Things Lost in the Fire
Chapter Twelve
Word Count: 5,243
Rating/Warnings/ Summary: Same as chapter one
Author's Note: It was hard to get the conversations right. And harder still to do the ending.
Twelve
Kent eyed the plant in front of him, making notes on its condition. This was not unexpected, given the parameters of the experiment itself, but he had still hoped that this particular strain would prove more resilient than this. He supposed that was foolish, and such optimism was unlike him, but this little plant reminded him of so many things he shouldn't even be thinking about, emotional, nostalgic things that only meant pain.
He gave it more water, though it would do little to revive it. The thing was as good as dead, and he knew it. Wasting time trying to nurture it back to life would be foolish and negate the experiment.
"Kent?"
He smacked into the counter when he heard his name, letting out an involuntary curse and wincing. He would feel that for the next few days, if not longer, and it would likely call to mind this embarrassment every time.
There was no one here. He must have imagined it. Whether that was another fugue moment, somehow bringing back only the auditory hallucination of his mother's voice—but no, that was not her voice. He knew that.
Unsettled, he left the lab, telling himself he was a fool as he started back up the stairs. He followed them around the curve, passing the wall, and then he saw her, sitting at the top of them.
"What is it? What are you doing there?" Kent asked her, not sure what she was thinking. "Did you—did you call for me?"
She nodded. "I thought about coming down after you—"
"No. That would have been—I was extremely negligent. I left you no means to contact me in case you did need something else, and you were forced to come after me because I was selfish and—Did you tear your stitches? Are you bleeding? In pain? I can—"
"What favor did I ask of you?"
He stopped, frowning in confusion. What was this? Some kind of... test? He put his hand to his head, trying to think of what she could mean. Their relationship was not the sort that would include favors—it barely included civil conversation—so why would there be anything so unlike him? He rarely did favors for anyone, including Ikkyu.
"Favor?" Kent forced himself to speak. "I never did any favors for you, nor can I recall any you might have asked me for. You must be mistaken."
She shook her head. "No, I asked you for a favor. I know I did. That part is clear. You... you came to the cafe to arrange a time to talk to me about it in private. It must have been important. You came in the middle of the trial. You... don't remember that?"
Kent frowned. As far as he was aware, his missing memories were of the time around the bombing. The day before it was basically gone, as was much of what happened afterward—he had no clear recollection of anything after his leg was injured nor of the first few days in the hospital. "No. Frankly, it is difficult to believe I would have done such a thing. I rarely left the courthouse during a trial at all, even when it was not anything of particular interest to me—I could be recalled or I might learn something, though mostly I did not. It was definitely not something I did when my mother was leading the case—"
"Your mother?"
"Oh, I see you were unaware of that detail," Kent said, noting the confusion on her face. She had not been present for that conversation, somehow, or she'd forgotten it, perhaps losing it in the rapid back and forth that was typical of their team at work. He rather wished he had not brought it up, for talking of his mother was difficult even outside the context of the fire. "But, yes, she was a prosecutor, and though we did not always collaborate in such a manner, we had at least once before the yakuza case that cost her life."
Kokoa frowned. "I'm sure of what I remembered right now. It's so clear. You came to the restaurant. Mine and Sawa made a big deal out of you being in a suit and not in your jacket, and you asked to speak to me outside because you had to go back to the trial."
He shook his head. "I think I should help you back to the couch and examine your wounds. Is it possible you've already developed an infection? That might explain the confusion of this memory. Or is it a hallucination? Yes, it could well be a fevered delusion, and I do remember that I spiked several fevers while I was recovering, though my burns were more extensive from what I understand of your condition and—"
"I remember it," she insisted. "And I don't have a fever."
He shook his head. "You do not remember this, I do not think, but you are not one to tell the truth of that fact."
"What? Are you calling me a liar?"
"At least once you insisted you were not sick at all and capable of working when you were not," Kent told her. "You had picked up a very virulent flu from your brother, but as you'd already taken time off work to care for him, you felt you could not take any more time even when you were ill yourself. You collapsed at work. In that case, you very much lied about your condition, though it was quite usual behavior for you, putting your brother first like that."
"Oh."
"Let me help you back to the couch. Or would you prefer the bed upstairs this time?"
"I'm not lying about this, Kent. I remembered it. All of it. I was looking at a picture of you and the others at an awards ceremony and—"
"Is there something you are wishing me to say here?" Kent asked, folding his arms over his chest. "This incident is completely unfamiliar to me, and as I am the one of the two of us with the more complete memory at this point, I believe we have to take my version of events as the accepted one. There was no meeting and no favor."
"But—"
"I had already given up my routine of going to that restaurant by the time that trial started. It was—The yakuza family was calling my phone constantly, leaving inept but explicit messages, and I had to change my number. They made some visits in person, not far from the cafe. It was clear I could not go back there again, so I did not. I would not have gone there for what you describe."
She bit her lip. "It confused me then, the way you were acting, but you didn't tell me about the harassment, did you?"
"No, but as I said, that meeting didn't—"
"You said you wanted to 'end things properly.' You... were saying goodbye, finishing the favor and then you... never intended to come back again."
Kent hesitated. That did actually sound like a conclusion he'd reached, at least in part. He had known he was not returning to the cafe, nor would he see her again, but he still didn't recall arranging to meet her. "Why would such a thing be necessary? We were only acquaintances. At best we enjoyed arguing with each other, but I don't think that—there was no need for goodbyes, nor have I ever been one to make them."
She shook her head. "I want to call you the liar now. Why won't you tell me the truth? What favor was it? I know that was real. I know it. I can feel it. I'm sure it happened."
"In spite of all evidence to the contrary, basing this on an emotional reaction?" Kent shook his head. "While that is also very like you, I am not interested in debating this with you. I have no memory of these events. I cannot say why you do, but... perhaps that was not even me. I cannot say, except that this will get us nowhere. I did not say goodbye to you. I wouldn't have. And we had no favors—you hated being in debt to anyone. You rejected my advice and—no. You did not ask me for a favor. If you wish to be stubborn about it, I cannot change your mind. Feel free to sit there as long as you want."
He turned, descending the stairs and returning to the lab.
Impossible. All of it. Completely impossible.
"Stalker?"
"Shin's jumping the gun a little," Toma said, frustrated. That wasn't the way they wanted to start this, but Shin always wanted to cut straight to the point if he could. Not that it was always bad, but with the two women already worried about their friend and the boy, too, they needed to do this a bit more carefully. They couldn't go scaring people or influencing the evidence. "We wanted to ask about her recent behavior. Orion told us that she was coming home later, tired all the time, taking strange paths home. Did you notice anything like that?"
"Hmm, well, she was distracted," Sawa said, and Mine nodded. "I don't know about tired or the way she took home, but she did seem like she had something on her mind."
Mine bit her lip, worried. "You really think she had a stalker?"
"It's possible," Ikki said. "We don't have proof of that yet, though. That's why we're here. You said she was distracted. Did you have any idea why?"
Sawa shook her head. "She didn't talk about it. She never did. If something was bothering her, she tried to keep it to herself. She wouldn't want to worry anyone, and she... she was really bad about needing to do it all herself. She was so proud when it came to that sort of thing."
"Especially about Orion. She never wanted anyone telling her what to do with him. It didn't matter if it was about what to feed him or where to send him to school, she got very upset if you tried to tell her she was doing it wrong."
"And she usually wasn't," Sawa said, giving Orion's hair a ruffle. He made a face, glaring at her. "We tended to argue because she wasn't always so good about taking care of herself, and she never wanted anyone to help—it was like accepting help was saying she couldn't do it all, even if that wasn't true. It's just... Well, there were people who thought she shouldn't be raising him, and that apparently started all the way back at the beginning. It was worse when she was trying to do school and work, but those people mostly shut up when she gave up college to work full time here."
"They're idiots," Orion said, angry. "Neesan takes good care of me. She always has."
"I know that," Sawa said. "It's just that she was pretty young when your parents died, barely old enough to be on her own, and no one really thought she should have responsibility for both of you. And really, all we wanted was for her to take some time for herself... to do a few things that would have made it easier for her, but she didn't usually like to hear about them because of the people before that told her that she should give you to someone else."
"Who?" Orion asked, frowning. "It's not like we had another sibling or anyone else close. I've never so much as met an uncle or an aunt."
Sawa forced a smile. "Well, it didn't matter because she was determined to keep you and she did."
Toma exchanged a look with Ikki. This was probably something they should ask about again when the kid wasn't around, since no one seemed willing to talk about it honestly in front of him. "Have you ever noticed her being this kind of distracted before?"
"Well..." Mine looked at Sawa. "You said you thought it was the anniversary, right?"
"Anniversary?"
Sawa nodded. "I think it was about this time of year when her parents died."
"You think?" Shin said. "You don't know?"
"I told you—she's really private. She never mentioned specific dates or even how they died. She said it was an accident, and it was why she moved back here," Sawa said. "She grew up in this area, but her parents moved when she got older. When they died, she came back here to raise Orion. It was where she was planning on going to college, too, but she said she thought growing up here would be better for him. She said she was happier here."
"Yeah," Mine said, patting Orion's head. "She said the only thing good that came out of that move was you."
Toma frowned. "You have any idea where she was living before she came back?"
Mine shrugged. "She never really talked about it, you know?"
"Not with us, at least."
"Was there anyone else in her life she might have told?" Ikki asked. "Boyfriend? Mentor? Therapist?"
"Seriously, Ikki?" Shin demanded. "You've got to be the only one that willingly goes to see a therapist."
Ikki frowned. "I never said I went to see a therapist. I've got nothing against people who do. And certainly mine would have to be cute if I did, but then again—"
"Kind of defeats the purpose of therapy," Toma said, shaking his head.
"Not for a certain kind of healing," Ikki answered with a grin, and Shin threw a wadded up napkin at him. He flicked it onto the floor before smiling at the ladies. "And I'm always open to finding that special person who can give it to me."
Shin groaned. Ukyo looked embarrassed. Toma found himself wishing Kent was here to say something that would get Ikki's flirting back in check, since Kent was good at bringing up something from the past or even just the way he said Ikkyu could be enough.
"He doesn't actually mean it," Toma said, and both women blinked at his words. "Ikki's hardwired to flirt, it's something that went wrong back in his childhood, but he's not serious about it."
Ikki shrugged. "You never know what I might mean, Toma. That's the real problem. Still, we are here to work. Anything else can wait, and I wasn't even the one that distracted us this time. That was Shin mocking me for suggesting our girl might speak to a therapist about things she hadn't told anyone else—which is not that far-fetched, even if her means were somewhat limited."
Toma nodded, conceding that one. "How about it? Did she talk to anyone else? Your manager?"
Mine snorted. "No way. He's terrible. They should have fired him years ago. She could do such a better job."
"Boyfriend?"
"No guy could compete with Orion."
"Now, that's not true, Mine," Sawa disagreed. "They're not mutually exclusive. As long as the guy understood he'd be taking on both of them, there was a chance. In fact, there was—"
"Sawa, that was only a possibility in your delusional mind. She told us she hated him."
Toma made a note to get Sawa to explain that later. Even if Mine didn't think it was possible, or if it was true and Kokoa hated this guy, then he could be a suspect for the stalker. Not that they could prove there was a stalker—maybe there wasn't. It would have been nice to get confirmation somewhere, but it felt like even as much as they'd learned so far today, they still knew nothing of use.
"What about regular customers? Any of them she might have confided in?"
"Not anymore," Sawa said. "There was one that she was kind of close to, but he stopped coming in a while back. She knows a few names and greets them on sight, but she doesn't spend any extra time with them or anything."
"Were any of her regulars in today?" Ukyo asked, fiddling with his camera, and Toma realized he was an idiot. He should have figured it out sooner. That was why Ukyo had come. He was taking pictures of everyone in the restaurant, looking for a regular who might double as a stalker. If that guy was smart—and he did seem to be—he'd have come back like usual, pretending he had no idea Kokoa had been attacked.
"A couple," Mine said. "No one seemed that bothered that she was gone, though. No one but us, that is, and the manager, who was being a jerk and threatening to fire her."
"What? It's not her fault," Orion objected. "She didn't asked to be kidnapped and left for dead in a warehouse. She didn't do anything wrong."
"Kidnapped and left for dead?" Mine repeated, eyes wide with disbelief.
"That's what happened to her? And you didn't tell us?" Sawa shook her head. "That's it. I want to see her. Right now."
She forced herself up, knowing she had to do this. She didn't care how much it hurt. She was going down that staircase, spiral or not, and she was talking to Kent. He didn't get to leave like that. He kept insisting he had to be right, but that wasn't true. She knew he had problems with his memory—he'd admitted as much, so why was he so sure that he was right and not her?
She bit her lip, hard, to keep from crying out with every step. She shouldn't have taken the stairs earlier. These ones wouldn't hurt so much now if she hadn't been stubborn this morning. She'd had Orion's help, but she knew better than that. Why did she have to do everything herself? Was it so terrible to get help from any of them?
All those men, they were good people, and even if some of them were gruffer than others or even rude, they'd all been kind to her and were watching over her, trying to find the person who'd done this to her. She didn't have to do this on her own—she even knew better than to think she could. She was just a waitress.
She took the last step with a wince, falling against the wall. She used it to drag herself forward as she walked toward the open doorway. She leaned against the frame, breathing hard.
"It died," Kent said, and she frowned. "In the time between when I left the room and now, it died. It was not doing well, I know that, and it could not have been expected to, but I had just watered it... I do not know that—nothing would have saved it, I'm sure, but it still died so quickly..."
She swallowed. "Kent..."
"It is only a plant," he said, pushing it back on the shelf. "It never mattered to me before whether or not they lived or died. They are living organisms, but... they are unintelligent and unimportant, and yet... I find myself reacting to its death. I never used to do that before."
She rubbed her head. "Even plants have value."
"Yes, I believe you said that before," he told her, taking a deep breath. "You saw value in many small things I thought had little purpose, and we argued over that as well. It truly was all we ever did."
"I wasn't trying to argue with you this time. I thought I'd finally remembered something useful."
"I think you put too much emphasis on being of use," he said and then shook his head. "Not that I am any better in that regard, I suppose. I see my worth only in the terms of my ability to reason, and as that has been so severely compromised, I fear I have little at all... so I reacted quite childishly to you suggesting there was even more of a fault in my memory, more damage to my mind than I was aware of previously."
"I could be wrong," she said, though she had felt so sure it was a real memory and actually happened. It wasn't a dream—she'd been awake when she had it—and Sawa and Mine sounded like themselves and Kent... his behavior confused her, but she hadn't doubted it was him.
"And you may not be," he said, still not looking at her. "They told me they could not be certain the extent of the possible damage and it might not show itself right away. They were optimistic, of course, as I hadn't lost basic functionality, but I was without oxygen for long enough for there to be complications."
She winced. Everything she heard of what happened to him seemed so terrible. "Kent—"
"Wait." He lifted his head and looked back at her. "What... Why—you came after me again. Why did you do that? You've hurt yourself. I can tell, and I don't—even if you wished to argue the point, this was foolish."
"Maybe," she said, "but I had to talk to you."
"I was not willing to listen. Surely that much was obvious, so why push yourself to come down here? Why not wait and confront me when I inevitably returned upstairs? This—"
"At first, I was angry. That made it easy to push past the pain. I was so sure—we've treated every other memory I have as real, but all of a sudden, just when I thought I had something useful, you dismissed it immediately, and I wanted to argue with you and—and..."
"And?"
She closed her eyes, wincing. She fought the pain, not wanting to say the rest of it. That part was even stupider than the rest. I didn't want to be alone.
She felt something lift her, and she opened her eyes to find herself in Kent's arms again, the relief from being off her feet almost overwhelming. She didn't want to say it, but this felt so much better. She sighed, leaning against him. Something about this, too, was familiar, but why?
"It has always confused me that I could admire your stubbornness while finding it infuriating as well as ridiculous," Kent said, shaking his head as he carried her out of the room. "Nevertheless, it will prove difficult to get you up the stairs, which leaves only one option at present and—please understand there is no ulterior motive here. There is no chair in the lab that would give your leg sufficient support, nor would the floor be suitable."
She frowned, but he pushed open the other door and her eyes widened. "Kent, is this—"
"My room, yes," he said, crossing over to the bed in the middle of the room. He set her down on top of the blanket—this one felt the same as the one he'd given her upstairs, not like the ones on the bed from last night that felt too nice to touch. She was so sure she'd ruin them, and her pain wasn't the only thing keeping her awake.
This part of the house felt welcoming, not like the rest of it, even though it wasn't decorated as nice or full of things half as expensive as the upstairs.
"You can rest here for a while. I'll have to reassess the stairs—Ikkyu has told me before I should install an elevator, but that seemed an unnecessary expense, and I never thought it truly worthwhile, not even when I was recuperating. I stuck to one level of the house as only made sense."
She laughed a little. "You're so practical."
He sighed, lifting her leg to put a pillow under it. "I am not so amusing, nor should you be so impractical. You forced a great deal of unnecessary pain on yourself, and for what? It afforded you nothing. We still don't know what your memory might mean—there is nothing in my mind that..."
"Kent?"
"No, it's nothing. I was just thinking you need your medication, but I don't know where Ikkyu put it. Perhaps upstairs?" Kent started walking away, but she grabbed his shirt, holding him in place. He looked back at her and frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Don't go."
He stared at her. "You... cannot possibly want me to stay. Even were we to have a productive conversation—and we don't have them, ever—you... if you did truly remember everything, you would not want that."
"What?"
"The last time we spoke, you were quite clear about it—you hated me and never wished to see me again."
"I fear we may have made a mistake, all coming here at once," Ukyo said with a sigh. Ikki frowned slightly—they hadn't come all at once. It wasn't unlike them, though, to gravitate towards the same space. That happened a lot when they were working a case, no matter what their individual roles. "I had only meant to observe the cafe for myself. I wanted to get a sense of the place and the people. Having seen it, I feel it has an energy that suits her. She must have felt quite at home here."
Sawa blinked, taken aback by Ukyo's comment. It didn't seem to connect to what she'd just demanded, that was for sure. "What?"
"He means we get sidetracked easily when we're all trying to question someone at the same time," Ikki said, missing Ken's ability to direct them towards the questions that mattered. He and Waka were both good at that. Shin was like a laser, always going right to the point, and Toma would try and back him off and use some tact unlike most of the rest of them. Ukyo usually wouldn't ask many questions, and Ikki was somewhere in the middle, though he got the blame for the questions going wrong most of the time.
He couldn't help it if flirting a little seemed to get the best response from half the people he interviewed.
"He's right. We should do the interviews separately," Shin said. "And no, you can't see her. She's at a safe house. It only stays safe if no one knows where it is, which means neither of you are going there."
"Shin is right. If you were to go there, you would put her at risk again," Ukyo said, trying to be gentle. "That is not what anyone wants."
"We understand you're worried," Toma said, "but we can't budge on this. Keeping her where she is and not disclosing that information to anyone is the only way we can keep her safe until we know who is behind this. Right now, it could be almost anyone."
"Not one of us," Sawa insisted. "She's our friend. We wouldn't do anything to hurt her."
"Which is why you should listen to us and accept that you can't see her," Ikki said. "I'm sorry, but we have to think of more than just friendship here. This case is more important than you know, and your friend is right in the middle of it. That means we will protect her, but to do that, we have to keep her location a secret."
Orion looked between the women and the men. "Could we maybe bring Neesan somewhere that's not the house but not the cafe or anywhere this guy might look for her for them to see her?"
"Yeah," Mine said. "That would work, wouldn't it? And shouldn't she be in the hospital? You said she was left for dead. That means she's hurt. So she should have a doctor."
"She's actually with a doctor," Toma said, which was technically true but also completely misleading, much like Toma himself. Ukyo gave him a look for the lie, but Toma just shrugged. "He is a doctor. Has the degree on his wall and everything."
"Not that kind of doctor," Shin muttered under his breath. Toma elbowed him, but it didn't look like either of the girls caught what he'd said. Ken's doctorate was in math, though, and Orion knew that. Ikki wasn't so sure he'd stay quiet about it, either.
"He is almost an expert on burns by now," Ikki said to smooth it over. "She's in good hands."
As far as that went, at least, Ikki thought to himself. Ken had firsthand knowledge of how to treat that, had even researched new therapies to speed up his recovery, and could possibly do better than some of the local doctors—if he could stay calm while he looked at the wounds. Ken's own scars could and did set him off, so the situation was far from ideal.
Damn it, Ikki should have gone back a long time ago. He could have passed the kid off to any of the others when he saw they were here, but he'd been curious about what the girl's friends could tell them, hoping for much more than what they'd gotten.
"I'd almost feel worse for her doctor," Sawa said, and everyone looked at her. She shrugged. "She's very stubborn. She never admits it when she's sick or hurting."
"That's true," Orion agreed. "I always know, but she still tries not to let me see it."
Those two. Protective of each other, even when the other saw right through them. Ikki had to smile at it, thinking he understood it some. He and Ken almost had that same thing going on, not that Ken would ever admit that he was protective—but he did see through Ikki like no one else.
Orion started to say something else, but Shin rose, looking around in concern. "Wait. Anyone else smell that?"
Toma frowned. "Yeah, something's burning."
Mine and Sawa exchanged a look. "No. Nothing's cooking. No one's ordered any food since before you came in."
"Out, now," Shin ordered, grabbing hold of Ukyo, who frowned at him even as Shin forced him toward the door. Their photographer could be absentminded sometimes, and it was almost funny to see Shin acting protective of him. Toma rose, and Ikki pushed Orion toward him, not wanting to send the kid out alone just in case this was a diversion to force their witness out where the killer was lying in wait for him.
Something crashed in the kitchen, and Sawa frowned, hesitating, like she was going to go that way. Shin caught her before she could, pulling her along with him.
"We have to—"
"You can't go in that kitchen," Ikki said, grabbing Mine around the waist before she could leave. She looked up at him like this was some moment in a movie, and he shook his head even as he carried her along with him, not wanting to risk her rushing back to danger the moment he let go. "Come on. We have to go. Now."
He heard more noises behind them, but he didn't stop, following the others out into the street. Toma and the kid were already halfway across the street, and with them Ukyo, who had already started taking pictures.
"Down!" Someone shouted, and Ikki pushed Mine down, covering her as best he could just before the loud boom came and the glass blew out at them, pelting his back. He looked back at the cafe, swearing that despite the ringing in his ears, he heard laughter as the building was engulfed in flames.
