𝘊𝘩𝘒𝘱𝘡𝘦𝘳 9

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(Y/n) didn't remember much of what she'd dreamed about, but whatever it was had left her heart pounding erratically in her chest and her body covered in cold sweat.

Eyes flying open, she gasped desperately for air, shooting up to sit straight, clutching at the fabric of her shirt above her chest as she sat in a tangle of sheets, simply focusing on filling as much air into her lungs as she could. Thereby, it took her a moment to catch her bearings and register the man sitting in the big armchair in the corner of the room.

Annoyance causing her brows to furrow, she leaned back into the cool headrest of the large bed, tired eyes meeting L's. "What are you doing here?" she asked, clearing her throat to get rid of the scratchiness in her voice.

"This is my room," he pointed out simply. Tilting his head, he added, "You had a nightmare."

Closing her eyes, she huffed out a forced laugh. "Yeah, no shit."

Although she was aware of L clambering off his chair and his footsteps coming closer, she didn't move. She simply sat there, letting the air conditioning slowly drive away the flushing heat from her skin, drying the beads of perspiration clinging to her and soaking through her clothes. It was only when the bed dipped in the space next to her that she did open her eyes, shooting the detective a judgmental stare.

"What are you doing?" she grumbled, scooting over to make space even as she did so.

L pulled his legs closer to his chest, locking his arms around them. "Your father requested that you call him if you were to have a nightmare," he reminded, blatantly avoiding her question.

What else is new?

"I know that," she responded instead, heaving a sigh of resignation to the fact that she would perhaps never get L to cooperate.

"You're not going to do as he asked?" L glanced at her in vague interest, his eyes glinting against whatever light was entering through the room's windows.

The woman exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I don't want to worry him needlessly," she responded, her gaze rising to the ceiling, watching the shadows dance on it. "My nightmares are a consequence of trauma that my father cannot help. I don't see the point of informing him when, logically, no good will come out of it."

A silence overtook the pair of them, and she guessed that L was taking a moment to reflect on something, so she let her shoulders relax slowly, muscles loosening from when they'd become tense in the fight-or-flight they response they took to whenever she awoke from a night terror.

"This trauma," he began at last, "is what prompted your seniors at the FBI to insist upon your leave, correct?" There was something almost careful in his tone, like he was trying to avoid potentially setting her off.

Eyeing him idly in dismissive curiosity, she hummed in confirmation. L very rarely would try to consciously make an effort to consider someone else's emotions over his motives, and she wondered what his intention was.

"Your files mention that Aaron Hotchner is your mentor. I understand that you trust him quite a bit." His gaze slid to her aimlessly. "He has an impeccable record, you know. And he happens to be quite worried about you."

Eyebrows quirking, she inclined her head. "What's your point?"

He shrugged. "Nothing in particular. Agent Hotchner was also very insistent on his involvement in the entire procedure of having you assigned as my FBI liaison for this case. I believe that he wanted to personally guarantee the safety of your work environment and how it would affect your mental health. Needless to say, he was rather displeased with your direct disobedience of his specific instructions to avoid anything that would potentially stress you out."

Suddenly, an absurd thought hit the profiler as she turned her body to face the man next to her. "L, are you attempting to distract me?" Her eyes narrowed, lips wanting to twitch up in mild amusement at the situation at hand. To think, the unsympathetic detective trying to take her mind off of a nightmare by talking about someone he hoped would serve to remind her of good things.

He nodded seriously. "I am," the man confirmed. "It is my understanding that this is one form of comfort for one suffering from night terrors."

(Y/n)'s mouth fell open in bewilderment for a moment. "And why are you trying to comfort me?" she asked finally.

"It might serve to get you to trust me."

"Oh, boy," she muttered under her breath, throwing off her sheets with a decision to get out of the bed, and maybe the hotel as a whole.

Wordlessly, L watched her struggle into her tan Oxfords before retrieving her discarded blazer from the back of an idle desk chair. "Are you planning to leave?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows in the sort of minute manner that seemed to challenge her, making her slow down in the action of haphazardly wearing the black blazer.

Threading her nimble fingers through her messy tresses in a halfhearted attempt to arrange them in some semblance of neatness, she dropped her hand to her side with a decidedly tired sigh. "I am," she confirmed plainly. "I think some fresh air will be good for me, and frankly, I'd rather not go back to sleep just yet."

A nod from the male was his only response before he copied her actions from before, climbing off the bed himself and standing before her almost expectantly. When she only stared back at him with a deadpan look, he explained, "I will accompany you."

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue, but then decided against it, shrugging at L instead. "Do as you please," she called over her shoulder, turning to leave the room while absently checking to make sure that her phone was safe in her blazer pocket.

That was what found the unlikely pair strolling along the empty streets at almost one in the morning, silence enveloping them. (Y/n) let her feet lead her wherever they pleased, and L followed without saying a word. For once, she was able to put his presence to the back of her mind, falling into a state of ease.

There were moments when time seemed to slow down for her. Her mind would clear, letting her think faster. She would be aware of her heart beating, and every breath she took. In those moments, (Y/n) felt alive.

At some point, she realized that she had been leading the way to a bridge that ran over a stream-- a place she had frequented as a high school student but hadn't returned to since. (Y/n) recognized the fact that she looked at her memories of the place with rose-tinted glasses. It had offered her peace and quiet when her mind would get too loud, and perhaps she had found it to be a sort of sanctuary away from her home.

"I haven't been here in years," she breathed, her words a whisper in the night, lost with the breeze.

Nevertheless, L heard her. The man shuffled over to stand by her side, peering down at the stream running below them. "Yet you led the way here to escape from your distress," he noted.

In response, she shrugged. "I've always been fond of this place," the profiler reasoned. "Nothing but fond memories will naturally make me want to seek it out after an unpleasant experience for my psyche."

"I would not have expected you to bring me here in that case," L admitted, glancing at her in his peripheral vision.

(Y/n) exhaled, folding her arms over the cold metal of the railing. "Me neither, if I'm being honest." Her gaze strayed to inky sky above them, watching the few stars that littered the dark canvas. With the lessened light pollution of the time, it wasn't all that surprising to find that there were a decent number that dotted the sky, twinkling as their light danced across her retinas.

To have brought him there-- to a place she cherished-- would require a certain amount of unconscious trust on her part. Had she really begun to place her faith in the crafty detective already? (Y/n)'s gut turned unpleasantly at the thought.

Her brain actively argued against the possibility, finding the whole thing illogical and incredibly inconvenient. But the thing was, it wasn't unheard of for someone to begin trusting another without quite realizing it. The human conscience worked in all sorts of strange ways, and she didn't think she was any different. It was only that she wished she was.

How troublesome.

Trust was a fickle thing; she knew this. A single moment was all it ever took for someone's status to change to or from trustworthy. But it affected decisions and thinking. L wasn't someone most people would actively choose to trust due to his own warped sense of morals and blatant selfishness. Not to mention the fact that he seemed highly incapable of returning that sort of sentiment.

To place her faith in him was a gamble she wasn't all that willing to risk making consciously. He changed plans and mindsets far too secretively for her liking. In this position, she only saw disadvantage because he would never fully inform her of his plans, and she would have to work in hiding while making assumptions the whole time.

But what good was it if she had done it unwittingly anyways?

Did she trust L to look out for her-- save her if need be? (Y/n) couldn't see the detective as someone who would go too far out of his way to do something of the sort. But then it wasn't as though she necessarily needed L to save her when he could be equally as easily disposed off as she. All it would take is one pair of Shinigami eyes to do away with the both of them.

Then, she supposed, that meant that she relied on the man in some ways. It was odd, really. But also true to some degrees. Maybe she had come to rely and expect something of him. Under most circumstances, she trusted his judgment, and (Y/n) really did respect his abilities as a detective.

Ah, the complexities of the human brain and emotions were beyond (Y/n)'s realm of understanding. She could only accept it and move on.

"It's strange," she mused aloud, gaze drifting to her uneven fingernails for the lack of a distraction and the desire of one.

L didn't look at her, only humming as he shuffled to readjust his stance. "Is it?"

His simple query had her stopping to ponder over an answer. "Yes," she stated truthfully. "But, perhaps, it was inevitable."

(Y/n) wondered very briefly if L even knew what she was talking about. The slightest upward quirk of his mouth told her that he did, in fact, know what she was referring to. Of course, he did. L was annoying like that.

"I suppose it was in a way," he replied evenly, his tone uncharacteristically indulgent. (Y/n) had begun to learn how to distinguish the minimal, but present, variations in what sounded like the same dull monotone.

"Did you predict this would happen?" She wouldn't put it past him, after all-- to have expected an outcome she refused to acknowledge.

He was quiet for a moment, his finger coming to tap against his lip. "I had been counting on it, in all honesty. There was a 65% chance of it given the recent reduction in your hostility towards myself, but I am pleasantly surprised. I had not expected for you to stop seeing me as a threat as of yet."

Well, she couldn't deny that. At some point, Light had taken over as the biggest hazard in her mind, and L had been bumped to the back of it where she tended not to linger too long. "That makes two of us then," she sighed, decidedly resigned to the self-revelation.

"You sound displeased," he noted blandly.

A wry smile touched her lips. "I hope you understand that this doesn't mean I'm on your side," (Y/n) reminded stubbornly. "Trust has nothing to do with where I stand."

"Of course," he accepted easily. "I expected nothing else from you."

He was looking at her. She could tell, but the woman didn't bother returning his gaze. Instead, she let her eyes close, letting herself enjoy the breeze of the night and the quiet it provided.

L shifted once again, his worn out sneakers scuffing the ground beneath them. "Will you return to the FBI once the Kira case is over?" he questioned.

Eyes opening lazily, she sniffed. "Naturally," (Y/n) answered. "It is my job, after all." Her line of sight shifted to his figure, studying the empty smile adorning his features. "Provided, of course, that the case is over within a reasonable amount of time, and that I'm still alive by the end of it."

"Currently, your chances of surviving are rather favorable regardless of the outcome of the case," he stated. "Of course, when it comes to a situation as this, the numbers of probability are constantly changing."

She hummed. "And what about your chances of survival?"

He tilted his head, but said nothing to answer her question. With any other company, the air would become tense and grave. However, it was only (Y/n) and L, both of whom saw the world around them factually. Death was a variable they couldn't prevent, and that was a matter of fact. To mourn the possibility of loss of life would mean to fruitlessly waste time. Neither cared for that just yet.

"It would be a shame," she looked skywards once again, "if you were to die. The world would lose a fine detective and mind. Goodness knows there isn't much room for the loss of intellect when it is already dwindling."

L looked to her with something akin to amusement lingering in the lines by his eyes. "Was that a compliment, (Y/n)?"

"Would you like for it to be?" she returned indulgently.

"I think I would," L answered honestly, earning a curious glance from the profiler.

(Y/n) shrugged. "Then it was a compliment. As long as it doesn't inflate your ego, of course."

"My ego?" he repeated blandly.

Nodding, she pushed herself off the railing. "Yes. The ego which now has you locked in a battle against the currently most notorious serial killer. The same ego which makes you certain of my brother being the said criminal. You are a prideful man, L. Highly competitive-- almost childishly so. It's why you hate losing, isn't it? Also why you're hell bent on solving this case."

He didn't respond, only watching her with large gray eyes as she crossed to the opposite side of the bridge and leaned back against the railing to still be able to look at him.

"Then again, I am very much guilty of the same. Pride has fueled me through many instances across my career and life. The thing is, L, for people like us, pride is what is most likely to bring about our downfall." Her words hung in the air, punctuating it with something static and careful. His stare put her on edge, but (Y/n) held it evenly, waiting for his response.

At last, he moved, shoving his hands in the pockets of his loose jeans. "Statistically, you are right," he conceded. "Are you suggesting I become humble?"

The woman shook her head. "I don't see the point in that," she answered truthfully. "It would certainly make social interactions easier for you, but I doubt you care about that. And your reputation certainly makes your ego valid. Besides, being competitive is in your nature even though you don't look like it a lot of the times. There is no changing that."

"Have you given this particular subject a lot of thought?" L's eyebrow rose.

"Not really." Her lips twitched upwards. "Just thinking out loud."

L studied for a moment. "Your guard has lowered," he concluded. "You're being more open than you normally are."

She shrugged, silently agreeing with the observation. No particular reason stood out to her to explain why though. "Perhaps it is the night and the place," (Y/n) suggested thoughtfully. "It could very well also be a consequence of the nightmare and lack of sleep."

"I would expect you to be used to sleep deprivation by now," he commented dully.

"I am," she informed. "That does nothing to prevent how it affects the clarity of thought however. Perhaps you ought to take a nap or something, too. After all, you're still as human as the rest of us."

Once again, he didn't respond, and she said nothing more. The pair walked back to the hotel swaddled in the same blanket of silence that desired for the words they were both leaving unsaid. By now, it had become familiar to the both of them given how many of their conversations ended in a similarly abrupt manner.

You're still as human as the rest of us.

L couldn't recall the last time someone had so blatantly called him human after witnessing his method of work. He'd almost forgotten himself, that he was mortal and not a monster of some sort. It was nice, he decided, to be reminded of that fact from someone as blunt as the profiler next to him.

It was a tentative trust they shared. Less about intentions and information, and much more about opinions and circumstances. (Y/n) was always honest in what she did tell him, and L tried to return that courtesy as much as he could bring himself to. This relationship they shared was mutual, and both of them understood its benefits.

Not quite friendship, but much beyond just acquaintances. They were something akin to confidants. Their discussions were saved for moments away from prying eyes and unwanted ears, whenever time found the pair alone in each other's company.

(Y/n) Yagami had become more than just an enigma-- a puzzle for him to solve. She demanded that he treat her like a person and not a chess piece for him to toy with without ever quite saying it outright. L had found himself curious about what she expected of him. Unlike Light, who was always extremely cautious about what he said to the detective, (Y/n) tended to be more natural around him. There were no pretenses she was keeping up. Only secrets that she hid behind half-truths and intelligent distractions.

It made her easier to trust, he mused. He wondered if she did that on purpose. It was unlikely, but not impossible.

And now, more than ever, he knew that the eldest Yagami sibling had extracted herself from the hold of her loyalty to Light. It was never overly obvious. In fact, he doubted that any of the other Task force members could even tell, but L could. And he suspected that Light could detect some change in his dynamics with his sister as well. It was his blind faith in her that kept him from realizing the truth, however, and (Y/n)'s abrupt bursts of kindness towards him that always seemed to be enough to chase his doubts away in the nick of time.

Anyone else would have thought it cruel to be so subtle in manipulating Light's emotions and loyalty like (Y/n) did. L could appreciate the

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