Mentions of blood and trauma. Tried to be vague enough to not be too triggering but if it's a trigger of yours, I don't recommend you read this. Stay safe y'all.

His chains clinked, their metallic shine frosted over in the biting cold. But he wasn't worried about them freezing or about them burning their pattern onto the skin of his palm as he gripped them tightly. He didn't have them out to fight; they were simply acting as a reminder to him at the moment. A reminder that he couldn't do it, even if he wanted to.

He couldn't call them, not even to hear their voices and know they were okay. He couldn't put them at risk even if it was to put his mind at ease. The chains, both a weapon and the proof of his conviction, were the best reminder of what his life was for, what he had to do. He had a mission to fulfill before he could put his mind at ease.

It was easy to put his hatred for the Spiders, the meaning of his life, in the back of his mind when he was with them. He wasn't sure how, but the way Leorio and Killua bickered, the way Leorio and Gon laughed, the way Killua and Gon made mischief like normal kids to entertain Alluka...It made him feel at ease. He could laugh and smile like anyone else.

So he could never let himself give in and call them.

He stood outside in the bitter cold, clutching his chains and watching his breath turn white, for what felt like years, fighting with himself before Basho returned from his break and relieved him of his watch. Oh, so it'd only been a few hours?

Sometimes it was even harder to resist.

Nightmares were nothing new to him; he'd been having them since the attack on his clan. But the Spiders were faceless, nameless incarnations of evil then. They were like the villains in a scary story come to life...and somehow the hate was easier then. It was stronger now but...in his dreams, faces began to show where before there was only shadow and the splattered blood of countless victims.

Some of the faces were those of the Troupe that he saw dead in that auction attack, like the woman with the pushpin cushion on her wrist or the man with the tattoo on his head, Chrollo Lucifer. Sometimes he even heard his voice telling him he had no value as a hostage; killing him wouldn't put an end to the detestable Spiders. But that wasn't what caused him to, though he was ashamed to admit it, cry out and wake up in a cold sweat.

More than half the time, there were much more familiar faces in the mix. The blonde woman, Pakunoda, who was willing to put her life in the line to save their boss and ultimately sacrificed herself to tell her teammates what she knew. She had the same resolute expression as when he'd last seen her, only hours before her death. And that man...Uvogin. He was grinning the same way as he was in the end, like he knew that it would always haunt him. Like death was preferable than selling out his teammates.

And it did haunt him to see the faces of those he killed...They weren't the storybook or horror story villans he once thought they were. They were monsters, yes. But the type of monsters only humans could be. Killing someone guilty of his family's slaughter seemed like it would be the easiest thing in the world before. But now he saw them for what what they were.

When he woke up, chilled and soaked in sweat, all he wanted was to call them, any of them to hear their voices and put himself at ease. He wanted to hear Gon's cheery greetings or Killua's teasing...He would give the world to hear Leorio's gentle reassurances between the scoldings.

But he didn't deserve that.

He killed people. They were somewhat human under it all, and he killed them. Even worse...he couldn't remember their faces. Not Uvogin or Pakunoda...The faces that were blurring with time were those of the people he was avenging. How could he possibly turn to his friends when he was forgetting his other family, the one that died?! How could he deserve to find peace with his new family when the faces of the one that spend their last moments saving him were becoming distant memories?

No, he couldn't call them. He didn't deserve to.

Leorio made a big deal of his birthdays even when the kuruta asked him not to. "You're getting cake and ice cream and that's final!" He'd leave message after message on his phone until he finally came over for a little while. But by the time he let himself give in, it was just to keep himself going.

The doctor would let him into his tiny clinic on the edge of a small town (so even the "undesirable" folks could come to him for cheap treatments without worry of the townspeople freaking out), fuss over his scratches, bruises, and newer scars, and order him to take a shower so he could check him out properly. Kurapika always preferred taking showers there; Leorio kept the place warm because he hated the cold but the added heat and steam from the bath had made him dizzy more than once before. That only led to bumps on the head which made his already worried best friend freak out more. He was a great doctor with a big heart but sometimes, when it came to Kurapika, he worried too much.

"You're even worse than Gon and he's my most frequent regular!" He would irritably rant as he disinfected all the blond's harder to reach cuts and bruises. "You always come back in worse and worse shape! Are you eating properly at least?! No, I better send you off with a ton of premade meals, shouldn't I?" Halfway through, his voice would lose its edge and become softer and more gentle. "I know it's tougher for you than I could ever understand, but...I worry about you, 'Pika. We're family; you can count on us." Something inside him would always break a little bit more when Leorio spoke like that, his voice breaking and betraying the stern expression he was trying to keep on his face. Leorio's heart was too big and warm for his own good...

Gon would get excited when Kurapika was there too. Like a friendly, excitable animal, he'd launch himself at the blond for a hug. With anyone else, he'd probably hit him on reflex but he knew enough to at least expect it from him.

"Kurapika! You came home!" Gon would cheer, giving him what would be a bone crushing hug to anyone untrained or weaker.

Killua wasn't as expressive as Gon was about it. It it was obvious he was happy to see his friend too. He'd smile and relax just slightly at the sight of him even as Alluka hid behind him nervously, uncomfortable around Kurapika for some reason. Apparently, he, Gon, and Alluka were staying in the area for a while for both safety and personal reasons. Personally, he thought a large part of it was to give Alluka a warm home for a while.

"Yo. Welcome home, Kurapika." Killua would say as he casually clapped him on the shoulder.

And it really felt like home, like family. And for a moment it would feel like it could be easy...so easy to just stop and let go of it all at long last. He'd laugh and smile for the first time in a long while. He'd eat well and in plentiful helpings (because Leorio was not only a good cook, he was used to cooking for Gon and Killua). He'd make witty comebacks like he used to, and Leorio would threaten to charge him for treatment. It was fun, it was warm, it was home.

So when they were all too tired to notice, he'd sneak out the less squeaky back door. Saying goodbye was hard; he'd rather only say it the last time, whenever that was. Be it the last departure before he died or the last before he wiped out the Spiders, he only wanted to say it once. Any more than that would be too hard on him. He might really break if he finally said goodbye...

Apparently they already knew he intended to leave soon because there was a bag by the door, full of supplies every time. Sometimes it had premade meals in it, sometimes it had snack food, and once it just had a ton of fish in it. (He really wasn't sure to do with it that time.) Every time he left, they sent him off with food and encouraging notes that reminded him he could always come back, no matter when.

"We're a family." "You're home!" "Welcome home!"

He could live to hear those words again if nothing else. If he used his strongest posts on some else, someone not of the Troupe, he would die. That was fine; he'd rather die than become like them. But other than that, he refused to die. Not until his clan was avenged, until their eyes were recovered and put to rest with their bodies, he refused to die.

His chains were more than a weapon. They were a symbol of his conviction, of what he must do before he could allow himself to rest, of the danger he posed to those he loved. As long as the Spider was alive, it was his destiny and theirs to fight. He didn't want to drag them into it again; losing one family was enough.

Kurapika knew he had a warm home and a loving family to go back to. But he couldn't yet. His soul, and those of the clan members who died five years ago, could not yet rest. So even though he knew that if he turned around as he was leaving that the light was still on and that he could see them waving to him and inviting him to come home again soon, he didn't look back.

His freezing chains clinked as he trudged through the snow. Kurapika wondered if he could ever go home.