A/N So yeah another DN fanfic. I'm back into anime, manga and mostly Death Note so I decided to start a new fanfic and have some fun. For those who read my "Remorse" story, I'm not going to continue it. I'm leaving it as it is and probably I will write a sequel for it. I already have about 10 chapters of the sequel, but I plan to finish it before I post it. Please read and review XD. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but no flames please. Also English isn't my native language just so you know as I may have some spelling and grammar mistakes.
L: Leila-san didn't you forget something?
L: The disclaimer…
Me: It's not fair. Ok, ok I do not own Death Note and Lawli-kun *sigh*Happy now?
L: Yes. *eats some cake*
Rain was falling mercilessly, whipping her face, soaking her long, flaming hair, hiding her tears. Blood was dripping from a gash on her forehead, blinding her right eye; pain was shaking her petite body purple with bruises and cuts, her ripped dress was barely covering her wounded body. However, despite the rain and the pain she was oblivious to everything around her... all she could see wash the blood on her hands and the dead body of a young man lying in a puddle of blood at her feet, a wicked smile plastered on his face even in death. Next to him, thrown aside, lay a hunting knife still stained with the victim's blood despite the rain that was trying to cleanse it.
The girl's pupils were wide, her dark blue eyes mirroring fright and terror; her lips were chalky white and trembling, her face was drained of all its color. She was unable to move, her body frozen to the spot with shock. She couldn't believe she was still alive and her attacker was dead… she couldn't comprehend anything that was going on around her.
Suddenly, a siren rang in the surrounding silence and a police car was rapidly approaching her. Still in shock, the girl's mind was blank and her body reacted only due to the adrenaline pumping in her veins; she turned around and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could, her sight still blurry from the blood that was flowing from her wound. The girl was innocent; her act had been out of self-defense, trying to pry herself from her attacker's deadly grasp. However, at the moment she wasn't realizing all that: her mind was clouded with thoughts of the attack and all she knew was that she had killed a human being. She ran even faster, ignoring the rain, taking no notice of the blood that was staining her dress…
Suddenly, a black limo crossed her way as it tried to turn left onto the boulevard. Due to her unnatural rush of adrenaline, the girl had been unable to stop… she stretched her arms forward in an attempt to break her run and collided with the left side of the car. The force of the hit knocked her backwards, thus leading to her falling and hitting her head, losing consciousness.
The car stopped and an elderly man, dressed in a black suit got out and knelt next to the young woman, checking her vitals. She was breathing heavily and her pulse was faster than normal. He immediately noticed her abnormal amount of bruises and cuts that were, from what he could see, freshly made. The door of the limo opened again and another person got out of it; this time it was a young man in his mid twenties. He had a bizarre look; it was clear that he was quite tall, but one could not notice it due to the fact that he was walking hunched, his spine bent at an unnatural angle. He had spiky, raven hair and huge, round, metallic grey eyes with wide pupils, circled by dark bags making him looks like he hadn't slept in all his years. His skin bore a queer, ashen color that made him look sick. He was dressed casually with a large, white, baggy T-shirt and warn-up jeans that were a faded blue color. Perhaps the most striking feature was that his feet were crammed directly into a pair of beaten, old snickers as if he was afraid of wearing socks. The contrast he held with the elderly man was strikingly visible.
"What's wrong, Watari?" the young man asked with a curious glance.
"This is the person who ran into our limo, master L." the man called Watari answered "she is wounded and full of bruises, her pulse is fast and her breathing quite ragged. She may have one or more broken ribs. What should we do with her?"
The young man addressed as L stood quiet and watched the wounded girl. The possibility of her surviving if she were left on the streets was less than 20%, quite low for his liking. He studied her pained face, her wounded body; he glanced at her ripped dress and noticed her frail state. A small voice at the back of his mind was telling him that it was none of his business, but he brushed it aside. Whatever anyone may think, he was far from being a heartless person. He bent even more and scooped her in his arms, showing an uncanny strength despite his weird posture.
"We're taking her with us." He finally answered "She is not gravely injured so we can treat her ourselves. It would be dangerous to take her to the hospital as her attacker might return. Plus I wouldn't want to take any unnecessary risks for my identity to be revealed." L headed back to the limo and put the young woman inside. He then got in as well, while Watari resumed his role as a driver. Ten minutes later they had arrived at the Imperial Hotel, their current headquarters. Once again, L picked the girl up and entered the hotel through a secret passageway not wanting to attract attention. Afterall you don't see a man carrying an injured lady every day.
He entered his apartment and gently placed the girl on the bed, then waited for Watari's arrival. As soon as the old man entered the room, L got shooed outside so that Watari could treat the young woman. L brought his thumb to his lips, nibbling it gently and headed towards the other room. He swiftly jumped on a chair, took a doughnut from the plate placed on the table, next to his desk and turned on his laptop. He was curious to find some information about the girl he had just rescued, but for that he needed a name. Meanwhile he had work to do; he would have to wait to satisfy his curiosity until the girl woke up.