Though it required some exertion, Namie returned to her full height, leaving Izaya on the ground. He would need a brief respite- how brief was unclear to say; Namie could already hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel. She needed something with which to defend herself. But what? The moon was an unreliable source of illumination and the electric lamp only succeeded in deepening every nearby shadow.

Her eyes scanned the dirt around her. Loose pebbles, twigs, a stack of wooden planks, cinderblocks- those would have made perfect weapons had she possessed greater strength. During the course of her investigation, Namie's bare foot snagged on a rock that had tumbled from a pile of rubble. She stooped and picked up the stone, testing its weight in her palm. It wasn't the most advanced solution, but it would get the job done.

"Namie…" Izaya hissed in warning.

She understood; the guard was close enough for her to identify his outline. Namie crouched behind the collection of planks, peering over the boards at Izaya's position in front of the warehouse. God, he was so pale it didn't look human.

"Somebody out here?" A male voice prodded. "Hello?"

Izaya shut his eyes and lay still. His body looked crumpled and broken. As soon as the guard noticed him, he rushed over to get a closer look.

"Hey-"

This was the moment. Namie ran around the planks and headed for the lookout, the rock raised high in her hand. She struck the base of his skull with its sharpest point, dazing the man and causing him to pitch forward. Izaya sat up immediately, pulling the guard down to the ground where he could smother his oxygen supply. After thirty seconds or so of weak struggling, he fell motionless.

Izaya sighed greatly, doubling up in pain. Namie moved to his side, but he shook his head and mumbled:

"Search him."

She did so. A firearm was tucked into the man's belt, concealed by his jacket. Namie pulled it out and placed it in the dirt in front of Izaya. She didn't find anything useful in his jacket pockets, but there was a pair of keys in his pants.

"What do you think of these?" She asked, holding the ring up to her employer. The keys glittered in the orange lamplight and jingled musically.

"A car," Izaya concluded, "possibly the one that brought us here."

"Do you think it's nearby?" Namie inquired hopefully.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

Something in Izaya's tone sounded very cynical, but Namie didn't care. They had a real chance at escape right now; they could make it! Only she had no idea what the car looked like or where it was. As if reading her mind, Izaya responded:

"There's a loading area behind the warehouse. That's where most of the members park during meetings. The car, and it's a four-passenger one, should be there."

Namie frowned.

"How could you possibly know that?"

Izaya smiled with bloody lips.

"I told you, I do my research."

With that, it was decided they would make a break for the car. Namie wrapped her fingers around the gun's handle, but Izaya stopped her.

"Leave it." He instructed.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged, "It'll throw them off. Besides, I have a plan."

"Care to clue me in?" Namie asked skeptically. She anticipated his silence.

Izaya shook his head again.

"It's better if you don't know," he insisted. "Now help me up."

Namie lifted his good arm and dragged it around her shoulder, giving him the support he needed to climb to his feet. His condition was clearly worsening; he couldn't keep his head upright anymore. Izaya dipped forward as they limped to the loading lot, trying without success to avoid stepping on sharp objects. Neither of them had shoes at this point. Namie's stockings were torn beyond repair, and she didn't even want to think about the bottoms of Izaya's feet.

It might have been a five-minute walk, if they were both healthy individuals. But between the limping, the resting, the coaxing, and the occasional stumble, it took them much longer to reach their destination. Namie had half a mind to tease Izaya's plan out of him as they traveled, but figured he needed to save his strength. She wasn't sure how much he had left.

The loading area was barely outlined in moonlight. It was a rectangular patch of emptiness and asphalt, excepting two or three cars sitting a considerable distance away from each other. Izaya indicated a white Hyundai, the closest of the three. Namie nodded and prepared for a final push. Her leg was throbbing horribly at this point, almost certainly infected. She was starting to worry it could give out from under her without warning, and then she and Izaya would both be glued to the ground.

Luck finally favored them when they reached the car without incident. Namie grinned and procured the keys from her skirt pocket.

And then there was an explosion.

It was a silent explosion. Simply put, the only color Namie could see was white. Everything was white. She was staring wide-eyed into a white oblivion. Someone spoke to her from somewhere inside the whiteness:

"I thought about it for a long time, and I've made up my mind. Listen closely, Izaya Orihara, because this is how you're going to die."

Now Namie was beginning to understand. The edges of her vision were curling and turning black, until the white glare shriveled down to a single source: a spotlight. Isogi had aimed one directly at the car, so hot and bright it could easily have been used to illuminate a stadium. Isogi's shadow was sharply defined by the light, as were three others.

"First, I'm going to kill the woman."

Namie furtively blinked her eyes, pleading with them to work. If these were to be her last few moments alive, she really wanted to know what was going on.

"Why?" Izaya asked. His voice was strong, but he was propping himself up against the car door and his legs were shaking.

"A couple of reasons, I suppose; to dissuade others from working with you; to torture your conscience, assuming you have one. Or, on the off-chance that you harbor affection for her, to break your heart."

Namie turned to Izaya fearfully. His eyes were hard and narrowly set, and his teeth clicked together in a snarl. This was a side of him she'd never seen.

"Naturally, this will need to be a traumatic as possible."

As Isogi said this, two of the shadows began advancing on the car. Namie's stomach bloated with terror and sunk into her legs. Izaya grabbed her arm and shouted at her to run. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Fear had completely immobilized her. This was it. She was going to die because that bastard couldn't keep his mouth shut.

They were getting closer. Namie could hear her own breathing in her ears, clipped and tight. Her heart threw itself repeatedly against her ribcage, ordering her to flee.

The spotlight was almost gone now, replaced by the stony faces of Isogi's hired men. Namie tried to twist away when one of them made a grab for her wrist, but her leg chose that moment to stop functioning. She lost her balance and was caught by large hands coiling around her biceps.

"I'm sorry, dear," Isogi apologized nervously in Namie's direction, stepping closer to Izaya, "but you really should have thought twice before agreeing to work for the likes of him."

"No!" Namie shouted, bucking against her captors. She wasn't going to die here! "No! No! Let go of me!"

"Let her go, Isogi!" Izaya demanded hoarsely, pushing off against the slick paint of the automobile in an effort to stand on his own.

Isogi grinned at the helpless informant. Then he drew his fist back and punched him along the jaw.

"Stop!" Namie screamed, struggling as hard as she could.

Izaya crumpled like a swatted insect, but Isogi did not allow him to hit the ground. He pinned the younger man to the car with his elbow, lodging it firmly beneath Izaya's chin.

"Is this love, Orihara?" Isogi jeered, prodding the informant's jugular painfully, "Is this woman more than an acquaintance? You might as well let her know, as you're both going to die and all."

"Leave her alone," Izaya coughed, clawing at Isogi's arm with his functioning hand. He gave off the look of a puppy kicking a German shepherd.

Isogi turned away from Izaya to order his men:

"Do whatever you like, then dispose of the body."

Namie thrashed about, shrieking and biting and hitting but in the end she accomplished nothing. Something heavy collided with her head, stunning her into a few seconds of submission. She felt herself being lowered to the ground, even though she still commanded her limbs to fight. Namie cried out as a hand clamped around her injured calf, pumping out another pulse of blood. She felt a draft around her thighs and realized her stockings had been removed.

That sound was in her ears again. Everything was muffled except for her own shuddered breathing. Izaya was yelling, Isogi was arguing back, the hired men were murmuring amongst themselves and yanking on her bloodied skirt, but she didn't hear a thing. It occurred to Namie that she was sobbing. Seiji would never know what happened to her but maybe that was for the best. She and Izaya would be murdered together in the middle of nowhere. That was already decided. So whatever pain she endured when they seized her hips and squeezed her breasts or slashed her throat- that was alright.

Namie rested her head in the dirt and stared up at the sky. The pollution wasn't as bad here though the night was still a cloudy one. A cluster of stars winked at her, asking why she looked so glum. She answered that it was because two strangers were about to violate her body in an extremely violent way and she wasn't really OK with it. Well, the stars replied, these things happen.

And then there were gunshots. She figured Izaya had gone too far and Isogi just shot him. Three times, four times…she could already see his battered body sliding down to the ground, leaving four red trails on the car's brilliant white paint.

Out of habit, she gasped when a heavy weight collapsed onto her torso. It was bleeding warmth and blood all over her and groaning in pain. What's this, Namie wondered. Raising her head a notch, she noticed that her tormenters had both been shot.

This was surprising. Namie blinked a few times, wondering if she'd been killed and this was the next world. Was she hallucinating? How had they died?

A familiar voice interrupted her death-soliloquy.

"Hey."

She looked up into one sunken brown eye. The other was swelled shut. Namie watched in stunned silence as he bent down and shoved at the body pinning her until it rolled over. He exhaled, rubbed his forehead with his sleeve, and then offered her a hand up.

Namie stared at it dumbly.

"Namie?" Izaya said her name in a curious tone, tilting his head.

She shook herself and took his hand. He helped her stand when she found her knees wouldn't work. Izaya allowed her plenty of space to breathe, keeping his arm around her waist to steady her. Namie practiced inhaling for a few seconds. Then she hurled herself at him, latching her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Izaya tensed slightly, but held her and whispered hushes in her ear. Namie had no more tears. She was simply taking a moment to process information. Her eyes were so wide she thought they might pop out and every bone in her body quivered like jello.

"It's over now," Izaya told her, gently stroking her back, "It's over."

Namie nodded sharply. When she was ready, she withdrew from his embrace and noticed for the first time that he was standing upright.

"H-how are you-" Namie stammered, lifting a finger to point at his seemingly miraculous recovery, "b-but you were- and they- he-"

"How about I explain everything in the car, okay?" Izaya offered, walking up to the driver's side door and stooping to pick up the keys where she'd dropped them.

Namie complied. Izaya unlocked the doors and handed her the ignition key, walking around to the side. If she hadn't been his personal secretary, she would've been appalled by his decision to let her drive. But she knew him well enough to understand that for some strange reason, Izaya preferred to be driven.

The engine roared to life and then settled into a quiet hum. A blinking red light informed the two escapees that they should buckle their seatbelts. Namie stared at Izaya blankly as he slid the length of shiny fabric across his chest. He noticed her after a while and paused, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, right," he corrected himself, clearing his throat, "Uh, Doctor Kishitani's residence, please. I assume you know where that is."

Namie wanted to hear his explanation, but she also wanted to not get caught surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies that had previously been trying to murder her, so she put up with his directions and circled around to the highway.

"It's a long story," Izaya sighed deeply, leaning into his seat, "I don't even know where to begin."

"Start with your injuries." Namie directed coldly. He looked barely conscious when Isogi hit him; by every right, he should be delirious with pain.

"Ah. Well, most of those are real."

"You think?"

"You're taking me to see Shinra, aren't you? Look, if I had a drug strong enough to make me forget I have two splintered ribs, I'd die of an overdose."

"So you were acting."

"I would've thought you'd know better, Namie. Isn't that one of the first rules of corporate warfare? Always let your opponent underestimate you?"

Namie scowled at the road, passing a significantly slower vehicle.

"And when you told me to run; was that acting, too?"

Izaya chuckled to himself.

"Come on, we both knew you wouldn't do it. Not to mention, your leg is shot to hell. You're gonna want to have Shinra look at that."

"When you tried to protect me," Namie's voice cracked, "was that also acting?"

Izaya's smile disappeared and his gaze fell to the window. He took a few moments to put the words together and spoke quietly when he delivered:

"The more I showed them I cared about you, the more determined they were to hurt you. If I told them I wanted you safe, they'd go out of their way to ensure you were harmed. In doing so, they would inevitably lower their guards."

"And what did you do while their guards were lowered?" Namie asked, peering out of the corner of her eye to ascertain his expression.

"I shot them."

"With what gun!?"

"This one."

Namie nearly flipped off the road. In his hand, Izaya held a large, recently discharged metal pistol. It looked identical to the one they'd found on the lookout earlier.

"But you told me to leave it!"

"Because I didn't want you to know I had it," Izaya explained patiently, "if you'd known I had a gun, your performance would not have been as entertaining."

Namie glared at him in horror.

"Not to mention, I needed Isogi to think I was harmless as well. That turned out to be pretty easy, as he wanted so badly to believe it himself. All I had to do was wobble around, pretend to fall a couple times, breathe heavily and the next thing he knows, I'm unconscious."

Namie muttered under her breath, barely even seeing the street anymore.

"It was all a set-up…" she realized, "all of it, from the very beginning!"

"There were a few misunderstandings amongst the actors," Izaya drawled, shrugging, "for instance, I hadn't originally planned to get my arm broken or my face mashed. But for the most part, everyone played along perfectly."

"Especially you, Namie-chan."

Namie tried to ignore him, but he was hard to shut out.

"I needed them to believe I was scared, and you sold that flawlessly! Honestly, I don't know why you went into such a boring profession when your emotional range is so fascinating."

"Why did you need to kill them?" Namie cut in.

"They were terrorizing my humans."

Namie shot him a questioning glance.

"Excuse me?"

"They were selling highly lethal drugs at a great deal of nightclubs in Shinjuku. My humans were buying them, ingesting them, and dying from them."

Izaya was irate, tapping his fingers against his cheek and frowning intensely.

"Wouldn't you hate it," he began, his tone thick with frustration, "if you were watching the most amazing movie, and right when it gets to the good part- the main character dies of drug overdose? It's pathetic."

"So you…" Namie couldn't even get the words out of her mouth. All of this was done with good intentions? Izaya was fighting crime?

"Don't let it get to you," He said, yawning, "this was a one time thing."

She couldn't believe it. What an asshole. As Namie merged onto the Kawagoe highway, she related that Izaya Orihara may be the most ridiculous, maniacal, insane, twisted, and absurd person she had ever met.

She also could no longer imagine life without him.