Coeliac, a death note fanfic

Becky: Okay, I've been meaning to write something along these lines for a while now, but stuff happens and I never really got round to writing it. Well, here is a brand new story by yours truly, and I hope you guys like it!!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't Death Note...

References: Because this story deals with a disease that is not uncommon, I researched it to try and get it as accurate as possible. Most of the symptoms are taken from various websites, and my younger sister (who actually is gluten intolerant, as is my older sister). Coeliac is pronounced "See Lee Ack" just so you know. Coeliac Disease is when your body reacts to gluten. Gluten is found in wheat, barley and rye (so you can imagine how hard it is to cut gluten completely out of your diet). Yes, if ignored, Coeliac Disease can be fatal, but mostly just makes you incredibly ill. Most people, after starting a gluten-free diet, don't want to eat gluten. They have felt so bad for so long, and they know if they eat even a little bit of gluten they will get very sick, some within a matter of hours.

The needle went in, pinched a little. L watched with interest as the thick red liquid was extracted from his arm. 10, 20mLs. He didn't know why he was doing this. He felt fine now, his once piercing headache has calmed to a dull throb. His stuffy nose had cleared up almost completely and his throat didn't feel like it was being pried apart with every swallow. He had only been that way for a week or so, but Watari had insisted, so L came without too much complaint. After all, it was one blood test, what was the harm in that?

What was the harm indeed. Three days had passed, and L was feeling like crap again. He munched on an apple danish as Watari drove him back to the hospital. His results were in and, judging by the doctor's voice over the phone, L thought there wasn't something quite right. He rubbed his eyes, scattering pastry flakes around the upholstery. He was so tired it was distracting, he was barely able to concentrate on the case he was working on. He thought he should maybe just take some Ambien and get a good night sleep. He would be fine in the morning. Pulling another danish out of a paper bakery bag, L ran over his symptoms quickly in his mind. Apart from the headaches, sore throat and blocked nose, he was losing what little weight he had left, his stomach was bloated and he was nauseous. Sounded like influenza or something. Nothing major, just a stomach flu. Wasn't it?

L could barely concentrate on the doctor's words. The worry on his face was evident, but he couldn't just come out and say what was going on. L gave him a gentle prod in the right direction.

"Dr. Walsh, this is all very well, but I think you called me in here for a reason."

L winced at the bitterness in his own voice. No, he was just tired, that was all. The already nervous doctor noticed his tone and flitted about his office. He was a short, stumpy man. Balding, late forties. He seemed to be intimidated by L's unusual appearance, confident demeanour. He finally came across the papers he was looking for and L wondered why he did not have them earlier, he knew L was coming, what was wrong with a little preparation? L bit back another sarcastic comment and waited for the results to be read to him.

"Well, uh, it seems you have, um, something we, uh, call Coeliac Disease. It consists, uh, of…"

His voice faded into silence at L's face.

"I know what Coeliac is. I don't need an explanation." L snapped back. Oh god, Coeliac? High blood pressure he could deal with, Diabetes even. But with Coeliac…

"I'll need to go on a gluten-free diet." Even saying the words out loud didn't quite make them real. There was an air of truth about them, but L was too disbelieving, his headache was worse than ever and now he felt dizzy and light-headed. No gluten? At all? No more pastries, cakes, muffins, cookies?! How was he going to live? He would have to survive on meat and vegetables.

He tuned back into Dr. Welsh's mindless chatter. It was all about what it meant for his lifestyle, what he could do to feel better, some specialists he should see. Each point was punctuated with a fresh um or uh, and, occasionally, a nervous laugh. High-pitched and out of sync with his bulging body.

Watari was silent on the drive home. L had explained to him what was happening in a mono-tone. He sounded almost bored, like he discovered he had a life-changing disease every day or two. But Watari knew he was going over everything in his head, trying unsuccessfully to find a loophole in this new problem. A sigh, now came the challenge of getting L to change his eating habits. All gluten must be cut out.

A day turned into three, three into nine, nine into twelve, and two weeks on L was still chowing down on all things sugar. And gluten. He was getting worse, diarrhea had set in, as had intense nausea. He often found himself bent over the toilet, throwing up as his ever-faithful Watari held his hair back, soothed him with kind words and pleaded with him to change his diet, but to no avail. Meanwhile, L continued to shed weigh like a wet dog does water. It was only after he passed out on the floor that L decided to give gluten-free a try. After all, nothing had to be permanent, and it could only get better, right? A trial basis, that's what it was. Besides, L needed to put on some weight and get some sleep. If he continued at this rate he would soon no longer have enough energy to solve crimes. And so began the trial.

L hated the food, nothing was the same anymore. He tried to act enthusiastic about his new lifestyle… tried being the operative word. Watari was doing well, making gluten-free cakes and pastries to keep L from being tempted to sink back to his gluten-y ways. He even brought L a pet to keep his mind of his cravings. It was a beautiful white cockatoo with yellow tipped wings. The bird didn't quite achieve the purpose it was brought for, however.

L called it Pastry.

Instead of diverting L's attention from cakes and cookies, Pastry just reminded him of what he was missing out on. L hated the fact that he couldn't eat what he wanted. He began to resent Watari for putting him on this diet. He was irritable and depressed and he knew if he could have some strawberry sponge cake everything would be better again. But he couldn't…

And worst of all, it was working. The diet was working.

First to go was his nausea and vomiting. The diarrhea was next, and the once over-powering headache was dulled to only a fraction of its former strength. And he could sleep again. L was feeling so much better, and all because he couldn't eat his favourite foods.

L bit into a carrot stick with distaste. He hated the orange things, but Watari said they would be good for him. Another bite, another dry retch. He gave up on the carrot, and picked up a rice cookie instead. He licked the dry biscuit and pulled a face. At least the cookie had sugar in it… and wasn't orange. But the cookies just weren't the same without normal flour, and it was strange because everything gluten-free that L ate seemed to taste oddly wheaty. No, it was an insult to good food to continue to devour this tasteless biscuit. He heard a musical clicking behind him, and in a flurry of feathers an idea came to him.

It was only when Watari noticed L was feeding his gluten-free pastries to Pastry that he insisted on being with L while he ate. This soon proved to be a mistake, because Watari never really noticed just how often L would request some food or another. Sadly, Pastry fell ill, and Watari took her to the vet.

L didn't see her again after that.

Pretty soon, L took to eating meals and snacking less and less. He felt a whole lot better, but would never admit it to the multiple doctors he had to see for tests and check-ups. He was even sleeping more often, and for longer, at night, which resulted in him focusing more on his work, solving more cases than every before.

But L was not happy. He often wondered what the point of life was if he couldn't eat what he wanted. He spent quite a lot of time wandering around aimlessly, staring blankly whenever a question was asked of him. He was depressed, but at least his legs didn't ache continuously, and he didn't feel like his insides were slowly being pried apart. And that had to be a bonus… right?

No, he couldn't take it any more. He felt fine, but it was unnaturally fine. He never realised it before, but gluten was a part of who he was, and without it in his diet, L just didn't feel himself. So he began to sneak foods out of Watari's cupboards. At first he started small, a slice of cake here, a small pastry there, but soon the old habits came flooding back. His lust for all things sweet was insatiable. The little gluten he was now living on just wasn't enough anymore. His thoughts became consumed with pictures of cakes, of cookies and chocolates.

Even worse, it seemed Watari had picked up on the missing items. What, does he do inventory on his own food? L wondered. Watari seemed to hover over L constantly, watching, carefully, his every move. L just got frustrated, and asked him outright what he wanted. Watari just muttered something about 'checking on him' and backed out of the room. As soon as he had gone, L sighed. This wasn't going to work, he needed more than what he could take from the cupboards, and now Watari was suspicious. L's brilliant mind kicked into over-drive and whirred about until the fuzzy outlines of a plan had formed.

"Put your hands in the air, this is a robbery!" The masked man was pointing a gun at the young woman on the register. She was shaking, terror in her hazel eyes. "Sir.." She began in a voice as small as a dust mite and as high-pitched as a broken harmonica. She was beyond nervous, beyond scared, the man could tell. "Sir, we have very little money, is there any point in…?" Her voice faded away, leaving the question hanging. The man laughed crazily, waving his gun about in a threatening way.

"I don't want your money, girl. No, put all the merchandise into the bag."

He tossed her a brown sack, and the now confused girl began to fill it with no protest.

L excited the bakery in a hurry, pulling the mask off of his head as he fled on foot. He didn't know how long he had before the police would be notified, so he decided to make the most of the time he had.

He strode into a nearby park and promptly sat on a rotting bench. The smell of the decaying wood was terrible, but L barely noticed it as he pulled open the sack, jam-packed with his treasure. He pulled out an apricot tart and a croissant and stuffed them both into his mouth at the same time. He didn't chew, swallowed them whole, then reached into the sack once again. His unusual eating drew some strange looks from the people around him. And some disapproving glares from mothers, whose young children where stuffing leaves and sticks into their own mouths in imitation of the creepy man on the park bench.

It had been half an hour, and the sack of bakery goods was nearly empty. L couldn't hear sirens and assumed the girl hadn't called the police. He felt a little bad for her, she might lose her job over the robbery… L quickly dispatched the guilt with another cookie or three.

A few hours later, the familiar pain began to set in. The nausea and stabbing pains in his gut were back, and the dull roar in his head pulsed sickeningly with every beat of his heart.

L felt like throwing up, felt like tearing his hair out, felt like cutting his legs off to escape the pain. He felt like shit.

And yet he had never felt better.