I'm Missing You

Interlude

"Here you are… sir," the attendant of the police storage, a surly-faced young man, muttered, tacking on the last word as a mere afterthought after he emerged from the darkness of the storage room, carrying a large unwieldy white container (nothing more than a glorified cardboard box sealed up with brown duct tape). While it otherwise appeared unmarked, as soon as the attendant stepped into the glow of the examination room it became clear that the box had certainly seen better days. It was once white but there seemed to be a thin layer of dust coating it, if the attendant's attempt to stop himself from sneezing using only his facial muscles was anything to go by. A suspiciously deep dent on a corner revealed rough handling and the top of the box bulged out, clearly stuffed to the brim. The storage attendent gently – or as gently as he could without sneezing, coughing, puffing and huffing – placed his burden onto a large narrow table which groaned under the added weight. The table had seen better days too.

As he stepped back the recently installed new Chief of Tokyo Metropolis Police stepped forward.

Gregorou Onigawara stared down at the cardboard box placed on the rickety table a beat before reaching out to it. Peeling off the duct tape he coughed at the dust that rose from the action. The detective – no, he was Chief Onigawara now (Never gonna get used to that title) – waved his hand to clear the air. While the dust did dissipate it was the strong musty smell of old paper, tinged with a bit of smoke that remained. The last time the old cop had seen the contents of this box was the case now referred to as the Aliea Incident, the one where aliens tried to take over the world nearly a year ago. The same one where the aliens actually turned out to be genetically enhanced human children. The very one which had thrust him to this position right now.

"I can't believe how it all looks so old now," he remarked to the young female sergeant standing next to him. "It hasn't even been that long ago…"

Sergeant Saumaki wordlessly handed him a pair of white surgical gloves, so that he could touch the evidence without contaminating it.

"This box had been badly stored," she added, and she threw a disapproving frown at the storage attendant, who had finally succumbed to the dust and retreated back into his tiny office.

Onigawara nodded absently. He was focused on the box and its contents. Every cop knew that evidence which had been stored in poor conditions ran the risk of been damaged and therefore unusable. Such items found at crime scenes could mean the difference between condemning the innocent and freeing the guilty. Unfortunately this particular box proved that some people just didn't give a damn. Onigawara's eyebrow twitched. Ever since he was promoted to the position of Chief, the misplacement and poor storage of physical evidence had been on his reform list for a while now. But he had been so busy with the reorganization of the various departments (what with his predecessor being more of a political lackey with zero regard for justice and order) that he simply hadn't gotten around to it. The older man leaned forward to get a better look of the inside and pulled back with a snort of revulsion. Fixing the lax attitude to storage just rose to the top of his list.

"They just dumped everything in here! The burnt reports are nearly crumpled beyond repair and the intact ones are so dirty they're illegible!" he reported, almost growling in disgust. The disarray of contents is beyond appalling. The documents weren't even properly encased in plastic coverings that would have kept them clean and separate. And it was not just papers in there: there were CDs and photos, and even one of those 'black balls' stuffed in. He had to give the attendant some credit; the fellow must be really hitting the gym if he was able to carry this box.

"I'll bet those lazy lumps didn't even bother sorting these before dumping them in," he muttered as he gingerly reached in, treating it as if the whole box would disintegrate at one false move.

"So what is it we are looking for, sir," Saumaki asked, pulling on her own gloves. She peered into the box, her hazel eyes widening at the mess within. "My, my, my… It'll be slow going, what with most of the delicate papers mixed up in there," she added. Onigawara's shoulders slumped.

"I had forgotten how hard sifting through evidence can be," he sighed. He added with a low mumble, "Haven't been down here since I became chief."

"Surely, the Chief doesn't have to sort through this lot himself! I mean, the scientist from forensics is coming down to interpret these papers right now."

Onigawara smiled at Saumaki's outburst. "I have to," he muttered. He pulled on his gloves.

"These documents just might hold the key to saving lives."

A few thousand kilometres away and over a great expense of ocean, Hitomiko felt like she was going crazy. Truly she was aghast with herself.

It is day two of her enforced home rest. Despite her initial doubt about relaxing when so much needed to be done, she was actually really starting to warm up to this. She almost felt sad that she would have to go back to work the day after tomorrow.

She had started her day well enough, feeling more energetic than she had in a long while. She had a perfectly normal breakfast with Hiroto, although it did get a bit tense when Osamu (who was she kidding, he'll always be Osamu to her) came into the room. He was wearing a baggier shirt than usual, a slightly over-sized shirt she had mistakenly bought him back in Japan.

It was after breakfast that it happened, an awful, embarrassing thing that made her feel like punching herself in the head just to forget: She had left the table to check the mail. Hiroto was crunching on toast, Saginuma bustled busily in the kitchen, washing, rinsing, wiping and stowing away their dishes … it couldn't have been more than maybe six minutes of her getting up from the table, going into the narrow hall to pick up her mail (a flyer for a garage sale in some street she'd never heard of; a letter which was meant for the apartment next door; a postcard from Lia, who was on some sort of work assignment in Fiji), and amble back slowly.

How could she not have noticed it sooner? As it were, Hitomiko sat down into her chair, intensely reading the long and amusing message on Lia's card; so intensely, in fact, that she didn't notice that she was actually sitting quite snugly in Osamu's lap!

She had been comfortable; her absent mind not taking in that in the time it took to get the mail, Saginuma had taken her chair.

And she was in his lap.

Her yoga tights-clad bottom… on his lap.

It was only when she glanced up and noticed that Hiroto was giving her a rather funny look that she slowly turned her head. Saginuma's face was so close, their lips almost just barely touching. To make it worse, her mind seemed to have had left for a walk, leaving her body in charge. And her body did not seem to understand what was wrong here, apparently having forgotten that they were not lovers anymore. What it instead registered was how good it felt to be so close to this familiar splendidly strong body… just so very nice.

It took the doorbell ringing to snap her out of the dangerous trance.

Hitomiko merely stood up and went to the door, and after directing an obviously hung-over neighbour to his apartment one floor below she returned to her room, all the while she kept her eyes away from the two young men at the table.

Now locked in the privacy of her room Hitomiko allowed herself to fall apart. "Oh My God, why?!" she groaned, her face pressed into the pillow. As if oxygen deprivation could make her forget.

Okay, this chappie is way too short to make up for the way too long hiatus I had taken, but I have good reasons… really… good... reasons… reasons that I will not waste your time on talking about, cause I just want to bask in the fact that I finally got one chapter up. Anyway, I apologise for the wait, and I hope you liked this brief interlude before we dive into some real business next chapter!