"No," said Jubilee stoutly for the third time.

Standing slouched before her, L heaved a deep sigh. "Miss Amachi," he began tiredly. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would jump at the opportunity to leave this building."

"Not in that capacity!" she cried.

They were standing alone together in a corner of the main room, the rest of the task force milling about and pretending that they didn't know what was going on. L, in an uncharacteristic gesture, had gotten up and cornered her as soon as she had tried to run away upon hearing his plan.

His eyes hardened now as he gazed at her. "I do not understand the problem. You will be perfectly safe. The plan ensures that."

"It's not that," she said stubbornly. "It's—I can't—"

"That phrase again, Miss Amachi," sighed L. "When will you cease to let it define you?"

"Don't pep talk me, Ryuzaki!" Jubilee snapped. "Are you the one squeezing into a tight mini-skirt and schmoozing with a bunch of sleazy businessmen?"

"Miss Amachi—"

"Who, by the way, are murderers!"

"Possible murderers. We are still acquiring evidence."

"You already believe that they're in with Kira," she hissed, trying to keep her voice down but failing. "And you're you! The mighty L! That's as good as truth."

It just figured that the only time she could say something nice about him was when she was yelling at him.

"I'm flattered, Miss Amachi, but—"

"I'm not trying to flatter you!" she shouted, anger and embarrassment colliding within her.

That silenced him for a moment. They stared at each other; her with flushed cheeks and glaring eyes, and him with an aloof and unreadable expression on his face.

"Miss Amachi," he began again, quietly. "If you have confidence in my word as a detective, then have confidence in my word that you will be safe. They will not suspect you. I guarantee it."

The sincerity in his voice pained her. "I told you," she said, feeling miserable, "That that's not what I'm worried about." Wearily she glanced around her for Hellenos. Though she couldn't see him, she knew he was there. What was it he had mentioned in passing once? Kira cannot touch you. She didn't know exactly what that meant or why, but she knew that Hellenos wouldn't lie. And that he was always with her wherever she went. Sighing, she admitted begrudgingly, "I know that I will be safe no matter what."

"Then what is the problem exactly?"

Jubilee stared back at L in a moment of frustrated and despondent silence. How could she possibly explain to him that to do this was to step into her past that she wanted so desperately to forget? How could she make him understand that the very memory of what she used to do was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach…much less actually having to go out there and reenact it? For that was what he was asking her to do—doll up, distract the target, and deceive them.

The fact that these people were villains and her former targets were innocent civilians was not enough to shake the guilt of having to put on a charade and live a lie. She knew that her fear of that guilt—and the crippling sense of anxiety that it put her in— may have been irrational, but she couldn't help it.

"Why do you need me to be a part of it?" she asked, ignoring his question. "Misa has other models from her promo team to work with."

"One of them is ill, and two are out of town working other jobs, leaving only six including Misa. There are at least eight, possibly ten, men from Yotsuba who will be at her apartment to attend this faux 'reception' she is hosting for them. Without all of them being completely and effectively distracted, we run the risk of them being on to Matsuda before we can get him out of there. The more help we can get, the better. It is unfortunate," he finished, spreading his hands, "But we are short-staffed."

She looked hopelessly at him and reined in the impulse to tell him that, if that was so, then maybe he should be the one to put himself and his dignity on the line. But she knew it would be a senseless and childish argument to make. Out of all the other members of the task force, she was the only possible candidate who could do this.

Yet still, she argued. "It's a stupid plan," she declared hotly. "You say you don't want them to be on to us, but I would clearly stick out like a sore thumb."

"How so?" asked L, arching a brow.

She gestured at her face. "I'd be the only one there who isn't fully Japanese."

"That'll only serve our purpose by giving you more appeal in their eyes."

"I have an accent! How is that inconspicuous?"

"As you just said, you aren't a native. They'll understand."

"I'm not a model!" she burst out in a final, desperate attempt.

"You can easily pass for one."

This last statement, though impassive and matter-of-fact in its delivery, so flustered Jubilee that for a moment she could say nothing—which only made her feel angrier.

"You're manipulating me, aren't you?" she seethed. Even as she said it, she noticed the line over his head that had remained intact during their entire conversation. And then, against her will, her vision zoned in on the slight, almost imperceptible wince that creased his brow at her accusation. She had seen that look once before, but in a dream. The expression held a world of meaning that she would have never otherwise perceived in L—sympathy, remorse, and even…pity. But none of this made her feel any better.

Because the fact remained, that even though she could see the line over his head indicating his genuineness, she could also see the bright, pink mist that was issuing forth from herself—loathsome though it was to her because of what it indicated—and that nothing of the sort emanated from him beyond the usual, gray haze.

He may have just told her she was pretty, but there was no more feeling behind it than a computer tallying up votes to tell Misa that she was number one among reader popularity polls.

And even if he did feel sympathy for her, it didn't mean that he liked her. Yet still this stupid, hateful pink mist didn't cease to leave her alone.

"Please don't act sorry for me," she went on, her voice low. "And don't use my feelings to get what you want."

There was a moment of tense silence as L looked at her, his eyes holding just the slightest hint of an unfamiliar expression—guilt? Hurt?—before he schooled his features into a carefully stoic mask.

Stolen story; please report.

"I apologize," he began slowly, his voice neutral, "If that is what you think of me. And I apologize for the distress I have caused you. That was never my intention."

I know, said a small voice in her head, but she refused to acknowledge it, her mind still too caught up in self-preservation mode to think rationally or with compassion.

"However," he continued. "I am afraid there is no other choice but for me to insist. I have carefully calculated every possible outcome of this scenario, and the absence of even one more model to act as a distraction would increase the likelihood of suspicion by at least twenty percent. That may seem negligible to you, but even that small of a chance could put Matsuda, Misa, and the other models—who are innocent bystanders—in danger of Kira's wrath. And I would not be willing to go forth with such a plan if the risk were that high." He paused. "The only other option would be to abandon Matsuda."

Slowly the glare slid off of Jubilee's face. She stared at him helplessly.

"Again," he said softly. "I am truly sorry."

This statement broke her. He wasthe one saying sorry, when that was what she owed him ten times over by now. She turned around, unable to face him anymore and putting the palms of her hands up to her eyes, which suddenly stung with unshed tears.

"Please," she whispered. "Stop apologizing." She couldn't bring herself to elaborate more, to tell him that it was because she was the one who should be apologizing to him.

Was all this happening because she had refused to say sorry to him earlier? Was it punishment, some kind of divine retribution, because of her pride and stubbornness? Do something about your guilt, she had told Matsuda, but had been slack in doing anything about her own.

Was she being forced to do something now, because she hadn't been willing to do what should have been done earlier?

Maybe this was what she got for getting Matsuda into this mess and then not owning up to it. What's more, she hadn't even considered the safety of Misa or the other models. The memory of what the cop had said about her from long ago suddenly stung at her: Selfish. This whole time, she had been so frightened of facing her past and her own guilt, that she had been unable to think of anyone but herself.

"I—I—" She struggled with herself but couldn't seem to get a proper apology past her lips. "You're right," she finally managed to say, in a hoarse voice. "But I just—I still—I can't."

She could feel L standing silently behind her, his eyes boring holes into the back of her head.

Still hiding her eyes with her hands, she babbled on, "I can't explain it all right now, but I just—I don't know—" If I can make myself do something like that again. "—If I can pull something like that off, without majorly messing up."

"Yes you can."

Not anymore. Not without having traumatic flashbacks and a potential nervous breakdown. Out loud, she groaned, "You don't understand."

"Yes I do," said L's voice without pause, quiet but full of unexpected conviction.

"How could you understand?" she demanded, still not turning around, and with borderline contempt edging her voice. "You don't know what I've been through."

There was a pause and for a terrible moment Jubilee had the sudden, paranoid fear that he would once more respond, Yes I do. The only thing that could make this week any worse would be for L to know about her past.

Then he stated, matter-of-factly, "You said so yourself that you fell in with a bad crowd for a few years. Your choice to relocate was a drastic one and indicates that you regret much of your former lifestyle. Furthermore, you showcase textbook signs of emotional trauma and having certain anxiety triggers. No doubt you fear that what I am asking you to do will be a trigger." He paused, then added, "Whether or not I know the specifics of your situation, Miss Amachi, is irrelevant."

Jubilee was unable to breathe for a moment, torn between feeling relieved that he didn't know more, and vulnerable for being stripped so bare. Then she said, "If you know so much, then you know why I can't do this."

"On the contrary, Miss Amachi, that is exactly why I know you are capable of overcoming your fear. Because it is invalid."

"How could you say that?" she hissed, horrified that she might start to cry.

She heard his quiet footsteps pad around her so that he was standing face to face with her once more, but still she kept her hands over her eyes.

"Miss Amachi," he said quietly. "Please look at me."

She clenched her teeth but acquiesced, slowly lowering her hands from her face to scowl at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Your fear is invalid because you fear your past, and your past is behind you. It is not who you are today, right now. Whatever perceived shortcomings you have of yourself are imaginary. You can do this, and you will do this, not because you want to—nor even because you are good at it."

At this Jubilee drew in a breath, ready to protest and demand what he meant by that last bit, but he went on before she could.

"You will do this not for your own sake or because of your abilities, but because it is needed of you, for the sake of another. This is not a command, Miss Amachi. It is a fact that I am stating." He looked at her with a carefully emotionless expression. "You have far too much kindness and compassion in you, to ultimately let your fears to win out over your concern for others."

She stared at him for a moment, shocked to see that the line over his head was still intact. There was no way she could have said the same thing about herself and believed it. "How do you know that?" she asked softly.

"Observation," he stated simply. "Despite whatever contrary feelings you may have at the time, you unfailingly end up seeing the good in others on this task force and attempting to encourage and defend them…even without intending to." He looked askance. "That and the children at the orphanage put up a surprising amount of fuss at your absence, when someone was sent to fetch your things."

Her breath hitched and she felt suddenly heartsick as she remembered Wakahisa. Afraid that she really would cry, she tried to change the subject. "Didn't think I'd be a kids kind of person, huh?" she laughed weakly. "Neither did I."

"That is my point exactly, Miss Amachi. You have always been far more capable than you believed yourself to be."

She stared at the floor, unable to look at him. She was sure that, if she did, she would start to see those beautiful colors and lights again; and she couldn't handle that on top of the rest of her swirling emotions at the moment.

"Which," L went on, "Is also why I need you to install the security cams for me in Misa's apartment."

Still staring at the floor, she blew out air between her lips, trying to mask the rest of her emotions with the sudden annoyance that flared up. "Why?" she grunted. "You could have easily had Misa come here first to get them, or sent Watari or one of the others over to install them in advance. Or Wedy. She'd probably be the smartest choice of all."

"You are the best choice to make, Miss Amachi, because I say that you are. Didn't you say that my word was as good as truth?"

She glowered at him. "Don't go quoting me on that every time, now."

"Julie Amachi," he began, surprising her with his sudden use of her full name—full pretend name, but still. "There is a time and a place when intuition supersedes logic, as I think you well know. My intuition about a person is rarely wrong. And if I did not believe that a person was worthy or capable of a certain task, I would not assign it to them. Which is where logic and intuition intermingle, and I find that to be a victorious combination 9.9 times out of 10 when I choose whom to employ under my charge during a case. Do you understand?"

She stared at him. "Uh, no," she said flatly. "What?"

He looked at her for a moment, then exhaled heavily in what could have been a sigh of either impatience or reluctance. "What I am saying, Miss Amachi," he articulated slowly, "Is that I believe in and trust you."

Jubilee was so surprised by this that she forgot to check for the line over his head. Instead she stared straight at him and, in that moment, saw wisps and fountains of light spilling over and out of him through the gray haze. It wasn't the misty pink that indicated affection, yet even so, it was undeniably beautiful. In that moment Jubilee knew that—confound it all—she was going to end up doing whatever he asked.

She didn't know whether to feel annoyed by this or touched by his words. To her embarrassment, a stray tear suddenly made its way out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. Hurriedly she scrubbed at it the back of her hand, then let out a shaky breath and allowed herself a small smile. "Since when did you know how to comfort others?" she managed to joke, sniffling. "I thought that was beneath you."

L shrugged. "Psychology books," he replied. "Though I confess that I find most of the standard methods of psychotherapy to be too soft on patients. There is a point where lenience is simply lazy and encourages mental and emotional mediocrity."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd use psychotherapy tricks on me that you learned from a book."

"No, Miss Amachi, I just stated that I disagree with most of their methods. Rather, I've added what I deduce to be an improvement on traditional tactics, along with what has already been proven to work."

"Oh?" said Jubilee, crossing her arms. "And what's been proven to work, Doctor?"

"Eye contact. Acknowledging the subject's fears. Overriding them with a new, healthier perspective."

Jubilee arched an eyebrow. What was she, a lab monkey?

Noticing her increasing ire as he spoke, L quickly but smoothly added, "But none of this is to say that what I've said is not true. In fact, it is my belief that the only way to override old, debilitating beliefs is to replace them with new ones that are true instead of false. All that I have said about you, I consider to be absolutely true. And you can tell whether or not I am speaking the truth now, can't you?"

Jubilee looked into his eyes and saw that his gaze was earnest. Somehow, that was enough for her, even though she knew he was talking about the steadfast line that was currently floating over his head.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Yes I can."