notes/warnings

+ swearing. hooray for swearing!

+ none of you noticed me posting this five days late, did you? no? good.

Sweet

L has almost nothing to say to him, which is kind of a relief. It would be nice if he'd actually do some work, instead of staring forlornly into the depths of his computer screen, but hey. Can't ask for everything.

I'd only ask for one thing, if I ever get the chance to ask.

L's actions mimic Mello's, the grief, the hopelessness, the horrible acceptance. Mello had been about to die. L thinks he's going to die. Strange, the similarities between two unrelated men who barely knew each other.

But god, it's not fair to compare them at all. L never sacrificed himself, not really. He only had to taste that defeat once it was already upon him. There was more than one other person in the world that cared when L died.

Mello deserved so much better than he got, and that's the real kicker. He was as good as Near, not in logic and raw intelligence, but in talent and innovation and social ability. Mello had this amazing capacity to read people, and predict what they felt and loved and feared.

But it never worked on me, did it, doll?

Or did it? Did you know? You must have known. Why didn't you say anything?

Were you disgusted with me, the whole time?

He feels ashamed, now that he's doing this. Now that he's agreed to try and be Mello, instead of just a tribute to him. He worries what Mello would think, if he knew. How he'd feel about someone as ordinary and pathetic as Mail, trying to emulate him.

Mail is doing a shithouse job at it, anyway. He's hardly confident and brilliant. And he's not even going to attempt the rockstar-style thing. And his talents are still very much his own, pathetic, technology-based talents.

But maybe it's worth it. If he can keep L remembering about Mello, then that's another little piece of the immortality that Mello so desperately deserves.

Mail tests each of the taps one more time. Perfect. The reception is absolutely flawless. If faux-Kira confesses, they will have a valid recording. Of course, to ensure a conviction, they also need a witness, too. Which means that lady – Naomi – has to get through this alive.

He checks his email one more time. Nothing new. Faux-Kira has sent a rather vague email demanding that 'A Believer' meet some of her associates in a warehouse a few blocks away from the actual base. For 'personality and moral assessment'.

If that isn't some fucked up, creepy shit, then Mail doesn't know what is. But of course, he knows what it means. Do you love Kira, yes or no? Will you cheerfully sacrifice your life, family, happiness, and future, to do whatever random task you are assigned? Please tick one box.

The world will be a better place without this chick. Even he can see that.

And L, god, L is a freaking mess. L is the worst mess Mail has ever seen outside of a reflective surface. It's like he actually thinks Kira is following him around, waiting to deliver that heart attack again.

Death. It's fucked all of them up, good and proper.

In Mail's opinion (which isn't worth shit, he knows), L's approach to this case is a little strange, and a little skewed. It's true that visual taps are a bit bulkier than audio taps, but surely the slightly increased risk would be worth getting more viable evidence.

Apparently not.

And the car thing is weird, too. Of course, for surveillance and Naomi's safety, the three of them will be stationed in vehicles close to faux-Kira's base. But L will be alone, and Mail will be with that man. Raye.

For long-term stake-outs, Mail is always with L. Invariably. But not this time.

L is alone.

And it's none of his business, really. But it's just odd. And Mail notes and logs that, along with everything else.

Kiyomi gets up at three in the morning, approximately twenty minutes after she went to bed. She throws on an expensive silk robe and walks to the other side of the room to check the security cameras.

She can't sleep. She's got a bad feeling about tonight. Like Jason's breathing down her neck. Like L is lurking in the shadows. Like Light is very far away.

And god, why is this so hard? Why does it always, always have to be so hard? Why is the world too stupid and incompetent to recognise them for the gods that they are? Why does there always have to be distance between them?

Like that damn cheap hotel-room carpet, stretched between his bed and her own. All that time, all those nights, and they never…

Not even once.

It's still more than Misa got. Of course it's more than Misa got. Misa was nothing to him, just a puppet, just a toy, just a thorn in his side. Kiyomi was his partner. And there will be time for everything else once the criminals have been judged and they are together again.

"Oh, you're awake?"

She groans out loud, eyes lingering on each of the tiny screens in front of her.

"You truly are a genius, Shinigami. How did you ever figure it out?"

Ryuk looks confused and rubs the back of his neck.

"Er, it was kind of obvious?" he offers.

"Yes," she says snidely. "There are apples in the kitchen. Leave me in peace."

"Yay!"

Gods of death, indeed, she thinks disdainfully. More like children.

And she's never been good with children, not even when she was a child herself. They are, on the whole, generally noisy, dirty, and demanding.

It would be different if they were Light's, of course. And that is an excellent point. When Light is free and they are together, he will doubtlessly want children as soon as possible. Successors. Real successors, not random urchins harvested from local orphanages. Honestly, what sort of a loser can't even manage to reproduce?

She knows things of L, tidbits of information that Light has told her of his finest hour and the events preceding it. He should not be difficult to beat. He seems to have no charm, no style, no common sense, and no friends. Intellect alone does not win wars.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she jerks violently, fear pulsing through her. Only one person would be calling her screened mobile at this hour.

"What do you want?" she snarls, sounding a good deal more confident than she feels.

"Now, is that any way to greet the man who is going to reunite you with your beloved?"

"Don't you have anything useful to say, you monster?" she grits.

You will suffer. You will be the first. I promise you this.

Everything you've done…

I promise you this.

"Just checking up on you," Jason says, in an unpleasantly cheerful tone. "Wouldn't want you suddenly running off, since we have a new deal. I keep seeing your handiwork on the news. You are very…thorough, aren't you?"

"What did you expect me to do?" she asks tersely.

Big Jason laughs, deep and horrible.

"What you do is up to you," he says eventually. "Is he honestly worth all of this trouble?"

You…you're trying to stop me!

The realisation hits her in a surge of cold panic.

"Of course he is, you monster," she snaps. She hangs up the phone and lets it drop to the floor, hands shaking violently.

If Jason…if Jason tries to stop her. If he even tries. He might. He's powerful like that. If he takes the death note away, she'll lose Light.

She'll…lose…

No!

She unlocks the safe under her bed and snatches up the death note, examining several pages at random, just to be sure the note is still safe.

The pages are supposed to be limitless, self-replenishing. Even if Jason takes the note itself, he won't know if a page is missing. And if he takes the note, and she has even the tiniest scrap left over, she can kill Jason and have him send it back to her.

An insurance policy. Yes. She needs to be safe. She needs to protect Light.

How can I have been so lax?

She takes the pocket knife from her garter and meticulously cuts eight pages free from the binding. She places one under her pillow, and slips another into a stack of ordinary printer paper. She tucks a third sheet into a miniscule crack between the wall and a bookcase. Then she stops and examines the room, pushing a hand through her hair the way Light used to do, trying to decide on the best possible hiding spots.

Two hours later, she has successfully hidden all eight pages. Carefully. Painstakingly. Where Jason will never find them. As a final precaution, she tucks a coin-sized piece of death note into her watch.

You'll be so proud of me, Light.

Nothing can go wrong, now. Nothing.

One thing is certain. He has lost Rae. He will face this case - and all other cases to come - all on his own.

Of course, Rae still doesn't let him change places with Naomi, and L wishes he could read some affection into that gesture. But the sad truth is, the Shinigami is convinced that he will use the note. Therefore, his life will be automatically defended up until he fulfills that purpose, or until he becomes too troublesome to be worth the effort.

L thinks he must be edging towards the latter, now. Rae has not insulted him so ferociously in many months.

I don't damage people, and I don't use people. I'm not Light. I'm not.

Maybe it would be better to just face Light once more and get it over with. Die again, perhaps forever. Be sent to hell, if he isn't already there.

And really, how could he be in hell? He very much doubts that Naomi's trust and Matsuda's affection and Mail's tentative strength and Grace's pears could constitute any sort of hell. No, the second world is a good place.

And he will defend it, to the best of his ability.

The sun rises far too soon, painting the sky a damning, pastel pink. L writes Naomi a private email, because there is something he wishes to say, and he doesn't much care to hear her reply. Besides, there's no conceivable way he'd be able to separate her from Raye right now, not even for a moment.

The content is brief, a few lines, the biggest sacrifice he can make for her.

I want you to know that I appreciate what you are about to do.

If anything goes wrong, if she discovers you work for me, if she threatens you, if you feel incorrigibly ill, if anything goes wrong at all, then I urge you to signal me.

Say "I don't understand" three times in a row, and I will come for you. No matter what.

L.

It does not have to be her life. It can be his. His time has to come, sooner or later. He has no family, not really. Only the fake, make-believe family he has built for himself. Naomi has a husband, and she has potential.

Nothing can be allowed to go wrong.

L clicks 'send' and walks away from his computer.

Naomi reads the message five times over and then deletes it. Her heart aches exquisitely. L is good. He is too good. Rae is absolutely, one hundred percent wrong about his character. And regardless of what happens, of what Takada does to her, she will never use that signal.

L cannot die. L cannot be hurt. This world needs him. Far better for her to sacrifice herself than to risk his life.

Of course, Rae's real estimation of L's character might not be what it seems. Is definitely not what it seems. Naomi grins suddenly, like she's won some vague, undefined game.

"You okay, baby?" Raye calls from the bathroom, expression concerned, face mostly covered in shaving cream.

"Yes, honey," she replies affectionately. He has asked fifteen times in the past hour. He is absolutely terrified. He keeps hugging her, and clinging like they'll never see each other again. Like they'll end up like Mail and Mello.

Which is impossible. They both love each other, and they're both good people. No matter what happens, they'll eventually wind up together again. Naomi is certain of that.

"Shit, it's seven thirty already," Raye says apprehensively. "We've got, like, two and half-"

She crosses the room in two strides and wraps her arms around his waist.

"We have all the time in the world, Raye Penber," she says softly. "You and me. Come what may."

He touches the crown of her head, unwittingly smearing soap across her dry hair.

"There's a very good chance you could be killed," he breathes.

"There's a very good chance we might stop Kira for good," she counters.

"We thought we'd done that years ago," Raye says, voice trembling.

"And besides, even if I am killed, we know that's not a permanent situation," she continues. "I will see you again, I swear. I swear on you."

Raye meets her eyes in the mirror, and then looks away.

"Maybe I'd be happier if you swore on L," he says, voice low.

Naomi frowns. She doesn't want to have this argument, not today, not now, not when there are so many other things to think about.

"Raye," she says carefully. "We've discussed this. You know I don't-"

"L requests that you attach the taps now so that we can perform a final sound check," Rae announces, bursting inconveniently through the nearest wall.

"Already?" Raye asks weakly.

Once the taps are in place, the two of them will have no privacy at all. Ten o'clock doesn't seem far enough away. But Rae is here, and the damn evil thing is probably going to kill her anyway, and Naomi has something to say.

Oh yes.

"Hello, Shinigami," she says brightly. "I haven't seen you since last night. Did L enjoy his shower?"

Rae shoots her a nasty look.

"I imagine so. I don't pay all that much attention to human affairs, I'm afraid," it replies, voice dripping with congeniality.

"Of course," Naomi says warmly, releasing her husband to better focus on the monster-god in front of her. "I suppose now that we'll be working as partners for the next two weeks, we ought to try to get along."

"But of course."

It's like a competition of fake, sickly-sweet smiles. Naomi sort of wants to laugh. Rae is completely ridiculous.

"And in fact, I realised last night that you kind of remind me of someone I used to know," she baits winningly. "Perhaps that will allow us to get closer to one another."

"Please don't compare me to humans," Rae returns politely. "We Shinigami find that sort of talk offensive, Naomi."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't making a physical reference, simply a behavioural one. I ought to have clarified. The way you were treating L last night reminded me of a boy I used to go to school with."

"Oh?"

Raye is now staring at each of them in turn, with increasing skepticism.

"Naomi, what are you-"

"Yes, that's right," Naomi continues gleefully, ignoring her husband. "His name was Ren, I think, and he treated me as if I was the most terrible person in the world."

"And were you?" Rae prompts, but there is doubt in its voice, and she feels strangely validated.

Even you don't think that's possible.

And that's how it should be, too. I'm good. I'm damn good.

"No, I was just an ordinary girl," she replies. "Neither bad nor good. Turned out that he treated me that way because he had feelings for me, and couldn't handle them."

The benign smile slips from Rae's skull-face like water from a wall, immediately replaced with an expression consisting mostly of pure, violent hatred.

And perhaps a little bit of fear.

Naomi sort of wants to lick her finger and draw an invisible mark in the air. It's childish, this whole conversation is childish and petty and pointless, but she's grateful for the distraction.

"That's why you were so upset to find him in bed with us, wasn't it? You were jealous."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," Rae replies coldly, its voice deep and threatening. "I'm just going to stand here and watch the numbers count down over your head, Naomi Penber."

"Shut up, you!" Raye roars. "For fuck's sake, she's about to put herself on the front line. Show some compassion!"

"This thing isn't capable of compassion," Naomi tells him, her eyes still trained on Rae's.

"And what are you doing picking fights at a time like this?" Raye continues, sounding lost and angry. "I don't understand."

Naomi takes his hand.

"I'm as nervous as you are, that's why," she lies. "I just. I'm just trying to calm my nerves, that's all. I can't face Takada competently unless I burn off some of this adrenaline."

She did it on purpose, and she enjoyed every second of it. Rae has a thing for L. Rae has a thing for L, and it's suffering. And she wants Rae to suffer. She's wanted Rae to suffer from the moment she met it.

Two and a half hours to go, and she feels good. She actually feels good.

She can beat Takada. She can beat anyone, illness or no illness. She'll be fine.

"Come on," she continues, tugging her husband towards the door. "Let's get this done."

They travel together for the first fifteen minutes or so, until they get close. Watari has left a suitably cheap and austere vehicle about a block from the meeting point. Naomi is to drive the rest of the distance alone. Raye and Mail will then go and set up observation outside Takada's base, while L stays close by, monitoring the feed until the initiation is done.

So simple. So easy.

He doesn't send Naomi in unarmed, of course. The plan is to flatter and admire Takada into admitting to her crimes without arousing any suspicion at all, but there are plenty of opportunities for things to go wrong. And if they do, L, Raye, and Mail will be a good few hundred meters away.

According to L's estimations, it takes approximately two seconds for the average human to scribble a name on a piece of paper. Give or take half a second.

Naomi has a plain gold ring on her finger. Within it is a tiny, retractable dart and an injection system loaded with just enough anesthetic to render an adult unconscious. The giant cross hanging around her neck can be quickly dismantled to give access to a miniature blade.

That is all she has to defend herself. Any more weapons, and her safety would be severely compromised.

You should have just left, N. Your life will be better when you're free from me.

He has to get her through this. He has to.

She knows the script, she knows who she has to be, and she knows Takada's most obvious weaknesses.

And Rae will be with her. L is relieved that Rae's endless supply of loathing seems to be solely directed at him. He is ninety-four percent confident that his Shinigami will defend and protect Naomi to the best of its ability, no matter what.

Because Rae does his job better than he ever could.

Naomi and Raye are sitting in the back seat in silence, fingers entwined. Mail is driving. He doesn't stink of nicotine today. L thinks that being forced to work a case like this might actually be good for his mental health.

As long as they can keep Takada secret from him. Because L knows Mail would gladly compromise the entire mission just to get one clean shot at Takada's pretty head.

Last night, a national French news channel declared Kira officially returned. The relevant government authorities claim that they no longer have the means to gag the media. Other countries are still going strong, but the undercurrent of panic is impossible to ignore.

Twelve days until Takada starts killing ridiculous numbers of criminals. Of course, L could stop her from doing that. He could turn himself in, any time he chooses. Except that Rae probably wouldn't let him. And he'd be scared to die, now, anyway. It could be that his death will restore Light. It's not impossible, given the apparently unpredictable nature of hell, that L is some sort of ballast, that Light can only return by displacing him.

And stealing his identity. Again.

No, no, no, no, no.

No!

He cannot, he will not.

Surely not.

He was halfway to convincing Rae that Light was evil, before Rae restored itself and started despising him again. The two of them, together, they could have been…

He could have been safe, forever.

Mail pulls over at the designated spot. They are all scheduled to leave one by one, at fifteen minute intervals, just in case. Naomi, naturally, is the first one to leave.

She doesn't grimace, or cling to Raye, or give some serious and heartfelt goodbye. She simply adjusts her headscarf, checks each of her concealed weapons, pats her husband on the shoulder, and gets out of the car.

"Let's do this," she mutters, and slams the door shut behind her.

L watches her walk off down the street. Behind him, Raye is trembling and cursing under his breath and falling apart, but there's nothing L can do about that.

His Shinigami will be waiting for Naomi at her destination. Her induction. The surrendering of her name and face to the new Kira.

The front line of the fight against faux-Kira. Naomi and Rae.

L hates the fact that he isn't sure which of them he's going to miss more.

Kiyomi takes a sip of her no-fat, triple-shot espresso, and smiles. She hasn't had a decent applicant in several days now, but this woman sounds absolutely perfect. She's demurely dressed, and pretty enough, nowhere near as beautiful as Kiyomi, of course. No partner, no living family, no job, no notable friends. A devout Kira-worshipper. A perfect candidate.

"Ooh, she's cute," Ryuk says brightly.

"Are you even supposed to find human women attractive?" she chides. "Surely that must be against some sort of law."

"Looking is okay," Ryuk assures her. "Besides, it's not, like, sexual or anything. It's more the way…hmmm. It's like the way a human might admire a pretty bird."

"Charming," she says darkly, her eyes never leaving the observation screen.

The woman is ushered into the interview room by one of Takada's favourite security guards. She moves confidently, but there's nervousness in her dark eyes and the exaggerated sway of her hips.

Ah, yes, you'll be easily manipulated.

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, this little waif probably won't even pass the test.

Her name is Naomi. Naomi Penber. She drops delicately into the only chair, and bows her head.

"I await your instruction, my Lord," she says softly.

Kiyomi taps the button connecting her microphone with the room on her screen.

"A Believer, was it?" she asks politely. "Please tell me your real name."

"Naomi Penber," the woman replies dutifully. "Would you like my maiden name as well, my Lord?"

"That is not relevant," Takada informs her. She has the name she needs to dispose of this woman, if necessary. And Naomi has not lied. So the interview must progress further.

"My apologies, my Lo-"

"Please address me as 'my Lady'," Kiyomi corrects. "Why have you applied to join this movement?"

Naomi fidgets with the seam of her coat, and then raises her hand to clutch her cross.

"When I was just eight years old, I was told of a god who would save all of mankind," she explains. "I was confused for many years, trying my best to devote myself to Catholicism. Then, everything changed. Terrible people started disappearing from the world. I was mugged in an alleyway. The man threatening to cut out my throat died right in front of me. It was then that I understood that god was protecting me."

"So you believe you are special to your god?" Kiyomi asks, raising her eyebrows.

Too cocky, perhaps?

"I believe god loves us all," Naomi says earnestly. "Our god. The true god. Kira. The one who will save us all. You have no idea how happy I was, to find you had returned. You. My lady. I can hardly believe I am speaking with you. What would you have me do?"

Goodness me, so willing to sacrifice yourself.

Kiyomi wants her to pass the final test, now. She wants this devout little woman on board.

"Not so fast," she says sternly, and Naomi flinches and cowers.

"I'm sorry, my Lady."

"I am not Kira," she continues. "I am the head disciple. I am recruiting strong supporters to help me restore our god, our Kira. Would you be willing to join us?"

"Of course," Naomi whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted, ever since I can remember. I will do anything I can, my Lady. Anything."

"I see. And what do you know about the detective known as L?"

Naomi frowns and is silent for a few moments.

"Is…is she? I don't. No, I'm sorry. Have…have I failed the test?"

"Not yet," Takada says smugly. "There are a few more questions, first, and then you must complete a task for me."

"Then I will do my best," Naomi promises. "For you, and for Kira. Ask anything of me. Anything."

Oh yes. Kiyomi is going to quite enjoy having her around.

"I thought she was never going to stop talking," Rae grumbles. "I can't believe she interviewed you for two hours."

It was a useful process, Naomi thinks. Now she is convinced that I am absolutely obsessed with Kira. And that I'm probably not much of a threat. It places me in a good position.

"This way, applicant," the security guard tells her gruffly. He pulls open another door that leads to a dark corridor. As Naomi passes him, he places a gun in her hand.

"There's only one bullet inside," he explains. He's a sandy-haired man with a beer belly and an oversized moustache. Naomi wonders if he's a Kira-supporter, or if he's here out of obligation. Or fear. Or both.

"I understand."

"The Kira-hater is in the middle of the room. You have received your instructions from our Lady?"

"I have," she replies smoothly.

Kill this person. Do not hesitate. Do not miss. The heart is marked with an 'x'. Shoot to kill. Prove your loyalty to me, and to our god.

"Fucking psychopath," Rae mutters.

Moustache closes the door, leaving Naomi in the dark with the skeleton. There are five separate sets of blinking lights on the ceiling. She is being monitored here. She does not dare speak to Rae.

She walks to the other end of the corridor and lays her hand against the door.

"Give me strength, Kira, that I might do your bidding," she says dramatically, and pushes her way into the room.

The place is a dungeon, no windows, no lights, filthy floor, and not one single item of furniture save for the chair in the middle of the room. Tied to the chair is a person of indistinguishable gender, clad in baggy robes, face mostly obscured, struggling and moaning.

"Don' wanna diiiie. Don' wanna diiiie."

There is something off about her victim, but Naomi doesn't have time to think, because Takada's voice crackles over the loudspeaker.

"Do it now!" she instructs. "You must aim for the heart. That is my order!"

"Yes, my Lady," Naomi replies distantly, and raises the gun. She deliberately fumbles a few times, just for good measure, and mutters something about being out of practice. It's reasonable for her to be comfortable with firearms, being an ex-policewoman, but she wants to seem as inert as possible.

The person's lips keep moving, desperate, hollow plea, but the skin is wrong, too shiny, like they're already dead.

Or like…

"No lifespan," Rae informs her, sounding utterly fascinated. "This person isn't alive."

They were never alive, Shinigami.

Naomi lines up the shot and pulls the trigger, without remorse.

She's hardly going to go to hell for killing a robot.

"According to Rae's report, the robot was extremely realistic," L's voice drones. "Faux-Kira must have some very talented supporters."

"If they're supporters of her, then they're supporters of the real thing," Mail growls. He seems to be permanently attached to that blasted laptop of his. He also seems to be acting like a functional human being.

Not that Raye actually cares, right now, with faux-Kira calling his wife by name, and Naomi being all alone and stuck with a psychopath. Or two psychopaths, if you count Rae. Who is apparently crushing on L, or some fucked up shit like that, and sometimes Raye thinks he must be stuck in a nightmare, because everything around him seems so terrifying and surreal.

"Sounds like Naomi's still in the car," Mail announces. "They're bringing her back to base."

"At least she'll be close," Raye mutters, and Mail offers him a bland, confused little smile.

"It makes sense, of course," L continues over the headset. "To acquire so many people and kill them would be excessively risky. This Kira doesn't want to get her hands dirty, any more than her predecessor."

"Shut up, L," Mail hisses. "They're talking."

Raye listens intently, desperate for any word from his wife, some tiny assurance that she's alive and unharmed.

"My mistress says you have done well," the security guard announces. "Your induction was successful."

It's the same guy who showed her around during the initiation, Raye thinks. L would know, of course. L would know what he looks like, since he has access to the damn visual feed. But L can't say anything. L cannot tell him a thing, because Mail will hear.

Once again, L holds all the cards, and Raye just has to trust him.

God, he can't wait to get Naomi away from this place. From this life. From this boss.

"This is the most wonderful day of my life," his wife replies serenely, sounding clinically insane.

She's good, goddamnit, she's good. And she has to keep this act up until she can break Takada. And she needs to do that in twelve days, or a metric fucktonne of people are going to pay.

And that's the other problem with fucking bloody Kira, they wind up fighting to protect the same bastards that they're usually trying to arrest. Raye isn't really surprised that this guy broke the President of the United States. Resisting Kira is a difficult concept to compute, sometimes.

But L will never stop resisting, because L takes it personally, and L has to defend his own ego. That, and L is freaking terrified. Which makes Raye feel so much better, because L is never terrified of anything, ever.

"Yes," security guard replies gruffly. "It is. It is the greatest honour of your life."

"Please allow me a moment to pray," Naomi requests politely. "I wish to give thanks, and to ask for our Lord's safe restoration."

"Go ahead."

"Rae should have returned to her side by now," L informs them. "She probably wants to focus on what he has to say."

"Did you give him any instructions?" Raye demands.

Come on, you bastard. Tell me what's going on. What can you see?

"Just a reminder that she needs her character to be viewed as reasonably intelligent; a worthwhile confidante. She cannot get too caught up in appearing harmless, or she will come across as psychotically obsessed."

Yeah, because Kiyomi Takada is really scared of psychopaths, Raye thinks bitterly. That's why she's fucking in love with one.

"Ah, I see."

"Naomi sounds well, though, doesn't she?" L muses, finally throwing him a fucking bone.

She looks well, you mean.

"Yeah," Raye chokes. "She does."

Kiyomi Takada watches the screen with interest. All of her recruits are dedicated and fanatical, in their own different ways, but she's yet to meet someone so very serene and confident.

You are practically the perfect candidate.

Is it possible that L sent you?

But surely the great detective would not sink low enough to send in a woman to reveal her name and place herself at Takada's mercy. No, that isn't possible. Isn't likely, anyway.

Naomi aimed and fired faster than any other recruit before her. She hit the mark, too, which is good, because making new robots is expensive and time-consuming. And everything Naomi does seems to be genuinely motivated by Kira and a desire for justice in the world.

And she's not as pretty as Takada. Always a bonus.

Takada taps her manicured nails on the desk and smiles.

I think I shall keep a close eye on you, Naomi Penber. Just in case.

Moustache takes her to a building matching Rae's description and location, blindfolds her, and takes her through what is either a series of rooms or a hallway with a lot of unnecessary doors.

"You are in the third room on the left, if you remember my diagram," Rae tells her helpfully, as her blindfold is removed.

She is standing in a comfortable-looking office, with an overstuffed sofa behind her and plush carpeting on the floor. In front of her is a giant television screen. Above her are more semi-hidden cameras, and two ceiling-mounted loudspeakers.

Moustache leaves without another word. He's a useful sort of fellow, really. She hopes Takada is paying him well.

"My lady?" she asks hopefully, and waits.

"Yes, my child?" Takada replies, her voice sounding smooth and feminine, despite considerable amplification.

"She thinks she's sophisticated," Rae says, rolling its eyes. "You can play up to that."

I know what I'm doing, Naomi thinks.

"Oh, you sound beautiful," she says, with a surprised little laugh. "I suppose you would be, though, wouldn't you? I was thinking about it on the drive over here. You are Kira's angel. No one else has worked so hard for him."

"I am simply another devout worshipper," Takada assures her, but the voice sounds ever so slightly out of breath, like she's fighting down a laugh. "I assure you, if I had angelic powers, I would have used them to reinstate our Lord years ago."

"Still, I envy you," Naomi confesses. "You have done so much for him, while I have done nothing. Tell me how I can make it up to you."

"Do you still have police connections?"

Naomi pretends to consider this, and then sighs heavily.

"I have one friend whom I still contact regularly. Sergeant Bryce. He is not enlightened as I am. He speaks against Kira. Would you have me press him for information?"

"All in good time, my child. Do not ask too many questions."

"Forgive me," Naomi replies contritely, and hangs her head.

"From this day forth, you will take orders from me, and only from me, and without question," Takada tells her. "Is that clear."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Your living arrangements are suitable, for now. You will remain in your flat. I will be aware of everything that you do and say."

You're going to tap my house. Nice. Guess I must have more potential than Roper, then.

"Yes, my Lady."

"When you leave the flat, everything you do and everyone you meet ought to be reported to me."

"Without fail, my Lady."

Takada hesitates.

"You really want me to trust you, don't you, Naomi Penber?"

Naomi stares upward, towards the ceiling, curling her lips into a tiny smile.

"That is an honour that I would not take the liberty of desiring, my Lady. All I want…is to help."

"Very good," Takada replies. "You may go."

Naomi is proving herself to be a better actor than Light himself. She arrives 'home', thanks Moustache mistily for dropping her off, closes the door, prays for an hour straight, cooks a wholesome-looking meal, watches an hour of news, and goes to bed.

Like a good little woman. Maybe the good little woman that Raye always wanted. But that isn't for him to remark upon, really.

"The place is definitely bugged," Rae says, appearing in the seat beside him. "But the bathroom and toilet are clean. She's not at any risk of being discovered."

"All good news, then," L replies, smiling to himself.

"How so? Two bugs in each doorway isn't exactly the picture of trust."

L tears open his sixth bumper-sized bag of boiled sweets, and selects one carefully.

"Because Takada is lonely and frightened. You said so yourself. And we know from experience that she does not bother investigating those she suspects. She simply kills them or limits their knowledge. Monitoring Naomi closely means she wants her close."

"Or suspects her of working for you."

"If that were the case, Naomi would be dead," L points out, sucking his sweet into his mouth. Strangely, Rae looks away.

Perhaps it despises lime-flavoured confectionary?

"You say that so calmly," Rae grates.

"Because I have planned carefully to make sure it does not become true," L replies.

"Yeah, and we all know how well you managed to protect Mats-"

"Please don't bring your personal vendetta into this," L snaps. "As we have both acknowledged, our present situation is extremely delicate. Now is neither the time nor the place for your criticism."

Rae shrugs.

"All right, fair point. Better get back to Naomi. After all, with a whole twelve days of being her only sane companion, I'm guessing I can probably make her see reason about you."

L shoves his thumb into his mouth.

"Yes, perhaps you ought to do that," he says softly. "I think it is high time she lived her life, instead of spending every day tied to me. Make sure she is ready to leave, by the end of this mission. You will do a better job of that than I possibly could."

Rae gapes at him.

Red. Maroon. Red.

Maroon.

L stares. Something curls, deep and low, in the pit of his stomach.

"I fucking hate you," Rae spits, and vanishes into the night.

tbc

a/n

+writing ryuk, and the rae-naomi interaction are my two favourite things about this fic right now.

+ again, might be ten or so days before next bit is up. my real life keeps getting in the way of writing, grr.

+ thank you!