A/N: Hello Huntik fans! It's been really dead lately, I supposed everyone's on writer's block or busy ;_;. Anyway, here's something for you guys. A short piece on what happened in S2 E17. Inspired by the same thoughts I had when first watching that very sad episode.

On a side note, I was actually really fascinated by the blue-haired Chinese woman until she asked Dante about, well, getting together. Pity.

Perhaps it was on purpose that she left a part of her fringe hanging out. He really hoped so. The mask that was hiding her sharp feminine features had partially covered her eyes, and when he tried to search for her gaze, the hazel brown eyes could barely be seen.

But that single second was enough for Dante to pick her out from the others, her lithe figure leaping to the window with her usual elegance, never missing a beat. When Zhalia turned, he had to bite down hard on his words. A little slip and all her efforts would be wasted, what blood sweat and tears they had spent, mostly her, on keeping her pretense up. If they could communicate telepathically, it would not have been long, but it seemed almost the case as she paused on the brown brick windowsill to glance back at him. He would have burst out first.

"I miss you."

"I know."

"This place brings back memories."

"I know."

Of course she would, it was the very place where her life had changed forever. Unknown to him, she had been in the seat hiding Vlad Dracul's power on the day itself as well, comforting herself with the pretense of being a queen in her throne. Convincing herself that every bit of power was worth what she was going to give up on the rooftop a few towers away. With Klaus before her, repeating his promises and urging her to put on a good show, she almost wanted to believe him. Maybe she did, but either way everything ended that fateful day on those dusty bricks as she revealed her true identity to the man she had fallen so deeply for.

And ironic it would be that she was here under yet another shroud of mystery, still a spy, still a to-be-traitor. Worse still, fighting the same team mate and having to dance with danger as they mocked a Seeker battle as well as they could. Sophie would have laughed at her efforts to fake one, if she could, with how weak her attacks were.

Oh, how tiring acting was, how an intangible mask stuck on her more firmly than any physical mask ever did. Their mouths were tightly shut as they desperately searched each other's eyes for a message, anything that would relieve their hunger for intimacy and contact. Neither had hated war more in that moment, when their lover was merely a metre away, silent and restrained. Even if they could have spoken via mental messages, what more could they have said?

That one second that had offered both a glance at each other had ended too soon, and the wiry woman had leapt out of the window, back into the throes of Blood Spiral recruits. He turned back to his team as well, panting and cheering for his return. Each party had returned to their own faction, to their own duties.

He would be using the Logosbook a little longer tonight.

Why didn't they use the Logosbook to communicate, you ask? Well, Dante has no problem writing in it, I'm sure. And I will be working on some fics about their conversations. But Zhalia is probably watched really closely by other members, and can only use in urgent situations when she needs to pass information, or when they're busy with other matters. I'm sure they had some conversations but it really gets as good as two lovers writing letters in WW2, war, war, and more war.