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Ema woke slowly. She was aware by degrees the full-body ache, that hung mostly over her head,
like there was a jackhammer going off in her head. Ema tried to pull the covers down, but even that was too much. She groaned, and tried to turn over. Nausea swept over her. She clutched the covers, and with a series of whimpers, crawled out from her warm cocoon.
She rubbed at her head.
The hazy outline of her clock came into focus. She nearly let out a shriek as she saw it. Noon? God, how could she have overslept like this? She'd be doing extra paperwork for months for being this late, and that was if she was lucky. She'd probably get an eighteen hour sermon of all her wrongdoings at this rate.
Ema didn't even bother to pick up her covers as she scrambled out of bed, and limped towards the bathroom.
*
After showering, and getting dressed, she felt marginally more alive.
Ema huddled over her coffee cup. The anteroom where the detectives sometimes gathered for lunch was oddly empty. Some hints of a festivities still lingered, from the confetti trampled on the floor, and the leftovers of seasonal food.
Across the walls were prayers written, next to a mitamah background. She still couldn't read enough Khura'inese to quite catch the meaning. The words blurred, as she clutched her coffee cup. The sepia of the walls blended with the butterfly wings and soul design, until it all melded together.
She gulped down coffee by the cupful. She took it lukewarm, to take it faster, and swallowed a fistful of aspirin.
It was enough coffee to leave her jittery all day, but she needed every bit of strength she could to keep her upright.
She hoisted her bag over her shoulder, only to catch sight of Trucy at the end of the hall.
She tipped her blue top hat. "Up so soon? I thought after yesterday, you'd still be sleeping in."
Trucy looked on the verge of laughing, like she knew a secret which Ema didn't. Her blue skirt flared as she went up on tiptoe, her hands held behind her back.
"I'm already going to here the lecture of my life. I'm four hours late," Ema said.
"It's a holiday, and there hasn't even been a single murder. I'm playing tonight, though. Magical Girl Trucy makes all your worries disappear! I finally got my assistant back, though Polly doesn't know it yet."
"A holiday?" Ema rubbed at her temples. That'd explain the hangover.
"You don't remember? Let me help you with that!" She counted to three, and produced a stack of pictures. "I caught these commemorative photos. Starting at just $5 a piece!"
Ema could only gape as she caught sight of just what was on those pictures.
Commemorative photos? More like blackmail.
Back in Europe, her nickname had been The Buffet Destroyer. She usually only drank when it was a big holiday, or studying for exams was a little too intense and she needed a bit of stress relief. She had never woken up with someone in bed beside her, but had woken up with a piece of shrimp under the covers, scrambled eggs in her hair, bed crumbs in her bra, and a lifetime ban from many, many buffets over the years.
The other forensic students hadn't even wanted to drink with her. She hogged all the buffets and drove away pretty much anyone who got near. The phrases "like a rabid dog guarding its bone" and "the anti-wingman" had been used more than once.
But apparently, Snackoo vodka had a very different effect on her. Either that or it was the dangerous chemical combination of Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, alcohol, and a whole lot of unresolved tension between them. The reaction was downright explosive--or to be more precise, embarrassing.
"Oh, no, no!" She flipped through the pictures with growing alarm. The fop was on television, which Apollo watched with a bit of traditional Khura'inese food in hand. She lay across Prosecutor Sahdmahdi's lap, with a flushed and joyous face. For it all, Prosecutor Sahdmahdi looked as calm as ever. His hand rested across the small of her back.
And that wasn't even the worst one.
In the next, he chatted with Apollo, as her hand rested on his chest. In another, she was completely passed out, being carried off bridal style by none other than Prosecutor Sahdmahdi himself.
Trucy smiled. "See? Great catch, huh?"
She opened another package of Snackoos with trembling hands, and simply poured them in her mouth. She needed Vitamin Chocolate, stat. She'd honestly thought the failed exam and subsequent breakdown, the detective years was the worst mistakes she'd made, but here she'd quite possibly thrown her entire career away with just a few drinks.
"I caught video, too," Trucy said. She could barely contain her toothy grin. "I had to get the moment to send back to Daddy."
"Video? Oh no.... Quick, send it here, would you, please?"
Like the photos, she was draped across Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, while Apollo ate his share of the new year's feast. Except, what Trucy hadn't told her about the pictures was just what she'd been doing.
She smiled at Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. "Are you made of Copper and Tellurium?"
"Polly, she's speaking science again!"
"She gets like this sometimes," Apollo said.
She pointed up to Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. "If I were a function, you would be my asymptote. You must be made of Fluorine, Iodine and Neon! Are you full of Beryllium, Gold and Titanium!"
"Wouldn't someone die if they were full of that?" Apollo said.
Prosecutor Sahdmadhi considered her. "Is this a lecture of your own?"
"Do you have 11 protons? Did we just share electrons, because I'm feeling a covalent bond. Oohhh, haha, this food is great...."
The video came to a sudden halt. She never even heard his response.
Even if she could be an all star on Texts From Last Night, she couldn't exactly take any happiness--even if her science had been flawless even when that drunk.
There was only one cure. She had to figure out a scientific way to wipe everyone's memories. Or time travel, pseudo-science as it was. She'd either have to prevent Snackoo Vodka from ever being made, or simply warn the past her, just like those Sci-Fi films.
She wiped the chocolate dust from her hands, and dug deep into her wallet. "I don't have any dollars on hand, but I'll pay you in dahmas. Fifty dahmas for the negatives," she said.
"Deal!" Trucy said.
Ema handed over some dahmas, and shoved the photos in her bag.
"The video, too," Ema said.
Trucy traced her chin thoughtfully. "But it's a precious memory. I'd need at least two paychecks, and you''d have to help me with my next show--"
"Fine, fine, just hand it over," Ema said.
"It's been nice doing business with you," Trucy said.
"You have to promise not to share that video with anyone but Mr. Wright."
"Oh, of course," Trucy said flippantly.
"Pinkie swear," Ema said.
But even as Trucy promised, one hand was still caught behind her cape. Ema could've sworn she was crossing her fingers back there.
With her luck, Trucy would paste the pictures on the bulletin board of the prosecutor's office, and broadcast the video across the television. But she could've focus on the coming disasters--Ema had more than enough problems at the moment, all of them related to alcohol and Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, and what happened when those two elements were combined.
*
Her hand lingered at his door. She'd been steadying herself for the past five minutes. She'd paced a line in the hall right outside his office. She grabbed Snackoos by the fistful. Every bad possibility flashed before her eyes. He could fire her, this stain of unprofessional behavior could follow her until no prosecutor would want to work with her, except the most corrupt and desperate ones. The bitter edge of disappointment filled her mouth. She'd finally gotten out of the hell of the past few years, and finally graduated her forensics exam. Ema had gone through many arguments and apologies, and none of them got her out of the mess. In the end, she might have to grovel and throw herself on his mercy.
Even worse, unlike Prosecutor Gavin, she actually enjoyed his company. The thought of him glaring at her with disgust was almost too much to bear.
"Time to face the music," she muttered to herself. She took a deep breath to steel herself, and finally knocked at the door.
The mahogany desk dominated the room. Burned around the edge it was a pattern of butterflies and mitamah. Other than the scrolls, At the far wall was a large cushioned bench, like would be found in a house of worship. She'd spent plenty of time sitting there, waiting for Prosecutor Sahdmadhi's meditation to end so she could submit whatever autopsy report or evidence she'd found.
Nahyuta looked ethereal, even angelic bathed in sunlight. His long, thick silvery hair was slung over his shoulder. He had thick, dark natural eyelashes which she was genuinely jealous of. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi sure had won some lottery when it came to genetics.
The gold of his vestments was so brilliant that she had to blink and look away. He was like staring at the sun, and right now, she just couldn't take that much Ephemeral Holiness, not when she was this hungover.
She scanned his face for a clenched jaw, a twitch at the corner of his eye, anything to signal his inevitable anger.
He looked entirely serene, but was he really? She never could tell his true thoughts. Was he truly seething underneath it all? He always always so gentle, such a blank slate, but she'd seen him angry. She'd even felt a touch of that anger aimed at her during the Penrose case. She could never quite tell when it would shift into some lecture, the hint of a storm over a calm sea.
"Did you need something, Detective Skye?" he said.
"Um....Prosecutor Sahdmadhi...about--about then..." She cleared her throat. "About...yesterday." She couldn't bear to look him in the eye, not with those photos burned into her mind's eye.
"Yes?"
"I don't really remember a lot, but..."
The calm smile disappeared. "You've forgotten the events of yesterday?"
Ema looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "Trucy...sold me some pictures to jog my memory. There was even a... video. I have an idea what happened."
She reached down for a steadying Snackoo, only to find that the package was empty. She couldn't cling to chocolate for comfort this time.
She squared her shoulders. She'd failed before and survived. Maybe she could be a lab tech under an assumed name in Borginia. But, she'd have to learn the language, which in her drunker moments she'd described as 'vomiting wingdings.'
Maybe she'd have better luck hiding out in Zheng Fa.
"Um, I usually just drink around the holidays a little and eat too much with the buffet, but I've never done anything like this. I may have been thrown out of an Old Country Buffet or two--okay, more like twenty or more--but I've never... done--that. I just hope--"
Prosecutor Sahdmadhi closed the scroll that had lain across his desk. "Hmmm?"
She shook her head. "I know I messed up real bad. Could you please...find the mercy to just cut my salary or something? I love my job---I want to work here. I'll work extra hours, for less, I'll do community service or listen to a dozen of your 'sermons,' just--please don't put this on my record....and please don't toss me out."
Her voice cracked at the last word. It was unfathomable that Ema lose everything she'd worked so hard for, just because she'd drank a few bottles of Snackoo vodka over the holidays.
She studied his graceful hands for any sign of tension, for any hint of what was to come. But as he considered her, he was enigmatic.
"An ancient Latin saying is: In Vino Veritas, in wine there is truth. Shall I remind you what you said?"
"Oh--I saw the video," Ema said.
"You said more after I carried you to bed."
She couldn't even imagine what she'd said in such a state. Just when she thought it couldn't get worse, that rock bottom dropped into a deeper level of hell.
"Ah...no, I don't remember that. P-please go on..."
He sat in a meditative pose. "You said '"Are you a carbon sample, because I want to date you.
You should kiss me already, it's obvious there's something between us. Everyone says so, so do something about it already. I'd kiss you myself, but I'd have to drag you down to my level."
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. "I---what! You're kidding--please tell me you're kidding--"
He shook his head. "I would not jest about such things. The teachings of the Holy Mother call for special kindness of those lost, those drunken, and the ill."
How wonderful to be lumped together with sick people and lost.
She let out a long sigh. "Was that all I said? I just need a damage report here," she said.
"No, that was all. You became sick at that point, and could no longer speak."
Ema gasped. She covered her mouth with splayed fingers. "Please tell me I didn't vomit all over you. Please," she said.
He smiled. "No, you did not. I held your hair back, and cleaned you up afterwords. After that, you collapsed, and said no more. I covered you up, and stayed by your side until I knew you were all right."
While she was glad to have forgotten all the other extremely stupid things she'd done last night, those moments she almost regretted missing. He must've been so tender and gentle as he held her hair back, cleaned up the mess without a word of complaint, and wrapped her up in a blanket.
Silence came over the room. Unlike him, she didn't do great with the whole meditative state of calm and nothing. She was used to the hum of machinery, of requests from other members of the legal system. She balled her fists. Her freshly manicured nails left little white semicircles against her palm.
"--Are you angry at me? If you are, just--yell, or something. Don't be so calm, I know you've got to be completely disappointed in me," she said.
"You're requesting a joyous eight hours of disciplinary sermon?" Prosecutor Sahdmadhi said. There even seemed a playful edge there, even teasing. Or had she completely misread him, and mistaken a silky warning?
She crossed her arms across her chest. "Urgh! I can't read you at all. I'd rather you just punish me and get all this over with than spend weeks wondering when the other shoe is going to drop."
"Punish you? How rare, to request a Divine Punishment," He smiled. "Tell me, Detective Skye, is the adage true?"
"What--the one about there being truth in the wine and stuff? W-well, a lot of people are talking about us, saying..." She swallowed. "That we've got something going on."
He closed his eyes, and nodded. "I, too, have heard such rumors."
And yet, he'd done nothing to dispel them. There were a lot of pieces she'd tried to fit together through the times he'd met him. It only gave her about half a picture. He'd wanted her by his side, and sometimes when he smiled, she thought that just maybe, maybe it wasn't something she alone felt.
But then the moment would pass and he'd be all business again.
"And is that all?" Prosecutor Sahdmadhi said.
Her cheeks burnt red. It wasn't like she could fall into a further hell than this.
She squared her shoulders, and forced a smile. Just like Phoenix was always saying: The hardest times are when lawyers have to smile the most. Even if she wasn't a lawyer, that adage had saved her more than once.
"Okay, drunk me made some questionable choices, but it wasn't a lie. So what?"
He lifted his eyebrows. "Even the part of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic and Sulphur?"
"Eeeh----!" She ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks. It was only now that she noticed the science textbook across his desk, spread open right to the periodic table. He hadn't simply assumed her drunken ramblings were meaningless. He knew exactly the things she'd said that night, after way too many bottles of Snackoo vodka.
She couldn't meet his eyes. But, he lifted up her chin. "As for how I'm feeling...."
His lips were so soft, like a butterfly's wings across her mouth. His sleek hair brushed against her cheeks. His lips only pressed against hers for a moment, but it left her entire body tingling.
He pulled back far too soon. Damn his respectfulness. Every bit of tension from the past months uncoiled. All she could think was that there was way too much space between them. She climbed over his desk, and knocked the scroll to the floor. He was full out gaping as she crawled into his lap, and pulled on his collar, just enough to make their lips meet again. The stress of the day started to melt away, as his lips parted. She cupped his cheeks and caught his mouth again.
It was just as warm and sweet as she'd imagined.
"So you did as you promised after all," Prosecutor Sahdmadhi murmured.
She grinned. "I figured you'd be happy about me keeping my promises. The Holy Mother went on and on about fidelity and loyalty and keeping promises, after all."
He lifted his eyebrows. "You've been studying the Holy Doctrine?"
Ema puffed out her cheeks. "What? I had to research to understand the evidence. Everything is connected to the Holy Mother in this country," she said.
She shifted in his arms. "Are you sure you aren't even a little bit angry about yesterday? I promise I'll never drink any Snackoos vodka again. I'm not going through that again."
He smiled. "You wish a sermon of this servant of the Holy Mother? To damn you to a deep level of Twilight Realm? The realm of eternal hangovers, perhaps?"
"Trust me, I'm already there," she said dryly.
He gently stroked her hair. "The truth was--You were quite cute. However, it would be best to keep it around me alone. If you were to be so imprudent around others, then I would need to lecture you..."
"Hey, I'm not like that. Buffets, yes, but people? Nobody but you! Wait, did you just call me..."
"You're just figuring this out now? Come now, you're the one with the brilliant scientific mind, who catches all these theories."
"Look, they don't make a machine to read you. If they did, I would buy about ten," Ema said.
He kissed her forehead. "I can never manage to remain angry at you, no matter how blasphemous you are, or what mistakes you made."
"Gee, thanks. Glad to know I'm your favorite heathen," she said.
Prosecutor Sahdmadhi chuckled. "That's one way to put it. Are you still feeling unwell?"
The stress had done her no favors. Despite the painkillers, a throbbing had started up in her head again. "I took some aspirin, but I've still sure felt better," she said.
"It's still a holiday. As no last rites have been called to preform, then you can catch up on your sleep. The celebrations might get loud. If you wish, the meditation chambers behind my office is open. It's sound-proofed, to prevent my prayers from being interrupted."
She had a few moments of trying to figure out if he'd literally tried to sleep with her her within moments of fixing this--whatever they'd been going through all this time, and he'd somehow managed to throw prayers in there. But it all fell into place. She rested her head against his shoulders. There was still so much to figure out.
She'd made a fool of herself, crossed the ocean and picked up her life to get here.
"Could I just stay here?"
"You wish to spend the rest of the festivities watching me do paperwork?"
She puffed out her cheeks. "What? I like spending time around you. It's not like it's a crime. Though, good thing it's not a crime, or you'd have to arrest me."
"If spending time with you were a crime, then I would be a sinner."
"We'd both be heathens then," she said.
"Indeed. Stay as long as you wish. I welcome your company, even when you're in—I believe Trucy referred to it as 'science drunk.'"
"You're never going to let me forget it," she muttered.
"It's a precious memory," he said.
"Me making a fool out of myself is precious now?"
"Everything about you is precious," he said.
She couldn't even raise a protest, considering this came from the guy who saw her at her worst and held her hair back while she vomited.
She shifted to rest her head against his shoulder. His hand rested at the small of her back protectively. Just last night, she'd been like this, and here she was again.
His presence was like a soothing balm. Apparently, the best cure for a hangover was His Ephemeral Holiness. A shame his serenity couldn't be bottled and applied topically, because then maybe she'd finally be able to cut down on the Snackoos.
She had a lot of resolutions for the new year, and all of them started with never drink Snackoo vodka again.
At least, not outside of the bedroom.