I own nothing.
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-In the air, traveling from Australia to France-
L woke with a start, and for a moment, he suffered a terrible bout of disorientation. Slowly, the world came back to him, and he remembered. He was on a jet, heading for France. Heading home. At last.
"It's been years since I've seen you do that."
A kind old voice spoke from his right. Sleep still dulling his senses, it took L longer than usual to identify the speaker. Watari.
"Do what?" L's voice was thick. He rubbed his face in an effort to wake up and glanced slowly at Watari.
"Sleep while traveling. You must be exhausted," Watari said. His voice was kind, understanding. Watari lifted the armrest separating him from L and motioned for the teenager to come closer.
Nearly without protest, L leaned against the older man, and as soon as Watari's fingers wound around his hair, L was asleep. Watari smiled. He'd picked up the habit when L was a small child, and it had become something akin to an automatic response.
L did not wake until the plane touched down in Paris.
