A/N Ok, I lied about the no updates until December. My Sundays are writing days now. I've cancelled life.

Lots and lots of thanks to thebarstool who read over the weird, rambling, interior design porn, psychological non-smut for quality control. Please do not get excited and don't blame her if the end scene is shite. I can't even tell anymore, but it definitely was at one point. She's very nice and excellent quality control, being literary and such, and her suggestions were and are invaluable. She probably just didn't want me to do something drastic with a lamp cord. Thank you, Ms Bar Stool for making it considerably less painful for me. I sent her this version this morning as a second draft for her to read over (with massive errors in), but then I realised that I wouldn't have a chance to do anything for the next few weeks anyway, so I'm just doing this 'post it now, fix it later' thing. I redacted important spoilers from what I sent her and I think she deserves to know what they are. Here you go. Here is shit hitting the fan. Just explaining all that because she has not approved of this version, so it's probably awful, and I wish that I had her comments before I posted it.

Mihael for FreezeDryedGorgeous Hurrah!

(Another public message to thebarstool - I edited out the shout out to 'Cure' but there's at least one in there still, I think.) Very, very sorry for all this blah.


Chapter Seven

The Libertine


"Oh, Kiyomi! It's beautiful!" Sayu screeches excitedly. I almost feel the chandeliers and wine glasses tremble from the pitch of her voice.

"Fucking hell, is that real?"

"Touta," Sayu says, chastising him for his rare expletive laden outburst.

As we hurtle towards or through our thirties, we've unconsciously decided to be people who have dinners as couples with the token single person so that we seem inclusive. The single person can remind us of all the life we're missing out on, since we've chosen eternal happiness and domesticity instead. We are legion, and many places have opened to accommodate people like us. Not quite bars, not quite clubs, not quite restaurants, not quite our living rooms, but somewhere in between. We're too old for neon lights and bass sounds which are so loud that we can't hear ourselves speak, and too young and privileged for dinner on our laps and an early night. We sit snugly and smugly, congratulating ourselves on our comfortable situations. With life partners found and decent careers achieved, it's all sorted for the rest of our lives. We might as well book our holidays on cruise ships.

Kiyomi is showing off her engagement ring. I bought it from Cartier's while I was in Paris on business, and at a decent discount, actually. This is the ring's first public outing, after Kiyomi wearing a temporary 'promise' ring until I found something more appropriate. This ring is more appropriate. What I particularly like is that Kiyomi is teaming it with matching nails at the moment. She's actually dressing entirely around the ring and I genuinely admire her attention to detail. Unless she suddenly changes after the wedding, I doubt that we'll ever fall out over anything. What a calm sea is before me.

"What kind of rock is that?" Jeevas asks, trying not to be interested. Naomi is trying as well, but she looks miserable. It does knock poor Jeevas' effort for her out of the park. Sorry, Naomi, but you should have held out. Kiyomi's eyes light up at Jeevas' question and she gazes at the ring in admiration.

"It's a pink diamond," she tells him.

"Pink? That's a bit gay, isn't it, Yagami?"

"It's graded as light pink champagne, actually. It was the most expensive," I explain. It was. A 6.1 carat diamond surrounded by bands of white diamonds in a vintage setting. It was very expensive but I came to a good arrangement with the manager of Cartier's, and I practically stole it. In retrospect, it might be a little ostentatious, but Kiyomi would have very upset with anything less. She took a few days to get used to the weight of it on her hand, and takes it off when she weighs herself as she likes to believe that it would knock her over another pound and make her depressed.

"Only the best," Kiyomi smiles at me. This is our private catchphrase nowadays.

"Only the very best," I agree. While glancing over the room as I drink my wine, I spot L with three suits at the bar. It's only a matter of time until he comes over to verbally assault us, and I'm very much looking forward to it. We haven't spoken for three months, although he deliberately walked into my back when I was standing precariously close to the edge on the top step of the House a while ago, and I saw that as an assassination attempt. I realised after two weeks that he wasn't going to drop The Lady in it, so I changed my plan and concentrated on Kiyomi, strangely. Didn't really want to drag that out, because a storm of shit is going to hit the fan soon and I need Kiyomi in place in a conservative dress and fuck me shoes. But L, yes. I light a cigarette in preparation and Kiyomi slaps my arm. We've already discussed how I'll have to cut this out.

As expected, L arrives at the table like a follow-up angel with news that there's been a mistake, Mary is not going to give birth to the Messiah. He's wearing a grey suit and I very much approve of that. It's actually quite well-tailored.

"Oh, Lawliet, how not very nice to see you," Jeevas says.

"Likewise," he replies. Not even Touta can appear to be pleased to see him, but he's just so painfully nice that he can't be honest.

"Take a seat," he tells him.

"Thanks, I only came over to tell Mihael how disappointed I am in the company he keeps," he says, sitting and turning to his employee. "Mihael, I'm disappointed in you. There. I said it."

"This is his off-time. He can see and do whatever and whoever he wants," Jeevas points out with a mischievous smile which Mihael returns.

"I own him," L argues calmly. "So no, he can't."

Mihael mistakenly tries to pacify L by pointing out the reason he's so angry in the first place. "L, we're just having dinner," he says, "Look, Yagami's here."

"That's exactly my point."

I raise my eyebrows and relax back in my chair. The amusement is probably clear on my face but everyone else looks either confused or offended on my behalf.

"Have I missed something? Have you taken your friendship bracelets off?" Jeevas asks. "You've fallen out?"

"No, of course not," I say, blowing some smoke into the air. I'd like to think that I look like a man who'll smile and offer a glass of wine before he shoots you. "L's sense of humour is... interesting. He's just joking. He loves me really."

"If only that were true," L mutters and dusts off some imaginary fluff from his trouser leg. It's at this point that Kiyomi decides to make herself known as part of Light Yagami Inc. She reaches forwards with her bejewelled hand to shake his in some culturally aware move which may backfire.

"Lawliet-san, I'm pleased to meet you. Light's only had good things to say about you. I'm Kiyomi Takada," she says, mustering all of her charm. It would probably take out a lesser man, but L's not vaguely interested in her charm or her hand.

"I remember you well," he says, crossing his arms. "You were leaving Light's apartment one morning after your debriefing. Of course, I could have mixed you up with another person entirely since Light debriefs a lot of people. Urgh! What the fuck is that?" He's noticed the ring.

"We're celebrating Light and Kiyomi's engagement!" Touta says happily. Oh, Touta.

"Ha!" L laughs and falls back against his chair from the force of it.

"Lawliet-san!"

"I'm sorry, I just understood a joke from a film I saw last night. Delayed reaction. Oh, well, congratulations. Light seems to have raided a diamond mine in Botswana."

"It's 6.1 carats," Kiyomi tells him. Her face is swiftly becoming stern, like an angry teacher. "And it was mined in Australia. The white diamonds are from Botswana."

"It's pink," L points out.

"It's rare."

"Rare plastic?"

"It's Cartier," she says finally, turning her hand slowly from side to side so we can all admire the shine. I think that in a blackout we could probably still use it as a flashlight by refracting the light of the moon or something.

"I didn't think that you were the marrying kind, Light," L says to me, drawing my eyes back from Kiyomi's ring.

"Obviously you were wrong," I reply slowly. I'd like to throw him and his suit on the table, but sadly my sense of propriety doesn't allow me to follow up on this whim.

"Light, can we get a bottle of red wine?" Kiyomi asks me. Less than five minutes and L's already driven her to drink. I raise my arm lazily until a waiter comes running and Kiyomi orders.

"What is this, fucking eighties night on the stereo here?" Jeevas exhales over the music. "It was all frilly blouses."

"The eighties were a black hole to decent music," is Mihael's contribution.

"Well said, bro. Well said," Jeevas agrees, and they smash knuckles across the table. "Some fucker shot John Lennon and it was all downhill from there."

"I like this song," Kiyomi informs everyone before leaning towards me, whispering her malformed English lyrics into my ear. "You know there's nothing more than this." I smile and rub her back in consolation while keeping up with L's glare.

"So, Kiyomi!" L barks suddenly, making her jump. "How's your father? I haven't seen him for a while."

Her face pales and her voice sounds hollow as she answers him. "Erm... he died."

"Oh! Yes, so he did. That explains it then."

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused," he smirks back at her. I put my hand on Kiyomi's which rests on the table and she immediately assumes being a mirror of my unaffected demeanour like I'm passing on some fast-acting disease. This obviously infuriates L, since he steals Mihael's drink. Potential crisis averted, I remove my hand from Kiyomi's to light another cigarette. Why fucking not? This is practically post-coital. I'll just get my teeth whitened, that's all.

"I can't believe that we're all going to be married men," Jeevas says wistfully. "Do you remember when we were all single men on the block? Those were the days."

"Matt."

"Uh... I mean that those were the horrible, lonely, horribly lonely days, Naomi," he corrects himself while looking like a kicked puppy at the mere memory of his life pre-Naomi. She doesn't look terribly convinced.

"Hmmm..." she rolls before grasping a stray idiotic idea from the ether. "Kiyomi! What about a double wedding?"

"NO!" Jeevas and I both shout. Absolutely not. This is the worst idea since drop crotch, wide leg jeans.

"This isn't Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Naomi," I add. She looks crestfallen and Sayu looks deeply worried as she pours herself a glass of Kiyomi's wine.

"Whatever happens, I'm still maid of honour, right?" she asks.

"Of course, Sayu. You and my sisters," Kiyomi replies.

"What? I'm not sharing the spotlight with your sisters!"

"Darling, it's their wedding," Touta says, trying to calm his hurricane of a wife. If I was interested, I would find their relationship interesting. It's all giving on Touta's part, and all taking on Sayu's. She's attempting to take over the wedding, citing her experience of having had one even though she had a wedding planner. It started with her dress, about thirty seconds after Kiyomi and I told my parents that we'd decided to be business associates in life, and has steadily grown into a monster of arranging. Flowers, Kiyomi's dress, the location, Touta's suit, my suit, what kind of cake we have. Kiyomi is excellent at ignoring her while appearing to take her suggestions seriously. It's like someone took a tiny slither of me and fashioned Kiyomi out of it.

"You won't be in any spotlight, Sayu," I tell her. "Drink your wine." She looks like's she's going rugby tackle me, so Touta steps in.

"You're in my spotlight, darling," he says, but Sayu doesn't look like she gives a shit about constantly being in Touta's spotlight. The older she gets, the more I think that if she were not my sister, I would take a well-aimed potshot at her if I saw her crossing the road. I gave them a lump sum so they can have a baby, mostly in the hope that she would shut the fuck up. It was taken by Sayu as if she had earned it, while Touta keeps harping on about repayment plans. Based on his wages, it would take him about twenty years to pay me back. I can't be bothered with the angst, paperwork and cheques for tiny amounts, but still he keeps promising that he will find a way. As I look at Sayu, her face distorts into that of a demonic creature with completely blown black eyes. I feel ill.

"Urgh," I breathe out.

"That's so sweet, Touta," Kiyomi coos patronisingly. "Isn't that sweet, Light?"

"Nauseatingly so."

"Sorry, everyone. He's not like this normally," Kiyomi assures the table. "What's gotten into you?" she asks me quietly, and places her palm on my forehead briefly. For a moment, I think that she's going to shove a thermometer up my arse. Some man touches L on his shoulder as he walks past our table and L points two fingers to his temple as if he's going to shoot himself, which makes the man laugh as he goes.

"Kiyomi," L starts in a unnervingly kind tone, "I think you need to learn this about Light; he is normally like this. Whatever he's been like with you is just his game face. You're wearing a ring, which means that he doesn't have to bother with pretending to be human anymore. You're hardly going to let him go now that you're realising that he's a terrible person because, let's face it, he's loaded and you're getting on a bit. You better just get used to his sparkling wit and horrible disposition." This stuns the table into silence and L happily leans forwards, takes the smouldering stub of a cigarette from my hand and takes a puff of it as he settles back in victory. "To love and hate, eh, Light?"

"Ooooh, you are pissed off with him, aren't you?" Jeevas wheezes out of his clapped out lungs like he's an emphysemic Sherlock Holmes stumbling upon a clue. No one else seems to know what to do or how to change the course of the conversation, so I'm left to deal with the problem myself by removing it.

"L," I say, standing and motioning for him to follow me as I walk towards the bar. He arrives a minute or so later, by which time I've ordered two glasses of whisky.

"Slap my hand. It was worth every moment," L smirks as he stands alongside me, offering up the back of his hand. He leans on the bar, illuminated by blue lights, and looks beautifully ugly. I look back towards the table and see that they're watching with interest. Maybe they're expecting something dramatic. Don't worry, Kiyomi, I'm not capable of damaging my status and yours as a result. Don't look so fucking concerned.

"No need for that," I say, masking my feelings with a display of friendliness. "I'd just appreciate it if you'd try to be courteous to my fiancée and don't make derogatory remarks about me in her presence."

"You might appreciate it, which is part of the reason why I have no intention of complying. That ring is the gayest thing I have ever seen, and I've been to a Mardi Gras in San Francisco when Danny La Rue was in town. You might as well hang a sign on her with 'beard' written on it in rainbow colours."

"Oh, L, I have missed you. Here, pour that down your throat and drown," I say through a smile, shoving his drink into his hand.

"And, Light, how I've missed you. Your repulsive personality, the passive aggression, your love and death and hate and all that shit in your evil little brain. Wonderful."

"If I didn't know much, much better, I'd think that you didn't like me very much right now."

"The only time I liked you was when your tongue was in my mouth and my dick was in your guts," he says loudly before drinking the whisky. I've never been more grateful to Yura Yura Teikoku for their noisy music which covers this up for me. "Are you going to tell me off or take up the thrill of the chase again? I think that you'd be shit at chasing. Absolute shit. You haven't got the intelligence to chase someone like me, you can only be chased. Have a go, go on."

"No chasing, no telling off. I can just relay some facts to you instead because you clearly need to hear them."

"Is this to do with how I've blown you off in a completely non-sexual way?"

"You haven't. You never can; you're doomed. You're a shipwreck on my fucking rocks."

"The nostalgia had dimmed my memory of your intense arrogance. Thanks for reminding me of it."

"I told you that you'd regret not doing what you were told. You think that you can hold something over me to make me do what you want and then flounce off when you don't get it? Really, I expected better from you."

"Push me, Light," he says, close to my face, his eyes flickering from my eyes to my mouth. "Push me and I'll have some choice words with The Lady and write your resignation letter in the morning."

"For what reason, fucking you and then seeing sense? I'll deny it, obviously. People will believe me. I'm more important than you so who do you think they'd rather lose? And I've got Kiyomi now. You'll just look like some insane man who didn't get anywhere with me and has a grievance. It'd be the end of your career if that came out, wouldn't it? I have beautiful photos of you on my phone; ones that would need a censor bar over the whole thing. I also have your father's home address. Wouldn't Judge Lawliet be thrilled that his favourite son is bringing the tone of the law firm down? I could plaster you all over Tokyo and London and anywhere else you think of running away to. Well, thanks, but I won't hold my breath for my resignation to be announced. I'll see you on the scrapheap, L."

"You know, I don't care. Your threats mean nothing to me. I don't think my career means as much to me as your precious reputation does to you. I'll live in lonely penury, happy that I've destroyed your chances. I don't think Kiyomi will stick around for long when you're unemployed."

I laugh and pat him on the back, leaning in like a comrade. "I don't think you understand, L. You can't do a fucking thing. You can't touch me. I've got more on you than you realise and I can destroy you totally with it. A spin doctor who has an unfortunate habit of sleeping with politicians? No, I don't mean me, because that never happened. Ukita, remember? You gave me that one. Also Aiber in the opposition, so I hear. That definitely doesn't sound good, and I could make up a few others because I have a wonderful imagination. Plus, you've swept a lot of things under the carpet for The Lady. What if all that came out? Imagine. Your friends would probably be ostracised, no one would use your law firm again, you'd bankrupt yourself, lose your houses and your cars and probably bankrupt a few other people besides. Your interesting sway on the press might bring a few companies down. Think of the innocent people who would lose their jobs because of you. I have evidence and notes about everything you've done - the Penber dossier, everything, and the ten o'clock news would bite my arm off to expose it all. They'd have to dedicate an entire programme to it to even try to cover all I have on you in bullet points. Take me on and that'll be the end of you. I have no problem bringing down the government because I'll tear everything apart one way or another. It's not me I'm worried about, it's you. Now, let's be on friendly terms, shall we? It's in your best interests. Kanpai," I say, calmly raising my glass to him while his face tightens over his bones.

"You carnivorous little -"

"Oh, the sweet smell of success," I interrupt, breathlessly ecstatic for a moment. "L, you stubborn fuck, just accept it. If I didn't know that Jeevas would follow me, I'd hammer you in the toilets right now until you bled, I really would. Maybe another time," I look him up and down as I lift my whisky to my mouth. "Definitely another time."

"Yes, definitely. Then I can strangle you in self-defence," he says, grinning at the thought. Oh, I'd love that.

"Ha! Definitely. You know, it doesn't have to be this way. We could go back to doing magnificent things together. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you and you know it. This angry, illogical stance you have isn't going to last."

"If best and worst are interchangeable terms, then yeah, you're the best karma for my crimes that I've ever had. You're getting nowhere here, Light. You're just breathing carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. I'm not giving you anything that you want and I'm not giving you the evidence on The Lady. Not out of loyalty or to protect the government, but just because I don't fucking want to," he says resolutely. No, he's not going to, is he? He's standing too close to me and that's all I can think of.

"You don't have to. I'm not asking for that anymore. Just do your job. Or not. It doesn't matter now. Just be there, L. Your storm is coming," I say, and move slightly to lean on the bar and toss my glass to the barman to fill it up again. He jogs over like an idiot because I'm known for healthy tips.

"What do you mean?" L asks. My drink is filled. The barman is tipped. He fucks off.

"Only that I'll be Prime Minister by the New Year. That's off the record, of course."

"In Wonderland, maybe. How are you thinking of managing that?"

"That's my business. All you have to do is stop fighting me. I'll make it worth your while. We make an excellent team, you know that. You're my favourite person in this whole world. Just think, out of seven billion people, what really were the chances that we'd find each other?"

"It's basic maths, Light. Maths and an unhappy twist of fate."

"No, you're over simplifying it, as usual. Do you think that there's only one perfect person in the world for everyone? I do. There are plenty of practically perfects, but only one absolutely perfect person. And they might have been born in another time. They might already be dead. They might not even have been born during your lifetime, so you'll never know. What you don't know, you can't miss, right?" I say, dragging my fingertip along the rim of my glass which sits on the bar. "But then, I believe in fate. Gods smile on me, so there's no such thing as chance and probabilities. You were born purely for me. And your parents, and their parents, all the way back to the dawn of fucking amoebas, it was all for me. Anyway, bearing that in mind, I'm sure that I'll be able to see my way to tell you what you want to hear and make you believe it. I've practiced by doing the same to Kiyomi and she was very grateful. Very grateful."

"You're disgusting."

"So you keep telling me. But so are you. I snap my fingers and you come running. It's not your fault, it's just the way things are."

"I'm going to tell your fiancée exactly what she's marrying," he says, glancing pointedly at the table. His top lip is drawn up from anger, exposing his teeth like he's a wild animal. "I might as well tell everyone at that fucking table. Hell, let's just tell the whole room."

"Hey," I laugh, grabbing his arm as he turns to leave. "You need to calm down and take some time to reflect. Kiyomi's very surprising sometimes. You'd like her when you see that I've caught a very impressive fish. Maybe we could get a three-way going sometime? Ha, I'm joking. I'm just glad to see you. It's been a very long time."

"Kiyomi not putting out for you?"

"Yes, but she's still just Kiyomi. You have a key to my apartment still, don't you? Take it as a gift from me. Call it a shag pad on behalf of the Foreign Office."

"I like my massive house in the country more than your tiny apartment, thank you very much. Plus, you'll be in the apartment, so I definitely don't want it."

"I've moved into one of my official residences actually. I'm leasing my apartment for you," I tell him. The realisation hits him so hard that his mouth drops open.

"You arranged this whole thing, didn't you?"

"I might have coerced a security guard to let me into your office after you'd gone home this afternoon. I thought that I'd left my phone in your conference room, you see. At least, that's what I told him. You know how forgetful I am sometimes. I might have looked in your appointments diary while I was there, but it's all hypothetical."

"Fucking hell, Light," he laughs in angry disbelief. I bite my bottom lip as I smile and close my eyes.

"Mmmm... So, wait for me to snap my fingers, ok? Bye, L. Don't bother coming back to the table."


"I'm just saying that he's... not very nice." Kiyomi says diplomatically. I know that she'd like to just demand that I cut him dead from now on because she doesn't approve of him, and rightly so, but she's too clever to do that. She knows there's a wall in me and that she can only suggest things, hoping that her wisdom might filter through eventually. In another time and place they might have been friends, but with me in the middle and L having offended her so much that she's simmering in hatred for him, it would take a lot for them to stay in the same room with each other now.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch her shift in her seat to readjust her skirt, which is profanely high and it's my fault. I'm driving her home for the touch of respectability during our engagement, although we pulled over for a quick fumble. I thought of L the entire time. I wonder what he's doing now; I picture him in his living room in his leather recliner, reading a book and thumbing my apartment key in one hand with his marble, handless, tiny dicked kouros behind him... But I shake myself back to Kiyomi.

"I understand why you think that but he's really not so bad. He's just socially challenged and isn't good with strangers," I explain.

"If you say so, Light. Just don't invite him to the wedding, ok?" she asks, dropping the vanity mirror down to reapply her lipstick for her mother's benefit. No, Mrs Takada, I wouldn't lay a hand on your daughter. We're as sexless as you are and I'm Prince fucking Charming.

"Hmmm..." I acquiesce, though the thought hadn't even occurred to me. I check my face in the rear view mirror to find that my mouth and cheek is smeared with her lipstick like some crudely painted blackberry stain. Fuck, it's everywhere.

"He's just another mouth to feed anyway. We haven't had one decline to the invites yet, you know? They're so greedy. Having two ceremonies is bad enough, but the reception will ruin us financially and I really didn't want to have to go into my inheritance fund just to to pay for kombu for people I can't stand."

"I'm paying."

"No, we're in this together, it's only fair. I'm a feminist and equality means total equality. I can't bend the rules because I don't like paying. Just... please, don't invite him or anyone else. The guest list is horrendous as it is. I think we should show our faces at the reception, smile at the speeches and then disappear. I might change our flight to an earlier one."

"I wouldn't dream of inviting him. Not if it'll upset you," I say, making myself sound devoted although I doubt that L would go. I honestly wouldn't invite him anyway. I'm not sure that he could get through the day without making some scene. Kiyomi looks at me with a soft expression and with her lips half-painted.

"You're so understanding," she sighs, turning back to finish her lipstick. "He was so rude and you make all kinds of excuses for his behaviour. I'm just relieved that you decided on Touta for best man instead of Teru. Urgh, I don't even want to begin to imagine how awful Teru's speech would have been. Better Touta's 'nice and dull' than shocking, drug-fillled revelations about your sordid past."

"Ha! Sordid, Kiyomi? You think that I'm sordid?"

"I wouldn't love you so much if you weren't a little bit sordid. You're. Absolutely. Perfect," she says unemotionally, singling out each word as she slicks on a final layer of war paint in the mirror. A red slash in a perfect face.

"Absolutely perfect," I repeat quietly to myself like a mantra. "Isn't it a good trait for a politician to be understanding?"

"Yes, but not to a fault."

"L and Mikami have been good friends to me."

"Just don't make any mistakes with the friends you choose. Seriously, I'm only ever thinking of you."

Yes she's thinking of me, but mostly she's thinking of herself. I'd be the same if I was in her position, so I can't blame her. L and Kiyomi are in different solar systems to me, so it doesn't matter if they despise each other privately while I'm a link in the chain. I consider telling Kiyomi about L. I don't think that she'd mind much since she's very open-minded in that respect and isn't the jealous type. She doesn't have L's righteousness or sense of entitlement where I'm concerned, which makes her a tonic for me. She knows about Naomi (not that I told her; I think that Naomi must have bragged years ago), but her self-assurance is so immense that it's almost as if she likes how close our little clique really is. Also, she went through a phase of putting a face to an adversary, which seemed to amuse her; 'Did she do this to you? Can she do the things that I do? Who's better?' The depraved, beautiful bitch likes to hear me compare and contrast. But in terms of L, it's best that she's left ignorant. Because I might have to lie then, and I think that she'd know.


I walk around the PR department unseen, hanging around the coffee machine with a good view of L's office. I'm mostly hidden by a pillar and a pot plant, which is slightly embarrassing. It's Amazonian in here with all the fucking plants and trees scattered around. L's due for a meeting with Watari and The Lady. I know because Watari told me this morning. Mihael walks out of the office first and almost immediately drops some paperwork. As he scrabbles on the floor to pick it up, L walks behind him, looks down, and smiles at how pathetic his employee is.

"I always did like a man on their knees, Mihael, but you really shouldn't feel that you have to try so hard to earn your pay rise," L tells him, making him laugh.

"Take the fucking things and go," Mihael says as he stands to pass L the papers.

"Goodbye, darling. I set sail and it may be many years until we see each other again," he offers with a sad salute.

"I hate you and I want to die."

"That's not the first time I've ever heard that," L replies as he leaves, and I slink further behind the pillar as he walks past. L's new secretary, who sits at her desk outside L's office like a guard dog, looks like my old one. It is! The one I booted out for Kiyomi - what the very fuck? She laughs to herself, stopping abruptly when Mihael calls her a fag hag.

I check to make sure that L's out of sight before I head towards Mihael like I've just arrived. My ex-secretary is apparently still angry with me. I don't know why, it's not like I owed her anything. She tries to exert some dominance while scowling at me with her sulky heifer face as I breeze into L's office, but obviously thinks better of it.

"Hi, Mihael!" I say to his back in my friendliest tone. "No big cheese today?"

"You've just missed him actually," he replies, startled as I appear behind him. He's wearing leather trousers, which don't seem particularly appropriate. Perhaps he's trying to reform The Village People?

"Shit, that's a shame. Actually, I wanted to speak to you too. Are you busy?" I ask, and walk into L's office.

"I am, actually... um..." he mumbles as I sit behind L's desk and look at all the crap spread across the surface. The top of a photo frame pokes out between the stacks of paper, so I pluck it out of the mess and dust it off.

"Don't worry, he won't mind. My fault, I should have called first," I say holding the photo in both hands in my lap. It's of L and an older man, and L looks younger, maybe early twenties, and unusually smiley. Oh, you poor thing. You've been beaten down by life and me, haven't you?

"I could ring him now," Mihael suggests. It sounds like more of a threat. He doesn't like this situation. It probably goes against some law that L's laid down. I'm going to have to work hard to win him over, so I put the photo flat on L's desk and lean back in his chair to look at the blond fop.

"No, don't bother him if he's busy. How's he been lately?"

"He seems fine to me. Why?"

"I don't know if he told you... I mean, I know he thinks very highly of you, but we fell out a few months ago. It was over something really stupid and I just don't know how to make it right with him. He makes it difficult, you know what he's like."

"He didn't mention anything," he replies, looking like he's preparing to press a panic button.

"Really?"

"Apart from to tell me never to put any of your calls through, or let you come within fifty feet of his office and his diary, or talk to you ever again because if I do then he'll sack me. I think that means that he wouldn't want you in his office, in his chair, or in the building. Yet here you are."

"What do you mean about his diary?" I say, leaning forward with fake concern.

"He said that you checked it and arranged for us to go to the same restaurant that he was going to, on the same night, at the same time."

I stare at him for a moment as if he's talking to me in Swedish, then fall back with a pained laugh. "And how did I do that? Break in? Oh God, he's lost the fucking plot," I exhale sadly, letting my head fall and hang over the back of the chair. My desperate state must make Mihael feel some pity for me.

"But if you leave now, I won't tell him that you were here." He sounds like a policeman offering to let me off for some speeding fines.

"Don't you want to know why he's angry with me?" I ask.

"I'm not paid to care about what anyone does here," he answers, moving fluidly, like a cat, towards me. He picks up L's diary, which is directly in front of me, and puts it on his own desk fifteen feet away. "I have stuff of my own to worry about," he continues. "I just work here. I got a sense at the restaurant that you weren't his favourite person, but he doesn't mention you, Yagami."

"Light, please," I say.

"Light, then," he says coldly. "He still doesn't mention you."

"But you're friends, right? I know that L thinks of you as his friend, not just his assistant. He must be difficult to work for since he's a bit tempestuous sometimes."

"I've worked for worse."

"Oh, I bet. Yakuza, wasn't it?"

He straightens immediately, his face betrays him. "What?"

"L told me about your criminal record. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," I smile sympathetically. "We all make bad decisions sometimes and fall in with the wrong people. I'm all for integrating felons back into society, so I think of you as a success story."

"L told you?" he asks. No, he can't believe it, and that's probably because L didn't tell me; I found out for myself. I launch into my well-crafted lie with gusto.

"He didn't have a choice really. Don't mention this to him because he would feel humiliated if he found out that you knew. He'd also kill me if he knew that I'd told you, so please don't. I just think that you have a right to know. Things is, he found out that The Lady launched an unofficial inspection of employee's records last year. L brought you with him, so you went under the radar at the time, but they would have found out. I wiped your record because I have access to the records office, the mainframe, and I have a few contacts in the NPA. L doesn't."

"Jesus," Mihael exclaims, rubbing his head. "Well, uh, thanks. I guess."

I wave a dismissive hand. "Just don't mention it. Forget all about it. I'm not supposed to be able to know about these things. I have friends in certain places, that's all. I know that you don't trust me or like me so -"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It's the politician thing, right? I'm used to it. I probably wouldn't trust me either."

"I don't distrust you because you're a politician..." he starts before drifting off, realising how big a hole he's digging for himself.

"It's my fault then," I say sadly. "I must have given you the impression that I'm not trustworthy. But I need your help, Mihael, please."

"I don't know what I can do to help."

"Does he have any plans after work tonight?" I ask quickly, like gunfire.

"Uh..."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Don't look so worried, God!" I laugh. "Jeevas and I and a few others are meeting up for dinner after work and I just wondered if you'd like to join us. Nothing vaguely perverted, I promise. Oh, and I took your advice by the way. Had a seventies sound system shipped over from abroad from a collector who's on his last legs."

"You did?"

"You're welcome to come and try it out sometime."

"Oh. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Bought his vinyl collection too. I think there's about a thousand LPs." And he gasps. Maybe I should have started with this line of attack.

"A thousand?" he asks.

"Give or take."

"Which ones have you got?"

"Fuck, I have no idea. I'm trying to work through them but I don't have that much time nowadays for things like that. Call me anytime and have a look through them. If there are any you'd really like, have them."

"Seriously?"

"I'm never not serious. Someone might as well make use of them because at the moment it doesn't look like I'll be able to listen to them until my retirement. So, L. The situation is a bit awkward but... um."

"Don't tell me," he says, closing up again. "I don't want to know. I like being ignorant. I kind of respect my boss and I don't think I could if you tell me the details."

"What? Hold on, did he tell you that we were seeing each other? What has he been telling people? Fuck me."

"What you and L do in your spare time is up to you two."

"No, Mihael, no, nothing like that. He's just my friend, but I think he likes me a bit more than that, if you know what I mean. Hazard of life, I guess."

"But... It doesn't matter. I'm sorry but, even though I'm just an assistant, I have stuff to do or L will bollock me for slacking off."

"Ha! Yeah, but I've got to clear this up if L is telling you lies. We're not and we never have. Take it from me, because L's got a couple of screws loose upstairs. You saw Kiyomi. That's all I'm saying. Apart from to say that she's the reason that L's pissed off with me. I mean, the way he spoke to her was not on."

"That was quite polite for him, I thought."

"Well it fucked me right off. She's been really sympathetic towards him as well. I think she feels guilty, and I can't have that. Anyway, that's the situation. Just keep in it mind if he starts dreaming, ok? I have no idea what he's told you, but it's all in his head."

"As I said, it's nothing to do with me."

"Not the same for him though, is it? He was telling you who you could and couldn't be friends with at the restaurant," I remind him, adjusting my shirt at the wrists. Beau Brummell set the standard of having a thumbnail's width of shirt cuff showing under your jacket. I try to continue this fastidiousness.

"He was only joking," Mihael says, and I laugh at his naïvety.

"Look, I love the bastard, I do, but he doesn't joke. He sees you as his entitlement. I just wanted to set you straight, y'know? I'll let you go. Oh, could you get me a coffee, please? It was a long run over here from the Foreign Office."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks. You've got my number, haven't you? Call me any time to have a look through the vinyl."

"Ok. Thanks, Yagami."

"For fuck's sake, Mihael. Call me Light, will you?" He smiles briefly and seems nervous about leaving me in the office, but he goes. He can't really throw me out or ask me to leave because that's not how things work. While he's gone, I put the photo into my briefcase and scan L's desk again. How can anyone work like this? When Mihael comes back a few minutes later, I'm waiting outside near my awful sour-faced ex-secretary, and he looks incredibly relieved to see me out of the office. "Thanks. Mmmm... ambrosia," I say cheerily, and sip the horrible, gravy-like black coffee. "Right, I better head back. See you. And call me, ok? Kiyomi would love to see you too."

"Ok," he replies, his brow furrowing a little again with some invented emotional stress. What a cunt. He must be really good at handjobs or something. Why else would L keep him around?

"Great. And don't look so fucking frightened, yeah? Christ on a bike, as L would say," I laugh, walking backwards for a few steps. "Don't worry about him, it'll all work itself out. He can't be angry with me forever."


Three weeks to the day later, Kiyomi's sister in Hong Kong died suddenly. Too young. How sad. And she was so pretty too.

I paid for Kiyomi and her mother to go over there for a month to arrange the funeral and help the suicidal widower and their children sort through her effects and settle into life without her. Kiyomi wasn't terribly close to the eldest of her three sisters, which is just as well, but she went to support her mother and because the press would publicise it sensitively and affectionately. It would reflect well on both of us; how our wedding was preceded by tragedy, the supportive but hardworking groom-to-be, the devastated but tower of strength bride-to-be. We talked about setting up a charity in her name as that would also be good for the media. Kiyomi would be president, raising funds and offering emotional support to the families of young victims of sudden heart attacks, like her sister. She had to be seen as her own person, and a good person.

Sayu and Touta drove us to the airport to support Kiyomi and because I couldn't be expected to drive myself. Tradition tells us that during times of sadness, someone else drives the car. For some reason, Touta thinks that I must be upset as well. We wait near the boarding gate like a badly attended funeral. I can't go with Kiyomi, obviously. God, no. I don't want to. I have other things to do anyway, but officially, work prevents me. The paparazzi hang around the airport snapping photos of us in our grief-stricken silence. I'm wearing a dark grey suit, matching shirt, but no tie. It wouldn't be appropriate to look like I'd made too much effort. Kiyomi wore a black suit and dark sunglasses to hide how her eyes are not swollen. When they were called for boarding, old Mrs Takada kissed me on my cheek and stepped aside for Kiyomi to rub her hands along the length of my arms like she was ironing out some creases in me.

"Do you love me?" she asks, not seeming terribly interested either way.

"Like murder," I whisper back. She smiles and kisses me lightly on the lips, pulls away slowly, and leaves. I hope the press print that one.


After being dropped back home by Sayu and Touta, I shower and change before spending my day in solitary silence, staring at the clock on the wall for hours and waiting. I have the television on mute and I think how nice it would be if you could do that to people; mute them, or put them in stand-by, or just switch them off. While I wait, Mikami texts me, asking if I'd like to have a drink with him and Jeevas. Absolutely fucking not. This is an important day for me. I'm going to be in the news and I'm not going to waste this day on them. Of course, I don't tell him that, but I play vague and ask if anyone else is going. Apparently Touta is, and Mihael was, but he cancelled because he has to work late at the office. Oh. That's interesting.

I've put the photo of L and his old bastard judge father on the wall of my office with some other 'friends' and family photographs so it doesn't look out of place. Earlier on, I put post-its over the faces of everyone else, but I'll have to take them off at some point, I suppose. L's idiotic smile beams at my back as I stare at the clock, and I wonder if I would have liked him then, if he was that age now, or if I was my age then. I wonder what he was like. He wears his age like he's proud of it and that it's a miracle that he's still alive. I really can't imagine the boy in the photograph. There's nothing there to suggest that he would be any different from everyone else.

The TV is still on mute and news flashes on repeat within a bar at the bottom of the screen but I don't really take any notice, I'm not mentioned. I feel strange, like I'm watching New Year fireworks completely alone. There's not much time; an hour, maybe two.


I feel like an impostor as I walk into the building and sign in, mostly because of my casual clothing. It is Saturday, and late. L probably works harder than anyone here, although he gives the impression that he doesn't work at all. He protects the reputations of people who don't deserve it.

The PR floor is dark apart from the translucent glow between the blinds of L's office, and I enter it without knocking. I am intent and will see satisfaction. All the best things in my life must interconnect for me in this short time, and my blood fizzes as I sense it all overlapping now, knowing what I know. I'm shocked when I immediately see L sitting behind his desk. I hardly expected him to be there, living, with charcoal skyscrapers behind him, and he makes me inhale stupidly. Mihael and he both stare at me like I'm a suicide bomber.

"Let's go to Church."

My voice doesn't sound like my own, like I have no control over how my resolution seeps into it deeply, making it sound carnal. L's face splits with different emotions; his eyes shine with a smile while his mouth drops open slightly. After a beat, he stands suddenly and grabs his coat.

"Mihael, my phone is on vibrate," he says. Mihael scrunches up a confused expression as L starts throwing things into his briefcase.

"I'm in mourning," I explain to anyone who's listening. Neither of them seem interested in why I might be in mourning. L's too busy trying to get out of here, and Mihael just doesn't care.

"But... You're going to church?" Mihael asks L. "Since when are you religious?"

"Since now. I saw the light. No pun intended," L answers, slinging his coat over one arm. "Actually, go home. Don't phone me."

"Great!" Mello exclaims, checking the time quickly and standing to shrug on the leather jacket which hung over the back of his chair. "L, I'm still on double time until ten, right?"

"Triple, whatever," L replies as he walks past me. I follow.

Church, of course, means the House after L jokingly referred to it as such once. It's empty apart from a skeleton crew of security guards, and the sound of our footsteps bounces off the walls. Without exchanging a word between his office and here, and while I lean against a pillar in the lobby at a fair distance, L pays off security to turn off the closed circuit cameras and fuck off for an hour, which they were more than happy to do. Everyone has a price apart from me. The excuse is that I am rehearsing an emergency, very important and top-secret speech, the made-up content being boring enough for them not to care.

We walk into the chamber and, even when lit by the many glass lamps suspended from the ceiling, the room is still dim in how closeted it is from the world. There are no windows, and without them it makes me doubt that there really is an outside at all. It feels more real in here anyway. It's a wooden earth within the earth, and from here all decisions are made which dictate how people must live their lives. I take off my coat and let it lie over the back of one of the benches as L locks the massive doors from the inside. I've never been in here without it being full of politicians, and the vastness and emptiness strikes a new reverence into me. It's the court room of life, a cathedral of law, and I wouldn't be here with anyone else. But I almost forget that he's here. Only the dull echo of the doors being locked stiffly into place remind me that I'm not alone, and this place makes me feel alone. It bears down like it knows me and all I've done to be here.

I keep walking, passing the curving wooden lines in this half circle made up of benched segments. Your placement here relates to your status and worth. Once, I sat at the back, where everything sounded distant and I heard little but the coughs and breaths of those in front of me. They blocked my view and thought that I was just like them and that I would never move from that spot. They never thought once in their lives, never did anything worthwhile, and they will stay that way. They will be my numbers on sheets. I walk past their ghosts and the ghosts of those who took these seats in lives before ours, all the way back, and they've been waiting for me like a patient audience all this time. They face a kind of stage of engraved paneling in red wood, like blood runs behind it, and I sit in The Lady's usual seat, observing the view from this new position. It is almost ethereal until L sits next to me and reminds me that I am actually here, aren't I? I'm not walking through a dream I had once. There's more to me than my mind, and this is mine.

"This was a good idea of yours," he says. "Every minute you're not with me is an absolute waste. You know that, don't you?"

I can't reply to that, only close my eyes and incline my lazy head towards his. We shouldn't speak, we don't have permission, but his voice sounds warm in this dead place. If he feels the need to flatter me here then that's fine, but I doubt that he means it. He says things sometimes, these little snow jobs covered in honey, but they're ultimately self-serving and he really shouldn't waste his words on me. They're almost insulting, but I missed them.

Maybe he should be told now, but it can wait. I strain obscenely as he touches me through the fabric of my trousers. "Look where we are," I tell him, and suddenly, somehow, his mouth is on mine. I taste the sugar and caffeine there, and quicken for him. It's such an alien feeling after nothing but cold contrivance for so long, and I let myself collapse and twist into it. With my eyes closed like this, I could be anywhere, so I let my hand fall to my side and grip the edge of the bench to keep this building in my thoughts and combine it with him. It brings me some kind of fervour and knocks me out of my dreamlike stupor. I become an insurgence against him in this battlefield between us. I love that he's with me, I hate that he's been such righteous bastard for weeks and weeks and weeks. I'm trying to tell him that while my hand aches from grounding myself, digging the sharp edges of the bench into my palm. He must understand, he must do, because he's kissing me back with the same ferocity and it's not fucking Disney, no. No one is like him, and my lungs are burning like I've been running for years. I have been running for years.

Then we part, he leaves me completely and without my permission. My eyes open in disbelief to see the incredibly self-satisfied, triumphant look on his face.

"You think I've surrendered, don't you?" I ask.

"I was too busy to think, Light," he says smugly, leaning back, and he delicately touches where I've made a tousled mess of his hair, like it's proof of something. He always moves with a controlled listlessness while everyone else looks like they're trapped in a cage of awkward, rigid physicality. I admire and despise how his self-assurance shows itself in this determined rejection of conventions, my conventions. He denies it like he's an alter-ego, showing me how relaxed I could be about life. He thinks that I'm weak for him and that I should just accept it, doesn't he? My anger is so intense that my backbone feels like it's fused together. I don't think that I've ever felt this angry. It's like I've been humiliated and I couldn't possibly feel more outraged than I do now. But then he smirks again, knowing that I'm watching him for just one more offensive action or word, and he starts taking off his cufflinks.

As he dips his head forward, my eyes spring to the exposed nape of his neck and I grab it, throwing all my weight behind it to drive him onto the floor. It makes a pleasing solid sound combined with the air being knocked out of him. He breathes out a laugh with his face pressed hard against the ground, so I restrain his arms behind his back. He suddenly seems very thin and breakable to me. Maybe if I break his bones then I'll break him? That's a nice question to give into for a second. I imagine the carnage and the utterly broken man and my lack of regret. But I would regret it. Anything spontaneous can only end in mistakes, and I'd want him back the way he is now, fighting me and denying me and telling me that I'm nothing and that I need him. He might be too fragile for this tepid roughhousing, but then I can't imagine him not being able to take anything I give him. "Have you ever done this in the House before?" I whisper into his ear.

"Once or twice," he replies with difficulty, but smiling. He actually cannot stop smiling, even with my knee in his back, so I press down harder in shock and frustration. He's lying. He must be lying. When I don't say anything in return, he tries to look behind him as far as his neck will allow him to. "Why, would this be a totally new experience for you?"

"When?"

"A year or so back."

"You hypocritical shit, I could catch something from you!" My anger flares up and I must loosen my grip on his arms because he swiftly turns around, elbowing me in the chest and slamming me onto my back instead. As if trying to mimic what I'd done to him, he places his knee firmly in my stomach while he takes off his jacket and wickedly smiles down upon me.

"I don't know what to say, Light. I'm a very bad man."

I massage his knee which is heavy on me and feel my muscles fighting against the pressure of it. I can only imagine the bruise I'll have there. God, I can't wait to see it. "You are a very bad man," I agree slowly.

"But it was quite disappointing," he continues, loosening his tie with one hand. He looks like he's preparing to be knighted. "The man in question didn't recognise the symbolism, which took all the joy out of it for me."

"I see the symbolism."

"I know." He starts pulling my sweater off, yanking my shoulder painfully after he throws his tie aside. "Now, I'm not going to the chemist right now, so this could be very painful for one or both of us, and I have a very high pain threshold, so I think it's going to be you."

"Really? I don't think so," I say, pulling out the bottle from my pocket. He takes it from me, tosses it his hand and flips open the lid.

"You always come prepared, like a boy scout," he mutters, sniffing the contents of the bottle. He makes me feel sick. "I was useless at being a scout, though they did teach me that this stuff is a necessity. It's probably where I learned it in the first place."

"Is that what they you teach there?"

"I was with a lot of upper class, over-Latined, over-sexed boys in a tent. What do you think?"

"This is very irritating."

"Yes, but everyone should retain the use of their sphincters," he says blithely. "It's a basic human right."

"No, I mean you sitting on me while you talk about the boy scouts. You better let me the fuck go, or I'll have to smash your face into the wall."

His smiles spreads at my threat, and he pulls away to stand and start taking his belt off. "What are you waiting for then?" he asks me.

Like it's a race, we both rush to get our trousers off as quickly as possible. Of course he's ready before me, the bastard is vertical, and he cheerfully yanks my trousers off like I was a magic act. I hardly have a chance to move before he's upon me again, and it's all too impatient for this place at first. I bring his face to mine, liking how leans up to me like an obedient servant. I can feel the pulse in his throat even from here, and I realise that I could choke him. I could suffocate him like this. Just hold him here and cover his mouth with mine, like this, and squeeze my hands around his throat until I crush his voice and everything inside until he leaves me the fuck alone. But I don't do that, I slow the kiss into something I might have even considered boring once, but the thought is there and the only thing stopping me is myself.

The idea that I could kill him makes me dizzy like he makes me dizzy and to avoid falling backwards, I curl forwards to wrap my arms around him. He kisses me more forcefully again then, which is at odds with how gently his hand runs down the curve of my back before he lies down on top of me. I didn't think this through properly. This is going to be messy. It always is. I'll probably have to come back later with some furniture polish and carpet cleaner. But I shouldn't think of things like that right now.

I inhale the dark scent of his skin and hair and wonder why the fuck we haven't done this earlier. It's his fault. Then he's gone again. My reactions seem delayed by the intensity as he rolls my knees up to my chest and lifts the back of my thighs to raise me higher. He's too tender sometimes. It's annoying. Above my head is more of the wood paneling, stretching on forever, broken only by baroque wallpaper and framed by heavy velvet drapes. I don't know what L's doing because I don't care. I'm hardly here. There's a physical need to catch up with him, I feel it dimly, but he won't let me. I want to stop and for him to just stay there for a while so I can take in this place and what it's saying to me because I can't hear it, I can only hear us breathing. It needs to become a part of me before I can do anything else, and I've realised that too late. He presses the tip of a finger inside me, which makes my head fall back and hit the floor hard as he mercilessly tries to ease the restriction like a clumsy fuck. As my head spins, I can only think of the white columns holding this place up. I'd like to tear them down so there's only rubble around us and blue skies above, always.

"It feels like..." I say breathlessly, but he doesn't hear me, or he doesn't care.

He helps me angle my hips for him and I relax enough to let him slide into me. He starts, finds a pace, and I shiver with the exquisite pain of being invaded. I wanted this, I just imagined it the other way around because this is my building. I did need it here, it's just strange because maybe I'm just a passenger to him now. He makes me feel like that and I don't know why. There's no way out, he surrounds me, and I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to it. All I feel is thankfulness when his face presses against mine.

His voice murmurs something into my hair. It sounds like English, at once like birds in flight and guttural, but I don't understand. Because of that, I grasp his face and bring it to my hungry mouth. He's heavy on me, and he's so light normally, barely there at all, but everything is amplified and somehow something as simple as breathing seems like such an effort. I have to concentrate for a second to try and regulate things. But then, this doesn't mean anything if it doesn't hurt.

I encircle his shoulders and waist as he moves inside me, moving back and forth as his mouth locks onto mine roughly, but even that feels like silk against silk now and I want something else. This seems to go on forever so I turn to see everything spread away from me instead. The patterns and shapes move with me and shudder, and I'm moving because of him. It's a spiralling vine from where I am, and the floor is rough against my shoulders. It disappears when I close my eyes, and comes back when I open them. I think that someone's calling my name from far away and tilt my head back, but there's nothing, nothing but moaning. Then I see him again and wonder how long he's been kissing me like that, wherever he can reach me. Sweat stings my eyes as he places loose, wet, biting, rhythmic grazes on my skin like he's angry with me for not giving him my full attention but he's trying not to care. I think for a moment how stupid and beautiful he looks, because he's such a liar.

"Stop being nice to me," I whisper brokenly into his mouth. "I might as well get fucked by somebody's grandmother." He smiles against my mouth and I smile too in expectation. Try and make it interesting for me.

He increases the strokes with a fluidity and depth. The change in pace makes me gasp as I tighten around him and claw at his back. My nails scrape underneath his shirt and it feels damp and warm like he is, all over. I must have hurt him, I suppose, because he pulls my hips closer to him and violently thrusts into me.

All I feel is heat and time passing and I want to disappear inside it. It radiates, and I can taste the coppery salt of sweat on his skin as my lips drag across his chin. With each thrust I feel myself coming apart from the inside and my stomach aches from it because I've been waiting for this for a long time. He hits something which is so rarely touched that it makes me want to cry for a second, and I press my eyes into his shoulder to see pulpits superimposed in the darkness with rays of light. Pulpits and books and cheering fucking crowds. Rivers of writhing people all shining with blood. He throbs in me and I feel myself stream between us while he trembles and struggles to even gasp for a breath.

The warmth against our bellies is slick and I bite his lip, tasting blood in both our mouths. I tighten around him so hard as I come that I more or less demand that he follow. He has to learn the way things are now and this is a good lesson for him. But something changes within me suddenly; when his body undulates, I feel dead inside. I can hardly feel it now. I'm done. Just the swell of him as he comes inside me, buried in me. I want him to stay there forever, although I'm not sure how I'd explain it when the House reconvenes on Monday. This is so disgusting, it's wonderful. And over.

I'm all to the winds as he pulls himself out of me slowly. I lie still, can't even hear my own heart beat, just some pressure in my head as I gaze up at the ceiling again. I thought I saw something dark up there, looking down on us. Some gargoyle of fate.

So I lie there as L slams against the floor beside me and looks what I'm looking at, but not seeing what I see.

"The Lady's dead," I whisper, as I can hardly breathe, only force out words with rasps of air.

"What?" he asks, not really listening. I like the sound of his breathing, it's like a metronome winding down.

"She left a suicide note about her involvement in the oil conspiracy. She recommended me to be her successor."

I sense his head snap around to look at me as I stare at the ceiling. There's only silence then, but I can almost hear echoes of us in this room. Then he starts to laugh.