Author's Note: I read a John Grisham book today so I had to read three Edgar Allen Poe short stories to feel better. I apologize to anyone who likes John Grisham.
Anyway, I should note that this chapter has a touch of pervert-ness but I haven't chapter the rating. Tell me if I should because I don't want to get in trouble. Also, there's a spoiler of L's real name which mostly everyone seems to know anyway. It's at the end.
Important: If you would prefer an ambiguously happily ending (even though I think I may have gotten a little corny) do not read the last chapter; stop with this one. If you don't mind the sad truth, read the epilogue that I will write sometime over the next couple of weeks.
--
He hadn't seen her yesterday due to a task force meeting that took over twelve hours, leaving most of the members asleep on the floor, aside from Yagami who was determined to not miss a single discovery or accusation from him and to keep Matsuda from complaining too much. When he had called her to say he wouldn't make it, she had responded with, "I would have liked to see you but I understand. Good luck. I'll see you tomorrow," with her usual optimistic but not ebullient attitude that radiated naturally in his presence. Thus, he wasn't prepared for what he was met with when he went to see her the next day . . .
He lifted his hand to her door but before his fist could make contact, the door swung open. She stood in the doorway, her arm languidly slumped against the frame until eventually her entire body fell against it as well, her face overcome with consternation. Her eyes were half-lidded, as usual, but were framed with dark circles that gave her a long-deceased appearance. She must not have slept last night, he concluded. She held an ornery expression but it was more pathetic than intimidating and her hair was all messily clipped up behind her head except for her bangs which continued to serve their purpose of covering her lime green, handicapped eye.
Aside from her face, he also noted a idiosyncratic difference in her clothing as she was clad in just a white tank top and black shorts. And socks, matching perfectly in color to her hidden eye with one pulled up to her knee and one lazily falling down around her ankle. It was honestly the most exposed he had ever seen her and this made him wonder. He would have thought they were her pajamas but he was sure that she didn't have specific clothing for sleep. Something was wrong.
"Hello." he said, staring a bit too intently at her attire before pulling his eyes up to her gloomy face.
Instead of verbally responding, she reached out into the hallway and grasped the front of his shirt in her hands, pulling him towards her until their lips met with a contusing force, just missing a nose collision by barely a centimeter. There was a ferocity and passion in her affections that seemed almost uncharacteristic but felt more like a catharsis than a drastic personality shift. Were these pent up emotions she has had, he wondered as she started to walk backwards into the room, pulling him in with her. He had remembered reading a similar sequence of events in a novel once: girl at the door wearing pajama-like clothes, fervent kissing, the guy getting pulled into her house. Does she want to have sex?
She lead him over to the couch, not breaking the kiss as she walked, her eyes clenched so tightly closed that it created creases on her forehead. He kept a close watch behind her the whole time so that she wouldn't trip over any pieces of furniture she may have forgotten about. When they got to the couch, she sat him down, not giving him a chance to curl into his usual position before she laid down on the couch with her head in his lap and tucked her legs into her chest, making her look vulnerable.
"What's wrong?" he asked, studying her carefully for signs of crying and finding none, the fact that she had changed from being passionate to aloof in mere seconds not fazing him in any fashion.
"My patient died yesterday. He was just about to go into surgery and he had a stroke." she said, her words falling out of her mouth in an almost slurred manner as she stared hard in no determinate direction, her eyes, or eye, looking glazed and bare.
"How old was he?" he asked, wondering if she mentioned a stroke to avoid any Kira controversy.
"Just turned fifty. Quite young for a stroke but with such a mutation, the odds are increased. He was a widower. He has a daughter who's twenty-five. I had to tell her the news. I usually do because the other doctors claim that I have less feelings than them so it will affect me less."
He was twenty-five when he had a child, he noted for no reason outside of the need to calculate. He was our age.
"Were you close with him?" he asked, trying to console her with questions and concern.
She shrugged. "Not any more than any other patient I've had."
"Does a death always hit you this hard?"
"No. Death just rolls off my back since I am around it so often. There's truth in what the other doctors say. I mean, it's sad, yes, but I never am in this kind of mood."
He started stroking her hair as she continued to stay silent with her eyes vacant of emotion. Even her hands weren't moving, something he had never seen before.
"When do you have to go back to England?" he asked solemnly. It was clear that this all had to do with her leaving. The impassioned kiss to try to imprint a memory, the depressed look on her face and her exanimate hands; she was afraid to leave.
"Tomorrow at six in the morning." she sighed, now turning to look at him. "I tried to catch the doctors before they could book my tickets but I was too late. They already set up a patient for me in London."
He didn't respond. They had less than twenty-four hours before she would be getting on that plane. He flatted the frizzy hairs on her head that had escaped the clip with every long caress as she stared up at him. After she didn't say anything for a few minutes, he tucked her bangs behind her eyes so he could see all of her. She didn't object.
"I think I love you." he said, feeling that now was a good time to express the outcome of another case he had been working on almost as long as the Kira case.
"You think?" she asked curiously, wondering why he had made his feelings sound so tentative.
"Yes. Actually, I am quite sure. Although I have no prior knowledge of the actual feelings one is instilled with in such a state, I took to looking up the word and studying some research materials to get a basic understanding."
The corners of her lips turned up a bit. In spite of his amazingly accurate intuition, he still sought out the facts.
"Now while most of the research materials seemed overly romanticized or based purely on sexual attraction, I did find some valuable theories to explain how people connect when they possess the feeling of love outside of the so-called 'chemistry' of pheromones. The one I thought was most effective broke romantic love down into seven different ways of connecting: intellectual, emotional, psychological, moral, social, cultural, and physical. We definitely connect on an intellectual and psychological basis and emotionally I have felt different around you than anyone else, like figuring out a difficult problem and having everything add up correctly, so I'm thinking that may have to do with love. Morally, we seem to be on the same page with our ideas on Kira so I'm hoping this would translate to at least an understanding if not an agreement in other areas of life." She nodded. "Social connection would probably imply friendship which we have certainly developed and culturally, our backgrounds are a little different but we lived under the same environment for a while and we both know English so I don't see a problem there."
"I don't speak Japanese." she stated factually for no real reason outside of the need to say something.
"Well, you speak Gaelic, don't you? And didn't you tell me once that you also learned Spanish, French, and German while going through your schooling?"
"Ja." she answered.
"So you know some languages I don't and I know some you don't. Maybe it's even better this way because we could be interpreters for each other if the occasion ever arises."
She nodded again.
"And physically, I've always liked the way you look but a strong sexual attraction became more apparent to me when you answered the door looking like that and then pulled me into the room so vigorously." he said, without an ounce of shame. "Therefore, I have concluded that I am in love with you. What do you think?"
"I think you're a closet pervert." she said, smiling. "And that I love you."
Simultaneously, she bent her body up at the waist as he ducked his head down until they were locked in a deep embrace, intense but not rushed or working towards another goal. He wondered what it would be like to not get to taste in this way for months. The thought was saddening. When they pulled away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her ear against his ribcage, hearing the heartbeat that she had always noted as being a bit faster than the normal heartbeat.
"Don't go back to England." he said, resting his chin on her head and letting out a slight sigh as her hands became active again and started moving around on his chest in a manner that she didn't even realize as being torturous for him.
"I can't." she insisted. "I have a patient already. I have a practice. I . . ." her voice trailed off and her hands paused. "I have nothing there for me but work. And the only thing that has ever mattered to me outside of work is here." she admitted, almost embarrassed.
"I am building a headquarters right now, here in Japan and it has more floors than I could ever need. You have a patient waiting for you and I can't deny them their right to the best care they can possibly receive, however, when their treatment is done, I would want nothing more than for you to move here. You could have an entire floor to yourself so it wouldn't be too much like we were living together unless you want it to be and no task force members will be allowed on your floor so they won't even be aware of your presence. I could provide travel; the building has helicopters so you easily travel to neighboring countries for patients if you have to but you won't be able to go around the world for cases like before. I'm sure you wouldn't let me provide other amenities for you but I won't accept rent from you since my payment will be your company. And I promise that if I do have to leave Japan, I will always provide a place for you wherever I am. What do you say?"
"You're talking as much as I do." she joked, burying her face in the space where his shoulder met his neck like a child. "The only reason I traveled to my patients were because I had nothing to tie me down to one place. Now I think it's safe to say that I do."
"I'll write to you every three days to give you updates on the building's development and plans." he promised.
"And I'll tell you how close I am to getting home." she said, tracing his collarbone with her fingers. "But could you make me another promise?"
"Yes." he said instantly, for once without hardly any thought.
"Could you be there when I wake up tomorrow?" she asked, placing a light kiss on the side of his neck. She wanted to know what it was like to have someone right there with you from the break of daylight. Before her parents died, they would be with her but she was still too young to grasp all the meaning behind it. She wanted to know what that kind of security felt like when you are next to someone you love in the morning and they aren't in another room or immersing themselves in work.
"I'll also take you to the airport."
--
"Kassie," she said, her arms wrapped around him in a goodbye hug as they stood in the airport, trying to tune out the sounds of people shouting, luggage being thrown about, and random beeping noises that could be coming from anywhere. "My name is Kassie Malins, spelled with a K and an IE and not short for Kassandra. I suspect that the unusual spelling has to do with the fact that my dad's name was Kevin."
"Kassie." he repeated to himself, quiet so that no one could overhear. "I like that. Would you like to know my name?" he asked. It was only fair that he should tell her. Even though no one else knew his name, he trusted her. She would never tell under any circumstances.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." she replied, running her hands down his back. "I know you don't want anyone to know."
Quickly taking note of the security cameras in the room, he turned thirty degrees to the left, taking her with him. He then subtly reached into his pocket and pulled out a very small, folded piece of paper, held clutched in the center of his palm so that it could not be seen from the outside view of his hand, and slid his hand into her back pocket, kissing her as he did it to make everything seem normal. After a little while, he took out his hand but left the paper behind.
"You know a lot of people don't like to see that kind of thing in public." she stated, shaking her head at him. "The lady over there gave you a pretty nasty look."
He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "There's a piece of paper in your pocket now. Don't open it until you are alone in your apartment."
She didn't have to ask what was written on it. "And I thought you were just overcome with the desire to touch my butt." she said smiling. "I won't open the paper but don't lose my address."
"I'll write to you tomorrow since it will probably take a while for you to get the letter. International mail can be difficult." he told her.
"I don't mind." she said, twisting his hair around her fingers. "I can try to be patience. I guess I'll have to be. Otherwise I may go crazy. I'm already feeling homesick and I haven't even left!"
"You'll be back soon enough." he assured her. "For now, you need to focus on curing that patient in London."
"Good point." she noted as the clock behind her caught her eye. "I am exactly two minutes and twenty-three seconds away from missing my plane."
"Then you better hurry." he said, letting go of her only to have her practically knock him over as she jumped back into his arms and kissed him good-bye.
"You're going to have to run to catch it." He said, a little dazed as she leaned away.
"I'm going to have to run to keep from staying." she said laughing. "Good-bye!" she exclaimed as she took off towards the terminal.
He waved back at her feeling like something was missing until she turned around and shouted, "I love you," before gracefully tripping over a deserted suitcase.
And he knew that they were going to be fine.
--
Feeling the tiring effects of jet-lag to the nth degree from her wonderful eighteen hour long odyssey, she stumbled up the stairs to her apartment that now felt like foreign territory. Funny how the walls seemed so much closer, more suffocating. She fumbled with her key, remembered the strange feeling of cold metal as opposed to a plastic card.
The apartment looked so much more plain than it ever had before. Useless. Empty.
Throwing down her suitcase and plopping down on her couch, she took the piece of paper out of her pocket and read what was written on it, a grin creeping across her face.
L Lawliet.