Broken Things and New Beginnings

by Mnemosyne's Elegy

Barok goes to tea as promised and walks into an ambush. Iris is excited to get to know her newfound family, but Barok knows this is the only chance they're going to have. It's too dangerous for her to be associated with him, and he's prepared to walk away. Unfortunately, she is very stubborn, and the premature arrival of Sholmes and the Nipponese contingent does not help matters.

Barok lingered on the stoop of 221B Baker Street, his hand hovering just above the door. This was a mistake, he could tell already. Iris had invited him, yes. And he had promised to stop by for tea sometime. As a man of his word, he always would have had to show his face here sooner or later.

He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. It was his own fault. He had been very, very drunk when he decided to pen a missive to Iris enquiring if he might present himself at her residence within the next few days. He was not, contrary to what some might believe, a man who was very often drunk, and he usually stayed out of trouble even when he was because he always barricaded himself inside the manor first and didn't emerge until his head was clear.

But after his trial, he had…snapped. He had gone home and locked himself in his brother's old rooms and drunk a very great deal while feeling very sorry for himself. He had thought endlessly of Klint, of Genshin, of his miraculous, newfound niece. He had run himself ragged, thoughts looping in circles, worrying endlessly at a knot he had no way of untangling. It seemed that sometime during that hazy period of madness, he had foolishly, selfishly reached out to the only family he had left. He didn't even remember sending the message until Iris's reply arrived promptly the next morning on pink stationery, inviting him to afternoon tea. It was too late to say no then.

In a way, he supposed it was just as well that he was getting it over with now. Once he published the truth about Klint, it would be too risky to be seen with her. Still, it was hardly five days since his acquittal and he'd been in a wildly impaired state for most of them, and he wished he'd waited until he'd had time to grieve and pick up his broken pieces again before throwing himself to the wolves.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open immediately, revealing a beaming Iris, and he wondered if she'd known he was there all along and was waiting for him to work up his nerve.

"Mr. Reaper!" she said. "You came! Come on in."

Barok hesitated on the doorstep before stepping inside. Iris shut the door quickly behind him, as if half expecting him to turn and bolt, and the click of the latch felt heavy and final. There was no going back now.

"It would be unforgivably discourteous to fail to appear after begging your hospitality," he said gravely.

Iris wrinkled her nose as she ushered him into the sitting room and motioned him into a chair. "No need to be so formal, Mr. Reaper. I invited you first! If you wait right here for just a moment, I'll fetch the tea. I've brewed a soothing herbal blend today. Good for nerves, you know!"

Barok wondered if his apprehension was truly so obvious, or so expected that she had planned for it in advance. He thought he'd done a rather good job of learning how to conceal his emotions over the years he'd spent becoming the infamous Reaper of the Bailey. Certainly, no one had accused him of having an attack of the nerves in all these years.

He perched on the edge of the chair and laced his fingers together over his knees. His eyes darted around the room, noting the bric-a-brac cluttering the shelves, the mess and large machine of dubious usefulness in one corner, the typewriter and neatly set tea table in the other. He felt out of place, not exactly unwelcome but definitely uncomfortable. Whatever life Iris had here, it was nothing like his or the one she would have had if raised by him or his family. Whatever life she had here, Barok didn't belong in it.

Maybe coming at all had been a mistake. Iris had always seemed happy enough, and her home was warm and comfortably lived in. Who was he to intrude on that?

Iris reappeared a moment later with a tray of tea and biscuits that she set down on a large trunk with a cloth draped over it that seemed to be serving as a table.

"I'm really glad you came!" she said, passing over a cup. "We missed you at your acquittal party. You were supposed to be the guest of honor, after all."

"Oh." Barok held the cup between his hands, letting the heat soak through his gloves to warm his fingers, and hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt. "My apologies. I'm afraid that perhaps I was not in much of a…celebratory mood. In any case, I expect my presence would have been a burden, and I have encroached on Mr. Naruhodo's goodwill enough already. I trust your celebration was diverting enough regardless?"

Iris crossed her arms over her chest and puffed out her cheeks in a pout. "That's not the point! We would have been glad to have you. Anyway, Runo feels bad. He would have welcomed you too."

Barok's eyebrows drew together as he tried to parse that, before remembering that she liked to give nicknames to all her acquaintances. He thought 'Runo' was a derivative of Naruhodo's given name.

"Mr. Naruhodo?" he asked anyway, to be sure. "Why would he feel bad?"

"Oh, he feels bad that you got hurt during your trial because he kept digging into the truth of the…of the Professor case. He's been worried about you and Kazu."

He looked down at his tea, lips pressing into a bloodless line. "That's hardly his fault. He did save my life, after all. It's superfluous for him to concern himself with the aftermath."

"He's just very nice, and it was a very…difficult trial. Do you like your tea?"

Barok obediently took a sip. It was not enough to soothe his frazzled nerves, but it had a rich flavor and was more comforting than the wine he'd been drinking by the bottle. He couldn't remember the last time he'd drunk something besides wine or, in fact, the last time he had eaten anything. He'd been too apprehensive this morning to bother with breakfast, and the pounding headache and nausea of his hangover did not make food sound appealing.

He took a biscuit anyway. He didn't want to hurt Iris's feelings by refusing, and it would be a good idea to eat something if he really had forgone food for his entire drunken binge.

"It's lovely," he said. "You've balanced the sweetness quite well. Thank you."

Iris beamed and took a sip of her own tea. "I'm glad you like it! Hurley says it needs more sugar, but I thought maybe you'd like it better this way. He has a terrible sweet tooth."

"You were correct. And where is your guardian?"

Despite signs of Sholmes everywhere in the general mess of the place, the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Barok expected him to crawl out of the woodwork at any moment, throwing off some ludicrous disguise or wriggling out from behind some piece of furniture, and it was putting him even more on edge.

Iris smiled and put a finger to her forehead. "Oh, I sent Hurley out on errands. I didn't want him to scare you off. Runo and Susie are keeping him occupied."

Barok could hardly believe Sholmes had agreed to leave him with Iris unsupervised. He had expected the detective to watch his every move like a hawk now that the truth of Iris's parentage had been revealed.

"…I see. I thought Mr. Naruhodo and Miss Mikotoba were leaving for Japan."

As soon as he said the words, he realized he didn't know if they were true at all. He couldn't remember where he'd heard such a thing, or where he could have, given he hadn't left the manor in days. Perhaps Naruhodo had mentioned it? Or Asogi? Or perhaps Barok had only imagined the whole thing? He felt suddenly uncertain, searching through his memory and finding the last few days so hazy that he could hardly be sure of anything that might have happened. How disconcerting.

Iris's face fell. "That's right. They're leaving tomorrow."

"My apologies. I was unaware. I see this has been inconvenient timing, so if you'd rather spend this time with–"

"No!" she said quickly, her voice a little too loud. Barok stared at her, taken aback, until she flushed and said more softly, "No, that's alright. There's no need to apologize, really. I'm the one who agreed to today instead of suggesting another time."

"It would have been of no matter to wait another day or two."

She smiled sheepishly and ducked her head. "I was afraid you might change your mind if I put it off."

Barok sipped at his tea and tried to think of a response, but his own mind and heart were still so unsettled that he couldn't say whether her concern had been justified.

"Well, if you really don't mind…" he said finally, before trailing off and clearing his throat. "You seem very close to Mr. Naruhodo and Miss Mikotoba. I am sorry you will have to say goodbye so soon. Partings are never easy."

"Yes… I'll miss them. Susie and Runo are the best. It won't be the same without them."

"Perhaps they will visit again one day, and there is always correspondence. I'm sure this won't be the last you hear of them."

Barok paused, searching for another topic of conversation and coming up empty. He was terrible at small talk at the best of times, much less in such a fraught situation. He almost wished Sholmes was here after all, if only to help carry the conversation. Even idiotic prattle would be preferable to awkward silence.

Iris huffed out a small laugh. "You're much politer outside the courtroom, Mr. Reaper."

"…Ah," he said awkwardly. "Sometimes. Courtroom performance is as much theater as anything. Once Mr. Naruhodo learns this lesson and begins projecting more confidence rather than that wide-eyed look of a lamb going to the slaughter, he will become truly formidable."

This was true. A little bit of theater went a long way in the courtroom. And in his case, it stretched far beyond that. He had long ago constructed the face of the Reaper of the Bailey, put on the mask, and smothered what remained of the boy he'd once been beneath it. He had not murdered anyone, but he had become the hard, bitter, merciless man who everyone thought could.

That shadow followed him outside of the courtroom too, but at least he had a little more room to breathe. He could comport himself with chilly politeness and behave more courteously when the occasion called for it.

In this case, however, his stilted formality was more for the benefit of making a better impression on his niece. But he could not say that, and he did not think it would sound very good even if he could. Mercenary politeness to serve a purpose just wasn't the same as being polite because one was actually a good person.

"I guess that makes sense," Iris said. She braced her hands on her hips and fixed him with a hard look. "You were very mean to me and Hurley and Runo in Ginny's trial, though."

It didn't take much prompting to bring to mind Lestrade's trial, in which Iris had stood in as Naruhodo's unofficial judicial assistant. Barok's recollection of their interactions made him wince, but he could hardly deny it.

"Yes," he said. "I'm afraid that I am not a very nice person."

Iris's frown faded, and she bit her lip. "You could be, though."

Barok thought he was probably well beyond the point of redemption on that count. Nice was no longer part of his repertoire, and hadn't been for a very long time.

"I apologize for my discourteous behavior. I assure you that it was nothing personal against you."

"But it was against Runo?"

"Admittedly, my discourtesy towards him was more…targeted."

"You should apologize to him. He did help you out a lot, didn't he?"

"He did, and I already did as well. However, I do not believe that there is anything I could do at this point to adequately make amends or repay the debt I owe him, and I fear my apology counts for little."

"It's better than nothing! Runo is very nice and forgiving, so I'm sure it would go farther than you think." Iris raised her eyebrows. "And Hurley?"

Barok sighed. He thought it unwise to insult the guardian Iris was so clearly fond of, but neither could he bring himself to lie.

"I just find him utterly exasperating."

Iris laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Doesn't everyone?"

Barok regarded her uncertainly, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

He was saved by a small calico cat leaping onto the arm of the chair. It meowed loudly and reached out a paw to bat at the hair framing his face. Barok leaned away, but instead of giving up, the cat hopped down into his lap and kneaded at his thighs with small paws.

"Ah, Miss Wilson?" he ventured, hands hovering uncertainly above the creature making itself at home in his lap.

Iris beamed. "Waggy likes you!"

In fact, the feline did look familiar after all.

"Oh," he said. "I suppose this was your assistant in demonstrating your…cat-flapomat? There was such a debate about how to repair the damage to the Old Bailey's paneling that I believe the cat door is still there to this day."

If he'd thought she was beaming before, it was nothing compared to how her face lit up now. "You remember the name of my invention!"

"Oh… I suppose? It was a memorable demonstration."

The cat flopped over and curled into a ball in his lap, purring loudly.

"She likes you!" Iris said again, sounding extraordinarily pleased. "You can't be so bad if she likes you. Animals are the best judges of character, you know. Do you like animals, Mr. Reaper?"

Barok stared down at the cat, nonplussed, but then peeled off a glove and hesitantly stroked her head, lightly massaging around her ears and cheeks before trailing fingers down her back. Her fur was short but soft, and she was a warm little furnace in his lap. Her purring grew louder, a rumble that vibrated through his hand and legs.

"Animals?" he repeated. "I wouldn't say–"

"You have those bats in your office too. I don't suppose you'd let them stay if you didn't like them."

"I've just never taken the time to–"

"And you're petting Waggy just right."

He gave up with a sigh. "Very well. I like animals better than I like people, at any rate."

"I knew it! Why don't you want people to know that you like animals?"

He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. "It's not some…grand secret, only that no one expects it, I suppose. It's not very befitting of the cold-hearted Reaper of the Bailey, is it?"

Iris's smile faded. "Except that you aren't the Reaper, are you?"

"I did not commit the Reaper murders, no. But I am the Reaper of the Bailey, at least in name. I have adopted its persona, and that comes with a certain reputation to maintain."

"Still? Even though the Reaper has been caught?"

"It's who I am now, I suppose."

Iris didn't reply immediately, only fidgeted with her teacup and chewed on her lip. Barok rubbed a finger along the cat's cheek, and she pushed her tiny face against his hand. He nearly smiled before remembering himself.

The thing he liked most about animals was that they had no pretensions and told no lies. They didn't keep secrets or pretend to be something they weren't. They could be unpredictable at times, but it was an expected unpredictability. And if one took the time to understand the nuances of their behavior, it became far less unpredictable than it might seem at first glance.

That and they were adorable.

Iris leaned forward and poured more tea into her cup. "Would you like some more tea?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

She refilled Barok's cup as well and handed it back to him. He sipped at it slowly and watched his niece overtop the rim.

Something was clearly bothering her. Her brows were knitted together, and she seemed quieter and less bubbly than earlier. Wonderful. Barok hadn't been here for ten minutes and he had already put her ill at ease and upset her somehow. He ran back over the conversation, searching for what he might have said wrong, but it could have been anything. The unfortunate fact remained that he had no idea how to talk to anyone properly anymore, much less a child.

Iris downed her tea in a few large gulps and put down her cup. She sat up very straight, laced her hands together in her lap, and met Barok's gaze squarely.

"I've been thinking," she said. "I should probably call you something else now, shouldn't I?"

Whatever he'd been expecting her to be considering so seriously, it wasn't that.

"Pardon?"

"It's not very fair of me to call you Mr. Reaper when you aren't really the Reaper. Now that you've been acquitted, I should call you something else, don't you think?"

Barok looked away. "It doesn't matter. You can call me whatever you want."

In fact, he did not like the moniker, particularly coming from his niece, who he would rather not have think of him as a cold-blooded serial killer. But he also knew that she had never meant any offense by it, and he had grown used to hearing such things over the years. This seemed a very small battle to wage.

"It does matter, though, doesn't it?" Iris's gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry for calling you that. It occurred to me that it was rather rude."

"Not really. I was far more rude to you and your friends, I should think. Truly, it does not matter."

"Still, it's not right." Iris looked back at him, chin jutting out. "I want to call you something else. Is that okay?"

"I suppose so? As I said, you can call me whatever you want."

"Your first name… It's Barok, isn't it?"

Barok fought back a grimace as he realized what was about to happen. He was about to be christened with an inelegant nickname like Runo or Susie or, God forbid, Hurley. He supposed it was too late to insist on staying Mr. Reaper now.

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

He sipped at his tea to hide his expression in case any of his distaste was seeping out. Iris considered for a moment.

"Hm…" She took a deep, steadying breath. "How about Uncle Barry?"

The world slid to a stop, everything hanging frozen, suspended in place. Then Barok inhaled sharply and choked on his tea.

He spasmed, hand flying to his mouth as he coughed and sputtered. The cat yowled in displeasure and jumped off his lap, claws digging into his thighs as she went.

"Oh no!" Iris hopped off her chair and rushed over. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Barok wheezed, trying to catch his breath. He thought, suddenly, that perhaps the soothing tea hadn't been for him at all. Iris looked more nervous and unsure than he'd ever seen her. "Miss Wilson–"

"Iris," she said, soft and hesitant. "You can call me Iris."

"Iris," he said, tasting her name on his tongue as he rolled each syllable with care and a hint of wonder. It was the first time he had dared speak her given name aloud, even to himself, and he handled it delicately, marveling at the bit of magic such a small word could hold. An odd look passed over his niece's face, something he couldn't quite decipher. "How…?"

She stepped back and looked away. "I overheard a little bit, after your trial. The charm I gave to Runo, that we were using as a communication device… Well, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but if it's not disengaged properly, it can still transmit signals to another device. I…haven't talked to Hurley about it yet. I wanted some time to think about it myself first, but then you wrote offering to come to tea and…"

Barok suddenly found it very hard to look at her. He busied himself instead with pulling his glove back on and picking restlessly at the short white furs clinging to his pants.

"I apologize for rushing your schedule," he said, knowing immediately that it was the wrong thing to say and that he sounded more stilted than ever. "It appears I have a knack for inconvenient timing."

"N-no, that's not…"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, folding his hands together in his lap to force them into stillness. "My apologies. You…caught me off guard. Just to…clear up any possible misconception… I was not made aware of your heritage until the conversation you overheard. It was as much a shock to me as it undoubtedly was to you. I assure you that my…absence or uninvolvement this past decade was not because I intended to abandon or reject you in any way. I was never given the opportunity to care for you."

Iris stared very hard at the ground and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "I know," she mumbled. "I heard that too. I know Hurley…"

"Had his reasons," Barok said grudgingly. The concession was more for Iris's sake than anything, since she was obviously fond of her guardian. It wouldn't be appropriate for Barok to air his grievances here. "He did what he thought was best for you."

"I know. He always does. Still…"

Barok blew out a short breath through his nose. "Miss Iris… What is it that you want from me, precisely?"

Iris bit down hard on her lip, shoulders hunching up around her ears. "Um… I don't want anything from you, exactly, only… I've looked for my family for a long time, and it seems like that's you, right? I had been hoping…that maybe I could get to know you? And I thought that…maybe you'd like to get to know me? You did ask to come to tea, so…"

Barok closed his eyes. It was not that he felt differently, exactly. But he knew that their end goals did not align, and he dreaded the look on Iris's face when she discovered that too. He should just tell her in order to manage expectations, but it seemed a terrible thing to drop it on her now, before they'd even had the chance to have a proper conversation.

"I'll admit to being a bit curious myself," he mumbled.

"Wonderful!" Iris said. She grabbed his hand and tugged him out of his chair. "Come on! Let me show you my part of the flat."

Barok stumbled after her, caught off guard by her enthusiasm. She danced across the room with an air of boundless energy, looking back over her shoulder to gauge his interest. The hand curled around his fingers was small, but it clung to them tightly, as if afraid to let go.

"This is…where you do your work, then?" Barok asked, unsure of what to say but sensing that she wanted his engagement.

"Yes! I keep my tea set over here, usually. I like to make all my own blends, you know. Oh, and over here is where I write out the ideas I'm working on. Sometimes for my stories, and sometimes for inventions I'm designing."

He peered at the chalkboard, examining a detailed drawing of what appeared to be the inner workings of a camera, along with a number of calculations and trajectory angles.

"You're designing…a camera?" he ventured.

"Improving one, more like. You remember Hurley's red-handed recorders, the ones in Mr. Windibank's Pawnbrokery? We used the prints in Ginny's trial. They were set to go off at thirty-minute intervals, but it was costing poor Mr. Windibank a fortune in film and producing loads of useless prints every day. I'm designing a motion-activated mechanism so that the cameras will only take a photo when something triggers them to…"

Iris chattered happily about how such a mechanism might be designed, and while Barok was no scientist, he knew enough to understand the gist and realize how groundbreaking it was.

"That's quite clever," he said when she paused to take a breath. He examined the diagram with genuine interest, parsing the different elements and how they fitted together as he slotted them into Iris's explanations. "A truly innovative piece of technology."

Instead of looking pleased, Iris puffed out her cheeks. "Yes, but the problem is that they're quite sensitive. There are a few shopkeepers who want to try them out, but the cameras snap pictures every time a customer passes by them. So they aren't getting reams of useless photos at night, but there's a mountain of them during business hours. For the application I'm working on now, we only need one photo of each customer as they enter and leave the store so that there's a record of who is visiting and when, but it takes forever to sort through all the pictures. I've been aiming the camera at the door, but it still catches every time a patron cuts in front of it. I've been moving it around to look for a spot where it's out of the way, but…"

Barok looked over what he presumed was meant to be a diagram of the front of a shop. "Pray forgive my presumption, but… Have you tried mounting it to the ceiling?"

She blinked back at him, eyebrows drawing together. "The ceiling?"

"If you were to mount it on the ceiling, you could angle the device sharply here and point it directly at the door. The issue being that the pictures would be taken from above, so you might end up catching the tops of people's heads. But if you were to mount the camera farther back this way, it would allow for a shallower angle while still keeping the area of focus rather small. If you find the right position, I think it would cut out most of the clutter and give you a better shot of the clientele's faces. Obviously, it would be more difficult to retrieve the prints after, but…"

He trailed off, feeling that he was rambling and perhaps overstepping himself by offering unsolicited advice on Iris's pet project, but the girl only smiled widely.

"That's brilliant, Uncle Barry!" she said in delight, and he shivered at how unfamiliar but surprisingly warming his new nickname sounded in her mouth. It made his heart shudder in a way that was uncomfortable but not entirely unpleasant. "I hadn't thought to try that yet. It seemed like a more difficult setup, but you're quite right. If I play with it a bit… I bet I could make it work. You know some science too, don't you?"

"Not much, really. A knowledge of angles comes in handy in my line of work. And I did once have a friend who was a scientist… I picked up a little here and there while helping him with his projects and listening to his theories. But I'm no scientist, I'm afraid."

"You seem to understand the workings of my invention, though, and I had to explain it to Runo three times before he gave up on it. I think maybe you understand more than you let on."

"The basics, maybe," Barok said, shifting uncomfortably under her unfathomably pleased scrutiny. "I find it helpful in the courtroom, and I like to keep up with the news and what innovations are cropping up."

"No need to be modest! You have an analytic mind like me! Let's see… What else…?" Iris pointed at the massive typewriter taking up the far wall. "There's where I do all my writing, of course. I owe Randst another story next week, and I'm a little behind, what with all the excitement after… Well, I'll need to get back to work once Susie and Runo leave. Have you read my stories?"

"Ah… It's impossible not to stumble across the occasional one when they're everywhere, I'd say."

Iris fixed him with a look, apparently unimpressed by his dissembling. "You quoted one of my lines in Ginny's trial!"

"Oh, very well," Barok muttered. "I'm familiar with your work. I want to dislike it on principle because of Mr. Sholmes's prominence, but your writing is engaging and you have a way of weaving together complex plots. I expect the most brilliant lines come directly from you, rather than our great detective."

"Sometimes it's necessary to refine Hurley's sayings," Iris said delicately. "But I'm glad you like them! I enjoy writing them a lot. Oh! And I made something for you too. Um… I hope you like it."

She rummaged about in her pocket and produced an object wrapped in her fist. When Barok extended a hand to receive it, she deposited a small felt charm in his palm.

It was a small doll in the shape of a gray cat with a dour expression standing on its hind legs, wrapped in a dark cloak. The cloak itself was a marvel, identical to Barok's own down to every last detail. Beneath it, the cat had been clad in tiny replicas of his own attire. Every detail was precise, delicately recreated in miniature.

He stared at it for a long time, a strange feeling crawling up the back of his throat and burning at the corners of his eyes.

"The cat was a lucky guess," Iris said when he didn't respond immediately. "I mean, I didn't know you liked them, but it seems fitting with how you made friends with Waggy. I just like to make the charms animals, you know, and you remind me a bit of a cat. It's just a little charm, really, but it can also be used to communicate like the others… I can show you how to use it, so if you ever do need to talk to me… Well, anyway, I hope that's not strange."

Barok looked back up at her. Nervous rambling was not something he would have expected of her with her normal vivacious confidence, but it seemed like he continued to come off as particularly intimidating.

"It's, um…" He cleared his throat and swallowed the lump down. "It's quite lovely, Miss Iris. You have an exquisite attention to detail. Thank you, truly. I shall treasure it. I am only sorry that as I was not expecting such a gift, I did not bring anything to give to you in return."

"Oh, no! That's not necessary at all." Iris looked up at him shyly from beneath her lashes, mouth curling into a hesitant smile. "I'm glad you like it, though."

"I do." Barok curled his fingers delicately around the charm, hiding it from view, but he liked feeling the shape of it in his hand. He pulled himself back together, gaze flitting across all the things his niece had so proudly shown him. "You are quite talented and clever. The…analytic mind, as you call it, runs in the family, although it manifests in different ways. The artistic talent does not. I'm more surprised by that… I thought I was the only one."

"The only one?" Iris perked up, her self-consciousness melting away in the face of her curiosity. "Are you artistic as well?"

Barok pursed his lips and shook his head, wishing he hadn't let that slip but searching for a way to connect with his niece. "Not really. Not anymore, at any rate."

"But you used to be? Did you write?"

"Heavens, no. But there was a time I…used to paint and draw. It was a long time ago."

"Oh, how lovely! Why don't you do it anymore?"

He shrugged, gaze skittering away. "If one is not in the right state of mind, sometimes inspiration is hard to come by or the work produced seems…unsatisfactory. I lost my interest, I suppose. Moved on to other things."

Everything he had produced after Klint's death had seemed somehow dark, twisted by his despair and anger. He couldn't stand to look at any of it and had quickly abandoned such things. He had missed it at times, of course, like a pressure building behind his eyes with no outlet to release it, but he had convinced himself that he didn't have time for such frivolities, that he wasn't missing out on anything. His entire life after Klint's death had narrowed to the Prosecutor's Office, except for those dark years of his early retirement.

"Oh." Iris furrowed her brow like she was trying to parse the meaning behind his words. "Don't you miss it? I think I'd crawl out of my skin if I couldn't write anymore."

"I don't know. Sometimes, maybe. But it's been so long now that I don't think of it much. I don't have time for those things anymore anyway."

Iris considered that for a moment. "Would you draw me something? I don't have paints right now, but I could find some paper and a pencil."

Barok stiffened. "I don't know," he hedged. "I don't do that anymore."

"Please?" Iris widened her eyes and clasped her hands together. "I'd love to see!"

"I don't–"

"This can be your gift to me! Since you're sorry about not bringing one. Please?"

Barok squirmed under the weight of her pleading gaze. He knew he was being manipulated, but at least this was a sweet, harmless kind of manipulation.

"It wouldn't be any good," he warned. "I haven't practiced in years."

She beamed, sensing the capitulation. "I'm sure it will be great!"

He sighed in defeat. "Very well."

Iris squealed in delight and began rummaging through drawers. "Here's some paper… I know I have a pencil here somewhere, but…"

"The pen will be fine."

"If you say so." Iris handed over the paper and pen and retreated back to the sitting area, watching Barok expectantly. "Can you draw me?"

Barok pursed his lips as he perched on the edge of his chair. He had abandoned art in the first place because it had grown ugly with the weight of his feelings. He didn't want to impose that on Iris. She was the only bright and beautiful thing hovering at the periphery of his life, and he didn't want to color her likeness with his cynicism and bitterness.

But it wasn't like he could explain that. She had asked him, and he would try. He supposed he owed her at least that much.

"Yes."

"Wonderful! Do I need to sit very still?"

"No."

Barok did not even look at her as he began. This was only a quick sketch, after all, and he had studied her closely enough from the moment she'd opened the door for him today.

The trunk was too low to be a comfortable working table, and the pen felt awkward and unfamiliar in his hand as he stared at the page and tried to remember how to even start.

But as he made a few hesitant strokes to get the feel for it again, he found that everything was still buried somewhere inside him, deep down. He had not forgotten the angles and shapes and proportions that made up the human body. He had not forgotten how to wield a pen and put it to paper with all the right strokes to make something come to life on the page.

He worked quickly, almost carelessly, Iris's shape taking form with a series of long, sweeping lines. He detailed the folds of her skirt, the curls of her hair, and cross-hatched in the shading. He paused only at her face, to ink in the details with more care, and then hesitated a moment longer before adding her cat at her feet.

Putting down the pen, he frowned at his creation. For all his worries… That was, indeed, his niece, with her bubbly smile and small body radiating energy. There was something almost…hopeful about it. It had an air of possibility and warmth.

He hadn't believed he still had it in him, after all these years wrapped in bitter solitude. He was glad his poignant melancholy hadn't bled through to the page this time.

He offered the drawing to Iris wordlessly, and she snatched it from his hand to look it over.

"Wow!" she said. "You're really good! I can't believe you can make it look just like me even in pen. And you're so fast! Oh, and I love that you included Waggy! Thank you! This is really great."

"You're welcome, I suppose," Barok said, although he didn't see what there was to be so excited about. The charm tucked away in his pocket had required far greater effort and care to create.

Iris looked up, and she wore that shy, nervous look on her face again. "Uncle Barry, may I ask you something?"

He braced himself. "Yes, of course."

She hesitated and then took a deep breath. "Do I look very much like my parents?"

Barok studied her, the mix of familiar and unfamiliar features that merged into something beautiful and unique and entirely her. He extended his hand.

"May I?"

Iris stared at him blankly, then started and handed the paper back to him. Barok held the pen poised over the page, deliberating, and then began inking Klint into the corner, arm settled comfortably around his wife's waist like he'd so frequently done in life when he thought no one was looking, her head tipped against his chest.

"Your eyes are very much like his," he said finally. "Mostly, though, you look like your mother. Your hair, the shape of your face… Well. Maybe I should have realized, but I suppose I wasn't looking. You might end up growing quite tall, when you're a little older. It's a family trait."

He surrendered the page back to Iris, and she took it reverently, fingertips hesitating above her parents' faces.

"Thank you," she said, very quietly.

"If you recall visiting my office with Mr. Naruhodo… The portrait you thought wasn't a good likeness of me, that's because it depicts Klint. There is another formal portrait of the both of them in the manor, and there should also be a few amateur paintings I did locked away in some dark corner. If you'd like, I suppose a visit could be arranged for you to see them."

When Iris looked up at him this time, her eyes were luminous with a fierce, hungry kind of hope. "I would like that very much," she said. "Thank you."

Barok nodded once and looked away. "If you have any questions about them, I am at your disposal."

The paper rustled in Iris's hands, and she set it down on the table. "I do have questions," she said. "Lots of them. But I don't want to ask them today. Today I just want to…get to know you, I guess. There will be time to talk about my parents later, but I'd like to get to know you first. "

Barok let out a breath in a long, low sigh, deflating as if someone had stuck a pin into a balloon and let out all the air. He couldn't put it off any longer.

"Miss Iris… I'm afraid that might be unwise."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

"It would be best if you were not associated with me. It would be wise to keep clear of the whole Reaper debacle, and you should stay away from the family in case… Well. I would rather it not be known that you are dear to me, for your own safety."

Iris pouted, a scowl threatening to break across her face. "You were acquitted of being the Reaper. And I'm not saying I want to publicly declare my parentage. I'm perfectly happy here. But we can get to know each other discreetly, can't we? We can still be family in secret, if you're that concerned."

"I don't want you to misunderstand me." Barok leaned forward, stretching across the gap to take Iris's hands in his. He stared at her earnestly, trying to convey some emotion he couldn't quite put a name to. "If I had known of your existence a decade ago, I would have fought to take custody of you. I would have fought against the rumors of the Reaper and taken you into the family home to grow up on the estate. I would have done my very best to give you a good life, to set aside my grief and bitterness to raise you as best I could. Perhaps I would not have been any good at it, but I would have tried, and if Mr. Sholmes could manage it, I'd like to think that I could have too.

"But I am not that person anymore, and the situation has changed. I have many enemies, and they are the merciless, unscrupulous kind who would not hesitate to wound me by underhanded means. I would not bring you into the crossfire. And when the findings of the Professor case are leaked, you cannot be linked to me or the family.

"If you have questions about your parents, I will be at your service. But I do not think it would be to your benefit to build a relationship with me beyond that. You have grown into a brilliant and charming girl in Mr. Sholmes's care and I would have liked the opportunity to know you better, but I came today only because I promised you that I would, and because I wanted to meet you properly at least once. Under other circumstances, I would have loved to welcome you into my family, but I'm afraid… I'm afraid that's not for the best. You are happy here, and safe. I am satisfied knowing that. I do apologize, Miss Iris."

Iris stared back at him, eyes wide and filling with tears. "B-but…"

He winced. "Don't cry. I'm sure you'll be just fine with Mr. Sholmes. I can go through Klint's old things as well and see if I can find a memento for you. Anything with obvious family ties will need to stay at the manor, but I'm sure I could find some tokens nondescript enough that they can't be linked back. There might be something left of your mother's too… I'll have to check. And as I said, I can answer questions. Discreetly. I'm sorry that you were not able to find your father after all your searching, but I can give you some piece of him, at least. That's what you wanted, isn't it? I think that should be enough."

"But it isn't!" she burst out. "Because now there's also you. I want you too."

Barok flinched back under her wide-eyed gaze—hurt bordering on anger bordering on desperation. Her eyes were already rimmed with red, the tears beginning to break loose and track down her face. She had come into this meeting with so much anxiety, so much hope, and rejection would always sting.

Barok couldn't think of the last time someone had wanted him. The sentiment made him squirm. He'd spent a decade locked away in a prison largely of his own making, and he was not prepared for a young girl to come barreling in out of nowhere and discover the key. He sensed the danger here, the looming capacity for pain that was easier avoided in isolation. But he was not the only one at risk of being hurt by letting someone in, and he knew, deep down, that the pain of shutting down a possible future now would be less than the pain of something going catastrophically wrong later. If he was going to end up hurting her sooner or later, then he would rather do it now.

If only things had been different… But they weren't. In another life, he might have been a loving uncle and Iris might have brought a light to his life that had been missing for so long now. But he had spent too long in the dark, and he was incapable of being that kind of person anymore. It was too bad. He would have liked it better that way.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out, shoving aside the welling sense of poignant melancholy along with it. "I'm sorry. I–"

The soft snick of a lock and rattling of the door handle brought him up short, and he pulled away from Iris as if burned and rose to his feet. The front door swung open not a moment later. Sholmes clomped into the flat, half a dozen bags looped around his arms, complaining loudly about his status as pack mule. Naruhodo came traipsing behind, accompanied by Doctor Mikotoba's daughter, Susato. Asogi brought up the rear, and Barok bit back a grimace. That was one face he would have rather not seen here. He and Asogi would have their own issues to work out, and he already had enough on his plate here at Baker Street.

Naruhodo tripped to a stop. "Lord van Zieks!"

He sounded surprised, even though Barok assumed Iris must have made everyone aware of the meeting before banishing them from the apartment.

"Mr. Naruhodo," he greeted tonelessly, tamping down his unsettled emotions and schooling his features to neutrality. "My apologies. I intended to be gone before you returned."

"Oh, no! That's not– We didn't mean to rush you or anything. Ah, sorry. Have you, ah…been well? No one's really seen you since the trial, so…"

"Quite well."

"Yes, because you're leaving all the work to me," Asogi muttered.

Barok magnanimously ignored him. He suspected that his apprentice's insolence would be just as frustrating to deal with as his previous stony silence.

"Iris!" Sholmes said, tossing bags every which way. One fell onto the trunk serving as their table, clipping the teapot and making it wobble dangerously. "I purchased everything you told me to, but I'll have you know that it has drained all the life out of me. My arms are as limp as noodles, my legs burn like I've climbed a mountain, and my heart is quite broken from having been exiled from my own abode for an entire afternoon."

"Not even," Iris said, striving for some semblance of her normal good cheer. Barok grimaced at how thin it sounded. She had wiped away her tears, but her eyes were still shiny and red-rimmed. "You're early. I thought I told you at least three hours."

Sholmes frowned. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"What did you do now?" Asogi asked, shooting an exasperated look at Barok. "You can't even act like a decent human being for an hour for the sake of a literal child?"

This stung more than it had any right to, perhaps because Barok had been trying to be a decent enough human being for Iris's sake. As usual, he'd botched it spectacularly.

"Ah…"

Everyone was looking between him and Iris, and he imagined he could feel their annoyance with him as palpably as their concern for his niece.

"Be nice, Kazu," Iris said sternly. "It's not his fault. He was being very nice to me."

Barok stared at her in utter bewilderment. He didn't recall being particularly nice.

"I would never doubt you," Sholmes told Iris wryly, "but I think I'd sooner believe that he grew a second head."

"Hurley! That's not very nice. Uncle Barry's been on his best behavior."

The whole room seemed to go still.

"Uncle Barry?" Sholmes repeated. He looked at Barok, eyes narrowing. "What–?"

"Oh, no," Barok snapped. "Don't you pin this on me. I didn't tell her anything. If you're so intent on keeping secrets, you should be more careful that she doesn't overhear sensitive conversations. I'll have you know that I walked into an ambush."

"It's true," Iris said sheepishly. "Sorry, Hurley. I was going to tell you, but… I wanted to think it over first and then he was coming for tea, so…"

Sholmes was still watching Barok. "I see. Welcome to the family, then, I suppose."

He did not sound particularly pleased about it, and Barok flinched back. He had no intention of intruding on this little family. He crossed his arms and scowled at the ground, averting his gaze to avoid Sholmes's stare and the pointed looks shooting back and forth among the Nipponese contingent.

"It's been great!" Iris said with more enthusiasm, trying to smooth out the mounting tension clotting the air. "He understood my dilemma with the red-handed recorders on the first try and suggested we mount them to the ceiling to get a better angle. Isn't that a good idea?"

"Splendid," Sholmes said, although his voice still rang flat.

"Oh, and Waggy likes him! Isn't that nice?"

"It's an honor to be chosen by Wagahai," Naruhodo said, sounding a little uncertain but pressing on with his usual determination. "She pretty much does whatever she wants."

"And did you know he's an artist?"

"An artist?" Asogi repeated incredulously.

That was enough to spur Barok back into motion. "I most certainly am not."

"Don't be modest!" Iris said, brandishing the sketches. The Nipponese students crowded around to get a closer look.

"That's actually quite good," Susato said, sounding impressed despite herself.

"And he did it so fast too! Uncle Barry is really talented."

"Uncle Barry is full of regrets right about now," Barok muttered.

Several pairs of startled eyes snapped towards him. Asogi actually snorted, and Susato brought a hand to her mouth to hide what looked suspiciously like a smile.

"I never would have taken you for an artist," Naruhodo said thoughtfully.

"I'm not. It was merely a childish pastime I dabbled in long ago. I haven't touched it in a decade."

"Seems strange, but maybe I should have known." Asogi smiled and it was all teeth, not quite friendly. "You have too much fun creating those dioramas. You don't understand, he gets very detailed."

"Excuse me?" Barok demanded, affronted. "That's a respectable way of recreating crime scenes. Of course they're detailed. What good are they otherwise?"

"A bit like playing with dolls."

"Playing with–? If anyone's playing with them, it's you. Don't think I didn't notice pieces going missing."

Asogi started, a guilty expression flashing across his face. "So you did notice."

"Obviously. Why did you think I kept replacing them?"

"I didn't know you realized it was me. Why didn't you say something?"

Barok fixed him with a withering look. "Considering everything stayed put in its proper place before you came blundering into my office, it wasn't a difficult deduction to make. You were trying to vex me, and I was not going to give you the satisfaction. I simply waited for you to grow bored of it."

Asogi shook his head slowly. "It drove me crazy. I couldn't tell if you were just very dense or refusing to acknowledge me."

"Well, it worked, didn't it? You stopped. And it sounds like your little stunt vexed you more than it did me."

"I suppose I shall have to try harder to annoy you next time, now that I know it's working."

"I tremble with anticipation to see what new torments await me now that your tongue has been fully unchained."

Asogi snorted loudly.

"Why would you even steal such things in the first place?" Susato wondered aloud.

Asogi shrugged. "It gets dreadfully boring in there sometimes. The investigations are alright, but the paperwork…"

"Isn't that what you signed up for?" Naruhodo asked. "Law is a lot of paperwork."

"Not all of us have an amazing judicial assistant to do all the boring bits for us. If you think the defense has a ton of paperwork and investigation, you should see everything the prosecution has to do."

"I do solidly eighty-five percent of the paperwork even when you assist me," Barok said testily.

"That sounds like your fault for making me write countless case reports instead."

"Casework is the best way to learn law. The mundanities of accompanying paperwork can be learned along the way. Frankly, many barristers hand off all their most tedious paperwork to their apprentices before ever letting them do casework of their own, so you're lucky you haven't died of boredom by now."

Asogi stared at Barok with narrowed eyes for a long moment before saying, more lightly, "Given how mercilessly you tear my reports to pieces, perhaps paperwork would be the lesser of two evils."

"I expect the highest caliber of work and will accept nothing less. If you don't like it, put in a transfer request. I'm sure there must be a decent human being somewhere in the Prosecutor's Office." Barok massaged his forehead, grimacing. His headache was getting worse. It might be Asogi's fault. "On that note, I do have work that needs to be done, although surely less now that Mr. Asogi has volunteered to take over more of the paperwork. I would not like to take up any more of your valuable time, so…"

He looked at Iris, searching her face for permission to table their unfinished conversation and walk away.

Iris stared back at him, and her eyes looked so sad. "But you'll come back, right?"

Of course she wasn't going to make it that easy.

He sighed. "Miss Wilson–"

"Iris."

"Miss Iris, as I said–"

Iris puffed out her cheeks in the most outrageous pout he'd ever seen and turned on Sholmes instead. "Hurley, tell him that he has to come back for tea sometime."

"Sorry?" Sholmes blinked at her in bewilderment. "Why should I do that? I'm sure he'll come back when he wants to. I doubt I could stop him from doing anything he put his mind to."

"And what makes you think I'd listen to him?" Barok muttered.

Iris glared them both into silence. "Help me convince him," she insisted. "He says it's better that he doesn't come again, that it's safer that way, and since you're the one who decided that in the first place…"

"…Ah." Sholmes winced, deflating, but then straightened himself back up again just as quickly and turned to Barok with a bumbling good cheer that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You heard the girl! How can you resist those eyes? I'm sure you'll consider her feelings on the matter when deciding next steps."

Barok stared at him, a sudden anger building and building in his chest until he could hardly see straight. "Mr. Sholmes," he said through gritted teeth. "Might I have a word?"

"Ah, you wish to engage my services? I must warn you, I charge by the minute, and my consulting fee is quite steep! Shall we say–?"

"Now."

Sholmes faltered for only a moment before pasting on another smile. "Who am I to deny such a polite request? Mr. Naruhodo, would you mind if we borrowed your office for a minute?"

"Uh…" Naruhodo looked between him and Barok with wide, nervous eyes. "No?"

"Wonderful! Come along, my dear fellow!"

Sholmes pranced across the room in a most undignified manner and started up the stairs. Barok followed on his heels, his own strides quick and clipped. He avoided Iris's gaze as he passed.

The attic looked comfortably lived in as well: two desks, bookshelves, a hearth, a tea set, an inordinate amount of clutter and bric-a-brac that had yet to be packed. He had never wondered what Naruhodo's living and working space was like, and he didn't care to examine it now. He glared at Sholmes instead.

Sholmes smiled back, an expression meant to look pleasant but a little too hard to be truly friendly. "Well, my dear fellow. What can I do for you?"

Barok jabbed a finger at his chest. "You aren't going to push this off on me."

"Pardon?"

"I will not play the villain here too, just to spare you the trouble."

Sholmes's eyes narrowed. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You don't want me here," Barok bit out. "In fact, let me make one of those deductions you're so fond of, that we might understand one another: you are afraid of me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Well, that would be a little silly now that it's been proven you aren't–"

"You're afraid because you think that I have the money and power and connections to take your ward from you if I so choose," Barok said coldly, implacably. That slight edge of a mocking smile fell off of Sholmes's face at once, and his expression went hard and blank. "And you're right. I could leverage my wealth and position to get my way, and I have a legal standing to make a proper case out of this if I wanted to." Sholmes's expression grew steadily more stony. Barok glowered back with equal venom. "But I won't. It's not my place. While I'm skeptical of your parenting skills, she seems happy and hale enough. It would be cruel to tear her away, and so I won't."

"Until you change your mind," Sholmes said bitterly.

Barok shrugged. "You don't have to trust me. Frankly, I don't trust you either. But you are her guardian, and I do not intend to interfere or overstep myself. I'm sure you know what's best for her better than I ever will."

Sholmes frowned, radiating an air of wary confusion. "I'm surprised you think so."

"As such, I will respect the boundaries you impose, and it is your responsibility to set them. Don't hide behind me or Miss Iris. You made the decision to hide her from me all these years, so you need to take responsibility for your choices. I have told her that it's a bad idea to build a relationship, but you need to back that up. I have also offered to answer any questions she has about her parents and furnish her with mementos that cannot be linked back to the family, as long as it's done discreetly. Am I allowed that much, or will you forbid that too?"

Barok broke off and took a deep, shuddering breath. His bitterness was choking him, sharpening his words to knife points.

Sholmes had robbed Barok of his chance to know Klint's daughter and be a part of her life. Barok had not yet had time to come to terms with this new loss, this new tragedy he hadn't even known he'd suffered until now, but just looking at Sholmes made resentment fester inside him, hot and painful and sharp. There was an ache too, whenever he thought of Iris, and that had even sharper edges. It was not the same feeling he got when thinking of Klint, but he knew it was a kind of grief nonetheless. Mourning for something he'd lost, perhaps, or something he'd never had. For something that still lingered just outside his grasp. Something he couldn't quite reach and knew he needed to let go.

Sholmes sighed heavily, suddenly looking very tired, and he didn't quite meet Barok's livid stare. "A generous offer."

"It's the only thing I can give her."

"That's not quite true." Sholmes hesitated, brows drawing together, and then said, "But yes, I think that's a good idea. She would like that. And maybe you're right. I do think you have a say in this relationship and I value Iris's opinion as well, but it's not fair to put all the responsibility on the two of you. I did what I thought was best for her and I would do it over again, but I don't blame you for being angry.

"Still… I tried to protect her from the truth, but it seems that the truth is finally out. While I still think it's safer to keep her connection to your family a secret, I don't see why the two of you can't get to know each other in private. It's at least worth a shot, isn't it?"

"It's too late!" Barok slammed his fist down on the desk beside him with a loud bang, his voice rising along with his ire. "Don't you understand, Sholmes? Things were different a decade ago. I would have had a chance then. But you decided it was too dangerous, and now it is. Whether you were right or not then, you're right now."

"You've been acquitted–"

"That doesn't matter. You know as well as I do that things like that don't disappear so easily. I protested the accusations, you know. In the beginning. But eventually I gave up, because I didn't have anything left to fight for. At least if I'd known about her then, I could have kept fighting and things wouldn't have gotten so bad. I expect the attacks will continue for some time, and the rumors too. Such things don't change overnight."

Sholmes winced. "That is unfortunate."

"And when I publish the truth about Klint… She can't be associated with me. You know that. It's going to be unbearably messy, and I'm going to make a whole new slew of enemies."

Sholmes pursed his lips. "Have you considered just…not publishing the story?"

Barok shook his head. "I'm sick to the bone with secrets. Besides… I suppose I owe Mr. Asogi at least that much."

"Have you actually asked him if he wants you to do that?"

Barok scoffed and looked down his nose at the so-called detective. He thought it should be very obvious why Asogi would want this small measure of revenge. If he couldn't make the Reaper accusation stick, at least he could have this. Barok would not begrudge Asogi this favor. It seemed fair enough.

"I don't see why he shouldn't," he said.

"Perhaps you should actually talk to him before making any hasty decisions."

"I didn't ask you to mediate my relationship with Mr. Asogi," he snapped. "I'll handle that as I see fit."

Sholmes held up his hands in surrender. "Far be it from me to offer sage and sensible advice free of charge."

Barok glared at him and lowered his voice. "Even besides all that… You know that I am not the kind of man who would be any good at this, not anymore. She would be better off without me, even if it were safe. She's your…daughter, or close enough." He closed his eyes and drew in a ragged breath past the constricting of his throat. Even forcing out the words felt like a betrayal of Klint. "You should be looking out for her best interests."

Sholmes considered this for a minute before sighing. "I always do what I think is best for Iris. I am concerned about what conclusions people might draw if she becomes associated with you, and it would have been simpler had the truth not come out. She's a clever girl, though, and I did suspect she might figure it out herself one day. I just didn't expect it to be so soon. It caught me off guard, so you'll have to excuse my churlish manners.

"That said… Iris has always had a fierce hunger to know about her family. She seems to adore you already, after only one tea."

Barok scoffed at the undercurrent slithering along the last sentiment. "You're jealous of me?" he asked bitterly.

Sholmes huffed out a laugh that didn't seem quite amused. "It caught me off guard, that's all."

"You are her family, Mr. Sholmes. I am only a novelty. I'm sure the shine will wear off soon enough."

"That's the thing, though. You're her family too, and a whole new world of possibility has just opened up before her. She's old enough to decide what she wants for herself, and she wants to build something with you. I know…that it would make her very happy, if you humored her.

"I agree that it's safer to keep these relations discreet, and we should take precautions to ensure her safety and well-being. But I think there's a safe middle ground there, where you could still visit and get to know her. I think you'd both like that."

Barok sighed. "Mr. Sholmes–"

"Just think about it. I understand that you've only had a few days to come to terms with this new information. Hardly enough time to make an informed decision about such a life-changing opportunity, wouldn't you say? We don't have to decide anything right now."

Barok opened his mouth, closed it again. He hadn't expected even this much from Sholmes, not really. The truth was that Sholmes might never trust him, knowing that he had the power to wrest Iris away if he decided to, and Barok might never trust Sholmes, knowing the magnitude of the secrets he kept. Even this small truce seemed like a big step.

But everything still felt unsettled, looming over their heads like an axe ready to fall. He wished Sholmes had just told him to stay away from Iris, a clear banishment so that he could rest easy knowing this path was closed to him for good. It would be painful, but much easier.

"It would be better if I stayed away," he said quietly, one last protest.

"She doesn't think that." Sholmes blew out a breath. "And to be honest, I'm not sure that I do either."

Barok stared at him, caught off guard. "But–"

"Think about it. We can work out the details later. For now, do you think we should rejoin the others? If we don't return soon, they might start thinking you've killed me in a fit of rage, and we wouldn't want your grisly reputation resurrected just as soon as you've buried it."

Barok glowered at Sholmes, who only grinned back. "You are the most insufferable man I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

Sholmes only threw his head back and laughed as he turned away and started down the steps. Barok hung back, carefully reining in his emotions and packing them away again, and then followed.

"No need to worry, my dear!" Sholmes was saying as Barok drifted down the stairs slowly, a ghost in someone else's home. "I survived his wrath in one piece!"

Iris looked between the two men. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course! We've come to an agreement."

"No, we haven't," Barok said dourly.

Sholmes laughed. "Well, we've agreed to come to an agreement, which is the first step!"

Barok brought his hand to his face. If he'd thought Asogi was bad for his headache, Sholmes was worse.

He hoped their argument hadn't carried down the stairs. There was no way to tell, but the Nipponese contingent was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"But… You will come back, though?" Iris asked anxiously.

Barok shot a pointed look at Sholmes, who stared back blankly before straightening to attention.

"We will have further discussions on the matter," Sholmes said. "You've given us a bit of a shock, my dear. Give us some time to determine the best path forward. It's a…complicated situation."

Iris puffed out her cheeks, eyes flashing. "That's not a real answer."

"It's the best one we have right now." Sholmes grinned and leaned in close, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that was still louder than many people's normal voices. "But between you and me, I think we can convince him."

She brightened just a little. "Do you think so?"

Barok sighed. "Mr. Sholmes…"

Sholmes straightened back up, continuing on blithely. "In the meantime, it sounds as if he's offered to find you some keepsakes from your parents, which is quite generous of him. You should try to be satisfied with that."

"Oh, yes," Iris said. "It sounds lovely." She looked back to Barok, uncertain again, biting her lip. "But… I hope you will consider it, Uncle Barry. I'd like to get to know you."

"I assure you that you will be taken into consideration," Barok said, noncommittal.

"Well, it would make me very happy if you came back to tea sometime. It's always exciting to find new family." She hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, and then asked, "Is there…?"

Barok stared back at her blankly as she worked up her courage, and then sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm the last of the family left in London. There are a handful of cousins and such living farther afield, but they stopped talking to me years ago. They found it prudent to distance themselves from my reputation."

Iris's eyes widened. "That's awful."

"It's no great loss," he said, but his voice sounded thin and unconvincing even to his own ears. There had been a time when he'd had a family, when it had been important to him. He'd been happier then. "I suppose I could get on my knees and beg them for a favor now that I've been acquitted," he added, mouth curling into a sneer to show what he thought of that, "but I wouldn't trust them with the secret of your parentage. And when I publish Klint's crimes, they will be very angry with me."

"They don't sound very nice," Iris said in a small voice, and he sighed, softening.

"Nicer than I am, I'm sure. There was a time we got along better. They made a sensible decision. I dismissed most of the staff at the estate as well, when some of them began receiving threats. Family would be an even greater target. So you might understand why I am concerned."

Iris's lips were wobbling again, her eyes shiny. "I understand. But–"

"Iris, my dear!" Sholmes interrupted. "Don't bother Mr. Reaper too much!"

The heartbroken look disappeared from Iris's face at once, and she seemed to grow to twice her normal size in a sudden fit of pique. "Hurley! You can't call him that anymore! He's been acquitted."

"I don't care," Barok said. "I already said that it doesn't matter."

"I…don't think that's entirely true." Iris looked back at him, deflating again. "It should matter. I mean, because of the Reaper… You lost your family and people attack you in the streets and everyone is afraid of you and you've had to be alone. Don't you think that the person who was hurt most by the Reaper…is you?"

Barok stared at her very hard, a funny, sick feeling uncurling in the pit of his stomach, and then he felt a smile crawl across his face, all sharp, broken edges, ugly and painful. "Aren't you a precocious one? Although if we're giving prizes, perhaps the honors should go to the victims who were murdered, even if they were largely murderous scum themselves."

Iris flinched back. "I…"

"Don't mind him!" Sholmes said brightly. "Uncle Barry gets a little grumpy sometimes."

Barok whipped his head around so fast that it was a miracle it didn't pop right off. "Oh, no," he snapped. "Absolutely not."

Sholmes grinned back, unfazed. "Well, if Mr. Reaper is off the table–"

"No."

"But you let Iris call you that, and we're family now, aren't we?"

"No. The difference is that I like her, so I'll tolerate it. I don't like you."

"I didn't realize you liked anyone," Asogi mused.

Barok shot him a glare too for good measure. "It's a new and alarming development."

Susato smiled. "I think it's quite charming."

He scowled at her too.

"Now, now," Sholmes said with unbridled glee. "Don't be shy, Uncle Barry. I'm sure we can–"

"The next time that leaves your mouth, I will have you arrested on the spot."

Sholmes laughed. "You're going to have me arrested for calling you something you don't like? That doesn't sound like due process."

Barok looked down his nose at the detective. "You quite frequently find yourself on the wrong side of the law, Mr. Sholmes. Breaking and entering, disturbing crime scenes, unlawful withholding of evidence–"

"All in the name of pursuing the truth, my dear fellow! Sometimes unraveling mysteries requires one to play a little loose with the rules. It's for a good cause."

"And yet still prosecutorial offenses. I make a point of paying attention to what nonsense you're up to, and I assure you that I know enough to drag you to the courts if I wanted to."

Sholmes threw back his head and laughed. "I suppose I shall have to be on my best behavior now that I know I'm only a free man on your sufferance. I didn't realize you took such an interest in my exploits."

"When our paths cross, there's always the risk that you'll interfere with my cases," Barok said sourly. "It would be foolish not to keep an eye on you."

While Sholmes's particular brand of investigation seemed to work reasonably well for him—somehow, given how ridiculous his deductions often were—it was often not up to standard for proper court proceedings. That might be fine when he was helping people off the streets, but it could muddy matters in the courtroom.

He did not play by the rules or have patience for bureaucratic red tape, but from within the legal system, Barok was confined to operating within strict bounds. He'd found his own ways to work around the system to get what he needed, but Sholmes simply did whatever he wanted with abandon.

Sholmes straightened up suddenly. "Aha! So when I was arrested, it was your fault! I knew you had a hand in it."

"You weren't arrested," Barok said stiffly. "Just detained."

"Ah, that was the case with the traveling circus, was it? I distinctly remember–"

"No, and I'm not sure such a case ever existed outside your imagination. I spent eight months investigating that crime ring, trying to make any charge stick, and right when I finally got my chance, you nearly undid everything with your skulking about. It really seemed quite justified to keep you out of the way until the trial was over."

"I'm wounded," Sholmes said cheerfully. "You could just accept my help. Mr. Naruhodo found my assistance quite useful! Isn't that right?"

"Um, yes?" Naruhodo said. "Your deductions sometimes need a bit of correction, but otherwise…"

Barok sniffed. "Mr. Naruhodo is at much less risk of being accused of prosecutorial misconduct if procedures aren't followed to the letter." He shot a look at his apprentice. "Mr. Asogi, take note. We always want to conduct our investigations before Mr. Sholmes arrives and begins bungling them."

Asogi's eyebrows climbed steadily up his forehead. "I was not expecting such an underhanded lesson from you. You're always so straight-laced."

"You will learn that there are certain people who must be handled creatively. Mr. Sholmes is one of them. It is impossible to get anywhere with him otherwise."

"How cold!" Sholmes said. "Iris, tell him not to arrest me. He'll listen to you."

Iris sighed, but her eyes sparkled with amusement rather than melancholy now. "Oh, Hurley. Maybe you should stop harassing him, then."

"Oh, cruel betrayal! You're supposed to be on my side!"

Barok shook his head in fond exasperation at the display, then jolted up straight. For a few minutes, he had forgotten himself. Despite his standoffishness, he had somehow been drawn into conversation that was surprisingly warm and banter that was surprisingly good-natured, even with the justified annoyance. He had very nearly been accepted into the group for a short time, even with his careful distance, Asogi's hatred, Naruhodo's uncertainty, Susato's caution, Sholmes's mistrust. It had been a long time since anyone had made such an effort to include him. Since he had very nearly felt welcome.

It felt dangerous.

"I should go," he said abruptly.

Asogi cut a sharp look at him, and Naruhodo and Susato, who had been watching the bickering with cautious amusement, stiffened and looked uncertain again. Sholmes raised his eyebrows.

The smile fell off of Iris's face. "Already? You can stay a little longer, you know."

"My apologies, but I have matters to attend to."

"But…"

"Iris, before you make some tea for the rest of us, perhaps you might make some for Lord van Zieks to bring with him?" Sholmes suggested. "I'm sure he would appreciate that, and then he can marvel over that wonderful thermos you've invented. Perhaps something that might relieve headaches?"

Barok shot a sharp look at him.

"Oh!" Iris's hands flew to cover her mouth. "Do you have a headache, Uncle Barry?"

"…Yes."

Sholmes's smile was smug. "A lucky guess."

"Not much of one. You could always assume I'd eventually get a headache listening to you prattle on."

"Don't blame this one on me, my dear fellow. I expect this one is more your fault than mine."

Barok glared. "Sholmes."

Sholmes winked conspiratorially at the gaggle of Nipponese students. "I'm afraid Lord van Zieks is prone to headaches."

"Is that so?" Asogi asked, studying Barok with raised eyebrows. "I can't say I've ever noticed."

"Well, I daresay it's worse when he's upset about–"

"Sholmes!" Barok barked. He didn't like where this was going. "Fine. I'll take the tea. Just stop."

"Um…" Iris looked between them, bewildered. "Well, I have just the thing, if you don't mind waiting a few minutes while it steeps."

Barok did his best to forcibly wipe the irritation from his face. "I would be eternally grateful, Miss Iris."

She brightened and giggled. "I'll be right back!"

She rushed off to put together her blend, leaving the others to their tense silence.

Barok turned on Sholmes as soon as she was out of earshot. "I don't know what game you think you're playing at–"

"I never play games with Iris's well-being," Sholmes said pleasantly. "But maybe you'll think twice before threatening to have me arrested next time."

"Not likely," Barok scoffed. "I can't imagine anything you say could appreciably worsen my reputation. Certainly not your insinuations."

"What insinuations?" Susato asked.

"What are you two blathering on about?" Asogi grumbled.

Barok and Sholmes turned to regard them with mild surprise. Barok would have expected naïveté from Naruhodo and Iris, a literal child, but Susato was sharp and Asogi viciously savvy. He'd expected that they, at least, might pick up on the subtext. But all three of the Nipponese students looked vaguely confused and uncomfortable.

"Nothing," he said firmly.

"Well, should we go upstairs?" Asogi asked grumpily. "It's rather awkward for us to stand here while you bicker."

"I've been trying to leave for the better part of twenty minutes. Maybe if Mr. Sholmes would stop encouraging this matter and let me go…"

"Please pardon the delay," Sholmes said. "You aren't convinced yet."

"Convinced of what?"

Sholmes only smiled back blandly, eyebrows raised.

"Don't start this again," Asogi muttered.

"Do you really still intend to publish the truth of the Professor case, Lord van Zieks?" Naruhodo asked, perhaps in an attempt to forestall the resumption of petty hostilities. Barok started and narrowed his eyes, wondering if the argument had carried down the stairs after all, but Naruhodo shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny and added, "You said that your family would be angry when you published the truth?"

"Oh. Obviously. Isn't that what I said I'd do from the start?"

Asogi glared. "You said you'd continue my apprenticeship."

"Yes, I said that too," Barok said impatiently. "And I will."

"I suppose we thought you might have changed your mind, since Kazuma-sama asked you not to," Susato ventured.

Barok fixed her with an incredulous look. "I don't remember him saying that. He didn't want me to resign and hide out in the countryside. I suppose that would be inconvenient for his harebrained notion of continuing to work under me. So unless the incoming Lord Chief Justice demands my resignation, I'll weather the storm here."

They all stared at him.

Asogi's expression shifted to something more cautious, more thoughtful. "It wouldn't really do any good, though, would it? My father was never publicly accused, so it wouldn't really be clearing his name. Everyone who thought he was guilty already knows better. The Professor case was always meant to be kept closed from the public."

Barok regarded him suspiciously, unsure of his angle. "The entire affair has been so steeped in lies and treachery that I think we'd do well to air it out. Secrecy only made things worse before."

Asogi pressed his lips together in a bloodless line and considered for a long moment before saying, abruptly, "I don't think you should do it. It won't help anyone. It will only hurt people."

"Not everything is about you, Mr. Asogi," Barok said crossly, even though in this particular instance it was. It was about him and Genshin and some small, unworthy act of contrition for the crimes of the van Zieks.

"Well, it's not all about you either. If it were ever to come to light who Iris's father is, don't you think it would be more dangerous if everyone knew the truth? And if people start looking more closely at your brother's life, don't you think it's more likely that someone might stumble across some sign of her existence?"

Barok's gaze snapped back to Iris as she emerged from the kitchen. The problem was that Asogi was right. Barok would be able to handle the bad press and ostracism, but that was not the kind of life he would wish on his niece.

The chances of Iris's parentage becoming known were slim, but all kinds of carefully guarded secrets had been coming out lately. If he and Klint were thrust back into the spotlight, might someone look at them too closely and find some sign of a secret child that everyone else had missed? Maybe the chances were low, but they weren't zero.

"I don't know." Barok closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his responsibilities and decisions pressing down on him. "I'll consider it."

"No need to make a decision right away, anyway," Asogi said.

Susato hummed thoughtfully to herself. "Do you think there are enough similarities that someone might make a connection?"

"Well, what do you think?" Sholmes asked. He sounded cheery enough, but there was an edge to his voice. "Spitting image of your brother, is she?"

"Of Klint?" Barok echoed. He opened his eyes and studied Iris as she started back across the room, thermos in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. There were things about her that reminded him of his brother and of his sister-in-law, but that unsettling, nostalgic sense of familiarity he felt when looking at her didn't come from them. "No," he said. "Actually, she is a great deal like me."

Asogi's eyebrows nearly jumped right up off his forehead. "Like you?"

"I guess more accurately… I was once a great deal like her, a very long time ago."

"I can't imagine."

"Oh, yes," Barok murmured, his mind far away. It had been so long that he'd nearly forgotten, but bits and pieces began coming back to him, and he regarded them wistfully. "The optimism, the curiosity and enthusiasm for new projects, the creativity, the eagerness to always look for the best in everyone… The confidence and charisma are from Klint—I was never very good with people even then, too shy, too awkward—but the rest…"

He shrugged delicately, coming back to himself and wishing he hadn't said anything. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, really."

"That's really nice, though!" Iris said brightly, eyes shining as she handed him the thermos and cup. "We have something in common."

Barok pursed his lips. He wasn't sure that was such a good thing. "Thank you. I will appreciate this blend a little later."

"You're welcome! The thermos should keep it warm for a while. And this is the last cup of tea from our earlier pot. You can drink it before you leave."

He let out a breath, staring down into the cup of tea. "You should have a care, Miss Iris. There is a strength in having an open heart, but also a vulnerability."

"Is that really such a bad thing?" she wondered.

"Not if you're careful, and resilient. Just be cautious. The path that I have walked is not for the faint of heart, and I would not wish it for you. Gentle hearts often break the messiest and are rebuilt the hardest."

"What…? What do you mean?"

"When something breaks, the pieces always have sharp edges." Barok put down the thermos and tea. He held out his hands, lacing his fingers together so that they pointed outwards in both directions like spikes. "When you put them back together again, you can rebuild with those sharp edges facing outwards." He pulled them a little apart, curling his fingers down and folding them inside his joined fist, knuckles facing out. "Or you can rebuild so they face inwards. Or, if you're particularly foolish or unlucky, you can do both.

"You should be careful with those people. If you reach out to someone who built outwards, you will get hurt on their sharp edges. If you reach out to someone who built inwards, you will have to watch them hurt themselves."

"Or both," Iris said, very quietly.

"Or both," he agreed. "Either way, you are likely to get hurt. Pain begets pain. If a person is cruel because they were hurt, that still makes them a cruel person. You should not make excuses for them. I would not like to see you hurt. Do you understand?"

She stared at him, lips wobbling. "I don't think you're a bad person, just an unhappy one."

"A person can be both, Miss Iris."

"I'm sorry I called you mean," she said in a small voice, blinking rapidly as her eyes grew moist and shiny again.

Barok threw back his head and laughed, low and rumbling and a little bit rusty with disuse. "I'm not offended," he said, amused. "I daresay I spend a great deal more time in my own company than any of the rest of you do. I am not unaware of my faults, merely largely unbothered by them."

Iris blinked at him, caught off guard by his amusement or perhaps startled that he possessed the ability to laugh, but then drew herself up to her full, as yet unimpressive height. "You can be nice," she said. "You like animals, and you were nice to Waggy."

Barok shrugged. "I find their company more tolerable than that of their human counterparts. I am unsure that qualifies."

"Of course it does. And you sent Professor Bunnybrain away so that he would be safe from the real Reaper."

"…Albert? It would look bad if he died, especially since he was innocent. I don't need more rumors attributed to me."

"Oh, and I ran into that policeman and his wife the other day. He said that you interceded for him so that he didn't lose his job after moving the crime scene. They're both really grateful to you."

"Officer Beate? The man had learned his lesson. We can't afford to lose competent officers, with how demanding their job is."

"And then there's the way you said my name…" Iris trailed off, a misty look in her eyes.

Barok frowned, at a loss. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "You've been nice to me."

"You're family. I don't suppose I have much of a choice."

"Your family wasn't nice to you, and they knew you a lot longer than you've known me."

Barok had nothing to say to that. He'd done such a good job putting his extended relations out of mind these past years that he hadn't realized it was still such a sore spot.

He sighed. "I think you're looking very hard for a pattern that isn't there."

"I'm right!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm very good at seeing patterns. Why don't you want people to know that you can be nice? Because it's 'unbefitting of the cold-hearted Reaper of the Bailey'?"

One corner of Barok's mouth curled upwards. "I'm glad to see we are finally on the same page."

She deflated, looking very small and lost. "But… You've been acquitted. You don't have to be the Reaper anymore."

And maybe that would be true one day. Maybe the rumors swirling around him would eventually die out when Stronghart was convicted and the killings stopped. Maybe people wouldn't fear him the way they used to, and he could ease away from the persona of the Reaper that he'd built over the years. But in truth, he didn't think that he knew how to be anything else.

He picked up the cup of tea again, took a sip, stared down into the murky depths. He let the silence hang.

"You know the bells they hang above shop doors?" he asked finally. "The ones that ring when the door is opened to announce a new customer?"

"Um… Yes? But what–?"

"If you were to follow that model but hook the trigger to the camera instead, it would snap a picture of each customer entering and leaving, without any need to refine the motion sensitivity or play with angles. For the simple application you were speaking of, perhaps such a simple solution would suffice. Your motion-activated cameras will be difficult to utilize in busy places, but they would excel at keeping watch over areas where people are not supposed to be. In fact, if you could devise a way to make them photosensitive or put a timer on them, you could mount them within buildings and only have them activate after hours to capture potential break-ins during the night."

"Photosensitive?" Iris asked, intrigued. "So that they're only primed to detect motion once the room grows dark enough?"

"Precisely, although it may be difficult to design a mechanism with reasonable sensitivity. You may end up with the same problem on a different axis."

"That's actually quite clever… We make a good team! You should come by again and let me know what you think of my other projects."

Barok downed the rest of the tea and put the cup down. "I doubt you'll need my insight. Thank you for the tea. I should be–"

"Oh!" Iris squealed in what felt like a very deliberate interruption. "You must say goodbye to Waggy before you go!"

The cat in question had slunk out from behind the sofa, and Iris swooped down to scoop her up. Wagahai dangled precariously with Iris's arms slotted beneath her front legs and across her chest, hindquarters hanging down unsupported.

Barok sighed. "I'm sure she won't mind if–"

"Go on!" Iris said, thrusting the cat at him. "You have to make nice after startling her earlier."

"I think that was as much your fault as mine," he grumbled, but obediently took the cat, sliding one arm beneath her paws so she could sit and wrapping the other about her securely as he rubbed a finger along her cheek. She began purring immediately.

Naruhodo's mouth dropped open. "She purrs for you? She never purrs for me!"

"She purrs all the time," Susato said, smiling. "I don't know why she'll do it for anyone but you."

Naruhodo muttered something under his breath, looking put out, while his companions laughed at him.

Barok ignored them. "To be honest, I'm surprised she lets you hold her like that."

"What do you mean?" Iris asked.

"In my experience, animals tend to prefer their hind legs supported, or they often feel insecure and look for safer ground."

"Huh. She's always seemed fine with it."

"She scratched me when I picked her up," Naruhodo said with a huff. "What's the right way to hold her, then?"

"Mr. Naruhodo," Barok said gravely, "has it occurred to you that perhaps she just doesn't like you?"

"But she'll let me play with her the rest of the time! She's friendly enough, just doesn't purr or let me pick her up much. I must be doing something wrong."

Wagahai was a warm weight against Barok's chest, tiny but solid, her purrs reverberating through his bones as he scratched her behind the ears.

"You must handle delicate things with care," he said. "You hold them gently enough not to hurt them, and securely enough to keep them safe." The cat stirred, ears pricking as she looked towards a fly buzzing through the air, and he felt her muscles shifting, preparing to spring. "And when it's time, you let them go."

He stepped over to the sofa and dropped his arm away, watching as she hopped onto the back and batted at the fly. He brushed ineffectually at the fur littering his jacket, let out a breath, turned away.

"Mr. Naruhodo, Miss Mikotoba, it has come to my attention that you are leaving England tomorrow," he said. "I apologize for my inconvenient timing, infringing on your last day here."

Naruhodo winced. "Oh, no, not at all. We–"

"You've come a long way since you first walked into my courtroom," Barok said, regarding him contemplatively. "I trust that you will be the change your homeland's justice system needs. And frankly, I would rather you be their problem than mine. Good luck. I bid you fair weather and safe travels."

Naruhodo and Susato stared at him with nearly identical expressions of surprise that might have been amusing under different circumstances.

"Thank you?" Naruhodo said. "I–"

"Mr. Asogi, I will see you back in the office tomorrow." Barok paused, frowned. "No, my apologies. The day after tomorrow. I won't expect to see you back until you've seen your compatriots off. But then we need to get back to work. I expect we're very behind."

"Whose fault is that?" Asogi grumbled. "I've been there. I don't know where you've been."

"Frankly, that's none of your business."

Asogi huffed out a breath. "Frankly, I had expected you to be there the very next day. You always start working unholy long hours when you're upset about something."

Barok held up a finger as if to protest the point but left it hanging uselessly, mouth working soundlessly before arranging itself into a scowl. "I don't like that you know that."

Something about this blunt observation made him squirm, maybe just the thought that someone had been watching him closely enough to pick up on his habits. To get enough of a read on his moods to tell when he was 'upset about something'. He was not used to people knowing things about him. Not real things. Things that mattered.

Asogi rolled his eyes. "It's hardly a secret. But I was surprised you weren't working when you'd usually be making yourself busier than ever. I didn't think idleness suited you."

Barok grimaced, his mind flitting through hazy, wine-soaked memories of his days curled up in his brother's bed, everything hurting, everything seeming too big and horrible and–

"It doesn't," he said shortly.

"It's no grand mystery!" Sholmes broke in. "Our good friend here has merely been–"

"Don't," Barok ground out, his voice raw and grating. "If it's the truth, I don't want to hear it, and if it's more of your ridiculous conjecture, I'm not in the mood."

Everyone stared at him, and he felt cornered, defensive, exposed. Ever since his arrest, it felt like everyone had done nothing but pick him apart, dig out his secrets, rip his comfortable shroud of privacy and isolation away. Was it so bad if he still wanted one thing to himself? One dark, ugly little piece of himself that he could keep tucked away, that the whole world didn't need to see? He certainly wasn't ready to bring it out to look at again just yet. He could feel the walls closing in around him, the air growing too thick to breathe until he choked on it.

He glowered at Sholmes, hands fisted at his sides, and realized, with some alarm, that he was trembling.

Sholmes gaped back, eyes wide, but then held up his hands in a placating gesture. "My apologies," he said in a voice that was almost insultingly gentle. "I didn't realize it was such a sore spot. I'm finished."

Barok glared at him suspiciously, but the detective seemed contrite enough. He let out a shaky breath and forced his hands to unclench with an effort.

"Thank you for your uncharacteristic consideration," he said stiffly.

Sholmes snorted, his face rearranging itself back into its normal façade of oblivious good cheer. "You wound me again! I'm really starting to think you have a low opinion of me."

"I do."

"Oh dear, you sound so serious that I might actually start believing you one of these days!"

Barok closed his eyes. "Lord, grant me strength," he muttered, to which Sholmes only snickered loudly. He turned back to his niece. "Miss Iris, I am leaving now."

She twisted her hands together. "Alright," she mumbled. "Can I have a hug first?"

He stared at her. "Pardon?"

Asogi smirked. "See, when two people like each other very much–"

"Thank you, Mr. Asogi. I'm familiar with the term."

"Please?" Iris widened her eyes as big as they would go, stretching out her arms and looking at Barok expectantly.

Barok shifted uncomfortably, feeling very much out of his depth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged anyone. But if he was saying goodbye to his niece, perhaps he owed her at least that much.

"Oh, very well," he sighed.

Iris squealed in delight and launched herself at him with enough force to make him stumble back a step, flinging her arms around his waist. Barok hesitated, hands hovering uncertainly in the air, not quite touching her. Although he knew, practically speaking, what he was supposed to do, it felt strange and insurmountable.

Slowly, tentatively, he put his arms around her too. She seemed so delicate, so small, so precious. He held her gently, afraid to hurt her in the way he carelessly hurt everything he touched, but as securely as he dared, hoping that in this one moment when he was allowed to have her, she would feel safe in his arms.

And then he let her go.

"Goodbye, Miss Iris," he said, stepping back.

He felt the loss of her instantly. Despite the uncertainty and awkwardness, she had fitted so perfectly against him, as if she belonged there. As if she was some missing piece of him that he'd never realized he needed.

It had hurt before, knowing that he needed to stay away for her own safety, but now it hit him viscerally, as if by making the mistake of holding her, he had bound them together for a moment only to rip them back apart. It was a glimpse of the past he'd been denied, the future he'd never have.

The sharpness of it took his breath away, something thorny and tight wrapping around his lungs. Something sharp sliding between his ribs—a knife he hadn't seen coming.

"Are you alright, Uncle Barry?" Iris asked, eyes wide and innocent.

And when it's time, you let them go, he thought. You have to let her go.

He nodded once, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt thick and he wanted to cry, and he certainly wasn't going to do that here. Not until he was safely back inside his self-imposed prison, debating if he hated himself enough to open a new bottle of wine.

"Is it just me, or was that strangely heartwarming?" Naruhodo whispered loudly.

"It was adorable," Susato whispered back with a giggle.

Barok didn't look at them, only clenched his trembling hands into fists at his sides and poked at the hollow ache inside him like one might worry a loose tooth with their tongue.

Iris picked up the thermos from the table and handed it over. Barok took it leadenly, stared down at it.

"You'll have to come back sometime to return it to me," she said kindly. "If you aren't ready for more, that's alright. I understand. But you should at least come back once to return the thermos and see how the cameras are coming along and bring me the mementos. You'll at least do that much, won't you? It would make me very happy."

Barok looked at her, misty-eyed, lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line to hide their trembling.

She must have seen something in his face, because somehow she softened even further. "You're allowed to be happy too."

You have to let her go, Barok thought. And then, selfishly, But I don't want to.

He reached out to take her hand and fold it inside his own.

"Iris," he said, and maybe there was something in his voice again, because she was looking at him the same way she had when he'd first said her name. "I can't make you any promises, but… We have both been searching for the same person all these years, and although it's clear now that he's gone for good, it seems that we found each other along the way instead. It would be a shame not to make the most of it."

Iris stared back at him with those wide, startled eyes, and then a smile began to creep across her face. "Oh, Uncle Barry," she said. "That's what I've been saying all along!"

"I know," he said quietly. "I know."

"Finally!" Sholmes said.

Barok would still need to work out the boundaries with Sholmes and determine what precautions to take to ensure Iris's safety, but if there was any way to have some kind of relationship with his niece… It would be awful not to at least try. It might be a bad idea, but he wanted it badly enough to taste it.

When everything seemed bleak, maybe this could be a bright spot to keep him going. Perhaps being around Iris's avid curiosity and sparkling charm and upbeat optimism would even remind him, eventually, of how to feel those things himself. Or maybe it was too late for that, but at the very least, he would be glad to watch her and know she was happy. He thought that would probably be enough.

He took the thermos with him when he left, saying one more round of goodbyes and casting one last glance back at Iris before she shut the door behind him. As he headed for the office to begin the tedious process of catching up on his work, he slipped his free hand into his pocket, curled his fingers around the charm nestled there, and held on tight.