This is my very first Fanfiction about Death Note. Now, I will caution. I do not know anything about L's past from anime/manga because I have not read or watched anything from his past. Not that I do not want to know, it's just that the anime is only at episode 25 for me as of now and the manga are fairly hard to get where I am from. All I basically know about L is what I learned from his and Lights' tennis match. So, besides the bit of info I obtained from the tennis match, I have made a new past for him. Hopefully it will come to your liking….and my own… Hope you'll all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I…don't own death note…nor do I own L's shmexyness….but I can still take his cake away!

(bites cake)

L: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (cries)

Summery: Memories are important. The good ones, and bad ones. Yet, sometimes the bad ones can be so overwhelming that you could just erase them from your mind. And after a while, you would lose all knowledge that the event ever transpired. But, what if what you forgot was what you needed to remember?

LxOC and maybe a LightxOC. Not sure yet.

"a human is speaking…"

'human thoughts…..'

past events

The Shinigami is speaking…

The Shinigami is thinking…

Chapter 1

To think of her

Crackles of the flames biting away at my home engulfed my hearing. My eyes burned. The smoke had clogged up my lungs to the point where I was gasping for breath and coughing up dark ash in the white, wet wash cloth in my hand. The cloth itself was torn in many places. Being used so many times. The thoughts in my head were jumbled and I thought of many unnecessary things. Such as stray suggestions of how the hell the orphanage was on fire. And, 'why don't you just save yourself? Give up this hunt for someone who is already dead!' But I couldn't give up now…not when I had the smallest bit of hope that she was still alive, crying in this hell that used to be our home.

The very home where I was put into when my parents died. I barely remember them. My mothers soft porcelain skin. Her onyx eyes gazing softly down at me. I have vague memories of a tissue rubbing against my cheek one stormy afternoon. I was crying. Why was I crying?

Church bells were ringing loudly that day. So loudly it practically drove me to tears, so I thought. She held me softly and wiped my tears with a tissue. Telling me irrelevant things such as 'The rain will go away…but here we will stay until the next day…and the next day and so on…' or whatever nonsense she spoke of. I couldn't understand her constant drabbles about the rain. But I also remembered that she hated the rain and would never go anywhere when it was raining. Why did she hate the rain so much?

I never knew the answer because she never would tell me. She always would just 'hush' me quietly and tell me to go ask my father when he comes home.

My father…I never saw him much. I've over-heard talks of my mother on the phone with my father. She would always ask of when he would be home. There would always be a long silence after. Sometimes the silence was so long, it lasted the whole day. Even when after my mother carefully placed the phone back on the receiver.

But then again, I never understood her odd antics. Nor did I understand my fathers. Hell, I don't even know what my father looks like let alone know how he acts.

He died when I was three. I remember…it was a rainy day. Very rainy. Mother was on the phone for a long while that day. When I was curious, I came up to her and tried to listen to who was on the other side, but I surprisingly heard a repeated beeping. Why…didn't she hang up? Passing it off at first as one of her odd antics, I resumed my morning activities. Mainly which involved drawing in my small pad of paper with my favorite colors; blue and black.

I found that drawing ravens were suited best for such colors. Yet, since I was not advanced in drawing, the picture itself never did come out well enough for my liking.

I found out later on that same day that something was wrong when my mother asked for me to come along with her for a walk.

It was still raining.

My mother and I didn't go very far in the rain. She walked casually as if she were walking in the sunshine. She didn't bring an umbrella so we both were soaking wet when we had finally gotten to our destination.

The orphanage.

The head mistress that I have come to know now as Mrs. Hopkins opened the gates to the orphanage and allowed us to enter. Her and my mother conversed with each other for a little while in a different room while I was told to wait in the waiting room. And, like any other three year old, refused at first. But my mother, whom was depressed the whole day, gave me the greatest, most warmest smiles that I have ever seen her give to me ever before. Was er smile that calmed my worries long enough for me to be separated from her? Was it her smile that told me she would be coming back? I didn't know. All I could do was sit myself down on the chair at the end of the row of chairs in the empty waiting room. And I did as I was told. I waited.

And that was the last I ever saw of her soft porcelain smile.

I jumped at the sound of a loud crash behind me. Looking back, I found that one of the pillars had fallen. Flame engulfed, it lit the floor of where I was standing only seconds ago into massive flames that reached all the way to the roof. Heart racing, I broke into a run. Jumping over small obstacles along the way. Glass from the broken windows to my right were cutting into my small feet. But I didn't have enough time to care for that. She was still here. She was crying. I felt it, the tears rolling down her already paled face.

Turning a sharp corner, I stopped. Hope and dread filling my heart.

There she was, curled up in a small ball in the corner at the end of the hall. I would have ran to her. Hugged her. Held her. I could even imagine telling her she was safe now in my small arms. But my horrified eyes ran across the field of fire that separated her from me. She was trapped.

I felt like crying out in aggravation. Why? WHY?! She's right there. Right there for me to finally save her like she did for me.

The very same for me…

It was at the orphanage that she saved me. And it wasn't from physical danger. No. Actually, everyone was afraid of me, not the other way around.

My mother had committed suicide the same day she had abandoned me. I found out from the head mistress a few weeks later when a passerby found her dead corpse lying in an ally way with a gun lying not too far away. She literally 'blasted her brains out.' Or however that cold and brutal expression went. And despite the cold anger I felt for her when I heard that she had left me. My heart sank to great depths of the news of her committing suicide. I then began a retreat. A retreat from the living world and all of its inhabitants. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. All I did was…actually, I do not think I did anything at all. I probably didn't even think.

The head mistress was frantic and didn't know what to do with me. It took her almost all of her will power to find a way to get nourishment into me.

'She' came to the orphanage in my third week of retreat. She didn't come with her parents. She didn't come with her uncle, aunt, older nephew. Or even an older niece. She was battered and beaten. Scars of past struggles showed on her body. She was basically wearing nothing more then what was a torn pillow sheet as it would seem. She was barely able to reach the front gates to the orphanage before she collapsed. I overheard all of this from outside of my room. Orphans. All who have also lost their parents talked about how sad they felt for her.

I guess you could say I was sort of jealous. And also, I felt self ashamed in myself to wallow in such sadness for so long. I even somehow allowed myself to become a great burden upon Mrs. Hopkins. But what did I care.

Really. And besides. Who cared about that 'selfish kid' that did nothing but sit in his room all day. No one did.

So why not just waste away. Let the power of time rot away at my flesh and eat me alive. Even if it took a hold of my life slowly. I didn't care any more.

Another week went by. I heard news of the girl waking up and finally being able to be strong enough to walk around. Finally able to venture the orphanage. Personally, I was slightly intrigued in who this girl was and what she looked like. But it didn't matter to me, right? She was probably like the others. Once she sees me, she will back away in fear or disgust.

"Probably call me a living ghost…" I muttered softly to myself as I hugged my knees closer to my chest.

But as I did so, I heard shifting outside my door. Who was it that was standing outside my door? Who could that possibly be?

"Who's there?" came a small voice. One that I have not heard of before. This really intrigued me. Maybe it was the girl…but wait. She can't see me! She'll run away!

Feeling a sudden impulse, I got up from the position I was kept in for four weeks and ran to the corner of my room. Wobbling at first from loss of feeling in my legs. That was when my door opened. Too afraid to look, I closed my eyes, curled up into a small ball and tried my best to imaging the very wall I was leaning on swallowing me up. Hiding myself from her criticizing gaze.

What lied before me in my road of life? What will come? What will leave me next? I knew, in my very heart that I will leave the orphanage sooner or later. Either by dying, or by physically moving out.

A small hand touched my hair.

I winced.

The hand retreated from my shaking form.

The hand then came back…this time, stroking my hair lightly. My mind was suddenly pushed into operation again. 'I bet my hair is a mess…' was the first thought as I slowly stopped shaking. I allowed myself to be succumbed to the soft warmth that was radiating in front of me.

Yet, the soft stroking stopped. At this moment, I was no longer in a ball. Instead I was in someone's arms. Their warmth was overwhelming. I never felt warmth like this before. Not even from my mother whom was the only one I have ever remotely loved.

Not feeling any strength in my body, I allowed myself to be hugged. And after a while, I closed my eyes and drifted into a daydream.

Seconds in which seemed like an eternity later, I was awoken by a laugh. Melodic and whimsical all at the same time. My eyes opened.

The corners of my mouth turned slightly upward. She looked kind of scary too…

When the orphans mentioned scars all over her, they meant that there were scars 'all over.' One solitary scar ran down from the top right of her forehead, to the bottom left of her chin. It ran right across her face. Her eyes were different colors. The right one, that was also along the path of her scar, was deep red, the other bright azure.

Scars ran down her neck as well. Yet they were more un-noticeable then the one that ran down her face. She wore a bright yellow spring dress with a great big bow on the back. And on her wrist was a necklace. Wrapped up to make a bracelet the perfect size of her thin wrists.

Her hair though. This should have probably been mentioned first before everything. It was an odd shade of red. Very dark. Actually, it was the same color as her right eye. Blood red.

Even when she portrayed someone of a horror. She smiled.

She smiled warmly to me. It wasn't the same smile that my mother gave to me when I was abandoned that one day. It was that smile, that brought bursts of bubbles into your stomach. It was a smile that made you feel like smiling yourself. A true smile.

And I did smile. If not only…for her.

Feeling something staring at her, she looked to me through her tear flooded eyes. Yet they were not the eyes of happiness of being found.

They were of shock, anger, and…sadness.

Uncurling from her tight ball, she stood up and desperately called out to me.

"What are you doing!? Go now L! Go and live! LIVE!"

They were the last words I heard from her before feeling two great arms sliding their way across my stomach and pulling me upwards and out of the fire through the window. I was in shock. So shocked that I allowed myself to be taken away from the only friend I had ever had. My eyes held onto her fading image from the broken glass window until we were so far from the orphanage that the window was camouflaged into the flames.

She was gone.

xxxxx

"I'm sorry sir, but please sit normally when taking the test!" Came a voice that suddenly echoed through my brain like an avalanche when I was busy examining a certain person with my seemingly unblinking eyes. I looked to the man, he was wearing a dark grey suit and a white under shirt. It seems that I was failing in comparison to his attire. He looked to me with an agitated expression. He is angry because I sit this way?

"If I sit any other way, my reasoning level will go down dramatically. And I don't quite wish to fail this test. So if you wouldn't mind, I would like to be taking my test in peace…"

The formally dressed man scrunched his eyebrows before walking away.

I reverted my gaze from the man and back to my test. Too simple. Even if I sat normally. My hand automatically picked up the orange number 2 pencil from the desk. With it, I quickly cut open the side of the packet and began. Yet, now and then I would look up and gaze towards my real goal. Yagami Light. Short, light brown hair. Dark brown eyes. Also having a cool mien which engulfed all of his actions like some crazed disease. He was also fairly handsome. Which contributed to his popularity with the female population. However. My sense of instinct told me that this young man had something important to do with the Kira case.

How I knew this…I really didn't have the correct answer to that yet.

Thirty minuets into the test, I stopped. Dropping the orange pencil back down on the desk with a loud 'clack' that echoed throughout the classroom, I closed the booklet. Which was now filled with answers. All 100 percent correct. Besides a few I purposely answered incorrectly for the fact that they would think me a cheat.

My eyes quickly returned their strong gaze towards Yagami Light. As I did so, he put his pencil down quietly and closed his booklet. Then placing his right hand under his chin. Portraying a 'bored' look. He was smart. No, not just smart. That would be insulting him. He was a genius. A prodigy if you will allow me to say. And if I didn't suspect him to be Kira…he could of had a 25 percent chance of being my successor.

3 percent sure…all I have is this 3 percent to go on. I also had a suspicion that his sister was Kira…but didn't think she could have planned out such crafty ways of killing.

Not saying she was unintelligent…she just wasn't a genius…

Feeling a sugar shortage in me, I searched in my pocket and pulled out a box of sugar cubes specially made for traveling purposes.

Popping open the box, I grabbed a few and placed them in my mouth. Savoring every taste. This seemed to draw unwanted attention to me as teachers and students around me stared. Oh, I knew they thought me odd. I know I think myself odd. But the truth is, I like sweets. Their just…just…so sweet its not reasonably possibly. Of course, it is scientifically possible that these delicious sugar cubes are so sweet. But the feeling it gives when you eat something so sweet…seems so…ethereal.

To me anyway.

I guess to the average person…sweets to me is like sex to them. Or, well, how I have observed the regular human in my other cases in the past.

A small blush crept up to my cheeks as I thought this. But it was true.

Tasting nothing more of the last sugar cube in my mouth, I immediately ate another while taking them all out from the box and began crafting a large tower. No longer feeling the intense gaze of everyone around me staring.

xxxxx

Was it good? Bad? I NEED TO KNOW! …..

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