The World Has Grown Darker

The feeling of a hand catching her wrist startled her. Alice hadn’t expected him to go after her. She hadn’t attempted to leave in a passive-aggressive move to get a reaction. She’d just wanted to go before she said something hurtful.

As he began to speak, he surprised her still, causing her to look over her shoulder. L was being more quiet than usual. Fumbling a bit on his words. That was most telling. L very rarely fumbled for words.

It wasn’t really an apology, but it was a quiet plea to let him explain himself. It was enough.

Slowly, Alice’s expression softened. She was still sore from his remark, but deep down, she knew he hadn’t intended it the way she’d taken it. L couldn’t have known she’d had that thrown back into her face before.

Well, he might have, she supposed, with all his digging into her life. But unless he interviewed all her old classmates and her family themselves, it was unlikely.

She sighed, shaking her head, before turning back towards him. Her wrist was pulled from his grip. However, it was replaced a moment later by her hooking her pinky with his. Alice didn’t want L to think she was so angry she’d withdraw all affection.

“…it’s…not all your fault,” she admitted, sitting back down as he’d asked. “I was already upset. It just…I’m not trying to be annoying, or detrimental to your work. I worry because I care about you. Getting that thrown back in your face and told it’s stupid…hurts.”

As she takes her seat L is left standing for a few moments, unsure whether he belongs on the couch beside her or on the single seat across.  Normally he wouldn’t take the chance of sitting next to her after what happened.  But L wouldn’t normally go after someone upset with him would he?  Slowly he makes his way to sit beside her.

Toes curl against the edge of the couch as his legs press against his chest, hands resting on his knees.

His fears of how she’d taken his response had been proven true.

“I didn’t mean for my words to be taken as such...my intentions were not to make you feel invalidated rather to inform you of the body’s natural reaction to an extreme change.” L’s gaze is cast towards his hand “As a child I was pushed to the very limits of mental and physical capabilities...until I broke them.  I don’t eat sweets just because I enjoy them or because they keep my mental capabilities at their peak but because I have to.  The lack of sleep is replaced with the sugars from the sweets and is converted into energy that is able to keep me awake.  It has been this way since I was a child.  My lack of sleep is not a choice it’s a requirement.  My blackouts are apart of my daily life just as sleep is yours.”

The sarcastic reply was as biting as it was jarring, causing Alice to pull away from him. It wasn’t that she’d ever had that reaction before – her fussing had earned many snide comments and complaints in the past. Many took it as her being bossy, or because she looked down on other people. Neither of those was the truth. It was just a natural tendency of Alice’s, to worry about others, particularly those she cared for.

L had commented on it in the past, even joked. But that time was different. Whether due to his intent, or due to her own frayed nerves and ravaged emotions, his words stung.

Alice looked away, even as he added onto his statement. Her instinct was to lash back out at him. It was a defensive mechanism, born of being insulted and berated by her father and schoolmates. It had given her a tongue far too sharp.

But she’d seen L react to that tongue of hers in the past. She’d remembered his wide-eyed stare when he told off one of the authorities, as well as his words.

I hope you never turn that sharp tongue on me.

Despite what the vast majority of the world thought, L was not just a letter on a screen. He was not an unfeeling machine. Words could hurt him just as easily as anyone else. Especially words from her, who knew him arguably better than anyone else alive. He’d given her enough to cut him to ribbons.

L had trusted her with that information. He’d trusted her with knowing him.

She couldn’t hurt him.

So Alice painfully swallowed down every caustic remark that tried to claw its way out of her throat. Then, she exhaled deeply. Eyes closed, she rose to her feet.

“…I’m…tired. Do whatever you’d like,” she murmured, heading towards the hallway, “I’m going to go to bed.”

Another case in which all his years of training and preparation had failed him.  One might think that at the orphanage he was raised in, the one for the best and brightest minds in the world they’d teach communication and social skills.  And they’d think right, the orphanage does.  But no amount of training, no amount of videos and techniques on controlling your facial features to convincingly display the proper emotions in the proper setting prepares for certain real world situations.

Situations like this.

In this scenario, L is very much still a child that never left the orphanage.  But unlike that aspect, the detective was still very much aware of the fact that what he said and how he said it was wrong.  Well, he knew now anyways.

Had this happened a few weeks ago it’s very likely that L would’ve raised a brow, shrugged and turned back to his computer to work.  It almost happened again tonight.  But things are different.  As she rises to head towards the hallway L is on his feet in movements so swift and graceful that they look like they belong to the dancer.

His hand quickly grasps around her wrist gently.

Alice closed her eyes, choosing to focus on the feeling of his fingers in her hair. Touch was grounding. And she needed that, lest she get swept away by the thoughts and fears racing through her head.

“I’m not afraid of it slowing you down, L. I’m afraid it will make you push yourself that much harder. I have to nag you to take breaks as it is…”

What was he going to do when she left? An image formed in her mind, of him alone in the dark, staring unblinking at a screen for hours, days, losing track of time until he passed out from exhaustion. With how hard he drove himself, his lifestyle, if left to his own devices, he’d end up killing himself.

No. No, she couldn’t afford to think about that right then.

Alice rested her forehead against his, exhaling a soft, warm breath. Her eyes opened to meet his.

“…I know I’m not alone, Lawliet. I don’t think I’d be able to handle this if I was.”

Most people wouldn’t.  In past research he’d learned that humans weren’t meant to exist alone, some data even suggested that those without healthy contact with others could lead to a shorter lifespan.  Things like that were always troubling for the detective, could that mean that he was going to die sooner because of his way of life?  He hoped not.

“Of course...how could I forget your constant comments about watching my health.  You know my body has been conditioned to endure the long hours and work I do right?  For me, it’s normal.  Doing anything to disrupt that cycle in a drastic manner could do more harm than good.”

In truth, L never truly understood the point of establishing connections or making friends.  It always ended poorly whenever he made friends.  Of course those who learned of L’s existence were used to serve as a mean to an end...perhaps it was how he approached the whole subject of companionship.  He only reached out when he needed something, otherwise he was a ghost.  Invisible to the rest of the world.

In many ways she’d been his first ‘real’ friend.  Though the one pre-destined to be your soulmate as your only friend didn’t really count for much...if anything it certainly showed his complete lack of truly understanding the human mind.  To L, people were puzzles that needed solving.  Cold, calculating, ruthless, that’s what he was.

Or...what he was supposed to be.

So one can imagine the internal frustration upon realizing that when this ‘soul-mate’ (something he hadn’t believed in until it was proven true) was hurting, he hurt too.  When she was happy, he was happy.  And when she silently wept into her pillow at night thinking he didn’t hear it tore at his heart.

So with that in mind, L quickly tacked on a

Despite everything, all the horrors she’d witnessed personally, all the pain she’d been put through, and even the latest spike in fear and guilt…that sweet, innocent smile of his seemed to cut through all of it. A tiny bit of light, gleaming in the darkness. Alice clung to it.

Her hands moved to place over his, still holding her face. Alice pushed forward so that she was leaning against him, her hands curled into his white shirt. She needed the extra contact.

“…you’re…you’re right. I-It’s just…easy to feel like it’s your fault, when there’s a killer out there angry that you aren’t dead…”

A thought crossed her mind, causing her shoulders to slump. “…the authorities are going to be after you even more now. They’re the only ones who know I’m not dead.”

Their location, living on a floor that technically didn’t exist in a hotel L himself owned, was just about as safe as they could get. Unless someone could link L to the fake name and find the building blueprints.

It was more likely, though, that L’s work would be slowed and made more difficult by how many extra hoops he had to jump through. He already didn’t sleep much. Alice didn’t want him to end up passing out, as he’d admitted that he sometimes did.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to avoid the law.  It won’t be a problem.  Believe it or not many of the most atrocious crimes are committed by those who are supposed to protect.”

L had spent four years not only avoiding authorities but avoiding the world.  It wouldn’t be hard to continue doing so.  After all how do you search for someone that’s already dead?

Still, she was relatively new to all this.  L wasn’t surprised at how she was handling this.  Some might say she was handling it poorly but he believed she was handling this quite well.

The loss of her family alone was something no one should ever have to endure.

Slender fingers gently traced circles on her cheeks before traveling the side of her face to curl blonde locks around his index finger.

“This isn’t going to slow me down you know?” he says softly.  L opens his mouth only to close it once more.  What does he say?

‘I know how you must feel?’

No, he can’t say that because he doesn’t.  He’s never felt the way she’s currently feeling.  But he has to try.

The man in her doorway would have looked disheveled to a stranger- unkempt hair and barefoot- but to her, he looked put together, even normal. He slouched with hands in pockets, face nearly vacant. A pang of something hit her, but its purpose was unknown. The two of them weren’t anything worth noting anymore- not a couple, barely acquaintances now, really. Death had severed them now years ago.

The hardwood is cold to touch but not to the point of being uncomfortable as he steps inside following her.  He stops as the hall meets the kitchen until she gestures for him to follow, though he refuses the seat, choosing to stand instead.

But tears were still slipping down her cheeks, even as she rubbed them away in embarrassment and frustration. They returned only a few moments after.

The killer wouldn’t stop. L thought so, even in light of not enough evidence. But he had instincts she couldn’t ever dream of, and she trusted them even if he didn’t fully himself.

Pale hands gently cupped her face bringing her gaze to his instead of staring blankly into her lap.  What she’d be greeted by is a genuine bright smile almost childlike in appearance.

It was difficult.

Alice had gone white, and shakily slid down into a chair as he began to stack another tower of the creamer. The calmness used to unnerve her; a seeming apathy to evil and pain of the victims. She’d since learned it was not the case. L did care. He saw the world far differently than most, and it was true the horrors he faced had desensitized him somewhat, but he did care.

It was very difficult to shake him, and in that moment, she clung to that.

But once L put a hand on her shoulder, the dam on her emotions broke and her vision blurred with tears.

“I-I know that, L…I never…never thought you’d hand me over willingly…” she whispered, swallowing hard and trying to keep her voice from shaking, “But…I need you t-to be honest, okay?”

“From a completely objective standpoint I couldn’t tell you yes or no.  There simply isn’t enough evidence on whether he’s a serial killer or just has a personal vendetta against your family.  It’d be foolish and rash of me to tell you one or the other...” L paused, circling around her chair and crouching slightly to be eye level with her

 A smile?

It wasn’t necessarily unexpected, not with how well Rose knew him- it’s appropriateness was merely questionable. She understood the impact of his words as well: independent by choice, singular. And she didn’t blame him.

Rose leaned back, elbows resting on the steps behind her and she gazed upward through metal to a gray sky, a soft white lock falling in her face before she puffed it away with a small breath. For a moment she listened to the city and let its hum clear her head. 

She stood up abruptly, placing her tiny hands on her hips as she let out a sigh, “Look, Ryuzaki,” her eyes met his, fully knowing the impact her use of that name may have on him after all of their history, and knowing he would bury a reaction, “I don’t want to play any games here. There are things we need to talk about; things neither one of us can sweep under the rug now that you know I’m here.” Rose wanted to do right by the people she left behind now, she couldn’t just abandon them, despite how much she hated to think about talking over the past- it had never been her ally.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out her receipt from the cafe, along with the pen she’d been using on her crossword and scribbled something down on the back:

1221 Greenwood Terrace Building #17B

“Meet me here in an hour if you want,” Rose crumpled the paper up and prepared herself mentally before she grabbed his hand, placing the receipt in his palm, curling her fingers over his, “If you don’t, I understand.” She let go, severing their connection.

Turning to the side, she gripped the railing of the fire escape, throwing her legs over the edge only to land with a clack! of her boots. She looked back at him, unknowing of whether or not he would accept her invitation. If he didn’t, she knew this would be their last meeting. 

L considered showing up.  But then thought what for?  Any questions or doubt he had had been long ebbed away with time.  What he’d found could never be regained nor did he want to regain it.  She’d moved on and so did he.  Still she’d reached out to him to provide answers and if nothing more than knowing for the sake of knowing his curiosity was piqued.

But the pout on his face was far too cute. The world’s greatest detective, her soul mate, crouching on a chair, pouting over a spilled tower of coffee creamer. Sometimes, reality really was stranger than fiction.

The pleasant moment passed away far too quickly as a special announcement appeared on the television behind him.

“This just in, we’ve received confirmation that the serial arsonist has struck again and not only left his usual calling card, but a message as well. We now go to our reporter live on the scene…”

A chill shot up Alice’s spine. She found herself unable to tear her eyes off the screen, even as the reporter appeared, the smoldering remains of a house behind him. Her fingers clenched into a white-knuckled grip on her cup.

She couldn’t even focus entirely on what the reporter was saying, catching only the phrases ‘the family confirmed dead’ and ‘message left in mailbox’.

But then a picture of the message was shown, and for a moment, Alice forgot how to breathe.

On a crisp white sheet, a single sentence was printed in black ink:

“Don’t worry about that” he called nonchalantly from over his shoulder as the tower grew higher and higher “It was only a matter of time before he’d strike again.” L glanced at the calendar resting on the table.  “Aproximately three and a half months time between this strike and yours...just as his attack on your family was fading from the public mind.  If I were to extrapolate and dare assume his following moves, he will continue to strike on a regular basis until he has you or is caught...and the longer he does not have you the more intense his attacks will be which will lead to his mistake and my catch”

L spun around on his chair to face her.

“I know this is hard for you to understand but what happened to them is not your fault” he stressed the last three words “Hundreds died before I caught Kira.  It is unfortunate but not much can be collected from one incident unless the culprit is extremely careless” he muttered, stepping down from his perch and walking over to her quietly “Already a pattern showing...the family bears a striking resemblance to yours financially and aesthetically and once I do some investigating I’d imagine they’re similar socially as well.”

L studied her features carefully already knowing what was troubling her and interjecting before her thoughts could be vocalized.

She closed her eyes, gently nodding twice, before looking at him directly. Her eyes remained soft as she scanned his features- time had washed against him: face a little longer, less youthful although in no severity- unlike Rose. Her skin had retained every ounce of youth it’d had when she’d died; she’d remained suspended in sleep- devoid of the events that aged a person so.

Rose’s tongue ran between her lips softly before she spoke, her voice was gentle and earnest, “We never exactly, expected to see each other again… did we?” 

She was unsure of what to feel, seeing him now. Her death had been abrupt, like most were, leaving a burning tear where closure never arrived.

Rose didn’t want to touch him, she didn’t want to risk feeling anything from him, nor did she want him to get a read off her. This wasn’t the time for emotions to brought into the equation. She refrained from speaking any more, uncertain of where to go from there.

The corners of his lips tugged into a small smile, eyes still ever playful from the recent hunt.  Short were her words, nearly as short as his.  What was to be expected though?  It had been a few years since at least.  Still the gentle sound of her voice tugged lightly at his heartstrings, a pull that he forced away and ignored.

Once was bad enough.  He wouldn’t do it again.  Feelings of abandonment ebbed away quickly as the Detective moved on at a rapid pace, what should have taken months and even years to heal (according to most studies anyways) took him mere days, though he was never quite the same.  What she’d worked so hard for, all the progress, it came undone with her disappearance.  L was never more set in his ways than before, if not more so.

Cold, calculating, bound to a title that he’d long lost.  No longer needed, he simply roamed.  A purposeless existence.  One without meaning.

A tower of coffee creamers was not exactly what she’d expected to see when walking into L’s workspace. Then again, it wasn’t the strangest thing she’d walked in on, either. His first ‘tower’ she’d observed had been out of empty sweet wrappers, and she’d mistaken it for piled up garbage until L’s horrified face proved otherwise.

Since then, she’d taken notice of his habit – or rather, his hobby – of stacking. Sometimes he’d amuse himself for hours with it, laying each piece with the patience of a saint. Other times, he’d make a tiny tower while thinking aloud. But from the way he was admiring his work, he seemed to be particularly proud of this creamer tower.

“New record?” Alice asked, stepping in with a mug of coffee. “It looks pretty tall. I think you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Eyes slowly glanced over at the other.  He’d grown so used to her presence that he’d rarely notice when she’d come and go at this point.  His guard lowered, a trait he preferred not stay that way.

“Yes...” He nodded before turning back to examine his creation.  “Though I’d imagine it wont stand for much longer, it’s already shaky enough as it is.  Perhaps if I provided my more support at the base it’d be able to support its weight better...then again, that almost feels like cheating.  The true fun of stacking is trying to make everything balance on the tiniest base possible.”

Just as he’d finished, the tower collapsed, pulled down by its own weight and lack of solid foundation, only for the Detective’s lips to crease into a small frown before shrugging and turning towards her.

Rose sat there completely still, save for her ribs heaving gently upward before falling in again as she breathed deeply. She continued to lean forward with fingers locked together in front of her, head bowed almost as though she were in prayer, eyes closed, listening.

She wanted everything to feel like a dream; wanted everything to feel muffled and distant like she had felt in death, but it didn’t. Everything around her was hard, cold and stagnant, the taste of dirt in her mouth.

There was no need to listen intently on his rhythm anymore, Rose knew where he was by the hair standing on the nape of her neck.

The rushed panic she had felt before still had her confused- there was no need to hide from anyone, she’d done nothing wrong, but something deep down had changed her from fight to flight in recent months. Interacting with people from the past had proven a difficult task now.

Her heart didn’t race, nothing quickened other than her thoughts before she forced them to quell with her breathing. She could feel his eyes on her and that he was waiting for something to happen.

Softly, she whispered a little magic into the air, pushing it into the alley, clearing the debris of glass and trash with a small yet strong breeze with a wave of her finger, “Aero.” He now had a path to her.

Rose raised her head as she waited, peering up through the steel grating of the fire escape, chewing on the inside of her lip as she saw the irony of her position: when he’d entered the bakery, she felt like she’d seen a ghost, when she had no room to speak.

Caught her off guard?  Perhaps but still she’d responded with something that made his eyes flicker, the only hint of any surprise that he’d give her.  Magic, something that he was surrounded by but still never was fully accustomed to.  Slow were the detective’s next actions as he looked from her down to the intense gust that provided way for him to get to her.

Wiping his thumb against his bottom lip did he take a careful step into the current which brought him slowly to her.  L looked back, as he rose higher and higher until he was even with her before stepping onto the fire escape, his toes curling around the grate.

Eyes scanned features he hadn’t seen in years.  A ghost from his past, a memory from long ago.  Someone who’d been lost from conscious thought but had never truly went away.  It was her.  The feeling he felt around her was unlike anything else he’d ever felt.  Though the look in her eyes had long since changed.  Determination replaced by uncertainty and...disillusionment?

Goodbyes had never been a strength of his, nor was it hers apparently as there was never any real parting words...or note...or anything really.  But time never stops, not for him or anyone else.  Time forced him to move past it and live with it.

Lips parted finally to speak soft words.

She listened for him, catching his rhythm again, and she could tell he was moving. He was getting closer, he was following her. She could sense his curiosity, his intrigue. She increased her pace, boots clacking harder against the ground. She didn’t dare turn her head and give him any direct sign that she knew he was tailing her- she knew this game from years shadowing monsters in her battles. It was almost like a dance, really. All footwork and timing.

Gracefully avoiding a rolling kiosk and its vendor, Rose turned down an alley, making note of the broken glass and garbage littering the asphalt- a cheap move, knowing he wasn’t a fan of shoes, but sensible in most situations- however in the back of her head the thought that he would find a way around, he always did.

She remembered a lot about him- his memory wasn’t distant enough to forget the way his mind worked. Or his voice, face, anything. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of him since her resurrection, or even considered seeking him out. She had. There were days when she thumbed through her books in her apartment, staring at the words, but not reading, thinking about him, praying he’d moved on and found happiness again. Even hoping that he’d forgotten about her some days.

‘Love is supposed to end at death’ was her slogan when she thought of him. There was no use in loving the dead.

She could hear him moving in, her pulse now quickening and her tongue going dry. Panic actually surged through her despite her years fighting Heartless and wandering in Darkness, followed by confusion.

Heading down the alley, her speed increased, moving her into a jog until she jumped to her right, launching herself off the brick of an apartment building to the building parallel. Her hand slapped around the railing of a fire escape as she swung herself over, landing with a clank!

At the third story of the building, she sighed heavily before turning away from the busy street, sitting at the foot of the iron stairs. Placing her face in her hands, she calmed down, tried to think.

What the hell am I doing?

She had no reason to hide or run from him. Why did she feel like she did?

Pushing her bangs back only to let them fall again she sighed again. She balanced her elbows on her knees, leaning forward with hands clasped together in front of her. He would be there soon.

‘How fun...’

Was his initial thought a smirk playing on his lips before turning into a small frown as the other ducked into an alley.  If it was who he thought it was, she knew he’d more than likely be deterred from following for a multitude of reasons.

But this was his city.  Eyes danced with glee as he turned early, knowing fully that the only way she could go was further down the alley which would bring her to the street parallel to the one he’d just been on.  She’d never be able to outrun him here, short of vanishing and even then, if she’d even left a hair behind, he’d be able to pick up her trail.

Strong-headed, determined, a poor sport and a perfect compliment to all those things had nothing but time, he’d be able to follow her to the end of the Earth if she so pleased.

Reaching the alley, he turned only to see it vacant.  Eyes remained stoic as he scanned the area.  The exit showed no signs of disruption among the trash that littered the floor meaning she’d possibly doubled back or was still here...hiding.

Cobalt hues crawled the walls before seeing the fire-escape.  Up, up, up, did his eyes follow the steal stairway until he found her facing the other way, waiting for him to enter the way she’d come from.