Chapter Ten:

As far as Erin could tell, there had been no test while they moved her. Not unless they had been expecting her to try and throw herself out of a moving vehicle. Which. Thanks, but no thanks.

After that, there was nothing. She was hustled into what seemed to be a hotel room and left there. There was complete radio silence from L. No further questions, no explanation, no further updates on her status or what the hell he wanted from her. Nothing. There wasn't even any exposition on what she should expect from her new position. Of course, she tried the door, as she would have felt like a complete moron if she found out later that it had been unlocked and she had simply been released to go about her business as she pleased. Nevertheless, she was not surprised to find it locked. Across the room, she looked out a long narrow window to find that she was very high up. High enough that even if there had been some sort of balcony, she probably would not have been comfortable stepping out onto it.

But there was no balcony. There was only a view of the sprawling metropolitan streets. She thought that she could sort of make out some sort of plaza decorated for Christmas, but could not be entirely sure from such a distance.

The thought of Christmas felt a little strange. On one hand there was a certain degree of obligation to feel all emotional and nostalgic. However, on the other hand, by her internal calendar it was not even supposed to be close to winter yet, let alone Christmas. Once again, the disconnect between her reality, and the one that had been thrust upon her was jarring. There was a brief absence of emotion that almost fooled her into thinking she had become used to the whole impossible situation, or that, at the very least, she growing numb to the constant proverbial sucker punches to the gut. It did not last, and for a second it let like reality was tumbling away from her.

Well. She had never been all that into Christmas anyway.

With a grimace she turned away from the view and began to peruse her room with a keener eye than the first cursory glance she had given the space upon her arrival. She fluffed the pillows experimentally and was pleasantly rewarded with a wonderful amount of softness. The bed linens were equally pleasant, and although she was by far no expert, she would have hazarded to guess that they were one hundred percent Egyptian Cotton, or something of the like… if only because that was the only good quality type of material that she could think of. On the nightstand was a standard phone, but upon picking it up she only got a dial tone, no matter what number she pressed. There was no convenient guide provided either. The TV, upon closer inspection was apparently disconnected, as it would not power on, and when she went to check to see if it was perhaps unplugged, she found that all of the cords had been removed. At first she was baffled. Bemused, even, though not particularly shocked.

She had been hoping for some form of distraction to help her bide her time, but apparently such a luxury was still beyond her. She had to wonder if L was trying some sort of mental manipulation tactic, trying to keep her dreadfully idle and disconnected form the world. That, or it was merely a safety precaution on his part to ensure that she would be utterly incapable of learning about any criminals. In the event that he still thought she was Kira, of course. She could not imagine how that was possible given his apparently perpetual surveillance of her, but what did she know about the minds of individuals like Kira and L. After all, there she was, calling Kira a dumb fool when he was arguably a perfectly intellectually advanced person. Never mind that she had somehow managed to convince herself that L was suicidal in one way, shape, or form. A conviction, which, despite her persistent attempts to ignore, was continuing to float around in her headspace with far too much enthusiasm.

Clearly she was projecting her own poor mental health on her captor. Really, she would have liked to have an encyclopedia, or a psyche book of some kind to evaluate her own questionable sanity and how close she was to slipping towards Stockholm Syndrome. She did not know a single thing about it, but the fact that she was by any means thinking that her captor was, while irritating beyond all belief, a necessary and vital member to preserving the peace of the world, (for a little while longer at least) suggested issues. Even given the context of him being one of the primary characters of a comic series.

Whatever. It was complicated, and she really hadn't the energy for yet another round of mental tennis as it were.

Instead she frowned dismally at the TV, making her disappointment well known, and then proceeded cautiously in the direction of the washroom. It was well lit, perfectly clean, and nicely spacious. Whether it was bugged, she did not know, and she wasn't inclined to really consider L a man of his word. She did think he was manipulative enough to try luring her into a false sense of comfort by making it seem as if he was complying to her wishes to further her willingness to cooperate with him.

She scowled, and upon realizing how deeply suspicious she was of L resolved to scratch Stockholm Syndrome off of the list. She refused to be manipulated. Well. There were some things she could not avoid, like being physically manipulated from one place to the next or being given the verbal run around in the middle of an interrogation. However, she would remain defiant in the face of emotional manipulation. She would not be humiliated and taken advantage of in her last days. Or ever, for that matter, but given the fact that she was expecting 'ever' to be remarkably short in her case, this amounted to the same thing.

Maybe that was why she so strongly disliked Light. The way he managed to emotionally manipulate everyone around him ticked her off. Even though, to a certain degree everyone in the world went about emotionally manipulating others, very few did it so successfully, to such a grand scale for such horribly maniacal, deluded reasons.

With a deep scowl she flicked on the shower and eyed the water pressure critically, before flicking it off again, and meandering back to the main room.

A long moment passed, in which everything was completely silent.

Her scowl deepened, and she turned so that she could bounce her head off the wall in aggravation. An eternity in limbo really would have been entirely preferable to this. She was exhausted. She just wanted to sleep. For forever, ideally. Interestingly enough, she briefly considered just how high up she was, and if Ilmort was going to be a stubborn mule about using her to fill his boss's arbitrary wishes, then she was starting to think it was a matter of her taking things into her own hands.

A furtive peek towards the window informed her that she was going to have to come up with a better plan, as apparently, she had been provided with a room that had one of those windows that a person could only open about three inches at an awkward angle. Just as well, probably.

Maybe.

She sighed and proceeded towards the mini fridge. Anytime that she had ever been in a hotel, these had not come pre-stocked. Still. Maybe she would be blessed with great mercy from the powers that be, and there would be something suitably delicious. Heck, she would even take stale pizza.

Upon opening said appliance, she was pleased to find that there was indeed something in it. Nothing particularly spectacular. There seemed to be a week's supply of sandwiches, all safely wrapped in plastic. And by a week's supply, that did not mean merely seven. It meant that it seemed she was to eat sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Pawing through them in a mute sort of horror, she was at least relieved to find there was a variety. Egg salad, though she figured it was made with miracle whip, and not real mayo, and the lack of green onions was disturbing. BLT, which was horrifying, because they would be as soggy as wet toilet paper. Tuna, which was nondescript enough that she had no particular feelings about it at the moment but could see herself getting sick of the smell real fast. Ham and cheese, which reminded her of her school days and was therefore entirely depressing, and last but not least, the good old PB&J. At least that one she was satisfied with, so satisfied that she promptly grabbed one.

So maybe she would have rathered, like a full course meal or something. Honestly, she was craving a Sunday dinner with roast beef, or chicken, but with potatoes, carrots, turnip, and a full boat of gravy. That particular desire had to have been a result of what little homesickness lurked in the back of her mind. Still the image lingered, tantalizing and apparently out of reach, no matter how much she might crave it. Of course, she found herself admitting that if not a chicken dinner, she would be totally fine with a nice breakfast… with eggs benedict, and all the bacon, plus also maybe some hash browns and a parfait. By comparison, a peanut butter and jam sandwich was hardly worth the celebration.

Nevertheless, with more energy than she typically would have been able to muster, she leapt onto her new bed, and after turning it into a suitable nest began to devour her food. So maybe it would have been better if she had a proper pair of pyjamas. She was still in her hospital standard wear, which while technically pyjamas, she would have preferred a nice baggy hoodie and a pair of flannel pants. If she could have watched a run of Princess Tutu or something, that would have made things all the greater.

She took out her ire by balling up the plastic wrap and flinging it at the wall, but that was hardly satisfying.

However, before long restlessness settled in again, and she found herself pacing around her room like a caged lion. The biggest problem was with her mind, and its deeply unfortunate habit of taking all of the dreadful, stressful things plaguing her, including her death, her so-called mission, and the entire plot line of the Death Note series and flinging them around in a maelstrom of angst, worry, resentment, and overall panic.

She tried to remind herself that when Ilmort invariably gave up on her it wouldn't matter anyway, so not to go getting in a huff about it. All she had to do was wait. Too bad the waiting was killing her. She would have preferred just being numb to it all. Absolutely numb. Unfortunately, there she was, probably formulating a nice stomach ulcer for herself with her own inability to just watch the world burn. Well. She could watch the world burn just fine. It was a fake world after all. No matter how many faces she could see clearly defined outside of her window, because they were real, and things were no longer decided by whether the artist felt inclined to flesh out the features of every single random passerby in a comic panel, or an animator had time to animate the faces of every nondescript civilian.

No matter how many mornings she woke up staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and feeling a residual prickle of wrongness tingle across her skin.

It was still just fiction. It wasn't her reality. She could watch something like that go up in flames just fine.

She just didn't want to be there for it. Because, as much as she was loathe to admit it, while it wasn't her reality… it was someone's reality. Probably. She sometimes still found herself wishing that everything was no more than some absurd coma dream.

For all she knew… maybe she'd just gotten fed up and downed too many of her insomnia pills. And now her brain was concocting some way of trying to get her to stay alive. Maybe that was why she kept thinking L was trying to kill himself, and that she had been given some divine (divine, or perhaps infernal) mission to save him. Maybe he was some sort of internal representation of herself. Dreams could be weird like that. She'd once dreamt that she was Captain Jack Sparrow.

She frowned and collapsed on her bed again, this time slamming a pillow over her face in either irritation or mortification. She couldn't really tell. Either way, if her brain really was trying to keep her alive by forcing her on a quest to save L, who in this analogy was its representation of her, she definitely had some problems. Fantastical delusions. Borderline narcissism. Something. She wasn't the expert.

And then, because apparently it was not just speaking of the devil that summoned him, but thinking about him too, she heard that unfortunately recognizable crackle of static.

"Ms. Harker. These will be your new accommodations. For security purposes you will have noticed that some of your freedoms have been limited, however as per our previous negotiation, you will have your privacy in the washroom. Food has been provided, and if there are any other necessities, you may use the phone. Simply press one. I will inform you now that it will only reach one other number."

With a groan the young woman pushed her face out of her pillow and glared in the direction of the voice. "I'll probably need some basic clothing. I poked around earlier, and other than a gas station's entire supply of standard sandwiches, I didn't really see anything else. I don't know how necessary you guys consider clothes given my situation, but I'm not asking for a lot. Some under things. Sweats and teas. Whatever's cheap. I'm not asking for Gucci or whatever. Just. You know. Whatever." She could not think of anything else. There had been hotel typical shampoo, soap, face cleaners, and even a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. Maybe she would have been down with some hair ties too, but that seemed trivial.

"These are to be delivered to you later this evening."

Surprising. It seemed he had already thought of that. Or perhaps Watari had made the suggestion. Bless him if he had. She was oddly relieved that she wasn't going to have to wear the same garments day in and day out. However, the fact that they were not already in the room was odd. They had gone to the trouble of having most everything else provided right off of the bat, probably to reduce as much direct contact as possible. It seemed off that they would not have clothes prepared too. Then again, maybe the decision to relocate her to the hotel was an abrupt one. That seemed strange given how calculating L tended to be, but maybe he was more capable of spontaneous action than she thought. Or perhaps everyone else just had a hard time keeping up with how quickly his brain could come to a conclusion on a matter.

"That's… good to hear," She offered after her moment of pondering. "'Scuse me if I sound… paranoid, but I'm assuming there are some strings? Attached. To all of this. You said I was suspected of, I dunno, withholding information about Kira? Cooperating? Seems weird that you're… not being stricter." Words. She was just paying lip service, and she wasn't even doing much to make it seem like anything but. In fact, her voice was near to monotone.

"Hm." The contemplative hum was enough to bring forth a crystal clear vision of L perching on some chair, gnawing on his thumb with that deeply thoughtful and somewhat terrifying expression on his face. "I would almost think you were trying to pry for more information on your situation, if it were not for the blatant lack of subtlety. I find it strange that you would not be more curious however."

Ah yes. The fact that she wasn't really asking any questions was probably ringing some alarms real loud. She had put it off before as best as she could simply because she had been caught horribly flat footed. Really, she probably should have spent all that time she'd had in the hospital creating a role for herself. Unfortunately, her acting was not that great. She already felt as if she was walking blind on a tightrope. Plus, she had been preoccupied with an existential crisis, shock, and then stubborn ignorance. None of which she was at all inclined to believe she had escaped from.

So what to do in the moment. If she feigned curiosity now, it would only look as fake as it was. Honestly, with every day she got that much closer to just straight up being honest, and letting the cards fall where they may. The words sat heavy on her tongue, cold and smooth like a glass marble so ready to slip away. To roll off into the world, knocking over dominoes with all the chaos and control of a meteor.

Instead, like poison, she found herself resorting to a special case of hypocrisy. "You've seen the meds I was on. Am on. Whatever. You probably know they were prescribed to me by a therapist. If I'm being honest," and boy was she about to get real honest, "sometimes I really just cannot find it in me to give a f- damn. Fuck."

"And yet you seem concerned with small comforts."

"Sure. I don't want to be uncomfortable or anything. Its just a matter of balancing out which is going to bother me the most. Do I beg you to tell me who you are and what you want with me? Do I get on my knees and cry, and plead my innocence, and hope to god someone believes me when I say I didn't want any of-," suddenly she had to cut herself off when she realized things were getting a little too raw on her end, and there was a suspicious lump in her throat. Inhaling, deep and slow, she started again. "No. Its better to just. Whatever. What will happen will happen. Que sera and all that. Just. I get contrary as shit, but what can I do? Nothing. Nothing. I'm just…whatever."

"It does seem evident that you lack emotional control." Came the wise words of Mr. Compassionate himself. "It is for that reason I am less inclined to believe that you are Kira."

That… if she had been anyone else, she would have been confused at the suggestion that he thought a serial killer had better emotional control than her.

"However, you still have yet to tell me the complete truth, and in doing so have put yourself in position that remains questionable."

Yes. Wonderful. It was great to have what they both knew out on the table. And there wasn't anything she could do to put herself in a better position. A better position being far, far away. And/or in a grave, but that meant going back to restlessly waiting for Ilmort to get his butt in gear, do his job properly, and get a replacement for her. The ass. It was his fault they were both in this position. He wanted her to do her job, even though he apparently could not be bothered to do his. And gee, Ryuk could not do his, and Death could not be bothered either. Really, what it came down to was that no one could be bothered. Except for Light and L. And the jury was out on L, if she was seriously thinking his true motivation was his own death.

Was it though? He put so much in place to make sure that Kira wouldn't go free even in the event of his death, and he seemed truly horrified that Watari had been dragged into it. But he had to have known. There was no way someone like L marched to his own demise like a blind lamb to slaughter. He had to have known the casualties that would come with it… and if he did know, if he had known the consequences that followed his death… how numb had he gotten?

But then, she had to wonder if she was thinking straight.

"Hey," she started before she could stop herself. "That L guy. He's hunting down Kira too, yeah?"

There was a brief pause. "I am surprised that you are operating under that impression."

Ah yes. Another carefully worded riddle. Whatever did it mean? Was he trying to persuade her that she was wrong? Was the emphasis on the fact that she thought that, when she should have been largely out of the loop with the help of her language barrier? Was he trying to get her to admit where she had found such information? Was he trying to goad her into proving that she was right, thereby slipping up and revealing how much she knew? What was she to do?

When in doubt? Play dumb. If it was a test, she didn't feel particularly compelled to take it. So, with a proverbial hop to the side she ignored it, and carried on. "Who the heck even is L? Or what? Some kind of vigilante? An organization? I couldn't really figure it out, but it kept popping up on the news. Could they maybe prove that I'm just a case of 'wrong place and time'?"

She felt oddly proud that from her perspective it almost sounded like she was goading L for not being able to figure out what was up with her. If there was one thing that she was sure of, it was that he was petty as all hell, and did not really feel too delighted about losing. Odd, maybe, for a guy that wanted to die, but she could relate on that spectrum. In fact, her desire to die probably made her even more petty. After all, here she was blowing off a chance to save a guy's life just because she was irritated about the burden being put on her. Then, to add to her childishness, she was now goading that very same person because he had yet to figure out that she had been delivered by a Grim Reaper from another world with the express purpose of getting Kira to give up his murder spree.

"You seem interested in L." Well, if that was the way he wanted to put it, who was she to argue? Although she had to appreciate how incredibly unbothered he sounded by her indirect heckling. Then again, any petty person knew that showing even incremental irritation amounted to admitting defeat. Then again, maybe he really wasn't bothered. After all, while he hadn't figured her out yet, he did have her in the palm of his hand, and when it came to a war of attrition between his wits and hers, then it was pretty obvious who would come out the victor.

"Sure. Anything to prove my innocence and all that. I kind of… just want this all to be over already. You know?" She sat up, and shrugged, feigning a blasé attitude, when really she was using the pillow in her lap to hide her fidgeting. Knowing that the longer L interacted with her, the more he would be able to glean about her was starting to put her on edge. Especially since she had no way of getting a read on him. He never conveyed any change in vocal inflection, and obviously she had no way of reading his expressions. Even if she had, she remembered him as having a superb poker face.

That was just it though. The only thing she had to rely on was her memories of a fictional representation of him, in very specific scenarios. All her conjectures, all the suppositions she was desperately scrambling to make, they barely had any basis at all. He really did have the advantage over her by a sizeable margin.

It did not seem to be an advantage which L was willing to let go of, as he continued to push. "And yet you continue to withhold potentially vital information."

Honestly, it felt like she was running out of space to maneuver. "So you seem to believe," she muttered noncommittally, staggering up off the bed to investigate the small coffee maker in one corner, if only as some sort of diversion. She was starting to squirm. "Or maybe you're just…" she'd been about to say that he was paranoid, but in acknowledgement of the fact that his paranoia got him as far as it did (though it also led to his death), she cut herself off. Besides, it wasn't really paranoia if he was right. "…Just vastly overestimating how much I know. I mean. I've been in a coma, and under surveillance after that."

"Indeed. However, the fact that your whereabouts cannot be testified to prior that is not something to be overlooked."

And thus, they were back to the interrogation merry-go-round wherein he asked questions she had already answered, honestly or otherwise, with different phrasing in the hopes of putting the pressure on her and tripping her up. Sure, it broke up the tedium, but here she was resorting to brewing coffee, which she hardly even liked, just to hide how much it really was getting to her. She'd been half heartedly taking the bait all along, but she was starting to run out of words and her brain was turning to pudding real fast.

She paused and squinted at the pouch of nondescript coffee in her hands. "Aren't there, like, drugs that make people tell the truth? Couldn't you have just loaded my food with a dose of that?" The minute she said it she realized that she'd practically just admitted to being a lying liar. "You know. Make it easier for both of us?" A poor save perhaps, but she'd already gone and made her mistake.

"Are you consenting to this?"

Now that was fascinating. Did he need her consent? L's investigation methods went beyond the limits of unconventional to borderline illegal. Unless this reality had different standards for law and investigation than hers did, a number of things which he had done wouldn't have held up in court. Invasion of privacy, entering person's home without a warrant, unlawful incarceration. It hardly seemed that he would think to seek consent. She had to have been missing something. That or her own guilty conscious was playing a part in her thinking. Which was ridiculous, because she didn't have anything to feel guilty about.

Whereas, she had been unwittingly, and unwillingly conscripted into the crusade against Kira, L knew what he was getting into. His choices were his responsibility. And no one was responsible for Kira being such a head case. As such, despite Ilmort's haranguing of her, she really, really was not going to think of anyone's fates as being a responsibility of hers. Not even the untold deaths of various criminals and law enforcement officers which would fall prey to the plot. She was just one girl, being yanked around by the powers that be.

Which brought her back to the issue of consent. Maybe L didn't actually mean it literally when he asked if she would agree to being doped up on some kind of truth serum. Maybe it was actually a test. If, as she had said, she didn't really care what happened so long as it didn't have too much of an effect on her and her comfort, and if she were being truly honest, perhaps she would be fine with being drugged. However, if she resisted such a thing, then it contradicted her façade of half-hearted compliance, and also suggested that she really did have something to hide.

Given that he'd never used a truth serum in the original story, she was inclined to believe that it was not a typical method of his, for whatever reason. As such she grew more inclined to believe that it was a test. Could she gamble on agreeing to being drugged though? If he actually did go through with it then there was no telling what she might end up saying. Although… it would be out of her control. If it wasn't something she could fight, there wasn't much reason to even try. She didn't want to get involved in any way that caused trouble for her, but at the same time if it was something she had no way of stopping then what happened, happened. He'd be in for a wild ride if that was the route he took.

Which, she had no idea how reliable things like truth serums were. You saw them used in movies, but if it was actually a viable tool, then it'd probably be used a lot more. Maybe, even if she did spill the beans, he still wouldn't believe her. He'd been so set on getting solid evidence about the ongoings of Kira, that if there was even a slight chance that what he discovered might not be true there was no way he'd actually let her go.

Although, maybe it'd subtly influence his investigation and the whole case would wrap up that much faster and Ilmort would put her out of her misery.

For a second she almost demanded that he do exactly that. Drug her up and ask whatever he pleased. He was more likely to believe it than if she just went straight ahead and told him the truth. But that didn't change the fact that he had not used drugs before. Not in anything she'd seen. Maybe it was some sort of barrier, a line that he wouldn't cross that had been put in place either because of the author's own reservations, because it might seem like a greater violation than the audience would be willing to accept from their supposed hero, or for some other character related reason. Maybe he had an untold trauma related to drugs. Maybe truth serums were actually just not a thing. Just some absurd brainchild of Hollywood.

Sure, people said stuff they otherwise wouldn't under the influence, but that did not make it true. In fact, given how absurd her story was, maybe he'd just think it was the delusions of a drugged mind. Or maybe he'd write it all off as some sort of brain scramble after her coma. He'd probably put the pieces together further along down the road, as he got deeper into the Kira case, but that was only if it did work.

She came once again to the idea that she should really just give up on the secrecy thing.

"Ms. Harker?"

She blinked, vision snapping back into focus. "Something like that wouldn't convince you anyway, would it?"

"And interesting conclusion to draw, if not a skeptical one."

Wasn't he one to talk. "You're some kind of investigator, or something. Isn't skepticism your literal job description?"

"Then did you also work in a field which required you to be critical?"

No. She hadn't. In fact, she had gone out of her way to keep herself from being in a position where she had to think too much at all. "Perhaps it's a side effect of waking up almost halfway across the globe after spending months in a coma. I'm… on my own here."

She smiled wryly and proceeded to poor her coffee into the cheap little mug. When she took a sip, it was lukewarm, and bitter. Horrible, in other words. She stared at it forlornly, before taking another sip and heading back to her bed.

"Please remain seated. Your necessities will be delivered to you now. Any attempts to escape or harm the individual will have you returned to your previous place of holding."

Erin blinked, startled, and stared towards the door, but did as instructed and remained still. Sure enough, within moments she heard a click as the door opened, and then a scuffing sound as something was slid across the floor into the room. There was a pause, another few scuffs, and then the sound of the door clicking again as it was shut once more. Apparently Watari wasn't going to make any sort of personal appearance beyond that. Fair enough. It's not like he needed to say anything to her, not when L could communicate with her via his cameras or whatever.

And what good would it have done her if they had spoken? What point was there in feeling disappointed by it? Maybe she was just so keyed up, so on edge, waiting to be tested at every turn, that the lack of it in this one instance had managed to get under her skin.

She narrowed her eyes at no particular point in space, firmly reprimanding herself for get swept up in the situation. She hated that she was scrambling to play a game that she swore she wanted no part in. Well, in the end that was why she was no good for the role dished out to her. Or maybe it was the reason Ilmort had picked her. Except that it wasn't. He had admitted to the fact that he'd only grabbed her because she was the most convenient. It would hardly do anyone any good if she started lying to herself now, after the truth had already been found. Any misunderstanding about her place, and her abilities would just lead to embarrassment, misery, and dissatisfaction.

She had to remember that at all costs, when trading words with someone like L.

Resolutely clinging to the belief that she was just some human, some human slated for death, Erin gathered herself to her feet, and went forth to inspect the items delivered to her, since she did not have anything better to do while she waited.

Unsurprisingly, she was gifted with a several boxes of standard, basic items that seemed to have been bought in bulk. Several plain pairs of jeans in medium blue, a matching number of plain t-shirts of all the same style, though each in a different colour, two oatmeal grey sweatshirts, socks, and underthings that were blessedly nondescript. There was something uncomfortable about knowing a stranger had purchased your private things, and Erin didn't doubt it would have been even more uncomfortable had they been colourful, or lacy. Asides from that, there were a couple pairs of pyjamas which looked remarkably similar to her hospital wear, a noticeable lack of shoes or coats, and a note expressing that she should let them know via the phone should anything fit poorly.

It seemed they had gone the safe route and acquired a larger size in the shirts for safety's sake, which Erin was glad for, as she preferred looser tops. The jeans weren't exactly flattering the way a pair she had picked out for herself might have been, but they did, for all intents and purposes, fit. The socks were fine, and the under things would suffice. All in all, it was very lack lustre, and her diversion was over in no time at all, leaving her to stare gloomily around the room.

Apparently, L really liked intermittent and prolonged boredom as an interrogation technique. Or, more likely, he just had better things to do with his time than throw questions she refused to answer at her over and over again. Then again, screw him. She was used to being alone, and although it was too bad she had no access to a computer, she was still perfectly capable of spending her time with a marginal level of satisfaction. She had bathroom privacy, supposedly, clean pj's, and a comfortable looking bed. If she ignored the potential for Ilmort to show up and harass her into getting something done, or L buzzing in to harass her to explain herself, things were looking up.

No nasty hospital with people on all sides, no dreadful prison cell with rocks for pillows, no bills, no responsibilities, nothing. All she needed to do was sleep, ignore Ilmort and L, and sleep some more.

At this Erin smiled, however faintly, and headed towards the shower.

AN: Hello again! Another chapter. I hope it is not too bad, as always. And as always. Yes. My editing is a nightmare. I did try to review it a bunch, but there's bound to be stuff I missed. Also, I'm actually a fair ways into the next chapter, but things are getting complicated. For one thing, I really need to rewatch Death Note, because it's been an age. And also, I cannot keep lying to myself. If Erin is going to be staying in character, things are going to be changing. And the plot is going to be changing. I hope you guys don't mind too much, but canon is going to be messed with from here on out. Hold onto your hats. And I shall try to bring you something enjoyable to read... speaking of, honest to whatever divines you all may or may not believe in, you guys are magnificent. Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews, the interest, and the encouragement. It means a lot. Thanks to reviewers, and people sticking around be you new or old. Let me know what you guys think, and feel free to give me heads up if there are any horribly glaring errors.