Disclaimer! All fictional entities featured/ mentioned in this segment belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata; except Erin Blogger and a few extra characters not from the canon cast, who I made up for the purpose of this fan fiction.

Sorry for the delay, folks. Greetings from Montreal!

10. Misa

Erin and Stephen spent most of their time on the funny-smelling sofa in the corner of the lobby with his arm around her shoulders and her head resting in the space between his shoulder and his chest. His presence soothed her as much as it could, but even with the bruises forming under both their eyes she refused to nod off even for a moment until she heard from the doctors that Misa was okay. And if Erin couldn't sleep, Stephen figured he might as well stay up with her.

Her hands fiddled with the cell phone in her hands. Kimiko must be home in bed right now. I really ought to call her to let her know what's going on…oh, but I can't! Of course she's gonna want to know what happened; what are we supposed to tell her?

Oh Misa…why would you do this? Why now? I would think that you'd know better. Rem didn't give up her life just so you could throw yours away for some cheap kicks…

But the more Erin thought of it, the more baffled she got. If Misa truly did know better, would she have ever become a serial killer all those years ago? Or had the Death Note been like cocaine: trying it once had made her want to try more, and the more she used it the more hooked she got on it like Light did? Was the Death Note really that potent over the human mind, or had Misa always been one of those types who was prone to addiction?

As if this whole thing with Misa wasn't enough, Farley still hadn't called her back. She checked two, three, four times even though she could see that he hadn't left a message the first time she'd checked, such was her anxiety. According to the latest from Dad who had been trying to keep the peace, he wasn't speaking much to any of them right now. Especially after the blowout he just had with Mom the other night. "You know how Mom's always been at odds with Penny. I guess she got carried away and couldn't resist rubbing it in. Needless to say, it hasn't helped things," he said sheepishly. Unlike Mom, Dad tried to keep an open mind about people since they could surprise you, sometimes in a pleasant way. Some would argue that he was naïve like that. Like father, like daughter.

Gosh. Farley can snark with the best of them but he's almost never really mad, not that mad. He must be crushed. But I can't help him out of it as long as he keeps ignoring me.

Across the way the TV droned with the constant jeers and hisses of the crowd on the Maury Povich Show™. After over two decades on the air hardly anything he put on there seemed shocking anymore: teenage girls running wild, people messing around with everybody and their horse—no wait, that was Jerry Springer™—women on the hunt for their sometimes numerous baby-daddies. And who knew whether Mr. Povich genuinely cared about these people's problems, not to mention those poor innocent kids, or was just exploiting them in the name of entertainment?

She kept her eyes on her feet but her head pounded regardless. Apart from a nurse occasionally calling for the next person or the sporadic hum of a car speeding by outside the TV was the only sound in the immediate vicinity, the seemingly only splash of color, however off, in this stark bleak place.

She thought about getting up to change the channel but stayed glued to her seat next to Stephen. A few other folks here for their own reasons appeared to be watching it, probably to help forget what had brought them here in the first place. That was debatably one thing shows like Maury or Springer were good for: to point and laugh at the folks who made total jackasses of themselves on national broadcast and say, "Well my life may suck right now but at least I'm not that dude" or "At least I'm not that chick." How else could they still be popular enough to be on the air for this long?

She had noticed though that since the whole Kira thing, they had taken care not to have people go on the show admitting that that'd committed any crimes, or if they did their face would be blocked out and their name changed. She'd heard that Maury and Jerry's shows were dwindling in popularity because of that. Due to its very nature, Steve Wilkos's™ show was cancelled entirely. If the guests didn't have names or faces, how could they be mocked?

Besides it was unlikely that there was anything much better on at this time of the night—or was it morning? Erin briefly checked the time displayed on her phone and read 12:16. They'd been sitting here for over three hours, what was the hold-up? Was Misa going to pull through it? Had they gotten here too late to save her? No, they would've come out and broken the bad news hours ago had that been the case, right?

"Hey. You thirsty?" Stephen asked softly.

Her throat did feel quite dry at the moment, but all she could manage was a single nod against his chest. It felt nice to have her head here; he wasn't too muscular but certainly not scrawny either. Stephen smelled like an odd mix of cinnamon body wash and slight natural odor, probably from the lack of time to freshen up, but it comforted her. A while back his scent might have driven her crazy-gaga like everything else about him, the way she'd felt when they'd danced at the party. But she was too tired for crazy-gaga right now.

"Okay, I'll go get some water. Be right back." He briefly rubbed her arm in assurance before letting go and rising off the sofa. As Erin watched him disappear down the hall she somehow felt colder without him there. She needed something to distract herself, just for a minute. The gift shop! She needed to get something for Stephen's birthday anyway, even though it had been over a week ago.

When she'd asked him why he hadn't told her sooner—that is before this whole thing with Matt and Misa had gone down—he'd just shrugged and replied, "We've got more important things to worry about. Besides, birthdays are fun and all but at the end of the day they just mean that I'm getting older."

"Aw come on, you can't be that old. What are ya, 24? 25?"

"This last week was my fifth 21st." After a quick count on her fingers she'd figured that he meant his 26th. Nerves seemed to have interfered with her capacity to get jokes.

"Well, I wouldn't think about getting older as a bad thing. Wine gets better with age, doesn't it? I mean, that's what I've heard."

He'd laughed that cute gentle laugh of his. "Yeah, you may have a point. Maybe later on when I've got time I'll treat myself to a glass of good wine. Or a vodka martini, depending on how adventurous I feel."

She couldn't get him a bottle of wine at this moment in time but she couldn't just get him nothing at all. Oh dang, the gift shop was closed. They wouldn't open until 8:30. She supposed she could bide her time. Come to think of it Mogi's birthday was coming up too, wasn't it? She'd have to get him something too. She'd have to get Near's permission to send him it, though. All of a sudden she felt like crying. Near, he'd been right all along, hadn't he? No way! Misa just screwed up like most movie stars did. This had nothing to do with the killings.

Just then a nurse came out calling her name, and Erin perked up like a dog that had just heard a whistle. "How's Misa is she okay we didn't get here too late did we?"

The harried nurse tucked some frizzled hair back behind her ear. "Well, her condition seems to be stable now but we're currently keeping an eye on her in ICU. I'm afraid now isn't a good time to see her. Has this ever happened before?"

"No! She's never done this sort of thing before. N-not that I'm aware of. Her sister used to be an addict though, if that means anything. An alcoholic. Ah, she's not anymore. I don't know. The guy she was messing around with must've introduced the stuff to her and…"

She liked it a little too much.

The nurse nodded. "It's good you got her here as quickly as you did," she commented tersely, as though stopping herself before mentioning something she shouldn't. Such as what could have happened if they hadn't gotten Misa to the hospital in time.

Eventually Gevanni came back with two bottles of water from the vending machine. Erin was back on the couch absently flipping through a three-month-old edition of a magazine, having already looked through the newspaper. It sure had taken him a long time just to get some bottled water. But she quickly figured out what the hold-up was when he reclaimed his spot next to her, handed her one of the bottles and draped his arm back around her shoulder.

He smelled different. She could have sworn she could now smell a splash of spice, wood and lavender cologne under his arm. It was a familiar scent, but quite fresh given the time they'd been here. "Did you just spray on cologne?" she asked him after taking a swig of water. Now that she was looking at him his hair seemed more combed back than before, too. His hair smelled a bit like cologne at the moment, too.

His answer was calm and shameless. "Yeah. Even on these late nights I still like to smell decent, at least until I can get time for a proper shower." He too took a swig. "I don't go anywhere without my Aspen™."

Ah, so that's his secret to looking good after a late night. He makes himself up.

An article she'd just skimmed through in the magazine had cited gussying up for no apparent reason as a sign that one's man was cheating on her. She wanted to slap herself. Come on, he was gone for maybe five minutes. That's hardly enough time for anything to happen, and in a hospital of all places. I shouldn't have read that garbage; now it's got me all paranoid. So he's a little vain. Hey, at least he admits it.

Besides...we're not really in a relationship yet, so could I even really call it cheating? You know what, I should stop thinking about it. Off you go!

"Any word yet on Misa?"

"Well…they just came out and said that she's stable, but we can't see her right now."

"Oh. Thank goodness for that. Her being stable, I mean. Hm…well, they have our numbers. Do you want to go back to the hotel?"

"I don't know. If I left now it'd feel like I was abandoning her. Not to mention what about Kimiko? What the hell am I gonna tell her? I'm afraid to call her up but at the same time if I don't say something, someone else will. And somehow I just know it'd be all the worse if that happened."

"Oh. I could stay with you a while longer if I had to, but they might need me back at the hotel. From what I've heard from Halle, there's been a breakthrough. Or at least we're hoping it's a breakthrough."

"Wh-what's up now?"

Stephen paused to look to his right, then to his left, and then pulled her closer to whisper into her ear, "You know that guy you caught Misa with back at the Marriot™?"

Her stomach churched at the mention of him. "Yeah. What happened, did you guys arrest him? For what, drug possession?"

"All I could gather is that he wanted us to arrest him as soon as he came out. Halle didn't have time to explain everything what with this whole thing with Misa."

He…Near? Near wanted them to arrest Matt? What the hell for? What did Matt have to do with anything?

"How about this: I'm gonna go outside and call her again, ask her what's going on and whether they need me back. If they don't I'll stay here with you. But if they do…"

"Aw hey, if they need you back, they need you back. I ain't going anywhere. Besides…"

She flipped her phone open again and sighed. "It looks like I'm gonna have to call Kim, anyway."

"All right. I'm going outside." He briefly drew her closer and squeezed her shoulder. She saw him move his head so that his lips would have touched her temple, but he stopped before contact was made. "May I?" he asked, his warm breath brushing her skin.

She blushed in spite of herself. "Uh…sure. I don't see the harm."

His lips made a quiet smacking noise as they touched her head. They were soft, or at least they felt so for the short time they were there. Her stomach was flip-flopping like Dad's flapjacks in the pan by the time he'd disappeared out of the sliding doors. While she certainly didn't want the physical aspect of their relationship to go too fast she felt kind of crummy for making Stephen feel as if he had to ask permission for even the simplest gestures. She wasn't frigid and she sure hoped Stephen didn't get that impression. She could be a real cuddlebug when the mood struck her. She always was shy and awkward and maybe kinda-sorta neurotic around guys she liked. In hindsight, she used to get kind of awkward around L too, that is when she wasn't mad at him or some other thing.

Though sometimes that was more because she really was afraid of him.

…

Later on I should probably outline what's okay with me at this point and what's not, so Steve doesn't have to ask every time.

Erin flipped open the phone and started to punch in the Amanes' home number. She remembered then how Kimiko's birthday was also coming up in a few weeks and she tried to swallow down the lump crawling up her throat. That's right. Kim's gonna be thirty.

"H-hello?" Kimiko's voice answered groggily. She must have been sleeping when Erin had called. She felt awful for waking her up but it couldn't be helped.

"Uh, hey, Kimiko. This is Erin."

"Erin? What's going on, it's…half past midnight."

"I-I know, I'm sorry but I—I thought I should let you know as soon as I could."

"Wh-what're you talking about? Has something happened?"

"Kim, it's…it's Misa. She's in the hospital."

As though Erin had flipped on a switch, Kimiko's answers became much more automatic and shaky. "What? Misa's in th—oh my God! What happened, was there an accident?"

"You could say that," Erin mumbled, feeling quite nauseous about this whole thing herself despite having only had this bottle of water sweating in her fist.

"I-I'll get a cab and be right over. Oh God, is Misa okay? Please tell me she's okay!" Her voice was crackling now, not so much with grogginess as from panic and the verge of tears.

"They said that she's stable now but she's still in intensive care. W-we're at Good Samaritan™, 1225 Wilshire Boulevard."

…

"I—I don't understand. Why would she do something like this?" Kimiko asked aloud, whether to herself or to Erin, Erin couldn't tell. She pillaged her mind for a good answer but nothing was coming up. She was just as lost as Kimiko.

"How could she? That—that idiot," the older Amane growled, her clenched fists whitening around her cane in her lap. Having had no time to properly dress, she had slipped slacks on and tucked her nightgown into it and had crammed her feet into sneakers without socks. She had her shades on but somehow Erin knew that if she could see her seemingly vacant and unfocused eyes they would be wet with ripening tears. She had her arm wrapped around her. "That fucking idiot! Oh, when she wakes up again I'll give her what-for!"

Like Misa, Kimiko virtually never swore. Although Erin was no stranger to profanity hearing Kimiko use it somehow frightened her, almost as much as it did when she heard Misa use it.

"I don't know, Kim. I'm as stumped as you are. Has…has Misa ever done this sort of thing before?"

"Done drugs? No, never. Or, not that I'd know of since we started living together again. I never saw any warning signs. And I'd know damn well what those are…"

That last part sounded as though Kimiko was either trying to rationalize how she could have not seen this coming, or going over in her mind what signs had been there to catch if any at all.

"W-well, maybe this was a one-time thing? Maybe she was just looking for something to help her relax. Y'know, get away from the stresses of her career and being in a new country and all. And then she got carried away—"

Sheesh Erin, way to trivialize things, you moron.

"But cocaine? Cocaine, of all things! She could have died! Doesn't she realize that? No obviously not because right now she's in critical care in a fucking coma!" Kimiko brought her knuckles to her mouth as though about to bite them, but simply pressed them to her lips instead and bowed her head as though praying while trying to get back her composure. This was not the usual quiet and reserved Kimiko that Erin was used to. When she began to rock slightly Erin told her to hold on as she reached into her bag to pull out a packet of tissues.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry," Kimiko sniffed, blowing her nose into the first wad of tissue she pulled from out of the plastic. "I hate it when I get like this. I'm the big sister; I'm supposed to be the rock. It's just…I would've thought that after seeing what happened with me, she'd know better than this."

I thought so too. I even told her that myself. But now I don't know. I don't think I know that girl lying in that bed, not nearly as much as I thought I did.

What are we gonna do when she wakes up? Will she fess up to all the secrets she's been hiding? Or will she just spin another web of lies?

Erin fought the urge to cry out in frustration herself. Kimiko didn't need that. She needed someone to listen and help talk her out of her turmoil, even though she wasn't exactly the best at that either.

"Here I thought things were going fine. I've done everything I could to make sure that she's comfortable while still giving her space to spread her wings. I don't want to have to constantly hover over her shoulder but if this is what she's going to do when I'm not looking…"

After a moment of tension-addled silence Kimiko lifted her chin in thought. "I…I wonder if this has anything to do with her breakup with Hideki? I wouldn't have thought so at first since she's supposedly the one who broke things off, but—"

Erin sat up a bit straighter. "Hideki? What makes you think this has got to do with him?"

Kimiko swallowed and grabbed another few sheets to dab at her eyes. "Misa's always been really passionate about men she falls in love with. Too much so, if you asked me. She falls fast and she falls hard. Doesn't matter how long she's actually known them. I mean, she tried to—"

Kimiko stopped herself as if she had just gotten close to spilling a dark secret of her little sister's. "Sh-she suffered a horrible breakdown after Light died. I never got to meet him; we weren't on speaking terms then and I was wrapped up with my own problems. But from what she's told me, he was a wonderful young man. Kind, bright, had a strong sense of justice. The sort of guy we'd have liked her to be with. He was studying to become a detective and had actual case experience. He was killed on his last one, but you already knew that. She was devastated, almost as much as when Mom and Dad…"

Her voice seemed to shrink at the mention of their parents, like she were remembering something or perhaps several things at once that were painful to put into words in front of a stranger (relatively speaking), even after all this time.

Yes. In Misa's eyes Light was wonderful enough to die for. And to kill for.

Tragically in different circumstances, maybe Light really could have been a good man, especially for Misa. Maybe. Erin didn't know. Like L, Light had taken many secrets of his own to the grave. Her eyes darted towards her tapping feet for a bit as she tried to process what had just been said, let alone respond to it. Misa had tried to kill herself after Light's death, hadn't she? Around that time she and Erin had lost contact with each other as well and even after they reconnected she had never told her that part. But then, Misa tended to avoid talking about the bad things in life, especially her personal life. It wasn't that surprising and yet it made Erin feel like an idiot and a lousy friend nevertheless.

Jesus. She's tried to kill herself before? So this whole thing with the coke…was this another attempt? But why? Because of Hideki? For some reason I can't buy that…

"Hey, Kim?"

"Hm?"

Erin scratched at the back of her head. "I—I don't want to be too, um, intrusive or anything but…how exactly did you two become estranged in the first place? Misa's never gone into much detail about that."

The older Amane took her turn for silence, eventually hanging her head again. Her shoulders slackened. "Probably because she doesn't think it's important anymore now that we've made up. But, honestly I blame myself for most of it. We were fairly close when we were little but when we got older…things changed."

At this point Stephen was in the corner on the far side of the room with his face buried in today's newspaper. Apparently he wasn't needed back but he kept his distance all the same. Kimiko wouldn't be opening up like this otherwise.

"They changed?"

"Yeah. I used to pride myself on being the brainiac in the family, while Misa always had a taste for the spotlight. Pageants, theater, modeling, that sort of thing. And she knew how to get it. Mom and Dad would dote on her every chance they got while I got pushed more towards the backseat so to speak. This was especially true with Dad. He and I were kind of distant despite living under the same roof, and it seemed to get worse as we grew up. Every time I tried to talk to him he'd deny that there was a problem and brush me off. Arguments came easily for us. I never understood why things were the way they were until I turned eighteen and learned the truth."

Erin's gut twisted like raw pretzel dough. "And what was that?"

Kimiko exhaled through her nose. "I found out that our dad wasn't actually my dad. A neighbor of ours told me about it. They both knew the whole time and it took me confronting them for them to finally admit it." A slight reluctant edge appeared in her voice as she recalled an old hurt that she knew was pointless to hold on to and yet it lingered like the dull ache from touching a burn.

Erin's grip on her shoulder tightened. Christ Almighty, what could be worse than finding out, from a neighbor no less, that someone you grew up believing was your mom or dad wasn't actually your mom or dad at all? She recalled a picture that Misa had shown her of her entire family at the beach and how happy or at least content they all seemed to be. Had their smiles been fake? Or was that precious photo proof that even dysfunctional families still had their good times?

"Did, uh, did you ever contact your biological dad?"

"I tried, for about three months. The only response I got was that I stop or else he'd press stalking charges against me. He had a family of his own by then. In hindsight maybe I should have been more aggressive, asked him for at least a paternity test to prove that I was his daughter. On the other hand, I don't think it would have changed anything. Father or not, he didn't want anything to do with me and that was that."

Then her lips twitched with what might have been a smile, if sad, bitter and self-depreciating. "That was about the time I started drinking. I only meant to get smashed one time, partly to forget about my feelings and partly to spite my parents. I used to think the idea that you could get hooked on something after just one try was bull. But for some people it's true. I ended up liking it so much that I wanted to do it again, and again. Somehow it spiraled out of control and eventually I ended up getting arrested and kicked out of the house. They told me not to come back until I got sober. And I didn't. At least not in their lifetime." An unmistakable regret tinged her words then, one that Erin knew too well from having made a similar mistake.

"I can't say that I blame them, not anymore. I was…I was horrible when I got drunk, a completely different person. The night I was arrested I threw a bottle at Mom and slashed up Dad's face with one of the pieces. And I didn't care. So help me God, I didn't care. It seemed like it didn't matter what I did—getting the top grades, being valedictorian—none of it would matter to them because I would always be a mistake. Misa was like their second chance, their real little princess. It made me want to lash out at everything. Poor Misa, she just wanted to move on from the whole thing and be a family, and I left her when she needed me the most.

"Th-they weren't totally bad people; please don't think I'm trying to say that they were. They might have made mistakes but they did the best they could in spite of them. He may not have been my real dad but he was still the only dad I knew; he was still the one that raised me and he didn't have to. I didn't exactly help the problems we had either. The drinking was something I chose for myself, and as angry as I was with them I never would have wanted them to get slaughtered by some freak looking for drug money."

She paused to take a few more breaths to steady her nerves. "I'm—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded all that on you."

"No, no. It's all right. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

Even before the murders and Kira, Misa's life seemed rife with drama and tragedy. Whenever her family came up during their time together on the case Misa had practically nothing but good things to say about them, and whatever few not-so-good things she mentioned had been so downplayed. But this was her family. Who would freely bad-mouth their family no matter how screwed up they were? People seemed to do it all the time online but even then they were still anonymous.

Who was to blame for the sad state of this family? Maybe, to an extent, everyone in it. But what good did laying blame ever do, especially for families?

The older woman sighed once more. "It's funny. I call Misa clingy and yet I'm hardly any better. Our relationship's been a crazy roller-coaster of ups and downs but she's all I've got left since the accident, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to her now." While she sounded calmer now, probably from "unloading" her feelings, a shade of distress and anger still lingered in her tone.

Erin reached over to take her hand, the one not clutching the tissues. "But they said she'd pull through it. If you want, we can wait here until she wakes up and we can see her. Maybe have some kind of intervention or something."

Kimiko nodded. "I…I don't want this to get out to the paparazzi, either. She's been humiliated enough."

"Hopefully they won't; I don't think Misa's well-known enough around here yet for them to bother. But if they do come around, to hell with it; we'll fight 'em off." She held up a fist to emphasize her point.

The two eventually fell into a much longer silence as they waited for another update on Misa's condition. As they did, Erin was left to her mishmash of thoughts, in the center of it all trying to figure out for herself why Near would want to arrest an ordinary punk like Matt. He'd been hiding something from them again, hadn't he?

Her neck snapped up as Kimiko got up to get a drink for herself. Another wave of sickness swallowed her up and she didn't know what it was from anymore.

Is Matt another runaway from Wammy's?

…

"Matt?"

…

"Matt."

…

"Matt, please. Talk to me. I—we know that you know where he is and what he's up to. Or at least we're certain of it."

Of course you would think that. I'm almost never seen without Mello. In fact I probably wouldn't cross anyone's mind unless they were thinking about him first.

Not that that's ever really bothered me. If it did I might have done something about it by now.

"What if we…gave you an offer? If you'll tell us what you know, your…sentence will be lenient."

Don't I need to have a lawyer here for that? Besides it's not me I'm looking out for. I know you'd never be lenient on him, no matter what you say otherwise or even if you really would want to go easy on him yourself. Not if Near is anything like the first L was supposed to be. He's fucked no matter what if he gets caught.

"We can offer you protection, as long as he still doesn't know your real name."

Mello wouldn't kill me. He would've done it a long time ago if he really wanted to. You're feeling guilty about this whole thing, aren't you? If you hadn't let him walk out maybe none of this would be happening.

But I hope you know that I don't resent you for that. Why would I? You've got no more control over him than I do, or anyone for that matter.

The only response Matt gave was the constant rapping of his fingertips against the desk, his hands twitching from nicotine deprivation. They'd taken away his fags when they'd brought him here, the only thing he'd had on him besides his clothes, his phone and the box of coke that had technically been Misa's. Although he had erased the messages detailing their "conversation," the fact that he'd been caught in such a compromising position with the girl was enough to make them think he might have had some kind of connection to her. Paired with what felt like his lifelong connection to Mello…

But he wouldn't say a word. That was his right after all, wasn't it? What would they do, torture the answers out of him? Roger could never bear to do that to one of the kids he'd raised.

Then again, that might also depend on how much pressure Near would put on him.

Roger sighed, his deep voice beginning to waver. "I understand if you think you're trying to protect him, but think about what he's doing. We know he has a killer notebook, the same kind of weapon that Kira used. You're not helping anyone by keeping quiet, least of all him."

You're telling me this like I didn't already know.

Matt simply turned his head and resumed staring at the pasty white wall, keeping his breaths slow and deep. But his fingers rapped faster with craving. He just had to bide his time until he could get out of here. Mello didn't explain when or how that would happen, only assured him that he'd be out of this cell as soon as the plan would allow.

What would happen after that, Matt could only guess. What mattered was here and now.

He heard a soft thump against the desk—probably Roger's bony elbow—and a quiet frustrated huff.

…

"Sir, with all due respect why couldn't you tell us about him sooner?" demanded Anthony, his patience wearing ever thinner with this constant secrecy from their "boss." "We're really not going to get much done if you keep us in the dark about these things."

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? I don't feel the need to disclose information until it's necessary. After his voice was picked up on the feed during Gevanni and Blogger's surveillance I knew that our defector had to be somewhere nearby, or at least he'd know where he is. He used to hang around M all the time and sympathized with him. This mix-up with Amane was an excellent chance to catch and bring him in. Speaking of, what is Amane's status at the moment?"

"Gevanni just called to tell me about that," said Halle from across Anthony. "She's at Good Samaritan for a cocaine overdose, although he said that she will recover."

"Cocaine overdose? How convenient." Somehow even with the scrambler both could hear a hint of disbelief and scorn lining his voice. "We're going to bring her in for questioning as well, preferably as soon as possible."

"You really think that M and Amane have made contact and are working together?" asked Anthony with his stocky arms folded across his chest. "What business would he have with her? Without her memories she wouldn't be of much use to him as far as the killer notebook goes."

"That still remains to be answered. But I am 95 percent confident that she's involved in this somehow. You said that M2 didn't struggle when you arrested him, right?"

Anthony exchanged a suspicious glance with Halle. "Hm…that's right. The way he acted, it was almost like he was expecting it."

"On top of that, why would Amane clear everything on her phone except for those texts for Blogger to find?"

"That could just as likely be because she forgot to erase those…"

"Perhaps, Lidner. But there is something else to consider…"

"And what's that, L?"

"M2 doesn't like women. At least not in the way that the position Blogger caught him in with Amane would suggest."

…

Erin didn't waste any time zipping through the gift shop as soon as the glass doors were unlocked and the lights turned on at 8:35. The three of them had been sitting around all night at this point and Kimiko had just gotten up to use the bathroom. When she came back she found Stephen leaning over in his chair rubbing circles into his temples.

"Hey, d'you need an aspirin?"

"Nah, I just took one. I'm still waiting for it to take effect. If you got me a bottle of wine, I'm afraid now's not a good time. Unfortunately," he teased despite himself.

"Oh. Well, um, I didn't get you that. But I did get you something. Here." With both hands she held out a small box of tropical-themed shot glasses. "I know they're not much and I don't know, maybe they're kind of cliché but you like glass stuff and drinking and boats so I thought, 'Well, he probably wouldn't like a nurse teddy bear.'"

He cocked his head to the side. "How would you know that?"

A wave of heat flashed through her. "W-wait, you do like teddy bears?"

He smiled broadly at her. "No, I'm just pulling your leg. Seriously though, thank you! That's really thoughtful of you. I'll be sure to christen these the first chance I get." He took the box in one hand and reached out to her with the other. She stepped closer and bent inward to let him kiss her cheek and place his hand on her back. In turn, she got enough nerve to peck the top of his head. His hair was a bit greasy and smelled like his cologne (freshly applied, once again), but it was soft and his head warm, like the rest of him.

"Happy Birthday, Stephen. Even if it's late."

A while later after the three came back from the cafeteria for breakfast, Erin stopped in her tracks. Anthony and Halle marching up to the entrance, their faces tired but hard and steely. They looked like they were about to arrest someone.

"Anthony, Halle? What are you guys doing here?" asked Stephen as they hurried outside to greet them. "Has he talked yet?"

He? Matt?

Anthony shook his head. "No, not a word. All we know is that he's got to be covering for someone or else he wouldn't insist on keeping quiet. Anyway, we've come to pick up Amane."

"Wait a minute." Erin held up a hand. "Pick up Misa? What for? No before that, Stephen told me you arrested that Matt guy; why would you do that?"

Anthony exhaled. "Well, according to him, Matt is another member of his organization and a sympathizer of M's. If he's here in the area, then he might at least know where M is."

Erin gasped under the palm of her hand. I was right. Matt is another runaway from Wammy's! Near…he used me and Stephen to sniff him out, didn't he? Why didn't he ever mention him before?

She shot Stephen a questioning look. "Don't look at me," he answered hastily. "I'm just as shocked as you. Why didn't he mention that sooner?"

Anthony grumbled, "Apparently he doesn't trust us enough to tell us these things until the last minute. He thinks that M and Amane have been working together and communicating through Matt, and the way they were acting when you caught them at the Marriot™ was a ruse."

No. No, that couldn't be. What business on this grand green earth would Misa and Mello have with each other? "A ruse? For what?"

"That's why we're here to get Amane," said Halle. "She could give us some much-needed answers."

"Now hold on! Guys, her sister's here. Can't this wait until after she leaves?" Erin snapped, jumping in front of Stephen. "No, better yet, can't this wait until Misa's discharged? A-at least let me go talk to her first—"

"No, I'm sorry Blogger, but we can't let you do that," said Halle. "It could give her a chance to escape."

"Dude, they pumped her full of tranquilizers and who knows what else! How the hell is she gonna run away?" Erin half-cried.

For that matter, why would she try to run away?

All of a sudden her mind had gone back to the first Kira case, to those first few days when L had Misa blindfolded and tied to a chair. She never saw him or anyone do anything to her, as in beat or drug or water-board her or anything like that (or if L had done something he was careful not to do it when she could see) but hell, being tied up and blindfolded in a cell for almost two months had to be torture all in itself. She couldn't do anything about it then but she sure as hell wasn't going to stand it happening a second time, even if Misa turned out to be guilty the first time around…

And maybe this time, too. Sohelpher.

Dear God, was Near torturing Matt right as they spoke? As pissed as she'd been with the guy she could never wish that on him. Would Near torture someone he grew up with in the same house? She didn't want to think he could be that bastardly. Besides, torture almost never worked anyway. It was like blowing up a pile of dynamite in the toilet to unclog it when a good ol' plunger with integrity worked just as well.

"Erin!"

She turned around and saw Kimiko stumbling towards her on her cane, gasping lightly as she broke to a stop after crossing the threshold.

"What's the matter, Kim?"

"Have you seen Misa anywhere? She's not in her room and I just checked the caf—uh, h-hello," she greeted awkwardly when she noticed Halle and Anthony standing there. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. C-can I help you?"

…

Although the weather was still too hot for it, Misa pulled the large black hood further down over her face, both to make herself small enough to hide and to absorb the film of sweat condensing on her forehead and stinging her eyes. Her head pounded and her stomach writhed with sickness, but she managed to stagger off the bus and onto the street by sheer will, the same power that had helped her steal the clothes she had on from an unsuspecting neighbor and sneak out as soon as she could move again (albeit sluggishly). Normally she hated wearing such heavy frumpy things, but it was either this or go out in her hospital gown.

In a way she'd kind of hoped that that stunt she'd pulled with the cocaine would kill her, but she knew better. That would never happen with Erin following her around like she had. Even as she became suspicious of her she would still defend her honor without hesitation, just like old times. It ended up working in their favor, anyway.

And everyone says I'm the dumb one. That is when it isn't Matsu.

This is it. Kimi, Matsu, Mochi, Monchichi, Hideki, Erin… I'm leaving everything behind and I can never go back to it again. They'll have a hard time finding me since I left all my phones and stuff either at the house or the hospital.

Strange how no matter how aware she was of this, it didn't hurt as much as it probably should have, nausea and fatigue notwithstanding. Maybe because she'd already let go a long time ago, before this all happened. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she no longer had to hide behind a mask.

Unbeknownst to anyone, she had arranged her will before she'd left Japan so that Kimi would get 80 percent of her fortune plus the cars, houses and everything in them; 10 percent of it would go to Erin and the rest would go to charity. After all, her money would be useless where she was headed and the people she'd leave behind would most certainly need it. They would only find out about this after she died.

Which, she half-hoped, would be soon. Depending on when all of this business could get finished.

She waited slumped against the telephone pole for him to show up as he'd promised. Despite herself, her blood boiled with the thought of him. She didn't love him, she could never love him, not in the way she had loved Light (and sometimes, especially in these few years since his death she found herself unsure of even that much). But if it weren't for him she might've been stuck in that phony life for the rest of her existence, trapped with the chaos tearing her apart inside in spite of her career reaching its zenith and having her sister back.

Freedom. What a horrible, frightening, glorious thing.

As the sun beating down on her intensified, so did her nausea. But she couldn't throw up. There was nothing to throw up since she hadn't eaten for the past two days.

Finally a dark maroon Jaguar™ with tinted windows pulled up. She grabbed the handle and tried to pull open the door, but another wave of fatigue crashed over her and she leaned against the blistering hot metal of the frame as he opened it for her from inside the backseat. Misa practically swooned her way inside.

"What took you so long?" she slurred.

"Did you check yourself for bugs?" was the first thing he said to her, a chunk of chocolate dangling from his teeth. He didn't bother explaining his lateness. Or perhaps it only felt like he was late to Misa. She hadn't looked at any clocks since she'd snuck out.

"Yeah. I didn't find anything or else I wouldn't have come out here. Mello-yellow, be a dear and help me out of this, will you? It's too hot."

"I thought I asked you not to call me that," he growled, but he obliged her anyway by grabbing the hem of the hoodie and ripping it over her head. From there she wrestled it down her arms and into her hands, balled it up and tossed it down to the floor. She kicked it under the front seat where Lumen was situated, leering at her from over his shoulder with amusement.

"I'll call you whatever I want. I can't help it if I think about the soda when I say your name. So have you guys rescued Matt yet?"

"Not yet, but if everything goes as I laid out he'll be out of there soon enough." Suddenly Mello was cut off by her hand pulling his chocolate away from his mouth to replace it with her own lips. The contact was abrupt and sloppy and she could taste the familiar strains of cocoa and bitterness and salt and spit and unbridled testosterone-fueled rage on his breath and skin.

Matt had refused to kiss her during their fake-out make-out. In fact she'd done most of the work making it look convincing while he'd just sat there. Whatever moves he made had been to try pushing her away. Although she understood why he wouldn't kiss her—and to be fair she felt no real attraction to him either—it had left her unfulfilled and hungry. Misa enjoyed kisses, touches. She had needs, certain needs that had been denied for far too long, partly for her reputation's sake, partly because of her silly romantic fantasies for boys that would incidentally turn out to be prudes. When she was with Light she was lucky to get him just to hold her hand or give her a hug. They'd only kissed once and even when she offered him a chance to sleep with her he'd passed it up, acted like he didn't know what she meant when she couldn't have been more obvious.

Light was just a gentleman that way, she'd reason. He was too stressed out about the case to be in the mood and besides Ryuzaki probably would've sat in on it as with all their dates like the mood-killer he was.

Mello was the opposite, at least in this sense.

He let her linger there for maybe half a moment before snatching her up by her matted hair and tearing her away. His eyes had that icy look to them as if to say, Don't you ever interrupt me while I'm eating my chocolate.

"Oh Mello, can you honestly blame me? You're just so handsome and sexy," she teased with a grin, a new kind of heat surging through her that this time had nothing to do with the temperature outside. The way his gloved fingers tangled up her hair and scratched at her scalp drove her almost crazy enough to shake her out of her hangover. Almost. "You're lucky I'm not back at full strength or who knows what I'd do? I'm not wearing panties right now, y'know."

In the rear-view mirror she thought she could see Eddie start to look flustered and purse his lips.

He let her do and say these sorts of things because in his own way, he liked it too. It stroked his ever-fragile ego. Mello didn't have a god complex but he still wanted followers, and Misa liked being a follower. They both craved attention. What more could they ask for from each other?

"Got any more coke on you?"

"Hmph, no. You're still hung over. I think you should lay off it for a while. Sleep it off."

I don't know why you're bothering to tell me this. You don't care what I do, not really. Not if it doesn't have anything to do with your agenda.

Lumen snickered at the two through his bony fingers while Eddie, once again, tried to focus on the road. Misa ended up conceding and lay down sprawled across the back seat with her head on Mello's warm lap and a hand trailing down his bare arm. She stared at his navel (an innie, just like hers) and lifted a tired finger to trace the smooth creamy skin outlining it. The gesture made him jump slightly and he grabbed her wrist. "Will you cut it out?"

"Sorry, I'm just admiring you. You have an excellent fashion sense and the body to go with it. Just like me," she purred, snuggling into him like a cat. "Wouldn't you agree, Lumen?"

The shinigami could care less about fashion, but he agreed with one thing. Things had gotten much more interesting since these two had gotten together.

…

"By the way Mello, when you wrote in the notebook—"

"Don't worry, she was spared. As long as they didn't make her official between then and now, which I doubt they did, she should be fine."

Apart from Lumen's grating sputters of laughter the rest of the ride continued in an awkward silence. By now Ill Ratt (AKA Isaac Detrieve) should have done everything Mello had instructed. Ratt had been a mole for the mafia for several years, even before Mello and Lumen had joined them. While he couldn't be certain if he'd learned all the names of the agents working under Near, he thought that Ratt should have learned enough of them to cripple his task force. Intimidate him. Let him know that he had the upper hand.

Sean Dunleavy, suicide by gunshot. On September 9th at 10:30 pm he receives a pack of cigarettes confiscated from a suspect arrested by his task force and finds a piece of notebook paper hidden inside one of the cigarettes. He is assigned to watch the suspect for the rest of the night after the suspect has been interrogated.

On September 10th at 9:15 am he writes down on the piece of paper the names of as many of the official agents on his task force that he knows and then swallows the paper. He releases the suspect from jail, and then takes his gun and shoots himself in the head.

…

Being locked away from the others, Near did not see every one of his men in the adjacent room save for Roger start to drop dead like roaches sprayed with pesticide. But the instant he heard the first groan, the first thump against furniture, his pale hand jerked against his city of dice. Even this was all it took to send the hundreds of dice tumbling off the coffee table and around his feet, their hard plastic clatter almost enough to drown out the sounds of death pounding beyond the door.

Almost.