#itvod

Every rational fiber in Maugris's body wanted to deny the fact that Irénée was sitting in the same room as him, that she was talking with him, laughing with him...that she was alive.

He had been regularly visiting her at her apartment for bordering on a month now. He tried to show up during normal, human hours, but Moreau never let him leave until the moon was high and the streets empty. He briefly wondered if her neighbors ever noticed him showing up in the middle of the night only to leave a few hours later. From what he'd gathered, though, Irénée didn't hardly venture into the outside world--a warning from Roland and Olivier, no doubt.

An embroidered throw pillow smacked Maugris in the face, and he cried out in surprise. Surprise quickly shifted to annoyance when his dark blue eyes focused on Irénée's poorly-hidden smirk.

"Shouldn't a Chasseur have better situational awareness?" she teased, smirk morphing into an obvious grin. Maugris scowled, tossing the pillow back at her.

"Shouldn't a recluse have better needlework?" he quipped back. Irénée released an indignant cry, whacking Maugris with the throw pillow.

"Ow! Hey!" Maugris snapped, flinching when it hit his upper arm. "What was that for?"

"'What was that--'? You're an ass!" Irénée exclaimed, whacking him again.

Maugris huffed, barely dodging the third hit. "And? You already knew that." Irénée scowled--though, it was closer in expression to a frustrated pout--and Maugris felt his stomach flip. When he offered no further reply, she turned away from him and back to the book she'd been half-reading.

The way her hair framed her face impeded her peripheral vision, and Maugris used this to his advantage as he carefully grabbed another embroidered pillow from the chair next to him. He playfully smacked her in the face with the pillow, mussing her hair in the process. Irénée huffed in annoyance and shot a half-hearted glare the currently grinning Chasseur.

He'd thrown down a metaphorical gauntlet, and with Irénée's next cushioned blow, she picked it up.

After a good twenty minutes of pillow fighting that involved hiding behind furniture, leaping over tables, and Irénée sweeping Maugris's legs out from under him, they collapsed on Irénée's bed laughing.

Maugris wasn't sure he had ever laughed this hard. Maugris wasn't sure he had even truly laughed before now. Irénée's laugh was slightly raspy, but there were tears collecting at the corners of her eyes from the intensity. Maugris glanced over at her, his heart skipping a beat at the sight.

Shit, when did I start thinking she's cute?

Maugris stopped, panic briefly replacing his growing attraction, at the sight of the blood collecting under Irénée's nose. "Iri, did I hit you too hard?" he asked, cupping her cheek to better look at her injury. Irénée flinched as Maugris's thumb wiped away the blood. Her face was warm, and when he met her gaze, he saw the panic in her eyes. She blinked, pale blue eyes averting from his.

Maugris felt dread knot in his stomach.

"No, no, I'm--I'm fine! This just happens sometimes!" she assured with a shaky, hardly reassuring laugh. "Really! I'm fine, Maugri!" She backed away from him and Maugris's hold on her face tightened.

Maugris swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as the horrifying realization dawned on him. "Iri," he whispered, voice trembling. Irénée tensed, refusing to meet his gaze, and Maugris felt true, bone-chilling fear for the first time in years.

"It caught up with me, Maugri," she murmured, finally looking at him again, "and I don't think I'll survive it this time."

Maugris's breath shuddered as he pulled her to him with shaking hands, holding her to his chest as the first of many silent tears rolled down his cheeks.