DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ghost Hunt, just the first six volumes that sit on my bookshelf…

A.N. Hello all! This ficlet is the result of my randomness and was written in three hours (a record time for me!). Feel free to read between the lines or take it as it comes. It's all open to interpretation. Feedback appreciated; enjoy!

…

Surpassed Understanding

It isn't that she can't leave; oh, she could've done so at any time, had she wanted to. In fact, there are instances where she could've sworn that Naru and Lin-san are asking her to go – but she isn't one to search too deeply into implications or subtle hints.

(And she either outright ignores straight orders to leave or claims that she's deaf at the times at which they are issued.)

…

"You can leave now, Mai."

And there it is once more; the plain dismissal of someone who can't stand to see your face again after you've washed the same three cups six times, poured twenty cups of tea, filed away seven reports and entered the boss's office at any chance you can get.

Yes, Mai thinks as she nods moodily at Naru and goes to fetch her coat, I'd be sick of me too.

"See ya, Lin-san."

The quiet Chinese man raises his hand in a light wave, but his attention doesn't leave the computer screen for a second. "Goodnight, Taniyama-san."

She mutters an additional goodbye to Naru as she steps out of the office threshold and doesn't expect a reply. Nor does she get one. With appreciation spreading so far at SPR, Mai wonders whether her favourite part of the day is walking through the doors to a scowling Naru and a silent Lin-san, or walking out of the doors to the welcoming and boisterous streets of the city. She pulls her coat tightly around her thin dress.

(She doesn't do it for the appreciation, anyway. It's a bit shallower than that.)

…

Despite the boring, case-less days, Mai finds that she doesn't really want to leave work, anyway. It's strange because surely there are better ways to spend time than making tea and trying to coax (handsome) black-haired men into (noticing) talking to you. The week passes without anything particularly eventful happening, save three hoax calls to a haunted public toilet, a possessed set of false teeth and, strangely, a malfunctioning television. After assuring the woman that spontaneous channel hopping to porn channels is NOT a sign that a resident ghost wants to rape you, Mai sets down the phone and slumps in her chair.

"Tired?"

Naru takes this opportune moment to saunter past her seat and she immediately straightens, smoothing her clothes quickly. His neutral demeanour falters for a second as he smirks without much feeling.

"We just had another stupid call-in," Mai explains.

"They are to be expected," her boss returns languidly, noting her exasperated expression without passing comment.

"I guess."

A short beat of silence ensues and Mai blinks.

"You can leave, if you wish. There is nothing more for you to do today," Naru tells her, leaning lightly against her desk to regard her closely.

Mai watches him but blinks again, visibly disheartened. "You want me to go?"

Naru looks at her, a questioning expression adorning his features before his smirk widens, now infused with a bit more emotion. "Well, there's nothing keeping you here."

He pushes away from her desk and walks on by. Mai stares after his proud form until it disappears behind the door to his office. Minutes later, she's out on the streets again and making her way home.

(She can't help but contradict Naru, like she does on so many other occasions. He's not always right, after all.)

…

Another long day spent at the SPR offices with two emotionally-deprived males sees Mai with a murderous headache and a keen craving for coffee. She has just about reached her saturation point with tea and can only moan in disdain when she realises that Naru and Lin-san don't drink anything but.

"I'm going out for coffee," she announces to the silent room, save the whir of the computer fans and the rapping of rapid typing on keyboards. She slips an arm into the sleeve of her coat. "Do you guys want anything?"

Naru looks up from his reports and stares. "You're going out now?"

"Yeah, but I'm coming back. Need me to do something?"

"It's quite late," Naru says slowly, laying his pen down on a stack of neatly printed notes. "It's dark outside."

"I'm not scared, if that's what you're implying."

He arches an eyebrow at her. "In that case… you need not return later. We have everything covered here." Naru gestures at himself and Lin-san as he says this. His cold eyes shine ominously whilst Mai considers what to say next.

She settles for an offbeat "Ok." Then, after a longer period of consideration, a blurted, "Do you want to come with me?"

Mai isn't expecting Naru to accept her offer, but – what the hell – she has to try sometime, right? Life is short and all that, live it to the full, blah de blah de blah. It's a shame that Naru doesn't see it this way, because God knows: going out for a coffee once will result in the end of the world, won't it?

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says to his employee carefully, only just catching her breathy sigh at his not-so-tactful response.

"Sure," she says, smiling brightly despite the situation and making for the door hastily. Mai finds it easier to leave this time; hot embarrassment drives her right out of the door and halfway down the street before letting her slow. Rejection is always a bitter pill to swallow.

(Later, it occurs to her that it wasn't an outright rejection, just avoidance. But then, she wonders, which is worse?)

…

Weeks of the slow period at work puts Mai in a terrible mood. Boredom mixed with an inexorable amount of homework has her storming into Naru's office, demanding that she be allowed to take assignments into work with her, if only to pass away the hours that all but crawl by endlessly.

"I don't know why you even banned me from bringing in schoolwork," she tells him frankly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"This isn't a homework club," Naru replies indifferently, shuffling some papers and reaching for a pen from his desk organiser. "If you want to get your essays done so badly, then go home and do them."

"But I'm working right now."

"Are you?" Naru clicks his biro and begins scrawling neat English words across the papers. "If arguing with me is your definition of 'work', then I think I might have to dock your pay…"

Mai knows that defeat is almost certain when picking a fight with her boss. She growls inaudibly and returns to her desk outside, where she collapses and reduces herself to twirling a pin around on the table with the tip of her index finger. She doesn't really need to be at work, she knows; there is nothing to do, just tea to be made and files to be labelled. It's nothing the two men can't handle, yet she rolls in every day at the same time, to do the menial tasks that always need doing. And she will carry on doing so until Naru tells her to stop.

"Just go home and do your homework, Mai."

Naru's by her side again, staring down at her quite condescendingly. It's something she's become accustomed to, but by no means has she accepted it.

"Thanks," she says bitingly, standing up so that their bodies are slightly too close for comfort, but their eyes far apart. Her hand brushes his front as she brings it up to sweep some hair out of her eyes. What she lacks in height, she makes up for in a glare. Don't look at me like that.

"Don't make a habit of it."

Again, he has the last word. Naru slinks off, much like a cat that's just caught a mouse, leaving Mai to pick herself up and go, like the sad and dismissed employee that she is. And this time, she really WANTS to leave.

(The fact that Naru hasn't asked her to stop coming into work lately, despite the slow period, hasn't made much of an impact on her yet.)

…

Even Lin-san is bored. Mai struggles to contain herself at the realisation of this as she finds it hard to see the stoic man expressing anything other than the sort of caveman 'ug ug FOOD ug ug' that alludes to his 'work work work' mode. It's scary, really.

Mai yawns and stretches, rolling away from her computer with a stifled groan. She comes to a stop by Lin-san's desk and casts a disinterested glance at the illuminated screen of his laptop, only to find that he's doing nothing but staring at a relatively useless website. Or rather, when she looks at his face questioningly, she finds that his eyes are fixed on the bare wall in front of them, seemingly unseeing.

"Sooo, what have you found out so far, Lin-san?" she asks loudly. The man turns his head towards her as if suddenly remembering that she's in the room with him.

"Hmm?"

Mai frowns; it's extremely unlike him to be so absent-minded. "I said: have you found anything out, so far?"

"Oh." Naru's assistant gives an affirmative nod. "Yes, yes, I have."

"Really? What's new?"

Lin-san takes a full second to process the question. When he eventually opens his mouth to speak again, his arm raises as he points to a particular point on the wall. Mai stares.

"That stain looks a bit like a map of Japan, doesn't it?"

"…Yeah, I guess it kinda does."

Mai wonders if the world has officially come to an end. She has to admit, searching for a new camera for Naru for the past few hours is quite the mood-killer, but Lin-san's pretty much gone and lost the plot altogether. Slowly, slowly, as if in need of coaxing out of its shell, her light laughter seeps past her lips and plants a firm smile on her mouth. Her first in a long time.

"Come on, Lin-san." She stands up and holds out a hand to him. It's a bold move and they both know it; Lin-san regards her palm warily as if it might bite him. "Come with me to get something."

"What?"

"Come with me. You really need to get out more often!"

All in all, it takes a lot less encouragement than Mai expects. Indeed, it seems as though Lin-san is quite happy to accompany her to go out. He takes her hand, careful to house his expression into something unreadable, murmuring that he needs to get his coat. The shuffle of feet eventually attracts the attention of Naru, who comes into the room to find out what is going on.

"Where are you two going?"

"Out," Mai responds chirpily, pulling a colorful hat over her head. "Do you wanna come with?"

Naru frowns and stares at his senior assistant. "You're going with her?" he asks Lin-san solely, looking a tad bit incredulous at this.

The other man nods. "Yes."

"I can't have the both of you gone at the same time," Naru protests authoratively.

"Too bad," Mai breezes with a little smile, "we're going out. We'll be back soon, don't worry."

"Did you hear what I just said? I told you, the both of you can't just leave–"

"Naru," Lin-san interrupts his boss's mini-rant before it builds, "Mai was going out to get your camera for you and since everything's finished back here, I decided to accompany her. We'll be back soon," he says calmly, opening the door for Mai and waiting for her to step on through. His usual acceptance of Naru's antics prompts the part-timer to question what has brought on his sudden change in behaviour towards their young boss.

"He needed that," Lin-san explains tiredly, following Mai out of the building. He refuses to elaborate and leaves it at that.

(Mai's sure that Lin-san knows something that she doesn't. What's more is that she doesn't think Naru's clued in, either.)

…

They're finally back on a case. It's a welcome relief from the weeks of boredom Mai endured, and she gets down on her hands and knees to kiss the ground before their new client with about as much excitement as a dog greeting a bone. Naru summons her into his office not long after accepting the new investigation.

"I don't want you working this case."

Mai's figurative tail stops wagging. "Why?"

"It's too… emotional."

"…That's a pathetic excuse."

"It's not much better than the camera excuse you gave last week."

Mai sighs, deflated. "Are you still hung up on that? We got you a brand new camera and you're still whining?"

Naru shakes his head, adamant in his own beliefs. "You took too long to be just getting a camera."

"Well, pardon me for not walking fast enough."

"Where did you go with Lin?"

"…Are you trying to interrogate me?"

"Yeah. Minus the 'trying'."

"Why are you so interested, anyway? Since when have you expressed any desire to learn about my private life?"

"Since you took time out of your working hours to drag another one of my employees with you to God-knows-where."

"You make it sound as though I broke a law or something."

"Are you going to answer me?"

"No."

"Fine. You're not working the case."

Mai scowls, fists balling at her sides. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"No." Naru comes to stand in front of her, tall, impassive and dark. "You may go."

And she leaves, slamming the door as she goes.

(She knows she'll be back the next day, however. Whatever he does and until he tells her to stop, she will always return.)

…

The next few days, Mai notes, are spent performing the tried-and-true tactic of avoidance. Whenever in the same room, they dance around each other like skaters on ice. Lin-san gives up on trying to engage the both of them in the same conversation. He isn't much of a talker, anyway.

The two men are busy on the case, leaving Mai to find her own work. She won't give Naru the satisfaction of seeing her playing idle whilst everyone else is otherwise occupied around her – so she decides to do some pre-spring cleaning at the SPR offices. It isn't until she really gets into it that she realises that Lin-san and Naru, despite their impeccably refined appearances, do not keep as tidy a workplace as she could've imagined. After clearing out three bookcases and vacuuming around twice, the amount of dust and rubbish leads her to come to the conclusion that workaholics simply don't have time to clean up after themselves.

"I hope you're not thinking of throwing all of that away."

Mai jumps at the voice, immediately hitting the back of her head against the desk as she does so. "OW!"

Naru taps his foot against the floor impatiently as she extricates herself from the mess under the table. "What, these?" She holds up a stack of files, dating back to somewhere in the Dark Ages and massages her throbbing skull thoroughly. "Yeah, I thought maybe you'd want to get rid of them."

Naru shakes his head. "File them away properly. They're important," he tells her as if she's stupid to suggest such a thing.

She shrugs. "Whatever you say." She prods the back of her head gingerly and winces.

"Does your head hurt?" Naru asks her blandly and she grinds out a nod. "Well, you're an idiot; try not to be so clumsy next time."

But later, when she's getting ready to go home, she catches sight of something sitting on her desk. There is a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her, steaming quietly alongside a little Aspirin pill. She downs both before she goes, trying not to dwell on what they mean – if anything at all.

(The coffee was really too bitter, she thinks. But it is only appropriate that it leaves a lasting taste in her mouth, one that she's loathe to wash out later.)

…

Mai doesn't know when she's seen him so enraged. They have been arguing for only the past few minutes – about a subject that is so steeped in pointlessness, that it has been long since forgotten – yet she believes that he hasn't expressed as much emotion here than he has throughout his whole life. Usually so schooled in his expressions, it's as though a dam has broken behind Naru's cool façade and she can't do anything but stick her finger in to try and plug the flow. Not once has she suspected that there's so much water behind the wall.

(Nor does she suspect that she is a catalyst to the flood. No matter how many times she helps him build the dam, she'll help him break it with just as much obliviousness.)

…

When he next sees her, she strives to walk past without even acknowledging him. For a more fitting reaction, Naru grabs her by the arm and holds her in place without saying a word. To her credit, Mai doesn't make a sound, instead choosing to glare hatefully at her boss as he stares at her neutrally in return. His fingers dig sharply into her bare skin and she wonders vaguely if it'll bruise in the morning; the grip doesn't hurt much, but she doesn't feel it as intensely as the hot coil of something - something burning in the pits of her stomach. Her glare deepens.

"Let go of me."

Face blank and unreadable, Naru slowly relinquishes his hold on her arm. Once free of his fingers, Mai jerks her shoulder back and steps away from him, still glaring.

"What were you trying to do?"

Mai can no longer reign in her reactions when Naru's hand rises again to touch the front of her shirt. His middle and index fingers graze lightly against the soft material, and a breath hitches momentarily in the back of her throat. She flushes at the sound, then tries to meet Naru's eyes. He's staring resolutely at the floor.

"There's something on your shirt," he tells her quietly, letting his hand fall fluidly back to his side. He turns his head so that Mai can only see his sharp profile, but not the expression in his eyes. Before she can say anything, he leaves her, striding calmly down the hallway without uttering another syllable, footsteps disappearing into the silence.

"Mai? Are you alright?" Lin-san comes by – she doesn't know how long after – and catches sight of the young part-timer.

Dazed, and still somewhat irate, Mai nods. "Yeah, fine, thanks."

She looks down and touches her shirt thoughtfully. Anything that might have been on her top before has clearly been removed and there are no marks to prove they had ever existed in the first place.

"I think I'm gonna leave early today, Lin-san. I've got lots of work to do."

"Naru won't like it," Lin-san warns her dubiously.

"He won't mind."

Mai leaves the building a good two hours before she's meant to. It's the first time she's left work so early.

(She feels two small pangs in the morning; one, at her arm, where bruises have formed and two, at her chest, when she realises that some marks are left after all.)

…

Neither of them will apologise; they're both too stubborn for that. Besides, their relationship is far too complex to be based on a string of meaningless 'sorry's that would have to be uttered time and time again, the very significance of the word paling with each instance it is used. Their relationship is too colorful for that, too rigid in its recklessness.

"Goodnight, Lin-san."

The Chinese man comes out of his seat and helps her into her coat. "Are you sure you'll be alright, Taniyama-san?" he asks as she twirls a scarf around her neck. "You're leaving later than usual today – it's very dark outside."

Mai smiles at his concern. "I'll be fine," she assures him, thumping a fist against her chest. "I'm a big girl, now."

She calls out a goodbye to Naru and steps out of the door without waiting for the silence of his non-replies. She breathes in the cold night air with a shudder and begins her walk home.

"You didn't wait for me to answer," Naru admonishes her from his spot by the entrance to his own offices. Her skin prickles warily as he shifts his gaze onto her flashing eyes. "Don't you think that's a little rude?"

Mai slides her hands into her pockets. "Goodnight, Naru," she intones formally, then carries on down the street. She half-expects him to follow her, and he does, ghosting her steps as quietly as her own shadow, lingering close enough to warrant just the right amount of personal space for her to breathe comfortably in.

They don't speak. They do not touch, or exchange glances. The journey passes without the aid of voices or conversation. And when they part, it is their wordless communication that speaks most of all.

Mai stops and so does Naru. She faces him and is unsure of what to do or say.

(But she is sure that he is in the same position. Neither of them can take the lead in this motionless dance.)

He seems content. It's a state she hasn't really seen him in, and she takes a while to define it. She smiles when she sees it.

(They're mutual in their annoyance, mutual in their anger and mutual in their acceptance. Sometimes, they're just so different that everything becomes mutual.)

Mai can't see anything past Naru's eyes and he can't feel anything through her gaze. They're completely detached, yet they realise almost simultaneously that they've reached a point and need not go further.

(It's not a question of how well you know each other; it's a question of how well you allow someone to know you.)

They both want to say something, to do something, to show something. But all there is to say cannot be said, all that there is to be done has been done, and all that there is to show has been known for a long time. They need not go further.

(When they finally part, it is without empty words or gestures. As she leaves him, she's safe in the notion that if she were to ask him to go further, he would, no questions asked. But they're there and she's not looking for anything more.)

She just never wants to leave.