notes/warnings
+ swearing
+ people being manipulative
+ mentions of sex, sort of.
Connection
"So you think that my death is part of the trade between Kiyomi Takada and this Big Jason," L monotones, tipping his head back against his chair. "I had considered the possibility myself."
"I'm pretty sure Naomi thought of it, too," Rae replies. "She seemed fairly aggravated after Takada mentioned it."
"She seemed calm, according to the camera feed," L points out. "And Takada all but fell asleep on her. We have three days left. We are progressing unexpectedly well."
Is that because of you, hell-god? Because I've noticed. I notice everything.
"I really don't think you're taking this seriously enough," Rae tells him sternly. "As far as Takada is concerned, you are the thing that is standing between her and Light."
"What if Jason really does have Light?" L asks softly. "What then, Shinigami?"
"That's all the more reason for us to set up some sort of manhunt and try and find this guy," Rae informs him.
"So, are you now admitting that Light might be in the real world?"
"No, moron, I'm just exhausted of arguing with you," Rae snarls. "The point is this; Jason is the reason Takada wants you dead."
"That is only a possibility," L replies, regarding the filthy ceiling. "Forty-one percent chance that the trade involves my death. There's still a good chance that Jason has asked for something else entirely."
"Oh, how I didn't miss you phrasing everything in percentages," Rae says nastily. "Forty-one is high enough that you need to be careful."
Rae needs him alive. For purely business-related reasons. There is no affection in Rae's desire to protect him.
Part of him just wants to give up. If Light is going to kill him again, then maybe L cannot stop that. Maybe he shouldn't even try. Maybe that is his destiny; to die by Light's hands, over and over. An eternity of losing.
Maybe. But even if that is true, he still wants to know. If Light is back, he wants to know.
"Can I ask you something, Rae?"
"Can I stop you?"
"Do you know of anyone else whose name is in the Tracking Library who has also appeared in the second world? Other than Kiyomi Takada, of course."
Rae pauses. L imagines that the Shinigami is trying to decide which lie it wants to tell him.
Or perhaps he got through to it in some small way, and it's trying to fight off the influence of the hell-god. That would be nice.
"You realise I don't know what's in the Tracking Library, right? As a god of death, I can't enter that particular building."
"Of course. Forgive me, I had forgotten that."
"Don't you start apologising over nothing!" Rae says harshly. "Now is not the time!"
L stares at it, bemused.
What?
What are you…
You read me very well.
"All right," he offers.
"Anyway, I was going to say that certain events – events that are unrelated to this case, mind you - have convinced me that some of the names in the Tracking Library are…possibly incorrect."
L raises his eyebrow.
"Which events?"
"I said 'unrelated', didn't I?"
"Yes, but they aren't actually unrelated, because you've just admitted that you don't know for sure that Light is in hell, even if you've been told that he is. You've just been lying to me to stop me from panicking. Or, alternatively, the hell god has such a hold over you that you think you're sure of these things but when forced to apply logic, you realise that you aren't."
"Wait, so you think I'm in hell now?" Rae groans. "Do I look tormented to you? I'm going to be the damn Shinigami king!"
"If you were, I don't think you'd know," L informs it. "Therefore, I cannot rule that out."
Am I your hell, Shinigami?
Everyone he cares about ends up damaged or dead. He's bad luck.
Or maybe Rae's right, and he's just a terrible person. Destroying people through his own incompetence and refusal to retire.
"Did you ever have a different name, Rae?" he murmurs, closing his eye for just a moment. "Did people ever call you anything else?"
"Did people ever call you anything else?"
Yes. Yes they did.
And wouldn't you like to know?
The questions L asks are always unnerving. He doesn't know much about anything, but he's trying. He's always trying. Grappling in the dark, so confused by the hell-god and the queen and the lies about hell and his precious Mello and his darling Rem and his useless employees and his mother and his nightmares that he cannot see what is right in front of him.
Look at you. Down one eye, and completely blind.
And that's good. That's really good. If he's spun deeply enough into a web of lies, then he might never be able to see the truth. He'll chase after criminals and fight small evils and eat cake and be satisfied with his life and never be able to see the bigger picture.
He'll become simple, like Matsuda was, like some sort of cute little dog.
Wait, what?
Not cute. Never cute. Disgusting and morally bankrupt and ugly and alone and really fucking fucking fucking manipulative.
As soon as you write in that notebook, you are dead, Lawliet.
Dead.
Dead!
"Remember the bit where I promised to ignore everything you said that wasn't directly related to the case?" Rae asks with exaggerated cheer.
"Yes," L says soberly. "I remember."
Unfortunately, you seem to have remembered as well.
"Good," Rae replies. "If you die before you write in that note, I will make sure you wind up in hell, just like you deserve. I suggest you take that into account in calculating your next course of action against Takada."
With that, it vanishes.
L tucks one knee under his chin and sighs.
The good thing about being on shift with an ordinary person who isn't L is that they occasionally need to sleep.
And that is a damned good thing, because Raye does nothing but mutter and swear and grumble and complain at every fucking thing they hear through the auditory feed. It's almost as if he doesn't want his wife to succeed.
Which is ridiculous, because if she fails, she'll be dead.
Raye Penber is in love with a woman who loves him back. He's a fucking idiot for being jealous of her doing what she's been instructed to do in order to defeat a serial killer.
Mail toys with the idea of explaining that to him. Preferably via a punch to the face.
But now isn't the time, anyway. Raye is dead to the world, slumped over in his seat, his breath fogging up the bottom of the windscreen. It's late. Judging by the sounds coming over the computer, Naomi is getting ready for bed.
Alone, tonight, apparently.
Mail is absolutely shithouse at reading people, and he has some fascination for those who can do it well. L is no Mello - of course he's no Mello - but he and his Shinigami make a formidable team. They seem to have predicted this faux-Kira down to a fine art. She sounds like she's actually falling for Naomi.
She also speaks of herself as the goddess to Kira's god. Kira's partner.
Didn't Kiyomi Takada used to say the same sort of things?
Then again, so did Misa Amane. Who knows how many women Kira fooled, all over the world? Men, too, maybe. It doesn't sound like he was the type to discriminate. He probably used and abused everyone who was even slightly sympathetic to his cause.
And even now, even when he's completely incarcerated and locked up in hell, he's still screwing up people's lives.
Mail stares down at his arms. His wrists are thin and brittle-looking, but the leather coat shields the rest from sight. He's wearing an ordinary shirt underneath, not the quilted midriff top, because he's not good at being Mello, and nor should he be.
He's nothing but a piss-poor tribute to the most amazing person the world has ever seen. And will never see again.
Raye mutters something in his sleep, and swats at the ceiling.
"I hope she doesn't fuckin' die," Mail tells him quietly. "For your sake."
The file is expertly encrypted, with security exponentially greater than any of the other files on Bryce's account. Takada calls a brief meeting of all the disciples possessing better-than-rudimentary computer skills.
She needs to know what they're hiding. Secrecy always occurs for a reason, after all.
"I want all of you working on this task every day until we have access," she orders.
She's wearing a mask. Not all of the people here have been trusted with her face. She's also standing behind a sheet of bulletproof glass. Just in case.
She wonders if she's overestimated L. He hasn't done a thing since she threatened him. Maybe he's already decided to surrender, and is living out his final days.
Maybe. But she cannot be complacent. She needs information.
"All other previously-assigned duties are to be discarded, unless specifically instructed. This is our absolute priority right now. Leah will co-ordinate you as she sees fit. You are all to complete designated tasks on time, no matter what. And under no circumstances is anyone to log into this account outside of the agreed hours. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"
This is so important. Police information will ultimately lead her to their leader. Their leader is L. L's death will give her Light.
She cannot fail. This must not fail.
She has exactly six days.
Twenty-eight disciples chorus their profuse agreement. Every single one of them might be vital to the success of this undertaking.
But in the sea of faces, she finds herself seeking only one.
Naomi smiles, and Takada looks away quickly.
Light was tall, and clean-shaven, and…no, Light is. Light is tall, and clean-shaven, and meticulously clever, and handsome, and chivalrous, and ambitious, and morally perfect, and everything that Kiyomi Takada has ever wanted in a partner.
But, if for some reason, Light was out of the running...
It'll never happen. She'll never let it happen. Light will always be around, and he'll always be hers, and they'll always be together, and they will be Kira.
But, say, if she were suddenly transported to an alternate universe, where Light never existed. Or for some other reason, Light ceased to be an option.
Then, maybe.
Maybe someone like Naomi Penber.
Naomi visits at six fifteen for tea and prayer, just like every other night. Her colour has been better, of late, and Takada hopes that she might finally be recovering.
"May I make a suggestion, my Lady?" she asks, as soon as both of them are seated.
You are too bold, Takada thinks, ruefully. Now that Naomi has purpose, her personality seems to have metamorphosed from that of a misty-eyed believer to that of a skilled and clever soldier.
Which makes Takada feel strangely safe, somehow. Naomi might act independently. If anything were to happen to her, there might be someone else that loves Kira just as much, that might ensure his return.
Not that he'd love her, of course. He'll only ever love Takada.
But Naomi doesn't want him in that way, anyway, Takada reminds herself, and then scowls into her mug.
Leaning on Naomi for so long was dangerous. Now she knows how Naomi smells.
It's…it's not as if she wants to know more.
"If you wish," Takada tells her coolly.
"Well, three days ago she certainly wouldn't have been willing to take advice from you," Rae comments. "More progress."
"I was wondering if you wanted me to return to the police force," Naomi continues. "I…I did not leave on particularly bad terms. I'm not sure what you seek, of course, but would it help to have another lead, in case Bryce's account is a dead-end?"
She only asks because she's confident that Takada will decline.
"No," Takada says, more quickly than Naomi anticipated. "You are to stay by my side."
"I understand," Naomi replies demurely. "Forgive me if I was forward in making such a suggestion."
"I will…hear other suggestions, if you have them," Takada informs her, her tone resigned and overly businesslike. "You have a good brain."
Huh. That's a victory, too, Naomi thinks. But she hasn't planned the conversation this far, and she isn't sure what to say next.
"Make a move," Rae says, right in her ear. "Trust me, that's an opening. Make a move."
Naomi blinks at the Shinigami. She doesn't know Takada's emotions well enough to be certain of a good response.
Can you honestly read people that well?
Or have you met her before?
Who knows what lies you're telling, really.
To top it off, Rae has also been a little too interested in the activities of Leah, and the other hackers. Which is completely unnecessary; Rae already has enough talents and capabilities with which to seriously hurt people. Naomi doesn't fancy it learning any new tricks to add to its repertoire.
Still, it apparently has a vested interest in the success of this mission. Naomi presumes that means she has to trust its judgment.
Fine. Here goes. She's no expert at flirting, especially not with other women, but she is an excellent spy, and she'll do anything to ensure L's safety.
She reaches out and pushes some of the hair from Takada's face. It's a useless gesture, really, because it flops back into place as soon as she withdraws her hand.
Takada stares at her, gob-smacked. Naomi grins awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," she says, softly. "I just…you look so tired. No one here seems to take care of you. I would suggest that you get some sleep, and leave me to take care of the monsters in your life. I know that's not possible, but at the very least, you should stop worrying about Big Jason. I will protect you from him."
"You," Takada starts, and them seems to struggle to go on. "You. You can go, now. Go to…bed. Your room. I will send further instruction in the morning."
"See? I told you," Rae says cheerfully.
Naomi smiles once more, and then leaves, just as instructed.
Like a good little disciple.
In all of their time together, in all those long hotel-room conversations, in all those times Takada promised to sacrifice her life if needed, in all those months she loved until she thought her heart might bleed out, Light never once offered to protect her from anyone.
You have good days, and bad days.
Some days, you can muster up the self control to stop eating before you start feeling viscerally ill. Some days you manage to complete minor tasks in a vaguely competent manner. Some days you get through the whole day without hearing Near's stupid voice criticising you, or hearing rumours of how L wishes you'd just disappear.
Some days, Matt calls. Some days, you even get to see him.
And some days, you want to punch the shit out of your own mirror. Some days you fuck five things up before you even manage to find your way out of bed. Some days everyone seems to stare at you with disdain. Some days you feel like this whole Kira mission is going to fail, and it will be because of you.
Some days you can't see the stitching in the sky, and you know, for sure and certain, that this life and this place is forever. All you will ever know.
Some days Matt hugs you, and you can't handle it.
Some days you wake up in a cold sweat, clutching at the blankets and yelling 'drive faster, damn you, DRIVE FUCKING FASTER!'.
And you have no idea why.
That night, Kiyomi Takada dreams. She dreams of Jason, sitting at an enormous white table, sipping tea, and talking to someone whose face she cannot see. She is shackled to the bottom of his chair, forced to sit at his feet like an animal.
Jason pets her hair, then kicks her to the floor, and laughs.
When she tries to get up, gasping for breath, and clutching her side, he kicks her again.
"She's more or less useless," he says jovially to his companion. "Women, right? They're only pretty as long as they're new. Think I'll snap her neck, soon. There's another one on the way. Blonde, even."
You are vile, Takada thinks. You are worth less than nothing.
But she's terrified. She's absolutely terrified.
The other man laughs and knocks his mug against Jason's.
"Whatever you want," he says quietly. "She's of no use to me."
Takada manages to get clear look at him, finally, and she sees that he is Light.
And she wakes, sobbing and tearing at her hair, her whole body perched precariously at the very edge of her mattress. It takes her a few moments to remember how to breathe.
It was only a nightmare.
She has bad dreams. Everyone does. They don't mean anything. It's just her own brain, telling her that it's worn out and trying to convince her to give up. Nothing to do with the real Light.
Really.
Takada gets out of bed abruptly. Her heart is still racing. She needs a drink. Something to dull down her dreams, and smother her imagination. Naomi was right, she is so tired. She's tired all the time. She needs to sleep.
There ought to be alcohol in her refrigerator, but there isn't. Instead, there are empty bottles next to the rubbish bin. Takada scrubs at her face and tries to comprehend the situation. She knows she used the last of the wine, and she's been out of vodka for months, but she also knows she had a carton of cider stashed in here, in case of emergencies. The door to her room is still locked. There is no reason for her cider to be missing.
Wait. Cider.
The cider is missing.
Cider is made from apples.
Ryuk is presently having an avid conversation with the ceiling.
"Damn you!" she hisses venomously.
The Shinigami does not respond.
"You really are the most useless race on the planet, aren't you?" she adds, loudly.
Still no answer.
Thwarted, she staggers to the sink and throws water over her face. There, now. She needs to think this through properly.
There isn't any doubt that Light loved her, because he said he did. And he never lied. Well, he lied all the time, but that was only to idiots like Misa and enemies like L and Mello. Not to her. Never to her.
Right?
It's just.
Logically.
Logically speaking, he lied and pretended to love Misa because Misa was useful to him. And there's no arguing that Takada was useful to him, with her good looks and her fans and her intelligence.
And it's just. She knows he loved her. She just.
She's not absolutely sure. Not one hundred percent.
Everything she ever did, she did for him. Even now, she's doing it for him. She's killed so many people, so much blood on her hands. If Light doesn't love her. Or worse, if Light is evil, then.
Then she is wasted. Her whole world, black and empty and wrong.
So she has to believe in Light. Has to. Must. Must. Even though he burned her at the stake. Like an errant weed. Like a witch.
The memory comes rushing back to her, as ugly as ever. The acrid, choking smell of smoke. The feel of her skin blistering and screaming and screaming and screaming in pain. The flames rising up above her head, and all she could do was lie down. Lie down and accept it.
She deserved it. She deserved it because she failed him and forced his hand.
She deserved it.
That's what Jason always used to tell her, too.
Without any particular destination in mind, Kiyomi Takada turns towards the hallway and starts running.
Takada runs spastically; limbs flailing, hair wild, expression hysterical and panicked. She's like an animal, or a frightened child. How can anyone ever take her seriously, when she's so ruled by her own emotions?
People are pathetic. Small, and selfish, and pathetic. And so many of them are bad.
"Heyyyy Raaaae," Ryuk calls from the ceiling, and then pauses to consider his own literary genius. "Hey, that rhymed. I'm so clever. Oh man, we have to go raid a liquor store or something."
Takada runs past the door again, bawling now, one hand over her eyes. She's not sure of who she supports any more, and isn't that just typically weak?
And she's muttering about dying and pain and torment and flames, and surely it's not possible. People don't really hurt that much.
They don't.
It's not like...
It's.
It's.
It's.
It wasn't.
I wonder how it feels, to burn to death?
Naomi's head is spinning, and she can't quite grasp what the hell is going on. Thirty seconds ago, she was asleep, and dreaming about sitting in a hammock with Raye and L, and then suddenly her door was thrown open and smashed into the wall and now she has two arms full of hysterical Kiyomi Takada.
"Aimnshor," Takada mutters into her shoulder. "Aimnshor. Aimnshor! Naomi!"
"It's okay," Naomi murmurs, glancing angrily at Rae.
You were supposed to warn me of things like this, you bastard.
"I don't know what she's so upset about," it says sulkily, but it sounds odd.
"But I'm not," Takada says miserably. She's trembling and clutching Naomi's shoulders. "I don't. I'm not. Oh god, I shouldn't be saying this to you, of all people."
Something about her tone forces Naomi to wake up properly. Her words suddenly sound very, very important. Naomi frowns. Rae isn't prompting her. She'll have to guess this one for herself.
Not sure about what? How you feel about this persona I've presented to you? Whether or not you're doing the right thing? Whether you're in love with Light? Whether you can go on?
Whether you're safe from Jason?
It doesn't matter, really. There is only one answer she needs to give.
She pushes Takada back, gently, and strokes the hair away from her eyes. She can afford to be confident, now.
They have two days left, until ridiculous numbers of people start dying, and L will be sorely tempted to sacrifice himself. She has to try.
"My lady," she says, quietly, clearly. "You are my Kira, and I will follow you to the ends of the earth. You can tell me anything."
Her words seem to shock Takada out of her panic. She stares at Naomi with huge, pink-rimmed eyes.
"What?" she manages. "Wh-what are you saying? Kira is Kira. Kira is justice."
"I know that," Naomi replies, feigning shame. "Of course I know. Kira is my religion, my Lady. But you are my leader."
"Did L say that you could say this stuff?" Rae demands. "I don't think this was in the script, Penber."
"Your leader," Takada echoes.
Naomi ducks her head. There is no turning back now. She has to do this, and she has to make it work.
"I love you," she says softly. "How could I not, after seeing what you go through? After seeing your devotion? After seeing how good you are. Kira teaches us to follow what is right? Well...I follow you. And I will follow you anywhere."
Takada looks like she might faint. Naomi knows how she feels. She puts one hand on the side of Takada's face and waits for a response, and hopes like hell that she's judged this right.
You.
Naomi is just sitting there. She's not saying anything. She's just sitting there, calmly, like she hasn't dropped a bomb on Takada's world, like they're not still wrapped up in each others arms.
You love me.
She knew it, of course. She knew all along. Naomi is too vague and silly to be able to separate Kira's ideals from a human form. Takada has become her stand-in god. She loves Takada.
Then, she'll protect Takada. She's completely at Takada's mercy, here. A tool to be used as needed. She'll shield Takada from danger, from pain, from Jason.
She's no Light. She's a poor stand-in. But she's not a stand in at all, really. Naomi and Light aren't even on the same page.
And Takada isn't sure. Wasn't sure. Has to be sure.
But.
If Naomi will see her through this time, safe and healthy and alive, then won't it be worth it? Light loves her (doesn't he, doesn't he?) and he'd understand. She's doing what she has to do. She needs her mental and emotional health intact, as much as her physical health.
She wants to be loved. She wants to be safe. She wants to be special.
And when Kira comes back, she'll be all of these things, automatically. But she wants them, she needs them, now.
And Naomi...Naomi is pretty.
That doesn't matter, of course. She loves Light. She'll do anything for Light. As long as she is absolutely clear on that, she can do anything else she needs to.
He doesn't even need to know.
"I'm just…it's just been a long day," she says, sidestepping Naomi's original question.
Light loves her. He has to. Just because he never ever seemed to love anyone else, doesn't mean it wasn't real for her. They were soulmates.
She has to do this. It doesn't matter whether she doubts. It doesn't matter whether she's scared.
She's stuck here. Wedged into place.
And she can't remember the last time she felt anything other than fear, and panic, and grim determination, and sheer, blind, scrabbling hope.
Until Naomi came along, and lit this...this giddy little spark. And protected her.
Maybe. Maybe Naomi Penber.
She's stuck. She has nowhere to go but forward. In two days time, she will have even more blood on her hands. More criminals. A decreasing degree of certainty of conviction.
She is tired. She wants to rest.
"You can sleep here, if you want," Naomi offers. "I'll watch over you."
You love me, Takada thinks, again, and realises that it's the best thought she's had in weeks.
Her stability is Naomi. Her stability must be Light.
Takada leans in, and then drags Naomi down by the nape of her neck when she doesn't move fast enough.
The kiss is nothing. She's used to being dominated and controlled, but Naomi's lips are unresisting, soft and warm. Takada forces her to open her mouth, just to prove a point, and Naomi gasps and clings to her.
She's kissing another woman.
Takada pulls away, raising one hand to touch her lips.
She feels strange. She wants. Her knees are weak. Naomi looks calm and unruffled, and Takada wants to make her scream. She wants to tie Naomi to her side.
She's aroused for the first time in years, and she's not even thinking of Light.
Light.
He's the centre of her fucking universe and she feels filthy and sometimes she thinks that it doesn't matter what she does, Big Jason will get her in the end.
Does she doubt Light?
Oh yes, she does.
She shoves her face into Naomi's shoulder, so hard that it must hurt, and clutches around her torso with both arms.
"Save me, Naomi Penber," she begs, out loud, because everything is a mess, and she has no idea what she's doing. "Save me."
There is a horrible, awful pause. Naomi seems to be considering something.
"Yes," she replies, voice low and genuine. "Yes, I will."
Rae might be a fool, but the Shinigami is excellent at picking up on her nuances and body language, and it immediately recognises the message in her voice.
I am N. I work for L. And I will save everyone that I can.
Takada is a battered woman, one who has come to her for help, everything else aside. Naomi isn't Kira. She doesn't discriminate between those she saves. If Takada is truly in hell, of course, Naomi cannot deliver her from that. But she can incarcerate Big Jason and Light, and give Takada a better life.
If that is the choice that Takada has made.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Rae says accusingly. "You actually want to try and protect this woman from her own stupid circumstances?"
I almost feel like she's being interfered with, somehow, Naomi thinks, nodding once in response. And I'm not even sure how that's possible, but something about this whole situation feels...off.
And I'm worried that Takada is just another victim. No matter what she might have done.
"L will be so pleased," Rae continues, sarcastically. "I'll tell him immediately."
L wants to save someone who used the death note to kill dozens of people. He'd better understand, Naomi thinks, vehemently.
But really, what's he going to do?
This is her mission, and she's calling the shots. And she'll do whatever she needs to do to save as many people as possible.
tbc
a/n:
+ thank you for reading