Extinguish: Enflame

April

The exorcism was taking a surprisingly long time. Though also not long enough. Lan had decided that the change in status quo was positively horrifying and would prefer him to never has his Nen back. Which also made her feel adequately awful.

But the longer the exorcism dragged on, the more she wanted to cling to him. To the him now, without title and power.

After all, they were having such fun playing crime and domestic partners.

The first stop on this finale of his Nen-less state was a heist, of course. A museum, but a museum of the worst sort: a museum of anatomically anomalous bodies. She had almost thrown up upon entering. The reek of formaldehyde left an impression that Chrollo still somehow coaxed her to ignore. They proceeded to a sale held by a former purchaser and admirer of the museum. (Reluctantly, if the wailing of the former owner meant anything. Suspiciously, the same girl that she had helped Chrollo track down in Yorknew. He smiled innocently, no hint of remorse, saying he stole something sure to crumble the Nostrade family.) In the end, Chrollo had made off with some gross brain slice and a jewel-encrusted skull, albeit he complained some eyes had been absent. She had struggled to tell if he meant eyes with or without a body attached.

Since they did something he wanted to do, and because being in public with that repulsive exorcism worm on his chest was both awkward and attention-drawing, she had roped him into some Hunter work. She first took him to see the ghost finches while the dull bioluminescence of their spring displays lasted. He loved them.

And, currently, they were wrapping up a visit to the griffon hawk reserve. Chrollo… didn't like the reserve as much. Day one, minute one, Jingly had pounced on him, face-planting him into the mud. The next day, one of the adult hawks, Tweets, had grabbed him by the collar and threatened to fly off with him. Chrollo had to slip out of his shirt to escape before Tweets had the chance to drop him from skyscraper heights. He happened to land in another mud puddle. Actually, no matter the hawk, nor the praise to their beauty he offered, they somehow always left him haggard and mud-covered. Lan thought it was hilarious.

The last few days, Chrollo had stayed in the hotel room reading instead of playing punching bag for her hawks. Still, it was nice, in the oddest way, to come home from work to him. They were like a normal couple, which may be exactly the point.

Lan glanced beside her, Chrollo's nose buried in his second or third book of the day.

The normalcy, the comfort of routine, for something she rarely had and often scoffed at as boring, she was enjoying it. There was no sense of impending peril to her continued existence. No one in pursuit with the intent to kill—that she knew of, anyway. No resolute need to train until her body threatened breaking along with her mind. Maybe Auntie was onto something with her longing for Lan to settle down. That simple something being peace.

But peace was unobtainable for the likes of her and Chrollo. Her restlessness would prevent her from being home-bound for long. It always had. Her nerves infected the little peace she had now, the future looming. Chrollo's life, the more she learned, the more she saw, the more she understood that he was absolutely beyond redemption. His life revolved around the Phantom Troupe, and peace and the Troupe were antonyms. A place with him yet apart from the Phantom Troupe… She doubted its existence under Chrollo's mindset and she was even more doubtful that she could change his mind.

This lie, even if it was just an elaborate game of pretend between them, she would miss it dearly. She would miss him dearly, assuming she could pry herself from his side. And she should. The Phantom Troupe…

She slipped off the couch at an incoming call. Anything to distract her from depressing thoughts.

A boat icon. Morel. Before daring to answer to her mentor, she left the room, Chrollo's eyes never leaving his book. Maybe Morel had more work for her instead of a lecture. Should she find a god and pray?

She went into the bathroom, closing the door before slumping against it.

"Yes?"

"The Hunter Association has called on me for a mission." The lack of reprimand for no greeting followed by no greeting of his own straightened her back. "Lanfen, keep your mouth shut and listen to everything I say before making a decision. Understood?" When she kept quiet under the assumption he would keep talking, he asked again, demanding affirmation, "Understood?"

"Yeah, sure" she mumbled, now completely unsure. Her stomach wanted to knot at his tone, teasing edges lost to grave severity. What sort of mission could set Morel on edge? He usually laughed off everything like the One Star Hunter he was.

"The NGL has been overrun with Chimera Ants." She opened her mouth only to be talked over with added information. "Not the little bugs you've seen before. The reports I have are saying larger than a person, as well as more intelligent than their smaller brethren. And more dangerous. They can't be allowed to spread beyond the NGL. The-"

"No." No, no, no. This sounded like an extermination mission and Lan didn't exterminate. Not even bugs. Not even bugs that she didn't particularly like. And these Chimera Ants, to take such a drastic size change, they needed to know how and why not crush and eliminate. "No, you can't just go-"

"Lanfen, listen." He sounded tired. Like he had argued this point again and again. And he would have if he had asked Knuckle first. That, and Morel himself would argue against extermination of a species with his dying breath if there were another option. "If the ants spread, it will be a catastrophe for every other living creature."

"I-" She chewed on her lip.

Chimera Ants were veracious. To feed a colony of ants of this size, they would devour everything in their path. The colony's queen would pass on the traits of devoured. The NGL was filled to the brim with people without any means to stop an invasion. Morel was right. This situation would breed a catastrophe if left unchecked.

But, if she went… She absently stared at the scars lining her right arm. No. No, if she went, she would hinder more than help. Right?

Nemmi chirped at her, head tilted as he hopped to her feet.

Wiping out an invasion force of ants, she couldn't imagine she'd handle it well. Being thrust back into the constant stress of enemies at every turn, no rest to be had… She didn't trust her arm to hold out through the mission. The mental taxation would push her back over the edge she had just clawed her way over.

She slid to the floor, calling Nemmi to her lap. Petting his head did little to calm her.

Were those… Were those just excuses? She could force herself to see the necessity of the mission. They were just exterminating a nest of overgrown ants, not all of them. It's not like she had many qualms about slaughtering Virgil's Chimera Ants. And her arm more or less worked. She could fight around it well enough, and what were a couple of ants to a One Hunter and his apprentices?

She was just making excuses. She just didn't want to go because of Chrollo. Right? His ultimatum… The exorcism's end drew near to take him from her. She was just being selfish. She should go. No matter the toll, she should go. She already had her break, anything more was just avoidance.

Not going may finally prove her unworthy of their kindness.

"You have until May 1st," Morel said. "If you're not in the Republic of Rokario by then, don't show up."

Harsh in delivery, but she understood. Hesitance was a death sentence.

The dead silence of a call ended, she held her phone to her ear longer than necessary. Nemmi headbutted her hand in the hollow comfort of self-said reassurances.

Eventually, she forced herself up. She dragged her feet on her way back to the living room.

No use mourning the loss of false peace.

Nemmi reclaimed her lap the moment she sat down next to Chrollo. Personal space be damned, she stole Chrollo's hand from his book as she hugged his arm to her chest and pressed her nose into his shoulder. His glance away from his book asked if something was wrong. She shook her head to dismiss concern.

This wasn't something to bother him with. At least not the point of asking advice. He would just offer a solution that she didn't want to admit she already knew.

He would just tell her that she would make a great Hunter if she would focus on that instead of him.

Morel entered with a storm cloud. "Lanfen won't be coming with," he announced, statement as neutral as they came.

Knuckle nodded, agreeing with that emotional limbo.

He figured she wouldn't. He didn't want to go for presumably the same reason. Except he also chose to go for that reason. He needed to see for himself that there were no other options. If there were, like hell he would go through with the extermination, but if there weren't… At least he got to be part of that call. While Lanfen would have argued against extermination with him 'til the last moment and then some, he felt relieved she decided to not come.

From the little she had told him, for what he had pieced together, she desperately needed a break after the whole Fan Shi fiasco. An actual break, not training herself into the ground to make up for an injury and a loss.

Because that injury to her arm, he had found the cause. After looking up the Fan Shi, spending a small fortune on information behind paywalls on the Hunter site, he found a member that had frequented Heaven's Arena. Watching Adalei tear apart one of her opponents in a recorded match, it made his stomach churn and he had a strong stomach. Just not for unrestrained violence and sadistic brutality.

Thinking about how that woman would have treated Lanfen in a fight made his blood boil with directionless rage because there was absolutely nothing he could do after-the-fact. Nothing but think how he let her leave the aquarium without him. Nothing but try to help Lanfen move past the trauma and keep her from more.

She had changed. She was acting more volatile and distant, than ever. He couldn't tell how much of it was the Fan Shi, but he also didn't trust her boyfriend. She was someone to fall back into a pattern of abuse and that guy radiated bad energy.

"Just leave her," Shoot muttered, sweating bullets and shaking like a leaf. For as much as he wanted to go, he was nervous of what they'd find in the NGL. Knuckle was too. They were walking into a place ravaged by the ants for who-knows-how-long. It took the damage spilling out to neighboring countries and leaked reports from within the NGL to finally get some help. For that help to be a summons by the Hunter Association, the peril of the situation surpassed what the global powers could handle alone.

Morel nodded absently as he looked out the window. "I just wanted to ask her."

Knuckle knew it. Morel knew she would refuse. He mostly asked her to let her know why they had disappeared. If she found out by stumbling on some article or something, she would feel betrayed. The three of them going on an extermination mission undermined just about everything they stood for. He also liked to think that she would be worried, gravity of the situation considered. As competent of a group as they were, if the mission went south…

He slammed his fist down on the table, startling Shoot, catching Morel's attention. No negative talk! "We're gonna go kick some ass, damn it!"

The door burst open, Roeis' shoes loud on tile floor as he stomped his way to Isma's desk. He unceremoniously dropped a file folder in front of his mentor, the few papers spilling out, the edge of a photo poking out mockingly. Isma's eyes slowly drifted away from his prior work to Roeis.

"I know who killed Bando and Lino." No hesitation, no doubt, he'd make Isma understand that he hadn't connected unrelated points into the picture he wanted. Isma opened the disheveled folder, staring silently at the two pictures of the same woman. "It was Lanfen Paijin." The first picture, Lanfen as she often appeared as a Hunter, black hair brushing her shoulders and drawn on moles. The second, taken from Heaven's Arena, of brown hair in an undercut and one mole under her left eye. Her face brought an angry chill to his bones. How they had met while hunting D2 suspects, in that nauseating room of sliced bodies and spattered blood… Through grit teeth, he said, "I'm sure she killed them."

She had killed Bando and Lino in Devana. He was sure. So damn sure.

Isma's silence prompted explanation.

"Bando and Lino were tracking a blacklist target by the name of Virgil," he began, shuffling through papers to find the picture of the pale black-haired man with glasses sliding down his nose. "This Virgil, aside from stealing those…" Shit. Something ants, what was it? He tried to read the report upside-down.

"Chimera ants," Isma supplied, not even looking at the report. That made Roeis' hope sink like a rock.

"In addition to that," he continued, desperate, "Virgil was a member of a mercenary group called the Fan Shi. The Fan Shi were a division of the Paijin." It didn't take much to connect the dots. How Isma could ignore this… "Before they were murdered, Bando and Lino, they said they found some way to lure Virgil to them. That Virgil had been chasing after someone." The last time they had spoken- It'd been right before they tried to capture this target! Lino had been so excited to catch his first big bounty. After months of training beside Roeis, after studying and memorizing and gathering all the information on criminal organizations he could, Isma had decided to allow Lino to team-up with Bando. And Bando, he was a past student too, blacklist hunting solo for two years. "They were sure it'd work."

His fingers curled into a tight fist at his side.

"But she killed them," he spat. "The wounds-" He swallowed down revulsion with the break in his voice. The crime scene, the evidence, the bodies, he almost wished he had never investigated them. It never left his mind. Seeing his friends like that, how could it? Lino had exposed-bone gashes to his arms and leg, and his face, god, his face… "The wounds on Lino were consistent with the drug traffickers' wounds." As well as the scores of mafia associates killed in a trail leading east to a train derailment near Cenvien— caused by Sybil Delphi, yet another Fan Shi member and someone undeserving of a Hunter license.

"And Bando?"

"A poisoned knife." Roeis stared Isma down for daring to suggest that that invalidated all the other evidence he had. Isma remained unyielding. "She probably had someone with her! What difference would that make!?" Birds of a feather flock together. Other odd weapons on the murder spree to Cenvien, they were probably her ally. Isma understood that, but… "That doesn't invalidate all the evidence I have," he argued helplessly. Isma had already decided. He wouldn't rescind that decision no matter how much Roeis complained.

He gathered his file folder from the desk. Isma refused to acknowledge anything in it as evidence against Lanfen; a stack of old information and throw-away theories, he would sweep it into the trash with Roeis' patience. He could only imagine how much worse his other working theory would make the conversation. Merin Gerralin, a political exile with information on corruption in the Mitene Union, along with his bodyguards, had been found with similar wounds. (Though the motive, the theft of the damned amulet that the news couldn't shut up about for a solid week while burying the real tragedy, it didn't match. That said, her motive seemed violence for the sake of violence and nothing more complex.)

"Accusing a Hunter of murdering another Hunter is a serious allegation, Roeis," Isma said, now trying to calm him down like he was overreacting to the situation. How did this not eat at him? They were his students! He should care that the murderer ran free. "A crime like this needs more than superficial and circumstantial evidence." Acknowledging that he also suspected her incited more frustration.

"We need to do something," Roeis snapped. "She's a dangerous monster with a license to kill. If we don't catch her on this, then-"

"Roeis." The stern look with his tone, Roeis very reluctantly shut his mouth, folder and papers crunching in his hands. "There is a process to justice that must be followed, or it will become persecution without reason nor morality."

"I know." But the Association lets criminals run wild. Lanfen and Sybil were just two of many. If the system was corrupt, then how could there be justice? Isma would say change the system, but to change the Association, to pry away enough control to alter lacking procedures and lenient punishments, it would take time. Time that would allow people like this to continue killing without consequence.

Roeis turned on his heel to storm out of Isma's office. He'd try reasoning with him again after calming down and gathering more concrete evidence. As soon as he had Isma convinced, they could use his Two Star status to quicken the process.

Though if Isma would have let him use his ability on Lanfen, he would have already had a damn confession.

July

Chrollo's attention refused to stay on his book. Not because of Lanfen, or, at least, not completely. Certainly not by her fault. The opposite, in fact. If he quit glancing at her, he would have found something else to distract himself with- albeit nothing else would be as interesting nor pleasing.

After a mix of conservation work and criminal mischief, they had retreated to the Padokean mountains. It was easier to hide the monstrosity still attached to his chest under layers of clothes- while Lan positively hated seeing the creature, she seemed content looking at him in puffy winter clothes, silly girl. Yet their time in Padokea, now over three weeks… Their experiment in living together with false normalcy had been pleasant, he supposed. Long-term it would grow tiresome, as neither of them would do well with this quiet constant, but, for now, it was enjoyable.

They had rarely left the apartment, with exception to library excursions and meals. Lanfen had pointed out that neither of them could cook if there were more than three ingredients. She also noticed he only pretended to have a refined palate; apparently eating only unseasoned eggs and burnt toast a few days in a row had clued her in. Not that she was much better, with her canned fruits and pickled vegetables. A fact so innocuous and insignificant, he didn't understand why, when it was her, it was suddenly precious information worth remembering.

Mostly, he read. As did Lanfen, but she also made numerous phone calls and spent a fair amount of time on a laptop cataloguing information gathered on their ghost finch outing. She could be such a studious girl when she felt like it.

Tangential thoughts, the lack of focus, he should go lie down before his body decided it had enough of his resistance. But, instead, he asked, "Did you go to school?" He imagined she would have hated it. Too structured for someone that worked in chaotic bursts. Yet he was curious, he supposed, if only because formal education was foreign.

"Auntie tried," she answered with a flicker of her eyes to his before she looked back to her phone. "If I didn't like the subject, I found other things to entertain myself with. Like Nemmi stealing and breaking things. Or I would just sneak out." He could only imagine the havoc a bored child with Nen could create. Aside from using it to secure things he had wanted, he certainly would have terrorized Meteor City for his own amusement. "That's why I had to stop going. I almost got the police involved when the teachers couldn't find me." She lowered her phone, turning towards him to give him more attention, questions sure to follow. "Auntie gave up after that. She knew I would do fine learning on my own, anyway. She was just trying to get me to socialize with kids instead of crows." She frowned before tentatively asking, "Does Meteor City…?" She trailed off, unable to phrase it inoffensively enough.

"No." Not in the sense of modern society. "Nothing so formal. Trades and skills, if one was lucky to find a willing mentor." Machi had an apprenticeship with tailors before later dabbling in medicine. Kortopi had worked under a potter before a black-market dealer decided his talents were suited for forgery. Uvogin had been doing construction work before deciding the mafia offered more benefits. "Most of us were illiterate into our mid-teens," he added. Machi, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Liang, and, hesitantly, himself, had learned at a younger age than the rest. Pakunoda and Liang because they were left in Meteor City, not born there.

"I thought the mafia may teach their assassins. That was expecting too much of them, I guess."

It was. He almost volunteered that the mafia considered them fodder as much as trash. They were sent to do tasks too dangerous for their pampered hitmen. If they died, they died. The promise of wealth kept the replacements lining up. Only the exceptional survived. Fewer clawed their way into a higher position. It didn't take long for them to learn the mafia was no salvation.

"You learned everything on your own, then," she said, sounding impressed while somehow proud.

That… that wasn't true. He had no reason to correct her, and it was useless information that he shouldn't bother remembering. But, if it was in fact useless information, he should have no reason to not share it with her.

"I learned to read from an eccentric old man that collected useless baubles." She clung to every trivial word like it was precious. She felt the same, then. Even an insignificant fact became significant if it was about him. "For useless trinkets, he traded away his knowledge and food to children and invalids." Chrollo never understood the old man's kindness, because his trades were just that. Offering help through the guise of a trade allowed for more pride than begging. Chrollo had asked him, once, why he had bothered teaching him to read; he was no one important, just a bastard child without a name. The old man claimed that every life had value, that he wanted to atone for the sins he committed in his youth when he didn't see that. Chrollo didn't believe him. "He never offered a name." He was someone Chrollo should have forgotten ages ago upon his death.

The conversation lulled as he contemplated the ceiling.

Lanfen offered further distraction as she leaned against him, returning to playing with her phone. The invasion of personal space, neither of them cared anymore. He occasionally found it inconsequential, though admittedly enjoyed it more often than not. Human contact, such a strange thing for him to find pleasant. And while once she had overreacted to his every touch, her reluctance wore thin as he became familiar. The consequence of the exorcism, he missed the freedom of impulsively pulling her against him- not only in bed, either. Right now, for instance, he would have loved to put his arm over her shoulders to bring her closer.

Was it wrong that when she initiated contact he felt a surge of warmth? Maybe he was just sick longer than he thought.

His stare and the complete lack of page-turning drew Lanfen's attention back to him. She opened her mouth only to close it again, her brow furrowing. Maybe he looked like death. He felt like it, sweat on his brow and a dull headache fogging his mind.

"Do you not feel well?" She shifted, tucking her legs under herself to lean close before raising an arm. After an unsure pause, hesitant to innocently touch bare skin, she brushed aside the hair sticking to his forehead. Her palm cool against his skin, he couldn't help leaning into her touch. That, and the concern in her expression, he adored it. "You have a fever," she needlessly reported, withdrawing her hand while swinging her legs back over the end of the couch. A little more delirious, and he might have put her hand back. His impulse control demanded to die with his concentration.

"I do," he confirmed just as needlessly.

"Are you sick or is it the exorcism or…?"

"Perhaps."

Her brows pinched together.

"The exorcism," he clarified. He held his hand in front of him, looking for a sheen of aura only to find none. This heat felt similar to the rapid release of aura during Nen baptism. The intensity, the fever heat that was absent during Nen baptism, it may be the fact he was already a high-level user. "Or, perhaps, not," he muttered under his breath. The creature remained on his chest, presumably as enraged as usual. While a fascinating dilemma, it hurt to think. Musing seemed to be his limit.

"Go to bed." Not a polite command, he raised his eyebrows at her. He doubted he could sleep with her still awake. The slightest noise would wake him. "I'll be quiet," she quickly promised, well aware his sleeping habits were somehow worse than hers. She narrowed her eyes at an empty space on the floor. "Nemmi will be quiet." A scratch cut across carpet, petulance assumed. If he told her no, he would be the petulant child…

"I will lie down." A compromise. Vaguely. He would just continue with his scattered thoughts. He set a hand on her knee, her attention shooting to it before back to his face. An obvious act with a dramatic inflection change and pleading eyes, he innocently asked, "May I rest my head on your lap?"

"O-okay." Her voice rose higher to betray her.

He had intended and succeeded in flustering her for his amusement, but, unexpectedly, or, perhaps, it was to be expected, felt content as he rest his head on her lap. Fingers soothingly combing through his hair made his eyes slip closed. Tender touches and human connection, she should stop.

He didn't want to lose this salvation and damnation. Yet, his attention, his devotion, should not be divided between the Spider and a lover. If he told her he loved her, she would probably join, thus ending this hopeless debate. His last resort and final attempt. He was a liar, so what would be one more lie if it coerced her to stay? Because it would be a lie…

His eyes opened to find sunlight absent, fever subsided. A few seconds had been hours of heavy sleep. His head still on her lap, her hand on his shoulder, she never deserted him. To fall dead asleep on her, he undeniably trusted her. Trusted her with his life as he trusted the Spiders.

For her undue devotion, he decided to free her instead of selfishly basking in her warmth. Sitting up, through the corner of his eye, dim light drew his attention.

The pale blue glow, dark eyes glaring judgment, feathers rising, Nemmi looked at him with distain.

Her drumming heart lodged in her throat. She froze, pins and needles stabbing deep into her skin despite the absolute absence of ill intent. The proximity and strength alone were enough.

Terrifying. In every way.

The surge of aura had summoned a book to his open hand. Skill Hunter, he had called it months ago. Right now, she doubted he would have answered, Lan forgotten at his side, his attention monopolized by each page he turned and observed, wicked light in his eyes warping the small quirk of his lips.

She had forgotten that he had never used his Nen in front of her. Not to this magnitude. Not even in Yorknew. His presence and title were enough to paralyze, to bring fearful reverence, to break resistance. She never provoked him beyond calm control. She had understood, to witness it, would mean her death. Chrollo Lucilfer terrified her to her very core because, by comparison, she was nothing.

This was the monster tearing away its human disguise to remind her. Her power over him had never been anything more than an illusion of circumstance. Choice? Hisoka was right. She never had any. Whatever Chrollo wanted, he could take. She wanted to trust him, she really did, but like this… His Nen… Every primal instinct screamed for her to run before she was crushed. How he seemed to forget her existence so quickly, doubt and fear wanted to overwhelm.

Moments or minutes became an eternity of quaking breaths and thundering heartbeats. When he snapped the book closed, the silence following stopped time entirely. Then, like it was never there, Skill Hunter disappeared along with the awe-inspiring dread of his Nen.

Then he remembered her, studying her before quietly, calmly, saying, "I didn't mean to startle you." Carefully he found her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in apology. His attention went to Nemmi, feathers ruffled, talons buried in the floor. "I thought you knew."

"I-" She did. The creature had disappeared from his chest as his fever broke. She had asked Nemmi to leave In to confirm, when Chrollo awoke, that his Nen had returned. She knew. She had just wanted to be wrong. "I didn't expect you to sit up so quickly," she admitted, swallowing down residual fear. For scaring her heart to her throat, his affection calmed her just as quickly. It was an accident. He meant no harm. She believed that. "Your Nen is back," she said, that fact sinking in to swing her from fear to dejection. Or maybe it was that all along.

"It is."

Two simple words ripped at her heart.

A tug to her hand, he invited her closer. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her arms wrapped tight around his chest. For longer than she should have, she held onto him and the fleeting comfort of his embrace. Her eyes burned with tears that refused to fall. She shouldn't be so upset over something she saw coming for months.

But goodbyes were meant to be on her terms. And this wasn't.

His hand found her cheek, coaxing her from his shoulder. His lips pressed to hers with the softness of their first kiss. She choked back a sound. A goodbye kiss, tears threatened to fall again. His lips left hers too soon, her fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt near tearing. Dark eyes were her only sight as his forehead pressed to hers.

His words against her lips a whisper, he said, "Lanfen, I-"

Silence.

He cut himself off, almost recoiling from her, the color draining from his face until he was paler than when he had been fever-stricken. Her entire body tensed, the syllable that died on his lips stopping her heart. Another second of hesitation, severe shock brushed aside, Chrollo pulled her face to his chest. His hand on the back of her head, his lips pressed to her hair, muffled, he substituted, "I will miss you."

A lingering second, but still too soon, he stood, his hand on her shoulder. He held her in place like he expected her to fling herself at his feet and cling to his legs like a child. Instead, she remained frozen by unsaid words. She could barely force herself to spare a final glance at his quickly retreating form. The reverse cross on his back as he walked through the door, abandoning everything else, was the last sight scorched into her memory.

Nemmi hopped onto the couch, frantic as she stared at the closed door. He found her lap, tugging at her shirt until his beak snipped through cloth.

"He wasn't…" Lan mumbled, swallowing down confusion, sadness, anger, everything. He wasn't one for sentimentality, but he knew she certainly adored pretty words of affirmation. To start and stop one deadly phrase… For his expression to falter so severely...

He had meant to lie.

She could only see two reasons why he hadn't. One, the more realistic, pessimistic, reason, he had meant to lie to convince her into the Spider but then saw such a lie would obliterate everything they had built if later found false. A small kindness, to preserve the trust she misplaced with him, it was pathetic she considered accepting so little. Two, the hopeful romantic's reason, that he realized that lie was actually a startling half-truth. Yet, again, a half-truth wasn't reason enough to give herself away. Because she didn't believe he meant it. Not fully. He wouldn't allow himself with the ultimatum in place.

"Nemmi, I might-" Her voice broke with a pained laugh.

Reason number three: he lied because he knew exactly how to plant an idea in her head. Because now she was actually considering if she loved him enough to abandon every rational and irrational doubt she had.

A/N: Not very cheery for a holiday gift but have a chapter!

Did you know that I struggle with timelines? You don't want to know how bad I did remembering what happened in which month, lol. Because the chimera ant arc builds over months while the palace invasion is the eternal few minutes but it all hits you like a full speed train. I said, once, that I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot-pole, and I meant it; I don't see myself being able to add anything. Other than completely break Lan, but been there, done that. So… election arc, anyone?

Thanks again, RainbowMaze, for your reviews!

Thanks to everyone reading!