Lost Memories V
Special Agent Amy Cortez was fond of snow, always had been. Growing up on the good side of England had produced wonderful memories of Christmas card-like snowy housetops, snowmen, and snowball fights. Even if she had been an orphan, her childhood had been good; upon hearing the words 'orphan' or 'orphanage', people assumed her life had been like the movie "Annie". Luckily, she could laugh and remember that it had been much different.
At sixteen, she had moved to the States to attend school. By eighteen, she had secured a position within the FBI. Now, at twenty-three years of age, she was a special agent working under Interpol, living in Boston with a respectable husband.
She had always wanted to return to England and see her old home, but she had wished it under better circumstances.
Standing in Roger's office brought a pain of nostalgia to her chest. A door shut, and she turned to find Roger smiling warmly; she smiled back.
Roger embraced her in grandfatherly manner. "Amy, it's so good to see you again. You've grown into a beautiful woman, my child."
"It's good to see you too, Roger," she responded unnervingly. Amy cast her eyes out the window where children bundled in winter clothing were playing, disturbing the peace and innocence of the falling powder. "How far along is the countdown?"
Roger pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket and glanced wearily at the glowing screen. Amy suspected it had only been a formality on his account; he need not the technological reminder, he already knew how much time had passed. "It's on nine days now."
"Roger," Amy alleged with a sympathetic look, "Certainly, you have to believe that he would have already returned if he were alive. It's been nine days!"
The old headmaster nodded his head, defeated; he understood and knew his hope was foolish. "I know. I have already come to terms with this."
"Well, I suppose you still have something for me to do, even with your understanding. Could you not have just phoned me if you wanted me stationed in Japan? What do you want me to do?"
Roger licked his lips, the wrinkles around his mouth tightening, his eyes peering at her over the ledges of his round spectacles. "I need you to find his body and bring him back… so we can give him a proper burial."
Amy crossed her arms rigidly and shifted her weight to one foot. "I really hope you expect me to try, not succeed. It will be difficult, you know, Roger. Anyway, don't see the need--it's not as if his tombstone is going to say 'Here Lies L'."
"There is one man whom Quillish spoke to me about," Roger stated, situating himself upon the plush chair behind his desk, "He's the chief of the Tokyo P.D. Yagami Soichirou is his name. I believe he is the one who buried both L and Mr. Wammy."
She nodded her head and looked out the window, hearing the laughter and shouts of children. "What about L's successor?"
"They are too young right now," informed Roger. Amy wondered whether the successor was one of the many outside enjoying himself.
No, there were more than one; Amy turned to look at him, inquiring, "They?"
The old man nodded in response and continued with explaining, "Two of the top boys—L felt they worked well together, or would if they learned to cooperate. However, neither of them knows they have both been selected as his successors."
Amy sighed, tilting her head to the side. Falling into a comfortable silence, the grandfather clock ticked without disruption. Then, she spoke."It will take me a few days," she assured Roger, "to get to Japan. I will first have run it through my supervisor."
"I'll do anything I can to help," Roger solidified his superiority.
Amy smiled. "I'll call you if I need anything." Roger rose from his chair and they embraced one last time. "Goodbye, Roger."
"Take care, Amy."
He rushed to the hospital upon his mother's call. If it hadn't been for the phone call, for his insecurity and the imposition of knowing L's memory could return at any time of the day, any time it felt like it—he would have arrived home as planned. But, no, when his mother had explained that L's memory might have returned, he had to make sure he was there, to solve and settle any problems he may have. Light was not worried about L; really, he had to worry about his own safety.
He slipped on a sheet of ice and fell painfully on his back. He cursed, hissing through clenched teeth; he got up and painstakingly ignored his sore buttocks and bruised dignity from the remainder of his trip to the hospital. With every intake of breath, his lungs screamed in agony for each breath felt like searing knives or icicles tore through his flesh and organs.
Then, upon approaching the receptionist and her little table behind protective glass, he suppressed rolling his eyes.
"Ryuuzaki Yagami, what room is he in?" he demanded.
The woman gazed at him, her eyes boring into the back of his skull, dull and uncaring upon the urgency of his tone of voice. "Are you family, sir?" she asked languidly.
Light hissed a 'Yes' through bare teeth.
Her long fingers danced over the keyboard as she typed in the name. "Let me page Dr. Uramura for you." She picked up the phone and pushed in three numbers on the key.
Light exhaled heavily through his nose and cracked his knuckles."She's on her way," informed the receptionist.
He nodded at her and went to sit down. As soon as his sore behind met with the seat, the door opened and Dr. Uramura waved for him to follow her. They walked back into the elevator as last time.
"Light-kun," she said, gazing at him. Light noticed that she appeared more tired and weary than the last time he had seen her. "There is something I need to discuss with you."
"Is Ryuuzaki all right?" Light interjected.
"He is fine," she assured, holding her hand up to keep him from interrupting once again, "But I need you to be honest with me."
She then pressed the alarm button and the elevator stopped in its tracks, giving a slight jolt. No alarms went off.
Gaze leveled, Light stared at her narrowed eyes. "Are you sure that was a good idea? What if patients need to use this elevator?"
"Patients have their own elevator down; this one is used by their visitors." She removed her glasses which made her appear older. "Who exactly is Ryuuzaki, Light-kun?"
"Excuse me?" she had caught on, hadn't she? He furrowed a brow, a confused look upon his face.
"Don't bullshit me. This is not my first amnesic case. I have taken care of homeless people with memory loss, and even so, I was able to retrieve some sort of record of their previous lives. Now, here comes along Ryuuzaki, and he has given me so much trouble, the whole thing about him having not a single record of existing! So who the hell is he? Really."
Light narrowed his eyes, equaling Uramura's intensity. "Why do you expect me to know who he really is?"
"You said you were his friend! How can you be friends with someone and not know a thing about them?" Her tone grew a decibel louder and more violent with each passing second.
Light took a deep breath, giving himself a moment longer to calculate what he would say next. "He lived a secret life," he said, sighing.
"This is more than just living a secret life. You and your family are hiding something about him, and as his doctor, I have the right to know. I did your father a favor by taking care of Ryuuzaki single-handedly, but if I don't get the whole story, I will be forced to take matters elsewhere."
The two ceased all talk and just looked at one another, rage and frustration emitting from both of them. Light, keeping his calm dexterity, relaxed his body and kept from twitching. He had been aware that this moment would have come at some point, and the looming presence of the weight within his watch become ever so persistent. However, now was not the time or place for such rash decisions. Anyhow, that piece of Death Note paper was meant for L. In addition, if Uramura were to just drop dead in an elevator, suspicion would fall upon him once more.
She did have to die, though; she was prying into business that was not hers to meddle with.
Light then said, "I suggest you start this elevator again before I complain to your supervisors. This little meeting of yours can be seen as harassment, or assault." He nodded his head ever so slightly toward the camera positioned at the of corner of his metal prison.
Dr. Uramura looked up to the camera and back at Light. She hesitated, her finger hovering over the button, as she wondered about the consequences if she decided to further her assault. Finally, she pressed the button and the doors spread open. Neither person spoke. Light followed Dr. Uramura out.
"Your father is on his way. I will discuss matters with him," she commented, a sour look, upon her face, she quickly looked away, stomping down the corridor. "Please take a seat and wait for him," she added as she trudged away.
Light put up no fight and tended to glancing around the deserted hallway. Had she, Uramura, failed to mention whether L had recovered any memories? If so, had he forgotten so easily? The room number Ryuuzaki had been moved to (the doctors were moving him frequently, to accommodate the genius) had not been spoken of. He could not check on the problem now, so, he listened to his instincts and remained calm. Anyhow, if Ryuuzaki had remembered something, she was the kind of person who would have been boasting around the hospital about it. However, with memories restored, L could have been smart enough not remain clueless to her. Light felt anxious and restless, and he did not like it at all.
In his peripheral vision, he spotted cameras at two different angles; each one most likely had him in frame. He put his hands together and rested his forehead against them, emitting a groan. There had never been a time in his life where he had felt this nervous, helpless.
L might have been suffering, but Light needed him to in order to keep his reign as Kira. In addition, he was the only one immune to the Death Note, making him much more of a danger than before. No longer could Light pull out his trump card without being discovered as the mass murderer, as Kira.
Damn you, L.
The brunet lifted his head to see his father striding to his side. He stood tall and forced a calmed, cool walk, reaching his father.
"How's Ryuuzaki?" Soichirou asked.
Light shook his head. "They won't let me see him."
"Yagami-san—" The turned in response to Dr. Uramura, either slightly confused or angered. "May I have a word with you?" Her eyes were glazed over with the same stare she had worn whilst talking with Light. That meant she would pester his father for answers; Light grit his teeth in despair.
Then, his pocket vibrated with a familiar presence of a phone. He scrambled for the cellular device and peered at the glowing rectangular screen.
The corners of his mouth twitched upward into a daft smile.
"Hello," he flipped the phone open and gently greeted the caller.
"Liiiight!" Misa's high pitched voice came from the other end, purring with delight. "I am so bored. I'm getting nothing out of my research."
She had not located the two adopted criminals yet, how typical of her. He would probably have to do it himself. "I'm sorry to hear that. I am at the hospital right now. Listen, I need you to do me a favor."
Then, he stalked away to the bathroom in order to get some privacy.
Upon his return from the bathroom and conversation with Misa, he found his father in midst of an intense argument with Dr. Uramura; the woman had appeared to have pushed his father into a corner.
"What's going on?" Light questioned, coming up from behind.
His father acknowledged his presence with a distant, pleading look whilst Uramura continued arguing her point."…If I don't get more information about Ryuuzaki-kun," she threatened, jabbing her finher into his chest, "I will not hesitate to call the FBI."
Soichirou then responded, "There's no need to go that far."
"Well, there will be a need if you don't tell me anything about the conditions he lives in at your home? About the environment?" She inquired, eyes lit with passionate emotion, hands propped upon her hips.
"I assure you," Light interjected, "Our home life is very safe for Ryuuzaki. I am his friend and I will be, and have been, there for him."
Uramura sent Light a cold glare before turning back to his father. "I highly suggest that Ryuuzaki-kun be transferred to a special resort that specially deals with people who have amnesia—"
"A resort?" Light repeated, flustered and knowing he was granting her nerves, "He's suffering from amnesia, and you make it sound as if he's going to go on vacation. What is his opinion on the matter?"
Finally, she addressed Light. "I haven't brought up the subject up, yet. And I won't until he's done with the police sketch artist."
Never had a woman made feel helpless and weak, powerless and naïve, anxious and angry all at once; he felt his stomach churn and twists as his insides dangerously awaited for a silver lining.
"He's with a sketch artist?" Soichirou asked, baffled, "Has he remembered something?"
She nodded. "Yes, he requested the artist himself; he mentioned something about someone's face and how it continued to come to him in dreams."
As hard to read and stiff as a statue, Light pondered several questions; whom was the sketch artist drawing? Who or what did L remember? How much did he know?
"Dr. Uramura," a male nurse announced his presence as he rushed over. "We need some assistance in the I.U."
She let out an exasperated sigh and followed him, mumbling obscenities. Light followed her out with his gaze before turning to look at his father. "Did she tell you where Ryuuzaki's room was?"
He nodded slowly, looking so much older than he had before. "He's in room 221."
The brunet nodded in appreciation and turned toward the opposite direction; he sprinted down the hall, counting the room numbers. His father's presence was soon sensed alongside his, but, to his surprise, nothing about disobeying the doctor's orders came from his mouth. They located the room in silence; Light turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The room looked the same as the last; with L sitting upon the bed, his knees pulled up against his chest, the room appeared just as the one before. He wore his usual blue jeans and a white tee. Oddly, Light could not shake off the feeling of walking to the Kira Task Force building—much like he had done only a few weeks prior. In addition, before him sat L, not Ryuuzaki. Across from L sat a balding man with a sketchpad. His tongue poked out between his lips as he worked.
Ryuuzaki turned his head toward them while his hands rested on his knees. "Afternoon, Light-kun, Yagami-san."
"Hey," Light said, looking to the sketch artist, "Are we interrupting?"
"Nah, I'm just finishing up," said the old man. His voice was dark and hoarse, that of a smoker's.
"Are you feeling okay, Ryuuzaki?" Soichirou asked, walking over to him.
"Yes, I am fine now. Even after the incident at your house, I do not remember anything significant. Other than a face I kept seeing." L cradled his chin in his palm. "It worries me."
"You'll be fine, Ryuuzaki."
"I'm done," announced the old man. He reached forward and handed L his finished piece of work.
The amnesic detective studied the picture while listlessly chewing on his thumb. "Yes," he mumbled, "Yes, this looks exactly like him."
He looked to Soichirou and then to Light. "Do you know who this man is and his relationship with me?"
He turned the page around to show them. Soichirou sucked in an audible intake of breath, and Light bit painfully inside his cheek. It was just as he had suspected. Sketched in pencil was the exact portrait of Watari, down to every wrinkle and twinkling specks within the eyes. He knew the day would come, much like the day L would remember who he really was.
The silence stretched on between the three of them. It was Light that took the leap in front of the moving train, sacrificing all composure and sanity.
"Yes, we know who he is," he spoke, smiling softly to his friend, "We have records, too."
For the first time since they had been handcuffed, L smiled widely, happily, appearing like a giddy child.
(A/N): I would like to thank TallyInTheGreen for taking time out of her busy schedule to betaread my chapter. Thank you so much! I don't know where I would be without you. :)