The door was closed. Closed and he was alone in a blood soaked room. Everywhere. The lean man, headless. The mad one, in half. The other one. Paralyzed and dead now. Bled out. Dying and dead while Kenshin chatted on the phone to correct a problem that shouldn't have even existed. Saitoh's words echoed back in his head.

You stole a tablet, one that you should know would be tracked...what did you expect to happen?

Not this. Never this. He hadn't expected... he hadn't expected... He moved his gaze to Megumi.

One hand had fallen to rest on her stomach. The rest of her was a bloody mess, her hair spread against the wall, pale orange with the light of the space heater.

He hadn't expected her.

And she had suffered for his mistake. Who had she left behind? Who had they left behind? How many more phone calls would go unanswered? How many more faces unseen? Endless and endless. Death and blood filled the air.

Kenshin placed Kitetsu against the wall and went over to her. It was strangely silent. Everything was muffled. His own breathing. His own heartbeat. He knelt beside her.

She had come to this world to live. No matter what had happened. She had come here to live. To help others. There are too many killers in this world, Megumi-dono, and not enough doctors.

And even fewer now.

Because of his own carelessness.

How many more will you kill before you're satisfied, Hitokiri Battousai?

He shifted, pressing hands and forehead against the floor.

"I'm sorry, Megumi-dono."

As if that would be enough. As if anything in this world would ever be enough.