Watari tapped the hypodermic needle one, two, three times before injecting some of its contents into a sugar cube. He never looked forward to this part of his day, but the man had learned over the years not to tamper with people's addictions. At least he now knew the boy's limits, knew how much L could handle before he ended up with another scar.
"I know why he does it, Watari!" L cried, crouching over a pool of blood. "It's beautiful!"
The old man shook the thought from his head, closing his eyes against the memory. He picked up another cube and pushed the plunger into it.
In a way, Watari was glad for the drugs, the little vials of hallucinogens that seemed to open L's mind far more than it already was. When sober, it was like a wide-open door; with the drugs, it was blown off its very hinges. Like a killer's.
But of course there were the side effects, the inability to sleep, the dilated pupils, and, on occasion, the bad trips that would leave the detective a blubbering, cowering mass on the floor.
"I need to get into his head, Watari. I need to find out why he does it." The boy took a sip of tea, holding the cup as if it might snap at him. "If I find out why he does it…I can catch him."
The old man mixed eight spiked cubes into a bowl of their untainted brothers. He knew the boy could tell which were drugged and which weren't by the almost unnoticeable change in color. That was how L regulated himself, by only taking what was needed. Watari organized everything onto a tea tray: pot, cups, saucers, a little plate of biscuits, and the sugar bowl.
"How much?" It was a bad part of the city, where dealers didn't even have to confine themselves to dark alleys. Watari handed the man two hundred-dollar bills. The shady character pulled a small vial from his coat pocket. "Damn, man. You throwing a party?" He grinned, revealing teeth the color of rancid butter.
He would be arrested later.
"Good morning, Matsude-san." the old man said, walking briskly past the still half-asleep officer. He ignored the slurred reply and slid his card key into the slot by the lounge door.
"I don't feel right about this, L." Watari murmured, injecting was he later found out was too much into a small cake.
"Don't worry, Watari-san. Surely you trust me to not do something stupid?" the detective said , taking the morsel and popping it into his mouth.
L and Light Yagami were both scanning through databases, picking out odd deaths and things they might be connected to.
"Ah, Watari-san." the detective peered over his shoulder, handcuffs tinkling as he bit into a powdered doughnut. "Thank you very much. Light-kun, would you like a cup of tea?" He turned lazily to the boy at his right.
"No, thank you, Ryuzaki."
"Suit yourself." L spooned eight sugars into his tea, two of which were loaded. A scar shined on his exposed wrist, invisible if one didn't know it was there.
Watari let out a sigh, half-relief, half-grief. He wouldn't have to worry too much about the young man today.
"Have a nice day, Matsuda-san." The man had just come through the door. Watari took the elevator down to his floor and promptly set a Tchaikovsky record on his old turntable.
A razor blade flashed in the light from the computers, one edge slicked down with blood.
"I know why he does it, Watari!" L's eyes were wild and unfocused, as if he actually knew his veins were pumping onto the cold floor. "It's beautiful! He gives these sad, pathetic people drugs because the blood is so beautiful! It's a gift, Watari! A gift!"
Watari knew it, even as he wrestled the blade away from the rapidly expiring boy. He knew it during the ambulance ride to the local hospital. He knew it as he wrote every check and handed them over to every greedy hand that promised to keep quiet. He knew it on the quiet car ride back to the hotel where he and his near-son were staying during the case.
The sky was deep and cool and went on forever.
Diamonds sparkle like a lover's gaze in the moonlight.
Watari knew that L had fallen for the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.