This chapter continues ep 5 (Hide & Seek) from Lisa's POV.
Please remember that I am a non-native speaker and I don't have a beta.

Enjoy!

"Aren't you afraid?" Twelve asked teasingly.

Lisa had been lying in bed for a while without being able to fall asleep. She noticed him hovering over her and felt as if she was awakening from a hazy dream. "Afraid?" She repeated slowly, "Of what?"

Twelve grinned. "Of us!"

She cocked her head to the side, and shifted somewhat uncomfortably. A colder part of the pillow touched her neck, and she realised that she was still hot. The fever was dropping, but lazily. The question rung in her head. It took her a moment to understand what he was saying. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"Because we're terrorists!" He cheered as if he had anticipated just that question all along.

She stared at the ceiling and bit her lip. The first thing she did was fling the question to the back of her head, where it persistently asked for attention but didn't receive the priority to be answered. Yet now became a hard time to do so. It was impossible not to know who they were, what they did. When she thought about it, she started fiddling with her sleeve. Yet, what else was she supposed to do? If she would truly fear them, she would have to leave them. Her stomach sunk at the thought. She eyed him, almost expecting the fear to suddenly well up. But it didn't. Of course it didn't. They were more than bombs placed and panic spread.

Suddenly Twelve lifted her chin and yelled "Boom!" in her face.

She jerked away from him with a startled yelp, hands raised in mid-air as if that would protect her. Her stomach tightened sharply. He almost looked apologetic but then started laughing before he could stop himself. It took her a moment before she could lower her hands and the pain in her stomach faded. His laughter filled the room and she inhaled slowly. After all, what had she excepted? She wondered whether he had really wanted to know the answer to the question. Whether he was afraid of the answer too. She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled, caught by his laughter. It was childish and mischievous, but not ill-willing. Their eyes met and he grinned. His joyfully twinkling eyes and that smile that still reminded her of the sun. Then he stood up, with a last wink, and turned around. Plenty of things a terrorist could keep himself busy with, she thought. Yet when he reached the door opening she propped herself up on her elbows and inhaled sharply.

"I'm, I'm not afraid." She said, louder than she had intended too.

He curiously looked at her over his shoulder. "Oh?"

Her heart beat loudly. She was nervous. But not afraid. Or was she? The line was harder and harder to draw these days. "I'm not afraid of you," She muttered, more to herself than to him.

He left her with a smile. She didn't know whether he had been mocking her. Did he believe her? Did he care? She fell back onto the bed, sinking away in the old mattress and thick pillow. Pondering over whether Twelve believed her or not wouldn't change anything, would it? But she had to worry about it, even though she knew how useless it was. She had to worry about everything all the time. It was as if she was running around in circles instead of going towards a goal. It tired her out. She pressed her face into the pillow and inhaled deeply. It smelled of him.

Lisa stood on the balcony. The view wasn't truly spectacular. Despite the loft being spacious and clean, it was situated in a dreary part of Tokyo. Which was logical because, as she assumed, they didn't want to live in the middle of their own target. The view she had had out of her apartment had been much wider, allowing her to gaze over the busy streets and the thin line between the crowded roads and parks. Here, the buildings were duller, the people didn't look like dots when she squeezed her eyes, and the humble park was out of view. But she liked it better. There was a certain relief that came with observing what was in front of her without having to fear what was behind her.

She missed her mom. And she cursed herself for that.

If only that ache in her guts that returned with every memory would stop. If only she could quit thinking about how her mother suffered and how alone she was. But it had been bound to happen. Her mother had accused her of wanting to leave when she didn't, to the point where she started accusing herself of wanting to leave. Now she accused herself of having left. Of course it wouldn't have been easy, she had known that guilt was bound to become part of her daily life. But after all those years of coming home to screaming, to shaking and pulling and dragging and crying. All those years of accusation and violation and-

Lisa braced herself and leaned a little over the balustrade. A warm breeze brushed through her hair and she inhaled the summer air. Rays of light hit her pale skin but the warmth was not quite there.

It had been bound to happen.

It was silent in the living room. She looked around, but there was no hint of life. On the coffee table lied a note, saying they would be right back and that she shouldn't leave the house. There was a smiley drawn in the lower right corner, but even without it she could have guessed the curly handwriting to be Twelve's.

Perhaps they had left her without saying anything because she might have wanted to go with them. Or she might have wanted to know what they would do. Or she might have asked them how long they would stay away. Or whether they would return. She rubbed her upper left arm, telling herself they were right for leaving without telling her. Even if she might've just waved them goodbye and asked for them to be careful.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach tightly. It was hard not to see that she was a nuisance. All she ever did was take up place.

They hadn't picked on her at school for no reason. She had changed schools three times already, and had watched the same story unfold every time. She didn't belong. She was a seat too many in the classroom. A word too many on their lips.

Lisa sat down on the couch and pulled up her knees to her chest. She didn't know why she was thinking about that now. It was always somewhere in her head, present in each of her thoughts. She was still a bit feverish; perhaps that played a role in it as well. Perhaps everything would get better. Perhaps everything would get better.

But even at home she hadn't been at home. And where was she now, to feel belonged? She had intruded upon them. Nine was right when he had said she was a bother and she shouldn't be with them. What could she possibly mean to them?

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. Stop it, she told herself, you aren't getting yourself anywhere. Stop running in circles. If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always gotten. There had to be something she would be able to do. Surely, she could hardly do anything with a computer or a motorcycle, let alone anything concerning bombs. But there were other things. Her eyes travelled through the room. Twelve and Nine were normal humans too, in a way. They had their basic needs and things they had to take care of. Things she could do.

She noticed how clean it was. There wasn't too much dust anywhere and there were no dirty cups and plates or clothes left behind. She also wouldn't dare to reposition anything, since she didn't know where it belonged. It became apparent to her how unfamiliar she was with their house. It had been a long time ago since she had visited anyone. It stressed her out to feel so unfamiliar with her surroundings. But still, she couldn't deny a vague sense of happiness for being there either way.

She entered the kitchen. There was something she could try.

The tension was heavy in the air. It bundled in Lisa's guts and made her dizzy. Nine was talking to Twelve through the phone. He was sitting behind his laptop and typing away. They said something about a fake backdoor, in a tone that made it clear that it wasn't in their favour.

It was about the bomb. The police hadn't found it. Or at least they hadn't done anything about it. They must've known where it was. She had heard Nine saying the riddle was easy enough. She covered her stomach with her arms as if it would lessen the pain. They couldn't turn the bomb off either. If they couldn't find it, innocent people would die. Her head grew light at the thought. She leant against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. Nine didn't see her, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest on the other side of the room. He was typing hastily whilst continuing to speak with Twelve. His sentences were long and she didn't follow most of it, but she hadn't heard him sound so distressed before.

Meanwhile Twelve was out there, probably to dismantle the bomb manually. She hoped that he could do it, and that he would return safely. She wrapped her hands around her knees and wished that everything would end well. The phrase echoed in her head, again, again, again, until it lost its meaning. The cramps in her stomach grew worse.

Nine stopped typing. He mumbled something under his breath, sounding even more stressed than before. She watched him, and could see that he held his hands in mid-air above his keyboard. Pop-up screens appeared on his screen. He looked like a statue.

She felt her blood run cold when he started shaking. Suddenly he pressed his hands to his head, as if he heard something loud. She froze. The sound of him chocking on his breath was painfully familiar but her mind went blank.

He was trembling all over his body, whilst the only thing that washed over her beside fear, was powerlessness. As he fought for air, he looked up to the screen as if it was a monster. Hours seemed to pass while she desperately begged for nothing else but them to be safe. Her heart was pounding in her throat and she saw white dots on her vision. She wanted to close her eyes but she couldn't, she couldn't turn away from him.

He started grasping for air, loudly, as if he had almost drowned the moment before. His hands were still shaking, but not pressed against his head anymore. Each breath he took grew deeper. She could see sweat shimmering on the back of his neck.

"Don't tell me…" He uttered, "She's the one…"

Then he closed his laptop, and threw it aside convulsively. He picked up another one from underneath his desk, starting to regain his composure, and opened it.

Finally she closed her eyes and rested her head against her knees. She still listened carefully to his quick breath, as if there was no other sound in the world. Even his words when he spoke barely seemed to reach her. At least he had calmed down somewhat again. Her head throbbed and her guts still twisted. She had to return to her room. Carefully leaning on the wall, she stood up. Stars tainted her vision as well as white spots. Her knees were wobbly but she could feel the blood returning to her head.

Suddenly Nine hurried past her, pushing her out of the way. She bumped into the door, glad that at least she hadn't fallen. Nine disappeared without another word. Or maybe he had said something, but she hadn't heard it. She slowly closed the door behind him, noticing her hands were trembling. She thought of Nine and of Twelve too, and she knew she was afraid of what they did. And it wasn't the bomb that scared her, it was hearing their cracked voices. She could watch shards pour over the city and buildings collapse, but the tremors of their shaking hands hit her hardest.

Everything was going wrong.

Lisa had lied in bed and lost consciousness when they had returned. When she had woken up she had still been nauseous, but she came to check on them either way. Nine hadn't spoken to her. Twelve only smiled. She hadn't watched the television. The radio hadn't been playing. No news had reached her. She helped doing the laundry the other day. Holding Nine's T-shirt in her hands, she wondered why some people were called heroes and others terrorists.

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