Author's Note: It's not necessary to have read the one-shot before this but you can if you wish. I seem to write a lot of sequels. I guess I can't cope with seeing a story end. This story will last about six chapters but some are quite long. Posting will probably be very slow because I'm working on another story and just about finishing up college applications. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction site. I don't own L or any other Death Note characters that may be used. However, I do own the girl and pull her puppet strings like the malevolent God I am.
Somewhere above his lowly dipped head a harsh, artificial bell chimed, causing him to look up from the dull glow of the computer screen. It was five o'clock in the evening exactly; he had carefully set it that way, making sure each second was carefully aligned. He let go of the computer mouse that was warm from his palm after the seven or so hours he had spent using it and pushed himself away from his desk so that the wheels of his chair swung him over to the large, almost floor to ceiling window of his decadent hotel room. Down on the cracked sidewalk below he saw her walking by, very much in a daze as if she was trying to reason something important out in her head.
He wasn't one hundred percent sure that it was her though. It had been years since he last saw her so what were the odds that his memory was sharp enough to accurately and intricately construct an image of what she would look like now? Actually, the odds weren't too bad. He could still remember what she used to look like as if meeting her and watching her leave had happened yesterday all thanks to his unquestionably fantastic memory.
The person walking down the street had dark hair that was combed and cut professionally, unlike the girl he had met at the orphanage, but she had long bangs that covered her right eye like a neater alternative for just raking the messy hair over her eye with her fingers. He couldn't properly see the color of her visible eye but he was sure that if he got a good look it would be dark green. The person on the street dressed differently than the girl too, clean, accomplished, and not at all disheveled. Today she was wearing a blue sweater and a khaki-colored skirt underneath a white lab coat, a manilla folder held tightly in her hands which kept moving the folder around in different positions as if she couldn't decide where she wanted to hold it. That girl had wanted to be a doctor and this person clearly was. Further evidence that they were the same person, he thought to himself.
She walked by his hotel every day at exactly five when many others were also coming home from work so you would expect her to get lost in the crowd. In fact, noticing her had been the definition of chance happening. He had just been thinking about the Kira case by the fifty million view window one day two weeks ago when his eyes lazily fell to the road outside and saw her walking alone and undisturbed. He had no idea where she was living or why she was in Japan in the first place but he was a solid eighty percent sure that it was her. He frequently thought about going outside for just long enough for her to see him and recognize him. He knew it was silly to hold onto the idea that she could be his friend but wasn't there still a lingering possibility that they could pick up where they left off?
But then she would be out of sight, down the street heading to some indeterminate location, and he would wonder if tomorrow would be the day as he went back to his research.