"But where are we supposed to go?" she asked, frowning at the man seated in front of her.
He took his time shuffling papers, as if reading them, then glanced up at her with a shrug of his shoulders, "Your father's friend has agreed to take you in."
"What?" she said, the creases of her frown deepening. "Do we know this man?"
"His name is Quillish Wammy," he replied breezily, "He founded several orphanages around Europe and other places of the world."
She visibly bristled as her hold of the small child in her arms stiffened, "An orphanage? We're…" She felt a sudden panic of realization well within her, and in a daze she looked down at her little brother. He looked back up at her, his black eyes gazing inquisitively as he sucked on his pacifier.
Her mother and father were dead.
"We're orphans…" she finally muttered, her voice cracking, a tear falling on the child's head as she hugged him. The social worker was watching her, an empathetic expression finally on his face. He sighed heavily, gathering the papers and dropping them into his briefcase.
"Well," he said, getting up, "You should pack your things. Take only what you need. We'll be going to the orphanage tomorrow. If things look well, then…" He didn't finish. She was crying softly into her little brother's hair, and he knew she had stopped listening.
"Come on," he said softly, placing his hand on her shoulder. "You need rest." She stood up abruptly, shifting the child's weight in her arms. Without a word, she walked out of the room, up the stairs, and into the room she shared with her brother, leaving the social worker behind as she shut the door.
She set him on the bed, then slumped down beside him. She was still wiping the tears from her face, unable to stop the dread on her shoulders from squeezing them out. The little boy watched her, his big eyes even wider with her show of emotion. He crawled closer to her, then reached up and touched her wet cheek with his tiny hand.
Her eyes snapped open, looking at the child in surprise. He kept smearing her tears on the palm of his hand, never taking his dark eyes from hers. She watched him, unsure of what to do, when he finally wiped his hand clumsily on the sheets. He stilled, looking up at her, staring as if waiting for something.
She blinked and he pulled the pacifier out of his mouth, holding it up to her with a drooling smile. She didn't do anything, watching as he waved it in front of her face, making small noises.
"Lala… la…" he gurgled. Her eyes began to water once more. She picked him up, kissed him on the forehead, then hugged him gently as she kept kissing the top of his head. He continued to make little gurgling sounds, but soon he was smiling up at her and patting her shoulders happily.
"We'll be alright," she sighed as she looked down at him. "We'll be alright…" He gave a small squeal of delight in response.
"I'm sorry to hear about your father," Mr. Roger said with a kind smile. She nodded a small thanks, and the old man placed his bifocals on his face, looking down at the papers on his desk.
"Lara River…" he said, reading the birth certificate. "Born 1987." He looked up at her, "You're 13 years old?" She nodded the positive. He looked down once again. "And… Nate River, he's only six months old?" She nodded once again. The elderly man looked down at the little boy, who was staring back up at him with large black eyes which were partially hidden by a soft layer of white hair.
"He has a very unusual hair color," he smiled.
Lara shrugged, "He's always been like this; it's just the way he is."
The man nodded in understanding as he checked his papers once more, "Your father was a good friend of the founder of this orphanage. His death is among life's tragedies, I'm afraid." He looked up at her. "And your mother?"
"She died shortly after giving birth to Nate," Lara replied. "Father was never quite… the same afterwards."
The old man nodded sadly, then gathered the papers into a neat pile, "Well, Lara, we'd be happy to have you here, but…"
Her head perked up in alarm. "But what?" she echoed. If they weren't able to stay here, she didn't know where they would end up.
He smiled kindly, "Would you mind if we gave little Nate a few tests?"
Her eyes narrowed, "What kind of tests?"
His smile never faltered, "Intelligence tests."
She sighed softly, her eyes wide in the half light of their room. Nate was sleeping peacefully at her side, curled up into a little ball. She watched his tiny body rise and fall slightly with his breaths, then smiled as she twirled a piece of his fine hair in her hand.
"Near…" she breathed. What a strange name. This place was not… ordinary. Not at all.
L… she wondered if she would ever meet him. She turned, looking out of the window on her left. Because of Nate's high intelligence for his age, and the discovered potential he had for being a genius, they were able to stay at the Wammy House. She was told he could become a famous detective one day…
She looked back at her little brother.
She didn't care what they thought. Nate could become whatever he wanted, but at least for now they had a roof over their heads.
Honestly now, what a strange name.
Notes: Well, there's the prologue. This fic was written on a whimsy, mostly because I really, really, like L, and I have a general idea of the direction, but who knows where it'll end up. All I know is that I think I'm gonna enjoy this...
Chapter 1 will be up soon. Really, it will. You should stick around. Yup.
In any case, please leave a review. Any feedback at all would be beyond lovely, I'd really appreciate it. :)