Unlikely

by WonderlandsDreamer

Before L died, on top of the countless cases he had as a detective, there was Wammy's house. It wasn't typical for Lawliet to care for one individual longer than he had to, but one young girl's situation touched his heart. Watch him break every restriction he's ever given himself, as he is introduced to someone, who is finally more than an assignment, in "Unlikely."

The shade of her eyes definitely did not compliment the ends of her freshly cut hair. Due to the intense adjustment, she hadn't seen her face in ten months, and the days didn't pass quickly here. She traced the window pane with her fingertip, no nails apparent enough to reach it; an effect of chewing them all down. Her teeth were like a lawn mower; the 'grass' not coming back for weeks, although she wished, it would.

Her Mother had always taught her the insignificance of appearance, but she had also instructed her to never address confrontation with strangers, and that was exactly what had brought her here. Frequently, people identified here as a morphed version of school, which felt accurate. Her parents had merely sent her off to a private place of education; they hadn't really passed away. She wasn't really an orphan.

Lies are always easier to believe than the truth, and Chicago knew, in the depth of her mind, she was alone, but she refused to believe it. Approximately a year had gone by since the incident that left both of her parents deceased, and still, she hadn't uttered a word.

She remembered the date exactly; December 29. Thinking back on it, she grimaced, seeing how the tick of a clock could change things so drastically. At fourteen, she had been a model student. Her light brown hair hung to her waist, free of braids or ribbons, with the exception of a bow that supported a loose section of hair bound in a ponytail, which draped from the center of her head. She had piercing blue eyes, and stood 5'2, weighing a minimal one hundred and ten pounds; but that person had died that night, too.

As she continued watching the occurrences outside, she considered jumping. The day was chilly and beautiful. There were different color leaves in each individual tree, if there were any at all, and the roads were caked with fallen blossoms blown there by the wind. Nature had always fascinated her, and if she were to leap from her window, on the sixth floor, she, would become a part of its canvas.

The concept intrigued her, and the more she pondered it the fonder it sounded, but as her hands dropped to the sill, she witnessed movement near the entrance to her room. Hurriedly, her body reacted and she jolted to a different location; being greeted with her reflection in the mirror placed between the two wooden sides of her dresser. It was still foreign to her; referring to the belongings as her own, but just as she had been given a new identity, she had received new reality as well.

A familiar man walked through the door, his back turned to her as he closed it generously behind himself. She recognized him as soon as he turned around, and a small smile crossed her lips; the first one in days. "Good morning, Chicago." He said with a bleak expression, knowing she wouldn't reply. "You're always awake so early; sometimes I doubt you even sleep." This was ironic, because she knew, for a fact, her visitor only slept one night a week; his choice. You'd think someone with the ability to maintain consciousness so well would have a higher tolerance for sleep deprivation, but the dark lines beneath his eyes said otherwise.

He was a relatively tall man, standing 5'10, and was on the rather thin side. He walked with a bit of a hunch; his white shirt coming down past the pockets in his tainted jeans. "You start school soon, with the others." He continued, rubbing the tip of his index finger against his chapped bottom lip. "I know you're wary of that, but I believe we'll make it work." The words hung in the air like a record player on repeat, and he knew she didn't agree.

To the orphanage, he was L, but to the society, to criminals, he was the World's Greatest Detective. There were rumors of his infallibility passing through every hall of the west wing school grounds, falling out of the mouths of every student. Chicago wasn't even capable of avoiding the gossip, and it was rare for her to merely leave her room. It was difficult for her not to correct the information her peers misunderstood, but she managed. L was the second chance she had been presented. He had more than extended a hand to her; when she was in a paralytic state, he had offered her his legs to walk with. She was irrevocably grateful, and barely able to contain it.

"I know this isn't particularly what you expected, nor wanted, to hear, but you're going to be receiving a roommate," L paused, "I wouldn't have assigned her to this room unless I felt she'd be beneficial to you. Her name is Olivia. Based on how our organization is run, typically she would be a resident on a totally separate floor from this, but I figured you could use some encouragement, aside from my weekly check-ins. I definitely feel she is qualified, and, I apologize for being so blunt with you, Camille, but you have no official say in this matter."

At the sound of her birth name, Chicago clenched her jaw. She hadn't heard herself referred to as anything other than her given pseudonym since that day and the syllables almost sounded bitter to her. L was someone she regarded with a high level of respect, and if this was his will, she had no place in disapproving, so she nodded her head in silence. Words nearly found their way off her tongue, but she had resisted. She acknowledged her problems weren't going to disappear anytime soon, at this point; she wasn't going to wake up from some prolonged nightmare. This was her battered life; it was ordained for her because it was something she could handle. There wasn't much Chicago couldn't handle.