Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice. Also, I am not American but I used elements of American political drama for the purpose of this epilogue. Also, I am pretty clueless when it comes to politics so excuse me if that fact is glaringly obvious.

I will never stop trying
I will never stop watching as you leave
I will never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me

-Never Stop
Safetysuit

SIX YEARS LATER

"Checkmate."

"That's not checkmate. It can't be."

"Sorry, sweetie. It's checkmate." My dad was grinning at me, leading me to believe that he wasn't sorry at all. "If you move your king here, my queen will get him. If you move him there, my rook will get him. And if you-"

I groaned in exasperation and slammed my forehead on the table, sending the chess pieces scattering. "I thought I had you that time."

"It's a game of strategy, honey. You make your moves too fast."

He was right, of course. While he took five minutes to decide on one move, I made mine in less than a minute and then spent five minutes tapping my foot anxiously, waiting for him to make a move. I also whined about it the whole time, about how slow he was and how I couldn't handle the pressure. Which, ultimately, was probably why I kept losing.

"If we played timed chess, I would win," I decided. "One minute per move. Let's do it. Right now." I started putting the pieces back on the board.

"Mikan, you've got to go get ready," dad reminded me gently.

I sighed. "I know, I know. Can you drive me to Sumire's? She said she has an outfit I can borrow."

It was Saturday afternoon. Dad and I always met on Saturday afternoons for a day of chess—which I always lost at—and snacks and coffee. With him still working for the government, and me being kept busy as the HR manager for Hotaru's technology firm, it was the only time we could cut out for each other.

After graduation, Mr. Narumi had suggested that my dad and I visit his office once a week for a therapy session to help rebuild our relationship. I had resisted the idea for three months before Natsume finally stuck me in the car and started driving, ignoring my threats that I was going to jump out of the moving vehicle.

Therapy had helped, just as it had helped me with my anxiety and PTSD. Dad and I both accepted the fact that our relationship would never be exactly as it had been before, because the betrayal I had experienced had cut me too deep, but we managed to get it pretty close.

"Of course," he said.

It was early December, so the ground outside was covered in a layer of crisp, white powder that was still falling from the sky. The air was cold, biting at my cheeks and the exposed skin on my neck.

Dad's car took forever to warm up. You'd think with him being the head of the president's security team that they would bless him with an updated model that would actually heat up before reaching the destination, but apparently not.

"You nervous?" he asked me as we drove.

"No," I lied. I had done it many times before, but that didn't stop the nerves from twisting my stomach. Every situation was different.

Dad saw right through me. "You have an army of support behind you. We will be standing by. If, at any time, you feel like your safety is compromised-"

"Dad," I interrupted. "I know. I'll be fine."

"You don't have to do these things if you don't want to," he reminded me, like he hoped I would jump on the opportunity and bow out. He always did this.

I wiggled my eyebrows. "Yeah, but with the money I'm going to make from this job, I can buy you a new car that will actually warm up before we get there."

He shot me a look. "You have no obligation-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's for the sake of national security." I returned his pointed look, reminding him that he had once defended himself with the very same excuse.

The car rolled to a stop in front of an apartment building. I tightened my scarf around my neck, kissed my dad on the cheek, and climbed out of the car.

"Remember, I will be right inside that building with you," he assured me. "Anything, anything goes wrong-"

"You'll be the first person I call. See you later, dad."

Sumire's apartment would be a disaster of clothes and dishes and magazines and everything else. I was picturing it as I was walking down the hallway. Sumire herself would be running around like a chicken with her head cut off, trying to put together the perfect outfit.

Sure enough, when I knocked on the door and she pulled it open, her hair was a disheveled mess on top of her head, she was in pyjamas, and she was out of breath. She kicked a magazine out of the way and gave me a onceover before smiling and pulling me into her arms.

"Come in, come in. Sorry for the mess. I'm leaving in a couple of days for a shoot and I can't decide what to pack. Can you come over tomorrow and help me? If you don't die tonight, of course."

I glared at her. "Thanks for reassuring me, Sumire."

She laughed. "You know I'm kidding, Mik. You'll kill it, as always. Have you heard from Natsume at all?"

Any good humour in me vanished and the knot in my stomach tightened. My prolonged silence earned a concerned glance from Sumire, and I forced a smile. "No. Nothing."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "No news is good news."

"I know."

Natsume had been away for nearly three months on an assignment in Russia. I didn't know the details, only that involved the Russian government. It had been six weeks since the last time I'd heard from him.

I didn't work for the government, like my dad and Natsume did. I'd done by business degree with a major in human resources and had been hired to run Hotaru's HR department right out of school. I thought that was awfully risky of her, since I had no experience, but she provided me with coaching when I needed it and for the last year, it had been the perfect job. And she paid well, too. And her benefits package was alluring.

Sometimes, however, I would get a call from the Department of Defense asking me to participate in a short job that required one or both of my alices for a pretty price. If the job could be done without interfering with my actual job, I would usually accept.

Tonight's job involved a politician's daughter. It was suspected that this politician's daughter knew some sensitive information regarding interference with our most recent election. While she'd already been questioned by the FBI and had sworn up and down that she knew nothing about election tampering, my dad's team suspected that she'd been subject to a memory-altering alice. The hope was that I'd be able to coerce a confession out of her by using my nullification alice to unscramble her memories, and it had to be done quietly and in the vicinity of this big party because the FBI had already gotten in a lot of trouble for detaining her in the first place.

"I have a couple of outfits picked out for you," Sumire said, opening her huge, walk-in closet. "I need them back before tomorrow, though. And please don't get any blood on them."

"I saw you on the cover of Cosmo," I said, clearing a spot on her bed of clothes and shoes and sitting down. "You're the best cover model I've ever seen."

She poked her head out of the closet. "Really? I thought my hair looked kind of…meh."

"Your hair looked fab. I like it when it's straight."

"Are you saying you don't like it when it's permed?"

"I'm saying it looks great both ways but the straight hair was a nice change."

"Okay." She disappeared back into the closet. Two dresses and a pair of shoes came flying out. I tried to dodge them, but she had nailed me in the arm with one of the shoes and managed to cover me in both of the dresses.

I picked up the offending high heel and glared in her direction. "How's Koko?"

She reappeared so quickly that it almost appeared to be magic. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. He's out travelling the world, you're always travelling for photoshoots. Don't try to tell me you guys don't hook up occasionally and screw."

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to come across as offended. "The fact that you think I would do that is just…hurtful."

"So you and Koko were both in Paris last week and you didn't meet up?"

"I'm not saying we didn't meet up."

"Oh, so you didn't hook up?"

She pursed her lips, but she couldn't hide the blush creeping up her neck. "He's good. Rugged. He's got a beard thing going on. It's kind of hot." She motioned to the dresses in my arms. "Which one do you think?"

They were both long gowns. One was bright red and strapless and beautiful, but it was the second one that caught my attention.

The second one she'd thrown at me was satin, soft in my hands, and a dusty rose colour. It had a plunging neckline and straps, which was my favorite part because who the hell actually liked wearing strapless dresses. It dropped low in the back, cinched around the zipper for the illusion of a smaller waist, and it had a long slit up the side, which would prove practical if I needed to run away.

"This one," I decided.

"But you haven't even tried them on."

"I'll like this one better."

"Well, hurry up and try it on."

I bounded into her closet and pulled off my clothes in the privacy. It definitely wasn't the type of dress one would wear a bra with. Or really any undergarments, because the material was so clingy that the lines of my thong would probably be visible too. I guess commando it was.

But I knew as soon as the dress slid over my skin that it was the one.

Sumire agreed with an appreciative eyebrow-raise when I came out of the closet with it on. "Now we just need to do something with your hair."

As if on cue, the front door burst open and a voice was calling, "Sorry I'm late!" When Anna appeared in Sumire's room, her nose was already wrinkled in disgust. "Seriously, Sumire. You need a house cleaner."

I zeroed in on the drink tray in her hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Anna's own special blend coffee, from my shop!" She handed the tray to me. "I also brought homemade donuts." She scanned me from head to toe. "That dress was made for you. Now let's do something with that hair."

A couple of hours later, I was dressed, made up, and my hair was done up in a loose bun at the nape of my neck with strands of curls falling around my face. Sumire had stuck some dangly diamond earrings on me, but had elected not to go with a necklace because she didn't want to draw any attention away from my neckline.

Anna clapped her hands together excitedly and pulled out her phone. "Let me get a picture."

"Anna," I groaned. "No."

"C'mon. You look so good. I want to look at this any time I need motivation to hit the gym and am tired of looking at Sumire's abs on the cover of Sports Illustrated." She looked so hopeful, like a mom who wanted a nice picture of her daughter before prom, so I finally relented and posed for a picture.

Sumire glanced at her watch. "You've got to be there in, like, half an hour. Shoes, shoes, shoes."

I resisted the strappy silver high heels she tossed at me, citing the reason that if I needed to run, I would not be going very fast, but she insisted they would complete the look and that everyone else would be wearing heels so I needed to, too.

We were halfway out the door when I remembered it was the middle of winter and I was not dressed appropriately for snow. Sumire disappeared back inside and returned with a white fur coat and threw it over my shoulders before ushering me down the stairs. I'd have to invade her closet more often.

Anna drove us to the venue, which was a giant hall that looked like a castle. There was valet parking, but she drove the car around the back of the building and down a couple side streets upon my direction before stopping next to a utility van.

"You've got this," Sumire said from the backseat, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't fuck up and die."

Anna swatted her hand away from me with a viscious glare. "Would you stop that? She's already looking kind of pale. Mik, you're a natural at this. And think of the payday."

"I know." I smiled at both of them, hugged both of them, thanked both of them, and promised to fill them in on details the following morning. Then I climbed out of the car into the snowy night, cursing the strappy heels when my toes touched snow.

There were three people inside the utility van. Two of them I knew from previous assignments, and one was Gary. Gary was dressed in a tux with a corsage, and grabbed me by the face to kiss both my cheeks when I climbed inside.

"Looking good, sweetheart," he said. "You ready for this?"

I exhaled a puff of breath. "I think so."

He glanced at the other two men, who were busy with the computers in the back of the van, and reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a flask. "How 'bout a drink?"

I considered, and then relented. We each did a shot from the bottle and then the other two guys got to work wiring us. They were using Hotaru's technology, which was a virtually undetectable listening device. It was clear, and smaller than a gemstone. Small enough, in fact, that they were able to attach one to the backside of each of my earrings.

"They'll be recording the whole night," the man who attached them said. "The goal of this evening is to get a confession without coercion. Lydia Samsonova is close to your age. Unscramble her memories, and then engage her in conversation."

"Got it, boss," I said. "My dad will be in there, right?"

"He'll be standing watch over the president," Gary said. "I'm your backup. You're my daughter, and I am a friend of the president's. What's your name, sweetie?"

"Isabel Duncan. You're my father, Ollie."

"Excellent. Shall we?"

I took the arm that he offered and we stepped out of the van. We walked the short way to the entrance, where we were greeted by an official with a guest list. He checked our names off after checking our IDs, and then ushered us in. I handed my jacket to a kind lady, and Gary took a moment to scan me fondly.

"You are a beautiful young lady."

"Stop it, you're making me blush."

The party was filled with people already, and more were still filtering in after us. I was relieved to see that I didn't stand out in any way, as everyone was dressed formally and most of them women actually had dresses far more extravagant than mine.

The building itself was huge, like a giant ballroom only a thousand times more amazing in terms of architecture and décor. There was a grand staircase on the far end of the room, like the kind you'd find in a castle, and a giant Christmas tree perched at the bottom of the stairs to the side. There were two bars on each end of the room, long counters with an abundance of liquor behind them. Somehow I doubted I would even know any of the liquor by name, because it was probably all the good stuff. Luckily it was an open bar so I didn't have to worry about paying $30 for a drink.

"Do you see her?" I muttered to Gary under my breath as we strolled, in no particular hurry, through the crowd.

"No, but she'll be here. You know what her father looks like, right?"

"Yes."

"Let's split up. Try to act natural. Maybe go grab a drink from the bar."

I liked that idea. We parted ways, and I slid through the crowd. A couple people stopped to compliment me, which I graciously thanked them for. Two gentleman asked me to dance, but I told them that I was in search of a friend and a drink before I danced. I promised to catch up with them later.

The bar wasn't busy, so I was able to flag down a bartender almost immediately. I asked for a dry martini because that's what I had seen classy people order on TV, even though I was certain I wasn't going to like it. I definitely didn't like olives.

The bartender handed me my glass and I turned slowly around to scan the room. I couldn't decide if I had bad timing or good timing, because as soon as I turned, I spotted the couple descending the grand staircase. I'd been in the midst of taking a drink of my martini, and it was all I could do not to spit it all over the place and succumb to a coughing fit. Instead, I choked, turned back to the bar, and tried to breathe around the vodka in my throat.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" the bartender asked, brows furrowed.

"Yes," I croaked. "She's really beautiful. The girl on the stairs. Do you know who she is?"

The bartender looked past me to the stairs, a look of wonder coming over him. "Ah, yes. That is Lydia Samsonova, daughter of Isaac Samsonova."

Of course it was. "And who's that with her?"

"I believe that is her fiancé."

My heart stopped, and then fell to my toes, and then lurched back into my throat. I smiled as normally as I could at the bartender before he departed to take care of another guest, and I got to work counting backwards in my head from 100 to calm myself down.

Thanks for the heads-up, dad, I thought bitterly to myself. And Gary. And the Secretary of Defense. This was totally not something I should have known ahead of time.

I didn't know what name he was going by, but the person attached to Lydia Samsonova was without a doubt Natsume Hyuga. Who, last I had checked, was my boyfriend. Who I hadn't seen in three months. Who I hadn't heard from in six weeks. I guess now I knew why.

Fiancé? Man, I was so out of the loop. And now I had vodka in my lungs.

I took another sip of the martini, hoping it would help to calm my stomach. Which I knew it wouldn't. How the hell was I supposed to do my job now? With him right there? When I had about three thousand questions as to what he'd been up to over the last few months?

Just do the job and get the heck out of here, I told myself. And go home and cry. Because that girl is fricken gorgeous.

I took a deep breath and turned back to the ballroom.

Lydia and Natsume were stopped talking to a group of people who were fawning over them. With another twist of my stomach, I saw her showing off a ring on her finger. Her ring finger. Her I'm-getting-married-soon finger.

At least the paycheque I'd get from this job would be enough to get me out of the country for awhile to nurse my wounds. Maybe I could get Anna and Sumire to come on a beach vacation. And maybe Hotaru, but probably not because she was not only married to Ruka but also to her job. What a weird way this was to be dumped.

Natsume placed his hand on Lydia's lower back—really lower back—and guided her away from the crowd, whispering something in her ear. She giggled, and while I was still trying not to fume, I made my move.

"Excuse me," I said, loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to draw too much attention. When Lydia and Natsume turned to me, I kept my gaze anchored firmly to Lydia's face. "I just wanted to let you know that your dress is amazing. Where did you get it?"

Lydia was tall, thin, and had a face that literally looked like it had been carved by angels. Her hair was done up sort of similarly to mine, but where my hair was just plain brown, her was a beautiful auburn colour with well-taken-care-of highlights. She was wearing a silver, sparkly strapless gown that drooped low in the back like mine did, meaning Natsume's hand was touching her skin. I tried to console myself by telling myself that she was probably super uncomfortable in that strapless dress.

Lydia smiled, displaying two rows of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. The worst part was that it was a genuine smile. "Thank you," she said with a slight Russian accent. "I found it at a boutique in Paris." She looked up at Natsume with stars in her eyes. "We were there for a weekend away. It's just been so dreadfully stressful with this election nightmare."

I followed her gaze up to meet Natsume's eyes. He was remaining carefully composed, but I could tell that he wasn't happy to see me. He didn't like when I took these jobs, but he hadn't been around to stop me this time. Because apparently he'd been in bed with Lydia.

He looked as good as she did, like they were made for each other. He wore a tux that fit him so perfectly that I knew every woman in this room would be looking at him. But the corsage he wore that matched the silvery colour of Lydia's dress reminded me that he belonged to someone else at the moment.

"And who is this?" I asked.

Lydia sunk into him, pressing her hand to his chest. "This is Felix," she gushed. "We're recently engaged." Even though I didn't ask, she thrust her hand out to me.

I pretended to be interested in the ring. Or maybe I wasn't pretending, because I wanted to take a good look at the rock Natsume had bought for another woman. It was huge. And it sparkled. It sparkled a lot.

"That's beautiful," I said to her. "How did he ask?"

I figured now was probably my chance, so while she was gushing over how Natsume—Felix—had asked her to marry her under the moonlight in the gardens of her father's house a little over six weeks ago, I channelled my growing anger into my nullification alice. I'd mastered it over the years, and I could isolate my alices as well as use them based on my own free will rather than as a consequence of my emotions.

Before I could extend my alice to her, though, Natsume spotted something behind her. He angled Lydia away from me just as an older man came up behind her. The man grabbed her by her face, kissed her cheeks, and said something in Russian with a sparkle in his eyes that told me that was her father.

"Father, I'm so happy to see you," she said in an angelic tone. "Come. I must show you something."

Lydia cast an apologetic glance at me, and then stood up on her toes to kiss Natsume right on the lips before she followed her father away, leaving Natsume and I staring after her in awkward silence.

After a moment, I glanced up at him. He turned back to look at me. He didn't say anything, so I said, "Well, I'm going to need another drink," before turning on my heel and forcing myself to walk gracefully through the crowd.

The bartender had another martini ready for me before I even asked for it. I stayed at the bar this time, trying to think of a new way to approach this.

Obviously Natsume's assignment had to do with the same thing mine did. But obviously his was a little more extensive.

"What are you doing here?" His voice, alarmingly close behind me, made me jump in surprise.

I looked casually over at him as he came to a stop beside me and leaned easily against the bar. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and then turned that piercing gaze back down to me, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not going to answer that," I decided haughtily. "You don't deserve an answer."

"You're mad."

"You think, you asshole?" I whispered. My words were malicious, but I kept my expression pleasant as to avoid suspicion. There was no reason that Isabel Duncan should be arguing with Lydia's fiancé. "I haven't heard from you in weeks. And according to Lydia, you've been together the entire time you've been gone."

"It was the assignment," he said logically.

"Doesn't matter, you dickbutt. Together three months? Don't try to tell me you didn't sleep with her."

Instead of answering, he turned the questions on me. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting a confession to her father's tampering with the election."

"That's my assignment."

"Well apparently you got in a little too deep and are obviously not doing your job."

"You're here because they think they need you to unscramble her memories."

"Duh."

"Her father is a dangerous man, Legs."

I couldn't help the glare this time. "Don't patronize me, Natsume. I've done my fair share of these jobs. I can handle it. Better than you can."

Frustration passed over his face. "They know who your are. They've heard your name. They've seen your face. If they see you here, they'll know what you're trying to do. Her father will not hesitate to have you killed."

"Well I'm not Mikan tonight. I'm Isabel. And you're Felix, Lydia's fiancé. And I hate you." I picked up my drink. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a job to do. And I need to find my dad so I can kick his ass. Both dads. The real one and the fake one."

"I haven't slept with her," he said before I walked away.

"Yeah, I don't believe you. You're a horn dog. And she's hot. There's no way you didn't tap that." Without giving him a chance to respond, I walked away.

In order to reaffirm Lydia's location, I accepted an offer to dance from a handsome fellow from London. I also did it because I wanted to shove it in Natsume's face, and he was close enough to see the man's hand slide down my waist until it was on the small of my bare back. I hoped it hurt him.

I found Lydia again after a few twirls with the English gentleman. She was following her father up the grand staircase she and Natsume had come down.

I spotted my father near the staircase as well. He was watching Lydia and her father carefully as well, but he quickly turned his attention back to the president.

The election tampering Lydia's father was accused of hadn't been enough to sway the election. The other candidate, a much more merciless man who had run his campaign on promises of going to war with any country that did not agree with us, had lost by only a hair. He reminded me a lot of Rei, actually, with world domination as the endgame. It was suspected that Russia had been pushing for his win because of his promise to back Russia in their war on a third-world country in which they were trying to gain control of. Russia was hoping for the support of one of the world's largest militaries.

Snuffing out Lydia's father was a priority before the next election. If I could get proof of collusion through Lydia, the other candidate, Dale Garner, would be removed from the presidential race and Russia would hopefully be back to square one with their efforts.

I stopped next to my dad. My real dad, as my fake dad was busy chatting with the president. I didn't know if they were actually friends or if it was all part of the act.

"Thanks for blindsiding me," I muttered.

"I didn't know," he replied honestly. "No one has heard from Natsume since the last time you heard from him. He went underground for a reason. He probably thought it was his best chance at getting to Lydia."

"Getting into Lydia, you mean."

He frowned at me. "That's not-"

"Excuse me, I'm going to find the ladies' room." With one more entirely fake smile, I headed up the stairs in the direction they'd gone.

It kind of looked like my old dorm at Alice Academy at the top of the stairs. It was a long hallway with closed doors the whole way down. And Alice Academy had had an aesthetically pleasing staircase, too.

I couldn't see Lydia or her father, but I figured they couldn't have gone far. I'd feign ignorance and tell them that I was looking to powder my nose if I stumbled into them unexpectedly. But I needed to get close to her again. Five feet was about as far as I'd been able to stretch my alice.

I was just about to check the room to my right when I heard footsteps suddenly very close behind me. A hand reached around me, pushing the door open before I could grab the handle and shoving me inside. My gasp died on my lips when I recognized the familiar warmth of his body.

The room was dark. He'd pushed me inside, and, in the same motion, stepped in behind me and closed the door. Then he'd pinned me to the wall. Normally I would have found that sexy, but not today.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded in a whisper.

"I didn't sleep with her," he insisted, his voice husky in my ear.

"And I don't believe you."

"Mikan, I didn't."

"Okay, but you kissed her. Probably a lot. And just because you didn't sleep with her, doesn't mean you didn't do other things with her. You took a romantic vacation to Paris, for God's sake. You know I want to go to Paris."

"I will take you to Paris. Every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"That's stupid. I'm breaking up with you."

"Legs-"

"As far as I'm concerned, you've spent the last three months cheating on me. You are literally engaged to her. Was I going to get an invite to the wedding? Actually, don't answer that. Let me go instead. I'm going to finish this job and leave you to clean up the mess."

His hand met my waist. It was warm through my borrowed dress. It had been a long time since he'd accidentally burned me, but I was so mad now that I was worried we were in the danger zone. Because I didn't want to die by Sumire's hand if he burned the dress by accident, I forced myself to breathe slowly. And think of words that rhymed.

Teeter, seater, greeter, beater, heater…cheater, cheater pumpkin-eater.

"You're thinking of words that rhyme," he guessed, humour in his tone. He knew of my mental exercises that helped to keep my emotions in check.

"Yeah, and I started with 'teeter.' Know what rhymes with that?"

"You don't understand. If you would just let me explain-"

I barked a laugh, trying to shove him away, hating the way my body responded to his hand on my waist. "That's what they all say. I don't want to hear your bullshit-"

"Marry me."

This time, he had effectively silenced me. For about ten seconds, until my brain caught up with my ears. And then I said, "I'm sorry, what?"

He reached his other hand up to brush a stray curl away from my face. His expression was soft, his gaze tender. Sincere. "Mikan Sakura, marry me."

Airy, bury, faerie, dairy, Gary, hairy…

"No," I said once the rhyming had settled me. "We're not even dating anymore because I just broke up with you."

He sighed. His breath fanned over my face. It was warm and sweet and it took me back to cold days we spent tangled up in bed with coffee and books and nothing but blankets. "How's Gimli?"

I tried not to be put-off by the subject change. "Gimli is fine. He doesn't even miss you." That was a lie, of course. Our dog, Gimli the Golden Retriever, had spent a lot more time than usual sulking over the past several weeks. But he was technically my dog, so Natsume didn't need to know that.

Two years ago, Natsume had come home to me lying face down in our bed crying because I'd spent too long watching cute dog videos and I wanted one so bad. Because his job with the government gave him a relative amount of flexibility with hours that made having a pet possible, I'd come home one day to find him sitting on the living room floor playing with a Golden Retriever puppy. I hadn't stopped crying for literally hours.

Gimli had been my Christmas gift, so even though Natsume had purchased him, he was mine. I'd already told Natsume many times that if we ever broke up, Gimli was coming with me.

Natsume leaned into me, pressing his body to every inch of mine. "You are beautiful. This dress is amazing on you."

"You can't compliment your way out of this. Besides, Lydia looks like a goddamn model."

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world." He pressed his lips gently to the base of my jaw, right below my ear. "I miss you."

"I'm sure you do," I grumbled, but my voice held a whole lot less conviction. I struggled to keep my jaw taut, but him kissing it was making it hard. "Now you're cheating on your fiancée. And you're trying to rope me into being the other woman."

"If you would just stay put and let me do my job, you would understand," he muttered, kissing along my chin and up to the other side of my face.

"I have a job, too."

"Your job is based on misinformation."

"What misinformation?"

His hand skimmed down my shoulder, down the side of my torso before he slid it to the exposed skin on my lower back. "A confession is no good unless it comes from Isaac Samsonova himself. I am going to get that confession." His hand slid into my dress. "You're not wearing underwear."

"Does this look like the kind of dress you can wear underwear with?" I meant to sound snarky, but it kind of just came out breathy. He was just too damn hot.

While one hand slid deeper into my dress until he had a handful of my butt, his other hand reached for my leg, finding the slit in the silky material of the dress and tracing the path up towards my hip. "Every man in the building has been eyeing you."

"No they haven't."

"They have. I've watched them." He dropped his mouth to my throat, kissing the spot where he could probably feel my pulse roaring beneath my skin. "I can't wait to come home to you."

"You're not coming home to me," I reminded him, trying to hold onto my resolve. "Because I'm kicking you out."

"Marry me," he said again.

"You're already engaged."

"I won't be after I finish this job."

"I'm not going to marry you while you're engaged to-"

His lips found mine in the dark, and he silenced me. It had been a long three months. I'd dreamt about kissing him again. But somehow my memory never really did the real thing justice. I forgot how to breathe, and when he pulled away, I was dizzy.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear. "You can have a little while to think about an answer to that question. An answer that isn't no." And then, before I had a chance to gather myself, he was sliding off of me and out the door. He closed it behind him and I heard a key turn in the lock.

My stomach dropped when I jiggled the doorknob and found it locked. I slammed my hand on the door. "You didn't even ask me anything!" I whisper-shouted through the door.

Ugh. Goddamn old buildings that locked from the outside. I thought about using the recorder in my earrings to call for help, but decided against it. The last thing I wanted was to be shown-up by traitor-Natsume.

I flicked on the light. The room looked like a study, with a big mahogany desk and a fancy leather chair and bookshelves lining the walls. It also, to my delight, had a vent on the ceiling.

I looked down at the dress, and then up at the ceiling. I warred with myself for a second, and then reminded myself that the paycheque I would get for this job would more than cover the cost of the dress.

Using the desk, which was conveniently right below the vent, along with a stack of books to give me an extra few inches, I was able to pry the grate off the front of the vent. It was small, but so was I. It would just take some wiggling.

I abandoned the strappy heels with every intention of returning to get them after I finished this. Then, pretending I was a spy in a movie, I pulled myself up. Because I wasn't a spy and this wasn't a movie—unless it was a comedy—I didn't get up on my first try. It took me probably five solid minutes of struggling before I finally managed to squeeze through the gap and into the vent above. I heard a horrifying rip that confirmed I would be buying Sumire a new dress as well.

I army-crawled through the vent. It was tight and it smelled mildewy and I wasn't even sure if this was going to work but I soldiered on, whispering rhymes to keep the anxiety at bay.

It felt like it took forever, but eventually I heard voices. And then I saw light coming in from another vent. I was sweaty and sticky by now, but I slunk forward a little further and peered through the vent into the room.

It was a bedroom, with a great big bed and really fluffy-looking pillows. I pictured falling from the vent and onto that bed and falling asleep pretending that Natsume did not have a gun pointed at Lydia.

Lydia's face was streaked with tears. Her eye makeup was running, leaving tracks in her face makeup. Suddenly, she wasn't as pretty. Natsume held the gun firmly to her temple. She was on her knees, facing her father, who was staring evenly back at Natsume.

It was only the three of them in the room, not including me. I wondered how Natsume had gotten rid of Isaac's security team.

"I want 50 million," Natsume said calmly. "If you don't get it to me, she dies. You'll watch. And then I'll disappear. You can send the whole world out looking for me and I promise you, they won't find me. But you'll have lost your precious daughter, and you'll have to live with it."

Isaac scowled, and instead of responding, spat at Natsume's feet. Natsume looked irritated, and demonstrated so by pressing the gun a little harder into Lydia's head. She cried out, and I almost cried out with her.

Natsume wouldn't do this, I told myself. There was no way Natsume would shoot her. And for money? What was he doing?

Isaac snickered. "You think I care if you shoot her?"

My jaw dropped. It was like having a front-row seat to a really intense movie. Except that I was a lot more uncomfortable, physically.

Lydia started sobbing. "Daddy, why are you saying this?"

"You dirty thief," Isaac said, and I noticed his Russian accent had disappeared. "Shoot her. I don't care. You're not getting a penny of my money."

"You don't care if I shoot your daughter?" Natsume asked, as if for confirmation. His finger hovered over the trigger.

Isaac snickered. "She's not my daughter. She's just some bitch that doesn't know how to pick a gold-digger out of a crowd."

In the same moment that satisfaction passed over both Natsume and Lydia's faces, I shifted too much of my weight onto the grate. It whined under the pressure, and then gave away. I fell through head-first, but my thighs catching on their way down flipped me over onto my back. I landed with a very loud thump on my back, about a foot and a half away from the really comfy bed.

"Ouch," I moaned, and then sat up.

Lydia was staring at me in shock, but one glance at the man that was supposed to be Isaac Samsonova had realization dawning on her, and she smiled at me.

"Sean Garner, you're under arrest," Natsume was saying, his tone conveying that he had shifted back into all-business. He was arresting the man that was supposed to be Isaac, but his face had changed. I recognized it from the news. This man was Sean Garner, the eldest son of Dale Garner, the candidate who had barely lost the presidential election.

I realized, with a start, that the man must have a shape-shifting alice. Or something like it. And my proximity had made it ineffective. He was just Sean now, not some wealthy Russian politician.

Sean struggled against Natsume. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Your mask is gone, Sean."

Sean glimpsed himself in the mirror over the vanity and I watched as the blood visibly drained from his face.

"Don't you think the man's daughter would have realized that the man pretending to be her father wasn't her father?" Lydia said coolly. "I suspected something had happened to my father. You've been posing as him for the last several months, perhaps longer, in order to rally support in the Russian government for interfering with the election here. You tried to get your father elected and tried to incriminate Russia in the process. You are a disgrace of a man."

I rolled over onto my stomach and placed my hands over my head, which was beginning to ache. "This is too much for me."

The door burst open and my dad and Gary, accompanied by several other agents piled in. Someone took Sean from Natsume and led him out of the room.

"How did you figure it out?" dad asked Natsume.

"Lydia came to me as soon as I was dispatched on this assignment. She laid out her suspicions and after some hesitance, I believed her. We feigned a whirlwind romance in order to diffuse any suspicions Sean might've had about my intentions. We were just working on way that we could out him. We wanted to do it here, rather than on Russian soil. Reduce legality issues when it comes to jurisdiction. Legs being here helped. She nullified his alice, which, to my understanding, is why you sent her here."

Dad probably nodded. "Yeah, except we thought that we could get a confession from Lydia."

"I really had no idea about the election interference when you questioned me," she said. "It was your questioning me that got me thinking that maybe something was not quite right." Her footsteps got closer to me. I felt her crouch down beside me and place her hand on my back. "Mikan, right? I can tell from the way he looks at you."

I lifted my head to peek at her. "You just pretended to be engaged?"

"Yes," Lydia assured me with a hesitant smile. "Only in public. Behind closed doors, we only spoke business." Her voice grew quieter. "Natsume is a very attractive man. I'd be lying if I said I never thought about it. But he made it clear from our first encounter that he belonged to someone else."

I groaned and let my forehead drop to the floor. "I think I need an aspirin."

Natsume and I were picked up from the party in a limo, courtesy of the president. Dad brought me my coat and showed us out the back way so that I didn't have to walk back through that ballroom with my dress ripped and covered in dirt from the vent. Natsume and I didn't speak for the whole walk to the vehicle, and inside the limo we sat on opposite sides. I stared out the window, arms folded over my chest.

We pulled up to our condo past midnight. It was a nice building, relatively new. Definitely on the classier side. We were both paid well enough that we'd been able to afford this place after I'd graduated and Hotaru had given me a job. Our suite was on the fourth floor, and we shared a silent elevator ride up. His eyes never left my face.

Gimli greeted us at the door. To my dismay, he was way more excited to see Natsume.

"I'll take him outside," Natsume offered, to which I just nodded absently and floated into the kitchen and collapsed into one of the chairs at the island.

When they came back in, he came straight into the kitchen. I'd ditched the white fur coat, and sat in my torn dress with my elbow on the counter and my face cradled in the palm of my hand. He went around the other side of the island so that he was across from me.

"You're allowed to be mad," he told me. "But I swear to you, the only time we kissed was when there was someone who needed to be convinced. And it didn't mean anything. Nothing else happened. I thought about you the entire time I was gone."

"Why didn't you call?" I asked.

"I didn't want to risk anything being traced to you. I know that the Garners are a powerful family and I didn't want to risk you getting caught up in the crossfire. That's why I wasn't happy to see you there tonight."

"Well, you should have shared your information with my dad. Then he wouldn't he sent me in there."

"Only Lydia and I knew. I wanted to keep it that way." He walked around the counter and came to a stop behind my chair. His hands slid over my shoulders, massaging the knots he found there gently. "I'm sorry for misleading you. I'm sorry for making you think the worst of me."

I sighed, letting my head roll forward so I could rest my forehead on the cool countertop. "Okay."

He dug his thumbs a little harder into my back, eliciting an involuntary moan from me. "That dress looks even better all torn up."

Of course he would think so. The slit in the side had ripped all the way to my hipbone, which made it glaringly obvious that I wasn't wearing any panties. I'd had to clutch it closed as we'd walked to prevent any flashing. One of the straps was hanging limply from my shoulder, too, and since I wasn't wearing a bra, that left only one strap keeping me from being totally naked.

"I'm still mad at you," I informed him.

He pressed his lips to the base of my neck, where my neck met my shoulder. "I said you're allowed. I deserve it. But I'll keep kissing you until you forgive me."

Gimli licked my hand. I looked down at him, at his big, brown, hopeful eyes that I was certain were saying, "Please forgive dad."

I sighed again and turned in my chair to face him. The chairs at the island were tall, but I still only came up to his chest. He braced his hands on the counter on either side of me and leaned down until his face was closer to mine.

"You owe me a trip to Paris," I said. "And while we're at it, I want to go to the Greek islands. Crete, Santorini, Mykonos. All of them."

He brushed his lips over my cheekbone. "Okay."

"And if you leave for three months again and don't contact me, don't bother coming home, you got it?"

A kiss across my other cheekbone. "I'm never leaving you again. Now will you let me take you to bed? I want to hold you." When I didn't immediately object, he took that as a yes and lifted me easily out of my chair, forcing my legs around his waist and carrying me towards the stairs.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face under his chin, inhaling his tantalizing scent that had undone me from day one. He kept his hands on my bare back, and they didn't stray. He turned on the dim lights in the bedroom and told Gimli to go lay on his dog bed and then placed me down gently on our king-sized bed.

He eased his weight down onto me, our legs hanging off the end of the bed, his eyes boring into mine. "Now that you know what happened, did you change your answer?"

"Answer to what?" I replied cheekily.

"You know what."

"Natsume, you didn't ask me anything in which I should have to provide an answer."

He pressed his forehead to mine, holding my gaze. "Mikan Sakura, will you marry me?"

"Convince me," I whispered.

Three months away from him was too much, and we could both tell by the way my body responded to him as if it were the first time we'd been together, all those years ago, in a dorm room, fuelled by alcohol and the fear of never knowing.

He pulled me to my feet and slid the intact strap of the dress off of my shoulder. Instead of letting it slide off my body on its own, which it would have, he held onto it, pulling it down little by little, following it with kisses down my chest and abdomen and down to my knees before trailing kisses back up to my mouth.

I slowly undid the button on his tux jacket and pushed it off his shoulders and onto the floor before I got to work on the buttons of his shirt. Those were a bit tougher, and to my dismay he was wearing an undershirt under the button-up.

"It's like a fricken Russian doll. You know, like those ones where it's just a doll inside a doll inside a doll?"

"I don't want to talk about Russia," he said, but he was smiling, clearly entertained.

We got rid of his undershirt and his pants and boxers and then the tender loving took a backseat. We tumbled back onto the bed in a mess of arms and legs and skin and we made up for the three months we'd been apart with hungry kisses and urgent touches. We tumbled over the ledge in perfect synchronicity, and came out the other side breathless and satiated.

He slid his arm under me and pulled me into his chest, his embrace tight enough to make it sort of hard to breathe. "Are you convinced?"

"Hmm…I don't know. Not yet. Maybe you should try again?"

He rolled on top of me, squashing me under his weight. "I'll spend all night convincing you. But I can tell you right now that you're not leaving this bed until you say yes." Without warning, he rolled off of me and reached off the bed for something on the floor. When he rolled back over, on his side right next to me, he held a small black box in his hand.

My breath caught in my throat.

He popped the box open. Inside was the perfect ring. It had a very large, round diamond set on a band that was tapered with smaller diamonds halfway down. It was a thousand times better than the one Lydia had been wearing, real or not.

"Does this convince you?" he asked quietly.

I searched for words for a long few seconds before finally saying, "You're getting closer." I took the ring box from him and sat up, holding the blankets over my chest while I stared at the ring. He snatched it back from me and pulled the ring out of its velvet cushion. Then he took my hand and slid it onto my finger.

Of course it would fit perfectly.

"I got it in Paris," he said, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "You love me." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I do," I admitted. "Very much."

"And I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. Say yes, Legs."

I pursed my lips, pulling my hand away from him and stretching it in front of me. I decided I liked the way it looked on my hand and laid back down beside him so our noses were almost touching.

"I will marry you," I said. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"Gimli gets to be the ringbearer."

Instead of answering, he rolled on top of me and kissed me until we fell asleep.

End.

A/N: This is it! The final chapter of Capsize. It turned out a lot longer than I anticipated, but it was so fun to write. Thank you all for your support of this story and for seeing it through to the end! I'm so honored by all the kind words that have been said. I hope this epilogue gives you closure, as it did for me.

Also, I'm surprised only a couple people noticed (or only a couple vocalized that they noticed) the relationship between the title of the first chapter and the title of chapter 19! I was so proud of that little tidbit!

Anyway, I wish you all the best and if I ever get around to publishing anything, you can bet your asses I'll let y'all know :)

Love,
Ducky-san