Sorry for taking so long - I was suffering from really horrible writer's block. I got halfway through and then just stopped because I couldn't think how to keep it going. Never mind; it's out now, and that's what matters. I hope you all enjoy it. I warn you, there's plot points, fluff and some really evil bits in this chapter. If you like psychopathy, you'll love this.

Music used:

Cry by Kelly Clarkson

Reset Life by Two Steps From Hell

Action from Death Note OST III

Futatsu No Kodou To Akai Tsuki by ON/OFF

I had been wracking my brains trying to figure out what I had seen. It made no sense to me whatsoever, that C, L's almost-saintly colleague, the one whom he trusted implicitly, would be a Kira supporter. Still, I knew what my eyes had perceived in that interrogation room as my uncle (ugh) grabbed that bug, Akatsuka's, arm, twisted it around in order to click him into handcuffs and take him outside with Mello. Her back muscles went rigid for a split second before M hid her.

Was this whole 'I-work-entirely-for-L-and-for-justice' thing an act? It would become extremely helpful to me if that was the case, and I had to admit, it was severely tempting to ask her outright. Still, if she didn't know I had seen, I would be under heavy suspicion for asking such a ridiculous taboo question.

As we were ushered out of the interrogation room having broken down the door, I felt someone's hand clamp around my wrist. My eyes flickered upwards. It was my Personal, Social and Health Education teacher, Callie. I recognised her instantly by the white-blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and that irritatingly doe-eyed expression on her face. I hadn't known that she could hold my wrist that tightly, actually. She dragged me away hurriedly to the side of the observation room, eyes round.

Of course I'd heard the stories about her gift, the ability to see 'links' between one person and another, and I'd never believed it. The supernatural was bullshit, right? Well, I hadn't had much chance to consider the fact it could be true since I'd found the Death Note. I'd been… busy, to say the least. Now, seeing her with this amount of sincerity really set me on edge. She was usually so unnaturally perky. What did she want with me?

"K," she whispered, "I think you should know if you don't already, that L is your uncle."

I wondered for a fraction of a second if I should feign surprise before deciding that was a stupid option. Instead, I kept my face completely emotionless. My cold eyes must have made her take a step back. "I know perfectly well that L is my uncle."

"You do?" she gasped. "Then why are you so indifferent towards him? He is your closest living family."

"Family that decided he had no interest in me until now."

Callie stared at me. "K, that is unfair. He did not know of your existence."

"Life's unfair," I growled softly. "I think I would like to return home now."

"We have moved hotels," Callie informed me. "You'll return there with the rest of the top ten, though a few of the teachers will have to deal with the old one first. There are reparations that have to be made, and only they can sort that out. I will be coming back with you." I nodded silently, following her onto a coach outside the station. I took a seat next to nobody, for I knew that way I wouldn't have to answer anyone's questions. They didn't say anything much on the way back besides commenting on C's interrogation and how the Kira supporters had gotten to know where L was.

"I think the devils are inside the walls," Leo commented. "There's somebody on the inside feeding them information."

My fists clenched as I leant my head back against the rest, closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Of course, I was in a house of geniuses. Huh. Note the heavy sarcasm on 'geniuses'. If they were really that smart they would've figured out it was me the first day I began. The only one with a hint of sense was Hamlet – no, I shouldn't think like that. Giving him credit would inflate his ego and make him all the more dangerous to my plans. Informing the Kira supporters of L and C's location had only been the beginning. I hadn't expected C to survive. If she hadn't been seated, the bullets would have shredded through her as if her body were made of bloody tissue paper. C was the one that had two options, neither of which were beneficial to her.

Either I got her killed or she was framed as Kira. Joy. Evidently, she was intent on living, and had decided on the second option. I had to bring her down, and thus the trust that she and L had built. Once L's workforce began to collapse around him, I could knock him to the ground and make him eat dirt.

Ah, how I relished that mental image.

The only problem was… how to get into the case and keep an eye on them from there? I was not going to be able to keep them under surveillance on my own, as number seven…

I was going to need more assistance. I was going to need someone who had just as much to lose as I did, someone who could kill just as easily and efficiently as I could…I hated to say it, but I needed that son of a bitch Hamlet. I needed to keep him on my side, to keep him close to me in order for him to remain under my control. Maybe if I were to pretend that he was more than just a dear friend, I could make him let his guard down.

This was going to prove rather difficult, I feared, if Hamlet caught onto my game. Still, victims of the Y chromosome were tiresome, and so pettily predictable. It took as much to wind them around your little finger as it did a desperate child. If maybe once you gave them what they wanted, they would be under the illusion that they controlled you. I wondered fleetingly if I should feel any form of remorse for my scheming, that I was planning on mangling Hamlet's emotions, for I felt no sort of regret, sympathy or guilt.

The coach began to slow down, and soon the engine ceased its roaring. I glanced out the window haphazardly and saw a young woman making her way across the street. I would not have noticed her had she not been pregnant and wearing an anti-Kira shirt (it was white, a K printed underneath a black, blood-spattered cross). Something in her eyes told me that there was a story deeper than her pathetic slogan shirt was displaying. Her fearful checks over her shoulder made me smirk a little. So insecure, so terrified… it warmed my heart.

Black bangs framed her face, the rest of her hair scooped into a slapdash ponytail, her slight figure oddly deformed by the baby bump. She happened to look up in our coach's direction, and I turned slightly to allow my own bangs to hide my smirk. When I looked back at her, she had stopped and was staring at me in shock. The coach's engine abruptly began to splutter once more, and as we began to drive away, she started to run after us, only too slowly to catch up. I stared back, pressing my hand against the window.

"No!" she mouthed. "Stop!"

"K," Callie said softly, turning to me. "Please do stop upsetting the locals."

I gritted my teeth. "You know who that was, don't you?"

"I have a fairly good guess," she admitted. "But, K, if you were to interfere with her life, she would probably not thank you for it."

"Callie," I protested. "Please, go back."

"Enough," she stopped me. "We're not turning around. We need to settle into the new hotel quietly and inconspicuously. I will not have you drawing attention to yourself and putting the lives of over fifty people at risk, no matter how complex your heritage."

"Ah, so she is part of my heritage?" I deduced. "Thank you, Callie."

She could only open and close her mouth helplessly like a fish. That smirk returned to my lips again as I heard her say, "God, you look like your father when you do that."

XXX

When we got to the new hotel, there were the rest of the Wammy's kids randomly scattered around the Recreation Room. The person I was looking for sat in the corner by the window, exactly the place I would have chosen. He was watching me as if he knew what I wanted. It was like he was the only one in the room as he fixed me with this smug grin that confirmed he was going to go along with what I said.

I snaked my way over to him, a steely, determined look in my eyes. As I went to sit down next to him, he stuck his legs out on the seat opposite him so I couldn't sit there. I shrugged and decided to sit on him anyway. Ignoring his grunt of protest, I folded my arms and spoke quietly so that the youngest kids playing with their toys nearby would not have a hope of hearing.

"You know what I want," I stated confidently.

"You want me to play your spy," he replied. He was spot on in that area, yet missing a few vital key points. 'Yes, I want you to spy for me, Hamlet, but I also want you to kill for me and be disposable if necessary.' These were words I could not repeat to him. "I am not stupid, K. I know that as soon as you've gotten information from me, you could kill me. You already know my name."

"Yes, I know your name, because you told me," I pointed out. "If you didn't trust me in some way, you wouldn't have said." I felt like I was being pried into, so I snickered and added, "She's watching me, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," he agreed. "Rather intently, actually. She doesn't trust you." Without looking away from me, he murmured, "Koneko, please refrain from glaring so much. I do think that K can sense your profound anger as it touches her." He leant forward, snatching his legs out from under me. "K, if I am to work with you, I think I had better let you be able to see Koneko first. No, Koneko, shut up. I want her to be able to see you."

Glancing at the rest of the room, who were ignoring us, he reached over to his bag and took out a navy blue book. Silver swirls adorned the cover, and as he handed the book to me, a smile broke out on my face. My eyes flickered upwards to meet his, which were gleaming. I couldn't help but allow my eyes to drift past him to the furious creature hovering behind him. Skeletal and predominantly pink and purple, the shinigami did remind me a little of a cat, its canines actually more feline. Red eyes glittered at me in slits much like a cat's. The shinigami was sort of curled over itself, hunched with a tail as if it were permanently grooming itself, and I suddenly recalled the Cheshire Cat from Alice and Wonderland, with its massive grin, shiny eyes and bioluminescent pink, purple and turquoise fur. Still, the cat-like shinigami, Koneko, retained a humanoid figure, only distorted. When she noticed me looking at her, she let out what sounded like a feral snarl, her neck extending as if she were multiplying her vertebrae. Soon her face was inches from mine, and I think it annoyed her no end when I looked right past her at Hamlet with an amused 'hm'.

"Nice to meet you, Koneko," I chuckled. "I hope you're not too cross with me."

"You hear that?!" she shrieked shrilly. "She is mocking me!" There was a whine in her voice that made me think of a meow.

"Stop it, Koneko," Hamlet said calmly. "She's not laughing at you."

"How can you not see this demon is using you?" she hissed. "This face is a mixture of the world's greatest detective and the world's most notorious mass murderer!"

"I believe your master asked you to be quiet, Koneko," I said in a voice like melted chocolate. I could tell Hamlet relished the thought of being her master, in control of a death god. I was being careful with my choice of words; one slip of the tongue could result in my arrest and execution. Koneko let out another growl, less vicious this time, more of a warning than a territorial display. Shit, she was going to be trouble.

I began to explain to Hamlet the complication of what I had seen in the interrogation room, where Akatsuka had recognized C as Kira, and I had seen a 'K' sliced into her back. I pointed out this may incline her to assist us if her allegiance to Kira was true. He listened cautiously, in shock after the news. He frowned slightly before nodding. It was like taking candy from a baby. This was going to be even easier than I thought.

I watched Koneko occasionally, knowing if she could persuade Hamlet that I was going to use him (which I was, incidentally) I would be screwed. For now all I could do was pretend that I liked him, and pray to whatever deity might be listening that I would get away with this.

XXX

The clock ticked loudly, filling the silence between C and L, who had been sitting on separate couches for ten minutes without saying anything. C had been tapping her pen waiting, knowing that if anyone should begin the session, it should be the client. A psychologist should never pressure information out of someone in case they stuttered out lies in order to stop the questions. It was especially difficult to get somebody you knew to talk, because they'd feel self-conscious about what they said. It was important to accept them no matter what, to remain detached, to insist you could help them if they confided in you.

Still, ten minutes without a word? That must have been a record for the longest time no one had said anything during a session with her. According to M, she had a trustworthy face that people usually immediately felt they could tell whatever they had to. L obviously had decided otherwise.

Inside his head, all he could hear was a loud babbling. The combination of his sister and the psychologist sitting in front of him was an absolute killer for the brain. He was trying not to think about what his unconscious self might have been trying to tell him through this dream. It was like being hit around the back of the head with a shovel considering the fact he couldn't stop thinking. He briefly remembered C trying to get him to relax on a case with her, going swimming with him, shoving him in the pool to get him to stop fussing about the cold water. He still couldn't believe it – he'd calmed down after that. She was like a painkiller normally. Now his painkiller was the ache in the back of his brain.

It was time to talk.

"I saw Rin."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his; to be honest, she was relieved he'd finally started the conversation. She nodded as if she understood, prompting him to continue.

"I suppose it was an alternative world to the one we live in. It was an entirely new place that originated from inside my head. That is where I saw Rin, alive and… happy. I do not think that she was right in the mind. Either that or I am not," he blurted out. "It was strange. At first, it made me fear for my sanity, or if I had missed something."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" she suggested. "When you woke up in this alternative world, where were you?"

He was careful not to show any signs of embarrassment as he stammered out his answer, "I was in a bed, and then I went down some stairs to a kitchen, where M and B were sitting."

"B?" she chuckled. "B was there?"

"He and M were married," he elaborated. "It always seemed to me that M was not the marrying type, yet there they were. They showed me photos; B and I allegedly worked together. I saw K, cheerful and happy to see me. She came and embraced me to greet me, as if she was glad I was alive."

"That shows you something," she told him. "It means you want that sort of thing for her, for her to be content."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Did you, perhaps, see Rin with someone?" she asked. Ordinarily, she would not have asked something like that. Her method was to repeat things to as not to appear as if she were assuming her client had particular emotions about events or people.

He swallowed back what he felt was surely vomit. "Light Yagami," he admitted. "He was with her. She was having another baby."

They heard a crashing and hushed voices from outside, but C smiled kindly and implored him to continue. He was wringing his hands at this point, hunching over himself more than usual. She had to stop him closing up if she could hear any more than this. She made a bit of a show as she dropped her pen, which meant he automatically relaxed his posture to bend down and retrieve it. Instantly his mind was occupied with getting the pen back rather than the troubling things going on inside his brain. It was a technique she had used more than once to allow the patient to distance themselves temporarily from their problems. He handed the pen back to her and although he pulled his knees back to his chest, his shoulders were no longer rigid. His tongue was no longer tied.

"Misa was there as a doctor," he proceeded. "She was intelligent, and she had no feelings whatsoever for Light."

"Maybe you knew deep down that if she focused her mind on something, she would be perfectly capable of it. Your thoughts would switch to 'doctor', since doctors are considered to possess high IQs. It is natural to assume that," C informed him. "You also think that actually her emotions for Light back then were just an infatuation that escalated way out of control. She could have lived without him if she had been that way inclined. Of course, with her romantic nature, she acted otherwise."

"Next, I saw Near and Mello, except with differences. Firstly, Near had black hair and black pyjamas, and secondly, Mello was not Mello. He was Mellie, a girl married to Near, of all people," L laughed, barely believing his own words.

"Marriage seems to be the thing that keeps cropping up," C pointed out as L held his breath. "My analysis is that you think about love in the way a child does. You know, when an older sibling comes home with a boyfriend or girlfriend and the younger sibling asks, 'are you going to get married?' even though that is most likely the furthest thing from the couple's minds. My guess is that your version of love is the true-love thing, where if you hold some form of affection for someone, it means you love them, you should get married and have children. Still, at the same time, you give me the impression that you are proud when it comes to people commenting on your own choices. You dislike the thought that love could mean weakness. It's very interesting."

"Why on earth would I think Mello was female?" L choked out.

"Well, it's not that difficult to begin with," she sniggered. He had to laugh with her then, because he suddenly remembered M's reaction to his proclaiming Mello was thankfully given a Y chromosome. "But you're perceptive, L. You see things you don't know you're seeing. You've noticed that Mello and Near seem to be… interested… and your mind has blocked it. You're a little uncomfortable with that sort of thing being so close to home, so you've altered it in your subconscious mind. Again, you're thinking is childlike. Boy and girl – that is how you see it should be. You're not homophobic, but you find it awkward, so you've changed it. The more feminine of the two you have morphed into a girl. This is your mind's way of making you more secure about the situation."

L gave her a nervous smile. "You're very good."

"Years of practice," she replied, her eyes fluttering a little by accident. M could always tell when she was embarrassed, with fluttering eyelashes, blushes, a change in voice pitch, avoiding eye contact, biting her lip, moving her hands, distracting herself with something else – fortunately, L seemed to not have that ability. He sat up a little more, resting his head on the back of the couch, before spotting something on the table in the corner.

Hadn't C sorted out her sleeping problem yet? Was she still using herbal medication to fix it? Now he looked closer, he saw dark shadows beneath her eyes, shadows she had attempted to cover with makeup. She was looking a bit thinner, a tiny bit paler, with as of yet unhealed scratches on her knuckles. He noticed how much more fragile she appeared as she stood up, placed her dark blue notepad on the chair behind her and left her pen on the coffee table between them.

"C, please tell me you are not losing sleep over the Kira case," he said, standing up also. He could see that he'd caught her, because she froze like a rabbit in headlights, avoiding his eye-line.

"It is not the Kira case I'm losing sleep over," she insisted. "Don't worry. I'm fine. I'm taking some tablets to help out."

"C," he warned her. "If you're having trouble sleeping, you need rest. I remember you saying that to me once or twice before."

"I am different to you," she shot back. "I am not a severe insomniac."

Another question sprung to his mind: why was he worrying? She had survived much worse than lack of sleep, and she had always been slim, so an extra tiny piece of weight loss should not concern him. She had nervous energy, an exceedingly fast metabolism that would shed calories very quickly. Too much psychological theory was being crammed into his head as he realised much, much sooner than he'd hoped that maybe he liked C a little more than as a friend, and his subconscious had been trying to tell him that. Lost in the implications of what this might mean, he decided that this was worth taking a risk for if what C had theorized about his emotions were true. He could take a chance. What was the worst that could happen?

Calculations flooded his thoughts down this track. Wondering if she would headbutt him or something, he went over to her, and standing behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist. Her whole body tensed in shock. The natural thing to do was place his head on her shoulder reassuringly.

"You do not have to worry about the case," he maintained. "Nobody here will let anything happen to you."

'What are you doing?' her mind gasped. 'Why are you – you don't hug people, you have never embraced anyone in your entire life besides your sister! What am I to you, because I am not prepared for this, I am not prepared for this, I am not prepared for this…'

Despite the astonishment that was trying to pin her body into place, C managed to turn around, still with L's arms around her waist. He was almost straightening up, though he was not so far out of character that his back was ramrod straight. The question that she asked was so completely logical that it contradicted the situation wholly.

"Are you feeling quite well?"

He didn't answer immediately. For a moment, he thought about it, before looking down at her in confusion. He didn't mind this, although he was not a fan of any form of physical contact. Having her in his arms wasn't nearly as bad as having someone touch his shoulder or hug him to make him feel out of his depth. In fact, this was rather the contrary. It felt… well, quite nice, to be honest. He thought she was talking about how it felt embracing her. Truly, she was questioning his mental health.

"Yes," he agreed. "I feel… perfectly fine."

Maybe taking it one step further would aggravate her, and maybe it wouldn't. There was a forty-nine percent chance she would reject it, and a fifty-one percent chance she would accept it, for he was still hugging her, and she had not made any move to hit him yet. Besides, if this was what his subconscious was telling him might be true, it was worth a shot, right?

He held the back of her neck with one hand to make sure she didn't shake her head and knock him sideways or some such act of violence. When he finally did kiss her, it all came flooding back to him – after all, they had kissed before. It was only a question now of whether she would shove him away. All the apprehension he had recognized in the rigidity of her posture dropped, and before he knew it, she was kissing him back.

This was madness. This shouldn't have been happening, and she knew it. She had to make him stop, or make herself stop. She couldn't even tell who was controlling it anymore. She knew he'd started it, so it was up to her to finish it. She shouldn't be kissing him back – he was at times arrogant, conceited, immature, selfish, almost inhuman in his detached manner and he made her angrier than anyone had ever made her.

It was then that C's phone began to ring in her back pocket. Gasping for breath, she broke away and ran out of the room. Quickly, she pressed the green 'answer' button and spoke. It was all too puzzling to put her thoughts into words. She couldn't help but reject the words going through her head. They couldn't be true. It was… gratitude. Yes, that was it. He was thankful for helping him contemplate that bizarre dream of his. It couldn't be any more than that.

"C, I apologize, are you busy?" Roger asked.

"No, no," she mumbled. "I'm fine. What is it?"

"We were thinking about taking the kids out paintballing. There's a range near here," he said. How could he be so calm?! L had just – no, she had to remember Roger didn't know about that. Hopefully.

"Oh. That sounds… interesting," C muttered. "Was this M's idea to participate?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Magic," she sighed. Guns? Definitely M.

"There's a British private school that has travelled to Japan for their annual trip. I was contacted by their headmaster asking if our school would want a small skirmish at the paintballing range. They try it every year and their usual opponents have been unable to reach Kanto due to the problems caused by Kira."

"Very well. What time are we leaving?" C enquired.

"We'll go tomorrow. I just thought I'd give the staff a heads-up before announcing it to the children."

"Thanks."

"Could you make sure L, M, Matt and Callie know? I have already spoken to Near, who says he shall explain the event to Linda and Mello," he requested. Without waiting her response, he added, "thank you, C. Goodbye."

C turned the corner to see Matt and M holding a glass between them, laughing breathlessly. She couldn't help it – her heart began to hammer beneath her shirt, her eyes widening. What if L had told them about-? But he wouldn't, would he? Surely she could trust him… maybe her psychoanalysis of him had been wrong. Maybe he wasn't as proud as she thought he was.

"What are you two laughing about?" she snapped in her best 'teacher's' voice. M and Matt started at the sharp tone of it until M loosened up and raised her eyebrows.

"What's up with you?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "C, you've gone bright red."

"I said, what are you laughing about?" she repeated coldly.

"We found-" Matt began, only to be elbowed hard in the ribs by M. "I mean, nothing."

"Give what you're hiding to me," she growled. She must have meant business, because she hadn't even looked at Matt's hands to figure out he was hiding something. She just knew. When he handed her the notebook she'd been using to write things down during L's psychoanalytic session, she gritted her teeth. It was not pretending, what she was doing now. She genuinely hated L.

Written in a quick scrawl at the bottom of the page were her deductions for L's odd dream, including one she'd made without him telling her.

L was married. Possibilities include: Callie, Linda, me.

With an icy glare directed squarely at the two redheads over her shoulder, she turned away from them and began to walk back towards her room, determined to burn the notepad when she got in. The K cut into her back throbbed painfully, reminding her of one reason why things were about to get a hell of a lot more difficult.

XXX

The back of my hand struck Hamlet across the side of his face, leaving scratches where my nails caught him. What a fool he had been, ignoring me. I had asked him, rather politely, if he would observe the workings of the detectives in residence. And he, the stupid, reckless boy, had asked one of them outright about their action against Kira! I was simply punishing him.

He staggered to his knees, clutching his injury. The thing was that when he looked up at me, his eyes were not full of hatred, but apology. I smirked before cupping the side of his face with one hand.

"I might forgive you," I purred. "But only if you're careful next time."

Just like that, I tore my hand from his face and left him with his face bleeding mildly.

After all, I couldn't have someone following my orders with their head full of air, could I?

My most profound apologies to Akai-M, who actually likes Hamlet. Please review telling me what you think.

C.