The Bureau Files: Series 4

by Catsafari

A year has passed, and Haru Yoshioka is still gone. But the world turns regardless. There are clients to help and monsters to stop and adventures to be had. And when a distress call comes through with a very familiar voice, what else can the Bureau do but get involved? Because perhaps, just perhaps, the Bureau can save what has been lost. Cover art by Angie/drawerofdoodles.

11. Haru's Lullaby (Part 1)

The Bureau Files: Series 4

ooOoo

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I only had a little bit to finish, but it was a pain in the butt to write. We're on the final stretch though!

Cat.

ooOoo

Episode 11: Haru's Lullaby (Part 1)

"Any news on Haru yet?"

Hiromi knelt down beside the Bureau doors and peered into the room. Remnants of Baron's chaos still lingered there, like bad memories. The silver teapot had been replaced with an older iron one and flecks of wallpaper had given way to reveal the wooden wall beneath. An ink stain across the desk was yet to be removed.

Baron paused in the process of reorganising the dishevelled files, and offered Hiromi a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Not yet."

"It's been a fortnight…"

"I know."

Hiromi watched Baron return to the filing system, and she was painfully aware that he had slowed. And it wasn't just because slivers of skin were still wood – a finger here, the edge of his shoulder, a scar running down his face – but there was something more. A tiredness that haunted his movements.

Her grandmother had owned a rescue dog once; a greyhound mix that had lived to a solid ten years. It had always been a lively creature, but in the final few months before its death, that changed. It slowed, its walk stiff and tired, its senses giving way. By the time it came to the last week, they had all known what was coming.

And there was an echo of that in Baron now. There was the same tiredness. The same feeling that simply being was an effort.

"Hey."

Baron lowered the case file and turned to her.

"Um, look, even though I don't really like you–" that didn't come out the way she wanted it to, but she continued anyway– "and I still blame you for part of what happened to Haru… I know that you're trying your best. I know that you care for her. I can see that now." She still wasn't quite sure what to make of the type of feelings he evidently bore for her lost friend, but that wasn't the point. "I don't know if we will succeed in bringing her back, but… at least we've tried. And, knowing Haru, I'd think she'd be happy with that."

She watched him, his gaze returning to the file in hand, and she decided he didn't have the energy to find the right words to reply with. She shrugged and started to leave.

"Thank you, Miss Hiromi."

She grinned once at him. "Don't get me wrong; I'm still never going to forgive you for getting my best friend killed but… I can kind of see why Haru would enjoy being with you guys. And she was stubborn."

"She always knew her own mind," Baron agreed.

"Yeah. Yeah, she did." For a moment, Hiromi's smile softened to something almost akin to kindness, and she rose to her feet, letting the Bureau doors swing shut.

Toto landed atop his column with a gentle kerfuffle of feathers and Hiromi stopped to greet him. "Is he…" and here she nodded back to the Bureau. "Is he alright?"

"In time, I hope so."

"How long does it usually take for the, you know, living flesh part of him to return?"

"It varies. Usually, he would have recovered by now, but it's not only his physical side that needs time to heal."

"That last world really did a number on him then, huh?"

Toto gave a half-hearted sigh. "It's more than that. Something similar happened once before. Something that… until recently… we had thought he had dealt with. I suppose some scars never truly go. But, as long as we're there for him, I think he'll be okay."

Hiromi could sense that there was more worrying the crow, but she didn't think he would tell her anything he wasn't already prepared to share.

"And how are you faring?"

"Me?"

Toto nodded to her. "You took quite the fall, if I recall."

"Oh." Consciously, Hiromi rubbed the back of her head. "I did get it checked out, and it is just a concussion. The doctors told me to take it easy," and here she grinned, "and to avoid alcohol. The third day after it was the worst, all aches and pains, but I'm doing better now. You know, except for the three-hours-a-night sleeping and the morbid dreams. Apparently morbid dreams aren't uncommon for concussions, but truth be told it might just be due to everything else that's been going on."

She paused, her eyes unfocused on a corner of the Sanctuary and her hand resting to a halt against the back of her head.

"Do you think she's gone for good?"

Toto stopped, mid-preening, and looked over at the young woman. "We're not going to give up until we're sure of that."

Hiromi wasn't sure that Baron would give up even after that became apparent, but she pushed that thought aside. "I mean, after the wolves – phantoms – and the way she was tiring even in that world, and how even the Duke seems to be worried…" She trailed off and continued her unseeing stare. "It has to end eventually. And it's been two weeks now without any sign of the Sanctuary finding her again – what if the phantoms got her or she just couldn't summon up another magic bubble world again?"

"It's one possibility."

"Is that all?"

Toto was silent for a good long moment; long enough for Hiromi to break her stare and look to him instead.

"Toto?"

"Sometimes, I just wish it was all over," he whispered. "One way or the other – saved or not – I just wish this would end. These past few months have been like a death vigil; moving from one world to the next, losing Haru each time and grieving anew… It's as if we're dragging up her ghost each time, putting her through fresh hell just for the chance that this time, this time, we might succeed. And I'm not sure I can do this anymore."

"You're giving up?"

Toto looked to her, and then away. "No. No," he repeated, and his attention shifted to the silent Bureau. "Not while they still need me to be strong."

Hiromi thought on this. "Look, I know that you feel like you have to protect everyone–"

"It's what I was created for."

"–but you're important too," she finished. "I get that it's kinda easy to get swept up in some sort of self-righteous, putting others first mentality, but if you ignore your own pain then you're gonna collapse one day and then you won't be able to help anyone. And the others… Baron and even Muta… they're your friends, right? So how are you helping by keeping everything bottled up and always focusing on their pain and never yours? Friendship is a two-way street, Toto. You can't just hide things like that. You can't…"

She stumbled to a verbal halt with a sniffle, and surreptitiously wiped at the corner of her eyes with her sleeve.

"Are you sure this is still about me?" Toto asked softly.

"Shuddup," Hiromi muttered, but there was no true malice in her words. Just pain and tiredness.

A breeze swept through the Sanctuary, and she moved to bring her jacket closer around her before she realised the implications of just such a breeze. She turned and, sure enough, a familiar portal crackled in the archway.

She didn't even realise she was grinning until she felt her cheeks ache. "We haven't lost her yet," she breathed. "Toto, we can still save her."

The crow eyed the temperamental portal, but didn't seem to share the same vein of glee as Hiromi. "I'll fetch the others."

ooOoo

The Bureau stood before the crackling portal; two Creations, a cat, and a couple of humans, mentally preparing themselves for the leap ahead. Five hearts hammered away.

"This is it," Baron said.

Something shifted in the air. It was like everyone had been waiting for someone else to finally speak.

Hiromi sighed, and attempted a grin at the others. "We've got this. We're not going to fail this time."

"We can't afford to," Toto murmured.

"Gee, what a cheerful thought, Birdbrain."

"I'm only stating a fact. Everyone knows what's at stake here."

And yet, no one stepped towards the portal.

"Is anyone else… a little scared?" Michael asked.

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Terrified."

"Pretty much."

"Oh, good. It's not just me then." Michael weakly returned Hiromi's grin. "If this works out, then hopefully this will be the last Bureau adventure I get dragged along on. Can't say I'm going to miss it."

"I might, a little," she replied. "Not enough to volunteer again though. Still, if this is our last time…" Her grin became mischievous, and she ran through the portal with a leap. Michael followed after, forgoing the jump. He simply ran through it and disappeared into its milky depths.

"Well," Muta said. "That's a first."

On the other side, Michael and Hiromi landed heavily on the grilled floor of a walkway. The grill rattled in protest. The room they'd found themselves in was filled with steam and whirring machinery, bleeping consoles and luminous control panels. And, somewhere in the distance, an alarm was sounding.

"Oh, heavens." Michael staggered over to a wall and dropped his head down, looking vaguely green. "I really hope that's the last time I do that. I think I'm getting portal-sick."

"Here." Without looking at him, Hiromi fished a hardboiled sweet out of her pocket and passed it across to him.

"I think hardboiled sweets are meant to help with ears popping on aeroplanes not… whatever that portal does." Regardless, he popped the sweet into his mouth.

A moment later, they were joined by the Bureau. Baron first, his height changing to a good head taller than Hiromi, then Toto, and finally Muta. The latter skidded across the floor grating, and only by Baron catching him did Muta avoid falling off the edge.

"Thanks, Baron. Hey, at least we're not in a forest, for once."

Toto landed on Baron's shoulder, giving him front row seats to scowl at the cat. "I thought cats were meant to land on their feet."

"Portals don't count, Birdbrain. Where are we?"

"We're in an engine room," Hiromi said.

"It ain't like any engine room I've ever seen." Muta replied.

"Like, a sci-fi engine room," she amended. "Don't you have any imagination?"

"I think I traded it in for sarcasm."

"Somehow, I can believe it."

"Concerning more relevant matters," Baron smoothly interjected. He lowered Muta back to th ground. "Hiromi, tell me; was Haru familiar with science fiction stories?"

Hiromi moved back from the console she had been skimming her fingers over. "Oh. Um, not really. I mean, she watched a movie or episode when I did, but I wouldn't say she was, you know, a big fan. Why?"

"Just a thought."

"Is this a thought you're gonna share or what then?"

"Perhaps if you gave him a moment to answer, Lardball."

"I ain't the one with the birdbrain!"

"Hey, guys…" Across the room, Michael had lost his sickly pallor, and had finally realised that he wasn't leaning against a wall but a door. At least, it looked like a door. There was no handle, but the wall indented about a half-metre across like a mechanical sliding door. There was a number plate above it and a recognisable panel to the side. He looked back to see he was being thoroughly ignored by the bickering Bureau. "Guys? I think I've found–"

"Oh, you're still using that old chestnut, huh? I should have known an overgrown marshmallow would lack the brains–"

"Toto. Muta. Now is not the time–"

"I ain't the only one recycling insults – yeah, I know you've been using that one for years–"

Michael looked back to the panel. It was an off-white, almost silver shade, square, a little bit bigger than the size of his hand, with a speaker section making up most of it and a small black button in the corner. And, whereas everything else in the room was alien and strange, this looked like something he wouldn't be surprised to find on the side of a modern-day block of flats.

It was an intercom.

His hand hesitated over the black button, his mind offering all sorts of reasonable reasons for why he definitely should not press it. Unfortunately, his time with the Bureau already seemed to be having an effect.

He pressed the button.

"Ah, hello? Hello, is anyone there? It's…" He paused and glanced back at the Bureau. Baron was attempting to restore order and no one had noticed Michael's actions yet. Maybe this was a bad idea. "It's the Cat Bureau. We're here for Haru?"

He hadn't meant for the last sentence to fall as a question, but the words seemed to curl up in on themselves. He released the button and the air filled with the sound of dull static.

This finally caught the attention of his companions.

Hiromi was the first to reach him, striding over and, midway through asking what had happened, identified the source of the noise as the intercom panel. She pressed the button a few times, trying to turn the noise off, but only succeeding for as long as she kept her finger on the button.

"What did ya do, kid?"

"It's an intercom," Michael retorted. "I was thinking that perhaps we'd be able to contact someone and find out what's going on in this place." He reddened, and the room seemed to hitch a few degrees in temperature. "I didn't know it would break it."

"Well, it's only intercom static," Toto said. "We've dealt with worse."

"Yeah, like listening to ya prattling all day."

"At least I think before I speak."

"Quiet, please."

Unlike his earlier attempts to quell the bickering, this time Baron's words carried a certain weight. Toto and Muta glared at one another, but stopped. Even Hiromi stopped fiddling with the button.

Unsure what they were listening for, the group waited for Baron to reveal the cause, but, one by one, they started to hear it.

Between the static, a faint melody danced.

"Is… Is everyone hearing this or am I going crazy?" Muta asked.

"I think we're all hearing it," Michael said. "Or, at least, I hope so."

"Then that makes three of us."

Hiromi and Baron were silent; Hiromi struggling to recall where she had heard the tune before, while Baron was lost in a sudden memory. Eventually, Hiromi spoke.

"I… I know this tune." All eyes turned to her, and she attempted a half-hearted smile. "Haru used to hum it around the flat all the time. Heck… She used to dance to it when she thought no one was looking." The smile softened. "She never told me what it was, but she loved it. It was funny really. Before she moved into my flat, I didn't even know she liked waltzes."

"Okay, so if it's Chicky, then why ain't she answering?"

An explosion rocked the room they were in, and new alarms settled into place around them. Louder, this time. And unsettlingly close.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that this place is having some sort of breakdown," Michael said, his back to the door and his hand fumbling across its surface. "Where's the handle on this thing?"

Hiromi gave the intercom button one last push, and then looked over the door. "It's automatic," she said. "Look – no handle or keypad or anything." She paused. She and Michael exchanged a glance and then stepped back and both waved their arms at the door.

"Kids… Kids, what are ya doing?"

"If it's automatic, then it's probably triggered by a motion sensor," she replied simply. She slowed her arm-dance, Michael following her lead, while her wrists still spiralling absent-mindedly in the hope that she had just missed the sensor-spot, but after a few more moments of screaming alarms and no opening door, even they stopped. "And… it's broken. Great. Can anyone here hack?"

"As the talking cat without opposable thumbs, I'm gonna say no. Let me just check with the stone crow and cat figurine whether they can hack an impenetrable sci-fi door."

"Alright, there's no need to be sarcastic."

Another explosion shook the air, and this time copious amounts of smoke billowed from the machinery. The alarms took on a shriller tenor. The lights flickered for a moment.

"Okay, but it's not really real, is it?" Hiromi asked, her voice hiking a little. "I'm not going to pretend I understand everything that's going on, but Haru's worlds are magic, aren't they? So can't we do something like the Sanctuary did last time, where the Bureau's size was warped to let Micheal and me through?"

"We have to play by the world's rules–" Baron began.

"Why?"

Baron paused, and evidently considered this. Toto jumped in with: "Because disregarding the world's rules is dangerous and we can't be sure how the world will respond. Warping the Bureau's size in the previous world was different – it was more like an illusion. It wasn't blasting open a damn door."

"Couldn't we make the door thinner then?"

"Only the illusion of it. We can't actually…"

Michael continued to stare at the door, tuning out the fraught conversation behind him. The number plate above the door, which he had initially disregarded at first, read E3-20. It seemed like such a small detail. Easily missed.

He pressed the intercom button once again and ignored the way that fateful tune rose up again from static. If this didn't work, then he was going to feel ridiculous.

"Computer, open door E3-20."

For a moment, nothing happened. And then there was a whirr and the door slid effortlessly open. He became very aware that he suddenly had everyone's attention again. "Well," he said weakly, "they say voice control is the future, right?"

"Yeah, yeah; yer very clever. Cats and old men first!" Muta pushed past him and out into the corridor beyond. There was another bang and crash from the dying engine, and everyone else quickly followed suit. The door slid silently shut behind them and the alarms of the engine room dropped to a muffled drone. The rest of the ship's alarms continued as loud, if not louder, than before.

Ahead of them, the corridor lead forward to a single door. This time, it did automatically open as they approached it, and on the other side was a large round room that Hiromi immediately recognised as some sort of science-fiction ship's bridge, but was less comprehensible to the others. The back was lined with flashing panels and displays, while several chairs faced a huge blank screen that filled the entire front wall.

And, in what could only be the captain's chair, sat a familiar figure.

"You just wouldn't listen, would you?"

The Duke swivelled round in the chair, and kicked his feet up onto one of the consoles. He clicked a finger, and the deafening alarms subsided to a mere whisper. He tipped his hat back to survey the newcomers. "I told you that you couldn't do it without me, but would you believe me? And now look what you've done."

The Duke paused, watching Baron as if waiting for him to interrupt. When Baron had nothing to say, only looking away, the Duke shrugged and continued. "You see, after messing with that Wonderland magic, Haru's mind couldn't take the strain. What few memories and magic she retained snapped–" the Duke clicked his fingers to emphasis his words– "and she broke."

"Okay. So where is she?" Muta asked.

"Right here." The Duke dropped his feet off the console and patted the surface. The array of buttons and screens lit up like a Christmas tree. "Or what's left of her, anyway."

Following suit from the console, the rest of the room flared into life. A monitor at the front blossomed into light to reveal the image of an endless sky of stars set before them.

Hiromi was the first one to realise what was going on. "We're in space," she gasped.

"Well, actually we're only in the imitation of space," the Duke amended, "but gold star for effort. At least one of you is trying. And – before you ask, my dear Baron, here is your precious Haru." He flicked a switch, and a voice emerged over the intercom.

"Oh. Hello! Are you the engineering team? It's about time." A faint, somewhat mechanical laugh rang through the speakers. "I'm sorry I couldn't help your arrival but…" Haru's voice faded, giving way to a crackle of static before eventually clearing again. "Well, you wouldn't be here if all was okay, would you?"

Smirking at the Bureau's surprise, the Duke tapped another button. "Don't worry; we'll get you back up and running soon. You can revert to standby for now; we'll let you know when we need you."

"Okay." There was the whirr of some part of the ship powering down and the sound of static cleared.

The Duke looked to the arrivals with a self-satisfied grin. "There she is. Alive. Well, don't you have anything to say, Baron?" He tapped the console. The lights flared in response before settling back down to their calm glow.

"She's on the ship?" Michael asked.

The Duke laughed. "Oh, really. I wasn't expecting the old fuddy-duddies to get it, but I had hoped some of the younger generation would recognise sci-fi when they saw it. She's not just on the ship, my boy. She is the ship. Or, to be more accurate, she's the ship's computer."

"That's not possible," Baron said.

"Oh, so you do remember how to speak. How reassuring. And that's a tad narrow-minded for a Creation," the Duke replied. "It's more than possible, Baron; it was necessary." He laughed again and the sound bounced off the walls; a hollow, almost tired laugh. "When everything that Haru was – her memories, her magic – snapped under your use of the Wonderland magic, she was left drifting. She had barely enough magic to create a buffering bubble, barely enough memories to recall even who she was, so yours truly helped out."

"You did what?" Muta demanded.

"If I hadn't, she would have been lost for good. But I stepped in. I gave her just enough of a magic boost to protect her in this bubble, although it's already collapsing; I gave her a story so that even without remembering what she looked like, she was able to live in a world. Have you ever heard of The Ship That Sang?"

"Does it matter?" Toto asked.

The Duke shrugged. "It's a story based around the idea of humans being programmed as a ship's computer, essentially reducing them down to nothing more than a voice on the system. There was more to it than that, but the point of the matter is that such a setting was ideal to enable Haru to retain a sense of sanity in the face of the fact that she cannot recall her true appearance. Indeed, she cannot recall anything about herself anymore. I gave her that story, dropping it into her bubble so that she preserved some sort of identity. Without it, she would have slipped away entirely."

"If yer expecting a thank you card, prepare to be disappointed."

The Duke shrugged again. "I can't lie; it would have been nice. Or entertaining, anyway. But I didn't save her for your benefit."

"You saved her to bargain," Baron said.

"The question is: Can you afford to turn me away again once more? You know the truth, Baron; you know she cannot survive another tumble from her bubble. She was nearly lost this time around; there's no way she could build up another one after this. This is your last chance to save her."

The lights of the ship failed for a moment, alarms ringing in another quarter of the ship, only to pass several seconds later. The red warning lights faded to an easy green.

The Duke smiled. "Even this bubble is already cracking and you've barely taken a step inside. You know I am her best chance."

"Let us talk to her," Baron ordered.

"Be my guest." The Duke flicked that same switch, and the intercom started up again. Haru's voice crackled back into life.

"Hello? How may I help?"

The voice was tinny, mechanical. Although most emotional infliction was still present, there was something undeniable robotic about her words. It was made all the more recognisable now that the Duke had explained her situation. Baron was the first one to find his voice.

"Haru, do you remember us?"

There was the sound of static and Katzen Blut over the intercom, and then: "Who is Haru?"

Almost as one, disappoint washed over the Bureau. Nothing had been retained from their previous encounter. They were starting back at square one and they were running out of time.

"It's you!" Hiromi blurted out. "Haru, that's you."

Silence. Then:

"I do not have a name."

"Of course you do," Hiromi said. "It's Haru, and I'm Hiromi, your best friend. We grew up together. We… We used to play Dragons and Princesses in your back garden when we were kids. We used to nick apples from old Toshio's garden and play cricket with them, at least until I smashed one of your mother's plant pots, but you still took the blame for it." She was almost laughing, but the sound was bubbling through her budding tears. "When you were nine, you took in a crow with a broken wing, and when you were six, you made a frog crossing and stood guard by the road while the frogs migrated from their ponds. You convinced me to help and we caught a cold from standing in the rain all afternoon. You were always so intent on helping others, even when it backfired on you, and I love that about you even though it got you into this stupid mess in the first place. You're Haru, and you're my best friend."

Silence. Again. The alarms flared up for a moment. The Duke pressed a new selection of buttons, and the sirens died down, but the lights continued their frenzied dance.

"I… I do not understand," Haru finally said. Her voice was worse now, more static and less human. "I have always been part of this ship, I don't…"

Almost gently, the Duke switched the intercom off. His hand lingered on the console

"As you can see, the Haru you knew is still lost," he said. "And… she is dying."

"I thought you said yer helped her with this bubble," Muta retorted. "Why is she dying then?"

"Because I'm still having to help her maintain this bubble. Creations may be made of magic, but we are far from limitless. This bubble is held together with the, ah, magical equivalent of duct tape. Duct tape that is already beginning to tear at your arrival, and I cannot keep this bubble from failing forever." The Duke looked down to the hand that had never left the console. The tips of his fingers were shaking with some unseen effort. "Give me Louise's soul."

"It's not ours to give," Baron murmured.

"Of course it is!" the Duke snapped. He motioned sharply to the back of the group, where the Sanctuary's form had materialised. "It even has her shape – what more do you want?! Please. It's a reasonable request; one love for another. Even you must admit it's fair."

"And what about the danger that you and Louise may present to others? At what point do I decide that allowing what became of Louise loose upon the world is fair exchange for Haru?" Baron demanded.

"Others? Who spoke of others? This is simply about Louise and Haru." The Duke smiled, but the action held little victory. "This is what comes of always taking the higher ground, my better half. You would give your life in an instant for her, but to put the lives of others at risk?" He tutted. "Unthinkable. What about the rest of you?" His gaze moved to the gathering behind Baron. "Surely you can't all be so logically moral? Or do you always let him make the decisions?"

"What happens to the Sanctuary if she gives up the soul?"

Even Hiromi seemed surprised by the question that dropped from her lips, but the Duke simply shrugged. "Does it matter? Doesn't Haru matter more to you?"

"What happens to the Sanctuary?" Michael repeated.

The Duke shrugged again. "I don't know. Why would you care? It's not Haru. That's not even its real face; it doesn't have a face. It's nothing but a soul and magic."

"You could stop Louise and the Duke," Hiromi said. She turned to the Bureau, looking for acknowledgement. "Right? They're only two Creations."

"Two Creations with a great deal of hatred," Baron amended.

"But the Cat Bureau is meant to deal with monsters like that," Hiromi pushed. "At least, that's what you seem to be all about. Fighting monsters, saving the day… You're talking about this deal in terms of hypothetical people, but Haru needs our help right now. Why…? Why is this so complicated?"

"Hey, uh, I hate to be the one to break this up, but shouldn't the Sanctuary be the one to decide?" Muta asked. "Well, nobody else is suggesting it!" he snapped when everyone looked to him. "If she's the one who's gonna be affected by this, then she should get a say, right? Gee, you lot need yer heads checked if I'm the one having to suggest we ask the person involved."

The Sanctuary was unabashed at the abrupt shifting of attention. "I was wondering when someone would realise that."

"We have no idea what might happen if you do this," Toto said. His words were gentle, even for him. "To remove a soul you've harboured for so long… there could be severe consequences."

"I know."

"We don't know how much of you would remain when Louise is gone."

"I know."

The Duke snarled. "Just give me Louise's soul and end this!" he snapped, his words directed to the Bureau rather than the Sanctuary. His whole arm was shaking now, and not merely from the anger that washed over him. "Don't you want your Haru back? Isn't that what you've been fighting for? And now the answer is right in front of you, and you refuse to take it? What kind of friends do you call yourselves?! Why reason with the Sanctuary? It doesn't know what it's like to be alive – it's nothing but a façade! And you… you're actually asking for its permission? Louise's soul doesn't belong to that Creation; it belongs to Louise!"

"Wait."

The Sanctuary's form was shimmering, like light caught across a rippling lake. The light pulled away from the Sanctuary, like a white shadow; an echo of another being. And then the light collapsed in on itself. The Sanctuary cupped it in its hands, and the light was a swirling ball of silver mist.

"Hey! What're you doing?"

The Sanctuary smiled at Muta's question, and then shifted her gaze across the group. For a mere moment, there was a tender warmth in her eyes that seemed almost human. "I am doing what I was made to do. To save."

Baron took a careful step forward. "Sanctuary, you don't have to do this. Haru–"

"Do you think that Haru is the only one at stake here?" The Sanctuary turned her piercing blue eyes to Baron. "I would do this to save even a single life, but the past year has proved that the loss of Haru has left waves in its wake. Grief is a powerful poison. Left to your own devices, the Cat Bureau could tear itself apart."

"We're stronger than that."

The Sanctuary blinked once, and Baron could almost see his words being dismissed. "That's not what I see."

"And what do ya see?"

Another blink. For a moment, it seemed like the Sanctuary was considering brushing the question aside. But then a decision was seen to be reached, and the Sanctuary's gaze drifted over the strange gathering of Creations and mortals. It settled on Baron. "I see the cat Creation, lost between his own grief and guilt, broken from watching the one he loves die again and again. I see the crow Creation, torn between his purpose to protect and his desire to help; exhausted by his worry for the others and his guilt in failing once again." Her stare moved to Muta. "The cat, covering his own feelings with jokes and sarcasm, tired of watching friends vanish into other worlds. The best friend, angry at the world that took her friend away. And the boyfriend, besieged by guilt for losing faith, scared in a world he doesn't want to belong in. That is what I see."

The Sanctuary glanced down to the shimmering mist pooled in her gloved hands. An unnamed emotion flittered before her eyes. "And it can be saved. That is my purpose, after all." She lifted her hands towards the Duke. "There is Louise's soul."

The Duke's eyes glittered with greed… and something else. It was almost possible to read it as relief. He reached out and gently gathered the soul from the Sanctuary, and when he grinned there was only happiness. The air about Louise's soul glistened. With the faint tinge of magic, it vanished. "Her soul will find its way back to the replica body," he said. He sighed. "She'll finally be free again."

"Don't forget your side of the bargain," Toto warned.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Baron, you know what must be done."

All eyes turned to Baron, but there was no shock or unease on the Creation's part at the Duke's response. Only tiredness. Baron glanced to the fading form of the Sanctuary. "Take everyone home."

Uproar broke behind him.

"Hey, you can't just–"

"What's going on?"

"Baron, this is recklessness–"

"I ain't heading back–"

"Now," Baron softly ordered.

The Sanctuary stared at him. Its features were shifting, losing focus, but the blue eyes of Louise could just be seen past the haze. It nodded, and the room went silent.

"And you call me cruel." The Duke leant against the console panel, his hand still bleeding magic into the monitor. Whatever undiluted happiness had filled him before had been replaced with his familiar callous humour. "But, I suppose it's just me and you now. The way it was always meant to be."

"Toto reminded me something." Baron stepped towards the Duke, his attention inevitably drifting back to the empty spaces where his companions had stood. "I've been so consumed with bringing Haru back that I forgot that there were others who still depended on me. I don't want to think how many times I've brought them – not just Toto and Muta, but two inexperienced humans as well – into reckless situations without thinking. How many times my single focus must have almost cost them their lives. I'm not making the same mistake. Not while I deal with this."

"Deal with me, you mean." The Duke rolled his eyes – and for a moment, the colour of his eyes and the nature of the action reminded Baron of Haru's stolen brown eyes – and tapped the console. "Well? Are we going to start? I can't keep this up forever, you know."

Within an arm's reach of the Duke, Baron halted. "All that bluffing, and you can't even retrieve Haru's memories alone."

The Duke smirked. "I never said I could do it alone. I only said that I was her best – her only – chance. And you figured out long ago that I could only complete part of the puzzle. After all, to prompt unwanted memories is one thing; to retrieve repressed ones are another altogether. There needs to be someone she knows. Someone she trusts." Another unnerving smile. "Someone I can work with."

"Like me."

"Like you." The Duke offered his hand to Baron. When Baron didn't immediately respond, the Duke wriggled his fingers. "Come on. I can't stand around all day. Do you want to save your Haru, or don't you?"

Baron eyed the hand, and then its owner.

"We don't know what will happen," he said.

"We have our theories," the Duke replied.

"Theories," Baron repeated. "Not facts. Not experience. Only theories." A short silence. "This might not work at all. After all the years we've been separate, after everything we've both been through, we are changed."

"Are you afraid, Baron?" There was only the slightest hint of mockery in the Duke's voice; only the ghost of a smirk across his lips. "Scared that you might be the one to vanish? I thought you would do anything for your precious Haru. Don't disappoint me now."

"I am doing this for Haru," Baron retorted. And still, he eyed the proffered hand. "And so, whatever happens, returning Haru is our priority."

The smirk grew into something resembling a smile. "Sure. Louise's soul for Haru's. That is what we agreed."

"Whatever it takes."

"I don't break a promise."

Something akin to defeat – resignation, or perhaps relief – spread across Baron's shoulders, and he sighed. His attention roamed the world about them; the dying ship caught in its last moments.

Haru.

He had been fighting for so long to save her. And now, here she was, threatening to slip past his fingers a last time and into a realm he couldn't follow.

"Let's bring Haru home."

He took the hand.

ooOoo

Teaser: The line between the two was blurring and he – whoever he was – wasn't sure that it was a line anymore rather than a smear. / 'You didn't even consider that, did you?' the Duke continued. 'That, when all is said and done and there is only one of us, you might not be the one to walk out of here.' / "Why would I go back to a world – to a life – filled with such horrors?" / Baron looked to where eyes should have been on the figure's face and offered a hand, just like he had done for that dance so many years ago. "Please, Haru. Just trust me." / "If I did… If I decided to not go back, to vanish, what would you do?"/ Three words. That's all he needed to say. "Haru, I..."