A/N: You're all amazing. You don't know how amazing it feels to come home from work to all of those positive reviews. Thank you all so, so much.
Seriously, though, I want to have your babies. Each an' every one o' you's. Let's get going, guys. I don't have much time to live, you know, with those nine month increments and such. Yeah.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything mentioned in this story, I wouldn't be shopping at the secondhand stores. Ohba/Obata own Death Note and any and all references are purely coincidental.
Joseph Joubert had once said that "misery is almost always the result of thinking."
But, as day one of the L-less investigation continued, Light was beginning to think the opposite.
It had gone to shambles the moment Matsuda had stepped into the investigation room. Apparently, without the unnerving gaze of the detective, the feather-brained officer found it much easier to goof off and made a point of saying every single thing that crossed through his mind.
And, after taking about a half-hour to brew coffee, he finally managed to spill said steaming beverage on Mogi's lap, causing the man to spring up in surprise- inadvertently causing Light's face to meet the cool desk with bruising force. Soichiro, witnessing the crash before his eyes, rushed to his child's aide; but he only managed to forget about the coffee spill and and slipped on the small puddle. He then deemed it fit to land on his son.
Aizawa, on the other hand, had considered it healthy to avoid the situation altogether: he pranced into the kitchen as soon as he saw the mug slip from Matsuda's grasp. Since then, he had made it top priority to munch on one of L's cakes.
Matsuda stared down at the scene before him with watering eyes; lower lip trembling as he began to mull over the repercussions of his actions. "Oh, man, guys.. I-I'm so sorry!"
There was a collective sigh within the trio on the floor. "Matsuda."
The man looked almost suicidal, Light noted, as he sat back onto his chair. He nursed his already-bruising face, and put on an amiable mask. "Alright, it's okay. It's just a mistake, Matsuda. Why don't you take a break? We'll be okay."
Looking positively miserable, Matsuda shuffled out of the room, just as Aizawa re-entered.
"What happened?" The man who adorned an afro put on a confused façade, wiping excess cake from his lip. The rest of the team just groaned and ignored the man.
"Alright, everyone, back to work."
L bit on his thumb as he neared closer toward his destination. Trepidation toward the impending confrontation ran through his system, causing him to tear through the flesh that protected the blood vessels within his thumb.
Startled by the sudden metallic taste on his tongue, he made haste to remove the offending appendage from his mouth. He opted instead to stare at the back of Watari's head.
Three minutes and twenty-six second later, the detective counted, they arrived before the large building commonly referred to as a hospital. He slipped out of the car in haste and took to the main entrance, keeping a perfect three steps behind Watari as he did so.
It took but a brief moment to locate the exact room in which the blond-haired protégé was residing in, and it only helped that music and screaming from said room could be heard from down the hall.
L stood before the sealed door, listening intently as Dschinghis Khan's "Moskau" filtered through the cracks of the door. It was blending in with the screams of Mello as he restated that "for the millionth time" the song was giving him a "damn headache, you fucking prick;" and that Matt should invest in un-looping the song.
"No, I think I quite like the song."
L smiled to himself before throwing open the door and making his grand entrance: slouched over like he was giving a piggy back to a non-existent obese child and shuffling his bare feet against the sterile floors of the hospital.
"Hello, Mello."
Mello, who had given the door his full attention after it had been so violently pushed against, let out a delighted squeal at the sight of his mentor. "L!"
Offering a pleasant wave to the other occupant of the room, which received and even more enthusiastic reply from Matt, he sauntered over to Mello's bedside—flinching only slightly when the blond latched his arms around his waist. He composed himself of his initial surprised and patted the boy on his currently hair-less head.
"I can't believe you visited me!"
At that, L cocked his head to the right. "Now, why wouldn't I visit you, Mello? You were injured, and not putting my charges' safety first is quite despicable."
"Yeah, well," Mello blushed with embarrassment and turned a burning glare in Matt's direction (who, L noted with amusement, had finally ended the incessant replay of the German song). "You owe me fifty pounds, dick."
"Language," came the half-hearted chastise from L, and he gave Mello's skull a gentle whack. "You know how much I abhor cursing."
"..Sorry." Mello looked up at him with a large, child-like gaze: a move, L noted, well-stolen from his book. And, he frowned; it seemed that L was not immune to his own dirty tactics.
"It's quite all right."
Matt snickered. "Mello, you're such a girl!" He turned off his PSP and crossed his arms; he had finally, after long while, found the real world more entertaining (even more so when Mello gave a flustered squawk at the accusation).
L allowed a rare, sincere smile to grace his pallid features. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not miss the boys, for they were like brothers to him. He watched in silence—or, to be correct, was forced to watch: seeing as Mello had yet to release him from his grasp—as the two boys altercated between each other.
But, alas, all good things must end.
"Excuse me," L's clear voice, lightly graced with a British accent, cut into the air. "Where's Near and Roger?"
Indeed, the two figures were vacant from the room. L frowned, had the two left Matt and Mello to their own demise? He brought his thumb to his lips, and searched in vain around the room.
Mello let his hands drop to his sides to give the man more flexibility. "Roger and Near went to the Cafeteria, like, an hour ago." The boy crossed his arms, and rolled his eyes. "Which means that the bitch wanted a new robot, or something, and Roger indulged. Which also means that I won't be getting that damn chocolate bar I asked for." The teen was seething with anger, before L came to the rescue.
"Oh!" He reached into his back pocket, and presented the lad with a large bar of Belgian chocolate. "Thanks for reminding me."
Mello's eyes immediately zoomed in on the milky substance, before looking up at L in pure adoration. L then deduced that, if it were possible, the blond-haired boy had built an even higher respect for the detective.
"Thank you! Thank you so, so much!" Mello tore open the wrappings in haste, before biting off a huge chunk of the sweet and allowing it to melt in his mouth. As he did so, L's blank gaze turned to Matt.
"Now, Matt, I've deduced that, since you had no means of predicting that there was to be a fire at Wammy's, you are currently without most of those video games you play." When the boy nodded, L continued.
"So, I also concluded that you had that," he pointed to the PSP perched precariously in the teen's lap. "on your person, as you always do. So—and please remind me later of this—I went out on a whim and bought you a few games to play."
Matt, being the much more down-to-earthed kind of boy, offered the detective a gracious smile. "You're the greatest, L. Seriously, dude. I mean it!"
The only response the detective gave was a shrug, before he turned his attention to the ceiling. "Since we're on topic, neither of you boy had anything to do with the start of this fire, right?" He redirected his gaze toward the two, but for the most part he kept it on Mello, who merely shook his head in the negative.
"No, sir." He chewed thoughtfully for a moment on his chocolate, before swallowing, and continued when he remembered something. "Though, I do remember some weird stuff happening right before it, though."
"Oh?"
"Mm-hm." Mello nodded, feeling more enthusiastic about his findings as all of the attention was again directed towards him. "So I was in Roger's office, relaying to him important information pertaining to Near, when all of a sudden I caught out of my peripheral: some guy climbing through Roger's window. At first I thought I was on a sugar high, but quickly tossed the notion from my mind. There was an actual homo sapien climbing through the window!
"So, of course, I stared at the man. And, L, I swear to God," he held up his rosary as if to prove the fact, "he looked like a spitting image of you! Even his clothes matched you. The only flaw I could see were some scarring here and there, and the fact that he had these.. red eyes." Mello crossed his arms, going back to his thoughts. He did not seem to catch the slight rigor mortis that the detective was then experiencing, but it did not go unnoticed to Matt- who raised a perplexed brow at the man.
"And, then," Mello began again, "I was elated to see 'you,' or the person that looked like you, and I yelled out your name. The old geezer just looked at me like I was a loony, before looking for his self. It was then, and only then, that I've ever seen Roger look so, so petrified. It was like his granny had risen from the dead, the way he was staring at the man.
"But, before I could even grasp the situation, Roger ordered me out. And, I don't know why, but I was quick to oblige. And that's all I remember."
There was a pregnant pause before L spoke, his voice then becoming quick and robotic—the detective, as Matt loved to call it, going into "L-mode."
"That is all you remember, Miheal?" Mello almost flinched at the mentioning of his actual name. It was then he knew he was going to be interrogated.
"Yes. I couldn't hear what they were talking about after I left the room, but I heard 'Beyond' quite a few times. Why?" He turned his cerulean gaze toward the man he admired, but all he saw was a blank gaze: L was making conclusions left and right.
It was something the boys admired about L. It astonished them how L could think up over a dozen situations and conclusions in mere seconds, and could just as quickly select the ideal situation and the most logical outcome.
"I see."
Mello nodded. "Maybe you should ask Roger about it when he returns."
"I shall." L located the nearest chair and perched himself atop it. And, as if sensing the waves of anxiousness that rolled off of the two boys, he gave them a friendly wave. "Now, boys, tell me what you two've been up to."
Matt let out a relieved sigh, before beginning his tale of his days at the Wammy's house. Mello followed short after, and they continued at it for a good while. They inquired as to what L had been up to (besides the Kira case) and the man told them of his adventures at To-Oh University and the likes. At an amiable pace, they conversed for a good twenty minutes.
All the while, though, L's mind was reeling. There was no doubt about it: Beyond had begun the fire. Which meant that Beyond was in Winchester; which also meant that he had been anticipating L's arrival. That, in itself, was dangerous.
As he made his conclusions, and made the proper percentages as he went along, the door was opening behind them. In came a pale-skinned boy with even paler hair, and an aging man carrying a white plastic bag.
"Near, Roger." L greeted, not taking the effort to look behind him.
Near gave a small, almost-timid in its manner, smile. He then took residence in the seat next to L's. Roger just fidgeted. "Hello, L."
Watari, who had left wordlessly but moments ago, had returned to the room bearing Devil's Food cake. He placed it in front of L before standing beside Roger. L nodded in thanks before carefully spearing a piece off for himself.
"So, Roger," L spoke, swallowing his cake-ful as he did so. "I need to speak with you in a moment."
"I understand, L."
"That is nice to know."
L put yet another precision-sliced piece of cake in his mouth, before turning his gaze on Near. "Hello, Near. How're you?"
"I'm well, really." The boy twirled a lock of hair around his index finger and rested his chin on his knees. "Aside from everything being burnt in the fire, I cannot complain."
"That is good," L remarked, finishing his cake with the statement. As he did so, he rose from his chair and fixed Roger with a look. "Come, Roger, we must talk."
Beyond rubbed his hands together in a vain attempt to warm his self, for it was well beyond midnight and the air had become a noticeable degree cooler. From his perch on a bench but several yards from the hospital doors, he was able to have a clear view of every exit; all the while, he had the luck of remaining obscure from view.
It had been six hours, thirteen minutes, and eleven seconds since he had seen the sleek Rolls Royce pull up in the hospital parking lot, and thirty-two seconds later had he caught a glimpse of his toy.
Yes, he smirked; his Lawliet had fallen prey to his plan. It scared him how easily he had fallen into the detective's mindset- it seemed so natural for him to do so. If it weren't for that ability, Beyond feared he would not be where he was today.
So deep was his in his thought, that it took him a moment to realize that the man who had invaded his thoughts was outside.
Lawliet had, clinched between his thumb and index finger, a cellular phone. He was speaking in another language, also; B noted. Beside him was a red-haired teenager smoking a cigarette and watching the detective with mild interest.
But the other boy did not matter, B remembered. He returned his undivided attention back to the detective, who suddenly looked highly displeased. He could hear, even from his position, the name 'Matsuda' and several Japanese vagrancies being thrown around quite a bit. Obviously, this "Matsuda" had done something that L did not agree with.
He watched as the raven-haired man massaged the bridge of his nose—an act he performed only when something unexpected happened—before dishing out several commands in Japanese. B had only then wished he were closer, so as to decipher what the man was talking about.
The phone closed shut shortly after, and he saw the detective hide the device in his back pocket. He turned to the red-haired teenager with an exasperated look, and made a comment that was humorous enough to make the teen chuckle.
Shortly after, the boy tossed his cigarette in the bin and followed the redhead in. B smiled, now was his chance.
Knowing that L, not being one to handle pressure all too well, would most likely send Watari out to get treats, he made haste in breaking into the back seat of the elder man's vehicle. Then, he just waited patiently.
And, soon after, his patience was met with a reward, as Quillsh Wammy clambered into his vehicle but five minutes later. As he kicked on his ignition and pulled out of the car, Beyond took this to be the opportune moment.
Pulling his precious knife from a pocket, he slid up into the backseat behind the aging man. Watari noticed the movement from his vision, and, judging from the look of fear in his eyes, had noticed just who he was sharing a ride to the bakery in.
"Hello, Watari," Beyond murmured in a smooth, deceivingly relaxing tone. He held the blade to Watari's throat. "You will keep driving the car straight to the bakery. You will not, however, try any funny business. I know you keep a loaded pistol in a secret compartment underneath your seat. At the nearest stop, you shall unload your weapon and toss the holster out of your window. Any suspicious movements and I have no qualms in slitting your throat. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good," B gave the man a saccharine smile. He leaned in closer.
"Now, then, I'd like to make you a proposal.."
A/N: I know! What the fuck is my problem?! I don't know!
I got rid of all of Mello's pretty hair! But it was for a reason! If your face caught fire, wouldn't your hair? Don't worry, though—it'll grow back plenty fast. :D
My birthday's tomorrow! Here's my present to you all!
Review, please?