notes/warnings
+ I am back just like I said I'd be back.
+ warning for violence and language.
+ busy chapter with lots of different things happening.
Relative
"This is interesting," L says, thumbing his lower lip. "An apparently amateur crime, conducted by someone who is obviously a professional."
"Is it really that amateur?" Aiber asks, leaning over him to peer at his monitor. "It's feasible that a hacker might only steal a relatively small amount of money from any given person at any given time, even if their victims are rich."
"What's not feasible is the property theft," L tells him. "Why steal the laptop at all? Why not just hack those computers remotely?"
"Maybe the laptop security prevented it from being hacked," Matsuda suggests, from across the room.
It's a ridiculous notion, but L smiles at him anyway, and he grins back.
"No, sweetheart," Wedy tells him. "Our data shows that the Irforths' computer had abysmal security, and so did their internet connection."
"That is weird," Matsuda says, rubbing his mouth.
Naomi hasn't said a word in several minutes. She sorts silently through the documents, her frown deepening slowly. L isn't sure how he managed without her for all these months. It's amazing that she needs him at all.
Actually, that gives him an idea.
"Naomi," he says, softly. "Would you like to take this case?"
Naomi looks up at him.
"We already agreed to take it," she points out.
"I meant, would you like to head this case?" L clarifies. "I would very much like to see how you work without my influence. Maybe I could learn something from you."
Naomi doesn't hesitate.
"No," she replies. "I didn't enjoy pretending to be you, and I don't really want to do it again unless absolutely necessary."
Of course. The role of a deputy is not the same as a leader-in-training. L nods, perhaps a little more than is strictly necessary. He cannot find the words or the actions to express his gratitude at being with these wonderful people again, but he tries as best he can.
"And also specifically, I think we should have all resources available for this case," Naomi continues. "Whoever is doing this is probably looking for attention. I think we should be aware that they may be seeking your attention."
"It is more likely to be the attention of the police," L muses, "but I agree that my attention is a secondary possibility."
"And if they're after your attention, they're probably people you don't ever want to meet," Aiber says, darkly. "I agree, we should be careful."
Actually, there are several people in the world – people who could feasibly be trying to contact L in creative ways – who L would love to meet. At the top of that list is Rae, of course. L cannot afford to be too reclusive, lest he miss someone precious to him. But the others do not need to know this. Not yet.
"I concur," he says. "But this case offers significant remuneration, so we must proceed with it. Naomi, can you please examine the similarities between the victims. It will be useful if we know where the thieves will strike next. Wedy and Aiber, I would like you to explore your own networks and see if any of your peers know who is committing these crimes. I will speak to the involved internet companies and see if they can shed any more light on the situation."
"I can't help?" Matsuda asks, forlornly.
L hesitates, desperately scrambling for something non-demeaning for Matsuda to do. The man doesn't have any specific talents, and he isn't as reliable as the others, but L knows he hates to be left out.
"You can look after Connor," Naomi tells him, before L can come up with a better answer.
Matsuda sighs loudly.
"Okay," he says. "I can help properly though, if you want."
"You're always here when I need you," L tells him, pointedly. "That is your role in this team."
Matsuda brightens up.
"Yeah," he says. "Hey, you know who we could really use? M. This case is going to be hard without a hacker of our own, right?"
"He is still in the second world," L says. "So we'll have to manage without him."
L really, really hopes that Mail is okay. He hopes that the second world is being kind to Mail. He has only ever wanted the best for his pseudo-children, and yet they seem to get nothing but the worst.
But there really isn't anything he can do about that right now.
"Okay," Matsuda says, enthusiastically. "Let's do this! Let's catch criminals and save the world."
"We always do," Wedy points out.
Yes. They always do.
Nearly always, anyway.
Time is a linear thing, isn't it?
Is it?
Raye Penber and Mail Something both tried to rewrite time. To transport themselves back to something that happened in the past. They both failed uneventfully, perhaps because the very concept is impossible.
For three weeks of my life…
But perhaps they simply weren't smart enough.
…I was actually happy.
He should have stayed in hell. He was better off in hell. He was – goddamnit it – he had everything in hell. He had plans and he was winning and it was all a lie, all of it was a lie.
But it was enough. To be a god, and to be nearly king, and to fly, and to have L. It was enough. And the internet is a conglomeration of knowledge, of thousands of different people researching time travel, and Light has all the time in the world. He has nothing but fucking time and darkness and hundreds of flickering screens.
"Wrow," Shadow says, and puts her head in his lap.
Light considers breaking her neck, just to prove that he's better than someone, but he doesn't. If L found out that Light killed a cat, L wouldn't be surprised. In fact, L would probably have predicted that turn of events with one hundred percent certainty.
But if L found out that Rae killed a cat, L would be disappointed. And Light… is… Rae.
Light slams his fist down onto the keyboard, hard enough that the cheap plastic cracks in half. He bites his tongue against the pain that shoots up his arm. He can't attract the attention of the neighbours, nobody must ever find him.
Shadow doesn't react, and Light hates her almost as much as he hates L.
"All of the targets had a net worth of about forty million dollars," Naomi says, thoughtfully. Connor is playing at her feet, because Matsuda is terrible at watching Connor. "They also had electronic security systems."
"That narrows it down to a few hundred people," L muses. "But it doesn't tell us much about the motives of the criminals involved."
"I'm still comparing the data," Naomi reminds him, gently. "My work isn't complete yet."
She feels as if she has to treat him kindly. He's changed so much and she doesn't know why and she's scared of hurting him. And she shouldn't have to be concerned about such things. They used to be perfect, as leader and deputy, but now they're just good. And that is worrying.
"If the thief continues to attack every fourth day," L continues, "then he will make another move tomorrow night. But to predict the location of the crime, we require either his pattern or his motivation."
"The thief?" Naomi asks, mildly. "Hasn't Matsuda given him a name yet?"
"I think he was leaning towards Weird Stealing Hacker Person," L informs him, not bothering to hide his amusement. "But he hadn't made up his mind."
"I see," Naomi replies.
She smiles at him, and he doesn't seem to notice that her expression is strained, and her shoulders a little too tense.
Naomi just wants things to go back to the way they were before.
When Gabriel Mills first became chief, she mandated a regimen of personality tests for all of her employees. The tests allowed her to know her own staff, to better understand their desires and weaknesses. From the results, she sorted her staff into trustworthy and not trustworthy, into loyal and likely-to-be-bought. And then she divided her loyal staff around the regions, placing most of them in positions of power.
A loyal police force is a cohesive police force. And a cohesive police force catches more criminals.
Criminals like, for example, the thief known as 'Wedy'.
And those who employ criminals, of course, are invariably also criminals. And that will be the logic she uses once the force has become sufficiently alienated from L, accustomed to L being the enemy. Wedy is the pilot fish for her boss.
Mills sorts through the files on her desk. Northwest London is still problematic. Marigold is too headstrong. Her tests showed that she has an impulsive nature, and too much loyalty to her team. In the force, an officer's loyalty should always point upwards, not downwards.
Mills has plans to incorporate Northwest into Southwest, and promote Stanton above Marigold. Lydia Stanton is one of the most trustworthy employees. She will do literally anything for authority, for the rules. And Mills writes the rules. Stanton has no emotions, no family, and no other drives in her life. She will not be swayed, no matter what L does.
And the thing that nobody else knows is this: Lydia Stanton was – no, is – a professional murderer. It's a secret, of course. Nobody likes to talk about the criminals in the police force, but sometimes they can be extraordinarily useful. All Mills needs to do is write the right rules, find L, and point Stanton at him.
But one thing at a time. Right now, she must wait for Theo to deliver.
Wedy, first. Then L.
"The link is the insurance company!" Matsuda exclaims, pointing one hand straight up in the air.
"Naomi figured that out about an hour ago," Aiber tells him, patting him on the shoulder.
"Last time I was seventy minutes behind," Matsuda enthuses. "I'm getting better!"
Aiber smiles and doesn't point out that Matsuda only fluctuates around a low average. He never gets better. He will always be stupid, and he will never improve.
But he will also always be the man who shot Kira, and that's enough for Aiber.
"We've pinpointed the location of the next theft," Naomi tells L. "The Wilston Estate. The Wilstons are one of three other families who have the same insurance company as the victims."
L spins thoughtfully in his chair.
"So the thief's real target is likely this insurance company," he says, nimbly flicking through a handful of notes. "Platinum Brothers Incorporated."
"I'd say so," Wedy drawls. "If they're insuring millionaires, they must have billions of dollars in reserve. It makes sense if the motivation is financial."
"That still doesn't explain the combined hacking and theft, when hacking alone would work just as well," Naomi says, and she sounds concerned. "I feel like this is the motive they wanted us to find."
"Why not one of the other two families?" Aiber wonders. "How are we sure this is the Wilstons?"
"Oh, I know this!" Matsuda says, beaming. "It's because they're going in order of policy number. The Wilstons have the next smallest number after the Irforths, while the Bedel-Smythes and the Flannigans must have signed up later."
"Which also bothers me," Naomi points out. "It's such a pedestrian, predictable pattern."
"But since we have no hackers at our disposal," L points out, "the only way to progress this case is to go to the Wilston Estate tonight and apprehend whoever is performing the theft. Since we cannot be sure of the cooperation of the Wilston family, we will do this without their knowledge."
"This sounds like my sort of thing," Wedy purrs, tossing her hair.
Aiber shakes his head, somewhat affectionately.
Always so vain, old friend.
"In a way," L agrees. "But I will be accompanying you."
Wedy lowers her eyelids and spears L with a repulsed glare, reminiscent of her expression that time Aiber tried to wear spotted pants with a checked shirt.
"No," she says, flatly. "Another person will only slow me down. Especially someone who has no experience in my field of work."
"I agree," Naomi says, quickly.
L shakes his head.
"If Weird Stealing Hacker Person is truly after my attention, then they will have done some research into my methods," he explains. "They will know about you, and they will know you operate alone. They will not be expecting you to have a companion."
Wedy considers this, hands on her hips. There's a rumour that her mother used to be a model, and if that's true, then Aiber can certainly see the family resemblance.
"I'm insulted," Wedy says, "but I accept that reasoning on one condition. As the master burglar, I should be allowed to choose who I'm partnered with."
L's expression does not change. It seems as if his face has momentarily frozen. He's probably surprised at Wedy's outright rejection. Which is weird, because Aiber never used to be able to read L at all. Now he's a semi-open book.
"I will defer to your experience," L says, tersely.
"I choose Naomi," Wedy says, without hesitation.
"I accept," Naomi replies, sounding almost…rehearsed?
Wait, are the girls trying to keep L from getting involved in this case?
"Then I will be your point of contact here," L says. "We need to be prepared for the worst. Anything happening to either of you is unacceptable."
In response, Naomi pulls her gun from its holster and spins it around her index finger.
"Nothing is going to happen," she replies.
"This is so exciting!" Matsuda says, but then Matsuda always sort of misses the point of everything.
Teru and Edison attend what is supposed to be a small-scale drug deal. But it turns out to be large-scale, and they end up walking into a room containing three high-profile hardened criminals, with their badges clearly visible and no easy route of escape.
"A copper killed my brother," one of the dealers hisses, and rams his tattooed elbow into Edison's windpipe.
Edison collapses to the floor with a whimper. He's too young for this, and he's too new for this. Out of the corner of his eye, Teru sees another dealer reach for his gun. Teru reacts without thinking. He lunges at the man, grabs him by the throat and bodily slams him against the wall.
No bad evil kill destroy delete.
Teru takes a step back, shaking his head furiously as the man crumples to the floor and lies motionless. The third drug dealer – a short man with a big hat – is suddenly on Teru's back, trying to choke him. Teru manages to turn his head just far enough to see the tattooed assailant kick hard at Edison's ribs.
This is a death trap, he thinks, desperately. Daniels sent us into a death trap.
Teru's hand closes around his own weapon, a particularly cheap brand of taser. There are hands on his throat and he can't breathe and Edison is maybe dying and he doesn't know what to do. He can't just attack someone. He can't be trusted. The most dangerous person in this room is Teru Mikami, and Edison will never understand that.
Tattoos kicks again, and Edison wails loudly.
Sometimes tasers malfunction. Sometimes they kill people. Sometimes people get deleted, just by accident, and isn't that how it all starts? Wasn't that how Light started?
They should never have come here. Teru should never have entered the police force. He should be able to save his friend, but he doesn't know what to do. He can't let himself make decisions. He's already rendered someone unconscious, possibly dead.
Teru glances desperately at his radio. It remains stubbornly silent; help is not coming. Every muscle in Teru's body is crying out for air. Edison is still howling, and he was the closest thing Teru ever had to a friend.
Was.
And then the door bursts open behind them, and there, illuminated in the fading sunlight, gun in each hand, feral grin on face, is Berkshire.
"Not today, fuckers," he growls.
[Fivenine] – yo.
[Volution] – yo. So how is this thing going to impress your latest crush?
[Fivenine] – swimmingly. That girl is so hot, seriously. Hottest person IN THE WORLD.
[Volution] – yeah yeah you said that about Roderick too.
[Volution] – besides how do you even know what she looks like? I thought you'd never met her.
[Fivenine] – I've seen pictures of her.
[Volution] – she sent you pictures?
[Fivenine] – not exactly.
[Volution] – ugh dude if you hacked some girls computer just to drool over pictures of her that is seriously not cool. That shit is private.
[Fivenine] – I didn't do that either. Don't worry I'm not a creep.
[Volution] – uh huh. So what's this awesome plan to get L's attention?
[Volution] – don't even bother trying to tell me how getting L's attention relates to this girl. Just tell me about the plan.
[Fivenine] – you only ever want to hear about the plan. All plot and no romance makes for a boring story, you know.
[Volution] – that is so much bullshit. My story is going to be all plot and no romance. It's going to be a story of a tyrant that rules the world and a hero who tries to stop them.
[Fivenine] – oh man, are you twelve? Nobody over the age of twelve fantasises about saving the world from a bad guy.
[Volution] – no way. I'm going to be the tyrant.
[Volution] – or maybe more like a god.
[Volution] – I'm already one of the four most important people in the world, you know.
[Volution] – it's all uphill from here.
[Fivenine] - …
[Fivenine] – egomaniac.
[Volution] – less name calling, more plan.
[Fivenine] – okay, well.
[Fivenine] – I've committed a series of simple, yet inexplicable crimes. A clever combination of theft and hacking.
[Volution] – yeah you explained that bit to me.
[Fivenine] - by now one of the victims has surely turned to L, and L has surely worked out the pattern.
[Fivenine] – meaning that I can predict exactly where an agent of L will be tonight.
[Fivenine] – and when they arrive, I will be waiting.
[Fivenine] - :)
Wedy shows her a few basic tools of thieving. A two-rope pulley, a grappling hook, and a really neat silencer.
"Now that is cool," Naomi murmurs, screwing the silencer onto her favourite gun.
"No, it was all cool," Wedy says, with certainty. "You're just a philistine."
Wedy doesn't sound like she's joking. The two of them have never really gotten along, but nobody else seems to notice.
"I'm a philistine," Matsuda pipes up.
Connor glares at him. Then he picks up a small Ambulocetus and tries to stuff it in the end of his toy gun.
"Yes you are, sweetheart," Wedy tells Matsuda. "But I'm busy right now, okay?"
Naomi runs the plan through her head for the fifth time since lunch. Wedy will disarm the perimeter alarm, and they'll enter the premises from the northern side. The Wilston Estate has three main buildings, and they want to enter the smallest building through a disused servant's quarters on the second floor. Then they'll need to scour the building, locate all personal laptops, and wait for the thief to arrive.
Naomi inhales slowly. It's okay. She's done far more difficult things with far less help. And at least this mission doesn't involve Kiyomi Takada or fucking Light Yagami.
"I will be contactable by radio and phone," L pipes up. He's been so silent that Naomi had momentarily forgotten he was in the room. "Please contact me if you require anything."
"Thanks," Naomi says, smiling.
I really wish I could trust you right now, she thinks.
Because she just. She isn't sure.
Wedy refused to let herself or Naomi be bugged, so L can do nothing except wait by the phone, in front of the computer, in case he is needed. He is uncomfortable with sending his deputy into a situation that could be a trap, but he trusts Wedy's judgement and her prowess in her field. And if Rae is the one trying to reach him, then Rae will surely be smart enough to find a way to contact him through Naomi or Wedy.
L hopes.
Matsuda ambles into the room and flops into a chair, one leg dangling over the arm rest. He smiles broadly at L and L smiles back. He can still remember how he felt in the second world. He can still recall the consuming, desperate regret of failing to save Matsuda from danger. He is relieved to have this third world, this second chance.
"Can I talk to you?" Matsuda asks.
"Yes," L replies.
Their colleagues won't even have arrived at the Wilston Estate yet. He can afford to give Matsuda some much-earned attention. Besides, Matsuda never really wants to talk about anything serious, so the conversation is unlikely to be taxing.
"How are the others?" Matsuda asks. "I mean, how were they when you last saw them?"
L considers this for a moment.
"Raye Penber spent a lot of time grieving for Naomi," he answers, honestly. "I am not sure that he believed in the existence of a third world. But he recovered, and I believe he became accustomed to the situation."
"I wonder if he's become accustomed to you being dead yet?" Matsuda wonders, curiously.
L hadn't really thought about that. Raye always seemed to be able to operate completely independently of him, and L can't imagine his death would have changed that.
"I don't know," he replies.
"And M?"
"The same as ever," L muses. "He had one moment of achievement, but even that seemed to fade quickly."
"He's never going to change, is he?" Matsuda says, morosely. "When someone close to you dies, it really screws you up."
L tilts his head in surprise.
"Naomi told me a bit about him," Matsuda explains, interpreting his unspoken question correctly. "I hope that was okay."
So, Naomi was taking matters into her own hands even before L had arrived here. That is somewhat comforting. Perhaps her newly established propensity to doubt him was not caused by his current state of mind after all, perhaps it was inevitable. And it's not as if L blames her for making decisions on his behalf in his absence; that is the definition of a deputy. And Naomi is a damn good deputy.
"It is okay," L agrees. "But if you ever see Mail again, please don't expect him to speak with you about his situation."
"Got it," Matsuda replies.
Because despite L's best efforts, chances are that when Mail does die, it will be due to natural, normal causes. If the conditions of the death note are never met – and they likely won't be – then Mail will go on in this world as he did in the second world, lonely and alone.
Some things cannot be fixed. Some people cannot be saved.
"What about, um," Matsuda ventures. "Um. What was the death god called?"
"Rae," L breathes.
Rae's name burns in his throat, so important, too important. Which is a ridiculous notion, because vocally it is identical to Raye Penber's first name. But when it refers to his Rae, the word is loaded and different.
No more ridiculous than any other set of homophones, L decides. Different words mean different things, even if they sound the same.
He's not as irrational as Naomi and Wedy seem to think.
HHe's
"Oh yeah, that must have been confusing," Matsuda comments, lightly. "What happened to Rae?"
L takes a deep breath.
"Rae was killed," he answers, somewhat honestly.
"Rae is dead?" Matsuda asks, sitting up straighter. "Geeze, that's awful. I'm so sorry."
"I am sorry, too," L echoes. "Rae was my charge."
"How do Shinigami even die?" Matsuda wonders. "Does that mean it might be here in the third world?"
"Maybe," L replies evasively.
Anything he tells Matsuda will inevitably be revealed to the others. He needs to be careful.
"I hope so," Matsuda replies.
[Volution] – waiting to do what? Capture them?
[Fivenine] – no, just give them a message.
[Fivenine] – her message.
[Fivenine] – damn that woman is fine.
[Volution] – worst story ever.
"So, nothing's improved with L," Wedy comments, without looking around, without taking her hand from the steering wheel.
"He is determined not to change," Naomi tells her. "I honestly don't know how to interpret that."
Wedy shrugs.
"At least he's still stubborn, I guess," she ventures, smoothly. "But he's still going to have to sink or swim on his own. I'm not going to babysit him."
In your whole life, Naomi wonders, have you ever looked after anyone other than yourself?
"Do what you see fit," Naomi says, out loud.
Her relationship with Wedy has never been anything other than strictly professional, and purely functional. Wedy offered Naomi her loyalty because Naomi was a stand-in for L. And now that he's back, they have a mutual interest in figuring out what the fuck is wrong with him. But beyond that, they have nothing in common. Naomi is exhausted by Wedy's shallow approach to life, and her preoccupation with being better than everyone else. And in turn, Naomi suspects Wedy must be disgusted by her dowdiness, her failures, and her inability to provide witty conversation.
"Okay, so there's something else you should know," Wedy says. "In the first world, Mr and Mrs Wilston used to be friends with my mother. If they catch us, there is a small chance that they will recognise me."
Wedy's mother was some sort of socialite or something. Naomi narrows her eyes.
"That's kind of an important detail to leave out," she says, suspiciously. "Why are you only telling me this now?"
"Well, one, because it's none of your business," Wedy replies. "And two, because I didn't want L to know."
"You can't just go deciding to hide things from L on your own," Naomi says. "I thought we were in this together."
Wedy shrugs.
"Sorry, but it's hard to take you seriously when you literally don't own an item of clothing that isn't black," she croons.
"This is serious," Naomi snaps.
"Clothes are important to me," Wedy retorts, effortlessly calm.
"L is important to me," Naomi tells her.
"That boy is important to everyone," Wedy says, exasperated. "A person can care about more than one thing at once, you know."
Naomi realises that she's struck a nerve.
"I'm sorry," she says, holding up her hands. "I didn't mean to imply what I implied."
Wedy doesn't reply, and they drive the rest of the distance in silence.
Berkshire doesn't speak to Teru for an entire day. Teru is almost relieved when he is finally summoned into the man's office.
"Why didn't you do anything?" Berkshire demands. "Why didn't you use your taser? Edison could have been killed. As it is, he's in intensive care. I thought you were the kind of man who wouldn't stand by and watch that sort of thing."
Teru is crushed. Any happiness he might have felt at Berkshire's presence in his life dissolves and disappears. How on earth is he supposed to explain himself to this man, who is so innately normal and human and okay?
"I'm here to take orders," Teru says, sounding pathetic and weak. "There…there are situations where I don't trust myself."
Berkshire scowls, his bushy eyebrows knitting together to form a tiny ginger haystack. Teru wants to melt into the floor. He wishes he had died and stayed dead. Some days he can hardly live with himself.
"Whatever haunts you," Berkshire says, quietly, "I don't want to know about it. I don't want to know if you're marked. We need to focus on the future, not the past."
Teru nods, surreptitiously smoothing his fringe.
"What I want," Berkshire continues, "is for us to work together. We have a common enemy, and that makes us allies, right?"
"Right," Teru chokes, feeling overwhelmingly relieved.
They're still doing this. They're still going to beat Stanton and save L. They're going to make a difference and then somehow he's going to be okay.
"Good," Berkshire replies. "Looks like you need to smarten up a bit, Constable Mikami, and I need to prevent Daniels from giving you any more dangerous errands."
"And Edison?" Teru asks, his voice shaking a little.
Edison has several broken ribs. He's on industrial-strength painkillers, and he might not be back to work for months.
"He'll live," Berkshire replies.
Teru nods, and turns to leave.
Everybody lives. All of the time. But that isn't enough.
Wedy picks the lock to the servant's quarters, which is almost insultingly easy. If Wedy were still freelancing, she'd rob this place herself in an instant. With mountains of money and terrible security, the Wilston's are a burglar's heaven.
"Wait here," Wedy orders, and ducks inside.
She doesn't turn back to check if Naomi is following her instruction. Naomi is predictable, if nothing else, and she is unlikely to cause Wedy any trouble that can't be categorised under 'being an eyesore'.
Wedy steps neatly over the dusty tiled floor, avoiding cobwebs and scattered crockery, until she reaches the door to the mansion proper. The carpet on the other side of the door is deep red and plush, and the walls are an expensive cream decorated with delicate swirls of gold. There isn't a camera or a trip wire in sight. Wedy nods to herself, and signals for Naomi to follow her.
"The place is in darkness," Naomi observes. "Can we assume everyone is asleep?"
Wedy doesn't bother answering such an obvious question. In her experience, the very rich seldom stay up later than eleven.
"You go left, and I will go right," she tells Naomi, instead. "Check every room and retrieve every computer, but if you find a computer located in an occupied room, report back to me rather than retrieving it yourself. Also, watch for all the things I told you. Pay special attention to the lights and the corners of the ceiling."
"Understood," Naomi replies, and turns on her heel, promptly undertaking her task.
According to their insurance policy, the Wilstons have a maximum of two computers and they don't own any phones with internet connectivity. This should be a simple job. Wedy touches her belt, her fingers trailing over the sedative dart gun, the handcuffs, and the tiny camera.
She's taken prisoners mid-theft before, too.
Wedy briskly investigates the three rooms to her left. A linen cupboard, an unoccupied reading room, and an elaborate but disused bathroom. Something at the very core of her soul curls up with an excited satisfaction. This is what she was meant to do: breaking into houses, casing the joint, leaving without a trace.
This is what Anthony and the others get to do all day.
Bastards.
She waits at the end of the hall for Naomi to catch up, and checks her watch impatiently. Naomi arrives at her side sixty seconds later, without any apology, and they move to the next section of the house, and split up again. And then, when they find nothing, they move on to a third section and a forth. And then they climb the stairs and repeat the process all over again, slowly working their way from the northwest downstairs corner to the southeast upstairs corner.
Slowly being the operative word.
"Wait," Naomi whispers, grabbing Wedy's forearm as Wedy tries to walk away. "There are computers in this room."
Wedy peers over Naomi's shoulder into an oversized but cozy-looking study. There, on an extravagantly old desk, are two outdated laptops. A modem flickers on a nearby stool, bathing the room briefly in pale blue light. A coat has been slung carelessly over the back of an office chair. It's apricot and shapeless. Wedy feels like she ought to confiscate it for the Wilstons' own good.
"One of the computers is still running," Naomi breathes.
"Yes," Wedy replies crisply. "My powers of observation are working perfectly well, thank you."
"The room is clear," Naomi continues, and now she's ignoring Wedy. Wedy scowls. "I'm going to take a closer look."
"Hold it," Wedy demands. "There's probably still an active webcam on that computer. We approach from the side, out of range."
"Understood," Naomi replies.
Wedy is one of the most wanted people in the country. She has learned to be careful. She makes her way around the perimeter of the room, and Naomi follows suit. Wedy's footsteps are light and noiseless. Naomi's are more noticeable; soft, but not soft enough. She probably can't even comprehend some of the things Wedy is worried about right now.
Wedy pulls a square of opaque black tape from her pocket, and places it expertly over the camera that sits about the laptop screen. Then she swivels the laptop towards her.
"Keep an eye on the entrance," she says. "It's the only way into this room. Our thief will have to come this way."
The laptop is connected to the internet. A chat window is open, but only one line of text has been entered.
The text has been sent by someone using the handle Fivenine. That alone isn't significant. Plenty of fools try to impersonate the Big Four.
What is more unnerving is the text itself.
It reads, simply, 'hello L'.
[Fivenine] – okay someone moved the mouse.
[Fivenine] – L's minions are heeeeeeere!
[Fivenine] – I am so getting laid.
[Volution] – I am so impressed.
[Fivenine] – seriously? After all these years, I've managed to impress you?
[Volution] – yes. See how impressed I am?
[Volution] - :|
[Volution] – soooo impressssssed.
[Fivenine] – oh, piss off.
[Fivenine] – what these fuckers don't realise is that I've hacked the camera on the other laptop in the room, heh heh.
[Volution] – goodness! Could it be that non-hackers are not as good at computers as the best hackers in the world?
[Volution] – gasp.
[Volution] – surely not.
[Volution] – seriously why am I even friends with you?
[Fivenine] – heh there are two of them. Two women. They're together, so I'm guessing they both work for L.
[Fivenine] – man, how does L get so many hot chicks?
[Volution] – you don't even know whether they're hot. You can't even make out half their faces with this shit quality webcam.
[Fivenine] – hey quit hacking into that.
[Fivenine] – this is my project.
[Fivenine] – and you are so not stealing my project OR my future girlfriend.
[Volution] – dude you do not own that girl. Settle down.
[Volution] – we have discussed this.
[Volution] – if you don't start treating women with respect I am going to shut down all of your systems.
[Volution] – you know I can.
[Volution] – and furthermore
[Fivenine] – wait no fuck what?
[Fivenine] – who the fuck is that?
Naomi is in the middle of formulating a plan when Wedy suddenly grabs her around the waist and drags her backwards, into the darker parts of the room's shadows.
"Someone's coming," Wedy warns. "Hide."
Naomi frowns, confused, as she tries to wedge herself behind a wrought iron bookcase. Nobody is capable of sneaking up on Wedy. Something has gone horribly, horribly wrong.
This is a trap, she realises, and reaches for her phone. If she can reach L, she can-
The room is suddenly flooded with bright light. A young woman with white-blonde hair is standing in the doorway, one hand on the light switch, and the other clutching a pistol. Her eyes flick from the computer, to Naomi, to Wedy. Naomi notices the logo embroidered on her tight-fitting shirt, Platinum Security.
A security guard of some description. Then, perhaps this is not a trap set for them. Perhaps the Wilstons have simply taken matters into their own hands. Regardless, there is no other escape from the room, and Naomi is not about to shoot a civilian. She drops her gun, and holds up her hands.
"Who are you?" the security guard asks. "What are you doing here?"
"We're investigating the hacker-thief," Wedy informs her. Wedy has no visible guns or weapons – visible being the key word – so she has nothing to discard. "I confess we do not have permission to be here, but have done no damage and do not intend to."
Naomi nods. That is a good decision. If the Wilstons are involving a private company, then they are avoiding contact with the police. Wedy is probably not about to be arrested, at least not unless she is recognised.
Which, as Naomi suddenly remembers, is a distinct risk. Naomi is wearing a short red wig, but Wedy is barely disguised at all.
The woman nods briskly.
"Who do you work for?" she asks.
"Wicks Consulting," Naomi replies, and she and Wedy both pull out fake ID cards that confirm as much. "I assure you we will include your employers in the report when the criminal is captured. Will you let us go about our business?"
The security guard spares Naomi a disbelieving glance.
"I don't keep things from my employers, honey," she announces. "I'll let them decide."
And then, without further ado, she turns her head and calls to someone outside the room.
"Lord Wilston," she says. "I've found your intruders. You may want to see them for yourself."
Naomi meets Wedy's eyes, and Wedy shakes her head. Whatever is about to happen, they're going to go through with it.
"Also," the security guard says, turning back to Wedy, "I'm going to need you to relinquish your weapons."
Wedy presses a hand to her chest.
"I'm afraid I don't have any weapons," she says, meekly. "This is my first job, and I wasn't supposed to be doing any—"
"The gun in your belt," the security guard insists. "Drop it and kick it to me, or I'll shoot."
Wedy complies, momentarily speechless.
What have we gotten ourselves into? Naomi wonders.
[Fivenine] – WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?
[Fivenine] – WHO WAS THAT WOMAN? HOW DID THEY MANAGE TO SNEAK UP ON L'S AGENTS?
[Fivenine] – SOMEONE IS HIJACKING MY FUCKING PROJECT. AAAAARGH!
[Volution] – oh wait now I remember why I'm friends with you. You're fucking hilarious.
[Volution] - :D
[Fivenine] – FUCK YOU!
Lord Wilston scrutinises both of them, twirling one finger around the left side of his thick grey moustache. To Naomi's stark relief, he doesn't seem overly upset about the whole situation.
"Well," he says jovially, "first of all, I'd like to thank you for reinforcing my choice of security company. I'll be letting Wicks Consulting know how shabby their operatives are."
"We do apologise for this incident, sir," Naomi tells him. "But I agree, we must defer to the superiority of Platinum Security in this instance."
"I assume you left the computer running deliberately," Wedy adds, sounding girlish and oh-so-confused. "Now it makes sense, if you were trying to trap the hacker thief."
"Indeed," Lord Wilston enthuses, patting the security guard on the shoulder. "Michelle here has been absolutely excellent in every way. And I didn't even choose her based on merit, would you believe? She's the daughter of an old friend of mine."
"You're giving them too much information," Michelle tells him, tensely. "My Lord, these people could still be the culprits."
Wedy laughs.
"Me?" she asks. "I can barely get my own money out of an automatic teller machine, let alone rob someone else."
"She had extremely well-concealed weapons," Michelle tells Lord Wilston. "I suspect her."
"But I do not," Lord Wilston says, rubbing his hands together. "The hacker-thief never gets caught, nor does he waste his time standing around. These fine ladies don't fit the modus operandi."
Naomi breathes a little easier. The man is a patented, patented idiot. But if he is letting them go, then all is well. As long as he doesn't recognise Wedy. Naomi wishes she had asked for more details, such as the exact likelihood of the Wilstons recognising Wedy, and her exact relationship with them.
"I think you're being lax," Michelle tells him. "But this is your decision."
"You may go," Lord Wilston announces. "But I expect compensation for what happened here tonight. I will be calling your director in the morning."
Naomi nods. Michelle hands over their weapons without saying a word.
"Thank you," Wedy tells Lord Wilston, warmly. "And thank you to Michelle, as well."
"I will see to it that you are compensated," Naomi adds.
And then, they both turn to leave. Naomi falls into step with Wedy, hardly unable to believe their luck.
I ought to apologise to L for being so critical of him, she thinks. Everyone makes mistakes, even the two of us. Today could have ended much, much worse.
It is at that moment, of course, that Lord Wilston suddenly calls out to them.
"Hold on a second," he says, sounding as if he is bursting with excitement. "Wait. You're Wedy, aren't you? I'd know that face anywhere. You're Grianna's girl."
It's late. There isn't anyone else at the office. There is nobody else around to hear this conversation, which is why they are having it now.
"I refer to the Police Force Act, Section 45, Part B," Mills begins.
She leads with the regulation, direct and to the point. Lydia Stanton has memorised the entire act by heart.
"Procurement," she answers. "Specifically, procurement of civilian assistance."
"I wish to procure the services of one of the Big Four," Mills continues. "Preliminary evidence points to at least one residing in London. I would like you to investigate."
Stanton does not question this. She is aware that this assignment is part of the upcoming battle against the detective known as L. She is lucky to be involved.
"How will I proceed, ma'am?" she asks, trying to convey as much respect in those five words as possible.
"Investigate the internet providers in the area," Mills tells her. "Find out the names of their top bandwidth consumers. Then report back to me."
Stanton nods. If Mills is contacting her like this, then this is not a job to be shared with her team.
Police Force Act, Section 9, Part J; an officer may withhold information from their subordinates if directed to do so by a superior officer.
"I understand," she replies. "It will be done."
They are quite a team, Stanton and Mills. Mills is brilliant, charismatic, and tenacious. Mills will build a coffin around L where he stands, and nail on the lid before he realises what is going on.
And when she drives in that final nail, Stanton will be there, right by her side.
"Thank you, Sergeant Stanton," Mills says. "No further instructions."
Wedy turns on her heel, very very slowly.
No, Naomi thinks. This is too risky. What are you doing?
You're acting like L.
She hadn't realised that the Wilstons' knew Wedy's handle, as well as her real name. That's a significant risk, even if they had never come here. If the police can link Wedy to her own past, it will be even easier for them to find her.
Well, okay, possibly not. Wedy is always an enigma, and she has always been a little less concerned with concealing her identity than the others. But still, death notes still exist. She ought to be more careful.
"What?" Michelle asks, sounding as dumbfounded as Naomi feels. "What do you mean, Wedy? That's Wedy?"
"I'm sorry," Lord Wilston tells Wedy, simpering at her warmly. "I shouldn't have revealed your identity in front of your colleague."
Wedy regards Naomi for a moment.
"It's all right," she says, tossing her gun in the air and catching it expertly. "I have no need to maintain relations with this particular security company. She can go squealing back to our boss if she likes."
"What?" Naomi asks, playing along. "You're…you're really Wedy?"
It's a good move. Better that Naomi isn't incriminated alongside Wedy. Better that nobody who has seen her face this closely knows that she works for L.
"I'm really Wedy," Wedy announces, smiling smugly. "Sorry, honey."
"But," Michelle begins, and then seems to be unable to speak. "But…you…"
Lord Wilston steps forward, excitement visible on his wrinkled face. Naomi is struck by the vague sense that something important is about to happen here.
"I couldn't let you leave without telling you," Lord Wilston explains, pushing Michelle forward incrementally. "Wedy, you must know that Michelle here is…also Grianna's daughter."
For a moment there is nothing but silence. Somewhere behind Naomi, a clock ticks, counting away the seconds. Michelle stares at Wedy, and Wedy stares at Michelle, as if neither of them can quite comprehend what has been said.
Wedy fumbles her gun, and it drops to the floor with a clatter.
If they share a mother, then they are sisters, Naomi thinks with grim fascination. She doesn't want to be involved in this. She wants to get back to headquarters, before something else went wrong. But no. Here is Wedy's long-lost half-sibling, like something out of a goddamned soap opera.
Michelle speaks first.
"I'm sorry," she says, in a strangled rush. "I was so rude to you. I didn't even realise who you were, I just..."
"You were doing your job," Wedy says, but her usually-calm voice sounds a little choked up.
"I've looked up to you my whole life," Michelle says, clasping her hands in front of her chest. And Naomi can see the similarities between them; the blonde hair, the big eyes, the set of their respective chins. "I followed all your exploits on the news. Is it true you're working for L?"
Naomi turns to her colleague, and is surprised to find Wedy looking very red around the eyes.
"I… I really thought I'd never get to meet you," Wedy confesses. "You're working as a security guard? That's great. I notice your trousers are designer."
"As if I'd wear anything else," Michelle says, a wicked smile creeping across her face.
"I'm just…going to…go," Naomi says, edging towards the door.
She's never seen Wedy like this, not even around Matsuda. L had told her about Wedy's fucked-up family, and now she's finally with the sister she so desperately wanted. Naomi cannot imagine how that feels, but she has some idea of the magnitude of the emotion, watching her calm and collected colleague burst into tears in the middle of a gold-plated atrium.
"Sure honey," Wedy manages, tossing Naomi the keys. "Here, take the car. I'll take care of myself tonight."
"How?" Naomi asks, doubtfully.
Wedy walks over to stand beside Michelle, and swings her arm around Michelle's slender shoulders.
"Do you have a car?" she asks. "I feel like—"
"—we should go shopping," Michelle finishes, staring up at Wedy with wide eyes.
Wedy actually bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.
"Understood," Naomi says. "I will tender your resignation to our supervisor, Wedy. I hope to never see you again."
That's code, of course. It means you had better be back by morning or I'll send a search party.
But Wedy doesn't give the correct response. She waves Naomi off, her eyes focused solely on Michelle. This is not a place for colleagues to intrude. This has become a place for family.
It is time for Naomi to leave, and so she leaves.
tbc
a/n
+ I want to thank all of you really deeply and sincerely for sticking with this story. it can't be easy to keep on reading a story that updates once or twice a year. your kind words and comments mean more to me than I can say, and I'm sorry I haven't always had the time or the ability to respond. please know that you are all very special to me, and if you celebrate Christmas or the new year I hope you have a wonderful celebration. never let anyone tell you you are not fantastic.
+ however, this is not a promise of more rapid updates. things in my life have gotten even more demanding recently and may stay that way for a while. we may be looking at one or two updates a year for a while. but, as I've hopefully proven, I am still working on this story and will keep on updating when I am able.
+ thank you.
+ never ever get into the star trek fandom it will ruin your LIFE.