Bloodlines

They were midway through a quiet dinner when his phone went off, and immediately Ieyasu knew they were going to fight. It was routine at this point. Every time he visited his Aunt and Uncle, Masamune would ring him for something urgent, and he would go to leave, and he and his Uncle would argue about it.

Frankly, Masamune needing him didn't annoy him. That was the job. What really got his blood boiling was the damn reaction.

"You're gonna pick that up, huh?" Those slate grey eyes bored straight through him. Ieyasu didn't bother disguising his irritation.

"Work." Stepping away from the table, slipped into the hallway and answered. "Yes?"

"Shit. I caught you at your uncle and aunt's again?"

Ieyasu ground his teeth. Yes, he wanted to say, you fucking did, but that's cool, I guess. We can keep letting my career trash the only relationship with I have with anyone in my family. Not that they're being understanding about it, nor can I tell anyone, but I guess we can keep doing this.

Instead he said, "What's going on."

"Brought in the body. Think it was exposed to more of that nerve toxin we were looking into from Russia."

Which meant he only had a couple of minutes to get to the lab before it started wearing off. He was already walking back into the kitchen. "Be there soon."

"Going already?" His aunt already had a tupperware out, scooping the rest of his half-finished dinner into it. She was the only person he felt bad for in all of this: no matter what, she was always unfailingly kind and sweet to him.

"Yeah," he mumbled, giving her a hug. "Sorry. Work."

"Work, work, work." His uncle sniped. Ieyasu didn't know how anyone could sullenly butter a roll, but somehow the man managed. "You're forever dipping out on your only family for work."

Ieyasu bit back the sour, you really don't have to remind me of that. Thanks. I'm aware I'm an orphan, and replaced it with, "Law enforcement likes calling me in at terrible hours. It's not exclusive to when I'm here."

"Coulda fooled me."

There was nothing else to say to that. Sourly he scooped up the tupperware container and left without another word.

Three different cars and four full-length scanners later, Ieyasu gained access to his lab. Security was tighter than usual, but he didn't ask. Compromises happened all the time. Masamune met him in the hall, still wearing a blue suit with bloodstains on the sleeves.

"They mad at you again?" He asked, taking a long drag on a cigarette.

"Don't smoke in my lab." Ieyasu stripped off his coat and tossed it onto a hanger, rolling back his sleeves and dipping them in a bucket of disinfectant. "Of course Uncle is. He's always angry about it. They wanted me to be a doctor, something prestigious."

Masamune snorted. "If only they knew. Think working for the CIA would be good enough for them?"

Ieyasu didn't answer that. Frankly, he had no clue. "No point in wondering. Can't tell them anyway. Should I ask about your sleeves?"

"Ah, this?" He rolled his wrists around, grinning darkly. "They tried to gas me, too. Didn't work out for him. I think Hideyoshi is on the scene trying to clean that one up."

"Great. I'm sure he loves that." Stepping into his decontamination chamber, Ieyasu switched out his street clothes for his medical scrubs, and slipped into the final room. The body laid out on the table, prepped for his research. Quietly, Ieyasu powered up his electronic notetaker. Time to get to work.

He was nearly finished with the autopsy when the goddamn intelligence guy rapped on the glass.

"Hello!" Mitsunari Ishida waved a notebook, entirely too cheery for the time of night and their profession. Ieyasu calmly turned off the two-way speaker, dipping his room back into silence. Apparently this didn't deter the intruder. Flipping through his notes, he scrawled out a giant I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU and pressed it against the window.

Ieyasu flipped the speaker back on. "Remove your greasy palms from my glass or I will call security."

"Mr. Tokugawa! I promise, it's very important."

Mitsunari's idea of very important was about as inconstant as the ocean, so Ieyasu just flicked the speaker back off and returned to his work, his mood fouling. The man rapped on his glass again–this time, with a new sign.

IT IS ABOUT YOUR FATHER.

As if this day couldn't have gotten worse.

Ieyasu stomped back out of the decontamination room, back in his street clothes, and fixed Mitsunari with a glare that might have killed less idiotic agents. "This had better be good."

"I think it might be." The silver-haired man beamed, producing a file. "We were clearing the scene from earlier and located this. I managed to get the clearance from Mr. Oda to present you with it. He thought you might find it of interest."

Mr. Oda thought that? This changed things. Uncertainly, he took the folder. "What do my parents have to do with anything related to a crime syndicate?"

Mitsunari frowned. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Tokugawa, you should probably read the file."

That... didn't bode well. Nerves rising in his throat, he settled down onto a desk and opened the manila file. The first thing that fell out was a picture of four people standing in a large ballroom. This was familiar to him: it was the old CIA ballroom, after all. They'd switched it over to a new office space sometime about a decade ago, but he recognized the space. Those featured wore formal wear thoroughly in style with the 80s. One of them was the former CIA director from then, and the other–

Ieyasu's breath caught in his throat.

Nobunaga didn't even flinch when Ieyasu slammed open his office door.

"Explain," he demanded, flinging the photo down onto his desk. "How long has this been known?"

Nobunaga glanced up from his computer. "If I could have five minutes to finish what I'm doing?"

Fuming, Ieyasu slouched into the seat across. A point, a click, and a small email later, and finally Nobunaga turned his attention back to the angry blonde in front of him. "What, exactly, are you asking about? Tokugawa isn't a very common last name, so on that front, yes. I knew your parents were part of the CIA."

"I didn't. I was told they died on holiday in Aruba. Their files should have been declassified about five years ago–I should have been notified."

"Yes, well." Nobunaga examined the photo. "For whatever reason, they weren't. Clearly I can't speak to that, classification being what it is."

"And this picture was just lying around the crime scene of a syndicate? We were looking into illegal weapons trafficking and my father just happens to be in the possession of some nobody?" Ieyasu struggled to wrap his mind around the thought. "That really defies belief or explanation."

"Unless it was intentionally targeted."

Silence passed between them. Ieyasu swallowed hard. "Yes. Unless it was targeted, and someone knows that Masamune is CIA, and that I'm on his team. That's a lot of ifs."

"I've seen more." His superior answered smoothly, red eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Mitsuhide Akechi is looking into it regardless. I figured you ought to at least be involved, considering the circumstances."

Mitsuhide Akechi was one of their best double agents, but that wasn't good enough. Ieyasu stared at the photo of his parents and rage pooled hot in his stomach. "Anything else this came with?"

"Yes." Nobunaga steepled his fingers. "A ticket stub from October of 1993 with your mother's name on it. It appears to be a conference event held in the Kennedy Center."

Good enough. Ieyasu rose, resolve hardening in his stomach. "Anything else?"

"No. Just be on your guard. Perhaps maintain distance with your living relatives while we sort this out."

He snorted at the thought of his uncle angrily buttering a roll. "I can do that."