A/N: Okay, I'll put all disclaimers here, and they apply for all chapters. I do not own Death Note or any of the characters featured in it. I also do not own the cover image, which I got from Pinterest (credits to all due!).
Chapter 1: In Which L Wakes Up
L woke up in the softest bed he had ever been in, which wasn't saying much considering he barely ever even used a bed. He swung his legs off of the mattress (why was he lying in such an uncomfortable position? His left leg was tingling with pins and needles) and stood up, looking around.
He blinked. He was not in headquarters, not by a long-shot. The room was sparsely furnished, with white-washed walls and a bare-bones iron-bar bed taking up most of the space. He had apparently nested himself in said bed, fluffy blankets and all. L pursed his lips. A squalid studio apartment, then, and one owned by a middle-class woman with a penchant for gothic underclothes, as can be presumed by the clothing strewn around the rickety dresser.
Things were not looking good for L. What was he doing in a seedy apartment, in a strange woman's bed with a headache and missing memories? Had he blacked out on the street? He couldn't fathom any other reason. He wasn't the sort to get drunk and have one-night stands, and definitely not when he had a partner worth fifteen of anyone else waiting for him at home, but he just couldn't remember and it was making him uneasy.
He looked in the direction of the adjoined bathroom as the pipes stopped groaning. So she was in there, then. Where was he? Why would L, the greatest detective in the world, be here? He pushed the shaggy black hair out of his eyes as he waited for the door to open and the explanations to come rushing out.
It took two minutes, but it did open, revealing the sober, sulky face of a twenty-something woman with a pointed chin, large brown eyes and long blond hair pulled back in bunches down her shoulders. She was fully dressed, in a black ruffled miniskirt and a laced-up corset. L studied her, narrowing his eyes.
He remembered her name, Amane Misa, and knew that she had been a model. He…he remembered being preoccupied with her for a while now. She was no longer a model because he had insisted that she resign. This apartment was the one he had bought for her, where it was convenient for him to keep an eye on her with minimal resources wasted.
Preoccupied? It sounded like he had been obsessed with her, but he had no idea why he would be. He was certainly not attracted to her. He knew exactly who he was attracted to (thinking about him instantly brought a smile to L's face; it was dangerous to be so affectionate towards one person, especially as L), so why the obsession with this woman?
His obsession was certainly not returned in the slightest. Amane Misa was virtually his prisoner, somehow. L had no idea what he would need her for. Was she a suspect?
Misa eyed him warily. "Ryuuzaki-san, why have you not left yet?"
His natural response to this statement, "Why? Do you want me to?" complete with bared teeth and glinting eyes, alarmed him. Was he abusing this woman? What was wrong with him? He looked down at himself (he was in his regular clothes: loose blue jeans and a white sweatshirt, no shoes) and frowned. He did not feel drunk or high, but maybe he was. Alternative explanations would be quite alarming. He would have to head back to the Headquarters and have Light take him to the private infirmary.
A doctor would have to be flown in. L sighed. It had been easier when Whammy was alive. Poor Whammy. He had lived and died a man of unmatched grace and competence. The memory of his name only brought L nostalgia and pride.
But enough of all that, he had to deal with the problem at hand: going home. He looked back up at Amane Misa, holding her lukewarm gaze. "Miss Amane, are you familiar with the Kira Investigation Headquarters?" L felt that he could trust Amane, for some reason. His instincts had never been wrong before.
Amane was looking at him strangely. "…Yes. Kira Investigation Headquarters…you mean your Headquarters, don't you?"
L nodded, realising that Amane was privy to more secrets than L had been aware of. "If you are not familiar, I will guide you. Please give me a ride there, thank you."
That strange look only intensified, but she grabbed her car keys off of the mantlepiece. "Alright, Ryuuzaki-san." So formal, completely unlike the bubbly Misa-Misa he was remembering.
L shrugged. He would diagnose the problem soon enough.