A/N: Usual disclaimer...I own nothing but the story. And yes, I know, it tends to be OOC. Please review!


Lips caressed over bare skin. The silence was punctuated by the occasional sighing breath, a soft whimper. The only light came from the moon, its milky glow shimmering across silver and gold eyes, catching on every bead of sweat and turning them into glittering stars on pale canvases.

Cold, sharp fangs…

"What… what is it that you…want?" he whispered.

Muraki pressed against him, voice a low, rumbling purr. "…I want you."

Watari gasped, sitting straight up and staring into the blackness of the room.

"I said that I want you to… Oh, fine, I'll hold."

He stared towards the partially open door, one hand searching his throat as he drew in some deep breaths. A dream. Just a dream. Dreams were just a mixture of the environment and subconscious thoughts, according to science, and this was no different! A plain, ordinary dream caused by noises in the environment and… and subconscious…

"Grrr!" the blond clawed at his skull with both hands, tugging at his hair as he flopped back down onto the bed. "This is not happening."

The clock chimed the hour, its low clang echoing across the room twice.

From somewhere in the house, Muraki sighed. "Yes, hello? Ahh, good…uh-huh…Transfer all my appointments over to Doctor Katsugeki. I'm sure…he's not as dumb as he acts, don't worry. …Heichi, just do it. Thank you…"

Going back to sleep was out of the question. Watari kept looking back to the door, listening to bits and pieces of Muraki's conversations. Most were hushed, the tone hurried and urgent; he was almost glad he couldn't understand what was being said. But as time passed and the clock ticked closer to three, Watari slid out of the bed, hissing when he realized someone had removed his shoes in his sleep. He tiptoed across the freezing cold floor and peeked into the hall.

"There's no time for that," Muraki growled as he paced past the end of the hall. "If it's already attacking people…"

Attacking people? Watari opened the door and sneaked towards the living room, peering around the corner of the wall. Something was attacking people?

"At best, we're looking at a couple of days. But if I'm right, then we're easily looking at three to four weeks…" Muraki paused, walking right past Watari on his way to the kitchen. "If he doesn't cooperate, it could take me months. Without a willing partner with attachments to the spirit world, the ritual…"

Watari ducked back into the shadows, thoughts running through his head like crazed antelopes. Three to four weeks…willing partner…ritual. What did it all mean? He stared at the ground, then back up at Muraki; the man was still talking on the phone, so distracted that he didn't even notice Watari. It would have been easy to just… slip past and out the door. Leave it all behind. Let someone else worry about it.

But…

He looked down at his wrists. The bonds were still there; in the light, he could see that they were a thin metal, black in color and apparently without seams. A chill went up his spine, and he leaned against the wall. Somehow… leaving wasn't an option. Watari sighed and looked over to the kitchen, watching Muraki as he waved what looked to be a biscuit around in the air, emphasizing some point or another. A small smile crept across his face; it was almost cute…

"Fine. I'll see you then." Muraki set the phone down on the counter. He stood there for a time, staring into space before quietly banging the back of his head on the refrigerator repeatedly. "Uhg…"

But you have a full week's worth of appointments, his assistance had wailed. We have to wait until the threat appears fully, one contact has insisted. Muraki was sick and tired of people gumming up the works with their tiny minds. He knew what would work, he knew where things would go and how it would turn out. If people actually listened for a change…

"…Are… you okay?"

Muraki froze. "…Does it matter?" he asked without turning his head. So, the Shinigami was awake. How much had he heard?

Watari blinked slowly and finally took another step forward. "Yes. If you're worried, I should be terrified, I think."

The man finally looked at Watari. "Not worried…just…"

"Tired."

He stared, then looked away. "You could say that."

A few minutes of silence passed by. Watari shuffled his feet while Muraki studied the ceiling. Finally, the blond closed the distance between them, gingerly picking at a crumb on the otherwise spotless countertop.

"You said that you'd tell me."

Muraki kept his eyes pointed upwards. After a time, he turned from the kitchen and walked to the living room, sinking down into his chair. Watari followed Muraki, eyeing the worn folder the man picked up. Opening the folder, Muraki read over something, slowly turning his gaze back up to Watari.

"I need you to hack into Meifu's files and find for me everything you can on portals. Where they are. How active they've been in the past. Where they might lead. Everything."

Watari curled his hands into fists. "They'll have my hide for giving you that sort of information.

"You're being held hostage by a hostile enemy," he said with a shrug. "You were overwhelmed and complied out of panic. They will forgive you."

Damn him. "Why do you need the information?" Watari eventually sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this.

Muraki took something out of the folder and handed it to Watari. "Is this reason enough?"

Bile rose in Watari's throat as he looked at the photograph. "This…What…"

"What you see there is all that's left of an old friend of mine. His wife found him inside a summoning circle two nights ago. He was sliced throat to lower abdomen. His entrails were partially eaten and strewn about the room. They're still looking for the head, but I heard that they finally found his arms in the backyard."

Pressing a hand to his cheek, Watari seemed to stare through the photo. So many thoughts were going through his mind that his head practically spun. The picture could have been a fake, of course. Something from a movie, tinkered with and altered. But when he glanced up at Muraki, the doctor was gazing at the empty fireplace with an almost haunted expression.

Something was wrong.

"A summoning accident?" Watari asked.

Muraki turned his eyes back onto his companion. "Perhaps, had it been anyone else. But that man… we knew each other since high school. Dabbled in the occult together. He was my equal on many levels, including summoning. I have trouble believing that he would make such a fatal error…" he trailed off. "…Hell. I have trouble believing that he's even dead."

Watari looked back down at the photo, then gently set it face down on the table beside the chair. "…I'm sorry."

Silence.

"I need to go pack some things," Muraki said suddenly. He stood up, turning his face away. "There's plenty of food in the fridge. Help yourself, if you're hungry."

Without another word, he was gone, disappearing down a second hallway… and taking the folder with him. Watari opened his mouth and shut it again; there was no point in trying to get more information. It was obvious that Muraki knew more, and it was just as obvious that he wasn't going to tell Watari any more… at least for the time being.

How infuriating, Watari thought with a sigh. His eyes traveled back down to the photo, which Muraki had left on the table. Flipping it over, he looked again at the headless, armless and shredded body. No wonder the doctor didn't want the other Shinigami on the trail…

He has a personal vendetta. Or he's responsible for this. Who knows? Watari moved to the kitchen, flinging the fridge door open and peering inside. The look in his eye seemed genuine, he pondered as he absentmindedly dug through the foodstuffs. Pulling out various items, the blond set them on the counter and gazed out the kitchen window to the sky; it was growing lighter. What would the daylight bring…?

One could only guess.

;-;-;-;-;

Muraki shut the final suitcase, locking it and setting it down with the other three. Most of the contents were things needed for various magics and spells, medical supplies and clothes. He'd tossed in a few books, more for Watari than himself, just in case there were dull moments during travel. A couple of weapons managed to weasel their way in, as usual. It felt like something was missing, but as Muraki went over everything in his mind, he could think of nothing else.

Odd.

Watari was out there making a horrible commotion. Part of Muraki wanted to rush out there and see exactly what the blond was getting into, but the other part… the one that won out… needed to stay away for just a few more moments.

"…I'm sorry."

The words echoed through Muraki's mind as he walked towards an old dresser, opening the top-right drawer and reaching into the bottom. His fingertips brushed cold metal; carefully, he pulled out the old, silver frame and gazed at the picture it held. Three smiling faces, gazed back, forever frozen in time. The boy in the middle, raven-haired and striking green eyes filled with hope and joy, had an arm slung around his two companions, all three radiating the same emotions.

"…I'm sorry, too," Muraki murmured, blinking rapidly as he slipped the picture into one of the suitcases.

The feeling of something missing disappeared.

He drew in a breath, raising one hand to his eyes as the stinging got worse…

…And took another breath. A sniff, rather, and paused as the smell registered as smoke.

"AIIIII! FIRE!"

Master, a silver mindvoice said with frightening patience, your little friend is burning down the house.

"Oh, for crying out loud…"

Grabbing the suitcases, Muraki cast a glance over his room one last time, letting his familiar shut and spell the door behind him. Sentimentality could wait until later… He could only hope that his kitchen would still be standing when he got there.

;-;-;-;-;

He'd meant to make something easy for breakfast. Eggs, mushrooms, cheese, onions… Watari had grabbed a pan and put it on the oven, flicked it on high and dumped the stuff in. Scrambled eggs were easy enough, right?

… Apparently not. All had gone well for about two minutes before smoke started pouring from the pan. Watari had let go of the pan, which was hot as hellfire and heavier than any pan should naturally be, panicking and hopping up and down in one spot.

What to do, what to do?

"FIRE!"

That's what they taught in schools these days right? Right!

"FIIII---"

"Calm down."

An arm slid past Watari on either side, one turning the heat on the oven down while the other wrapped around his waist. "Aiii…"

Muraki pulled the smaller man against him, more to keep him out of the way than anything else; he didn't count on Watari glomming onto him, babbling quietly. Shaking his head, Muraki led the blond to the sink, grabbing some water and going back to the over, tossing it into the pan and quickly stirring it about.

"You can't put eggs in dry," he said after a moment.

Watari smiled nervously. "Eheh…I was…distracted."

"Daijobu. They're not ruined."

A few minutes passed in silence as Muraki finished the cooking. It wasn't until he went to move that he realized Watari was still clutching his waist. "…Comfy?"

Watari had been staring at the oven, thinking back on all the times things had randomly blown up around him. Labs, buildings, various objects… and now ovens. 'Comfy?' What did Muraki mean by…? Oh dear! Watari looked up, eyes wide as he realized the position he was in. His arms were clasped around the doctor's waist, almost clinging…

"Uh…uhm..uhmm…" he sputtered, thoughts scattering the minute those grey eyes locked onto his own gaze. Opening and shutting his mouth, Watari just let go, scrambling back and pressing against a wall. "I…I…didn't mean t-to…uhm…"

Smiling, Muraki scooped some of the eggs onto a plate and held them out. "Here. Hurry up and eat so we can get moving."

He accepted the plate, simply nodding and keeping his eyes to the ground. If Muraki saw the blush his face, Watari was doomed. The two ate where they stood, remaining silent; each stared off into space, lost in their own thoughts. At least, Muraki was lost in thought… Watari was trying not to think at all. Thinking meant wondering what would happen next, meant worrying about all those touches and looks and kisses and…

…And Muraki gently took the empty plate away from Watari, setting it in the sink with his own. He truly felt poorly for the fellow, even if it was for the barest of moments. After all, he'd been kidnapped, was being held hostage and forced to betray his organization at Muraki's command. The blond was complying for the moment… but would it last, especially if…when…the final part of the plan fell into place? He glanced over his shoulder at Watari, slightly surprised to see the blond staring back with pondering eyes.

"Everything is ready to go," Muraki said after a long pause. "We'll be on the road a great deal of the time we're away... I hope you enjoy travel."

"Where are we going?" Watari asked, tilting his head.

"My friend…" Muraki trailed off, shaking his head a bit. "The man that died left behind a widow. She agreed to let us stay with her in Sapporo. We have a few stops to make between here and there, though, and the exact locations depend on what you find after hacking into some computers."

Watari nodded. His mind was screaming at him to not go along with the plans, and he knew it could easily end up in disaster. But curiosity was a terrible thing, and there was just something in those fox-like eyes…

Muraki picked up the suitcases as a small beeping came from out front. "That would be our ride. Let's get this over with, ne?"

The two headed out to the car, loading the luggage into the trunk of the black, unmarked and rather average looking car. Watari knew it wasn't a taxi, and he wasn't about to ask Muraki what strings had been pulled to insure that their movements would be kept secret. Shutting the trunk door, Muraki glanced at Watari and hesitated, seeing the sudden flash in the blond's eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

Looking back, Watari suddenly flashed a huge grin. "I still expect a refund on that chocolate."

Muraki blinked. A smile slowly crept across his face, and he reached out to trail a finger down the other man's cheek. "Don't worry, koneko," he replied sweetly as he wandered over to the car door and opened it. "I'll… arrange for repayment."

The grin vanished right off Watari's mouth; he rubbed his cheek with a shiver. "Bastard…"

"Coming?"

As if there was really a choice. A tiny bit of a wry smile came back to Watari's face, and he climbed into the back of the black car next to his unlikely companion. The seats were leather and plush…the air inside was fresh and cool… and the English driver grinned at them in the rear-view mirror. Muraki glanced at him and smiled a bit, leaning back and closing his eyes; obviously, the man was somewhat trustworthy if Muraki felt he could practically fall asleep in his presence.

"Kyoto Station, Jason. Make it snappy."

The man hit the gas pedal. "Right away, sir."

Watari's eyes closed after a bit. He fought them open, only to have them close again minutes later. A touch on his arm made him jump.

"Sleep," Muraki murmured, eyes still closed. "You'll need it."

And then there was silence. Watari rolled his eyes, wondering how the man expected him to honestly sleep in a car with someone he didn't know and a sociopath. But as his eyelids started drooping, the blond allowed them to finally close as he curled upon himself. Maybe he'd just rest his eyes…

…He didn't wake until they reached the train station, two hours later.