The Prodigal Returneth! (again...)
I apologize profusely for my long and annoying absence; time and tide, and all that...
Life has gotten between me and my beloved words, as it often does, and since I have been away from them so very long, you must forgive me if I indulge in some slightly random and overall rather delicious-sounding ones... (No, I am not gay; I just rather love words...)

Inimitable. Defenstration. Machicolation. Acrasia. Sleeve. Mountebank. Incantation. Concoction. Exacerbate. Pony.

Well, I feel a *little* better, now. Aldehyde.

Anyway, for you:

Chapter 12

Even after their reconciliation, their daily routine did not see much of a change. L still ordered Maria about like a common servant, and Maria still blissfully ignored him –except to, on certain occasions, tease him. L's moods tended to swing just as violently as before, if not more so, and Maria was, as far as anyone on the team could tell, still closer to Light and Misa than to the mercurial detective.

This continuation of their previous pattern was mostly by L's design. He found that, now having found a friend in Maria, he was afraid to overstep his bounds because, quite frankly, he was afraid of losing her. Having had so little experience with friendship in general –and none at all that involved females in particular, he was uncertain as to what friendship with Maria entailed. He had many questions for her, but he was feared that asking her might offend her; that it was assumed that he ought to already know the answers to such things.

The most frustrating thing, though, was the fact that there was a part of him that knew better. He knew that he could ask her anything, and she would answer. If he offered her his hand, she would take it and willingly guide him down the strange new path that he had struck with her. The real problem… is that I lack the courage, he admitted to himself ashamedly. I am so afraid of losing her that I'm afraid to go near her! He bit back a helpless, self-deprecating laugh. Ah, yes. L, the great detective, who has faced so many dangers and so much evil without batting an eyelash, is brought to his knees –by a simple offer of friendship, he mocked himself.

On the other hand, he knew that he walked a dangerous road. Not only was she an unknown –at least to a certain extent –but she also seemed to have extraordinary power over everyone she came in contact with: including Yagami Light and, of course, himself. Even though several days had gone by since his encounter with her, he could still feel her touch on his skin and the warm solidity of her flesh under his hand. He marveled at her power; feared it, even. Yet, he was drawn to it, as a moth is drawn to an open flame. He had a vague feeling that her power could consume him; destroy him. However, he mused, that could be part of what draws me to her. Maybe it's that sense of hidden power that holds me in thrall. I have never before met someone who has –but does not use –their power. She is different; she could be famous, loved, and influential –and yet, she chooses to spend her days as servant to a reclusive, childish control-freak.

Just then, Maria entered the room, causing his entire body to tense. He half-hoped, half-dreaded that she would approach him, but Light intercepted her before L could interpret her intent in entering the room in the first place. She was wearing a new black scoop-neck shirt that Misa had picked out during their shopping spree, along with her customary jeans. The shirt provided a rare view of the pale skin of her graceful neck and part of her shoulders, showcasing more than usual the extraordinary harmony of her form and composition.

As Light greeted her, he allowed his hand to rest against the base of her neck and gently stroke its white column with his thumb. L felt his stomach knot with jealousy, and his hands clenched in frustration. What right has he to touch her? He railed almost indignantly. She is not common, like Misa. She is different. He ought to reverence her; treat her with the respect she deserves! And yet, what would I not give to be able to caress her thus? he reminded himself. He is no less human than I; he must feel the same longings that I do. No; I cannot judge him for this behaviour –not when, given the chance, I would do the same myself, he admitted grudgingly. He looked after them mournfully as they headed out the door together. But… must I only watch forever?

Light was becoming more and more aware of how dangerous Maria was to his plans. He found that, when he was near her, all of his schemes seemed unimportant, as if the brilliance of her presence caused everything else in the world to become lackluster in comparison. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that, if she asked him to abandon his dreams, he would comply without a second thought. Perhaps it was current boredom; maybe something more –but either way, he still found himself unable to distance himself from her, regardless of the possible consequences. Human or demon, she controlled him absolutely, and part of him thrilled at the idea.

When they spent time together, they often spoke little, if at all, but there was comfort in their mutual silence –as if their souls needed no medium to be understood by the other. She rarely initiated physical contact between them, and when she did, there was nothing sensual in her advances. Her ministrations spoke of care rather than desire, but, although he would have gladly received signs of attraction, he found himself to be utterly content with her gentle, undemanding touches. There was something soothing about her approaches; unlike Misa, she gave without expecting a return.

He, however, was perfectly happy to reciprocate her contact, and did so often. Like her, he never let his hands wander anywhere that could be considered inappropriate, but he preferred to spend their stretches of silence by studying the delicate lines of her face or marveling at her strong, elegant hands –which seemed so frail compared to his own. She seemed to enjoy his attentions and never shrank from him: she made it plain that she trusted him utterly.

Light often turned his thoughts to her even when she was not with him: imagining how she would respond if he admitted to her that he was Kira –assuming that Ryuk was wrong and that she did not already know. He would imagine her responses to myriads of other events as well: trivial and monumental alike. The one thing that he never found himself wondering, though, was what she really was. Obviously, Ryuk's fears had to have some basis, but for some reason, he could not bring himself to imagine that she could belong to any class of being, carnal or ethereal. To him, she was one unto herself: no one else had ever been like her, and none would be after her. This, he found, was all the answer that he needed to the question of her true identity.

Ryuk, on the other hand, was absolutely beside himself with fear of Light's course of action. He constantly berated Light for continuing to relate to such a dangerous entity and continued his ridiculous paroxysms hourly when Light ignored him. He was outmatched in his uneasiness only by Rem, who, whenever Misa and Maria were together, hung back from the pair as if Maria were the very herald of death.

Maria never acknowledged either of the shinigami or gave any other indication that she knew they existed. After the incident with Rem, she completely ignored both death gods –not that this did anything to improve their moods. Maria seemed, all in all, perfectly content to continue things as they had been before.

L, however, decided that he was not. Although he was not brave enough to initiate contact of any kind between Maria and himself in the presence of others, he decided that he would explore the boundaries of their strange new friendship after the rest of the team had left that evening. Thus, armed with a bowl of strawberries, he set about his plan as soon as the control room had emptied.

He had last observed Maria heading toward her room, her work done for the day, so he struck out in that direction as well, bearing the weight of strawberries and apprehension. Every step he took required more than the one before it, and he struggled to keep from fleeing to the safety of his own room. He had made up his mind, though: I will talk to her tonight. I will rid myself of these doubts once and for all!

Finally, he turned into the hall that led to her room. His eyes automatically directed to her door, and what he saw there caused him to stop dead in his tracks: the door was partially open, and the object holding it ajar was Maria's prostrate form.

So, there you have it -my returning installation!
Yes, I know it's short... I have some editing to do on the chapter next, though, and I don't want to give you substandard work, after all.
PLEASE review; your thoughts, criticisms and attention are of the utmost importance to me as I seek to give you the finest wordsmithing that my small talent in this craft will allow...
Thank you also for your continued interest in my little fevered scribblings!

My dramatic side wishes to leave you all dangling for a bit, but after having forsaken you for so long, I admit that this hardly seems fair...
We shall see...

Humbly Yours,

Terence Waverly