The tapping from the heels of Naomi's boots echoed through the vacant hallways. No one ever visited the restricted wing; no one ever got authorization.
But this was a special case. At the end of the final, long hall, Naomi flashed her I.D. to the armed guard blocking the door, who stepped aside without a word. She took a deep breath. Every little sound was amplified by the dead silence of this place, this place that was so carefully shut away from the outside world, it was hard to believe it existed. The door slid open with a hiss.
Four feet in front of her was a glass wall – the wall of the highest-security cell in the California. And its occupant, staring at her with those dead eyes, looked as though he'd been waiting for her to arrive for some long-overdue meeting. "Miss Misora, long time no see."
Naomi glanced down, averting her eyes from his unnerving gaze, from the unsightly burns that scarred his face, as she pulled out a manila folder from under her arm. "This file contains the information from our investigation of a current murder case," Naomi said in the most even, authoritative voice she could muster. "This series of deaths is leaving the authorities at a loss. There is no doubt that they are connected." – she forced herself to look up – "But they are all suicides."
"And you are coming to me because…?" He asked, something in his voice made Naomi sure he already knew. She swallowed and answered nonetheless.
"It takes a criminal genius to catch a criminal genius."
***
"But Miss Misora…have you not already captured a 'criminal genius'?" There was slight amusement in B's tone, and Naomi suspected that he considered the implication that he was a criminal genius to be a compliment. She glared at him ineffectually.
"I wasn't working alone, if you recall. But as of yet, L has not taken an interest in this case. And the FBI, quite frankly, has no where else to turn," She hadn't meant for it to come out like that, sound so pathetic, but, there it was.
"And neither do you, it seems, Miss Misora." Naomi fingered the gun at her hip, wanting to blow that creepy smile off his face. But she swallowed her pride – innocent lives were at stake, so this was no time to get caught up in his subtle teasing. No use getting angry; she'd have to play along.
"…Yes. But that is beside the point, as far as you are concerned. What you should be more worried about is what the FBI can do to you if you do not wish to cooperate," B's eyes swept his cell, and then settled back on Naomi.
"Do you believe death would be anything but mercy as an alternate to this fate?" Naomi was caught off-guard, and stopped to consider. What could be worse then waiting endless decades in silent, empty nothingness for your own life to expire, with your own insanity as your only company? Just as she realized threats of death would be useless and decided to give up, B spoke again.
"Very well, Miss Misora. If only for a respite from this purposeless void, I will aid in the investigation."
Author Notes: I started this story ages ago, deleted it along with everything else on my FF account, and am returning to it now, having been recently inspired. In case a few of you were wondering about that déjà vu.