Was it relief she felt then, or entirely the opposite? Everything about the man behind the glass filled her with the urge to run, to put as much distance as possible between herself and him. Those memories of working side by side with this, this lunatic…it made Naomi's skin crawl and her stomach rebel – feeling the danger that had long since passed, a delayed reaction to freefall when she was safely on the ground.

She stared back at B. He seemed to be patiently waiting, but beneath the façade was something else…a challenge, a dare of sorts. She had proposed the partnership to him, yes, but did she have the guts to follow through when he surprised her with his agreement? Maybe, thought Naomi, this isn't…No. She wouldn't allow herself to feel fear of him. He was on one side of the glass and she was on the other; it was as simple as that. And even if she found his mannerisms disconcerting (and she did; annoying and disconcerting both), it was her professional duty solve this case. And a more personal duty as well.

Curling her upper lip, Agent Misora focused her gaze on Beyond Birthday, met his eyes without flinching. "Good. Let's start right now."

He nodded slowly, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Very well. The details of the case, please." Naomi leafed through the manila folder for the official summary and specs, though by now she knew the case inside and out. After all the hours she'd spent staring at those files, reading them over and over again through all hours of the night, upside down and backwards, it was hard to believe that even Beyond Birthday would be able to find a clue she'd missed. But then, that's what she'd thought of Rue Ryuzaki during the investigation of the Los Angeles case, his case, as well…

"The first suicide was Daniel Lee's in Palm Springs, at approximately 9 PM on July 4th." The words came out slightly strangled – while Daniel Lee was hanging himself, Ray Penber was proposing to her. She continued, attempting to appear as unfazed as B did, checking her reflection briefly in the glass with his face blurry in the background. She focused on him again.

"When the police came for his body the next morning, they found his uncle Anthony's as well – the second suicide. Daniel and his little sister had been living with him for about two years after the death of their parents in 2001. He was their only known relative." She paused, pulling Anthony Lee's picture out of the manila folder for B to examine, as if the photograph of the man and his chalk outline held some kind of clue. Evidently, he didn't believe it did, as he closed the one eye he'd opened with mild disinterest. Naomi moved on, deciding to omit the rest of the pictures unless he asked to see them.

"Two friends of Daniel's uncle, Robert Harvey and Paul Young came to stay at the house to take care of Daniel's sister while the authorities looked for somewhere she could stay. They were found dead on the 7th, at around one in the morning, having both committed suicide approximately five hours earlier.

"It gets even…odder…at this point," Naomi struggled for the word to describe her own puzzlement at this stage of the investigation. "Daniel's sister was moved to foster care in Riverside that day, and two days later, her schoolteacher from Palm Springs committed suicide as well." She looked up to see if there was a change in B's expression. There was none. He simply sat, eyes closed, in a modified version of the bizarre posture she remembered – leaning back against the wall of his cell instead of forward. A bubble of rage grew inside Misora. "You'd better not be sleeping in there-"

"Rest assured, Miss Misora, I am awake. Please, continue," he said, startling her slightly. She glanced away, away from that face mottled with burn-scars. They were on his hands, too. On his bare feet, even. "Dr. John Sampson at the hospital where Daniel's sister was attending therapy sessions…he committed suicide on the 11th. However, he wasn't her doctor – in fact, he had no contact with the family or other suicide victims that we've found." She looked back at B. One eye was partially opened now.

"Those are the basics. We – the FBI – have been investigating since the day after death of Anthony Lee. It's been twenty-four days since the most recent of the suicides, and we have no viable leads."

B had both eyes open now, his dead black eyes meeting her live ones. Silence hung for a few seconds, and Naomi grew fidgety. "If you're don't think you'll be of any help for this investigation-"

"No, no, I intend on thinking it over tonight. Or whatever time it is. My internal clock has never been the best, and this room is the same all the time..." That explained the bags under his eyes – trying to sleep on the floor of a brightly-lit cell. Though she seemed to remember them there before…

I was strange; Beyond Birthday sounded almost conversational despite the topic of his words and present situation. His voice had trailed off, and he'd closed his eyes again. It appeared that he intended to say no more today - or was it tonight? This place seemed to have messed with Naomi's perception of time as well, the stark whiteness blotting out her memory of day and night. Or maybe at was because of that…enigmatic (she didn't want to use that word, a word that seemed almost flattering, but her usually-impressive vocabulary was coming up short) person. The time she'd spent talking to him felt weirdly immeasurable – it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours.

But enough. Naomi started to leave. After a few steps, however (tap, tap, tap on the hall floor), B called out after her. "Oh, Miss Misora!" She turned – had he uncovered some sort of lead already? "Though, as I previously stated, my internal clock is rather faulty at best, based on the dates you've given me…would today happen to be August 15th?"

She blinked. "Y-yes, it is." Was there some significance in that date she'd missed? Naomi wracked her brain for the numbers - dates and times - of the suicides, trying to figure out what was he had deduced. A slow, small smile spread across B's scarred face – monumentally creepy, yes, but somehow there was a slight, underlying sweetness as well… "Then, happy anniversary, Miss Misora."

Agent Misora stared, perplexed by this curious statement. After about five seconds, realization hit her, hard as the first time she saw the photos of 10-year-old Danny Lee hanging from that rope...

Eyes widened, she took two steps back further from the cell through the threshold of the sliding door. Before it even had time to close fully, she turned and ran.

Author's notes: I hate to spoil the drama by explaining here, but...for those of you who are confused, August 15th is the approximate date that Naomi and B met.