A/N: This fic will be slightly AU, in that BB remains alive for a bit longer than he does in the anime.
Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Ohba and Obata, not me.
Chapter 1: L Is For Lonely
The only sound was the redundant ticking of the clock mounted on the far wall
Tick. Tick. Tick.
However monotonous it may have been, L found it strangely comforting. In a world where everything was constantly changing, at least some things - like the clock's incessant ticking - would always be the same.
He had gone about the day as usual, and eventually had decided to retire to his bedroom. It was a vain effort, though, and he knew it. Besides having insomnia, the cup of coffee-moistened sugar he had downed only a short while ago certainly did not help. Now, he lay curled up beneath a mountain of sheets. He looked more like a ghost than an actual person; a ghost confined in a white-walled room. His wild, dark hair made his ivory skin seem as white as the sheets and pillows that were piled around him; his dead-looking dark-rimmed eyes were fixed on his shirt, which lay in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room. He had peeled it off before crawling into bed and left it there.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
His mind was restless, yet empty at the same time. He wished for something that would somehow lull his racing mind to sleep at last. He wished for morning to come, knowing that sleeping was nothing more than a fruitless effort. His thoughts drifted to his latest case, and all the danger involved with it. Any one of those men with whom he was working could be Kira…but if Kira was amongst them, why hadn't he made a move yet? All the death, all the confusion,…every day could easily be his last, and he knew it. But still he was determined not to lose to Kira. Not now, not ever.
His bony body tensed as cold shivers ran down his spine. He sank further down into the comfort of the blankets in an attempt to warm himself. It was times like these when the detective had a difficult time shoving his emotions away, which he found much easier to do if he was busy with something. He tried his best, but even the world's greatest detective could not deny the fact that he was lonely. There, huddled beneath quite a few blanket and sheets, he reluctantly admitted how much he longed for warmth and comfort and human affection. Those things, however, were things he knew he could probably never have. A life of solitude was the kind of life which he had to lead, largely for his own protection. Also, emotions could get in the way and cloud his judgment, should he ever find himself attracted to someone. And he certainly did not want something like that to be the cause of him wrongly judging anyone; wrongful judgment, after all, could cost him anything - even something so valuable as his life.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He threw back the blankets and slid out of bed, the fuzzy carpet tickling his bare feet as he slowly shuffled out of his bedroom, clad in only his jeans, seeing as he had left the shirt where it was. The entire apartment was as still as death itself, until he got to the kitchen. There was another clock in the kitchen, its ticking breaking the silence - much to his relief. He opened a cabinet and moved its contents until he found a box of sugar cubes, which he opened and proceeded to dump its contents onto the table. One by one, he stacked the sugar cubes. One on top of the others, the tower growing higher and higher. He tried to calm his thoughts as he stacked the. It felt oddly satisfying, being able to control something. However, his mind soon wandered off yet again. He thought back to his younger days, his days at Wammy's. Near, Matt, Mello - he only hoped that everyone was doing well. He thought of past cases, one of which would always stick out above all to him; The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. To think that he and BB had once been extremely close friends -
The tower wobbled a bit, then collapsed. Sugar cubes scattered all over the table. He let out a frustrated sigh and set up the tower, stacking one cube, then another on top of that.
"Beyond Birthday…." He ran his tongue over dry lips and stacked a fourth sugar cube. He had visited BB in prison on more than one occasion. It was hard to believe that this 'deranged criminal' had once been his only and closest friend. He began to reach for another sugar cube, but retracted his ghostly-looking, thin fingers. He stood up and watched out a nearby window. The city below was still lit up, with its neon signs and flashing lights, even at three in the morning. The sky was completely black with the exception of a few stars poking through the darkness. L turned back towards the kitchen. It wasn't quite dawn yet.