Author's Note: This fits with chapter seventeen of Witness.
Diary of a Protected Witness Part 11
Critical Pressure
When I woke up on the couch, it was sometime in the afternoon, and the television was still on with the sound muted.
I could hear murmured voices from another room, but I didn't bother to try to pick up on what they were saying. They were probably just planning more ways to fuck with my head anyways.
Instead I stretched and wriggled around until I was sitting up, picking up the remote and flicking through channels. I almost stopped on the station that shows how to make things, which is pretty entertaining, most of the time.
But I wanted to check out all the options before I narrowed it down, though if I'd known what I'd stumble across I'd never have kept going.
When I saw Zechs' face displayed across the screen, my stomach gave a sudden lurch, and I turned up the volume until I could hear what was being said. Then I let the remote slide from my limp fingers when they switched to footage of a funeral procession.
//In today's top story, Zechs Merquise was laid to rest at Peacemillion Cemetery in a private ceremony.//
Fucking holy Hell!
I felt like I'd been sucker punched, the breath leaving my lungs all at once in a painful rush. Zechs. They were fuckin' burying him, and I couldn't even be there to say goodbye.
I hastily blinked back tears and swallowed hard to keep from groaning out loud at the intense stab of pain in my chest. Each time they flashed an image of him on the screen, it just tore me to shreds.
For the first time since his death, I wished I'd tried to stop Khushrenada and gotten killed along with him. Why was I still breathing anyway, when the man I'd loved was gone forever?
I caught a movement in my peripheral vision, and knew that Yuy had come into the room. How I knew it was him instead of Chang, I can't honestly say--but I did. Maybe it was the fact that there was no malicious laughter at the sight of my crime lord lover being laid to rest.
When the newscast mentioned the cops trying to link Merquise and Khushrenada to organized crime, I gave a skeptical snort.
"What do you know about the Oz syndicate?"
I spared Yuy a scathing glance. Always the fuckin' detective, eh?
"You looking for more out of me than a murder charge against Khushrenada? Sorry, detective, but all I know about the money laundering is hearsay. Pillow talk, y'know."
Oh fuck, pillow talk.
Zechs had been a master at that--lying with me after sex and toying with my hair, talking about how he'd quit the syndicate and take me away with him. Like I said before, the man was a poet. He'd go on for hours about the taste of my skin, and the heat of my body--the silky brush of my hair across his face and chest when I was sitting astride him--
God, how I remembered his touch--his kiss--everything.
"He had lovely hair."
Yanked abruptly from my heartache, I swiveled my head to look at Yuy incredulously. Had he just said that? Out loud?
He looked embarrassed. "Well, hell...you've got to admit it's eye-catching."
"Soft, too," I assured him dreamily. "It was like silk--spun silk."
Okay--this had to end. I had to stop slipping into daydreaming about Zechs while I was dealing with cops. And I had to pull myself back together and out of the doldrums, before I really did think of joining my lover in the afterlife.
"So--does the illustrious Detective Yuy have a little hair fetish?"
"I do not."
Bullshit. "I think you do."
I threw my braid over my shoulder and watched his eyes follow it. Oh yeah! He had it bad. He wanted to undo the braid and run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch it and feel it--
"You know you wanna touch it. C'mon and touch it, Yuy. Touch me..."
I'd climbed over the back of the couch and was stalking towards him, sure that he'd finally break down and take what I was offering, when he stumbled backwards--right into Chang's chest.
Why the fuck did that goddamned Chink bastard have to keep screwing up my timing?
"Aw, Wuffers--you ruined my fun."
No shit.
"I am not 'Wuffers.' It's Detective Chang, to you--or just detective, if you wish. But never 'Wuffers.'"
"Bite me, Chang."
I was halfway down the hall when I paused to listen in and see what my two jailors would be up to next. Bad enough they were treating me like a prisoner--but to have to put up with Chang's malice--!
But all they talked about was groceries, and I remembered I was down to my last pack of cigarettes. If this ordeal went on as long as it was becoming evident it would, I'd need more--lots more.
I dashed back to make sure they got it on the list. "Cigarettes! Could you get me a carton of menthols, 'Fei?"
In retrospect, I should've known better. I should've known Chang would fuckin' lord it over me that he had the car, and the keys, and complete control of the shopping list.
I tried to play his game. I said "please." I called him "Detective Chang."
But that wasn't good enough, and he just had to screw with me some more--until I totally lost it. I mean, fuck. I'd just watched Zechs' funeral. I was emotionally raw, sexually frustrated, and being treated like shit. I couldn't take any more.
"Y'know what, Chang? You can go fuck yourself. I'll get my own fuckin' cigarettes and you and your partner can just drop dead."
I stormed off down the hallway and into my room, slamming the door for good measure. And then I began planning my escape.
The window wouldn't open, of course. Chang had seen to that. But there were other ways out of that hellhole, and I was determined to find one.
Screw with Maxwell? I think not!
I was gonna show them that my cooperation was just that--cooperation. I didn't have to stay put with them. And I didn't have to abide by their rules. I'd been doing it out of habit, so far--just going with the flow.
But that hadn't been good enough. And dealing with two uncompromising assholes was more than I could stand right then. I needed an outlet for my frustrations. I needed some activity. And I needed it far away from Detectives Yuy and Chang.
Shinigami wanted to go out and play, and he was fuckin' well gonna do it!
OWARI
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