notes/warnings

+ swearing.

+ implied past abuse.

Security

He's too clever, is L. Sometimes Jas thinks she never should have meddled with him in the first place.

But she needed him. Needs him. He is necessary. He's a barometer. He makes other people make important choices.

And now, Naomi Penber is important, too.

But L is the problem. He can feel her. He's gaining the ability to sense when she's controlling someone. He isn't forgetting the things he ought to forget. And now he's picking up on the memory-gaps in the people around him.

That's the problem with really clever humans. She can't weigh down their minds sufficiently. They start to see the cracks, they start to recognise the differences between what is and what ought to be.

And L is the cleverest.

And that's rapidly becoming a really huge problem. Because L is resolved to save everyone from hell. Even when he really shouldn't.

Even when he really, really shouldn't.

And she can't do anything about that, but it shouldn't matter. Pure evil cannot change. Everything will be all right, in the end.

The removing of the mask is probably meant to be an auspicious occasion – given Takada's known tendencies towards pomp and circumstance – but some combination of disappointment and recent danger seems to have sapped her strength. She tosses the mask aside as soon as they are secure, and eyes Naomi as if daring her to say something.

Naomi clasps her hands obligingly.

"I knew you'd be beautiful," she says softly, and then averts her eyes and smiles.

Takada starts, and then shakes her head.

"Bronson will show you to your room," she says gruffly. "You will be working harder, now you are here. I expect you to start attempting to access police databases as soon as possible. You'll be working with Leah, and liasing with a remote supporter named Carter. They are the best hackers we presently have access too."

Since you killed Roper, you mean, Naomi thinks disgustedly. Kiyomi Takada is clearly a very frightened woman, but that doesn't excuse what she did. People should not be executed like…like insects. Without a word. Without a second's hesitation.

But then, they all know that death notes turn people into monsters.

Most people, anyway.

And how damaged is Kiyomi Takada? How damaged is everyone who ever loved Light? Naomi cannot even begin to imagine how his father must feel, knowing the truth. And his mother. And…he had a sister, didn't he? How do they live with themselves? How do they ever trust anyone again?

Hell, L had at best a brief, tentative, and mistrustful friendship with Light, and he's been seriously damaged by the things that Light did.

In some ways, Light will never be gone. Kira will never be gone. His impact on the world is eternal, part of history, part of everything.

Naomi should have shot him when she had the chance.

She's feeling truly nauseous and weak now, her good health from this morning completely evaporated.

Sometimes, she can still hear his voice in her head, politely ordering her to kill herself.

"Of course, my Lady," she says politely. "Right away. You will know where I am if you need anything."

Moustache-whose-name-is-apparently-Bronson leads her to her quarters without another word, but she can feel Takada's eyes on the back of her head.

Shinigami eyes. Death eyes.

Is Takada just another proxy for Light?

This illness…is it you?

Are you back?

If you are, I swear to god I'll kill you. You won't get to L. You won't get to anyone. I'll be right here when Takada unearths you, and I'll kill you.

I swear.

"I need nothing," Takada says coldly, from behind her. "Go."

"Everything went according to plan," Rae reports, sounding moderately cheerful for once.

"Yes," L says quietly. "So I've heard. And seen. Raye played his part perfectly, as did Naomi."

"I can't believe how well we managed to time everything," Rae continues, brightly.

Its enthusiasm reminds L of brown-eyed Rae. Of when they used to solve cases together, just the two of them.

We were such a good team.

L doesn't say that out loud, of course.

"I cannot believe it either," L replies, sucking on the tip of his thumb. "In fact, I'm not sure I do believe it."

"Huh? You think Takada's smart enough to set a trap this complex? No way."

"No, what bothers me is that Takada isn't setting any traps at all. It is as if her paranoia is lessened around Naomi."

"Well, yeah. That's what we were aiming for, right?" Rae replies dismissively. "I don't know why you're moping about it."

"Do you remember Grace, Boney?" L enquires, tilting his head to one side and regarding his Shinigami with interest.

"Of course."

"And you remember Holland?"

Rae hesitates, slowly screwing up the front part of its skull in concentration.

"I…I can remember Holland," it tells him. "But…it's weird. It's hard. I think some of my memories were damaged when I went through that bad patch."

"The brown-eyed phase?" L asks dejectedly.

"The disabled phase, yeah," Rae replies with a strange, nasty smirk. "But that won't happen again."

"No one else in the team even remembers Holland," L says softly, resting his hands on his knees. "I myself struggle to recall him. Why would that be? None of us have been through any psychological trauma."

"Why the hell should I know?" Rae demands. It rummages briefly through the mountain of wrappers at its feet. "I'm no expert on humans. Hey, have you got anything in here that isn't sickeningly sweet?"

"There is brake fluid under the dashboard," L replies diplomatically. "And you are very much an expert on humans. You read people very well. Better than me, in fact."

"And that's considered some sort of achievement, is it?" Rae asks, with a mocking smile. "Let's face it, L, you've been pretty consistently out of your league with recent cases. If it weren't for me, you'd have been forced into retirement a year ago."

L sucks in a breath and holds it.

"Do you still consider me to be evil?" he asks, dreading the answer.

"Yes," Rae says quickly.

"Do you still believe I will use the death note before the end?"

"Of course."

"Huh."

L digs out a package of biscotti from behind his chair and tears it open.

"I have a theory."

"Oh, are we avoiding the conversation about how you're corrupt and incompetent, again? I never would have predicted that."

L feels the remainder of his patience evaporate. He has no inclination to start playing accusation games with Rae. Something huge is going on, and he has no idea what to do about it.

"Would you just listen?" he says harshly. "I have a theory. I think the hell-god is still in possession of Kiyomi Takada. And he…it…is controlling what happens around her. And that includes us."

"Now you're just talking crazy," Rae snorts. "None of us are in hell. Or are you implying that the second world is hell?"

"I am implying that…hell is in many places," L corrects, thinking of Rem. "I estimate that someone around Holland was in hell, too. Holland was a part of that hell. I cannot help but wonder if he ever existed at all."

"I think you've been spending too much time watching Takada," Rae argues. "You're becoming paranoid."

"You have never met the hell-god," L replies. "And you have never met the queen. While they may be one and the same, that is not important right now. What matters is this. Someone is manipulating us. All of us. Right now. And they have probably done the same thing before, too."

"No, what matters is this; you're clearly not fit to be running investigations any more."

"Oh, shut up, will you?" L snaps, slamming the palm of his hand against the door. "Could you please contain your insipid loathing and hatefulness long enough to listen to what I have to say? Think about it. Think about everything. The plan to send Naomi out to rescue Takada was incredibly risky. Almost nonsensical. And yet I agreed to it. And so did you!"

Rae doesn't answer him for a moment. It seems to be struggling again.

"Yes," it says faintly. "Yes, all right. I…yes. It's a bit weird, maybe."

"I am worried that you are in hell, too," L continues, all his vague, half-formed thoughts tumbling out of his mouth. "Based on relative intelligence quota, you ought to be able to see things as clearly as I do. And yet you are blinded to the inconsistencies surrounding your circumstances."

"Whatever," Rae tells him. "I'm not in hell. You are delusional."

L moves, lightning-fast. He grabs the Shinigami by its collarbone and presses its forehead to his own.

"Think, Rae!" he hisses. "If you are meant to be king, why are you not informed of the conditions of hell? Of the origins of your fellow Shinigami? Why have you never met the queen?"

It's all starting to come crashing down. L is being…interfered with. This hell-god…this world...Mello. He's not even sure what he's going to do. How can he defeat something he cannot see or communicate with?

He cannot. Not yet. But he is going to fight it on its own terms. His mind is his, and his alone. He will not tolerate possession. He will not forget Holland. And he will not forget any facet of this case.

And he will get Naomi safely home, and he will arrest Takada, and then he will make sure Rae is redeemed.

Somehow.

He's L. And he'll do what he can, competent or not.

Rae vanishes from under his fingers, and reappears as far away from him as possible whilst still being mostly inside the vehicle.

"You're insane," it says, accusingly. "Don't ever touch me again!"

L hangs his head.

He is all alone, in this. It's just him and the hell-god.

"I understand," he whispers.

There was a moment.

Just there, back there. When it all seemed. Seemed like.

Like all of L's blathering might be correct.

Is…is it possible?

Could someone be…

Manipulating.

Manipulating me.

It's hard to even think about it.

Am I struggling against you, to even recognise you?

No. It isn't possible.

No one can touch me. No one would dare. No one can beat me.

Not the queen. Not some god of hell. Not fucking little Naomi Penber, and certainly not L.

The reason it's hard to think of is that it's impossible. Illogical.

I am the crown prince of the Shinigami, and rightfully so.

Soon enough, everything will be mine.

The thing is, none of this - not even that awful debilitated brown-eyed phase – matters even slightly. Everything is falling into place. In the end, all that matters is that name. L is a monster. And he'll prove it, in the end. He'll use the note, like every other murderer. Like every other scumbag. He cna't help what he is.

And then.

Then I'll tell you, L.

I have to tell you. I have to see the look on your face.

And then, well, you'll probably beg to die.

Because I did it.

"No!" Jas says furiously, stomping hard onto the dirt. "Not you. Don't you fucking dare fight me. I'll...I'll take away your chance altogether! You deserve that much, anyway."

It only takes a moment, and she feels that mind still, and accept. Just like all the others. Jas heaves a sigh of relief. No one else is as perceptive as L. No one.

The photograph is glued to the bottom of her foot. She takes some savage pleasure in that, too.

Naomi's room here is tiny, clean, and cheap-looking. She sort of feels for Takada, being shut up in this enormous basement, terrified of leaving, terrified of everyone around her.

Her goal, of course, is to win. To defeat Takada, seize the death note, and remove any chance Light ever had of returning to the real world.

But in a different situation, a different time, a different place, Takada is the sort of broken, battered person that she'd most want to save.

That is irrelevant to the task at hand, of course. There are dozens of people being murdered every day. And Takada constantly checks the feed to Roper's house, just in case L shows up to surrender. And Naomi can never forgive her for that. She can never forgive anyone who endangers her boss and his delicate psyche.

L is a powerful motivator.

Naomi isn't sure he realises that. He certainly can't see that his gigantic psychotic skeleton-monster is trying to fight off being in love with him.

And Naomi's hardly about to point that out to him.

"There are fewer cameras in this room," Rae muses, propping its elbow up on her desk. "I presume that means her trust in you is increasing."

Of course it is. And now, Naomi has to prove she's a devout fan of Kira and a smitten fan of Takada, obtain a confession, and get out of here alive.

"The guy monitoring you only checks up on you occasionally, too," the Shinigami continues. "L ought to be pleased that we've progressed this far in six days."

But he isn't, Naomi surmises. L won't be able to rest until all of this is over. And time is not on their side.

Sometimes, she thinks it would be better for him to have Light reappear and get it over with. Until L fights him again, he's going to live his whole life anticipating that moment.

"Speaking of which, he has further instructions for you," Rae informs her. It seems to quite enjoy their one-sided conversations, despite the fact that it openly loathes her. "Since you've already proved your value as a disciple, we have room to move. Grint Street Police Station have already replaced their usual databases with convincing fakes, so we can control the amount of classified information she can access. Be as helpful as you can, I'll let you know if you need to stall for time. Your illness will be useful for that."

Ah yes, her illness. Takada kindly supplied her with a laptop, so that she can work and contact the other disciples even while horizontal and in bed.

So thoughtful.

Today is a particularly bad day. She hasn't even attempted to eat, and it's already late in the afternoon. Lucky her brain doesn't run on sugar, or she'd be completely useless.

"Scratch your nose if you understand all of that," Rae prompts. "Also, your husband says he loves you. Dunno why."

Naomi rubs at her nose and accidentally extends her middle finger in the process.

Whoops.

Naomi goes to the pharmacy for more ginger, and passes Takada and Moustache-Bronson on the way back to her room.

Takada regards her pale, clammy face with mild disgust, and does not meet her eyes.

"I can call in a doctor if you need one, Naomi Penber. We have plenty of educated people available to us," she says haughtily.

"That won't be necessary, my Lady," Naomi replies truthfully. "I don't trust other people with my body."

Takada raises an eyebrow at her.

"You've been hurt before?"

Naomi regards the floor, in lieu of a verbal response.

She's not a victim of abuse, and she hates preying on Takada's fears. But this one woman is not worth all of the people she's killing. Naomi knows where her priorities lie.

"I'm sorry for that," Takada says curtly. "You will be safe here, I assure you. Please return to your room."

"May I sit with you, my Lady?" Naomi blurts out. "That we might commune with Kira together?"

Takada starts, and then scowls at her.

"No," she says roughly. "Do as you are told!"

Naomi checks her watch. Six-fifteen. According to Rae, Takada usually writes in the death note at seven o'clock.

"I think you're getting to her," the Shinigami murmurs.

Fighting the hell-god is going to be difficult. Even more difficult than fighting Kira, because even the victims are tricky to recognise. The only thing L can do is wait for clues.

Their more immediate battle has become something of a waltz. Hacker against hacker. Kiyomi's talented supporters - Jim Carter and Leah Wintz - against the elite professionals L has hired to prevent them from accessing any real information.

Roper was the best Takada had, which means they know that Carter and Wintz are both fallible. Fallible, but not stupid. It will, of course, look bad for Naomi if the Grint Street Police Station suddenly has excellent security. The security of the fake databases must be very ordinary - for the most part - but there must be no chance of Takada's men accessing the real files underneath. Mail has assured L that such a thing is possible. He's been the point of contact for the professional hackers.

Actually, Mail has been the point of contact for most of their associates during this case. He's doing...surprisingly well for himself. When this is all over and Light is Definitely Not Coming Back, L is certain he'll feel quite proud of Mail.

As long as he doesn't work out the truth, of course.

Takada hasn't slept since the fiasco at Bradley's Bistro. The sheer disappointment weighs on her heavily. And the terror...the terror is always there. Someone knew her - and knew Light - well enough to nearly capture her. That cannot be allowed to happen again.

She feels thick and disoriented from sleep-deprivation, and yet she still cannot seem to drift off for more than a few minutes. She lies curled up at the edge of her bed, one hand on the precious sheaf of paper stashed in her pillowcase. Bronson and Gree are keeping guard right outside the door. There are cameras on every point of entrance. There are cameras in places where the only way into her room is through a foot-thick wall of masonry. And still, she is afraid. Her eyes flutter closed only to immediately jerk back open, over and over again.

Kiyomi's life is filled with monsters. L, and Jason, and that blonde kid with the motorbike, and the FBI agent, and the darkness that is the sheer, oppressive absence of Light. Nightmares are standard fare for her. She dreams of burning, of Jason's ministrations, of Misa's ugly face. She dreams of failure, always.

And yet, this night, it is something else that repeatedly tugs her from her sleep. Innocuous words, spoken without malice or threat.

May I sit with you, my Lady?

May I?

And then the next day, she damn well asks again. And here Kiyomi had thought she was smart.

"Leah tells me you're still getting nowhere with the databases, Naomi."

"Yes, that's right," Naomi says, scrunching her face up into an expression that's either regret or nausea. "I apologise, my Lady. I am trying to remember as aptly as possible. I wish I had had the forethought to write things down when I first left the force."

"There is no place for such useless thoughts here," Takada scolds. "The past is the past. You need to find a way for us to use your skills. You don't want to be a burden to me, do you?"

"Oh no, my Lady," Naomi replies, looking rather satisfyingly horrified. "Never, my Lady."

"And you may call me Kimiko, here. It's an alias, obviously."

"Yes, my La...Kimiko."

Takada sighs.

"Good. Now go back to your room and find me a way into those databases."

"Yes, my...Kimiko," Naomi replies, richocheting from chagrine right back to misty subservience. "I will do my best. We all need strength in this difficult time."

And then she hesitates, twirling her dark hair around her forefinger.

"May I sit with you tonight, my Lady?"

Takada feels her face heat up, briefly, treacherously.

Who are you?

Who are you, and why do I care?

"For the second time, no!"

Naomi smiles.

"Ah. Then perhaps I should ask a third time."

Takada is struck momentarily dumb. Naomi doesn't seem to notice. She turns on her heel and totters off, without another word.

"She's cute!" Ryuk pipes up, unhelpfully.

Kiyomi holds her pen above the paper. Pal Ingrid. A convicted people-smuggler. Never served jail time due to beaurocratic errors.

That's the problem with the weak, flailing legal systems in this world. Errors. Errors and mistakes and reduced-sentences and political bargaining and filthy human weakness.

Kira doesn't make beaurocratic errors, and neither does she. Kira is absolute. Light is absolute, and she will save him.

She scribbles down Pal's name, and goes back to browsing the news pages, musing on who to punish next.

If she asks a third time, will she ask a fourth time?

Is she just going to go on asking?

Kiyomi pushes a hand through her bangs, trying to drag the thoughts out of her head. This is vexing, and frustrating, and stupid.

I'm the goddess of the new world! Why am I worrying about this? If I ordered her never to ask anything of me, she'd shut her mouth in a heartbeat and never open it again.

Yes, I have all the power in our relationship. I have all the power in every relationship with everyone around me. Because I have a death note. And right now...I am Kira.

Momentarily comforted, she pens another name. Sean Mayne. Tried for rape. Vindicated, but he was probably guilty. The high courts are still dominated by men, after all.

So...

Why haven't I told her to stop asking?

She's practically promised to do it again.

Naomi is in love with Kira, of course. They all are. But perhaps she's naive enough to have transferred that love to Takada, while she stands as Kira's representative.

Mmm, that would be nice. Someone like Naomi, competent and clever and safe. Devoted to her. Just until Light comes back, of course. Takada would never take a supporter away from Light.

Just for now. Takada's not gay, or anything weird like that. But the love of one's god is always divine. And wanting someone to love her is not the same as wanting to love them back. Because she doesn't. Light is the only one for her, oh god, the pivotal point of everything. Her deity, her saviour, her man. He loves her and she loves him, and they'll be together, like the payoff in every romantic fairy-tale.

Because.

Because it's not like.

It's...he had to kill her. She made a mistake, and left him with no other options. That kid...Mello...he forced Light into it. Light probably sobbed and choked and clutched at the death note while she died. He probably let himself be killed shortly afterwards, just so they could be together.

Yes, yes. There's no doubt that he loves her.

None at all.

L's plan is a complicated one. First, Naomi will manage to provide Bryce's pass-code to her colleagues, through a combination of guesswork and vague memory. Once Takada's men log in as Bryce, they will be able to access to a number of other police accounts, all with barely-average security. Correction; all but one with barely average security. And one account with suspiciously, ridiculously excellent encryption. Mary Cleese. An average-skilled but high ranking police detective. Takada's hackers will find a way into all the restricted files on her account over the span of a couple of days. Mary will grant access to the entire fake police-database, but that won't be important for long. Because she will also going to grant access to L. Because she is - it will be revealed - L's daughter.

It's a good plan. Things have been paced out so that it ought to take a full eight days to make the connection to L. All Naomi has to do is play along, occasionally have moments of brilliance and intuition, and try not to laugh at the idea of L managing to procreate, or romantically attract anyone who isn't ten foot tall and made of skulls.

And do anything she has to do to get close to Takada. Anything.

It's been a good day. Naomi has only fainted once, and she even managed to keep down a piece of toast at breakfast.

And, at six fifteen, she goes and waits for Takada. After all, she's supposed to be besotted. That's the plan.

Takada passes by a moment later, and stops dead when she sees Naomi.

"I bring good news, Kimiko," Naomi says brightly. "I know Leah and Carter will report to you anyway, but I wanted to be the first. I've remembered Bryce's pass-code! When I knew him, he used to cycle through five or six different phrases. I've been trying variations on those themes, and we've finally found the right one!"

"That's...good," Takada says somberly. She seems to be having trouble speaking normally. "That is good news."

Gree is with her today. Not Bronson. Naomi is starting to learn the quirks and personalities of Takada's various cronies. Gree is long-legged and clever, obsessed with finding Kira more than she is of any notion of justice. She never wears makeup, and keeps a scarf wrapped around her head. Naomi suspects that she goes to great lengths to try and look as plain as possible.

"So what are you waiting for?" Gree asks, harshly. "Get in there and find out what we can do under his name!"

"If those are my Lady's orders," Naomi replies dutifully. "However, I would make a recommendation, if I could."

Gree steps towards her, staring down at Naomi with dislike.

"No one asked for your opinion," she snaps. "You are getting ideas above your station, Penber."

"I'm asking for her opinion now," Takada says softly. "Gree, I will remind you that the people who are privy to my face have passed all assessments."

"Yes, Kimiko," Gree says, with obvious frustration.

You're going to be a problem, Naomi thinks, eyeing up the other woman. What do you want, Gree? Are you in love with Light Yagami too?

He had quite a harem, obviously.

I suppose it's true, then, that lots of women fall for assholes. And losers.

"Thank you," Naomi gushes, throwing in a little bow for good measure. "I just wanted to point out that it's the after-hours shift at the police station right now, and as far as I know Bryce hasn't worked nights in a couple of years. Logging in as Bryce tonight - or any night - would almost certainly trigger an investigation by morning."

Takada touches her chin.

"I see," she says, without emotion. "What do you recommend?"

"We wait until tomorrow, after nine am, when he's likely to be on duty," Naomi tells her. "It's safer that way."

"I understand," Takada murmurs. "Yes. We'll do that. Very good. Naomi, Gree, you are both dismissed. I have things to do."

People to kill, Naomi thinks.

"Yes, Kimiko," Gree says firmly, and heads for the door. Then she notices that Naomi is not leaving, and pauses mid-stride.

Naomi ignores her. She sweeps the hair out of her face with two fingers, and smiles nervously.

"May I sit with you tonight, my Lady?" she asks. "Dare I wonder whether I am worthy of praying with you?"

"Kira isn't all about prayer, you know."

"That's a point for us," Rae crows, from somewhere over her head. "If she were going to reject you, she would have done it straight away."

Oh yes, you believe you can read people so well, don't you? Naomi thinks, but she's pleased with her progress, as well.

"Do you want me to start keeping score?" Rae asks, with a cheery little laugh that inexplicably bothers her.

She hates people who lie, and she hates people who are disingenuous. And she hates Rae.

"I understand that, of course," she replies gently. "But Kira is my morality. Thinking of him, talking to him, that is how I remind myself of what is right. And of who I am."

"Fifteen minutes," Takada replies, her tone suddenly cold and dismissive.

"Will I come too, Kimiko?" Gree demands.

"No," Takada tells her. "You may go."

tbc

a/n:

+ aiming for a chapter every ten days. oh god I suck at this game.

+ thank you so much, guys.