notes/warnings
+ hi everyone, here is a new chapter.
+ forming alliances and strategising.
Spy
But things don't stay good. L's failure still weighs on her heavily, an undercurrent to everything. She finds herself looking for the cracks in Near's armour and predicting Near's eventual and similar downfall.
And without any distractions, she worries about the notebook page. She worries, and still she can do nothing.
Jas is miserable.
Gabriel Mills folds her arms over her elaborate oak desk. This is her second office, her informal office. Very few people know about this place and those who do aren't police officers. They're spies, like Theo. Getting rid of annoying busybodies is a noble pursuit, especially when they're also geniuses. Theo approves.
"I've got a hook," he says, by way of greeting.
The back of his neck is clammy with sweat. Some people say that if you fail Gabriel Mills, you disappear. But those are only rumours, surely. She's the chief of police. She just likes to bend the rules a little.
Theo understands. He almost likes his current assumed identity. He's actually having fun.
Gabriel stares at him. Her eyes are clear, and her bright red, curly hair is perfectly groomed. She looks every inch a chief. Theo is possibly a little bit in love with her.
"Good," she says, mildly. "What resources do you require?"
"Category E," Theo says, pushing a sheaf of paper across the desk. Gabriel examines it briefly, and then flicks it aside.
"That can be arranged," she tells him. "How much time do you need?"
"I can do it in three weeks."
"Outcomes?"
"I'll be able to hand you the woman herself. Or better."
Gabriel nods approvingly. Theo isn't sure what he was so nervous about.
"Done," she says. "Do not fail me."
Theo swaggers back out into the hall. He definitely, definitely won't fail her.
When they get back to the station, Daniels has changed the locks on Teru's locker again. Teru doesn't even care. He storms right past his locker, down the hall and into Stanton's office. Finding it empty, he turns on his heel, storms past the cells, ignores Edison, ignores Edison's little wave, and violently opens the door to the break room.
No, says the little voice inside his head. No, you're too angry.
Stop.
You're going to start deleting people again.
But then it shuts up, because Stanton is in there, going over papers with fucking fucking Sergeant Marigold from Northwest, and even his conscience hates Stanton.
"Those kids were nearly killed," he says, blackly.
It's not what he wanted to say. He wanted to say something elegant, something eloquent, lawyer-perfect and damning. He isn't the same person as he was before, but he misses his old life.
"Constable Mikami, right?" Marigold asks. "Weren't you nearly arrested?"
Stanton doesn't say anything. She just stares at Mikami, as dead-eyed as ever.
"That doesn't matter," he snaps, trying to wave Marigold aside. She isn't part of this place. She doesn't understand. Southwest is a bag of defects. The old Teru would have killed everyone here with barely a second thought.
And without a moment's regret.
"It matters," Stanton says, voice dangerously quiet. "Had Mr Smythe pressed trespassing charges, you and Constable Butterscotch would have been permanently-"
"I don't care!" Teru yells. He slams his hand down on the table as hard as he can. Marigold flinches. Stanton doesn't react. "There were two kids in that house. If…if not for a stray goddamned cat they would both have been abducted. Our job is to protect people."
"Our job is to follow the rules," Stanton tells him, getting to her feet. "When you break the rules, you cease to be doing your job. Work health and safety codes do not allow officers to enter properties without a warrant. Recent studies show that forty percent of police injuries occur in unauthorised areas. And you could have-"
Teru closes his eyes against her monotonous tirade of stupidity.
"People will die," he says, suddenly exhausted. "People will die because of the way that you think."
Stanton fixes him with a glare that could demoralise an entire army.
"Then understand this," she says. "One, if I find that you have broken the rules again, you will be suspended. And two, keep your opinions to yourself."
"Yes, ma'am," Teru says. If he had a notebook right now, there would be an entire page covered with the words 'Lydia' and 'Stanton', a thousand times. He would have her die a thousand deaths. He would have her die infinitely.
No. That isn't how you should be thinking.
You're going to hurt someone.
But if Stanton disappears, then who will tell him what to do?
Teru leaves the break room, feeling miserable and cornered. This is the price he pays for being a monster.
When he gets outside, Berkshire is waiting for him. Nobody else is around.
"Constable Mikami," Berkshire says, softly. "Please step into my office. I think we need to talk."
Connor spends a good five minutes staring at L, while munching aggressively on a rubber torvosaurus.
L feels good today. Aiber managed to sweet talk a local bakery into a standing pickup order of one thousand pastries per week. Matsuda is trying to play tennis against the wall and failing endearingly. Everything is easy, everything is going well.
"Hello," he says to Connor, crouching lower on the ground. "Can we be friends?"
Connor bursts into tears and runs sobbing into the next room, hands over his face.
L isn't actually great with children. But that's okay. He's good enough with plenty of other things. Or he's getting better at other things, at least. That's what Naomi said and that's what L is going to believe.
"I told you," Naomi says, from across the room. "Connor is shy around everyone except me. He doesn't even talk to Matsuda."
L cannot imagine not wanting to talk to Matsuda. Although…wasn't there a time when he couldn't stand how silly Matsuda was? Wasn't there a time when he was utilitarian to the downfall of all else?
Didn't he used to be a different person?
"How did you die?" Naomi asks, as if she can read his mind. "What happened to you after I left the second world?"
"Everything went on much the same," L says, evasively. "And I told you that I was stabbed."
Naomi nods thoughtfully.
"Look, I understand that you don't want to tell me everything," she says, grudgingly. "But I am worried about you."
L feels promptly and overwhelmingly defensive.
"You told me I was just out of practice," he points out.
"I'm not talking about your skills," Naomi says. "I'm talking about your attitude. Since when were you everyone's best friend?"
L tilts his head, uncertain as how to answer.
"Matsuda and I have been friends since the second world, and-"
"That's not really what I mean," Naomi says. "You're too soft, and you're too open. L, the entire police force is possibly against you, and you are making more enemies with every case. Somebody is going to get hurt."
L stares at his deputy. On some level, he feels deeply embarrassed. On some level he can imagine what his inner Near would have to say about him here, fawning over Matsuda and trying to befriend a child and ignoring one of the most dangerous villains in the world. But L smothered his inner Near to death the day that he found his team again.
Well, don't look at me, his inner Mello says. You have literally no idea what I'm like. I'm not even sure why I exist.
The hell-god hinted that L's mother was in this world. L cannot ascertain how much of a danger she might be. Additionally, someone here has a page from Jas' notebook. And he cannot ignore the possibility that Light may one day return. So there are three significant enemies, and he has no idea how to track or defeat any of them. Any weakness he has might be used against him.
But then, when does he get to be human? When, if not now? Will he go on, eternally, always being his old persona, always hunted, never safe? When does he get to have a girlfriend or a hobby, or decide whether he wants kids?
"Leave me alone," he says, suddenly not wanting to talk to Naomi at all.
"But-"
"Nobody is going to get hurt," L tells her. "I'm going to go on like this, and I'm still going to protect everyone."
Sergeant Berkshire bolts the door firmly behind them.
"I'm going to be frank with you," he says, sucking in a deep breath. "We don't have very much time."
Constable Mikami wears his heart on his sleeve. His dislike of the chief of police is easily inferred. His dislike of Sergeant Stanton is an indisputable fact. And his support for L…well, that's enough to make him Berkshire's ally.
They want the same things, but the police force is a dangerous place. They say that people who go against the chief disappear. And Stanton is the chief's eyes and ears in the Southwest. They're walking on eggshells as it is.
Mikami stares at him with equal measures of fear and hope.
"I'll make this quick," Berkshire says, tugging at his moustache. "I think Mills has a vendetta against L. I want you to nod if you think the same thing."
Mikami nods rapidly. Berkshire has been over his office for bugs, and he's pretty damn good at making sure a room is secure. Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful. No point in getting both of them killed, if he's missed something.
Berkshire lives on the edge. He thrives on danger. He spent thirty years in the army in the second world. He cannot stand to see evil triumph, or to see freedom quashed. He cannot stand people like Lydia Stanton or Gabriel Mills, or that snake Ivan Daniels.
"I have a plan," Berkshire continues, softly. He's excited to share his thoughts with someone. He's excited to make progress. And he is relieved that he is not alone in the police force. "Stanton is Mills' mouthpiece, but she's more than that. I believe Mills trusts her, and that she is privy to important information."
"How long have you been researching this?" Mikami asks, sounding awed.
"Don't speak unless you need to," Berkshire warns. "While you were distracting her just then, I managed to place a single tap in Stanton's office. Under the door."
If Stanton is listening to this conversation, she'll remove the bug right now and he'll know immediately that this place isn't safe. He'll have some warning. Berkshire may not be a genius hero like L, but he's no fool either.
"I want you to help me by listening to the feed during your spare time when you're not at work," Berkshire continues. "If we learn anything, we can plan accordingly. We can try and intercept any efforts to capture L or his followers. And we can learn of any other noxious plans the officers might be hatching."
Mikami is still nodding, head bobbing desperately like he's been waiting for this is whole life. Good.
"This is a dangerous venture," Berkshire continues. "If we are caught, we may not even be given a trial. I don't know what will happen. If you don't wish to be involved, please leave now."
Mills is the most powerful person in England. And Stanton is a crack shot with a pistol. But if they're considered to be enough of a threat, they won't be treated to a quick and painless gunshot death.
Berkshire wants to be enough of a threat. He wants to make a damn difference.
"I want to be involved," Mikami says, thickly. "I want to…please let me help you."
"I told you not to speak," Berkshire says, irritably.
"We're in this together," Mikami says, eagerly. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."
Berkshire smiles broadly.
"All right," he agrees. "Let's do this."
[Fivenine] – are you there, my darling?
[Goldilocks] – don't call me darling, it's creepy. I hardly even know you.
[Fivenine] – sorry. Listen, I think I've found out a way to get a hold of one of L's agents.
[Goldilocks] – then do it. Come back to me when you have results.
[Goldilocks] – are you sure none of the others will work against you?
[Fivenine] – eh, it's too small a scale for Hangman to get involved, Volution won't care, and I don't know anything about Nocks.
[Goldilocks] – find out about Nocks.
[Fivenine] – I can't. Nobody knows anything about Nocks.
[Goldilocks] – ugh, whatever. You had better not let me down.
[Fivenine] – never, my love.
[Fivenine] – hey, will I get to meet you in person after this?
/Goldilocks has signed out.
That scumbag, Mikami, has been sticking to Berkshire's side like a suckling calf. Right when Daniels was poised to get him fired, too.
Ivan Daniels does not like Mikami. Ivan has been a police constable for the last thirty years. He can tell whether people are innocent or criminal just by their smell. And Mikami practically reeks of criminality.
The last thing this world needs is a criminal in the esteemed police force.
But Berkshire isn't as easy as Stanton. Berkshire is clever, and intuitive, and he has been guarding Mikami carefully.
Daniels doesn't want any trouble. He needs to leave Mikami alone.
For now.
"So what was Aiber's role in your team?" L asks Naomi. "Does he still function primarily as a confidence trickster?"
"Yes," Naomi replies. "When there aren't any cases, we use his skills to obtain any equipment we might need without a paper trail."
"Which is good, since we can't really get things delivered here," Matsuda pipes up.
L has noticed that they don't get anything delivered.
"Is it really so unsafe?" he wonders.
"It's not just unsafe," Naomi says. "When I was trying to find a place for the new headquarters, I already had an inkling that you would have powerful enemies here. Although we're close to the city, our current building is actually on military-owned land. Locals know the area quite well, of course, but the place is a network of similar-looking roads. The road we're situated on literally has no name, and can only be identified from the surrounding roads by marking it on a map."
"That way it's more difficult for me to accidentally tell anyone where we are," Matsuda sings out.
Naomi smiles, but the smile disappears from her face when she turns back to L. She's still unhappy with him.
L just wants things to go back to the way they were before.
But he doesn't want to go back to the way he was before. All he has left of Rae is the changes that Rae made to his life. And L is not willing to give those up.
"Well, that wasn't the only reason," Naomi says. "But you can see how it's useful."
"Very useful," L says. "You did very well setting everything up in my absence."
"Thank you," Naomi replies, politely.
"Northwest is led by Sergeant Maryanne Marigold," Wedy deadpans. "She was only recently promoted from Deputy-Sergeant. The security in her house is above average, but there is no other evidence that she's particularly paranoid. She will occasionally disregard orders from higher up, but only if they compromise the safety of her officers. She hasn't shown any inclination of supporting L, so we should consider her an enemy for now."
"Still," L says, examining the single, grainy photograph of Marigold that Wedy managed to procure. "It sounds as if both of the sergeants at Northwest are reasonable people, so we may be able to persuade them to help us if necessary."
"Maybe," Wedy says, doubtfully. "But a lot of people are scared of Gabriel Mills. Do you want to hear about her next, or Southwest?"
"Southwest," L says, decisively. "Then the chief."
Naomi smiles to herself, and continues scouring the international news on her laptop. Wedy is an incredible resource, and she can obtain information on just about anyone. And Naomi is glad to see that L is using his down-time wisely. Sooner or later the police force is going to cause them serious trouble, and they don't have a single viable ally to help them.
Anushka, maybe, Naomi thinks. Anushka showed promise.
"Kylie Butterscotch," Wedy tells L, gesturing to a picture of a young blonde woman with a big smile and a butch haircut. "Naïve, idealistic, and willing to bend the rules if pressured."
"That's useful," L murmurs.
Yesterday, Wedy and Naomi exchanged a few more words. Wedy is concerned by L's refusal to guard his own vulnerabilities, and Naomi doesn't blame her. As long as he remains this soft, someone is going to hurt him. It's only a matter of who and how and how soon?
We have to protect him, then, Wedy had said, as if delivering an undeniable truth. If he's going to be an idiot about it, then we have to make up for his shortcomings.
Yes, Naomi had replied.
Of course, Wedy has her own weaknesses. So does Naomi. Everyone has weaknesses, but L has too many for someone who is such a huge target. In the third world, it is common knowledge that L defeated Kira. L isn't just a famous figure, he's an ideology. Everyone knows about L.
"Ivan Daniels," Wedy says, pointing at a photograph of a sneering, hook-nosed man. "Deputy Sergeant at Southwest, a proud bigot who believes he can identify criminals by their appearance. Unpleasant, but easy to fool if you play into his ego."
"Also useful to know," L says, smiling openly at Wedy. "Can we use him to get to his superior?"
"Absolutely not," Wedy replies, gesturing towards a fourth picture with the end of her cigarette. "Sergeant Lydia Stanton, professional brick wall. Law-abiding to the point of obstructive, and direct minion of Gabriel Mills. If an order comes from the top, Stanton will see it executed. Interestingly, I couldn't actually get inside her house. She has a custom security system but her guard dog practically licked my face. I suspect she's been set up by someone else to be well protected, but she isn't particularly skilled at protecting herself."
Naomi has been through all of this with Wedy months ago, of course. She knows the details of the local police officers. She's seen the photographs, although they are so grainy and vague as to be almost useless.
"So she cannot be reasoned with, but she can possibly be fooled," L surmises. "Wedy, this is all excellent work."
"I know," Wedy replies.
Naomi scrolls idly. There has been a spate of small-scale thefts in northern London. The thief always seems to target rich people, but only ever seems to steal portable computers. It's an odd operation, but not necessarily one that requires L. Naomi will monitor it over the next few days.
L and Wedy are still discussing police officers.
"The other Southwest sergeant is a man called Bernard Berkshire," Wedy says. "Military history, strong morals, well-liked by his colleagues. His stance on L is unknown, but I suspect that he would be swayed if we made a good case."
"And the last one?" L asks.
"Teru Mikami," Wedy says.
For a moment, neither of them speak.
"This is the same Teru Mikami who worked for Kira in the first world?" L enquires, cautiously.
"Yes," Wedy says. "Matsuda is certain that it's him. He's a paranoid, confused person, but judging from things I found around his home, he openly supports you."
"I don't like that," L says, chewing on his thumb. "I have had nothing to do with him. He must be trying to find me as a way to get to Light."
"Light's in hell," Naomi interrupts, loudly. "He isn't coming back."
She can't have L wallowing in fear, or panicking. They all need to believe that Light will never come back. Because Light is never coming back.
"But is Mikami sure of that?" L asks. "Either way, I don't want to liaise with Mikami. If we need to infiltrate the police, Berkshire and Butterscotch are our best bets. Wedy, what do you know about the chief of police? Don't tell me you managed to break in to her house?"
"I'm not game to try," Wedy says. "She's the driving force behind the ban on associating with you. She was promoted to the top job a few months ago, despite the fact that she was only enrolled with the police about a month before that. She's very efficient, and has a number of rumours surrounding her."
"What sort of rumours?" L wonders.
"People who don't comply with her disappearing," Naomi supplies. "The usual sorts of rumours that are circulated around powerful women who aren't immediately warm and welcoming."
"Either way," Wedy says, "her security is too good for me to trifle with, unless specifically needed. There's a good chance I'd be caught."
L nods.
"Leave her alone for now," he says. "I don't need you putting yourself at risk with a metaphorical bounty on your head. Naomi, did you find any cases?"
Naomi closes her computer.
"Nothing solid yet," she answers.
It's been a slow day.
Teru's house is bare and utilitarian. He owns a bookcase, a table, a single chair, and a bed. He doesn't have use for anything else.
He sits down at the table and opens the laptop. It's not his laptop, it's a cheap model with no registration and no internet connection. If questioned, he could feasibly claim to have never seen it before.
Sergeant Berkshire thinks of everything. Teru feels a rush of warmth at the mere thought of his new mentor. These past few days, Teru has had both guidance and purpose, and he had thought he would never experience both things at once ever again. But now he doesn't have to adhere to Stanton's pointless rules, nor does he have to resign to Light's chaotic goals. Because there is someone in the world who agrees with him, and is also undeniably good.
Teru opens up a nondescript audio program. If everything has worked correctly, he is about to be privy to every word ever said in the privacy of Stanton's office.
Initially, the recording is of nothing but background noise, and Teru waits, heart in his throat. Then he hears a voice crackle to life.
The recording started at three o'clock, he thinks. That means it must be around three thirteen at the time of this conversation.
Teru has a near-perfect internal clock.
"My sincere apologies for missing your call," Stanton deadpans. "I've just returned from a meeting."
The background noise changes in quality. Someone else is speaking, but the tap isn't strong enough to pick up the voice on the other end of the phone.
"Yes, Chief," Stanton says, with probably as much emphasis as she can manage. "Of course. I have been keeping a close eye on Berkshire and Marigold as per your instructions."
Teru feels as if his insides have turned to ice.
Matsuda tugs gently at a lock of hair dangling from his spiky blond wig. Lady Irforth refused to go into detail over the phone, so he's visiting her in person and in disguise.
"You're not what I expected from an employee of L," Irforth says, staring at him critically.
"I'm a contractor," Matsuda lies. "Besides, L is well aware of the current situation with the police. If you made contact with anyone suspicious, you'd be in trouble. Do I seem suspicious to you?"
He already knows the answer to that, of course. Matsuda is a patented, obvious idiot. He's never really tried to deny that fact, and he's glad he can use it to be of some use to L. He's glad to have L back. He's glad for everything really; they are all together and the world is a beautiful place and they might even have a new case to solve.
He feels a pang of guilt when the phrase 'all together' crosses his mind. He thinks of Raye Penber, who was more of a father-figure than Matsuda's own stepfather, and the absolute broken shambles of a human being who was Mail Jeevas. He hopes they both catch up soon.
"No," Irforth says, smiling blandly. "You seem ordinary."
Matsuda is super ordinary. He's literally like most other people in the world. L could replace him in a heartbeat, but L never does.
So then, he isn't ordinary. He's lucky.
"You said you were having some trouble with thieves."
Irforth sinks gracefully onto a plush chair, and motions for Matsuda to do the same. A large chinchilla cat appears from nowhere and curls up on her lap, purring arrhythmically.
"I speak for myself and several others," she begins. "This has happened at least three times to my knowledge; once to me, once to my cousin, and once to a distant acquaintance. A sophisticated burglar disables the alarm system remotely somehow, and then enters the house and steals a single item."
Matsuda glances around, at the diamond-encrusted crockery and the expensive paintings on display. Then he turns back to Irforth.
"But-" he begins.
"Why not steal anything else?" Irforth finishes. "Why not steal anything of value? I have wondered the same thing. And the saga becomes more puzzling; after my laptop was stolen, I took measures to ensure the security of my bank accounts. Despite employing some of the best technicians available, two days later, ten thousand dollars was taken from my accounts."
"Of course," Matsuda says. "That's what the laptop was for! Hacking!"
"Where did L hire you?" Irforth wonders. "Is there a place that rents out ditzes? Ten thousand dollars is nothing. In my fortune, it's barely worth noticing. That's why the others didn't report the same thing happening to them. A robbery, and such a small loss? They were relieved."
"But you weren't," Matsuda observes.
"I fear whoever did this still has access to our accounts," Irforth concludes. "They can break even the best online security. I sense this is the beginning of a spate of crime, and I fear the worst is yet to come. I will pay L handsomely to resolve this issue without alerting the police. All the information I have is in this dossier."
Irforth produces a large file from beneath the table and hands it to Matsuda. Then she looks at him expectantly until he realises that they're done.
"L will be in touch to discuss the details," he says, bouncing to his feet. "Thank you, Lady Irforth."
"Don't let me down," she replies, sternly, by way of a goodbye.
"Aren't you worried?" Teru asks, fighting down the urge to wring his hands.
"Not at all," Berkshire replies. "If Stanton had any proof, she'd have mentioned it. It's only natural for Mills to ask her to keep an eye on the other Sergeants. And now we have proof that the two of them are in cahoots."
"I suppose," Teru says, doubtfully. "But please, be careful."
"We'll always be careful," Berkshire promises.
tbc
a/n
+ thank you for reading.
+ my real life is still incredibly busy and will probably remain so for the rest of the year. updates will be sporadic and may be months apart.
+ BUT I am definitely continuing with this fic and writing in my (meagre) spare time. TTL will definitely get finished, it's just going to take a little while.
+ that said, thank you for your patience.