Chapter Eight:

It had been a couple weeks, and as such, Erin had gotten plenty used to her environment. She was familiar enough with her hospital room, and with her outrageous predicament that she had stopped jolting awake, wondering where she was and what had happened to her. Instead she had grown accustomed to the tingling, semi-numbness and dull resignation. When she opened her eyes, she expected the white ceiling tiles, the colourless walls, the boring floors. She stopped being bothered by the thin blankets, the crinkly sheets, and stiff pillow. It got easy to ignore the regular intrusions by the nurse, and how disappointing the hospital food was.

For all intents and purposes, she had settled into what she had presumed to be her deathbed.

Needless to say when she woke up somewhere else, once again groggily pushing awake to stare blankly at foreign, unrecognizable scenery, she was at once baffled, irritated, and entirely prepared to lie down, close her eyes, and not open them again. Ever. A person can only take being jerked around like a puppet by its strings so many times before it got real stale. In fact, once had been a time to many, and the second time was too much by far.

As such, after the initial cursory glance around her noticeably alien surroundings wherein she took in absolutely the bare minimum to acknowledge that she was no longer in the hospital, she lay back down on a bed that was somehow even less satisfactory than the hospital bed, and resolutely feigned sleep. She breathed in and out steadily, and forcibly shoved any and every thought straight down to the deepest parts of her mind. Out of pure spite towards whoever was responsible for her latest relocation, she clung to this façade for an immaturely long stretch. Her thought was that if people were going to keep toying with her, then she might as well make sure that they were both miserable by being as sour and cantankerous as humanely possible. Really it was the least she could do, and she felt she deserved at least that much revenge.

Fortunately for her quest of vindication, false stasis was something she wasn't completely inexperienced with. She had no idea when she had woken up, but as she stuck to her antics seconds stretched into minutes, which stretched into hours. The quiet was broad, and bottomless. It was also expectant. Patient, but expectant. As if it were inevitable and inarguable that the silence would outlast her. A fair evaluation, perhaps, as she had a sneaking suspicion as to who was responsible for the entire scenario, and what was waiting for her at the other end of the long lull. All the same, that didn't mean she wasn't going to push it to the limit as much as she feasibly could.

Time passed.

She might have drifted off after awhile. When she pulled back to consciousness she was left with the impression that she had dreamt an irksome sort of dream, but could not really remember about what. Well, she had a feeling whatever it had been about, it had probably had something to do with the exceedingly bothersome cast of the freaking made-up story that she had been witlessly tossed into and the vile pustule responsible for it. Either way, it did not put her in a better frame of mind, nor make her feel any more inclined to be cooperative. Unfortunately she was feeling annoyed enough that she could no longer keep up her act.

With a testy sigh she sat up, and swung her legs over the edge of the cot. "Fine." She snarled at the empty space, not seeing any particular reason to not express her virulent aggravation. "Fine. Just fine. Whatever, right? Screw human rights, totally. Who even cares about those anyway? No, no, it's totally fine. Please, don't worry about how I feel. Sure. Sure." She lapsed into a string of vicious curses, before falling silent, and offering a moody glare at her surroundings.

She was in a small room with little to nothing in it asides from the cot she was laying on, the sheets, blankets, and pillows which were even more minimal and nondescript than the ones in the hospital had been. There was what appeared to be an disturbingly unconcealed toilet and washbasin. Other than that, there was the locked cell door that melded seamlessly into the rest of the bars, beyond which lay an empty, nondescript hallway.

With a heavy groan, Erin sank her head into her hands and finally acknowledged that she had ended up precisely where she had feared she would, as expected, despite everything. She had fervently hoped that things would not end up in such a manner, but apparently it'd been inescapable. Maybe it had been some kind of miracle that it had even taken so long for her to end up where she was. How did the saying go? All roads lead to Rome? It certainly felt like perhaps whatever path she had taken would invariably force her to the exact same, abysmally displeasing destination.

The real concern was what had changed? Had they always intended to bring her here? Or had she done something which had prompted them to take actions against her? Why had it no longer been enough for them to peer at her through the microscope where she at least had the illusion of some sort of freedom? Why did they feel it necessary to incarcerate her?

Also, how the hell had they even transported her without her awareness?

The last query was more redundant. L had all sorts of tools at his disposal, and had never had any reservations about using some of the last savoury tactics. Not too mention that in the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter how. Only why.

Trepidatiously, Erin peered through her fingers. Once again she was stuck looking around for cameras, wondering where they were watching her from. To some extent she also was curious as to how long the radio silence would last. Were they going to interrogate her? Or were they just going to continue to observe, noncommittally studying everything that she did without ever actually addressing her? Maybe they intended on simply leaving her alone, to rot, where she was contained and no longer posed any sort of threat. She was willing to bet against the last one, given that she never had been a threat, and also because she imagined that the biggest questions about her were not things that were going to be resolved by sticking her in a box and forgetting her in the back of a closet.

Not that she was going to cooperate, whatever their intentions were. Even if she was now in the perfect position to do so. Even if she had the perfect excuse to spill everything to them for once and for all, and let them do with that what that would. Their luck might have been better if they had simply asked nicely.

No. That was a complete and utter lie. It would not have made the slightest difference. She might have been childish, but she was not holding back the truth presently just because she was feeling slighted. She was holding back the truth because she had already resolved not to get involved, had resolved not to try and play the game. She had settled on dying, as she already should have, and it didn't matter what machinations the universe, of the Death God King, or Ilmort threw at her. She was going to wink right back on out of existence, no matter how many opportunities to stick her nose into the whole bloody plot were presented to her. The story had already been written, and she was not going to bother changing it just because so-called Death wanted her to.

Hopefully Ilmort would not regard her change of circumstances as any sort of progress, lest that delay his replacement of her.

Which left her to return to her endless waiting. Whatever L and his crew were up to, apparently they felt it necessary to have her stew for awhile. A common enough interrogation tactic, on television at least. To that point, she wondered if L was still working with the Japanese police, or if things had broken down between them yet, leaving him with his scant little task force. She wondered if whoever it was he was cooperating with knew about his imprisonment of her, and, if they did, what they thought of it. Nobody had seemed to have much of a problem with his use of death-row inmates, though, admittedly, she was hardly slated for execution and so maybe the comparison did not hold up.

Not their kind of execution at least.

Somehow she ended up thinking about Aizawa. Sure, she had met Mr. Yagami, but Aizawa she had encountered three times, each at significant, emotionally vulnerable periods. Maybe that was why she had latched onto him a little bit. As if he were some sort of mother duck or something. Besides, if she remembered correctly, then he had been the one to figure out that Light was a lying murder after L's death. That alone earned him some bonus points. Although he had left the task force part way through, it had been for the sake of his family. She really couldn't judge him for something like that.

Actually, if she was being entirely fair she could not judge anyone, although she continued to maintain the belief that Kira was a moron. Entitled to that opinion or not, if he had just kept his deranged bloodlust in check then everything would have been fine. So maybe there would have been no Death Note story. A real shame. Truly. However it was a greater shame that instead of getting to enjoy oblivion, she was stuck being harangued into cleaning up Kira's mess, al up close and personal to a story that should have stayed a story.

She thought about Aizawa seeing through that carefully crafted mask of Kira's and wanted to cackle. Everyone went and wrote him off because he had left, but it had been that distance which had given Aizawa perspective. Plus, well, maybe his was sharper than anyone had given him credit for, with a deeper resolve to see his justice through. That other officer who had died, or, rather, would die, had been his friend. He had been unforgiving of that death too, she recalled. In the end Aizawa was someone who valued people. He valued his friends, he valued his family. Maybe it was that value that allowed him to see them for what they were. From there, his resolve had given him the momentum he needed.

Her memory of the story was far from perfect, of course. Perhaps she was filling in blanks where she had no business filling them in. Maybe she was simply imagining things as she pleased. There was no way to tell. Still, based on the impression she had of him, she wondered what position he took regarding her own inexplicable situation. It wasn't as if she was secretly hoping that he had at least developed reason to keep his eye out for her, but out of anyone on the task force he was the one whose opinion she would be most interested in.

Asides from L of course, but that was only because he was in the unique position of being able to decide how her last days went. Well, and maybe also a little because he was a genius lead character.

She gnawed on her lip, surprisingly bored. She could not people watch anymore, and hadn't been able to immerse herself in shows, and movies, books, and comics for awhile. She was unfortunately free of distractions, which left her to her own meandering, circuitous, and often maddening thoughts. It could have been worse, perhaps. She could be forced into yet another one sided lecture from Ilmort. The last thing she wanted was another round of insults being hurled at her, and the quiet was enough to make her paranoid that the internal Reaper was about to show up right then and there.

Then again, that alone was enough to prove, to her at least, that the idle tedium was surely intentional. Here she was, being driven to the point where she almost wanted someone to start interrogating her just so that she had something to do.

Erin scoffed harshly. Screw that. She was not overly fond of the feeling of being manipulated. It was at least a small part of why she was so staunchly determined not to do what Ilmort wanted. Reverse psychology and all that. Now, surrounded by schemers and manipulators she had reached a point where she pretty much wanted to die out of utter antipathy towards the whole lot. It was her freaking life, and her freaking death. If only everyone else would just butt out of it, and leave her be, it would have been greatly appreciated. But no. No, apparently that was to much to ask for.

So maybe maybe she was sulking like a rebellious teenager. Given that she had been kidnapped from her world, from her afterlife, and then kidnapped again, she felt that a little bit of brooding was acceptable. If it wasn't? Well too bad. She didn't find kidnapping acceptable.

Although she was glad she wasn't bound in a straight jacket to a chair, gagged and blindfolded. Small mercies and all that.

She still wasn't looking forward to when she inevitably had to make use of the toilet. They were going to have to talk about that.

A crackle of static alerted her to the coming change of pace.

"Ms. Harker," the garbed, much scrambled voice began coolly, "do you know why you are here?"

She resisted the urge to snort, although only just, and could not help but wonder if they were expecting her to starting demanding to know where here was, and why they had taken her, and who they were. On second thought, maybe it would seem suspicious if she did not ask. Still, she wasn't going to go about believing she was a good enough liar to fool L of all people. Really, she wasn't cut out for this sort of back-and-forth battle of wits. She really, really wasn't. She didn't have the patience, let alone the intelligence.

Another reason why Ilmort should have been more careful in his selection.

"Ms. Harker, I insist that you answer."

Well good for him. How wonderful. Another demanding force, insisting that she do something. Such novelty. Such originality. She bit down on the inside of her lip, and struggled not to roll her eyes. Really, she was not feeling even remotely accommodating, despite the break from the stagnant silence.

"I don't," she answered shortly. "Probably 'cause if the whole… uh, whatever. With the accident. And identity stuff." That seemed like a pretty safe route to pick. Besides, as far as she could tell that was the only reason. Also, it didn't say anything about Kira or the investigation into him.

"Look," She continue. "I bet I broke a dozen international laws, or something? But I really don't have any answers. I am not responsible for whatever happened, seriously. Also, could I maybe get a lawyer? Is that in my rights as a Canadian citizen? I'm pretty sure it is." Ah, the hapless civilian. None of what she said was a lie, but it also had absolutely nothing to do with what he asked. She doubted it would hold him at bay for long.

"If we had proof of you citizenship that would be true. However, you are not registered in any of the world's databases." Without any inflection or change of tone, he sounded like he was just a program, a recording. A bad one. At least most computerized responses were designed to sound marginally human. His voice was scrambled to the point of being unrecognizable, unidentifiable, and untraceable.

At least he had not called her a maggot.

He was, however, dangerously close to sounding like he was about to make some sort of comment about her being a mere blip on the face of the territory, given that she had been hearing too much of that already. "Right. But I'm still a person. So…lawyer?"

"In Japan it is within the rights of the law to begin interrogation before you are provided with legal council."

She had no idea if that was true or not. She knew practically nothing about the law. What she did know was mostly via television, and that was not a reliable source of information. "Um, am I under arrest? No one read me my rights. That's, like, a violation of the law, isn't it?" Not that he played by the law, despite being a guy who proclaimed to be on the side of justice.

"Currently you are suspected of collaboration with the criminal known as Kira. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to hire a lawyer at your own expense, and you have a right to have the Embassy of Canada notified of your arrest. Unfortunate given that you have no bank information to pay a lawyer, and unfortunate given that the Canadian Embassy has no reason to act on your behalf when they do not consider you to be a citizen of theirs." It was said so monotonously that L's expressionless face appeared in her mind, clear as day.

"I suppose I'll have to remain silent then," Erin muttered carelessly.

"You may choose to do so, however I would not count on that being of any use to you. Reluctance to cooperate with our investigation can also be incriminating."

To that, she had no real way of replying. Perhaps she could rage about being confined. Perhaps she could draw attention to the atypical interrogation she was being put through, what with the fact that she was being addressed through some invisible speaker. Which, interestingly enough, brought her to the thought that L had rather overplayed his hand. Would it not have been better if he had staged a more ordinary interrogation, with actual officers? To go so far as to directly involve himself, seemed kind of extreme. Unless, of course, the other officers were not aware of what he was doing, and so he was forced to take matters into his own hands.

That actually answered several questions. And, pushing her memory, she suddenly recalled that this should have been right around when L started to investigate the police on the suspicion that one of them was somehow connected to Kira and the leak in classified information. If he was already wary of the police, then it only made sense that he would try to keep her out of sight and away from common knowledge. Better safe than sorry, as they say.

She let this thought settle, and with the added perspective, tried to find a response. However, it seemed L was not willing to let her find her footing.

"You have not denied your connection to the Kira serial killings," he noted with an almost lacklustre absent mindedness. It was noticeably not phrased as a question.

Erin flinched. It was an automatic response that happened before she could stop herself, before she could acknowledge what it might give away. This was why she wasn't cut out for the job Ilmort had given her. She was no different than a moth caught in a spider's web, and the more she struggled the more she trapped herself. If she remained mum now, then it would only look like a confirmation. If she denied it, well, that would hardly help. No one would believe her. So what could she say? What could she possibly do in order to convince L to leave her alone?

She was drawing a total blank.

She thought about asking him why he thought she was involved with Kira, but the minute the thought crossed her mind she saw how futile that would be. In the end she settled on a weak shake of her head. "I don't support Kira. I think he's probably the biggest idiot I'll ever hear of."

There was a pause, before another buzz of static. "And what do you know of Kira?"

Well, wasn't he just going straight for the jugular. Erin had been comatose for Kira's debut, and then she'd been stuck in a situation where the only access to information that she had was Japanese news broadcasts which she did not understand, and which he had no doubt monitored her access to. Excellent. Things were going just swimmingly. Not. This was why she had not wanted to confront L. And honestly, the entire conversation had been basic. Rudimentary. Yet here she was, handing information over to him like it was his freaking birthday or something. She should have known better. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She should have resolutely stared at a wall until Ilmort got fed up with her blatant stupidity and put her out of everyone's misery.

The only choice left now was how she responded. Silence would indicate fear, and thus that he was on the right course. Anger would indicate defensiveness and also tell him he had hit a nerve. She could try and salvage the situation through clever word play, but as that was very obviously not her strong suit, it seemed inevitable that she would just dig herself a deeper hole. None of the choices were ideal, but given that silence seemed to involve less thought, and less energy, she settled on that one.

Stiffly, she lay down again, rolling over so that she was staring at the wall, and clamped her mouth shut.

"I see," the voice commented, before there was another buzz of static as the microphone cut out.

Abruptly she lurched up again. "Wait! I'll answer some more questions if I can get private bathroom privileges!" Pride be damned, she did not want to have to use the toilet wondering if she was being watched. Of course, if he took the deal she had no way of knowing if he would keep his word but damnit if she wasn't going to try anyway. Her resolution to stay completely uninvolved did not extend that far.

"I'm pretty good at staying mute, so I mean, I feel like that's not a bad offer. Or too much to ask." She was definitely blushing. The last thing she wanted was to go negotiating with L over her toilet privacy.

For a long moment there was silence, and she had to wonder if he'd muted her or something. Maybe he had gone to the bathroom. Or maybe he was busy eating cake. Lucky guy. She'd only had partially liquified, deeply bland pudding by way of dessert since waking up in the hospital. Maybe she could throw that in for consideration as part of the negotiations. She was nowhere as bad as the detective, but she also had a fair sweet tooth. It was deeply vexing to think that it was something they both shared, and yet while she had been quietly enduring as she waited her death, he'd been out there enjoying all the delicacies and sweets he might ever want. The least she could get before her death was a chocolate bar.

"I will take it into consideration, depending on your responses." She jerked in surprise when acknowledgement finally reverberated through her cell.

"Seriously?" It was a rhetorical question, because whether he was being honest or not, there was no way for her to tell, no matter what he said. "Um. Alright then. Have at it I guess?"

There was still no way she was going to say anything about being brought back to life by one of the many Grim Reapers, and there was no way she willing to reveal that she knew something about everything when it came to the case because it was a story back in her world. However if there was any better motivation for her to crank her mind into gear, it was for the sake of not getting gawked at every time she had to relieve herself. Somehow she was going to appease L's prying for the sake of that luxury before she kicked the proverbial bucket.

Hell, it was ridiculous that she was even thinking something like that was a luxury.

So far she was not impressed. Obviously that was not something that would register as a concern for L, but maybe it should have given how it was certainly affecting her honesty and openness with him. Not that she could take things too far. Somehow it seemed less likely that the contents of her answers were L's aim, so much as her willingness to cooperate as truthfully and to the best of her ability as she possibly could. That was already pretty much out the window, and as such she was walking the fine line of liars between legitimacy and falsehood.

What fun times.

A/N: I'm back, you beautiful people. You wonderful, miraculous treasures. Haha, I'm so excited to be bringing you this chapter, given that somehow I have broken my record for updates in a year. Also because L. They finally get to meet! Not that either of them are particularly enthused. Actually, on that note I hope that I am doing L's character justice, even in the small amounts that we have seen him. I guess I'm sorry that instead of doing anything super cool, all Erin does is haggle over bathroom privacy? Haha, but I hope you still enjoyed it. Also, editing. Sorry. If there are any stupid typos, feel free to let me know.