** OK, so... hello there again! First of all, I'd like to warn you in advance, because this is getting uber intense! Muahaha! It's epic... at least I hope. . OK, maybe not UBER intense, but intense nonetheless. I think it's intense. Anyway, I've realized in the past few days that I have forgotten to put a disclaimer up on the thing, and because I'm making a big thing about this and announcing it on one of the chapters (because it's that important. :P) I decided to mention a few other things as well... like please don't leave me now! We're making so much progress! Oh, and thank you for all the wonderful reviews I've gotten so far, and the awesome constructiveness. Yay! I feel special!

** That was getting a little long, so I decided to make another one. By the way, this little area here (yeah, you know, this one) has absolutely no point. ^^

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DURARARA IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, FORM, OR SERUM. THE CHARACTERS ALL BELONG TO... THE PERSON WHO WROTE IT IN THE FIRST PLACE... YEAH... THAT ONE... I HAVEN'T READ THE BOOKS... OR THE MANGA, SO I DON'T KNOW WHO... ANYWAY, YOU UNDERSTAND MY POINT. (Except Shiori. She's mine. ^^)

**Anyway... enjoy...


CHAPTER 3

"It's a message from the people who killed your parents."

I stare at him for a few moments, but then lean against the fence behind me. "You can't be serious," I laugh, "This is some kind of hoax, right?"

"Why would it be a hoax?" he asks. "I'm just delivering a message."

"Then... you're lying?"

"No," he says as he stands up again, hands still in his pockets as he spreads his arms, making it look like he has wings with the coat he's wearing. "Why would I lie to you about something like this?"

"I don't know," I say, "You must have your reasons."

"Geez," he complains, dropping his arms now in exasperation. "You really don't trust anyone, do you?"

"I don't trust you," I correct him, at which he looks mockingly surprised.

"What?" he cries with a sharp laugh. "How can you not trust me? I'm the most trustworthy guy around!" I roll my eyes, not really paying attention to what he's saying anymore. I don't really care whether I'm supposed to trust him or not, to be honest, but when he looks at me again – after explaining to me all the reasons that I should trust him, which aren't that many – I realize that when I look at his eyes they tell me the truth. They were deceitful the first time I saw them, and they're also the number one reason I don't trust him, but there's also that air that he exudes... like he's always hiding something. Right now, however, that air, though the same as always, and those eyes, though as frighteningly dark as always, tell me the truth.

They were murdered, and he has answers.

"What is it?" I ask after a long hesitation.

He answers immediately. "I've found you." Then, he sits back and watches my reaction.

"What does that mean?" I demand of him, at which he shrugs. "Well you should know! You're the freaking messenger!"

"Not necessarily," he replies simply. "Besides, I think it's pretty self-explanatory. The people who killed your parents are sending you a message saying that they know where you are. I would think that something like that doesn't need an explanation, and you seem smart enough to realize that too. So, Shiori," he says in a more playful tone now, that same ominous look in his eyes as he searches my face once again for a reaction. He says my name like it's some kind of toy this time, obviously reflecting what he thinks of me. "What would you like to say back to them?"

"They can go screw themselves," I grumble to myself as I make my decision quickly. For me, it doesn't need a lot of forethought, and he looks satisfied with my answer. It's simple, like the message they sent me. Not really poetic, though. I turn around and look at the scenery below, all the kids from my school eating lunch in the courtyard. "I don't care if they killed my parents, and I'm not about to look for revenge. What's done is done, and it has nothing to do with me anymore."

"Ah!" he cries, getting excited again. I hear him come up behind me, and I turn to look at his gleaming face. "That's where you're wrong, Shio-chan!" I feel myself blush slightly as I hear him call me something so personal, but I manage to keep my composure as I look away from him. "This has absolutely everything to do with you!"

"How?" I ask. "Tell me, what does this have to do with me? If the people who wanted my parents dead got them dead, then why are they coming after me now? They achieved their goal!"

"Oh, but they didn't."

I stare at him, suddenly perplexed. What does that...? Suddenly, I let out a little gasp as a revelation comes to mind, and I feel myself stiffen against the fence. He just seems to be getting happier and happier, depending on how distressed I am. It's not so much that he's grinning, as he's just glowing, and his eyes are reflecting every little emotion that crosses his complex, slightly twisted mind.

"They're after me," I breathe. "They've been after me this whole time..."

"Yep."

"Were they even aiming for my parents when they killed them?" I ask. "Or was I the target?" I honestly don't know why I'm asking him this, as if he knows everything, but like I said before, he has answers. I don't know how many answers, or what kind of answers, but I know what those answers are about... and right now, I'm so greedy for them that I can taste it, I can feel it on my fingertips – and the source of the satisfaction that will grant me my wish is right in front of me.

"Oh, they were," he assures me, sounding a lot more amused than he should. "Actually, they were the original target, but when they realized that you might know something too, they started to hunt you down."

"Who are they? You keep saying 'they', like there's more than one person. Is this some kind of organization?"

"No..." he says slowly, trying to sort things out, "Not an organization... more like a company led by an extremely insane woman."

"More insane than you?"

"Much more insane than me."

For a few more moments I stare at him, looking as deep into those cruel brown eyes as I can. He's reading me, as always, just like I'm reading him – only he's having fun while doing it.

"Who is it?" I demand of him.

"My, my, Shiori," he says with a dramatic shrug. "Aren't we the passionate one? I thought you didn't want revenge."

"I don't," I tell him. "I just want to know who to stay away from."

He tilts his head to the side, examining me closely. "Didn't you say you wanted to die? You just don't want to die from a rooftop."

"Yes," I say, "but if I get caught by them, she might not give me a choice... and judging by the way you talk about this woman, I'm guessing you know her."

"Good guess," he says. "Her name is Yagiri Namie, and she's the head of-"

"Yagiri Pharmaceutical," I interrupt suddenly, knowing exactly where he's going with that.

"Good guess," he says again, before he starts coming toward me. "You might want to sit down for this. There's a lot of information."

"I'm fine."

"Some of it has to do with you."

"A lot of it has to do with me," I correct him, and he laughs darkly, agreeing with me. "Just get on with it."

"Alright," he begins. "Well, in that case, I'll start from the beginning. I've known Namie-san for a while now, and we're pretty close." I frown at that, and he seems to notice. "Don't worry – I'm not here to kill you. I just have a habit of watching things unfold. It's a hobby."

Some hobby... I think cynically.

"Anyway, at Yagiri Pharmaceutical, they have shady workings underground. They abduct people, and they do illegal experiments on them. It's pretty gory, so I won't say what kind, but one day, they were patrolling the streets for new victims when one of the men in the big black van saw a pretty, young girl walking down the street, and he decided that she was good enough to be a subject. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I feel sick as he looks at me with a significant expression on his face. I nod, and he continues:

"So he abducts her, and they do an experiment on her, erasing her memory right after. They have technology to do that, you know. They just don't tell anyone because if that got out, then so would so many other of their secrets.

"So, they sent her home only twenty-four hours later, and her parents were glad to see her again because of the fact that she'd been gone for as long as they could stand without going to look for her themselves. Over the next few weeks, though, they started to notice that the girl had lost some of her memories, and she was falling behind in school because she just couldn't remember what she was supposed to hand in. So, her parents did some research, and what they found was disturbing.

"Missing children, mostly teenagers, had been reported by worried parents, but all were returned within the next twenty-four hours, so as not to be considered missing by the police. They always returned with memory loss, and some of that memory loss turned into short-term, so they couldn't remember things as well as they used to be able to. At least, for the next couple of weeks."

I really feel sick now, literally sick to my stomach. I can't help but think to where this is going, and that the hypothetical girl he's referring to is me, and her parents mine. Of course. Who else would he use as an example?

"Long story short, the girl's parents did their research, and discovered a link between the company and their daughter. So, they confronted the head of this company, saying that if they didn't come out and admit what they've been doing, the two parents would sue them for as much as they were worth."

No way...

"So, in the next few days, the head of said company put a small bomb beneath a large car, and waited around the corner for the two parents to pass on their way to put their daughter to work with chores... but do you know what happened to that happy couple?" he asks me. I swallow hard, my eyes wide now as I stare at him. I don't want to answer. I can't answer, and he knows this, so he does. He makes a large motion with his hands, outstretching his arms in a dramatic representation of an explosion.

"Kaboom!" he yells enthusiastically. "The bomb went off and killed them both!"

I hear the same thing in my head, only louder – ten times louder – just like I heard that night. It was only a few blocks down. I could even hear the screams of passersby as they witnessed the couple get caught up in the blast, at first holding hands, and then in pieces. People ran by the living room window, while others burned with my parents.

People screamed.

They screamed so loud.

The blast was so bright, so loud. It deafened me for at least two whole minutes before I realized what had happened. It blinded me for three minutes. Then, I heard the screams. I saw the fire only two blocks away. I got out of my house to see what was going on... and I saw...

I saw...

"Stop it!" I yell at him suddenly. Then, suddenly, I'm in a rage, and I grab his coat collar and slam him against the fence, pushing him there with every ounce of strength that I have. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! Shut up!"

I'm panting when I finish, and I feel his eyes on me. I can't breathe. I can't speak. I can't say anymore than I already have, but I don't want to anyway. My mind is blank, aside from the screams, aside from the flames. My body is trembling. My heart is pounding, and I just can't seem to get out of this. I can't get out. I can't get out! I can't get out!

"I told you to sit down," he says, still sounding amused.

My hands tighten around his jacket collar, and I swallow hard. "I told you to shut up," I whisper. "I told you to shut up... just shut up..." I feel myself going closer to him, pulling myself in, so that my head rests on his chest, and he doesn't fight me. He doesn't even move.

Soon, my whole body rests against him, and in my distress I barely even notice. I don't know when I became so close to him, when my body stopped supporting itself, or when I started to hear his heart beat and his steady breathing. I don't know when I started to lean against him, but what I feel against me is something I haven't felt in a long time. It's something I've wanted so badly since that day.

It's warmth. The feeling of another body so close to me, and though he lacks the feeling of safety that my parents gave me, he's still warm. He's still solid. He's there... and he's the only thing I can feel right now. Physically and emotionally, I have been twisted and warped in all different directions. I don't know when or where I began. I don't know when or where I'm going to end, but I do know that right now, something – someone – is there.

For the first time in years, I'm warm.