Greetings, all! Sorry it's taken me so long to update (pesky real life!) but rest assured, I haven't forgotten about the fics. :) It just takes me a little longer these days, is all. Many thanks to you, dear reader, for your continued patronage.

This update comes with a bonus: I invite you to go to my InsaneJournal (link's in my user profile) and see the BEAUTIFUL sketch of Mathilda that the wonderful Kemurikat was kind enough to draw for me! :) (For some reason FFnet's not letting me post the original link!)

Title: The Keeper's Watch (ch. 9)

Author: Amethyst Hunter

Rating: R (violence, adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: See above.

Notes: I'm not quite sure where this one came from, but I like the idea so I'm going with it.

According to Wikipedia, per the language of roses, a purple rose is said to mean protection.

Also, the name Mathilda (sometimes spelled Matilda) is of Teutonic derivation, from words meaning "might, strength" and "battle" (alternatively, "strength in battle") – and as we all know, our darling Kuroudo has a fondness for such attributes..!

Disclaimer: GB and its loverly transporters sadly aren't mine.

Summary: Akabane has his hands full chasing after a battle prospect, and when a mysterious visitor appears on his doorstep, he's left to play sitter while trying to stay one step ahead of a deadly adversary.

--

"It's not dripping on the seat, is it?"

Akabane gritted his teeth. "No, Gouzou, your precious upholstery is still in pristine condition."

"It's not the upholstery I'm concerned about, it's you." Maguruma spared the road a short glance to check out his passenger. "If you're bleeding more than you can handle, it means I better haul your ass to the nearest hospital."

"I'm fine," Akabane said curtly, holding back a wince when the seat beneath him proved that the truck had rolled over a particularly rough patch in the asphalt. "Just let's get Mathilda and get to my apartment so that I can sew this thing up."

"Don't let Suzume see that, or she'll never let you hear the end of it."

Akabane glared at the driver, and it was on the tip of his tongue to snarl this is all your fault, Gouzou, for his having planted a few treacherous thoughts into his mind that flourished with distraction. But it wasn't Maguruma's fault. He hadn't been the one wielding the knife, nor had he been the one exhibiting gross inattention at a crucial moment.

No, the fault belonged to Akabane. He'd allowed that breach of barriers, let the words sink in and rot where they would do the most damage when he should have known better. Such carelessness was inexcusable. Akabane had sworn off emotions for a very good reason: they were useless things, humiliating weaknesses that could bring death if not banished.

The shame of having fallen victim to this curse irritated him almost as much as his mistake. He was not weak. Not a fool. This would not happen again, he would see to it. "Where was that pickup anyway? He certainly took his sweet time to find us."

"I found him," Maguruma said. "When you invited your partners to dance I figured one of us had better move the briefcase before those guys got any bright ideas. Pilots had a problem with some landing gear so traffic was being kept in a holding pattern till it was resolved. He'd just cleared the gates when I got to him."

"Dreadful little weasel," Akabane said, grimacing at the fresh memory of the man's nasal whine as they'd transported him and his cargo to the desired address after leaving Haneda. "Sakaguri must be breaking in new help to be entrusting that one with his business. Anyway, it's out of our hands now. We did what we were contracted to do."

He looked down at his side where he was holding a clean rag soaked in antiseptic against the wound. The bleeding had lessened, but there was still a jagged swatch of torn flesh carved from his hip all the way up to the lower half of his ribcage. The pain was a dull sizzle every time he moved. Akabane bit his lip and pressed the rag to the wound again.

"Nicked you pretty good, did he?"

"Have you ever noticed," Akabane grumbled, "that I always get these types of injuries from lesser fighters, and never from the ones I most want to engage?"

"Well, no one ever said life was fair," Maguruma observed wryly.

"That's not even the worst part of it," Akabane said. "It happened because - " He froze then, realizing that he was opening his mouth far more than he ought to. Maguruma didn't need to know that he'd almost slipped into the quicksand of his own foolish emotions. "Never mind. The man simply got lucky, as they sometimes do. That's all."

"Hn," Gouzou said, but had the sense not to pursue it further.

Just as Akabane had predicted, by the time they pulled up outside the Maguruma house it had passed well into the late hours of the night. Both of them were tired and ready for a good rest; however one more chore remained to be attended to, and then they could ease into their respective beds with the quiet satisfaction of another job well done.

"You sure you don't just want to crash here for the night? I know your place isn't that far from mine, but you look ready to tumble out the door," Maguruma said as Akabane, mindful of disturbing his wound, slowly got up and opened his door.

"No, much though I appreciate the offer. We've infringed on your good graces long enough and I need to conduct other business as long as I'm staying in the city. I'm sure there'll be another time when I'll need to call upon your assistance."

"Okay, but let me help you with the kid. You look after that hole in your hide."

Akabane would have preferred to handle things himself, but he was too tired and hurting too much to protest. "Thank you."

The house itself was quiet; Suzume and the Maguruma children had long since retired to bed. The guest room had been turned into a temporary den for Mathilda, and just as Akabane had suspected, she was huddled fast asleep beneath the blankets on her bed. While Gouzou scribbled a short note to his wife to let her know of his whereabouts in case she awoke, Akabane gathered up Mathilda's and his things in the duffel bag and placed this by the front door. He returned to the room and met Maguruma in the hall.

"I'll carry her, you take the bag I set by the door."

Mathilda did not stir when Akabane carefully lifted her free of the bedcovers. He'd anticipated the strain of holding an awkward burden and had paused to bind his wound with an extra rag Maguruma gave him. Now, with the cloth tied firmly around his waist, and Mathilda balanced against his good side, Akabane shuffled her winter coat around her until she was properly covered from the cold air outside. Thus equipped, he and Maguruma made for the front door and the truck, the heater of which Gouzou had thoughtfully left running.

It was less than a fifteen-minute drive to the apartment that Akabane kept when conducting extended trips to Shinjuku. Maguruma made him promise to give him a call tomorrow morning to ensure that all was well before wishing his passengers a good night and driving back home. Akabane carried Mathilda in one arm and the duffel in the other, doing his best not to falter as he entered the building's lobby. The night staff patrolling the desk thankfully took no notice of his slightly paler than usual complexion and the big rip in his coat; he'd wrapped his makeshift bandage beneath it to hide his injury as a precaution.

Usually Akabane took the stairs up to his place, but tonight was not a night for unnecessary exertion. He went to the elevator and pressed in a number on the keypad, and in moments they were ferried to the fourth floor. A few minutes later, Akabane was ruffling through his pockets for the keys to one door.

It had been a while since last he'd been here, but there were no musty smells or disorganization to greet him upon entrance. Once a month he employed a cleaning service to come here and dust and wash accordingly, so that the place was always kept in decent condition for his arrivals. Akabane mentally filed the thought that he would have to procure something for his and Mathilda's breakfast first thing tomorrow morning, as the pantry and refrigerator were both emptied each time he left in order to avoid spoiling stores.

Akabane dumped the bag by the couch and took Mathilda to the second bedroom. Her winter coat, he draped on a chair, and laid her on the bed. Drowsiness was setting in but he batted it back, resisting the allure of his lowering eyelids at the sight of a comfortable mattress. He pulled the covers and blankets up around Mathilda, making sure that she was tucked in securely and glad that he'd had the foresight to purchase warm winter pajamas for her.

Throughout all this she never once woke, never made a sound. Akabane allowed himself a small smile at the sleeping child. "Good night, Mathilda-chan," he murmured. "At least one of us had a good night."

Not strictly true. The fight had been decent enough, and he'd certainly learned the value of paying attention. Still, by his standards, it was a disappointment of a job.

Akabane left the little girl to dream in peace and went to his room. He checked the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and some underwear, then tugged off his coat and hung it in the closet. He would deal with its damage later.

He took the sleepwear to the bathroom and shut the door. A cursory inspection showed that his work clothes were a complete loss – they could be repaired well enough to function as secondhand garments, but Akabane never wore shoddy attire; it was unprofessional. The clothes would be laundered and retired to the donations bag that he kept on hand for the rare instances when his wardrobe was damaged in battle.

He stripped off the ruined fabrics and tossed them into the bathtub, stoppering the drain and running cold water to fill it in order to soak out the bloodstains. Detergent would do the rest later. His belt had also been severed by the protector's knife and was useless, so he threw that into the trash. Thank goodness he kept spare clothing here for these kinds of circumstances. There was a belt exactly like it coiled away in his dresser drawer.

Akabane ran the shower in the stall next to the tub and spent a few minutes under the soothing spray, hissing only when the water nipped at the reddened wound in his side. The rhythm of the spattering water also served as a comforting wipe of his mind, settling a pleasant blank over his restless thoughts and calming him.

The night hadn't been so bad, save for this one minor grievance. Tomorrow it would be healed, and no more than a memory. And by nightfall Ban Midou would come to visit, and they would share a pleasurable respite from the rigors of their respective duties. That thought cheered Akabane. Regretfully, he hadn't thought to photograph the injury he'd received for posterity, but a well-illustrated story could be just as entertaining.

The water was no longer running pink into the drain, so Akabane turned it off and stepped onto the bath mat, pulling forth a towel from the wall bar to dry off. That done, he combed out his damp hair and put on his underwear and pajamas, lowering the waistbands of both well below his injured hip. He went to the medicine cabinet and sifted through the contents, picking out what he would require for a patch job.

Impromptu surgery on oneself was difficult; not quite as tricky when one was trained in the art of performing such tasks. Even so, it took Akabane the better part of a half-hour to stitch himself back up and dress the wound in antiseptic cream. He was used to having sharp implements poke through his flesh only in strategic areas. The bathroom soon contained a few scattered but quiet curses – the only time when Akabane considered it acceptable to indulge in such profanity.

Finally the stitches were finished and he snipped the thread, lathering on some more cream for good measure. This he covered with several large adhesive bandages, adding on some extra wound tape just in case. He would be sore for the rest of the night, but hopefully by dawn the worst of it would have receded and he could remove these dressings. The surgical thread would dissolve easily on its own.

Sighing, feeling the weight of slumber's call more than ever, Akabane nonetheless took time to replace his instruments in the medicine cabinet and wash the blood and cream off his hands. He opened the door and stepped out into the hall, just about to switch off the bathroom light -

- and there was Mathilda, standing in front of him with her ever-silent gaze.

More startled by the child's appearance than he let on, Akabane studied the girl for a second before speaking. "It's all right, Mathilda-chan. Didn't I say that I would come back for you? Maguruma brought us to my apartment while you were sleeping. Do you need to use the lavatory?"

She didn't respond. Akabane suddenly realized that she could see the bandages on his torso, and silently chastised himself for not bringing a robe with. He hadn't meant to frighten her with his ghastly adornment.

Mathilda's eyes met his. She was frowning now. She came closer to him and said, "Akabane-san hurt."

Akabane blinked, several times.

Mathilda continued to look up at him with a pucker in her brows.

Still disbelieving that she'd actually spoken for the first time since coming under his care, Akabane regarded her with a curiously wary stare. He knelt carefully on the floor, keeping the grimace off his face as his movements aggravated the wound in his side. "It's all right, Mathilda-chan. It's just a scratch. Nothing to worry about. I put bandages on it and by tomorrow it will be as good as new," he said, indicating the spread of tape over his side.

Mathilda ignored his explanation and ventured still closer, right up to him. She stretched out a little hand and placed her palm over his shoulder. "Akabane-san hurt," she repeated.

It was then that Akabane realized she was talking not about the recent addition to his ghoulish mortal gallery but about the huge division that ran over his left shoulder and down along his back and chest. The longer she stared at it, the deeper her frown became, and the gentler her touch, as her small fingers traveled down the roughened scar tissue over his left pectoral.

Akabane frowned as well. Her tone had not been one of disgust or fear, it carried a clear disapproval – not of whatever activity he'd engaged in to earn it, but of the very fact that it existed at all, that someone had inflicted this mark upon him against his wishes. To a child, perhaps that idea was anathema to an innocent's sense of justice. But why should she care whether he suffered pain when she didn't even know him?

Mathilda looked at him, and he at her. She was not frowning now. Her eyes were clouded with hints of bright moisture. "Akabane-san hurt," she said again, and this time her voice held mourning in its quiet pitch.

Unexpectedly a well of stinging dampness arose in his own eyes, and Akabane forced it back. His throat worked for a moment or two as he sought words to quell her unease. "Not any more, child. It was a long time ago."

Mathilda's eyes lowered as her now-unfocusing pupils signaled a retreat into her etherworld. But she didn't withdraw entirely. She moved in and put her arms around Akabane's neck, resting her face against his collarbone.

A hug.

For the first time in his life Akabane found himself utterly at a loss. This – this wasn't pity, not something that would have sent him into an icy revulsion. Nor did the child herself require comforting, for she made no sound to indicate further distress, and no tears escaped her eyes. Her fingers curled into his hair, and her breath was soft, even, warm against his skin. Somehow...he received the impression that Mathilda's embrace was meant to convey a more profound intention than mere sympathy.

I am my daughter's keeper.

Startled by that sudden mental improvisation on an ageless Scriptural axiom, Akabane almost lost his balance and toppled backwards. He managed to stay his muscles from action and found himself awkwardly wrapping his own arms around Mathilda to hold her in turn, not knowing what else to do.

This was – well, it was ridiculous. She was not his flesh and blood, although in a sense he might be termed her keeper. Temporarily at that, of course. Fatigue, that malady which had plagued many a medicine man in his time, was doubtless taking advantage of his weariness to conjure all sorts of unusual plots in his head. Akabane took a few deep breaths. He was fine. He was in control. That little hard lump in his throat was probably just from not having had anything to drink in a while. That must be why he was feeling this twist of pain in his chest now – dehydration was a most unpleasant affliction.

He started to let go of Mathilda, started to pull away, and she tightened her arms around him and pushed his head down towards hers as if guarding a favorite plaything. She was protective of him, he realized, as he remembered the way she'd clung to his coat when he'd been about to leave the Maguruma house earlier in the day. She hadn't wanted him to go, not because she was afraid, but because she was concerned...for him? The idea sent a little quiver through his body, and then he shoved it away by conjuring indignation.

He was the guardian here, not she. Her assertion was amusing, as a child's struggles to mimic adulthood could be, but he did not need protecting, not from her, not from anyone.

"Mathilda-chan," he said, pleased that his voice was calm and collected. "It's very late. We both need to rest. In the morning I will take you out to have some breakfast, would you like that? And then we will go shopping for groceries for our stay here in the city."

Her grip on him slackened, but remained a few seconds longer. When at last her arms finally fell away from him and she looked up Akabane could see that she was tiring faster than he was. Her lids drooped, and her head sagged.

Akabane gathered her against him once more, balancing her against his good side while he carefully rose to his feet. He carried her back to her bedroom, wondering how long she'd been standing there outside the bathroom, if she'd been listening to his muttered musings while he'd repaired his battle damage. Ignoring the complaint in his injured side, he bent over to place her back in bed and drew the covers up to her chin, tucking them around her to provide adequate warmth. One of her hands caught on his, and her fingers folded over his index finger. His eyes flicked to her face, but she was even now dozing away into that mist of slumber. Akabane tugged at his finger, and it came free after a moment.

He paused by the doorway, again feeling the unsettling notion that Mathilda considered herself his keeper. She lay silent in the bed, eyes closed, while he watched her. Akabane held back a sigh, and whispered, "Good night," before leaving her room and closing the door.

He passed by the bathroom to turn out the light he'd left on, and went to his own room. Resisting the urge to fall into the mattress as his body urged him to do, he instead climbed into bed at a measured pace to avoid causing any more protest in his injured side.

A hug.

It had been ages since anyone had hugged him, of all people.

No. Don't dwell on it, or you'll never be able to sleep.

But...she...she cares for – for me?

Was there any other explanation for it? Protectiveness implied a deep feeling for, an emotion about another. But how? Why? He was not someone that most people had any other strong feelings for besides those of fear and loathing. If she only knew what he did -

And I suppose you're going to enlighten her?

Of course not! I'm not a beast.

Yes, you are. You're a Jackal.

Even jackals look after their young...

For heaven's sake, will you listen to yourself?! She is not yours, never was. This is what you get for succumbing to the timeless curse of good manners. There is a time and a place for everything and you should never have opened that door when she knocked on it. Now you have a stray on your hands and your schedule must be rearranged to suit her needs instead of yours. Just look at what happened tonight because you let these silly fool's emotions get the best of you. It's as you told Makubex: you are a transporter, not a babysitter!

Akabane stifled a groan. He hoped he wouldn't spend the night tossing and turning. Willing his mind into silence, he closed his eyes and concentrated on slow, even breathing, projecting only blank darkness into his focus. He had trained himself long ago to maintain an iron control; even so, that skill did not come as easily tonight as it used to.

Within minutes he was sinking into dream-dust, no thoughts whatsoever of Mathilda and her claim on him passing through his unconsciousness.

--

Dawn's light announced itself with the shrill warble of an angry cell phone. Akabane, not yet fully awake, rolled over in bed to swat at the accursed device and instead groaned when the tenderness in his skin reminded him of what he'd been up to last night. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes while focus returned to him in bits and pieces.

That phone was becoming annoying. He snatched it from the nightstand where he'd tossed it, and glanced at the caller ID. Akabane let it ring for another minute as he debated the wisdom of answering Ban's summons. Really, that man had no manners, phoning someone at the crack of daybreak like this. But if Akabane didn't pick up, odds were that Ban would keep calling until he got some kind of response, just to be an irritant.

Akabane held back an impatient sigh and flipped the phone open. "You had better be at death's door or eager for a fight, at this hour."

"As a matter of fact, I am at your door. You gonna let me inside or what?"

Akabane blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"Early retriever gets the cash worm," Ban smugly replied. "I got a tipoff from a client, so we're on our way downtown. Figured I'd drop by your place for some quick breakfast."

"You presume much, especially when you wake me prematurely," Akabane said coolly, stifling a yawn. At this time of morning he preferred their games to be on his terms.

"A hungry retriever when he's fed is a happy retriever, and a happy retriever is a horny retriever," Ban stated. "You owe me. C'mon, Jackal, open up before I have to kick in the door."

He'd do it, too. Scowling, Akabane closed the phone without replying and got up. He pulled his robe out of the closet and slipped it on before going to the door to unlock it. Sure enough, standing behind it when he disengaged the bolt and opened it was none other than the infamous Ban Midou himself, complete with cocky grin.

"'Bout damn time," Ban said as he pushed past Akabane without waiting to be invited inside.

Still frowning, Akabane followed him, hoping to head him off towards the kitchen before he realized that Jackal was hosting extra company. He hadn't yet looked in on Mathilda, but he hoped she was and would stay sound asleep until Ban left. That was an explanation he wasn't yet prepared to offer. "If you're seeking sustenance, I'm afraid you won't find any here. I just got in late last night and haven't had time to purchase food stores."

"What?" Ban was already slinging his worn winter coat over a table, rummaging through drawers, tugging open anything that caught his fancy. "Don't tell me I drove all the way over here for nothing. Well, ragging you is half the fun," he chuckled.

Akabane leaned against the wall, watching with hooded eyes as Ban wound a path into the kitchen. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's true." Noting the distinct absence of Ban's other half, he said, "Ginji-kun isn't working with you today?"

"He's waiting downstairs in the car. For some reason visiting homicidal maniacs at their personal domain and accepting their munchies gives him the creeps. I can't imagine why," Ban said with plenty of sarcasm as he affected a fake pose of innocence. "I guess I should thank you for that fruit basket you brought him once. Ever since then all I've had to do to keep him from racking up the doctor bills is say the word 'apple.'"

Akabane allowed a wry smile at that. "You are unnecessarily mean, Midou-kun."

"So I've been told." Ban finally stopped poking through the kitchen once he realized that Akabane had been telling the truth about not having any food. "What's with the extra padding?" He gestured at the bandaging Akabane still wore, which was peeking out from underneath the side of the open robe.

"Souvenir from last night," Akabane said, his voice sliding into chilly territory when he saw what Ban was pulling out of his pants pocket. "You've already pressed yourself by interrupting my sleep. My good graces only extend so far, so kindly refrain from stinking up my apartment with that foul thing."

Ban frowned, but paused in the act of lighting his cigarette. "First cig of the morning is always the best."

"And it will be your last if you disregard my warning," Akabane told him, letting a knife flash into brief view for emphasis. "I thought that you were trying to quit in accordance with Ginji-kun's wishes?"

"I lied. What Ginji doesn't know won't electrocute me."

"Perhaps. But one thing I do know is that if you put flame to that carcinogen-laden pollutant in my home, you won't have to worry about dying from sickness," Akabane said with clear frost.

"Fine, fine, be that way," Ban sulked, but even he had his limits, and getting gutted by an irritable lover who could turn antagonist at any moment was not the way he cared to start off his day. He replaced the cigarette in its pack and returned this and his lighter to his pocket as he headed for the couch in the living area. "Can't say I figured you for the sloppy type, Jackal. He just get lucky?"

"You could say that," Akabane said, likewise returning his scalpel to its proper sheath. He shifted on his feet, silently willing Ban to go away and come back later, when he'd been able to make arrangements concerning Mathilda. His eyes suddenly flew to the side of the couch, where the overnight bag was sitting on the floor. Ban hadn't noticed it yet. Akabane inwardly cursed himself for not having taken the time to hide pertinent evidence before admitting his impromptu guest. This was going to present a problem.

He followed Ban into the living room, managing a gentle tap on his shoulder to gain his attention before the retriever could be distracted by other sights. "If I promise to make sure that you and Ginji-kun are amply fed, will you promise to make it up to me for having imposed your rudeness on me at this early hour?"

"I thought we were gonna take care of that later tonight," Ban said, though he remained fixed in place, his interest drawn by the mention of food.

Akabane managed a warmer smile for his benefit. "I won't be able to take care of anything without proper rest." He stepped closer to Ban and trailed a fingertip along the other man's lower lip, letting it coast down his chin and torso. "I have done my job, now it is time for you to attend to yours. If I send you on your way with the promise of a full stomach, I would like assurance that you will return such generosity in short order. Hmm?"

Ban's eyes narrowed for a few seconds as he processed this, Akabane daring to look directly into the depths of those wellsprings. He knew he could be risking a hypnotic trance, but he was counting on Ban's restless innards to hold sway over the retriever's final decision.

Instinct won out. Ban's face eased into rich satisfaction. "Don't worry, I'll see to it that you get your share of pleasure. Bloodless, mind you. I don't do laundry and it's hell getting those kinds of stains out of my whites. But a Get Backer always finishes his job to perfection, whatever it is. What'd you have in mind?"

"Follow me," Akabane told him.

They had to pass perilously close to the spare bedroom in order to get to Akabane's. He managed it by taking Ban's hand and towing him along with a purposeful stride. One flip of the wallet, a glint of money, and Ban's attention was secured.

"Mind that you don't spend it all at once," Akabane chastised.

Ban fondled the pieces of paper with something akin to rabid obsession. "Breakfast on the Jackal, it doesn't get any better than this," he cackled, wadding up the cash and stuffing it into his pocket.

"Don't get too used to it," Akabane said, carefully escorting him out of the bedroom and towards the apartment entrance, picking up the other man's coat along the way to hand to him. "You're lucky I'm so fond of you. A lesser person would have been dead at the first ring of my phone."

"My old lady always said I never did know when to let sleeping jackals lie," Ban sassed back as he shrugged on the coat. Then, without warning, he grabbed the back of Akabane's head and dragged him in for a fast, hard kiss. "We still on for tonight?"

It took Akabane a second to reorient himself. Ban's mercurial actions almost always left him in a constant state of surprise. He supposed that was one of the reasons he enjoyed the retriever's presence so much, letting him skate along thinner ice than what most mortals would have dared with Doctor Jackal. Allowing for a little smile, he replied, "Yes, unless my business requires further extension." He paused, thinking. "I'm to keep an appointment with a client this morning, and then I need to meet with an informant of mine. But I don't expect those tasks should take any longer than normal daylight hours." Akabane paused again, then added, "And by the time you return there will be plenty of food stocks to keep you occupied."

"That's what I like to hear," Ban said, his cheshire grin widening as he stepped through the exit. "All right, I'm outta here. Be good and try not to kill anybody today, you hear?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Akabane returned, swiftly closing the door on him before Ban could get in a caustic retort about his lover's activities.

He waited until the muttered stream of obscenities he could hear had faded down the hall. Suppressing a chuckle at his lover's irascible temperament, satisfied that he'd gotten in the last word, Akabane turned around to go back to the kitchen and came face to face with Mathilda. The little smile on his lips froze.

Quickly he composed himself. The child was standing motionless, still in her blue nightgown. Her gaze was level and no sound issued from her mouth, but somehow that simple stare managed to convey a taut displeasure simmering beneath her calm facade. Akabane was puzzled, then flustered, and finally irritated by the feelings of the former two thoughts. It was as if he'd been caught at some naughtiness like a ridiculous schoolboy. Since when did he have to answer to anyone? Yet Mathilda's eyes held him in merciless accusation.

Let her glare. He would not tolerate insolence from anyone, least of all this youngster. Up to now she had been nearly a perfect model of behavior. Akabane hoped that wouldn't change, not just for her sake but his own as well. An obedient charge was of course easier to handle, but he would have been quite disappointed to discover that this one contained a taint of rebellion. If – no, when, he corrected himself – when he found her family he wanted to be able to report that she had been nothing less than an exceptionally delightful companion, one whose conduct was a clear credit to her proper upbringing.

He produced a light smile to put her at ease. "Good morning, Mathilda-chan. I didn't hear you get up. I do apologize if I woke you. Or, rather, I suppose that would have been Midou-kun's fault. He is rather loud. We were discussing business - " He broke off, not sure why he was bothering to explain himself to the girl. He shook his head. "Never mind. I trust that you slept well? You must be hungry. Why don't we get dressed and I'll take you to a nice cafe I know here in the city?"

She offered no resistance when he led her back to the spare bedroom and told her to wait. Akabane returned to the living room and picked up the duffel bag he'd carelessly left by the couch. Thank goodness he'd beaten Ban to the metaphorical punch on that one. Akabane still wasn't certain how he was going to handle his lover's visit and juggle Mathilda at the same time in the same place, but he knew he would devise a method somehow. He needed an outlet for release and Ban was perfect for what he had in mind.

Back in Mathilda's room – no, don't think of it that way, he cautioned himself, you're starting to sound as though you're attached, so discard that silly notion right now before you have a problem – back in the spare bedroom (there, that sounded much better) Akabane unzipped the bag and sorted through its contents as he chose clothing for the little girl. He hadn't kept up to date on the weather since yesterday, but an earlier glance through the living room's window had confirmed all he needed to know about the temperature. Another gray day, another bluster of hinted-at snow that might or might not materialize depending on nature's mood.

After laying out her wardrobe on the bed and withdrawing her toiletry items from the bag, Akabane took Mathilda into the bathroom and helped her brush her teeth, wash her face and comb out her hair. They returned to the spare room, where Mathilda was promptly attired in a long skirt and sweater. Akabane finished rolling up her socks along the length of her calves and leaned back on his knees to have a look.

"You look very Christmassy, Mathilda-chan." She did – the deep red velvet skirt and the dark green sweater were a perfect match for her. Akabane reached up and adjusted the fold of the white collar of the shirt she was wearing under the sweater. "Very good. Now, if you will wait a few minutes, I shall see to my own adjustments, and then we can be on our way."

It took slightly longer for him to prepare himself than it had for Mathilda, only because Akabane was yet again stopping to question his sanity in taking on this uncharacteristic assignment. Why was it that Mathilda made him feel so...so...out of place? As if he were...human? Vulnerable? Akabane didn't like feeling that way, and he wished he could compel his thoughts into their usual self-assured focus. Seeing her up close, holding her small hands and guiding her fragile limbs along, had immediately brought back the memory of last night's embrace.

She was so young, so innocent. Yet she bore the soul of an ancient, what with her solemn demeanor and regal behavior. And – she'd spoken to him, for the first time since he'd found her. He remembered the lament in her tone - "Akabane-san hurt" - and realized then that she might not even have meant the actual wound itself, but another, unseen injury from ages past that had cut far deeper than his scar. But she couldn't have known...

...could she?

Of course not. He was just being foolish. Sentimental. No place for that in his life.

Unconsciously he placed a hand atop his left shoulder as he looked into the mirror hung over the dresser, letting his fingers trail down the thickened tissue running a serrated edge down his bare chest. His hand stopped above his pectoral, where beneath muscle and tissue and bone beat the source of his lifeblood – his weapon.

He'd hurt, once, a long time ago, in a place that now only existed as a buried compartment in his carefully-tended memory. He'd sworn since then that such would never, ever happen to him again. Mortality carried with it many risks but none so dangerous, so lethal, as emotions and feelings.

Mathilda cared about him, and he'd been stupid enough to let her grow close. This was a grave mistake that must be remedied. He would not permit himself the childish luxury of letting this little girl breach the fortress of his heart. He had none. Doctor Jackal had none. That was as it ought to be, for him, the most merciless of all transporters.

Grieve not for me, Mathilda-chan. I don't need condolences, don't want any comforting. I chose my path. It is where I belong and what I want. Your fate has no bearing on mine.

Akabane forced all thoughts of the girl and her concern for him out of his mind. He removed the dressings over his wound and inspected it, pleased to see that the majority had all but vanished. Only a thin pink line stretching over his skin gave claim to its existence, and soon that too would disappear as his body finished healing itself.

He finished dressing and went to her room – damn it, he was doing it again – the spare room, to collect her. She cooperated as she always had, sitting still and silent while he put her shoes on, and then her winter coat. An edge of black was poking up out of the overnight bag: her hat. Akabane was tempted to stuff it back inside the bag where he wouldn't have to look at it – why had he even bought it for her when it was naught but a frivolous purchase? - but hesitated when he thought of the chill outside. He would be remiss in his duties if he let the child catch cold from no head covering.

Akabane plucked the hat from the bag and settled it atop Mathilda's head, restricting his thoughts to those of seeing to her welfare and avoiding ideas of how nicely hats suited her curious personality. He secured his own coat and hat, making a mental reminder to himself to have the rip in the former repaired as soon as he could spare the time.

En route to the cafe for breakfast after locking up the apartment Akabane took out his phone and placed a call. He hit voicemail first and left a message, confident that the recipient would return his summons shortly.

He was not disappointed. In a few minutes his phone started chirping, and he flicked it open once more to confirm the connection. "Himiko-san. It's very nice to hear from you. I do appreciate your timeliness in returning my call."

"What's the job?" Her voice was somewhat tired, but alert. Himiko liked knowing exactly where she stood, which was why she was often so abrupt with people, and her focus on professionalism could easily be mistaken for rudeness or impertinence. Only someone who had worked with her for as long as Akabane had would be able to discern this facet of her character.

"Strategy, for the moment." Akabane paused, relishing his words. "I have a plan for beating the Middleman. Call Maguruma, find out when he takes lunch and have him pick you up. I would like the both of you to meet with me today."

"You're that sure, are you?" Himiko was clearly doubtful of their enemy's weakness. Still, she had a vested interest too in seeing the Middleman disposed of, her being a transporter and therefore a potential target. "All right, I'll ring you back when we're on our way."

"Thank you." Akabane concluded the call, pleased that business was shaping up to go the way he wanted. He felt better when immersed in his own agenda; this was familiar ground where he knew his place and purpose. No soft emotions to distract him from his goals.

Mathilda was holding his hand as instructed and continued to toddle alongside him. Akabane glanced down at her, musing over necessary arrangements. He thought he knew of a daycare center down the street from his apartment. He would take her there after they were done shopping for groceries, so that he could meet with his fellow transporters without worry of discovery. Maguruma, of course, was already well aware of Mathilda's presence.

Akabane didn't feel like explaining himself to Himiko, however. She would ask too many questions, possibly threaten interference. Though it might have been a relief to have her take the child off his hands if she felt so inclined, the price he would have to pay for it would cause too much trouble. Besides, this was Akabane's mission. He had started this whole mess, he would be the one to finish it.

I promised her I would take care of her. I always keep my promises.

Do shut up. Banality or not, you're making it sound like you care something for the girl, and she isn't even of your own blood. Pathetic.

She's a fascinating child; I've never met any like her. I can't help but respect her strength, if nothing else. She alone has tread where none other dares. Foolish, perhaps, but admirably bold nonetheless. And fortune has always favored the bold over the meek...

Look who's foolish. You're letting her get to you! Remember what happened last night because you were so preoccupied with these sentimental follies. The next time it will be your head that you lose instead of some blood, if you persist in these daydreams. Do you really want Doctor Jackal to go down in memory as having fallen because he was succumbing to the curse of all mortals? That blight on a reputation is unworthy of such a fighter.

I'm not succumbing to anything. I only want to be certain that Mathilda is given the best care possible while she's in my hands. She's just a child, after all. The transport business isn't a world suitable for children. I may be heartless, but I'm not unnecessarily cruel, certainly not towards one incapable of fighting back. If I fret occasionally, it is only because I care about maintaining my reputation for professionalism.

As long as you understand that. Maguruma was right, attachment is a dangerous thing and you've let this gone on far longer than it should have. What were you thinking, letting Mathilda stay with you while you're on a hunt?

It's amusing, that's all. It's interesting in its own way. Look at the way she behaves around me where most people would have fled. The music she played for me but wouldn't share with Maguruma. The way she tried to prevent me from leaving yesterday to see Janus. Look at what happened last night when I came out of the bathroom and she saw my wounds and hugged me...she even spoke to me for the first time, as if she truly understood what drives me...

Child's play, that's all it is! If you're such a professional, then prove it and stop dwelling so much on these useless impulses!

Akabane was able to silence his ruthless inner critic by the time they reached the cafe, and sat down to place their order. But when breakfast arrived and Mathilda wouldn't eat, both emotional conflicts seized him full in their jaws with nary a scrap of mercy.

--

TBC