Lookie who's back at her regular-ish updating time! :D If only it could last... SIGH. All work and no play makes Stormy very tired. Ugh. But anyways, I'm back. Ish. Basically, what took this chapter so long was life (obviously) and the sheer complexity of this chapter. (Hopefully the length makes up for the wait.) It feels like a filler, but it really isn't. Regardless, writing this wore me out, so if you'll excuse me, I have to go purchase a new mental processing unit from the nearest convenience store. I have to say, moving was "fun," but the new locale is completely worth it~!

WildfireDreams: Tada? XD

Jana. aka. Alice: Either way, your support is greatly appreciated. Regarding the timelines, yeah, in the newer version of this, I just started out the book by heading every scene with the time and location, just to get people in the habit of paying attention to the dates.

L Mondego: As said to WD, 'tada?' Also, are you in any way named for Mondego from the Count of Monte Cristo? (I'm totally not searching high and low, trying to find that novel in English, right now...)

Guess who doesn't own Microsoft? Sadly, that same goes for Death Note.


Are You My Mummy?

For the second time in his life, insatiable intrigue washed over L as he stretched precariously to the edge of his chair, toes curling around the plush seat. The girl took advantage of the silence and tossed her suitcase into the kitchenette, kicked the smashed electronic pieces further into the room, and slammed the door with an exaggerated huff. Turning, she flashed a bright smile at Satou, flung herself across the void, wrapped her arms around the unsuspecting woman, and cried out in a delighted tone, "Ishi!"

"Hey, kiddo," Satou wheezed, gingerly patted the girl on the top of the head.

You must be Autumn... L thought, head lolling to one side.

"I programmed the power to come back on in a few minutes. We should probably leave before then or the cameras might catch our faces." All of this was spoken in rapid-fire English, which L understood with ease. Autumn whirled around and put her hands on her hips. "And don't any of you try and stop us, you hear?"

She's a very straightforward young lady, possibly thirteen or fourteen. Almost definitely American; ninety-seven percent. His thumb found his teeth and L initiated the meeting appropriately. Gnawing the nail, he added aloud in English, "I'm afraid I can't allow your mentor to leave my employ."

Autumn's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, only to be smothered by an annoyed look with a blink of an eye. "Ishi doesn't work for you. She answers only to the President herself."

A talented actress in the making, but not good enough.

Cocking his head to the other side, L said, "Jessica McGee works for the President of the United States, but Ishi Satou isn't an American federal investigator."

The girl shot Satou a guilty look. Quickly recovering as she did before, Autumn grabbed the sleeve of Satou's blouse and momentarily switched to German. "Need leave now."

Standing, L ambled a few paces closer and replied in the tongue, "Not today."

Satou's eyes narrowed into slits and she slid a warning hand somewhat protectively in front of Autumn, who seemed to fumble over L's words.

"Uh... Ryuzaki? What's going on?" Matsuda asked hesitantly.

"That's what I'd like to know," Aizawa echoed.

Smiling and still nibbling his thumbnail, L addressed Satou in English. "Oh, look. We've found your apprentice."


Beyond remained bent over, hardly daring to breath, as he momentarily relished in the feeling of being right. In the words of KC, it kicked ass. There was just something about it that brought a crooked smile to his face, shadows casting harsh angles against a demented expression.

He turned, glancing up at the being who towered over him.

"Shinigami," he whispered, a bit in awe, but also with a hint of smugness and question.

A blue-gray sheen colored the creature's features. Its curled grin resembled a horrific attempt at mimicking the Joker. Skin-tight, dark clothing, or perhaps a different kind of flesh, was sew onto its skin around the collar. Feathers sprouted from the shoulders, and a collection of disheveled feathers poked away from its back like a great pair of wings. A ragged skirt covered its torso, held up by a large belt, to which was chained a thin booklet in a cross-shaped sheathe; from under the skirt, the skin/clothing seamlessly melted into boots.

Yet as soon as Beyond spoke, the thing threw back its head and burst out laughing. Beyond couldn't help but be pleased when he realized that his own interpretation of death god laughter had been correct. Then the creature looked down at him with eyes of yellow, pupils red and framed in a black circle, its head cocked.

"You're not the first person who's identified me, but you are the first who wasn't startled," it said, its tone still tinged with mirth.

Beyond eyed the god of death. This one's appearance was very different from Rem's—they could have almost been different species—but they shared their humanoid appearance. Their personalities were another matter entirely, but that might be addressed after he pondered over this shinigami's words. Not the first? Did it mean Misa Amane, or perhaps...?

"Light Yagami was startled by a death god," mused Beyond. The idea greatly humored him.

The shinigami chuckled again, but it seemed more out of nervousness than amusement. "The name's Ryuk. You were expecting me?"

Deliberately dodging the topic... Are you possibly alluding to something? Beyond's thumb trailed along his lip. "You can surely see my name, but I insist that you refer to me as Satou Rue until I say otherwise."

"Rue. Right." Ryuk floated closer, and Beyond realized that its wings barely twitched. (What kind of creature, even gods of death, could truly defy physics in this way?) It leaned over him, arms dangling loosely at its sides. "So what are you doing with a piece of a death note, and what are you doing with it all the way down there?"


I've heard of love-hate relationships, but I never really believed in them until that adorable smile appeared on L's face and the man made a "polite" smart-ass comment just to let me know he had me cornered.

At this point in time, I didn't know if I was suppose to fawn or punch him in the face.

It took a whopping twenty minutes to convince Autumn that pulling a Houdini would not be in the best interests of everyone involved, and even then, what eventually clenched the deal had nothing to do with me. Autumn had never been introduced to chocolate-covered gummy bears; L seemed delighted to have obtained a sweets-loving ally.

Now I know how it feels to be displaced. No wonder Beyond's such an ass.

"This is my apprentice, Kyona," I said, by means of simple introduction since the girl's mouth was crammed full of the sugary overload. She appeared to be challenging L to a stuffing contest, but the estranged detective silently insisted on dragging out each, individual death one at a time. Instead of replying, Autumn waved and wedged another bear between her teeth.

The members of the Task Force stared. Finally—and simultaneously—Matsuda introduced himself just as Afro Dude shot me a suspicious glare before asking L, "Since when did we start letting children join high-risk investigations?"

"Since she hacked the NPA database with the permanently borrowed laptop of a man traveling to Florence. Any questions?" was what almost came out of my mouth, but I refrained.

Rather than reply, L trained his eyes on me, as though curious and expectant. Taking this as encouragement to speak, I addressed Aizawa with a charming smile.

"She knows better than to run with scissors, Dad. I raised your granddaughter well."

Okay. So I'm still a sassy mafia underboss. Sue me.

Matsuda cracked a grin but made no sound. Mogi's eyes wandered the room, clearly bored with the situation upon learning that Autumn was (more or less) not a threat. L downed another helpless bear. Autumn frowned, having not understood a word of any of the conversation since it was entirely in Japanese. Aizawa was currently turning a beautiful shade of scarlet. I showed them my best smirking Beyond Birthday impersonation.

It was a wonderful moment.


Adults are weird.

This was Autumn's only thought regarding the controlled chaos that occurred once the group seemed to reach some sort of agreement. She didn't really understand what was happening—KC could only translate so much without getting behind in the conversation—but the girl roughly knew that the surveillance of the possible Kiras would continue today with L, KC, and Matsuda.

On another note, Autumn couldn't call L Ryuzaki. She just couldn't. It wasn't his name or his title. He stole it. He kicked the downed child on the playground and took his favorite toy; that was how Autumn saw it. When L requested that she call him Ryuzaki, Autumn blatantly told him that she didn't thinking it was right to steal, even if BB had been arrested, and refused to call him anything but Panda Man. Even KC had to bite her lip to keep from smiling, but Autumn had been completely serious at the time.

"Why will you not call me Ryuzaki?" L had asked in a pout.

"It's not your name." Autumn crossed her arms definitively. "Stealing is wrong."

L had considered this for a moment before changing tactics. "Is it so wrong to protect myself and my identity when chasing criminals who might attempt to use this information against me?"

"It's wrong when you steal the identity of somebody you've already beaten." Struck by inspiration, the girl had bounded over to L, ruffled the man's hair—much to the detective's surprise—and giggled, adding, "Besides, you're more like a panda than a thief. How 'bout I just call you Panda Man?" and that was that.

Now, she tucked herself into the detective's side, peering up at him with wide, hazel eyes as his own dark orbs bore into the screen of the computer in front of him. For whatever reason, all of the curtains had been drawn, the overhead dimmed, and the remaining source of light came from the lamp KC had plugged into a spare outlet so that she could examine written documents about something or other. Autumn didn't quite comprehend the necessity for darkness, but L looked more and more like a panda in the shadows, and the thought of the world's greatest detective secretly being an adorable ball of fluffiness earned another quiet laugh from the seven-year-old. In a way, he was kind of like a giant stuffed bear anyways, which was another thing added to the growing list of reasons why she liked him.

For one, he shared his sweets. (KC did not, and B seemed like he would sooner feed her fresh blood than any of his precious jam.) For another, he was cuddly-able. Also, he was the embodiment of justice, the epitome of righteousness, and a whole bunch of stuff that young police officer told her, and since KC willingly translated all of this, then he had to be right! He sort of resembled BB, but in a less slit-your-throat-while-you-sleep kind of way, and had no eyebrows. (This one seriously concerned her.) Sitting funny was also a plus (KC didn't even sit) and he held things between two fingers, sometimes three if the object was heavy, and his bare feet almost looked like they were massaging one another from time to time. Basically, L was really, really weird—the good kind of weird—and Autumn liked him. And since KC told her many months ago that L was a good guy and therefore had to be the one they turned to for advice, liking L was okay.

"Are you a hunchback?" she inquired, trying to mimic the position. Squeezed in between the detective and the arm of the chair, Autumn found this task more difficult than she originally intended.

"My spine is perfectly formed," L replied without diverting his gaze. "I sit like this so that my deductive reasoning isn't inhibited by approximately forty percent."

At least he didn't tell me not to drink the bottles under the sink, Autumn noted. "So if I sit like this, will I be smarter?"

"No, but it will allow you to think more easily within your mind's own parameters."

"Neat-o."

Shuffling herself into position, Autumn scanned L's posture a few more times before nodding her head in approval. The crouch made her knees feel stiff and her arms had to be tucked against her chest, hands resting atop her knees, but she did it.

Autumn didn't feel smarter. Maybe L was a hunchback but didn't want people making fun of him, so he lied. Maybe it took a few minutes for the crouch-thingie to start working. Maybe L was secretly a cat, not a panda, and was waiting to spring on Kira in case the man waltzed through the broken hotel door. She giggled again.

"Kyona-chan, could you please relocate yourself to a more available chair?"

She openly stared. "Are you asking me to move?"

"Yes."

Puckering her lips, Autumn honestly felt a bit wounded. She really, really, really, really, really, really wanted L to like her. KC was smart, and if she said that L was smarter, then Autumn not only wanted to get on his good side, but she wanted them to be friends. She was strong and he was smart. Brawn and brains. Autumn wanted to grow up with somebody that smart at her side, kind of like KC and BB's unintentional partnership. Romance was icky and for sappy adults, but L didn't seem like a sappy person. She liked him in the way that a daughter admired her father or...

Or...

At the thought of her father, her mother, her life, and everything in the other world that she couldn't have now, Autumn remembered the entire situation—waking up in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, forced to grow up too fast, KC getting kidnapped by the man she was seeking out, finally seeing her mentor again—and unceremoniously burst into tears.


"Ishi-san, please remove your apprentice from my person. She is quite clingy and will not stop crying."

For the first time since I regained my sense of productivity, I heard L speak. Granted, it wasn't so much his words that drew my attention, nor the personal address, but the underlying distress in his tone.

The documents—a written record of the Kira case's proceedings thus far, whose combined total equaled that of five rather large filing cabinets—slid to the floor when I reluctantly drew my gaze away from the pages. I had to admit that it was a little funny to see Autumn snuggled up against the detective's side, the man himself sporting a blank expression but wide eyes. Then I saw her tears, and a part of me cringed. It also didn't help that the scene reminded me of when Autumn had buried herself under the covers and right into Beyond's side. Autumn: 1. Beyond Birthday: 0 times infinity. I could never forget the look on his face, and I certainly wasn't about to let him live it down. But looking at L and Autumn...

I mentally slapped myself. Now wasn't the time for wishful thinking. No matter how much I wondered what had happened to Beyond, finding the smartest guy in this world—L— had always been the plan, and B had merely been the means to justify the end. We both got what we wanted: me L and him a second chance at a new life.

So why did I feel more wary now than ever before?

"Kyo-chan. C'mere," I said in a gentle a tone as I could muster.

Grinning slightly at the nickname, Autumn unglued herself from the detective's side and plodded over to my side. There was just something entirely unfair about that way her hazel eyes still retained their childish sparkle—how much she had seen, yet hadn't lost all of her innocence.

Seven years old. And I threw her out of the frying pan and into the fire.

I now remind myself of what I stated earlier: emotions suck, and are immensely overrated.

"Where was Rue the last time you saw him?" I asked, mostly because I'd completely forgotten what I was going to say, mostly because I was distracted by the odd look that swept across L's face at that exact moment.

And I only half-listened to her reply as L's thumb traced his jaw, slowly and almost hypnotically, fingering his chin momentarily before his teeth snagged it. The captive secured, he began to gnaw.

Autumn shot L a conspiratory glance before saying in a low tone, "There was this really old garage that we stayed in until time started going all weird again."

This immediately drew my attention.

Leaning forward, I looked her dead in the eye and murmured, "Again?"

"It was August, last I remember." She nodded.

August... to July. A second backwards timeskip.

What the hell did that mean?

"Where was the garage?" Better keep the questions rolling—or, at least the ones that could be answered.

Instead of replying, Autumn bounded over to her suitcase [which had already undergone thorough inspection, compliments of Watari] and withdrew her laptop. Returning, she flopped down amongst my collection of papers and brought up city plans. Autumn flicked through them, eyes scanning faster than I could even keep up, until she jabbed a finger at the screen. "There," she said simply.

"Ryuzaki, we've got something!" I announced at a normal volume in Japanese.

"Really?" Matsuda's head shot up over top of the couch, but his face was quickly blocked when L stood and seemingly teleported next to Autumn. Stretching out on all fours, the detective leaned over her lap so as to peer at the laptop, dark hair swishing before his eyes.

"Suburban building plans," he mused to himself. "An interesting choice of accommodations." Swiveling his head around to look at Autumn, he added in English, "This is a very nice three-thousand dollar laptop. How did it come into your possession?"

"Luggage mixup at the airport. Some dude made off with our clothes and we got his laptop," Autumn answered.

Dear God. When did that kid get so good at lying?

"Hmm." L returned his gaze to the screen before retracting and tapping a few buttons on his own computer. "Watari, I need you to check out an address."

I read it off to him.

There was a pause, then Watari confirmed, L offered mild appreciation, and the day plodded on as slowly as a swim meet held in molasses. But I continued to watch L out of the corner of my eye. We shared too many habits to be healthy—no normal sitting, thumb to mouth, obsession with sweets (though mine was purely out of necessity)—and it was a little unnerving to see them all manifest in one who shared physical similarities with someone who may or may not had been devising my demise for the better part of nine months. I was no closer to working up the courage to ask for help back home. Plus, the guy seemed almost as arrogant as me, so I was trying to figure out how that would go.

And now I was more or less being held hostage by him and forced to find the person who helped me locate him in the first place.

When did my life get so turned around?


The garage had been empty—abandoned and looking as though it hadn't been used in months. No Beyond. No sign of life period.

The days passed slowly, until each one bled over into the next. I lost any prior hopes of a sleep schedule, as L decided to wake me whenever he deemed fit, but for the most part, I didn't sleep. Since I wasn't hooked up to the graphire, I noticed that I didn't eat as much, either. In fact, I didn't even eat more than two hundred calories in a day, and most of that came from the sweets I stole from L when I knew the detective was watching. The one time I tried to eat solid food—a few bites from Matsuda's steak when he went to relieve himself—resulted in a massive upchuck party where Autumn refused to leave my side all day. (Apparently, I was the picture of death.) The other members of the Task Force eventually learned to put up with my lack of eating and sleeping habits (I bet getting over all of L's was a real pain), until they stopped offering to take over for "my shift" altogether.

Speaking of L, I still couldn't wrap my head around that guy. At least with Beyond, I instinctively knew I couldn't trust him, but somehow did anyways, despite my better judgment. He drove me up the wall, discreetly threatened me, pissed off Trey—but he didn't loom over Autumn; Beyond didn't kill anyone; he only tortured someone at my request and kinda-sorta to get back at L. In fact, the only remotely deadly/creepy thing Beyond had done was, well, everything, so it seemed, but it was all deliberate, as though he knew exactly when he toed the line and simply lacked the capacity to care.

It didn't occur to me until after L had sent Watari to check out the garage that the idea in itself seemed... well, odd. Why just send Watari? I thought L was backed by the police. Furthermore, if Beyond was half as dangerous as L considered him, why did he not seem to be making catching BB his top priority? L brought him down once before.

Then it occurred to me;

Maybe I wasn't the only one seriously creeped out by the not-so-schizophrenic. I never even stopped to consider L and B's relationship, but what if Beyond was the thing that went bump in the night in L's world? Was it possible that the reason I wasn't being detained by a special divisions unit was because L was keeping me around as his front in case B sought retaliation? After all, Beyond had challenged L, and as far as I was aware, he had come close to winning their twisted little game until he ended up in prison. Even now, I wasn't too sure how that happened. From what I grasped through the keyhole in our door when we were connected via graphire, there was an FBI agent who was too smart for her own good, or too gullible. But I wondered what had really happened that day, and why it seemed to be clouding L's judgment whenever he considered things involving Beyond's would-be investigation. Kira case? No problem; just give the guy a laptop, one hundred milliliters of coffee, and a million sugar cubes. Hunting down B?

He faltered.

What I found incredible was how that seemed to be his only weakness.

L never really seemed attached to anyone, much less close. It was like he isolated his emotions (doing a way better job at it, too, than yours truly) as well as himself. Like he couldn't bring himself to form connections, as though they could be used against him at any given moment. And I had to wonder if there was a connection.

Had L always been like this, or was this something Beyond did to him during their little one-on-one?

Sometimes—heck, most times—I didn't even think L noticed. I knew that the rest of the Task Force didn't.

But honestly, why else keep Autumn and myself around? What did L have to benefit?

Why did he seem hesitant?


"Why didn't you listen to me?!"

Tears leaked from the eyes of the boy on the screen, but they were wiped away so quickly that L might have thought them imagined had there been no movement at all.

"I told you what was going to happen but you didn't believe me, and now he's dead!"

The Task Force had all been ordered home for the night. Only Satou and her apprentice remained—but in the other room. L had chosen to stay in this particular hotel because of its impeccable, sound-proof walls. If needed, he could turn up the volume of the laptop as high as it would go, and they would still be unable to hear so much as a single shout.

"Please calm down, B. I know you're upset about A's passing-"

"Upset?! That's all you have to say?! The front running to become the next L just hung himself in the dead of night and all you can think about is keeping me from getting more 'upset'?!" Hands slammed against the front of Rodger's desk, knocking a cup of writing utensils to the floor. "I told you something was going to happen to him, but you did nothing!"

His voice was so shrill, so childish. Though crying, that high-pitched voice never once wavered. Always so diligent about his presentation—L had almost wished for Backup to become to successor. He possessed the necessary self-control and emotionless view of the world, or at least he did until A died. Then he broke. Something changed.

Or something had already changed, and we only began to notice it after A's suicide, L mused, leaning forward. To his left sat two television sets, one displaying Misa and another, Light. On his right sat a laptop with a blown image of Yagami Soichiro. All three were asleep, and had been for hours. L had decided to make this his final night dredging up research about his former successor. Tomorrow, he would contact Chief Yagami and discuss with him a plan to prove the identities of the Kiras once and for all. There were only two flaws with said plan: if Yagami couldn't execute it properly (a thirteen percent chance) or if both Light and Misa performed perfectly, thereby declaring them neither innocent nor guilty (twenty-nine percent).

He still remembered the day Watari came to take him away. He was barely six years of age—recently orphaned, and having just saved the world for the first time. "You are the hero this world needs," Watari had told him, a line he had repeated over the years when L became particularly uncertain or melancholy. Technically, L himself had been the first child at Wammy's, the first of his kind, the only of his kind. And he would be alone for many years until Watari would hire a man named Rodger who would continue to seek out children from around the globe in Watari's stead. While L worked on cases with Watari at his side, Rodger would track down children and have them brought to Winchester.

First there was Alexander McIntyre, an older boy of fifteen-going-on-sixteen. His younger sister murdered their parents; she was tried as an adult and imprisoned for life, but it was her brother who supplied the police with the final pieces of evidence required to convict her. Immediately after the first trial, A took a fight from Scotland. Ten-year-old Beyond Birthday was brought in five months later after his pregnant mother died in a train crash in Canada. He had already lost his father to a mugging three years prior, but seemed indifferent to his death when questioned. The introduction of B seemed to pacify A, who had been notably skittish until then. Both boys got along well, and even when other children were introduced, they refused to let anyone come between them. Despite their age gap, their high levels of intelligence matured them to near-equal mental standings. Hours spent watching their interactions on the recordings from the orphanage was enough to convince L that they might have considered themselves close friends over being the next in line.

However, as time progressed, it was B who became more... antsy. His actions toward A became more protective, especially when one of the other children threatened A, even in jest. It wasn't until October third, 1998, that B first showed signs of fear—a girl called E pushed A off of the swing set and came to Rodger when a blue ink pen stuck in her left eye not an hour later. The cameras focused on the playground had been disabled during that time, and B borrowed a blue ink pen from A later that day. [E begged to go to a different orphanage and was eventually relocated on account of her sudden, and rather extreme, spike in paranoia that disqualified her from detective work.] And on December thirteenth of the same year, B approached Rodger and told him that A was in trouble. Obviously, he was turned away. Lacking evidence and motive, Rodger had no means with which to believe him.

But once a week, B went back, and he became more insistent each time. When he wasn't arguing with Rodger, B stayed by A's side, even at the most inconvenient of times. On the second day of January, 1999, B dragged his mattress from his room and into A's. The older boy didn't protest. In fact, he appeared to appreciate the attention. They studied together, invented fake cases for one another to solve, and even pulled a few pranks on the other children.

On March twenty-first of the same year, A failed his first test. That night, he cried himself to sleep, and B sat on the foot of his bed, without moving or sleeping. The next day, A learned that a case assigned to him hadn't been invented by any instructor—it was an actual case from Bordeaux, France. Arson-slash-murder, orchestrated by two groups of radicals in competition with one another. A had solved the case in three days, with B's help, but upon learning that the fifty-one people he declared the perpetrators might receive the death penalty, A spent the entire day refusing to leave Rodger's office, pleading with him to get the trial relocated to a state without the death penalty, or at least have one of the other children check his work. Rodger had told him that a part of being conditioned for L's position would be testing the successors with real cases to see if the strain of seeing their work's outcome would affect their procedures.

Two days later, A failed another test. Three days after that, he dropped all of his current cases, even the fake ones. And exactly one week after that, he locked B out of their room and hung himself with the bed sheets.

"B, we had no reason to believe that A was in any kind of danger!" Rodger leaned forward, his brow furrowed in irritation. The screen flickered momentarily when Backup kicked the wall so hard that the camera shook. "You gave us nothing but expected us to take care of everything! We train detectives here, B, not miracle-workers!"

B stood, fuming, for a good two minutes, until he muttered under his breath, "I hate him. I fucking hate him."

Rodger's mouth fell open. "You cannot blame A for his-"

"Not A—L." It was spoken with more loathing than L had ever heard in anyone's tone. "L did this. He does this. He pushes us to be better—no, to be the BEST, but he never comes to visit us. He never tells us 'good job,' never pats us on the head, never even shows his face. He doesn't even give a damn!"

Rodger could only gape, completely speechless, as B began to storm around the room.

"He strips us from our countries, forces us to learn all of this stuff by shoving it down our throats, and then lets his brainless henchmen call us liars!" The last words were aimed specifically at Rodger. "He pushed A to take his own life, and for that, I'll never forgive him! I HATE HIM!"

"I understand your need to place blame when you are hurting, but I know that you do not resent L," said Rodger firmly. "You were elated to be chosen as L's successor from day one, B, and have continued to exhibit exemplary competence since. Your mind is capable of so much more than this orphanage can provide you, but wasting your breath and talent to throw this little tantrum is only going to tax your mental capacity."

"A is dead." Now his voice trembled. "He's dead, and all you can think about is conditioning us to save the world." B raised his head, turning around so as to fully face Rodger as he spoke barely louder than a whisper; "Why does the world deserve to be saved? What makes all these people so special that we have to break an incredible mind just to put a face to the name of hero?"

"For that, I have but one question, and from that, you may have your answer," Rodger said with a hint of a sigh. "Where would you place our hope without a hero?"

B scrubbed at his face with a hand, and momentarily, L could not only see but understand the young boy. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. This was the moment Backup renounced what some might have determined "his calling." This was when he first turned his back on L.

This was still before B whirled around and sank the knife in.

L leaned forward, as though decreasing the distance between himself and the screen might somehow allow him to better comprehend the scene before him. Though he had watched it numerous times after B had left and during many years since the committed murders, he gained a new-found insight into Backup's mind every time he watched it. Perhaps he was trying to find the exact point where man became monster. Perhaps he was trying to determine B's weaknesses. Perhaps he was just an aging detective with a laptop, morning over his greatest mistake and wondering how to protect everyone if B decided to exact round two.

Could L beat B a second time? He had shown his face. Many knew of his favorite aliases and identities. All he had left was his name, and even now, L highly doubted that his name would remain anonymous for long.

Where are you? When did you say it? L wondered, stretching forward even more until he felt his spine twinge, as though in reprimand.

"Why are you all so blind?" Sadness. All of the fight had left B's tone, and only sadness remained. "Why can't you see what I see? When I condemn a man to death on shreds of evidence, you don't question my judgment. But why is it that when I try to save someone, you all ignore me because you can't see what I see?"

"You were around A more than anyone. Perhaps you noticed his change in behavior long before the rest of us could even begin to see the symptoms," Rodger acknowledged hesitantly.

"That's not what I mean. Why can't you read the numbers?"

There! L practically sprang forward until he almost fell from his perch. Dark eyes tracked every minute movement on the screen. He didn't dare blink.

"Numbers?" Rodger frowned. "What numbers, B?"

"The numbers that specify when an individual is going to die."

L absentmindedly wished for a hot-fudge sundae before another thought struck him. The Second Kira told the First Kira in the broadcast that he didn't believe he had the Eyes. If Backup could see when a person was going to die, would possessing the Eyes mean something along those lines?

"B, what numbers? What are you talking about?" Rodger sounded more confused than concerned.

"It's like you don't even see them!" B suddenly shouted. "It's like you don't WANT to see them so you simply DON'T! Well, I wish it was that easy for me! But just because you don't understand MY kind of evidence doesn't mean that you should ignore it! A was going to die on April fourth of this year no matter what, but none of you even stopped to consider helping him! You should have been there for him—L should have been there! What kind of a detective training facility is this?! How the hell are we supposed to save the world if we can't even save one of our own?!"

"B, I-"

"Don't 'B' me!" he snarled. "Don't ever call me that again! I'm leaving! I'm leaving Wammy's, I'm leaving Winchester, and I'm leaving England! And don't try to stop me!"

Rodger didn't have time to react, because no sooner than B finished speaking did he slam the door in his wake. L tracked him on different cameras up and down the halls. Once or twice, the boy muttered things to himself, and L caught a few phrases here and there—cursed eyes of death, should have known, nevermore. B didn't retrieve his belongings. He didn't even pack a bag. The only things Beyond Birthday took with him when he fled Wammy's House were the clothes on his back, a roll of cash from the stash he had shared with A, and a jar of strawberry jam from the kitchens.

The date was April sixth, 1999. Beyond Birthday was thirteen years old. And in three years time, he would kill the first of three victims in an attempt to defy everything L stood for.

You claimed to be able to see when a person would die. Were you telling the truth, could it be possible to possess eyes capable of seeing a person's name? After all, during all of the videos L had skimmed from B's few years at Wammy's, he had never forgotten a name.

Not once.

It didn't take L long to encrypt the files for the twelfth time once he was finished. He was hardly satisfied, but insanity was defined as doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results each time.

Yes, it is time to talk with Chief Yagami.

Upon reaching the door, he turned the knob with two fingers and started to open it, only to freeze.

Voices, both of them female.

Of course. Sound-proof rooms-! Satou must have realized it within minutes of my isolation, L thought. Knowing this, she's probably checked then entire room for surveillance of any sort, and upon finding none...

People who assume that their conversations will not be overheard often say very condemning things.


"So, if you're to be believed, when the original owner of this death note relinquished ownership, since a substantial piece of it was still possessed by a human, ownership was then transferred to me," Beyond thought aloud. He was lying on his flat on his back on the forest floor, a root jabbing him mercilessly in his lower back, and tracing the cracks in the giant tree towering over him with the tip of the diamond dagger, one eye closed. Once upon a time, he would have been able to identify the species of tree, recite a brief history of its evolution, and note all international locations where it was considered indigenous. Now he just wished that the roots didn't emerge from the earth, though it was a wish in vain. "Interesting."

"Yeah. Didn't know that was even possible, but—here we are." The shinigami, Ryuk, chuckled for the fifth time since the two had arrived in the woods.

It was odd for a forest to be growing at the edge of such a complex city as Tokyo, but Beyond had seen stranger things indeed. Take the god of death, for instance. Barely five hours had passed since Ryuk had first come into his life, and Beyond was already wondering how to get the shinigami off of his back. He was finally free of Trey, and now he had another entity peering over his shoulder. At least Ryuk had blatantly stated that he didn't care one way or the other what Beyond chose to do with the notebook, so long as he kept him entertained.

Beyond had asked him if bringing L to his knees would count as entertainment. That had summoned the first round of laughter.

Sighing quietly and contently, Beyond pulled the death note out from under his head and squinted up at it. He recognized the texture of the book in his hands, as well as the silver symbols scrawled on the front in some unrecognizable language; it was definitely Misa's death note. Though pages had been torn from the front, Beyond was still able to match up his crumpled piece with the seam from which it was torn.

So Misa Amane gave up ownership of her death note, but criminals are still dying even with Light out of the picture. Why?


"What happened to Rem?"

Humans. Couldn't live with them, couldn't live without them.

"Rem?" Ryuk inclined his head to one side. If he was lucky, this guy wouldn't be as intelligent as Light. Or Ryuzaki. Whichever. Both were pretty brilliant for humans. At least they kept him from getting bored, even though Light constantly denied him apples.

"I'm operating under the assumption that the death note requires a god of death to work," Rue said simply.

Ryuk shrugged. "Even if the original owner of the death note died, it would still work." I know that much at least. That's how Misa got her notebook in the first place.

"So it's possible to kill a shinigami?"

Dammit. Rue was just as smart as Light. And now Ryuk had slipped up. Wasn't there something in the rules about all of this stuff?

"Only two ways as far as I know, but don't go thinking you can get rid of me," Ryuk said, swooping down over Rue. "I'm not that lazy or emotional."

Rue jerked upwards so that they were face to face, seemingly unaffected by the odd angle at which he had to bend his shoulders to make this possible. Ryuk instinctively became immaterial, and was instantly grateful that the change wasn't visible.

"Do elaborate," Rue intoned.

Creepy...

"Every time a shinigami writes a name in their notebook, they get that person's remaining lifespan. Say you were supposed to live sixty years and I killed you at twenty. I get forty years added to my lifespan. But if I stop writing names in my death note and I run out of years, I'll die."

Rue's eyes had slowly widened during this entire speech, a fact Ryuk desperately tried to ignore, until it looked as though they might pop out of his eye sockets at any moment. Now Ryuk shuffled backwards.

"So if I were to write someone's name in this death note, I would get the rest of their lifespan added to my own?"

"Nope. It only works like that for us shinigami. A human who uses the death note will never lengthen their own lifespan. The death note is about shortening life, not extending it."

Rue flopped back down on the ground, but a grin flickered about his mouth. "And the second way?"

"If a shinigami falls in love with a human and uses their notebook to save that human, the shinigami dies, and their remaining lifespan gets added to the human they saved."

Ryuk yelped when Rue bolted to his feet, eyes impossibly wider than before. He resembled Ryuzaki on crack, a thought which made Ryuk want to laugh again, but the crazed look on Rue's face stopped him dead.

"Ryuk, what happened to the original owner of this notebook?" he asked in a voice far too silky to have come from such a mangled voice box.

"Died saving a human," Ryuk answered simply. Gelus did die, after all, but if this crazy guy stopped pestering him about Rem, Ryuk would certainly feel a lot better.

"Then that human would have all of Rem's lifespan..." Perfect. He was jumping to just the right conclusions. Maybe now he would stop asking questions and start feeding Ryuk. "But Misa didn't have a lifespan when we met, and Rem was still alive then."

"The lifespans of death note owners aren't visible to those with shinigami eyes." Truth be told, Ryuk was seriously weirded out by the fact that Rue hadn't made a deal, nor had ever owned a death note, but somehow had the eyes. It was like he was trying to be the personification of creepy.

Creepy. Heh. That was Ryuk's new nickname for Rue.

"Perhaps another shinigami died to save Misa, which would be how she would come to possess this death note..." Creepy held the death note up by its corner. "Regardless, Misa's fate is of little concern to me. I would like to learn more about the rules of the death note, Ryuk. But first, do shinigami really love apples?"

Ryuk grinned. Creepy or otherwise, this owner sure would make a better human to him than Light.


L didn't tell Satou his plan upon explaining his conclusion to Yagami Soichiro. He wanted to see her reaction. She considered herself a dabbler in detective work, so he wanted to see how well she recovered from surprise. After all, if one hadn't the intelligence to keep up with the suspect, surprises would be quite common in this line of work.

Ergo, when the police chief set out to collect Amane Misa and, later, his son, L kept a close watch on Satou's face as well as the television screen. At first, she kept her expression blank by force, then it seemed to become natural as confusion overtook everything else. There was a sixteen percent chance that Satou would guess his plan before it was executed, but only a two point five percent chance of her actually saying this aloud. Satou was very good at playing dumb, and L had to wonder if she had obtained all of this practice out of necessity or boredom. After all, despite their best efforts to keep their voices low, L had still overheard the part of their prior conversation.

Timeskips. First immature murderers acting from afar and now two individuals with no proper sense of time claiming to have holes in their memories but stating otherwise when speaking amongst themselves... His glance momentarily flickered to the teacup resting on the coffee table as he pondered this. I am only six percent certain that they intended for me to overhear that. But I lack the majority of the facts—of that much I am one hundred percent sure.

Satou leaned over the desk, a pocky stick dangling from between her lips as she eyed the television with an air of indifference. Indifference as of right now. The first time she had laid eyes upon the precariously placed TV, she had attempted to construct a sturdy structure from surrounding furniture on which to place it. Her methodology was fascinating, as was the peculiar result of her efforts, but L had asked if her expertise in physics denied or confirmed the television's safety in comparison to their own. Satou had corrected him in saying that the physics of Kira's own methodology was possibly incongruent to the known physics of this world, and would therefore be incomparable as the units of measurement would never align.

It wasn't specifically her answer that caught L's attention, but the promptness of her reply. The only other person who had answered such a thought-worthy question that quickly was currently being watched via the aforementioned television set.

And for the first time since Light sat down to watch the first broadcast tape from the Second Kira, L felt a twinge of what could only be described as excitement. Mild excitement, of course. He would never let his emotions get away from him.


Autumn had been organizing KC's notes when the gunshot went off. Instantly, she threw the stack of papers from her lap and raced into the other room, barely taking the time to nudge open the cracked door in her haste.

The two police officers—were their names Aizawa and Matsuda?—stood behind L, who slumped in a lone armchair, KC at his side. On the television screen, the police chief held a smoking gun to the head of a teenage boy, a frightened girl of equal age huddled up against the door in the backseat next to him. Autumn opened her mouth, but the boy whispered something in Japanese. The chief replied in kind, and the boy leaned forward, repeating the older man's words with more force.

A funny little smirk grew ever-wider on KC's face, one that made Autumn hesitate to say anything. KC only wore that look when she had some sort of plan she couldn't wait to execute. The last time she had seen it had been when KC announced that she would be teaching BB to use the graphire; the first time had been when they were going to rescue Trey from the research laboratory. If Autumn had learned one thing about that look, it was that asking questions would get you nowhere, because you would find out sooner or later.

Usually sooner.

The chief said something else before looking straight into the camera. L leaned forward and used the bottom of his teacup to push the button of the communication device. He too spoke in Japanese, though it felt more like some kind of monologue. On screen, the girl let out a sound somewhere between an indignant cry and a huff. The chief said something. The girl replied in a suddenly cheerful voice.

Autumn took a few steps closer to KC, watching the scene in confusion. L and the boy in the backseat had an entire conversation in the span of ten seconds, but the two swapped sentences so rapidly that all Autumn could possibly pull from the scenario was the slight smile on the boy's face when L cut off the television and took a delicate sip from the teacup.

"Clever, L, but that wasn't a blank," said KC. Autumn wanted to throw herself headfirst at her mentor and pull her into a gigantic hug for the glorious use of English, but instead chose to meander over to her side and offer a tentative smile.

"It wasn't?" asked L with so much innocence that Autumn almost giggled.

"Even a blank would have dealt serious damage that close to the skin." The grin widened. "I didn't know anyone else ever considered encasing flash power inside of heat-soluble tablet painted to look like a bullet."

Huh?

L shot KC a look out of the corner of his eye. "You are correct," he murmured. Pulling two sugar cubes from his pocket and adding them to his drink, L took another sip before adding, "The execution needed to look convincing enough to have posed an actual threat. That way, the Kiras wouldn't have any reason to doubt Yagami-san's aim. The closer the barrel, the less likely he would miss, and in order to protect Light-kun should he not have tried to kill his father, I needed something akin to a blank that will still give the impression of an actual shooting. Ergo, the fake-bullet."

Matsuda's mouth fell open and he stammered out something that elevated KC's eyebrows to somewhere about her hairline. L answered in Japanese, and the man's mouth snapped shut, a faint pink coloring his cheeks.

Now fully smirking, KC rested a hand on top of Autumn's head and said in a low tone, "How's the organization coming along, kiddo?"

Autumn stared her mentor straight in her bright green eyes and said honestly, "It's not half as fun as what you guys are doing out here, so it's kinda slow."

"Satou-san, you can expect to fall into the same category as Amane," L pivoted slightly so as to look at them both. "As soon as Light and Amane are brought here, the two of you will be placed under surveillance and may be held in the same vicinity as each another. I will allow you some time apart to allow for Amane and Light's dates, during which I expect you to investigate the other case and report to me immediately afterwords. Is this acceptable?"

"How will our surveillance differ from Light's?" KC questioned.

L stirred the contents of his teacup with another sugar cube as he replied, "I believe it best to wait and see."

"And the kid?"

"Kyona-chan will be escorted to and from public school by Mogi-san during the weekdays and will be expected to study independently on the weekends. She will remain in your care, but will not partake in either investigation."

Autumn felt a small part of her soul die. Public... school...? But I don't even speak Japanese!

Somehow, she didn't like Panda Man quite as much now as she did before.


And now, a quick explanation behind Beyond owning Misa's death note! One of the rules of the death note is that if the human owner of the death note either relinquishes ownership or dies, the individual holding the death note at the time becomes the new owner. In this case, when Misa first gave up ownership when being detained by L, the ownership would have gone to Light because he was holding onto Misa's death note. Then in the woods when they did the Round Robin, Light returned Misa's death note to Rem, because the death note can only be returned to the shinigami who originally owned the notebook, not any random shinigami on the block. Rem transferred ownership to Ryuk, who then dropped the death note on the ground. THAT was when it technically became Beyond's but when Light picked it up again not two seconds later, it became his. The explanation behind this is later, when Rem uses a piece of Higuchi's death note to allow Misa to see her, but touching the scrap doesn't return Misa her memories. Basically, since Beyond had a full sheet from Misa's death note, ownership went to him when Ryuk dropped it, but because Light picked up the entire death note, it overrode Beyond's ownership because obviously, the larger piece of the death note (aka: the binding/jacket) wins out. Anywho - it wasn't until Light gave up the death note while in confinement that it fully became Beyond's. This is because Ryuk, being the shinigami overseeing the human owning the death note at the time, was still tied to the death note buried in the woods, and when Light relinquished ownership, Ryuk couldn't fully take back the death note because a piece of it was still in the human world. Upon finding Beyond in a similar fashion to how Sidoh found Mello [looking the hard way], Ryuk brought him to the rest of the death note so that he could claim "full ownership" of it. Ryuk doesn't care that this wasn't in Light's plan AT ALL; he just sees this as potential amusement. Also, I highly doubt that Ryuk fully understands all of these complicated ownership rules, nor would learning them have any appeal, so naturally he wouldn't question this.

Another note: remember back in chapter seven when Beyond was explaining the inner workings of Wammy's House to KC? E was the person whom B asked KC, "You wanna hear what Rodger knows or the REAL story?" Had to tie that in somehow. X3 Also, back-stories are fun to write. And I keep having to rewrite scenes because I keep forgetting that Autumn doesn't know Japanese.