It is helpful (though not completely necessary) to read my story "Please" before you read this one. Link to the prequel: .net/s/5786418/1/Please This is my second story about L's childhood. I know I've only read two volumes of the manga, but I'm doing my research on autism and trying to make my story about L's past match canon as well as possible.

I don't own Death Note or the characters from it. Unfortunately. xp


If there was one thing Lawliet had made clear, it was that he did not want to leave the orphanage.

"He never liked attending functions with the other children," the superintendent told Watari apologetically as the latter held the wailing child in his arms. "Now he seems outraged that the warning bell is ringing and he can't go to nap time!"

"Don't worry," Watari said loudly so he could be heard above Lawliet's protestations. "I know it will take him some time to adjust, but he'll be just fine."

The superintendent opened the taxi door and helped Watari maneuvre the struggling four-year-old inside.

"No, no, no!" Lawliet exclaimed, finishing with a dry sob.

Watari fastened Lawliet's seat belt.

Lawliet whimpered, but he hadn't shed any tears. He stared down at the belt's buckle as he continued to make pitiful sounds.

"I plan to have some good progress to report to you soon," Watari told the superintendent through the cab window.

"Yes, I hope so. Goodbye, sir. Goodbye, Lawliet."

Lawliet did not respond. He reached down and tugged at his seat belt.

"I'll show you how to unfasten it when we get there," Watari told him.

The electric bell rang again for nap time as the taxi pulled away from the orphanage. Lawliet's head snapped up and he began to wail once more, reaching his thin little fingers toward the source of the ringing.

"I'm sorry you can't understand," Watari told him. "Someday you will, I hope."

The cab driver looked at his fare in his rearview mirror, looking annoyed but too uncomfortable to ask for silence.

"I'm afraid it can't be helped," Watari answered the unspoken request. "This boy has a condition which no one seems to know how to treat. One of the ways it affects him is that it makes him anxious about his surroundings and perhaps confused by his own senses. He doesn't understand language on the level that most children his age do."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the driver said, sounding sincere. "I got a kid not much older than that… Gee, it's too bad. Isn't there anything you can do?"

Watari looked at Lawliet's stricken face and outstretched arms. "I certainly hope so. I'll search until I find a way to help him."


Watari's first full day with Lawliet was nothing short of hellish. As he had promised, he showed Lawliet how to undo his seatbelt when they arrived at the hotel. Then Lawliet refused to leave the cab. He wanted to remain where he was, fastening and unfastening the seatbelt.

Next, the boy quickly became bored in the hotel suite. He sat in a corner for nearly an hour while Watari confirmed their flight to America. Then he got up and slouched from room to room, small hands shoved into small jeans pockets. His round eyes darted back and forth, staring distrustfully at Watari every time they spotted him.

Then he became fascinated by a little clock on the bookshelf which chimed twelve times at noon. Watari told him it was time for lunch, but Lawliet remained by the shelf, staring at the face of the clock and watching the second hand ticking around the numbers.

"Come on now, Lawliet, I've ordered lunch for you."

"Ring, ring," Lawliet said, still looking at the clock.

"It won't ring again for an hour," Watari said. "Come now, please."

"Ring," Lawliet insisted, pointing at the clock.

Watari wondered what the best approach was. Should he take food to Lawliet? Would humoring him do more harm than good? Could he hope to make progress if he discouraged the boy?

"Chirrrrr," Lawliet trilled, imitating the sound of the clock's chime. He reached for the shelf at chest height and put one bare foot on the shelf below. "Chirrr, Chirrr."

Watari stepped forward, wondering what Lawliet had done with his shoes and socks. "No, Lawliet. You mustn't climb."

Lawliet's mouth fell open as he felt himself being pulled back and he let out a shriek. Watari hoped the hotel staff would not ask them to leave.

"You can't climb on the furniture," Watari said firmly, setting Lawliet on the carpet. He took the clock off the shelf and moved it to the little table where lunch was waiting. "Come sit here and you may watch the clock while you eat."

"Candy," Lawliet declared, scooting for the table on all fours, reminding Watari of a baboon. He leaned over the seat of his chair until he was resting on his belly, grabbed the seat and pulled himself forward until he could get his knees up. Then he climbed into a crouching position, resting his hands on his knees in front of the table. He watched the clock. "Candy," he said again.

Over the last few weeks, Watari had visited Lawliet several times, and he had usually brought a sweet for the boy. Lawliet had always been eager for his treats, but never this demanding.

"Candy is not a proper meal," Watari answered. "Here we have an excellent roast pheasant, a vegetable stir fry, and for dessert, well-behaved boys may have a slice of red velvet cake."

"Cake," Lawliet said, taking his eyes off the clock to look at Watari.

"After lunch."

"Cake," Lawliet repeated, this time sounding anxious.

Watari took a deep breath. He had known this would be difficult. But he had to succeed here. Lawliet had so much potential; he could not let this boy's hidden talents remain below the surface. Somehow, he had to find a way to cure his charge.

"You said." Lawliet was pointing at Watari in an accusing manner.

"I said?"

"Every day."

Watari recalled telling Lawliet over a month before that if the child cooperated, he would be allowed to have sweets every day.

"The terms are conditional," Watari said, dishing out portions of food for himself and Lawliet. "Since you can't completely understand yet, I'll just say this: you must be good if you want your sweets. And eating lunch is a part of being good."

Lawliet's hands tightened on his knees and he glared at the clock.

"By the way," Watari went on, "I'm just going to call you 'L' from now on. It may be important one day that your real name is not known to the general public. So Lawliet will be our secret."

Lawliet looked up momentarily before returning his gaze to the clock. "Secret… secret," he muttered. "ssssssee-CRETT! Tuh, tuh, tuh."

Half of Watari wanted to view the repeated sounds as endearing, but he knew that Lawliet's auditory fixations were just part of the problem which needed to be solved. "That's enough, L."

"Chirrr," the boy directed at the clock.

There's so much, Watari thought. So much that needs correcting. How can I even begin?


Lunch concluded abruptly. L had picked at his food very slowly and had to be scolded several times for leaving off. The food was completely cold before he was halfway through. Then the clock had chimed for one and L refused to be distracted from it anymore.

"Chirrr, chirrrrrrr," he exclaimed.

The only thing Watari could do to take attention off the clock again was to offer the cake, which L eagerly accepted. He swept the icing off with his fingers and licked them greedily.

"Use your fork," Watari reprimanded.

L rebelliously took up his long-handled teaspoon instead and used it to scoop off chunks of cake.

Watari conceded the choice of utensils, satisfied that he at least wasn't licking his fingers anymore.

And so the day went by. The orphanage staff had warned Watari that Lawliet insisted on wearing the same outfit every day, but L fortunately had no objection to changing into pajamas at night.

L sat up in bed, rubbing the soft sleeves of his bed wear.

"Do you like them?" Watari asked, smiling.

L continued rubbing.

Watari reached out slowly and placed his hands over L's. "You need to sleep now."

L's eyes became very wide. His fingers tightened into fists full of flannel. His little chest jerked down and up in quick ex- and inhalation.

"It's all right." Watari withdrew his hands. "I know you don't like feeling trapped. It's hard for you to let anyone else control you. I hope you will learn that letting me decide things for you is the best thing right now." He patted L's head. "Sleep now."

L continued to stare, but he seemed calm again. "Dodo," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" Watari was caught by surprise. Of all the possible tactics, he had not expected L to resort to name-calling.

"Dodo," L repeated. "Fay dodo."

This time Watari's eyes widened. Fais dodo? As in 'Je fais dormir?' L had such a limited vocabulary—how could he know French baby talk? Of course, L had been in a couple of European orphanages, one in Switzerland. Perhaps there… but no, he wasn't even two years old then. He couldn't possibly remember…

"L," Watari said slowly, "Est-ce que tu parles francais?"

"Tu parles," L mimicked, with a perfect French "R" which he repeated a few times. "Rh, rh."

"Interesting," Watari murmured. Whether or not L had ever known much French, it seemed he might have a proficiency for it. Maybe he would respond better to French than he did to Japanese, though considering their destination, English might be the best choice for the time-being. Besides, English was the dominant language of the world these days, and the language of England, where Watari had set up one of his best orphanages which he planned to make the headquarters for his long-term plan.

"Well then," Watari told him in English, "fait dodo now, L. We will make more progress tomorrow, I hope. You're going to fly on an airplane, and I will need you to behave yourself."

"Fly… fly… fly," L murmured, tugging at a strand of hair hanging in his face as Watari settled him back on his pillow. "Fffffff…"

"Shh. Go to sleep." Watari turned out L's light and went quietly to his adjoining room. He hoped L wouldn't pull any tricks to try to stay up late.


More to come. Hope you enjoyed. I love to hear what you liked and if you'd like to read more. :)