Author's Note: I have reread this chapter so many times that I'm sick of it. I'm not satisfied but I am so tired of reading it that I figured, "What the hell? Post!"

The bell on the clock awoke him the next day, an abnormal occurrence since usually he forsakes sleep in favor of what he considers more productive activities. In fact, sleep is quite alien to him.

He groggily lifted his head up as he contemplated throwing the clock out the window and onto the street to allow it to smash into hundreds of pieces but it was the only thing that reminded him what time it was since he had lost most of his perception of it. I fell asleep in my computer chair again, he thought, rolling his neck around to loosen the tension that had formed from sleeping in such a strange position. The last thing he could remember before he fell asleep was eating a late lunch. It was delicious cake. After that everything became a blur.

He pushed himself over to the window and saw her walking down the side of the street with determination in her step, unusual since she typically walked with a sort of lethargy that happens when one is tired but can't sleep and her eyelids would usually rebel against her efforts to keep them up. He wondered about her sudden change in an attitude that had remained invariant for weeks until he saw her stop in front of his hotel. His breathing slowed as his attention focused on her. She gazed up at the impressive, chrome-colored building with a dubious expression and reached into the pocket of her black trousers to pull out a slip of paper. She glanced from the paper to the hotel and then put it back in her pocket and entered the edifice.

Making the split second decision to see why she had come in, he leapt from his chair and slipped into the elevator, thankful that no one else was around. Although he had nothing to fear in the realm of being killed by Kira since no one outside of the task force knew his identity as the infamous detective and no one knew his name at all, caution was always somewhere in the forefront of his mind. He pressed the button for the lobby, confident that he would find her there unless she was visiting someone in the hotel. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tapped his foot until the doors opened again revealing the extravagant lobby of the hotel.

Rich, business people lounged in expensive furniture around the perimeter of the large silver and gold room. Above them hung a eye-catching crystal chandelier and a painted ceiling that even Michelangelo would give his stamp of approval. At the large reception desk on the back wall of the lobby, she waited in line behind a man in a perfectly tailored suit as she kept looking upward at the beautiful mural. Looking quite incongruous in his plain white shirt and jeans, he hid behind the thick doorframe between a hallway and the lobby and watched her as the man left and she stepped up to the receptionist.

"Hello. I would like to check into my room." she said in English as she held up some sort of identification, most likely a driver's licence. The receptionist looked back at her confused, glancing out of the corners of his eyes as if he was asking someone for assistance even though there was no one there. She sighed.

"Oh sure, everyone speaks at least a little English, that liar." she muttered quietly to herself as she dung around in her pocket for another piece of paper similar to the one she had been looking at when she was outside of the hotel. She held it in front of her face, squinting a bit as she repeated what she had said, only in Japanese this time. Her pronunciation wasn't flawless but this time he understood and took her ID so he could type her name into the computer. When he found her name he reached under the desk to find the corresponding room key.

"Arigatou," She said, slightly proud of herself for actually knowing a Japanese word, and took the key as she turned towards the hallway he was lurking in. He stealthily dove into the dark crook between the doorway and the freshly painted hallway walls and she walked passed him blissfully ignorant of his presence.

She carefully strolled down the numerous halls of the hotel, skimming the numbers of each room in an effort to find hers and he followed her, feeling more like a stalker than he ever had, even though he had put illegal security cameras in the homes of potential suspects without batting an eye. I'm not stalking her, he told himself. I'm trying to figure out if she is a girl I went to school with. There is nothing dismaying or illegal about that. But hasn't she passed room 304 already?

Then something dawned upon him. She was walking in circles and very fast circles at that. She had bolted up the same stairway at least three times, falling twice, and each time she still looked around as if she could not find her room. He had caught onto the numbering system easily; each room was a three digit number with the first digit being what floor they were on, odd numbered rooms on the left, even on the right. Is she really so confused? He wondered. I would ask her if she needs help but then she'd know I was following her. The system really isn't that complex. Maybe I have the wrong girl. Anyone who could even be considered for the Wammy House must be sharper than this . . .

Finally, she stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the hall with her hands moving around in her pockets and her back to him, even though he was trying to look inconspicuous. She sighed heavily.

"I know you're following me," she declared matter-of-factly, her back still towards him. "If you want to talk to me, come out of the shadows and talk. If you're looking for a girl to stalk, find someone a little less percipient."

His large eyes widened. She knew I was following her the whole time. When she had started running, it was to try to lose me. Now I'm eighty-five percent sure it's her.

"Listen, I'm going to call the police." she threatened, her hand fumbling around in her pocket, seemingly trying to find a cell phone. "You aren't as slick as you think you are." she challenged, a quite audacious move in his opinion. If she were being followed by an actual stalker, they might have accepted it as a dare.

Now I have no choice but to run away or take the risk that I had been putting off for weeks. I'm so sure it's her so logically I have nothing to be afraid of, he thought to himself as he took a short step away from the wall.

"Hello." he said, more timidly than is characteristic of him.

She had been expecting to be faced with someone middle-aged, fat, and balding who could easily knock her out and carry her away. Not that she was afraid; she had learned basic self-defense and she could easily take someone down with one kick and run like hell. But the voice didn't really match her image of this stalker. The voice sounded like someone her age and someone who was hoping not to have the police called on them. She slowly turned around.

He looked up at her and half-smiled hoping with all his willpower that she would either recognize him or, at the absolute least, not find him creepy. Either one would suffice really at this point, he decided.

"You," she murmured in awe, pointing at him. "From the Wammy House. England. The boy with no name."

He stifled a laugh. Her lack of complete sentences due to shock was amusing. "You can call me Ryuzaki." he said. "I knew that it was you."

"It's so good to see you." she gushed, running over to him. "You really haven't changed." she said, looking him up and down.

"You have." he said, a slight bit of disdain in his voice as he took in her new-looking, stylish clothes and neat hair. He wanted so badly to mess up her hair.

"Yeah," she said, sounding embarrassed as she patted down a few flyaway strands on the back of her head. "I'm a little cleaner, I guess. But I swear I've only changed a little on the outside. The only real thing about me that has changed on the inside is that I'm not nervous around you anymore," she said with a smile, wondering if she said too much. She sometimes doesn't know when to stop talking. "If you're not busy would you like to, I don't know, catch up? I'm going to be living at this hotel for a while until . . . well, it's a long story."

"I'm not busy. And I'd like to catch up." he said. Although, really, we didn't know each other too well back then, he thought. Everything I learned about her was learned that one brief day that she left. I don't even know for sure if she knew anything about me prior to then. She must have. She knew back then that I was always alone. She knew I liked those cookies. She knew, somehow, that I secretly wanted a friend and for her last day, probably the only day she could work up the courage, she was that friend.

"My room's right here." she said, motioning to the door next to her as she slid in the card key. She opened the door quickly and, before she could register the position of her face in relation to the oncoming door, she hit herself directly in the nose. She laughed nervously, rubbing the pain dull. "I'm fine." she assured him. He gave her a doubtful look. "I do it all the time. Hopefully someone already brought my suitcase over here because otherwise, I may have to resort back to my technique when I was younger of wearing the same thing for days at a time."

"There's nothing wrong with that." he said motioning to his clothes. She smiled as she entered the room, noticing her rather small suitcase by the door.

"Wait, what's your name anyway? You never told me." he said, following her into her hotel room which was just as lavish as his.

"Kit. Just Kit. Would you like some tea or snacks?" she said quickly, wanting to get off the topic of her name, which he knew had to be the fake name the Wammy House had given her. Not that Ryuzaki was his real name either.

"Yes. That would be great." he said, taking a seat on her couch and pulling his legs close to his body.

"Okay." she said walking into the kitchen nook, which truthfully was hardly ever used by the rich occupants of the hotel who could easily afford to eat at the most expensive restaurants every night and not have to lift a finger in the act of labor.

"So what is it you do now, Kit? You said there was some kind of long story involved." he asked, watching her fill the kettle with water and look around for tea bags. She hadn't technically said her work involved a long story, just her living situation, but he figured that there was a direct correlation.

"I'm a neurosurgeon." she said, walking into the room with a tray of little cakes and sitting down next to him. She crossed her legs and placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa and started drumming her fingers on her legs. He popped one of the cakes into his mouth. Who cares that I had cake for lunch, he thought.

"I'm sort of a traveling surgeon actually. My main practice is stationed in England but I get sent all over the world. I guess I'm kind of well known." she said humbly. "I've been here in Japan for a little more than two weeks. I have a patient here who has a rare brain mutation that we are trying to, if not suppress, at least delay the destruction it's causing to his brain cells. I was originally staying with one of the Japanese surgeons I'm working with to try to save money but I just couldn't stand the lack of privacy so I'm here now." She took a mini chocolate cake and ate it. "So what do you do, Ryuzaki? Investigative work?" The kettle hissed rapidly behind them, shooting condensed water vapor like a train shoots smoke. "Hold that thought," she said getting up to pour a cup for each of them. She returned to the couch with the cups and a large bowl of sugar cubes cradled in her arm.

I can't tell her too much, he thought to himself as he started dropping cubes into his tea. I don't believe that she is Kira but this isn't a secure room. Although it's highly likely that I can trust her. She is a colleague, in a way. She gave me her fake name so that proves she must still practice what she has learned.

"Yes, of course." he answered vaguely, eating another cake. He knew she would ask more questions so he didn't want to tell her anything he didn't have to, just in case.

"What kinds of cases are you working on? Anything I may have heard about?" she asked, eyeing the sugar icebergs floating in his cup with a grin.

Yes, one everyone has heard of and I wish I could tell you about it and get your input.

"Well, I'll take pretty much any case," under which ever of my three personas fits best, "but lately I've been trying to take only a few cases at one time," but I actually only focus primarily on the Kira case because it interests me and I am L.

"Oh . . . ," she said simply, her eyes narrowing slightly as if something he said didn't make sense to her. He had walked around the question and that fact was not lost on her.

"So are you living here in Japan now?" she asked, eyes still scrutinizing him as she put one hand in her pocket and tapped a finger on her other hand on the coffee table like a metronome.

A safe enough question. "Yes."

"Where? Are you staying in this hotel or did you happen to follow me down the street, which would mean I'm not as observant as I give myself credit for?" she asked, sipping her tea, frowning, and putting in a sugar cube.

"Yes, I'm staying here. I move around to suit cases like you do. And I didn't follow you down the street but I did see you outside of my window quite a few times." He had a feeling his last statement would deter the conversation away from talk of his job.

"You did?" she said, cocking her head to one side. "My, how the tables have turned. Back when we were young, I used to see you around a lot too."

--

"I should go. I have an early day tomorrow." he told her, standing up, his shoulders hunched forward. They had been talking and eating for hours and now that midnight had rolled around it finally occurred to him that he might want to go back to his room and attempt the wasteful act of sleeping even though he knew there was no possible way he could with the sugar pumping through his veins and the natural high from the conversation. And the task force would be coming in at seven thirty so he might want to at least have some research to show them.

"Okay." she said standing up to walk him to the door. "Do you want to take some of the leftover cookies?" They had long since finished the mini cakes and some chocolate-filled biscuits.

"No, that's okay." he said. They had pretty much ate everything she had. He wanted her to at least have something for breakfast.

They stood in front of the door for a while looking at each other, both trying to get some general idea of the proper social conduct in such a situation and not being able to find an answer. After a prolonged silence, she began to anxiously rock back and forth on her feet, making him nervous. He gripped her arms to hold her steady so she wouldn't fall and she laughed, finding his concern endearing.

"Would you like to come over again tomorrow?" she asked, her hands slowly coming out of her pockets.

His face lit up. "Yes. I'll come by when you get back from work." he said cheerfully. Either the sugar was really kicking in or there was something about her. And he was pretty sure that he was immune to the energizing effects of processed sugar products.

She smiled. "Okay. I'll see you then. Goodbye." she said, wrapping her arms around him. Surprised, he fell forward against her.

He couldn't remember being hugged. It had probably happened to him before when he was younger but he had no recollection of it. Being so close to someone allows you to realize things that otherwise are not noticeable. He noticed that she was on the slender side but not fit, soft, probably from so many unhealthy foods. He also realized that he must not have talked to a girl in a while because she seemed so short in comparison to him and with his hunched posture, he could rest his chin on her head with little extra effort. He also realized that he didn't want to let go of her. He was never this close to anyone. It felt good to cling to something for once. Being strictly self-sufficient didn't really allow such acts of co-dependence, even one so simple as a hug, but he had no qualms or hesitations when asking for help on the Kira case so why should asking for solace be any different?

Her grip started to loosen but he held onto her, the result being that they were looking at each other with their hands still around each other, her eternally restless ones playing with the fabric of his shirt. He reached up and brushed her bangs away from her right eye finding that not seeing both her eyes bothered him for no explainable reason. It was light green, an almost lime green that barely compared with her forest green left eye.

"A weird secret, huh?" she said emotionlessly, even though her lack of emotions ultimately made her seem sad. "Another reason kids didn't like me. I'm easily mockable and I've got bad eyesight too."

Suddenly, he kissed her, quickly and forcefully, causing her to lose her balance but he held onto her upper arms tightly. When he let go of her seconds later, she blinked and stared at him blankly as if she wasn't quite sure what just happened.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing." he admitted. He wasn't exactly used to having emotions get in the way of his rational thinking. He could relate to how truly alone she was and he wanted it to be clear to her that they have the option of being there for each other.

She laughed and kissed him gently, causing flashbacks to the night she left. Her mouth still tasted like sugar, soft and sweet and obviously very desirable to his tastebuds. She still made him feel uneasily thrilled at the prospect of not being the one in power, or at least not being the one with the most knowledge on the situation, but he knew eventually he would catch onto this 'relationship' thing.

When she pulled away, his fingers found their way into her hair, messing it up until she looked like the girl from years ago. He took a step back to examine his work and smiled satisfied. She shook her head grinning and gave him a peck on the cheek as she opened the door for him.

"Goodbye . . . L."