Catch 22 Chapter 1: If you give a Komui a cookie, a d.gray-man fanfic

Catch-22

Welcome to another collaborative effort by the Schizoninjas. Sadly our last one petered out before we could finish it properly, but we've already written this story in its entirety, so rest assured, you will see the end eventually. In about… 228,000 words from now. 8D;

Just a word of warning: Here in the beginning it's a pretty silly and fluffy fic, but as the plot thickens, things are going to get dark and twisted later on with some serious dubcon/noncon and D/s vibes and the occasional little splash of gore. If that sort of stuff's not your cup of tea, you may wish to turn back now. (This chapter's safe though!) Also, this story is not very accurate at all to its supposed early-1890s setting, but D.Gray-man canon itself is not terribly faithful to the time period (hello giant mecha?) so to be perfectly honest, we weren't trying that hard, lol. We'll just steal a page out of Hoshino-sensei's book and tell you that this is a "slightly fantastical" version of the late 19th century.

Before we begin, your authors would also like to give a shout-out to trixie chick, whose fabulous CrossKomui stories inspired a significant part of our plot. If you've read her fics, we're pretty sure you'll be able to tell which part.

So without further ado -- hope you enjoy!

Some Chinese words you'll want to know:
Ge ge (roughly, "guh guh")- big brother
Zhi ma qiu (roughly, "zhee mah choo")- sesame balls
Mantou (roughly, "mahn toh")- steamed bun

Our story picks up shortly after Allen Walker visits the Black Order for the very first time…

- - -

Ch. 1. If you give a Komui a cookie...

"Hmmmmmm."

Komui Li was a very busy man. Yes, very, very busy indeed. And he was currently busy with... keeping himself busy. Which was to say he was bent over an experiment table in one of the fifth floor laboratories of the Black Order Headquarters building, earnestly poking a tattered piece of paper with various chemicals and muttering to himself. Occasionally he even remembered to take notes.

"Yes... and from that we... ...no, that can't be... wait--- ... no..."

He stopped and scratched his head for a moment, jostling the ever-present white beret, and frowned in deepest thought as he turned to pore over his writings.

"...no, that species of flower definitely doesn't... but wait, the pollen was... ...Acapulco?"

He grabbed one of the quill pens lying on the opposite side of the desk, dipped it in the inkwell, and hurriedly scribbled a note at the bottom of one page: Hibiscus... PERFUME STAIN.

"Must be nice being dead, General Cross," he muttered to himself, pouting unconsciously as he reached for the fingerprint dusting kit. "All those nubile young women in heaven with you."

"You're assuming an awful lot about where General Cross is going, aren't you, Komui?" Reever asked dryly from the doorway of the lab. Or, well, it was what he would have liked to say. Sadly, as things stood, Komui was his superior and had some sort of soft spot or something like that for the General, and Reever had to keep his less-than-stellar opinion about General Cross Marian to himself. He wasn't even sure what it was that turned him off so much. It wasn't as though he really saw or interacted with the man much. In fact, General Cross had been missing in action so long that he had been presumed dead.

...then again, Reever had a feeling he knew exactly what it was about the general that bothered him so much. Anyone who fought with the corpse of another Exorcist was fundamentally creepy in his book.

Anyway. Instead of what he was thinking, he held out the stack of assorted official documents and said the same words he always had to say to Komui, words he said so often he was certain he muttered them in his sleep. Sometimes the phrase slipped out when he was trying to order lunch.

"Supervisor," he sighed, "these papers need your signature."

"Oh, don't they always?" Komui turned around to pout at him after a second's pause, in which he finished applying the fingerprinting dust to the backside of Cross's letter. "Come on, Reever. You and I both know that even were I to sign that stack, there'll be another one just like it tomorrow waiting for me. There are always papers," he repeated himself philosophically with a satisfied nod, before glancing back at his Head Science Officer again, rearranging his features into a pleading expression. "So just give me a few measly minutes to try and figure out where exactly General Cross sent this letter from?" (He had already been in the lab for about three and a half hours.) "Not that I expect anybody to actually be able to find him even with this information," the young man added with a long-suffering sigh, "but we have to start somewhere."

"Why don't you just ask Allen?" Reever asked wearily, already fairly certain of the answer and it had to do with the fact that asking Allen would save too much time that otherwise might be wasted on real work.

"Suppose he's probably already gone anyway," Reever shrugged as he set down the papers off to the side, knowing they probably wouldn't get signed today unless he did it himself. Komui was in one of his moods again, but at least this was one of the slightly strange and baffling moods rather than one of the somewhat eccentrically creative and potentially destructive moods. He paused a moment before he closed the door behind them, leaning back against it with his arms folded over his chest.

"Komui," he began, eyes narrowing slightly, "is something up today? It's not like you to run off and actually do something productive, even if it's not actually anything to do with your job."

That was the entire problem with Komui, really. Reever was always trying to get him to do his work but God forbid he ever actually do any, because the change in behavior always unfailingly made Reever worry. There was just no winning.

Komui blinked over at the other man, looking a little surprised -- at the unusual mode of address if nothing else. Komui didn't really mind what anyone called him, but it was rare to hear anything save 'Supervisor' off Reever's lips during working hours.

"Well," he replied with a frown, "I would like to find the General and give him a piece of my mind." He didn't bother to dispute the charge of actual usefulness being unlike him. "He's got one of the most important jobs in the Order, and for all we know he's sitting on a beach in the Mediterranean drinking fruity cocktails and inviting girls in bathing suits to climb all over him. No, actually I am entirely sure that that's exactly what he's doing," he amended himself tersely with a slight twitch of one eye. Komui did tend to get a little bit worked-up where Cross Marian was concerned.

Reever found that he actually had to physically bite down on his tongue to prevent some variation of the-pot-calling-the-kettle-black from coming out of his mouth. Instead, he shrugged, pressing his hand to the side of his head to try to persuade his head not to ache.

"But the General's always been like that. Even the higher-ups gave up trying to keep him in line. Shouldn't you be focusing more on other things?" Reever asked with as much respect for his superior as he could manage, but Komui was... Komui. He was reliable enough. He always came through in the end and there was no denying that he was extremely brilliant. It was just... sometimes he needed a little hard shove in the right direction.

"Well, if no one ever even tries to bother him about it at all, he'll probably just forget about the idea of coming back to base entirely." Komui was pouting a bit now. "At least we can keep the thought in his head? Like, oh, I better head back to HQ eventually, that rascal Komui probably has new orders for me piling up in his desk drawer, I should relieve the poor man of some of his enormous burden?" He stopped for a second, blinking. "Er, except, you know. In a way he would actually realistically say. ... Think."

...because reminding Komui of his duties had worked out so well for his research team. Reever was beginning to get the feeling he would need to beg Buzz for some of his 'in-case-of-Kanda' migraine medication before the day was out.

"That's very noble of you, Supervisor," Reever finally managed, once he had fought off the urge to reach out and shake Komui. (He'd seen Linali try it. It didn't work.) "How about we get Johnny right on that so you can start signing some papers?"

"But-- but..." Komui seemed to sense that his subordinate officer was nearing the end of his patience; he glanced unhappily between Reever and the letter still sitting, covered in fingerprint dust, atop the exam table. "I already started the job... I'm almost done here, honestly. Can't I at least finish up?"

He glanced at Reever again, evaluated the expression on the man's face for a moment, and held up a finger. "Fifteen minutes. That's all I ask. You can stand here and time me if you want."

Reever blinked. It had been a long time (things concerning the Supervisor's sister notwithstanding) since he'd seen Komui actually care about a project enough to want to see it through to the end. He gave Komui a skeptical, searching look before he finally sighed in defeat and nodded, pointedly looking down at his watch.

"Fourteen minutes and fifty-five seconds, Supervisor."

Then he leaned back and contented himself with watching the Supervisor work, mentally making notes for the mystery of what really went on in Komui's head which he'd been slowly trying to solve for the past seven years. And, well, Reever couldn't deny that there was something very attractive about the sight of Komui working.

...though whether it was in an aesthetical, Komui-was-a-handsome-man sort of way or in an 'oh, look, it's an eclipse that won't happen for another two hundred years' sort of way was anyone's guess.

Komui, for his part, obliviously frowned and poked at the paper and wrote more notes for the next fourteen minutes and fifty-five seconds, and when at last he heard Reever pointedly tapping on his watch from behind, closed his notebook with a sigh and set down the pen.

"All right," he acquiesced, though he was still pouting again as he folded up the letter and packed it and the accompanying envelope away in protective parchment wrapping. "Well, it's a start, at least. So where are those papers...?" he said as he headed toward the door, looking profoundly unhappy. It wasn't nice to dodge Reever all the time; the other man was just doing his job too, and was generally quite gracious about it -- but damn if Komui didn't hate being cooped up at a desk filling out forms all day long. He was a scientist, not a paperpusher. There was a reason he'd never considered taking the bureaucratic exam back home. (Well, that and the fact that it was entirely possible that by the time he managed to pass the exam, the government he'd've been trying to get into would be completely overthrown. There were a few bright sides here and there to being away from China.)

But... it really would just be nice if they could somehow get General Cross to visit home. Just. Once in a while.

Cross, meanwhile, was actually seriously considering visiting China. There was that pretty girl who ran the brothel he'd gotten better acquainted with the last time he was there. That was the charm about the Chinese, really. He never had to miss the lovely boy he'd left back at Headquarters enough to run the risk of actually feeling the urge to return. They all looked enough alike to him. There was really no substitute for Komui's voice, sadly, but... it was Headquarters. Funny how addressing a letter to a relationship he was convinced he'd taken out with the trash three years ago changed things.

Ah, well. China it was.

Back at Headquarters, Reever had already picked up the stack of papers again, holding them out in the general direction of Komui without actually offering them to him.

"I'll walk you back to your office, Supervisor," he offered, because Komui wasn't allowed to carry papers. Last time Komui had been given his own papers, they'd all ended up over the rail and somewhere down in Hevlaska's chamber, which had left the Guardian very cross. He glanced over a moment at the unhappy expression Komui was wearing and felt his impatience and resolve weaken. He knew better than anyone else on their team that it was pretty hard to be the Supervisor. He knew the job broke people. In fact, he was pretty sure the job had already gotten to Komui, only in an extremely innovative way. Leave it to the Supervisor to develop new and interesting ways to lose his mind.

...it was one of Komui's selling points, really.

"...you want anything from the cafeteria, Supervisor? I can grab us a snack or something and bring some of my reports to your office, keep you company."

"Oh -- um -- some fresh coffee would be great? And maybe a cookie? You don't mind?" Komui beamed back at the other man, somewhat heartened that at least he wouldn't have to spend the whole night holed up all alone with just himself and his paperwork. Though, if Reever was in the room, he'd have to actually do things, or at least make it look like he was writing... hm. He weighed his options mentally for a moment. Hmmmm...

...no, company still won out. And with Reever present, he could legitimately strike up polite conversation, and they could get happily caught up in it and he could stop pushing papers for a while. After all, Reever would be a guest in his office; it would be just rude to sit there and ignore him and do nothing but sign stuffy paperwork.

"The coffee won't be as good as Linali's, but I'll do my best," Reever offered with a smile, escorting Komui the rest of the way to his office. He set the stack of papers on a semi-slightly more clean than the rest section of the Supervisor's desk before he excused himself to the cafeteria, praying to God that Komui would still be there when he got back. He really needed a break from tracking Komui down today.

He came back as quickly as he could with a tray holding a pot of coffee, a pitcher of cola, and a plate of assorted cookies. He'd begged Jerry to rush the order because the fate of the quality of the remainder of his day desperately depended upon it.

"Supervisor? I'm coming in," he called with a short knock on the door, letting himself in as promised. He should have known better than to expect to see Komui actually doing any work. It was old news by now. It really was. Still, Reever hoped. Every single time, he hoped and prayed and he really should have added the sun rising from the west to the list of things he was waiting to see happen.

The Supervisor was sitting there, balancing a fountain pen sideways on his finger.

"I brought you some really delicious cookies from Jerry. They're still warm and soft and they just melt in your mouth," Reever called out rather than make any comment on the lack of work being done.

"And you know what, Supervisor Komui? I just might be persuaded to share one with you for each fifty papers you sign."

This earned Reever what was very possibly the Pout of the Century. The fountain pen fell from Komui's finger to clatter noisily against some mission reports laying underneath his arm.

"Can I at least have a cup of coffee before I start?" he requested, looking, if not properly chastised, at least as though he had obtained a modicum of respect for the true depths of Reever's evil.

Offering Komui what was probably the happiest smile ever to be seen on Reever's face in at least months, the scientist nodded amiably and poured half a cup of coffee into Komui's special mug. Then he sat back in his own chair, taking the tray with him; balanced the tray on one knee and a clipboard on the other; and began to write out lab reports as he slowly and deliberately savored one cookie after another. He went as far as making quiet, vaguely sexual sounds of pleasure between bites, licking his lips now and again.

Really, if the Noah family thought they were evil, they needed to take a long, hard look at who they were facing.

It was close to an hour later before Komui laid down his pen -- well, more like flung it down, with a very long-suffering sigh. One hand wrapped around his coffee mug automatically before he glanced down into its depths and noted with a mournful expression that they were empty. Really, half a cup of coffee wasn't very much fuel for fifty pages worth of forms and reports.

He didn't bother asking for permission as he rose from his chair; walking over to where Reever was seated, he picked up the coffee pot to take back to his desk and swiped a single chocolate-chip cookie.

He hadn't even gotten around to making any conversation in all this time... what a waste of an hour.

Reever had been scratching his stubble, frowning down at his lab reports, when Komui finally finished. When a hand appeared and kidnapped the coffee pot and cookie, Reever had had to quickly grab the now off-balance tray before it all topped over. He set it down on the floor, atop a pile of papers, watching after Komui with something not far from awe. He'd... actually sat down and got right to his work. They had made progress today. It was almost worth throwing a party over. Hard as it was, Reever did his best to contain his surprise. Aside from gaping a little bit and letting his straw fall out of his mouth, he was pretty successful in that respect.

"Uh, hey, Supervisor?" he began after a moment's pause, not knowing really what to do with the silence he'd started by withholding cookies from Komui. And so he erred on the side of the deeply ingrained work ethic that'd been pounded into him over the many trying years of working under Komui. Talk about work. That was Reever's response and solution for everything.

"Do you remember the C-16 lab we did? I know I was there -- I clocked in -- but... I can't really remember what happened." It happened, sometimes. Once you were on your fourth day without sleep, running on energy drinks and candy, sometimes blocks of time would simply fail to register.

"Umm..." Komui paused in thought, setting down the coffeepot atop his desk, and absently chewed on a pinky nail. "C-16... ...Reactive time and distance properties of dormant-stage Innocence?"

"Oh, yeah!" Reever nodded as he vaguely remembered such a thing and jotted it down before he looked back up at Komui again. "You wouldn't happen to remember the results of that lab, would you? I could probably get it off Johnny..." It really wasn't that important to have, since everyone involved in the lab had to fill out their own reports, and missing one here or there wouldn't make or break the research, but Reever had gotten into the habit of being their team's rock, as exhausting an undertaking as it was. It made him sleep better at night to know that the rest of their team could sleep better at night, knowing at least Reever would have a handle on things even if they all fell apart. He wasn't their head officer for his charming good looks, after all. And so he continued to frown at the report, trying to remember what he'd done that day but all he could remember for some odd reason was a vague feeling of worry. Like something had been wrong that day and he'd wanted to be anywhere but that lab, but he'd been too tired to do anything and he hated that conflicted feeling and--

"Um, I don't think I have any notes for it," Komui said, plopping back into his chair with a sheepish, uncomfortable little smile. "Sorry, I was a little mixed up that day."

He turned to refill his coffee cup without saying anything further.

"Of course not," Reever sighed, slapping himself on the forehead. "you weren't even there. Sorry, Supervisor." Then he started desperately searching his brain for a change of subject, because he knew Komui's euphemisms for everything too well. With Komui, 'mixed up' didn't mean 'mixed up'. Every day was mixed up in some way or another for Komui. With Komui, 'mixed up' meant the grim, harsh reality with a side of overactive imagination had caught up to the Supervisor, meant he had probably spent the day thinking about all the death and the staggering, overwhelming disadvantage they were at and their fallen comrades and their not-quite-dead-but-getting-there friends and how much it fucking sucked to be a science officer and rot safely in the headquarters where the extent of the danger they faced was Kanda having a bad day or Jerry burning dinner while everyone else risked their lives. Everyone had those days. It was why Reever shaved intermittently at best and slept only when he had to. He felt too guilty to live with himself otherwise, given how little progress their research proved even after all this time. And how very often their research did more harm than good.

Reever blinked, realizing he'd gotten lost in thought while trying to come up with a subject change. He coughed quietly.

"...how are the cookies, Supervisor?"

Komui smiled, expression looking somewhere between wry and sympathetic. Raising an eyebrow after a moment, he brought the yet-untouched cookie to his mouth and took an experimental bite.

"...mmm. Heavenly as always," he declared, sinking down in his seat with a blissful expression. He took another couple bites and swallowed before declaring philosophically, "You know, if we could just get the Earl hooked on Jerry's cooking, he could probably single-handedly win us the war."

He finished the cookie in short order, took a sip of his coffee, and glanced over toward Reever with a truly pitiful expression.

"So... you're going to let me have another one, right? Right? You said cookies..."

"I'm full, Supervisor," Reever smiled, picking the platter of cookies off the tray. He set them down in front of Komui, giving his superior a little pat on the head. (Well, the hat.) "Please help yourself to the rest and thanks for helping us out today." He wanted to make a joke about what Komui had said, about how not to give the Earl any ideas, because if he stole Jerry the Order would simply starve to death because it was a running joke that Jerry had cooking Innocence, being the only man alive who could cook food to order for their entire little army practically by himself. He wanted to, but for some reason the mention of the Earl and even thinking about him made Reever feel a little sick to his stomach just then.

A little of the feeling seemed to be showing on Reever's face; Komui smiled another sheepish smile at him and looked apologetic. "Um. You're welcome. Thanks for letting me finish earlier... could you tell somebody to have a look at the findings I compiled? I left all my notes with the evidence up in the lab there. Lab seven." He turned to reach for his coffee cup and smiled again, fondly. "Get some sleep tonight, okay?"

"I'll look into it myself," Reever assured, collecting his things as he stood. "Johnny and Tapp have had a rough couple of days." He stopped at the door and turned back to look at Komui, only to catch the supervisor dunking his cookies in his coffee. The sight made Reever smile a little more, shaking his head rather fondly. It was strangely comforting in its own way, Komui's personality. Something about it just made the world seem a little less dark.

...except when Reever needed him to do his work and couldn't find him. That was a little less endearing. But right now...

"I'll send 65 up with another pot of coffee and more cookies, Supervisor. Get some rest too, okay?"

And then he let himself out again, humming nothing in particular as he made his way to lab seven.

- - -

"...fuck."

It was all Reever could think to say, staring at the light blue dispatch notice he had come across by chance while searching for the lab sign-up schedule for the week. (Which, like everything else in the world, needed the Supervisor's signature.) Light blue. The color haunted Reever into his dreams, made him shudder a little bit every time he saw it on someone's shirt or on a book cover or even in his own imagination. Luckily Exorcists and Finders and even the Science Department wore primarily blacks and whites. But still. Light blue.

Light blue meant it was a Class-A priority mission. It meant that there was an up to 70 chance that there was, in fact, Innocence to be found. It meant that there was up to a 70 chance that there would be Akuma. It meant that the Finders who found their names on the light blue dispatch notice would almost certainly fail to come home again.

Reever made a point to avoid light blue forms. He'd flipped this one over on accident, trying to get to the lab schedule pinned under it. He'd read the names without meaning to. He'd trained himself to speed read to the point it only took a glance to take in the entire page.

Assigned Finders:

Squad Leader: Poppy Cameron
Peter Sutton
Niamh Skinner
Kelly O'Donnell
Charlie Mistry
Jonathan Rice

The notice was a week old. Without really wanting to, Reever found himself searching for the mission number. He passed Mission Ops now and again, and he usually overheard which teams sent out lost contact with base.

A-S15G22-100891

Class-A mission, dispatched to Sector 15, Grid 22. Sent out August 10th.

They lost contact with A1522 almost an entire week ago.

"Fuck," Reever repeated quietly to himself, "Pete... This isn't funny, man. You got a little girl at home. Don't make me live with not being able to tell her where you've gone."

Reever's first impulse was to run to Mission Ops. Beg them for an update. Find out for sure, get some kind of closure. But that... that was a little bit too brave. It was a little bit too real. It wasn't quite enough denial, and the Science Department lived on denial almost as much as they lived on double shots of espresso.

Instead, he found himself curled up behind some orange crates in the back of Jerry's kitchen. The cook found him after a little while, but Jerry had a sixth sense like that.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked gently, lightly shaking a ladle at him. Reever gave Jerry a tired, blank sort of look and uncurled his hand, showing the cook the crumpled ball of blue paper. It was unlike Reever to shirk his duties, and even more unlike him to do anything that might further compromise the Science Department's already train-wrecked filing system. Wordlessly, Jerry walked away, coming back with a fleece blanket and a mug of hot chocolate.

"The cold is all in your head, honey," he explained as he draped the blanket over Reever's shoulders, "but I find a blanket helps anyway." Then he folded the warm mug in Reever's hands, patting him on the shoulder.

"I'll get Johnny to track Komui-tan down for you today, okay? You just sit tight."

Wearily, Reever nodded gratefully, drawing the blanket tighter around himself as Jerry went back to his cooking. He rested the mug on one knee and rubbed his chin tiredly with his other hand.

He really needed to shave.

Reever might have been sitting there for an hour or two before the far kitchen door banged open to admit what looked like a walking pile of forms and file folders.

"Jeeeeerry-pon!" Komui's familiar sing-song voice echoed through the rather cavernous kitchen. "If you've got a minute, could I have a cup of tea?" (Linali was home, after all, so coffee-making duty currently belonged to her and her alone where Komui was concerned.)

Not waiting for a reply, the slightly precarious-looking pile of papers turned and somehow managed to begin navigating through the chaos of the Order kitchen, inorexably headed toward Reever's little corner.

"S-supervisor!" Reever exclaimed as he spotted a pile of papers wearing a white beret walking toward him. "Y-y-you're dropping the... the..." The scientist set down his hot chocolate as quickly as humanly possible before rushing over to keep the pile from toppling over altogether. He felt terrible enough to be slacking off on the job and now he felt positively faint. How many files had Komui lost on the way here? He shouldn't've tried to slack off no matter what. It would take hours to get all of this sorted again, and--

...Komui was carrying around his paperwork. Paperwork. Komui was working, or at least doing his best interpretation of it.

"...are you feeling okay, Supervisor?" he asked immediately, helping some of the papers out of Komui's arms.

"Oh, not too bad," Komui replied cheerfully, setting down the stack of forms he was still holding next to Reever's spot in the corner. "My back is killing me from sitting at my desk all day, though, so I thought I'd take a walk down here and keep you company while I work on this." He beamed at the other man for a moment, until the expression turned into a faint pout. "Linali's busy, so it's not like I have anything better to do..."

Smiling again, he took the remaining papers from Reever's grasp to set them down too, then reached over for the mug of cocoa and placed it in his rather dumbstruck-looking subordinate's hands. Then, without further ceremony, Komui plopped down on the flagstones, white Order coat and all, and began searching his pockets.

"Now where did I put that pen...?" he muttered absently.

"I have one for you, Supervisor," Reever offered quickly, the way one might supply a pen to someone offering to sign a million-dollar check. If the kitchen had any windows, the scientist would have most certainly glanced out to see if the sky was falling. The comment about Linali being busy put Reever a little bit more at ease with the Supervisor's behavior, though. Little constants were all they could really ask for.

"Linali kicked you out of Mission Ops again, didn't she?" Reever inquired lightly with an almost smile, but mentioning Mission Ops alone left him rather strained. Was twenty-six too early to be developing a heart condition?

"Why, certainly not!" Komui exclaimed in a scandalized tone, accepting Reever's pen only to wave it in his face with an astounded expression. "How could she ever think of doing such a thing to her most beloved brother and superior officer?" (Which in Komui-speak meant that she had done exactly that. Possibly with violence.)

"And, anyway, I got what I wanted from them. See?" The Supervisor picked out a paper from near the top of the stack and waved it in Reever's face for just a moment before setting it down on his clipboard. He didn't give Reever enough time to read the contents, but the paper was blue.

"Check... check... and check... and there we are." Komui signed his name at the bottom with a flourish. "See?" he repeated, snapping up the form between thumb and forefinger and dangling it in front of Reever again, beaming as though expecting to be praised for actually doing some work.

A-S15G22-100891

Results: Mission failure. Phenomena appears non-Akuma-related, current hypothesis of ghost and/or undead spirit. Jurisdiction transferred to Roman Catholic Church Main Headquarters Office of Exorcism. See report #A-100891-R542.

Casualties: No deaths reported.

For once, Reever's reading prowess failed him. He scanned over the report once, frowned, read over it again, and then looked over it one more time, following along the text with his fingers. No deaths reported.

"Oh, thank God," Reever finally breathed, feeling a little bit as though he had been hit in the chest by a train. "Pete's back then? That's good. Anna's birthday's in a few weeks. He wanted to be back in time to throw her a surprise party." He had to sit down for a minute to absorb the dizzying relief, blinking at his damp eyes. They weren't really watering enough to be considered crying, but they were definitely misting slightly. He planted both hands on his knees and bent forward, drawing in a few deep breaths. It was okay. Cameron's team had come back safely. It was unfair of him to be so relieved that his friends had come back safely from a near death sentence when so many others didn't, but Reever knew he was only human. Pete and Cameron and everyone were his friends, so they could never be just names on a report or statistics. And he was so very, very relieved. He'd needed a reminder that good things still happened in the world so badly.

The initial flood of relief passed and something nagged at the back of Reever's mind. Something about the relief, actually. Hm. What was it? Reever's eyes widened briefly before he furrowed his brow, looking up at his commanding officer.

"...Komui?" he asked a little uncertainly. "Did you get the report from Ops for me...?"

Komui shrugged as he leaned back against the stone wall, hefting another file into his lap. "I was heading down to get it anyway. A week is a long time to go without any contact... I guess the ghost or whatever it was scrambled their telephone equipment. Anyway, I'm supposed to know these things, you know? I am Headquarters Supervisor," he declared very importantly, waggling the pen in Reever's direction some more.

"You should finish your cocoa before it gets cold, by the way," he added after a second, smiling with distinct good humor.

For a moment, Reever could only semi-gape at Komui, feeling torn. He really wanted to hug the man just then. Or some less embarrassing, possibly more masculine show of affection. It was just... The Supervisor was a good guy, he really was. Everyone knew that. It was 90 percent of the reason the team put up with Komui so much. But really, that the Supervisor paid enough attention to the details of Reever's life to have known he would be worried for Cameron's team going MIA and to go out of his way to bring the final mission report to him... If Reever didn't miss having a real family so much, he might have found it creepy. As it was, it filled a very basic human need of his that so many of the Order went without. The feeling that someone would miss him were he not to come home at night.

...on a level that didn't involve the rest of the Science Department desperately trying to find someone to file paperwork as well as Reever did in his absence. That depressing thought aside.

"Thanks," he substituted in place of a potentially demasculinizing hug. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off before he began collecting all the papers Komui had brought with him.

"Why don't you take Linali out shopping today, Supervisor?" he offered with a small smile. "I can take care of this today. But don't get too used to it, okay? I'm going to wake you up first thing tomorrow morning."

Because while it was true their little research team felt like family sometimes, it was no replacement for the real thing.

"You're sure you don't want me to do those?" Komui raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. True to his nature, however, he didn't protest the unexpected reprieve. "I can at least help you cart them back upstairs..."

He paused for a second, blinking.

"Oh. And." A warm, gentle smile passed his lips. "Don't mention it."

- - -

It was a well-kept secret, but the truth of matter was that it was not the Head Generals that ran the Order. It was not the Exorcists or the scientists, it was not the Finders or Hevlaska or even Supervisor Komui. No, no, the person who really orchestrated everything in the Order was, in fact, Jerry. The cook. With his impeccable style and excellent sunglasses and abs like the face of a mountain, he truly ran the delicate inner workings of the Order and did his very best to keep it all working like a well-oiled machine. He spoke five different languages and understood at least six more, had a sharp ear for gossip, and could read body language like a book. He was a pro at what he did, and the talk of the town these days was entirely thanks to him. Brooke Fletcher and Edward Griffin were now Mr. and Mrs. Edward Griffin, and it was all thanks to a slice of Jerry's chocolate velvet cake. They would make each other very happy until their untimely deaths serving the Order, but at least they wouldn't have to face the years where the marriage went cold. Not a raw deal at all, in Jerry's humble opinion.

But with that blazing success behind him, Jerry was growing restless. How lovely it would be to cater for another wedding. How absolutely spectacular it would be to see a happy couple smile and know he had made the world a brighter place. Once was not nearly enough. No, he had to work his magic again. And again and again and again and again. It would be selfish to keep his talent all to himself, wouldn't it? Everyone had to do their part.

And so, halfway through making a gourmet omelet for someone's breakfast, Jerry decided on who would be blessed by his Cupid's arrow next. Someone whose happiness would benefit the entire Order.

Black Order Main Division, Chief Supervisor of General Affairs.

Komui Li.

Oh, Komui-tan needed someone so badly! That sister complex was getting out of hand! He really needed someone to get him away from all that and take him to candlelight dinners and moonlight walks and make sweet, passionate love to him all night long because if Komui was going to nap through his work, he might as well start having a legitimate reason. But who with...?

It couldn't be anyone like General Cross Marian at all. No, no one so intimidating or... well, Cross-like. That was the furthest from what Komui needed. Jerry found himself chewing on the edge of his apron in deep thought, wracking his brain for who could possibly fit the bill.

Then it hit him. Like a sack of potatoes thrown out of the shipping cart. Why not Reever?

Lately, Komui had been talking about that particular subordinate of his increasingly often. It was so classic! So romantic! Superior falls for his subordinate, who has secretly loved him all along but couldn't say anything because of their professional life! A dramatic and emotional confession of love! It was perfect!

And scruffy, unkempt, awkward around women, haggard, somewhat socially stunted Reever was everything General Cross wasn't. No chance of reminding Komui-tan of his former relationship.

Jerry really, really was brilliant. Ah, he loved to be him sometimes.

Smiling brightly while humming to himself, he went for the kitchen phone and called Komui's office. Komui always answered his calls, and it absolutely tickled Jerry to know that.

"Koooomui-tan!" he sang as he heard the other end pick up, "I need some help with my inventory and I'm all alone down here! Won't you pretty, pretty, pretty please come down and help me?"

After all that was sorted, he hung up and proceeded to call Reever's office, pulling out his 'I'm helpless, please save me' damsel card to convince the scientist to come as well.

And oh, he knew exactly which storage closet's door 'stuck' sometimes...

A few minutes later, Komui peeked curiously into storage room #3 next to the kitchen, having successfully snuck past the quiet front doors of the Science Department and down to see Jerry for some good old-fashioned time-wasting. Not that he was planning on just standing around like a lump down here -- helping out Jerry was terribly important work, after all. Why, it was entirely possible that Jerry was singlehandedly holding the Order together all by his lonesome. Who was Komui to deny such a venerable personage his due assistance in his time of need?

"Jeeeeerry-pon, I'm heeeeere!" he called out cheerfully as he walked in, noting the surroundings were free of anyone who might decide he needed to be dragged back upstairs. "What's up with the inventory, now? Are you hiding behind a box pile or something?" he wondered with a grin.

As Reever had no need to sneak out of anywhere, he had arrived in the storage room about ten minutes earlier, whereupon Jerry had briefly joined him, told him all he had to do was make sure there were enough supplies to last the week, and run off saying he would be back in no more than ten minutes. Imagine Reever's surprise when it was Komui who joined him.

"...Supervisor?" he asked, sounding rather bewildered and a little bit strained. "You snuck out of your office again? What are you doing h--"

His question was interrupted by the door slamming shut and something that sounded alarmingly like a deadbolt sliding into place.

"...here?"

Komui whirled around at the noise with some startlement, automatically heading toward the door. "Jerry? Someone? Jerry!!" he called out, pounding on the metal for a moment before ceasing abruptly with a pained wince. He shook out his hand as he turned back around.

"Er... this is the long-term storage closet with the thick soundproof door, isn't it," he wondered aloud with a miserable expression.

"...it was a holding cell before the cafeteria had to be expanded," Reever groaned, having an incredibly uneasy feeling about the whole matter. Something about the way he could see Jerry's canines when the cook smiled at him earlier. "We're probably going to be in here until Jerry remembers." Which could very well take days, the way the cook was always swamped with food orders.

"...at least we won't starve to death."

"I guess we'll just die of dehydration," Komui pouted, walking over to plop down on top of a box labeled 'Dry Soup Stock'. "The water is all in the next storage room, isn't it? At least last time I was down here... ...which of course was a very long time ago since I certainly do not make a habit of shirking my very, very important duties in favor of Jerry's company," he hastened to add, beaming reassuringly and utterly unconvincingly at his Science Officer.

"Ah, well." He sighed. "I'm sure someone will notice we're gone eventually. I think I was supposed to be in a lab later today, maybe 65 will come down after us."

"I'd be more reassured if we ever knew where you were up at in the lab, Supervisor," Reever sighed wearily, "and if anyone ever missed me and without assuming I'm off looking for you."

"Hm. You have a point." Komui's answering smile was a sheepish one. He rested his chin in one hand, leaning his elbow against his knee as he hunched forward a little, gazing off thoughtfully at random into the interior of the storage room. One finger idly began twirling a strand of curly black hair.

"Ah, well. Guess there's nothing we can do but wait." He began glancing around at the various boxes and parcels with some interest. "Wonder if there are any leftover sweets from the wedding party in here...?"

"Yeah. I saw a box of bonbons from the party like five minutes ago. They're over here," Reever nodded, producing said box of sweets from behind a barrel of flour. He offered them to his supervisor before he found himself a seat on a crate of bread. He found an apple for himself and wiped it off on his lab coat before taking a bite out of it.

"Brooke sure looked happy, huh? Whole thing really lit up the Order again. I think Jerry's onto something. More wedding parties, fewer funerals. It'd certainly help morale around here," he mused aloud as he thought back to the party. Almost everyone had shown up and for once, if people were crying, they were crying because they were happy. It'd been nice to see. Reever had begun to forget love existed outside the trashy romance novels Jerry kept behind the counter. He believed in it a little better now, but he believed in it like he believed in being struck by lightning. Entirely possible, highly improbable. Especially since he spent too much time tracking down Komui to hope to have time to get his own work done, eat, find someone who'd be willing to put up with him in a romantic sense, and still hope to sleep.

"It was a lot of fun," Komui agreed cheerfully, popping a bonbon into his mouth with a flourish. "I wouldn't mind officiating a wedding again... It was almost like being a real priest," he continued without the slightest hint of irony in his voice, talking around the chocolate in his mouth so that one cheek bulged out ridiculously. (Speaking with your mouth full was terribly rude, after all.)

"What do you think, Reever? Would you be willing to do the honors?" he wondered after he'd swallowed, smirking playfully.

"...do the honors?" Reever asked back, blinking at Komui blankly at first, then suspiciously. The supervisor's playful smirks couldn't be taken lightly. They were usually a precursor to mass destruction and tears. (It was Reever's own humble opinion that they should simply have Komui betray them and work for the Earl. The other side would unravel in a matter of weeks for certain, because it took strong constitution and deep faith to survive the phenomenon that was their Supervisor.)

"The honors for what?"

"Volunteering to get married, of course!" The wide grin on Komui's face revealed nothing about whether he was actually serious or not. "For the good of the Order! You said it yourself, after all," and he paused to nod solemnly, wagging a finger, "a nice wedding is the perfect way to cheer everybody up. We should just start scheduling one every month. Or maybe once a week...?"

Reever was beginning to hypothesize that being around the Supervisor's unique form of logic was actually destroying his brain cells. Or at least the neurological pathways that ran between them. For a long moment, he could only gape. He wanted to point out all the things that were wrong with that picture but didn't even remotely know where to begin. It was like trying to critique a painting of an Akuma saving puppies while tuning a piano and arranging flowers. There was so much wrong with it that there simply wasn't a starting point. Anywhere. Reever wanted to say, 'Supervisor, it doesn't work that way.' Or maybe, 'Supervisor, these things can't be forced.' Or even, 'Supervisor, if there are too many at once they'll lose their charm.'

But instead of any valid, logical argument, Reever only managed to sputter out, "M...married? Me? Who would I get married to?"

Reever abruptly felt something sharp between his shoulder blades and considered asking Komui to help him pull out the knife he'd just stabbed himself in the back with.

"Well, I don't know, who would you get married to?" came Komui's impossibly cheery response.

"What?" Reever asked again, sounding even more at a loss. What this an appropriate conversation to be having with his supervisor? Reever squinted a little and frowned a moment, then sighed and sat back.

"For me? Personally, I'd marry 65. He knows how to pull his weight better than anyone else on the team," he shrugged, then wished a moment later that he hadn't thought it through quite so clearly. But was that good enough to dodge the bullet? He really hoped so.

"Oh?" Komui blinked. "Good to know. We'll just pencil you in for next Wednesday then..." He started rummaging around in his coat pockets with a thoughtful frown. "Did I bring any scrap paper?..."

Reever had pockets full of memo pads and spare pens, but for once he wasn't about to divulge that information. Instead he folded his arms over his chest and sat back, leaning against one of the shelves.

"While you're at it, Supervisor, you should schedule in Suman and Linali. She's been giving him these doe-eyes every time they pass each other in the hall," Reever commented offhandedly, making a show of inspecting the back of his hand.

Komui jumped to his feet and instantly dropped his beret, which he'd apparently taken off to check for scrap paper inside.

"SHE HAS!?"

The shocked expression faded after a second as he watched Reever's nonchalant act, and the Supervisor sunk back down into his place with a pout.

"You're joking, right? Please say you're joking. I was joking. I wouldn't make you marry 65, you know," he said, looking the very picture of wounded as he picked up his fallen hat, dusted it off, and plopped it back down on his head. "...Well, unless you were actually in love with him..."

There was an awkward pause.

"Er, forget I asked," Komui hastened to add, beaming in a distinctly uncomfortable manner.

"No, I'm not in love with 65," Reever sighed out in a slightly squicked sort of way, gently massaging his temples, "and if you want me to be perfectly honest, I'm not really in love with anyone. I just don't have the time. You're talking to a guy who has to choose between brushing his teeth and shaving every morning." Reever ran his fingers over his stubble then, reminded that it was there.

"Really, we should leave the romance to the field agents. They're the ones who really need a reason to get out of bed in the morning."

Just outside, Jerry was tapping a spatula against his hip as he frowned. He had taken it upon himself to spy on them from the tiny hole he'd drilled in one wall in preparation for this and had discovered, much to his dismay, that Officer Reever was wallowing in the cesspool of emo he seemed to live in whenever, well... Always, usually. There were the rare occasions things went right and Reever would act like a normal human being, but usually it was just guilt, guilt, guilt, unhappy, unhappy, abused, abused. That boy obviously wasn't getting laid often enough. This wouldn't do at all, at this rate. Sighing deeply, he prodded around his genius for some sort of solution.

Spying all the while, of course. Someone had to keep an eye on them.

"How unromantic of you." On the other side of the door, Komui pouted again for a second, before leaning back against another crate with a quiet laugh. "But I guess I can't really talk, I'm in the same boat... well, I do make time to shave and brush my teeth every morning, and you might consider reworking your schedule a little to fit them both in," he added, raising an eyebrow at Reever. For a moment, he considered asking whether the other man had had anyone back home in Australia, but he'd probably pushed more than enough buttons over the past couple of days. Still, sometimes Komui found it a terrible shame that no one really talked about their past or about their homelands here. A whole world of knowledge and culture living together under one rooftop, and instead of sharing with one another, everyone just kept it all locked away in their heads because thinking of home hurt too much...

He glanced down toward the box of bonbons with a sigh.

"You make time to nap at your desk too, Supervisor," Reever laughed quietly back in a rather gentle tease, considering the source. Then he seemed to catch the slip in Komui's mood and he frowned a little, leaning toward the other to try to catch the look in his eyes.

"...something wrong?"

"Hm?"

Komui looked a little surprised as he glanced back up at the other man. He blinked for a second before meeting Reever's expression of concern with a small smile.

"Oh, just thinking what an odd place this can be sometimes." Which would have been the understatement of the century, if it was what he'd really been saying.

"Only sometimes?" Reever grinned faintly, shaking his head. "You're obviously not thinking hard enough then, Supervisor." But the researcher knew very well what Komui meant, how here and there the Order almost seemed like a strange sort of orphanage, a second home to so many of them. What was normal for them was horribly skewed by the standards of the rest of the world. And sometimes some things were strange to think about even for them.

"This place runs on tragedy, you know," Reever mused rather philosophically, because the thought had seized him. "No one wants to fall in love or have children, really, because it's too dangerous. They could die and do what their parents did to them, and those of us who have been there wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of all our own kids. So in theory, we should all die out in one generation, right? But out there, every day someone dies and leaves someone else all alone so we never hurt for manpower here. If it wasn't for the Earl, we probably wouldn't still be standing." There was a pause and a sigh then, as Reever tried to untangle his next thoughts.

"So really, we can't lose," he finally settled on, "if you want to think about it that way. As long as the Earl is fighting us and people are suffering, the Black Order will keep on existing." Reever paused again to laugh to himself, shaking his head.

"But that's only in theory. And we know best how often theories work out, yeah?"

"I don't know. I'd say it's more of a tested and proven hypothesis by this point," Komui murmured.

The expression on the Supervisor's face had gone quiet. He glanced intently over the box of bonbons as he ran a finger lightly over the top, finally stopping to choose a single one.

"But I don't think the Order would ever lack for members, even without that. They're really not too bad at recruiting people, either."

He picked the chocolate up to break it gingerly in half.

"Hmm. Amaretto."

"It's ridiculous to think about," Reever sighed, shaking his head, "but the people they recruit only make up a fraction of the Order. And they work us to the bone, but we get respect and prestige and sometimes we even get the day off. It's the sheer number people who line up just to die for the Order that really just... I don't know. I bring you death certificates and casualty reports almost faster than I can bring you enlistment notices for the Finders. You really have to have nothing else left to live for to want that. Even I wouldn't want that, and all I have is a four by five hole in the wall and something like ambition with all the naivete beaten out of it. You really have to have absolutely nothing left." Reever set his apple core down slightly unsteadily, inspecting the floor for cracks.

"...the numbers terrify me some days, to be honest," he murmured quietly, then peered over at the box in Komui's hands.

"Do you have any hazelnut?"

Because hazelnuts were delicious and not at all depressing.

"Well... aren't we all like that?"

Komui inspected the box for a moment longer before plucking out another chocolate, handing it over to Reever. "Even if only a little."

The halves of the amaretto bonbon lay uneaten atop the overturned box lid.

"Maybe it's presumptuous of me, or maybe I've just been Supervisor too long," he murmured, gaze still turned downward toward the chocolates, "but I feel like I understand them, at least a little bit." He glanced in Reever's direction, expression sober.

"I mean... what would you have done? Not to presume anything, but."

His eyes turned off toward the far side of the storage room as he gave a faint shrug. "Even if all you had to offer was your body... can you honestly say you'd've turned away? Done something else? If they'd taken everything from you, wouldn't you want to take it back?"

He paused, blinking at the floor for a moment, contemplatively.

"I think... well, I was lucky. I had my brains to offer so I got this cushy job where I can eat bonbons and chat with you and watch everybody else go die," he said, one eyebrow raising on his otherwise totally impassive face, "but if I hadn't, I'd be out there with the Finders. It might not have been all the same for me but I still, sure as hell, wanted to take it back."

"Not you, Supervisor," Reever answered lightly, turning the candy over between his fingers as he spoke. "I don't think you'd ever die. You'd think, 'What would Linali do without me?' and then you'd kill Akuma with your bare hands if you had to. You're scary like that." He stopped long enough to pop the chocolate in his mouth, feeling marginally better as it melted into sweet bliss.

"It's not that I don't understand the feeling. Having everything taken away... it didn't really make me vengeful, you know? Just... tired. Tired and suddenly didn't know what to do with myself. It's hard enough to have focus when you're a teenager trying to do everything at once. The Order gave me a purpose. I'm thankful for it," he shrugged, shaking his head. "I know it's not like that for a lot of people, and I still understand what it's like to have your world ripped out from under you and want to take it back by any means possible." He'd witnessed it firsthand, after all.

"It's the numbers, is all, Supervisor. That I hand you pages and pages of names of people who don't have anything left but their lives that don't mean enough to them for them to want to hold on to anymore. The numbers scare me if I let myself think about them." The hazelnut bonbon tasted a little bitter in his mouth now. He stared down intently at his hands, swallowing dryly.

"...sometimes the name comes back so fast on the casualty reports that I still remember them."

But it was easier these days. There had been so many names that every name had begun to look familiar. It made pretending not to care a lot easier.

"Well."

Komui sighed quietly, and glanced down at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck with a helpless-looking smile.

"As your superior officer, the best thing I can suggest is to try not to think about it so much. It'll just make you crazy."

He quieted for a second as he shifted in his place. A world in which he could kick Akuma ass with his bare hands and never have to send Linali out to fight... wouldn't that have been nice.

"But they're not just here to die," he said quietly. "They're here to do their part, in whatever way they can. Somebody has to save the world, after all." He looked up at River with another small smile, pained perhaps, but resolute. "If not the likes of us, then who?"

"Heh, maybe we should get Suman and Linali hitched," Reever sighed, smiling back. God, he wished the Supervisor wasn't so reassuring and dependable when push came to shove. It would've made wanting to smack him around for not doing his work a lot more guilt-free.

"Then they can have hoards of Exorcist babies and we can finally take a break. I'd even treat you to dinner."

"AAAAH! Don't even SAY that!!!" Komui fell off the crate in his sudden startlement, nearly taking the box of bonbons with him as he tumbled down onto the stone floor, face horrified. "Linaliiiiiiiii!" he moaned, stretching an arm toward the door in an expression of longing that was either terribly heroic or very silly-looking, depending on one's point of view. "Don't worry, big brother will protect you from all the perverts out theeeeeeeeeeeeere!!"

"What, you don't want little dark-haired minis of Linali and Suman running around, calling you 'Uncle'?" Reever grinned, sitting up a little straighter. There really was sport to be found in teasing Komui about his sister. It was probably why he enjoyed waking the Supervisor up from his naps so much.

"And just think, for every baby Linali has, it means that--"

"NOOOO DON'T SAY IT," Komui cried, clapping his hands over his ears. "I can't hear you! I give up! UNCLE!"

Reever decided to have mercy on Komui and let the subject drop, scooting off the crate he was sitting on to sit down next to Komui on the floor.

"There, there," he comforted, patting Komui on the shoulder. "It's okay. Linali's only sixteen. I'd kick Suman's ass myself if he tried to have babies with her. I think of her as a sister too, y'know? No men for her until she's at least thirty. Maybe forty."

"Sixty," Komui insisted in a pout, curled up in a semi-fetal position on the floor. "I might consider letting her date at sixty."

He sighed mournfully as he sat back up again, leaning a dusty coat sleeve against his knee and plopping his chin in his hand, and generally looking like he dearly wished he could actually enforce that idea.

"...It is good knowing that there's somebody else looking out for her, though." He glanced in Reever's direction again. "Well, not that everybody doesn't, but you know what I mean. So. Thanks," he concluded, smiling.

"Funny thing about that," Reever grinned back with a slight shake of his head, "she could kick both of our asses if she wanted to, yet we fancy ourselves her protectors."

"Well, of course!" Komui nodded resolutely. "As big brother, it is my solemn duty to protect her from perverts, really big dogs, and things that go bump in the night! As surrogate big brother, you too are heir to these important responsibilities," he said seriously, wagging a finger at Reever.

"And it's also our job to burn her breakfast, sneak her homework answers, call in sick for her in the event she wants to stay home and eat ice cream all day, and, in my case, learn a foreign language so that this is all possible," Reever agreed readily. He had been a big brother once, too. And oh, he had been such an awful kid but he'd been the world's best brother. He had the forged permission slips to prove it.

Komui laughed as he reached up to dust off his beret, an easy smile returning to his lips again. "You're not getting rusty now that she's picked up English?" he wondered in Chinese, grinning as he reached back to the crate behind him to grab half of the amaretto bonbon. He popped it into his mouth cheerily.

"Can I get worse?" Reever answered back in somewhat fluent but altogether horribly accented Chinese. "She still laughs at my accent. If she has some bad times, I only speak to her in Chinese and she laughs."

Komui smirked just a little. To tell the truth, it was a rather comical accent. But it was the meaning of the words that counted, right? "Well, you can have a conversation just fine, that's the important part. I'm sure if you ever had to live in China and use the language every day, you'd be leagues better in no time. That's how it was for me with English. You wouldn't believe how bad my accent was before I came to Europe... well, maybe you would," he said with another quiet laugh, switching languages again. "I don't know how the Order people I met ever managed to understand me."

"Aw, I think Chinese accents are cute," Reever smiled, giving Komui his best starry-eyed expression. Which wasn't a very good one, mind, but he was trying. "I would've loved to see you with your long hair and your young boyish charms and your barely comprehensible English. Linali used to tell me all about it. Of course, there was that one time she told me you looked great in silver and I thought she said you looked great in a dress..."

"Uh." Komui laughed a little embarrassedly, feeling slightly at a loss in the face of Reever's sudden turn into... was he teasing? "She told you stuff like that?"

"She never talked about anything else. You're still all we talk about when we have a couple minutes to chat. These days, though, mostly I complain about you and she apologizes. But I think I know way more about you than I care to, Supervisor," Reever nodded, shaking his head slightly, "but I won't judge. I'll keep all your secrets. I might blackmail you once in a while, but other than that, nothing to worry about."

"Well, if you haven't yet found reason to blackmail me by now, clearly I have nothing to worry about at all," Komui concluded cheerfully, snatching up the other half of the amaretto bonbon. "I really don't have many juicy secrets, anyway. Yes, I am not afraid of your wicked threats," he declared melodramatically, clapping a hand over his heart (and jostling some dust clinging to his uniform from the floor). "I have nothing to hi... to hi--- Achoo!"

The Supervisor rubbed at his nose and sniffled a little.

"...Hide," he finished with a slightly deflated pout.

"God, doesn't anyone but Linali look after you?" Reever sighed in disbelief. "She goes away for a couple days and you're already collecting cobwebs." And this was coming from a guy who slept in his lab coat most days. "Give me that before you infect the whole department." Reever held out his hand expectantly, the strained look on his face expressing something along the lines of 'please, Lord, in Your infinite grace, let me quarantine this man'.

"Well, I keep it clean normally," Komui pouted as he rose to pull the coat off, "but I just fell on the floor, give me a break." He held it out to Reever with a wounded expression.

"...I wonder what time it is?" he murmured after a moment as he glanced toward the door.

"Hell if I know," Reever shrugged, folding the jacket to take to the laundromat later. Sometimes he felt that the wrong Li sibling had become an Exorcist. Linali was so much more responsible, and the black uniforms would hide Komui's scuff marks better. Ah, well. Life wasn't fair.

"Half an hour, maybe? The lunch rush'll probably hit soon, so it'll likely be a while yet." Reever paused a moment to look thoughtful, then quirked his lips to one side in a frown. "You know, we scientists get ripped off a lot. The Exorcists get Golems, the Finders get their phone boxes, and we get a wired telephone system that can never find anyone. If we were anyone but us, we wouldn't be trapped here still." But then again he was fully aware as to why they didn't and possibly never would have a better communication system in their department. Anything that would make finding the Supervisor a less grievous task was highly unlikely to get approved.

"Here, this is dirty too, I wouldn't want you to feel like you hadn't stolen enough of my clothing," Komui sniffed, stepping over to plop the still slightly-dusty beret down atop Reever's scruffy head. "Take good care of that, I got it in Paris. It's haute couture," he added with a sage nod as though he actually knew what he was talking about.

"Why don't you give me the pants while you're at it?" Reever sighed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He took the hat off his head and laid it on top of the jacket all the same.

It was right around then that the door swung open.

"Oh my," the slender girl standing in the doorway gasped, "am I interrupting something, ge ge?" Linali smiled cheerfully at them, giving Reever a little wave.

She'd arrived about twenty minutes ago looking for her brother. She knew he usually came here to skirt his duties, so Jerry was the first person she always asked about his whereabouts. Reever was actually her first-choice informant, but because the poor man was always searching for her brother as well, he was almost as elusive. The cook had been midway through putting together some soba when she asked and he had instantly grinned brightly at her, answering without missing a beat.

"Oh, yes, he's here! I locked him in the storage closet with Officer Reever about an hour ago or something like that. Oh my! I did lose track of the time, didn't I?"

Concerned as to what could possibly prompt Jerry to lock her brother in a storage closet, Linali had asked for an explanation and boy did she get one. And, much to her own surprise, the thought it was a brilliant idea. She loved both her brother and Reever dearly, and she knew how lonely both of them were. Her brother always missed her when she went away, but she found it worse that Reever didn't have anyone to miss at all. Clearly something had to be done. Why hadn't she seen it before?

"I'll help!" she had exclaimed, clapping her hands together with delight.

And so here they were.

"LINALIIIII!!" Komui glommed onto her nigh-instantly, cuddling the younger girl to his chest. "You came to rescue your big brother! My heroooo!"

After a second, though, he pulled away slightly with a surprised blink.

"But how'd you know we were in here?" He glanced up toward Jerry, who seemed to be standing close behind. "Jerry, where were you? Your door's been stuck on us for ages! I think somebody locked it!"

Reever, who was not preoccupied by the euphoria of seeing Linali, turned a faint shade of pink as he stood, still holding the jacket and beret in his arms. And he knew full well he'd heard the sound of the door being locked, but he didn't comment on that either. What was the point? Though why he'd been locked in the storage closet to begin with was puzzling and he was rather curious, asking around probably wouldn't get him anywhere. He'd just have to be the sneaky scientist he was to get to the bottom of things.

"Hi, ge ge," Linali laughed, hugging Komui back at his enthusiastic greeting, "I came looking for you because I missed you, of course! And when I got down here, Jerry suddenly realized he hadn't heard from either of you in almost an hour! You'll forgive him, won't you? He was caught up in the lunch rush." At that, she turned to beam innocently at Jerry. The cook would have been unnerved were he not so busy being exceptionally proud. The girl was a natural!

"Oh, I see. Well, next time at least stick around and tell us what you want us to do," Komui pouted in Jerry's general direction, still too preoccupied with Linali to give the matter much thought. She'd come to rescue him! He had the best little sister ever. There was absolutely no one in the entire world, not one single person, who was as proud of their little sister as Komui was of his. He would gladly have traveled the globe doing exhaustive research to prove it because he knew he was right, thank you very much.

"But of course we forgive him, don't we, Reever?" the Supervisor continued magnanimously, beaming down at Linali as he stepped out of the storage closet. "These things happen. No harm done and all that." Actually, it had been a really spectacular way to not-do some paperwork. Chocolate, good company, good conversation...

"Mmhm," Reever half agreed, running his hand through his hair. It was true. Mostly no harm done. Except now he had this laundry to wash... but it had been nice to spend some time talking to Komui in a non-work related setting.

"You're the best," Linali beamed back up, then reached over to slip her hand into her brother's, tugging him a few steps forward. "Are you free this evening, ge ge?" she asked as unobtrusively as possible, giving his hand a squeeze. "I was hoping we could have dinner together in my dorm. Jerry was nice enough to offer to make us a picnic basket! Wouldn't that be fun, ge ge?"

"Of course I'm free!" said Komui, who currently had close to a week's worth of papers piling up on his desk waiting to be looked at. "That sounds positively wonderful! Let's do it." He glanced over at Jerry as he swung his hand in Linali's, adding cheerfully (and pointedly), "I think zhi ma qiu is the perfect food for apologizing for accidentally locking people in closets, don't you?"

"I'll have a batch ready in half an hour!" Jerry exclaimed with a flourish and a grin. "Anything else for my favorite Chinese siblings?"

"Hm... maybe some fresh mantou, egg and rice porridge, and... oh! Cold tofu! With sesame oil and soy sauce paste. And maybe some pickled cucumbers? Oh! And a shrimp and green onion omelet, okay?" Linali counted off on her fingers. It was really more a breakfast spread than a dinner spread, but those were her comfort foods.

"I'll have it all delivered to your room within the hour," Jerry promised. "Now shoo, you two. I can't get anything done with you children underfoot!"

Reever was sneaking out the back door at that point, trying not to look too unhappy. Because even Komui needed a real day off once in a while, and Linali looked too happy to disappoint. Oh well. At least he could go do laundry. He'd find some way to get back at Komui in the morning, possibly in the form of extra forms to fill out. The kind with the little essay questions Komui hated so much.