A/N: This isn't a pairing. Seriously, the thought of these two romantically attached scares me.

Anything?

If Ema were there, she would have quickly informed anyone that was listening that the room had risen 5.7 degrees as soon as Damon Gant stepped into the room. Unfortunately Ema wasn't there, along with any other person that could have kept the room in a manageable environment of three rather than an uncomfortable one of two.

Lana did not look up and continued her work of clearing her desk. The only acknowledgement she showed that her ex-partner was there was a very slight blush of the cheeks, which she imagined was because of the sudden increase in temperature. It soon faded, and she shuffled all the randomly scattered files into one pile and placed it in the cardboard box. For the second time in her life, she was scared. Across the room, sitting at his wooden desk, was the man who had her life in the palm of his hand and there was nothing she could do about it. The same man who she had been partnered with for all those years, the same man she had trusted with her life in several occasions – and saved his in return, had now stabbed her in the back.

She gritted her teeth. With trembling hands she pulled open the top drawer, and drew out the stationary that she kept in there. She didn't notice what she was storing away, solely concentrating on the automatic movement to try and forget about the other presence in the room.

"Please - ! I-I can't lose my sister… please can't you help me?"

"…Help you? And go against all I've worked for all these years? It's our job to bring criminals to justice."

"She didn't mean to do it! Please… I'll do anything, just don't…"

"Anything? Is that a promise you can keep?"

It was a promise she had to keep. At the time she had given him a long stare, very much like the ones that he gave her and everyone else. He was not used to being on the receiving end of these long pauses and had pestered for an answer. "Anything?" What a stupid thing to blurt out! She remembered times she had shouted at those murder-dramas, claiming them unrealistic. Why would anyone be stupid enough to offer anything?

Would Damon Gant have settled for anything less?

She had given him near everything when they were partners. Partners, but only in the platonic sense. Damon had been renowned for working alone, and then to suddenly take on a partner? She had wondered why at first, but occasionally when he thought she wasn't looking, she swore she saw a twinkle of lechery in his eyes...something hidden in those green depths.

She had, of course, ignored it. He didn't mean anything by it – and what was there to gain by questioning him about it? She felt uneasy for a few days after the first sneaky glance, but as his cheery behaviour towards her remained unchanged, and as no romantic or otherwise attempts were made, she had disregarded that it had ever happened at all. But now…?

"Anything?"

She blinked, noticing the old packets of coffee that she was offloading into the cardboard box. It reminded her of those innocent times they had shared, taking it in turns to get the disgusting coffee from the machine in the corridor. The feeling of comradship as they pulled faces at the taste as the struggled to get through the work during those black nights in the office. Lana risked a glance in his direction, a jolt running through her system as her eyes locked onto the green that had been staring at her since he had entered.

He gave a small smirk, and Lana inwardly shivered. There was no effort now to hide that familiar look in his eyes. The look that he gave to the suspects just before they were caught, the look that let his prey know there was no way out. It was a triumph for him, and Lana felt a rise of nausea. A man that was more than double her own age, someone she had shared a purely platonic relationship with during all those long years, and primal instincts were to take over.

"Anything?"

Lana wasn't stupid. She knew why she was being promoted to Chief Prosecutor. Why keep her here, where she was of no use? Why not have someone to control at the top of the prosecution side of things? She wasn't even that concerned on this new change of occupation. She was more worried about the things that he hadn't yet asked for.

She still felt the burn of Damon's gaze on her, and she turned her back to him, picking up the pictures she had on the shelf to her left. One of both her and Ema at a theme park… a lump rose up in her throat, and she put the photo back down. She couldn't take anything that reminded her of Ema in her new job. No. Her younger sister now only reminded her of the freedom she had sacrificed.

Everything was packed. Her hands were still shaking, and she gripped the bottom of the box tightly in order to hide it.

She was halfway out of the door when his ominous voice called out to her in the silence.

"I'll see you later."