Okay, I have this to say first: PLEASE PLEASE BEAR WITH ME! I love all you guys: you're awesome, and the fact that you think anything I wrote was good makes you the coolest people I've ever met. But, my mind is wandering off to unknown places. I'm putting up this new story, but TRUST ME, I am going to update on every one of them. I need lots of projects to feed my imagination and busybodyness during my vacation and beyond.

Trust

Ch. 1

Missing Kitten

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"Miss, are you awake?" I was in so much comfort, I didn't want to answer. I wanted to keep my mouth shut, my eyes closed, and I wanted to stay comfortable. I wanted the light shining behind my lids to stay soft.

But I didn't; I opened them. The light wasn't that bad, but it was bright. After squinting, a soft sound came out of my mouth, "Wha?"

Two people looked over at me, curiously. The voice was old, and I assumed it came from the man with white, wispy hair, rather than the man who sat on the couch beside me, who looked young, if not sleepy.

"W-who? I stuttered. I sunk deeper in what I realized was a large white blanket. I must have been laying on another one of those couches.

"Miss, are you alright? Can you tell me who you are?"

I blinked a few times. And then I started breathing heavy. "No." I said, my voice was so scared that it frightened me even more.

I can't think.

Who am I? Why can't I remember my own name? I tried to think, but nothing came to my own head. I knew lots of words: parents, father, mother, sister, brother. Friends. School. I just couldn't connect them with anything.

I'm sure that I looked hysterical, or just sad and frightened. The old man looked at me sympathetically.

"Why can't you tell us your name?" he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I started to cry. I wasn't aware of it at first, until a sob wracked my shoulders. "I-I c-can't th-think. I can't re-remb-ber anything."

I started crying harder, and I barely even heard movement. Suddenly, I heard someone beside me. "Don't cry," they said. Tears still poured from my eyes, but my sobs became few and infrequent.

I felt hands on both my shoulders, steadying me. "You can't remember anything?" he asked. I nodded, swiping at my tears violently.

I sunk into the comforter even more. "I believe you." Suddenly, I was completely tired; wiped. My eyelids drooped, and I pushed myself backwards, and into the man holding my shoulders. I lied my head in a comfortable position, and fell asleep. Before I did, I heard the man say, "Watari, go down stairs and try to find out anything about her. Be inconspicuous, we should. . .protect her."

I barely heard the old mans soft laugh as he walked away.

L glanced back at the girl who had fallen asleep on his couch. The moment he laid eyes on her, slumped, dirty and ragged outside the door of his hotel suite, he was worried about her.

He had no idea who she was, and although some instinct inside him was screaming that he not take her in, especially when she claimed that she was amnesiac.

But there was another instinct inside of him that told him in a calm, reprimanding voice, that this girl could be entirely trusted. Everything she did seemed to scream innocence, frailty, and truthfulness.

He wasn't drawn in by her, per say. Instead, he felt obligated to help her. No, not to help her. To protect her.

It was a strange thing for him.

His eyes flickered to the right, as Watari walked in the door, key in hand. He had an upset look on his face.

"I found her parents." His voice had this remarkable ability to be completely clear, and yet incredibly quiet at the same time. L was glad for it at the moment.

"Well?" he asked, leaning in just a little bit.

The older man closed his eyes, and drew in a breath. "It appears that she really does have amnesia. They were asking about her at the front desk, they seemed to have an unrecent picture of her. But, sir. I was troubled by the couple. They didn't seem to care one bit about finding their daughter. What's more disturbing is that they seem to be heading back to America in the next day or so, and they don't seem to be making plans to cancel that flight if they don't find her."

L was ignited. He was suddenly furious, and completely enraged. It didn't show completely, but Watari could see it on his face—the lines above his brow, the way he breathed tighter, and the way his right hand fell into a gentle fist.

"Sir, I don't mean to make you more upset, but her parents generally seemed carefree. Not upset at all, it seemed."

L closed his eyes and looked over at the girl. She looked completely different when she was sleeping. Happy, content. All her expressions and feelings had reminded him of something, especially now.

She made a sudden turn to the right, facing L. Her eyes screwed up, and then opened. Instead of doing a 180, her features stayed content. She seemed to look around her for a second, before her gaze looked at L. She glanced at the older man. "D. . ." she started, looking down, before staring up, startling them both with how ferocious and determined she looked. "Did you find out anything?" It was almost desperate sounding.

Watari looked at L. He knew the circumstances, but he didn't exactly know what L would do.

"No." He said, "We didn't." She looked so downcast, that L almost changed his mind. But then a mental image of her parents came into his head, and he simmered just a little bit. No, he said to himself. I said I would protect her.

I felt so, down. But then I heard the man speak. "We didn't introduce ourselves earlier. I am L. And this," he said, gesturing to the kind old man, "is Watari. Since you do not know who you are, I would wish that you stay with us."

"It's nice to meet you both." I said. A small smile came to my face. "And I thank you, so much, for letting me stay here. I know that it must be a burden. Thank you." I said again.

I pulled myself up, keeping myself in the blanket because I had discovered that it was just a little cold in the room. I folded my legs, and made myself comfortable in the couch, which was more like a large chair.

"But," I said. "I don't know anything about you. What you guys do?"

The older man smiled. "I'll leave you to talk," he said before swiftly walking into another room. Both me and the man named L seemed just a little upset to see him leave.

"Well, I guess because technically I do know everything about you that you do, it's only fair." He looked at me, and I knew that he was checking to see if the comment affected me. I smiled, and giggled just a little bit. "Yeah, you do don't you?"

"I'm an investigator." He looked over, and was surprised. He hadn't even finished one sentence, and already, the look on her face screamed intent, listening, and he had no doubt that she was going to take in everything he told her.

"Right now, we're in Japan to solve something that's quite. . .bigger than anything I've taken before. I don't suppose you've remembered anything about a mass murderer recently?" I gave a sad look, and shook my head. "Sorry. No. You're here to help out with this mass murderer? What exactly does he do?"

During the time that L had explained to me what the killer named Kira did, and how long he'd been investigating it, he had ended up on the large chair with me, us both huddled in a mess of folded limbs and a large comforter.

"Are you afraid?" I asked. He looked at me curiously. "Why?" was his answer, instead of yes or no. "Because," I started, "You don't seem to be the one prone to putting himself in the line of fire, letting people know his identity, or getting personal with the case. This one, it doesn't seem to me like you can solve it without getting up close and personal."

I looked at him for a while. "I know that I will catch Kira, and have him executed, but I'm. . . just the smallest bit afraid for my life. Along with the men I'm supposed to be working with."

I looked down at my hands. "I want you to catch him." I said. "Why?" he asked, yet again. "No matter what," I said, "Murder is murder. Even if you know it was justifiable, if you don't even feel the least bit tainted by it, or you keep doing it again and again then it's horrible."

A tear slipped out. "Wouldn't Kira care if they had kids, if they had family, like a mother who cared, or a wife at home that had forgiven him, and wanted him home and safe? He sounds like a bias, narrow minded kid."

L leaned back, but took one of my hands in his and twiddled with it. "I'm beginning to think the exact same thing. There is someone who I do believe is very close to our Kira."

I just looked at him expectantly. I didn't want him to tell me who it was exactly, but he ended up doing it anyways. "It's this boy. He seems very well rounded on the outside. He's extremely smart, and very. . .happy. But he has an expression that seems very bored sometimes. He also has a policeman for a father, so as a kid that simple fact is enough for a motive." My eyes softened.

For a moment, I went completely off track. "Give me a name?" I asked.

He wasn't surprised, like I thought he would be.

"Kitten." My eyes twisted.

"Kitten?" I asked.

"Yep." And with that, he got up, opened the door to a room just at the beginning of a hallway, and said, "This is your room. Kitten."