Authors Note: This Collaboration is Co-Authored and Proof-Read with/by my friend ratt9. :3 We had alot of fun since in between writing this, we was actually doing a L and Matsuda RP which started out as just pure angst with L grieving over Watari's death and Matsuda comforting him, to actually turning it into a complete WTF story where Matsuda started raping L O_o (yes ThatAnt, that 'tongue twirl' thing still disturbs me even to this day O: I mean, where did that even come from?). Anyways yes, this is based off the Anime scene where L's on the rooftop getting soaked in the rain on his final day. I submitted this before but wasn't really pleased with it and took it day only a few hours after submitting. Glad I did so. This is the final version.
Today…today was the day. It had to be. The feeling in his gut gnawed at his nerves, already on-edge from the haunting dream surrounding the orphanage that had abruptly woken him up earlier.
It wasn't as he expected it to be; he had always been under the assumption that standing on death's doorstep, he would feel accepting of his fate, but now he felt a twinge of apprehension and maybe just a bit of fear.
Being a detective was a pleasurable experience. Solving cases was a fun and thrilling hobby—but sometimes...sometimes it could get too much.
People constantly depended on him, continuously reminding him of who he was, and how important he was to the world. Because the world was more important than the man taking care of it, and he always had to live a certain way; practicing languages every day and travelling the world were only a couple of things among many.
Sometimes, it was stressful being L. At especially frustrating times, the idea of breaking away from it all crept into his mind.
And he had, once, though the hiatus was not without consequences. The break from work had dulled his mind, so much so that when L had returned to the job a few weeks later, he found that he was unable to progress with as much efficiency as he had in the past.
That had been years ago, and he and Watari hadn't taken a break like that since.
When it all boiled down to it, the conclusion was that really, if he wanted to continue solving puzzles, sacrifices would have to be made. Time would have to be spent utterly on work, and breaks only were to be taken when completely necessary. This was all so as to prevent his mind from becoming dull and thus less capable.
Detective work was good, but also rather inescapable. If he simply quit the job, switching to living a normal, relaxing life living off his vast fortunes was beyond his comprehension.
He was used to being met with constant challenges; he was, after all, a super computer that calculated efficiently without emotion, finishing any and all tasks that were sent to the main processor in what seemed like minutes. Any errors were swiftly dealt with before any damage could be made.
He was built for this.
Programmed for.
So now he was stuck in this situation, keeping himself active so as to not let his potential go to waste. As far as he was concerned, there was no option but to continue being a detective and keep up with the mountains of never ending work.
When he was in a particularly down mood, the idea of finally escaping his somewhat melancholy life was a welcome companion. His existence was lonely, the only people he knew being Watari, Roger, and Mello.
Now that it was actually happening, however, he couldn't help but not want it to end, because it was all he had.
But then-wait, he was facing a lot of contradiction today. If he thought of himself as a machine, how could he be so human?
The Death Note only affected humans as far as he was concerned.
He wondered if he would even die if his name was written down.
L Lawliet.
It wasn't his name, really. It would just be the thing that would cause his death. L had no real name anymore, no real identity. How tragically fitting it would be if his own name didn't work in the death note.
Since reading the rules of the death note, things never before occupying his mind slowly began to seep in. Thoughts about what would happen to him after death-nothing, apparently-but if he was just a machine, what then?
The Death Note confirmed it. There was no Heaven or Hell.
Nor any possibility of reincarnation.
It said so itself, and the Shinigami was living (dead?) proof that this note was the real thing.
There is only nothingness.
…So would he meet the same end?
Sadness hung like a heavy fog over the world, and L felt only coldness at such a thought.
It had taken years to come this far, but not as long as it would have taken other people. He dedicated his one and only life to learning and perfecting his amazing sets of skills. He attained the unattainable, learned the unknown, and solved the most gruesome cases known to the human race.
It was perfectly normal for L to be in contact with world class leaders on a virtually daily basis. At a young age, he had prevented nuclear war, prevented terrorist attacks, and had, throughout the duration of his life, saved hundreds and thousands of people from every corner of the globe.
Lost forever would be all of his fantastic moments and memories. In time, no one would even remember him for his selfless acts-he was an anonymous hero in the eyes of the public, and what he did was rarely publicly known before being covered up by the government. He was an idol without any fans, a symbol, an ideal. The man behind the mask was unknown.
Ryuzaki's sullen figure stood, slouched, a pensive sadness seeming to be radiating off of his body as if brought to the surface by the crashing rain. It washed away his barriers, and depression held him in a tight grip. No matter how hard he tried to stop them, rare tears streamed silently down his otherwise expressionless face. He was alone; he didn't need to hide himself behind his mask of ice for the time being.
Hours slowly ticked away in the shadows, and he could almost feel, like a tangible presence, death approaching. His liquid obsidian eyes stared up at the dark clouds above, bunching and huddling together in their journey across the sky.
Everything he had done would be lost-his memories, his accomplishments, everything. Kind of like tears in the rain.
Yes, he supposed-apart from the task force, the members of which knew virtually nothing about him, there would be no one here to grieve his death. How fitting; he would go in and out of their lives like the faint echo he is, had always been, had always lived as.
Not a moment too soon, rain seemingly started falling harder in torrents from the grey canvas of the sky. Each drop beat onto L's fragile body with loud thuds, causing his back to hunch even lower and making his muscles even tighter. The rain hit him like someone poking his frail spine, taunting, silently laughing at his misery.
The salty water leaking involuntarily from his eyes blended with the acid rain that washed them away as if they had never been there in the first place.
The death note penetrated his mind, re-entering his thoughts just as his body began to shiver from the cold. His body screamed at him to go back inside, to warmth, but the darkness held him in place, its rigidity overpowering.
Reflections of the death note brought along with them other thoughts, thoughts of the Kira investigation, though L wondered sometimes if there was anymore a time when the case was not forefront on his mind.
Every instinct told him that Light Yagami was Kira, is Kira, and yet...
Even the tiniest amount of doubt, the tiniest bit of wavering, is the absolute last thing he needed right now. Furthermore, it would be similar to losing. Light is Kira, but-
But.
And L would not let that idea develop itself enough to become anything more than "but."
With his expertise and great mind, it was clear as glass when Light was faking it or not.
Light had genuinely not been Kira for the time they had been handcuffed, that was sure, but it was as L predicted: Light had, with the death of Higuchi, once again become Kira, and he most certainly had a plan in place to kill him.
It most certainly didn't help the matter that the task force disagreed with just about everything he said. When the team backing you up challenged your every move, your every decision, it was more difficult to accomplish things quickly.
The puzzle pieces were all there, but L just couldn't get them to fit together properly. In his mind, the pieces were a perfect fit, but in terms of actual evidence, Light had executed his actions perfectly and made sure that nothing could be put together as it actually was. There was always something stopping Kira from being inarguably Light-which, in L's opinion, only made it all the more likely.
The problem was the lack of evidence.
...But if Light was so definitely, so obviously Kira, then where was all this doubt coming from?
Until L realized. Realized that it wasn't doubt. Wasn't him being wrong.
He was right, but he didn't want to be.
The desire for Light's innocence (no no no I don't desire it NO)-was it because of friendship? Or was it plainly admiration for the opponent on the other side of the chess board, all because he had never before had such a thrilling challenge?
Was Light taking out L's pawns quicker than L was taking out Light's?
However, L knew without even thinking about it that he was lying to himself. He had held admiration for numerous criminals in the past; he had even used many of those criminals and their methods as subjects of study. None of them, however, matched what he felt and thought about Light Yagami.
To be a good detective you must think like a criminal.
And he had. He had-so, so well. He could predict Light Yagami's exact movements, know his exact thoughts, predict his exact sentences. The way that Light was able to do the same to him had been at first unnerving, but he had now simply come to expect it, like some undeniable fact of life. Never before had he known anybody so well; nobody had ever known him so well. In a figurative sense, L was Light Yagami and Light Yagami was L."
Bells chimed in the distance like death knells, cutting through the splish splash of the water droplets that continued to fall. Their tolling instantly grasped his full attention, his head moving in the direction of that haunting sound.
"Ryuzaki."
Ryuzaki's head snapped toward the new sound. Light Yagami had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, standing still inside the building but not too far away.
Though his alias was called once again, Ryuzaki held no desire to go back in, despite the rain drenching his malnourished body.
The rain somehow helped slowly untangle and sooth his thoughts, and each gong of the bells in the distance, imitating the sequence of a clock, reminded L of the limited time he likely had left in the world.
He reached out with his long, thin fingers-easily mistakable for a woman's-as they began to curl. He cuffed them to his ear, as if he hadn't heard what Light was saying, even though he head heard him clearly. L's lips pressed together in a sort of frustration.
That's right, Light, L thought, come on out here in the rain with me.
This person in front of him used to have everything before picking up that godforsaken notebook.
Everything.
A loving family, perfect appearance, enough money to get through life, intelligence, popularity, and even friends.
That, of course, hadn't been enough for Light. L understood that feeling clear enough; he himself struggled with the gripping boredom that plagued him constantly. It was the consequences of having such great intellect-to never be satisfied with just the ordinary. The only difference was that while he had found relief through his casework, Light had found relief through killing people with a supernatural notebook.
Oh, how valuable a detective Light would have been to the world had he never picked up the notebook! Of course, had he not, there was a slim chance they would ever have actually had the chance to meet.
The man in question still stood in the threshold, a bit of irritation showing on his face as he stared, fixated, staring hard at Ryuzaki's figure. After a few long moments of hesitation, he finally stepped out into the rain, hands covering his perfectly conditioned hair—a futile action. He stopped only a few yards from where the super-sleuth stood like a drenched rat, rain clouds seeming to hover over only him.
"What are you doing out here?"
It was a simple question, but the false concern in the tone was evident.
Light was answered only by the sound of the falling rain.
"Well?" Light prompted, impatiently.
L shoved his freezing hands numbly into the faded pockets of his blue-jeans.
"I…heard the bells."
Light's eyebrows raised in confusion. "You hear…the what?"
"The bells."
L repeated those soft words yet again—not expecting the teen to understand, not wanting him to.
Short golden hair strands swayed in every direction before coming to a halt, vision narrowing, once again focusing on him.
"I don't hear anything, Ryuzaki."
"…Really? They are…unusually loud today." The words were spoken at a volume hardly above a whisper. "Tell me, Light-kun…has there ever been a time, in your entire life, where you've ever told the truth?"
That question was sure to make the teen pissed, L knew. He had a pretty good idea as to what Light's response would be, and the teen didn't disappoint.
Light's actual words didn't matter, only that he was saying exactly what L expected.
Yes, Light Yagami is definitely Kira. Light Yagami is definitely Kira and L is going to die. They both know it, and there's nothing L can do. It's only a matter of time now.
"Come on, Ryuzaki. It's freezing out here, and you're soaked. You're going to catch something for sure."
A small smile inwardly formed just then at Light's words though outwardly facial expressions didn't change in the slightest.
It was, of course, pure imagination that fuelled his mind and expressions now. To think that Light actually cared for him, actually worried for his health. Such a laugh.
Because in reality, the very opposite was wanted from his younger…friend.
It was completely obvious to him that what the teen wanted was the exact opposite. Afterall, his death would ascertain Light's full reign over the world.
No, Light never cared and never will care.
L blinked slowly, and, curses—he felt his eyes moistening once again, stingy and hot. How fortunate that the rain shielded his emotional outburst from Light.
At least being out here was helping to calm the traffic in his mind, queuing his thoughts before they could all crash together like an accident on a motorway. A complete disaster that would have been—irrational decisions and behavior could have easily arisen.
Though he still hadn't been able to fully untangle the mess that was his thoughts, it was a significant improvement to what it had been. Peace began to overtake him, now more adjusted to the idea of dying sometime within the next twenty-four hours.
How ironic that no one was bound to remember him when he was gone, the greatest three detectives, when the world would be in such a worse state if not for him. But it failed to substantially matter—he held no bitterness toward this. He had made his own choices, after all.
Another tear tracked down his cheeks—maybe more.
This time, L felt a strong, sudden sense of truculent intractability. Let Light see his tears. Let him bear witness to his sadness. Let that bastard see what he has done—done to him, done to the world.
Might as well confess now, Kira, because even if you kill me, you will never win.
As suddenly as it had come, his contumaciousness had left him, replaced by an eternal tiredness that made him crave anything but sleep, though he needed it desperately. Reality came flooding back, it being obvious that Light had in fact not noticed L's tears.
Because the tears had been, once again, lost in the rain before they could be seen.
