"I'm sorry you're stuck babysitting me," Haruko said as Hei rose from his chair and headed to the stove.

He paused with his bowl halfway to the wok and glanced back at her, eyebrows raised. "What? It's not babysitting; someone needs to stay here and keep you safe."

"I know. You just seemed eager to go help out the rest of your team."

Hei returned to his seat with the last of the stir-fry heaped in his bowl. Haruko wondered idly where on earth he put it all; she'd forgotten how much young men could eat. She glanced down into her own bowl. About half of her portion was still uneaten, but tasty as it was, she found she had no appetite.

"I'm not very good at sitting around waiting when I could be doing something more…active, I guess. I mean, Saitou and Kouno are great at handling contractors - they wouldn't be in Section Four if they weren't. But I'm better." He said it matter-of-factly, without a trace of ego. "If there's a chance that there's another contractor guarding the place where Ayami is being held, then I should be there."

"Misaki wanted you here; do you trust her judgment?"

"Of course," Hei said quickly. Too quickly.

"But…what?" Haruko prompted.

Her client didn't respond. His shoulders tensed, and his gaze rested on his now-empty bowl.

To give him some space to collect his thoughts, Haruko scooped up both bowls and took them to the sink, where she turned on the water and began to wash up.

"You don't have to do that," Hei said.

"I know. I want to. Sometimes when I'm stressed I just need something routine to focus on, you know?"

Behind her, Hei let out a slow, quiet exhale. The chair legs scraped on the wood flooring as he stood; then he joined her at the counter. He picked up a towel and began drying what she'd washed so far.

"You're dealing with this whole thing pretty well," he said.

Haruko smiled wryly. "Am I? I certainly don't feel that way; but I wouldn't be a very good therapist if I couldn't follow my own advice." She took a deep breath. "I'm safe right now; I can't do anything about poor Ayami's situation, but I realize that, and I know that the very best help is on their way."

"Almost the best." A touch of pride eeked through his characteristic modesty.

"Well, I am glad it's you that's here," Haruko admitted, pleased to have discovered at least one aspect of himself that he seemed confident in. "It's nice to have a friendly face, in the middle of all this."

She paused in scrubbing the wok, letting the warm water run through her fingers. "I suppose that's selfish to say; if Ayami really is in trouble, she should have the best help possible, not me." She prayed that the girl was alright. Ayami must be so frightened; if this had happened because of something that Haruko had advised her to do, she'd never forgive herself.

Hei shrugged lightly, though Haruko thought he seemed moved by her trust. As always, it was hard to tell. "There should be two of us here, actually. Criminal Investigations is going to send another officer over soon, once they get themselves organized. Their chief isn't as on top of things as Misaki is," he added offhandedly, "even if they are usually pretty competent. Though I wouldn't trust you to two of them; so I guess it's good that I'm here. Saitou and Kouno can handle whatever third-rate contractor a yakuza boss can manage to hire."

"Then you do agree with Misaki's decision?"

Maybe this wasn't the right time or place to be asking such questions; this wasn't a therapy session, after all - a man had just tried to kill her an hour ago - but Hei was sorely lacking in introspection, and she was afraid to let the opportunity pass them by.

And, it helped her forget that a man had just tried to kill her an hour ago.

Hei was silent for a long moment as he wiped a bowl dry. He'd been on that same bowl for several minutes now, Haruko noticed, but she didn't comment.

"It's not her decision I disagree with," he said at last. "Disagree isn't even the right…I mean, she's in charge. She knows how to handle these situations and her team better than anyone. I'm not going to argue with her about things like that. She's usually right, anyway," he added with a touch of fondness.

"Then what is it?" Haruko asked gently.

His gaze drifted from the bowl in his hands to the harness of knives hanging on the back of the chair. "She probably doesn't want me working with the rest of the team right now. I mean, they know what I am, but they've still been treating me like…like Li, I guess. Because that's the only side of me that they've seen. Now… They aren't going to want me watching their backs tonight, after I just killed a contractor."

Haruko frowned to herself. She hadn't gotten that sense from his co-workers at all. What had that detective said about the corpse - nostalgic. It had been more commentary than judgment.

And again, she couldn't help but notice his own complete lack of reaction to his killing of a man.

"Did Misaki say anything that would lead you to believe that?" she tried.

Hei gave a half shrug, still focused on drying his bowl. "No. But it stands to reason. I left a lot of crime scenes behind like that, the first time I was in Tokyo," he said bitterly.

"Have your co-workers never had to use -" what was the term Misaki had used? "- lethal force when trying to catch a dangerous contractor?"

"Well, yes. Sometimes that's the only way to protect people."

"So why is it any different when you do it?" Haruko asked. "If you hadn't killed that man tonight, he would have killed me." Her hand was trembling as she scrubbed the wok; Haruko forced herself to relax. She was safe here; she was fine.

"That's…that's different."

"How?"

"It's not like I shot him," Hei muttered.

Haruko failed to see how the method made any difference. Dead was dead. Silently she finished washing the wok and waited to see if he would be able to clarify his own doubt.

"She didn't like that I brought my own weapons tonight," Hei said at last. "She doesn't like that I even still have them."

Misaki had mentioned something like this in the car on their way here tonight; but she hadn't phrased it quite that same way.

"Why do you think that is?" Haruko asked, wondering how well his reasoning would line up with his girlfriend's.

"I don't know... They're not regulation, and Misaki doesn't like doing anything against official police procedure."

"Is that the reason? She hired you knowing that your papers were false and didn't tell the rest of the team who you really were; not to mention having an affair with a confidential informant. I shouldn't think that any of those things fall under 'official police procedure'."

Hei's brow furrowed. He finally set the bowl aside and began drying the wok. "They're the tools I'm used to using. It's not like the police don't carry guns. My knives have the same purpose, I don't know why she still won't let me carry them."

That definitely was not the reason that Misaki had given Haruko. And we're back to 'communication within a relationship', she mused. I guess they really do need to do some work there. She refrained from pointing out that he'd just contradicted his own reasoning. Instead she said, "Maybe it's the symbol she dislikes?"

"The symbol?" Hei frowned, wiping the wok a little harder. "They remind her of who I used to be, I guess. Someone who worked against the police."

"Someone who your new co-workers will remember investigating?" She sighed. It wasn't a simple situation, to be sure; yet she was sure that his insecurities were over-inflating the facts. "And what are they symbolic of, to you?"

"Nothing. They're just knives. They're what I used my whole life; I'm useless with a gun. Misaki knows that. If she wants me to be able to protect my team to the best of my ability, I need the tools I'm most effective with."

He was avoiding the question. Well, it wasn't exactly an easy one.

"You didn't have any knives tonight, in the garage," Haruko commented.

Hei stared intently at one particular spot on the wok; Haruko got the impression that rather than focusing on his task, he was trying to avoid her gaze.

"No," he said after a long moment. And left it at that.

Haruko waited, but he didn't seem inclined to add anything else. She was almost desperate to push harder, to get him to really understand this conflict within him…but it would be useless to antagonize him. He needed to know that she was on his side, no matter what.

The sink was empty of dishes now, save for her mug. Haruko picked up the kettle from the stove, but when she tried to pour, it was empty.

"I'll make some more," Hei said quickly. "You should get some sleep; it's late."

She glanced at her watch, and was shocked to see that it was already one in the morning. "I probably should," she said, "but I doubt I could fall asleep right now; not until I know Ayami is safe."

Hei nodded. "There should be some magazines and things in the other room, if you want something to do."

She didn't really want to read a magazine. What she wanted to do was curl up under a blanket at home, knowing that everyone she cared about was safe.

Still, she wandered into the living room, where she found a low bookcase stocked with a small collection of cheap paperback novels and outdated magazines. Some of them were manga clearly aimed at young children; it hurt her heart to think of some poor child having to be shut up in a safe house because something out there in the world wanted to harm them.

None of the books looked at all appealing, and trying to focus her mind on any sort of narrative sounded like pure torture right now. Then something on the bottom shelf caught her eye.

When she returned to the kitchen, Hei was just pouring out two fresh mugs of tea.

"Do you know how to play chess?"

He looked up in surprise. "Yes? I'm terrible at it though…"

"Do you have to be good, to play?" Haruko placed the battered box on the kitchen table and began unpacking the pieces; she hoped they were all there, it was a very well-used set. "I'm not that great either," she smiled. "We'll be evenly matched then."

Hei passed her the tea and then settled across from her at the table. Haruko gestured for him to choose which side to play; he picked up the black king, she noted with interest.

"I haven't played in so long," she commented as they placed their pieces. "I used to all the time, with my - husband."

She mentally cursed herself for her near-slip. Hei, however, didn't seem to notice. "Misaki has a set at home," he said. "We've never played though."

"Where did you learn?" The first move was Haruko's. She studied her two rows of pieces for a long moment before moving a pawn to e-four in the classic Italian opening.

Hei hadn't answered her question yet. She looked up to find that his expression had closed off. That alone told her the answer - then to her surprise, he spoke.

"My father." He moved his pawn to d-six. "He said I needed to learn how to wait and act with patience."

That still seems to be the case, Haruko thought with a wry smile. Hei's move had opened a path for his dangerous queen while leaving his vulnerable king protected; but it was a terrible counter to her own play. He doesn't think more than one or two moves ahead. Like running away from home to protect his sister when maybe his family could have helped him instead.

"Did you ever win against him?"

"No. I was lucky if I lasted ten moves." His face softened slightly. "Xing used to love watching us play; but she would get too distracted to learn herself. Until she became a contractor, anyway."

He'd left one of his knights wide open, but Haruko pretended not to see, and captured a pawn with her bishop instead. "Contractors play chess? I shouldn't think they would enjoy things like board games."

"It was part of her training. Well, our training. To learn strategy," he said, his voice hard. "I never got any better, but after she changed…anything she saw a purpose in learning, she focused on relentlessly until she mastered it. They liked child contractors, for that reason."

"The Syndicate?" Haruko asked softly.

Hei nodded once, studying the pieces in front of him; but she could tell that he wasn't really seeing the game.

"You weren't a contractor, like your sister." At least, that was her guess; that whole situation was still rather unclear. "What exactly did you do for them?"

"I protected her," he said simply. "After she used her power, she had to sleep. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours; it depended on how much power she'd used. I would hold her until she woke up, like I did when she was little, and had nightmares."

Haruko smiled. He must have been an exceptionally sweet child. But there was more to it than he was describing, she was sure.

"You had to undergo training in strategy, for that?" she asked as a little nudge.

"I was her backup, too. Sometimes…if there were extra guards hindering the mission, she couldn't use her power too early. I had to take care of them, clear a path for her." Hei moved his queen to the center of the board, capturing Haruko's bishop. It was an aggressive move; one that he would pay for in just two turns, if Haruko pressed her advantage with her rook.

"Then the second South American conflict started," Hei continued, still not looking up from the board. "The first had proved that the Heaven's Gate anomaly was too dangerous for mere humans, so contractors were sent in. Bai and I were in one of the first waves."

"Bai?" Haruko asked, hating to interrupt now that he was talking; but this had been confusing her for a while. She shifted her rook, three squares away from his queen in a tactical retreat. "I thought your sister's name was Xing."

"Bai was the code name the Syndicate gave her. She never used Xing after that. In my mind…I thought of Xing as the girl she used to be; Bai was the monster she'd become. It's a little fuzzier, now. The last time I saw her…I saw Xing."

"You can't really have thought of her as a monster," Haruko said gently. "Not when you were still willing to keep her safe."

Hei rested his chin in his hand and moved a pawn forward, even though he had to know that Haruko would capture it on her next turn. "I used to wonder, all the time, how many people would still be alive if I stopped protecting her. All the people that she killed…all the people that I killed. If I'd known what she was going to do to Heaven's Gate…I guess that's why she never told me. I wouldn't have been able to make that choice."

"What choice?"

"Don't ask me about that right now," Hei said quietly. There was a world of grief in his voice.

The details of what exactly had happened during the three South American conflicts, before Heaven's Gate had vanished and taken half the continent with it, were still largely hidden behind governmental Top Secret stamps. Haruko did know that the conflicts had been exceptionally violent and bloody; and if contractors had been involved, it must have been nightmarish. For Hei to have been there…he was so young. How had he survived with his humanity still intact?

She left Hei's vulnerable pawn unchallenged, and shifted a knight instead. "What happened to your sister?"

He was silent for a long time. Haruko was just beginning to worry that she pushed to far when he spoke at last. "I was just outside the boundary of the anomalous zone when the Gate vanished. All I remember is a bright flash of white light…then I woke up in a field hospital in Argentina a few days later. Bai was gone; my whole team was. No one could tell me what had happened to them. And…I had her power. And her star."

"You…became a contractor?"

"I thought I had. I didn't have her price, but sometimes they're subtle. I just assumed it was something I couldn't detect."

"So you weren't a contractor?" Haruko asked, confused.

"I found out years later what had happened. In order to protect me, she sacrificed herself and transferred her power to me. The final price of the contract is paid; I'm still human. But I spent five years living as if I was a contractor, assassinating people for the Syndicate - what kind of person doesn't realize for five years that they're human? I may as well be a contractor."

It was almost painful to hear the disgust in his voice. "I think it makes sense," Haruko said slowly. "You joined the Syndicate to stay with your sister…you did things you didn't want to do, in order to protect her. That was your purpose. Then she was gone, and your purpose was lost with her. How were supposed to excuse your actions then - unless, you were a contractor? A contractor doesn't need moral justification. But, why did you stay with them?"

"I didn't want to believe I'd never see her again; staying with the Syndicate was the best chance I had at finding her."

"And why did you join the police? To atone for everything you've done?"

"No," Hei said sharply. "There's no way I can ever…it's not possible."

Haruko nodded in understanding. She'd always believed that pursuing atonement was a fruitless chase; actions could never be truly undone. "Then why?"

"I…wanted to see if I could really do it. Live like a normal person. Do something good; help people instead of hurt them."

"That sounds very human to me," Haruko told him gently. "You gave up your own future for your sister; that was a very compassionate choice. As is choosing to do what you can to protect others as part of the police. You should be proud of that. I would think your family would be, too."

His mouth pressed into a flat line. "Even if I can explain that to them, how do I tell them about Xing? I was supposed to protect her; then she died for me. How can I forgive her for that?"

This one is going to take a lot of work, Haruko thought sadly. There was no easy answer. "Contractor or not, a person's choices are their own," she reminded him. "You have to accept that, even if you don't agree with it. Your family certainly never will, if you don't."

His face was set in a grim expression; she wasn't sure that he really understood what she was trying to tell him.

"Have you mourned her?" Haruko asked.

"Have I - what?"

"You said you spent five years not knowing what happened to Xing; then you found out that she died for you. What did you do after that? Did you set up a shrine, light a lantern? Something to help you let go?"

"I…no. I mean, it's a little more complicated than her dying…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't like thinking about it."

"It's hard to lose someone," Haruko told him gently, a slight hitch in her voice. "But it's even harder when we can't let go."

"Who did you lose?"

Haruko opened her mouth, then shut it again, caught off guard by his quiet compassion.

She always drew a hard line about sharing personal things with her clients; it put them on too much of an equal footing. But, she realized, the lines here had been stretched and torn to the point she wasn't sure they even existed any longer.

"My son," she said softly. "He was at his school's chess tournament in Chiyoda when Hell's Gate swallowed everything there eleven years ago."