In the bleak realm in between realms, the shinigami with spiked black hair sat on a lump that was like a rock but not a rock, mulling over the recent events on earth as he idled away his moments outside of time. Beside him, another shinigami suddenly stepped out of the nothingness and materialized before him. This one was female, with purple hair that looked more like dead serpents hanging down the sides of her face.

"Well met, Rem," said the first shinigami, Ryuk, with a gravelly laugh. "What brings you here? Don't you still have your little human pet back on earth to watch after?"

"Misa also gave up her Death Note and her memories, like Light did," answered Rem, no expression in her face.

"Oh, that's right," said Ryuk. "The plan's been getting so complicated that I forget what's what. Still though…" He cast the other shinigami a sly glance. "I know you're fond of following your little pet around, to keep an eye on her. What makes you seek me out?"

Rem was silent for a moment, whether out of offense or to collect her thoughts, it was impossible to tell. Finally she said, "We need to talk."

"Well, talk!" chuckled Ryuk, sweeping long, spindly fingers outward in the gesture of an invitation. "I'm all ears. Though, maybe not as much as that guy over there." He pointed towards the distance where a lone shinigami, whose body was covered in eyes and ears, meandered about aimlessly; and then he guffawed loudly at his own joke.

Rem didn't seem amused. "I've scrambled the tapes of human footage that have Misa in them. You ought to do the same for Light."

Ryuk seemed to find this funny. "Why?"

"They have a human with them who can see us."

"Eh?" Ryuk sat up straighter. "Another human with a Death Note?"

"No. She's a marked one."

"Ohhh?" Ryuk put two fingers to his chin and tilted his head, interest piqued. "Marked, you say? Been a little while since I've seen one of those. And the last time I did, it was an unpleasant affair." He gnashed his teeth, distorting his face into a more frightening visage than usual. "I wonder…But even so, it's rare for even a marked human to be able to see us."

"Be that as it may, this one can."

"Hmmm," said Ryuk, lost in a long train of thought. Then, suddenly, he laughed. "This just gets more and more interesting."

Rem's face was as stoic as ever. "You must scramble the tapes for Light, Ryuk."

Ryuk laughed even louder. "And why would I do that?"

Rem peered at him, and though her facial muscles lacked the dexterity to express anything beyond an eerie blank stare, she spoke as if to a daft child. "You know that human technology's frequency is now high enough to be able to capture some of our sounds and movements. How much more clearly will it show us to the eyes of someone who has been given sight?"

Ryuk grinned slyly up at Rem. "And why should I care?"

"You have legal rights over Light's soul," Rem went on, ignoring him. "I can't touch his tapes and directly interfere with his fate. You have to do it."

Ryuk leaned back lazily. "I ask you again, Rem…why should I care?"

Ryuk knew her well enough to tell that she was getting frustrated with him, despite her aloof gaze. "That should be obvious," said the female shinigami through grit teeth. "Because that human girl will see you in them, and then they will eventually catch Light for being Kira…and Misa for being the second Kira."

"No, no." Ryuk waved a hand dismissively. "They'll only have a clue, and that's not enough to incriminate anybody…and that's assuming they even believe the marked human, which I assure you, most other humans never do. Besides," he grinned widely, showing off an array of sharp, yellowed teeth, "It'll be much more fun this way."

He could feel anger boiling beneath Rem's countenance, and he smiled. "I know, I know," he said. "You're worried for your little human." He guffawed again. "A shinigami like you becoming attached to a human, whoever heard of such a thing? You'd better be careful, Rem…I would say that the Shinigami King might have a punishment for that, except that I know he doesn't need to…it's punishment enough in itself." Ryuk stood up to be eye level with Rem, peering into her yellow eyes with his own as he continued to grin. "We're shinigami, Rem…love is for humans, and it inherently goes against our nature and inner substance. It kills us from the inside out—just like hatred does to humans."

Rem gazed back at him but said nothing. After a long moment, she turned away and disappeared into the nothingness.

Ryuk sat back down on his lump. "A marked human girl, eh?" he said to himself, stroking his chin gleefully. "I wonder who it could be?"

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"Juliieeee!" Misa's shrill voice squealed. "You have to stay still, if you want Misa-Misa to put this makeup on you!"

"I don't," said Jubilee, fidgeting under Misa's brushes and scrutiny.

"But you promised—!"

"I promised to let you practice your makeup on me, but I didn't say anything about wanting it or liking it," Jubilee corrected the younger girl. She sneezed from the powder puff hovering over her nose.

The two women were sitting together on a couch in Misa's lavish suite. Security cameras pointed at them from all corners of the room. Hellenos stood at his usual post in a corner. He looked amused.

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The younger girl huffed, standing up to try and attack Jubilee's face from a higher angle with her brushes. "Why'd you promise then, if you didn't actually want to do it?"

Jubilee didn't answer. The truth was that she'd started to develop a vague suspicion over the girl ever since she'd begun surveying public security footage of Misa. Something about the tapes just seemed off to her. For one thing, whenever she watched them, she got the same underlying sense of dread in the pit of her stomach that she did whenever she saw a particularly powerful demon. Yet around Misa there was no sign of anything amiss—which was another thing. There was literally nothing surrounding Misa; no lights, no colors, no nothing, which was starkly contrasted against the colorful hubbub of every other human around her. It was as though someone had gone in with an eraser and completely blotted out any signature that Misa left on the spiritual plane.

When she'd voiced her findings to L, he'd instructed her to spend more time with the younger girl under the pretense of friendship, for the sake of observing her more. Which reminded her uncomfortably of her years in Chicago, but she didn't deign to share that fact. The truth was that she was as intent on getting to the bottom of this as anyone else on the investigation team. Though, to be honest, she hadn't foreseen being made into Misa's own personal, life-sized Barbie doll in the process.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" said Jubilee, gesturing at her own painted face. "Trying to make ourselves into something we're not?"

Misa stopped and put her hands on her hips. "What do you mean?"

Jubilee sighed. "Painting our faces, essentially, to make them look prettier than they really are, for the sole purpose of attracting men."

"Hmph!" said Misa. "Makeup is so much more than that, don't you know? You just haven't used it enough to understand."

"Oh, I've used it plenty," said Jubilee darkly, remembering her thieving days. Over in the corner, Hellenos dimmed slightly.

"The art of makeup," Misa continued, not catching Jubilee's grim tone, "Is more than just adding on beauty! It's to enhance the beauty that you already have."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Jubilee resignedly. She leaned back against the couch cushions and listened to Misa blabber on for a while, singing the praises of all the different products she had done commercials for.

In truth, Jubilee was starting to become fond of the young pop star, despite their wildly differing tastes. Curiously, the girl shone a bright, bubbly pink to Jubilee's eyes, unlike her video counterpart. Sometimes the color flashed with hints of a malicious red, but this was not so different from most young girls that Jubilee observed. In fact, Jubilee could note nothing suspicious about her at all when they were together. Misa was like a child—temperamental, silly, and innocent. Hanging out with her was not much different than hanging out with the little girls of Wakahisa when they wanted to play dolls with her. Though, in this case, she was the doll.

"And anyhow," Misa was saying, "Misa needs someone to practice on! To figure out the perfect look for when she and Light finally get to have their date!"

Jubilee arched an eyebrow at the blonde. "Why don't you just practice on yourself then?"

"It's more fun this way."

"Misa, we look nothing like each other." Jubilee gestured at her own dark brown hair and much less Asian face. "That makes no sense."

"Beauty doesn't have to make sense!" Misa harrumphed. "It just is. Why do you have to be such a downer about it all?" She pouted. "Misa-Misa was just trying to do something fun for the both of us."

Jubilee sighed and held up her hands. "I'm sorry," she placated. "I guess I've just had a few bad personal experiences. I didn't mean to take it out on you." She paused for a moment. Had she just apologized smoothly without even thinking about it?

Wow, said Hellenos from his corner. Ten points for Gryffindor.

Jubilee had to use every ounce of self-control she had to refrain from whipping her head in the angel's direction. Misa didn't know that she could see in the spirit. Did you just make a Harry Potter joke? she demanded.

The angel only grinned widely at her.

"Oh?" Misa was speaking again. She set down her makeup palette and brushes on the coffee table and plopped down beside Jubilee on the couch. "Bad experiences, huh?" She gave a light sigh. "So this isn't fun for you at all, is it? Well, we can do something else. How about girl talk?"

Jubilee arched an eyebrow again. "…Girl talk?"

"Yeah, you know." Misa waggled her fingers. "About boys and stuff."

Jubilee gave a subtle glance skyward. Lord help me, she thought.

"Did your bad experiences involve a boy?" Misa asked.

Jubilee stiffened. "No," she said. "Well…not always."

"Hmm," said Misa thoughtfully, then said brightly, "We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

Jubilee's momentary feeling of relief was bulldozed over by Misa's excited, "We can just talk about Light instead!"

"Oh great," deadpanned Jubilee.

The blonde didn't notice Jubilee's sarcasm and went on to gush, "Oh, Misa-Misa just loves having Light as a boyfriend! Do you have a boyfriend, Julie?"

"No," said Jubilee flatly. "And I don't want one."

Misa pouted dramatically. "Aw, Julie-Julie is so unromantic! Why not?"

"I just don't," she said. No need to bring the mood down even further with a lengthy psychoanalytical talk about raging guilt and lack of self-worth.

"Hmm," said Misa again, then said, rather sagely, "Is it because you think boys won't like you?"

Jubilee feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?"

Misa put a finger to her chin in semblance of thought and nodded wisely to herself. "You're afraid," she said. "That they won't want to stay with you."

Jubilee avoided looking at the other girl. For a dumb blonde, she could be surprisingly smart sometimes.

"But that's silly!" cried Misa. "Misa-Misa thinks you're very pretty, and nice too. And once you let Misa-Misa give you a makeover, lots of boys will want to be your boyfriend!"

Jubilee sighed. "Pretty makeup can only get you so far, Misa. I would know."

"But it can get you pretty far! Misa-Misa would know." Misa winked.

Jubilee smiled a bit. As flighty as the other girl was at times, she was refreshing. And it had been a long time since Jubilee had had another female friend.

"Fine," she acquiesced, throwing up her hands in defeat. "If it'll make you happy…give me a makeover."

Misa squealed in delight and leapt back to her feet, grabbing her brushes and palette. "Do you want dramatic or natural eyeshadow? Wild or subtle colors? Dark or light lipstick? Contoured or highlighted—"

Jubilee put up a hand to cut off the other girl. "None of the above, if you keep talking like that." She rubbed her temples. "Just—do whatever you like. Whatever sounds fun." She had every intention of wiping off Misa's handiwork as soon as this little play date was over. "But no cutting my hair!" she added sharply when she saw Misa whip out a pair of scissors, which she put down again with a pout.

An hour later Jubilee walked out of Misa's room, grumbling about how much heavier her face felt. A cursory glance in the mirror at Misa's urging had forced her to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that the younger girl was good at what she did—if not rather heavy-handed with the application. Still though, it was not at all appropriate for a workplace environment. In fact, her reflection had given her brief déjà vu of her evenings spent in Chicago nightclubs. It was not a pleasant memory to reminisce over; and so Jubilee was determined to wash off the reminder as soon as possible.

She slipped into her room down the hall and made a beeline for the bathroom sink. As she turned on the faucet she glanced up into the mirror once more, despite trying to avoid doing so. She paused.

Kohl-rimmed eyes peered back at her through darkened lashes. Every line drawn and contour shadowed was perfectly done. Full red lips trembled as Jubilee stared at herself. The thought came to her, unbidden, that if she was still a thief, then she was decked out to make a killing tonight. She closed her eyes.

"My past does not define me," she whispered slowly to herself. The running faucet drowned out the sound of her voice to her own ears, but she continued. "Who I was…is not who I am."

Well said, child, came the comforting sound of her guardian angel's voice, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. Very well said.

Taking a deep breath, Jubilee opened her eyes and washed her face clean, until every ounce of color went down the drain and the water rinsed clear.