<i>3: Ken</i>

I walked back to see Joe.  I hadn’t planned to speak with him, but he had heard the commotion, and he needed to know that things were all right.

Without any preamble, I explained what had happened. 

“Katse’s dead,” he said simply.

“I know.”  I noticed that his movements were far more economical than usual, and that when he did move, he looked uncoordinated and unsure.  I worried briefly that whatever they were using to hinder his cybernetics would keep his vital functions from operating correctly, but then cast the concern aside.  Nambu would not allow that.

“Egobossler?” he said.

I shrugged.  “He’s never done anything like this.  And what’s the point?  We know how to beat the Jigokiller.”  I hadn’t really expected the blood to work.  I had expected Galactor to have improved the monster.  But they hadn’t.  And that didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry, Ken,” he said then.  He wasn’t talking about the Jigokillers.

“So am I.”  I sighed.  “The court is going to want to hear your side of things.   Do me a favor and try not to make things worse.”

Joe grimaced.  “How?  By telling the truth?”

I meant to move toward the bars, but instead my legs gave beneath me.  I sat heavily on the bench, grimacing.

<i>“Ken?”</i> Joe said.  He sounded angry, but he was worried.

That irritated me, that he saw my weakness, saw through my attempts to hide it from him.

“The Hypersuit is gone, Ken,” he said tightly.  When I didn’t respond, he moved closer.  “Right? I destroyed it.  That’s why I’m in here.  Because I destroyed it.  So you would be all right.”

I gazed up at him, at his hands wrapped around the bars, his fingers wax-white.  That crazy night, in the dark, it hadn’t happened, I told myself.  But I saw the same desperation in his eyes that I had seen then.  I looked away.

“Ken?” he said again.

“I’m still recovering.” I resented him for making me acknowledge that I had fallen, for reminding me that I had <i>wanted</i> him.  And I was grateful that the guards could not hear us, only see us.  “I’m getting better.”

Joe laughed, a shaky sound.  He relaxed his grip on the bars, and blood slowly returned to his knuckles.  “When they question me, I’m going to tell them that they were killing Gatchaman. That’s a lot worse than blowing up a few pieces of equipment.”

I felt like hitting him; if he hadn’t been behind the bars --and my legs hadn’t felt so weak-- I might have.  “You don’t get it, do you?  That’s not how they’re going to look at things.”

“You tell Nambu that the mecha we went after ran when it saw us?”

“Don’t change the subject--“

“We didn’t get a chance to tell him before I got arrested.”  Joe grinned suddenly, but there was no mirth in the expression.  “We never had one run from the Spartan.”

“I’ll tell him.”  I raked my hand through my hair.  My legs finally felt steady, so I rose.  “There’s a judge advocate on his way in to meet with you.”

He snorted.  “I don’t need a lawyer.”

“You need a fucking lawyer, Joe.  You need a fucking miracle.  What you did was stupid.  Stupid!”

He met my gaze, and it was like a blow to my chest.  The memories welled up again, swirled between us, and the urge to touch him was overwhelming.  I jammed my hands into my pockets.

What would have happened if Jun hadn’t arrived when she had, would we really would have…?

“I’d do it again,” he said quietly.

I drew a deep breath, trying to ground myself.  He meant he’d destroy the Hypersuit, not that he’d kiss me again, touch me again, make me feel that desperate, out-of-control <i>hunger</i>.

 “You’re going to be lucky if they don’t execute you.”  My words came out hard and fast, like bullets.  “The best you can hope for is a very long confinement and permanent separation from the team.”

He shook his head, dropping my eyes.