"I take it you don't miss him?" Ravi asks after Liv's three minute, twenty-one second rant about Major, her recently deceased ex.

"I miss my mom," Liv blurts out. Then she adds more calmly, "That's who I miss. But, Major? No. It's kind of hard to forgive the fact that he ate my mom's brains."

She looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. Ravi knows she is trying to hold in the tears. Sometimes life gets so serious you have to joke about it. The alternative is to shatter into a million painful pieces. So, yeah, they joke. It's one of the things he loves about Liv--she finds a way to smile through the hurt.

"Kinda took that personally, huh," Ravi mumbles. He tugs at the collar of his plaid button up. It sucks to feel so helpless. He has no choice but to basically watch as Liv twists in an endless tornado of death and emotional destruction. That's life as best friend to the recently undead. Actually, as far as the Medical Examiner's Office goes, he's her boss. Informally, he's the guy who discovered that Liv's a zombie and that when she eats a murder victim's brains, she has a psychic link to their last moments. That's how she helps solve their murders and kind of redeems her self-worth so she can (sort of) sleep at night.

Liv purses her lips and tilts her head to the side. "Kinda meant to be taken that way. Worst break-up ever." They've been sitting at the common room table doing paperwork. It's hard to concentrate with the rain battering down outside like a stompede that never ends. 

"Liv, I've said it a million times, but I'm sorry," Ravi says. "I did not see that coming or I would have done something." What he can't apologize for is how he feels when she tilts her head like that. He can't help but imagine that she is angling her head to meet his own. She feeds off brains? Well, he feeds off her hesitant but toothy grin, and her sexy quips that he wishes were always about him. 

Ravi knows he's in deep. He's in love with his undead employee.

"No, neither did I," Liv says. 

She is clueless about his feelings for her. He would notice if she knew. He can almost read her every expression, down to the quirky twists of her lips and the small nuances like how she pulls her hair back. It's a curse to have a near perfect memory and close proximity to an obsession.

"I didn't notice the dozens of murders Major committed before that either, when he was on MaxRager's payroll. He had no excuse. He wasn't a zombie then, he just liked to hunt and kill our kind."

"He fooled us all," Ravi says. Is that supposed to make her feel better? He mentally kicks himself, and then adds a bonus mental sucker punch. Maybe he should hire an assistant or get some interns. Anything to diffuse this tension. He's scared he's going to ruin this--and it's everything to him. His relationship with Liv may only be friendship, but he would never jeopardize it. He has few precious things in his life, and he won't risk it.

"We were both in the dark. Maybe we've been working down here too long," she says, looking around the morgue. "I know logistically why it has to be in the basement, but come on, dude. We have to cut up dead people all day, can we get a sky light? Maybe a walk-out into a courtyard? We're turning into blind moles in here. With the local murder rate skyrocketing, I'm starting to smell like burning bone even when I'm right out of the shower." She sniffs her skin. 

Oh, how he would like to be her nose right now. Or her skin. Better yet, between the two.

"A common adverse effect of being a coroner. If you don't like the bone saw..." he ducks his head and smiles slyly at her.

"You know I love the saw. I rank it in my top three."

"Top three tools?" he asks. 

"Yup," she smirks, knowing what he'll ask next. 

"That's including professional and personal?" he asks, with an arched brow. 

"You know it."

His mind wanders over possibilities for the top one and two spots. Jealous does not even begin to describe it. 

"Can we stop talking about my life?" she huffs. "Or rather, my undead existence? Whatever you'd call it. Depressing, yes?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"Let's move farther from the walls. That rain is making my heart jealous. It's pounding harder than me."

Instead of the joke he wants to make, Ravi picks a safer course. As they walk to the interior office to finish the autopsy reports, he says over his shoulder, "You inspire me you know that? You have pluck."

They settle on either side of the massive desk, facing each other. 

She darts her eyes to one side and repeats the word slowly, "Pluck."

"You don't give up. Look how creative you are. Getting a job in the coroner's office to get around that pesky problem of needing to feast on brains regularly. And when you figured that the brains you ingested gave you insight on how they were killed, you didn't drink yourself into a stupor to avoid the trauma. You threw yourself into it and tried to make the world a better place." He spreads out his files. 

"I'm a regular zombie super hero." She stands and leans into a Superman pose: one fist pointing forward, a foot kicked up, face plastered with a martyr smile.

Ravi gives her an overly enthusiastic thumbs up. "All you need is a plunging neckline and tights."

"I can do the neckline," she says, pausing to cup her perfect but small breasts through her shirt. She wiggles her eyebrows. "But you, my man, have to do the tights."

He scoffs, still recovering from her self-groping. If she had any idea how this teasing affected him...she'd probably dial it up higher.

"Because if I'm the hero..." she taps her chin. "Then my sidekick..."

"Oh no," Ravi rolls his chair back until it hits the file cabinet, holding his palms up like he's being mugged. "Not it. I'm the Charlie of the Charlie's Angels, the sexy voice over the phone giving orders. Or the brainy scientist that gives James Bond all the gadgets. Cuz I stay in the office, see? I don't swashbuckle in your shadow."

"You are such a throwback. What I'd give to see you do a little swashbuckling in my shadow." She wiggles her ass to fluff the joke but it has an effect on him, so he rolls back up close to the desk and messes with some papers.

"Now, how can that be sounding so sexy? You have a gift, my Liv." He tries to keep it light but in truth he wants her to be his. Has since day one. He has really got to get over this if he wants to get any work done, and avoid permanent blue balls.

Liv gives up the pretense of work and plops down on the office couch. "Super snark girl. That's my name. Go ahead, wear it out, it'll just give me more to snark on."

"If the pity party has started, I will make my graceful exit." He spins his chair once and then hops up and dashes out of the office. Humor usually helps him to hide the onslaught of desire he feels whenever he sees her, hears her voice...hell, whenever he opens an email from her. It's torture.

After a good healthy sulk, Liv shrugs into her lab coat and joins him in the exam galley. They have three autopsies to do today. It's been a busy week. Something about a full moon and torrential rains seems to make death a little easier to slip into.

Sighing, Liv pulls on her mask and gloves.

She and Ravi finish the first corpse easily, working with the smooth precision they always enjoy. He needs an evidence bag; she's standing there with one open already. She reads the scale; he's writing down the brain weight. He's pulling the bag over the finished body; she's zipping it up and double checking the tag. He toes up the table brakes and wheels it to the massive drawer system built into the walls; she unlocks it with her key card and slides it open.

By the time they start on the second corpse, they are deep into their rhythm. No words are needed as they efficiently catalog this man's anatomy.

Ravi pulls down his goggles; she plugs in the saw. He begins to buzz into the breastbone. The saw shuts off. The overhead lights flicker. The room plunges into black.

The only sound is the whir of the blade slowing and then finally stopping its momentum. He fumbles to remove his mask and goggles, and sets down the saw. She removes her gear, too.

Simultaneously, they say, "What the hell?"

"I thought we had a back-up generator," she says.

"The storm isn't that bad," he mutters. "But they did call a flash flood and an advisory." He should have paid more attention.

"It's been going for days. Maybe we were already on the back-up generator," Liv muses.

They both pull their cells out of their lab coats and find there is no signal. After some creative cursing, they stumble in the dark to the foot of the stairs.

"I'll go upstairs to check it out," he says. "Stay put."

"I should go," she argues. Even in the dark, he knows she is wearing that petulant frown.

"And why is that?" he parries. "Seeing as I'm the boss."

She answers, "I'm the one who can go full-on zombie if anything dangerous goes down."

"The danger is nothing but a power outage, Liv. We need a time estimate on the fix so we know what to do with our bodies." He turns on his phone again and checks the time. Then he puts on the flashlight app. "I'll ask Jerry, or maybe Lyla. Once the compressor broke--maybe four years ago. The defrost was a thing of nightmares. I'll call the crisis mobile morgue in here if I have to—We are not giving you a buffet if we can help it." He shines the light at her feet. It casts an eerie blueish glow to her alabaster skin. 

"But what if—" She does this gesture that he has learned means full-on zombie. It's kind of like The Hulk, all flexing and such as if her shirt will rip off, but then she uses a one handed peace symbol to point to her eyes while chomping at the air. It's easier to just say 'full-on zombie mode' but she tends to prefer acting it out. Typical Liv. Cute, sexy, funny as hell.

"I think this is a sitch where full-on zombie might be overkill. Pardon the pun."

"I will not."

"Well. The pun stands. Don't snack on any brains until I get back."

"You never let me do anything."

With a sigh, he goes up the stairs.

When he comes back, Ravi finds her Lamaze breathing in a crouch in the corner of the room.

"That's it, you're alright," he bends and approaches slowly. "Liv, it's me. Your side kick, I mean, your buddy, Rav. Whatever you're imagining, birthing a zombie baby is not a great idea right now. All things considered."

She blinks her eyes open. The shadow of Ravi takes form.

"Ravi!" She throws herself into his arms and he awkwardly hugs her. Sensing his discomfort, she does her normal and pushes into it, bulldozing it down with her own enthusiasm. He begins to pat her back in irregular thumps. She clings even more fiercely. She doesn't let her guard down often, but with Ravi she must feel safe. 

He's never been good with the whole displaying platonic affection bit. 

"Thank you. Thank you for coming back," she mutters into his chest. 

"Panic much?" he asks, trying to dispell the odd tension in the air. 

She leans into his touch and answers, "Panic always."

"Ahh," he gently brushes a tendril of her white blonde hair off her forehead. She is moist with anxious sweat. "Liv, what is it?"

She shakes her head and presses into him again. Even though she's undead, his best friend, and in an emotional turmoil right now, his body responds to her nearness and he is reminded why he avoids the platonic affection bit.

Her voice trembles when she explains, "I got a funny feeling in the dark alone with just the bodies-- it's so much like that night on the boat. I can still hear the drunken blowhards screaming above me. I didn't help. I didn't look back. While their brains were being pulled out of their eye sockets, I was crawling away." She shivers. 

He's not sure if she's scared or ashamed.

"Anyone would have tried to escape," he says. He's pretty sure this is PTSD. "Stop blaming yourself. You are victim. You did not deserve this. Liv, maybe you should—" he's about to lead her to the couch so they can sit side-by-side but she kind of gloms on to him like a baby monkey. Her leg actually rises up his thigh and her arms snake around his waist and hold tight. Her cheek is against his ribs and he continues to pat pat pat her back, being very careful not to let his palm roam anywhere but her upper shoulder blade.

"Liv, did something happen? I was gone tops five minutes. The power is out all over town. Some kind of lightning storm happened on top of the downpour. And winds. Trees, powerlines, mailboxes, it's all blowing about up there. I expect next we'll be batting off locusts. When did Seattle get so diverse? I thought rain was the main act. Turns out, it's a three ring."

She sniffles into his chest and tilts her head up to squint through the dim light at his face. "Three ring? Which act am I? Freak show? Tightrope? Least lucky lady in..."

He lightly touches her nose, such a sexy, upturned little nose. "Shush, come on, let me prescribe a quick shot of whiskey for this..." he guides her to the office without giving an actual label to her odd melt down.

He's never been attracted to petite, brainy, sassy women. It's usually the airheads he likes. Or the models interested in casual dating. Or the Trekkies who generally know how to talk dirty and never ask for more than friends with benefits.

Ravi did not plan on Liv being so damn hot. Of his heart being so drawn to her plight. His awe at her gritty way of dealing with it.

They settle on the couch, a decent distance apart. He misses the solid feel of her cool skin against his, and the gentle rustle of her nods and grunts against his shirt.

"That's better." He fumbles in the dark to find the bottle and shot glasses. "Really all we can do right now is pass the time."

Soon they are on their third shots and the atmosphere of the morgue is lighter.

"Thanks, Ravi."

"Anytime. I'm here for you."

"Thanks. You are. Through it all. You ever regret hiring me?" 

Like, ten minutes ago, he thinks, when I wasn't sure I could keep it in check. "No, with you around, my life is never boring."

"Thanks."

"Stop saying that."

"Okay. Should I start asking when I can munch on the brains? Cause they'll go bad, you know."

"Ah, back to the munchies. Let's give it six hours and then I'll call it. I'm not ready to find out what E. Coli does to the undead. You ate last night, right? The Chem teacher?"

She grunts.

"You're not hungry. You're just bored."

"Yes, Mom."

"Hey," he pokes her side. "At least say Dad."

"Ewwww."

"Both are equal opportunity eww."

She rests her head on his upper arm. He can smell her shampoo, a mix of lilacs and something slightly fruity. Combined with the special Liv aroma, each inhale settles his nerves...and ignites his hormones.

He suppresses a groan. With no work, no light, and the whiskey, he has a bad feeling about this.

"Maybe we should play a game," he suggests.

"Twenty questions."

"Oh no, that's sure to be a bust. I know everything about you and you'll only be more dazzled if I answer yours."

"Why did you hire me?"

"Oh, are we playing then?"

"I'm surious."

"Surious? Cute. I needed a good medical examiner. I had a vacancy. You were well-qualified."

"I did the entire interview in monotone. I was dressed in sweats. My hair hadn't seen a brush since pre-zombification. I think my stomach growled when we walked by a corpse."

He swallows loudly. "I remember."

"So?"

"I wanted to know you."

"Why?"

"Is that question part of the game?"

"No," she turns to face him, and even in the dark he feels the full intensity of her gaze. She is one potent woman.

"I'd seen you at the hospital. When I went to pick up bodies."

She sucks in a breath. "I didn't know that."

"You were a force to be reckoned with. Everyone parted when you clicked down the halls."

"Ah, I used to wear those chunky heels. Short girl prop."

"Even as a resident, you were daunting."

"I scored a perfect—"

"I know, you've mentioned it. I doubt it was your test scores or even your killer bod and sassy attitude that made people notice you. It was your confidence. You're a strong woman."

"Killer bod. I like that." She gives him her toothy, proud smile. Her little sharp incisors are one of a million details that he loves about her.

But out loud he humphs and disclaims, "I didn't mean to bring your body into it. Seeing as you're my employee. Well, co-worker at least."

"Friend."

"Now I've given you the advantage with questions. And compliments. Even it up, bro."

"Um, the first thing I noticed about you?" she pauses. "After I got some brains in my belly and could think straight? Was your hands. Those wide hands, delicate and strong, typing, deep in a corpse, holding me back from attacking Clive. Your hands should be on your dating profile pic. Just hands."

"A bit cocky, but I like it."

"Your knuckles are sexy, suckable, I wonder what it'd feel like to—"

Clearing his throat, Ravi re-situates so that they are a bit farther apart. "The lights should be back up, or the emergency generator, within a couple hours. You could nap. I can watch over things."

Impishly, she headbutts his shoulder. "I want to finish our game."

"I don't think we should play that game anymore."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a good friend. As you mentioned."

"And?"

"You're in a bad spot right now."

"I'm in a bad spot for the rest of my life, or unlife, Ravi. As far as shit storms go, I'm in the eye of the tornado. The lull, I mean. Major is gone, and I accept that. I tried, and he tried, and now it's over. My brother is safe. My friends are either in the know and okay with it, or out of the loop and living the good life."

She finds his hand and holds it, running her thumb lightly over his knuckles. "You're the only person who stuck with me through it all." She grazes the pad of her thumb along the crest of his knuckles and then into the dips, in a pattern that drives his senses bonkers. He tries to tug his hand away but she holds tight.

"You know I'm here for you," he says, but his voice cracks.

"I know."

"So we don't want to mix that up. You've had a lot of crap go down and I don't want to add to it."

"What if you didn't?"

"Add to it?"

"You've always made it lighter, Ravi."

"Thanks, I try."

She draws his hand to her mouth. Using her wet lips and tongue, she sucks his index finger into her warm mouth, pulling gently on it. He stops breathing. She bites playfully and he lets out a groan.

His other hand is in a fist. His body is coiled and only with intense control does he remain still.

"Um, Liv?"

"I'm thinking you can make it even lighter for me, like, cosmically light and bright," she whispers. "Earth shattering."

He releases his breath. He's been wanting her, waiting for her, for as long as he's known her. From first sight, he knew he would do anything to be with a woman like her. The undead thing brought her into his path, but that's a detail in his eyes.

"Maybe I'm out of line. I got a vibe...but if I've misread you," she stands up quickly, and lets his hand go. He reaches for her but she's fast. She almost makes it to the door. He catches up and loops his long arm around her waist. He pulls her back to his front.

"I do want you, Liv. You know that. We both know it."

"I want you, too. But I'm a monster. And I can't be with you the way I want. I'm sorry. I should have stayed quiet on this."

He runs his knuckle along her spine, feeling every notch, and her responding shivers. When he reaches her shoulder, he traces his finger forward along her collarbone to the hollow at the base of her neck. He glides up to her chin and cups her jaw.

"Liv,"

"Ravi,"

She spins around and he crushes her against him. Who knew this undead beauty would be his ticket to heaven? They crash into the side of the filing cabinet, making a dull metallic clunking noise. Her legs twine up around his waist and he finally, finally, tastes her lips. There is no restraint now: he suckles her lower lip, explores her hot mouth, nips at her tongue. She threads her fingers in his hair, kissing him just as eagerly.

He thinks, is this really happening?

Panting, she pulls back and says in a trembling voice, "Ravi, I love you. I have for so long. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he claims her lips again. The pounding of her heart against his chest is a delightful thrill to his senses, knowing as he does that to get a zombie's heart to pound is a rare feat.

A massive splattering sounds from the exam room. He releases her. As her feet hit the floor, an inhuman wail emits from the other room. Metal instruments clatter. A chilling thwop thwop sound levels into a more distinct slap of bare feet against the tiled floor.

Bare feet?

"The hell?" she whispers, and shoves Ravi aside, poised to assess the threat.

"Oh no, you minx," he steps in front of her.

"Let me," she huffs, and darts under his arm to the adjoining room.

What they see would be shocking to normal people.

Both corpses flounder about the room. One is banging his head on the wall of drawers, making a wet cracking noise with each head butt. His chest gapes open from their incomplete procedure. 

The other is the one on the move. It lunges at Liv. Even in the darkness, she dodges easily. It turns and runs at him.

Ravi puts up his fists.

Liv drops low and kicks out, tripping the lout. She spins up into a standing position and races to the body, which is already getting to his feet. He is agile for a new zombie, but still dumb with hunger and lack of life.

She grabs a scalpel and wings it at the guy, hitting him in the neck. No blood flows, but he staggers against the wall. Ravi kicks him in the gut, then again in the groin. The corpse doubles over.

Liv rushes forward and grabs his hair, pulling up and then crashing his temple into her upraised knee five times, until his forehead is dented like a pillow in the morning.

She shoves him aside. They turn at the same time to see the other corpse. His chest flap is winging open in a dark smile, and he's doing the cliché zombie walk: arms outstretched, swaying from side to side, low gurgle from the airless throat.

"I've got this," Ravi says, sounding exasperated.

"Well," Liv folds her arms over her chest and leans in what would be a nonchalant pose against the metal table behind her, except the brakes are up and she freefalls backwards. Her head bonks first and then her back slaps hard against the floor in a fall that would knock a living human out.

Ravi high kicks the zombie in the chest. It falls on its butt. Pulling off his ID lanyard, he steps close enough to loop it around the dazed zombie. Stepping back, Ravi twists the cord like a garrote, putting his prime sawing muscles to personal use for once. The head tips and tendons and skin loosen and tear with a viscous snick noise. The entire head lolls to his shoulder as if he is extremely drunk, but then it detaches and thuds to the floor with a smattering of gore that reeks of rot.

Ravi straightens and wipes his hands, which are not messy, on his lab coat. He shrugs out of it and drapes it over the headless corpse. Liv stands on shaky feet and takes a step toward him. Before he knows it, she is enveloped in his arms.

"I got you," he says.

"I know it. Thanks. Again."

"This shit storm has really uprooted a lot of crap."

"Not all crap. Some of what it uncovered has been welcome."

His lips lower to within a gasp of hers.

"I shouldn't bring you into my life. It's full of crap. Everything bad happens all at once lately, like the perfect shit storm."

"Aw, Livvy, sometimes it's the crap that brings people together. I wouldn't have met you otherwise."

"But we can't...ahem...you know. I can't—"

"Rock my world?"

She grins and blushes. "Yeah."

"Nothing would inspire me more in my search for the cure." 

"And if you can't?"

"First, don't doubt. Second, prepare for the ultimate in all things cheesy."

She cocks her head and says, "Come again?"

"What appears after a storm? Even after a perfect shit storm?"

She smiles slyly and curls further into their protective hug. He strokes her spine and grins when she softly says, "I guess...after the perfect shit storm comes a perfect sex rainbow. Is that cheesy enough for us?"

Bending to kiss the unlife out of her, he murmurs, "It's perfect."