He spared her a sour glance, but didn't speak again. Keiko cleared her throat. "He's right, tou-san. He is more useful in his lab working on the dragons. I can handle the Yamaguchi. At least the oyabun is familiar with me from the time I spent with Kazuma. I will report back to you with what they have to say."
Makoto dismissed them with a flick of his liver-spotted hand. She bowed her head and left the dining room. Yagami's hands curled into fists, but he followed her out into the foyer of the Sugimoto mansion.
"And you wonder why he disowned you," Keiko muttered after her brother shut the door. "Must you antagonize him?"
"I'm not thirteen years old anymore," Yagami snapped. "He has no right to give me orders. I built my own life separate from his empire. And I did it without relying on filthy criminals."
"Those filthy criminals helped keep us off the streets," Keiko said, not backing down from his glare. "I have no fondness for them either, but I can acknowledge when they are useful. Until such a time as we can sustain ourselves without them, we will continue to do so. Besides, a few more months from now and he'll no longer be a factor."
"No," Yagami said slowly. "He won't. But you will."
She crossed her arms. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Don't play coy, imouto-chan. You may bow your head and do as he says without rebuttal, but I know your ambition. You want to be queen of the castle. I'm not going to fall in line and kiss your feet either after he's gone."
"You're delusional," she sneered. "I will do what needs to be done. No more, no less. This company is going to change the world. If you are happy to hide in your lab while it does, so be it. I will not ask anything of you other than your work. Good enough for you?"
"Are we really going to do this? Are we really going to pretend like you didn't place Minako into my workplace so you could replace me someday?"
She shook her head. "You're unbelievable."
"Don't bother denying it. You want her to learn everything that I know so you can get me out of the picture and have both hands on the wheel--both the legitimate business side and the ugly illegal side of this empire. Then all the profit, all the glory, goes to Keiko-sama."
He stepped in closer to her, lowering his voice. "Keep playing this game with me, imouto-chan. You think you know everything about me, but you don't. I may not be as cutthroat as our father or as Kazuma, but if you test me, I won't hesitate to show you exactly what I am capable of."
Keiko stared up at him. She hadn't inherited hardly any physical traits from their father except for her eyes. They were dark and hard as onyx. They might as well have been black holes.
"I am not your enemy," she said quietly. "Even though you keep making me out to be. I am going to ensure the survival of our family, with or without your help. But I would prefer with your help."
With that, she turned on her expensive stilettos and stalked away. Yagami watched her vanish through the front door with a flick of her ponytail.
His phone rang. He sighed and reached into his suit jacket, answering it with an annoyed tone.
"Yes?"
"He's awake, Yagami-sama."
Kamala has never wanted to punch an unconscious person before.
Well, that was untrue. Maybe once or twice. She'd had a patient who staunchly refused to stop smoking despite the fact that he had stage four metastatic lung cancer and was on an oxygen machine, and the genius decided to sneak into his bathroom for a smoke and could have blown up the hospital if the tank had caught fire.
Her mood could only be described as mercurial. Everything had happened so quickly--the men dragging Jack's unconscious body onto a stretcher, hauling him to the nearest hospital, and then into the emergency room where they sewed up the bullet wound and gave him blood. They had performed a few tests after she informed them that he'd also been exposed to some kind of hallucinogenic drug. However, it had been hours since he first ingested it. They'd monitor him closely for a while, but odds were that it would simply wear off on its own. Plus, the wound meant he'd be on antibiotics to fight off infection, and that would eliminate any remaining substance in his body.
From a medical standpoint, she knew she had nothing to worry about. She had grilled the doctors who treated him thoroughly and none of them were halfwits. They performed the proper procedures in sufficient time. With the antibiotics and fluids, Jack would revive within a matter of hours. He'd been at death's door out there in that cold, unforgiving forest, but they'd gotten him here in time to save his life.
Afterward, she had to make calls. She called Fry first, since he wasn't far away and might have wanted to check in on her before they parted ways for good. The assignment had been completed. Baba Yaga was back in the custody of the authorities and the danger was over. He'd likely head back to Cambridge to close out the case and then proceed to wherever his next mission led him. She was glad to be away from him. She'd had such a nagging sensation in her spine that he wasn't what he appeared to be, not completely.
Then came the harder phone call.
Jack's mother, Edie.
The phone rang a few times. Kamala's stomach balled itself up and spun around as she paced the length of the hallway, running her hands through her hair nervously, unconsciously mirroring one of Jack's most familiar gestures. At last, Edie picked up.
She didn't speak immediately. It worried Kamala deeply.
"So what's happened, then?" Edie asked quietly.
"Hello, Mrs. Jackson. Please, don't think the worst. He's alive."
A small, shaky sigh escaped. "Thank God. How bad is it?"
Kamala winced. "GSW to the left side. Cracked ribs and a sprained wrist. But that's it. He's resting now and he'll be awake in a few hours."
"Okay. Did you get the dragon back?"
"Yes, ma'am. We did."
"Are you alright?"
Kamala's throat tightened. Here she was telling Jack's mother her son was in the hospital, and she was trying to comfort her. "No. But I will be eventually."
"Okay, dear. I'll tell Richard. When are you guys coming home?"
"Once Jack's stable. I would imagine in a couple of days. I'll let you know once the doctors are sure he's fit to travel."
"I'd appreciate that. Stay safe out there, Kamala."
"I will. Goodbye, Mrs. Jackson."
She hung up. A huge breath escaped her. At least she hadn't thrown up her coffee.
She dialed Faye next, but it went straight to voicemail, so she left a message letting her best friend know that they were alive and would be home in a few days. She hated that Faye hadn't picked up. She really needed to talk to someone, a voice of reason, someone who understood her, even if she was angry with her.
She called her mother last. Dr. Sahana Anjali took the news rather well, but it was to be expected. Half the reason Kamala could stay calm in a crisis was a trait she'd gotten from her mother.
"Are you alright, my flower?" her mother said gently. "There is...something in your voice."
Kamala took a deep breath. "I...mother, can I see you when I get back? Please?"
"Of course. I can get a flight out as soon as--"
"No, I...I'll come to you."
"Oh." Her mother hesitated. "I'm not sure what sort of state your father will be in."
"Doesn't matter. I need to see you, not him."
Sahana sighed. "Very well. Call me when you return to Cambridge. I'll make arrangements."
"Thanks. I love you."
"And I you, my flower."
She hung up and walked back into Jack's hospital room.
This time, he wasn't alone. She found Snow standing at the foot of his bed, flicking through the charts that had been attached to it. Kamala arched an eyebrow as she sat in the chair next to Jack's bed.
"You can read kanji?"
"I know twelve different languages," Snow said without looking up.
"Ah."
"Just wanted to see if the imbecile is going to live before I take my leave," Snow continued, replacing the chart where it be
longed. "How unfortunate. I was looking forward to attending his funeral."
Kamala narrowed her eyes at the gallows humor. "How kind of you."
Snow slid her hands inside the pockets of her jeans. Both of them had changed out of their cold suits. Kamala didn't miss the heavy material or the awkward pack on her back in the slightest. They'd had to cut Jack out of his suit for surgery, so now he was in a hospital gown. It was terribly unflattering on his lanky frame, and he still looked pale and sickly. The bruises around his eyes stood out even more. She wanted his color to return soon. He looked so helpless in that bed.
"I still don't like him or you," Snow said frankly. "Still think you're both delusional, self-important eggheads."
Kamala didn't bother reacting. She just waited. Snow sighed. "But...he saved my life out there."
She withdrew one hand from her pocket and held out a business card to Kamala. "So when the hospital bill comes due, give me a call. I'll take care of it."
Kamala eyed her as she accepted it. "That's...generous of you."
Snow shrugged and headed for the door. "Might as well be. I'm the one who shot him."
The scientist's jaw dropped. She stared after the Scottish woman, too stunned to pursue her as she vanished around the corner. She pressed her hands to her knees and shut her eyes, quelling the rage brewing inside her. She forced herself to calm down and thought about it logically. He'd be dead if Snow had wanted him dead. Perhaps it was friendly fire. She'd ask Jack about it when he woke up.
Kamala tucked the business card in her purse and settled into the chair. She wanted to sleep. She needed to sleep. But her mind wouldn't shut off. There were just too many thoughts buzzing around in her head like monkey chatter.
"I'm sorry that I kissed Faye."
She brushed her thick hair away from her face, staring at him. She wanted to jump up, grab him by the shoulders, and shake him awake. She wanted to demand what he'd meant. She wanted to know when and where and how it could have happened--and most of all, why. Why now? Why when they had a baby on the way? How could he betray her trust? He was the one person she thought she knew better than anyone. His loyalty had been a foundation on which they had built their friendship.
And, the most horrible thought of all, was if she could find it in herself to forgive him.
"You incredible shit," Kamala whispered, her eyes wet. "You have the world's worst timing."
"Do I?"
Kamala jerked in her chair, her head snapping around to find Misaki Fujioka in the doorway.
Over a month ago, Fujioka would have been standing there with a hand on her hip, grinning at the fact that her dramatic entrance shocked Kamala. Now, she sat in a wheelchair, but her grin was still fierce. In her haze of phone calls, she'd almost forgotten that she had left Fujioka a voicemail as well letting her know they were okay and what hospital Jack had been brought to.
"Misaki," Kamala said, blinking away the tears. "Goddess, you're a sight for sore eyes."
The older Japanese woman wheeled herself to Kamala's side. "I know. It's hard to look this good from this damned chair. I'll dance a jig once I'm out of the stupid thing someday."
To Kamala's relief, Fujioka looked leagues better than when she'd last seen her. The burn scars on her cheek had begun to heal and sink back into the fine flesh over her cheek, jaw, and forehead. Her eyebrow had grown back, as well as the hair along her hairline. She no longer had the sling for her dislocated shoulder. The last time they'd spoken, she was deeply embroiled in her first month of physical therapy. The muscles in her legs were too weak to support her and the damage to her spine had been complicated, but it had begun to heal enough that she could get around.
"I see Jack is still terrible at taking care of himself," Fujioka said, eyeing him. "But I suppose he could look a lot worse after going up against Baba Yaga."
She flicked her gaze over Kamala. "For God's sake, you don't have a scratch on you yet again. Are you just indestructible or something?"
Kamala smiled. "No, I just know how to stay out of the line of fire."
"True enough. I'm glad you took home the win again, and without getting someone blown up this time."
"Oh, there was plenty of that," Kamala said wearily, clasping her hands and leaning her forehead against them. "Just no one on our side."
Fujioka eyed her next. "Doesn't sound good. You were out there with a CIA field officer, right?"
Kamala nodded. Fujioka shook her head. "Must have seen some rough stuff. Those guys don't play nice."
"No," she agreed. "They don't."
"Well," Fujioka said softly. "I didn't wheel my ass all the way over here to talk to Mr. Unconscious. I'm here to see you. Talk to me. What's on your mind?"
"I don't know," Kamala murmured. "Too much. It's like my neurons are firing on all cylinders at once and I can't process it all."
"Break it down. One bit at a time. I know you're worried about the big idiot, but that's nothing new. This is different. You look...shaken."
Fujioka dropped her voice slightly. "Like when we were in that neighborhood with those men chasing us. Is that what this is about?"
Kamala shook her head. "No, I...I didn't have to...do that to anyone while we were out there. But the CIA agent, he...did things in that forest that I vehemently disagreed with. I know those men were killers. Criminals. But they were still people. I can't shake this feeling that I'm an accomplice to it all."
"You did what you had to do to make things right. Not only for yourself, but for the people who died during the Baba Yaga attack. Not everything is going to sit right with you. But I don't think that you're the one truly responsible. You couldn't have known how he would react in an isolated environment like Aokigahara. When you're in a war zone, the rules change. All bets are off. Sometimes men peel off their masks and they are monsters underneath."
"That I agree with. I'm just not sure if I'm a monster as well for doing what I did."
Fujioka touched her hand. "You're not. You can't be. Do you know why?"
Kamala shook her head. Fujioka leaned forward. "Monsters don't regret. They just keep eating the people around them. They never stop to think if it's wrong. You do. You consider everything carefully. It's one of the things I like best about you."
Kamala smiled sadly at her friend's hand over hers. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think that's true any longer."
"Why?"
"I'm pregnant."
Fujioka stiffened, her brown eyes wide. "What?"
"Yes. Over a month. It must have happened the first time Jack and I..." She exhaled. "This whole time I've been fighting to right a wrong and I've been putting myself and my child in danger. What kind of a monster does such a thing?"
Fujioka's hand tightened on hers. "Kamala, life is not that simple. Maybe it's not the most moral thing you've ever done, but it doesn't make you a monster. You did what you thought was right. At the end of the day, that's all any of us can do. Maybe you were wrong. I don't know. I'm damn sure the wrong person to ask about something like that. But you aren't all good and you aren't all evil. You're human. Learn from this experience. Make better choices."
"How can I? I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I can bring a child into this world when it's so violent and cruel and unfair."
"Yes, you do," Fujioka said gently. "You raise it to be smart. You raise it to be prepared. You raise it to stay humble and remember what's truly important at the end of the day."
Kamala lifted her tear-stained eyes to meet Fujioka's gaze. "And what's that?"
"Love yourself and the people who care about you. Everything else will fall into place."
"You make it sound so easy."
Fujioka smiled. "I'm not a mother."
Kamala choked on a hoarse laugh. "Point taken. Thank you, Misaki."
"It's what I'm here for."
* * *
Fujioka sat with her for a couple hours before she needed to head home to rest and begin the next day's worth of P.T. Kamala f
inally managed to tear herself away from Jack's bedside enough to eat a little food. She had curled up in a chair with a blanket when she heard him make a sound.
Kamala opened her eyes to see Jack stirring in the bed, his breathing elevated, his lips moving as if he were muttering something under his breath. His brow furrowed deeply with distress and his head jerked back and forth as if he were fighting something. "No, don't...safe...keep you safe...no!"
Just as she reached his side, Jack bolted upright in the reclined hospital bed with a startled cry, gasping for air. The heart monitor next to him went berserk reflecting his pulse and the harsh movement nearly yanked out his IV entirely as he tried to climb out of the bed.
"Jack! Jack, it's okay! You're safe," Kamala said, pressing her hands against his shoulders to flatten him on the bed. He struggled, panting wildly, his dark eyes darting around the room as he didn't recognize anything.
"Rhett, look at me."
He stopped then and blinked up at her, as if finally seeing her for the first time. "K-Kam?"
"It's me," she said soothingly. "It's alright. You're safe now. Lie back. Come on."
She pushed gently on his chest and he reluctantly settled into the thick pillows nested underneath his upper body, his breathing slowing as he gazed up at her.
"W-What happened?" he asked hoarsely. She held up a finger and went to the small sink nearby, pouring him a glass of water. She pushed it into his hands and he took a few sips as she settled next to him in the bed.
"You passed out in the forest right when we found you," she said. "You've been in the hospital for several hours. They stitched up your side and you've been getting fluids and medicine. The painkillers have been on a drip for a while, so that's probably why you might be feeling disoriented."
Wincing, he drew his left arm up and felt for the thick bandages over his ribs. "Shit. Was hoping that last part was just a nightmare. Snow really did shoot me."
Kamala gritted her teeth. "Yes. She admitted as much. It's a good thing she left, because I was thinking about strangling her to death with your IV line."
Jack coughed--a thin attempt at a laugh, but he was too tired for one. "She technically saved my life. Aisaka was behind me. Had her gun to my head. Guess Snow figured the odds I'd survive were better if she shot me instead. Still, though. I've been shot twice in the last two months. I think maybe I should choose a different career path."
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