Dirty Law

“I snapped.”

“Can I come in?” he asked. Stupefied, I stepped aside to allow him entry. Law walked past me and I watched his movements as if in a dream. He wasn’t the brutally stoic man I’d come to know these past months. He was undone, eyes wild, hair a mess, muscles twitching. Rubbing his thumbs together, he paced around my apartment as if I wasn’t even there.

“You what?” I finally asked when the air filled with too many unasked questions. I stared at the blood on his shirt; it was soaked into the fabric, hard and stained. His gray jeans even had splotches of blood on them.

“I snapped,” Law repeated. He rubbed his forehead with his palm and I noticed his bruised and bloody knuckles. I realized the lights were still off and bent over to turn the table lamp on. Pale yellow light engulfed us, making the shadows we cast bolder.

“What does that mean?” I asked. Law walked back and forth across my living room, his strides practically wearing the floor thin. While he searched for his words, I went to the kitchen to get something to clean him up. I grabbed a kitchen towel and ran it under some warm water, then grabbed some ice from the freezer and threw it in a sandwich bag. Exiting the kitchen, I thrust the contents at him. He thanked me gruffly but I was already heading to the bathroom to grab some antiseptic. When I returned I made him sit on the couch.

I took the towel back from Law, who was gripping it so tight I swore I saw bones beneath his skin, and started to dab at the blood on his knuckles. Law hissed but didn’t say anything. Silence once again surrounded us as I did my work. I cleared away the crusty blood from his knuckles and fresh blood started to flow. I stood up to get a towel or a bandaid but Law grabbed my arm.

“Stay.” I looked at the hand on my arm and shrugged, sitting back down with Law. Finished with cleaning him, I sat unmoving, unsure of what to say. That is, until he spoke. “I beat the shit out of Mitch Morris.”

“What?” I exclaimed, turning to see his face. His expression was unreadable. “Is he alive?”

“Of course he’s alive.” Law waved my question off and stood up. He started pacing again but I wouldn’t have it.

“What happened?” I marched up to Law and stood in front of him, blocking his circular route. “You can’t just come in here covered in blood and not explain to me what happened.”

Law sighed, placing a bloodied hand over his face. “I had my monthly meeting with Morris and I just…” Removing his hand, Law pierced me with his eyes. “I snapped, Nami. I thought of all the pain he’s brought to you and to Becca…to others. I should have kept my cool. He obviously knows now that I know. Maybe he always did, but now he knows I’m not okay with it.”

“I don’t…” I struggled with what to say. “What does this mean?”

Law shrugged. “Well, GEM fired me.”

I rolled my eyes, like that mattered, and pushed for more answers. “Is Morris going to press charges?”

“I don’t think so.” Law leaned against the wall and exhaled a long, hard breath. “It was really fucking stupid of me to do. I was building a case against Morris. I don’t know what this means. My contacts at the bureau haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

I stared at Law leaning against my wall. I wasn’t as convinced as Law was that Morris wouldn’t press charges. He had the entire police force in his pocket. Morris didn’t need a bloody face; he could have put Law away without any evidence. Why was Law so sure he wouldn’t press charges?

“You threatened him, didn’t you?” I didn’t expect Law to tell me the truth. He’d been feeding me lies since the inception of our relationship. I’d asked the question not looking for an answer, but to let Law know I was already aware. I turned back to pick up the now bloody cloth and antiseptic, when Law replied.

“Yes.” I spun back, surprised by his honesty. “I was one good punch away from ending his miserable life when I stopped myself. I’m not that person, Nami. I don’t intimidate suspects. I follow the rules. But I really fucking wanted to finish him off.” The look in Law’s eyes, the grimace on his face, let me know he was telling the truth. Truth was uglier than lies, and the ugliness in Law had me convinced.

Setting the antiseptic and bloody rag down, I made my way to Law. I wasn’t sure what to make of this moment between us. Something fundamental had shifted, but instead of feeling unsteady, I felt sure.

I leaned against the wall with Law. The only sound in the apartment was our breaths. I imagined what it would have been like to punch Morris in the face. For months I’d envisioned throwing my entire body on top of Morris, kicking him, beating him, and eventually tearing out the wicked heart that beat his black blood.

“How did it feel?” I asked, cocking my head toward Law.

Law grinned. “Really fucking good.”

It was six in the morning. Sun had risen beyond the clouds, illuminating a pale gray sky. Law had fallen asleep on my couch an hour after he’d shown up. I’d cleaned him up some more and given him the biggest t-shirt I owned, an old rag from when I used to volunteer. It was still a little small for him. On the front it had some pithy saying about animals, and my heart hurt for Raskol again.

Now I clutched my arms against myself, my breath fogging the glass of the window I looked out. Where did I go from here? Behind me a man slept on the couch, but not just any man. A man who appeared to be a pathological liar, but was perhaps the only truth I’d known in months.

Beyond me, past the frozen glass, a city slept. A corrupt and morally bankrupt city that prided itself on its morals slept soundly. I’d spent months trying to clean the rotting black ooze from the city and all I’d managed to do was catch a bit of the corruption myself.

I touched my hand to the cool glass. I was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of the Nami I’d become. Christmas was in a few days and I only knew that by the lights that glowed outside. Inside, I was totally black.

I used to love Christmas. I wasn’t religious, but I was one of those nuts that loved to celebrate anyway. I loved the lights. I adored the smells: nutmeg, gingerbread, pine. You name it, I loved it. Everything from the trees to the snowmen to the baking had me cheery and filled with glee.

Removing my fingers from the glass, I turned to face Law. My apartment was noticeably glee-less. Cold, gray, a bit dirty. The paint was peeling and mismatched. The furniture was old and weathered. And a man I couldn’t trust, but who somehow still held my heart, slept on my tattered couch.

“You’re staring.” Even though his eyes were closed and his breathing steady, Law spoke. I wasn’t surprised by it. There was little left Law could do to surprise me.

“Yeah,” I responded. “It’s my place, I can stare if I want.” With easy determination Law sat up from the couch. His hair was a mess, the clothes he wore wrinkled and a little bloody despite the change, but he was still Law: hard, calculating, and ever observant.