Indeed, I am not dead!

The following contains lemonishness! Fairly warned be yee...

The car rolled to a casual stop in the driveway. Before Diva's hand had quite reached the handle for the door, she found it already opening, Solomon standing on the other side.

"Thank you, sir," she said almost in a groan. For some reason, that little bit of antiquated chivalry gave Diva the fleeting urge to smack him.

But before she could berate him for treating her like a child - a state of affairs that held some understandably negative associations for her - she found herself locked in an abrupt, impulsive kiss. For the moment, the irritation melted away, dissolved by the heat of his embrace.

The kiss itself - it was one of those that was just slightly too long, just a little too open for a simple peck in the driveway.

Diva was actually somewhat shocked by the physical sensations spreading throughout her. It made her think of back when Solomon used to let her play with his pocket watch; a simple twist that seemed to bring a whole complex system into motion - a system that wouldn't stop until it had expended all of its energy.

"How does he do that?" she grumbled, hoping that her eyes hadn't started glowing.

"Hmm?" Solomon asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing," she answered, all innocence.

They walked together to the front door, and entered the elevator.

They stood, shoulder to shoulder during the ascent, Diva watching his nonchalantly wandering gaze, disappointedly wondering why he wasn't kissing her now.

In that instant she made her decision. She hadn't been dead set on it before, but she sure as hell was now.

It's happening tonight, she resolved, as they stepped off the elevator, and approached a nearby door.

The front living room was almost absurdly plain, a few bits of minimalist, but no doubt very expensive furniture placed here and there. But for the most part, it really looked like a home that was only half-moved apartment itself didn't seem to be anything special either, except for the fabulous view of the city, offered by a large window opposite them.

Solomon noticed her admiring it. "Enjoy it while you can; you can barely see through the smog during the day. So, shall I give you the grand tour?" he offered, suave and patronizing

"Where's the bedroom?" she asked brazenly.

Solomon's brows shot up, even though he wasn't really surprised.

Diva will be Diva.

He'd taken her into his arms before he'd finished the thought, and fought the compelling urge to begin the implied activities, before another second passed.

Instead, the words just came out.

"We don't have to," he said, sounding almost as if he really meant it.

"I know," she responded tersely, as if answering an absurdly stupid question. "I want to."

He smiled, recalling what she'd said a few weeks ago.

When I do do it, I want it to be out of love, or at least rabid horniness.

"Love or rabid horniness?" he asked.

She gave him a grin, somehow silly and sultry at the same time. "Why not both?"

They stepped into the bedroom, and Diva briefly surveyed the room.

"Hmm. There's barely any furniture in this place, but you have a fully-dressed bed even though you don't sleep," Diva snickered. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were expecting to get laid."

His smile said it all, though he did add, "You deserve better than the floor."

"For the first time, at least," she said with a shrug, striding toward the bed, and finding herself in his arms before she'd reached it.

This time, it wasn't a simple, impulsive smooch. This kiss was clearly goal-oriented. It had a clear intention of seduction, each languid gulp, each swirl of tongue enriching the mixture of romantic and erotic.

"God, I love kissing you," he whispered along with a stolen breath.

"Then shut up and do it again," she commanded, giggling.

And he eagerly obeyed.

She flicked off the blinding fluorescent light as he began to devour her neck, leaving the room still relatively well illuminated by the distant shining of the city lights below, bathing the room in a soft, amber glow, like a fire that didn't flicker.

Diva seemed to be in a bit of a hurry to get his clothes off, attempting to remove his shirt before he was all the way out of his blazer, briefly resulting in a tangled mess of limbs and linen.

Removing her clothes was all too easy, pulling off her tank top and then expertly doing away with the drab cotton that passed for her lingerie, all while she helpfully kicked off her shoes, pants and panties.

Solomon had seen her naked more times than he could recall, but he still felt it entirely necessary to gaze at her for a few seconds, as if to make sure that every flawless curve was still as it had been a century ago. Somehow, in his perception, Diva was slightly more voluptuous than Saya, but that may have only been because Diva had always struck him as the more feminine of the twins.

Diva was enjoying her view just as much, if not more. She took her sweet time in looking him over, and was so captivated by what she saw, that she felt compelled to walk a complete circle around him, so as to survey his beauty from every angle.

He was a little skinnier than she'd imagined, most likely because he generally wore several layers of clothing. But with his suit now discarded, she could see could see his body for what it really was: eternally that of a slightly underfed and overworked soldier - rather slender, but pleasantly well muscled, considering. And as it happened, that was precisely in line with her personal tastes.

At the same time, with his suit discarded, his slender frame, mussed hair and somewhat effeminate facial features, he somehow took on a slightly boyish appearance. She'd never imagined that his suits had so much to do with his image, and began to think that she'd been wrong when she'd said that no change of clothes could make him look like a teenager - but apparently when he was entirely without clothes - that was another story.

Their eyes met upon her return from the circumnavigation of his body, her eyes now blazing with blue flame.

"I'm actually a little bit nervous," Diva murmured.

"You know, I think I might be too," he replied, tone belying his statement. He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her palm, as he had so many times before.

But in a move that struck her as classically French, he began a procession of kisses all the way up her arm.

"I've always wanted to do this," his voice echoed in her head.

He continued on, over the ticklish pit of her elbow, up to the increasingly sensitive skin of her shoulder and neck. She let out a quavering sigh as he paused to lap sensuously at her pulse point, and then proceeded to snack on her earlobe, hot breath in her ear seeming to diffuse into her bloodstream in the form tiny, tingling bubbles that rose to the surface of her skin, as goosebumps.

Even so, she found her heart racing at the idea that his lips and hers would soon be reunited. And when they finally were, the kiss was rather different than before, displaying the ravenous passion she hadn't had from him since that night after the masquerade, just before they'd been interrupted, deliciously invasive, as if it were a metaphorical representation of what they both knew would have to happen soon.

Suckling at his tongue, she found herself stealing glimpses of his face, and she was surprised to find that his eyes weren't closed either. But she could tell that he didn't really see her, lids slightly parted to reveal a sliver of white. Lulled in pleasure, or delirious with all consuming need - she couldn't tell. She just knew that she liked seeing that look on the ordinarily sanguine face.

Some unknown interval of time later, he leaned away, staring at her, and she watched intently as his eyes finally came alight, like a green bud blooming into a red flower.

Paradoxically, it made her think of the other eyes she's seen in this context. She thought of Riku's eyes, glowing like a candle in the dark, illuminating his small dim face with a ghostly pale light, that made him look like he was dead already. And then she remembered the other one. She hadn't really thought about him during the past few weeks. It wasn't that she was just remembering it for the first time, more like carefully reading a passage that had only been skimmed over previously.

Solomon seemed to perceive the hesitation in her face.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked in a breathy whisper, lovingly tracing the edge of her jawline with his fingertip, smiling that soft smile, the one that once had the ability to soothe a murderous tantrum.

"No," she reassured him. "Just - remembering - the last time I did this was - under pretty different circumstances."

"Same for me."

She intuitively knew exactly what he was referring to.

Diva actually hadn't thought of that, the possibility that he'd had no other lover since Saya. Diva knew Solomon pretty well, and she remembered that in the distant past, he'd often come to see her, subtly smelling of the intimate odors of various unfamiliar women. And she'd assumed that his habit of indifferent womanizing had continued up until relatively recently.

There was something a profoundly awkward in the notion that there'd been no one between she and her sister. Without thinking, she examined his scent, to see if she could still smell Saya on him.

And she breathed a sigh of relief when she confirmed that it had long since passed. All she caught was the piquant scent of cologne and bath products, and his own unique, olfactory signature, a je ne se quois of daffodil dew and frosty open fields.

Realizing that Solomon must have been mulling over some rather sour recollections himself, Diva's face formed into the same poignant expression, pity and empathy - the same expression that had so upset him a few weeks earlier.

But for some reason, it didn't seem so bad, at a moment like this.

She backed away a few paces, and sat on the edge of the bed, beckoning gaze drawing him to her immediately.

The anticipation was damn near killing him. Being so close to this body he'd seen so often, for so many years, he'd felt he knew it well. But now, the promise of learning the hidden secrets of a familiar entity - like walking on the dark side of the moon. A primal need reinforced by insistent curiosity.

Her face had a look akin to inquisitive anticipation as he crawled over her and positioned himself between her legs.

All of a sudden, she burst out laughing.

"What?" Solomon asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea as to what she was recalling.

She could barely hold back her giggling enough to speak coherently, "I was just remembering, that night, when you tried to - holy shit, that was hilarious!" the giggle lowered into a snide snicker.

Solomon realized that he was chuckling right along with her. It was one of the more disappointing moments of his life, but somehow, now that the deficit was about to be redressed, it was rather amusing to him as well. At the same time, he wasn't about to let things get derailed just because of an amusing recollection.

"Are you sure you want to?" he asked. It was to bring her attention back to the situation at hand, more than it was an act of gentlemanliness.

"Yes," she said, still snickering a little. "I promise I won't kick you in the crotch this time."

He leaned closer, and the last vestiges of humor seemed to drain out of her system, distracted by the way he was looking at her as he moved into position, stare even more penetrating than the imminent results of his slowly advancing hips.

Her mouth opened, yielding a breathless silence that seemed at least as powerful as any moan. Senses slightly confused by the flood of hot sensation, the sound of that first silent cry of pleasure existed only in the mind, like the swish of a shooting star.

To her surprise, it actually hurt a little bit; after all, it had been years since her last. But it wasn't the savage sting of impalement, more like a stopper inserted into a gushing wound. Discomfort made meaningless by expected benefit.

Unable to help himself, he pressed his lips onto her still open mouth, continuing the ravenous kiss, pressure coming in surges as he began to move, swaying at the pace of a meditative breath.

Now that it was actually happening, she was amazed at how un-frightened she felt. In the distant past, she'd generally been subject to a fear of sex, based on primal instinct and psychological trauma. Even when she'd seduced the innocent, defenseless Riku, she'd maintained the superior position all throughout, having no intention of being trapped between a body and the floor, and it had been the same with the other equally harmless partner.

But now, locked in the most intimate of embraces, and not in the position of ostensible control, she felt as if she should have been terrified. Why was it that Solomon, the one who had once betrayed, abandoned and tried to kill her, was the only to be allowed that position of trust?

It wasn't really that she trusted him completely. She just trusted the moment completely. She had mysterious but absolute faith that nothing bad could come of the logical result of a romance that had begun over a century ago, with this man. Flawed as he was, if anyone was her soulmate, it was him.

But as she perceived the tender, desperate need in his face, in every kiss, in every movement, it struck her that of the two of them, she was not the helpless one.

And she rather liked that. This powertrip had remarkable appeal to a girl who had spent most of her life with absolutely no power at all, even over her own impulses. Even when her chevaliers seemed as if they were blindly obeying her, she knew they all answered to Amshel, that Amshel would have his say in the end. But she was now keenly aware that the omnipresent sadistic god of her past, was dead. And now Solomon truly belonged to her, and more importantly, she truly belonged to herself.

The deep, inner caress was naturally at the forefront of her sensorium, but she was distantly aware of how it mingled with every other sensation she was feeling. It made her think of singing with an orchestra. As if the exquisitely intense feeling between her legs as her own highlighted solo, the peripheral sensations, both physical and sentimental, the orchestra that set the framework to bring out the true beauty of the song. She'd always known that her voice, by itself, was glorious, but when it met the myriad of complementary sounds, it truly took flight, a synergistic firebird of beauty.

And so she decided it must be with sex. It could be pretty nice in of itself, but when it was combined with erotic skill and emotional chemistry, it became indescribably amazing.

Naturally, there wasn't all that much in terms of conscious thought going on in Solomon's head. Between the ever-intensifying vibration of nerves and the distant appreciation of the passion of this moment, he was rather distracted.

Stunningly, it never even occurred to him to compare this to his last, Diva to Saya. Even though they were twins, more-or-less physically identical, the experience itself was so different as to warrant no comparison. In the future, somewhere in the vicinity of his dozenth encounter with Diva, it occurred to him that during the Special Night he'd had with Saya, his partner hadn't been much more than an extremely eroticized zombie throughout the proceedings, mindlessly grasping for climax and conception; and he himself had been focused almost entirely on pleasing her enough to warrant leaving her fiance.

But now... It was amazing what a difference it made to have his partner spiritually present in both the moment, the act, and the sentimental underpinnings of it all. To not feel the pervasive anxiety of knowing this was his last chance to snatch a heart already firmly in the grasp of another man. In its place was the security of mutual affection, which allowed for full enjoyment of the lovemaking itself.

Like gears moving in tandem, the vacillation of their unified being increased, picking up more momentum by the second, the rapturous ache of building sensuous pressure growing evermore exquisite, hot breath escaping from the gasket of their still-fused mouths.

Consistent with idealized expectations for such an emotionally salient session of lovemaking, they both reached the peak almost simultaneously, base of the spine turning to a lightning rod of overwhelming sensation, spreading throughout the body in the form of an internal earthquake. Lips still touching, but parted to release the beautiful, but all too brief vocal duet of climax.

They lay together, holding each other loosely but determinedly, legs intertwined in a tangled braid. It had been a good half hour of silence, but for some reason, it was in no way awkward.

"Diva?" he eventually murmured into her hair.

"Hm?"

"Let's stay like this forever."

Somehow, he could tell that her lips had tightened into a smile. "Sure. As long as you're not an asshole to me."

"I mean - we should stay exactly like this. Never move from this exact spot, just lay here, just like this. Naked. Together. Never worry about anything else." He sighed. "I can't stand the idea that this moment has to end."

Her head tilted back, face displaying her usual pensive frown. "In that case, no. Not possible."

"Is that so?"

"Yup. Because in a few more minutes, I'm going to want to do it again," she stated, with a curt slap to his ass.

Solomon smirked as silence returned for several minutes.

"Solomon?"

"Hm?"

"Do you know why we're perfect for eachother?"

"Because we fit together so marvelously?" he returned cheekily.

"Other than that," she said, surprisingly serious.

"Because we're actually having a civil conversation afterwards?"

"Other than that too."

He smiled. "You tell me."

There was a short, increasingly tense pause.

"Because we're both evil."

That word knocked the breath out of him for a moment. "I don't think that's true. Or at least it's oversimplifying things."

"But what if evil is as evil does?" she said somberly. "And we've both done evil, no matter how you look at it."

"Perhaps that's true for me," Solomon conceded, tone like that ordinarily used with a half-indifferent oh well. "I've done many things that I knew were wrong, even as I did them. I was raised by decent, moral people, whatever happened to me afterwards. But you - you didn't know any better."

"I know, but my body count is probably higher, so I think it evens out, between the two of us."

"Hmm," he acknowledged calmly.

A long pause, before Diva spoke, staring at the ceiling. "That's exactly what I mean. You're not horrified by what I just said. And what you said too, about how saying that we're evil is oversimplifying it. Even if we're not literally evil, we both know what evil looks like from the inside. You understand where I'm coming from. I don't have to explain why I did the things I did. I don't have to explain what Amshel was like. I don't need to explain what I was like. I get the feeling that no one else could ever get me, half as well as you do."

She finally looked at him. "What's more, we deserve each other."

The slightest hint of hurt crept into his features. The statement stung more than he could have expected, the idea that she was only with him because she felt she deserved no better. It didn't seem that different from women who only loved him for his money or position. It was a blow to the ego and to the heart.

He couldn't quite tell if Diva perceived his hurt feelings, and she spoke again. "It's really extremely lucky that I happen to like you so much."

Solomon smiled, realizing that there wasn't much else she could have said that would have been more reassuring. "Now that I think about it, in terms of a relationship, liking just as important as loving. Love can be blind, irrational and stupid, but Like - that's really something special. "

"Mmm."

She was quiet for a long moment, so much so that he assumed she'd gone back to sleep. Until she spoke, strangely abrupt, and slightly audacious..

"I slept with James, while I was pregnant."

He shot up in bed, reaction as involuntary as recoiling hand from flame.

"What?"

It wasn't the condescending, how dare you sort of what. It was the question of someone who was really unsure whether they'd heard something right.

"You heard what I said!" she snapped, irritated but not surprised by his reaction. "You pathetic hypocrite! You've slept with god knows how many women and I haven't given you any shit about it; and then I tell you that I slept with one guy you didn't know about, and you totally flip out!"

Solomon was scrambling through his own mind, trying to find something to say, some explanation of his feelings that was a little more dignified than simple alpha-male caveman jealousy. He'd never really felt that affronted by Diva's union with Riku. After all, that had been based on necessity, and more importantly, he had a pretty strong feeling that dying was the most memorable thing the scrawny virgin did during that sexual encounter. But James - he'd never known James to be a ladies man, but still... he was a well-built man, not to mention certain racial stereotypes that he couldn't quite disregard.

And at the same time, he was fully aware that he was being ridiculous.

"But - why James?" he finally managed, no particular tone of anger, simply bewildered curiosity.

Diva fell back in bed, sighing. "Because I trusted him. James may have been about as interesting as a bowl of ice water, but he was loyal, and I knew he'd never hurt me." She paused. "And frankly, because he was in the right place at the right time. I was lonely and bored and thinking about how I wished I could have made Riku mine, and wondering if it would feel as good..."

"Well," Solomon began awkwardly, "as you know, James and I didn't exactly get along."

She sighed again. "If you must know, it wasn't one tenth as fun as I'd expected it to be, so it only happened once. Poor thing was paralyzed with shock." She looked at Solomon and groaned. "And if it makes you feel any better, it probably would have been you if you'd been around. But by then I think you were already spending most of your time stalking Saya, at least in your mind." Her tone actually wasn't bitter, just vaguely grumpy.

That was somewhat gratifying to hear - that it hadn't been a crime of passion, just a crime of opportunity. That and the implication that he would have been her first choice. It was enough to drain some steam from his shock. While his mind was still full of questions that he knew better than to ask, he supposed he'd best at least pretend to let go of the petty, retroactive jealousy.

Diva suddenly started giggling. "You slept with my arch-rival, and I slept with yours." The laugh trailed off, and then transformed to a simple, smug grin. "and I slept with your enemy looong before you even caught sight of first base with mine!"

Without quite understanding why, he let out a self-effacing chuckle at the remark, conceding this odd victory to her.

Silence settled back in, as Solomon leaned back against his pillow. But before he had a chance to pull her close again, Diva appeared, hovering over him on all fours, with a smile that reminded him of their conversation about evil.

"What?" he asked, grinning.

The evil smile widened. "Time's up."

The fingers of morning sunlight fell through the window, glinting off the fresh spray of sweat coating the two naked bodies. They'd both been awake for a good half hour, but apparently hadn't been idle.

A fluffy, pale-gray cat sprang up onto the bed.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you to Sheba."

Diva pet the cat delightedly. "She's not afraid of me."

"Of course not. She's used to being around Chiropterans."

Once she'd tired of stroking the cat, Diva hopped up out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower; I'm all icky," she announced.

Solomon smiled wickedly. "Ah. I'll join you then."

"No!" she stated. "You'll just get me all icky again."

"Nonsense, I'll behave myself. At this point, I'm not entirely sure I have it in me anyway."

"I said NO!" she snapped, with a fierce glare.

Solomon sat back down on the bed.

"Besides," Diva added, a little less forceful, "I just need a quick rinse-off, I'll be out in five minutes."

As promised, Diva emerged from the shower a few minutes later, finding Solomon still relaxing in bed. She sat next to him.

He shifted, apparently reaching back under the pillow, and retracting a closed fist.

"Hmm? What could this be?" he asked, obviously full of shit.

Diva peered over at the object in his hand.

A gold ring with a bright blue gem in a rose-like setting.

"I overheard you admiring Saya's so I had a copy made."

She rolled the trinket around in her hand, not putting it on. "How did you manage that?"

"She let me borrow the original."

Diva snorted. "That must have been an awkward conversation."

Solomon gave a wry smile. "You have nooo idea."

Diva's eyes narrowed, along with her usual pensive frown. "What kind of ring is it?"

"You mean, what type of gem?"

"Not what I meant; it's pretty obviously a sapphire."

Solomon grinned mischievously.

Diva glared. "Please tell me it's a sapphire."

"It's a sapphire," he returned obediently.

"You're lying, you turd!"

"Just saying what you told me to say. But if you must know, it's a diamond."

Diva just looked irritated. "You want me to go around wearing an effing blue diamond? That's a little much, even in this snooty neighborhood!"

"It's not the first one I've bought for you. And besides, you can always tell them it's a sapphire, or made of glass." He chuckled. "Hell, tell them it came out of a Crackerjack box, for all I care."

"What the hell is a Crackerjack?"

He chuckled again. "Nothing important."

Diva looked pensive again. "Well, I wasn't asking about the jewel anyway. I want to know what it's for."

Solomon grinned, knowing perfectly well what she was really asking. "Well, traditionally rings are used to decorate the finger."

Diva rolled her eyes. "I mean, what's it for?"

He was still smiling. "It's whatever kind of ring you want it to be. It doesn't have to be an engagement ring yet, but eventually..."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said, wondering if that uncharacteristic display of patience came from truly understanding and respecting her desires, or if he might have actually learned something from his overzealous, and ultimately unsuccessful attempts to woo Saya.

Diva's tone turned sassy. "Because if you think I'm going to marry you straight out of high school, you'd better think again. This isn't the nineteen fifties. I'm not walking down any aisle until I'm done with college AND I'm a thousand percent sure that you're not going to be a bastard to me again."

"You really are going to make sure I don't forget about that, aren't you?" he chuckled light-heartedly. "What percentage am I at now?"

She pursed her lips, once again making her thoughtful frown. "I'd say around 50/50."

"Out of a thousand?" he asked mockingly.

"Shut up," she demanded, whacking him with a pillow and then laying back in bed.

Peaceful silence took hold again as she scooted closer to him, placing her cheek against the thin, almost translucent fuzz on his chest.

And then all of a sudden, the frown was back.

"What time is it?"

Solomon reached for his phone, checking the display. "Just about eight o'clock."

"And it's Monday," she murmured, her voice suddenly escalating into an outright shriek. "SCHOOL!"

Solomon chuckled. "Relax, I'm sure no one will mind if you're a little late."

"Think again!" she barked. "I already have seven tardies in first period! I'll get dropped from the class if I get another one!"

Solomon mentally assessed the situation.

Dropped from class = possible delayed graduation = longer to wait to make her fully mine.

Max tapped her pencil against her desk restlessly, as the teacher read the attendance list. Being the best friend of someone like Diva, perpetually scatterbrained and occasionally strangely clueless as to how schools operated, meant keeping track of her attendance as well. And Max knew that Diva was one cut away from being dropped.

"C'mon, c'mon..." she whispered through her teeth.

"Diva Otonashi," the teacher intoned. "Diva Otonashi?" he repeated, now more questioningly, as if to say going once, going twice...

Just then, the door flew open, slamming against the wall. The classroom was overtaken with an inexplicable breeze, and the doorway filled with the image of a relatively unruffled Diva, or at least unruffled in attitude. Her hair was quite a different story. It didn't look so much like she'd just rolled out of bed and into her clothes, so much as that she'd been attacked by a flock of rogue hair dryers.

The teacher just rolled his eyes, and made the appropriate mark on his records.

Max looked her friend over quizzically, and immediately typed a message with her computer.

Diva strolled across the classroom and to her desk, sat, and pulled her school computer out of her pack.

As soon as the device was fired up, a message from Max was waiting for her, dated only seconds ago.

"Looks like you've been for a ride in a convertible this morning ; ) I guess that means that he came to see you after all, and considering that he drove you to school, I guess it's safe to assume what happened ; )"

"How'd you guess?"

"He emailed me two days ago, asking if I thought you'd want to see him. I told him that you probably did, but that I couldn't guarantee that you wouldn't kick the living shit out of him anyway. I've been DYING for the past 24 hours, having to keep that a secret."

Diva suppressed a giggle, and responded, looking innocently at the teacher, as if she were just taking notes, like a good girl.

"Well, he didn't drive me here. We used other means of transportation," she typed cryptically.

Their attention was seized by the sudden exclamation of a classmate, pointing out the window, "What the hell is that?"

Before the teacher could protest, the entire class had left their seats and gathered beside the window.

"It looks like a shooting star," one commented.

"It's the middle of the day," another said.

"Maybe some weird sort of lightning?" yet another added. "At least it looks like it's headed away from us."

Diva made no response, save a tiny smile, and a discrete wave at the disappearing streak of light.

Didn't I say it was corny? Eh, a little fan-service never hurt anyone :)

There'll eventually be one more epilogue-ish chapter.

And pleeeeease take a moment to review!