8-Dec-2003

Title: Degrees of Separation
Chapter: 2
Authors: bonnejeanne and Laekin
Series: Chaotic Alliance
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Archived at: Currently at Love and Gundams and will also be at Katcom: http://katcom.squidkitty.org/
Pairings: Muraki x Watari, Tatsumi x Watari, Muraki x Oriya
Genre: Drama, Dark Angst, Psychological mindgames.
Rating for this Chapter: PG-13
CMA: Not intended for under-age readers.
Spoilers: None in this section.
Disclaimer: These characters are not ours. We seek no money from this endeavor, just having a bit of fun in the sandbox.
Feedback: positive feedback welcome
bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and/or seregill@aol.com.

Warnings and Author's Notes by Laekin:
Greetings! Well bonnejeanne and I ride again!!!! This time in the Yami no Matsuei universe. The following fic was collaborated on between us with Bonnejeanne handling Muraki, Tatsumi and a special guest star to be revealed later. I am responsible for Watari and Oriya.

Like "The Doll" this is a very dark fiction. It is psychologically complex, it deals with difficult situations as well as complex issues and it will not be to everybody's tastes. We ask, respectfully, that if you do not feel you can see Muraki as a three-dimensional character who is tragic in his own way, you pass over this fic. No need to explain why, we understand! Some may find the content, the emotions and the implications disturbing. If you are one of those who can be disturbed by such things, you've been warned. Any after effects are not our responsibility.

Bonne's Note: Muraki Friendly Fic, so skip if that's not your thing, no hard feelings.

Degrees of Separation: Part Two

Though he'd almost had to will himself to sleep it still surprised Watari how well he'd slept and how good he felt upon waking. Even though it had only been a couple of hours it had been good, quality sleep and the young shinigami had woken with a clear head. Instead of the awkwardness that might have been expected, he and Tatsumi had shared a quiet cup of tea upon waking. They'd spoken only of the mission, bantering gently about the expenses and gone their separate ways with the standard division request to 'return with souvenirs.'

After wishing Tatsumi a good morning, Watari went directly to his lab to clean up and change into his Earth-bound clothes. He realized that it was liable to be even colder than the last time he'd been down to the mortal plane of existence, so he dressed in a dark turtleneck with a pale amber colored flannel button-down for layering. Herringbone overcoat snagged off its peg, Watari had whistled for 003 who fluttered from somewhere in the lab and settled on his shoulder as he moved out and down the hall.

Stopping by 'Identity' to pick up his mortal cover story for the hospital, Watari exited the building, his long stride carrying him swiftly down the steps. He paused for a moment to watch Hisoka and Tsuzuki go scurrying up the steps, the boy was gesticulating wildly at his partner, who was obviously relishing one of his eternal cinnamon rolls. Watari knew they were late for the morning meeting and he chuckled, giving his head a shake.

"Good luck you two." He spoke softly to his friends as they disappeared through the building's doors.

Then he turned, walked away from the building and between one step and the next Watari shifted dimensions.

~ * ~

Tied to Kyoto by the fact that his remains rested there, Watari landed at the small shrine that sat near his grave with unerring accuracy. In the early years as a shinigami he'd had trouble with his control and had occasionally popped up in front of people scaring the liver out of them. He'd learned his lesson over time and now it was instinctive to scan for mortals before appearing out of thin air.

Hovering in the sky the young shinigami unfolded his legs and floated gently to the ground, solidifying to a mortal form as he did so. 003 stayed in spirit form, fluttering lightly around his head and chirping curiously.

"Didn't I tell you?" Watari asked as he began to stroll down the path to the shrine's entrance.

The little owl seemed to sigh and gave a chirp in the negative.

"Oh, I'm sorry, girl. I suppose I've been distracted."

003 didn't make a noise but she flew a little closer to her human offering the support of her presence.

"We are here to investigate a young man who should have moved on to the next existence three weeks ago, but who is somehow staying tied to this realm."

003 chirped.

"Well, I don't have much information beyond that. I don't know why he was supposed to move on, just that he was."

There came a little hoot.

"Yes, yes, it is but sometimes young people die. It's unfortunate but it happens."

003 fell silent and just fluttered along, her little wings working like a hummingbird's as she tried to keep pace with her human's long striding form.

Comfortable with his surroundings, Watari moved through Kyoto's streets with unerring steps. His mind chewed on the facts he had. Often working a Shokan case resembled an exercise in survival. You had to assess what you had, decide what you needed and then go from there. Enma did seem to enjoy challenging his shinigami.

Though cold, it was a beautiful winter day. There wasn't a cloud in the blue sky above and something about the crisp air seemed to make the blue even more intense. Watari turned his face up, feeling the stroke of the cool breeze across his skin. He inhaled a deep breath and could taste the wood smoke coming from the houses of the city.

Smiling with just a general relaxed air, Watari was pleased to find that his mind was once again his own. Now that he was here, in Kyoto, with the case at his fingertips he was able to focus his mind on the mission and only the mission. Muraki, and even Tatsumi, were gently but firmly tucked away in a corner of his thoughts to be contemplated subconsciously.

Winding his way through the streets Watari fought the urge to get distracted by a local festival. He did love to sight see, even if it was a habit that drove even the easy going Tsuzuki screaming up the walls. Curbing the urge to poke into some of the booths in the festival it took the scientist half an hour to walk from the shrine to the hospital.

Digging his paperwork out of his coat pocket, Watari trotted lightly up the steps to the hospital entrance. He'd spent enough time at Koyto General in his mortal life that he knew the layout of the hospital like the back of his hand. Head up, smiling at the people he passed, Watari made his way down along the first floor to the human resources department.

He spent four hours there showing his paperwork to a couple different people and sweet talking his way along to reassuring them that he was indeed a visiting psychiatric resident. It was another two hours till they got all his credentials put together but once this was all done Watari was free to move around the hospital at will.

Reminding himself to be patient, Watari didn't head to ICU immediately. Instead, he wandered down to the cafeteria. He'd learned that the cafeteria was a wonderful place to pick up bits of information that direct questioning would never yield. Getting an apple and some tea the blond shinigami found a central table and settled down with his snack and a notepad. No one would notice a resident with a notepad.

He spent another two hours nibbling on his apple, drinking tea and just listening to the conversations going on around him. There were the personal dramas of course. Who was dating whom and who had broken up with whom. There was the griping by the nurses about certain doctors and visa versa. There were the interns and the residents who were mumbling about the hours or talking excitedly about their first big saves. Watari's lips quirked as he listened to these conversations and he felt like just shaking his head but he was careful to keep himself as unobtrusive as possible.

It was dark by the time he surfaced from the cafeteria. He was armed with a general feel for the atmosphere of the hospital as well as a couple of names, which would be useful. Waiting until the second shift yielded to the third shift, Watari finally made his way to the ICU unit.

Though not quite as silent as the CCU it was still very quiet on the ICU floor. Watari moved on silent feet to the nurse's desk and spoke briefly with the woman on duty. He'd built his cover story around a couple of the names he'd picked up in the cafeteria and used those names to help set the on-duty nurse's mind at ease that he really was supposed to be there.

Mission accomplished he began to move around the ward, looking for Kimishima Kaga's room. It took a couple of false starts but then he found it tucked back in the corner of one hallway.

Checking the hallway Watari slipped through the door. It was dark in the room, save for the emergency lights that were always on just above the patient's head. A heart monitor beeped quietly along, slow and steady, indicating that the patient was resting. There were no visitor's allowed during the third shift but Watari still made a quick check of the room to ensure that there was no one else lurking in the shadows.

Assured that he was alone, the young shinigami walked to the foot of the bed and stared down at the occupant.

Kimishima Kaga, fifteen year old, only son of Mitani and Kaoru Kaga. With two younger sisters, Kimishima had become the man of their modest household when Mitani had perished in a warehouse accident. While insurance money had helped sustain the family for a little while, Kimishima had been forced to assume the mantel of a man at the age of eleven, going out and working multiple part-time jobs to help support his mother and his younger sisters.

The family had been making ends meet up until a year ago when Kimishima had been diagnosed with a rare type of lung infection. Before the young teenager knew what hit him, one lung had been removed along with half of the second lung. From that point forward, the doctors had been able to slow the infection but they had been unable to stop it completely. It had continued to eat away at Kimishima's remaining lung while Kimishima and his family had wished desperately for an organ match. Some people spend years on the waiting list for organs; Kimishima simply didn't have that kind of time.

Three weeks ago, the infection spread to the last of Kimishima's remaining lung and it should have caused the boy's death within days, but for some reason the young teenager was still alive; alive and not even on the respirator.

Watari's winged brows pulled together in a puzzled frown as he studied the amount of equipment in the room but saw that only the heart monitor was hooked up to the boy. Reaching down for the medical chart that hung from the bed, the young shinigami walked a little closer to the head of the bed careful not to disturb the occupant as he flipped up the cover and began to review the records within.

He was flipping quietly through the multiple pages when a signature caught his eye. It was on the next to the last page, entries that started a little over a month ago. Flipping the page back down, Watari held it up to the light and was able to make out the bold handwriting. After all, he'd seen it a couple of times now... was becoming intimately familiar with it.

Muraki.

~ * ~

"Well, I thought a string of unsolved serial murders would be too obvious... Thank you for accepting my invitation to return to the mortal realm."

Watari stood perfectly still, his hands gripping the clipboard with white knuckled intensity. It was as if his mind had just summoned the devil himself. All his carefully erected walls evaporated, like a morning mist beneath the watchful eye of the sun. He couldn't move as his memories exploded and the doctor's soft melodious tones stroked across his nerves like a physical caress...

Like that night.

Dry mouthed, Watari swallowed a couple of times, fighting for some semblance of control as he straightened from the slight lean he'd adopted to use the light. Catching his lower lip between his teeth, head ducked slightly to curtain his face with his hair, the young shinigami turned towards Muraki as the doctor stepped out of a corner, a corner he'd checked, a corner that should have been empty.

Watari kicked himself for not being more careful. Now, the doctor held the advantage. In fact Muraki held numerous advantages, including the fact that he stood in the shadowed parts of the room. Once again Watari was struck by the similarity in build and form between the Muraki and Tatsumi. Only this time the quick thrill he felt in his gut was due to Muraki's actual presence and not a case of mistaken identity.

Letting his eyes trail the shadowed figure until he could see the glinting silver highlights of Muraki's hair Watari fought to grasp what the man had just said.

"Serial murders... invitation..." The shinigami blinked owlishly behind his glasses a couple of beats, then turned and looked down at the resting figure on the bed. "You've been keeping him alive."

Watari knew he was probably stating the obvious but he still felt a need to hear the words. Besides, it kept him from just standing there, staring at Muraki like a fool.

Muraki took another step and reached out a hand to open the blinds to the room's window, letting in the moonlight to paint the room with silver, illuminating his own form so there would be no mistake.

"I've performed a miracle," Muraki said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Didn't you want me to turn from killing, to healing?"

The scientist wondered if he was in shock. It would be a good enough explanation for how he felt at the moment but he realized it could also be used as a cop out. Being in shock around Muraki was hazardous to a shinigami's health. Hell, to anyone's health.

Watari watched the moonlight spill across the pale, undeniably handsome features; the slats of the blinds threw little shadows which marred the perfection of Muraki's face but there was no denying who was in the room with him.

Lifting a hand to brush his fingers through his hair Watari moved away from the head of the bed. He crossed to the other side of the window, lowering his voice still further.

"Actually... I only asked you why you'd turned your talents from healing to killing." The blond's lips twitched a little at the rueful thought that he doubted anyone could truly influence Muraki.

Though, in a small corner of his soul, he had to admit that it was a heady sensation to think that one could.

Watari was ruthless about excising that particular little flutter of arrogance. Arrogance had gotten him into the current situation.

Muraki chuckled softly. "Ah, so you have no preference. Murder would have been acceptable. What a thing to tell me now... this was so much more difficult."

Watari leaned one shoulder against the frame of the window and his amber eyes hidden by the glare of the moonlight against his glasses.

"You know better than that, Sensei, so I shall not insult your intelligence by correcting you. What are you playing at, Muraki?"

Though the words could have sounded aggressive they were asked in a low tone that held only curiosity.

"A new game," the doctor replied. "Or is it the same old one? I'm never entirely certain. But here you are, so we might as well play..."

Stepping across the splash of moonlight, Muraki closed the space between himself and Watari, closed it completely, and looked down into Watari's face. His arms stayed at his sides, he didn't touch, but the air separating them was less than a breath. The doctor's eyes caressed Watari's face. Then his nostrils dilated.

"You stink of shadows," he said with a soft, displeased laugh.

It did -things- to Watari, physically, having Muraki so close. The young shinigami's blood began to move a little quicker through his veins, creating a heat that filled him from head to toe. This close, he could scent the sweet, slightly spicy unique cologne that was Muraki's smell.

Stroking his tongue across his lips, Watari flicked his eyes from where they were studying Muraki's mobile mouth up to the doctor's gray eyes. He'd learned something in their last encounter. Muraki played the game by wielding the truth and the best way to counter him was with the truth as well. Lies and bluffs were meaningless when dealing with the doctor: meaningless and potentially costly.

"Yes, here I am," he whispered, since his voice needed only to travel a short distance. At Muraki's displeased laugh, Watari's eyebrows lifted and he continued in the same whispering tone.

"You took my anger, Kuzataka-san. You did not take my... feelings for my partner."

Watari was very aware of the minimal distance that separated his body from Muraki's. He could feel the heat of the madman's mortal form all along the front of his own mortal body and he swallowed again, fighting to control his reaction to the man.

No matter what strings the heart danced to, a body could not simply forget someone it had been intimate with and the flashbacks... the flashbacks were so very vivid.

"Did I indeed?" Muraki answered his expression seeming to soften ever so slightly. "In that case, Yutaka-san, I will accept the shadows on your lips and simply spit them out of my mouth. Since I am the villain of the melodrama, it's not required that I value monogamy. Have your lover. Have as many as you like. Share with them what I teach you, if you wish. As long as you come to me when I want you..."

The doctor's silver head inclined, not in a hurry, never in a hurry, and his mouth found Watari with the inevitability of death.

Though it would have been a perfectly natural response to compare the lips closing over his to the mouth that had touched him just the night before, Watari violently rejected his mind's attempt to do just that. He would truly drive himself insane if he attempted such a comparison and besides, it belittled both Muraki and Tatsumi and -perhaps Muraki would be surprised to learn- Watari found that he could not do such a thing, to either man.

Watari's lips were trembling, but as the last thought echoed in his mind, they softened and parted slightly genuinely welcoming the psychopath's touch.

That touch was as slow, rich and powerful as it had been on their last night together. It greeted Watari, tasted him, stimulated, coaxed and then finally plundered with a pure appreciation for indulgence that communicated the doctor's paradoxical appreciation for life. It rolled over Watari like a wave and pulled him under, tumbling his sensibilities in the rip tide.

Watari could not deny that when it came to the pleasures of the flesh, Muraki was a master. By the time the mortal man broke the kiss, the shinigami could once again feel the slight trembling in his limbs.

After what seemed like a long time, Muraki lifted his head, licking his lips with undisguised appreciation.

"Who would have expected a scientist of the Dead to be so wonderfully wanton," he murmured.

Stroking his tongue along his lips, a shadow passed across the Watari's eyes at Muraki's words.

Making the first contact with something other than his mouth, he reached out and lifted Watari's hand in an imitation of a courtly gesture, then ran his tongue across Watari's knuckles.

"Shall we leave Kimishima-kun to his rest and take a walk in the moonlight?" he asked.

It almost made him groan, but Watari swallowed the noise and instead turned to look at the boy on the bed. For the first time, the young shinigami was struck at how peaceful the boy looked serene even.

Like a doll.

A shudder, which had little to do with pleasure, raced through him and Watari turned back to Muraki, watching the doctor's pink tongue trace across the nearly translucent skin of his own knuckles. Pulling his eyes away from the sensual caress to Muraki's face Watari's lips twitched into a rueful sort of smile.

~Moonlight and Muraki... there is a dangerous combination,~ Watari thought to himself but he cast a quick glance towards the pale light.

Turning his hand in a graceful gesture, Watari stroked his fingertips lightly along the underside of Muraki's jaw before reclaiming his hand.

"After the trouble you have obviously gone to in order to invite me here?" The young shinigami said in a soft, curious tone. "Of course, Kazutaka-san."

Watari bowed his head slightly and waited for Muraki to lead the way.

~ * ~

The grounds around the hospital were attractively kept restful parkland for the easement of the ambulatory patients as well as the families. In this peaceful quiet, Muraki and Watari walked along in silence for a while. Apparently enjoying the stroll through the night air.

"I am surprised you haven't begun to ask any questions," Muraki remarked as they paused at the end of one of the paths. "Perhaps you are charmed by my presence into worshipful silence?" The humor in the doctor's deep voice was subtle but definitely detectable.

Used to keeping up with Tatsumi's long stride, Watari paced with deceptive ease beside Muraki as they walked along. The scientist had his hands tucked into the pockets of his lab coat and was mentally kicking himself for forgetting his coat. His head down he almost kept walking when Muraki paused separating himself from the doctor by a couple of steps before he realized the psychopath had stopped.

Stopping and then turning Watari cocked his head to the side sort of peering up at Muraki from beneath his bangs.

"What impresses me about that last bit is you said it with a straight face." The words were softened from harshness by the playful twinkle in Watari's eyes but the twinkle was short lived, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he turned and looked back down at the pathway.

"More a situation of trying to decide where exactly to begin the questioning." Raising one long, lean leg Watari pointed his toe and chased a small stone back and forth across the path with the tip of his shoe.

"Was drawing me to Earth your only reason for keeping that child alive?"

When you couldn't find a good starting point, sometimes it helped just to dive right into the middle and see which direction you could swim in.

"I rarely do anything for only one reason," Muraki answered with a slight smile.

Watari nodded without taking his eyes off the stone as it careened back and forth caught between his kicks.

"No, you rarely do. So that leads to the next question. What are the other reasons?"

"As a scientist, do you prefer to have the answers handed to you?" Muraki inquired, watching the shinigami's face.

Watari chuckled gently and shook his head. "No. That takes the fun out of puzzling out the answer." He finally kicked the stone off to the side with a few more pebbles and shook his hands out of his pockets so he could wrap the edges of his borrowed lab coat around himself. Head tilted at a curious angle Watari studied the way the moonlight seemed to pick up the almost metallic highlights of pale silver in Muraki's hair.

"However, I would be a fool not to recognize that my track record with puzzling out your motivations is somewhat... shall we say, lacking?" The young shinigami grinned wryly as he admitted this.

"Not at all," Muraki said. "You are one of the first of your little group to refrain from simply assigning them as you see fit."

That caused Watari to blink a couple of times and a small noise escaped him. Something like a little 'huh'. Then his eyes went back down to the path and he began to pace something he usually did when he was chewing on a puzzle.

"I read Kimishima-kun's file. His case, while tragic in this instance, is important in the study of the type of infection that took hold of his lungs. In this day and age, with the antibiotics that are available... it would be nice to think that something should have worked for that boy."

He paused and again gave Muraki one of those tilted, thoughtful glances.

"I... would imagine that the physician in you would be interested in just why those miracle drugs failed. If not for this boy's benefit, then perhaps for the benefit of the next person afflicted in such a way."

He spoke as if making an observation but Watari's tone left room for his words to be a question as well.

"I know why the miracle drugs failed," Muraki said. Then he made a short laugh. "Miracle drugs. The only miracle is that they work at all. And it is less of a miracle than an irony. I know why they couldn't save the boy. It is how I was able to do so."

Watari was still for a moment, but then resumed his pacing. It helped keep the blood moving. Head down, he chewed on what Muraki said, puzzling over it.

"I know that many strains of bacteria grow immune to different antibiotics. I wondered, though this is not my field of course but I wondered if it was not possible for the bacteria to continue to mutate to a point where it actually fed on that which was supposed to destroy it."

"The answer is far simpler," Muraki replied. "It is an answer that mocks every physician, every hospital, every medical practice and every drug, not to mention the sacrifices that have been made in order to find them. Would you like to see?"

Watari's pacing paused and he peered over at Muraki. Curiosity, the never-ending quest for knowledge, brightened his eyes and he nodded.

"Yes, please." There was undeniable eagerness in his tone. He really did love to learn.

Muraki smiled and moved next to Watari, circling his shoulders with a long arm, pulling the blond scientist close. He bent and kissed Watari, taking total possession of the shinigami's lips as if it he had every right.

"I like the taste of that word on your lips, Yutaka-san," he said, breaking the kiss.

Then Muraki released Watari and turned down the walk back towards the hospital, taking a few steps and pausing for Watari to join him.

Watari was almost getting used to having Muraki deliver the heated, passionate kisses. At least, as used to as anyone could get used to such devastating caresses, but they still had the ability to steal his breath. Reaching up to brush his hand over his face and maybe wipe away the stain of blush he felt in his cheeks, he moved to catch up with Muraki.

As he fell into place beside the taller man, he was once again ducking his head but this time, it was to help curb the sudden urge towards playfulness.

Watari hushed that niggling voice up and a soft chuckle. Then, as if expecting that his sudden humor might warrant explanation, he said quietly, "And you're still confusing the hell out of me."

"Of course," Muraki answered.

On their return to the hospital, Muraki led the way into the terminal ward of ICU.

Watari followed the doctor's lead all the way into the terminal ward, though his footsteps slowed a bit as they entered the room full of the dying. As a shinigami, the young blond felt their deaths like a weight against his heart, their souls seemed to whisper in his head like angry wasps and he flinched at nothing the mortal eye could detect.

There were a number of beds with patients of varied ages, sex and background. The only thing they all had in common was that they were dying.

"Who do you want to save?" Muraki asked, gesturing, his voice low enough not to be heard by the patients.

Muraki's question seemed to come from a distance but the words, when they registered, brought Watari's head up with snap and he shook it sharply, answering quickly.

"No one."

"I thought you wanted to see the answer?"

The young shinigami looked over the beds his face softening into an expression he normally denied himself. An expression of resigned regret.

"Not like that. It does something to a soul to be held back when the candle has been extinguished. No." Watari shook his head and repeated, "No."

Then he turned and retreated, exiting the room with long strides.

When Watari finally stopped, a few feet away from the ward, he found the doctor still with him. Muraki was a step or two behind, not from inability to keep up, but simply so he could watch the young shinigami.

Leaning against the wall, folding his arms over his chest, Muraki tilted his head.

"What does it do?"

Watari began to pace, and the pacing had a restless air about it, it was not his usual pensive aura. He moved back and forth along the corridor as if searching for something and not finding it. Muraki's words caused him to pause with his back to the doctor and he took a breath, turning with his lips parted as if to speak, but his eyes caught and held Muraki's face.

For a moment, warm amber eyes traced along the doctor's pale, handsome features as if mapping them out committing them to memory or perhaps just noticing them once again. Whatever the reason Watari spent almost a minute just looking at Muraki, then he gave his head a shake.

"You're still mortal. I can't tell you." If anything, the words sounded genuinely regretful.

The doctor's answer was a laugh, rich and full, yet modulated as if instinctively to be lower in volume, keeping it contained to the hallway they occupied. There was something in the sound of it that hinted at the idea that if they had been outside, it could have filled the night.

"Whatever gives you that idea?"

Well, now that was guaranteed to get a pause and a blink out of the scientist.

"Come again?"

"And you were doing so well, recognizing your preconceptions and testing them one by one," Muraki chuckled. "Well, I'd elucidate but... you are a shinigami. I can't tell you."

Watari wasn't quite ready to completely let it just... go. Head cocked to the side, he looked *at* Muraki, but his eyes seemed to focus on something only he could see, as if he were holding a file up in front of his face and reading from a page within.

"You were born, of mortal parents. You grew up, attending the best of private schools, elementary through college. You graduated top of your classes each time, even during that ... even during the year when your parents were murdered by your half brother Saki. You were taught in the finest medical schools in the world and came back to the top hospital in the country..." Watari paused and he shook his head as if reviewing conflicting bits of information on the page. "I've seen your candle... it's a mortal candle."

The blond was openly puzzling at this point, pulling the lab coat in tight across his lithe chest.

"So is Kimishima's, or was," the doctor replied. "But as you should know, not everything is what it seems to be. You, for example, were born of mortal parents as well. All the shinigami were... except perhaps Tsuzuki... I haven't been able to discover that... so far."

Watari stopped pacing and laid his hand across his mouth, staring at Muraki. His quick mind, though abuzz with what he'd just learned, cut through all the thoughts floating around and he gave his head a shake.

"I need some tea."

He lowered his hands and turned unerringly in the direction, which would lead them to the cafeteria.

"Can you explain... what is going on with Kimishima-kun, without the demonstration?"

Muraki watched Watari turned towards the cafeteria, and considered whether or not to follow him. He decided not to.

Watari seemed to realize when he was halfway down a hall that Muraki was not following him. Turning he walked back up the corridor till the doctor's pale form came back into sight and then he stopped and cocked his head at the man.

"I've indulged you because I chose to do so," Muraki said, a little smile curving his lips. "Not because I had to. You might want to keep that in mind. To answer your question, I suppose I could... but where is the fun for me? What do I get for doing it your way?"

Arms crossed back over his chest, holding the lab coat closed, Watari leaned against the corner of a doorframe, watching Muraki, listening to him.

"What would you deem suitable payment? Because I believe you know I can not agree to do it the way you first mapped out. Interfering with the ebb and flow of human life to that extent will get me executed by Enma Daioh and I... don't really want to *die*."

"And what if I said I could protect you?"

Quiet, as a minute passed, Watari gave the doctor's words considerable thought before answering with the simplest truth.

"I've lived nearly half a century and done this job for that time because I believe in the natural order of life. Perhaps you could protect me from Enma, but you could not protect me from myself."

"Even Enma Daioh can't do that. In fact it's the one thing I'm starting to suspect I can count on," Muraki replied, the little smile never leaving his face. "So let me see if that wonderful mind of yours can take you where the truth will lead. What if what you think of as the natural order of life turned out to be nothing sacred, nothing... perfect? What if it was nothing but an arbitrary sham? What if the whole concept of order were simply a fiction, perpetrated by those with the power to do so for their own ends?"

It was a dangerous question the doctor posed. One that caused Watari's mind to start working in directions that his training, as a shinigami and his experience in the afterlife, wanted to fight against. He stood there, still as a statue at first as he fought with himself. Eventually the stillness gave way to a slow shaking of his head, as if silently pleading for words that only he could hear to stop and his hand came up in a warding away gesture, even though it did not seem as if Muraki had moved.

"It... no... don't ask me to go down that path... please."

Because he could see the path, could see its shadowed, thorny image in Muraki's words and it caused Watari to feel an almost overwhelming sense of dread.

"Very well," Muraki walked over to Watari and stood beside him, reaching out to brush the side of his face gently. "As you wish. I won't ask you to go down that path. I won't ask you to leave the safety of what you know." Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small white card. "This is where I am staying. There is room for you there, although I'm sure you have your own accommodations. Come tonight and I will protect you from everything... until sunrise. Tomorrow, I will meet you here at ten o'clock, in Kimishima's room, and give you all the answers you need to close your case, whether you come to me tonight or not."

Watari seemed to study the card and perhaps it looked like he wouldn't take it, but he did reach out and lift it from Muraki's hand, studying the address. His lips gave a little twitch as he thought about the accommodations, which were waiting for him at the end of a lane. The same as the last time he was in Kyoto.

His mind was busy working over what Muraki was saying... what he had said... what it might mean. Taking a breath, his eyes fixed on the perfect knot of the doctor's tie, the young shinigami spoke in a musing tone.

"I died in this hospital. I spent a couple of weeks in ICU, a couple of rooms down from Kimishim-kun's room, but for the last few days I was in CCU one floor up. Really though, they could have just left me in the other room, by the time it was all said and done there was nothing anyone could do... but hospitals. When I was a child, four I think, I contracted a fever. My parents were caught up in some experiment with... with... what was it again...? Isn't that funny, I forget. Anyway they were caught up, away from the house, and they didn't notice when it slipped to scarlet fever. As a doctor, I'm sure I don't have to walk you through the steps that an untreated scarlet fever will take. By the time they hospitalized me, the damage was irreversible. I guess I was lucky to get twenty years out of a damaged heart, but there was still so much I wanted to see... and do. I suppose a part of me always wondered why my exploration of the world had to be cut short because my folks hadn't looked up from their own exploration in time to stop what could have been stopped." There was a hint of pain... maybe even lingering impotent anger but it was gone quickly. "A simple fiction? I'd like to be able to say without a doubt that you're wrong... but given my own experiences... it would be a fiction of my own."

Shinigami did not easily or often speak of their deaths. For most of them the circumstances were deeply personal and often painful, or... unrestful. Why Watari choose to share the story with Muraki, he really couldn't figure, but the words hung between them.

Muraki listened. Simply listened. When he chose to, which admittedly wasn't often, he could listen with the same intensity and focus with which he did most everything else.

"There is nothing that angers me so much as the senselessness of loss," he said quietly. Coming from a serial killer, quite a statement.

"Come, or don't. It won't be tied to any deals. That game is over. I won't bargain for your favors again. Give them freely or keep them."

Leaning over, the doctor brushed his lips lightly against Watari's cheek, and then he turned, and walked away from the young shinigami.

TBC

Degrees of Separation - Part 3

Love & Gundams