Disclaimer: Don't ask me if I own Death Note. Does "Timekeeper101" look like "Tsugumi Ohba" or
"Takeshi Obata" to you?

Coauthored by BlueHarpy. Advised by Madeline Cullen.


CHAPTER 8 - NATE RIVER DISCOVERS A VITAL CLUE


Continued from last time...

"Hello, Keiko. Long time, no see."

Keiko sighed heavily as her brown eyes met his matching ones. "Hey, Light…"

The young man stepped to the side and reached into the back seat like a gentleman to help the other passenger to step out of the car. A blonde head with hair shorter than Keiko remembered gleamed in the sunlight. A petite young woman with blue contact lenses peered almost bashfully up at the dark-haired woman standing on the step. "H-hey, Keiko-Keiko…"

She exhaled. "Hello, Misa Amane."

It was apparent that Light had discussed with the model Keiko's possible vehemence toward her; she seemed rather apologetic and even a bit timid, as though harboring a fear of Keiko and her probable anger. Or more accurately, rage.

But Keiko did not appear to be enraged at all. Lawliet might've been able to see vestiges of it, yes, but the fact of the matter was that Keiko wasn't terribly upset—at least, not at Misa. She was more upset that Misa and Light were there, at her house, simply waiting to be handcuffed to herself and her husband, respectively.

Never mind the fact that she was even more upset with Light than with Misa. Light-o, the surrogate little brother who'd betrayed her…

Keiko stepped aside and motioned for them to come inside. "I can make some tea, if you'd like to come in, Watari," she offered.

He politely declined, instead merely handing her a sack that he had in hand. Keiko took one look at the contents of said sack, and instantly felt a little sick. The handcuffs… two sets of them.

By this point, Light and Misa had reached the front step, and Keiko nodded once to Watari. "Thanks for doing this," she said genuinely, but her expression remained rather plaintive. She was thankful for his help, but even so, having to be with Misa Amane twenty-four/seven was going to be madness.

"Not at all, my dear," came the blithe response, and Watari paused before returning to his car. "I… wish you luck, Keiko."

She grunted. "I'm going to need it."

Inside, Light and Misa stood before the staircase in the entryway, taking in their surroundings. Keiko raised one eyebrow as she shut the door behind her. "Ah… no offense, but I'm a bit surprised to see you… not hanging all over Light, Misa."

"We're just friends, now," Light explained calmly. Keiko was surprised to find no lie or air of deception around him. Was he… telling the truth? She glanced over to Misa. The blonde model looked the same as always, but her hair was cut about to chin length, giving her a much more chic and rather sophisticated (but still cute) look. She no longer wore her gothic-lolita fashions, instead opting for a simpler look of two layered tank tops, a light zip up sweatshirt overtop, and a denim skirt.

"You've certainly changed a lot," Keiko admitted as she surveyed the young woman. She turned to Light, who looked very much the same as when she'd last seen him: casual (but nice) attire, slightly long brown hair, same neutral expression… if a bit friendlier than his Kira-face. "And you've not changed a bit."

Light gave a little half-smile at that. "No… not much. Looks like you haven't changed, either."

"Light Yagami. Misa Amane."

They all three looked up to see a familiar black-headed, slouching detective shuffling down the staircase toward them all. "And neither has he," Light added in a slight mumble. "Hello, Ryuzaki."

"Hello, Light Yagami. Forgive me, but it is not so nice to see you." Lawliet reached the bottom of the staircase, joining Keiko in staring at the ex-convicts. Well, he stared; she continued to yawn and blink wearily, despite her wary attitude.

"Aw, you two got married!" Misa exclaimed, smiling warmly.

There was a pause. "How did she not know about that…?" Keiko asked her husband in a low voice. He didn't respond.

Misa looked a little contrite at this. "I'm sorry. You probably hate me, Keiko-chan… and I don't blame you at all. I'd hate me, too. But I promise I'll try and make it up to you!"

Keiko blinked. "That's great and all, Misa, and I'm glad that you're sorry. But there are two things: one, I'm still not forgiving you… and two, how do you propose that you make it up to me what you did, or attempted to do?"

Misa was crestfallen at this, and Keiko felt a twinge of guilt (not enough to make her apologize, though). Before things could step out of hand, Light stepped forward. "I see this isn't going to work properly if we're all going to act like this." He glanced at Lawliet. "I'm assuming you're feeling much the same way about me."

"Mm, you are correct."

"Uh-huh." Light nodded. "Well, in that case, I would like to make one suggestion: no one brings up the last Kira case, except for unbiased informational purposes. Other than that, we all just forget about it." He turned to Keiko and Lawliet. "I understand that you both hate us… but if we don't at least act cordially to one another, this will be a living hell, and I don't know about you, but I'm not really eager to spend an indefinite amount of time with someone who hates my guts, either. So can we at least try and make this semi-bearable…?"

"He's got a point," Keiko muttered. Lawliet looked fairly miserable about this development, but as he looked down at Keiko, he realized that she probably felt just the same as he did about it, if not worse. She was merely better at hiding it, due to her acting prowess.

Lawliet sighed heavily as he glared at Light Yagami. "I do not think that I should be told what to do in my own—"

"Ryuzaki, Ryuu—stop," Keiko said loudly, talking over him. She turned her gaze to Light and Misa. "One moment." With that, she tugged Lawliet rather forcefully into the other room, out of earshot and the view of their guests. "Honey… please…" Her brown eyes searched his obstinate grey ones, mulishly staring back. "Gosh-darn it, you know better than that. Light made a suggestion. He said it himself. Now stop being such a child." She sighed. "I don't care if you don't apologize. Just… try and keep from making pointless arguments."

He looked only about four years old as he stared back at her, almost pouting. "You are a hypocrite."

Keiko slumped over slightly, a little surprised when his arms snaked around her waist. She continued to speak, anyway. "Yeah… but I didn't pursue a pointless argument, or try to start one. I'm saying from now on… Please?"

He didn't immediately respond. Keiko exhaled heavily and stood on tiptoe, closing her lips around his earlobe for a moment or two. "Come on, Lawliet," she whispered, feeling him soften. "For me." She paused. "If you do this… I'll make you whatever dessert you want once the handcuffs are off."

Lawliet wondered how far her definition of "dessert" went and wondered if it included simply Keiko and some chocolate sauce, or his favorite recipe, or possibly a whipped cream pie to throw at Light, just for kicks, later on. "Three desserts."

"Two."

"Three."

"None."

"Three."

Keiko sighed. "Fine, three. One day's worth of desserts; three meals. That's it."

He frowned. "Couldn't I pick the times in which these desserts are prepared?" Hey, if he was going to throw things at his rival, he was going to do it on a full stomach.

"Whatever. So long as the handcuffs are OFF when you pick them."

"Agreed. Shall I tell you what I want now, or later?"

Keiko rolled her eyes. "You have ten seconds until I walk back over there."

"Later, it seems."

"Uh-huh." A relatively mild look on her face, Keiko strolled casually back into the entryway, Lawliet following behind with a careful mask of neutrality upon his features. "Problem solved," Keiko announced. "Sorry about that."

Instantly, Lawliet felt rather guilty. Here he was, acting like a complete asshole (Keiko was right about that, he told himself), and there she was, apologizing for him, knowing he wouldn't. His grumpier side wanted to consider his rudeness as payback for her transgression the day before yesterday. No, he told himself. No, I forgave her. It is in the past. Let it stay there. I shall apologize for it later… when she isn't expecting it. That should cheer her up.

Inwardly, he laughed at himself. You, my friend, are, indeed, an asshole. You're purposefully playing off her emotions in order to increase your worth in her eyes.

Well, at least I have an excuse. I'm not going to apologize in front of Light Yagami…

He shrugged it off. He would make it up to her later. They'd both get over it.

"So… hardly any of the details were given to us," Light mused, then, as Keiko reached into the sack to pull out the handcuffs, handing one pair to her husband.

"Mm, there is little to be said, Light Yagami," Lawliet told him plainly as he clamped the metal down on the young man's wrist. "This is only the fourth day of the investigation. All I have theorized is that the killer is simply challenging me by masquerading as Kira, by acting solely in London, and by killing more than ten victims his first day. All three can be clearly seen as ploys for attention from L."

Instantly, Light mulled this over, taking a few seconds to come up with his response. "Hmm… I see your point, but don't you think that it might only be some not-so-smart average Joe who came across Kira's powers?"

Oh, that's right, Keiko remembered. We didn't tell him what Kira's killing methods were, after he lost ownership of the notebook…

"You mean a Death Note?" Keiko prompted him.

Light gave her a confused look. "Okay… I believe you, but I don't really remember anything about a… Death Note."

"Oh, boy… we've got a lot of catching up to do," Keiko muttered as she clamped the remaining end of Misa's cuffs onto herself. "Come on. Kitchen. Anyone want anything to drink? Water, tea, lemonade, milk, Ramune…?"

Misa gave a small, shy chuckle. "You have Ramune in England?"

Keiko shrugged. "We have some imported every month or so. I'd miss the stuff too much, and since L—Ryuzaki, dammit… since Ryuzaki likes it, and the kids…"

There came the sound of a gasp. "Kids? As in, more than one?" Misa looked delighted, and Keiko was rather amused at her sudden cheerfulness, especially given their cold greeting.

Honestly, it was rather hard to stay mad at the bubbly model for long. Keiko finally decided to force the past from her mind and talk to Misa in what could only be described as a polite manner. "Twins. One boy, one girl."

"Names?" Light prompted, a half-smile on his face as he took a seat at the kitchen table adjacent to Lawliet. He folded his hands together before his chin as he leaned his elbows on the wooden surface.

Keiko frowned and looked to her husband. "What are we calling them while they're here…?" They'd spent most of the previous day trying not to remember that Light and Misa were coming to stay, and somehow, arranging aliases for their children had slipped through the cracks. "Same as always?"

Lawliet slowly nodded. "I suppose that would suffice…" Since they had virtually nothing to fear from Light or Misa in the way of actual names…

"Alex and Aimi."

Misa frowned. "Aru-ek-su… What a difficult name to say!"

Keiko covered her laugh with one hand as she towed Misa around the kitchen to prepare beverages for her company. "Well, it isn't Japanese… Did you guys want anything to drink…?"

"I'll have water," said Light softly behind his interlaced fingers.

"Lemonade, please," requested Lawliet as he perched in his seat.

"And you still sit like that," Light muttered with a smirk.

"Forty percent is forty percent," he shot back.

"Ramune!" Misa sang as she helped Keiko fix the drinks. Lawliet's, of course, received extra sugar stirred into it before it could be served, but the ice water was ready quickly, as was the Ramune, for which Keiko also opted. "Are we going to meet your kids?" Misa wanted to know, smiling broadly as she took a seat opposite Lawliet.

"Mm, they are currently lodged elsewhere," Lawliet explained calmly after sipping his lemonade. "Tension will be running high whilst the handcuffs are in place, I assume, and there are certain things I do not wish them to be exposed to just yet."

"In other words, he doesn't want the twins to see their parents chained to people or learning about the… atrocities? committed during the Kira case."

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, wherein Light gave a sort of sigh and turned to stare out the window into the back yard. It was at this that Keiko knew he regretted having become Kira in the first place, that he was thoroughly repentant for his crimes. Misa, too, looked rather embarrassed, and hung her head, twisting her hands in her lap.

Keiko glanced over at Lawliet and gave a tiny half-smile, as if to say, See? They're not so bad… She surprised herself with her own acceptance of the two ex-murderers. Just a few days ago, she'd been ranting and raving about how they'd have to spend time with them, the "unspeakables." Well… admittedly, she was more upset about being handcuffed to Misa, and being separated from Lawliet. But Keiko remembered the past, and the times she'd spent at headquarters with Misa and Light. Misa wasn't so bad as a person. A tad irritating sometimes, but then, everyone had their moments. Her vehemence towards the model sprang mostly from the fact that Misa had tried to kill Lawliet. But now that she seemed remorseful…

That didn't mean Keiko was going to forgive her yet… but it did make her feel less inclined to be angry with her.

Maybe having Light and Misa over wasn't going to be quite as bad as she thought…

Emphasis on "quite."


"Veal and roasted potatoes and a steamed vegetable medley?!" Scout exclaimed.

Near stared back up at her blankly. "Yes." It wasn't as though it should be difficult—not for her, anyway. She didn't have to make the meal, only put it on a tray after it was prepared. He wasn't sure why she was so upset.

Who does he think he is, the king of England?! Scout thought furiously. Veal?! Steamed vegetables? Ridiculous! This isn't Buckingham Palace, it's a damn orphanage!

But she complied…

Damn that stupid BOY… thought Scout angrily as she smoothly headed down to the kitchen. Outwardly, she appeared blank, neutral… calm. Inwardly, she seethed at the indignation of having to wait on a twenty year old man. Almost twenty, anyway. His birthday was less than a month away. Scout told herself that she wasn't going to go out of her way to celebrate anything for that brat.

Well, it wasn't Near's age that bothered her so much as his capability. He would have no trouble whatsoever taking care of himself—he was a genius! If he'd been handicapped in some way, that would be a whole 'nother ball of wax; however, Near was in perfect health… except maybe socially.

But any episodes like the one two days ago, wherein she'd told him to take care of himself, had not occurred since then. Scout knew that Mr. Wammy would not be pleased if she did this, and had thus attended to Near's every need. She was polite about it all, but icily so, never giving him the slightest hint of a smile or encouraging him in the least. Not even in his actual work…

Not that Near had expected anything of the sort…

Meanwhile, as Scout fetched him lunch consisting of veal, potatoes, and steamed vegetables (she nearly threw a fit just remembering the order itself), Near sat in his room, pondering over what in the world was driving Scout to be so furious. He hadn't expected her to be particularly friendly with the prospect of waiting on him, but neither had he foreseen such acrimony. After all, they'd spent several years together. Neither of them was exactly open with the other, but they'd been cordial. They were always lumped together, always the outcasts; why should they fight and make things even more miserable for themselves? No, they'd always maintained a pretense of friendship, despite the fact that both of them knew a relationship of the sort had never existed in the first place.

But why the sudden rage?

It was possible, Near decided, that perhaps she'd never liked him at all… perhaps she'd always hated him.

That seemed highly unlikely.

He recalled one specific time together…

.:FLASHBACK MODE:.

The rain poured down in sheets, pounding on the roof and windows of Wammy's House. It wasn't that rain was uncommon, but the way it seemed to dump from above as though the clouds were buckets full of water…

Near sat in one of the five common rooms, one knee pulled up to his chest as he methodically placed piece after piece onto the puzzle. Beside him sat a sandy-blonde girl of about thirteen who was engaged in playing a game of Risk against herself.

"Isn't it rather boring if you play a multiple-player game all alone?" he wondered absently, never removing his gaze from the puzzle.

Scout paid him no heed—or, well, she didn't seem to, at first. Maybe half a minute passed before she responded. "I'm not playing. I am strategizing. Perhaps I can form new ideas by favoring neither side and using the hardest tactics against the other. New opportunities might present themselves."

She had a point. Strategy was an excellent way to get one's mind working. "Wouldn't it be more beneficial if you merely asked someone else to play against you?"

"I could ask, but most of the children here would not be as well-versed as I in such matters."

She wasn't bragging; she was merely stating facts. It was true, too—having led her own gang on the streets of Brooklyn, she had a very tactical mind and would probably make a brilliant general.

"I could play against you," he offered, snapping the last puzzle piece into place. "This puzzle ceases to challenge me." He announced this as though any puzzle really challenged him. He'd yet to find a jigsaw puzzle which he could not solve and solve quickly.

"I suppose you would make a good match for my wits," Scout finally conceded, clearing the board and replacing each of the tiny plastic soldiers into their separate containers. A tiny smile flitted about her lips as she met his gaze. "Which color would you rather play with?"

.:END FLASHBACK:.

That game of Risk had been by far the most challenging game of his life. Scout definitely gave him a run for his money… It had lasted hours and hours, with no quarter given between the two of them. It was a fight to the death… the death of little plastic soldiers. Who would have thought that one day, he would be gambling the lives of real men and women…? Practice on a game board did help, but was nothing compared to real life. Emotions didn't matter with plastic; dice and cards did nothing to help the chances of saving lives… and there weren't always reinforcements.

But he recalled that Scout had been reasonably pleasant during that time… she'd softened a little during that game.

Well, not exactly. She'd dogged him until Mr. Wammy finally called the game a draw.

It had lasted four days, and still, neither of them was showing any kind of true advantage over the other.

They'd been evenly matched.

A faint creak sounded as Scout returned with the meal. Near glanced at the clock on his computer. He'd been reminiscing far longer than he'd realized…

"Thank you," he said quietly, keeping his gaze focused on his computer screen. "Is there any dessert in the kitchen?"

Scout frowned. He wasn't welcome. She wouldn't say so. But she couldn't help but be further enraged by his question. She was inches away from lashing out at him…

"I realize you have quite a bit on your plate," Near said softly at her silence.

He was taunting her?! So Scout perceived it. She curled one hand into a fist. This was the closest she'd been to harming anyone since leaving New York…

But she couldn't, wouldn't, do it. It would be a black mark on her otherwise clean record. Mr. Wammy could have grounds to put her on probation, or to send her elsewhere.

"I'll check," she said in a defeated voice.

Her weariness was almost inaudible, but Near, being the perceptive boy that he was, caught it.

Three minutes later, Scout returned with a slice of cold apple pie on a small plate, setting it on the silver tray beside Near. "Thank you," he murmured, almost whispered… he hadn't expected her to remember his favorite dessert…

Or maybe it was coincidence?

Probably not.

But why had she bothered?

"Scout…" Near said carefully. "What is it about me that irritates you so much?" For a moment, he wondered why he even wanted to know. Why was he worrying himself over the disgruntled demeanor of another person? He knew he annoyed people almost constantly. It was merely the way he seemed to not give a damn about anyone else but himself. Well, fair enough, he usually didn't. But that he actually cared enough to ask…

Scout, too, was thrown. She blinked, but her surprise didn't linger. "Do you honestly want to know why?" she fairly hissed. "You're almost twenty years old, you have an incredible job… and yet, you sit on your ass all day long, expecting other people to wait on you. Then, when they do, you treat them a bit better than the dirt on your shoes, and if they're lucky, you'll thank them. All you do is play with your stupid toys—you're like a damn toddler! You don't care about anyone, except that they do you favors that you're always capable of doing by your own damn self! Is that sufficient, or shall I keep going?"

Near said nothing for almost a full minute, listening to Scout as she just stood there, breathing a little more heavily than normal. "Yes, that would be irritating," he said quietly, not daring to meet her gaze.

He said nothing more, and Scout, finally fed up with his silence, left.


Oooh... well, things are starting to get moving... Tell me whatcha thought of it, please!!

GOMEN NASAI, EVERYONE!! I'm sorry this took so long--I was kind of in a writing funk... I hope this makes up for it. I'll try to update sooner, next time...