Here's chapter 6... Please enjoy..

Natsume woke up irritable and in pain, even before he remembered that his uncle and sister were in the next room. He bought a penthouse apartment from one of his college friend he'd met when he came to Tokyo. Persona had invited him up for lasagna until Aoi intervened and reminded him that Natsume had just been shot.

Shot.

Right. He pulled on clothes and popped a couple of Extra Strength Tylenol. No bleed-through on his bandages. Had to be a good sign.

Persona was making omelets from eggs he'd brought down from Hokkaido in a cooler. "Look at them," Natsume said. "They're orange."

"They're not that orange."

They were that orange. They turned his stomach. His uncle sighed at Natsume's obvious lack of enthusiasm. "Okay, so eat toast."

Natsume sat at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry. I'm not in a great mood."

"Relax." Persona lowered the heat under the frying pan. "You've been griping about my cooking since you were a little tyke. How's the arm this morning?"

"Aches."

Aoi lumbered into the kitchen, rubbing her huge belly. She smiled. "Baby's tap-dancing. How're you doing, onii-chan?" She checked his bandage and made him check his tempered, then warned him, not for the first time, to take his pain medication.

"Just do it."

Aoi sat across from Natsume, frowning at him. "You're going to take a bath or something, right?"

"What do I smell?"

"You just look like a death warmed over."

He loved his family. He really did. But he preferred being frank with them versus having them be frank with him, and he was rattled and raw from yesterday's trauma. Dr. Serina had given him the number of a psychiatrist. The Alice had people he could talk to.

He didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted the son of a bitch who'd shot him and Ruka off the streets. In a perfect world, Natsume, would nailed his ass.

Persona flipped an orange omelet onto a plate and set it in front of Aoi, who dug right in.

Natsume excused himself and beeline for the bathroom in time for a couple of dry heaves over the john. When he returned to his family, Persona and his sister were cleaning up the kitchen and packing. "You need your space." Aoi said. "You always have. But if there's anything we can do, you know where to find us."

"Guys- "

"Give yourself a time," Persona said. "Don't fight it. You're going to have the yips for a few weeks. It's normal."

Aoi, looking tired and strained, smiled. "By 'yips' he means post-trauma stress symptoms. Nightmares, jumpiness, irritability. They're the body's way of processing traumatic event. You can also do rapid-eye-movement desensitization and reprogramming therapy-" She stopped herself. "I'm sure your doctor's discussed your options with you."

Natsume got through breakfast and afterward almost told them not to leave. But he didn't, and once they were out the door, he headed to the hospital to check in on Ruka.

He found Hotaru Imai slumped in a straight backed plastic chair in the private waiting room outside the I.C.U. where they had Ruka. It was barely nine o'clock in the morning, but her eyes were closed. "Sleeping on the job," Natsume said.

She didn't open her eyes, "Go to hell."

"Hey. I was shot yesterday. Be nice." He also out ranked her, but wouldn't care. "How's the sister?"

Now Hotaru opened her eyes and sat up straight, frowning. "She's buds with the prime minister, that's how the sister is."

Natsume let her words register. "Anju?"

"He grew up next to the Sakuras in Kyoto. Mikan's like a daughter to him and Ruka's a pal, too. Did you know?"

"Ruka never mentioned he'd even met the minister. Did you tell Yome?

"Oh, yeah. Big time. He's Mr. Cool. Just said, 'Thank you.'" She did a perfect imitation of the FBI investigator. "He might have known already, but I wasn't taking any chances."

"Smart move."

"Bet he's got the Secret Service hanging on his shoulder, not that we'll ever know. If the shooter targeted Ruka specifically because of his friendship with the minister-" She broke off, no further comment necessary. "Mikan wanted me to leave her to her own device last night, but I gave her choice of me in her hotel room with her or her on the futon at my place."

Natsume give a wry smile. He'd known Hotaru since she'd stared with the Alice Agency four years ago. She was tough and ambitious. "You warned her about the inventions?"

"I did. She was fine with them. Me – I didn't sleep a wink. I kept picturing assassins bursting through the window and shooting us both dead."

"You'd have shot them before they shot you."

"What if someone wants to upset the minister by -"

"Don't go there."

Hotaru clamped her mouth shut. She was twenty four and good at her job, but she'd say anything – nothing intimidating her. Sometimes it scared senior agents like Natsume, but she'd been an asset since her arrival in Tokyo eight months ago. She'd kept her relationship with Ruka quiet. Then he ended up in Tokyo, but the two of them working out of the same office had apparently killed their relationship.

Natsume poured himself a cup of coffee that smelled as if it'd been made hours ago. He added powdered creamer but didn't stir. He took a sip before the creamer melted, the little fake milk lumps making the brew even nastier that it might have been.

He eyed Hotaru. She had outdoorsy good looks and direct manner that sometimes took people by surprise. She could be irritating as hell, but she'd earned Natsume's respect. "I take it Ruka never told you he and Anjo were friends, either."

"It didn't come up." She stretched her arms above her head, yawning. "Knowing Ruka, he wouldn't want it to become a 'thing,' to get in the way of his work, make other people feel self-conscious maybe that also explains why he use his father surname instead of using his step-father's. I also gather that the sister's closer to the president than Ruka is."

"Makes for a hell of a fly in the ointment. What's the word on Ruka this morning?"

"He's doing better. They've got him off the respirator. What about you? Should you even be here?"

The Tylenol had kicked in, but Natsume still could feel the ache. He didn't want his brain fuzzed up with prescription pain killers. He swallowed more of the lousy coffee. "I won't be doing push-ups for a couple weeks, but otherwise I'm fine."

"What about your head?"

Natsume set his cup on the edge of the coffee station. He couldn't drink another sip. "I didn't get shot in the head."

Hotaru scowled. "You know what I mean. Everyone says you should go home to Hokkaido, at least for a few days. Why don't you?"

He didn't answer. Persona and his sister had asked him the same question, and he hadn't answered them. He wasn't that close to Hotaru Imai.

But, of course she had no instinct for when she was pushing up against her boundaries. "Christ, you are a case aren't you?" She got up and pured herself a cup of coffee, taking it black. "I hope you don't plan to go into the office today and star pissing people off."

"Hotaru –"

"Someone's going to tie you up and toss you into a truck, drive you to Hokkaido." She took a big gulp of coffee, no sign she thought it was old and near rancid. "It's hard to stand on the sidelines. Can't be easy seeing the FBI working the case."

"It's their job to investigate the shooting of two federal agents – "

"So? Doesn't mean you have to like it."

He remind himself that she'd had a shock yesterday herself – arriving on the scene in time to see the paramedics working on her ex-boyfriend. Ruka was still in rough shape. Natsume figure he could cut her some slack.

She grinned feebly at him. "I'm over stepping, huh? At least you can go home and climb mountains. I'm stuck here baby-sitting Ruka's step-sister. She's – oh, shit." Hotaru groaned, nearly spilling her coffee.

"Damn. Now I've done it."

Natsume glanced behind him and saw a pretty brunette in slim jeans and black sweater turn about-face and retreat down the hall.

"Mikan Sakura?" He shook his head. "Good one, Imai."

"Crap .At least Ruka and I ended it on a positive note or this'd be even worse."She set her coffee on the small refreshment cart. "Mikan's really nice. Why don't you come meet her?"

"You dug your hole. I'm not going to help you dig yourself out of it."

She snorted at him. "I could tell you what people say about you behind your back, you know."

As if he didn't know. As if he cared. Natsume grinned at her, but she squared her shoulders and headed out into the hall. He had the feeling she'd rather face the sniper who'd shot at him and Ruka rather than have to make amends to Ruka's offended Step-sister.

The armed deputies securing all access to her brother – medical, professional and personal – underscored for Mikan the gravity of his situation and the cold fact that the shooter was still at large.

The agents let her pass without explanation of why she'd returned so soom. She'd just left the private corner of the I.C.U. where Ruka lay with his tubes and monitors, asleep. She thought she'd step into the waiting room and collect herself before her next visit.

Now she wished she hadn't. Hotaru's words, which she obviously hadn't meant for Mikan to hear, had stung.

Ruka stirred when she approached him, as if sensing her presence and any though of her embarrassment receded. "Hey, kid," he said without opening his eyes, his voice hoarse from the respirator. "How ya doing?"

It was the first time he'd manage to speak to her. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Ruka – oh, God, Ruka, you've been through absolute hell, haven't you? But the doctors say you're doing well."

"Yeah." He moved his fingers, and she took his hand, his skin moist and pale. His eyes fluttered open- they were bloodshot, glassy looking – but the effort was too much and he shut them again. "Mikan, listen to me…"

"Sure Ruka. What can I do for you?"

"You're on vacation." He coughed, and she noticed spots of some kind of brownish ointment on his gown, the fresh bandage on his abdomen. He was weak, heavily medicated, exhausted. His attempt to talk – to make sense – had to be struggle. "I don't want you here if I've got someone shooting at me."

It wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "Just relax, okay? It'll be all right."

"If this guy sees you…"

"Nobody's going to see me." She tried to sound cheerful, but his fear was palpable, unnerving. "Ruka, please don't worry – just concentrate on getting better."

His eyes still closed, he mustered his energy and squeezed her hand. His hair was matted, dirty. "You're too trusting."

She wanted to reassure him, but she had no intention of going back to Kyoto, not until he was more himself. "I'll go home. Of course I will. I can't wait to go home. After I know you're better."

"What time is it?"

"It's a little after nine in the morning. You were injured yesterday around lunch time."

"Tonight. You can catch a flight back to Kyoto tonight. Promise me."

She didn't know if he was entirely lucid or if the trauma of his injury, the life saving surgery and the medications he was on were making him a little crazy. Paranoid. She had a friend whose father, suffering complications after heart surgery, kept insisting he saw waiter in tuxedos delivering him pheasant under glass in the I.C.U.

Or was her brother simply projecting his own fears onto her? I she were drinking tea on the front porch at home in Northern Woods, he'd feel safer.

"I don't…" His voice was barely rasping whisper now. "I don't remember anything."

He looked vulnerable so out of his element. Mikan could picture him yesterday in Central Park – strong vital, a professional but also a man with a sense of fun. Why would someone shoot him? Who would do something like that? She'd laid awake much of the night on the futon in Hotaru Imai's surrounded by her inventions as the question repeated themselves. And over and over, until she finally gave up on sleeping at all, she kept hearing Ruka on the phone, telling her he'd been shot.

She found herself having to choke back tears. "I'll let you sleep. I'll see you soon."

But her brother had already drifted off.

Brushing her tears off her cheeks with her fingertips. Mikan stepped backward toward the exit and stumbled on someone's feet. Before she could fall flat on her face, a firm hand caught her by the elbow, steadying her.

"Whoa, there. Easy."

She spun around, straight into Natsume Hyuuga, the agent who'd been shot with her brother. She recognize him from the photo they'd shown on TV. He was tall, lean, his raven hair softened, and he had, Mikan thought, the most alluring, incisive and rarest eyes she'd ever seen. Crimson. He wore black jeans, a black T-shirt under a dark plaid flannel shirt and sneakers.

The crimson eyes settled on her. "Mikan Sakura, right?"

She nodded. "Agent Hyuuga – I hope I didn't hurt your arm."

She realize she was about to cry. She'd held her tears in check since the agent had arrived in Northern Woods yesterday, but now, with her brother lying a few feet away from her, hurting, begging her to go home, with the lingering of Hotaru's words, she couldn't hold back. "I should go."

Natsume Hyuuga didn't say a word, didn't try to stop her as she pushed past him and ran out of the I.C.U. into the hall, sobbing, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't stop herself, couldn't bring herself under control. She hated crying in front of anyone.

Hotaru shot out of the waiting room. "Mikan – wait."

Mikan broke into a run, charging past startled law enforcement officers. She squeezed by doctors and nurse getting off and onto an elevator and pushed her way to the back wall, sinking against it, bracing her knees as focused on her breathing in an attempt to calm herself.

Natsume Hyuuga had been shot yesterday, and he was a rock. Steady, unemotional.

She had no business falling apart.

"You're too trusting."

Maybe. Maybe she shouldn't have told the truth about who'd called last night. Maybe she shouldn't have let Hotaru Imai insist on moving her out of the hotel.

Maybe she shouldn't trust her brother's colleagues to have her best interest at heart.

They were all in shock themselves. They wanted to find the sniper, not be burdened with a wounded deputy's archaeologist sister.

She had to get a grip.

Had Hyuuga over heard her brother urging her to go home? Would he take it as his duty to put her on a plane back to Kyoto?

She didn't like the idea of being a nuisance, having these people think they were responsible for her. Before her flight to Tokyo, her agent escort had offered to arrange for a counselor to be with her, but she'd turned them down. Maybe if her brother had been killed.

But he was alive. He'd be all right. She'd been so determined not to tempt fate by agreeing prematurely to counseling. She just had an ordeal to get through.

She hadn't expected, though, that Ruka wouldn't want her in here.

The elevator door shut. An elderly doctor frowned at her in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

She nodded and brushed her tears away, relieved to be getting off Ruka's floor, away from the able-bodied agents. She needed something to eat, a break. She didn't want tofeel sorry for herself. She wasn't the one lying in the I.C.U. And what kind of compassion did she expected from bunch of federal law enforcement officers? They wre doing the best they could.

The elevator doors opened again, suddenly, and Hotaru Imai stepped in. She put up a hand to Mikan, stopping her before she could started. "I was a bitch I'm sorry. What I said in the waiting room – it was stupid."

The older doctor moved to front of the elevator car, letting Hotaru take his spot. Mikan felt immediate urge to ease some Hotaru's obvious guilt. "It's a difficult time for everyone."

But Hotaru refused to cut herself any slack. "For you. You're Ruka's sister. I'm a colleague." She didn't mention their past relationship. "I was just trying to look tough in front of Natsume. I'm sorry I mouthed off at your expense."

"No harm done."

"Sure there was. You must have felt like the kid sister at the big kids' party." She smiled crookedly. "I'd say belt me one, but you'd probably have a half dozen agents jump on me on the elevator and pin you against the wall in two seconds flat. We're all in rotten moods. But, hey, you see some of those guys? Very buff."

Mikan fought a smile of her own, her first, she thought in many hours. "Natsume Hyuuga – I just met him."

"Yeah, I can tell. Most people run when they meet him. You're not the first. He's a total hard-ass."

"You're very irreverent, aren't you?"

Hotaru smiled, relaxing some. "Helps in dealing with things like two agents getting shot in Central Park. At least the news on Ruka is positive. Barring complications, he should be back on the streets before too long."

Mikan tried to let Hotaru's optimism sink into her psyche, tried to visualize Ruka back on his feet, with the lazy grin of his, that way he had of making people think he was a hundred percent on their side. "What about Hyuuga-san?" she asked. "How's he doing?"

"He'd like to get his hands around the neck of whoever shot him."

"But physically?"

"Just enough wound to piss him off."

The medical personnel all got off at the cafeteria floor, leaving Mikan and Hotaru alone in the elevator.

"I keep picturing the two of them leaving the news conference yesterday and walking into the park," Mikan said. "Why did they do that? Do you know?"

"No. I don't"

"The news conference – did a lot of people know about it in advance?"

"The world. That was the whole idea. It wasn't thrown together at the last second." Hotaru frowned at her, and then smiled gently. "Now, come on don't you star. The best investigators in the country are on this thing. In fact, Kokoro Yome called me while you were in with your brother. He wants to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? After the bombshell you dropped?"

Mikan winced. "Narumi was calling as a friend -"

"Exactly."

"I almost wish I'd told you it was another Narumi on the line."

"Nah. It's better this way. Get it out in the open. Your relationship with the president isn't something you'd want Yome stumbling over on his own. He's in private meeting room down the hall from your brother. He'll have food. Yome always has food." Hotaru pushe the button for Ruka's floor and sighed. "And you look as if you could use something to eat."

Neither of them had been in the mood to eat that morning at Hotaru's penthouse.

"Alright," Mikan said. "I'll talk to Agent Yome. Then, please, go back to your normal duties. I can book a room at the hotel where we were last night. Tell your boss it's what I want."

"You just don't like my inventions."

Hotaru hadn't exaggerated – her penthouse was out of this world it was full of modern technology stuff and etc. She can almost see what will the 21th century houses would look like. Mikan shook her head. "Your penthouse's great, and I like it. I'm just used to being on my own."

"Now I understand."

She sank back against the cool wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. "I don't want you here if I've got someone shooting at me."

But how could she go home? She imagined herself on her front porch, drinking her sweet tea punch and feeling the soft breeze as if nothing had happened.

Given her family's predilection for not leading quiet lives, she'd been prepared for anything when she returned to Northern Woods – but not this, she thought. Not her brother getting shot in the Central Park. Not the possibility that he could become another Sakura who died an early, tragic death.

She stopped her negative thinking in its tracks.

Stay positive.

The elevator opened on Ruka's floor. "Come on," Hotaru said. "Let's go see Special Agent Yome and talk to him about your Northern Wood neighbor."

Natsume didn't follow Ruka's sister, but he was tempted – and duty and chivalry had nothing to do with it. The feel of her slim waist when he'd grabbed, the honey-brown locks, the hazel eyes, the tears.

Damn.

He stood next to Ruka's bed. "Your sister's prettier than you are."

He was awake, but not by much. "Smarter, too. What time is it?"

"About nine in the morning the day after the shooting." Which Mikan had already told him before she'd stepped on Natsume and ran off crying, "I don't remember."

The doctors had warned Natsume that Ruka might never remember the shooting. His body had poured all its energy into keeping him alive, not in remembering what had happened. "That's normal. How're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"The nurses are going to get you up today if they can. They like to do that."

He wasn't paying attention. "Mikan should go back home." He coughed, shuddering in agony, his voice weaker, raspier, when he resumed. "She doesn't belong here."

His concern for his sister was palpable. "She's with Hotaru right now." Natsume assumed that she would be trying to make amends for her ill-advised remark. Just because you were shot doesn't mean she's in any danger."

"It wasn't random. The shooting. I was the target. He was after me."

"Ruka –."

"I know it. I have…this certainty." He shut his eyes, and he seemed to sink deeper into the bed. "I'm sorry."

"Get some rest. Don't worry about anything."

Ruka was done for. His mouth opened slightly as he fell back to sleep. He looked dead lying there in the bed. Natsume checked the monitors, just to be sure. He glanced at the stone faced guard, felt the dull ache in his arm where he'd been shot. He could have been the one shot in the gut.

But he wasn't. Ruka, just four months in Tokyo was.

Natsume had stifle a wave of guilt and regret – he should heve prevented this. Somehow, some way. He should have kept his and Ruka's presence at the news conference quiet. They shouldn't have gone at all. He should have seen something in the park, sensed it, and known they were danger.

Dead-end thinking.

Better to concentrate on his anger. It was sharp, focused, explosive, not a slow burn, not simmering kind of fury – and yet there wasn't a damn thing he could do with it, except go home to Hokkaido and climb mountains and eat Persona's orange eggs.

He thought instead he'd check on the hazel-eyed sister and see if she'd forgiven Imai for being such an ass.

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