Author's Note: *sigh* I love this pairing. I've written them before but then I had a sexual relationship between them in mind. This is different as you will notice. I also like the idea that they both harbored a secret affection for the other and never spoke of it.

The story is set after the last phone call Halle receives from Mello.

Btw, the Geneva Conventions stipulate the free practice of religion for prisoners of war – in case you were wondering about the description.

Enjoy.

~*~

Sanctuary

She stumbles on the steps leading up to the church portal and thinks it fitting. When was the last time anyway, that she has seen a church from the inside?

She spots him immediately, kneeling second row to the left. He must have heard the doors fall shut, maybe felt the night wind sweep in. The smell of rained-on streets mingles with the wax and frankincense scent. Her eyes never leaving his back, she walks up to him, takes in his appearance as if seeing him for the first time. Slender figure, tight black clothes and a hood. Hair stringy from rain-water. Gloved fingers interlaced, a tiny crucifix dangling from in between them.

"The Geneva Conventions – does that tell you something?" he asks brusquely and turns around. Her coming here is most certainly not what he expected. But for once there is no irritation in his eyes. He seems gloomy, but calm. Eased by meditation, perhaps, and just a little bit weary. She has never seen him like this.

She is used to him speaking in half sentences, though. He throws pieces of his thoughts at her, leaving her to build the rest of the picture around them. She is the only one he does that to, she thinks. It's one of the many things about him that she –

"You're hardly my prisoner", she interrupts her own chain of thoughts. "Are you thinking church asylum?"

"Sanctuary perhaps." He stands. There is something about him that makes her pulse speed up, the sharpness and determination of a sword as he steps around her on his way out. Between him and Near she sometimes feels like the older sister she never was to anyone. But she has given him so much more thought than Near. In fact, she has given him more thought than any other person these days.

"Just tell me", she grabs his arm, frantic all of a sudden. His last words during the telephone call from earlier that evening still ring in her ear and she has used up her countenance. "You're the only one who can do what?"

Their breath mingles and they both freeze in their movements as if on cue. They stare at each other. Blue eyes hold brown ones before dropping to the ground. "Leave it be", says the man who was never able to allow things to rest for one reason or another.

When he leans into her, he does so avoiding her gaze. As if defeated, she thinks. As if finally giving in to something forbidden, something longed for – or maybe she is projecting her own feelings onto him, she wonders and then she stops thinking altogether. His lips against hers are warm and firm and unobtrusive. A strand of his hair falls over her temple. Even now, her mouth is the only part of her he consciously touches, and much too quickly he steps back.

Did he do it to shut her up? To take a memory of her with him or give one to her? She is left to ponder when he turns around and leaves without a backward glance, and she does. Just as if there shouldn't be anything more important on her mind right now than a kiss.

In the semi-darkness of the church, Halle touches her fingers to her lips (never knowing that Mello is doing the same right then, outside). She decides to stay a little longer here where the candles hit the gloom and the frankincense attacks her conjunctiva. Or what else could it be that makes her eyes sting all of a sudden?