The next few weeks are painful. I catch myself more and more often just simply watching L, and now that I am aware that I'm doing it and why, I kick myself for my bluntness. He catches me jumping and looking away, and I know I'm being obvious, but something within me prevents me from stopping.

Because I know now what L is to me, even though I am not the same to him. And it's killing me, little by little, but there's nothing for it.

Now, staring at the ceiling in my room at headquarters, I scold myself for thinking like some love-struck teenage girl. Like Sayu, really. If she knew, I'd never hear the end of it. I roll over, and stare at the wall instead of the ceiling. There is little variation, but at least the wall is cream colored instead of white.

I should cut myself some slack. I'm not even nineteen yet, and it's the first time I've felt something for anyone other than familial love or acquaintanceship. I am, for all intents and purposes, a child still. It's only logical my thoughts would run along these lines.

Coming to terms with my sexuality was not as difficult as I had originally assumed it to be. Thinking back on things, my sexuality was fairly obvious, it just wasn't obvious to me, probably because I was not in a position to accept it.

With effort, I tear myself away from those thoughts and direct them to the Kira Case. The police force and judges on the case finally reached a verdict, three weeks after we caught Kira. Kaito and his accomplice, someone called Mikami, were both convicted and sentenced to death. That was earlier this morning.

I blink, and the memory resurfaces with blinding clarity, even though I would much rather forget it. My eyes slide closed. L, the Task Force, and I had walked down to the cells to deliver Kaito and Mikami to the authorities. I will never be able to forget the sight of their unseeing, empty, soulless eyes staring in mine. The blood had been everywhere.

Clearly, the Shinigami had been bored. There are no windows in the cells, and the security around this building is so top-notch it's ridiculous. There is no way someone could break in to kill them, and the conviction of Kaito and Mikami was never made public, ruling out the idea of suspects. Besides that, there was no sign of the Shinigami monster attached to them anywhere. The one that I had seen in the bathroom had left the same day it warned me (The monster called Ryuk never did anything). Rem remains, even now, with Misa in her cell.

Misa's trial is taking much longer, which is why I'm still in headquarters. My father tries everyday, unsuccessfully, to coax me home. His efforts are half-hearted at best, and I can't stand it. I can see it in his eyes that he doesn't want me back home, near my mother and sister, but they want me around, so he tries, despite his feelings. I cannot allow myself to leave, not when things are so close to being over. Misa is a public figure, well loved and well known around the world, so accusing her with hundreds of counts of murder is a huge deal. But with the evidence to prove her guilt, there is little people can say. They say it anyway.

...

The next morning brings a great deal of rain. It matches my mood. I start the day with a hot shower that I stand in for over an hour, leaving me wrinkled and pink getting out. All of the mirrors are fogged over, and the air is so condensed I can hardly breathe. So I open the door into my rooms and get dressed without pothering with my hair. After brushing my teeth, I leave the room with my headphones tucked into my ears and a jacket over my casual clothing. I am well aware of the water falling onto the extra garment, just as I am aware of the fact that Watari has the heat on, and that it's too early for anyone else to be here, not that they will probably show up anyway.

There isn't anything to do around here anymore, and it's not the type of day that would make anyone leave the house for no good reason. I make my way over to the elevator, and press the button to go up. There are a few dozen more floors between the roof and myself, and some alone time in the rain sounds perfect right now. When the elevator opens, I step inside and press the button to direct it all the way up. The doors close, and I lean heavily on the cool steel wall behind me. I'm so tired all of a sudden.

I stare aimlessly at the endless gray walls around me for the entire trip. When the elevator pings and the doors open, I jump, then step out quickly.

The first thing I notice is the sound. An endless patter against the roof, it seems so much louder. It quiets my music, but adds an extra note to it that I can't ignore. It is easier to listen to with the rain. I glance to the side, noticing the races between water droplets along the windows and the gray dreariness of Tokyo. Artificial lighting in the hallway I stand in makes my reflection appear sharper in the glass. I look haunted, and so, so sad. I close my blazing red eyes against it and turn away.

Walking on the steel, floating hallway is an easy, simple task to partake in. It requires very little thought on my part, and the door to the roof steadily becomes a fixated point that I can focus on. It comes nearer, and the sound of the rain over my music is no louder than it was. At least, it isn't any louder until my fingers close around the door handle and turn it.

The lack of friction between the door and the wall makes it blast open, and I am suddenly very grateful for my jacket. I pull the hood up over my head and step outside, wrenching the door shut behind me. There is a roof, but I ignore the safety it provides, and step into the chaos that rain brings to the outdoors.

I'm drenched within moments, but cannot bring myself to care. It's refreshing, and for the first time in weeks, I can think much more clearly. My music is completely drowned out, so I turn it off, and tug my headphones out and swing them around my neck, under the hood. I can barely see a foot in front of me, but I continue regardless.

I glance up, wanting to see Tokyo without the cover of the glass. Instead, my eyes are drawn to a lone figure standing under the cell tower. Curious, I walk closer, and I can make out the shape of L a minute or so later. My heart drops into my feet and then starts beating faster; can I never have a moment of peace?

Despite myself, I feel my feet moving forward, even as my gaze moves from L to the fogged skyline of the city of my birth. Suddenly the moment seems important as I stand next to the soaked man I can feel myself falling for. It's almost as if there's so much weighting on the conversation I can sense coming on, like my words will have more power than they usually do.

L turns to me.

I grin, wanting to take some semblance of control over this situation before he can speak. "What are you doing out here, Ryuuzaki?"

He turns away, and my grin falters, fake as it was. When he speaks, it's low and I can hear a touch of desperation within the curious tone he thinks he portrays flawlessly. "The bells are very loud today."

A crease forms between my eyebrows and I strain my ears to listen over the rain. But that is all I can hear. Oh, sure, there's also the faint buzz from the heater, and the even fainter sounds of the city beyond us, but those hardly matter. I can hear the water move under my feet when I shift my weight and I can hear my own breathing, just barely. But I cannot hear bells.

I glance at him from the corners of my eyes, slightly worried, as I reply cautiously, "I don't hear anything."

He visibly jolts in surprise, and some distant part of me wonders if it was faked. Another part is certain it was. "Really?" he questions. "They are so loud. It might be a church… a wedding, perhaps, or…?"

A funeral. It goes unsaid, but it is not unheard. The words hang in air, settling on my mind and in my mouth. They taste acidic, which is strange. I've never…

The last time I attended a funeral, I was only nine. It was so boring I hardly remember it. It had been for a woman I had never met, but was supposedly a friend of the family's. I do remember a few key things, though. The first was the sound of crying. Several people were in tears, including both of my parents. I'll never forget the echo of sobs that resounded through the church walls. At the time, I had barely heard them, too occupied with what was outside the window next to me, but that is not the case anymore. The sound had registered in my brain somewhere, and when my mother and or father gets upset for whatever reason, I can hear it all over again. It is a haunting noise. I wish I had never heard it.

The second thing was the sight of the body before it was to be buried. I don't know why they had it open. As a bored nine-year-old, the fact that I was looking at a dead body-a body that had once held a soul, a person, with a working mind and heart, hadn't really come across, for all my genius. I had glanced at her, saw that she had her eyes closed, and looked away again, uninterested. The line of people behind us ensured that we didn't linger much longer.

The last thing, oddly enough, was the silence. The church had been quiet in all the ways that the sound had bounced from the walls and suffocated us all with its insistence. It was a large building, with dozens of empty chairs in the back. Books were piled on tables near the doors and windows. Religious symbols hung on the walls and were printed on pamphlets and sewed into tapestries. Plants were placed all around the place, but even with all of that, it was so, so empty. A stage was at the front of the building, with statues and a pew, but that was the most crowded place in the building and the meters of land around it. But there was something. Even with the sounds of the birds outside, and the crying outside, and the voices of the people telling of this woman's life up front. There was something muffling it all.

Maybe it was the grief that hung over the people like a cloud. Maybe it was the location, or maybe it was the décor around the church. It was suited for ceremonies more like a wedding, not a funeral. Maybe it was the way my heart beat all through my time there; impossibly fast and it made me sweat with anxiety. Maybe it was just the feeling one gets at a funeral.

I wonder what prompted this mood change from L. He usually doesn't let anything get to him this way. Is he hallucinating?

"There are no bells, L," I say quietly, taking a half step towards him, but stopping myself from going further. I do not have that right.

He shrugs and doesn't look at me. Suddenly sick of this behavior and sick of the rain and sick of everything, I suggest we head back inside and head that way without looking to see if he follows me. He does.

I start shivering violently as soon as I'm back inside. Furious over my reaction to some rain, and upset about L and missing my home, I trudge belligerently over to a closet and tug out some towels, throwing some to L without looking at him. He catches some but drops others, and I roll my eyes as I wrap one around my shoulders and run the other through my hair. Once they are in place, I unzip my jacket and shrug out of it, and with some difficulty, manage to keep the towel somewhat in place afterwards. I sit heavily on some stairs and start drying myself slowly, my eyes closed, drained from my emotions. And I was in a good mood this morning, too.

All the while, my face is as blank as clean glass around us, and the steel floor below us. L doesn't suspect a thing.

A phone rings. I open my eyes to see L standing closer to me than I thought he was, a towel on his still-wet head and the other in his hand. He holds a phone next to his ear and listens without saying anything while I watch.

He looks at me, and considers, but what he considers I am not sure. When he reaches his conclusion, he gestures for me to stand and I do, falling into step with him when he begins to walk down the hall. "The trial has been completed," he says conversationally.

But that is all he says.

"And?" I press, after a few minutes of silence.

"She has received a death sentence."

Relief is the only emotion I feel now. I was wound so tightly, and I hardly noticed until I sag my shoulders and let out a heavy breath, happy and safe in the knowledge that the nightmare of the Kira case will end at last. It was interesting, but now…

Now, now all I know is that I would give anything to never deal with something like this again. That level of murder… it is staggering, and to know that I assisted L in completing the case brings me great pride.

My thoughts are a mess. I can hardly think straight.

When we reach my floor, I stumble into my room without a word. I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.