Another fairly quick update! Kudos for phollie-san!
So this chapter is pretty…um, weighty…I actually got quite moody writing it, but much is explained here in regards to Russe. Sort of.
And we finally get to the part with Light that I've been planning for ages. ::sweatdrop::
(Oh, and there is a mega-lime in the very beginning. Damn dreams, right?)
So, as usual, please enjoy, my lovely readers!
How it started, where it led to, how it ended; they were all details, details Amelia could not care less about.
He was here, after so long of being there, and she was where he was, mingled into one gasping collection of shifting skin and breathy whispers. They were the physical entity of lust, but with deeper undertones that shivered through their nerves with each touch, sending another boiling surge to erupt beneath the sheets.
They had not even joined yet. The kiss was broken when L pulled away, staring down at her bare form with bright, glazed eyes. He whispered her name, breathing heavily, and she responded with an arch of her back, pressing her naked hips into his. "L," she uttered. She was drowning in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to meet with him after so long of being denied the ultimate intimacy.
His fingers were gliding along her swollen lips, parting them and slipping in momentarily, and she whimpered when they descended to her heaving chest, along the tender peaks of her breasts and down her stomach. Amelia instinctively spread her legs, giving him access to her most sensitive, desperate region, and waited for him to satisfy the aching mounting in her stomach. "Do it," she whispered raggedly, closing her eyes and beginning to feel the impatience growing to an agonizing level. How long had it been since she had seen him, felt him, been entirely absorbed by him until all that remained was a singular burning need, pushing and breathing and…
Oh, feeling. Feeling those fingers press against her opening, pushing, gliding, driving deep into her and easing back out…she could not move, speak, breathe, and it took all she had not to sink away into the sheets and drown away into intoxication.
He was kissing her collarbone, the slope of her neck, teasing her with his avoidance of her feverish mouth before cupping a heaving breast with his free hand. As he pushed his slender fingers deeper into her and curled gently, she let out a ragged breath at the spot he now stroked inside of her. "A-ah…please, just…" She was skipping over words, her mind was so fizzy, and she spoke through arching her back and feeling her chest press into his. "Please…"
Dark hair grazed against her neck when he sweeped his head upwards to whisper into her ear, a single maddening word that nearly sent her flailing over the edge.
"Patience…"
She could kick herself, grip the headboard and give it a vigorous shake, glower at her own reflection all she wanted, but the dreams were becoming more than a nuisance.
Amelia propped herself up in bed on her knees and leaned her forehead against the wooden panel. While she could say that she dearly wished to return to the dream to greet its ending result, she bit upon her bottom lip and gave the headboard a glare fit for an enemy.
She had grown to despise sleeping, almost as much as she despised missing him.
Giving up on the front of forgetting about her dream, she groaned and slowly got out of bed. Her muscles gave a disheartening inward scream at how long she had been asleep, but she ambled her way into the bathroom in hopes of showering off her own heat.
She failed. No matter how cold she twisted the shower knob to be, the fraught blaze burned on.
"Light-kun."
L watched through wired eyes as the boy in question weakly raised his head in his cell, his eyes still on the cement floor. "…yes, Ryuzaki," he asked, his voice hoarse and tired.
L released a sigh and twirled his spoon idly in his bowl of ice cream. "This would go much smoother if you were to simply admit to being Kira. I'm sure it would be much more enjoyable than slumping in a jail cell for days on end, wouldn't it?" He dipped the spoon into a mound of the ice cream and guided it to his mouth lazily.
Light raised his eyes then, looking directly into the camera with an anger that L had seen countless times from him during his confinement. "I'm not going to admit to being someone I'm not, Ryuzaki," he stated. "There's no reason why I would-"
"Well, to be frank, it doesn't exactly look good on the 'innocence' front that no criminals have been killed since you were confined," L added. "If you have means of explaining that, do fill us in, Light-kun."
Matsuda cleared his throat awkwardly behind the armchair. "Uh, that was a little harsh, don't you think, Ryuzaki?" he said with a nervous chuckle.
When L froze before spooning another mouthful of ice cream to concentrate on, he heard Matsuda clear his throat again and take a few steps back. "Harsh applies to Kira's punishment on criminals, Matsuda," L said quietly, "not a task force's questioning of a potential mass murderer whom is steadily receding from the grey region." He finally applied spoon to mouth and swallowed the ice cream a little too quickly, cringing when his brain cramped. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "Now, please excuse me while I have a brainfreeze."
"But I-"
"Brainfreeze, Matsuda," L quipped.
"Uh, yeah, sorry…" The officer walked away to the other side of the room, leaving L to focus on driving away the pounding headache and hearing Light's rebuttal to his earlier words.
"I can't explain it, Ryuzaki, but I'm not Kira! We're wasting time with me sitting in here away from the investigation!"
His eyes still screwed shut, L pinched the bridge of his nose harder and released a steady sigh. "Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what you are concerned about, Light-kun," he said in a quiet monotone.
L could explain the sudden irritability in his mannerisms; he had fallen asleep at his chair just hours before. He could down gallons of tea, tug at his lip and question himself on Amelia's happenings all he wanted, but the dreams were becoming more than a nuisance.
Three o'clock…four more hours left…now if I can just do this without passing out, I should be able to execute it…shit, with my luck, I'll fall apart on the street and be carried off to Peru or something outlandish…oh, stop it, you're being stupid. Just put on your fucking jacket and get out of here before Watari stops you…
Amelia had put on the jacket that Russe had deemed as ugly for a purpose. As she slipped her arms into the shabby grey sleeves, she kept the image of the girl's cryptic jester's smile and prodding eyes rooted in her memory.
She better be there, dammit…she better be there or else I'll search this whole damn world for her…
She followed the same route on foot to where it led her the previous day, ignoring the occasional blurry spell in her sight or the rushing sound in her ears. Refusing to let her whittling energy hold her back from the answers her mind cried out for, she all but stomped in off timing with the crowd that surrounded her until she reached the store for the third time.
Come on, Russe…
Amelia took a steadying breath, her eyes fixed on the alleyway that resided by the shop. A cooling wind breathed through her hair, people shoved into her still stance, but she remained just seven feet away from the opening of the alley, squirming with trepidation.
Something in her told her that Russe would be there, waiting for her with a foolish smirk and mindless drabble ready to spin into her ears. Another part of her shrugged off the chances of the dark-haired woman to be in the same place at the same time as her, but it was overwhelmed with the former half of Amelia's mind.
She would take what slim shot she had as she marched forward into the alley. A flash of rusty corduroy told her that she had found her fool, and she jerked her head up quickly to take her head on.
Russe sat cross-legged against the brick wall, tapping her pale fingers against her knees with no set rhythm. Just as Amelia had expected, she was gazing up at the sky that stretched above their heads, a loopy sort of smile on her lips.
She was outraged.
"You are going to tell me who the hell you are, or else I swear to you, I'll turn you in faster than you can imagine." Amelia swung her duffel bag around so that it rested against her back, prepared and willing to be forceful if the opportunity called. She was furious without the woman having said a single word to her, but she expected a blissful river of broken sentences and blunt phrases to pave over that quite smoothly.
Russe glanced at her sideways before looking back up at the sky. She raised her arm and pointed directly above her head. "That cloud looks like a penis," she said as-a-matter-of-factly. "Don't you think so?"
Amelia felt her mouth gape open involuntarily. "What the fu-"
"It's actually pretty amazing. Striking resemblance to a penis. I wonder if the authorities have gotten on it yet." At this, Russe propped her chin up with her fist, staring off into space. "You'd think the city would have caused an uproar by now. So conservative, some people. Oh, and how are you? You're looking rather red-faced today. Something wrong? Does the penis cloud offend you?"
What infuriated Amelia the most out of the brunette's monologue was that she was being entirely, dead-faced serious with her bizarre questions. She clenched, unclenched and reclenched her fists when the urge to strangle her became unbearably appealing. "Do…you…ever shut the fuck up? Or answer questions? Hell, or even attempt to answer questions without bringing phallus cloud formations into the equation?"
Russe appeared to give her words deep thought before shrugging. "On shutting the fuck up, no. On answering questions, yes." She tapped her free hand on her knee quicker, a silent drummer. "When I see fit. You don't ask me questions that I see fit, I don't answer them. No point in it, you know? Stupid questions are made worse with stupid answers." She looked back up at the sky with squinted eyes. "Oh, the penis cloud has moved."
Within five steps, Amelia stood directly in front of Russe and glowered down at her, sick of her games and word plays and absolutely maddening manner of changing the subject. "You are a mindless, squabbling twit," she hissed, her breathing becoming labored with fury. "And I'll say it again; if you don't tell me who you are right now, I'll turn you in without a second's hesitation."
Russe cocked her head up at her. "But you came to see me," she said with a small smile.
"So we're even. You follow me, and I come and pay you little visits to find out who the fuck you are."
Russe rolled her eyes and began to stand up, but Amelia pushed her back down with an irate palm on her shoulder. She sat on the ground again, seemingly unphased. "I already told you who I am," she said with boredom.
"And how do I know that name isn't a fake?"
"Just like you?"
The three words sent Amelia to step back a foot away from her. Regaining her composure (or whatever shard of it remained integral), she glared back down at her and dug her toes into the soles of her shoes tightly. "I have given you no reason to think that I am a fake," she said darkly, "but you, on the other hand, are a downright-"
"Freak?" Russe finished for her. "Funny, I got the same impression from you, too!"
The statement was not meant in an offensive manner, but instead an honest observation that was even more enraging than if it had been. "And just why is that?" Amelia asked.
Russe gave her a questioning look before she tried to stand up again, in which Amelia responded to with a nod. She came to her feet and leaned her back against the wall, reaching into the pocket of her corduroy jacket for a cigarette and lighter. "Because," she began, lighting the smoke casually, "I'm still convinced that Lise Something isn't your real name. You didn't even give me a last name."
"Murray. Happy now?"
"No." Russe took a short puff from her cigarette and exhaled. "No, I'm not. You're not a…a Lise Murray."
"Oh, but I am," Amelia said, imitating the girl's pattern of speech with an exaggerated nod.
Russe scrunched up her nose and grimaced. "You look stupid when you do that. Not good for you…looking stupid, I mean."
Amelia merely stood a safe distance from her, pursing her lips and listening.
"I'm good with people, I really am. And I can read you. Just like a book, I can read you, Lise. Especially when you're mad like this, when all your emotions are out in the open like this. You're weak. Behind all this hostility, of course." Another drag of her cigarette, and Russe continued. "And you want to know who I am because you don't like having people being able to just get you. You don't like the feeling because you put up this…really kooky show of being so smart and collected, but you're angered easily. See? You're clenching your fists right now." She grinned at Amelia, showing each and every white tooth. "You probably want to punch me right now."
Before Amelia swung her fist at the girl, she made brief mental note of just how good Russe could in fact read her.
Her hit missed, much to her disappointment, but she quickly gathered herself enough to pin Russe to the wall, gripping her shoulders with her fists. She was considerably shorter than the trapped woman, but she glared up at her with an intensity that would not be shadowed by their height difference. "Tell me why you're here. In this city, in this country, in this alley. Tell me or else I'll-"
"Turn me in, I know, I know," Russe said, rolling her eyes again. "So touchy, good grief."
"Tell me."
"Fine, fine!" Russe exclaimed. "Could you let me go, at least? My shoulders are a little sore from your attack."
Amelia grudgingly agreed and released her. "Now. Why are you here?"
Russe flicked the ashes dangling from her cigarette and looked around briefly before meeting Amelia's eyes once more. In a low voice, she uttered a lone word.
"Kira."
Amelia nearly choked on her own breath before she backed up again. Kira…?! Is she in the FBI…? A random civilian who wants to bring him to justice…? What does she mean by Kira…? She swallowed hard. "What?"
Russe sighed and disposed of her barely-smoked cigarette. "We might as well walk, you know. Not good to stay in one place for too long, people might hear."
"What do you have to be kept quiet?" Amelia asked shakily. "Russe, what about Kira?"
Russe sensed the urgency in her voice and looked back up at her. "I have many things to keep quiet, Lise Murray. Walk with me."
Amelia did not bother fighting against the suggestion and followed her swiftly. When Russe opened her mouth to speak, she gulped down her own agitation and listened intently.
"I'll say it bluntly: I'm in some business, Lise. Some business that isn't looked down too well upon by Mr. Kira." Russe's dark eyes flit from person to person as they wandered the streets aimlessly, sorting through their features with a suspicious glint. "And this…business that I'm in has been the cause of my family's downfall."
Amelia shook her head in confusion. "Downfall?"
"Oh, yes. As in death, Lise. As in I'm one of the only ones left. Sure, some got out while they could before their names were released, but…well, I just made sure mine wouldn't be."
A nauseous wave rose in Amelia's throat but she swallowed it down. So she's a criminal…? What business could she be in…? And why is she telling me this…?
Meanwhile, Russe shoved her fists into the pockets of her jacket and kept her eyes averted from her single audience member. The sun shone against her profile brilliantly, showing the delicate curve of her jawline, the narrow bridge of her nose. "Raleigh-Olten isn't my last name," Russe confessed in a low voice.
So it was an alias…! But who is she then…?
"Then what is?" Amelia asked, wiping her clammy palms on the thighs of her jeans.
With a sideways glance, their eyes locked. Amelia bit her tongue to fight back the urge to question her again, knowing it would distract her from the real inquiry at hand, and watched as Russe looked away from her again. They quickened their pace through the streets, Amelia struggling to keep up with the opposing woman's longer legs. "That's not the point," Russe brushed off. "Not the point at all. The point is that I'm here to track someone down before they…"
She cut herself off with a distant gaze off into space once more, seemingly her custom. Amelia was not willing to let the words float away, however, and she peered closely at the striking profile of the woman. "Keep going," she urged. "Before they…?"
Russe shook her head rapidly, her bobbed hair whipping across her face. "Before they nothing. It was a stupid thing to say."
"No, it wasn't." Amelia hurried along to keep up to the girl's side. "Say it, Russe."
"Stupid, stupid thing to say," Russe continued, shaking her head and walking faster.
"God dammit, Russe, out with it!" Amelia disregarded the fact that the people around her were impatiently weaving around them as she grabbed the brunette's shoulder and stopped her, turning her around to face her. "What is it?" she snapped. She was growing weary and desperate for answers. The rushing in her ears could not be blamed on the surrounding city.
Russe stared at Amelia for a good, solid ten seconds before speaking. "I'm seventeen years old."
The voice in which she spoke it in surprised Amelia more than her age, having assumed her to be older. She sounded confused, trying to convey a meaning that could not be read, and her dark eyes were wide and expectant as Amelia stared into them.
"Why are you telling me this?" Amelia asked softly. "What's going on?"
Russe glanced to her left, right, left again and back at Amelia. She leaned in closer to her, as if telling a secret. "How old are you?"
Amelia stepped away instinctively. "Twenty-three. But I'm not telling you anything else until you start making sense stat."
The look in Russe's eyes shifted back to her usual blank dreaminess as she played with the stone pendant of her necklace. "You don't have to," she said with a casual shrug. "And I don't have to either."
"Don't have to what? Make sense?" Amelia felt her breathing pick up again with agitation. "Well, it would be greatly appreciated if you did, because I'm not into the games that you are, alright?"
Perhaps that was a lie…
Russe gave a small smile as they began walking again. "I know, I know. I already knew that, you know. You, how they say, 'don't take no shit from anyone', right? I think that's what they call it. Yeh, I know a lot of people like you." She pulled out her lighter from her pocket and flicked it on and off, watching the flame ignite and die out over and over again. "Too bad you have to be so weak, though."
Amelia jerked her head to look at Russe, but saw that the teenager was already looking at her with an eerie sympathy in her eyes. She was not swayed entirely. "I'm not weak. Just because I missed hitting you one time doesn't mean I'm-"
"Oh, one time, yeah. Maybe you've never been in the situation where you'd have to hit people. That's probably it now that I think about it…" Russe closed her lighter with finality and dropped it into her corduroy pocket. "But, yes. Twenty-three. You're twenty-three…wow. Practically ancient."
Amelia furrowed her brow but said nothing in response.
"Hmm, so that makes us six years apart," Russe said thoughtfully.
"Obviously," Amelia muttered with annoyance. "There was no point in stating that."
Russe smirked briefly, but Amelia caught it before it was wiped off. The brunette tilted her head upwards toward the sky and wheeled smoothly around a cluster of bustling people. Amelia, however, crashed directly into them, mumbling half-assed apologies beneath her breath as she caught up with the frustrating woman.
"There's no point in stating a lot of things. But that wasn't one of them." Russe flicked her bangs out back into her eyes when another gust of wind tossed them askew.
"Any idiot could see that seventeen and twenty-three would be six years apart."
Russe let out a cool, unruffled laugh, one that did not correlate with her dotty temperament. "You're not an idiot. Believe me. You are not an idiot."
"And you're telling me this because why?"
"Because," Russe quipped out.
Amelia stared at her, wide-eyed and nearly twitching. She spoke nothing in response, deeming to worthless when she predicted the sparky rejoinder she would earn from her. They made a curve in their walking and continued down the sidewalk which followed.
"Look," Russe began, "you asked why I was here, in Japan, in this city, in that alley, in that whatever. I remember you did, quite clearly. In fact, you asked over and over ag-"
"Yes, I remember asking you, Russe," Amelia said between her teeth.
"Yes, well. I told you I'm kind of hunting for someone." Russe smacked her palm against her forehead at that, squinting her eyes shut. "Alright, not hunting. Bad word choice, you got me. But I'm looking for someone that's in danger, okay, Lise? They're in danger, lots of it."
Amelia cleared her throat, putting her anger on the backburner now that they had returned to the topic. "From what? What sort of danger are they in?"
Russe hesitated before speaking and gazed at the clouds distractedly. "From two different things, see; the little business my people put me in, and Kira himself. Or herself, I don't give a shit." She waved her hand at the thought, brushing it off carelessly. "But this person will end up like the rest of my family if I don't cut a little Kira throat, understand? Hey, Lise, you understand?"
It was Amelia's final snapping point. She grabbed the young woman by the shoulder and forced her to look into her eyes. "What business are you in, Russe?" she demanded. "I'm sick of having to guess what's behind every little thing you say, so just say it! What business are you in?"
Russe was silent as Amelia scowled at her with a frying patience. When she wormed out of her grasp, Amelia did not falter. She kept her gaze firm and unyielding upon the girl that was quickly stealing her sanity.
Say it.
"I'm not telling you."
"Yes, you fucking are."
When Russe took a step forward, Amelia found herself stepping back out of habit. After so long of being the one to advance upon her, the tables had turned and Russe at last appeared angry. "No, I'm fucking not."
Amelia felt her pulse race with vehemence, quickly spotting a challenge. She took her chances and stepped forward. "Then consider your sick little mindfuck to be over."
"Not really. No, actually, not at all. You should be thanking me right about now instead of playing big bad wolf for once."
Amelia laughed with cruelty, tossing her head back in the manner that the other did. "Thanking you? For what? Getting my mind in a knot and toying with it for a little fun? Of course, Russe, you're right, I should be fucking thanking you."
People streamed around them in a heavy current. Neither moved along with them, refusing to break the heated stare that webbed between their eyes of cold blue and heavy, glittering brown.
"You truly want to know, Lise?" Russe asked, her voice low and weighty. Her bangs fell lower over her eyes, almost completely blocking them off from Amelia, but enough sign of them remained for their stare to still connect. "You want to know who I am? You want to know what I do?"
"Yes," Amelia whispered with a hateful intensity, her head bowed and glaring upwards at the brunette.
Say. It.
"You truly, truly want to know?" Russe took a large step, filling a great deal of the gap between them. Her eyes were gleaming, but Amelia did not look away even for the most minute fraction of a second. "Fine. Since you want to know so badly. Lise Murray, I-"
The chord of her words was severed when Russe was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled away by a young man, appearing to be almost a carbon copy of her with the same dark brown hair, almond-shaped eyes and lanky, slender frame. Russe tried tugging her arm out of his hold, but the man forced her to look at him and spoke to her, his eyes burning with the same fire that Amelia was failing at ignoring in the pit of her stomach. "No, you're not getting away again!" she hollered after the two. "You're going to tell me right now! Russe!"
The young man released Russe, but she stalked away into the crowd until she was out of sight. A dizzying tide of déjà vu struck Amelia's heart at the haunting sight of the answers she begged for walking away from her mercilessly. Her eyes latched onto the young man, whom had taken up staring at her as well.
Yes, he was a clone of Russe, but instead with short curly hair that skimmed the tops of his ears and did not block her sight of his eyes. He appeared too clean-cut to be Russe's male form, what with the black zip-up jacket he wore over a fine grey sweater and jeans lacking tears or grass-stains in the knees.
The look he gave her was of the darkest fascination Amelia had ever seen. He approached her, his stride perfectly balanced and stiff, but she followed suit in pushing others out of the way to press her back against the wall of a building, suddenly panic-stricken at the sight of the stranger.
The young man stopped momentarily in his walking, but stared down at the ground and quickened his pace towards her. He was in front of her before she knew it, not looking at her as he reached into the pocket of his jacket. When his hand returned, he held a scrap of paper that he offered her with a stretch of his arm.
Amelia felt her mouth dry up, making it impossible to speak. She did not reach out to accept the paper, but instead stared at the young man out the corner of her eye once she turned her head away from him.
What do you want from me…?
The man was quiet, besides the light sigh that escaped his lips. Very slowly and gently, as if afraid she would burn him, he slid the scrap into the gaping pocket of her jacket before rushing off away from her, his posture stiff-spined and rigid.
Please…just…say it…
With a small portion of Watari's provided yen, Amelia caught a ride back to the hotel and fought off the blurry black spots that invaded the corners of her vision. As the brilliantly-lit rows of shops and advertisements skittered by her, her mind followed a lone track.
I came to the orphanage when I was six years old…dropped off by my parents…never saw them again…
I'm twenty-three years old…Russe, seventeen…
"We're six years apart…"
Six years old…orphanage…dropped off by parents…
"I'm looking for someone that's in danger…"
Six years old…orphanage…dropped off by parents…someone in danger…Kira…
"Raleigh-Olten isn't my last name…"
We're six years apart…parents…never saw them again...simple, simple, simple…
"I'm in some business, Lise…one of the only ones left…"
I'm not a Lise…she knows…but…
The cab came to a stop in front of the hotel, quick and jerky and harsh, but Amelia's thoughts spun faster than she had ever managed before in her lifetime.
Russe…you're…
As the cab driver announced the fare, Amelia swung open the door and ducked her head. She gaped down at the sidewalk, eyes watering and shock rising in her throat in the form of vomit, and only deepened the realization that punctured her reason for good.
You're a fucking Lasswell.
The scrap of paper was not paid any attention to until it fell to the carpet when Amelia removed her jacket.
It contained an address, a phone number and another rush to the sink as Amelia emptied the contents of her stomach.
Ten minutes to seven p.m. She rinsed out her mouth numbly and caught sight of her reflection.
A stranger contemplated her in the mirror. Her eyes were sunken in, weighed down with heavy grey circles; her skin was sickeningly washed out and pale. The stranger's hair hung in awry strands over her face like an auburn mesh, or barbed wire that she would have to escape from or else be slashed.
She decided not to further pain herself. Trudging out of the bathroom and pulling on a heavier sweater, realizing that she was freezing, she grabbed her newly purchased camera and a fresh tape to secure in her duffel bag. She took the elevator this time, opting for something that required less energy, and clambered into the backseat of the cab operated by Watari.
"Ms. Amelia," the man addressed quietly from the driver's seat, "are you sure that you wish to do this?"
Amelia closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the cooling glass of the window. She nodded subtly. "Yeah, I'm sure," she hoarsely proclaimed. "Very…very sure, Watari…"
The engine revved and no more words were spoken. Amelia was quickly embraced in sleep, hunched in the backseat and cuddling her duffel bag in her lap. Images of L's arms tenderly taking her frail being into his morphed into scraps of paper, of seventeen-year-olds with dreamy eyes and carbon copies and twisted smiles, all aimed at her screaming self that slowly crumbled into the ground. She was stomped upon with ratty sneakers, laughter filling her decomposing ears and a victorious eulogy read by Kira himself.
She was awoken with a paternal, warm hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Amelia," Watari said, "we are here."
She glanced around wearily and saw that the large stone building awaited her down the walkway. Watari had opened her door for her, sending a quick jolt of guilt to flash through her veins. "Thank you," she said groggily as she took the man's hand and exited the cab. Her duffel bag lay against her hip as she slowly approached the prison, following Watari to the best of her ability.
"You are fully aware that L will see this on the footage, Ms. Amelia?"
Amelia paused before entering the door in which Watari unlocked. "Yes," she said quietly, "yes, I'm aware of that."
"As long as you know that."
The two were silent as Amelia was led through the stairwells of the prison up into a vacant floor of cells, with the exception of one young man that she knew would be residing in the back. Her hand reached into her bag for the camera and film, setting the tape into the appropriate slot. Her heart thrashed in her chest like a wild, red-eyed brute.
With Watari waiting at the end of the hall, Amelia walked onward until she stood before the cell that contained a thinner, trembling Light Yagami sitting against the bed on the cold flooring, his forehead resting atop his knees. When she placed her bag by her feet, he looked up swiftly with disbelieving eyes. "…Lise?"
L will see this…he is watching you right now…
Amelia swallowed down as much doubt and fear that she could stomach. Light was awaiting an answer with stunned sepia eyes and now-overgrown hair. The shaggy look did not suit him, but the new attitude lessened Amelia's tightened throat by a tenfold.
Mustering up the strength to respond, she sat upon the floor in front of the black bars of the cell. "Hello, Light," she greeted with a cold gravity. The name sounded foreign in her ears with this stranger before her, a young man that she had despised for his cockiness that was now just a shaggy teenager with his hands locked behind his back.
Before Light said anything more, she turned on the camera and pressed record.
Alas! Russe is a freak and Amelia is falling apart. She needs a good hug from L, which is arriving soon…
And as you can guess, the young man that tugged Russe back will also be an addition…an important one, as well.
Reviews? Yes, reviews. I do love them.