Author's Note: It's been brought to my attention that these chapters are almost identical to the prior story. Please remember this is a rewrite. Changes will be more noticeable later on, but until then the changes are mainly in the characteristics of M, added details, and reactions of other characters. ***I don't own Death Note, only my OCs***
Chapter 3 - Escape From Wammy's House
The first thing I experience in my achingly slow return to the wakeful world: pain. A dull throb resounds throughout my head and, though I'm not awake enough yet to form full coherent thoughts, there is the simple question of 'Why?'. As I allow time to pass for all bodily functions to return, I use what senses are readily available to me.
My extremely sensitive hearing automatically sharpens to determine if a loud or high-pitched sound is responsible for my headache. A continuous quiet clicking speeds along without a discernible pattern. A separate sound reaches me next; however, as opposed to the crazed clicking, this sound is in a soft, repeated rhythm. It's definitely closer to me, but is softer than the clicking, which explains why I didn't hear it first. Certainly not enough to give me a headache, I'm sure. Willing myself to be patient, I try to recognize the rhythm: Feet. Pacing footsteps, most likely on a carpeted floor. Aggravated and impatient, judging by the pace.
It's listening to the aggravation in the rhythm that my memory finally returns to me, The tree! I fell out of the tree! I must not have hit the ground or I'd have a far worse headache, if I was lucky enough to wake up, that is. Dear Lord, I hope I didn't hit the boy who spoke to me! I pause my speeding train of thought, turning it in a slightly ironic possibility, Come to think of it, he probably saved my life if I did. If the situation wasn't so serious, I'd have laughed (and immediately apologized to the boy of course).
Recalling my focus, my mind becomes serious again: Either way, I'm still in an unknown location with complete strangers and with no clue as to how I got here from inside my locked home.
It comes to my attention that I had apparently slowly stiffened throughout the last quite frightening thought. Slowly, I will each muscle to relax. My feet loosen, arching back down into their resting positions. I feel my knees unlock beneath my black skirt, probably not even a ripple disturbing the fabric. I release each joint in my fingers, feeling something soft beneath my sensitive fingertips. It's far too stiff to be a bed, must be a couch. The person pacing must be walking on carpet. I'm inside. A colorful array of swear words flow through my mind as my shoulders, which had risen a fraction of an inch off of the 'couch', finally reunited with the soft material, If I was still outside, escape would probably be a lot easier… I slowly exhale in an attempt to mimic unconsciousness as closely as possible, not even allowing myself to grit my teeth. If they notice I'm awake, I won't have any more time to think about anything without further pressure.
Before I can panic again, I weigh the option of 1) taking my chances with the strangers or 2) fleeing at the first opportunity and assess the situation on my own terms. I quickly come to the conclusion that gathering more information is of the utmost importance right now, There are just too many variables to be able to make any educated decisions.
Now looking for a chance to escape, I listen even closer to any ambient sounds that could help me determine the location of any people or objects in the room. The pacing is coming from behind my head, so the irritated person is probably glancing at me every time they paces in my direction. The clicking, whatever it is, is somewhere near my feet; however, it's not moving. So whoever's making that sound is staying in place… sitting on the arm of the couch? A quiet noise of celebration comes from by my feet, That sounds like a level up… like in a video ga- Wait, that's what it is, it's a gameboy! Jesus, why didn't I recognize that sooner? I used to play with those all hours of the day when I was younger.
The pacing stops. It's a miracle I don't leap out of my skin and through the ceiling like a cartoon when a voice as loud as cannon fire thunders throughout the room, "DAMN IT, MATT! Can't you stop playing that game for a few minutes?! It's driving me CRAZY!" Quickly relaxing my body once again, my mind takes in the new information, Matt? I know a few 'Matt's, but none of them play with gameboys…
Clearly undeterred by the yelling, the clicking continues as an amused voice replies from the player of the game, Matt: "Tell you what, Mello, I'll take a break from gaming as soon as you take a break from pacing."
Mello? It can't be- I only have ever heard of one Mello and that's from Death Note. It's ridiculous, impossible, but- I hesitate, Then again, he was wearing a lot of black and is around the right height. Not to mention his best friend is a guy named Matt who's an addicted gamer.
My brain feels as if a bucket of cold water has been thrown over it in as a sudden wave of realization catches me up in a tsunami: I'm in Wammy's House.
Still attempting to absorb this information, I'm jerked out of my thoughts by Mello's growl (which moves away from me, a clear sign that he's begun to pace again), "But she was moving only a few minutes ago, why isn't she awake yet?" I have to make a conscious effort first: in order to not lean away and scrunch my face up in pain from the volume of Mello's voice, secondly: because I know that everyone's attention is now definitely on me, and thirdly: not to smile, Huh, he's just as loud as I thought he'd be…
An older, gentler voice speaks from near Mello, "Boys, that's quite enough." That must be Watari! Though the statement was clearly meant as a reprimand, I can hear an amused tone.
The three continue talking (at a more reasonable volume, I must admit), but I've already returned to thinking, Alright, there's the issue of the fact that I know their personalities like the back of my hand. I'm going to have to play dumb or they'll question how I know so much about them…
I'm not exactly well known for my ability to sit still. My entire being is totally focused on making a conscious effort not to tap my fingers, run a hand through my hair, or to take on my thinking pose as my thoughts race on: I also can't explain how I got here which will make them extremely suspicious. I mean, I've just happened to pop up at an incredibly secretive elite home for gifted children? Another thought occurs to me that makes me want to groan at my bad luck: If Watari's here, that means that L is most likely here as well! Part of my mind laughs a little at this adorably precious thought: -since he can't seem to tie his shoes without him. Once again refocusing, This would be his first real visit to Wammy's, so that throws the 'coincidence' plea right out the window, kills it, buries it- and revives it just to slaughter it again…
I begin to feel lightheaded from the stress of the situation, so I take a moment to just listen to the room. Judging from the grunts and exclamations coming from by my feet, Mello is now attempting to wrestle the gameboy from Matt. I smile inwardly when I feel the couch get bumped, Good luck with that! I hear Watari sigh near my head, clearly not even bothering to enter a quest of futility. Thanks to the speed of my thinking, I estimate that only about a minute has passed, if that.
A sense of calm restored, I slowly allow myself to continue problem-solving. If Mello's in the room, that means there's a high chance that Near is as well. There's no way I can determine where he is because he's always so damn quiet and if any of them have a chance at realizing that I'm faking unconsciousness, it's him. So basically, I need to make an escape plan as soon as humanly possible before he alerts the others. As much as I love these guys and would like to hang out in every otaku's dream, I'll be confined if I stay here. All of the scenes of various characters who are imprisoned by L come, unbidden, across my train of though. I shudder at the unpleasantness at that possibility.
Mentally shaking myself, I refuse the panic knocking at the door to my consciousness, The most important question now is how do I get to the door? I don't know its location and it's probably locked… There's also the problem of Mello's ridiculously fast reflexes. Bottom line: I need a distraction, fast.
Almost like a blessing from heaven, the sound of distant muffled footsteps approaches the room. Despite the distance and the carpet, I can tell that the approaching person is either very angry or just very heavy-footed. As the mystery person gets ever-closer, the approximate location of the door becomes clearer and clearer to me. I want to pump my fist in the air in triumph at my luck, Humans are naturally reactive to noise. This is it: when the door opens, I'll make a dash for it. After the joy of my supplied distraction wears off, I start to see holes in my plan, No, don't think of them, don't-
What if I get vertigo again?
What if I trip on something?
The worst possible problem finally hits me (although if I had been thinking clearly, I would have remembered that said person walks with a very light step):
What if L opens the door?
Before I can go into panic mode, I refocus on the future click of the door that would be my ticket out of here. While listening for the door, I inevitably hear the end of one of Mello's rampages, "-and we don't even know anything about her! Why doesn't she just wake up?!"
There is a small pause. I hear clicking, but not that of Matt's gameboy (which I assume he's paused in an attempt to calm Mello). Instead, it has a vague rhythm, but sounds very precise… like something being put into place. The voice I hear is soft, almost musical, though it seems to have the special ability to be able to fill the entire room. Near utters the one thing I had hoped they wouldn't figure out, "But Mello… she is awake."
My entire body tenses-
Click.
My eyes snap open and I fling myself towards the source with reckless abandon. I don't waste a second to look around, even at my favorite characters, only seeing the backs of everyone's heads as they turn towards the open door with Roger in the doorway. The grumpiest of Wammy's 2 white-haired men has already begun to speak, "What is this 'monkey' I keep hearing a-AH!"
I dodge under his arm and into the hallway. Black begins to surround the edges of my vision, the ground swooping beneath my feet. I fall into the wall across from the door, NO! I crash into the unforgiving wall but, refusing to allow myself to crumple, I use the wall to catapult myself into a dead sprint down carpeted hallway. I can hear a scuffle from behind me as someone, undoubtedly, tries to get past the poor, stunned Roger. I allow myself a snicker before I turn a corner.
What most people don't know is that, while I'm not good at any form of endurance exercise, I'm one of the fastest sprinters. While I always assume this is a good thing when fleeing a pursuer, it turns out to be a major handicap since Wammy's House is HUGE. I begin to curse that there were no blueprints of Wammy's House in the manga, Although, why would there be? I whirl around corner after corner as small black dot after small black dot attempt to fill in my vision. I desperately attempt to blink them away as I whirl around another corner, long red hair streaming behind me.
I slam into someone, their head colliding with my sternum. I repress a cry of pain, only allowing myself a quiet grunt of pain (although it hurts a hell of a lot more than said 'grunt' expressed), I hit the wall so that I don't tumble to the ground. My counterpart isn't so lucky. She's a beautiful, almost gold-skinned girl dressed in a ballerina leotard, staring up at me with wide brown eyes. Black hair frames her heart-shaped face, gently flowing down to her shoulders.
An awkward moment of silence, just long enough to take a breath, passes. She opens her mouth and utters, "The monkey?"
Knowing that there isn't a moment to lose, I don't counter her statement. I mutter a quiet (yet sincere) "Sorry!" as I take off down the next hall. I hear her call out about a monkey again, but much louder this time. I curse under my breath, Every child probably heard that… Hell, even L probably heard that, no matter what country he's in! I've got to get out of here!
I finally, finally, come out to an open hallway with a balcony overlooking the main hall. Breathing a sigh of relief, I jog to the wide main staircase. The main stair has only one landing which branched off to opposite sides of the house. Darting down one of these branches, I spin on a dime at the landing, fully prepared to descend the last set of stairs and sprint to freedom!
I look up towards my goal and time seems to stop. My skirt flies in front of me, seemingly wishing to escape as much as I, but that's no longer an option. My auburn waves drift down slowly as I stare back at the crowd of children that has gathered in the main hall in response to the girl's cry. You could hear a pin drop, much less Matt's call, "Where did the monkey go?"
Everyone, including myself, turns toward the direction I had just come from. I crinkle my nose in distaste, So I'm the monkey? I had no idea what they were talking about, but seriously?! A child amongst the crowd gasps, jolting me out of my thoughts, Right, trying to escape from a house of geniuses, focus!
I turn back to the crowd and, despite the uselessness of the gesture and the fact that I can't think of anything else, put a finger to my lips. Hopefully, most of the kids are young enough to honor my request, I think (although I can already see that quite a number of the children are at least twelve years or older). A young yet tall boy with flaming red hair shakes the shock from himself. As he turns to where I had made my entrance, I see what appears to be a long line going down the right side of his face, A scar? A ball and chain earring dangles wildly from his ear as he calls loudly, "SHE'S AT THE STAIRS!"
I hear the sounds of pursuit and I grip the smooth banister on reflex. Turning back to the crowd, I can't help it: I hiss down at the boy, "Traitor!"
Seeing as how the front door isn't an option- I grip my black skirt in my left hand and take off up the other branch of stairs across from me, continue down that hallway, and dart down another. I grab the next corner with my right hand, losing no momentum of my run, and whirl around it. I look up to see: a dead end.
Before I totally lose hope, I see my salvation in the form of- a window! Knowing that I'm nearing the end of my sprinting abilities (I gave up any attempt to keep my gasping for oxygen silent a long time ago), I hurry over to it. Please be open, and please open quietly! I breathe a sigh of relief when the window lifts easily. I raise my skirt above the sill and clamber out onto the roof, closing the window as quietly as possible behind me.
Taking a seat on the rough shingles just out of view of the window, I allow myself to breathe as heavily as my body wishes. I pull my hair back with my hands, braiding it to try to calm myself. My chin-length bangs hang down in front of my left eye; I brush them behind my ear impatiently. After a few moments, I put my head back and stare at the darkening sky. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe a bit slower, a bit deeper. In a few moments, I risk carefully shifting into at a slight crouch as I look at the grounds. It's almost sundown. I need to get off this roof before it's too dark.
Sick of holding my skirt up, I roll up the waist until the black material swishes around my mid-calves. Anyone else would be bothered by the rough tiles, but I don't wear shoes unless I have to, so I don't worry too much about slipping off or cutting my calloused feet. I slowly stalk along the roof, ducking beneath white-framed windows and wincing as I feel the vibrations of footsteps inside. With the knowledge that everyone inside is slowly eliminating places I could be hiding, I hurry to a corner of the roof.
I lower myself until my legs are dangling off, In older houses like these, usually the posts to hold up the porch roof had extravagant tops to them. I'm just going to have to hope I can find a foothold… Swinging my legs back and forth, my toe bumps against a carving at the top of the post. Wedging my foot on at arch, I reach down, one hand after the other. Ignoring the black spots swarming from my exertion, I clutch the post as I slowly but surely climb down until my feet meet the railing.
I give myself a few seconds to sit and breathe, grateful for the thin material of my clothes and the cool evening breeze. My hair has already begun to come out of its braid, the bottom of my unwoven hair drifting on the wind. I stiffen when my attention is redrawn to shouting from inside (primarily from Mello, of course). Time to go!
Hopping the railing and landing in a crouch on the grass, I turn towards a group of trees. I start off at a light jog, The first place they'll look is the front gate. I'm going to have to scale a fence anyways, might as well do it under some cover. Reaching the group of trees around the back left corner of the house, a 7 foot tall fence steadily looms higher above me at my approach. Stopping in front of it, I look down at my skirt with a sigh, Why, why, why did I not change into pajamas last night?
Ignoring my fatigue, I haul myself to the top of the fence. While making sure that my skirt isn't caught on the fence, I feel a wave of vertigo strike me hard. Almost crashing to the ground on the spot, all of my muscles automatically tense up. After taking a moment to allow the dizziness to pass, I lower myself until I'm only hanging on by my hands. I drop and hit the ground hard. My knees buckle and I stumble to the ground.
Nice job there, Grace. Glad no one's around yet still unsure of my surroundings, I turn and lean my back against the cool metal of the fence. My bangs had come loose while jumping the fence, but I don't even bother to brush them back. I close my eyes before the black dots can overcome my consciousness. In, out, in, out…
This is all that I think for a couple of minutes, feeling the burning from overexertion leave my muscles. My breathing begins to level out, You're almost home free, you just escaped Wammy's House! You can do this! I use the fence to lift myself, also utilizing it as a prop for my body after locking my knees. Taking a last breath, I feel ready, "Okay!" I turn away from the fence to walk down the road.
I freeze in place, eyes widening.
Before me stands the one man I had hoped I wouldn't run into because I know that I cannot escape him.
Messy black hair, dark as midnight; a pair of fathomless dark eyes gazing into mine as we assess each other.
There stands the world's greatest detective: L.
