Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You look better," I lie smoothly. She looks terrible, like an actress (who looks bad anyway) who has been plastered in wax and makeup in order to play a convincing corpse. I think of a short story I read when I was five or six. I picked it up by accident in the library because the cover looked interesting to me. Some woman with a skull-like face was dressed in torn rags and had bloody, ripped fingernails. She looked like that because she'd been buried alive and she'd clawed at the inside of her coffin. That's what Kiyomi looks like to me now. My mother tore the book out of my hands before I could finish the story, and I never did finish it – I never thought about it again until now – but I remember thinking that it was a sad romance of a brother and his sister. It was a few years until I realised that to marry your sister is wrong, but I suppose that I did it anyway. I married my sister, I'm in love with my brother and he twists around me like a strangling vine. We're all going to be buried alive because of the morbid, grotesque sexuality which pollutes my thoughts.

"Do you think?" she asks me, suddenly girl-like and stupid as she strokes her hair down shyly. She never used to be quite so easily flattered, but she must be starved of her expected level of attention, so she'll take anything she can get. She makes me feel sick then; sick and hypersensitive to the sight and sound of her, so I stand from the death watch chair and walk to the window to watch over the view below instead. Somewhere down there, hidden by fluffed up trees, L's waiting for me in his car. I have a lot to do today. I have to sack my chief of security, I have to replace him, I have to give a live radio interview, and I'm filled with a dark intent to gift something to L, or defy B, I'm not sure which. "I put makeup on," Kiyomi says, reminding me that she's still here.

"Oh. Well, even if it is fake, you look lovely."

"That's horrible," she growls, like an angry cat. It makes me smile down on the plague of people outside. Yes, slash and dig your claws right into me, you bitter woman.

"The truth is horrible. Like the truth is that you're an incubator."

"I know that," she snaps after barely a second's pause, so I wonder if she started answering before she'd heard my full summary of her or whether she heard it at all. Did I even say it? "But if that's true then it's your fault."

"Yes. I did do that, didn't I."

After a few moments of the heaviest silence, she brokenly begs me to come over to her. She asks me again when I don't immediately report for duty - having been distracted by some mild altercation over parking spaces in the hospital car park below - but I walk to her sullenly and sit on the bed for her to clasp my hand in hers like desperate lovers. "It's not fair."

"No. But you're doing well. I'm pleased with you," I tell her and kiss her cheek while my eyes remain open to look at the slow rising and dipping green line on the monitor behind her. She starts dripping kisses on my face until she suddenly freezes, and I know that she's looking at the line of my jaw and the suckling bloody mark left by L's mouth. I told him not to, but he was determined and we laughed about it afterwards, and there was no more than that at the side of a quiet road facing the lake. We're abnormal in our permanent storm of mauling each other, like the whole thing can't be sustained for long so we should try to pack a life into five minutes. My challenge for today, as set by my dream teacher, is to conceal it or prevent it from being noticed, but I've failed already. If Kiyomi asks me, I don't have an excuse, and I'm not sure if I want to think of one. The idea of being discovered fills me with a manic pride and urge to laugh instead what I'd anticipated, which was a peace of mind like the dying light of a late afternoon. I am learned simply through the passage of time. I've known opposition, victory, despair, hatred and love through walking the same path as one man. It's unbearable waiting. Ask me.

But she kisses the mark instead, so we will continue to live as strangers. The bruise under my skin and what it represents isn't there, not for her. Or do we have that kind of relationship where everything is understood and accepted as long as her place is secure as my little queen. Am I absolved?

She leans back on her pillows and reaches for a magazine from the table next to her, opening it up in front of my face – the only sign that her acceptance is reluctantly given and that nothing will be said unless I force the issue. I'm disappointed but unsurprised, and leave her to return to the window.

"I have a bill coming up," I say, already bored and frustrated enough with her fear and wilful ignorance. "I'm going to discuss it in a cabinet meeting this afternoon, I think."

"You think?"

"I'm not sure yet. Perhaps it's too early."

"Indecisiveness is just what this country needs."

Oh! A little cat scratch. I lean against the windowsill to watch her passive aggressiveness ooze from her as she reads the magazine.

"You think I'm indecisive?" I ask.

"Weak. My father never sat on bill proposals. It's why he had the reputation and respect that he had. He always had his thoughts together and was strong in his convictions, otherwise how are you going to get a bill through the House if you can't even look like you believe in it in front of your own cabinet? You can be too careful, Light."

She turns a page.

"Maybe that's why his bill proposals were so few and far between. And I sat in on meetings for his proposals, when he did have one, and he was a stammering, sweating mess, Kiyomi."

She looks at me with a dislike I'd never seen from her before, not even directed towards someone I knew she despised. She knows, despite her talk of convictions, that I'm telling the truth. Her father rode on a wave of pomp with nothing to back it up. Just because he died doesn't change that. No respect is due.

"How dare you."

"And they were pointless bills. Only backbenchers turned up to vote."

"Be quiet."

"The truth is horrible, isn't it? Maybe if he put more time and consideration into his bills and had convictions in the first place instead of a lot of money, then he would have been this glorious politician with the respect you think he had."

Smiling would be vulgar, but it's hard not to. I think that this might be the most intimate we've ever been, and she looks at me now like she might kill me if she had the means and strength to do it. It goes back to that night when she must have watched me speak about her father's tragic death on repeat on TV until it brainwashed her. He was an inspiration to me. No. No, that was a lie.

"Go back to your whore, Light," she says. "You... policeman's son." And I do laugh at that. Cross my arms and laugh like it's an aside in a barely funny film. She spits out her supposed insult without realising how stupid she sounds. I walk over to her slowly and her expression doesn't change, not even when I lean down towards her.

"Your bit of rough."

"Your child will be so ugly," she whispers with a curling, disgusted lip.

"He might be lucky," I smile as I move away from her. "He might look like me."

"Just go. I can't bear to look at you."

"I don't have the time anyway, as fun is this is. Is it worth me calling in later or can you really not bear to look at me? I am your husband after all."

"I might see you tomorrow."

"Oh! Well, I'll look forward to seeing if you'll bless me with an audience in your presence. By the way, I found a clinic for you out of the city. It's more secure. Have a nice day," I say, picking up my briefcase and coat. The hospital security are waiting for me outside to see me to L's car, and they jump to attention when I open the door.

"Light," Kiyomi says behind me. It's irritating to be beckoned back, but it's worth it just to close the door again on the guards' faces.

"Hmm?"

"After the baby's born, we'll go back to how we were, won't we?"

"I didn't know that anything had changed."

And I don't know how I fit all these things into my day.

L doesn't ask about Kiyomi and I don't speak about her. In fact, we don't really speak at all and part ways in the lobby, since I was cornered by one of my fraudulent fascists. And after an exhausting morning of strange moments and intense boredom, I call for a cabinet meeting. It's unusual, because the immediacy makes it sound like an emergency, which it isn't, but it makes the opposition nervous. It makes everyone nervous. If they knew the reason why it's been called then they'd be surprised. I want to give L a present before I get rid of his friend. He'll see it as a sign of my devotion and of things to come. We'll be kicking cameras and each other forever, and I'll be rewarded and have leverage against his impatience in the mean time. But as soon as I sent the memo, I wondered whether I was too hasty. I don't do things like this on the fly to get my Head of PR or anyone else. My intentions are not good, so maybe the bill isn't either. I live in sanity but my mind is full of ways to impress him like he's the only thing that matters. I don't even know why I'm doing this anymore, and I'm a few steps away from being like him, I can feel it. If I end up doing good things, it'll be by accident or because of the challenge, but I could back out now and he'd be none the wiser.

We're in Mihael's choice of bar and I know immediately that it's not politically correct for me to be here. Firstly, there are overtly Christian overtones in the décor. Secondly, there are women in bunny outfits being dragged around by suits who hold silk ribbons attached to the girls' necks. The fact that it's just after noon just makes me more concerned about the reputation of this place. I should be demanding that it's shut down, not drinking here. My (as of this morning) newly promoted bodyguard and chief of security – an unhappy man who's been unhappily married half of his life – sits several tables away from me and looks at the girls in distant longing for the different and temporary. These girls are made to be thrown away, like all pretty things. Is that what B said, or is it what I think?

The roof garden is secured off for us, because I'm important and the people I'm with are chosen. The chairs are backwards forwards, and I don't understand how they work exactly, but they spring you up and down when you move somehow as a result. An exposed roof garden is a place I rarely go because I always think that I'm just asking for a sniper to gun me down. I have a retraction typed out on my phone with a send button flashing, begging me to press it. Would I look weak and indecisive if I sent it?

"So, Shiori's like: 'Let's give it another go, Teru,' and I'm like: 'No, Shiori. I hate you. Let's not.' That's how it went," Mikami says, gulping down his glass of tonic water. I hope there's some gin in it, otherwise Naomi's well and truly got the better of him. No, officially my stance is that there should not be gin in it because it's a work day and it's before six.

"I love mediation because it's ridiculous. Like talking will solve anything. Talking too much was probably what broke down the marriage in the first place," L sighs, lounging back in his chair with his eyes closed as he slips his shoes off. Yes, why not? Because that's not strange at all. This whole place is strange and L's only adding to it. There's also a religious statue or two behind us, which I'm not terribly happy about. I look past him to the view of the upper levels of Tokyo high-rises until he opens one eye at me, then rocks in his chair so it bounces and he laughs. Please, I'm not that childish, you weird fuck. I turn away back to Mikami and Touta, who are only slightly more socially acceptable, and L must look at Mihael, who mimics him until they both laugh. L's chair squeaks next to me and he's really stupid, but I can't stop smiling because he is so stupid, and he's still laughing when he addresses Mikami. "Strange how, after so many years of separation, that your wife decided that you might yet be able to save your marriage after you got back into politics as the Prime Minister's aide, Mikami." Good point.

"Hmmm... I thought the same thing," Mikami agrees. "Hey, have you heard about Finance shagging some journalist from the paper?"

"God, not another one," I sigh. I push my hair back in desperation of being outwardly responsible for what is essentially a band of pubescent children, and my scalp actually hurts. My headache is spreading and becoming a new disease. Why didn't I go into the police force like I was going to? Oh. I remember – the uniforms.

"Which paper?" L asks him.

"Oh, I don't know, they're all the same. Photographed shagging in a field yesterday afternoon."

"In a field?"

"Mmmm. Maize. And with her kid in the car too."

"Oh there's another fucked up individual for the future then. Book the therapist now, I reckon. Sex in a field, eh? I hope they put down a ground sheet first. That's contamination of the nation's food stocks, isn't it?" he asks me in all seriousness, but it's difficult to tell since his face is doing that nondescript thing it does.

"I don't know, do I? My Head of Agriculture is probably fucking in a field himself. Why didn't you know about this?"

"I did," he says. "I let it go. I didn't know about the field, but I knew he was screwing someone or other. I heard whispers. And I couldn't have stopped the papers making the most of a homegrown story anyway. They'll sell out their own. It's wonderful, even if it is a little contrived"

"How am I supposed to give the impression of eradicating sleaze if people won't stop being sleazy?"

"Hmmmm," he nods. "Terrible."

"Well, I'm glad that you didn't stop it, Lawliet," Mikami slurs. That really is gin, isn't it? Fucker. "The photos went well with my morning coffee."

"I was stuck on the story about the suicidal man who was saved from drowning by a group of vagrants on methylated spirits," L says, and I sigh again to be reminded of it.

"I didn't want that story out either."

"Why? Was it too heartwarming for you? I didn't know that you expected me to perform a veto on every news story, regardless of whether it's a political issue or not."

"Vagrancy is a political issue," I tell him. And methylated spirits. And suicide. I'm not sure what isn't a political issue, really.

"You should have seen the back on him," Mikami gasps, like he's just remembered the horror. "I remember it from the sauna. Do you remember, Yagami? His back?"

"Yes, I thought he was wearing a fur coat."

"You've been in a sauna?" L asks me, but Mikami continues before I can answer and paint a nice picture in L's head of me in a towel with a lot of men. Sweating.

"And he was all over this journalist woman. She was holding onto his back hair for grim death."

"Listen, Mikami, I don't want to hear this filth," L says. "Not with the Virgin Mary standing behind me and me in a state of fucking grace. Oooh, hello, what's this?" he veers off suddenly, having seen a man carrying a tray and wearing nothing but rabbit ears and a pair of black shorts with a piece of cotton wool stuck to his backside. Apart from that, his tan is offensive to the eyes. What the fuck am I doing here?

"He's a boy bunny," Touta explains.

"They have boy bunnies here?" L asks. "Excellent. I'll have to come here more often." Yes, do that and I'll cut your bollocks off and feed them to you. He has the absolute worst taste, apart from me of course. I feel so insulted. That rabbit has no style or class.

"Thanks, by the way, Lawliet. Major thanks. I owe you a drink or several one night," Mikami says between swigs of his current drink.

"Oh, it was nothing," L says, waving his hand in irritation and to shoo the reference away like it's a pestering wasp.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Lawliet stopped a story about Naomi and me. Jeevas, y'know," Mikami explains. Oh! Now that really does surprise me. I wonder if Mikami paid him to do that. "It's great when other people are in the papers, but not so funny when you're in them yourself. I don't know why Naomi married Jeevas in the first place, because he was totally not her type. I'm her type."

"An ex-junkie who gets himself sacked?" L clarifies. "Sounds a lot like Jeevas, only he was less of an ex and he had the sense to die before he was sacked."

"I resigned. And you, my friend, have lost yourself a drink."

"I just seem to remember you being sacked before you resigned, since I was in the room and all and I wrote your resignation letter and statement. The Lady was very disappointed."

Mikami coughs on his drink, which I am now convinced is mostly gin. "Yes, well, The Lady's no lady anymore, is she? The bitch is dead, long live Yagami."

"And thank God for divorce courts," I say, distracted by how square my knee looks when it's folded over the other.

Touta's eyes become large with shock and I feel absolutely nothing. "Really, Light?"

"Mmmm..." Mikami sounds out smoothly. "I agree, but don't tell Naomi."

"What would you say, Light, if someone married for distinctly dishonest and self-serving reasons, such as... for their career, say? Their image," L asks me slyly. "But they're actually in love with someone less photogenic and possibly of the wrong se -"

"I wouldn't know, Lawliet."

"What the hell is with the Lawliet?"

"It's your name," I say. It's also a warning. Don't fuck with me, dearest. "But I don't know what you're talking about. I think you need a good prosecution case to expel all this frustration you obviously have, instead of using me as some pointless, speculative crash dummy. I don't comment on personal intrigues, hypothetical or otherwise."

"No, you wouldn't, of course. The Prime Minister is not available for comment. And this, gentlemen, is a man who loves humanity but not human beings. I feel some... affiliation with that, if that is the case. Perhaps we have a man here who doesn't believe in love, or at least is very dubious of it. He thinks of it only as a story. Then again, I could be deliberately antagonising you all for the sake of conversation, because as it is, it's incredibly boring."

"You're certainly succeeding if that's your goal, L."

"But you haven't affirmed or denied my statement. I find that interesting."

"Oh? Well, as Prime Minister, it wouldn't look very good if I affirmed it, would it? What kind of person would that make me?"

"A very bad one. Or a very reasonable, logical, inhuman one. But please answer my question. You're in a safe place, surrounded by your loyal subjects, and whatever you say will be taken on as our own beliefs, since you're our lord and saviour. But I reserve the right to think that you're lying if you start preaching on the virtues of love. That would be the Prime Minister talking and not you. Don't make me lose respect for you."

"I don't have any choice then, do I? No, I don't believe in love," I smile cooly with a rod of iron up my spine. My eyes narrow like his as I follow the line from his neck to the sharply jutting angle of his jaw as he sits unsurprised but amused. I realise then that I don't know if I do believe what I say or not. It seems like too much of a despicably stupid excuse for what my gut tells me is more of a merging of souls, which also seems ridiculous now that I think about it. Broken down, it's really a romanticised way of describing someone that you like having sex with and who doesn't make you want to shoot them every time they talk to you. The people of the world can be split into two groups: people you'd sleep with, and people you'd like to see hit by a train. In reality, there's more of the latter. L is an exception, I admit. But then, I have wanted to shoot him and throw him in front of trains several times over the years, and more besides. Sometimes I imagine a fishing hook in his throat. The thin and shining mental curves just under the skin with so little blood, but if I pulled it, it would pull his whole throat out with it. There'd be a gurgling spray of blood for a few beautiful seconds, then I'd wish that I hadn't done it.

I suppose that I'm still adjusting to this strange desire for oneness, completely against my will. That people actually search for it is something I'll never understand. I don't think that it can be defined in a hundred books, but I might look up in the dictionary later.

"Light!" Touta exclaims. Yes, his horror rocks him like a earthquake. Not for the first time, I'm thankful for this cage of thoughts that I have, but sometimes I want to verbalise every thought and let them fly just to see how many stopped hearts it would cause.

"Ha! Light, you're such a liar," L says to me. "I see right through you and you're no carte blanche anymore. But you let it change you, and that's unforgivable. Whoever's responsible should be punished."

I think he mouths 'I love you' to me, but he couldn't have, because he's not even looking at me anymore. I must have imagined it. Fuck B. B stands for Bastard.

Mikami sets his glass on the table and asks me a question which is infested with no interest. "And how is Kiyomi, Yagami?"

"Bulbous is the word." Ooops. I shouldn't have said that.

"Light!"

"Yes, Touta, that's my name."

"Do you know what it is yet?" Mikami says, wiping his nose. "The baby, I mean."

"It's a baby, I'd imagine," L snipes. He'd like to pretend that Kiyomi's carrying a handbag instead. I would too most of time, though it has been useful politically.

"A boy," I answer before I drink my bitter lime. Choosing a tonic water with such a strong quinine content is very hedonistic of me, I feel. I'm really taking my life in my hands.

"Wow! Light!"

"Touta, you've used up all your Lights for today."

"But why haven't you told us?" he asks me. "Soichiro and Sachiko haven't said anything. Shit, Sayu's going to be disappointed. She wanted you to have a girl."

"A boy, eh? Congratulations, Yagami. Two girls in one house would be like, the worst," Mikami sighs.

"Yes. I remember having two women in the house, and though they were outumbered by bastards all, it was still a very inconvenient and temperamental atmosphere. Congratulations, Light. An heir and not an heiress," L says moodily. He lies back again, closes his eyes and thinks of England, presumably.

"Thanks," I grumble back, just as moodily.

"Any ideas on names yet?" Touta asks.

"Kiyomi wanted Rei, after her father, but no."

"A Rei of Light would be the headline," L laughs.

"Yes."

"Oh, I like that," Touta sighs.

"You would, because it's completely idiotic," L says, smirking at Mihael like it's a private joke between them and they're fucking comrades. I wish Mihael would cut his hair and try to look less like he's just stepped off the set of a bondage porno. I also wish he'd contribute more than sucking the chocolate off a Pocky and shoving the unwanted sticks into the grill of the table, but most of all I wish he'd disappear because his presence always makes L very outspoken in company. "Funny how you all have these half-lives outside of this place. I don't have anything like that."

I look at him in confusion and wonder if I imagined that he said that or not. Half a life? 'Both of us are half a person, half a life.'

"Not half-lives, Lawliet," Touta tells him kindly, like he's explaining a complicated theory in as simple a way as possible. "That's life. Work is just something we do."

"Oh. My mistake,"

"Not joking, guys, but life is hard fucking work, isn't it? Partners and stuff. All this 'No sex for you, I'm fucking angry about I don't know what, but you never do anything around the house' shit. Did Naomi do that with you, Yagami?" Mikami asks me, suddenly interested.

"We didn't really have that kind of relationship," I answer. No, we really didn't and for that exact reason. Her wide eyes and bouts of crying would become grating after a while, but in small doses it was like she was crying for the world, and that was very appealing. Plus, Jeevas was around then. Mmmmm... Jeevas. He was party to one of the greatest fucks of my life. When I think of him now, I think of grey smudges of powdered bone on L's white thighs.

"Oh. Just sex, right? See, that's where I went wrong. Hey, you know when you two were on, did she ever do this thing where she -"

"This isn't appropriate, Mikami."

"Right, right," he agrees with me, but he can't contain himself. "She has a photo of you and Penber on the wall. In her bedroom. I wake up and I see you and a dead guy every morning, and you both fucked her and I feel like you're judging me. Like, 'That was a poor performance, Mikami.' You know what I mean?"

"Anyway, to Baby Yagami!" Touta interrupts, and not a moment too soon. "Kanpai!"

I have to explain why I'm not raising my glass with Mikami and Touta. Mihael looks like he's asleep now and L doesn't need to explain why he's not celebrating the gestation of any baby because he's a bastard, but I would be expected to explain myself since it's my baby after all. I want to do it in as few words as possible. I settle upon: "Let's not. It's not born yet."

"What time's the meeting then?" Mikami asks, looking at his watch. Oh, shit, no. I need more time! Touta turns to me with a slightly concerned, unsure look on his face.

"Two o'clock, isn't it, Light?"

Oh, I don't need this. I can feel L glaring at me already, because he doesn't know about the meeting since I purposefully didn't send him the memo. It was a way of creating a escape route in case I did change my mind, and I have. I could have cancelled the meeting and he'd never know, but now Mikami and Touta have blown it. "Does anyone actually have a diary in this place or do you just turn up whenever and hope for the best?"

"So it's at two then?"

"Yes. It's at two, Touta."

"I have a feeling that I'm going to get very upset in a second," L grumbles beside me. "What's this meeting?"

"Light's called a cabinet meeting at two," Touta says excitedly. How he could get excited I don't know, because he's not invited. He's only a civil servant.

"We know it's at two now, Matsuda," Mikami tells him,

"A cabinet meeting?" L tries to clarify, directing his question at Touta because he's the most likely to answer without L having to resort to cross-examination. Oh God. "A sort of sirens blaring, emergency sort of cabinet meeting?"

"Bill proposal, I think. Got the memo somewhere. Didn't you get the memo?"

"A bill proposal?" L repeats. "There are a lot of memos I don't get, I think." He slumps back in the chair with his arms crossed, so I reach for my drink because I'm going to need it, but I wish there was gin in it.

"I thought you'd be there, but I guess PR isn't that important," Touta says cheerfully. If it wasn't him saying it then it would sound sarcastic, but he really doesn't think that PR is very important. L usually finds it funny, but not right now. I'm going to have to pull a good excuse out of the bag here and avoid the truth at all costs.

"Ha! No, not important, no hahahahahahahaha," L laughs in a manic and forced way, stopping abruptly to glare at me again.

"I think I'll... um… get some lunch," I tell them as I stand. Yes, I'm going to run away, but I'm stuck to the spot. I should take L to one side and lie profusely to get myself out of this shit. My guard stood when I did and now looks very stupid a few tables away, staring at me like he fell in love at first sight.

"Stuff your face, Light. Fill your boots," L says in clipped tones.

"It's just a meeting, Lawliet," Mikami tells him. Touta also joins in with the consoling of L.

"Yeah, I'm sure you can drop in, if you really want to."

"Oh, yes. That'd be lovely," he agrees. "I'd love to see how this whole politics thing works because it's completely mystifying to me."

"It is to me too sometimes, but it gets easier," Touta confesses. Despite having known L for nearly five years, Touta still is oblivious to L's sarcasm and doesn't spot signs which are as big and bright and easy to spot as a toxic waste warning. L looks at him in silence for a long moment, and we all look like we're a film on pause.

"Did someone drop you on the head when you were a baby?" L asks him. Matuda looks very offended, unsurprisingly, although I've often considered that possibility, myself.

"L's been to a lot of cabinet meetings, Touta," I say.

"I've been to a lot of cabinet meetings and a lot of disciplinaries," L continues sulkily. "I think I know everything there is to know about politics, and most of it is excrement and putrefaction, Matsuda."

"Putrefaction?"

"Yes, and conniving, backstabbing, lying, secretive, patronising, demanding, bent as a nine bob note politicians."

"Bent as a what?"

"A nine bob note. They're very bent. One in particular."

"Thank you, L, but I think that's enough from you and your charming colloquialisms," I say hurriedly. "Do you want to help me get another round of drinks?"

"He's so bent, Uri Geller would have a job straightening him out," he tells Touta.

"Who's Uri -"

"You couldn't straighten him out with a sledgehammer and an anvil. You could run him over and he'll just spring back, bent as anything."

"Who?"

"Him," L says, pointing at me.

"You can't say that about Light. He's our Prime Minister."

"Gracious, I forgot. I hope he doesn't give me another disciplinary because of my terrible behaviour which is pointing out the fucking obvious!" he shouts. I can't avoid this because he'll find me eventually even if I do run away now, and if I run away, it'll just make the situation worse. I have a right to have a meeting without him being notified. It's not essential that he should be there, but I wouldn't want to try to tell him that. I attempt to look as calm as possible as I confront the issue and sit down again.

"L, I did mean to tell you. Obviously you're invited."

"Oh, well, thank you, but I suspect that you were going to tell me about the meeting after the meeting, that is if you were going to tell me at all. And that, I have to tell you, Light, is what I a hundred percent think. It's a fact. But, no, PR isn't important. I'm just here for scenery and to make up the numbers, so it's not important that I know about this emergency cabinet meeting which will probably be mentioned to the press because, as we've established, since I'm Press Relations, I'm not important. Thank you, Matsuda!"

"I think I'm going to get some... crêpes," Mikami says awkwardly. He throws some notes on the table as he stands up, and he's a fucking coward.

"I'd love a crêpe but I'm not important enough," L sulks.

"I'll get you a crêpe, Lawliet."

"No, really, crêpes are for important people."

Mikami drags Touta away with him and salutes me as they leave. Mihael's still asleep, but I think this might be one of those empty and guarded bathroom conversations L and I should have which ends with me going down on him.

"What's so funny?" L asks me, and it's then that I realise that I'm sniggering to myself.

"You."

"Fuck off. And to think I played camera football with you this morning. I really regret not biting your tongue off."

"It's a bill."

"I'm not paying your bill, you can forget it."

"No, the meeting is about a bill."

"Yes, a bill, so I've heard, but you haven't told me about it."

"It was supposed to be a surprise, but I see that wasn't a good idea now."

"I knew you were up to something! When you kept saying that you had to work, you were actually working, weren't you?!"

"I do work, you know."

"No you don't!"

"I do, L."

"This is news to me. All Prime Ministers do is waltz around and visit places and talk about fuck all. What's this bill then?"

"It's for you. I'm running it past the party first but then it'll go through the House and you'll know how serious I am."

"Oh, your swan song?" he asks, immediately soppy as a sponge in a bucket of water. That was easy, but now I'll have to go through with this meeting.

"Penultimate, yes," I say.

"You should have told me. We could have had sex," he says softly. God, I hope that Mihael really is asleep.

"I only decided this morning, but there is payment due on your account now, Mr Lawliet. No, I didn't want you to know until the meeting. I was going to tell you about it myself, not through a memo. And you won't like the bill and you'll tell me that I'm stupid and I wanted to avoid that."

"I wouldn't tell you that you were stupid. Is it lofty?"

"You might think so."

"Perfect. The loftier, the better. The bill might be stupid but I don't care, Light."

"I know. And you are important. We're the most important people in the world. Just us."

"Just us," he repeats after me. "Oh, you're very gifted. You made me go from wanting to kill to wanting to kiss you within two minutes. That's unheard of."

"You can kill in more ways than one."

"Mmm. You didn't mention that Kiyomi's having a boy."

"It's a spoiler, isn't it? And it doesn't matter."

"You know, I find your aforementioned lack of humanity to be infinitely attractive."

"A lack of humanity is not my problem. Stop looking at me like that."

"I know, it's awful. And poor Stephen crying himself to sleep."

"He won't say anything will he?"

"I very much doubt it. He wouldn't want me on his bad side. Besides, he's the kind who likes proof and I think, with our talents, that we can prevent him from finding proof. Light, I was thinking. Perhaps it would be a good idea if I spoke to him. Properly, I mean."

"Keep him hanging on, you mean," I say. I must sound angry and hurt and jealous and a lot of other things by the suggestion, because I can't be seen to approve of it, but I was thinking earlier that it would be a good idea if L was to find anything out of the investigation. Stephen's out of the way now, which is perfect, but if L could keep him thinking that there's a tiny hope of a reconciliation in return for honesty, then he might suddenly find that he knows more about Wedy than he thought he did. Desperation makes people do stupid things.

"No, but it might be a good idea. Maybe I could convince him that if he joined the CIA again..." Oh, L. Your mind is only a step behind mine.

"Do you really think he would?" I ask innocently.

"He left because I asked him to. Can't have an employee of the government fraternising with the CIA, can we? I'm sure I could make him retract his resignation and find something out about Wedy. They were very sorry to see him go."

"As long as it doesn't interfere with anything. Things are complicated enough as they are."

"I agree. Don't tell me that you don't love it though."

"A potential murder charge? Yes. I love it."

"But isn't it exciting, Light?"

"A little bit, maybe."

"Did you do it?" he whispers with bated breath. We should go to the bathroom and lock the door.

"What?"

"Did you kill her?"

"Mr Lawliet, I'm surprised at you. And we have no time for any of that. I have to change my suit for something more sombre."

"Nnnn... Well, give me this bill then," he says, leering at me. I reason that this is acceptable because he's a known lech to the point of ridicule and that even I, the Prime Minister and a slightly personal friend, am not off-limits. My marriage protects me from everything, but I lean away from him anyway in case anyone does see, but I don't think he takes offence. He slaps Mihael on his stomach then, actually very near his dick. What the fuck is that about? "Wake up, blondie."

"Go away," Mihael groans, muddled with sleep.

"We miss your exciting conversation."

"Funny," he says, closing his eyes again. "It was your exciting conversation which made me go to sleep. What time is it?"

"One."

"Wake me at twenty five past."

"Hard night?" L asks, looking at him in a similar way to how my mother looks at me. You'd think that he'd adopted him or something.

"I prefer to sleep during the day."

"As you can imagine," L says, turning back to me, "he makes a wonderful, hard-working PA."

"I think that we better go, actually. There's too much exploitation here."

"I thought that you liked exploitation, Light. Well, I like it here. It's like a biblical place which is going to feel the wrath of God soon."

"Oh, L," Mihael says unexpectedly, "you left your phone at the office. Your friend called. The weird one."

"That's not very specific."

"I left a memo on your desk."

"Ok, but who was it?"

"I can't remember! I wrote a fucking memo, L, I'm not your secretary!" Mihael spits at him, sounding very awake now. Shame.

"God, Mihael. You're my personal assistant but you don't assist me at all. All you do is strut around, which I have to admit was entertaining for the first couple of days, but now you have to do some hard work, son. Anyway, you shouldn't answer my phone."

"Hold on, you just said that I should have remembered the message, so you must have been ok with me answering the phone, but now you're saying that I shouldn't have answered your phone?"

"I'm saying that you shouldn't have answered my personal phone, but you did because you're a nosey shit. It wasn't interesting enough for you, so you forget the message. What use are you to me?"

"Why don't you remember your phone and take your own messages?"

"It's my prerogative if I remember my phone or not. My whole family could have died. I'd like to know. It would really cheer me up."

"I think I'd remember the message if your family had died, L," Mihael says condescendingly, tilting his head to one side and sitting up for whatever scuffle they're having.

"Don't talk back to me!"

"I'll fucking well talk back to you, you self-important twat."

"At least I'm not wearing a coat made of cats," L says. It's a very good point. Mihael's coat reminds me of a well-groomed Siamese.

"It's not made of cat. What cats have you seen that look like this coat?"

"Wild ones. You could go to prison for that. They're endangered and protected by law."

"It's not made of a fucking wild cat. You're stupid."

"I'm getting another drink," I say, but no hears me, or at least, they don't let on that they did or that it matters.

"That's it. You're fired," L tells him.

"Fuck you, I quit."

"You can't quit. I fired you first, you idiot blond. Has the bleach seeped into your..."

I make my way back inside, and my guard catches up with me to lift the roped barrier at the entrance of the roof garden to allow me to pass. People actually part like the proverbial sea as I walk towards the bar. That might have something to do with them knowing who I am, though I doubt it. None of them look like the kind of people who watch the news or know how to read. It might be because I had an exfoliating facial last week, or it might be because of the large monolith of a man with a gun behind me. Either way, I'm practically there when the crowd move aside to confront me with two people having sex on top of bar. I don't think this is right at all, considering the time of day, and I will voice my official disapproval by ignoring it completely. My guard doesn't take the initiative to break it up, and I'm not sure that he could from the look of things, so he ignores it too. Everyone ignores it, so I suppose that it must happen all the time. Looking at the fuckathon out of the corner of my eye, the woman looks a bit like Kiyomi and the man looks a bit like L, but I can't see that clearly and I can't make it obvious that I'm looking. As my drink arrives, the woman's leg extends suddenly and the heel of her shoe knocks my glass over, so I have to wait again until I can get out of this situation. I will close this place down after my meeting. The cuff of my jacket is soaking wet.

So I get my drink and walk back to the roof garden, looking and feeling as unaffected as possible. It reminds me of when I was an aide in Culture and then a deputy in Transport and therefore didn't matter, when I'd see that kind of thing all the time. I remember once when, back in the day, I went to a party. It was house party but it was in a really big house. We had to wear masks, so it was one of those parties. I wore a skull mask; a white skull. L was an abstract crow or something. He saw me just as I saw him and we knew. Couldn't see each other's faces, but we knew. That was a good night. Anyway, he didn't know that I was going to be there and I didn't know that he was going, so we were strangers. Only we knew. Point is, if I wasn't there, he would have found someone else. Someone less. He'd go with anything because he's just like B said. B. I wish I could tell him this now. At least I always had a reason, like with L for example. I did him because he promised me press, but I didn't know what I was getting into. I suppose that happens. But him, God. If I saw B now, I'd tell him that even if he wore a mask and L didn't know it was him, he still wouldn't pick him. That's B's tragedy. I imagine that it must be painful to be in love with someone for nearly thirty years and for them never to see you in the way you want to be seen. We all have to stay within our groups though, don't we? Our tiers of perfection. L outranks B, and I outrank L and everyone else, but when you get to my level you have to lower yourself sometimes. B knows it. He hates him for it and hates me too. He hates that L's never looked at him apart from one time when he was drunk. Ha. I don't think that'll ever stop being funny to me.

I get back to the table and I'm surprised that Mihael and L aren't tearing each other's hair out or signing termination of employment contracts. In fact, they both look very peaceful and upper class in their loungers, if you could disregard Mihael's clothing. Perhaps they look more like a wealthy client and his rentboy. I sit back down in the middle of L relating some tale of deep profundity.

"... so I said that was very nice, but I'm not really into kinbaku. I do know how to do a sheepshank knot but I hadn't done that since the Scouts."

"I'm not sure how I'd feel about being tied up," Mihael comments. This day is full of surprises. I thought he'd be a dab hand at that shit.

"Well, yes. Quite. I had my wrists tied once, but it was more of an accident. My hands got caught in the man's hair," L informs him. "You have to trust the person tying you up, that's the problem. You look like the trustworthy sort, apart from when you have to take messages."

"I said that I'd left you a fucking message. What would you prefer me to do? Tattoo it on my hand?"

"Yes, Mihael. Tattoo my messages on your hand and wear your leather and your dead cat and buy an old Guns and Roses t-shirt so you can look like even more of a hipster cunt."

"Arrrr -"

"I want to go," I say so L notices that I'm there. If I expected a look of love and relief that I've returned then I would be disappointed.

"Why? Where have you been? Why didn't you get us a drink?"

"You were fighting."

"No we weren't," L says.

"People are fucking on the bar. We have to go," I mutter calmly like a Soviet spy. I'll call in the rest of security and have everyone's phones taken and checked for damaging images of me near anything sexual. I'll be smuggled out the back and deny everything. I'll have L wrangle a complete media blackout and I'll close this place down.

"Wha!?" Mihael screeches and rushes off before I have a chance to answer. He returns quickly but slouching and tell me that no one's having sex on the bar and that it's mean to get someone's expectations up like that.

"Well, they were. Just now," I say. Mihael scoffs and L just stares at me. He doesn't believe me, and what's worse is that he looks worried like he did this morning. He thinks I'm mad. "They were, L," I say again, sounding like I'm pleading.

"I believe you," he says, totally unconvincingly.

"I have to go. There must be another way out of here that we can - oooofff!"

I'm nearly knocked off my feet as I stand up, and I realise that some stupid bitch in a bunny outfit has walked into me. This could not get worse, but then L starts shouting at the bunny.

"Hey, watch it, sweetheart. Bump into your own bloke."

"What's your problem?" some enormous suit asks him. He towers over L and me with violence dripping from every pore, and I didn't think they made suits that large. I don't think the vertical stripes are creating any illusion. "Don't speak to my rabbit like that!"

"You can fuck off too," L says. "Her sense of balance is shit."

"Lawliet?" the suit asks him. What?

"Oh, fuck, it's you."

"Pretty boys you've got here. Had the trip wires out near the public toilets again, have we?"

"Excuse me, he's the Prime Minister!" L says, horrified, though probably not on my behalf. I'm not a pretty boy! I'm handsome. Devastatingly so, according to SakuraTV, but who listens to those twats? "How do you not know who the Prime Minister of the country is?"

"TV's on the blink. Well, whatever. Just tell him to mind my rabbit, yeah?"

"Don't side with a rabbit with fucked equilibrium over your Prime Minister. You've probably only just groped her. She's walking into people all over the place like she's in a pinball machine. She's probably off her tits."

"Let's go," I tell L quietly. The last thing I need is more attention drawn to myself, and now L's just told some massive idiot with a rabbit exactly who I am. I might as well do a live conference about sexism from here with women in bunny suits hand feeding me wine and grapes.

"I'm not off my tits! I've only had one drink," the rabbit argues in an incredibly high-pitched voice which reminds me of Misa just before she started crying, and L turns on her as well.

"Then you should watch where you're fucking well going. He could sue you for grievous bodily harm and for being drunk and disorderly."

Oh no, this is getting out of control. Why can't he shut up? Where's my guard? He's nowhere to be seen! "I'm not going to sue any -"

"I didn't even touch him!" the rabbit shouts.

"Maybe, but you did touch him."

"See you at the office!" Mihael calls over as he leaves like another coward.

"Are you saying that she was after him?" the suit asks L. My God, he's a big man.

"That's your conclusion based on a gut instinct and I think that you should take notice of it and not put your cock anywhere near this rabbit without double bagging. I also think that she might need a CT scan."

"Fucking queers. Let's go," the suit says to the rabbit.

"You always were a dick, Kirino," L tells him. "No wonder that your firm is... what? Slipping in reputation, shall we say? I want your full name and address so I can sue you too. Both of you. Do you have latent sexual issues you haven't dealt with yet?"

"Why do you have to threaten someone with court action everywhere we go?" I ask L.

"I'm sorry that I bumped into you," the bunny says to me.

"It's ok."

"I like your suit. It's very business-like."

"Thanks. I... like your bunny outfit," I reply, struggling for something to throw back.

"You don't think the corset's a bit too much?" she asks, heaving it back up with a hefty tug. "It's the uniform but, I don't know about it."

"No, it's very Playboy."

"Do you think?!"

"Yeah, it's nice. I like your tail."

"Thanks! Would you like a drink and a blow?"

"Ok, we're going now," L says.

"Yeah, so are we," the suit agrees, dragging the rabbit off.

"What are you doing chatting up a rabbit?" L asks me.

"I wasn't."

"You don't even realise you're doing it, do you?"

"I think she meant a line when she said blow."

"No, she didn't. Would you have let that rabbit blow you?"

"No!"

"Because you're married. You've got one of them."

"I know."

"And she's got your spawn in her oven. Why are you so greedy?"

"I'm not!"

"You complimented her tail."

"I was only being nice."

"Agh!" he growls like a pirate while he picks up his coat from the arm of his chair.

"I was not chatting up a rabbit. Let's go."

"You like her fucking tail," he says, tossing some notes of the table. "You're such a slut. I mean, I was right there!"

"Shut up, L."

"As your PR man I have to warn you against chatting up rabbits or anything else. I don't know why I'm surprised. The morning after I met you, I asked you how you wanted your eggs and you said 'fertilised.' Then you said 'legs over easy.' I mean, what was I thinking? You're a degenerate."

"Heh. Yeah, that was funny."

"It wasn't funny. You have a mouth like a docker. I was a nice man before I met you."

"Pffff..."

"I was. Everyone thought so. I used to go to church and wear velvet blazers."

"God, stop it."

"Why?"

"Well, the idea is stupid, but I like velvet anyway. Velvet and churches and you," I sigh just before my guard reaches us. Then we say nothing as he guides us out of the building through the kitchens and out onto a back street. Obviously we can't possibly find our way out of a building ourselves. My car's waiting and we sit in the back, with L passing notes to me about something completely different to what he's talking about, which is more political in nature. It's too late to cancel the meeting now.

I went through the motions of preparing for the meeting and thought of suddenly feeling ill. I've never been ill enough to miss even the most uneventful day of work, apart from when my face looked like a cherry flan, but perhaps today is that day. The clock ticks on the wall and becomes the loudest, most obnoxious sound in the world, and I think that maybe what should happen will pass me by untouched. I'll blink and it'll be six o'clock and I can get into L's car and leave all these fuckers to rot.

But I hear the door to my office open and my eyes flash towards the sound, but I stay still apart from that, standing in front of the window and the permanently stained grey skies.

"If you have any phlegm in your throat please cough it up now," L's voice tells me. Of course he's thrilled with expectation. His ego is probably doing cartwheels. "Why aren't you wearing your jacket? You're in there in five minutes."

"I think I might postpone," I say dully. He understands me and is silent for a moment, but decides to wrench a confession out of me anyway.

"Why? You've never postponed."

"I don't think it's ready."

"It's not a cake, Light."

"I have a headache."

"Have a painkiller," he suggests, sounding more bitter and cold with every word he says. He stands in front of me now, and instead of skies, I see the grey of his jacket, a pure white shirt, a starched collar, a slicing blue tie, the movement of his throat when he speaks.

"I'm not happy with it. The bill."

"You mean because you have two wishes left and you want to make sure that they're good ones?"

"No. Well, yes."

"If you cancel this, I'll be very angry," he says slowly.

"I'm not cancelling it, I want to postpone. I need to rewrite my speech and look over the proposal again -"

"Rewrite it? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing."

"Then it's the bill you want to postpone and not your speech."

"No. I... There are a few things I want to double check. Get some other opinions."

"When have you ever wanted someone else's opinion?"

"I need expert opinions to back it up, L. It's important."

"Is it now?" he whispers, more like a hiss of air. He steps closer towards me and for moment I think that he'll just give me this grace of time, even though I know that he won't. I know and he knows and we speak and dance around my excuses until he boxes me in. And now he's so close to me that I think he might just hold me and say that it's ok, he trusts me, I just need more time, I've had a hard day; but he doesn't. I should expect some violence and I'm not shocked when it comes. He squeezes my balls hard through my trousers suddenly and I fall towards him, my hand instinctively grips his arm and my forehead rests on his shoulder, saving me from falling. And he stands completely straight, holding me up and controlling me with a firm hand.

I'm so furious and it simmers, masked by nature telling me to let him do it, let him carry on, hope that he carries on. This is an ideal relationship because it doesn't involve Interflora. It's not bored contentment like with Kiyomi, it's this brutality and fierceness; love and hate sharing a house. But he doesn't do anything more, just holds the pressure there while he speaks clearly and low and as firmly as his hand forces pain and longing and sharp, stuttering breaths from me

"I didn't watch you come all this way for so long for you to fuck it up now. You're going to go in there and give me what you promised me."

I don't answer, because I can't bring myself to take it what he's saying. I hear him speaking but I can't hear an order, I just hear a his voice and the heaving sound of air leaving my lungs. That I don't answer makes him squeeze harder and I grunt against his shoulder and bite my teeth together.

"Light."

"Y...es"

"Don't be frightened. You lead, they follow. Don't be frightened."

"I'm... not."

"Good," he says, and lets me go to put that same cruel hand on my face to smooth his thumb across my chin. "You don't hear me sometimes. Don't overthink it, because you've made the decision already. Just do it."

"Fortune favours the brave," I breathe out.

"Yes. Fortune, not fear."

I raise my head to kiss his shoulder, but I don't know why. I feel exhausted by something that barely happened, and maybe thankful that he stopped. But then I remember the realities of what will happen if I go in that room and say what he wants me to say.

"My speech -"

"Your speech will be fine."

"I'll split the party, L."

"Then split it. If you lose conviction, they'll see it. Split the party and buy them back," he tell me like it's that simple. Maybe it is. God, he's like Kiyomi.

"But -"

"I don't care what this bill is or whether you split the party or not, just do it. Then there's one more bill left. Kiyomi will spit out your bastard child, you put through one more bill and then that's it."

"I know."

"If you back down now then I'll find Stephen and I'll fuck him so hard that you will feel it. Do you want me to do that, Light?"

"No. I'm not backing down."

"I've given up a lot for you and you're stalling over this?"

"I'm not."

"You promised me a storm and the end, or was it a lie in kindness?"

"It wasn't a lie."

"One more bill?"

"One more."

"Well then," he whispers before he presses a kiss on my head. "Straighten yourself out, Prime Minister."

And something has changed in me. It's not L's bullying, or Kiyomi, or B, or anything to do with this fuckawful day. I won't give any of them credit. I thought that I might have to drag the bill from myself like pulling a tooth, but it wasn't anything like that. As people's jaws start dropping, I care less. My bill proposal is thought unpopular and as ridiculously aspirational as flying to the moon by only flapping my arms. I want to tear down and rebuild not only the justice system, but to cure it at the grass roots. This first bill is the start of it, and the second bill should finish it. The meeting becomes rowdy as people rage together against it. The expense, and the work which would be involved makes them cling almost unanimously to the lazy, easy lives they have known. All they see is that I'm proposing to load them with paperwork and full working hours. My immediate instinct is to exploit their vulnerabilities to a sadistic extent, like a predator hunting wounded prey because they are so weak, and without them knowing, bend them to do what I want. But now I want purity. I want to appeal to them, not force them. I will force them if they don't submit, but I think that everyone deserves the opportunity to make the right decision, even if I have to force it from them. Because if they believe in this half as much as I do, I don't need corruption to kill corruption. Besides, it will show the good and the bad to me, which will be useful. So I sit and stare at my hands folded calmly on my lap and with a slight smile on my face as the crescendo of voices rise, because I'm listening. When I speak, I will be the one calm voice. Then it comes. Someone - I don't know who - asks me what this means. Why am I proposing such change for a party which is known for its history of mild, useless measures, you mean?

"What great or noble work could we achieve if we think it enough? I see that some of you expect some rousing speech to make up your minds for you, but you won't get that from me. I want you to make up your own minds. There's no tangible prize and glory as the outcome, and none of you will personally feel any benefit from the bill I want pass, except in the knowledge that you will improve lives for others. It is a selfless goal. I go into this knowing that I will split the party. Some of you will never support me again. Those of you can stay and those can go as you see fit, but those who go will, in time, be envious of those who stayed with me. Take a firm step forward, as firm as your principles. I think some of you need to find your principles again. Be impartial. Be as gods. See what is right and follow it towards resolution. We are the law makers and in our hands are the possibilities of humanity. As it stands, we allow these wrongs to be carried out in our name and under our authority when we have the power to alter the course and prevent these crimes. We could create a better world for the people we represent. The cause is no legacy we inherited; we inherited a legacy of passivity from previous governments, and I do not want to repeat that. We are all guilty. We cannot blame others for what we had the opportunity to change. Let's not affix blame to others, for we, ourselves, allowed this to happen.

"Acceptance is the enemy, selfishness and fear of change is the barricade. Those before us could no more ignore what has happened than if they had been blind. We must see with our eyes open and observe the suffering and injustice and hear the stories, for no two are the same, and find the answers. That is our purpose, and I think we've lost that. We must find ways to ensure that no single person ever suffers again in this country. This is a social sickness which has grown and spread for years, decades, perhaps for all of time. I don't accept that it's endemic in the human soul; only guidance and provision is needed. It won't be instantly resolved by the passing of one bill, not even in our term here in government, but it is a step which will one day find an end. I blame no one. Not one person, not one group of people. It is cowardice to think that enough has been done and that we can do no more but continue the status quo, for what we could do is too great a task. It is a great task, but it is no useless endeavour. No one weak in spirit has ever won anything. We should never be satisfied that we have done enough, for there will always be need for change. We should not turn from it. I want extreme goodness. I want to work for some ideal which, one day, I will be proud that I had some small hand in and that I lived in these times. Empathy is the source of humanity and without it we cannot understand or hope to change. Dedicate yourself to humanity, or else leave this building. We would be inhuman ourselves. This is a moment of change. You are in this room at the start of a new era. Be proud."

And I think that'll do. It's not the truth exactly, but it'll do. Truth is, I'm tied to them by democracy. If I had my own way, then I wouldn't need to make speeches and coerce people into agreeing with me with nice words and battle cries; I'd just do it alone and let my work speak for itself. So many people stand in my way and keep my fingertips just out of reach from perfection.

They leave in consternation, thoughtless and selfish, until I'm left with only L sitting far away from the table like he's only a bystander. The door closes and he stands to turn a key and lock us into this emptiness. I've never felt so false and yet so honest. I feel like a sword fight.

"You. Sit in my lap."

He smiles like he was expecting me to say that, but I don't think that he should be commended for that prophecy. He dutifully walks to me and straddles me, still wearing the same ghost of a smile. We both watch my hand run up the length of his thigh, and it sounds like a long breath of air. I think that this was all worth it; this day. I didn't back down, I just had a moment of crisis, and maybe it was subconscious so I could see how he'd react. A bit of cruelty sustains me, especially when dealt by him. I have never been weak.

"I was wondering if you want this out before the bill is read in the House, because I don't know if I can control what the press get hold of on this one," he says. "Some of them seem very angry. If your own party don't support it, what hope do you have there?"

"What do you think of it?" I ask.

"The bill or your sudden desire to alienate yourself from your own party?"

"The bill."

"I thought that your great work was to change the justice system. You said that you wanted to take away the right of appeal for murderers and have them executed within a week of judgement, replacing lay judges with people of your choosing, extending the death penalty to other crimes, only, no, you wouldn't put it like that, but that kind of thing. This is quite a U-turn. How long have you been working on this?"

"A few months."

"I didn't think that you could come up with something more unpopular, but now you have."

"Tell me what you think."

"It's good. Therefore it won't work."

"It will."

"With your Cabinet?" he laughs.

"We'll see. I'm giving it one last chance, otherwise I'll force it through at the cost of myself," I say, and I could almost believe it. My voice is a silken sash you don't realise is strangling you. It's currently strangling L.

"Tell me what I can do to help you."

"I don't think that I need PR for this. This is mine," I say solemnly. Yes, like a sacrificial lamb. L's finger hooks inside the knot of my tie and loosens it, and he watches that with cool observation while I look at him with anything but.

"Does God still speak through you?" he asks me.

"No, I am God. I'm God with a new name.