"L! L, please hold on, we're almost there!"

L's raven hair hung down over his closed eyes as his head and shoulders swayed unwillingly with the movements of the truck. Naomi was using one hand to continue putting pressure on his lacerated shoulder and the other to call Watari on L's phone. He picked up after just one ring.

"Watari! He's hurt, he's hurt bad, please- "  She choked on her words and swallowed a sob in . "Please help him, Watari, I can't stop it!"

"I know, I saw it happen." Watari's voice was steady and strong. "We're almost there, Naomi, hang on."

"Okay... okay, okay, okay..." Naomi repeated over and over to herself as she hung up the phone and returned both hands to the blood-soaked cloth.  

"Okay, okay... L? Stay with me... Oh god, please, please stay with me."

Talking out loud seemed to be the only thing keeping her sane at the moment.

Thick, red fluid saturated the once white cotton cloth and ran in streams down L's sleeveless arm.  It made a sickening, wet sound as Naomi pressed against it with all of her might, the blood seeping through her fingers and dripping down her hands, collecting in a widening, crimson pool on the metal floor where she knelt.

She kept on talking to him, pleading with him to cling to his life.

What seemed like an eternity was, in reality, a span of just a few minutes.  The truck lurched to a stop and, within seconds, the trailer doors flung open. A man in surgical scrubs hopped inside and, after a quick survey of the scene, he scooped L up into his arms, handing Naomi a clean white cloth.  He spoke in English, firmly and evenly instructing her to keep up alongside him while maintaining the pressure on L's shoulder.

L's head flopped back as he was picked up and his limbs swung limp as the doctor and Naomi ran into the apartment building that was home for the time-being. Naomi wondered fleetingly why they weren't at a hospital, but this clearly wasn't the time for questions.

Watari and two paramedics joined them and everything was a blur of hurried footsteps and fervent voices. The men were speaking quickly to each other in strings of medical words that Naomi didn't have the energy to follow.

They crowded into the elevator and the paramedics all knelt down, Naomi with them.

"Keep the pressure on!" the one holding L directed to one of the paramedics, and Naomi stepped aside as the uniformed man took over for her.

She stood to her feet and covered with her bloody hands.  Everything warped into echoey slow motion as she took in the horrific nightmare of a scene before her.

L's torn shirt was more red than white. His body was completely limp. He looked so lifeless.

Amid the frantic chaos, Naomi knelt down and gently picked his hand up off the floor.

"Don't leave me," she whispered.

The man taking L's blood pressure removed the stethoscope from his ears and shook his head, looking worried. He took out a small light and used his thumb to lift L's eyelid. He shone the light into it, moving it quickly back and forth.

Suddenly, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. L was lifted off the floor again and his hand slipped from Naomi's grasp.  In an instant, the doctor and one of the medics were gone with Watari into L's apartment. The other paramedic held Naomi back as she cried out against being left behind.

"No! You don't understand, please! I need to stay with him!"

"Miss, please calm down, he's in good hands."

"No, but I need to, I need to stay with him!"

Her own voice sounded hollow and distant in her ears.

"Miss!" The paramedic took her by the shoulders and shook her a little.

She stopped fighting and looked at the young man, tears streaming down her dirty, blood-streaked face.

"Please," she pleaded softly.

The paramedic looked kindly into her eyes and spoke in fluent English, albeit with a very strong French accent. "Miss, we are going to do what we do best. Can you let us do that?"

Naomi stared back at him, feeling so helpless. She swallowed and nodded, her breaths coming in quiet little sobs.  "Okay."

"Good. Now, can you come over here for me?" He led her to a soft couch in the common area between hers and L's apartments. He handed her a disposable wet cloth for her hands and spoke in a comforting, professional tone.  "My name is Alex. What's yours?"

"Naomi," she said softly, her breathing becoming more even. Her head was in a bleary fog.

"Naomi," Alex spoke caringly as he knelt down in front of her. "Are you hurt?" As he spoke, he gently put his fingers to her chin and tilted her head up. "You've got a nice little cut on your neck here."

Naomi had completely forgotten about that. She wanted to argue that it was not important, but she didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

Alex examined the cut carefully. "You don't need stitches," he concluded as he reached into the bag around his shoulder. "You'll want a shower before I put a bandage on it, but I'd like to clean it with antiseptic first. Alright?"

Naomi nodded numbly. She didn't even flinch when the sterilized cotton swab met with a sharp sting.

Everything felt like a dream. A horrible, ugly dream.

"There," Alex said lightly. "Now, follow my finger with your eyes."

Naomi numbly went through the motions as Alex checked her out for any other signs of trauma.  After several tests, he concluded that after a hot shower, some Ibuprofen, and a few days of rest, Naomi should be good as new.

He smiled kindly as he helped her to her feet. "I'll be here to patch up that cut once you've cleaned yourself up. Okay?"

Naomi nodded again. She couldn't seem to find her tongue. She turned and made her way to her apartment and let herself in. Nothing seemed real as she moved in a daze, gathering a clean change of clothes and heading into the bathroom.

She flipped on the light and shut the door. She turned around, but stopped abruptly, letting out a small cry as she beheld her reflection in the mirror.

She was literally covered in blood. Her own, The Bishop's, L's... She looked away quickly, biting her lip.

She got into the shower and stood for several minutes with her face turned up toward the stream of warm water, willing herself to awake from this nightmare. She looked down at her red-stained hands. Blood diluted with water ran like a river down at her feet and into the drain.

L's blood.

She couldn't get the image of his lacerated shoulder out of her head. His tortured cries and the clang of the trailer's metal walls echoed in her ears.

Naomi grabbed the bar of soap and began vigorously rubbing her hands, turning the white soap pink. She scrubbed and scrubbed until there wasn't a trace of blood or dirt left anywhere on her and still, she scrubbed some more. Nothing seemed to be able to wash her of the guilt that seemed to cling to her very skin.

After some time, the water began to run cold and she shut it off, hating the silence that followed. She couldn't care less about her appearance as she dressed in soft leggings and a plain shirt and towel-dried her long, black hair. Outwardly, she felt much better, but the terrible sick feeling in her stomach remained.

At last, she rejoined Alex in the common area who, as promised, patched her up neatly with a small square of gauze on her neck.  He then disappeared into L's apartment, leaving Naomi alone in the quiet and empty hallway.

The soft, cadenced ticking of a wall clock was the only sound disturbing the otherwise peaceful silence.  It seemed so unfitting, Naomi thought as she stared toward the apartment, given that L was fighting for his life on the other side of that door.

She leaned against the wall and slid down it, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her forehead atop them.

The knife.

The blood.

His face twisted in agony.

The images flashed over and over again in her mind as Naomi waited in the ticking silence.

What seemed like an eternity passed before the door opened again and Watari stepped out.

Naomi stood immediately to her feet.  She wanted to run over to him, but she felt frozen. Her stomach twisted into a knot, searching his face for any indication of good news or bad news. But he just looked tired.

He sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to him.  Naomi swallowed the lump in and found her feet. She moved over to him, her heart pounding.

She wasn't ready for this.  She wasn't ready to hear the awful words.

"Just tell me he's alive."

She sat down wordlessly and feared more than anything what she was about to hear.

Watari's chest rose and fell in a long and tired sigh.  Then, he nodded slowly. "He'll be okay," he said quietly.

Naomi's breath caught in . She placed both hands over her heart.  "Really? He's... he's okay?"

Watari nodded. "The knife was removed intact and they're stitching him up now. They say the blade narrowly missed his heart. As you know, L has a backup blood supply, so they've given him a transfusion. He'll be hurting for awhile but... he's going to be just fine."

He smiled wearily at Naomi, who was staring with wide eyes and parted lips.  He put a fatherly arm around her and repeated, "He's going to be just fine."

And that's when the tears came.

Naomi buried her face in her hands and sobbed, uncontrollably and unashamedly. Watari's arm tightened around her as he moved closer. She turned her head and cried into his shoulder, not even daring to comprehend the awful reality they had so narrowly escaped.

Watari looked upward and blinked back tears of his own.  Relief flooded over his entire being as he reassured himself over and over that his boy was going to be okay.  As awful as this night had been, it could have been so much worse.

He let her cry and, after several minutes, her sobs slowed and finally ceased. She found herself sitting with her head resting on Watari's shoulder and just staring blankly with red, puffy eyes.

Watari's hand moved up and down on her arm. "You're a good girl," was all he said.

Naomi turned to look at him. She shook her head, her eyes welling up again.

"It was my fault- " she began.

"Maybe," Watari cut in. "But the doctor said if you hadn't done what you did in that trailer, we would have lost him."  The lines around his eyes creased as he smiled proudly at her.  "You saved him, Naomi."

Naomi shook her head again. "But he never would have gotten hurt if I had just listened! He knew what he was talking about and I didn't trust him!" Her breaths were coming in quiet little sobs again.

Watari squeezed her shoulder. He was quiet for a few minutes, then he chuckled, surprising Naomi. Nothing about the situation seemed the least bit funny to her. She looked at him with a little scowl.

"How is this funny?"

Watari shook his head, smiling.  "You're good for him," he said simply.

Naomi wasn't quite sure what that meant, but there was no time to dwell on it.  The apartment door opened and the doctor exited with the paramedics behind him, single file. Watari and Naomi stood to their feet.

The one in the scrubs who had carried L spoke to Watari.

"He's going to make a full recovery. We do not foresee any long-term effects, but we've left him something for pain. He'll need it for the next few weeks at least. Have him limit his arm movements and change the bandage every day. We've given him something to help him sleep, and he likely won't wake until tomorrow."

Watari nodded. "Thank you," he said with feeling, and he shook the doctor's hand.

The three medical men stepped into the elevator, Alex smiling and pressing his hand reassuringly on Naomi's arm as he walked by. The doors shut and Naomi turned toward Watari.

"Do they know who he is?" she asked.

Watari shook his head. "No. They believe that I am a government agent and that L is my son. I never gave them a name. They signed papers before leaving."

Naomi nodded. She should have known Watari would have it all figured out.

She looked at L's closed door.

"Can I see him?" she asked softly.

"I don't see why not."

Naomi took a deep breath. She felt so spent but she knew she had to see him. She moved to the door and opened it quietly.

All the monitors in the room had been turned off. The usual hum of the computers was absent and the silence felt strange. The table lamp by the couch was the only source of light in the otherwise dark room.

Naomi walked slowly over to the couch where L was lying and her eyes instantly brimmed with tears again when she saw him.

His head was propped up on a pillow on the armrest.  A blanket had been placed over him. His shirt had been discarded and a clean, square bandage was taped over his bare shoulder. It was strange seeing him lying down like that, with his long arms resting on top of the blanket and his head turned ever so slightly toward the back of the couch.

Naomi knelt down on the floor next to him. She could see his face more clearly now in the soft lamplight. As if it were possible, he looked even paler than usual. His slightly parted lips were white- almost grey in color- and the usual dark circles under his closed eyes stood out more than ever.

But his breathing was even and peaceful.

Naomi wiped a tear off her cheek, taking his hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry, L," she whispered.

Then, she reached out, almost instinctively, with one hand and gently brushed his boyish hair out of his eyes.  Some of the strands clung to his damp forehead, a small reminder of the trauma he'd just been through.

But it was over now.

Naomi shifted to a sitting position, still holding his hand, and tucked her legs comfortably underneath her.  She rested the side of her head on the couch cushion.  She didn't want to be anywhere else.

She knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt that she felt something for this man.  Deeper than friendship, stronger than butterflies.

She trailed her thumb gently back and forth over his knuckles and listened to his soft, even breathing until, at last, her weary, swollen eyes closed in sleep.