Chapter 2

These iron bars can't hold my soul

I took a deep breath, leaning on the door to my room and gazing out at the corridor leading away. I couldn't see the end; there was a corner there. But I could hear the distant sound of people. Absently I flexed my hand, enjoying the lack of a tube to bump against my wrist. The IV had only been removed yesterday, but the passageway was already calling. I'd never been out of this room.

Well, I didn't remember ever being out of this room. There were no windows. I hadn't known there weren't any at first, but once I did the room had rapidly become stifling. I wanted out. I wasn't allowed to go out. Kitano had made that clear when they removed the IV. Besides, there was a nurse's booth right outside, almost always manned … except right at this moment, when I'd heard a quiet, if furious, one-sided conversation before the man on duty had left.

He probably wouldn't be gone for long. This was the first chance I'd had to do anything at all. And so I stood there in the doorway, in slippers and a bathrobe and with a blanket over my shoulders.

I don't have to go out for long, I thought. Just to the end of the corridor. So I could see the main ward. So I could see something else existed out there. I didn't need to actually go out or let people see me.

I just—wanted to know. Maybe it was masochistic, I don't know, but it wasn't like I'd recognise anyone that I might have … hurt.

Before I could agonise any further I pushed myself off the door and stepped out of the room. My going was slow; I may not have needed the IV but my wounds still throbbed when I moved the wrong way. Besides, I needed to be as quiet as possible.

The corridor seemed much cooler than my room, cooler and with the nasal-sting of antiseptic in the air. I had to lean against the concrete wall, but pulled my blanket closer to me with a shiver when I did. There were a few doors leading into it, all on the same wall, either locked or marked 'Inventory'.

I heard voices before I got to the end, muffled through the closed double-doors. They had small windows at the top, threaded with wire and somewhat cloudy, but enough for me to see the ward beyond.

It was somehow … bigger than I expected, with the rows and rows of beds all next to each other. It bent around and out of sight in either an L- or a horseshoe-shape, but there were windows in the part of the wall that would be the centre, and I could see movement inside—an office.

My stomach lurched as I realised that many of the beds were filled. Some of them were those nearest, in fact; a man with his leg in traction, reading a book aloud with the pages bent back, and a woman with a bandaged head just beyond him, propped up against some pillows, apparently listening.

Abruptly the man with the injured leg looked up, letting the book drop to his lap as a brown-haired woman approached with a basket under her arm. I couldn't hear the words but they greeted her enthusiastically—the man did, at least—as she sat between them with a smile, opening the basket and unpacking some food items I couldn't quite identify.

Is that our uniform? I took in her outfit. It was black and rather baggy, held close with a belt; it looked like jumpsuit. She had a pair of white gloves and something black I thought might have been a cap sticking out of a pocket.

I grimaced; the only good thing about it was the boots. At least they looked practical.

I watched the woman visit her friends for a while longer, until I couldn't stand the tightening in my gut anymore and carefully pushed myself upright. I'd seen enough to know there was a world outside—and to know that I'd had an effect on that world.

Turning away, I shuffled carefully back down the corridor.

It was a few days before I risked the passageway again, before the twisting nausea eased enough for me to want to know more and I had the opportunity to sneak past the nurse. It was fortunate that Kitano and the others weren't giving me attention every minute of every day anymore, because they no longer rushed in when I woke up from a nightmare. Instead they came in at regular intervals around the clock, which made it easy to avoid them, and the male nurse seemed to take what opportunity he could while he thought I was sleeping to take a break out in the main ward. It can't have been easy, watching a psychopath.

It made me feel guilty—sneaking out when I probably wasn't allowed. It still didn't stop me from visiting the doors again … and again.

Once, the brown-haired woman had come back to sit with her friends. The other time, it was a black-haired man who greeted them, one arm in a sling. It made my gut clench to see him injured too, and I hadn't stayed to watch them long. On the third occasion there was no one close enough to watch except for the patients, but at least I didn't need to see them interacting with their friends and feel guilty for possibly having caused it.

The fourth time there was a whole group of them. The man with the injured arm and the brown-haired woman were back, this time with a dark-skinned man as well. Watching them gave me a pang of loneliness and I sighed, pulling back to lean against the wall. These forays into the passageway gave me something to look at, but that's all it was; I was on the outside, looking in.

But how can I expect anything different, after what I did when I was inside?

"—don't care how well it's g—never gonna work!"

Someone's strident voice came through the general hubbub, easily heard even through the closed doors. I craned my head to look at the group again and caught sight of the brown-haired woman gesturing the dark-skinned man to quiet down. Cautiously I poked at the door to push it open a little further, and the sounds of their conversation seeped through, distant but audible if I strained.

"—in the hospital wing," the woman was saying, and the man winced and glanced around as if looking for a nurse.

"Still," he muttered to his shoes.

"I'm with him," said the black-haired man with the sling, quietly and with a slight curl of his lips. "I don't want to second-guess the Boss, but it's been weeks. You can't control a man like that. Sooner or later—"

My breath caught, my chest tightening, and I let the door shut again to put my head back against the wall. I had to swallow hard, blinking as I slid carefully to the floor.

They're talking about me.

Idiot! I shouldn't have opened the door. Should've turned around and walked away the instant I'd heard a raised voice. Shouldn't have been spying to begin with. Well, I'd been wondering how they'd been injured, feared how they'd been injured. Now I knew.

I had to leave. Had to get back to my room. Sakaki was right—the seclusion was a blessing.

I shoved myself to my feet using the wall as a prop, but halfway there a sharp pain tore through my side and I hissed, curling inward, leaning against the wall. Dammit, my stitches! Please tell me I hadn't torn any of them—bad enough what I'd heard what I did. Worse if I had to explain to Kitano how I'd managed to ruin his hard work.

"Oi! Who's behind there?"

FUCK!

Catching my breath, I glanced over to see the door still swinging slightly and had to bite down in another curse.

"If it's one of you orderlies, you've gotta know that eavesdropping is bad on your health!" And then, muttered, "Pretty sure that corridor's off-limits, too; I've only seen authorised staff go through there the whole time I've been lying here."

Gee, I wonder why that is.

Sarcasm. Sarcasm, even mental sarcasm, could not be a good sign.

For a moment I didn't know what to do. Go back to my room and pretend it hadn't happened, or …?

No. I'd been caught, fair and square, eavesdropping on a private conversation. I wasn't going to make things worse by cowering.

Gingerly I pushed myself to my feet. The door swung open beneath my hand and I caught myself on it, half in the entrance, to stare out at the group of agents.

Their reactions made my gut twist so hard that I felt sick. All of them paled so sharply that I was certain they were going to pass out altogether, and those that could leapt to their feet as if they'd been stung. The expression of pure horror that crossed the black-haired man's face made the feeling so much sharper.

"You—"

Terror. He was terrified.

This is my fault.

"It's alright," I said quickly, and took a breath. "I … did overhead some of what you were saying, yes. But from what I've heard your doubt is warranted." At least my voice was mostly even.

The agent swallowed hard and the dread didn't leave his expression. "Some of, Sir?"

"I stopped listening at about, 'you can't control a man like that'." I tried to smile, but I doubted it worked in the slightest. "Perhaps I should take that as a compliment?"

The dark-skinned agent let out a nervous chuckle, and somehow that broke the tension; I could see the others relax with shaken exhales, the bed-ridden agents sinking back into their pillows. The black-haired man forced a laugh, halfway between uncomfortable and relieved.

"Probably just as well; nothing after that was very complimentary."

"Guess that explains why that passageway's off-limits," mumbled the man with the injured leg, and I recognised his voice as the one that had challenged me even as I flinched. The brown-haired woman whacked him on the shoulder, and her cheeks reddened a moment later when she realised the action had caught my attention. She straightened, clearing her throat and bowing.

"Hamasaki Aina, Sir. Field agent."

I blinked at her for a moment, nonplussed by the tacit invitation. Introductions meant a conversation could follow, right? That she was willing to risk it?

Maybe …

Maybe this was my chance to start proving I wasn't completely insane. I took a deep breath and pushed off the door. My side twinged slightly but didn't outright hurt, a fact I noted in the back of my mind and with the hopeful thought that perhaps I'd just tugged on them a little and not pulled them out.

The rest of me was focussed on making it to the beds and trying not to let my stomach sink at the unhappy expressions and the restless, uncomfortable movements they made at my approach.

"And the rest of you?" I asked, stopping short at the injured man's bed and leaning on the end.

There was a beat of silence as the agents looked at each other hesitantly out of the corners of their eyes. Aina cleared her throat quietly.

Then the black-haired man squared his shoulders and looked me in the eye. "Nakamura Yuudai, Sir," he said with a bow. "Administration." His mouth turned up slightly at the corners; it was tense, but the fact he was willing to concede that far made the twist in my gut loosen. "Just call me a glorified courier. Sir."

Sir. It sounded strange, almost absurd; I wasn't anybody's 'sir'. I was just a patient, for more reasons than one. "You don't need to 'sir' me," I said quietly, but returning his small smile before looking at the others. "Any of you. I'm not in a position to demand that kind of formality."

The looks they exchanged this time were surprised and mildly incredulous, particularly from the two agents still bed-ridden. I suppose they had more reason than the others to be. Still, it didn't do the state of my gut any favours.

Finally the dark-skinned man said, "Coelho Rafael, S—er, Wataru?" He grimaced as he brought his hand up in a casual salute, shooting me a rather disbelieving look from beneath it.

"That's fine," I assured him quickly, suddenly glad that I couldn't remember anything. I couldn't have been a very nice person to begin with if they could hardly imagine saying my name—the fact I was some kind of psychopath notwithstanding.

I hope Sakaki and Kitano are right about these new meds.

"Ichigo," the injured man said, leaning back into his pillows with his arm over his head and a speculative look in his eyes. "Tachibana Ichigo. Trainer."

"Wakahisa Marilyn," said the woman with the head injury, but shortly.

I nodded and tried to smile reassurance, but it came out rather weak and an awkward silence fell. The standing agents shifted uneasily, Marilyn's eyes seemed fixed on a point somewhere beyond my shoulder and Ichigo's gaze was assessing. It made my skin prickle with uneasiness, and along with the general tension I was beginning to feel a little sick.

This wasn't going to work, was it? Not right away. Not so soon.

"Well," I said, striving for a vaguely light-hearted tone, "I suppose I ought to head back to my bed before one of the nurses catches me." I was already shifting backward, ready to turn and leave. I didn't even know if I'd wind up coming back out again … too soon, too much, for all of us.

I was halfway back to the door before I heard the whap of someone hitting someone else, and then furiously hissed whispers, and my heart leapt. I managed not to let my step falter, but I was already at the door by the time Aina's voice rang out.

"Si—Wataru!"

I turned in time to see her flush and stride self-consciously toward me, halting a few feet away. Looking over her shoulder, I saw that not only were we being watched by her friends, but some of the nearest patients who had heard her call and were looking over with wide eyes, leaning over to whisper to their neighbours, craning their heads to watch. My skin crawled at the attention.

With a hard swallow I looked back at Aina. She cleared her throat. "If you like and you … get the opportunity to come out again … you can come sit with Marilyn and Ichigo." Her hand moved slightly, indicating the beds behind her. Marilyn didn't look particularly happy by the arrangement, her mouth drawn tight, but Ichigo gave me a cheery wave. The action made my chest loosen. "Or," Aina continued, less sure this time, "if you're allowed to have visitors, we can—you know, drop by."

Hope ballooned in my chest, and the smile that came to my lips wasn't feigned at all. "I think I'd like that." And the smile turned rueful as I remembered I wasn't actually meant to be out there at all. "But we'll have to keep to the former. Kitano … hasn't given me permission to be out here."

"Oh." She blinked. "Well, then it probably isn't a good idea for one of us to ask. Uh." Her hand came up, clenching in her hair before she realised and dropped it again, and smiled back uncertainly. "You should go back to your room, then. Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," I echoed, bowing slightly in response to hers, and managed to withhold the grin until after I'd already turned and passed through the doors. Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all.

I peered through the doors' windows, searching for the medical wing staff, and, on seeing there weren't any in sight, slipped through the door. I could move a little faster this time, feeling steadier on my feet than I had even a couple of days ago, but I was still mildly out of breath when I dropped into the chair beside Ichigo's bed. Marilyn, I saw with a glance over at her bed, was apparently asleep.

Ichigo's eyes were closed, but he opened one lazily when he heard me. The other snapped open and he jerked in surprise, a little too suddenly for it to have been anything but an instinctive reaction at the fact that it was me. Still, he covered it well by pushing himself up onto his elbows, and I managed to push away the mild gut-clench that came in response.

"Well, well, made another escape, have we?"

He grinned and I grimaced even as I laughed softly, half surprised, half grateful. I hadn't been expecting such a welcoming response. "I'm surprised they don't have guards along with the nurses, to be honest."

"Don't they?" He looked thoughtful. "Guess that would be kind of obvious where they'd put you, then. S'pose I should've guessed, being this close; usually that passageway's only used for inventory."

I leaned back in the chair to hide the sudden unease. "And people knowing where I'm coming from would be a bad thing?" I asked, aiming for a droll tone. It fell flat to my ears.

"People knowing where you were could lead to them trying to kill you," he said simply, but he was grinning as he said it, and I hesitated, unsure how I was meant to respond to that. Take it as a joke? Joke back?

I grimaced instead. I didn't have it in me to joke about that. "S'pose I can't blame them. I tried to kill a lot of you."

He blinked and an odd expression crossed over his face—somewhere between speculation and … something else, something I couldn't quite identify. "If you don't mind me asking, how much has the Boss told you?"

I hesitated. I hadn't really talked about this with anyone other than Sakaki and Kitano, and not exactly in any detail. How much did the general agents know? "He's told me about my—condition." My gaze dropped to my lap, my fingers knotting and unknotting. "That I've had psychological problems. That I … went berserk." And then, without intending to beforehand, I added in a soft voice, "I'm sorry for that, by the way."

There were a few beats of silence, and when I looked up through my fringe I found both Ichigo and the apparently not-quite-asleep Marilyn staring at me, the latter incredulously, the former thoughtfully.

"Yeah well," Ichigo said after a moment, his eyes gleaming with a dark humour I almost envied him for, "all in a day's work, y'know? Leastways you're with us now."

"Oh for God's sake," Marilyn mumbled.

"Got a problem, Mary?" Ichigo asked cheerfully and without taking his eyes off me. I had to resist the urge to shift in my seat; I was grateful the man was going to let me off the hook, but I wished he wouldn't stare quite so much.

"Yeah." The woman pushed herself onto her elbow, hissing slightly through her teeth and clamping an arm down on her side as she turned to face me. "Look," she said bluntly, "I don't like you and as far as I'm concerned they should've kept you locked up. But the Boss says we've got to 'help' you—" the words were said with such bitterness that I cringed— "and I'm not about to start disobeying him now. Just don't talk to me. Don't expect me to do things with you. Don't think I'm your friend."

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. "Alright. That—that's fair."

"Good." Marilyn shot a glare at Ichigo and lowered herself back to the bed, turning around and curling up so her back was to the both of us.

"You killed a good friend of hers," Ichigo said in an undertone, his eyes on her back. I flinched, and my gut tightened so hard that I felt sick. "Just so's you know."

It took a moment before I could say anything at all, and even then it was still hard to breathe. "Th—thanks. I guess." Abruptly I shoved myself to my feet, smiling weakly down at Ichigo when he glanced up in surprise. "I think I ought to go."

"See you 'round," he said with a faint curl of his lips that could have been a smile or a smirk or a grimace.

"See you," I mumbled, turning and moving toward the door to the passageway. If I hurried maybe I'd get back to my room before I actually got sick or the burn of tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat got any worse.

I was actually a few steps into the room by the time I realised that there was someone in there and stopped short with a strangled gasp. Sakaki looked up from the book in his lap. "Good afternoon, Wataru."

For a moment I stood frozen, my chest too tight to let me speak, my heart pounding with surprise and fear and guilt. Sakaki frowned and sat up, putting the book on my bedside table. "Is there something wrong, my boy?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out, and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I dragged in air and wrapped my arms around myself, swallowing and trying to tell myself to get a grip, that I shouldn't be falling apart in front of my employer of all people—

"You did call me "uncle" through your childhood, you know …"

The first sob took me by surprise. So did the second. I covered my face with one hand and turned away, my chest hitching uncontrollably. Sakaki's hand on my arm made me flinch, but then I clutched his wrist, taking deep breaths to try and stop the tears from coming. It didn't work.

I was only peripherally aware as Sakaki guided me toward the bed and pushed me down onto it. I bent over my knees, my chest so tight it felt as if someone had to have stabbed me. Sakaki's hand landed on my back and I choked a little trying to get the tears under control, my face burning.

Dammit—

"There now, dear boy," Sakaki said quietly, "don't fight it."

My shoulders shook as I finally gave in and sobbed into my knees. I felt Sakaki's weight on the bed beside me and leaned into him, clutching his shirt. There was a part of my mind that wanted to hide with embarrassment at the action, but I couldn't help it; Sakaki was the only person who hadn't been afraid of me.

I don't know how long we stayed like that for, but eventually the tears came to a halt and I could breathe, if shakily and through a tight throat. Still, I didn't want to move, and Sakaki didn't make me. In time, though, he spoke.

"I hope you learn from this, Wataru. You were placed in this room for a reason, and neither Kitano nor I had cleared you to leave it for that reason."

Dumbly I nodded into his shoulder. How could I do anything else? He was right. I shouldn't have left. In retrospect any one of the agents I'd met could have—would have, even!—told him I'd snuck out. What possible reason would they have for keeping it secret?

"Now. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

I let him push me up and then slumped down to the other side, where my pillow was. The bed shifted when he stood, giving me the room to curl up, but I didn't look up at him as he patted my arm and left.

Time seemed to run together after that. I remembered lying there for ages, but I didn't know exactly how long it was for. All I could hear was remembered voices.

"Did I kill anyone?"

"Four. I will not lie to you …"

"You killed a good friend of hers. Just so's you know."

"You have a condition. A … psychological condition."

I must have fallen asleep with those words resounding in my head, because at some point I slipped into darkness, and at first I didn't know where I was. Then I heard a sound behind me and spun, my heart clenching. There was a gun in my hand but I didn't notice it before I'd already raised and fired it.

The figure in front of me staggered and fell. Someone screamed a name I couldn't hear and suddenly Marilyn was there, falling to the side of the person I'd just killed. I wanted to move, but I couldn't. I just stood there.

And then I woke up, jerking upright in the bed with a cry. Someone exclaimed and I flinched at the presence beside me, wrenching away hard enough that I nearly fell off the side of the bed.

"Wataru! Calm down!"

Kitano. It was just Kitano. I took a deep gulping breath and found myself shaking uncontrollably, barely keeping the inhale from becoming sob. I could hear Kitano talking, but it wasn't to me—there was someone else in the room—and it was a string of technical names that went straight over my head.

Then he squeezed my arm. "We're getting you something to help you sleep," he said quietly.

I nodded but didn't speak; my throat felt too tight to let words through. I wasn't supposed to remember my dreams. How come I remembered that dream?

"Because it wasn't real, Wataru."

That startled a bitter laugh out of me. "Not real! I killed people!" Even I could tell my tone was hysterical, and I took another half-choked breath.

"Yes," Kitano admitted cautiously, making me flinch, "but I'd wager the dream is based on what you were told after the fact, yes? You've got amnesia, Wataru. You might never remember the details of what really happened. All you have to go on is what you've been told, and that's terrible enough."

It wasn't at all comforting, but I could feel the shakes subsiding and as I inhaled again I had to admit that he had a point. I didn't even know what Marilyn's friend looked like in the dream, didn't know what their name was—just that I'd killed them.

I couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

Footsteps. "I've got the sedatives, Doctor."

"Good." He squeezed my arm. "Pills, Wataru."

More pills. If it meant I didn't dream, I couldn't care.

There was a gun in my hand. The feel of it, rubber grip and heavy metal, made my stomach twist, but when I tried to let go of it I couldn't. I moved through the corridor leading from my room and the main ward, and my heart fluttered in my throat because I knew what was coming and I couldn't let go, I couldn't stop it—

I pushed the doors opens and the group of agents gathered around the nearest beds looked up. Aina. Yuudai. Rafael. Ichigo. Marilyn.

"Made another escape, did we?" Ichigo asked cheerfully from his bed, but I couldn't answer through the lump in my throat. Didn't they know, couldn't they see the gun in my hand—! Wordlessly I screamed at them to run.

I was still screaming when my arm lifted and gunshots rang out.

"WATARU!"

Someone was shaking me. Automatically I fought back, the screams still ringing in my ears, pushing and shoving against the hands on my arms and shoulders. The bedcovers slid around me and the next thing I knew I was falling, landing on the concrete floor with a blow that rattled my body.

It stopped me screaming. I didn't even realised it was me doing it until I'd hit, and for a moment I couldn't breathe. Then I inhaled and choked, and curled up right there on the floor, shaking and crying and still half under my blankets.

Distantly I heard footsteps, and then Kitano's hands gripped my shoulders. "Come on, Wataru," he said, sounding almost kind and mildly shaken himself. "Let's get you back on the bed."

"I killed them," I said without paying him any mind. My voice sounded about how I felt—like I'd dragged all the broken pieces of myself up from my chest. I killed them I killed them I killed them—

"I know, Wataru," he said quietly.

My chest froze and I shot upright. My body throbbed but I barely noticed, couldn't tell through the pounding in my head. "I—" I choked on air. "I k—killed Ichigo and Ai—Aina and th—the others?"

No no no no no that was a dream, that was supposed to be a dream!

"What?" Kitano exclaimed, gripping my shoulders to hold me upright and trying to pull me bodily onto the bed. I tried to help him, clumsy and slow, but between us both he managed to get me back up on the bed. "No, you didn't kill them, why would you—" He cut himself off and his eyes widened. "Oh."

I couldn't stop shaking, but the rush of pure relief made me feel weak. "They're not dead?"

"No, Wataru, they are not dead." Sakaki's voice made me jump, and Kitano's head snapped around, relief flying over his face too. The black-haired man approached, immaculately dressed in a black suit as he somehow always was, his expression frowning but concerned. "You dreamed they were?"

I nodded wordlessly, drawing my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around me. Even his presence didn't make the awful, hollow feeling inside me go away.

"We gave him a sleeping pill, Sir," Kitano said, sounding frustrated. "But they simply don't work very well on some people, especially people who have used them often before, and given Wataru's history—"

"Thank you, Kitano." Sakaki's voice was crisp and unyielding, and Kitano cut himself off with a breath. Though I didn't look up I still heard footsteps coming closer, Sakaki's sigh from above me, and then I flinched as his hand fell gently on my head.

"It isn't as bad as it seems, my boy," he said. I just shook my head. Marilyn was right not to trust me. I was too far gone. "As long as you take your medication, you're as safe as anyone here. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Yes," Kitano answered immediately. "It's been weeks and he's been entirely in control of himself the whole time. Frankly it's even better than I was expecting."

"There, you see?" His hand moved, stroking my hair, and I couldn't help but make a small mewing sound and lean into it. "You're safe, Wataru."

"But what if I—" I took a deep shuddering breath. "Wh—what if I forget or something happens, and—" My voice cracked.

"Do you trust me, Wataru?"

What? How could he ask me that? He was the only one who'd never been afraid of me! Shocked, my head jerked up, and he caught my gaze and held it. His dark eyes were serious, but they seemed to drill into me, and I couldn't not answer. Wordlessly I nodded.

He smiled. "Then trust that I know what I'm doing."

He knows what he's doing. I swallowed hard. He knows what he's doing. I nodded again, my gaze dropping.

"Good." He petted my hair again and I took a deep, shaky breath, closing my eyes. "Nevertheless, I imagine you would feel better if you could see the truth of things, hm? Let them in."

The last was directed over my head at someone else, but the words still made my heart leap, and I looked up toward the entrance. The nurse turned from hovering in the doorway and spoke to someone behind her, and then a moment later—my heart leapt again—Aina and Yuudai came through. The former looked tired and her uniform and hair were rumpled, as if she'd been pulled out of bed, and Yuudai, looking bewildered, was very casually dressed, but the sight of them made hope balloon in my chest.

"I'm afraid Agent Coelho is out on deployment," Sakaki was saying, "and obviously neither Agent Tachibana nor Agent Wakahisa are in the condition to be visiting—but as you can see, your dream was just a dream, Wataru."

"Dream, Sir?" Yuudai asked uncertainly. His eyes were on me, furrowed and confused—the same sort of confused he and the others had been when I'd first come out those days ago, as if I wasn't quite matching up to what he expected and he wasn't sure how to react.

"Wataru had a nightmare that he'd killed you, Agent Nakamura," Sakaki said. I couldn't help the flinch and my gaze dropped, but not before I saw both Yuudai's and Aina's eyes widen. "I imagine you both have the time to keep him company for a while, do you not?" Somehow it wasn't quite a question, but I still held my breath, looking up at them through my fringe.

It was Aina who answered. "Of course, Sir," she said quietly.

"Agent Nakamura, didn't you just receive some pictures from your family?" Sakaki asked blithely, and Yuudai managed a rather weak smile.

"I did, Sir. Actually, I was just showing them to …" He trailed off as his hand automatically went first to the pocket his sweatpants didn't have, but then he reached into his sling to pull out a photo album. "Did you want to see them S—Wataru?"

The last was directed at me, tentatively, but it still made my chest and gut loosen. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Good." Sakaki's hand fell on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry I can't stay, Wataru, but I will come back tonight to see you again." And with a nod at the other agents he strode out of the room, before I could even think to muster a response.

For a moment there was an awkward silence. Then Kitano coughed and made for the door, motioning the nurse out. Aina took a deep breath and moved toward me, gesturing at the bed. "May I …?"

I nodded, so she sat, casting a glance up at Yuudai. I couldn't follow her gaze; one part of me felt tight with tension, knowing they were right beside me—two of the people I'd killed in that vivid dream. Two people who weren't sure if I could be trusted.

But it was better than being alone, and with them there I at least knew they weren't dead.

"You have a family?" I asked instead, staring down at my feet and picking at the blanket. There was a beat of silence before Yuudai answered, but when he did I also heard him come close.

"I'm married, yes. Kids, too. That's mostly what's in the photos." The scrape of a chair on the floor made me flinch, but then his legs entered my field of vision and I blinked, looking up. He grinned at me, sort of nervously, sort of sheepishly, and held out the album. "My wife's on the first one, though. She promised that she'd—"

He stopped and cleared his throat, looking faintly embarrassed and when Aina answered for him a moment later there was a smile in her voice. "That 'she'd always be the first thing he got to see'."

My lips twitched and I took the album, opening it up. "How many kids do you have?"

"Three. One of our daughters is adopted, but the other two are ours—fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. They're four years younger, but all of them tend to spend a lot of time together, which is probably just as well because—"

I let him talk without interruption, paging through the photographs of three children playing, hiding, wrestling, being nuisances, and stopping every now and then when Yuudai felt the need to explain the story behind a picture.

Seeing them made my gut clench, but at the same time I felt … calmer. More stable. I knew what I had to do. I just had to make sure this family wouldn't lose their father, that was all—no matter what it took or how many pills I had to swallow.

I trusted Sakaki. He knew what he was doing.