He's the fella, the man who invented himself

Nobody knows where he's from

Nobody knows where he's gone and gone and gone

But he's not here

When you're waiting for your baby, to get back from the moon

And throw her arms around you, in a very quiet lagoon

Well, that loneliness is nothing, Just imagine how he feels

He's the only person in the world

Who still believes he's real

--Robyn Hitchcock "The Man Who Invented Himself"

I stared at the phone in my hands.

I had dialled. It was ringing; there was no holding back now.

The pressure of phoning someone I really didn't want to have to ask for help from was dilapidating but I had to, I had no other choice. This matter was simply too much for me.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

I heard the click and someone picked up. There was bickering in the back ground followed by what sounded like a pillow being thrown at the yeller.

"What?" The angry voice from the phone asked.

I smiled.

I had missed this voice.

"It's Akane, I need your help."

The voice sighed and spoke after a muted moment. "Fine, where are you?"

Sucker.

"At home, alone." My voice cracked, and I really tried to stop it, but I couldn't. "I'm kind of scared actually."

The voice paused a moment. I didn't know whether the pause was for me or them.

"Bye." They muttered before hanging up.

I sighed.

This was going to be slightly awkward.

In twenty minutes my palms were sweaty and gross, I was on my eighth glass of water, and staring at the door from my couch.

It was like the kettle never boiling if you watch it; no one was coming to the door. Except, that was my desired effect, but I knew it wouldn't last long. In a few seconds somebody was gonna break through that door, not literally because they were not The Hulk, and I didn't know how to handle the situation.

It wasn't terrible they were coming, just different. We had separated over the years, it happened to millions of people; so why did I feel so singular?

My fingers trembled around the glass. I really shouldn't ever own anything breakable.

When I was seven, I was given a beautiful glass butterfly with sparkling wings and glorious antennae. It was all I could do not to surgically attach it to myself at the time.

Two days later it was on the floor in the kitchen. And the living room. And the dining room.

I learned an important lesson that day: glass doesn't bounce.

As I stared into my glass I heard a shrill ring and jumped for the phone next to the couch on a tiny wooden table.

"Hello?" I trembled.

The voice laughed. "Let me up."

It was a laugh. That was a good sign, right? The laugh seemed . . . hollow, though.

I strolled over to the door and wrung my hands, after placing the phone back in its proper place, and stared at the wooden slab until it started to shake and someone knocked.

My hand reached for the brass knob. I breathed in, swung open the door, and stuck on my biggest smile.

"Why, hello ther-" I began before they pushed past me into the apartment.

"Screw the formalities." They sighed. "What's wrong?"

I was flabbergasted. "Nabiki! We haven't spoken in person since . . . well, for a long time! How are you?"

The woman placed her purse on my kitchen table, sighed, and put her hands on her hips.

"Akane, I am a very busy woman. What is wrong?" The petite woman asked, drenching every word with annoyance.

She still had her hair short, but her bangs had been tapered to the side and it was a bit longer than it had been all those years ago.

She wore a very Ally McBeal-like suit, the skirt rising a bit too high to forget the stern looks you were getting were from a woman.

I suddenly had this horrible wave of emotion for my estranged sister. Sure, she had gotten the job for me, and I was planning on her getting me a better, less homicidal job, but I hadn't had a real conversation with her in years.

Some strange force dragged me into a hug with her in which she jumped in surprise and discomfort.

She pushed me away with as much care as you would have handling a bratty child, and smoothed out her outfit, a tight smile on her face.

"Please Akane, this is dry clean only." She reminded tutting softly. "Now, tell me the damn problem. What; miss me too much?"

She scoffed and laughed.

I had missed her. She wouldn't believe me though. She was sad, I could tell with my sisterly instinct, and I felt for her. She pretended to have no heart, but I knew she was unhappy with her situation; her husband was having an affair or two at the moment, and she knew.

She let it go because he was making quite a bit of money at the moment and after he made the cash, half of all that fresh money would be for her "wounded heart".

She was wiping dust off herself as I scrunched up my face.

"Nabiki, are you happy?" I asked, biting my lip for the response.

She sighed again, looked up at me and her lips curled a bit at my worry.

"Sis," She told me, too wisely for her own good, "my heart got cold, it died of pneumonia, and now I haven't got one."

She swallowed hard and looked over my shoulder. There was more to this.

She continued soon after, sarcasm present. "You weren't invited to the funeral, closed casket and all. You know Akane; it's very hard to raise a heart from the dead, like people."

She seemed so cold and impassionate.

New topics were needed to avert this.

"So," I began, with an all too cheerful voice and a playful punch to Nabiki's arm, "the job you got is trying to kill me."

She stared at my hand, making contact with her, and then looked to me for a moment.

"The funeral place?"

"Yeah." I nodded, already feeling comfort that she would deal with it.

"Hmm, I was afraid of that." She said to herself.

I stopped. "What do you mean? You were afraid of what?"

My heart was pounding.

Again.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and gave me a patronizing grin. "There was a chance of this. My people were staking the place, and I thought I needed an insider in there, just in case."

She said it like it was nothing.

"You pimped me out to killers!" I yelled in horror.

She chuckled; completely calm.

"No Akane, supposed killers." She smiled as if I was being a stubborn child. "I run an apprehension agency."

A what?

"What like picking up packages?" I asked, thinking of Nabiki in a big UPS truck with a brown outfit on; ill fitting and made by machines.

She looked perplexed for a second. "I suppose . . . in a manner of speaking."

The first thing I learned about Nabiki was that she had many "manners of speaking". When I was eight she took me to the zoo. I bought an expensive, elephant shaped balloon and to teach me about money, she sold it to another eight year old for double what I paid, giving me half of what I paid for it. I told her it was mean and she stole from me. She told me it was a business expense "in a matter of speaking".

Fuck that, I wanted my damn elephant balloon back.

"You bitch!" I yelled at her.

She stuck her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes again.

She was like the Big Bad Wolf: huffing, and puffing, and blowing the houses of poor, underdeveloped pigs down.

Corporate bastard.

I huffed back. "Well, I want a new job!"

I expected her to freak out beyond anything, and flip over chairs. IT was to my surprise that she nodded in resign.

"Alright, I suppose that's only fair." She told me.

I got suspicious.

Nabiki Tendo didn't just give up like this; she'd first attack your friends, then your family, then your house. Then again, she was family, messing up the plan a tad.

My eyes transformed into tiny slits. "What're you thinking?"

She grinned widely. "I've only got one position available though: apprehension agent."

This didn't sound good.

"Do I have a choice?" I asked, rent being due the next week.

"No, not really." She smiled kindly, but it was all falsehoods with her.

"Well, what would I have to do?" I asked suspiciously.

Nabiki was a series of loopholes and tricks; a maze not to be tampered with.

Nabiki grinned. "Normal, easy job. It's got no real time lines or anything."

Hmm, well a crap job is better than no job at all, I guess.

"Okay, what do I do?" I asked, still sceptical.

She laughed, and this one was real. "Just go to work like you do now, at the death parlour. You know, you've sure gotten less gullible; it suits you."

Hah, a compliment from the ice queen Nabiki Tendo!

Score one for the Akaninator!

"Thanks, but I know you're just sugaring it up because they're trying to kill me!"

She chuckled. "Akane, now why would they want you as an individual. It's what you represent they want."

Hmm, aside from that one time I pretended to be a cheetah and ran around "eating antelope", which were actually pieces of watermelon I hid all over the house, I had never represented anyone.

"Who?" I asked quietly, my glare still set to kill.

She smiled warmly. "Me, silly."

Well, at least they wouldn't go after me anymore. Maybe they thought Nabiki was in my apartment when they broke in . . .

I supposed I could set my glare to stun instead of kill.

"Thanks for not keeping me in the dark anymore, sis." I told her, genuinely.

She squirmed a bit. A regular person wouldn't notice this, but I had to live with her for more than her husband ever would.

"Nabiki." I warned. "Don't try to swindle me or anything, okay?"

She scoffed. "Whatever do you mean, sis?"

What did I mean?

Something wasn't piecing together, but I had forgotten what it was.

She twitched her head, looked at her watch and then let out a curt, calculated sigh. "Well, I must dash."

"Wait, there's something I've gotta ask you." I spoke out, jumping up to put a hand on her shoulder.

She stared at it until I pulled away.

"Sorry." I muttered.

She sighed, the wrinkles around her eyes showing a bit.

"Okay, you have one minute." She allowed, folding her arms like a shield across her chest.

"Right." I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "How did they know about Sayuri, and why would they care if this was all about you."

The thought of someone being after Nabiki wasn't outlandish at all, but something felt icky.

She flinched, she definitely just fucking flinched.

"What?" I asked, loudly.

Nabiki looked past me, to the door, and then came back to reality a moment later.

"Akane, you're going to need a few things for your new job; someone will be over to help you out, alright?"

No way was she slithering out of this.

"Nabiki! Tell me right now, Nabiki!" I yelled.

She was about to say something, when the phone started to ring.

I stared at it, as she did, then we watched each other for a second.

She was going to run if I went for the phone.

It rang again.

She taunted me. "It could be Hiroshi."

I smiled. "He can call back. Hell, I could phone him.

It rang for a third time.

She smiled still, calmly. "Bill collector?"

I smirked, my body in fighting mode, and shrugged. "All the more reason not to answer."

Her smiled waned.

Fourth ring.

"It could be Ranma." She said at last.

Something inside of me jumped. He would call at the most unfortunate time.

"It's not." I said.

She stared at the phone. "He's probably wondering about your night with Hiroshi."

Fifth ring.

"Nothing happened!" I yelled, eyes popping. "I kicked him out in the end!"

She smiled devilishly, ready to go. "He doesn't know that. And he won't call back."

There was a tugging. Why was there a tugging?

Sixth ring. They would hang up in seconds.

I gave in and ran to grab the phone and get back to her, but when I returned she was out of the house and, probably, out of the district on some low-flying jet to Tahiti.

I sighed fallen, looked at the phone I had clicked, and held it to my ear.

"Hello." I mumbled into the phone.

"Calling your big sister in won't stop anything. Leave while you still can."

It was that voice again. And then they hung up.

All at once, the tears formed, and all my other problems recede to nothing.

I shot around; looking for ways they could have seen. I ran to all my windows, closing them and shutting the shutters. I ran to the front door, checked the lock, turned off all the lights, ran to my room and got a blanket, and ran back to my door.

I still had the phone in my hand.

Everything felt so compromising. I was so exposed, and vulnerability really wasn't my cup of tea.

Going back to work was a big no. I'd rather eat bullets. Actually eating bullets would be a lot easier than most things. Especially, if they were those small, pill-sized ones. I would be set.

Unfortunately, nobody ate bullets literally.

I began to wish for everything to be literal, but then I would have to stop saying shit, so I stopped.

I stared at the phone and dialled the first number that came to mind.

"Y'ello?" Someone cheerful spoke into the phone.

I smiled a bit at the thought of him.

"It's Akane, Jin."

He faltered a bit. "Akane, have you been crying?"

I sniffed unconsciously. "I'm really scared, Jin."

He paused. "Ranma's not here right now."

I swallowed hard and my voice shrank. "Fuck."

I started breathing shallowly and, surprisingly, crying into the phone.

"I can't take this-th-this shit!" I sniffed.

He spoke firmly into the phone. "I'm coming over Akane; only answer the door for me, okay?"

I nodded into the phone.

He somehow understood and hung up.

In ten minutes of darkness and suspicious noises, I heard a knock on the door, jolting me out of my frightened slumber.

I jumped up, looking all around me, and then at the door.

I nearly yelled. "Who's there?"

"Jin, Sweetie." He said; his sweet, kind voice calling to me.

I opened the door and, with a sigh of relief, saw the figure of the man who I had come to recognize only by voice.

He stared at me. "You look like shit, Darlin'."

I blushed and felt my hair. In horror of course, because my hair is a dirty bitch.

"How bad is it?" I asked, cringing.

He smirked. "Crazy-cat-lady bad."

Well, he was obviously Ranma's friend.

I stared at him, in my door way, and suddenly felt emotionally connected with him.

He was nice to me. Nobody was just nice to me.

I thought this entitled him to something.

So, for the first time in a very long time, I let my shields down. The flood gates opened, and I collapsed into his arms, crying tiredly.

He picked me up, walked me through my threshold, kicked the door closed, and grinned widely.

"Ranma was right." He mused.

I stopped crying for a second, wanting to understand the other half of his comment. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. "You are heavy."

A/N: Sorry it's so dark; next chapter will be light and wonderful . . . at times. Oh and notice it took a lot less time for this one? I've already started the next one so expect it soon.

WhiteTigress666: Thanks for staying with the story even in a lapse of it. Yes, Hiroshi boxers are to be coveted by many!

Ikerana: Thanks so much and sorry for taking forever! Don't worry the next chapter will be up quite soon!

sNow: Thanks so much! It wasn't that I was going to stop I just got so busy with work and all that jazz.

Reaper2040: Yeah, it was a little drawn I'm thinking of shortening it. Oh, I don't know if you're going to find out who the killer is just yet. heh heh heh