I hate Deja vu, really I do.

"That isn't necessary, I won't run away."

I understood his words and maybe it wasn't needed, but I had my orders.

Truly, I gave him a gift by wrapping the ropes on his slack-covered ankles instead of raw skin. Finishing up the bounds with a nice two half-hitches knots, I took a deep breath. Something about this made my skin prick up and I couldn't put my finger on it.

Tiny sounds of ting filled the room, as I noticed the shuffling of boots out of my peripheral vision. Each instrument of torture made a slightly different sound as they were placed on a metal tray. Heaven knows this wasn't my first time, but it seemed like I was getting soft at my age.

I didn't want to do this.

"Don't say anything to him," Mello noted, his tone neutral to my actions.

Once on my feet again, I returned to the tray sitting on the edge of a side table, which Mello had brought with him from another part of the bunker. I reached into my jacket pocket just to reprimand myself internally. I wasn't in my usual attire, agreeing with Mello beforehand that I needed to blend in better.

I had nothing covering my arms, it was just too hot for such a thing. My right hand brushed against my camisole, hunting for phantom pockets. The muscles in my face tighten at my blunder, just now realizing how exposed I felt mentally.

Quickly recovering by pulling out what I was looking for from my leather pants, I placed it almost too neatly down.

"Is he ready?"

I answered positively without having to look at Mello while he spoke, it was just the two of us in this storage room with Takimura.

"We're all adults here,"

Mello started and I bit my tongue at the sixteen-year-old's fib.

"We know the different between telling the truth and telling lies."

He strolled back over to the sliver tray, pulling out a test tube from his leather vest. I recognized Watari's truth serum right away with its weird light greenish tint, the tiniest crumb of nostalgia falls on my plate.

"If you don't answer my questions honestly, I have something that will help."

I saw the fear take over Takimura's face as scenes of what if flashed over his eyes, an emotion I've felt plenty of times.

"This isn't a conversation if I'm doing all the talking," Mello noted, finally turning around to face his captive.

"I-I understand."

"Good, now who makes up the Japanese Task Force?"

The older man hesitated, the light shining down his balding scalp revealing the nervous droplets of sweat forming. He cleared his throat before answering.

Soichiro Yagami.

Kanzo Mogi.

Touta Matsuda.

While Takimura rattled off names, Mello scanned the sheet of paper I'd pulled out earlier containing the names of Task Force members I worked with. Mello's nose wrinkled as he looked over the obvious missing information.

With a wag of his pointer finger, I walked over to him obediently.

Without much of a word, Mello pointed at a name.

Light Yagami.

I explained to him that Light was brought on by L's orders, to keep a better eye on him as a suspect as the first Kira. Nobody was told of his joining except the people in the Task Force.

"Then what about this?" Mello asked, pulling another folded piece of paper out from his person.

He handed it to me and after a few unfoldings, I saw it was a print-off from a Japanese newspaper. It had a photograph of Light in front of the NPA with its headlines reading Light Yagami youngest to join NPA at 23.

A soft scoff left my throat.

"They're protecting Light again," I noted, reliving moments briefly.

"Again?" Mello looked at me instead of staring off into the distance.

"Yeah, this happened a lot during the Kira investigation under L."

I complained about how every time something came up that made Light look like he was Kira, the Task Force would excuse it.

"His age completely blinded them," I said, running my fingertips along the cold metal tray.

I looked down at the tray, my movements making the whole edge of it warm. The deep-buried anger of blame burned like new once again. They never listened and I still blamed the Task Force for L's untimely death.

"What about this Shuichi Aizawa then?" he asked.

"He left after the NPA pulled the brakes publicly on the Kira investigation, but joined back up to help catch the Yotsuba Kira. I don't know why they are hiding him."

Mello's eyes toughen up, letting everything I said sink in. He turned his back on me to walk over to Takimura, who looked green around the gills.

"What's a Death Note?"

"A what?"

"You heard me, Takimura, what do you know about a notebook of death?"

I watched as the man in question wiggled around in his chair, unsure because of fear or the uncomfortable feeling one gets from lying at a time they shouldn't be.

"I have no clue what you're talking about!" Takimura said loudly enough.

It was not a yell or a scream of innocents, but more like a strong tone of declaration.

A small smile, one of contentment, spread across Mello's cheeks.

"Go ahead, he's earned it," Mello said, reaching for a chocolate bar from his persons.

Nodding my understanding, I prepped a needle with the right amount of sleep aid. I walked over and with a caring touch, I rolled up the sleeve of Takimura's right arm. I assured him that it was just something to help him sleep, temporary not permanent, as I tapped away until a pretty blue line surfaced under the skin.

Takimura was out quickly, snoring lightly because of the way his head fell.

"Everyone on my list knows and has touched the death note being kept with the Task Force," I replied, staring at the sleeping man while my mind ran wild.

"They're keeping the NPA and the public in the dark, but why…"

Mello's voice trailed off as he bit hard into his chocolate bar.