Disclaimer! All fictional entities featured/ mentioned in this segment belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata; with the exception of Erin Blogger (to WhiteLadyDragon) and Acey and Jaime (to smearedliner).

Smearedliner and I are writing a collaboration fanfic based loosely off of "Story of the Century"! This is only the first part; more to come soon! Enjoy the fruits of our labor!

IN PERFECT TRUST

00-1

1310…1311…1312…1313.

This is it.

Erin stopped to take several breaths to still her nerves, inhaling deeply through her nostrils, exhaling through her mouth in puffs just as quiet and deep. It seemed that no matter who she was meeting with, she would almost always catch the pre-interview jitters, turning into a walking ball of nerves just minutes before the introduction. Such was a natural feeling for every new journalist, particularly one who was a recovering foot-in-the-mouth addict.

But even before then, Erin had always been a high-strung girl. Her shoulders dropped.

Relax, Blogger. Loosen up and smile. Loosen up and smile. No one will open up to someone who looks like they've got hemorrhoids.

Wiping the sweat condensing on her palm on the thigh of her slacks, she pulled up her slacks over her waist, pulled on the hem of her blouse to get out any unsightly wrinkles, and adjusted her hat. She must've spent at least two minutes grooming herself before finally raising her fist to rap on the door…only for the door to creak open before her knuckles could even connect with its polished surface.

Erin let out the tiniest yelp against her will. Her clutch on the notepad tucked in the perspiring pit of her arm clenched.

The door opened to reveal a young, petite girl—younger than even Erin, it seemed—with straight, blonde hair cascading down her back. Acey of Spades smiled warmly in greeting before she stepped back to let her in. "Erin Blogger? Please, do come in."

When Acey placed a hand on the door frame, several gruesome scars adorning her arms nearly all the way up to her shoulders, as well a few on her collarbone, caught in the overhead light of her hotel room. Apart from that, she somehow reminded Erin of her pop star friend Misa Amane, but more contemplative and minus the pigtails and Gothic Lolita attire. And this girl wasn't Japanese, of course.

H-how did she know my name before I introduced myself? And…what're all those scars on her arms, Erin wondered, fighting all the while not to stare at them for too long, and to keep her twitching lips curled into a smile. Was she looking at yet another young mad genius? She shivered at the thought, praying to the gods of journalism that the girl hadn't seen how jumpy she was already making her.

For some reason, the Shinigami Eyes crossed her mind for but a moment, though her gait became more cautious.

After closing the door behind Erin, Acey motioned to the one who would be interviewing her to sit next to her on the couch. After solving a serial murder that had gone unsolved for the past four years by communicating with one of the victims while she'd been at the bookstore, Acey had agreed to do one interview and ONE interview ONLY, after being hounded for days on end by reporters.

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, Acey glanced down at the floor. A flicker of soft sadness clouded her deep hazel eyes for a moment.

Would you be proud of me, L, Acey thought, tears threatening to well in eyes.

"H-hey. Are you okay?" Erin managed to squeak, unsure if she had been heard.

Acey reached over to scratch her black cat Wicked behind his ears to comfort herself, successfully making the sadness pass. "Y-yes, I'm fine, thanks," She said, nodding once weakly as she twisted the plain sterling silver band, a promise ring she'd received from Near, around and around her ring finger a few times. Acey licked her dry lips. "I was just thinking about my…"

She trailed off, pausing as if the next words were very hard for her to say.

"…late mentor."

Late mentor…?

For some inexplicable reason, Erin's mind conjured the faces of Watari and L within it when hearing those words, as if having received a jumpstart to her memory. She could see them behind her eyelids when she blinked, and she gulped softly to herself.

Acey turned to look at Erin, all traces of sadness gone from her eyes. "Jaime, my guardian, says he is pleased to meet you as well," Acey said, reaching over to touch Erin's hand to make the teenage boy bowing visible to her, hoping she wouldn't give the journalist a fright. "Would you like something to drink?"

It was strange: Erin had seen far worse than this scenario, so she'd assumed that nothing could scare her out of her gourd anymore. She was wrong. Erin had planted the seat of her pants to the carpet, her notepad skimming some ten inches away. Her pointer finger took a will of its own as it trembled in the direction of the figure before her, while her other hand clutched her hat over her head. "Wh-who's that? Where'd he come from?"

For shame! Her first words to her interviewee, and that was all she had to say? Had she not almost had a heart attack, the shame would've affected her much more.

Acey, who had to keep her hand on Erin's to keep Jaime visible to her eyes, was yanked down with Erin onto one knee. She found the journalist's reaction very amusing. Of all the countless reactions to Acey's powers, Erin's was by far her favorite. It reminded her of how L had reacted when he'd heard the word "shinigami" and a hint of their existence in the same breath.

Jaime, however, thought Erin's reaction was quite rude. He didn't appreciate being pointed at like he was some two headed cat with eight legs at the circus. He narrowed his eyes at Erin in disgust.

"Lady Acey knew your name ahead of time because I checked up on you thoroughly. The serial killer she recently put behind bars no doubt has a lot of followers who are very, very pissed off at her. I had to be sure you weren't an assassin under the guise of a journalist sent to kill her," Jaime explained, walking towards Erin with his arms crossed over his chest. Once he was in front of her, he slapped her finger away. "I don't appreciate being pointed at like I'm the featured act in a freak show," he spat coldly.

"Jaime!" Acey scolded, shooting Erin an apologetic look.

"Sorry, m'lady," Jaime mumbled, making it clear that he had no intention of apologizing to Erin.

"I'm sorry about him," Acey said as she helped Erin to her feet. "And I apologize as well for giving you a fright. I'm a medium. I was born with the ability to see and communicate with ghosts."

Erin withdrew her finger to nurse the nipping sensation of ice-water out of it—the result of a ghost's touch, she assumed—by twisting warmth back into it through her other fingers, as she scrambled to find something intelligent to say in response. The words kept rotting off of her tongue as she found herself making a noise that sounded like a cross between a whimper and a titter.

No, don't laugh! You're just gonna make everything worse!

Her past experience with the supernatural had been unpleasant, to say the least. But she certainly couldn't tell Acey and her phantom friend that. That, and everything attached to the incident, was a guarded secret.

Were Acey's powers a guarded secret, as well? Had that been the reason she had refused to take any interviews from anyone else?

Erin wasn't sure whether this made her the luckiest girl on the planet, or the unluckiest. The feeling was all too familiar.

Why me?

Cracking a crooked cross grin that felt anything but, she settled for parroting: "A-a medium? You gab with ghosts?"

Then to make up for it, she blurted, "That's weird."

Bad word choice.

She really didn't like the way Jaime glowered down at her as she started staggering back onto her feet, reserving whatever effort she could muster to help Acey up, as well. She succeeded only in toppling them both down again as she hastily defended herself: "I don't mean that in a bad way! W-weird is good! Weird is goody-good! It's strange that's bad!" She meant it, too. She should know.

It could've been far worse.

Acey placed her finger on Erin's lips to silence her rambling. "Shh, I understood what you meant." She maneuvered herself so that she was sitting cross-legged on the floor before she tucked a stray lock of hair behind Erin's ear. Acey's fingers brushed against her cheek in a soothing, comforting gesture to show that she wasn't offended. "Yes, I was born with this ability. As you can imagine, my ability comes in handy as a detective…"

She paused, a noticeable silence falling over her. Acey had to stop herself short of mentioning L.

"Now, then!" Acey exclaimed enthusiastically, shooting Erin an encouraging smile. "I do believe you have a lot of questions to ask me, so let's get down to it, shall we?"

For a young odd genius who could gab with ghosts, Acey seemed like a swell girl, for the most part. Focusing her gaze more on her and less on her scowling ghost-friend, Erin was unsure whether or not to find a seat. Since Acey was on the floor, however, it'd only make sense that the interviewer and interviewee be on the same level.

So Erin crossed her legs as well as she took off her hat, while the other cautiously reached over to the side to retrieve her notepad as she kept her eyes pasted onto Acey. Her head buzzed like a disturbed hornet's nest.

All right, Erin. You're treading on very delicate ground, here. Be careful what you ask. My God, look at her arms. Don't stare at her arms; her eyes are on her face! Should I ask about her scars? No, no, don't do that. You don't like it when people mention your hand. You're here to discuss the case…unless the scars somehow have some kind of relevance to it. Do they? Oh, man…

She wondered if ghosts mauled people if they sensed fear.

Just to break the ice, Erin stammered, "Uh, yeah, a cornucopia, in fact! I-I would imagine that being able to talk to ghosts come in…q-quite handy when investigating a…m-murder case."

Her tongue flinched when the word "murder" rolled off it.

She was pulling every word out of her ass as she went along, dreading what Acey had thought about that. No matter how much preparation she would do the day before, it all seemed to glug down the drain when the time came to actually do the job.

"So, I suppose my first question would have to be, how do you utilize your…gifts, your talents, to solve a case? Not just this one—we're all indebted to you for closing this one, by the way, hope you know that—but any case?"

"Well, ghosts are naturally attracted to the aura I give off as a medium. However, I use several methods," Acey began, taking care to speak in a rhythm that gave Erin enough time to write. "The one I usually use is I acquire a lock of the victim's hair or an item that was personal to the victim. The wandering soul will be attracted to it, giving them a means to find me."

"So then all you have to do is talk to the victim's, uh…spirit, ghost, whatever…to relay what exactly happened to them and who the killer is? Gosh, that's amazing," grunted Erin through clenched teeth as she carved Acey's words into the paper with a trembling hand, and not just out of awe. "How did this method work for you during this particular case? Or did you use other methods?"

Acey smiled fondly at Erin. The journalist's awe and admiration for her was cute. It made her want to move closer to her and lay her head in her lap for the rest of the interview. Not a lot of people exhibited awe or admiration of any kind towards Acey before. The only people she could think of that did were Near and L, though their's had been more of a silent awe.

"Actually, I didn't have to use any kind of method. A woman's spirit I talked to was so determined to bring the Dragonfly down that she sought me out on her own, having heard mention of me and what my line of work was through the supernatural grapevine. I hadn't actually been assigned to the Dragonfly case at all."

"Really? You weren't even assigned to the case? That's incredible, that the investigation let you help solve it!"

A mass of soft, purring fur rubbed up against her hip. Erin peered down to find Acey's feline friend beside her. Cats were more forgiving, huh?

The tense, sheepish grin on Erin's lips began to loosen under the familiar, welcoming sensation. "Oh, well, hey there, little guy. Or is it a 'she?'"

"Wicked is a 'he.'"

"Oh. Wonder how you got your name, you little rascal?" She was only vaguely aware that she was getting off-topic as she reached out a timid hand to stroke down the cat's backbone. Why couldn't Acey have just had a cat and not an unfriendly ghost looming around, as well?

"Well, it's cool that you have a cat. I have one, too. I know, I know, I look more like a dog-person, but I have a cat, too, and your cat reminds me of him. He really does."

"What's your cat's name?" Acey asked, leaning forward so she could retrieve her cell phone from her back pocket when she felt it vibrate. "Shit, it seems my flight back to England has been delayed until tomorrow night," she murmured, worrying at her lower lip with her fingers after reading the text message from Near.

Erin withdrew her hand. "Um, his name's Lawliet. Ah, now, where were we?"

Acey's breath hitched in her throat. Her cell phone slid out of her hand, falling to the floor with a soft clatter. Her hand shook as she picked it up.

"Erin, w-where did you get that name?" Acey inquired, staring at her with a stunned look in her eyes.

Now it was Erin's turn to shiver. When she'd adopted Lawliet, she had given him that name under the assumption that she was the only one on the outside who knew the significance of it, and out of her desire to keep the kitten's namesake remembered in some way. Acey had seemed so laid-back to her up until this point, in spite of the ghost thing. Why was she suddenly…?

Erin's fingers twitched with the urge to scratch the back of her head, but she refrained. After all, it was poor interview etiquette to scratch oneself. Wasn't she supposed to be asking the questions?

"Where'd I get the name Lawliet, you mean? Uh…well, I…I just thought it'd make a nice, unique name for a cat, instead of some tired cliché like Fluffy or Mittens. Found it in a name book, and it clicked. And he lives up to it: he's a scrawny little thing that likes dark places, but he's smart. Boy, is he smart! No matter where I hide his treats, I always come back to an empty box," she tittered. "And yet he's hardly gained ten pounds since I got him! I worry about him sometimes…"

Clearing her throat, Erin blurted, "I'm sorry, we're getting off-track, aren't we?" She blushed. "So…ha-ha, do you remember what we were talking about? Geez, I'm such a dork, sometimes." The room temperature was starting to make her melt, almost enough to make Jaime's cold slap feel welcome.

"Your shiver, the way your finger twitched, the fact that you gave me a long, drawn out speech about how you named your cat when you simply could've told me that you'd found his name in a book indicates to me that you are lying," Acey deadpanned bluntly. It had been a long time since she'd heard L's name spoken out loud.

Erin cringed at her accusation. The way she delivered it...it sounded too much like the way he would've said it. Right down to the flatness.

Why was this beginning to feel more like an interrogation than an innocent interview, with her on the wrong end?

Damn! Why'd she have to get so fidgety every time she lied? Well, Erin had always been a little fidgety, but even more so when telling a lie. She should've known better than to fib to a freaking detective, a genius who dealt with the supernatural, no less. Experience should've hammered that lesson into her head a long time ago.

Then again, Erin didn't always learn things in the first go-round.

Oh, why's she getting so worked up over that name, anyway? If I didn't know better, I'd say that that'd be because she'd know what the name meant.

And if that were the case, then…wouldn't that mean…

…she knew him from somewhere, too?

…

Her heart gave such an intense jolt that she smashed the tip of her pen into the notepad.

No way! No way, no how! The only connection he ever had as a detective was with Watari…Mr. Wammy…

But then again, that's the only one that I know of.

She'd lived with that maniac for almost six months, and even then—and now—it felt as if she'd hardly learned a mite about him.

Only when Erin blinked did she notice the growing splatter of blue ink eating the page from the margin outward.

"Oh, fuck!" she cursed: another example of poor, poor interview etiquette. "My pen!" But her pen wasn't the only one running in that second.

Jaime scowled at Erin in passing to fetch a towel from the bathroom. This woman knew L? Really? He had no idea what L had seen in her to make him share something as sacred as his name. Jaime knew that sharing your name with someone was a taboo if you were a Wammy's kid, and doing so meant that they held that person in extremely high regard and had unfathomable trust in them. Jaime could count on one hand how many people knew his lady's real name.

He figured that enough of Acey's aura still remained on Erin's skin for him to still be visible to her. "You should've known better than to try and lie to my lady. For a journalist, I have no idea where you got your brain," he sneered as he threw the towel at her.

Erin could feel Jaime sharpening his otherworldly gaze upon her as she fumbled with the wadded towel. Ghosts were keen on catching liars in the act, too, apparently. Was he going to eat her soul as punishment?

"Jaime!" Acey yelled, looking over her shoulder at him as she felt around under the coffee table. "Stop being an ass to her right now, do you understand me? I won't tolerate any more of your rude behavior towards her!" She went back to checking the room for bugs. Acey knew the chances of the room being bugged were low, but old habits die hard. She'd been mentored under the best, after all.

Once she was satisfied that there were indeed no bugs, Acey brushed her hands off on her jeans and sat back down across from Erin, grabbing a pen and a notebook off the coffee table in passing. Acey decided to give her a test.

Opening the notebook, Acey began to scribble three names in neat handwriting: Rue Ryuzaki, Eraldo Coil, Deneuve.

She paused, pulling her lower lip between her teeth and worrying at it with them. The heavy feeling in her heart was threatening to bring tears into her eyes. Control yourself, Acey. Damn you, L! I don't think you knew the affect you had on people.

Acey handed the notebook to Erin. "Tell me what these three names have in common." She didn't phrase it as a question because she had a feeling that her hunch was right.

What a fine plot twist! Losing her script had been bad enough, but when she somehow found the time to look at the names, she could practically feel her aorta rupture. Ryuzaki, Coil, Deneuve…she knew those names. She knew them too well. He'd had too many damn names to go by.

But Acey seemed to know them, too. She could tell from the strained look on her angular face. But how?

More importantly, how was she going to sidestep this one? Could she? The past was coming up again like the worst case of acid reflux she'd ever known, boiling her from the inside-out.

D'oh, I'm such an ijit! I promised that I'd never speak about it to anyone on the outside. But if this girl's got some connection with L, what's she gonna do to me?

How the hell do I end up in these messes…?

Now it was her turn to blink back fearful tears; here she was, thinking she'd outgrown her crybaby ways. "L-look, friend, I can tell you this much: those names each belong to a…a detective," she stuttered, holding her marred notepad to her like a breastplate. Would that speck of ambiguity throw her off? Not likely. But anything would've been better than breaking her vow up front.

Pause.

Her mouth ran opposite of her head as she added as softly as possible: "I haven't said anything, I swear to God I haven't. I dunno how you would know them, but…oh, just, please don't kidnap me or anything. I—I don't need that kind of stress in my life, right now."

Might as well have made a death wish, she mentally moaned as she recounted her words. She had started to find it in her to forgive her late lunatic friend's actions, but that didn't necessarily mean that she wanted to go through another kidnapping. Especially not by some stranger with whom she'd had not even the privilege to get acquainted with first.

Acey raised an eyebrow. L must've done something to traumatize her, at some point.

She scooted in front of Erin. Cupping the sides of her face, she laid a gentle kiss on Erin's forehead. "Kidnap you? Now why would I do that?"

Erin stayed completely still, unsure of what to make of the girl's touch. She sure was a rather touchy-feely person, but where was her room to criticize? At least she wasn't threatening her with her guard ghost or something along those lines.

…

How funny. More and more, this girl and her weird, gentle mannerisms kept reminding her of—

Catching Erin's tears out of the corner of her eye with her thumb, the detective explained calmly, "Those names belonged to a detective named L, my late mentor. My promised fiancé will definitely frown on me, but it seems I can't avoid telling you this. I'm Acey of Spades, the A who works alongside the current L. And know this, too, Erin: I would do nothing to hurt you."