A Bad Law

Leave Me Where I Lie

"You're killing Julian."

It was mid-afternoon, and the golden glow of the blazing sun shone brightly upon the garden of the Los Angeles Institute. The day was hot, and the soft sea breeze carried the scent of ocean salt and oleanders through the air. In the far corner of the garden, Emma Carstairs and Mark Blackthorn stood, Mark with his arms linked across his ribs and Emma leaning tiredly against the thick hedge enclosing the garden.

"I know," Emma sighed, and she meant it. She knew that each time she avoided Julian or touched Mark, she was hurting Julian as much as she was hurting herself. Still, it was all for him, even if he didn't know it.

Mark sat down on the squat stone bench, hunching his shoulders forward in exasperation.

"Sometimes I wonder," he said, "If it's worth it. I mean, wouldn't it be easier to just tell him?"

Emma shifted her weight from one foot to the other, resting her head against the cool leaves of the hedge.

"No, it wouldn't be. Don't you think I would have told him if I thought it would mean he stays safe. I told you, it's like Jem said, forbidden love just makes you fight harder." She paused, recalling her conversation that followed Jem's and Tessa's departure, the dejection in Julian's eyes, the way she had wanted to reach out to him, hold him, but she couldn't. And the words, his words, I will never give up on you. She had almost wanted to tell him them, almost been defeated by his words, but she could not. Hatred was safer than love.

Mark spoke, his cool voice snapping Emma out of her reverie.

"Yes, I understand, it's just-"

"Crap," Emma suggested.

Mark smiled bitterly, "I was going to say cruel."

The word hit Emma with a sudden pang. She knew that what she was doing to Julian was cruel, knew that she was hurting him, but hearing it from Mark made it real, true. She could feel Julian's pain, as parabatai do, like a knife jabbed between her ribs.

Mark raised his arm, blocking the harshness of the suns glare from reaching his mismatched eyes. He squinted revealing only two small slits of startling colour.

Mark sat up, suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

Emma turned to the place where Mark was staring, at the corner of the institute. Gentle footsteps approached and Emma's parabatai rune twinged softly.

"Julian," she said.

"No, I'm Mark."

Emma sighed, turning to Mark who stared up at her, bewilderment clear on his face.

"No," she said, grasping Marks hand between hers and pulling him up, "It's Julian. He's coming."

Mark turned back to the institute, his eyebrows knitting together in understanding. "Are you sure?"

Emma touched her parabatai rune and a feeling of nervous despair washed over her.

Julian never used to make her feel nervous.

"Definitely," She replied and, wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, "Kiss me."

She felt the familiar force of Marks lips press against hers, pressed herself against him until their chests were touching. His left hands wrapped around her waist, his right pressing against her lower back. This was the way it had been for the past two weeks. Each time they knew that Julian was approaching, she and Mark immediately became intertwined and affectionate.

Unlike with Julian, Emma felt no spark or buzz as she kissed Mark, no passion or longing. It was not unpleasant, but it was like kissing for a camera- surprisingly convincing but too planned to be anything more than an act. As Marks hands left her back and climbed into her hair, in her mind she repeated to herself 'This is for Julian. This is for Julian.'