A/N: Lyrics at the end are from Behind Blue Eyes by Limp Bizkit

That look in his eyes. . . that look of betrayal, of anger, of love, even after what I'd done to him. That look will haunt me the rest of my days. Of course, that is nothing new. I have so many things haunting me now, I'm surprised I even notice one more added to the list.

I left for his own well being -- for all of their well being. I can protect them as Mamoru better than I ever could as Omi. I know he doesn't understand that, though. I don't really expect him to. . . I wouldn't understand if I were him either.

I love him. I know he does not believe it right now, and likely never will again, but I honestly do love him. I have for a long time, and I have a feeling I always will. We used to tell each other that we loved one another quite often, but after what has happened today, I'm sure he'll think it was all a lie. Perhaps it is better that way. If blaming me helps him find peace, I am more than willing to shoulder the blame. After all, it certainly is not his fault.

I turn to look at the picture I keep on my desk of Weiss, back when we all worked in the flower shop. I was so carefree then. . . well, as carefree as an assassin can be. I did not have to concern myself with being responsible for the lives of all Kritiker agents or keeping up a public image as a Takatori. I simply did what I was supposed to do, whether in the flower shop or at school or on a mission, and did it to the best of my ability without any thought for the future. When you're assassin you learn not to dwell too much on the future -- you never really know how far ahead you have anyway.

I suppose that is why it took so long for Ken and I to admit our feelings for each other. Sure, we could sleep together without consequences, but acknowledging that we wanted a future together was scary -- it meant planning ahead for a future that we were not sure was even there. It is hard to admit to yourself, much less to someone else, that you are in love with someone whose very lifestyle places them in mortal danger every day. When we went out on missions, we never knew who would return, and knowing that I could die and leave Ken behind, or the unthinkable, Ken could die, was without a doubt the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with. I think it made our love stronger, though. We really never knew which day was our last, so we clung to each other with a passion that bordered on desperation some nights.

That is one of the main reasons I accepted this position as head of Kritiker. As Omi, I was free to love Ken, but the control that could possibly save his life was out of my hands. We had to accept missions blindly, whether it was simple or a suicide mission. As Momaru I control the missions handed down to Weiss. While I cannot make the job safe for them, my emotional attachment to the group as a whole ensures that no reckless missions be handed down to them. At least, that is how Grandfather persuaded me.

I am tainted now. I know that for a fact, but that is just another thing to haunt me added to all the others. I allowed Saijou Takatori to go free when I knew for a fact that he was guilty of the crimes the rest of Weiss accused him of. I was not in denial -- I knew he was guilty. The fact that I defended him makes me as guilty of those crimes as he is. I know that it was wrong, but he is the only family I have left. I did not really defend him for his own sake, but for the fact that he is the only one left who can tell me about my mother; about my father and how he grew up. He is the last link I have to my past.

I was far from innocent before; I've been trained as an assassin since I was a child and I have lost count of the number of deaths I personally am responsible for. However, all of that had been in the name of justice. When I defended Saijou from his inevitable fate (and surely it is inevitable, for such crimes cannot go unpunished forever), a part of me died that had always held out hope for something more. I may not have been innocent, but up until the moment I denied a killer justice, I had a strange naivety, and with that naivety went any hope for my own salvation. At that moment, from the ashes of what had been Omi, Mamoru was born.

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be