Misaki strode up the short walkway to the safe house. Haruko followed one step behind, her stomach unaccountably nervous. She glanced up and down the street, imagining the invisible eyes of specters on her. Did they even have eyes? And were they always associated with contractors? Was there a contractor heading her way this very moment, intent on killing her as the man earlier tonight had been?
But hypothetical contractors were one thing; an actual contractor was waiting for her in the safe house.
Or not. It's complicated, he'd said. How was that complicated? A person was either human or contractor - weren't they?
Clients lied to Haruko all the time; she was used to that. They just usually lied to her about things like how well they were coping with their emotions or whether they'd called their ex again when they'd promised not to. Not that they'd been the sort of criminal who murdered people. Hei had sat across the coffee table from her for six weeks now and she'd never once suspected that he was a killer.
Though, she thought to herself as Misaki knocked three times on the door, he hadn't lied to her, exactly. He'd merely left out some details. Important details, to be sure, but he had been up front about the fact that he'd spent much of his past on the wrong side of the law, doing things that he was ashamed of. She was the one who hadn't believed even the little that he had allowed himself to say.
More important, she decided, was why he hadn't told her those details.
And the police trust him, she reminded herself. She didn't know Misaki very well, but the police chief didn't seem like the kind of woman who was easily deluded.
Misaki knocked twice more in succession, then paused, a frown on her face. "Damn it," she said with an exasperated sigh, "I can never remember your codes; you know it's me."
A person would have had to be standing directly on the other side of the door to have heard her; yet there came the unmistakable click of a latch and the door opened just wide enough for the two of them to slip in single file, Misaki ushering Haruko in ahead of her.
While it was a relief to be off of the open street, Haruko couldn't help a small shiver of trepidation as she entered the safe house.
The first thing that she noticed was that Hei had changed: instead of the button-down shirt and jeans that'd he'd been wearing in the garage, he was now dressed in some sort of black athletic wear. All black. It was a bit unsettling.
As was the dagger that he had strapped to his leg.
"It's not that hard," Hei said tersely as he locked up behind them.
"It is when I never actually need to use them," Misaki retorted, standing in the small living area with her arms crossed.
Hei turned from the door. Haruko was used to seeing closed-off expressions from him, but she'd never seen him so…blank. As if he truly was a contractor, devoid of all emotion. She couldn't help another small shiver.
"It's called being careful -"
"Hei, this isn't the Syndicate!" Misaki said in obvious annoyance. "Did you make any coffee?"
At the mention of the Syndicate, Hei's eyes snapped to Haruko, a look of surprised alarm flitting across his previously stoic face.
He was ashamed of his past, she knew. And afraid of her judgment of him. He might be a killer, but he was still her client.
Haruko took a deep breath. "And I could use some tea, if there is any."
That didn't seem to be the response he was expecting. After a brief hesitation, he said, "Um, right." He turned through a doorway which, Haruko saw as she followed, led to a small kitchen and the sound of something frying.
And the delicious smell of something frying.
A wok was set out on the stove. Hei headed towards it; but instead of stirring the contents, he lifted a small tea kettle from one of the other burners and poured out some liquid into a waiting mug. Wordlessly, he handed the mug to Haruko.
"Thank you," she said in surprise, and took a small sip. It was fresh; he must have started the brew as soon as they pulled onto the street, knowing that she would need a cup of tea. Always thinking of others, she mused. He'd better write this down in his notebook. Oh god, is he going to write 'killed a man in a parking garage' too?
Hei didn't respond to her thanks. Instead he removed a pot from the coffee maker at the end of the counter and poured out another mug, which he handed to Misaki.
"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver," the police chief said, cupping it with both hands to inhale the steam before taking a swallow. A faint smile brushed Hei's lips at her words - or maybe at the irony of them.
Haruko glanced down at her own mug, feeling suddenly a bit like an intruder on a private moment - and noticed with disgust the oily black smudges on her hands.
"Is there somewhere I can wash up?" she asked.
Misaki nodded. "There's a bathroom just past living room; it should have some clean towels and toiletries."
"Thank you." Haruko turned to set her mug down on the breakfast table - a jolt went through her at the sight of an array of wicked-looking knives, blades as long as her forearm, hanging off the back of one of the chairs. It was like something out of those ninja-assassin movies that Michio loved.
She glanced behind her; Misaki had seen her reaction and was gazing at the knives, her mouth pressed into a flat line. Hei had his back to the both of them, concentrating now on stirring the contents of the wok; though the tension in his shoulders suggested that he was well aware of both Misaki and Haruko's focus of attention. Dressed all in black, in form fitting clothing that emphasized his athletic build, she could easily imagine him playing a starring role in those movies.
And not the role of the hero.
Haruko was beginning to understand the warning that Misaki had given her in the car, now. Taking a deep breath, she carefully placed her mug on the table opposite the chair with the knives, and left the kitchen.
The bathroom was easy to find; it was a small house, with what looked like only one bedroom. As Misaki had said, there were fresh hand towels and an unopened bar of soap near the sink. It was almost like a hotel, albeit a bit shabbier than any that Haruko had stayed in.
She turned on the water as hot as she could stand it, and scrubbed the oil and grime from her hands and arms. Her face was next. Not caring that she was washing away most of her makeup, she scrubbed her skin under the scalding water until she felt as if she'd peeled off the fear and nausea that had been present, bubbling just below the surface of her mind, ever since that contractor had attacked in the garage.
As she washed, she contemplated her client. Was he a contractor? The knives, the ease with which he'd killed that other man in the garage tonight would suggest so. Misaki had even said as much during their drive over. Yet she - and Hei - had both said that technically he wasn't one. Haruko was by no means an expert on contractors, but she was pretty sure that they were by definition without emotion. Unless Hei was an exceptionally good actor, he had all the emotional range of a normal human. And there was no reason she could think of for a contractor to pretend to see a therapist.
She was going to have to ask him about this outright, she decided; she simply wasn't going to be of any help to him with so many basic questions stacked like a wall of bricks between them. It would have to wait until their next scheduled session, unfortunately; even if his girlfriend knew everything about him already, these weren't the sort of questions to ask in front of an audience.
She could only hope that such directness wouldn't push him further into his shell of avoidance. At least he wasn't the type to get violent when confronted…or so she hoped. Haruko had always relied strongly on her intuition about people, and this afternoon she would have given her solemn oath that Hei was not the type of person to ever hurt of fly.
And she would have been dead wrong.
Drying her face, Haruko noticed that several long strands of hair had come loose. Instead of trying to fix it, she undid her clip and twisted the whole mass up and out of her face. What she really needed was a hot shower, but she couldn't stand the thought of dressing in the same filthy clothing after finally getting clean.
Feeling at least somewhat human again, Haruko made her way back to the kitchen. Hei and Misaki were still standing by the stove, talking quietly. Misaki's hand was resting on Hei's arm; she looked…apologetic? Haruko couldn't see Hei's expression, but the tension had left his shoulders. Whatever disagreement they'd brought with them to the house, it seemed they had talked it out, or at least come to an understanding.
Despite the fact that Hei was still facing away from the entrance to the kitchen, he was the first to notice Haruko's return. "Are you hungry?" he asked over his shoulder, not quite making eye contact.
"I told you he'd be cooking." Misaki leaned up against the counter and offered Haruko a sympathetic smile. "Even if you aren't hungry, you should eat something."
"I wasn't," Haruko admitted, "but now that you bring it up, I could eat a bit. It smells delicious."
"It's just a beef stir-fry," Hei said, a bit awkwardly, as if he was uncomfortable with the compliment. He probably was, Haruko realized. Compliments and praise didn't seem to be something he was used to.
Hei dished out three bowls of the stir-fry while they settled around the table. Haruko carefully avoided the chair with the knives draped over it; Misaki took that seat for herself. She grimaced as she sat, but said nothing. Neither did Hei say a word as he brought the bowls over and sat across from Haruko, his expression once again closed off.
"How long will I be here?" Haruko asked, poking at her food. As much as she hated going home to an empty house, she'd rather be home than in a strange place, under guard. Even if it was safer.
Misaki had just taken a huge bite of rice. She swallowed hurriedly and said, "We'll reevaluate the situation in the morning, when hopefully we'll have more information. If it turns out to be longer than a day, I'll send someone to pick up a change of clothes and whatever else you need."
Longer than a day? Haruko's heart sank. "What about my clients? I have a full day of appointments tomorrow!"
"You have to put your own safety first," Hei said in the same blunt tone with which he'd greeted them at the door. He didn't look up from his bowl. "Your clients can deal with it."
Misaki shot Hei an unreadable look. "You'll have to excuse him," she told Haruko. "He forgets the existence of tact when he's pretending to be a contractor."
"I'm not pretending to be anything," Hei retorted quietly, still in that flat voice. "If I have to stick my knife into someone tonight, I'm not going to be thinking about how to do it tactfully."
Haruko blanched, and forced herself to eat a small bite of food. It was every bit as tasty as it had smelled, but the thought of Hei needing to kill someone else, on her behalf, was making her more than a little queasy.
"No one is asking you to stick a knife in anybody - you're the one who insists on keeping those things, not me! Why did you even bother throwing away your mask?"
Maybe they hadn't dealt with that disagreement after all. Haruko sighed to herself. For the first time all evening, she was finally on firmer ground. Queasiness aside.
"This is the best stir-fry I've had in a long time," Haruko said with a smile. "You must enjoy cooking quite a bit, to be able to make such good food."
Both Misaki and Hei turned to her in surprise; Haruko had the distinct impression that they'd forgotten she was even there. Then Misaki smiled lightly and took another bite of food, leaving Hei to answer for himself.
"Um, I guess," he said at last.
"What is it you like about it? Cooking's always been more of a chore, for me."
She'd actually been meaning to ask that question for the past couple of weeks now, after the obvious interest with which he'd described his purchase of a set of good kitchen knives; the reasoning behind her clients' likes and dislikes often provided quite of bit of useful insight for them both. However, this wasn't a therapy session; she just felt the strong need to distance herself from this semi-stranger in black, find the Li Hei that she was more comfortable with. And distract him from his argument with his girlfriend.
"I guess…it gives my hands something to do, while my mind can just…rest."
"I thought that's why you like running," Misaki interjected.
Haruko was about to protest what seemed like an unnecessary antagonism - then she noticed a knowing light in Misaki's eye, and decided to let it stand.
Hei frowned slightly. "It is. I can like two different things for the same reason." Then he paused. "With cooking, though…it's something I can do for other people. That they can actually appreciate."
Misaki smiled at that, and gave his arm a quick squeeze before returning to her food. Hei responded with the faintest of smiles, his eyes still fixed on his bowl.
"Do you ever cook for your co-workers?" Haruko asked, ignoring the pang of loneliness that shot through her heart at that brief sign of affection. Michio would be home soon, in just a couple more days. All of this would be over then.
"Once -" Hei began before the buzzing of a cell phone cut him off.
Misaki quickly swallowed another mouthful of stir-fry and pulled her phone from her back pocket. "Kirihara," she answered brusquely.
Haruko wondered if she ought to feign polite deafness; Hei was listening fixedly, however.
"Where?" the police chief asked. "Any data?" She paused. "Damn. Alright, I'm on my way." Without bothering to say goodbye, she ended the call.
"Someone found the girl?" Hei asked as soon as she'd hung up. Haruko's chest tightened at all the potential meanings of that question.
Misaki nodded. "A specter picked her up at one of the properties registered to her father."
"Is she hurt at all?" Haruko asked, her heart pounding now.
"We have no way of knowing right now," Misaki said carefully. "All we know is where she is. And that when her father was questioned as to her whereabouts, he said that he hasn't seen her in weeks."
"That - that lying bastard!" Haruko swore, her tongue tripping over the little-used curse. Across from her, Hei coughed into his napkin.
Misaki's mouth pressed into a hard line. "No doubt he is. Saitou and Kouno are headed there right now to do some recon."
Recon? When Ayami could be hurt, or worse? "You can't just go in and get her?"
"Theoretically, yes, we could. But our star analysis is suggesting that this organization has - or had, now - two contractors working for them. We have to go in carefully."
"I'll go," Hei cut in, once again stone-faced. "What's the address?" He reached for the harness of knives hanging on the back of Misaki's chair, but Misaki folded her arms and leaned back, trapping the straps.
"What do you mean, you'll go?"
"You need someone to do recon without being spotted by a contractor. That's me."
There was a pleading edge to his voice. It was barely there, yet unmistakable. Was he merely highlighting his skills, or was this an attempt to make up for the slip that he still felt guilty over, when an unseen second contractor had injured his teammate? Haruko didn't like the idea of him rushing into a dangerous situation under pressure to prove something.
Misaki, however, was unmoved. "You're on safe house shift until oh-six-hundred."
"You can -"
"Hei, I know you want to help everyone, but you can't be in two places at once. I need you here."
Hei opened his mouth as if to protest; then he closed it again, glancing at Haruko. He nodded. "Alright. But keep me updated."
"You have your phone?" She raised an eyebrow.
Wordlessly he reached into a back pocket and tossed a cell phone onto the table.
Misaki snorted with amusement. "That's a first. I'll stay in touch. We don't know anything about this contractor - YR-385. Have you heard of him?"
Hei shook his head. "If I know him, it's not by his Messier code."
"Right." The police chief strode over to the counter and refilled her coffee mug. "Well, let me know if anything comes to mind, and keep a sharp lookout here. Kanami's leaving one medium assigned to you, but there's still that other doll out there, the one that sent a specter to the office."
"I know."
There was a dangerous note in his voice now. That, apart from the thought of another, dangerous contractor out there, sent a small shiver down her spine.
Sparing them nothing more than a grim smile, Misaki picked up her keys and left the safe house, leaving Haruko alone with Hei.