Con Mortuis in Lingua Mortua
~An L Story~
A/N: So, I just finished L Change the World a while ago, and now I'm depressed about L's death all over again. It made me sad. I cried. Nuff said.
Title means 'with the dead in a dead language'. Yes, it's the name of the second part of the 8th movement of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. And yes, the proper wording should be 'cum mortuis…' but let's face it, I like 'con' better. Mainly because I immediately associate it with the word 'with'.
I highly recommend reading L Change the World before you read this. Really.
The dark-haired man gazed down at the black notebook lying on the table before him and sighed, his back hunching more than usual. He supposed in a way, he knew it was going to happen like this. It was all he could do, all he could do to save the world. To change it.
―L. Lawliet will die quietly of a heart attack twenty-three days from this date.
It wasn't that he was afraid of death―in his line of work, it was always a possibility―no, he was afraid of what would happen to the world afterward.
He knew there would be others. There already were; N was young and brilliant, just as he had been all those years ago. N would take over L's place, stepping into his shoes ―that is, if he had actually worn them in the first place―so to speak.
The boy wouldn't have any problems. L knew this, knew that N would be able to handle it, despite Watari's concerns. He was already older than L had been when he had solved the Winchester Mad Bombings, and just as intelligent as his predecessor. Yes, N would be just fine.
But L found himself worrying for him anyway. He knew of the hardships of being the world's greatest detective, the sleepless nights, the mind games, the criminals he dealt with day after day.
It was no life for a young child.
And despite the sense of gratification, of accomplishment, it wasn't a life he would willingly thrust upon someone else.
Working under the threat of imminent death was something he had become accustomed to, something normal. He had known it was a danger, that people would want him dead, from the time he started his first case. He could only hope that N would fare just as well, once…
Once he was gone.
Gone.
The word held such finality, and L couldn't help the anxiety that he felt at thought. He was still human, after all, and even the great detective L had no idea what lay beyond, in the land of nothingness after death.
Sometimes, late at night, when L was still curled up in a chair working, he would let his mind wander. The computer screen in front of him would disappear, only to be replaced by the faces of the dead. A, Beyond, Watari…
Light.
Sometimes he thought he could hear them speaking to him, and he would try to ask them how they were faring in the afterlife, what it was like.
But they never replied, only gazed at him with those forlorn eyes.
On the rare occasions L actually did sleep, he would find himself drifting into the land of dreams. Here, he could hear muted murmurs and hushed whispers, things that weren't meant for him to hear.
And L, who spoke multiple languages fluently, found that he could not understand the foreign tongues. After all, the dead don't speak.
Not in any language the living could understand, at least.
L was perched on the couch, munching on a chocolate bar. He knew it was time. Even if the watch on his wrist wasn't broken, he wouldn't have needed it. He knew that today was the day.
The dark-haired detective moved a chess piece, playing with an opponent only he could see. As the pieces moved, L smiled.
Every end is a new beginning.
"Maki, make your day a good one," he said, taking a bite out of her gift of chocolate.
"Near, good luck to you."
"Everyone else… Matsuda, Suruga, Kujo…goodbye."
He paused, took the watch off of his wrist and placed it next to the picture of Watari on the table.
"Light, I'll see you on the other side. Let us explore the world of nothingness together."
And as he continued his chess game, the whispers returned, just as quiet as usual. But this time, the murmurs flowed together, forming words, a sentence, in an all too familiar voice.
It was the voice of L's one and only friend.
It's been a while, hasn't it, Ryuzaki? Good to see you again.
A/N: This doesn't do L justice. Not even close. Gah. *bangs head on table* Oh well. Hope you enjoyed.