Three years later, 4th Floor Hallway, FBI Field Office, Los Angeles, California

"Adila!" Naomi yelled from the elevators. Everyone in the long expansive hallway stopped and stared but neither woman cared. She ran toward her best friend, hugging her tightly. "It's happened! It's finally happened!"

Adila waited for her friend to tell her what exactly had happened. She would be lying if she said she were not jealous because Naomi had been a full-fledged agent for almost a year now. She still had one year before she earned her doctorate in psychology; her education had come down to field work and writing a thesis to earn her title. Her job had switched from being an errand girl to working for the lead agent in charge of investigating serial killers. She was already working in her field and could actually skip the doctorate degree but she had come too far and worked too hard to stop now. She had accomplished in five years what it takes others eight years to achieve. That fact in itself was a source of great pride to her.

"You're killing me. Tell me already!" she exclaimed happily, not understanding why Naomi was laughing at her so boisterously.

"Seriously? You didn't hear your own words?" she snickered, holding her aching belly.

'You're killing me.' And Adila works in the department that specifically investigates murderers. "Oh, yeah. That is funny," she mumbled, offering a pathetic excuse for a chuckle.

"God, Adila, you need a boyfriend or a one night stand. Your sense of humor has really gone to crap. You need to relax," her friend muttered, forgetting her good news momentarily.

Easy for Naomi to say since she had just started dating the very handsome fellow agent named Raye Penber. Adila had purposely chosen to stay away from men, especially colleagues. It was not for lack of offers, but for a plain lack of interest. She was too busy and too focused on her future to worry about men. If only she had maintained that focus in Japan, who knows where she might be today. Her eyes looked at her left hand that was decorated with the ring and the jade bracelet. She had begun wearing them again a month after her father had given them to her. How could she still think about him after all this time? How could she still love him? Sometimes she pondered the possibility that she might be more tetched in the head* than Teru.

"Okay. Are you going to tell me your good news or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" Adila asked with a genuine giggle.

"I just got my first real big case!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh, congratulations! You can be a real agent now!" she rejoined with evident sarcasm.

"Oh, ha ha ha! Gosh, you need a boyfriend," Naomi snapped.

'I'm doing just fine without one,' Adila thought to herself with a self-satisfied grin on her face.

"You know what the best part is? The director approved my request to bring you along as an observer so you can begin writing your thesis," she told her friend, disappointed when an excited scream never came.

"That's wonderful, Naomi. Thank you so much," she rejoined, sincerely but in a much understated manner.

Naomi studied her friend thoughtfully. She had noticed Adila becoming quieter and more reserved over the last few months. The marked difference came when she began receiving more letters more frequently from that guy in Japan. Adila always burned the letters afterward so she had not been able to read any of them. She still did not understand why she gave him her present address. At first she had feared the psycho would appear on the doorstep. After a year passed and that never happened, she let it go. But what was he saying to Adila? What was in those letters? Hadn't he ever heard of email? An email account would be easy to hack, and she could find out what his letters contained.

Adila could almost see the wheels turning in Naomi's head, and she knew her friend was analyzing her. It was challenging having a relationship, even a friendship, with another agent because they sometimes treated each other like an assignment to be investigated. That reason was one of the many on her list as to why she would never get involved with a fellow agent. She was glad when Naomi allowed the excitement of her first major assignment overtake her again. Pretending to listen while her friend babbled on about the details, her mind was thinking about a certain black haired man far across the ocean. She heard bits and pieces of Naomi's exposition that included Beyond Birthday, killed three people, and meeting with lead detective tomorrow.

"I want you to come with me of course," Naomi said with finality.

"Of course," Adila repeated breaking free from her mental trip down a rabbit trail. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, Adila, weren't you listening?"

Adila simply smiled which only amplified her chagrin instead of hiding it.

"All right," sighed Naomi, grabbing her friend's arm to walk with her. "I'll start over, but I'll begin from the end. This detective is supposed to be the world's greatest yet no one knows anything about him, not even what he looks like. He's working on this serial murder case that began when the LAPD received this weird crossword puzzle."

Adila's ear perked up at the mention of serial killer. This would indeed be perfect for her thesis. 'Thank you, Naomi,' she thought silently. She smiled to herself thinking how lucky she was to have guardian angels everywhere.

~\..'../~

Adila and Naomi nervously straightened their already impeccable clothes as the elevator doors opened. They paused outside of the hotel room door to check each other's make-up. While they were both fixing mascara smudges and stray eyeliner on each other's face, the door opened. A man who seemed to be around the same age as them stood there staring at them. It looked like he was wearing thick black eyeliner and white powder. They both had to fight the urge to reach out to his face to check if he really was wearing makeup. He stood slightly hunched over in a white long sleeved t-shirt and jeans that were too big for him. He continued to ogle them inquisitively with his huge dark eyes that were nearly buried under a thick mop of black hair.

"I don't recall hiring any entertainment," he said, chewing on his thumb as if he were trying to remember. "Hey, Watari!"

"Excuse me, we're not hired helpers," Naomi informed him emphasizing the last words so he would not misunderstand. "We are the agents from the FBI."

"Oh, I see. Interesting," he remarked broodingly, looking each woman up and down slowly in turn.

"Are you going to make us stand out here all day while you eye us like something to eat?" Adila demanded, getting annoyed by the excessively thorough visual examination.

"I would never eat you," he shot back with a wicked smirk. Turning his back on them, he added, "You're nowhere near sweet enough for me to eat."

"Son of a –" Adila stopped abruptly when her friend grabbed her raised fist.

"Don't make me regret bringing you," Naomi hissed with a caustic, warning expression in her brown eyes.

Adila snatched her wrist out of her friend's tight grip and straightened her suit jacket. She readjusted the position of the strap on her shoulder of the massive purse that did double duty as a briefcase. It was pretty heavy considering it contained a laptop, a small hand held recorder, notebooks, pens and all of her other usual crap that she typically never needed.

"Naomi Misora, correct?" the smart mouth detective queried, offering them a seat on the couch.

"That is correct. This is my fellow agent, Adila Sharvani. I hope it is all right that I have brought her with me. She is a member of the serial murderers investigation unit," she told him, taking a seat in the chair at the end of the table.

Adila nodded her head without offering an obligatory smile. She plopped down in the exact middle of the couch, hoping that would force him to take the other chair as his seat. Not this guy; he was special. Instead he perched right next to her like a big black and white bird. She leaned to the side to distance herself when he shoved his face close to hers, peering at her questioningly with his enormous unblinking eyes that appeared to be black because of his completely dilated pupils.

"Are you here to investigate the case or me?" she asked, daring to turn to face him. She squeaked when she came nose to nose to with him.

"You for now. You're quite fascinating. You're absolutely beautiful but so bitchy. Why is that?" he probed in a serious way.

"Are you kidding me?" She blinked and edged away from him on the couch.

"Oh, I never joke. I don't have a sense of humor," he said, leering widely at her. Moving closer, he touched her face with his fingertips.

"You're about to not have something else if you don't get your damn hand off of me," she warned threateningly, inclining toward him this time.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, standing up quickly. "It's a man. Something happened between you and a man so now you hate all men."

"Come up with that all by yourself, did ya? Congratulations, Sherlock," she retorted.

"Sherlock?" He turned to scrutinize her inquiringly with his already big eyes that were somehow opened even wider.

OH MY GOD! Why don't detectives anywhere in the world get that joke?! Adila breathed a sigh of relief when he alighted on the other chair instead of sitting back down beside her. She began pulling items out of her purse to set up a work area on the coffee table.

"What is all this? Who are you exactly?" he asked pointedly.

"These are things I need to do my job. I've already told you who I am. Who are you?" she queried, just realizing he had not told them his name, although she guessed that Naomi already knew his name.

"You can call me L."

"L?" She glared at him incredulously.

"Yes, L," he repeated.

"Just a single letter?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

L groaned. He had not anticipated but one FBI agent. He certainly had not planned on this smart aleck, foul tempered woman who was setting up her office in the living room of his hotel suite.

"Is it really necessary that she is here?" he asked Naomi, pointing at Adila. Both women were surprised he had used the word she instead of thing by the tone voice with which he had said it.

"I'm sorry. I will have a talk with my assistant," Naomi said with a bit of condescension. She reached over and squeezed her friend's wrist to warn her to rein in herself a tad. "She's really not a bad person. She just needs an attitude adjustment sometimes."

Adila took a deep breath and decided Naomi was right. She did need to curb her bad temper. She was a grown up and a professional; it was imperative that she be both more than ever at this present time. There was no reason for her to mess up a major opportunity for the both of them. Keeping her trap shut like a good girl, she turned on the recorder while she listened and typed as they talked. She was transcribing their conversation as they spoke for the most part. Amazingly enough, she was able to retain her sharp comments when he told her the computer, the recorder, and all of the notes must remain within the hotel suite during the investigation.

Adila occupied herself by going over and over her notes while waiting for Naomi to finish her not-so-brief briefing with the bizarre but brilliant detective. She stood up to stretch her back and saw the folders of information sitting on the table in the corner. Being an investigator, she was naturally nosey and went to dig through the files. Before long she had crime scene photos, which she regretted finding, spread across the table while she scanned over the police reports connected to them. Grabbing her notebook, she started sorting through the information on the victims. What the hell are Naomi and L talking about it? It's been hours. Forgetting about the other two, she dove off to swim in the deep end of the pool of data to form a profile on this psychopath.

No certain amount of days passed between the murders, the victims were male and female, there was no certain age since the oldest victim was forty-four and the youngest thirteen, no physical attributes in common: nothing linked the victims. Taking several deep breaths to steel her intestinal fortitude, she studied the murder scene photos and the photos of the victims. They all died by different methods, each murder growing more violent and bloody. This was an angry man. What is the common thread here? The killer seems as if he was experimenting, testing, and trying things. Curiosity. He was enjoying this and having the time of his life. A game. This was a game to him. The killer seemed childish and needy. He was trying to get someone's attention. Maybe the attention of the world's greatest detective specifically was what he wanted.

"What are you thinking?" L asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Adila was too deep in thought to flinch from his voice or his touch. She quickly spewed out her contemplations as if she were a recording while rifling through her notes. Pointing to the pictures, she explained why she drew some conclusions.

"What makes you think it's a man?" he questioned her.

"The first victim was a forty four year old man. Judging by these photos he was not a small man either." Grabbing the police report she called out his statistics of six feet and two hundred pounds. "Even women that are crazy would have a hard time controlling this guy especially if they wanted to kill him. It took a lot of strength which was fueled by anger and just plain insanity to cause these kinds of traumatic injuries on these victims. "

The man had been strangled almost to the point of decapitation with pure brute force. The thirteen year old child had received a single strike from a blunt object that caved in her skull and crushed her face. The force was so great it even squashed the eyeballs. Sick bastard. The third victim had her arm and leg cut off after she had been beaten, stabbed, and finally strangled. The last victim had been kept alive for a while and tortured, showing how out of bounds his curiosity and cruelty had truly become.

Adila shivered without meaning to, gathering up the photos and stuffing them in their rightful folders to hide them from her sight. She felt his skinny arms go around her, and she was too stunned to move at first. Her body writhed a bit within the prison of his arms hoping he would get the hint to let her go. She felt uncomfortable but it was not entirely unpleasant being in a man's arms again; even if it was the strange detective.

"What else are you thinking? There's something you're not telling me," he said, refusing to let her go no matter how much she wiggled.

"It's a cry for attention. The killer wants to be acknowledged by you," she explained, turning in his arms to look at him. She was nose to nose with him again. He had a serious disdain for personal space and seemed to enjoy making people uncomfortable. "This is personal, L. I believe the murderer is someone who knows you. He is flaunting this in your face as if to dare you to catch him. He wants you to catch him. He's playing a game with you."

"I see," he murmured, dropping his arms. He backed away from her, his slouch deepening as he chewed on his thumb and paced silently across the carpet in his bare feet.

"Where's Naomi?" she asked, doubting he had heard her when he did not answer or react to her voice.

"Oh, she left two hours ago," he answered off handedly after a long pause.

"WHAT?!" Adila shrieked, grabbing her jacket and purse. She was stomping to the door when he moved in front of her to block her way.

"It's after midnight. It's not safe for you to leave here. Just stay," he ordered her more than requested.

"Excuse me?"

"Stay. You'll be safe here. Do I look dangerous to you?"

Adila sighed noisily turning away from him. He really did not want her to answer that question honestly. Carelessly throwing her purse and coat into the chair, she plopped down on the couch. Her eyes followed him as he hurriedly exited the room. He moved like a ghost, swiftly and silently. His pale skin and white shirt only added to that semblance.

"Here," he declared upon reentering the room.

Adila flinched when a soft pile of white cloth hit her in the face. She pulled it off her head, unfolding it to see it was a white shirt like the one he was wearing. He was not one for variety in his wardrobe apparently. She could only surmise this was just one more item on long list of peculiarities he exhibited.

"You can sleep in the second bedroom. I don't sleep," he informed her.

Oh, so it's insomnia and not eyeliner. Adila got the distinct impression she had just been ordered to bed. Too exhausted to argue and too disturbed to stay awake any longer, she acquiesced with a nod and bow after standing up. She tossed the t-shirt over her arm, unbuttoning her shirt on the way to the bedroom.

"By the way, just to be completely truthful with you, there is a camera in there," he warned her.

Why the hell did he need a camera in the bedroom? Had he been planning on guests? Adila could only imagine. She did not bother to ask why a camera was necessary because she did not really want to know. There was already enough disconcerting information crawling around in her brain.

"Creep," she muttered, slamming the door behind her. She would have to thank Naomi for this in a very special way. She knew without a doubt that her friendhad done this to her entirely on purpose.

*Tetched in the head – Crazy

Note for the manga/anime police: Yes, L is a bit OOC. It's completely intentional I assure you. I only included the basic details of the BB murder case. I did not recreate the same extenuating circumstances or details surrounding the case because they are just not important to this story. Just a reminder, this is an alternate universe story. This story is not about the BB murders and is completely different.

Teru will be back in a few more chapters. Just enjoy the trip.