"Why do I always get chosen to do all this domestic crap?" Lidner muttered to herself as she waited in the kitchen while the children gathered their things from around the house. Currently she was inspecting a set of little tea kettle knick-knacks that were lined up on the windowsill in the kitchen, eternally happy in their blissful ignorance of paint and porcelain. Too bad they would probably end up in the garbage now – unless the children wanted to bring them along.

Well, she was probably chosen because she happened to be a woman, the assumption being that she had a predisposition towards handling children and therefore the children would be more receptive of her. She could all but hear Near's voice in her head saying, "That is precisely why I chose you, Lidner." With as much as she cared about her boss, she was all too aware of how much of a presumptuous little prick he could be at times, but she at least recognized that that stemmed from his superb observational skills and not from a desire to actually be a prick.

Lidner was also all too aware of the fact that she had zero experience with children, save for her experience with her rather childish boss, in which case she had a lot of experience - but so did Rester and Gevanni. This was something very different, at any rate. With Near, it was all about trying to read between the lines, assisting him in unfamiliar and uncomfortable social situations, and fetching him his toys upon request. In this situation, however, she was dealing with two children who were already going through enough with the murder of their mother, and were now having to deal with meeting their father for the first time, who could be notoriously difficult to communicate with.

This whole thing felt like a precarious handling of dangerous, reactive chemicals – something was bound to break down or blow up at some point. She knew she would have to bridge the gap somehow – at least, she felt compelled to, despite her discomfort with the situation. That could be the answer as to why Near had chosen her to help him with the children. After all, she had once upon a time been put in a similar role and had succeeded, to an extent. If Near had that much faith in her abilities, then she had no choice but to try.

Whatever Near's true reasoning for choosing her, Lidner could not help but feel completely out of place here. Not only was she not related to this family in any way, but terrible things had taken place in this house. The children's grandmother had died here, as she had learned from researching the Yagami family after learning about the children. A serial killer had been raised under this roof. And in this home, a young woman she had known – a young woman to whom her boss had once been quite attached – had been abducted. Well, technically not in the home, but close enough for it to give off a haunted vibe all the same.

That was not the only thing that gave off such a vibe, she realized as she caught sight of an altar of some sort. Upon the altar sat an arrangement of photos; a trio of small, ornate pots; a couple candles; and an incense burner. This must be a shrine dedicated to honoring the deceased members of the Yagami family. She ignored the sick, heavy feeling in her gut and approached the altar, taking in the details of arrangement.

Her eyes grazed over two photos featuring an older man and an older woman, and went immediately to the third photo. She felt an undeniable chill run through her as she stared at the clean cut young man in the photo. He seemed to stare back at her, his copper-colored eyes meeting hers squarely, almost as if some part of him was still alive and still able to judge people with his stare alone – as if he had somehow transcended death and a part of his soul was inhabiting this photo.

What was even worse than that was what the photo itself represented. Here was a perfectly normal photo of what appeared to be a perfectly normal young man standing in front of his university, apparently proud of his accomplishments. Here was an unassuming young man who was on the cusp of adulthood and who had his whole bright future ahead of him. Here was a handsome young man who presented himself as someone to be respected and admired, while simultaneously harboring a darkness that only few had seen. Here was a young man who was responsible for the death of someone – a kid, for Christ's sake! - she had deeply cared about. Here was a young man who could have also killed her, her boss, and her fellow SPK members had they been even one tick off the mark. Here was a young man who could have been anything, could have used his genius to change the world in any number of more positive ways, but had instead chosen to play God and as a result had been gunned down in his megalomaniacal insanity. What a waste. What a terrible, horrific waste of not only his own life, but the lives of countless others.

This was awkward. It was awkward and distasteful and sickening and about a hundred other adjectives to see the photo of this deranged serial killer on display. Not only that, he was being honored and offered prayers, just as he had always wanted – only not as the god he had thought himself to be, but as the handful of ashes he now was. His surviving family must have been unaware of his misdeeds, otherwise Lidner doubted they would have included him in their family shrine like this. Of course, she knew that Sayu had learned the truth, but that knowledge clearly did not extend to the rest of the family, who all still believed that he died a hero.

She felt a sudden, unexpected stab of sympathy for the two children. They had no idea of the truth about either side of their family. It was all darkness and lies. She doubted they knew that their uncle had been a serial killer and that he was directly responsible for the birth of a new religion for people to kill each other over, much less that he was responsible for the death of the grandfather they would never meet. She doubted they even knew the full truth about their mother's relationship with their father, or even who their father really was.

The children obviously did not have that high of an opinion of Near, although she was for some reason finding it hard to believe that it was because Sayu had painted him in a negative light. It most likely had to do with the fact that he had simply been absent from their lives up until now. Lidner could only imagine how they were feeling, to be claimed by their absentee father (however involuntary that absenteeism had been), who hadn't even bothered to properly introduce himself before whisking them away from everything they knew. This was going to be an uphill battle for all of them, that was for sure. Lidner could only hope that Near's decision was the right one and that things would work out for the best, not just for them but also for the children.

"Don't touch that!"

Lidner's thoughts were cut off by the harsh, abrasive command, forcing her to spin around. The girl was standing there, her hands by her sides, curled into fists and shaking.

"I was just looking – paying my respects," she corrected herself when she saw the flare of anger in the girl's eyes.

"Well, you're doing it wrong," she sneered and moved around Lidner, taking the time to carefully brush off some of the dust that had gathered on the altar in its neglected state.

"I apologize," Lidner said.

The girl ignored her apology and instead kneeled down, put her hands together, closed her eyes, and bowed her head slightly, leaving Lidner in the very awkward position of deciding whether or not she should follow suit. Would it be more disrespectful to offer a prayer or not to, she wondered? She was not at all religious, or even spiritual. Not to mention that it would also be terribly awkward to even pretend to honor someone who had tried to kill her. Something about the girl's body language beckoned her to follow suit, though, and after a moment longer of deliberation, she complied and copied the girl's actions.

After a few seconds of silence, the girl cracked open her eyes, glanced sidelong at the older woman, and huffed in apparent indignation. Had she made the wrong choice, then? Or was there perhaps no pleasing this girl, who had seemingly already decided not to like either herself or Near? Lidner supposed she could hardly blame the child, who probably felt just as out of place as Lidner herself felt.

Why the hell couldn't Near have chosen Gevanni for this? That man had more social moxie than the rest of them put together, for sure. He probably would have already had the kids warmed up to him by this time, the suave, smarmy bastard. Well, wishing she could have traded places with Gevanni was pointless at any rate, so she decided that maintaining sensitivity to the children's thoughts and feelings would be the best approach in this situation, awkward as it was for all of them.

"He better not be expecting me to call him 'Dad'."

Lidner turned her head towards the girl and said, "I don't think he knows what to expect from you any more than you know what to expect from him, Chihiro."

The girl's eyes narrowed at her in response.

"But I don't think that he is expecting for you to call him Dad."

"Good," said the girl with a derisive sniff, "Because it's not going to happen."

Taken aback, Lidner's instinctive reaction was to stand up for her boss, demand respect for him. But this girl was too young, too hurt, too confrontational to listen to such things at the moment, so she knew she had to stick with her idea of being sensitive towards the children. She smiled pleasantly and said, "I think he would prefer for you to call him whatever is more comfortable for you."

"And what would that be? Nate? Near? Gaijin?"

"Probably not that last one," she said easily, despite the girl's condescending behavior.

"What's his real name, then? Nate or Near? I've only known him for an hour and already I have heard him called by two different names. Why is that?"

"He probably would prefer for you to call him Near."

"What kind of name is that?"

"It's a nickname of sorts. It's what he prefers."

"But you just said that he would prefer for me to call him whatever makes me most comfortable."

"Yes, but Near is what everyone else calls him."

"Then I will call him Nate," the girl declared.

Lidner pursed her lips, wishing she had phrased it all differently, but then she had not been expecting the girl to make so many counterpoints either. She decided to switch gears, "Are you calling him Nate because you want to, or is it because you are trying to be difficult? Why not give him a chance?"

"Why should I? I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. He just came in and took possession of us, like property, and hasn't said anything otherwise."

"That's why I am asking for you to give him a chance – neither of you know each other at this point."

The girl set her jaw and changed the subject, "Where has he even been this whole time?"

"I think that is something you should ask him."

"Why should I bother asking him when you speak for him?"

"Because that is not something I can speak for him about."

"It's because you don't know," said the girl, "You don't know any more than he does, but you are defending him anyway. Tell me – is that because you work for him or is it because you are in love with him?

Lidner almost let out a laugh at both the abruptness and the absurdity of the girl's question, but then she felt angry that the girl was judging Near based off something she had no knowledge of. The plain and simple answer was that, to no fault of his own, Near had not known about the children and so he had been living his life per what was normal for him. She had no way of knowing what Near's involvement in the children's lives would have otherwise been because that decision had been made for him and without his knowledge. Yes, she was angry on behalf of her boss and wanted to speak for him in that regard. She wanted to correct the girl's assessment, but Lidner knew it would not be a good idea to tell the child now that it was her own mother's fault her father had never been there for her before. What good would that do?

She furthermore believed that the girl was either trying to throw her off or piss her off only to protect herself, not out of spite. She had seen this type of behavior before from at least two others, one of which was the girl's own father. She could not allow the girl to get her worked up to the point where she would not be able to look at things objectively. That and there was something somewhat amusing about the fact that the girl was trying so hard to showcase what little she wanted to do with her father, and yet she was so much more like him than she realized.

Well, she had plenty of time to realize that, at least several weeks until Near got things arranged with Roger. Lidner wondered if Near planned on cluing the kids in on this detail, but it was at that time that the boy arrived on the scene, struggling down the stairs with what appeared to be a box full of electronics. She stood and took one last glance back at the girl, who had gone back to cleaning off the mantle, and moved quickly towards the stairs to help the boy.

"Here," she said as she reached out to take the box from him.

"I-I can do it…" he mumbled, but did not shake her off once she began to help him anyway.

"What is all this?" she ventured, hoping that making light conversation with him would help warm him up a bit. The girl may be stone cold and unreachable at the moment, but the boy seemed much more sensitive and receptive – or less combative, at the very least.

"My video games," he answered. Together the two of them set the box down and Lidner subconsciously raised an eyebrow at the haphazard packing job, which prompted a timid confession from the boy, "I'm not very good at packing..."

"I will take care of it," she offered, stooping to begin reordering the box, "Just keep bringing to me anything you want to take."

"What about our butsudan?" he quietly asked, eyeing his sister as she continued with her care of the altar.

"Butsu-… Oh," she said once she realized to what he was referring, "I'm afraid it is too big to bring with us." She grew alarmed by the sudden change in the boy's demeanor, which she had already learned as meaning he was about to have an outburst, so she hurriedly headed him off, "But why don't you put a sticky note on anything too large to take with us on this trip and we will come back to get it later?"

"Okay…" he agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"This is stupid," the girl interrupted, turning her attention back to the others. "Why can't we just stay here? Nate obviously bought the house."

Now, Lidner had been instructed by Near not to tell the children that he had bought their house, specifically so he could avoid having to explain why they would not be staying there (as well as a myriad of other questions), so she was understandably surprised by the girl's declaration.

All she could think to say was, "What makes you think he bought this house?"

"Well, aside from your deflection…" the girl said with a small huff, "He said it is no longer our house, but it's not for sale and nothing has been auctioned off. All the police tape is gone. And he didn't deny that he bought it."

Oh lord, not another one, Lidner thought with an inward groan. Luckily for her, she did at least have some practice dealing with snitty kids who were too smart for their own good. Instead of voicing that thought, though, she said, "I'm afraid you are mistaken – Near has not purchased this house. It is true that he has a certain possession over it for the time being, but only long enough to clear everything out."

"And what about the rest of our stuff? I suppose it's just going to wind up in the garbage?"

"Anything you do not wish to keep will be thrown out, recycled, or donated, yes. Everything else, with the exception of what you are gathering now, will go into storage for the time being."

"Storage…"

"Yes." The girl gave her a hard look, which forced her to elaborate, "It's on-site storage, if that makes you feel any better."

The girl did not appear either convinced or comforted, but she did not argue any further about it either, much to Lidner's relief. She instead finally moved away from the altar – the butsudan – and briskly made her way back upstairs to retrieve more of her belongings. Her brother skittered along right after her, with one quick glance back at her before disappearing upstairs.

Uphill battle indeed.

Before going back to the boy's haphazardly packed box, Lidner pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket and sent off a text message to her boss. She let out a small puff in lieu of a chuckle as she imagined his response, and went back to work.