Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: The slightest variation in choices can make all the difference. L knew there was a 2nd Death Note. Finding even part of it could be a turning point . . . Slight AU; rated T to be safe. Spoilers through the end of the series.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Turn of the 8th Day

Chapter 10: Wrench

Trailing Thread

"No, no, I told you. I was having lunch with a client and before I left, I saw her go in. Yes, I am certain. No, I'm outside an electronics store now, in an alcove. Huh? Well, if I go in there, I'm likely to stand out. Because it's a women's clothing store. Very funny. No, not yet. Mhm. I was going to take the bus, but . . ."

He winced at the squawking emitting from his cellphone. "Yes, of course, but what then?" He paused, listening. "I see. I'll do my best. Wait – how far will we be pursuing this?" His brow creased slightly. "Yes, I realize that. I know. Yes, I know. But –" He stopped, still staring at the other storefront. "That's true, but the difference here is that we aren't being forced. I – Of course the threat is real, but my point is that we shouldn't be trying to do this alone. You made a deal –"

The squawking became pronounced again, and he began to wish he had not made the call. "I'm not suggesting you have a 'hotline' of any kind, but I'm sure if you contacted – what? What do you mean he's washed his hands of us?" He listened, eyes slowly growing wider yet somehow seeing nothing. "If that's true . . ." A woman pushed past him, entering the electronics store and anchoring him back to his surroundings. "I understand. Yes. No, I –"

A flash of pink caught his eye and he looked up with a jolt. The colors were so bright, they seemed to will the gloom of the day away – eye-searing pink with smiling flowers in red, orange, and blue sang out in defiance at the grey sky weeping down on them. He could see the face of the woman holding the handle to the cheery dome. There had been no mistake.

"I have to go," he hissed, "she's leaving."

Shimura shut his phone, cutting Namikawa off in mid-sentence. It was a strange stroke of luck to see Misa Amane so soon after Namikawa had warned them all of potential danger from a second Kira, but he was not sure yet if the luck was good or bad. As Misa stepped to the curb, Shimura turned up his collar and moved forward to find his own cab, hoping that whatever luck it was, it wouldn't get him killed.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Criminal

Threats held no sway over her – they rolled over her like bathwater, strangely comforting. She'd been on death row for years now. Every appeal had been rejected: self-defense, extenuating circumstances, temporary insanity. They had all rolled off too. Her conviction would stand. There was no question that it had been first degree murder. She had never denied it. Her lawyer had not put her on the stand for fear that she would implicate herself, but it hadn't mattered in the end. The results spoke for themselves.

Perhaps if she'd shown some kind of remorse in the courtroom, she might have been sentenced to no more than life in prison, but she had felt no remorse. Her husband was dead, by her hand, and she had been willing to accept whatever fate was dealt to her. Whatever else happened, it was at an end. He could no longer beat her. He could no longer force sex on her. He could no longer yell, or gamble away their money, or destroy their home, or drive away her few friends. Most importantly, he could no longer hurt their son. Her son.

Her eyes welled up, thinking of him, of the promise he'd held. His face, at the moment he'd realized that she was going to jail, tortured her to this day. She woke with it clearly in her mind as though it had only just happened, as though he was not now lost to her.

Safety – that was what she'd wanted for him. She'd done what she had to do, more to protect him than herself. Her mother had taken him in, just as she had asked. She'd felt that he would be better off. Doing what she'd thought was right did not change anything, however. She was a murderer. She knew she belonged in jail. If only her mother had still been as vital as she had in her youth, and not wasting quietly away, too tired to keep up with a growing teenager.

Days, weeks, months, years – they ticked by with nothing solid to mark them but the birthday cards she'd sent to her boy. It would be better for him if he just forgot about me, she'd thought, but she missed him. She had no money to send, and little to say, but she would enclose a new origami animal in each card. After the first eight months, he had stopped visiting her, but this did not alarm her. She'd expected it, wanted it, even – if it meant that he would thrive. What distressed her, what she turned her mind away from time and time again, was that he had turned out to have more of his father's qualities than she'd realized.

She wanted to blame the suffering he'd experienced at his father's hands, and she was willing to believe that she was to blame for setting a bad example. These things had clearly played their part, but a quiet voice inside her said that, to a certain extent, such things were inborn. It does not matter, she'd told herself. He is still my son, my shining boy, my sweet baby. She'd said it like a prayer, clutching her memory of him like a talisman.

It had been one month shy of a year now since it had happened. An accident, they'd said, but she'd heard more than that. The guards liked their gossip, and she'd heard their voices echoing down the hallway, chunks of their conversations sticking in her: "completely pasted," "should've looked," "right in front of everyone," and "he would've raped her." She still saw his face, as it once had been, brown eyes wide and welling, wisps of fuzz on cheeks still rounded with lingering babyfat, mouth open in shock as his mother was taken from him. And now he had been taken from her. The hope she'd held for him, for his future, had been the only hope she'd had left. With it gone, as he was gone, she felt nothing. She had not recognized hope as a burden, but its removal had been a relief, and she had closed in on herself like a flower reversing its bloom.

No longer had she returned her lawyer's earnest calls, or contacted her mother at the nursing home where the last skeins of the old woman's mind had been untwining. She had continued to eat only because she did not want to inconvenience the infirmary or be re-evaluated and transferred to an asylum – that would delay her execution. It was the only thing she wanted now: an end, finally, an end.

The waiting would be over soon. She welcomed her fate. If she could still feel, it would be something akin to contentment. And then they came for her, brought her to a man she'd never seen, brought her to a room she'd never been in. It smelled too clean, somehow. She looked dully across the table at the man as he explained. She was glad she could no longer feel, because her contentment would have been ripped from her as he spoke. She wanted to die. He offered her life. It would have been funny if it hadn't been sick.

"How would you like to help us catch a serial killer?"

These words echoed in her too, now. He said that what she would do, if she agreed, might kill her, but that if it did not, she would go free. No execution, no prison sentence – she would walk out of here. How can he ask this of me, she thought. As a punishment, life was much more horrible to her than death. And so she accepted.

The task was childishly simple. The man told her that once she completed it, she must remain in solitary confinement, in this same room, until they had their results. She nodded softly. Time still pinned her, heavy on her chest, each breath a penance. She would give up the release she sought in order to catch someone who had taken, and would take, many lives.

Perhaps they would execute her anyway – she was only a convict, after all. She had been expecting Kira to take her as she waited, but she'd always been overlooked, to her disappointment. So she did what she was asked and risked living because she did not deserve any respite from her burden. No truer a life sentence than to be sentenced to living.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Taking Measure

"I already told you everything! I didn't hear anything you said – asking me three more times isn't gonna change that!"

The silence pulsed for a few seconds between the men. "Let's go." The tall blond man half-turned from Ide. "We need to clear this area before we're tracked here."

Ide considered putting up a fight, but he knew this man outmatched him physically. Taller, stronger – Ide felt as though he was in the grip of a wall, if walls had arms. Ide shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The tall man let Ide's feet rest fully on the ground again, and Ide noticed that Aizawa was staring at him, his hands still in the air.

"There's no reason to hurt him. There's no reason to hurt either of us!" Aizawa's voice was calmly indignant, but Ide saw the worry in his eyes and felt a tiny bubble of hope pop inside him.

If Aizawa doesn't know what's going on either, then we're in big trouble, he thought. Ide had been hoping that Aizawa's connection to L might save them, or at least that the Task Force would help. Even non-rush hour traffic could be troublesome in Tokyo, though, so if they moved now, it was unlikely that the Task Force would be able to catch up to them, despite the text he'd sent. Ide wondered if he could stall.

"How many crimes have you committed that you're so sure you'll be tracked here?" Ide injected a bravado he did not feel into his words. "You can't keep running – they'll catch up to you sooner or later!"

The tall man regarded him coolly. "Later would be better." He sighed. "Bind them," he said over his shoulder. He let go of Ide's shirt, grabbed his wrist, and spun him around in one swift motion, and Ide felt cold metal suddenly pressing against his wrists, encircling them in two snaps. They brought their own handcuffs? Ide marveled. Who are these guys?

Hands not his own were abruptly in his pockets, and Ide jumped at the touch. "Hm." Ide couldn't see the tall man, who was behind him now, but he knew he'd just found Aizawa's cellphone.

"What is it T— um, Bjorn?" one of the men said.

"Cellphone. No charge on it – not anymore, anyway." Ide could practically feel the tall man's eyes burning into his back. "It doesn't matter." Ide heard a clatter and crunch and turned his head in time to see the tall man remove his foot from the now crushed phone. "Everything metal on them stays here. Phones, flashdrives, watches, belt buckles – anything that could conceal or double as a tracking device."

"What about coins, boss?"

"Unlikely to be a problem, but it can't hurt to leave them here too."

"What if they have implants?" The European-looking sideman spoke again.

The tall man paused, thumb and forefinger pressed to his wide jaw. "Well, there's not much we can do about that here, so we'll have to risk it." He dropped Ide's watch to the ground and started working on Ide's belt buckle as his men did the same to Aizawa, who was grimacing more than usual. Ide really wished that he was still talking with the pretty, if unreceptive, nurse. A thousand rejections would be better than this, Ide thought as the tall man pulled his belt off, whipping it behind him and dropping it. "Leave their shoes, too," the tall man said, gripping Ide's arm as if he was about to upend him.

"I'll do it, I'll do it." Ide grumbled, not wanting to end up on the floor again like another discarded accessory. Standing on one foot and then the other, he pressed toes to heel to shuck the shoes from his feet.

"Glad you're being cooperative. We don't want to harm either of you." The tall man regarded Ide seriously.

"Yeah? Tell that to the side of my head."

"I am sorry about that." The tall man shot a look to his men. "That was unnecessary."

"All of this is unnecessary! You should just let us go – crimes against cops aren't looked on too kindly by other cops." Ide wondered idly if yelling at the man would get him knocked out for real this time. He hoped that he was at least buying some time for the Task Force to find them.

"It may surprise you to know," the tall man said, leaning in close, "that we are actually on the same side as you." He pulled back, regarding Ide thoughtfully for a moment. "Hurting you was unnecessary, but I'm afraid this is."

Ide found himself being turned and forced to walk past a tall stack of crates, behind which a black sedan was parked. As the two other men moved Aizawa along and opened the trunk, Ide knew what he was in for and met Aizawa's eyes with trepidation.

"I hope you two are good friends, because you'll be sharing close quarters for awhile." The tall man didn't have even the slightest trace of a smirk, and Ide wondered briefly if he was a robot as he and then Aizawa were loaded into the trunk.

A few moments after the trunk was closed with a thud, Ide whispered to Aizawa. "What do they want? Who are these guys?"

"I don't know – they kept asking me about Kira, and L. I've never seen them before." Aizawa gritted out.

"But –"

"Don't say any more – they may have bugged the trunk."

Aizawa's words left Ide in stunned silence as they started to feel the rumbling of the road beneath them. Questions crowded in on him, and Ide struggled for breath as though they were taking up airspace around him.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Falling Behind

"They're not here."

"That's not good news, Mr. Yagami." L realized that he was stating the obvious, but he was parsing possible scenarios in his head.

"That's not the worst part, Ryuzaki. Their car is crashed outside and some of their belongings are here – belts, watches, shoes, coins. There's a smashed cellphone – I think it's Aizawa's – and there is blood on the floor." Soichiro sounded worried, and angry.

"How much blood?"

"Enough to suggest moderate injury, but not death."

"That is encouraging, at least. Thank you, Mr. Yagami. Please photograph as much of the scene as you can, including the car outside and any tire tracks, and then collect all of the material evidence and bring it back here. We will need to analyze everything in order to find them."

"Ryuzaki, we need to involve the NPA in this. Aizawa and Ide may not have much time."

"Unfortunately, we cannot rule out the possibility that the NPA is involved."

"What?" Soichiro's voice was loud despite the tenuous cell connection.

"I am sorry, Mr. Yagami, but the fact is that their itinerary was known to the NPA. It would have been easy for someone there to have had them followed." L knew that the NPA would not have had Aizawa's and Ide's exact schedule, but if this abduction turned up any evidence he could use against Kira, he did not want to share it.

"You have no evidence of that!"

"Correct, but it is a plausible scenario. I do not want to endanger them further by potentially tipping off a mole in the NPA that we are already in pursuit, particularly since these kidnappers currently seem interested in keeping Aizawa and Ide alive."

"Ryuzaki –"

"Please, Mr. Yagami. As you said, time is of the essence. The sooner we examine the evidence you've found, the better our chances of finding them. If you use your cellphone's camera to send photos to Watari, we can begin investigating with you from here."

"Understood." Soichiro abruptly terminated the call. L was not surprised that the older man was angry. L was not happy with things as they were either.

"Are you sure the kidnappers want to keep them alive?" Matsuda radiated worry.

"Yes. They took measures to ensure that they would not be tracked, yet they did not hide that they had been there, and the blood left behind was a non-life-threatening amount. I'll know more when I see the photographs, but so far . . . I am optimistic regarding their survival." L wasn't sure he was explaining as clearly as he wanted. He was surprised at how much of a toll a simple laxative had taken on him. Had it not been for the sandwich Matsuda had brought him, he might be feeling much worse. "Though I cannot help but feel that the timing of this is a bit too convenient. It certainly works in Kira's favor."

"Well, it couldn't be Kira doing this – even I know that." Matsuda stated plainly. "Kira doesn't kidnap. Kira kills."

"But we know Kira can control people's actions before death, so it's possible Kira controlled someone to kidnap them." Light's voice sounded strange, as though he'd just remembered he had one.

"There are clearly limits to how much Kira can control people, Light." L allowed disdain to color his voice, if only to irritate the teen. "I'd felt sure you'd come to the same conclusion." L turned toward Matsuda. "If Kira could make people do anything he wanted, he'd have been able to send others after us much sooner than this, even if they did not know us or where we were. No, a certain measure of . . . feasibility must be required. The actions Kira can make others take must be within the bounds of possibility and therefore within their individual capabilities." L pulled at his lower lip. "Kira could be a member of the NPA, but . . . whoever has taken Aizawa and Ide must have their own motivations. It is possible that their actions are connected to Kira – in fact, the timing of this is too much of a coincidence for them not to be – but it's not clear yet what that connection is."

L stepped down from his chair and started toward what he hoped would be his last bathroom trip for awhile. "Once we've analyzed the evidence from the scene thoroughly, we should be able to draw more useful conclusions." L paused and looked pointedly back at Matsuda. "We will find them, and we will get them back safely."

With Matsuda's face showing renewed determination, L turned and continued into the hall. The fact that the kidnapping had occurred after Aizawa and Ide had left St. Luke's Hospital, the same hospital Namikawa had told Soichiro that Higuchi had stayed, seemed too much of a coincidence as well. Is Yotsuba involved somehow? L wondered. It seemed unlikely, but he would not rule it out. And if he could find a way to use this against Kira, he would – anything to keep dancing, to keep moving toward the truth.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Shouting at the Heavens

"Yuck, what a horrible day! I'm totally ordering dinner in tonight." Misa dropped her bags next to the dripping pink umbrella and flopped onto the loveseat.

Ryuk rolled his eyes, reclining on the couch. Misa's little shopping excursion would have been complete torture if he hadn't amused himself by catching the garments she'd tossed aside and 'helped' them along to land in less-than-optimal places – such as a shop lady's head, or another customer's purchase pile, or, most memorably, over a lit candle. Ryuk smiled a bit at that. Somehow, Misa had never gotten wise to what he'd been doing, always blaming her clutziness. And the shopkeepers always forgave her. She was Misa Amane, after all, so to have her in their shops was good publicity for them. So things had never gotten too interesting, which left Ryuk frustrated.

"So what did Light have to say?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Misa folded her arms and looked away from Ryuk.

"Well, yeah, since I just asked."

"Well, maybe you would have heard for yourself if you hadn't gone off somewhere." Misa stood in a huff and walked over to her computer, sitting down with a thump.

"Oh, so you like it when I'm around and you're getting all lovey-dovey with Light?" Ryuk rose up and leaned over her, rubbing his hands together.

"Ew! No, I just – ugh, nevermind." Misa turned away, tossing her hair at him, and began typing. An ornately decorated website appeared onscreen, and she began clicking on links.

Ryuk wondered if she'd forgotten his question entirely or was just ignoring him. "Whatever. I guess you're right – I don't need to hear Light profess his undying love for you." He began floating toward the window, deciding he'd rather be rained on than ignored, when he was brought up short by a strange sound.

Misa had burst into tears and was sobbing into her folded arms on the desk. No pretty, delicate tears here – her body convulsed, her voice broken into anguished gasps, guttural noises, and the occasional snort. Ryuk had seen her upset before, as it seemed an all-too-common occurrence, but he'd never seen her like this. He wasn't sure whether to leave or stay. He knew he wouldn't be able to comfort her, even if he'd been so inclined.

"Uh, Misa . . ."

"Shut up! Shut up, you stupid shinigami!" Misa's eyes flashed anger from behind the flushed puffiness that threatened to close them. "You're supposed to be helping me, but you don't care! I hate you! You don't do what I want, and you're always mean to me! Why won't you just go away?" Misa buried her face in her arms again.

"Wha- I couldn't go away even if I wanted to! You're the owner of the Death Note I'm bound to, so I have to stay with you – you know that. This wasn't my idea anyway!"

"I know! This was all Light's idea . . ." Misa seemed to be trying to master her tears. "His beautiful, wonderful idea to create a perfect world." The waning light left part of her puffed face in shadow, defusing her beauty, giving her a strange, bulbous look. "I thought you at least wanted to help Light with that."

Ryuk considered lying to placate her, or at least distract her. Then he considered being completely honest. "You know what? I'm basically along for the ride here. It doesn't really matter to me if Light's plan for a 'perfect world' works or not. I just wanna see what happens next."

Misa stared at Ryuk, her breathing almost back to normal. "And Light's really OK with that?"

"Yeah – like he has a choice. I only went along with this since he promised me you'd feed me apples."

"Hmph." Misa held her crossed arms against her chest, leaning back in her chair, and looked at Ryuk through her eyebrows. "Well, if you want Misa to keep feeding you apples, you're going to have to find a way to make Light fall in love with me."

"What? Are you kidding? That's impossible!"

Misa's sharp gasp was barely done when she threw a doll at Ryuk's head. "It is not impossible! Light can love me, and he will love me! And you have to help Misa make it happen, or no more apples!"

"Wh– You're crazy! I'm a Death God, not a Love God! Light doesn't listen to me anyway – not that I can see him much, since you can only visit him once in awhile." Ryuk fervently wished he had flown out the window without pausing.

"I am not crazy! And – oh! You must miss Light, too! I never even thought of that . . ." Misa almost seemed to forget that she was upset.

"Um, yeah, sure, why not."

"Hey I know! You could maybe serenade us when we're together and sorta set the mood."

Ryuk cackled. "With my beautiful singing voice? Sure thing!" He began a strange warbling howl, and Misa plugged her ears.

"OK OK! Maybe singing's a bad idea." Misa looked thoughtful for a moment, and then sighed. "Is there at least something you could tell Misa about Light that I could use to make him fall in love with me?"

Man, this girl doesn't quit, Ryuk thought. "Not really. The only thing that seems to excite him is the Death Note." Ryuk braced himself for more yelling.

"Ryuk! That doesn't help at all." Misa's scowl broke abruptly. "Hey wait – can a Death Note be owned by more than one person?"

"Huh? Um, I dunno." Ryuk figured that it was possible, but was reluctant to tell Misa this.

"Well, if it can, then Light could be co-owner of my note, which means you wouldn't be bound to just Misa, you'd be bound to him too, and then you could bring love notes back and forth between us!" Misa clapped her hands together, seeming pleased with herself, her still-puffy face making a parody of joy.

For his part, Ryuk looked as if he'd bitten into the rottenest of apples. Why is she smart enough to figure out how dual ownership could work but not smart enough to know there's no way Light would go for that? Ryuk marveled. Oh right, 'cause she's craaazy. "Uh, I don't think that'd work."

"Well, can't you find out? C'mon, you're a shinigami – you're supposed to know this stuff." Misa narrowed her eyes. "You do want to eat apples again, don't you?"

"OK fine, you win." Ryuk ignored Misa's squee of triumph. "I really don't know if Death Notes can be shared that way, and I can't go back to the shinigami realm as long as any human owns my note, but . . . I can see if I can get another shinigami to tell me."

"Oooh! You can ask Rem!" Misa's eyes brightened.

"Well, yeah, I can wait and ask her the next time we're visiting Light. Or . . . I could see if another shinigami will answer me right now."

Misa's eyes grew even wider. "You can do that?"

"Honestly, I've never tried, but it's worth a shot, right?" Ryuk cocked his head to one side.

"Would Misa be able to see them too?" Misa seemed excited by the idea.

"Eh, not unless they wanted you to, but I doubt they would. They may not even talk to me with you nearby – most shinigami don't like the human world at all. That's why me and Rem are the only ones down here."

"Aw – that's no fun." Misa pouted.

"Yeah, those guys are boring." Ryuk shrugged.

"Well, that's something we can agree on, Ryuk." Misa sat up straighter and looked at Ryuk expectantly. "Are you going to try and contact them here?"

"Actually," Ryuk said, nodding his head toward the window, "I was gonna fly up as high as I can and try to get their attention. There's a better chance they'll respond that way."

"OK . . ." Misa sounded disappointed. "Good luck then." She turned back to her computer.

Ryuk flew through the wall out into the deluge, missing Misa's heavy sigh as she stared at her hands in her lap. He flew up high, landing on the roof of her building, knowing it didn't really matter where he was, but glad to be away. He had no intention of asking any shinigami about Death Note co-ownership – he knew it could happen. His mind had already turned to a previous suggestion.

"This probably isn't gonna work . . ." Ryuk muttered to himself. "He wouldn't care; she definitely wouldn't care; I don't wanna talk to him . . . she would probably kill them all just to spite me; and those guys won't do anything. That leaves . . ." Ryuk sighed. "Can't believe I'm doing this."

Ryuk took a deep breath and shouted at the sky, waving his arms. "Midora! Hey, Midora! Come down here and talk to me – I have a proposal for you! Midora!" Ryuk hoped that making an ass out of himself in front of the other shinigami would be worth it.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: There are cameras in Misa's apartment, but no bugs. Pity, isn't it? I don't know if you've guessed who's taken Aizawa and Ide yet, but no worries, that'll be revealed soon. I think I made it fairly obvious who the person in Criminal was, but if you aren't sure, just ask me.