After a little while I cooled off and felt bad about snapping at him that way. I mean, he's still new to this human interaction thing. And it's not his fault that out of all the things I've lost, it's that which has hurt the most, that I feel certain I can trust no one entirely. Contemplating this page and that thought, I find myself wondering again (in a detached sort of way—there goes the mood again) how long this can continue. I don't know who they are, what they want, or why I'm here. I can create a secret agenda to fit everyone I know, and the entire plot is unlikely enough that I have no way to discriminate between possibilities.
    Lucky wandered by and said hello, I nodded vaguely in response. Hans had returned from his patrol and was watching TV.
    "Hans, has anyone ever told you you're very strange, in a lovable way?"
    That was Lucky's voice. I whipped around in my chair and stared at her.
    "No," Hans replied composedly. "I have been scouting for the Blood Boards, unfortunately I was unable to find anything."
    "Just stand me in the middle of Downtown Crossing or something," she snorted.
    "That's an idea worth a shot," I put in. If they want her that badly, we might be able to bait them to us. I suddenly realized that she wasn't wearing her gloves. "Are you feeling OK?"
    "Great," she smiled. "Never felt better. How 'bout you, what'd you do today?"
    I couldn't restrain an unhappy sigh, rubbed my eyes for a moment.
    "That doesn't sound very positive."
    "I'm wondering if it's worth it to fly down to Lancaster and confirm what I suspect, or just go straight to the mental hospital and talk to Mr. Javelin."
    She was looking at me curiously. "Do you know, you actually have very, very fine freckles?"
    She's on drugs. Great. "Uh, no, I've never noticed. Are you sure you're feeling OK?"
    "Fine."
    I headed upstairs to make some fresh coffee. She followed me and poked her head around the corner. "Want to play some pool?"
    "Sure. Want to come along on a bust tonight?"
    "Sure," she echoed. "What's up?"
    "We're meeting Winters around five to go and take care of the rest of the tong." She was smiling, and she never smiles. I hesitated, trying to guess what route to take to find out what was going on with her, and decided to let it lie for the moment. Everyone was around, for a change, so it seemed like it might be a good time to raise a subject I've been meaning to these past couple of days. Lucky started setting up the pool table; I interrupted her.
    "Could we all sit down at the table and have a talk?" I suggested to the room in general. Scott skulked over and assumed his usual chair, keeping a lower profile than usual as we all settled in. "Jesus—Scott, I didn't mean it that way." This keeps up any longer and I'll start kicking my cat.
    Hans gave us an update on his activities of the morning, which boiled down to "I didn't find anything interesting" but took ten minutes anyway. When he finished, Lucky looked at me.
    "So what's up?"
    "I had a suggestion I wanted to float past you guys, this seems like a good time for it." Newton jumped up on the table, I shooed him off. He jumped back up. "OK, you can sit there—Anyway, I was thinking the other day that, while were all very individualistic people, or reasonable facsimiles hereof, and we've all got our own little projects that we tend to work on a lot, it might be a good idea if we spend a little more time together than we do."
    "Yes," Hans agreed promptly. "I think the team could certainly benefit from more training."
    "I think that's a pretty big weak spot the Wuxia—when they attacked us we weren't thinking like a team," I went on, trying to explain something which has been bothering me for days now. "We were four people doing our own individual thing, and that's why they kicked our butts. I thought it would be very helpful if we would do joint patrols, and maybe if we get to know each other a little better on a personal level, we wouldn't have quite as many... misunderstandings." I glanced at Lucky. No one said anything right away. "That's all I wanted to say."
    "I think that's a great idea. The one concern I have is that this job is really stressful," Lucky put in. "When we're together for fourteen hours straight being deathtrapped or whatever, I need to get away and go detox, I just don't want to be... that I don't have the opportunity to do that."
    "I'm not saying we have to spend twenty-four-seven together, but when we're working, we should work together. Learn to cover each others' weak spots, bolster each others' strengths." I shrugged, a tad defensively maybe. "Nobody's going to force you into it."
    "Why do you assume I'd have to be forced into it?"
    "Historically speaking, we don't get along," I reminded her dryly.
    "Historically speaking, we don't have conversations," she shot back accurately.
    "We've had a couple." At least one big one that I could think of.
    "And they worked out just fine."
    I could see Hans' discomfort very clearly, mirroring my own, which was only slightly better concealed; no reason to prolong this. "Anyway," I repeated briskly, "that was all I wanted to say."
    "How are you, anyway?" Lucky continued, utterly ignoring my attempt to bring an end to the discussion. The woman just won't let go. I considered my usual replies (which run the gamut from "OK" to "Fine"), and decided, You want honesty, you got it. "Aside from the fact that we've found out that Ellis getting shot was probably my fault after all, I'm fine."
    "How so?" Hans asked, startled. "If you could please elaborate."
    "No one ever said it was your fault," Scott said quietly.
    I elaborated, as requested. "Javelin, who is theoretically behind the murders, who is theoretically having all these people killed, used to work for SysGen. SysGen is the company which is apparently responsible for 80% of what's in my head. I do not like this connection."
    "Are you saying that you told Ellis?" Lucky asked slowly, after a pause.
    "Yes." I looked at her directly. "I told Ellis everything, about three hours before he got shot."
    "That was also after he'd just managed to blow up several large criminal organizations," Scott put in. Good try, but no go.
    She took an angry breath. "Needle, if you want us to work as a group, and you don't share these things with all of us, then how do you expect us to cover your back?"
    "Well, that's why were having this talk, isn't it." I tried to keep my tone calm, with indifferent success. "I'm not saying I'm totally innocent in this, I know I'm—face it, I'm a pain to live with a lot of the time."
    "You're a good person," she said almost inaudibly. I didn't know what to say; this apparent transformation was stranger by far than the one I had glimpsed that hideous day at Chandler's place. Hans came to my rescue.
    "I think we should form a list of our chief problems at this time and assign priorities, then try to work out a strategy," he asserted; much to my relief, he managed to divert her successfully.
    "We know that the same people who killed Washington are the people who killed Ellis," she said. "Is it possible that they were killed for entirely different reasons, one being that Washington knew entirely too much about what was..." She trailed off, suddenly realizing what she was on the verge of saying.

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