Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
Author's Note: !Constructive criticism only! Please Read & Review – it gives me great encouragement to hear feedback from you guys. Enjoy!
Chapter 1 – Curious Encounters
It was 3 AM and the inhabitants of Winchester, England were asleep, safely tucked away in their homes. All except one. If one listened closely, the pit-pattering of bare feet could be heard as a young girl ran shoeless down a street, her red hair billowing behind her like an uncontrolled flame in the wind and her bright green eyes shining with fear. Behind her, three men followed, their footsteps louder and heavier as they stumbled down the poorly-lit street, searching for the girl.
"Oi! Where'd you run off to, you little minx?" The tallest of the three men slowed to a light jog, quickly running out of energy. His friend stopped as well, while the third man continued. "Bitch took my wallet and my watch. I didn't even feel her." His friend smirked. "I bet she'll feel you when we finally catch her. I call seconds." The two grinned in the darkness before continuing the chase.
The girl ducked through alleyways and hopped over fences, taking completely random and unexpected routes in an effort to stump her pursuers. She could only hear one set of footsteps behind her, and she hoped the other two had either given up or lost their way. Perhaps it had been unwise to pick a target that was not alone; his friends had been quick to help him chase her when he'd discovered his valuables mysteriously gone.
She ran and ran, her thin legs nimbly navigating the darkest streets with a sort of confidence the three men sorely lacked. Eventually, she could no longer hear their heavy, lumbering footsteps behind her, and she slowed to a fast-paced stride as she left the confines of the city and headed into the country side. They'd never find her out here. After an hour of walking, and several turns later, she realised she was not where she was supposed to be. She had only taken this path once before, and it had proved to be a disturbance-free shortcut to another part of the city. But she was nowhere near the city. In fact, she was in the middle of nowhere.
"Dammit!" she cursed, stomping the ground with her bare feet. She had been fairly certain she'd be able to recall the way, but all it had taken was one wrong turn. Now she stood freezing in the early hours of the morning, her legs aching and her knees bleeding from a few falls. She was clad in nothing but a tattered black sleeveless vest and a dirty, scuffed pair of khaki pants. A few deep breaths later, the girl steeled her resolve and continued down the path, promising herself she would take no more turns. If she carried on straight, eventually the road should lead back to civilisation.
A couple of miles later, the girl looked up to see a light in the distance, and her spirit soared. She sped in the direction of the light, soon coming face to face with a great metal gate that stood between her and her sanctuary. The structure loomed ominously in the darkness, and the plaque on one of the gate's pillars read: The Wammy's House. The building beyond the gate was hard to discern in the darkness, but it was large and looked old, yet well-kept – if the neat gardens and trimmed hedges were anything to go by.
"I bet there's food in there…" the girl whispered, as if giving her own body incentive to scale the gate and storm the castle. Her tummy rumbled in response, and she was off. Her light, lithe body made short work of the gate, and she silently dropped on the other side. It wasn't long before she found a back door, and began dreaming of the feast that lay beyond it, while her hands worked a lock-pick fashioned from two hairpins. The lock clicked open, and she was in.
…
Unfortunately, luck was no longer on the girl's side, as she silently walked the darkened halls of the great building, still in search of the pantry. She tried many doors, but they were mostly locked or led into studies and classrooms. Was this a school? Her nerves were on edge and she was ready to take off at a moment's notice, but she highly doubted anyone would be awake at this hour. Soon she came upon a staircase that led down, and she followed it, hands reaching on either side of her to feel her way through the darkness. Perhaps the kitchen was downstairs? Or maybe this led into a storage room? A food-storage room? Her mouth watered at the thought.
When the staircase ended, the girl entered – with delight – into what was unmistakably an enormous kitchen. There was a great steel counter top in the middle, most likely for preparing large amounts of food. Three double-doored fridges lined the walls with numerous shelves of spices and condiments in-between. Several bread bins dotted the counters and a basket of fruit could be seen hanging from the ceiling. She went straight to the fridge, clasped her tiny, cold hands around the handle, and-
"Who are you?"
The girl froze, her eyes wide as saucers as she whipped her head around, only to be met with a tall, lean figure. She could hardly make out his appearance, but she knew from his voice that he was male, and young, and staring at her with a pair of black eyes, in which she could have sworn she saw specks of red. His gaze bore a hole through her, and she could practically feel the predatory vibes emanating from him.
The boy took half a step closer to her before she bolted, regretfully abandoning her quest for food and sprinting for the staircase – but the boy was faster. With seemingly little effort, he grabbed her by one of her arms and yanked her back to him. His grip was like steel and she bit back a cry of pain. "Let me go!" she yelled, forgetting that there were other residents in the building.
"Shhh, you'll wake the others."
The girl stopped struggling, opting to wait for the boy to release his grip, but he did not. Instead he cocked his head to the side, as if he found her behaviour fascinating. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
Something about the way he spoke put her whole being on edge, and the fact that she couldn't see his face or escape his grip caused a hoard of butterflies to erupt within her. She wanted to get away from him, and quickly. He reeked of danger. Perhaps she could talk him into letting her go?
"I live here," she lied. "I got hungry so I-"
"Liar." His voice was cold, but there was a hint of amusement in it, as though he could see straight through her intentions but was drawing out the game on purpose, enjoying toying with her. "I know the face of every child in this orphanage, and you're not one of them."
So this was an orphanage? The girl didn't give up easily, so she tried again. "I'm new here, I arrived yesterday."
The boy thought about this for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, your arrival would have been announced to us. Tell me the truth and I'll let you go."
This was it. Her chance. "I'm nobody," she said. "A runaway. I broke in here looking for food."
The boy smirked widely at her, and the red in his eyes shone a little brighter than before. It was unnerving. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, but his grip on her arm never loosened.
"Oi, you said you'd let me go!"
"I lied."
He began dragging her away from the staircase, and she panicked, struggling fiercely against his hold on her but without results. She ceased her struggling, however, when the boy opened one of the fridges, the light illuminating his face to her. "What would you like?" he asked her.
She stared at him in stunned silence. He had a deathly pale complexion, and dark circles underneath his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in years. The red in his black eyes had definitely not been a figment of her imagination, as it was clearer to her now in the light. He wore a white, long-sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans, which she found odd given that it was so early in the morning – most people wandering about at this time would be in their pyjamas.
She snapped out of her daze when he released her arm and beckoned her closer, as though eager to share the spoils of the fridge with her. She couldn't resist, and peaked inside, her mouth instantly watering at the sight. The shelves were stuffed with an assortment of cakes and desserts, puddings and snacks. On the lower shelves, as if put there as an afterthought, there were what appeared to be chicken sandwiches and a spinach quiche.
The boy chuckled at her, and she had almost forgotten he was there at all. She pointed to the quiche. "Can- Can I have that?" she asked timidly, half fearing that the boy would slam the fridge door closed and burst into maniacal laughter, before telling her he'd lied again. But no such thing happened. He wordlessly bent down to retrieve the quiche, then handed it to her. Her wide eyes were glued to it, and she stood there awkwardly holding the large dish as though not quite certain what to do with it.
"Sit," the boy said, returning from the fridge with a jar of raspberry jam in his hands. He left the fridge door open for the light, before joining her at the breakfast counter she was now seated at. He handed her a spoon and she didn't hesitate – tearing into the soft flesh of the quiche and stuffing her mouth with its delicious contents. The flavours were unlike anything she had tasted in far too long, and in that moment she was sure she could probably eat three of the large quiches in a single go.
She glanced at the boy next to her, who had his hand inside the jar of jam, clearly not bothered to use a spoon. He licked the jam off his long fingers and smirked at her.
"You never told me your name," he said.
She met his curious gaze, still wary of the way his eyes pierced her soul and still afraid of the inhuman strength he possessed. But after a moment's consideration, she relented.
"Felix," she said. "My name is Felix."
He smiled at her, genuinely this time. "Nice to meet you, Felix. I'm B."