab at you like I did. It could have caused you to lose your balance. I don't normally do things like that to men. I don't know what came over me. It must have been the stress of the situation," she let out, trying to give a logical reason for her actions. Maybe it was a new designer drug, she was tempted to add. She surely couldn't tell him the *truth*, that her hands just moved themselves and she had nothing to say about it, and she couldn't have controlled it, even if she had wanted to. And she hadn't *wanted to* she realized much to her horror.

Saitoh

"Yes, I am carrying. But I am carrying *yours*. Mine, which is as you suspected, a standard issue model, is in my shoulder bag."

Oddly, Saitoh felt quite pleased with the fact that the woman was carrying his gun against her side rather than the half-assed pea shooter that the DOJ insisted on handing out. Perhaps thirty years ago, it would have been sufficient for one's safety, but in this time and place, firepower of an altogether more serious nature was necessary.

When Takagi stood up, he frowned, not understanding for a second, then as she reached for the hem of her blouse (he liked the blouse…it showed a hint of her collarbone) he realized what she was doing and turned his head and stared at the wall. He's seen that collarbone the day before…but the situation had been different and he felt that staring now would not be appropriate.

"Thank you for loaning me your gun," Saitoh looked back as the slender woman bowed her head slightly. Her hair was blue-black, and glinted slightly in the late afternoon light. (And I am an idiot) he thought sternly (who needs to think about the task at hand). The woman's safety was at issue and that trumped everything.

"New Meiji is not Yokohama," Saitoh conceded quietly, thinking about the judge who had been shot on his way home from the opera the night before, and the attorney that this woman had replaced. (We're not in a city…we're in a war zone) "And adjusting to this life is difficult and takes time." He looked down at her hands, and frowned when he realized that she was wearing burn gloves.

Saitoh reached down and covered her hand with his, dismayed that she'd been injured. "Unfortunately, time is a luxury you will not be afforded." Gently, he brought her hand up, turning her palm upwards so he could look at the tips of her slender fingers, some of which were still red and almost blistered. His frown deepened when he imagined how badly pulling the melting armor off his chest and back would have hurt her hands. They were little, at least compared to his, her bone structure refined and delicate.

And then she apologized. Apologized for touching him, for gripping his shirt when she was being shot at, for hiding behind him as men, both wicked and good, were slaughtered in front of her eyes.

"Thank you Takagi-san, but it is not necessary for you to apologize for following your instincts" he said, almost teasingly as he threw her earlier words back at her. "You have them for a reason you know," He let go of her hand and looked seriously at the woman, not wanting her to ever second guess her reactions, at least where he was concerned. "And they served you well yesterday. The fact that you and I are still alive is proof of that."

Tokio

She had turned her back to him when she removed his gun from the holster beneath her blouse, and when she'd turned back to face him, he was facing the wall. She couldn't believe the measure of privacy that he had granted her.

Nodding her head in understanding of what he was telling her, she now *knew* that this placed posed far more risks than Yokohama ever had, and that it *would* take time to get used to this very dangerous life, if getting used to it was even possible. For a moment she wondered if she still would have insisted that her brother send her here, if she'd known then the dangers of New Meiji. Slamming down that thought, she realized that she would have come anyway.

Her breath hitched when he gently took her one of her hands to examine it, turning it carefully in his. Physical contact with this man only served to bring back the drug induced memories, the same sort of memories she'd glimpsed the day before at the Sunshine Café. That same creeping familiarity was there again. Did the captain get the drug on his skin? It must be impervious to water since the man had obviously showered at the hospital.

He was so understanding of her behavior yesterday that it warmed her heart. He really didn't seem to mind that she had all but groped him. She'd clutched his shirt, pulled his burned, bare back against her to keep him still so his leg wouldn't bleed out. He'd even covered her body with his, offering himself as the target so she would survive. She felt a loss when he finally released her hand. Why she did was a mystery to her. He was a good looking man, but her mind seemed to tell her there was more to it than that.

"It is not necessary for you to apologize for following your instincts…You have them for a reason you know…And they served you well yesterday"

He said she should trust her instincts. There was something she wanted to ask him because she really had no one else to ask. She was still vetting the different members of her department to see which were honest, and which were suspect of dealing with unsavory elements. The last thing Tokio wanted was to draw a bulls-eye on herself. The job she now had was similar to one she'd had years ago in Yokohama, but keeping a low profile here in New Meiji was necessary to fulfill her brother's need to find the people or person in the prosecutor's office, who were working hand in hand with the underground syndicates, undermining the efforts of the consortium of clean officials, who were trying to reclaim the government for the people.

Yesterday she felt that she could trust him with her life, as idiotic as it seemed at the time, since she didn't even know who he was, and had never laid eyes on him before, or so she thought.

He worked the streets. Surely he would have heard about something like this. But if she asked, he might think that she was as crazy as she felt at the moment.

But he did say that she should trust her instincts; that they served her well. At the moment her instincts were screaming at her to talk to him.

"Captain Saitoh, I don't know if you will be able to help me or not." She was sure if anyone could, it would be him. But whether he felt at liberty to share information with her was another matter. "Have you heard anything about a new designer drug, probably dispersed by aerosol, possibly timed-release, that causes people to lose control of their emotions or to hallucinate, one that implants false memories in a person's mind?"

The prosecutor just hoped that he didn't think she was some sort of crackpot, because that is what she was beginning to think about herself. Maybe he would think that she was going mad, but she needed to know if there was a reason for her thoughts and behaviors over the past two days. This business all started at the diner yesterday afternoon, so she was suspicious that it had something to do with what happened there.

Saitoh

Saitoh caught the little gasp she made when he touched her hand, but said nothing. He didn't need to. It was enough to know that she, like he, was also affected by close proximity.

(Theory tested…theory confirmed) it was the way he worked; a lifetime of analytical thinking couldn't help but spill out into other aspects of his life. But there was only so much that a linear mode of thought could offer either of them in this case. Logic could not, for example, explain how something as simple as skin or eye contact could generate a wellspring of peace and stillness. Reason could not account for memories, for recollections of another time, another place, for a sense of familiarity (a sense of family) he thought as he looked down at her, his expression thoughtful as she explained her own theories and ideas about what could have triggered what he could only describe as an intense emotional awakening.

"Have you heard anything about a new designer drug, probably dispersed by aerosol, possibly timed-release, that causes people to lose control of their emotions or to hallucinate, one that implants false memories in a person's mind?"

He thought carefully, giving her idea the consideration it deserved. "When I served in the war, there was, near the end of the conflict, a chemical attack on a nearby company of soldiers," He'd watched with the other officers as a hazy green mist settled over the encampment across the Sumida, a nearly transparent cloud that smelled vaguely of almond oil. For a few minutes, there was nothing in the aftermath of the silent attack, no sound from the barracks and bunkers, then it began, first in whimpers and groans, then terrified screams and anguished shouts erupted.

"It was an aerosol gas that attacked the central nervous system, resulting in hallucinations and a complete and utter loss of emotional control." It had shaken him, watching men and women, people he'd fought beside reduced to screaming, sobbing wrecks as the nerve agent ate them from the inside and caused their brain matter to break down at the cellular level. "So, yes, the technology exists to create a weapon that fit the parameters you described. Therefore it is possible, that some variant, something more benign was released into the air yesterday."

He paused, and looked at her carefully, trying to read and understand the emotions that moved over her beautiful face like low lying clouds in the summer. "It is possible, Takagi-san, but not probable. There were other survivors at the diner, Susanoo-san and the bus boy. I have reviewed their statements and neither of them complained of any atypical neurological reactions. And while it is conceivable that an agent could be introduced and potentially spread through touch, or close human proximity, I do not know how such an agent could ensure that two people, who have to the best of their knowledge never met and never spoken, could experience the same hallucinations or receive memories of one another. There is no drug, no gas or scientific explanation that I know of that can account adequately for what has occurred."

She was frightened, he could see the worry and confusion blossoming in her grey eyes and wanted to protect her from it, but in this case could not and would not. To do so, would be a disservice to them both. Still, he would not have her come to an understanding alone.

"If you are going mad, then so am I," he acknowledged quietly, allowing a barrier to fall between them. "And this…" he reached over and put a hand on her slender shoulder, a steadying supportive hand, "whatever this ends up being…it is not madness."

Unbidden, memories of breaking, of shattering, of becoming a pale, intoxicated shade of the man he should have been came to mind, "I would know the difference, because I have…" he paused, his eyes becoming stark and looked away for a moment, "because I know all too well what it is like to fall into such a state, and I give you my word, that I would tell you honestly if I thought ourselves compromised."

Tokio

She listened patiently as he answered her questions, first telling her why her idea had merit, but then with equal logic, letting her know that her theory was most likely not correct. Then he stunned her with an admission of his own.

"And this…whatever this ends up being…it is not madness."

As soon as he touched her shoulder, she felt that same energy from yesterday, like a shock of static electricity that made you move forward, not jump back. Instinctively, she reached over with her other hand and brought it up to cover the one that he'd rested on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before dropping her hand down again. She hoped that he would leave his hand where it was, at least for a few moments more.

So he felt it too. She thought he might have from a few of his reactions yesterday at the diner. Now he was admitting it outright without hesitation.

"I would know the difference, because I have…because I know all too well what it is like to fall into such a state, and I give you my word, that I would tell you honestly if I thought ourselves compromised."

Her eyes widened when he admitted to falling into madness. Her gut wrenched. Of course, it had to be when Yaso was killed so brutally. Her heart ached for him and she was sure that the emotion she felt was written on her face. A warm breeze on her back made her want to fold him into her arms, but she didn't, because she had no right to do so, not yet, her mind cautioned.

After opening up to her like he did, he really deserved to know the truth. Somehow in the deep recesses of her mind she *knew* that this man did not take lightly to whom he would reveal his inner thoughts and feelings. 'No', she thought, 'Hajime is a very private man, but not to me'. That thought shook her to her core. Her instincts were telling her that he *needed* to hear more from her.

She knew he'd said that if she was crazy, then he was, too. There was no way that she would doubt his sincerity, there was no way she *could* doubt his sincerity. 'He had been nothing but sincere for almost 41 years', something inside her echoed.

At first she tried not to look at him, at his strong face and gorgeous amber-eyes, but her own eyes, as her hands did the day before, moved of their own accord, looking directly at him. She knew she had 'hope' written all over her face. Hope that he would accept what she said, and help her to understand what it meant. She was so glad that he kept his hand on her shoulder, steadying her, giving her the support she needed right now.

"My hands," she paused, "yesterday, they just…..moved by themselves…..there was no way I could control them, and frankly, at the time I didn't want to." There she'd said it. Laid bare the reality she found so confusing.

"When I touched you, I felt like I *knew* you; you felt so *familiar* to me, and I knew that I had never laid eyes on you before. The strangest thing was that I didn't want to let you go. It was like I would not be able to stand the loss," …again…she added to herself. Regardless of what he said, she was sure that *she* had to be going mad. What other explanation was there?

She paused, chewing on her lower lip slightly, not wanting to get her secretary in trouble for divulging so much, but she had started this, and she had the feeling that *he* would want her to finish.

"Murakami-san told me a little bit about what happened to your family, and she told me that you had little boys. In my heart I somehow knew that you had *three* of them, so I was very surprised when she said you only had two. I didn't dare say anything to her at the time." And I probably shouldn't have told this to you, either. She hoped that he would give her some sort of sign that he did not think her outrageously out of line to divulge her thoughts and feelings to him. After all, she'd only first seen him about 24 hours ago, hadn't she?

Saitoh

Ever practical and military minded, Saitoh was a firm believer that one of the surest ways to determine the character of an individual was to observe them in battle. Aspects of personality emerged when one was under fire, whether literally or metaphorically and the most valuable nuances of temperament and honor (or the utter lack thereof) were revealed only in the crucible of adversity.

Silently, he watched the slender woman standing before him fight a silent battle, engage in a skirmish with herself that he did not doubt was as difficult, and perhaps even more difficult, than the battle she'd survived the day before in the café.

Self-doubt, fear and shame: He watched these dark emotions roil over her features, like oil spreading over clean water as she struggled with the most dangerous enemy a person has.

And then he saw, as any experienced soldier would, the sure signs that the tide of the battle was going to turn in her favor. Bravely, she looked up at him, looked into him and opened herself up, forgoing the easy, safe path of simpering denial and self-delusion. With courage to spare, she moved forward (as he had chosen to do earlier that morning) braving the second road, one that had no clear ending and a chaotic, emotionally charged beginning.

With his hand on her shoulder, Saitoh listened to her confess, almost as if she'd done something wrong, that she'd wanted to touch him, that he was as familiar to her as she was to him, and that already, she dreaded the idea of losing him again. Her innocent confusion and bewilderment over these emotions was surprising and humbling.

A darker, hungry and deeply protective part of his person rejoiced in the fact that she'd never experienced these feelings for another man, and if he had his way, never would.

And then she faltered a little, as if there was something else she needed to tell him, but was afraid to reveal, lest he find her words displeasing. This would not do.

(Tell me) he thought, not wanting there to be any secrets between them.

And then she spoke of his children, and saw the grief she carried for the loss of his wife and realized that she knew far more about him than he would have ever suspected. When she whispered that there was a third child, that somehow she knew as did he that there was a little member of his family, a boy who had long been missing, his face paled with shock.

"There was another child," Saitoh said raggedly after a moment, his emotions becoming raw with grief, "a boy." His hand on her shoulder shook. "She was…she was pregnant. Six weeks. I didn't know…" he swallowed, hard. "I'd been away on assignment and she'd wanted to tell me in person." He bowed his head, reliving the horror and devastation of hearing from a doctor that he'd not only lost a wife, but a child.

"I do not understand how you can know of this," He looked up into eyes that reminded him of Aizu in winter. "And I am sorry if this knowledge, this awareness between us has caused you any measure of heartache." He paused, then forced himself to be as honest with this woman and she had been with him. "For you see, I also have instincts where you are concerned, Takagi-san." Unbidden, his hand moved (as hers had done the day before) until it was tenderly cradling the side of her face. "Strong ones." His callused thumb ghosted over her lower lip where she'd bitten down moments before, as if to erase the painless wound. "My instincts tell me to keep you safe, to protect you from harm so that you are not lost to me."

He grew silent for a moment, his gaze lingering covetously on her lips for a moment, and then smiled slightly, his eyes glinting with what might have been a challenge. "I have faith in my instincts and would ask that you have faith in yours as well. The rest can and will be figured out in time."

Tokio

A son? He'd lost a son? Yaso had been pregnant? Tokio was beyond shock. Her heart was breaking for the man. She wished that she could comfort him and ease the pain that was clearly written on his face. In an attempt to do just that, she covered the shaking hand on her shoulder with one of hers, which was warm and steady. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, lingering longer than was appropriate before releasing him.

"Saitoh-san, I have no idea how I know these things, either. Frankly, it frightens me, because I don't understand what is happening inside my mind." She continued; her voice was almost a whisper, "Any measure of heartache that I feel is totally on your behalf." It hurts me to see you hurting.

When he softly cradled the side of her face in his hand, her eyes closed. A tear welled up and trailed down her cheek. She gave a little sniff to try to hold it back without success. She felt a thumb ghost over her lower lip, soothing the pain caused when she'd gnawed at it. His actions caused her breath to become uneven, and her heart to thump uncontrollably in her chest, just as it did yesterday. She'd felt this touch on her cheek before. Bewildered she asked herself, when and where, because she had no conscious recollection.

Her mind raced when he admitted to having instincts for her, strong ones. Her chest felt tight, as if it would burst at any moment. Knowing he wanted to keep her safe, so that she was not lost to him caused her head to swim. It was too much to take in all at once. It seemed so unreal, but somehow she knew it was all *true*.

He wanted them to have faith in their instincts about each other and let time be the factor that figured things out. But her analytical mind needed her to have order and reason in her life. Tokio needed to know the 'how and why' of this crazy awareness between them, and she needed to know now.

"About this connection, this familiarity that we seem to share…" she was at loss for words. What did she want to know? "Do you have any idea why we both feel this way….we don't know each other, yet we do…where does this come from, how can it be?" she finished, her voice trailing off.

Saitoh

Saitoh could feel her heartbeat change, could see her pulse point on the side of her neck leaping beneath her pale skin. Her instinctual reaction to his hands on her body was beautiful, the catch in her breath, the dilation of her eyes as she looked up at him, unbelievably beguiling. Desire, long suppressed, began to stir, needs began to awaken.

Unbidden he looked at her mouth again, slightly open, lips soft. He'd kissed those lips, and more, long ago and while the memories were still hazy, his body remembered all too well and clamored for a long delayed reunion.

Saitoh swallowed. (Ahou. She's not ready for this and neither are you.) He allowed himself to brush away a solitary tear, his fingers following its wet path down her cheek, then removed his hand from her face. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, much like the one she'd given him, and then let his hand fall to his side.

"Do you have any idea why we both feel this way….we don't know each other, yet we do…where does this come from, how can it be?"

"There's a lot to take in, isn't there?" he said, his deep voice surprisingly compassionate. "I too am struggling, Takagi-san, to make sense of what has happened." He appreciated her need to know the truth; it was an admirable trait in a human being. "But I suspect that the answers we seek, will not be obtained by normal evidentiary procedures."

He smirked slightly, the low afternoon light causing his eyes to almost glow. "I once had a partner who went by the name of Okita. He was shorter than you, much shorter in fact, and was, hands down, the best fighter and best officer that I have ever had the honor of serving beside. When I met him, I experienced a sense of familiarity, as if I had known him for many years. This of course was troubling to me."

Saitoh's expression softened fractionally, becoming less hard than usual as he spoke. "Thankfully, Okita was far wiser about matters of this nature, and explained to me that I was simply remembering him from a past life. I thought he was cracked in the head at the time, and told him so," Saitoh snorted at the memory. "But as time passed, and we worked together, I found that his explanation had merit."

"I still do," Saitoh leaned forward, knowing that what he said next would be difficult for the woman to hear, "it is my belief that once, long ago, we were husband and wife." He did reach out then, and put his steadying hands on her shoulders, wanting and needing her to understand what he was trying to say. "I have memories of growing old by your side, of raising our three boys, of fighting to keep you safe. They are good memories, Takagi-san. You were then, as you are now, a formidable, beautiful woman and while I do not understand how these thoughts of you have managed to stay with me, I will not deny that they exist. To do so, would dishonor us both."

He paused, not wanting to overwhelm the woman any more than he already had,

Tokio

She kept her eyes closed, relishing the tenderness and warmth of his hand on her cheek as it seemed to call to her from another time and another place. She felt a loss when he dropped it from her face. She realized, much to her surprise, that she liked his touch; it felt familiar and comforting to her.

He was right, there *was* a lot to take in. It was reassuring to her to know that he was struggling, also, at least she wasn't alone in this.

She listened intently to the story of his partner, Okita, her eyes widening like saucers when he mentioned that the man attributed the familiarity the two of them experienced to their association in a past life.

"Thankfully, Okita was far wiser about matters of this nature, and explained to me that I was simply remembering him from a past life. I thought he was cracked in the head at the time, and told him so…But as time passed, and we worked together, I found that his explanation had merit. I still do."

Yes, she would agree, her first reaction would be that his old partner was, indeed, cracked in the head. Did she even believe in that sort of thing? Her life was built on logic and reason. Past lives did not fit into that context. But if not a past life, then what explanation was there? Her mind would have to process this possibility, but at the moment a past life seemed to be a very farfetched stretch of the imagination. If Saitoh thought Okita's idea had merit, and still does, then she at least owed it to the captain to give the idea some serious thought.

He wasn't finished yet. He seemed to save the biggest surprise for last.

"It is my belief that once, long ago, we were husband and wife…I have memories of growing old by your side, of raising our three boys, of fighting to keep you safe. They are good memories, Takagi-san. You were then, as you are now, a formidable, beautiful woman and while I do not understand how these thoughts of you have managed to stay with me, I will not deny that they exist. To do so, would dishonor us both."

Husband and *WHAT*? Did she hear him correctly, did he really say *that*? If the pressure of his hands on her shoulders hadn't caused her feet to be firmly fixed to the floor, she would have jumped back from him in shock and disbelief. Where did he get the idea that the two of them had been married in a past life, and not only *that*, but they had three children to boot. She needed to sit down. This was emotional and mental overload. Her mind could only take so much confusion and stress.

"I have never been married before; I've never even *been* with a man. Surely I would remember something like that, wouldn't I?" she blurted out, confused, her face flushing with embarrassment. She was horrified. She'd *never* said anything like *that* to a man before. She couldn't believe that she'd revealed something so intimate to him of all people, even though he was a stranger who didn't really feel like one.

But what if no logical, reasonable explanation could be found for what had been going on in her mind ever since she'd first seen him yesterday? She told herself that not everything in life could be explained. Above all, she did know what she felt about him, and he felt familiar to her, he drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Captain Saitoh was not a rash man, yet he believed what Okita said to be true.

Okita….Okita and blood, coughing and blood, so many, many years ago, it was another one of those strange images that seemed to flow from the inner recesses of her mind lately.

She looked him in the face, trying to read what was there. All she saw was honesty. For some reason, she had no desire to alienate him or to push him away, but her befuddled mind was telling her to do the opposite. Regardless, she stepped closer to him, reaching up to trail the fingers of her right hand lightly down his cheek. She realized that she was probably sending him mixed messages. Her body wanted him to know that she felt close to him, but her words would tell him that her mind was in a state of turmoil.

"You may come to a different conclusion and I will respect that, as will I respect your wishes in how, or even whether we work together to come to a better understanding of what has happened. Regardless of what you choose to do, I will continue to offer you what protection and support I am able."

His last statement caused her to feel panic rising within her. She wanted to cry at the thought of *not* working together with him in order to come to some understanding about this very strange circumstance in which they were now mired.

"I am very sorry, Captain Saitoh. I appreciate you sharing your story about Okita-san with me, but I have never considered such things before. But strangely when you mentioned your partner a vision of coughing and blood imposed itself on my mind." Maybe he could explain that one to her.

"To be honest with you, this is very difficult for me to believe. A part of me knows for *certain* that you and I have *some* sort of connection. Whatever that connection is, whatever it may have been, whatever it will be in the future…." She paused to gather her thoughts. "I know I don't want to turn my back on it and let it go." Because my heart will surely die if I do, she added to herself, not knowing where *that* came from.

Saitoh

A muscle in Saitoh's jaw twitched when Takagi stepped closer to him, close enough so their bodies were almost touching. He'd seen real fear in her eyes and confusion, nearly to the point of being overwhelmed when she confessed to being far more innocent than even he'd assumed. The embarrassment and shame that crept over her features afterward, dimming the clear light in her eyes, was enough to almost make Saitoh reconsider his strategy where this woman was concerned.

Almost.

Not accustomed to holding back, he had chosen to approach this issue as he would any other, examining the facts as he understood them to be, coming to a decision and then decisively acting upon said decision. This practice had served him well professionally, allowing him to effectively command a squadron and navigate through the treacherous waters of the New Meiji DOJ.

As to how his Spartan modus operandi had affected his personal life. It hadn't. Other than his children, he had no family. Other than Watanabe and a few other officers and an even smaller number of civilians who had earned his trust and respect, he had no friends. And up until he'd literally been through hell and back again with this woman in a diner, he'd been perfectly content to let things remain that way.

Takagi reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek. Her fingers were soft. Unsteady. Intoxicating. Saitoh caught the hint of something on her skin, an echo of cherry blossoms in spring. His mouth went dry. (And Takagi worries that she's going insane …) Resisting the urge to pull her against him and see if she tasted as good as she smelled, Saitoh forced himself to release her shoulders and put his hands on his desk, where he was determined they were going to stay for the rest of this conversation.

He listened to her, accepted her skepticism, glad that the woman was no sycophant, but a strong willed thinker in her own right who wouldn't embrace any passing thought or fancy to please another, even if the other person was himself. He smirked as she challenged him about Okita, enjoying the hint of fire, relishing the opportunity to prove out his theory.

(This is no theory) This was fact. He knew it as surely as he knew himself and was confident that in time and with patience, that Takagi would see the truth of the matter. She valued the truth, and pursued it as ruthlessly and as passionately as he did.

So it came as no surprise, when she bravely declared that despite her doubts and fears she would not retreat from the pursuit of reason and was unwilling to cast aside the connection she felt with him. What was surprising and perhaps more than a little humbling was the sense of relief that he'd been right about her, that she was no subordinate to bark orders at, but an equal to be reasoned with and relied upon.

Hands still firmly on the desk (because a promise made was…and always would be a promise kept) he looked down at the slender woman with a backbone of pure steel, and knew that she, not he, was taking the greater risk by allying herself with him and had far more to lose by this association, than he had to gain. While she already knew about his wife and the loss of his child, there were other discoveries she would have to make about the man standing before her, details he was duty bound to disclose, that he was also an addict, one still struggling to ensure that he led an honorable life of sobriety and worse yet, that he'd been a less than exemplary father and husband.

(Those disclosures will have to come) He was no coward and would not shame himself by offering up excuses, but he was also not a moron and knew that he was going to have to work his ass off to offset his less than stellar aspects of his being with honorable actions…he couldn't help but glance at the delicious hint of collarbone that was protruding beneath her tastefully appointed blouse…(and restraint you idiot!) He would not give her reason to regret the chance she was taking.

"I never said I expected you to believe me," he said with a teasing smirk, "you'd be a damn fool to take a man at his word in matters such as this." Leaning forward a little (his hands not leaving the desk) he added, "And you are not a fool, Takagi Tokio, not by a long shot…" His expression changed then, becoming open and painfully honest.

"…neither am I. We both need time to make sense of this and to make sense of each other." He thought of her awkward admission, and how difficult that must have been for a woman to make to a man she hardly knew.

"I have not been with a woman, in any capacity, since my wife died," he offered this up quietly, trying to put her mind and heart at ease, "and I do not take this connection that we share, or the one with whom I have the honor of sharing it with lightly. My course is already set, and has been from the moment I awoke in the shelter of your arms, but I promise you, on my honor, that I will not ask anything of you, that you are not completely willing to give me."

Tokio

Curiously, as soon as he'd removed his hands from her shoulders, he'd placed them firmly on his desk, causing her to wonder what *that* was all about. She couldn't help the disappointment that filled her at the loss of the gentle warmth on her body. It was crazy how his touch made her feel so –what was the word- wanted? needed?

She looked at his expression; it was open and honest.

"You are not a fool, Takagi Tokio, not by a long shot…neither am I…We both need time to make sense of this and to make sense of each other."

She agreed with him on this point. Tokio had no idea of how to even *begin* to make sense out of having been this man's wife in a past life. There was no way she could accept something like that immediately. Could she accept it at all? Only time would tell. Sharing that history with him –if that is what really happened, and he thought that it did- would take getting used to. It didn't necessarily mean that in the future, she would return to being his wife. His *wife*. She couldn't even wrap her mind around that one, much less think about what it would mean on a day to day basis.

But on the other hand, the thought of being *his wife* gave her a sense of safety, comfort, and peace. It gave her a sense of belonging that nothing in her life had ever given her before. On some level it made sense and it felt right. She had the distinct impression that this man –Hajime, her voice echoed- thought that many men were fools. She was humbled to know that he did not take her for one.

"I have not been with a woman, in any capacity, since my wife died"

It was none of her business whether he'd been with anyone since his wife died, but for some reason his action, or lack of it in this case, pleased and relieved her. Perhaps because it signaled to her that he was a man of commitment, who did not take relationships lightly. To her it meant that he would not share himself in that way unless his partner *meant* something deeper to him. His admission was most likely a response to her impromptu confession about her lack of experience in the more intimate matters between men and women. Was he also trying to reassure her that she could share her most private thoughts with him? If she had truly been his wife, that would have been the case during their marriage.

"I do not take this connection that we share, or the one with whom I have the honor of sharing it with lightly."

He was deadly serious about all of this. In addition, he was *honored* to share this connection –whatever it was- with *her*. She was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she was someone of great value to this man. She sensed that this was not an easy admission for him, but he had wanted her to know –although he didn't say it outright- that she was precious to him. That realization struck her in the heart. She could feel tears welling in her eyes again. She raised her hands to her face to wipe them away. He would think her a blubbering idiot if she kept getting weepy eyed.

"My course is already set, and has been from the moment I awoke in the shelter of your arms, but I give you my word of honor, that I will not ask anything of you, that you are not completely willing to give me."

He couldn't make himself more clear, if he'd hit her over the head with a club, and drug her into his cave. She appreciated his bluntness. She would not have to guess his intentions. Somehow she knew he would always be honest and straight forward with her, never making her doubt how he felt.

His words caused a vision from the diner - of her wrapping him in her tender embrace- to slip though her mind. And *now* she knew exactly what she wanted to be to *him*. She wanted to be his shelter, a place of reprieve where his heart could rest.

But most important of all, by not asking anything of her that she was not willing to give, he was giving her his ultimate respect. That realization hit her like a brick. She rested a hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze, she was sure that if he kept pushing his hands down on his desk like he was doing, it would surely be pushed through to the floor below.

"Thank you, Saitoh-san, for not pushing me beyond what I am willing and able to give you. I can't predict the future, but I do want a chance to come to terms with all that I have learned today." She hesitated, thinking about how bold her next statement would sound, "And I want a chance…to get to know you better. I cannot make promises, but I do know that I must walk a path of discovery with you."

Her face flushed with embarrassment. She didn't want to give him false hope, but she did want him to know that she could not turn her back on what he'd revealed to her. A little voice then reminded her that she wanted to be *his* shelter.

It seemed like she was on the brink of discovering a wonderful treasure that was locked away somewhere in her very essence and being, and this man had the key.

Perhaps it was time to give the talk of the past a rest. There were more pressing matters that affected the here and now. She'd come to return his firearm. He'd said earlier in their conversation that he would do what he could to keep her safe. It was time to change the subject.

"You offered me protection. What exactly did you have in mind?"

Saitoh

"And I want a chance…to get to know you better. I cannot make promises, but I do know that I must walk a path of discovery with you…"

A soft, slight breeze blew through his office, like a relieved sigh in the late afternoon stillness.

Saitoh felt it. Sensed it and wondered if Takagi did as well.

"And I with you," he said quietly, referring to the journey that they had both agreed to undertake. A part of him knew that a similar path had been trod, one long before that had been as hard and perilous as he suspected this one would be. He glanced down at her slender hand resting softy on his forearm and caught the faint hint of her perfume. (I led…and you followed…never questioning, never wavering in your resolve)

"You offered me protection. What exactly did you have in mind?"

Saitoh laughed, the sound a raspy, bemused bark. He grinned at her, genuinely pleased at her boldness and realized that this time, for this journey, he and this woman would walk the path side by side.

"You are direct and to the point. I like that." Not one for mincing about, he stood up, picked up the side arm she'd returned to him and carefully slipped it into his shoulder holster. "As for what I have in mind, why don't you come with me?"