Hello Everyone,

I do not own Death Note. If I did, things would go a little differently.

I hope you enjoy this little story. Reviews are welcome =)

(please don't flame! Constructive criticism would be nice though!)

We stared at each other for a good five minutes. Watari shifted uncomfortably underneath my gaze and cleared his throat before speaking. "L, I have great respect for your accomplishments and abilities, and I have never questioned you on how you go about work…but you and I both know this is not healthy."

He was referring to the incident of last night. I was working on a case in London. After two days of no sleep, I managed to track down a man who planned on blowing up Parliament. Nothing about this case was unusual; I approached it in my typical fashion and deducted my way to justice. After Scotland Yard received the information, I contacted Watari via lap top in order to tell him it was time for a new case. Before I could speak, however, my vision gave out and I felt my heart race. I was overwhelmed with fear, feeling my heart viciously beating my rib cage. I convulsed and woke up in the bed of the hotel I was in, with Watari looking at me in the arm chair in the corner.

"I refuse medical attention." I replied. I was certain that I was not a healthy individual. Incidents like that were not uncommon to me, little to Watari's knowledge. I did not consume anything but sweets and did not sleep. I discovered at a young age that I solved cases best when I was deprived of everything except sweets. If solving a case meant that I needed to sacrifice my health, then I was content with a few heart palpitations. Also, I was kind of afraid of needles.

Watari stared pensively before saying anything. "I understand. You do realize that the headaches you told me you have been experiencing… and your convulsion last night are both due to your stress levels?"


"In exchange for my assistance, I order you to allow a nanny to accompany you in your endeavors. She will monitor your stress levels and report to me if you are in danger. That way, I can immediately be notified of your status if you are unable to do so." Watari said, narrowing his eyes, waiting to hear my response.

He was not wrong. It was a distinct possibility that these convulsions would continue since the cause was not changing, whatever it was. I also cringed at the idea of having to keep track of an individual in order to protect my identity. However, if I refused, Watari would probably not assist me for at least a while, which was a major inconvenience. I figured he would already have some fabricated story to tell the woman in order to keep my identity safe. I knew he would not be foolish enough to find a curious female. She would probably be a matronly type with experience; someone predictable and simple-minded. The thought of being with someone else consistently made me uncomfortable, but until I could find a way to keep these palpitations under control without jeopardizing my methods, I did not have much choice if I wanted Watari's assistance.

"Fine, I agree to your conditions." I said.

Watari gave me a small smile before handing me her photo and background check. "I told her that you are my financially dependent son and I need someone to mind you while you are on holiday. I will take care of her expenses and such."

I nodded in his direction and returned my attention to the contents of the background check. Jennifer Davis. Female. 23 years old. Blood type: A. Height: 5'4". Weight: 115 Ibs. Graduated from Nottingham with a degree in Literature 2 years ago. Previously employed by catering services. Currently unemployed. Younger than I imagined. She graduated college early, proving some level of intelligence. This made me nervous, but I was immediately reconciled with the idea that she was probably not pursuing ambitious things due to some personal issues. Ms. Davis had no records of being institutionalized and was not on any medications, so the likelihood of her issues being harmful to me was reduced by 30 percent. I was prepared to stay wary, though. Her driver's license was surprisingly flattering. Heart shaped face with large violet-blue eyes, framed with a sleek curtain of chocolate-colored hair. I put the sheets of paper down and returned to my lap top. I decided to search for more information about this stranger, hoping that I would not find anything troublesome.

I couldn't imagine my luck as I stared out of the window in the taxi. What a gig! I was skeptical when I was contacted by Mr. Ryuuga. Who on earth would spend that much money? 500 dollars a day, all expenses paid for? Of course, six months was kind of a long time to be away from home. It was an offer that I couldn't just pass up, so we met at a little restaurant. He seemed fairly wealthy. He was also a gentleman; Mr. Ryuuga pulled my seat out for me and paid for the meal. He explained that his twenty-two year old son suffered from social anxiety and needed a nanny to watch him while he enjoyed his holiday. He put the down payment on the table before I could even accept.

"He is easily stressed. I warn you now; Hideki may start to convulse when he is pushing himself. "Mr. Ryuuga said, with a stern look in his face. "If anything should happen, call me on this phone immediately."

As he pushed the phone and the envelope with the money towards me, I suddenly started to question things. If your son has such health issues, why would you hire a random name on a babysitter list online? Why was his son still so dependent? Why was this man's last name Japanese? Am I getting into something bad?

Despite my senses, I smiled and tucked the money away in my purse. I finally had a way of repaying my mother for all of the money she gave me when I was in a personal rut after college. Mr. Ryuuga pulled out a contract and read aloud the contents: "You are not allowed to tell anyone where my son is staying, and if he says what he is working on is important, please do not interrupt him. That deeply troubles him when he is interrupted." I hesitated before I signed the agreement. What if I was being an idiot? What if something happens to me? I looked back up at the kind man's face and I realized that neither of those things mattered. This was my opportunity to get away from the place I was in life. I signed the sheet of paper and took a taxi with Mr. Ryuuga so I could pack my bags at my apartment. That's how I got here, in this taxi, staring up at a rather glamorous hotel. I hoped Hideki wouldn't be too unusual. I needed this.

I knew that the nanny was coming in an hour after Watari's message. I had already found information on her, but no criminal record. The only interesting thing I found on her was a series of photos of her, drunk out of her mind, sprawled about with other inebriated people. The dates of the photos were after her employment at the catering services but stop a few months before now. Her facebook statuses also did not seem out of the ordinary. I hacked into her inbox and found nothing except for casual conversations. She also did not withdraw or spend money in strange ways; she was fairly methodical, but not in a perfect way. I had already solved a few theft cases and was trying to decide which case I should start working on. I grunted as I walked to the pastry cart provided by the hotel. Where was Watari when I needed him to get me desserts?

I heard Watari's voice and the door unlock in the next room. I grabbed a cupcake and shuffled out into the living room area. Watari and Ms. Davis stared at me from the door way. Her violet eyes widen a little before she recomposed her face into serenity. Watari closed the space between us and said, "Hideki, meet Ms. Jennifer Davis. She's that nanny I told you about. I hope you will get along. Remember to contact me before you decide to leave." He finished his introduction with a polite smile towards Ms. Davis.

Ms. Davis looked up at me, with an unreadable look in her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Hideki. Just let me know whatever I can do to help you." She gave me a small smile and I found myself biting my thumb.

Watari said goodbye and left soon after. I decided to sit in the living room with Ms. Davis. She did not know what to think of me. I watched her as she sat down carefully, as if the seat would be offended if she did not do so. She was…more attractive, I'd say, in person.

"Why did you take this job?" I asked, shoving the cupcake in my mouth.

She stared at me with the same wide-eyed expression before, but answered quickly. "I have been out of work for a while now. The job pays well and I thought I might like the experience."

"Why do you not find employment in your field of literature?" I asked.

Ms. Davis narrowed her eyes into sharp slits. "Excuse me?"

My thumb was back in my mouth quickly. "You have a gap in your information. You were employed by two different catering services six months after your graduation. You left the services and have been unemployed for almost a year. It was during that year that you apparently drank with people you know, but why have you not found a place in your field of study? What happened in the six months that are unaccounted for?"

Ms. Davis began to grow visibly upset. Color flooded her face and she began to bite her lip. She stayed this way for a while, but an amiable smile transformed her face into a peaceful one. "To be honest, it's hard work to find a job with a B.A. in Literature! I also went through a little time of depression during those six months because of a bad breakup with a boy I knew. I hope that cleared up everything. Now, would you like me to make you something to eat?"

Interesting. She was not being honest about those months. That is why she took a moment to compose herself. However, there was no information on those months and I assumed it was probably a personal matter. I found it rather enjoyable to make her face red like that, though.

"Do you know how to massage, Ms. Davis?" I asked. "My feet are quite sore."

Ms. Davis looked at me, confused, and then looked at her purse. She shakily approached my seat and rested on the ottoman. "Very well."

I stiffened at her touch when she lifted my left foot and placed it in her lap. Her hands were shaking, but she applied pressure fairly well. She looked up to my face shyly, and an embarrassed flush crept up her neck. My objective was completed."So where are you planning on going next for your holiday?" She asked.

"I don't know." I said, withdrawing my foot and picking her foot up. I felt her stiffen as well as I removed her shoe. The crimson of her face deepened and I continued rubbing her foot until she was eventually comfortable with my touch.

She suddenly jerked away from my hands and quickly put her shoe back on. "You know what? I'll just make you something to eat in the morning. I will sleep on one of the couches. Please wake me up if you need me."

I did not understand why she was acting strangely, but then again, I didn't understand much about social interaction. I shuffled back into the bedroom, grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, gave it to her, and went back in to my room. Before I completely entered the room, I heard her say, "Call me Jenny."

I was completely shaken as I changed into my pajamas in the bathroom. What the hell was wrong with this guy? I didn't even know where to start. Who does that? Does he always ask his nannies to massage his feet? And why the hell was he so touchy? He was a bit of a creep. He wasn't very good at massaging, either.

He was the oddest looking thing, as well. He had messy onyx hair that looked like it would need a hundred hairbrushes to detangle. His eyes were a strange combination of black endlessness and emptiness, with the darkest circles I have ever seen under any pair of human eyes. His father was right about the stress thing, definitely. It wouldn't kill him to gain 15 pounds or so. I recalled him lightly biting his thumb, and shuddered a little. Was I comfortable sleeping in hotel rooms with this strange creature? I thought about the money. The joy on my mother's careworn face when she sees something to help her make ends meet. I thought about how nice Mr. Ryuuga was. Then I thought about why I was leaving in the first place. I cuddled up tightly against the couch as I attempted to get some sleep. I was comfortable enough to give him my nickname, after all. This was going to be an interesting holiday.