The One Alias
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Viz Media. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities
Author's Note: This story was written for DN Contest at LiveJournal for the prompt "Joy." This is also the foundation of my own background story for L and I will gradually expand and add onto this. Just a note this story and other fics of mine give L an actual first name as I have my own theories on his given name versus his canonocal "true name" and will be happy to share the link to the journal that has these.
Any comments, no matter how long or short, are highly encouraged and appreciated and really help me with my writing.
March 5, 2000
London
L had turned the piece of paper over in his hand to the point where the edges were frayed and the ink slightly bled from his perspiration.
He sat back in his chair in an attempt to relax, though the knot in his stomach wouldn't go away that easily. L looked at the phone, the line untraceable but lacking its usual voice filters; a rare necessity considering the number on the paper.
It was like facing a kind of monster that had been locked away for the past fourteen years, though it's head surfaced again in an email box he regularly kept an eye on though a subject line that tore at his insides the moment he read it.
The mail box was where he received notifications of some mention of a past alias used for an important case. A few simple hacks would set a trigger to tell him what name was used in what database so he could keep an eye on anything going on behind his back.
The name Liam Lawliet was one name with a permanent trigger in strategic databases
It was a name L hadn't used since 1987; a name few people knew and no one save for Watari should have connected with L. It was his true first alias; his given name, though it was just as fake to him as all the other names he had ever taken.
The name Liam Lawliet should only have been known by a handful of locals and long- retired public officials in and around the city of Leduc, Alberta and only connected to the six-year-old key witness in a murder investigation.
Liam Lawliet was the supposedly mentally handicapped youngest child of a small-time drug dealer beaten to death by a gang of irate clients. Liam Lawliet was the poor little boy who found the dead bodies of his father and soon-to-be stepmother in the dusty grass outside the family's trailer where his older brother and sister were still sleeping.
Keeping track of this one name was vital lest it be connected where it shouldn't and one afternoon he found an email in that special box; subject line "Liam Lawliet."
A few key punches later hw would learn that the trigger that had been activated was planted in the Children and Youth Services database for the province of Alberta, the most likely place where the name would be mentioned by parties of interest. It was a government database that was one of the easiest to hack; nothing in there involved national security and firewalls, while strong, were not as iron-clad.
It only took L an hour to crack into the system and find the exact entry that activated the trigger. Finding it was easy; wrapping his brain around it was a little harder.
The activation had been the electronic submission of a request for Liam Lawliet's adoption records. The applicant was Sharona Lawliet-Sayers of Calgary.
L turned the number over in his hand again, remembering a nine-year-old gymnast who always kept her long, black hair in a ponytail. It was the most vivid memory he had of his older sister.
L had resisted the urge to simply ignore the application. It had been submitted two years ago and thanks to the usual government red tape had only now made it this far. Those adoption records were buried in a file cabinet somewhere in Edmonton and any confirmation that the transfer of custody had taken place with The Wammy's House was locked away in a highly secured vault in Winchester.
Under any other circumstances, Sharona's request would have faded into obscurity and even if she did hire attorneys or private investigators, there was no way she was going to find the individual she wanted through any channels. If the individual wanted to be found, however, that could lead to different circumstances.
As much as he wanted to ignore the document, it lived in the back of his mind; a perpetual unanswered question. He had no family, he was a forgotten orphan who achieved greatness; all realities he was content to live with but now such was not the case. Now his comfortable existence had been ripped into and the reality of his past was now peering through.
He idly did a few background checks on the applicant to see if this was indeed who he thought it was and all checked out.
Sharona Lawliet was nine when her father died and moved from foster home to foster home for the next eight years, sometimes being in the same home with their 11-year-old brother Alonzo. That shuffle ended when she joined the Army at 17, spending three of her four years in the service in Japan and training as a medical assistant. She received an honorable discharge in 1998 and was now living in Calgary with her husband David Sayers and doing graduate studies at the University of Alberta.
The one piece of information that truly terrified L now was the phone number that still seemed to stare at him.
He was a few punched numbers away from opening Pandora's Box, or from having a final peace.
L bit the tip of his thumb hard, now aware he was shaking. His hand crept toward the phone a few times, but always drew back. At last he gave a heaving sigh and shoved aside all apprehension; he needed to do this.
He looked away from the phone as he snatched up the receiver by the top. At last he looked down at the numbers on the paper and jabbed them down on the keypad.
One shrill ring followed, then another. Maybe no one would pick up. Another ring, voicemail would probably activate soon but he still had no idea how he was going to say this.
The ringing stopped with a dull click.
"Hello?" a man's voice said on the other end, likely David Sayers.
L tried to speak, but it took a moment for him to find his voice.
"C-could I speak with Sharona please," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"Sure just a minute," the voice said. L heard the phone placed on a hard surface and the man calling for Sharona, his final confirmation.
A set of footsteps were heard in the background. L took a breath, ready to talk to her as another individual he encountered in the course of his duties.
"Hello?" a woman's voice said on the other end.
"Is this Sharona Lawliet," L said, his façade rapidly cracking.
"That would be me," the voice said taking a strained tone, her pronounced prairie accent triggering so many memories.
"Hello, Sharona," L said, knowing he should just get it all out there. "This is Liam, your brother."
He heard a small gasp from the other end.
"Liam?" she said, her voice a bit weaker. "Liam Lawliet? That's you?"
"I have all the paperwork and identification to confirm that," L said, knowing exactly where said paperwork was located. "I have been doing my own small record search and a clerk at Children's Services let me sneak a peek at your application."
The sound of suppressed sobs could be heard on the other end. L also felt an increased tightness in his throat, though he did his best to relax it. Pandora's Box had just opened, though maybe that one speck of hope was the only thing coming out.
"Well, Liam Lawliet," Sharona said, finding the strength in her voice though it still wavered, "tell me one thing. That summer when you were five, what did the McCafferty sisters across the street like to do to you?"
One of the lightest chuckles L ever had escaped him, the memory now vivid.
"They used to drag me over to their porch, Megan would hold me down and Tricia would try to French braid my hair," L said, recalling that being the only curse of having long hair as a child. Dad never thought the boys should be forced to get haircuts though Alonzo always found someone in the neighborhood who would.
Sharona's loud laugh sounded over the phone.
"And who would always rescue you?" Sharona said.
"Alonzo," L said, "you would always watch it and laugh, and I do recall a camera was involved once."
Sharona practically cackled on the other end, though L could hear sobs through that laughter. This continued for several more seconds, the sobs becoming a bit more apparent.
"Oh God after all this time," Sharona said, trying to force the sob from her voice. "It's really you, little brother! It's really you!"
"Yes, it's me," L said, a warmth forming at the pit of his stomach like he had never felt. "It feels good to be found."
"We've got so much catching up to do," Sharona said.
March 19, 2000
Edmonton, Alberta
The non-emergency entrance of Royal Alexandria Hospital was actually a sight of childhood joy to L, one place just a few blocks from the airport that he knew would be on his way.
He stood on the corner and gazed at the automatic double doors open for an elderly woman with a cane and what looked like her daughter helping her in.
A gust of frigid wind brought his gloved hands to further wrap his black leather jacket further around his slim form. He ducked his chin and mouth under the collar, his breath forming a wet film of condensation around the thin goatee he had grown over the last week.
Normally he was nearly a fanatic about completely clean shaven; even if he spent days watching surveillance footage he would have an electric razor beside his chair. This situation, however, warranted a more pronounced change in his appearance.
Two weeks ago, after a nearly hour-long conversation with Sharona, arrangements were made for the two to meet in person at a location in Edmonton; the same weekend when Alonzo had already planned to travel from Toronto for some time with his sister and away from his own family.
L considered himself in deep undercover mode for this gathering. Technically he was playing himself, or who he should have been by "normal" definition, though the biggest difference between this and any other type of cover he ever had was a bit more care to put up a front. Liam Lawliet was still just another name even in this scenario.
A family reunion did likely mean photographs that would be connected with his given name. On the surface this was a potential problem, but if he made slight changes to his appearance beforehand he could have plausible deniability the person in the photo was him. His hair was also sloppily pulled back in a ponytail and he wore a loose button-down shirt over his usually preferred white long-sleeved t, mostly to give him layers against the lingering March chill.
The double doors opened again and two women walked out, L clearly saw pink and green scrubs under the collars of their thick coats.
When he was five-years-old, he would see this entrance once a month; dad herding three kids while walking through the double doors balanced on his own cane and coming to the hospital for his monthly physical therapy session.
In 1984 he broke his leg badly in a motorcycle accident. He, however, would be carried off fully conscious. The kids' mom was not as lucky.
Alonzo and Sharona were vocal about how they couldn't stand the sight of him on crutches, didn't even want to look at him. Liam said nothing about the matter at all either a sign of his age, shyness, or the high suspicion he was autistic and lived in his own world anyway.
Dad had a talk with them, persuading them to join him for one of his therapy sessions to show them the healing side of what had happened, that and there would be ice cream involved afterward.
L remembered dead silence in the car on that first family trip from Leduc to Edmonton, though the return trip was all smiles and child's laughter.
For the next five months, all three of them would pile in dad's ancient Subaru, ride to Edmonton, and spend the half hour of dad's physical therapy session playing with the toys in the waiting room; or Alonzo and Sharona standing with a look of awe watching little Liam put together a Rubik's cube in two minutes or a 300 piece puzzle in ten.
L looked across the street at a row of storefronts, seeing sheets of real estate listings posted in one familiar window, blocking the view of simple desks and chairs. That space used to have counters, tables, and a full ice cream bar; the final stop before the ride home. He had annihilated many an ice cream cone while sitting in a booth with dad and his siblings around him having their own frozen joy.
He turned his head and walked away from both these landmarks, turning onto 109th Street and walking straight down. Sharona said she and Alonzo would meet him at a restaurant called Belle du Monde on Jasper Avenue, just a mile down from his current location. It was a mile he had to fully prepare for this and get as much of his thoughts together on everything that seemed to be coming at him at once.
It was only now he realized he had actually thought of his father as something beside the bloodied corpse that haunted his nightmares. L had maintained hope that walking outside and making that discovery would give any six-year-old some form of traumatic amnesia about the whole mess, but it didn't.
Matters weren't helped at all by a few fleeting comments made by a few constables on the scene who were not aware the victim's three kids were in a cruiser a few meters away:
"We've been trying to put away this lowlife for years. Never got enough evidence though, guess his clients did it for us."
Sharona and Alonzo were too distracted by their own sobbing to hear it, but Liam heard everything, including the stiff reprimand Inspector Harrison gave both of them.
Inspector Harrison did treat each of them like his own kids. L would never forget that sincere smile behind that thick moustache and his calm tone of voice with three children who had been put through hell.
In the end, little Liam was hailed by the police for providing clues that lead to the arrest of his father's murderers. Within minutes of the last interview, he whisked away by the province practically buried in what was essentially a mental institution. His salvation would come a year later in the form of a representative for an institution for "gifted children" in England.
Liam Lawliet simply went to Wammy's House and simply vanished from the face of the earth and L preferred it that way, though now Liam Lawliet was back in his old world; though the world that would ultimately shape him to who he would become.
His father was a small time pot dealer, the best way he could make a living after his last layoff from the oil refinery. He never deserved what he got and his son would make sure anyone else who pried apart a family like this would get their justice.
One police interview with a supposedly autistic little boy sent five degenerates to rot in prison, though that little boy would never know any satisfaction no matter how many more he would send away in the years to come.
L momentarily stopped in his tracks, pulling his thick jacket around him and letting the wave of realization hit; it was just a game to him now, solving a series of grand puzzles. His naïve sense of justice had waned, though not out of bitterness but contentment.
It had been fourteen years since dad's death, and twelve since a little boy in an orphanage would put together a complicated phone system to talk to the Winchester Police about a series of bombings.
He was taken out of Alberta as a seven-year-old boy, and thirteen years later he was back as a twenty-year-old man; not for business but to return to his roots, reunite with his only family members, complete the circle at last.
L continued down the street, a smile behind the collar of his jacket; he had just made peace with something.
Alonzo's navy blue jacket suddenly blocked the almost unblinking gaze she had on the sidewalk for the past five minutes.
Sharona took a deep draw from her cigarette, her blue eyes shooting daggers at her older brother as he walked out of her way and onto the sidewalk with his phone to his ear.
"If the Robitussin isn't helping, then maybe you should take her to the doctor again and tell him he gave some bad advice," Alonzo said over the phone and Sharona knew he was talking to his wife. "Has her cough broken up? Oh good because I was not happy with how that had sounded. Kasey's not getting sick too, is she? Good, just tell her to be careful around her sister."
This conversation was like nails on a chalkboard to Sharona. She looked back up the street then down at her watch; 2:30 p.m. and Liam said he would meet them around 2. She took another hasty drag, her other hand nervously flipping her long, black ponytail.
"He is flying in from England, delays always happen," she heard Alonzo say, not even realizing his phone conversation had ended. Sharona looked up to see him put the phone in his pocket and sit down next to her on the metal bench. "I'm sure British Airways has a hotline or something, maybe we could call and see if there were delays at Heathrow, maybe somewhere else."
Sharona allowed this idea calm her a little. She nodded, though it was clear the idea did little to comfort her.
"You're scared to death aren't you," Alonzo said, taking off his oval glasses and rubbing the fog off with his black shirt.
Sharona nodded.
"I'm also scared that conversation was a dream," she said, "or a prank. He didn't give a number to reach him, no email address, nothing."
"Also keep in mind who we're talking about," Alonzo said, putting his glasses back on and leaning in further. "They suspected him of being autistic then; no one knows what he's like now."
"No one ever said he was autistic, Alonzo," Sharona said impatiently, taking another draw and flicking an ash aside. "He was different, yes, but he was a frigging smart little kid; beyond smart. Everyone else just didn't get it and said there must have been something wrong with him, and I know that includes us too."
"I'm just saying be prepared for anything with Liam," Alonzo replied. "What happened with dad's death couldn't have helped and he might actually be more insulated now than he was when he was a kid, maybe he's worse."
Sharona sat back, biting her lower lip and examining the cigarette in her hand.
"Look, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt," Alonzo said. "He's my little brother too and I want more than anything to see him. But I have to stay realistic about these things; it's just my own coping mechanism."
"And my coping mechanism is believing in him until I see otherwise, but even then it's meaningless; I just want to see him."
Alonzo looked to the ground and sighed, a silence following.
"I want more than anything to see him again, Sharona," he said, rubbing his temples before running both hands through his neatly trimmed black hair. "It just tears a hole in me to know I haven't seen my little brother since I was 11."
"But you're not going to hold too much hope and be completely let down," Sharona replied, taking one last draw before snuffing the butt out on the lower leg of the bench and throwing it underneath.
She looked at her brother, seeing him give a slow nod with a grimace. She gave him a pat on the shoulder before rising from the chair in one motion, eyes going down the street for a moment before doing an immediate double-take.
One young man walked up Jasper Avenue, hands shoved into the pockets of a baggy leather jacket and head down practically to his chest. Strands of thick black hair tumbled from a messy ponytail, though Sharona could see sharply pointed features.
The hair and the goatee were the features the caught her eye the most combined with that thin, pale face; Liam had grown to be the spitting image of dad. This was not a dream nor was it a false hope.
Sharona carefully walked in his direction, her sneakers now taking a small run against the pavement as she dodged other passers by.
The young man could sense someone running toward him, though kept his head down and readied himself for any actions he would have to take next.
L finally looked up, seeing a black ponytail flying against the breeze framing a soft, yet determined face. He had seen that face in a younger form so many times, though now she was an adult; 24 now if he recalled correctly though those same beaming blue eyes were aimed at him.
He stood to the side of the sidewalk out of the way of the usual pedestrian traffic and watched his sister take a swift walk toward him. A man closely followed her, his glasses with a smaller frame than he remembered and hair likely cut by a stylist and not the next door neighbor. Alonzo had put on a little bit of weight, but then all of them were in different circumstances anyway.
Looks of clear recognition were on both faces; Sharona looked near tears and Alonzo was simply in a surprised awe. L didn't know what look was on his own face; he didn't even want to know but felt his mouth open slightly.
Sharona grew nearer, gradually slowing her pace and approaching him with an attempt at calm.
"Liam," she said, finding some strength in her voice."
L smiled and found himself nodding in recognition of a name he never thought he would use again.
"Sharona," he replied, realizing his own voice was cracking.
All of Sharona's calm and sudden decorum collapse with the strong arms thrown around his body.
She pulled him in tight, face digging into his shoulder. L's momentary surprise soon wore off. His own thin arms carefully wrapped around his sister; the sister he had practically forgotten about in the past fourteen years.
He felt his embrace tighten around her, his cheek rubbing against her black hair as he savored her warmth, felt her shaking. He felt his own throat tighten and allowed himself a few breathy sobs. This didn't seem real, or maybe it was too real; like Liam Lawliet had woken up from a long dream, though L wouldn't go that far to describe it.
"Liam, oh God Liam," Sharona said, voice locked in tight sob; savoring at last her lost brother's embrace. Fourteen years, a childhood of emptiness, and an adulthood of making peace with everything had all come to a joyful fruition.
Sharona gradually pulled back, her hands clutching both sides of his neck as she gave him wet kisses on both cheeks. A chuckle escaped him as his mouth formed into a beaming grin as his sister ran a hand through his hair.
Alonzo gradually walked forward, his steps labored as he looked at his brother in that same expression of awe. Sharona moved aside, though kept one arm around L's waist while Alonzo brought his posture up with a warm smile.
"Welcome home, little brother," Alonzo said, extending his hand.
L tentatively took it and Alonzo gave him a warm handshake before decorum broke for him as well. Alonzo threw his other arm around his brother's back and the two were in their own loose embrace.
"It's good to be back," L said, felling his own long-lost prairie accent pushing at the surface.
--
The greetings and the sobs would gradually break and the three would go into Belle du Monde like three average adults, taking one booth in the corner as their own space for the conversations they needed to have.
Alonzo brought a long a steady supply of photos from his wedding five years ago and of his twin four-year-old daughters Kasey and Amanda during the various stages of their lives.
Sharona had only a few photos of her husband Dave, but plenty of stories from the Army and the three years she spent in Japan. She had seen their maternal grandmother's old family home in Ayabe and even met a few of their distant cousins.
L simply listened to all of it, casually taking a sideways version of his usual seated crouch across one seat and looked more like a casual young man this way. He would sip coffee, take a few bites from his tiramisu, and soak it all in like he always did.
He could produce a few stories when pressed, telling them he never finished high school and instead taught himself in treks across Europe and Asia; stories with some half truths yet something to keep conversation going.
Alonzo rolled his eyes but listened intently when Sharona and Liam started a conversation in Japanese, eventually piping in with "you know some of us are lucky to even speak French."
He wouldn't understand the significance of "Liam-kun" and "Sharona-chan" changing to "Liam-sensei" and "Sharona-sensei" by the end of the evening.
L would learn that Alonzo was a high school music teacher in Toronto, Sharona was a lab assistant studying forensic pathology. The horrific events of fourteen years ago apparently inspired another Lawliet's career choice. L simply said he was a freelance IT consultant.
The conversations continued into the early dinner hour, Sharona saying she needed to take Liam to a bar for his ceremonial, if not belated 18th birthday drink. Alonzo said he wanted to excuse himself in that case, bluntly telling his brother he had some problems with that sort of thing in the past.
Sharona would not let him go until she produced her digital camera and handed it to a waiter.
L simply smiled as the three got up from their booth and posed right where they stood. Sharona was in the middle with her arms around her brother's waists and face in a beaming grin. Alonzo gave his own calm, yet wide smile.
Sharona saw the shy, uncomfortable smile on Liam's face and pinched his side, producing a smile that was a bit wider, a bit more confident as he fully basked in such a simple moment.
March 21, 2000
Winchester, England
"I need you to keep this information on file," L said, handing a few sheets of paper to Watari, sitting back in his usual chair and sipping a cup of tea. His head slightly spun from the long flight, though he was at the hyper point of exhausted.
Watari looked down at the names and all contact information of Alonzo Lawliet and Sharona Lawliet-Sayers with a nod.
"If anything permanent should happen to me, I want them contacted," L continued, rubbing his chin which was now thankfully smooth.
"That sounds reasonable," Watari said. "Sensitive details smoothed over in that case, I assume?"
"Yes, and all the usual plans in place aside from this, ultimately they need to be included though only regarding Liam Lawliet and nothing else," L replied, taking a light sip. "And I do wish to make some arrangements for them should the worst happens, the exact amounts and details can be worked out later."
"I have also set up that post office box in London you requested," Watari said. "How regularly would you like it checked?"
"Once every two weeks should be sufficient," he replied, eyes trailing down to his latest case file.
L looked up, seeing a smile on Watari's face as he looked down at him. L knew where this was going.
"So you've become a family man at last," Watari said. "So will you be the card at Christmas type uncle or will it be like you never left?"
L sunk his fork into a piece of chocolate cake on his table, drawing little circles in the frosting as he mulled that one over.
"I've faced some demons, Watari," L said, "and I know I have a family of some form and that gives me immense happiness. However I'm not that person, I don't think I've ever been. They have their lives, I have mine and it is best if that is maintained."
Watari simply smiled and nodded approvingly, a gesture that went deep for L.
His family was right here as well as across the ocean; both families still making him who he was.