Author's Note: This story was written as a request for ronlight4. I totally agree with her that Near was a character who was never quite fully developed and did not receive the attention he deserved. I definitely hope you like it ronlight4. Also a big thank you to my beta xfang-girlx. I'm so thrilled she's back in action as my beta to help me root out spelling errors and grammar mistakes. So here we go...I hope you all like it too. Thank you for reading!

Nate River also known as Near or the third L, the ultimate detective. An orphan and a child genius raised at Wammy's House in Winchester, England, an orphanage specifically for the training of gifted children. Head of the SPK, Special Provision for Kira, a group created to work with agents of the FBI and CIA jointly to catch the Japanese serial killer known as Kira. The last Kira case had occurred seven years ago. Near was currently twenty-eight years old, and Kira was a nightmare of the past rendering the SPK obsolete.

The directors of both the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Central Intelligence Agency had discussed at length the prospect of disbanding the SPK because such a specific investigations group was no longer needed. Nate River would continue his employment with the CIA since it took more of a global approach to crime. He would work as a special consultant, especially for difficult cases that required his unique skill set and exceptional abilities as a detective. They would keep him around just in case his specific area of expertise with Kira ever be needed again. Heaven forbid.

Anthony Rester (Carter) would be promoted to Assistant Director of the FBI. Stephen Gevanni (Loud) would be given a position as a leader of surveillance and information retrieval. Halle Lidner (Bullook) would become a new team leader in covert operations. They were informed of the changes, of the dissolution of the SPK, before Near. They requested that they be the ones to tell Near about the changes and to assist him with the transition. The trio had gone to a nearby diner to discuss how to proceed after receiving the shocking news.

"I can't believe this is happening," Halle mumbled, staring into her coffee cup.

"We all knew it would not go on forever," Stephen said, taking a sip of his iced tea. "But I don't think any of us considered how it would end or what life would be like afterward."

"We've been with Near for over ten years. Suddenly, it's time for all of us to move on. Although we will all still be working for the agency, it will not be the same. How is he going to function without us?" Anthony murmured, stirring his coffee. He had been stirring the coffee since they sat down fifteen minutes ago. The beverage had to be cold and undrinkable by now.

"I don't think Near is the only one who is going to have issues transitioning into life beyond the SPK," Halle sighed, placing her hand over Anthony's to stop the incessant clinking. "I think we're as attached to him as he is to us."

"We've become like a family," added Stephen, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.

"So what do we do? There's no way we can stop this. There's no changing the directors minds. I tried," Anthony said, taking a sip of the chilled coffee. He grimaced in disgust, signaling the server for another cup.

All three people remained quiet until after the coffee was switched out and the server had walked away.

"Any ideas?" Anthony prompted again, sipping the steaming hot coffee.

"We could hire a handler," suggested Stephen. "I don't think it should be an agent though. A civilian preferably."

"Do you think a civilian with no training would be a good idea? Poor thing," Halle sighed sadly. "Near hasn't progressed a damn bit on the social scale and has yet to develop any real interpersonal skills. Whoever we hire will be a stranger to him. Someone completely unknown to him. How will we find someone to trust to take care of him? That Near will trust? We are the only ones he trusts."

"He learned to trust us, and he can learn to trust someone new. It's partly our fault that he hasn't developed the necessary life skills to deal with other people or live completely independent without assistance. He can still call us if he needs us. Just like he always has." Anthony picked his coffee cup again but did not take a drink. "We really did him a great disservice on that."

"Well, the directors did say it would be a transition, meaning they expect it to take a while," Stephen reminded them.

"So?" Halle challenged him, waiting for him to explain further.

"I suppose we better begin the interviews and find that new person. We can be there until he grows accustomed to that person. This way the change will be easier and less traumatizing for all of us," he reasoned soundly.

"Okay then. I suppose we'll place an ad and begin interviews," Anthony said. "Near will make the final choice himself."

~...~

Georgie Lathrop sat in the unforgiving and incredibly uncomfortable metal chair wondering what was going on here. The room was crowded with people, both men and women. Most of the people were dressed in business suits or business casual outfits and carried briefcases or portfolios. A few individuals had dressed in dark jeans that looked as if they had been pressed and expensive looking polo shirts. They held resumes or folders in their hands. Even the most casually dressed individual looked more put together than her. She felt inappropriately dressed wearing a flowing Bohemian skirt that started out a light blue color at her waist and darkened with graduated coloring to a rich shade of royal blue around her ankles. She was wearing a plain white form fitting top with a thick cuff that encircled her shoulders. Her simple flat thong sandals had tiny straps threaded with colorful beads that wrapped around her ankles. Her almond brown hair hung down her back in a thick braid. Her eyes and skin shared the same shade of warm, toasty brown as her hair. When she moved her hand to self-consciously grasp her other arm in a semblance of giving herself a reassuring hug, the dozens of thin gold bangle bracelets on her arm jingled. The people around her glared at her with accusing eyes and lips thinned into straight lines to show their irritation. With an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, she looked away to avoid their glowers.

This was not what she had expected. There was something bizarre about this whole situation. The job agency had told her that she would be interviewing for the position of a live in caregiver. She assumed that was merely a fancy phrase for a nanny. Not many details had been given to her about the job beyond the brief description except for a place and a time for the interview. The address took her to a rented space in a strip mall located between a nail salon and a sandwich shop. The time had been nine AM. According to the plain round cheap looking clock on the wall the time was now half past eleven. Two and half hours of waiting. She wondered how long some of the others had been waiting because they had been here before she arrived. Only four more people had arrived after her, all at exactly fifteen minute intervals. It was getting close to lunch. People were becoming anxious and annoyed, both problems being exacerbated by hunger. Not a single person had been called for an interview. There was no receptionist or secretary to complain to about the wait. No one had bothered to come out to give an explanation for the delay. The room had grown hot and stuffy as well adding to the tension.

One man wearing a three piece business suit and expensive brown Italian loafers stood up to pace the room. A woman wearing a pencil thin black skirt and long sleeved white shirt, unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt and rolled up her sleeves. A young man wearing jeans and a casual button down shirt stood up and stalked out of the place, hitting the door with such force it was a miracle the glass did not break. Soon, other people began to leave. A woman in her early thirties began to fan herself with the orange folder she held that probably contained a resume of several pages.

Georgie apprehensively glanced around at the other people before reaching into her purse for a bottle of water. She twisted off the lid and took a furtive sip before slipping it back into her large straw handbag.

"Hey, you got another one of those?" an overweight man in a dress shirt and tie asked. He was sweating profusely. His shirt was soaked with sweat in wide circles under his armpits.

"No, I don't. Sorry," she apologized. She retrieved the bottle from which she had taken a sip, holding it out to him. "If you don't mind drinking after me, you can have this."

"Thanks," he responded appreciatively, taking the bottle.

"Fuck this," a young man growled before heading to the door.

"This is ridiculous," a thin woman with a beak-like nose grumbled. She picked up her briefcase and left behind the young man who was still cursing on his way out.

"Oh," a woman in her mid-forties dressed in a soft gray suit cried out before slumping into the corner where she sat.

"Oh, my god, she fainted!" a younger woman in a short skirt and tight top sitting next to her exclaimed. Her eyes were wide with fear as if the other woman had just keeled over dead.

Georgie waited, glancing around at the other people in the room. No one moved. A few folks stared while others ignored the situation completely. Apparently no one was going to do anything to help the poor woman. Perhaps the woman had passed out from lack of food or the rising heat of the room, maybe because of both. She took the chocolate bar from her purse before going to the woman. She patted the woman on the shoulder sitting next to the unconscious woman to comfort her before she launched into a full blown panic.

"Calm down. She fainted. She's not dead," Georgie said with only a hint of an admonishment in her voice. She gingerly patted the face of the unconscious woman to rouse her a bit.

"What happened?" the woman asked, looking around in confusion with bleary eyes.

"You fainted. Are you hungry? Eat this," Georgie ordered her politely, pressing the candy into her hand.

"I knew I shouldn't have skipped breakfast this morning. How embarrassing," the woman muttered, ripping the foil wrapper from the chocolate. After stuffing two squares into her mouth, she uttered a muffled, "Thank you."

What the hell is this? Georgie pondered silently, looking around the half empty room. Once she was sure the woman was all right, she returned to her seat. As she was walking, her eyes scanned the corners of the room and the wall near the ceiling for cameras. Someone had to be watching them, testing them, but why? Had she gotten involved in some strange social experiment? There were two doors in the room: the glass door through which they had all entered and many had already exited; and white door that led to...none of them knew where it led to. She banged on the white door, then paused to wait for someone to answer.

"What are you doing?" a man grumpily questioned her, taking off his coat and loosening his tie.

"I'm going to get answers as to what the hell is going on here," she replied, hammering the door with her fist again.

There was a loud crackle of static then an ear splitting whine as if a microphone was set too close to a speaker.

"All of you can go home. Interviews are closed for the day," a deep, obviously masculine voice announced.

There were several shouts of 'what?' spoken with emotions ranging from disbelief to indignation. There were also many random explitives being tossed out as well.

"No. That can't be. Not a single person was called," Georgie muttered, anger spurring her to continue beating on the door. "Hey! I want someone to come out here and explain to me exactly what the hell was going on here today."

"Interviews are closed. Please leave," the voice requested in a polite but stern manner.

"I want to know what this was about. What were we all doing here? What is this job exactly? Or is there really a job? Was this just some weird experiment conducted by a university student seeking his graduate degree in human behavior?" She stopped shouting her questions to be met with an extended silence. She was the only one left in the room, yet she waited. There was an electrical hum in the air that told her the person behind the voice was still there, listening. "I'm waiting."

"Congratulations," the voice announced. "You've made it to the second step of the process. If you wish to continue, follow the instructions you are about to be given."

Georgie had no idea if she wanted to continue playing this bizarre little game. The door opened in front of her, and she jumped back just in case there was someone there ready to snatch her inside. With a screeching squeak of unused hinges, the door slowly swung open to reveal a dimly lit room. There was another metal chair sitting inside the small, bare room. A mirror, most likely a two way mirror, took up most of the wall in front of her.

"Please have a seat, Miss Lathrop," the baritone voice that bordered on sexy commanded her.

Upon entering the room, she could see that there was a door to her right. Apprehensively, she advanced into the room, keeping her eyes on the door. She was not too concerned about whoever might be observing her on the other side of the mirror. They could not grab her, tie her up, and carry her off somewhere like someone could if they came through that door. The door never opened though. Once she had taken a seat, what she assumed to be the interview began.

"State your full name."

Georgie responded in a calm, measured voice. "Georgina Felicity Mae Lathrop." There was a long pause. "Would you like my address? Date of birth? Mother's maiden name? Blood type?"

"No. We have that," responded the disembodied voice through the speaker attached to the wall above the mirror. "You live on 415 Maple Drive, Apartment B2. You've lived there for two years. Would you like to hear your previous addresses?"

"That won't be necessary," she muttered, apprehension making her belly tighten.

"Your date of birth is December third. You're thirty years old. Your mother's maiden name is Stankowsky and your blood type is O positive. I could tell you where you attended kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and high school. I know you had one of your lower front teeth knocked out your senior year of high school during a Taekwando tournament. You continued on to win your match then went to the dentist. You had a fake replacement tooth screwed into your jaw. You were engaged at the age of twenty-two but broke it off when you discovered your fiancee was cheating on you. You took the term breaking up quite literally by breaking his nose with a barehanded punch. You spent a night in jail for assault and paid a hefty fine because of that incident."

"Enough!" she yelled, her face red with anger and humiliation. "I seriously doubt any of that information is relevant to the job. Do I need to provide the information that is pertinent or do you have that on a list somewhere beyond my extremely personal details?"

"You attended university but dropped out after three years within thirty credit hours of graduating with a bachelor's degree in psychology. After leaving school, you traveled around the world including most of the United States and Europe with extended stays in villages no one had heard of in Italy, Greece, and Spain. You returned home two years ago when your parents died and have been taking random jobs since then. Did we miss anything?"

"Nope. Not a damn thing," she said, standing up to pace the room nervously. "What is this job anyway? Am I going to need top secret clearance for this? Will I be required to sign a gag order? A contract promising to keep my mouth shut because I will be exposed to highly sensitive government secrets or something?"

"A very important government asset will be put into your care," the voice announced, the tone quite serious conveying the gravity of the situation to her. "Yes, you will need special security clearance for this employment position. There will be a contract that you have to sign swearing your promise to keep the secret. The asset is the secret. Should you divulge any information about his identity, the punishment will be swift and severe."

"I'll be sued, right?"

"No." Silence filled the room like a more discernible entity than the one to whom the voice belonged. "You'll be killed."

Georgie stumbled, immediately feeling faint. She hobbled to the chair on jellied knees, sitting down before she fell down. What the hell was this? Why had she seemed to be handpicked, culled from the rest of the group? Obviously they knew everything about her. They probably knew things about her that she didn't know or had forgotten. So whatever this important job was, did she really want it? It sounded dangerous and frightening. How terribly exciting. She had no family. Her parents had died two years ago in a car accident which was the only reason she had come home in the first place. She had been forced to return to settle the estate, to sell off her childhood home and clear up any outstanding debt they had left behind. By the time all was said and done, she had been left with barely enough money to move herself into a crummy, run down apartment and buy herself a beat up used car. She aimlessly drifted from job to job, unable to find fulfillment in any of them. What did she have to lose by taking this job? Other than leaving behind a mediocre existence that she desperately hated, she had absolutely nothing to lose. She failed to see the negative side of this thing. Besides the possibility of death of course. Keeping her mouth shut should be easy since she had no friends or family to leak top secret government information to.

"Miss Lathrop, do you want the job?" the voice asked.

"Yes, I'll take it," she replied.

"Come to FBI headquarters tomorrow morning at ten. Ask for Special Agent Rester at the front desk. Your second interview will be conducted there. Congratulations, and good day."

"FBI headquarters?" That explained why they knew every little detail about her life. She went to the closed door to her right, stunned when the knob easily turned, and she was able to open it. There was another dimly lit hall and a door that looked like it opened into the room behind the mirror. It was unlocked too. There was no one there. All that was inside the room was a square folding card table, no chairs, with a laptop sitting on it. Message boxes were popping up on the screen of the computer at a fast rate displaying a time remaining bar along with a message of deleting files. No one had been here the whole time. They had been communicating remotely and now they were destroying the hard drive of the computer that had been the link so she could not track them through backdooring an IP address. The IP address would most likely have been encrypted anyway or changing every few seconds to hide their true location.

Georgie realized she had gotten herself into some deep water in which she hoped she didn't drown. So that was it. Destiny had collided with chance and was about to make something extraordinary happen in her life.