notes/warnings

+ uh, sexual themes in this chapter, too.

+ swearing!

Oversight

Raye stares unseeingly at the useless, useless laptop, bile rising in his throat.

What is she doing what are they doing WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Naomi is making tiny, breathless noises. Noises that should be only for him. But she's making them for Takada, and fucking goddamned fucking L. And dear god, he can see this, all of this, whatever she's doing, however exposed she's become, L is watching.

His wife. His. L can want and instruct and voyeur all he likes, but he'll never have her.

But even that thought is no fucking comfort at a time like this. Raye doesn't know what they're doing. Naomi might already be having sex with her.

His beautiful wife, sleeping with a serial killer.

She's in so much danger, and Raye can't help her.

And he can't escape, either. He can't plug his ears. He can't kick the door open and vanish into the night and run and run and run, because he has to stay here. He has to listen to this, even if it kills him.

He hates Kiyomi Takada. He hates the way she speaks, and the sound of her voice, and the fact that she honestly believes that Naomi might fall for someone like her.

He hopes she burns in hell.

"It's not real," Mail murmurs. "She's just acting. This is just for the investigation."

"And she might be killed, just for the investigation," Raye spits. "Just…just…just shut up. Shut up! You don't fucking know anything! She's not doing this 'just for the investigation', she's doing this for him!"

And somehow, that's even worse. L always takes everything away from him. And he doesn't even fucking realise…

Out of nowhere, Mail backhands him across the face. Raye grunts in surprise, momentarily jerked out of his mental cocoon of rage and self-pity. The sharp, sudden pain in his jaw contrasts starkly with the moans and giggles emanating from his headphones.

This is so fucking surreal.

Every muscle in Raye's body aches to hit Mail back, but the man is built like a rake, and he'd probably just snap in half and die. Raye settles for shoving at him violently.

"You little punk! What were you-"

"You're not even thinking," Mail tells him derisively. "You're just fuckin'…look, even I can see she's doing this for herself."

Raye rubs at his face. He'll have a bruise, by tomorrow. Not that it matters.

Everything ends, tomorrow.

"For herself?" he asks, skeptically.

"You are an idiot," Mail tells him. "A fuckin' idiot. Look, she loves this shit. That's what she does. It's not about anyone else. Right now she's doing her job, because that's who she is. And she's still yours."

Raye opens his mouth to respond, hesitates, then closes it again. He…he has nothing to say to that. Nothing.

He didn't expect Mail to actually have insight.

For the first time, he wonders what Mail was like, back when he was alive. When he was an actual person. When he was whole.

Raye is…Raye is lucky.

Being lucky doesn't make this any easier.

Sometimes, on his really good days, Mail can reach right into his most precious memories and extract some of Mello's words, Mello's intentions, Mello's influence. Mello could always read people perfectly. He'd know exactly what to say in order to shut Raye up.

And Mail is just reaching, of course. Trying to deduce what his amazing friend would have done, and felt, and thought. He's nothing but a flawed proxy.

But when Raye actually does shut up, Mail feels…just for a moment, he feels satisfied.

For the past ten minutes, they've been kissing. Loudly, and passionately, and somewhat enjoyably. But without the removal of any more clothes. Without any hint of progression. Takada's obviously not too sure about actually having sex, either.

The endorphin release is working well for Naomi, at any rate. She doesn't feel nauseous or faint, any more. She feels…well, mostly she feels worried. She can't stop thinking about how frightened and desperate and confused Takada is, and how maybe Naomi's actions aren't actually helping her.

And how L could save her. If L were here, right now. If they'd sent L, instead of her. If Takada listened, if Takada let him, then L could save her. Might still be able to save her. He can save anyone, Naomi is certain of that. All he ever needs is half a chance.

He's L. He's practically a superhero. And he'll feel much better once this Takada business is over. They will all feel better.

"Wait," Takada says, against her lips, and then she gets up, gets off the bed, and wanders out of Naomi's line of sight.

Naomi spontaneously decides that once this case is closed, she is going to invite her boss into her bed again. She wants to go to sleep between Raye and L. She wants to feel that safe.

Takada reappears, and immediately collapses beside Naomi. Her shirt is gone. Her bra is predictably impressive and expensive-looking. Her face is a little paler than usual.

"I've never…I've never done this with anyone before," she admits, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. Lost.

Takada definitely doesn't sound like a devout Kira-worshipper now. And that's good. Naomi strokes Takada's back absently, and smiles warmly.

Because she's pretty certain that there's still good left in Kiyomi Takada.

Ninety-nine percent certain.

Jas is bending a few rules here, but it's a necessary evil. Besides, bending is not the same as breaking.

Naomi Penber is clever and careful, but there is something Kiyomi Takada needs to know. Because when she was alive, there was never anyone other than Light. Her choice was either to follow Light, or to follow no-one at all.

So, Jas needs to make Naomi mention L. It's the only way.

And this is such a precise, complicated task. All of Jas' energy and focus must be directed at Naomi. She must speak of L objectively, preserve her own safety and yet still leave Kiyomi with a substantial amount of hope.

'I refuse to believe Kira is the only good person in the world. Perhaps the police will not help us, but there are other people out there. Clergymen, and scientists, and teachers, and god knows what else. Hell, there are private detectives who want to help make a better world. What about the one called L? I've heard he's supposed to be a good man. Do you know anything about him?'

That is what Naomi needs to say, exactly. Of course, Naomi would never mention L of her own volition, no matter how much she thinks about it. She's too hell-bent on protecting her beloved boss. But that's okay. Jas has power over the human mind. A little bit of pressure, applied just so, and Naomi will speak out.

This is delicate. This is so delicate. There is no room for any mistakes.

L is sucking sloppily on his left thumb, his tongue leaving little trails of saliva in its wake. And it's nothing, really, ha ha, of course not. He's pathetic, not burning-hot, and…

Well. It wouldn't hurt to test him out. Ask a few questions. After all, it's important to know if he has any sexual or romantic weaknesses.

Yes. That would be good.

L regards his monitor with mild interest. All he really cares about is the positioning of Naomi's foot. After all, she is still carrying a tap there. Any sexual activity is of no consequence to the mission, as long as Takada does not uncover any unexpected electronics.

Rae is perched in the passenger's seat. It has yet to actually bother to greet him.

"You're a really sad little man, do you know that?"

Ah. There it is.

"You know, I remember when you used to say 'hello' before you started criticising me," L says ruefully. "Those were good days."

"I remember when you cried at Matsuda's funeral," Rae snaps. "That was a good day."

L frowns at his Shinigami.

"All right. Your venom is bordering on ridiculous. What is it?"

"You are the one who's ridiculous," Rae huffs. "Or maybe 'broken' would be a better word."

"Because I won't use the death note?" L guesses.

"No, because there are two barely dressed women making out on your screen, and you don't even feel anything, do you?"

L lifts his head, disconcerted and wounded all at once. He has no idea what Rae wants him to say.

"This is an undercover mission, not a pornographic movie," he says carefully. "Why would I feel anything? Other than concern, of course."

"Forget it. I have a new theory, by the way. I don't think you even have genitals."

The strange wounded-disconcerted feeling subsides to make way for a whole lot of awkward and uncomfortable.

"You have seen me naked," L points out.

"They're made of plastic, then."

L rolls his eyes.

"I don't even understand where this is going. Do you want me to be attracted to my happily-married employee? Or do you just think that would suit your perception of me, because it would be an inherently evil attraction to pursue?"

"That's not the point," Rae tells him, angrily. "The point is that you're so emotionally defunct that you've actually succeeded in shutting down your own physiological responses. You're a broken human."

"So now I'm dysfunctional, and evil," L says sadly. "I understand."

"No you don't," Rae responds, and there's an odd little tremor in its voice. "You don't even…look, in the entirety of your life, have you ever been attracted to anyone?"

L chokes on his offhand 'no, actually', and he isn't sure why.

"I…I'm not sure?"

That is, apparently, the wrong answer. His Shinigami lunges at him, knocking him out of his crouch and sending him sprawling against the door.

"You're not allowed to hurt me," L mutters, and Rae grabs him, pinning his right hand to the ceiling, long fingers wrapping around his left thigh, preventing him from bringing his legs together.

Too high up. Rae doesn't know what it's doing.

L raises his head and sees that Rae's eyes are the colour of rust. Something warm, fluttery, and unbidden curls in the pit of his belly.

Rae always knows what it's doing.

And its face is barely a few inches away from his own.

L feels really awkward, now. Awkward, and tense, and kind of like if he just stays still, maybe something amazing will happen and geeze, how long has it been since he last exhaled?

"You're a freak," Rae enunciates.

L reaches out, curling the palm of his free hand around one of Rae's ribs.

"You, though," he breathes, because it's stupid and it's terrible and it's actually true. "I…I like you."

Light's probably going to kill him soon, anyway. He might as well tell the truth.

And it's worth it all – worth every second of impending horrible lifelong repercussions – when he realises that Rae's eyes have turned completely brown.

The name floating over L's head flickers and disappears. But that's nothing to panic about. It will be easy enough to restore. In a minute.

You.

What Takada's doing is crazy and wrong. If she were restricting herself to murdering convicted criminals, it would be fine.

You are.

Would probably be fine. Except, perhaps not. Not really. She was never chosen. Only gods are allowed to judge people. She's just a silly little girl, with a weapon that's too powerful for her to understand. She's no better than those she kills.

But L.

You just said.

The world shifts, ever so slightly. It seems to move in time with L's ragged, shallow breathing. He didn't flinch. He reached out and touched.

You like me.

It's such a simple, implausible, incredible concept. He's…he's…this is easy. L is never neutral. If he's not a stumbling stone, then he's an ally.

You like me!

It's the best sort of revelation, like winning a gold medal halfway through the race. L is a prize. And although his affections can probably be cultivated and bought, this is so much better. So much better.

You like me. And you chose me, all on your own.

L's pupil is huge, and there's colour in his cheeks.

I could give you everything. I could take you for myself.

Yes. That would be enough. The benevolent detective. The perfect trophy. An undeniable testimony of having lived a perfectly good life.

And if you like me, then we're equal. I…I don't even have to worry. You've proven you're no longer capable of emotionally abusing those you care about. You won't let yourself manipulate me.

I'm safe.

L's fingers flex, brushing up against nerve endings that aren't actually there. It feels good, jittery and spectacular. It feels like winning. Rae strokes its thumb along the inseam of L's jeans, and the man makes a tiny, strangled noise.

I've.

I've never felt like this before.

Why are you so electric?

Is this how it's…supposed to be?

The king can have pets. The king can have courtesans.

And you need me, don't you? You need me to protect you from everything.

This is good. This is perfect. You're better than anyone else I've had. I have to have you.

"I'm not broken," L pants. "Don't let him kill me."

"I won't."

You like me.

Maybe, in time, he'll even see reason about Kira.

It's the middle of the night, and you stagger to the kitchen for some water.

You fell asleep while eating chocolate – again – and your mouth feels fuzzy and disgusting. And yet, you're still too lazy to be bothered to actually brush your teeth.

You can practically hear Near criticising you from across town. And he'd still be up at this ungodly hour, too, because he's a freak who never sleeps.

You've always needed eight or nine hours of sleep per night. Just one more reason why you're weak, and inferior.

You're also fat, and ugly, and god, you wish you were anywhere but here. Any other reality, any other existence. Ideally, you'd like to be transported to one of Matt's favourite Western-style video games. With guns, and street fights, and clear-cut good versus evil. Where everyone is hot – even you – and you get to have lots of anonymous sex with faceless strangers, and no-one ever realizes that you're in love with your married, definitely-not-even-slightly-interested best friend.

You grab the nearest mug, and scull whatever liquid it holds. Knowing Dwayne, it'll probably be some sort of alcohol. And hey, if it's poison, then at least you won't have to deal with this shit any more.

But, no. It's water. Water and…water and moth. Crap. You choke and hunch over the sink, overweight and pathetic and struggling for breath.

You remember what Near used to tell you.

'You're just stupid, that's all. You might be psychotic, but that not your main problem. Mostly, you're stupid.'

And god, you'd kill yourself, but you can't. You can't leave Matt. You can't take this any more, but you can't leave Matt. So you put up with it, and you try to get through every day as best you can, and you prod at the seams that you imagine in the sky, as if they might reveal all the answers in the world.

It's all in your head. You're just crazy. Crazy and dumb. You drop the mug on the floor and head back towards your bed. You cast a glance at the microwave as you pass, just to remind yourself how huge and wide you've-

Your reflection is wrong.

Your…your reflection is wrong!

"What the fuck is this?" you demand, because the reflection is tiny, slim waist and jutting hips, and yet it turns and backs away when you do.

Like it's actually you.

You duck your head, and the face that looks back is…is maybe your cousin's, or something. Because those look like your eyes, but the face is perfect, scar-less and clean. And that's the hair you've always wanted, sleek and golden, all the way down to your…to his chin.

It's…it's you. It's what you want to be. It's alternate reality you. It's…it's…it's…

You look at the ceiling, and THERE ARE FUCKING STARS ON THE CEILING.

Stars. That twinkle. The ceiling is transparent, and you're looking at the…

And then the revelation hits you, and it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what the microwave says, or what is happening to the house, because.

Because Matt is dead.

You remember, now.

He died. He was killed. You got him killed.

The words form unbidden on your lips. A protest; a eulogy.

"Dear heart. God, no. No, no, no, no! NO!"

Around you, the whole world is falling apart.

Matt is dead.

Jas jerks, startled.

Keehl.

Keehl is rattling his chains, unraveling his own hell, destroying everything.

He's trying to escape. He's trying to get away from her.

No. No!

Good or bad, you're mine right now.

I own you.

I own you!

And Jas goes to him, reaches out, lashes out.

Diverts her attention away from Naomi Penber, just for a second.

"I'm…I'm not actually sure I can do this," Takada confesses, rolling off of Naomi and landing on her back on the mattress. "It's…he's. He's such a big part of my life, Naomi."

"Whatever you want, my Lady," Naomi replies, but she sounds a little put out.

And that ought to make Takada happy, but it doesn't.

"I wish this was about what I wanted," Takada says bitterly, flinging her arms up over her head. "It's never been about what I wanted."

"It's your life," Naomi murmurs, but she sits up, all the same. "So, are we done? Should I put my clothes back on?"

Takada grips her shoulder and pulls her back down.

"Stay with me," she says, tremulously. "I…I set out to do this."

Naomi frowns.

"But I thought you just said you didn't want to-"

"Of course I want to!" Takada yells. "Of course! But this isn't about me. He's everywhere, Penber. He's under my eyelids when I sleep. I can't escape him."

Naomi's fingers curl around her hand, confident and warm.

"You could ignore him, if you wanted to," Naomi says softly. "I refuse to believe you don't have a choice."

"He is the only way I can save the world," Takada says simply. "Tell me, what kind of a choice is that, to make?"

And actually saying the words out loud makes them a thousand times more awful and real than they sounded in the confines of her own head.

She really doesn't get to choose. There is being a good person, and there is not being a good person.

But Naomi…Naomi gives her this weird, calculating sort of look. And her eyes are wide, and strangely glazed, and she's really pretty.

Really, really pretty.

"I refuse to believe Kira is the only good person in the world," Naomi tells her, slowly. "Perhaps…perhaps the police will not help us, but there are other people out there. Clergymen, and scientists, and teachers, and god knows what else. Hell, there are private detectives who want to help make a better world. I've…I've met one of them. I've…I've worked for L."

Takada's heart stills in her chest.

You've what? You've what? You've WHAT?

Naomi feels her lips form the words, hears her own vocal chords betray her, betray everything, but there is nothing that she can do.

She is powerless in her own body.

And that can only mean one thing.

Kira.

Kira is back.

Kira has her.

Here comes the noose.

And then, just as suddenly, Naomi can move again. And think, and breathe, and talk. And she sees the confusion, and suspicion, and anger in Takada's eyes.

And then she understands. Kira has still killed her. He's just elected to do it very, very slowly. And via Takada.

If she ever sees him again, she's going to stab his fucking eyes out.

Raye stares at the computer in utter horror.

"What the fuck did you say?" he whispers, terrified.

Takada…Takada will annihilate her. Takada will tear her apart.

Naomi would never decide to do something like this on her own. This…this is L's fucking doing.

He's ordered her to risk her goddamned life, and he's done it on the sly.

Raye's mind races frantically. No. This can't be. No. L wouldn't do that. This isn't happening. Naomi cannot be killed.

Naomi cannot be killed.

Raye pulls his gun into his lap, rests one hand on the handle of the door, and waits.

If there is even the slightest sign of trouble, he is goddamned going in there.

L shoves Rae away, violently, an automatic reaction. He reaches for his computer, as if that's going to do any good at all.

"What is she doing?" he whispers, his heart sinking horribly. "Why would…why would she say that?"

"She'll be killed," Rae says, sounding as shocked as L feels. "Naomi's not usually stupid. What the fuck is she trying to achieve?"

"It's the hell-god," L tells it. "It must be. He's controlling her."

"So, what are you going to do?" Rae asks.

L stares forlornly at his own hands. This…this is big. This is huge. He cannot fight influence, and he cannot fight mind control.

And he cannot find the hell-god.

Please don't die, Naomi Penber.

"There is nothing I can do," he says, heavily.

Takada hasn't spoken yet. Takada hasn't said a word.

Please don't kill her.

"Did you do this?" Raye's voice crackles over the intercom. "L? Is this your doing?"

We'd never get there in time. We'd never get there in time, and we cannot fight the hell-god. Not yet.

"Do you believe me, now?" L asks quietly. "Do you believe me that the god of hell is controlling our situation."

"Not really, no," Rae admits.

"Get back there," L grits. "Go and be with Naomi. Do anything you can to protect her, please."

"Got it," Rae replies, and releases its hold on his wrist. L hadn't realised it was still hanging on in the first place.

Rae turns, knocks its elbow against the door, and swears. And L doesn't have time for this, he doesn't have time for anything. His world is being destroyed, right before his eyes, and he'll be damned if he's going to just lay down and die. Not again. Not this time.

"Get your red eyes back," L orders. "Now!"

It's easy enough to get the eyes back.

I barely touched you.

It's easy enough to hate L.

And you were so…

Really, it is.

What the fuck did we almost do?

Everything is fine.

"Oh no," Jas breathes, horrified. "Oh…oh god. What have I done?"

She's influenced Naomi too hard, the wrong way. A moment of distraction; a whole cascade of consequences.

Jas analyses and re-analyses the situation, over and over, but there's nothing she can do. She can't take back the words, and she cannot influence Kiyomi Takada, or she risks unbalancing the test.

There is a life hanging in Kiyomi's hands, now. A life that is not supposed to be lost. Jas sort of wants to have a meltdown.

This…this is the most terrible thing she's ever done.

Takada does not speak for a full two minutes, seething and confused and gobsmacked, unable to decide on what she wants to say.

You aren't trustworthy!

Did he send you here?

Do you have contact with L? Can you track him down for me? Could you arrange a meeting?

Who is he? What sort of man is he?

Can he save me?

She can't think. She can't process all of this right now. She cares for Naomi, and this…this is too much.

"You failed to mention that during your interview process," she says, finally.

"I honestly didn't think it was relevant," Naomi tells her, and she sounds as stressed as Takada feels. "I thought you would be more interested in my police connections."

No, you stupid girl! He's the one I'm looking for!

Is he special to you? IS HE SPECIAL TO YOU?

Maybe saving Light will become a happy coincidence. Maybe Takada needs to kill L anyway. Why would Naomi bring him up now, if she didn't admire him?

Because Takada needs saving?

Impossible. L is the enemy. Always the enemy.

"You know that L opposed Kira, surely," Takada says, as calmly as she can manage. "That was made quite public in the first world."

"I know. That's why I didn't bring it up until now," Naomi replies tersely. "I worked with L long before Kira began. When I realised he was against Kira, I presumed he must have been evil. But now, after what you've said, I've been wondering if maybe L could have saved you from what…from what Kira did."

"Are you really saying that I ought to side with someone I hate?" Takada demands. "Did L send you here, Naomi?"

"No!" Naomi says, passionately. "But…Kira killed you. I cannot forgive him for that. I… I do confess that my perception of the world has shifted considerably since I learned that. If Kira had been stopped, you might never have been killed. And you might never have had to suffer so at the hands of Big Jason. I cannot overlook all of that, my Lady. Please, I'm doing this because I care for you."

I don't even know what to believe any more.

I want to believe you.

I wanted to believe Light, too.

Dear god, I did, didn't I? He told me I could be a goddess, and I wanted to believe that.

No. That's not how it was. He was good. He was GOOD!

"No one can save me," Takada says firmly, getting to her feet. "This conversation is over. I…I need to be alone, right now."

"I understand," Naomi tells her gently, drawing her knees up to her chin. She's still adorable.

She has connections to L.

That means something. Something huge. That means…

"You thought I could save you, Kimiko," Naomi whispers.

That means that Takada can either use Naomi to kill L, or use her to join him.

Dear god. She has to choose.

She has to choose.

You wake up in the middle of the kitchen floor. It's still dark. The glowing numbers on your cheap-ass watch tell you that it's two thirty-one in the morning.

You vaguely remember getting up for a drink of water. You must have passed out in the middle of it.

How typically pathetic, as Near might say. And who the fuck cares what Near thinks, anyway?

Everyone does. That's the problem. Everyone does. Even you.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the microwave, and you swear you've gained weight since dinner last night. You really are getting disgusting.

You vaguely remember having a really strange dream, where there was some skinny, model-looking guy in the mirror – or something – and somehow that meant Matt was dead.

You can barely remember it, though. And it was only a dream.

tbc

a/n:

+ thank you for reading!

+ I apologise that this chapter is both late and short, and also that I forgot an a/n in the last chapter.

+ I also need to warn that chapters may not be posted on a weekly basis for the next few chapters. I apologise for this too, but I always seem to struggle writing climaxes and conflicts, and I need to take time to make sure that things are making sense.

+ thank you again!