This fanfiction begins in episode 5 of Zankyou no Terror (Hide & Seek), when Lisa is taken in by Twelve, but before the train bombing. For a while it will keep close to canon but it will gradually change. Twelve x Lisa. Other pairings may optionally be included later.
I'm not a native English speaker. I apologize for any errors or mistakes.
Enjoy

Nine's head buzzes. He shivers and presses his palms onto his temples. It's hot. He kicks the blankets off of him. From another room, he can hear mingled words. A ringing noise in his head grows louder. But the words return, still meaningless, and echo through the room. He shivers again and pulls at his hair. Sounds bounce back and forth and he's not sure whether someone is shouting from behind the window or whispering into his ear. It's so hot. He rubs his hands over his face. The words become louder. He shuts his eyes tightly and clenches his jaw.

"Nine?"

Everything grows silent.

His eyes open. His back is coated with sweat like dawn on the fields. He tastes ashes in his mouth and gags.

"Nine?" He hears from the other side of the room.

When he turns his head, Twelve is right beside him and opens his mouth. The words that come out sound foreign and far off; as if he's not really there. He blinks a few times, but his vision continues blacking out for fractions of seconds even when he keeps his eyes wide open. Twelve remains where he is, only occasionally blurring. Then a cold hand touches his forehead. Instantly a wave of heat rolls over his body, followed by a shiver. He gasps for air and quickly pushes himself up from the bed.

All noises fall back into place. There's rain tapping the window and clocks ticking rhythmically. Twelve's breath is right next to him and the bed creaks beneath him. He shivers violently and tries to hurriedly wipe the sweat of his forehead with his trembling hand. The only taste left in his mouth is that of blood. His cheeks stings.

"Are you awake?"

Nine runs his hand through his hair but then rests it onto his lap where it stops shaking. He slumps his shoulders and focuses on the ticks of the clock.

"Twelve," He mumbles. But there's nothing he wants to tell him.

The silence lingers but Nine's eyelids are light. He slips out of the bed and walks past Twelve, who yawns and stretches. "Again?" The latter murmurs, half-asleep.

Nine splashes some cold water onto his face. His skin is tingling. It's still so hot. He hears the rustle of clothes behind him. Twelve rubs his eyes and yawns again, not looking any more awake than he had before. Nine sighs. "Go to bed."

Twelve smiles but returns to his bed without a word. The water runs for another five minutes before Nine sits down in the couch. He turns on his laptop and runs a program. For a moment his fingers linger above his keyboard, before he clicks a few buttons and starts hacking into the police department files. The brightness of the screen pains his eyes. He makes sure it's turned away from their beds so it won't disturb Twelve.

He pushes himself to concentrate, even though he isn't looking for any particular information. Gradually his mind becomes a table of numbers and codes, of binary and hexadecimals, of links and syntax. Until there's nothing else left and he quietly blanks out.

Only once he accesses the files does his awareness rise again. He feels how he slowly sinks back into the couch. It's as if he didn't have a physical form for a while. As if he forgot he was a person with a pumping heart, an empty stomach and sweaty hands. It's 28 minutes past four, he sees on the clock. He doesn't know how much time has passed, since he didn't bother to check it when starting. At least two hours must have past, he muses to himself, and starts calculating the approximate duration of everything he did. Circa three hours and forty minutes.

It's 34 minutes past four. Ever since they were living in that loft he had made a rule for himself, that until 5:36am he wouldn't wake up anyone else. A fairly pointless rule, mainly because of its unnecessary detailed timing, but he didn't disobey it once. Not conscious, that was. He inhales deeply before pushing himself up from the couch. His back cracks and he stretches himself lazily. The floor doesn't feel as cold as it usually does and he looks at his bare feet. His fingers too are numbed out from typing. He lies down on his bed, on top of the blankets. The cold kept him from falling asleep, from the burn of his dreams.

"Good morning," Lisa said in a hushed voice as she entered the living room. She stroked over her nightdress and then rubbed her upper arms. The two guys were sitting on the couch. Nine was frozen as a statue with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, whilst Twelve sat Indian style, throwing his phone up and catching it again. He answered her cheerily, whilst Nine didn't even look up from his cup. The only movement that gave away that he wasn't completely out of this world was when he occasionally sipped from the cup.

"You're up early," Twelve said.

Lisa cocked her head to the side and frowned at him. It was about six thirty. She then looked at her feet and traced the pattern on her sleeves with her fingernail. "I heard both of you were awake so I got up as well."

"Oh", He responded, "Are you a light sleeper?"

He leant forward, and put his phone on the coffee table, devoting all his attention to her. She braced herself and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "I do sleep bad."

"I'm a light sleeper too, but I fall asleep as easily as I wake up." Twelve continued as if he was doting on a conversation about sleeping habits.

"I see," Lisa nodded softly, before daring a look towards Nine, who still ignored them. Twelve caught her glance and she quickly returned to studying her feet.

Twelve stood up and picked up his empty cup from the coffee table. "Nine is a heavy sleeper."

"I-is he?" She uttered. She didn't know why she felt embarrassed and uncomfortable. He had read her so easily; perhaps that made her feel dumb. She rubbed her upper arms. It was surprisingly chilly in the room.

"Definitely," Twelve continued, rinsing his cup and placing it next to the sink. "Once he's asleep, it's really hard to wake him up. Right, Nine?"

They were both ignored, but Twelve smiled as if the silence had been a confirmation. "Let's make some breakfast!"

Lisa walked behind him and then noticed a window that was opened. A shiver ran over her spine. "Um, Twelve," She stammered, "Can I close the window?"

He turned around and studied her. She blushed and took a small step back, feeling her cheeks heat up as his eyes skimmed over her body. She crossed her arms tighter.

"Of course. And wait here, I'll get you a sweater and some socks." With that he swiftly walked away, whistling a tune to himself.

She stiffly moved to close the window. Even though Nine wasn't watching, she felt as if he did so anyway. With her back turned to him she could feel his criticizing stare following each move she made. Almost naturally she became very aware about her outworn nightdress, her unshaved legs and messy hair.

Twelve had quickly returned with a light blue sweater and blue socks. She had already forgotten about them but quickly thank him. He told her she could shower now, and she gladly accepted it. Without another word she disappeared into the bathroom.

Twelve didn't need to look over his shoulder to know Nine had his eyes pinned on him. He peered out of the window and noticed a single feather drifting up to the skies. Nine's unspoken words lingered in the air. Or maybe they should be considered spoken, for he could hear them echo clearly in his head.

He didn't suppress a smile when he spoke. "I won't get too involved."

But where should the line that separated them from getting "too involved" be drawn? Who could tell him when he would be too far in? No one could, he mused almost happily to himself.

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