Disclaimer: I do not own nor am affiliated with Death Note, I just like playing with the characters!
Author's Notes: I'm not sure where this came from, I just saw the tea prompt at dn_contest and crack promptly ensued. Well that and I just got some very interesting visuals of the Wammy boys in my head... Although I couldn't put L in a pinafore, um don't ask... LOL.
"A Little Mad Here"
By C.K. Blake
He's never understood the appeal of fiction, the promised escape from reality. Fiction has always been just frivolous words contained in pages upon pages of illusion. Then again, even at a young age L has always been a realist. He's always been most comfortable with facts, science, and cake just to liven things up. Logic and reason have been the driving forces of his entire life. He could reason away his lack of a childhood and growing up in an orphanage. He could reason away how others saw him as strange.
Now he's twenty-five years old, caught up in a case that may very well be the death of him, and all of his logic and his ability to reason are now failing him. It is his twenty-fifth birthday, and there is the steady ringing of bells in his ear like an ill omen of things to come.
He can't help tracing back over the years, all of his victories in the name of justice, even the tragedy that was capturing one of his own. He's pleased with these accomplishments, but still he knows he's facing failure now. Seeing Kira rise once more within the depths of Raito's eyes as his hands touched that damn note book with the reverence of a lover almost ensures L's death.
He wonders absently about what will become of Watari and who will be chosen as his successor. He knows he should probably draw up a will to name his successor, but then again the title of the three greatest detectives in the world is one that is meant to be earned. Let them fight for his title, his name.
He gives his head a little shake, brings his thumb to his lip and nibbles on the end of it. Something is coming on the thin, brittle wings of a Shinigami. Such a creature he once believed didn't exist. He has since seen proof to the contrary. Everything logical and reasonable in his mind has been turned upside down and inside out, simply because something mythical, supposedly fictional, exists. He needs a way of making sense of this thing that shouldn't logically be.
He gets up and heads toward the wall of books, lined with shelf upon shelf of books. He passes the language section, legal section, and science section, to the smallest and least reviewed section of the entire collection. His long, thin fingers caress the spines of the books until he comes across a familiar title, one of the few times he read aloud to the children at Wammy's House, the very book that Mello had chosen.
Reverently he opens the book, the scent of the pages almost taking him back in time. A time before the Kira case and the Los Angeles murders, a time before he was robbed completely of all optimism. He looks up from the book at the sound of the door to his room opening, and he watches as Watari brings in a cart of small cakes and tea. L peruses the cart for a moment, but his appetite has abandoned him. He waits for Watari to leave and then he returns his attention to the book. He begins to read, getting lost for once in fictional prose, falling, falling, falling…
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A shiver slips up his spin, tingling all of his senses, and warily he opens his eyes, unsure of when he closed them. He carefully takes in his surroundings, nothing is familiar to him. He's sitting in his usual perched position in the middle of a small dirt road that could only accommodate one lane of traffic, and on either side of this dusty road is thick, deep forestry.
Bringing his thumb to his lip, he wonders where he is and how he got here. A Shinigami trick perhaps? Who really knows the full extent of a death god's abilities? He looks up at the metallic snick of a lighter, watching the glowing tip of a cigarette as the flame is extinguished and a familiar face appears to materialize from the darkness of the forest.
Smoke curls into the air from the bright, glowing end of the cigarette, and L wrinkles his nose in disapproval as the familiar youth looks at him appraisingly. Something is off about the familiar boy. He seems different, older, his ears are strange as well, pointed and covered in ginger colored fur, like a cat, not to mention the whiskers sprouting from his cheeks. The boy takes a deep drag from his cigarette then takes it in his hand, flicking the ash from the tip in a practiced gesture and blows the smoke out of him and into the air. With his other hand he lifts the yellow goggles from his green eyes to rest in his bright red hair. He tilts his head to the side assessingly as he examines L.
"You're running late and don't have much time left. They are waiting for you. You have to choose one of them. Head straight down this road to the gate. Hurry now, the tea is getting cold and the Hatter is always restless," the boy says as he points the way.
L looks at the boy and says, "Matt, aren't you too young to be smoking? And where am I?"
The boy rolls his eyes, takes one last drag from the cigarette, and then he puts it out. He takes out an odd looking hand held game and then with a sigh he looks up from the screen and says, "Why are you still here? There's not much time left and you're late. Hurry up."
L begins down the path and he gives pause as he hears the boy chuckle and say, "Matt? Matt indeed. Haha! I'm just the Cheshire Cat."
He can't help wondering what that comment might have meant, nor does he understand how he could be late for some meeting in a strange place. None of this is making any sense unless this is some strange set up by the Shinigami acting on Kira's behalf, and really L would not put it past Raito-kun to attempt such an elaborate trick, or he's dreaming… It can't be a dream, he doesn't sleep enough to reach particularly good dream inducing REM cycles. Obviously this must be Kira's doing.
It isn't long before he comes upon the gate. He hears strange sounds from the other side, carnival music, and whistling tea kettles. This must be where the meeting is being held. He opens the gate, rounds the main hedge and finds a long rectangular table covered in various tea cups and tea kettles as well as plates of small cakes and scones. His eyes widen at the various sweets set upon the table, but he is quickly awakened from his sweet induced stupor by a sharp and forceful voice.
"Are you always late to your appointments? There's so little time left! You need to choose now! Don't you think it's time?! Haven't we spent our entire lives proving ourselves worthy!" comes the sharp, distinct growl, and L turns to look at the far end of the table, where a familiar blonde in a dark purple top hat and a slip of paper with ¾ written on it tucked in the hat's black silk ribbon.
The youth's chest is heaving within the confines of his black velveteen waistcoat, his right hand firmly grasping a chocolate bar, and L is all too familiar with the blonde's volatile temperament. To the right of the quivering blonde is a smaller boy, his face looking older than it should, sitting in a rather odd fashion, one leg curled outward from his body, and the other with his knee pulled up to his chin. He's dressed in all white, a finger twining in his white hair, with long white rabbit ears rising from his hair on either side of his hair and fine whiskers wriggling around his nose. The younger boy, is stacking sugar cubes, his eyes fixed on a cup of tea before him.
L decides that reassuring the Hatter is probably the best course of action, before figuring out just what he's fallen into. "I was unaware of this meeting until just a few minutes ago. Perhaps it's best to get on with this meeting rather than waste time in exchanging pleasantries."
"Just because you're L, you think you have an excuse? There are no excuses, only those who fail to live up to other's expectations. To fail is to be a loser," comes the quiet voice of Near from that boy with the rabbit ears, and finally those cold, calculating gray eyes look up.
"Shut up twerp," snaps the Hatter, as he takes a bite from the bar of chocolate, and then he focuses on L. "Well the least you can do is sit down and join us for a cup of tea. Earl gray? Fancy a bit of green tea? Something with berry flavoring? Chai perhaps?"
"Earl gray will suffice," L says and then the Hatter, with Mello's aged face reaches for a tea kettle, and L's eyes widen at the strange scar that mars nearly half of the Hatter's face.
The blonde in the hat looks at him with a maddened grin and says, "Half a cup or a whole?"
Before L can answer the blonde reaches for a knife, cutting the cup in half, and L marvels at how the cup splits and yet the tea is perfectly divided in each half and defying the laws of physics.
"He looks like he would need a whole cup," the March Hare says, and the Hatter with a roll of his blue eyes and a few grumbles pours a whole cup for L.
L looks around the table for the sugar, and the Hare pipes up again, "Usually the Door Mouse is around to help serve our guests at the table, but he went out for strawberry jam some time ago and we haven't seen him since. Never mind he was less charming than the Hatter, so maybe we are fortunate in his absence. The sugar is to your left."
"Why are you helping him?!" the Hatter grinds out from behind clenched teeth. "He's the world's greatest three detectives! He can find the sugar on his own!"
"And does it hurt to be hospitable?" the Hare replies in his monotone, his rabbit ears twitching has he continues to stack sugar cubes with one hand, and curl his free finger in his hair.
The Hatter in a fit of temper slams his hands upon the table, some of L's tea sloshing from his cup and into the saucer, and he hasn't even begun to drop his sugar cubes in the cup. L notices the Hare's tower of sugar cubes has fallen, and the smaller boy with his long ears looks up at the taller, more imposing Hatter, his nose twitching, but otherwise showing no emotion as he says, "Was that really at all necessary? Must you always over react? This is why you always come second to me. You're an over emotional fool. This makes you weak."
"And you're an unfeeling, albino, little twerp who's about to get his scrawny little pajama wearing ass kicked!" growls the blonde.
Rather than step between this rivalry, L has the sudden urge to leave. He'd rather not see what comes of cool logic and a fiery temper colliding. He can choose his successor later, in a less stressful setting, after he's solved the Kira case. Hopefully the Shinigami's powers will wear off soon or release him from their hold.
He slips quietly out of the gate, wincing at the sound of breaking dishes and the loud swearing of the infuriated blonde in the top hat. He walks down the dusty road, back the way he came, until he's reached the familiar place in which he first opened his eyes in this strange world. He hears strange beeping sounds before the self-proclaimed Cheshire Cat, that is the very image of Matt, materializes almost out of thin air, his mouth pulled in a wide grin. A moment later his eyes narrow as the game gives off a very unpleasant beep and the redhead swears and says, "Stupid fucking glitch."
L merely observes until the boy presses a button, presumably to pause the game, and then those knowing, lively green eyes lock with L's black gaze. The boy lets out a snort and then says, "Times almost run out. Enjoy your last days of tea, Lawliet, but promise not to tell the Hatter that the March Hare succeeds us all."
Before L can respond he feels the ground rushing up to meet him, a most peculiar experience. He drops back, landing against something soft. He startles, his eyes flying open, his chest heaving as he looks around the room to get his bearings. He's back in his room, a book, Through the Looking Glass, lying open in his lap. With a shaky breath he reaches out to the tea cart that Watari brought in earlier. The tea has long grown cold, but he pours himself a cup anyway, adds six sugar cubes, and after a moment's pause adds three more. He stirs the tea until the sugar has mostly dissolved, brings the cup to his lips, says, "To the March Hare's success," and then he takes a sip from the cup, all the while thinking that perhaps once he's done with the Kira case he'll take a much needed rest to find peace…
End.
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Author's Notes: Bonus points to anyone who can guess who the Door Mouse was... *g*