Woohoo! Look at that! Seventy reviews, and only twenty chapters into the story! I could seriously hug all of you. Also, I do apologize in advance if my future updates are few and far between. These collages classes are killer, but the homework is twice is bad. I haven't even touched my laptop in three weeks until yesterday. If any of you have some extra time on your hands, perhaps you would care to assist me with my work..? On second thought, I wouldn't force my AMAZING readers to undergo such horrors. Another friend of mine is taking the exact same classes as me, and she has a job. I have no clue how she does it. Seriously.

Well, here's chapter twenty. I think it's a little short, but if I kept going, it might not have been published until next fortnight. I hope you all enjoy it. See you at the bottom!

Humiliation for Dummies

August 2nd- just after midnight

A raunchy laugh was building inside of Beyond, twisting his insides into a pain-stricken mess. It reverberated throughout him, rattling up his windpipe, until it exploded from his mouth into vicious laughter. Dark. Fearless.

Oh, how long it had been since he had practiced laughing. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed this. Any of it. The power. The indescribable power, and fixation, and blood lust.

And L.

"You poor, poor bastard..." Beyond smirked. "How you always hoped A would succeed you, but you ended up with little old me. A psychopath with powers not even you could explain. I still have my shinigami eyes, L. Did you know that? And if I could see your face just once before I die, it would be worth it. So very, very worth it."

He had no idea if his plan would work. It had been so long since he had been in the driver's seat, especially with KC ordering him around like a drill sergeant. Who knew if his mind was any good, but one could only guess. Then again, he was still a child of Wammy's, no matter how much he despised the place. Their intelligence was never to be underestimated.

Never.

"Oh, L~ I have a little surprise for you. Aren't you curious? You see, there's this girl named Misa Amane; she's the Second Kira. A pretty little thing, but her initials don't match. Regardless, there is something connecting the Kiras, and you don't know it like I do. In fact, no one knows what I know, not even KC. You see L, she has this thing called a Death Note that allows you to kill people simply by writing their name and picturing their face. Misa was never that bright to begin with, and Rem was more concerned about protecting Misa than she was with me, so all it took was a sleight of hand. A sleight of hand that turned ever table in the world in my favor." Beyond's hand drifted into his pocket as he withdrew a crumpled piece of paper. Keeping a firm grip so that it wouldn't be blown away, the man flattened it on the edge of the roof with his free hand. "I'm unaware if other people can write names in the Death Note, or even if a piece torn from it would work, but I'm tempted to see if I can actually kill you with Kiras' weapon.

"Aren't you?"

DAY 12 OF SOLITARY CONFINMENT- June 6th

For some reason, the air felt stuffy. Also, I was wearing another infernal blindfold. You think the first seventeen millions times, L might have gotten the memo.

I took a deep breath. It was all in my head, that was all. I wasn't running low on oxygen, I hadn't been poisoned, and L wasn't going to let his latest amusement die. On second thought... the poison wouldn't have to kill me. Who knew? Maybe this was just some crazy plan to get me to talk. I wouldn't put it past the guy.

After a few good hours of lounging around and debating whether or not to take off my new headgear (since it was about the only thing I could do right now), I finally resorted to humming to myself before my head exploded.

KC + waiting = possible insanity to come

Fun.

As though summoned by my pathetic attempt for self-amusement, the now-familiar crackle echoed through the cell as a mechanical voice droned, "Ishi-san?"

"That was Mambo #5, if you were wondering what tone that was," I replied with a sigh.

Completely ignoring my statement, L continued. "Upon further inspection of your attire, we have found certain elements that may dissuade the public from your claims to innocence."

"Such as..?"

"There were multiple pills and vials located within the soles of your shoes: cyanide, nitrous oxide, hydrazine, amobarbital. That alone is hardly the work of an innocent woman."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? I like to be prepared."

"Prepared for what, I wonder."

"Anything."

Silence fell, and all was still for quite some time.

Hey, at least if the general public didn't like me, I might have somebody worth kicking around the minute I found a way out of this.

Then again, I couldn't walk through walls, much less twenty pounds of chains.

L rested the bagged dagger atop the cool surface of the table. Many tests had been run, and all of them had confirmed that the entire knife had been carved from pure diamond. Judging by the engravings along the hilt, it certainly wasn't a cheap weapon. Ishi had also been carrying a loaded nine millimeter pistol on her during her capture, as well as exploding bubblegum, acidic glow sticks, and a packet of cigarettes that would severely electrify those who attempted to open the box. Ishi certainly wasn't a woman to mess around with. L slid a doughnut out of the box sitting on his desk as he glanced between the screens in front of him. Light. Misa. Soichiro. Ishi.

Suddenly inspired by the evidence before him, the detective leaned forward and pressed one of the buttons on his laptop. "Watari? If you would, please add a mixture of sodium amytal to Ishi-san's IV."

"Right away."

Black eyes glanced at the clock on the screen. It was still within the early hours of the morning. The rest of the Task Force would be arriving soon, but not for another hour at least. L polished off his doughnut and was moving to take another one before a voice drew his eyes back to the screen.

"Hey, L! Do you play solitaire? You seem like the kind of person who would!" the woman called out, her head lolling back onto the bar with a lopsided grin. She was wearing yet another blindfold- she seemed to have an uncanny habit of figuring out ways to take them off- but this time, she didn't seem to care.

The truth serum must have already kicked in. Fascinating. It took only a matter of seconds upon entering the bloodstream, L licked the icing off of one side before taking a large bite.

"You know, you don't answer me straight out. Is that normal for you, like a bad habit, or do you do it to screw with people's heads? Would that make it more of a hobby?" A deep frown was etched on her face, as though she was seriously considering this an important question.

L's eyes flitted over to Misa's screen.

"Stalker-san, are you there? How much longer are you going to keep Misa here?"

Neither Light nor his father were doing anything. Soichiro was sound asleep, and Light was hunched over, his back pressed against his bed, his forehead resting on his knees.

The sixth day of their imprisonment... Misa's ninth... Ishi's twelfth. Mulling over the same thoughts didn't seem to be doing any good. It wasn't like he hadn't analyzed his current position from every angle. Misa was captured under suspicion of being the Second Kira. Light allowed himself to be held because of his fears of having subconsciously become Kira. Soichiro had had himself locked away before he could become too protective over his son and jeopardize the the case. Ishi... Broke Backup out of the mental institution, stole millions of dollars worth in items and the identities of civilians, traipsed around the world with various illegal substances whilst being armed, captured and tortured an FBI agent, and then left him alone to die. Despite being under severe accusations, she doesn't appear to care. It's almost as though she's relieved to be caught. Was she trying to find me all along?

L prodded the button to the microphone and spoke into it in a clear a tone as he could manage. "Ishi-san, can you hear me?"

"Yep," Ishi rolled her shoulders a few times and shifted in her bindings. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Now, do you mind telling me why you were so intent on pursuing me?"

"I need your help."

L leaned forward. He hadn't been expecting that. Well, that was a lie. There had been a twelve percent chance. "What kind of help, Ishi-san?"

"You mentioned that you couldn't find me in any record in the world..? Well, it has to do with that. Actually, a lot to do with that." Ishi pursed her lips. "I don't know where I am."

Slight increase in pulse, pupil dilation, perspiration on her forehead- despite being under the influence of the sodium amytal, she's still experiencing nervous anxiety. "You are in jail."

"That's not what I mean. More correctly, I don't know when I am. Everything's wrong here. The leaders of the world aren't who they should be, technology's gone postal, and none of the people here are the same."

L's eyes widened slightly as he scrutinized the figure onscreen. She doesn't know when she is? Everything is wrong? No one is the same? "Ishi-san, did you recently awaken from a coma?"

Her brow furrowed and she didn't reply for a full minute. "Yes, actually. The doctors said something about having been in the hospital for a month. They had to give me three bags of sugar water a day, and thought I had hypoglycemia. The doctors kept me an extra week. I didn't like the doctors there. They were too paranoid, but my nurse was awesome."

"What do you remember about your life before the coma?"

The green eyes softened a little. "It was... familiar. I knew the people there, I knew what I was suppose to do, and nobody asked too many questions. Day in and day out, it was never the same thing twice, but you could always count on the thrills."

L took another bite of his doughnut. It's highly probable that Ishi woke from a coma without remembering anything, and her mind faked an identity for herself. However, that wouldn't explain how she's capable of doing half of the things she's accomplished in the past month, as well as how she got ahold of her supplies. Maybe... her brain was injured more severely than she knew.

"Why did you come to me?"

Ishi shrugged. "I thought you could help me. You're the World's Greatest Detective, right? I saw how you showed up Kira back when you first took up the case. Any person as intelligent as you would be a godsend if they decided to help me understand how we got here in the first place and how to get back."

L pounced. "We?"

"Yeah, me and my apprentice, Autumn. Didn't I tell you about her?" Ishi seemed surprised. "She's stuck here too."

August 2nd

Beyond ambled through the streets of Tokyo, a bemused smirk plastered on his face. How different everything seemed when, for the first time in a long time, Beyond felt as though he were on top of the world. Granted, he might have gotten a little carried away the previous night, but he certainly felt more like him old self. It had been far too long since he had felt happiness.

I'm coming, L. Are you worried?

The streets were packed at midday, but Beyond didn't mind. They just reminded him of all of the hoops he had had to jump through as a kid, the hoops he would soon burn to the ground. No longer would he be insignificant in L's eyes. In fact, he really hoped that L's last impression of him would be a true detective. L had always been wary of his eyes, and had withheld certain attributes that usually went to all possible successors. L would regret ever keeping him in the dark. During his 'Rue Ryuzaki' phase, Beyond had been at a disadvantage. L had kept to himself and used a middleman to run between them.

Naomi Misora. What a stupid girl. Didn't she quit the FBI?

But this wasn't the case he had started. Kira had started this. Without him, KC and Autumn would have never broken him out of that stupid asylum. In an odd way, he would have to thank Kira for setting him free, and for being a constant thorn in L's side until Beyond could find the perfect time to strike.

To think that Kira killed for justice, yet had allowed a cunning a man as him to exact his revenge.

Beyond took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting longer than he liked- he'd have to cut it when he returned to the hotel- but it would have to do for now. His clothes were as good as finished. They wouldn't last long, especially with all of their rips and stains.

In other words, Beyond Birthday was treating himself to a shopping spree.

All around him, venders called to the crowds in loud voices. Families plundered through the throng, the children dancing around the adult's feet. Couples held hands and shot indiscreet looks at one another. People stood off to one side, cell phone pressed up against their head, Japanese flowing from their mouths in hoarse voices.

Then there was him, Beyond Birthday, who observed them all.

Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar sight drew him off of the street and into the quaint bookstore. The place was musty, and more than a few years in need of a thorough dusting, but the book in the window seemed to call to him, and he didn't bother looking around before approaching it.

Akazukin Chacha.

"Hello there," Beyond intoned softly, picking up the manga.

You read Red-Hooded Chacha? Trey's voice floated up out of the back of his mind.

I liked it well enough when I was younger. Beyond turned the book over in his hands. Volume one. Perfect.

You read a manga about the Japanese take on Little Red Riding Hood. Trey conjured a broad smirk inside of B's mind.

This version is much more entertaining.

I fail to see how a book about a witch with a red hood, a werewolf, and a wizard is considered 'entertaining' to someone like you.

Beyond raised an eyebrow. I didn't take you as one obsessed with stereotypes. It appears as though my deduction of you was slightly flawed.

Trey snorted. Are you saying that I'mslightly flawed? Look in the mirror, psycho.

Ah. That wasn't being stereotypical; that was resentment caused by loyalty to KC. Beyond nodded to himself and glanced down at the table. There were a few more volumes stacked in neat piles behind the display.

Do you have to look at everything like you're detached? Trey grumbled. You are a human being, even if you are a raving lunatic.

I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

Don't get use to it.

With a hint of a smile on his face, Beyond fished the security device out of the pages of the book, lobbed the object into a nearby waste bin, and pocketed the novel. He was in the mood for a nostalgic read.

DAY 13- June 7th

When I next awoke, my head was killing me. Groaning softly, I twisted around, attempting to remove my skull from whatever had impaled it, but to no avail. It still felt like I'd been hit by a train. Wait, no. Not a train. L had used some sort of truth serum on me.

Now I wish I'd been hit by the train.

My throat clenched tightly as my thoughts slowly became coherent enough for me to piece together what had happened. It was a little foggy, but the end result was clear: L had gotten more than enough information out of me.

Autumn was in danger.

Well schist.

I slammed my head back against the bar, welcoming the pain. Physical pain I could deal with, but this feeling of complete and utter helplessness would have to go. Soon. If I stayed here any longer, I knew I would lose my mind.

Or whatever's left of it, anyways.

And of course, what really sold the deal was that L had probably arrested me under the charge of "illegal immigrant," but now he had access to everything I had had on me at the time of my capture, and thus enough evidence to hand me a life sentence in this retched pit.

I only had myself to blame.

I took a deep breath. You will not go insane. You will not go insane. You will not go insane. Hey, at least our friendly, neighborhood detective didn't tie me to a chair. Being stuck sitting until I was eighty was a sure way to guarantee my brain's implosion. Also, my identity wasn't on record, so I technically didn't exist. You can't get in trouble for torturing a person who doesn't exist.

I had a feeling that truth serum was just the beginning.

August 2nd (still)

Beyond's eyes flickered over the pages, the gears in his mind spinning furiously as the Japanese kanji slowly melted into his native tongue. Chacha danced across the pages, a bright grin on her face as she chased the blue and white wolf pup across the snow, another boy in close pursuit. Each picture flowed smoothly into the next, a river of childish sights and wonders. Characters' names floated up from his memory as soon as he saw their faces. With every chapter, the man could feel the corners of his mouth beginning to turn upwards, despite himself. Before he knew it, he had finished the first two volumes, and was halfway through the third- and Autumn ambled back into the hotel room.

Beyond quickly stuffed the book under the pillow behind him.

To his surprise, the girl didn't say a word as she crossed the room towards the window. She rubbed her forehead, a frown etched on her young face.

"Headache?" he guessed.

"Yeah..." Autumn mumbled, flopping down in the rickety wicker chair. "Has KC come back?"

Beyond held back a sarcastic retort. "No."

Autumn huffed and wiggled around until her back was pressed against one arm rest, her legs draped across the other. "When d'you think she'll come back? It's been a few days."

The schizophrenic didn't reply. He was itching to pull his book back out, but he wasn't too keen on letting anyone in on his past, not even a six-year-old girl.

"I mean, what if Kira got her? Or L?" she bit her lip, then her eyes flew wide open. "What if the cops caught her? What if she ran out because she was trying to lead them away, or something? Or she got herself killed? Do you think she's with Misa? What if Misa killed her? Or maybe-"

"Would you like for me to check if she's dead?" asked Beyond tersely.

Autumn's mouth dropped. "Nuh uh! You can do that? Show me!"

Beyond heaved himself off of the bed and sauntered over to KC's bag, withdrawing the graphire. "I just need a picture of her. If I can't see her name or lifespan..." he trailed off. Autumn nodded.

"But if you're wired to the graphire, can't you just look back into your own memories?" the girl cocked her head like a dog, and the chair gave a precarious creak.

Beyond shook his head. "I would still see the information. It is a memory after all. I would see it as I previously had."

"Oh... Well what are you waiting for?"

Without speaking, B looked down at the screen, only for him to hold the iPad4 up to the light with a disbelieving gaze. The seemingly indestructible screen had a deep crack in it that cleaved it from corner to corner. Beyond blinked. In KC's memories, the woman had tested the graphire durability by beating it with a sledgehammer. If that hadn't so much as dulled the paint job, what on earth could have cut such a mark into it?

Storing the odd occurrence into the back of his mind, B turned on the iPad with a single thought and ran a quick scan of the pictures on the hard drive.

"She's alive," he confirmed.

"YAY!" Autumn punched the air with her fist. The wicker chair let out another mournful bale. "But where do you think she is?"

Beyond didn't quite hear the last question, as he was too preoccupied with the single function that remained running, despite having already closed everything.

It was a document.

He Who Knows Me Best

Dawn

I glanced over at the woman who crouched next to me, her sapphire-blue eyes narrowed in concentrating. President of the United States of America Susan Robinson, also head of the mafia. We had been best friends in school, but this wasn't school. Real life is a rude awakening, I tell you.

Dark brown eyes widened as Beyond continued to skim over the writing.

One of the downsides of being one of the best investigators in the world is that you're always on the move. There's always going to be someone hunting you, big or small. The minute you stay still, boom!You're dead. So another hotel it was. I dropped my single suitcase onto the bed and murmured into the com unit, "Shar, you swept the room, correct?"

I stared at her, my brain slowly going over the details. It would only make since to take her on. Then again, Susan's trying to kill two birds with one stone here: improving my social skills and tolerance for young children, and training a future KC, all at the same time.To her, it was foolproof. Unless I killed the kid first. The russet-haired girl with spinning wildly in the chair, limbs flailing around as she let loose high-pitched squeals that were threatening to shatter my eardrums.

Oh, jeez...I momentarily look control over Trey and peered over the edge of the desk to watch as the girl fiddled with the wires. She looked like she knew what she was doing, so I released my hold and took a few paces forward so I could watch over her shoulder.

It was a story. A story being written on the graphire, based off of the stimuli received from KC's collar, and edited by Trey. Beyond sat down on the edge of the bed as he went back over the first chapter more thoroughly. And the second. And the third. And the fifth. Suddenly, B found himself on chapter twenty, staring down at the blinking cursor as it darted across the screen, letters and punctuation spewing from it as he read.

He is reading this very sentence.

Beyond jolted backwards. That was creepy as hell. How in the world..? He leaned over the graphire's screen, unintentionally sliding into his 'L pose.' Resting the iPad on his knees, the man probed the document with an experimental finger.

'Jam.'

The schizophrenic eyed the word he had added to the story. Trey didn't seem to be editing it out. Did that mean that he could also add his own words to the story? As intriguing as that may have been, the man had a more urgent problem to address.

If the story was being filtered based off of what it observed through KC, then how was it still typing up everything?

BB reread the last two chapters, slowly absorbing everything he had gathered. Somehow, some way, KC was in June seventeenth, but he and Autumn were in August second at the same time. The man shook his head. This was beyond weird now. People from other universes, and now parallel time streams? What was this, Doctor Who? Did that mean that by this date in KC's version of reality, she was already wearing her collar, thus enabling the connection? Or maybe it was simply because all of time was tearing itself apart?

-But then, if the graphire was still connected to KC, and Beyond could insert his own words into the story...

A wicked grin lit up his pale face as he pulled up the keyboard again.

DAY 14- June 8th

I am a sausage made from dancing jalapenos and egg whites.

I promptly stiffened as an all-too-familiar voice echoed within my mind. TREY? How the heck-

My apologies, but he's off in a corner pouting. I would be more than happy to take a message.

I stood/hung/existed-chained-upright, trying to fight off sleep's grasp as my drowsy mind attempted to process this new information. Trey's- no, someone's voice was oddly mechanical. It wasn't like L's- filtered and pitched- but simply monotonous, as though all emotion had been removed from each line.

The speaker in front of me revived itself. "Ishi-san? Is everything alright?"

Well, golly gee. Let's see. I'm tried to what feels like a hand truck, are more than a little parched, have recently been drugged and endangered the lives of the only people I trust- AHEM- almost trusted, have lost all of my fancy gadgets and doohickeys, and now I have an odd voice talking into my mind that sounds like Trey, but isn't. And I was sleeping so peacefully, which I seemed to be doing a lot of lately.

"Odd dream," I fibbed, shuffling in my binds. "I didn't know vacuum cleaners could be that versatile."

There was silence from both ends (how weird that sounds...).

Trust me. It looks extremely weird from my end.

And what end would that be? I thought snidely.

*facepalm*

I blinked a few times under the blindfold. Really? Did freaky voice really just use an asterisk?

So it's Mr. Dark and Mysterious Freaky Voice now? I think I prefer mind-amoeba.

...Holy mother of god.

The heart monitor was certainly getting a workout.

"Ishi-san? You appear to be going into shock."

Funny thing I found on the graphire. Something titled 'He Who Knows Me Best.' It's a very interesting piece. I strongly recommend it to you sometime.

I could barely keep my gaping to a minimum.

If you keep gaping like a fish, L might put something else in your IV.

Beyond..?

No. I could practically feel the sarcasm leaking through the connection. Speaking of...

How on God's green earth are you talking to me? Have I truly lost my ever-loving mind?

Unfortunately not. One usually has to have a mind before they are capable of losing it. Actually, I just figured out that I could add to this story of yours, and I deducted that typing whilst it was currently active in your point of view, I might be able to contact you.

I'm not wearing the collar. I frowned. How-

It's August second where I am, but the graphire tells me that it's still July for you.

What?!

It's odd, but it's almost as if

I waited a minute, but it was as though his entire train of thought had just dropped off of the planet, like he had stopped talking and gone into a trance. B? Oddly enough, not even L's speaker was on. Maybe he had gotten bored with my slightly petrified state.

Slightly petrified?

I sighed. Drats. You had to go and get my hopes up. A part of me had secretly hoped that he had walked off a cliff.

I saw that.

Oh, wait. If he's reading the document as the graphire's typing it up, then Beyond has access to anything and everything I think, regardless of what I try to filter.

Crap.

I must find a way to project facial expressions; I don't foresee myself using *smirks* as an adequate replacement.

Said Beyond Birthday. I shook my head a little, just enough to where it would look like I was trying to get comfy. Now, what was that you were saying?

Ah, yes. You see, we appear to be running on two different time streams at the same time.

Schizophrenic say what now?

Have you ever seen Doctor Who?

I snorted. Sure, but it's not exactly one of my favorites.

Why not?

Between my lack of expression or voice fluctuation to go on, I had no idea whether the guy was actually curious, or just mocking me. Someone I knew was completely obsessed with that show. After seeing every episode twenty-some times, a person can get pretty sick of 'allons-y!' Besides, we have more important things to talk about, like say, how time is all screwed up?

There was a small pause before the voice floated back into my mind. Autumn and I are currently in August second, but you are in July eighth. It would appear as though L is as well. You see, we're ahead of you time-wise, but I'm talking to you at the same time you're talking to me. Also, we have already skipped ahead in time, however, you were not included. Despite the obvious time difference, we are still able to communicate.

...That makes no sense.

I'm constructing plausible explanations for the phenomenon, but have none worth mentioning at this point. Point being, we are still able to talk.

Whoop dee freaking doo. At least I wouldn't have to talk to myself anymore. Amuse me. I have time. It's not like I'm going anywhere.

Another small pause. You and Autumn are from another universe, correct? Thus there are two of you, and two time lines running parallel to one another.

Wait, I'm already lost.

Yet you consider yourself intelligent.

I bit back a short reply. Here I am, tied against my will, and he's critiquing my intelligence. Great. It's not like I have a degree in the space-time continuem.

Think of it this way: anything and everything that could ever and will ever exist- is now a notebook.

Okay, I said doubtfully.

Your universe is a sheet of paper, and mine is a separate sheet of paper. Two different pieces of paper, but all in the same notebook. Now, every page has a back. I believe that one of us may be on the back side of the piece of paper.

Would it kill you to speak English?

I could almost imagine the man's incredulous look, but I seriously wasn't getting any of this. Maybe. I really didn't know.

Every universe is a piece of paper.

Got that.

Every paper has a back.

Yep.

When you arrived, you were on the same side of the paper as me. When we skipped ahead in time, we jumped to the other side of the paper.

So we changed universes.

No. We changed... worlds, if you will. Interconnecting realities that run parallel to each other. What happens in one affects the other, but not the other sheets of paper. Like how when you draw with a pen, sometimes you can see the ink on the other side. It bleeds through, but not all the way to another piece of paper, another universe. Somehow, when you got captured-

Hey! Don't rub it in.

I wasn't, now let me finish. Somehow, when you got captured, you broke back through to the other side of the paper.

So I'm on the front of the paper?

And Autumn and I are on the back.

Now that you mentioned it, L seemed to think that we broke you out of the asylum roughly a month before he had me abducted, I mused. But that still doesn't fit your notebook theory. We were already traveling for quite a while before we jumped in time, and it wasn't that far ahead.

It's a work in progress.

Ugh. This is making my head hurt.

That could be the aftereffects of the drugs.

I would so introduce my fist to his face the next time I saw him.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you. I'm your only link to the outside world, regardless of which reality we're in.

Wait, then what happens if one of us were to jump sides again? Would we lose contact?

Perhaps. I suppose that in the future, you are already wearing you collar, thus enabling our current situation. Until I am able to concoct a stronger hypothesis, I will monitor this side of the paper unless something catches my attention.

You'll keep me updated? It wasn't like I was desperate to hear that emotionally dead monotone (that fitted him so well, now that I think about it), but two weeks with no one albeit me, myself, and I for company wasn't exactly good my sanity, or what hadn't already diminished itself.

No, I'll leave you to fend for yourself.

Missed you too, jerk.

It was dark when the ten-year-old slid the door shut behind her, quiet as a mouse. Her shoeless feet padded across the tiled floor, her converses tied together and slung across her shoulder. Blood dripped from a cut above her brow, but she wiped it away with her free hand. More aches and pains ran the length of her body, but she wore them with pride. The girl's green eyes peered around the house, unfazed by the darkness. The television was on in the living room; she could hear see the faint light streaming in through the doorway to the left. The volume was turned down low, but she didn't worry about being heard. No one in their right mind would still be awake at three in the morning, not even that strange man.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, the girl slipped through the kitchen into the foyer. Her footsteps died away as carpet nibbled away at the decibels. She was almost to the stairs...

"Going to bed so soon?"

Swearing under her breath, the girl turned away from the stairs, but made no move towards the living room. "How do you always know everything?" she grumbled, just loud enough to be heard over the television.

"You could start by not locking the door behind you." Amusement echoed in the man's voice.

Huffing loudly, the girl peeped through the open doorway between the living room and the foyer. The strangle man was stretched out on the couch, his bare feet propped up on a mound of pillows shoved to the end. His wore no shirt, exposing his muscular chest, the skin stripped with age-old scars. A chain was wound through the belt loops of his baggy camouflage pants, the cargo pockets bulging with the unknown. Dark ginger hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, a few stray wisps framing a pale face with stubble. On the floor next to him sat a half-eaten bowl of popcorn, butter drizzled over the few kernels she could see. Much to the girl's surprise, the man's signature sunglasses were sitting on the worn stool next to the sofa. As soon as she slid into the doorway, the man glanced up at her with a quirky expression.

"Did you win?" he asked, glancing at the television.

"Did I win what?" the girl shot back. And how did he know? she wondered. The strange man always seemed to know what she was doing, no matter where she was.

The man's eyes rolled back to her. "The fight. Unless you're planning on telling me that you silently fell down the stairs and somehow rolled into the kitchen." He pointed to his forehead; the girl reached up and touched her own, wincing as pain lashed out at her again.

"What do you care?" she muttered, crossing her arms and letting her purple converses drop to the floor.

"I don't," he shrugged. "Just curious."

The girl stared at him. She had lived with so many people during her ten years in the foster system, but not a one of them had been so... passive. Usually, she was yelled at for the simplest of things- accidentally making a mess, forgetting things here and there- but here, she could practically do whatever she wanted, as long as she told the strange man. If she didn't, he would usually figure it out and make her feel as though she were two feet tall. The freedom was welcoming, but not the sleight of hand used to belittle her.

"Yeah, I won. Sent all three boys running all the way down Sunnyside Road," she boasted with a smirk. If he wanted to know exactly what she was up to, she would be glad to tell him.

"Hmm... and what of the fourth?"

Her jaw dropped. It was all the girl could do not to pick up her converses and beat him over the head with them. How in the world did he figure these things out so easily? She snapped her jaw shut with a snap. "There wasn't a fourth. Just those three whiny babies," she retorted through clenched teeth, kicking her converses out into the middle of the floor.

"'Those three whiny babies' gave you some pretty nasty marks," he pointed out, retrieving his sunglasses from the stool with one hand, and using the other to drop off of the couch and snag a small handful of popcorn.

"Well, they were asking for it," the girl shuffled her feet.

The strange man chuckled wryly and turned the glasses over and over in the palm of his hand. "There are some bandages in the cabinet over the bathroom sink."

"I don't need your help!" she bristled. "Besides, who asked you?"

Before the man could reply, the girl turned and stormed up the stairwell. She turned the corner sharply into the bathroom, slamming the door in her wake, the sound echoing throughout the house.

"Stupid old man..." she whispered under her breath, wiping away another trail of blood from her face. He couldn't possibly have know there was a fourth kid, so how did he? Was the strange man watching her? It really wouldn't surprise her. If he had been, he would have known why she was fighting in the first place- what she was fighting for.

The fourth boy was the one she had been standing up for.

With a final glance at the door to make sure that the strange man wasn't about to come check on her (like he would even care), the girl hopped up on the toilet seat and leaned over the sink towards the cabinet.

DAY 17- June 11th

I bolted upright with a gasp, sweat trickling down my face. The heart monitor beeped at my side, but hearing was all I had at this point; I was still wearing my newest headgear. Taking slow breaths, I tried to slow the pounding in my chest.

I hadn't had that dream in years.

I shook my head, as though the action might toss out the unwanted thoughts. Why did I have that dream now? Is it because I was slowly losing whatever brain cells I had left, and remembering the past was their way of going out with a bang? Sucky bang if you ask me. Maybe L had drugged me again. I really wouldn't put it past the guy.

All-too-familiar static filled the room.

Speak of the devil.

"Ishi-san, it has been seventeen days since you were imprisoned. Are you ready to confess to being Kira?"

My head jerked up. "This again?" My groan was mostly real. "Listen, you already forced me to tell you everything, so could you just drop it? Thanks."

There was a hint of a pause before, "This... Autumn... where is she?"

For a moment, I was glad I was wearing a blindfold. The rage in my eyes would have been a dead giveaway if the heart monitor didn't do that for me. "She won't be where I left her. I've trained her too well. She'll have moved again using an alias. Even if I got out of here, it could take me weeks to track her down again."

The static faded away. I took a deep breath, more from aggravation than relief. It seemed like no matter what angle I tried to play this guy, he either cut me off or found some way to turn my words against me. Had we met under different circumstances, I might have been impressed.

Once one gets over his antics, that tends to happen.

I felt myself relax considerably. B. What's new?

Kira's disappeared.

I blinked a few times. Kira disappeared? How?

Light's stopped killing criminals. Also, Misa has been arrested for possession of illegal drugs. Funny thing is that moments before, students at To-Oh University claimed to have seen them together on campus with one of the other students. Misa was arrested, and Light and the student disappeared a while afterwords.

I frowned as I tried to mull over these thoughts. Have you checked out the university yet?

No, Sherlock. I could easily imagine him shooting me that deadpan expression of his. Autumn hacked the police again and pulled the details of Misa's arrest. However, it doesn't list the officers who made the arrest.

You think they could be part of L's private Task Force?

His next words were almost smug. The officers themselves weren't listed on this particular incident. However, the files on the Kira case still have yet to be removed from the system. To dub it down for your mediocre mind, I have the complete list of the cops still working the Kira case.

I was tempted to compliment him until the 'mediocre mind' comment.

Thank you.

Crap. Forgot he could read everything the graphire wrote. And now I could imagine him smirking as he read that sentence. And now rolling his eyes. No, wait- too much emotion.

Ha ha. Very funny.

I thought so, I smiled to myself.

You're being oddly docile. You must have already lost your mind, had you one to lose to begin with.

Oi! I'm not docile! I retorted. Since when have I ever been submissive?

There was a long pause.

Don't answer that. Nevermind.

I have never once been docile, myself. It's one of the few things I pride myself on. I have never even been submissive to a traffic signal.

Oh, great. Now I know he read the part where the trash bin and I almost got hit by a car.

Yes, I did. It was most amusing.

I took a deep breath. Getting back to the point, I interjected before we wandered too far off subject, if Kira's stopped killing, then it's not looking too good for me. When did the killings stop?

A few days after you were imprisoned.

So L would either take that as a delayed reaction, or he assumes that Misa's Kira.

L doesn't assume. He'll have others under suspicion of being Kira, but he should have already deducted that Misa is the Second Kira. He may have Light in custody as well, but it has no mention of it on the chief's computer.

Go to To-Oh University, ask around to see if anyone knows what really happened the day Misa was arrested.

There was a pause. You weren't listening in the slightest to what I just said. I am not submissive to anything or anyone, especially you.

If I were free, I probably would have headed the nearest wall. No. If I were free, I would have been tempted to bash his head into the nearest wall. Please? I ground out.

I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you.

Just reread the damn sentence.

Silence, then: Say please.

I growled softly, shifting in my binds. I swear, this man would be the death of me- if I didn't kill him first. Please?

This pause was longer than the others. The kid wants to help.

I sighed. Of course. She's six. (Or seven. Seriously, when was that child's birthday?) Surely there's something she can do without putting herself at risk. If Beyond had been doing his reading, he would already know that it wasn't exactly the best of ideas to go traipsing around in broad daylight. Then again, knowing him, the schizophrenic probably wouldn't care.

It amuses me to see how you still refer to me on occasion as 'the schizophrenic.'

What would you like for me to call you? I deadpanned.

If Beyond, or simply B, is too humdrum for your likes, I do believe you were beginning to make a habit of Mr. Dark and Mysterious Somethingorother.

There's a word for people like him, but it's currently slipped my mind. Wait, no. I've got it: Asshole.

Mr. Dark and Mysterious Asshole? Tsk. Tsk. That doesn't sound as catchy as your previous versions, nor appropriate for younger ears. Running yourself into an impasse, Katheryn?

The second I get free, Beyond Birthday is so very, very dead.

August 4th

Autumn's head jerked up at the sound of raspy chuckles. The girl's eyes flew wide open as she watched Beyond prod the graphire, a wry smirk on his face. She continued to stare at him as he finished his odd movements; there was a pause as his eyes trailed across the dark screen, a soft snort, and then he resumed his poking. Autumn watched him with a curious gaze. The serial killer hadn't seemed so animate in a while, even when she asked to be put to work. He hadn't replied, but merely tapped the screen with his long, slender fingers in a delicate manner as he maneuvered around the crack. The girl knew that the graphire wasn't dark to him, but even after observing KC work on the thing, Autumn still wasn't use to seeing such an object attract the attention it did. Perhaps he wasn't talking to KC at all, but browsing the Internet for... whatever would interest someone like him.

With a loud moan, Autumn slithered from the end of the couch to the floor with a dull thud. Still, the man crouched in the swivel chair didn't move. Huffing to herself, Autumn scrambled to her feet and picked up the diamond dagger from where it had been resting atop the desk. The weapon glittered in her hand as she raised it to the light. She took a moment to take in the details carved into the hilt, the odd snake-like figure that curled down the flat side of the blade, before taking careful aim and chucking it across the room. The knife sunk into the wall between two wooden boards with deadly accuracy.

Autumn punching the air triumphantly and turned to see what Beyond would say, but he was still couched in his 'L pose,' the graphire resting on his knees as he continued to poke it. Frowning, Autumn ambled across the room, yanking the dagger out of the wall and sinking to the ground, her back pressed up against the wall.

Their newest hideout was an abandoned mechanic's garage in the outskirts of town. It had four rooms: a tiny bathroom (a squared meter, so you could use the bathroom and wash your hands at the same time, much to Autumn's dismay), a side room (where they had chosen to sleep), the attic (which had a low roof and spiders), and the main workshop (which was filled with all sorts of gismos that fascinated Autumn to no end). The girl mostly ambled between the larger room and the dubbed "office" when she wasn't hacking the police station. She would take pleasure in find the manuals for the equipment and reading up on how to work everything. Since they had moved in the previous day, she had already repaired the car jack in the center of the garage, and then tied some odds and ends onto the beams to make sure that it could lift the weight. Today, she was focusing on the crane that had been stuffed away in a corner.

Remembering the crane with air an of exuberance, the girl slipped the knife into her belt and pushed open the door between the office and the workshop. The smell of sawdust slapped her through the face, and Autumn took a moment to be glad that she didn't inherit her parents' allergies.

Her parents.

Autumn's eyes fluttered to the ground as she wove between the mechanical pieces. What would they think of her now? Sure, they both had been in the mafia, but back in her world, the mafia was used to eliminate larger criminals using unorthaboxical methods, or something like that. Sometimes KC would use big words like unorthaboxical in her explanations; Susan had been better at explaining things like that. Then again, Susan didn't really get to do much explaining before shoving her off on KC. What would her parents think about KC? Did they ever meet? A hint of a smile flashed across her face at the idea. She got the impression that they would get along swimmingly.

Swimming... It had been ages since Autumn had gone swimming. Maybe she could swipe some cash from somebody and have B take her to a community pool. But no, KC was still being held captive. She couldn't have fun without her mentor.

Mind set, Autumn finally halted and stared up at the crane with a keen eye. It was a Terex, an older model by the looks of it. Autumn had already dusted it off for a better look, but she was still clueless as to why a crane would be hidden away in the corner of a mechanic's shop. Maybe the guy couldn't repair it and stuffed it away. Out of sight, out of mind? Then again, it was kinda hard to hide something that big. Regardless, most cranes were twice its size. This one could still fit in a two-story building, even though it was compacted and looked as though it might tip over at any moment. The tires were worn by friction and time alike, odd scores running down the side of the wheels, as though someone has tried to pry the caps off by force. The glass had been busted out of one side and the paint was chipping here and there, the remaining white having slowly turned yellow. The bright red T-E-R-E-X was printed just under the grill, but was a little hard to read until the deep scarlet stains splattered all over the front end. The marks smelled weird, like Sharpie, but the inside of the cabin just plain reeked. French fries were strewn all over the inside, stains played havoc on the ripped covers of the seats, and the steering wheel was danging by its wires.

Autumn took a deep breath as she heaved herself in through the door she had left hanging open. She had a lot of work to do if she wanted to get this thing operational, but there was something she wanted to check first. Opening the glove compartment, Autumn pulled her laptop (yes, it was now considered hers) out as she settled herself in the seat. The screen lit up as she typed in the extensive password. It took mere moments for the the harddrive to become fully functional, but Autumn was pounding away at the keyboard long before then. Hazel eyes narrowed as the girl's finger trailed across the mouse pad.

"KC, where are you..?" she murmured under her breath.

PSYCH! And you all thought that Beyond was lost. Silly readers! :P Well, at least the plot is going somewhere, which is better than I'd hoped for. Also, I tried to get the crew out of those hotels they always seem to find themselves in. I mean, they're suppose to be pickpocketing all the money they're currently using, and staying in hotels in the middle of Tokyo is more than expensive. Plus, I like car garages, and have no clue why. I guess Autumn's fascination of the mechanical marvels come from my own curiosity. And no, I will not flat-out tell you who who the couch-slug was in KC's dream. ;) I'll just leave his identity a secret, but feel free to guess in reviews!

Notes: cyanide is concentrated poison, nitrous oxide is a sedative that's more commonly known as the laughing gas when given in large doses, hydrazine is the official term for a concentrated mixture of ammonia and bleach (which forms toxic gas when exposed to each other), amobarbital is what they use to put in old-style truth serum but is illegal to use nowadays.

So, what do you all think about the latest installment? Too details, not organized, hard to read? Just tell me. Your critique improves my writing, and some of your comments crack me up. I'll get around to answering reviews when I have more free time (if I ever get any), so expect a long author's note at the beginning of chapter twenty-one. Au revoir!