A/N: This story takes place after Wine & Sympathy, but before Breaking Point. Also, credit for the title goes to loremipsxm!
"Hei, are you even paying attention?"
Mao's voice snapped Hei's mind back to the present. "I'm listening," he lied. This meeting was pointless. He had nothing to report, and their next mission was already planned out; they were just waiting on a date. Misaki had the evening off tonight, and Hei had been hoping to head over as early as possible - it had been several nights since he had been able to spend any real time with her. He hunched his shoulders and stared out into the middle distance. The sun hadn't fully set yet, but the tall buildings to the west were casting a dark shadow over the park.
Huang grunted. "The shipment is expected to arrive Friday or Saturday night. Yin will let us know when she sees something."
Yin, who was sitting on the bench next to Hei, made no acknowledgment of the directive. He was probably just imaging it, but her posture seemed to be unusually stiff tonight, as if she was uncomfortable. Though she hadn't been like that for the whole meeting - the change had appeared after they'd learned the details of the job.
Dolls again. Hei needed missions that required physical exertion: facing off against another contractor, chasing across rooftops, even a good old-fashioned breaking and entering. Anything that kept his mind in that pure, timeless state of emotionless adrenaline was preferable to sitting around all night watching for a black market delivery - and then doing nothing about it. Observe and report; he may as well be a doll himself.
"Why is the Syndicate so interested in doll trafficking?" he asked.
"Why are you so interested in the Syndicate's business?" Huang shot back. Then he sighed in evident irritation. "Look, why do we care what the higher-ups are into? Just keep your head down and do your job - no screw-ups. Understand?"
Hei nodded minutely. With his luck, another Kenji would get in the way of this mission. And Hei would be too weak to refuse to help.
The older man grunted again. "Whatever. Go home; I'll be in touch."
On that note, abrupt as ever, the meeting ended. As Hei exited the park, he imagined that he could feel Yin's blind gaze on his back.
~~~~o~~~~
It was strange, Hei mused as he stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hall towards Misaki's door. For years, he'd hated the nights when he didn't have to work. Whether it was a mission or simply one of his part-time jobs, he'd always needed something to keep him occupied. The alternative was sitting alone in an empty apartment, with nothing to do but dwell on ghosts of the past. Sometimes he'd walk the streets of the city, going nowhere, observing the people around him living their lives with no knowledge of his existence - as if he were the ghost.
Now, he looked forward to these nights - because now, he had somewhere to go. And someone to go to.
He had almost reached Misaki's apartment when the door across from hers opened and a young couple stepped out. They hardly paid him any attention, laughing together as they exited hand-in-hand; even so, Hei hid his face and continued walking to the end of the hall. He looked over his shoulder to confirm that the couple had turned the corner, then returned to Misaki's door. Shifting both bags of groceries to one hand, he knocked.
The soft patter of feet approached the door, which swung open to reveal Misaki. Hei relaxed at the sight of her in a tank top and sweat pants, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been tense.
"Hi," Misaki said with a smile, stepping back to let him come in. He entered the apartment quickly, before anyone who happened to step into the hall could see him. As soon as the door was shut, Misaki gripped his hair and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Hei snaked his free hand around her waist and held her close, loving the way her body fit against his so snugly, as if she was made for him. He struggled to resist the temptation to drop the groceries, push her against the wall, and…
But Misaki broke off the kiss, and he forced himself to let go of her.
"Have you eaten yet?" he asked as he slipped off his shoes, placing them next to Misaki's in the tray by the door. He glanced quickly around the apartment - a precautionary habit that he had no intention of shaking - and noticed that her living room was in some kind of disarray. Large pieces of cardboard were shoved into a corner and a stack of white-veneered particle board took up the center of the floor.
Misaki shook her head and took one of the plastic sacks from him as they walked into the kitchen together. "No; I ran out of the tamagoyaki you made the other night, and I was hoping that you'd be here early enough tonight to cook." She flashed him a modest grin; Hei considered himself lucky that she seemed to have no idea how dangerous a weapon that smile was.
They unpacked the groceries together. Misaki rarely used her kitchen for anything but heating up pre-cooked meals, but over the past few weeks Hei had gotten it organized and stocked with the essentials. He'd always had to make do with minimal equipment, so it didn't bother him that she didn't have any expensive gadgets. A knife and a couple of pots were really all that were necessary.
"Sushi?" Misaki asked, pulling a package of nori from one of the bags.
Hei nodded. "Is that alright?"
"Of course; it sounds good. Why don't you get started - I'll finish up my project, then come help. And by help, I mean 'watch'." She smiled again, then reached up to put a can of coconut milk in an upper cupboard. She winced slightly at the motion, so slightly that Hei wasn't sure that he'd seen it. But she didn't say anything, so neither did he.
He bent to pull a pot for the rice out from under the counter. "What are you working on?"
"I bought a new bookcase - I got tired of tripping over those boxes in my bedroom. The store delivered it earlier today, but of course it's in pieces." She made an irritated face.
"Do you need help?"
Misaki gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "No, it won't take that long. And it's not like I'll have anything to do while you fix dinner." Hei didn't know why she thought she was so hopeless in the kitchen. After all, if he could learn to cook, she could - but she always seemed more content to watch him work rather than help out. Not that he minded - he liked being useful. And he liked her eyes on him.
She returned to the living room, and Hei set to work heating up some water and chopping vegetables. There was something restful about working with a knife in the kitchen. The repetitive motion of the instrument, the steady thok thok thok of the blade hitting the cutting board let him slip into a meditative focus that was hard to find elsewhere. Watching the little pile of perfectly diced peppers form beneath his practiced slicing was immensely satisfying.
From time to time he would glance up and look out over the counter into the living room, where Misaki sat amid a pile of white planks. Each time he looked, the furrow in her forehead was slightly deeper, and although the pieces of the bookcase would be rearranged, it didn't look as if it was coming together.
At the second muttered "Damn it!", Hei turned down the heat on the rice and went to her side.
"Want a hand?"
Misaki brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, smudging her glasses in the process. She cursed again, and took the glasses off to clean them on her shirt. "Why don't they write the directions using actual words? No, thanks; I can do it."
The world could be ending, and she would never once think to ask for help. "That's not what I asked."
She turned a determined expression on him, and he thought that she was going to refuse again; but then her eyes softened. "Alright," she said, then gestured to the six-foot-long board in front of her. "I put one of the dowels in the wrong spot, and now I can't get it out."
"Pliers?"
Misaki passed him the tool. The little wooden cylinder wasn't wedged all that tightly; with the right amount of leverage, it popped right out.
"Thanks," she said grudgingly.
Hei ran his eyes over the board, then at the coffee table where Misaki had laid out all the screws and small pieces according to type and size. It looked pretty straightforward. He scooped up the remainder of the dowels and fit them snugly into their holes on the smaller planks, then started adding the cams.
"Wait, we're not ready for those yet," Misaki said. She pointed to one of the diagrams in the instruction booklet. "We have to do the screws first."
Hei glanced at the picture. "It doesn't matter, as long as they're open."
"The instructions say to do the screws first - take them out."
He thought she was joking at first; but the expression on her face was perfectly serious. When he didn't move to pull out the cams, she leaned forward and began to do it herself. Hei removed the ones nearest to him, dropping them into Misaki's open palm. She returned them to their place on the coffee table and picked up the screws.
"Hang on," Hei said. "I need to take the rice off."
"Go ahead - I'll get started with the next step."
Wordlessly, Hei picked up the instructions and showed her the diagram that depicted an 'x' over a single cartoon figure building the bookcase and a circle around two figures working together.
"Shut up!" Misaki shoved his shoulder playfully; but she set the screws back onto the table, instead picking up the instructions again to leaf through them while he headed to the kitchen.
How many people, knowing who he was and what he did, would be comfortable touching him so casually? The only other person in the past five or so years that Hei could think of was Jiao-tu; but she'd known him before, and even after all that business with the MSS, had only the vaguest idea of how he'd changed. She could protest all she wanted that he was still the same person, but she didn't know; not really.
Although, some of it must have sunken in, because she seemed to be having no trouble in keeping her promise to stay away from him. Hei had secretly checked up on her a couple of times: she was doing well in her classes, going out with friends, and once he'd even seen her walking across campus holding hands with a young man. He'd taken care that she didn't spot him; she had a normal life, and he wasn't going to interfere in that.
And it was true that Misaki didn't know everything about him either. If she did…things would be different. As it was, Hei was still surprised every night when she welcomed him into her home rather than calling for backup to arrest him. It wouldn't last; he knew that. But he wasn't strong enough to walk away.
When he returned to the living room, Misaki had a hand pressed to her stomach; but she removed it as soon as she noticed him.
"Here," she said, handing him half of the screws. "You do that end; I'll get this one."
With Misaki directing each step, the white frame came together quickly. "Where do you want it?" Hei asked.
She stood up slowly, her face a little pale. "Over in that corner; let me move the cardboard out of the way."
Hei beat her to it. He picked up the unwieldy stack of packing materials and carried them out to the balcony. He could take them down to the trash on his way out in the morning. Misaki was waiting by one end of the bookcase to help stand it on end, but Hei gently nudged her out of the way.
"I can help," she protested crossly.
"You're not feeling well; you should sit down."
"What?" Misaki's hand went to her middle before she caught herself and lowered it again. "I'm fine."
Hei gave her a pointed look, and waited.
Misaki stared right back at him for a full minute, before finally sighing in defeat. "Alright," she said, folding her arms awkwardly. "It's that time of the month, and the cramps are pretty bad. I took some aspirin earlier, but it doesn't seem to be helping."
That time…for a moment, Hei's mind was blank. Then he realized what she was talking about. "Oh," was all he could think of to say.
Misaki tried unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle, her eyes dancing. "I'm sorry, but your face just now - not really in your frame of experience, is it?"
"No," he admitted, feeling more than a little out of his depth. He knew the technical details, of course - the Syndicate's education curriculum had been thorough, as sex was just another tool for their operatives to wield - but he'd never been close enough with a woman, personally, to know how it impacted their daily lives.
"I'll be alright tomorrow; it's just tonight that's going to be a little rough." She gave him an apologetic look. "I probably shouldn't have put up the signal, since I won't be able to…you know. But the past few nights, either you've had to work late, or I have, and I really thought that the aspirin would help…" she trailed off, gaze shifting to the bookcase lying on the floor.
She wasn't telling him to leave, Hei noticed. "You should sit," he said again. He waited until she gave in and seated herself gingerly on the sofa. Then he leveraged the heavy bookcase up onto its base and maneuvered it against the wall.
"A few centimeters to left," Misaki said, leaning over the arm of the sofa. "No, too far; go back."
He patiently shifted the white shelving unit according to her directions, until she was satisfied with the position. "Now we need to anchor it," she reminded him, though he knew perfectly well what the next step was. "There's a step ladder in the closet, I'll grab it."
But Hei knew where the ladder was; he left to fetch it before Misaki could get up. When he returned, she shot him an annoyed look; but he thought that there was a bit of gratefulness there as well.
There wasn't much room between the top of the bookcase and the ceiling, and Hei had to twist awkwardly to reach the wall. Misaki didn't have a power screwdriver, so he used a hammer to get a hole for the anchor bracket started. He hung the hammer from his belt loop in case he needed it again, then reached down to take the screwdriver from Misaki.
She started to pass it up to him, but paused. "Unbutton your shirt," she ordered, a gleam in her eyes.
Hei raised an eyebrow at her, but did as she asked, making his movements as deliberate as possible while he bared his chest.
"Hm," she sighed to herself as she gazed openly at him, tucking her feet up under her on the cushion. "Like my very own AV."
He wanted to say something witty, but couldn't think of anything that didn't sound stupid. So he remained quiet, and reached out for the screwdriver, hoping that the warm flush in his cheeks wasn't too obvious. There was a slight smirk on Misaki's face as she passed the tool up to him. Then she pressed her hand to her middle again, and sighed in irritation.
By the time the bookcase was secured to the wall and the shelves were in place, Hei was starving. He'd been hoping that Misaki would want to help him assemble the sushi rolls, but she was looking more peaked than ever; she didn't even protest when he suggested that she lie down on the sofa while he finished preparing the meal alone. With his shirt re-buttoned. He didn't feel anywhere near as modest around her as he'd used to - in fact, he welcomed her hungry gaze - but if Misaki wasn't feeling up to it, he didn't want to tempt either one of them.
They ate mostly in silence. Hei didn't mind; he was content simply to be in her company. It was a refreshing change of pace to not have to put on an act or a false front. Although he had to be careful not to let her see too deeply into his black psyche, he didn't have to waste his energy faking anything with her. Some days, just saying hello to his landlady was almost too much an effort; but with Misaki…being with her was easy.
Misaki took another dose of aspirin with her dinner, and by the time Hei had finished washing up, she declared herself to be feeling well enough to unpack her boxes of case files.
"They can't wait until tomorrow night?" he asked her as he carried the last box into the living room.
Misaki shrugged from her seat on the floor, where she was sorting through the folders in another box. "Of course they can. But I have the time tonight, so I want to get it done tonight." She looked up at him, an apology written across her face. "You don't have to stay; I mean, you know I appreciate your help, but I'm sure you don't want to spend your night doing my filing."
"Do you want me to go?" he asked.
She hesitated, then said quietly, "I'd like you to stay."
He nodded once, relieved. "Alright," he said, then started unpacking the box in front of him.
They worked in tandem: Misaki stayed on the floor, where she flipped through her folders and binders; then she passed them up to Hei with directions as to how to organize them and on which shelves. He couldn't have done much without her instructions; she had her own coding system, an arrangement of colored labels and kanji which made sense to no one but herself. Hei had never seen anyone so organized - her childhood bedroom must have been abnormally clean and tidy. He remembered the room that he'd shared with his sister, the floor perpetually strewn with her toys and clothing; and somehow, his schoolbooks had always ended up buried somewhere under the pile -
He pushed the memory from his mind. The past was dead and buried.
The bookcase filled up quickly. Hei opened the final box, doubting that he would be able to find room for the rest of the files - but it turned out to be filled with picture frames and knickknacks instead.
"Things from my last apartment," Misaki explained. She smiled as she lifted out an engraved pen case. "I haven't had a place to put this stuff, so I never unpacked them. Actually, I don't think I even unpacked them in my last place…oh, this one is old."
The picture in her hand showed three teenage girls laughing together on a bench that looked to be part of a school playground. Hei recognized Misaki right away, looking unsurprisingly cute in her school uniform. One of the other girls he thought was Ishizaki - the third must be their friend, the one who'd been killed by Wei.
Misaki ran a finger down the photo sadly, and Hei knew that he'd guessed right. "Here," she said, handing it to him, "put it on that middle shelf."
He placed the photo in the center of the shelf, wondering why she would hold onto a reminder of something that caused her pain at all, let alone placing it so prominently. It was a very human thing to do, something that he was glad no longer affected him. The image of a battered feathered charm hidden away in a kitchen drawer flickered through his mind, but he ignored it.
Crouching down again, he picked up another one of the framed photos. Misaki - older in this one - stood tall and serious in a blue police uniform, a middle-aged man smiling proudly beside her.
Misaki leaned over his shoulder to look at it. "Graduation from the Academy. That's my dad," she said, a note of embarrassment in her voice.
The man looked slightly familiar, but Hei couldn't place him. He was probably just seeing Misaki in those features. "You look alike."
"Do you think so? I guess we do, a little. I definitely take after him more than my mom." She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly - a sure sign that she was debating whether or not to ask a potentially loaded question. Hei never knew what sort of question to expect.
"Your cousin showed me a family photo," Misaki said, her words falling rapidly into place. "Taken at some sort of festival by a river. Your dad reminded me a lot of you. What you look like now, I mean."
Okay, he certainly hadn't been expecting that. It was as if the air had been punched from his lungs. He hadn't tried picturing his parents' faces in years; he doubted whether he'd be able to recognize a picture of them anymore. It made him uneasy to think that he'd grown up to look like his father - he deserved a far better legacy than anything that Hei could hope to give. But what photo was Misaki talking about? A festival…
"The Dragon Boat Festival," he said at last, as the memory finally clicked into place. "I never saw that picture." Father had always been notoriously slow about getting film developed. Someone must have found the camera, after…
It was too much. He knew that talking about your family and previous experiences was something that normal humans did - and part of him was pleased that Misaki wanted to know these things about him - but he just couldn't do it. He slammed the door shut on his memories, and reached into the box at random. His hand closed on a decorative fan. "What is this?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone light.
Fortunately, Misaki accepted the change of tack, though she was gazing at him sadly. She took the fan from him and opened it. "Kanami picked this up for me during her internship in Hawaii. I asked her to bring me back something American, so she chose this." Misaki pointed to the little sticker at the base which read Made in Japan. She laughed quietly to herself, then had him position the fan on the top shelf.
"Oh, by the way - Kanami said to tell you that she thinks the new treatment is going to work for Eunice."
"I'm glad," Hei said. Though he wasn't sure why Misaki's friend would care whether he knew that. Misaki must not have told her that he was a contractor. That surprised him a little: as close as the two of them were, and after Ishizaki learning that he was involved with doll business, he would have expected Misaki to confess the full truth. But he appreciated her circumspection. It must be hard for her, keeping secrets from her friend.
Then again, a casual relationship with a contractor wasn't exactly something to be proud of.
"She wanted me to make sure I passed on her thanks to you and Yin," Misaki continued. "Can you tell Yin for me?"
Hei nodded. Yin would probably be pleased to hear it. Though she might already know, if she was speaking to Astronomics' specters on a regular basis. He wasn't sure whether to be worried about that new quirk of hers or not; but until it caused an actual problem, he'd decided not to say anything about it to Huang. And anyway, life as a doll must be even more lonely than his life; he wasn't going to begrudge Yin whatever society she could find.
Which reminded him of their meeting in the park earlier that night. "Where does Astronomics get their dolls?" he asked, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him and wondering idly what it was like to have a whole shelf of memories, that you were proud to display.
"Hm, most of the original mediums were Japanese nationals, who became dolls after the Gate appeared," Misaki said. "Occasionally we find dolls during a bust; if there's no proof that they're someone's legal property, they go to Astronomics. Some of those mediums can be in really rough shape, but Kanami is an expert at doll rehabilitation. She's known for it internationally, actually - no one has a network like ours, but official organizations in other countries that utilize dolls will often send them here for a few weeks if they've been having problems. Section Four oversees the transfers."
Misaki was giving him a curious look, but she didn't ask why he was interested, and he didn't explain.
She bent over suddenly, hand on her stomach. "Ow…"
"You need to lie down." Hei didn't give her a chance to object. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her stand; she leaned into him gratefully.
"The sofa is fine," she said, her face pale. "I'm not tired or anything."
Hei settled into the corner of the sofa and pulled her down next to him, where she curled tightly against his chest.
Her glasses had been pushed askew, so he removed them, setting them onto the table beside him. Without them, her features were much softer, her eyes clear and warm. He could get lost in those eyes, gazing into them for days at a time. Misaki reached a hand up to trace the line of his jaw, and he felt his traitor pulse quicken in response.
"Thanks," she said softly. Her lips were tantalizingly close, and it was all Hei could do to resist tasting them; but he needn't have tried. Misaki tilted her head up and kissed him. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips and pulled her further up his body, shivering at the press of her breast against his chest as her tongue swept across his.
"Mm, Hei…" she murmured against his throat when he broke off the kiss to suck at her earlobe, one of her favorite erogenous zones. His name - the closest thing that he had to a true name - on her lips was almost too much. It always was. He tried to shift his hips surreptitiously, but Misaki noticed, and sat up.
"Sorry," he said, embarrassed that he couldn't even handle what was surely high-school-level making out. She just seemed to sap all of his self-control.
"Don't apologize," she said. "It's my fault for starting something I can't finish. Well, I can…" She bit her lip suggestively as her hand wandered to the zipper on his jeans. The thought of her elegant fingers wrapped around him, her soft, warm lips, sent a fresh spike of desire through his veins.
But he caught her wrist before she could undo the button. "It's okay," he said, hoping that the strain in his voice didn't show.
Misaki's brow furrowed slightly. "Are you sure?"
He nodded. It wouldn't be fair for him to use her like that, as good as it might feel. He'd had more than enough of one-sided affection in his last relationship - or whatever the hell that had been. He shifted so that she wasn't pressed against him quite so…awkwardly, and tightened his arm around her waist.
"I feel bad though," Misaki said. "I mean, so far tonight I've made you cook me dinner and put together furniture - you must have better things to do than hang out on the sofa with me all night."
It sounded like a perfect night to Hei. "What would you have done if I wasn't here?" he asked, burying his nose in her sweet-smelling hair.
"Probably just lie here and read until I fell asleep. After killing myself over that stupid bookcase."
There was a book on the side table. Hei nudged aside her glasses and picked it up. "This one?"
"Mm-hm."
He handed it to her, but she pushed it back towards him with a smile. "Why don't you read to me? You can practice your kanji."
That was probably the strangest request that Hei had ever gotten. But there was something appealing about the idea. He found the page she had bookmarked, and started reading. Misaki snuggled close, interrupting him only long enough to move his free hand from her waist, guiding it beneath the waistband of her sweats to rest on her smooth lower belly.
"The heat feels good," was all she said, closing her eyes.
The bookmark was past the halfway point of the novel, so Hei had no idea what was happening in the story; but he didn't mind. Occasionally he would stumble over an unfamiliar character or phrase, and Misaki would help him through it. At one point, her poor attempt to stifle a laugh made him pause.
"What is it?" he asked.
A snort escaped her. "Sorry, it's just that most people would try to do different voices for the characters, or at least say the dialog with some kind of normal inflection."
"Oh?" Hei had no idea if he could do that.
Misaki squeezed his arm. "It's okay - I like your way."
And he would do anything to hear her laugh. He read on.
~~~~o~~~~
Hei woke up an hour before dawn, as he usually did. Misaki was sound asleep beside him; her features were indistinct in the darkened bedroom, yet he lay gazing at her for a long moment before sitting up carefully so as not to wake her.
He would find a pay phone several blocks away and place a call on his way back to his place. He'd debated telling Misaki his plan, but he didn't want to implicate her in anything that had any connection to the Syndicate. Besides, it was possible that she would figure out who had left the anonymous tip anyway. For some reason she thought that he had a soft spot for dolls. That wasn't true; he just wanted to do her a favor. Like taking the pile of cardboard down to the trash.
And it would probably satisfy Yin, as well.
Hei stood to dress, his gaze lingering on Misaki's sleeping form. Every morning, he managed to do the impossible, and leave her. Anything else that he had to face that day would be easy, compared to that.