Another update, then.

This probably would have happened earlier had I not got a little side-tracked writing Decennium, yet another Hunter/Tori fic. Do check it out if you have the time.

Once again, thanks to all you guys who reviewed and alerted: Katherine (Start writing your name. XP), ems32, tommiegirl7741 and MOREID4EVA. Also, thanks to the other person who dropped in a guest review.

And finally, thanks to bodysurfer27 for agreeing to be a Beta for this.

Okay, so it's Hunter who is up next.

And, I could not help but sneak in a Marvel reference here. So, yeah, I don't own Marvel, in case there were doubts regarding that.

Hunter

I'm never what I like,
I'm double sided, and I just can't hide,
I kind of like it when I make you cry,
'Cause I'm twisted up, I'm twisted up inside my mind.
I'm semi-automatic, my prayer's schizophrenic,
But I'll live on, yeah I'll live on, yeah I'll live on.

- Semi-Automatic,

Twenty One Pilots.

She is a ghost beside me. Ever since she has been here, she has not spoken a word. Neither have I.

The dysfunctionality of the situation should be bothering me but it does not. Somehow these moments of silence, of words unspoken, calms me down.

She calms me down.

I had left my house haunted by yet another nightmare. This time, it had been so specific that it almost felt real. Usually they were vague and inchoate: fragments that I kept differentiated. But last night was different and I did not know how to deal with it.

The beach had been the last place on my mind when I had left but it was here that I had wound up. I always end up here, amidst the winds and the waves.

Her presence here had caught me off-guard and with every moment that I remain with her, I begin to question every single thing that I told her last morning.

Maybe I do not feel that way.

Not really.

Having her in my life has been the best thing that could have happened to me and no matter how much I try to prevaricate, there is no denying that she makes my life better. With her around, I can survive, live through a day without screwing up everything. Without her, I am a mess.

I know that it is a deeply horrible situation for me to be in: to depend on someone this hopelessly. But I was the one who had created this completely blind reliance and dependence and honestly, I do not seem to mind it that much.

Thinking back to yesterday, I can safely say that I regret my words. I know they hurt her, I hurt her. But what else could I have done? I am not- I probably will never be- ready to have her in my life in any other way but this.

Because commitment scares me.

I had thought that maybe I would be ready whenever we crossed that line but I was wrong.

Like always.

Perhaps I should apologize, tell her that I did not mean everything that I said. She would understand, I think. Or maybe it is too much to expect of her: to expect that she will forgive me every single time.

I don't know. I just don't know.

I close my eyes, trying to clear my head of all its thoughts, but as soon as I do so, an unbidden thought arises: her lips on my neck.

Fuck.

I risk a sideways glance at her. She is sitting fairly away and I know that she has calculated it all very well.

Damn her.

She is looking away into the sea, her hands wrapped around her surfboard. I crave to fill the void, I hate being so close yet so far away, but words do not come to me.

What is it with words always failing us when we need them the most?

By now, people have started coming in and the beach is growing too crowded. I wonder how long we sat here, not talking.

I should have said something, should have initiated some sort of a conversation.

Could have told her about the nightmare.

"Do you want to get out of here?" her voice cuts through my thoughts.

She is not looking at me, she hasn't looked at me in the eye the entire morning.

"Yeah, okay," I mumble.

String together a few more damned words.

"Didn't you want to surf?"

"Yeah, well," she sighs. "Another day, perhaps."

She is up on her feet and after a moment's hesitation, extends her hand in my direction. I take hold of it and she grabs on tighter, not letting go of me even after I am standing.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" she softly says, examining my face.

I shake my head as she squeezes my hand sympathetically.

She has to stop being so damn nice with me.

"Would you like some breakfast, Hunter?" she asks. "I'm really hungry."

"Okay," I nod.

She lets go of my hand, a half smile appearing on her face. For a moment, watching her smile, I forget all that has happened, all that has gone wrong and I smile back, my heart wrenching as soon as I do so.

We get pancakes for breakfast, because she insists that we do.

It is a small cafe by the beach that she leads me to. Settling to a seat in the corner, she orders us both pancakes, some of her ebullience having returned. I am glad for that.

Makes me feel less guilty.

"I'm supposed to meet Cam today to discuss about the Annual Exam," she says, pulling a face.

This is not normal: it is far away from normal. But if this is what she chooses to do, so will I. If she decides never to bring up that night or that morning, it will stay that way. After all my escapism, I do not deserve to decide how things will play out. And so, I go along with her, talking like nothing has changed.

It is not difficult. I have never found it difficult to hold a conversation with her but the tension in the air is palpable, every word measured and calculated, the usual banter is missing, the free flowing spontaneity curbed, everything restricted.

"Last day, he kept me in for an hour, discussing about it," I say, avoiding eye contact.

She lets out a little laugh.

"I hate correcting the scripts after the exam," she groans, taking a bite of her pancake.

"Tell me about it," I echo her lack in enthusiasm.

We lapse into an uncomfortable silence, the occasional sound of cutlery and the chatter of other customers reigning around us.

Fuck it.

We take each other's names simultaneously; in sync. There are a few seconds of perplexed silence as we both look at each other, full and proper, for the first time in the morning.

I feel the tension mounting in the air, bit by bit, insidious in its ways, to create something lethal noiselessly, to create something that could erupt to set everything ablaze.

I am still looking at her, as is she. Staring would perhaps be the more appropriate word.

And slowly, I feel my defenses weakening, my insides clenching and I know, another moment of this thing and I will end up doing something that I will regret. I have to stop myself from feeling, from thinking.

Thinking about touching her.

Fuck.

I have to physically restrain myself and almost instantly, I clench my hands into a tight fist, my finger nails digging deep into my palms.

Pain.

Now, I can focus on that. I no longer have to focus on Tori's piercing stare, no need to confront anything.

Shut it out.

I refuse to think. I force my mind to shut down. I am working hard to remove every fragment of her from my mind: everything, that night, her kiss, her touch, that morning, her words, her tears, this moment, when she speaks slowly, "Hunter, I am sorry."

I clench my fists tighter, the nails digging deeper.

Perhaps I have cut myself.

She is looking at me expectantly now. I am supposed to say something.

Words.

"I…" I flounder, throat constricting, body and mind revolting to this situation. This is not supposed to happen. I am not supposed to feel this way.

"I'm sorry too," I breathe out, words barely audible.

She lowers her gaze and I feel the leaden weight being lifted off my shoulders.

I can breathe.

"I should not have pushed you, Hunter," I hear her saying. "It's your life, you need your space and I-"

"Tori," I cut her off, my hands trembling now. "Not now."

Her eyes widen and I know, she hates me at that moment for my evasive ways.

I hate myself too.

But right now, I cannot talk. Not when I have had those few moments of turbulent whirring thoughts that I cannot even understand.

"Please," I hiss, voice subservient.

Finally, she nods.

Looking away, she whispers, uncertainty coating her words, "We'll fix this, Hunter."

I walk her to her van, maintaining as much distance as I can.

We do not talk about it anymore, instead ramble about the most random subjects, albeit with spans of awkward silence.

I wonder how long it will take for these silences to stop coming back to our conversations.

Her blue van looms up in view. Closing in, she says, "I can drop you home, you know."

"No, thanks," I say, almost immediately, surprising myself too. Covering up, I add lamely, "I have to pick up some stuff on the way back home."

She sighs, almost with disappointment.

"Okay, then I'll see you later."

"Yeah," I nod and turn away to leave.

That is when I feel it: a deep and painful twist inside, guilt lurching within.

Darn.

Turning back, I stop her, "Tori."

"Yeah?"

"I'll meet you at the woods."

I think I see her smile.

I find her waiting for me by the waterfall, her eyes closed, a jet stream of water dancing in between her palms.

"Hey," I say, walking up to her.

She jumps a little, her eyes opening abruptly.

"You are here," she frowns. "I did not realize. The birds, they didn't stop chirping."

"Yeah," I say, running a hand through my hair. "I did not streak today."

Her frown deepens, the water in between her palms slowly losing its shape, "Why?"

"You always told me not to."

I lose myself in teaching that day: letting the nuances of my art absorb me, engorge me.

I spend most of the day out in the woods, tackling hordes of teenagers on my own, correcting their postures, revising their attacks, doctoring their defenses. Three years in the business, it has now become effortless; perfunctory.

I know where the weaknesses lie. I know what will expose them. I know students inside out by now.

Initially, I had my qualms about teaching. Hell, it was not even just teaching. I was supposed to run a whole academy of ninjas. It scared the shit out of me, to be honest. I have never been a people's person; talking just does not work for me.

Quite clearly.

I had no idea how I was supposed to run an entire academy with my less than average social skills but somehow, things fell into place, they gelled.

The students were- are- in awe of me. Donning a coloured suit and saving the world has certain perks. Besides, I had Leanne assisting me and Sensei Omino tirelessly mentoring me.

Two years down the line, when we decided to merge with the Wind Ninja Academy, I did have my initial reservation about it. I was forced to give up yet another home but it was the right thing to do. We were rebuilding ourselves after the catastrophe that Lothor had left behind in his wake and we could really use all the help that we could gain.

I was skeptical about how the change would play out: these were two schools with long standing animosity. I was not sure if Blake and my collaboration with the Winds could bridge that gap but surprisingly, it did.

We had the usual uprising of rebel groups but they were so few in number and so powerless in their attempts that they failed to taint the greater purpose.

My fourth class in the day reaches its completion and I feel the slightest of weariness seep into me. Trudging my way back to the Academy, I am intercepted by Dustin.

A very worried looking Dustin.

"You look kinda upset," I comment as he starts walking with me.

"Dude, we have a crisis."

I stare at him in confusion. I can never gauge the intensity of any situation from Dustin's words.

"We do?" I ask unsurely.

"Yeah, man," he sighs audibly. "Big time."

"Well, what is it?"

"Shane knows."

"Knows what?" I frown.

"The bet," he cringes. "Our bet about him and Kapri."

Realization dawns upon me then. That long forgotten bet about whether Shane and Kapri were indeed dating.

"Fuck," I curse. "How?"

He fidgets with his hands and uncomfortably mumbles, "I might have let the words slip out of my mouth."

"What the-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he cuts me off. "It is ridiculous."

I shake my head ruefully.

"Is he pissed?" I venture.

"Pissed?" Dustin cries out. "He is ballistic, man. He punched me. Like, freaking punched me and it hurts."

I cannot help but laugh at that, laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Laugh all you want," Dustin says. "I bet that is exactly what is in store for you."

That shuts me up.

I enter Shane's room warily. He has his back turned to me and is talking to someone I cannot see.

Hearing me, he turns around, a smile lining his face.

Trouble.

It is Tori behind him and she starts giggling uncontrollably when she sees me. It is the happiest that I have seen her in the last few days and for a moment, I forget that Shane exists in the room.

"Hunter, my man," Shane takes a step closer to me, breaking my trance.

"Hey," I say uncomfortably. "I just came here to apologize, you know, about-"

"About what?" he asks, smiling again, taking another step closer.

I risk a glance at Tori who has an amused look on her face.

"You know," I trail off.

"No, I don't," he says, voice turning menacing.

Damn Dustin.

"The bet," I cringe. "It was a stupid thing."

The smile disappears from his face, all signs of amusement gone from his voice, "Damn right, it was!"

"I am sorry, bro. I-"

I am stopped midway through my sentence by a solid punch in my abdomen.

"Fuck," I groan, clutching myself from the sides. "That was extreme, dude!"

"I know," he says, patting me on the back. "What you did was extreme too."

Meanwhile, Tori is in stitches.

"Don't do it again, bro," he hisses, this time slapping me hard on the back.

"Screw you, man," I groan in agony as he leaves the room.

I stoop with pain, clutching my stomach. In fits by now, Tori makes her way to me, helping me stand.

I feel myself stiffening at the contact, all those stupid confusing thoughts rushing back. But one look into her face that is so incredibly childishly pleased at my plight, I am made to forget it all.

Maybe, just maybe, we can live one moment without awkward silences spurred by the stupidest of mistakes.

"Stop laughing," I complain petulantly.

"It's really funny," she says, in between bursts of hysterical laughter.

It is absurd but I find myself laughing too. "It did hurt, just so you know."

"Yeah, I know," she says, trying very hard to stop laughing.

"I think he broke something."

"You don't have bones in your abdomen, Hunter," she pulls a face, her laughter controlled now.

"Maybe the impact broke a rib," I mumble.

"It was Shane who hit you, Hunter," she rolls her eyes. "Not the Hulk."

"He is the Hulk," I mutter. "Except the green."

She laughs at that and before I can process what is happening, she starts undoing my shirt.

"Tori," I gasp, feeling her hands on me.

What the fuck?

"I am just checking," she says, voice guarded.

She lifts my t-shirt to expose my stomach.

I don't know if she feels it too: the walls closing in, pushing everything but her into oblivion, forcing me to narrow my focus onto her.

Just her.

I don't react, let her do whatever she is doing.

"It's nothing," she says. "You completely overreacted."

"Yeah," I manage to say, my breathing a little ragged now.

Why does this keep happening?

She looks up at me then, letting her hands abruptly fall from my stomach.

I think she feels it too: the change in the texture of the air. The twinkle in her eyes disappears and I see something else replacing the mischief.

She stands up straighter, something defiant about her look.

And then, she takes a step closer, her hand resting on my chest, over my beating heart, never for once breaking eye contact with me.

A voice screams in my head to stop, to step back but there is a tiny part of me reminding me that the last time I stopped, the last time I stepped back, it ended badly.

And so, like a man who needs his drugs, I bend down to kiss her on the lips, my hands wrapping around her waist. She gasps into the kiss, pressing herself closer. We continue, two broken souls, broken by each other, needing nothing but each other.

It is she who pulls back, her breathing faster than usual.

"We need to talk," she whispers.

Talk.

"Isn't it the talking that screwed us?" I smile wryly.

"Hunter," she sighs, stepping back, creating some distance. "We still need to talk."

I sigh, the realization that I cannot possibly run away from all her attempts to talk, crashing down on me. Besides, she was trying to fix this, the best I could do was help.

And so, I stand there, contemplating the best way to apologize, deciding what to say when she softly whispers, a look of exasperation crossing her features, "I can't do this, Hunter. Not like this."

I open my mouth but she cuts me off, her words like barbed arrows, "I am not one of your girls."

I freeze, my hands going numb; dead. My heart drops to my stomach which is nothing but a lifeless pit and I feel myself break: from the inside, into a thousand pieces.

I upturn the dustbin in my bedroom with frantic desperation. Sifting through the trash, I find the crumpled piece of paper that I am looking for, the one with a phone number scribbled on it.

Tally.

The door opens almost as soon as I knock.

Tally leans against the door, scrutinizing me.

"You don't look okay," she comments, letting me enter her apartment.

Closing the door behind me, I spew, "Who said I am?"

She gives me yet another scrutinizing look before venturing, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I pull her in close. Pinning her against the wall, I press my lips on hers; fierce and demanding.

Needy.

"No," I find myself saying. "I want to forget about it."

My fingers caressed the cold metal, death in its touch.

One sharp stab into the heart and it would all be over.

The weapon felt heavy in my hand, the weight of everything bogging me down.

Running my fingers along the blade, I watched myself bleed and when I felt myself fading into the black, away and away, I put the knife straight through my heart.

What followed was her scream.

I wake up with a start, my heart thudding in my chest. I have to take a few controlled deep breaths to stop the rapid hammering.

My thoughts are foggy and it takes me a good couple of minutes to realize where I am.

Breathing still uneven, mind clogged with a million thoughts, I find my way in the darkness, retrieving the clothes that had been discarded last night.

Dressed, taking a departing glance at Tally, who is sleeping peacefully, I leave her room.

I am about to leave her apartment when a voice makes me jump, "Does she know that you are leaving?"

I turn around sharply, body automatically settling into a fighting posture.

Soft laughter ricochets around me as a young woman steps out of the shadows.

"I share this place with Tally," she laughs, switching on a light, its yellow light flooding my surroundings. "I'm sure that she did not mention that."

"No," I shake my head, letting my fisted hands drop to my sides.

She rolls her eyes and asks again, a smirk playing on her lips, "So, does she know that you are leaving?"

I grasp for words.

"I… we… it isn't-"

She cackles at my inability to provide an explanation and dismisses me with a wave of the hand, "I'm just playing, don't worry."

I nod, uncomfortable in this effervescent ebullience when all I want to do is get away.

"What did you say your name was again?" I ask lamely.

Running a hand through her blonde curls, she says cheekily, "I didn't. It's Aria, by the way."

"I'm Hunter."

And for once, her face loses its colour and she whispers, "My father hated that name."