NOTE: I've been a long-term enthusiast of the stories on this site, and I feel that it's time I finally made a contribution. I don't write much (I'm more of the mathsy persuasion) so I don't know if this is any good :S ... but I hope someone enjoys it! And please let me know if you do/don't/have suggestions because I love how supportive this fandom is.

INTRO: Um ... it's kind of AU (ie Naomi and Emily are not together and never have been) set some time in season 3. If there's anything else I need to clarify please let me know!

Thanks to anyone who reads on :)

'Reason deceives us more often than nature'

- Vauvenargues

1.

Naomi actually has several New Year's resolutions this year for a change but she isn't telling. Telling just allows for people to judge her against her adherence (or lack of adherence) to them, and she feels she is more than the measure of her own empty promises.

What she will probably have to tell someone about, however, is the dead girl in the bathroom. She is slumped beneath the sink, her legs tucked up under her chin like she has tried to curl herself back into the pipes. Her hands are flopped out to her sides, palms half-open like her fingers are slowly unfurling. Then there's her head which has lolled to the side, almost like the stem of her neck has been broken and Naomi can't stand to look at her eyes so instead she looks at her mouth which hangs apart like there is air escaping from it.

Naomi becomes sharply aware of a hollow thud and realises that her can of cheap lager has slipped from her ineffectual grip and hit the tiled floor with its circular base. It springs back unenthusiastically into the air to land again on its side, rolling slightly as it fizzes and sprays its contents unceremoniously onto the girl's shoes.

Naomi scrambles backwards, coming into cold, brusque contact with the toilet behind her which knocks the backs of her knees forward and makes her sit down on the seat. Nausea comes and goes, interspersed with panic and a vague recollection of not paying attention to the first-aid lesson where paramedics administered CPR to the lifeless mannequin of Resusci Annie.

So she sits and stares, not at the eyes because the eyes would be too much, but at the mouth, and the hands, and the legs, and the frothing puddle of beer at her feet. 'Jesus Christ ...'

The door has opened and a person has swung in before Naomi can even get up off the toilet. The positioning is beyond incriminating, and she's almost grateful that it's Cook entering the room.

'Naomikins,' the voice is urgent. 'Shift it yeah? This is a really fat piss,' and Cook has unzipped his fly almost in Naomi's face and she only just manages to escape in time as he throws his head back in appreciation. The sound of slapping water fills the room and Naomi can't work out which unpleasant event she'd rather lock her gaze onto.

Cook glances cheekily over to Naomi, who remains pinned against the wall just to the side of the toilet. 'Doin' anything for you Blondie?' he asks, still in mid-flow.

At Naomi's unfaltering expression of queasiness Cook just shakes his head with amusement and focuses back on his task. It seems to take forever, and Naomi's skin feels like it is crawling.

'Cook ...' she manages to say finally. 'Cook ... there's,' she closes her eyes, swallows, tries again. 'There's –'

Cook depresses the handle and the sound of flushing water accompanies his movements as he turns around. His grin is wide until he sees her: the dead girl beneath the sink. 'Aw shit,' Cook's fingers fumble with his fly – even he's not capable of the indecency it would take to inspect a corpse tackle-out. He looks at Naomi, worry flickering across his face, then back at the body. 'What happened?'

Naomi shakes her head. 'I don't know,' she answers truthfully. 'I just found her in here a second ago.'

'Is she ...' Cook asks, advancing forward to tap the girl with the toe of his shoe.

'I think so,' Naomi answers.

Cook frowns, reaches forwards and grabs the girl's shoulder. 'Oh!' he shouts, 'Love!' shaking her hard so that her poor head swings round on its stem to flop against her other shoulder.

'Cook!' Naomi shouts, dragging him back by his shirt collar, appalled.

Cook stands back up straight and tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. 'Guess so,' he surmises. 'Who is she anyway?'

Naomi's head shakes slowly. 'I've not seen her before.'

They stare at her for a few moments, like they're expecting her to move. Or blink. Or something ...

There's a tentative knock at the door. 'Is there anyone in here?' asks a quiet voice and Cook and Naomi freeze. Cook has left the door ajar, the dead lock sticks out rigidly from the wood preventing it from closing and through the crack Naomi can see the bright red hair of either Emily or Katie Fitch. She reassesses – probably Emily Fitch, it seems unlikely that Katie would ask before entering a room.

'Piss off mate we're busy!' Cook is shouting before Naomi can think of a more appropriate plan.

Naomi's eyes widen and she shakes her head rapidly, not wishing to be incriminated in some sort of sordid sex act that resulted in a dead body, or indeed one that involved Cook.

'Cook?' Emily has recognised the voice and is moving closer to the door. 'I ... I thought I saw Naomi come up here.'

'Only I'm going to get to see that babe,' Cook answers with a wicked grin and Naomi closes her eyes in frustration.

'Emily,' she says, before she can stop herself. 'Don't listen to him, he's being a prick.'

Cook fixes her with a look of fake-offence and she can hear Emily shifting indecisively outside the door, unsure as to whether that statement requires her to leave or not.

'What are you doing?' Cook mouths at her.

Naomi doesn't know.

'So ... can I come in?' Emily tries her luck. 'Because I need to pee,' she clarifies.

Naomi shoves Cook out of the way of the door and opens it slightly. Emily steps back a pace as the door opens away from her, and Naomi is confronted with her big brown eyes, wide with interest. Naomi averts her gaze to the floor. 'It wasn't us, OK?' she says. 'We just found her like this.' Her words make Emily frown and she turns away to let Emily follow her through the door.

'Oh fuck,' Emily breathes, rushing immediately to the girl's side and feeling for a pulse in her wrist, then her neck, pushing her fingers hard into the flesh.

Cook and Naomi exchange a glance that silently asks why they hadn't thought to do that.

'She's dead,' Emily states, sitting back on her heels, kneeling in the amber pool of Naomi's beer.

She knew it already, but the words still make Naomi's stomach drop. 'What ... what should we do?' she asks.

'Well, phone the fucking police for a start,' Emily looks back at the girl, Naomi watches the muscles in her jaw clench, 'and an ambulance', she adds.

'Give us ya phone, Nai,' Cook thrusts his hand out and wiggles his fingers.

'Can't you use your own?' she asks.

'I'm not callin' the coppers on a stolen phone,' Cook insists, and Naomi rolls her eyes and slaps her phone into his open palm.

He leaves Naomi and Emily alone in the bathroom. Naomi leans against the open door and Emily remains crouched by the body. 'Do you know her?' Emily asks, and Naomi finds the use of the present tense strange. She shakes her head. 'Do you?'

Emily shrugs. 'I don't really know anyone here; I'm not invited to Katie's parties.'

Naomi frowns. 'But it's your house.'

Emily shrugs again, glances out of the door to the landing where Cook is shouting down the phone over the noise of the music pulsing up through the floor from downstairs.

Naomi follows her gaze, tenses as she sees the shadow of a figure climbing the stairs flickering against the wall. Slowly, Effy comes into view, her waif-like, ephemeral frame sauntering past Cook, listening with casual interest to his phone conversation before raising an eyebrow at Naomi through the open door. She advances towards the bathroom and stands in the doorway, looks from Naomi, to Emily, to the body. 'That's unfortunate,' she observes. She stares for a moment longer. Naomi can feel her heartbeat in her throat. Effy keeps staring. 'Does Katie know?' the question is directed at Emily.

Emily shakes her head as Effy finally looks back up.

Effy jerks her head back in Cook's direction. 'Is he calling the police?' she asks.

Naomi nods.

'What's your story?' Effy asks her.

'What?' Naomi asks. 'My story? I just found her in here.'

'OK,' Effy agrees, glancing at Emily quickly before looking back at Naomi. 'So ... I won't mention that I saw you kissing her in the kitchen earlier then,' she says.

Naomi's stomach flips and constricts and her heartbeat pounds hard in her ears, her face flushing red with heat and panic. 'What?' she splutters, her voice sounding rough and scratchy as she tries to push the words through her throat. 'No you didn't ... we didn't ...'

Effy nods her understanding. 'I won't mention it,' she reaffirms.

Naomi looks over to Emily, who is staring at her in silent bewilderment, her lips parted and her eyes wide beneath her straight fringe. She blinks, visibly shaking herself. Her mouth closes and Naomi sees those muscles in her jaw clench again. 'No,' she agrees. 'Me either.'