The helicopter descended, sending a whirlwind of withered weeds and fallen leaves spiraling into the air. Meredith peeked through the gap between her arms as the aircraft finally touched down, the propeller's spins slowing to a halt. The hatch door opened, and no one but the inviter himself hopped off the helicopter, as if he had just hopped off Watari's classic Jaguar—which he most definitely did not.
She lowered her arms as L casually walked toward her with his hands in his jeans pockets. Not a hint of banter could be seen in his expression. No, he was still in his monotone expression with lips pursed into a thin line like an emoticon, the kind that Tanaka drew on post-it notes and secretly passed in class. She considered two possibilities: either he was excellent at hiding his childish urge to laugh at her flabbergasted demeanor, or he was genuinely serious about flying a helicopter as their travel method and believed it was a brilliant idea.
Meredith couldn't tell which. Everything was unexpected. But typical L.
"Hello, Meri," greeted L. She had a piece of grass stuck in her hair, which made him want to smile, but he managed to suppress it. Should I tell her or pick it out for her? Before he could choose, Meredith's voice pulled him back to the moment.
"What's going on?" Her stammering inquiry was accompanied by the fluttering of her eyes. "I thought we were going somewhere."
"We are. And we're flying there." He was talking as if they were about to take a bus. Bus rides might be rarer for L, Meredith thought.
Meredith blinked and eyed the aircraft. "…By this?"
L nodded. "It's my gift to you. Happy graduation and congratulations on your admission," he said, almost conveying a silent "Ta-da!" in his words.
"…Is this supposed to be funny? Is this a joke?"
Her tone still carried surprise and bewilderment, but oh, she knew better, this was no joke at all. He had the nerve to put plans and measures into practice when he considered it suitable for the case at issue. Just to prove to her that a certain experimental method was much more efficient than the instructions in her textbook, he conducted the whole experiment his way, with a timer beside them, proving that he could complete the experiment ten seconds faster. This happened within 48 hours of reading her chemistry assignment from the tutors. There were many occasions before and after this one. This was yet another added to the list.
"No," L tilted his head slightly. "I'm serious. I used your new identity to buy it. You can read the contract if you want, this helicopter belongs to Saotome Rin."
He was no doubt being serious, and that made her mind even more blank. "…Why does Saotome Rin have to have a helicopter? I don't even know how to fly one."
"So I'll be flying it. I'm borrowing it from you."
"You can keep it," she replied curtly.
"No, it's yours. You're just lending it to me for investigations," replied L, still staring intensely, but a small curve formed at the corner of his mouth. He seemed proud of his arrangement. "I'll treat it like it's my own."
Treat it like it's his own… Meredith folded her arms, asking, "but why does Saotome Rin need a helicopter?"
He paused for a moment, thinking, and answered slowly. "Because I want to keep something of yours with me when I'm flying."
Her ears reddened upon hearing his unexpected words. "Don't be silly," replied Meredith, momentarily unable to refute him and trying to maintain her demeanor. He could just ask her to make something or give him something that she already had, but no—he simply thinks buying a helicopter is the correct answer. Ridiculous. How could she like someone like him?
The corners of his lips curved further when he saw her blush. It signaled her acceptance of the moment (and his offer). L then stretched out his hand, inviting her to take it. "Shall we?"
Meredith hesitated. Was their current relationship allowing her to take his hand without any additional meaning, like before? She looked up at the person standing before her. He was always the same; the same quirkiness, the never-changing attire, and his absurd neural circuits in drawing conclusions about her preferences—all made her wonder how they ever got along for all those years.
She still took his hand.
"So, where are we going?" Meredith asked, feeling L's hand tighten as he led her toward the helicopter.
"You'll find out," he replied, glancing back with a slight smile. He climbed into the aircraft, turned around, and offered his hand to help her aboard.
Meredith pouted at his answer but took his hand again.
L only grinned.
The flight took about an hour, with L refusing to reveal their destination no matter how many times she asked. Meredith gazed at the view below, her thoughts swirling as turbulently as the air around them. Houses looked like tiny cubes from above, the tops of churches were visible, and expanses of green surrounded human civilizations. The first time flying in the air made her legs feel like jelly, even though she was fully aware they were safely on solid ground. Butterflies in her stomach—was it from the flight or the anxiety of not knowing where they were going? It was hard to distinguish.
"Take it easy," the pilot would casually remind her, noticing her white-knuckled grip on the armrest and tense shoulders, before continuing to gush about the aircraft's properties. It, of course, did little help to ease her anxiety and to make matters worse, he would "playfully" take sharp turns or sudden descents just to hear her shriek, "Stop it!" which resulted in his sniggers and her delivering powerless punches to his arm.
"You could close your eyes," assured L, ceasing the jokes. "I'll tell you when we're there."
It was the best solution. Meredith closed her eyelids and let darkness envelop her sight as thoughts crept into her mind.
How long will this last? The silent awkwardness of knowing they both liked each other. Or just let it sit until they both forget and move on? It was not suitable for her to make a move. He always seemed to have the upper hand, and his priorities always came first. This included his sleep, the time they could spend together, and even the moments she could have with Watari. With L as the top priority at Wammy's House, it felt wrong—and perhaps selfish—for her to ask him what would happen if they both admitted their feelings for each other. In pursuit of his passion for mysteries and cracking cases, he neglected his own needs, viewing them as trivial, concentration so deep it approached artlessness. In his focused eyes, there seemed to be no space for anything else—or anyone else, including her.
But there was. Could she accept it? Would acceptance change their relationship? Would she become his obstacle to something great? She lost track of how many times the same question repeated in her mind. But there was one thing she was sure of: she would not be the one to make the first move, to ask him and place the decision in his hands and force him to choose. It would be too bare. It would be too raw. The best solution was to move on as if nothing had happened. If he never mentioned it and she didn't say anything, they would silently acknowledge this secret and continue their lives. That was the one and only correct answer.
"Look."
L's voice pulled her back from her thoughts. "We're almost there."
Her eyes slowly fluttered open, adjusting to the light as she shifted her gaze to the scenery before them. At first, she wasn't sure what to expect. She looked at L, puzzled, but he only responded with a reassuring grin. As they continued to fly, a thin line of blue appeared on the horizon, separating the sky from the land. Closer, the endless blue stretched out before them, white foaming waves forming where the water met the sand.
Looking at the view below them, she searched for any familiar landmarks but found none; this seaside was not the one she remembered. Still, she hadn't been in such a landscape for years. She turned, her widened eyes meeting his gentle gaze, a glimmer in his dark irises.
"I've thought about taking you here for a while. See there?" His fingers pointed at an emerging large clearing close to the beach. "That's the helipad."
"Why-"
His eyes met hers. "You said you liked the seaside."
"I do, but I didn't expect you to remember, let alone bringing me here-"
"You don't? You should have higher expectations of me."
Could I? Meredith looked away, trying to focus on the scenery. The discussions in the orphanage about L's accomplishments, the praise, and the shining eyes that idolized the name L in the children, as well as Watari's talk with her before they left the institution. There was no need to add more weight to that burden.
"We're about to land. Hold on," said L, his fingers swiftly pressing buttons and flipping switches on the helicopter's control panel.
"Huh? Wait-"
And before she could mentally prepare, the whole aircraft went into a rapid, almost reckless descent. The roar of the rotors seemed to grow louder, vibrating through the cabin, making her grip the edge of her seat with white-knuckled intensity. In that moment, she was certain of one thing: from that day forward, although Saotome Rin was the owner of the helicopter, she would never board it again, especially with this pilot at the controls.
"I said I was sorry!" called L, watching the girl scurry to the swash zone without looking back. I thought she wanted to get off the aircraft as soon as possible. She said she did. He was puzzled.
"I know!" Meredith swirled and called back, but she didn't stop walking.
L tried to keep up with her. The salty wind blew into his face, carrying the scent of the sea. Quickening his pace, L felt the sand filling his shoes, the grains irritating his sockless toes. He took off his shoes and carried them by pinching the shoelaces, bare feet feeling the soft sand with each step, until he reached where she had placed her shoes, safely away from the water.
He silently watched her. The girl was tapping her toes in the water, unfazed by the waves washing up, sometimes quite strongly, wetting the fringes of her simple white dress. Her hand held the sun hat she always brought on their outings, keeping it from being swept away by the wind as her long black hair waved in the breeze. Excitement was evident in her expression, dispelling the remnants of her earlier subtle sulking. She seemed to be in a place where she truly belonged, or at least somewhere she could let go of her inhibitions, like a carefree girl enjoying a walk in the shallow waters. He couldn't tell if it was the new environment that made him focus on her, the one person he knew best, or if he was simply captivated by watching her, drawn to both her and the calm she always brought him.
He thought he could remain at the shore.
"Come on, L! Step into the water!" beckoned Meredith.
Maybe not.
He walked closer to where she stood, pausing just before the waters could reach him. Clumsily, he rolled up his jeans, but his poor folding skills made the effort futile as the legs repeatedly dropped back down. In the end, he gave up and simply pinched the fabric, lifting his trouser legs higher to avoid the water.
"You look like you're hiking up a dress," she giggled, watching him step awkwardly into the water. "You're a princess, L."
"You do that too, I'm just imitating you," said L, puzzled.
"Then we're both princesses."
She gave him a light smile, never overly joyful, more like the beginning of dawn—still dim but with a thread of light shining through, though never piercing the clouds. L could only stare, often wondering how such a fragile smile could still exist. Maybe it had survived, like all of them at the orphanage—endured and survived, but scarred, battered. Fragmented. Maybe that's why he enjoyed puzzles, in the hope of becoming whole again, though he still didn't know which part of himself was missing.
But the smile reminded him of which piece it was, and it hurt every time her smiling figure flashed in his mind, reinforcing what part of him was missing. The ability to feel human emotions, the longing to hold on to something almost impossible to preserve, mixed with the frustration of powerlessness and helplessness, were feelings he rarely encountered in his daily life.
He paused to feel it, fists clenched. Was this what it meant to be whole? Or was this the cost of wanting to connect with someone, of starting to care about what others—what she—thought of him?
L wondered.
"What are you thinking, L?" Her voice cut through the sound of waves, breaking his reverie.
He loosened his grip. Their calves were sunken in the water as the waves lapped around them, pulling at the sand and making their toes sink deeper with each gentle surge. Eyes still fixed on her, he said, "The only thing we have in common with princesses in fairy tales is an unpleasant early life. In other words, we barely share any similarities with princesses."
A flicker of astonishment crossed her face. "I never thought you'd take that so seriously." Meredith quickly regained her composure, her gaze dropping as she considered L's words. After a moment, she added, "There's still one last chance to become closer to a princess. A 'Happily ever after' ending in life."
L shot her a sidelong glance. "You believe in that? Happy endings?"
"Don't you?"
"I'm realistic."
She chuckled softly. "Pessimistic, you mean."
L tilted his head. "I never knew you were so optimistic." She wasn't the type to be. In the midst of the orphanage's activities, she stood out, her excitement only noticeable to those who paid close attention. Her brief comments and predictions about his cases—more often guesses about how things would end or what the truth was—were almost always accurate, or when wrong, more tragic than he expected. On calm days, he'd let his mind drift, but she hardly ever daydreamed. She wasn't the type of person to indulge in such thoughts. Her imagination, if anything, was reserved for creation, while the rest of the time, she focused on the present and avoided thinking about the future.
Like him.
He concluded that hoping for happy endings was an exception.
Meredith pondered momentarily. "I have one last chance to believe in happy endings. That's the most optimism I can manage," she replied, her voice soft and low, just above a whisper. Slowly, she lifted her face to meet his eyes again. "You didn't read me wrong. Have some faith in your observation, detective."
Her dark brown irises reminded him of polished black sandalwood. It was the same shade as a door he had once seen in a photograph while reviewing case files. Behind it had been a shocking crime scene, where clues were scattered for him to pick up. His questions would be answered one by one as he pieced them together, ultimately reaching the truth. He felt like he was standing before that door. But the moment was too brief—too brief to rely on his instincts, and possibly nothing more than an illusion.
L quickly responded, "I'm quite familiar with the concept 'faith'."
"You do," confirmed Meredith. "You even have faith in your suspicions."
Not in all matters, L thought.
She suggested they walk along the coast, and he followed, their feet splashing softly with each step. Meredith spoke casually about the orphanage, mentioning how Roger had made little progress on the investigation into the dead cat, and how a new boy had recently been given the alias "Near." Her moving plans were simple—just one suitcase for all her belongings, with everything else going to the library or storage. Another girl would take her bike, and whenever she returned, she would stay in the guest room.
"I'm not sure about sharing a dorm with other students. Maybe I'll rent a flat and drive to school. I'm still deciding between a car or a motorcycle-"
"I can take you to school with the heli if you want," offered L, with plenty of earnestness in his eyes.
Meredith glared at him. "I'd rather not. You'll make a commotion."
"What's wrong with dropping you off with a helicopter?" L asked innocently. "I'm sure you won't be the only one."
"You know well that isn't acceptable," Meredith replied. "Let's keep it just for travel."
"And investigations," L added.
"And investigations," Meredith agreed.
L grinned mischievously. "And picking you up from school."
"…You're impossible, L," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "I won't be the only one you're willing to give a ride to. I'm sure you'll find someone else."
L's expression softened, and he frowned slightly. "I don't want anyone else sitting by my side except you and Watari."
She didn't seem to believe him, as a smirk played on her lips. "Let's see, then. I'll be waiting for that day to arrive."
It was a nice day. Too good to be true. Too different from past experiences.
The sun was just starting to set, with the beams penetrating through the darkening clouds that separated the skies into warm and cold tones. The ripples of the water's surface reflected glitters of light, sparkling and shining. Meredith inhaled the air, filling up her lungs with the salty scent before opening her eyes and letting the view reflect in her sight again.
The landscape was different from the one in her memories. Naturally, it had to be- it would be too daunting if L knew which one it was, or if he unknowingly chose the exact spot. She stole glances at the person sitting beside her. He was in his usual outfit, the dark shadows beneath his owl-like eyes forming a listless demeanor, messy hair with fringes too long - everything about him was familiar. Nothing seemed out of place, and there was no indication that he might know anything about her past.
No, she thought, it wasn't his physical appearance that made her feel strange; it was his presence. Someone was at the seaside with her. A place where she used to visit alone. a place she went when there was nowhere else to escape. She had always thought she would never let anyone accompany her to such a place, a place too closely tied to the scars within her.
"What are you looking at?" L asked.
"Nothing," Meredith replied, still staring at him, noting the puzzled look on his face.
He rubbed his cheeks. "Anything on my face?" he asked, as if trying to wipe off an imaginary speck.
"No," Meredith answered slowly. "It's just that you seem to have been here before."
"I haven't."
But his presence didn't make her feel uneasy or awkward. It was as if they had been here countless times, as ordinary, familiar as daily life. She was a bit surprised, but come to think of it—that's how she felt towards him. Contrary to his chaotic lifestyle, thrilling career, quirky habits, and how others commented on him—whether it was the best, the bad, the right, or the evil—to her, he was a stable presence, one of the few people she felt safe and close to.
"Does this place resemble the one that you remember?" asked L.
"Not totally," replied Meredith. "The elements are the same. Wind, water, sand, scent- after all, they can't be too different, can they?"
"Then what was it like? The sea in your memories."
The sky began to darken, the colors shifting into a blend of orange, red, pink, and purple, reflecting off the water. "It was never this colorful," she said, her gaze drifting to the view in front of them. "Blue, I think. That's how it was supposed to be. Maybe on sunny days."
She let out a wry smile. "But all I remember is gray. That's all that's left."
She also remembered the nipping gray water reaching her chest, numbing all her senses in her limbs. When the water flooded over her, she realized that its coldness was nothing compared to the suffocating weight of the place she was in, a place deeper than the sea and much more suffocating. The empty house by the seaside, the sound of silence from the two adults standing before her like a wall, oblivious to her existence.
Waves crashed on the shore, creating foam before retreating. Her eyelids lowered, vanishing the sparkle in her eyes.
"I could take you here again. Or any other seaside," said L. "Anywhere you want. Until we replace all the grey."
"Really?" Meredith lifted her eyes, blinking slowly as she met L's gaze.
"Why not?" L shrugged casually. "It's a solid promise. I've never let you down, have I?"
Not that she didn't believe him—she never doubted him—but she was fully aware of how many deceitful lies and words he had spun during investigations, and she wondered if he would ever use them on her. Distinguishing his lies was tricky, but not impossible. Yet, when it came to her, they never seemed to happen. Sometimes, she doubted whether she was unintentionally missing those subtle cues when he lied in her presence. But even with these doubts, she was like the moth, fully aware of the danger of the flame, yet still drawn to it.
After a momentary pause, she replied softly, "No, you haven't." If trusting him meant she would burn, then so be it.
L's lips quirked into a subtle smile.
A hue of sapphire blue began to emerge from L's iris, slowly expanding outward. At first, she thought it was just the starlight in his eyes. Am I hallucinating? Or in a dream? She rubbed her eyes. The blue didn't fade; it only grew, deepened, and intensified until he was bathed in a soft, blue glow.
Her gaze followed his hand as it moved to rest on hers. She knew she should refuse, should run, or else they would drag each other into an abyss, where the future was uncertain and promises held no weight. They would drown. But she only watched, unable to turn away, as the blue seamlessly diffused into her being.
The blue dyed the gray, staining her the same color as him.
She had never seen a sea bluer than the one that day.
A/N:
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.