BETWEEN THE BLACK AND WHITE: Chapter 4
Disclaimer: DN isn't mine.
Warning: This chapter contains mild spoilers to Another Note.
Fire and Ice
"Where there is much light, the shadow is deep." -Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
Once upon a time, there was a raven-haired, rather disheveled man who immediately sacrificed his birth-given name for a short one-letter alias. He grew up in one of the elite orphanages sponsored by the prosperous inventor Quillsh Wammy, as he was extremely gifted and almost frighteningly - no, definitely frighteningly intelligent. This youth was a born psychological masterpiece, and his ceaselessly contemplating brain was chiseled and shaped into something like a diamond, polished and perfected until his skills were quite simply extraordinary. His thin and hunched body carried in it the seeds of unshakable ambitions. This man wanted to be the greatest investigator of all time.
B, L recalled with a steady mechanism. They had called that particular orphan B. One of the earlier generation of orphans who trained and competed to inherit the most elite position of all time: to become the detective that practically owned every police force in the world, had Interpol at his beck and call, and was one of the few humans in the world who could do practically anything that he wanted and call it 'legal'.
But B didn't get that position. L did.
It had been years since B's capture, and there was a time when L had considered the matter buried and forgotten about. Yes, there was indeed a time when L had known the man personally – it was hard not to meet him during their years of education together. It was profoundly unsettling that B looked so much like L, even though there was no genetic family relation. It was also exceedingly difficult to ignore a rival who tried to pry into his very brain and extract every habit, every mannerism in an incessant effort to always be better, a feral desire to win.
L had not cared a damn when his mirror image shattered into seven years of bad luck. B was left to disintegrate into grains of sand, no longer any concern of the world's truly greatest detective.
Then Kira came along.
Now he stared into his morning tea, and a ghastly brown apparition stared back at him. When earlier that year Watari had casually informed him of that news, he often could not banish the unwelcome sensation of seeing B's maniacal ruby-red eyes, framing an almost identical face. Emulating through every surface that dared to resonate what was only second best, what had lost, what had not even deserved to play the game. Unspeakable talent had been shamefully torn to waste and he lowered himself to becoming nothing more than a detective's obstacle, out of spite exclusively aimed at L.
He thought so lowly of B and subsequently had forgotten. But because of Light Yagami, those thoughts were now practically tangible. The only thing preventing L from feeling it was the glass that protects the righteous from their unhappy reflections.
"Ryuuzaki, the United Kingdom's Ministry of Defence has put in an official request for Erald Coil concerning a subway bombing in London," Watari announced as he poured a third serving of hot English tea into L's white china cup. "Danvue has twenty-seven legitimate requests from smaller organizations across the globe. I'll print them off and get them to you by noon."
L had been absentmindedly gazing at the news on the thirty-six inch television that he kept in the dining area. It was only 7:25 in the morning, and every channel he flipped to was already bombarded full of Kira paranoia. Even the usually-respectable CNN station had a story about spontaneous heart attacks in America that might be Kira related – never mind that the 'victims' were both old and significantly overweight. Winning the excitement of the media (and therefore the public) had been a tactic that Light had heavily relied on during his reign, and now the ball was in motion and it would probably still be months before it began to slow down. L reached over to the cup of tea and took a handful of sugar cubes, letting exactly seven plop into the steaming liquid in an orderly fashion that he did not consciously consider. The embers were still burning hot, even sixty days after the last murder.
"Are you listening?" Watari inquired.
The dark-haired youth hunched over on his chair in the kitchen, sitting before a generous plate of strawberry and cream cheese scones. He plucked one into the air with his thumb and forefinger, feeling the moist pastry sink into his cautious fingertips. "What was the body count?"
"In the subway?" he asked for clarification with a restrained sigh, knowing full well that L didn't like to take cases that didn't involve at least ten corpses or thievery of a million U.S. dollars. "There were four deaths and five injuries."
"No." L held the scone above the sultry English tea, and then proceeded to dunk it in. He confined the pastry in its burning torture for a few seconds, drowning it, until he finally had mercy and lifted the now-dilapidated confectionery. From there he sunk his teeth into it, and continued speaking with his mouth full. "Coil and Danuve are certainly popular recently. L's self-esteem is plummeting."
Watari sniffed and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "No one except the highest Interpol officers know for certain that Kira has been caught, so the general consensus is that L is still busy with that case."
"Not that anyone is being discreet about anything," he remarked mournfully. "Interpol is pestering me to the point of where I want to file a lawsuit against them for harassment. But for all that we're in America right now, I don't think there's anyone who would help me sue."
That merited a warm chuckle from Watari. "Indeed, it seems as though we would have better luck finding a lawyer for Kira than for the unfortunate man who made the arrest. Interpol won't be satisfied until they understand everything and acquire the necessary knowledge to avoid this disaster in the future, and you are the only one who can tell them what they want to know."
"But you know, it doesn't matter," the detective shrugged, biting again into his scone. "I've been checking the BBC's list of reported heart attack related deaths every day, as well as suspicious accidents for people with criminal records. There's been no fluctuation and nothing even slightly increased above normal." He paused just long enough to swallow, and then take another liberal mouthful of pastry. "And why would there be? The chances of the Shinigami planting another Death Note on Earth must be slim, because I've never heard of such a thing prior to Kira."
"I've been monitoring those lists, too," Watari admitted. "There's been no consistent pattern in deaths that suggests anything above normalcy or coincidence. Interpol knows that, too. They still haven't publicized Kira's capture, or given you any credit..."
At that point, L had stopped paying attention and instead focused on the reporters that dominated the television screen. Currently there was a news story about another high school shooting in Boston. Some sixteen year old boy and brought his father's rifle to school and ended the lives of three classmates and a teacher, before shooting himself in the head, too. People who had bullied him, made him feel insecure. It was a sad affair.
He found himself wondering, not for the first time, what Light thought about when he watched such news stories. Certainly he felt some level of compassion and frustration - enough to doom the regular offenders to death with his ballpoint pen. If this student hadn't committed suicide, would Light have killed him just now for this atrocity? Maybe not, L recalled. There weren't any records of Light killing anyone under eighteen years of age. Was it because he sympathized with the horrendous crimes of children? After all, he was no different.
"Have Light's fingers healed yet?" L asked suddenly as the thought crossed his mind.,
Watari's cheer instantly dissipated and he gave L a look of dry disbelief. "With everything that is going on, this is a concern of yours?"
"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't a concern of mine."
The gentleman delayed his response, clearing his throat. His bushy eyebrows furrowed together sternly and his voice was rigid. "Your concerns should be in using your resources to continue to solve cases. You have obligations to those who fund you and the orphanage that raised you, not to the young Mr. Yagami. If you want companionship, pick one of the successors to apprentice."
"I have no intentions of retiring so young, so why bother with successors?" L inquired, lowering his face to his coffee mug and tentatively sticking out his tongue to test the warmth of the liquid. "None of them are good enough to succeed me anyhow, from what the Wammy's House reports tell me. Near is too introverted, Mello is too rash."
"Light can't succeed you, either," Watari countered stiffly. He adjusted his spectacles over the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand as he stood up again. "I'm not going to interfere with anything you do unless it poses a direct and unnecessary risk upon your life, but I must confess, this is the event that I foresee occurring."
L stopped briefly before answering. Quillsh Wammy - Watari - was the only human being on Earth whose opinion L gave a damn about, and the old man rarely questioned him. On the occasion that he did, he was also the only human being that L felt the need to explain himself to.
So after a moment, he responded, "Light is not my successor, nor is he my companion. He's a criminal and a perversion of justice, this is something that I am definitely not forgetting. Don't mistake my actions for irrationality. With his employment, 'L' will significantly increase in efficiency and productivity."
"Is that so," Watari commented tartly, though it wasn't a question, nor was it cordial in nature.
"Mr. Wammy, I am the greatest detective in the world," L declared levelly. "It's only been through taking risks that I've become that."
The elderly gentleman contemplated his partner. He then turned away. "I do not feel sympathy for a wretched, undisciplined child who feels no remorse for horrendous acts of evil. However, his family is also a victim."
"You think it would be easier on them if they knew the truth."
"What you might want to consider is that sooner or later the Japanese NPA is going to realize that when Light disappeared without an excuse, Kira stopped killing. When that happens, Interpol will really be after him." Watari straightened his back. "And by God, on that day I'm going to insist that we give him to them - in a body bag."
L felt his own jaw clench. "This is an investment that I've decided to commit to. If you do not feel comfortable, please go back to the UK for the time being and train one of the candidates. I will be sorry to lose your company, Mr. Wammy, but there's no point in reversing this decision now."
Watari didn't hide the startled look in his eyes. But then he exhaled a heaving sigh and nodded curtly. "His fingers are healing," he said, and then he left the room.
But Watari had brought up an important and entirely legitimate issue. Soichiro Yagami was persistent and enduring in his love for his son. Light was currently filed as a missing person in Tokyo, and L had decided to leave it at that. After all, it didn't really matter what the NPA did about it - they could assume that the teenager was dead or runaway, and when they didn't find him after seven years he would be dead in absentia and legally erased. However, Soichiro was the Chief of Police, and as such, an influential man with a loud voice. If the name of his mysteriously absent son was leaked to Interpol, especially if L's name was attached to it... That was a situation that was definitely going to have to be avoided.
"He who is only just is cruel. Who on earth could live were all judged justly?" -Lord George Gordon Byron
To say that the snow was falling inspired gentle images of soft tufts of flakes floating slowing down toward the Earth, as though they only slightly felt gravity's captivating tug. However, on this frozen morning the snow was undeniably raining down from the clouds, but there was nothing soft nor gentle about it. The wind was howling outside, a heavy and furious gust that was given a definite visual appearance by the icy dust that stained its trepidation. The snow scattered as thick as clouded smoke, creating a blinding wall that barred Light's sight from the building across the street. It was a snowstorm. Light was drawn to the cold pane of glass like a moth to fire.
The fascination that Light felt at nature's fury was purely morbid.
In actuality, it was disconcerting. Japan's snows were mild – never before had he witnessed firsthand weather quite this monstrous. It was cold. He was overcome with a stinging chill, yet his feet were planted to the wooden floor beside this blockaded window. For a moment, he was overwhelmed. The ice was surrounding him, smothering him, keeping him a shivering prisoner in this loathsome cell. There was no escape from this rampant blizzard and there was no escape from Ryuuzaki.
"Damn it..." he mumbled, tearing his eyes away from the window.
A shudder ran down his spine and he forced his feet to lead a retreat toward the bed. Awkwardly, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, as best he could with his numb wrists tethered together by metal that had assimilated the room's frigid temperature. He held the cloth tightly to his body in an effort to absorb the warmth and halt his teeth from chattering - the involuntary confession that his body acknowledged, a weakness that he didn't particularly want the video cameras to record.
Pessimism is completely useless, he thought as he attempted to increase his body heat. As utterly depressed as he was now, he had to cling on to the hope, no, the plan that he was going to break free of this bondage. Siddhārtha Gautama, the Buddha, deprived himself of the world to the point of near-starvation before his Enlightenment. Jesus Christ spent days in hell before he ascended to Heaven. Light had known from the beginning of things that he might also have to suffer and find himself completely alone, but he had always told himself that he was willing to face that for Kira's righteous cause.
He firmly reminded himself that things were progressing now that he was in communication with L, and that was something to be grateful for. Slowly but surely Light would arrange the chess board with the pompous bastard again, and he vowed that the next time, he would be basking in his freedom and dancing on L's grave.
This resolution was the only reason that he bothered to open the manila envelope that L had given him – a neat stack of papers that made up the case file for what was entitled 'The BB Los Angeles Serial Killer Case'. Light skimmed through it briefly. A serial killer, murdering a man, a woman, and a child. Not just murder, but mutilating their corpses and leaving sick clues along the way, complex numbers and codes. The whole homicide was designed like some mentally-ill genius with a taste for morbidity-
The first victim was a man in Hollywood, on July 31, 2002. Strangled to death. The second victim died only two days later: a little girl, skull cracked open with what the forensic investigators assumed was a bat. Nine days after that, a bank worker 28 year old woman bled to death. All the places of murder had several things in common, the most unsettling being perhaps the dolls crafted of straw nailed to the walls. The most relevant was that all of their initials were BB, first and last names.
It was as though the killer wanted to be chased, as though he was specifically mocking justice.Not for the first time, Light's fingers began to tremble for want to touch the sleek black binder that enclosed the lethal sheets of paper. A holy weapon, a gift from the gods themselves: The Death Note.
However, this case was ancient history. The murderer, whose initials were also BB was arrested under the direction of L and the help of the FBI agent Naomi Misora. Light might have been annoyed at the blatant mention of woman who he had killed for strategic purposes back in Tokyo, because knowing L it was some sort of taunt. But that seemed so immature that he didn't give a shit.
Beep, beep! The electronic lock on the door buzzed, and Light's gaze snapped up immediately. Watari only came in once a day, early in the morning with a tray of food – and he had already come today. That left his visitor to be none other than L himself, as if magnetically drawn to Light's conscious psychological thirst for the divine instrument that he had once wielded.
"Yagami-kun." L did not shut the door behind him, though he stood in front of it like a guard dog. He tucked his pale hands into the pockets of his faded jeans and studied Light with an eerily blank face, mouth taut and eyelids unmoving. "There is a thing that I need you to do."
Instantly, Light went tense. He eyed the detective skeptically, roaming that empty expression for some answer. When there was not a clue to be found, he inquired with a simple, "What?"
"You are going to record a voice message that we will transfer to your sister's phone. You will state that upon receiving word that your girlfriend was Kira, you became distraught and shamed. You are therefore never returning."
At first, Light could only stare. His lips parted wordlessly as L's proposition sunk in: to publicly forfeit his family by planting a legitimate excuse so that he would be forgotten. Then the hot fury exploded within him and he stood up - he couldn't have hid the fire that sparked in his eyes if he tried. "What?! My family has nothing to do with what's happening between me and you! What, what right do you have to ask that of me?"
L did not so much as twitch. The only change was that his look was unmistakably colder, a chilly dominance. "I did not mean to sound as though I was asking."
"No. No." Light was beyond reservation. He shook his head violently. "Telling me to do something like that, that's beyond your jurisdiction. I'm not going to lie to them!"
"That sort of thing didn't bother you before," L annunciated simply. "You don't have to like it, but unless you're under the misinformed impression that your family might rescue you from the consequences of your crime, you should be in agreement with me. Your father knows that you are Kira, but your mother and sister know nothing except that their son and brother has abandoned them. Which is true, due to the repercussions of your actions."
"That's not your concern!" he hissed, his throat constricting.
"Your life is my concern. I don't like to leave loose ends untied if there is a chance that they will be a nuisance later," came the curt reply. "As such, I'm going with this plan so the public will have an excuse for Light Yagami's permanent absence."
"Arrange something by yourself." Light's hands clenched into fists, arms shaking so that they pulled against the steel of the handcuffs. "I don't give a damn what you do, but I'm not cooperating."
There was a pause. L looked at him through eyes that reflected the frozen window - empty, strict, emotionless. Hard and without mercy. "I need to neutralize this issue. Light Yagami can't disappear without a reason. If you won't comply, I'll be forced to send your body back to Tokyo in a coffin. You died from a street mugger with a gun, and what an ironic death for Kira that would be."
Light froze at this threat. "Have you no shame?"
L was unperturbed. "On the contrary, I'd be sorry to do it considering all the work that I've already gone through because of you. However, there is a system and a balance that is more important than both you and me, and my priorities lie with upholding that. I gave you your life after your capture, but it's still mine to use. You know I'm not motivated by any desire you frustrate you."
"You can go to hell."
The detective did not reprimand the harsh words, because he knew that they were an affirmation. Light shoved passed the detective toward the door, his own angry way of agreeing to the shameful terms.
"I will be as harsh as truth and as uncompromising as justice." -William Garrison
L lead the adolescent to a room that was secluded and empty, aside from the simple recording device. He did not want Light to get distracted, nor let there be a single sound on the tape that Soichiro could decipher - and the man would probably try. When he had the sound file he would also be sure to edit it as to both add and blot out background noises until it was thoroughly unrecognizable. The process would be practically effortless, considering the high-tech equipment that he owned.
Light spoke up calmly, though L knew him well – he could detect that he was still shaking with hardly-concealed rage. "It'll be more valid if you'll let me directly call her cell phone-"
"Please don't even ask," the detective said sternly, running a hand through his thick hair. "You know that the message needs to be recorded and there's no way I can let you speak freely with anyone outside of this building."
"Then go away, so I can do this."
He quirked an eyebrow. "There's no point in that since you'll be recorded on the video cameras anyway. There's not-"
"I don't care! Go away, for once, just go away!" the adolescent suddenly snarled. "Let me do this in peace!"
It was not the display of aggressive behavior that surprised L. Even without his memories of Kira, Light Yagami could be hotheaded when things weren't going how he felt they ought to. What surprised the meticulous detective was that Light had chosen to act this way when L assumed that his family had already been reduced to the status of impudent manipulation. Not that the teenager was void of emotional attachment to his family, but he clearly had long since stopped allowing such detrimental feelings interfere with any plans. And Light would surely be intending to act as compliant as possible in a futile effort to win L's generosity. Unless he knew that L wouldn't buy the docile act, and was trying some other approach?
Of course, Light could be feeling honest frustration that this action would halt any hope he had of his family investigating and tracking him down. In reality, the oblivious Soichiro would be forced to call off his missing person report. Light was eighteen years old and therefore could no longer be classified as a runaway child. He had the legal right to leave his family and maintain confidentiality as to his location, and as soon as it became clarified that he was alive and accounted for, the police would be forced to back away.
Either way, it didn't matter if L was present in the room at the time of the recording anyhow, since he would review the material himself. So he abode by Light's request and quietly shut the door behind him, going straight to the monitors to observe more privately.
The teenager expertly flipped on the red switch of the machine and took the microphone in his hands. However, he was quiet for a few minutes, a concentrated look on his face – as though he were contemplating what lines of dialogue he could possibly say to appease his captor.
"Sayu," Light finally said with his voice strangely flat, not its usual pillar of strength. Phenomenal acting skills. "Hey, Sayu... I have to explain myself."
L observed, leaning forward to peer with scrutiny at the brunet's face through the video camera. A hollow expression, a hushed voice. As though he were trying to hide it away from the cameras, as though even being the cold blooded murderer of thousands of people, he still thought he deserved to keep this part of him off of surveillance. No, nothing like that could be afforded.
Kira composed facades masterfully, weaving together every element of his being. He played his own body like an instrument, and watching him at this moment reminded L of the time last April that Soichiro had experienced a heart attack due to stress. So easily did Light mold his body into a presence of distress and fear when he knew that he had never written his father's name in the Death Note. Like a grand composer had he directed a symphony - sitting by the suffering man's hospital bedside and vowing to capture the 'real' Kira.
Such lies, and that night it had been to the point where L had actually had a doubt about the youth's guilt. Now he knew better, and now he marveled and admired what Light was capable of doing. Even though those skills had lead to homicide and he had no intention of ever unchaining Kira - he was an artist, and L respected that. He was a liar like the world has never known, at least, if the world had never known L. With a morphed quality of voice, the words that L had bid him to utter came scratching through his throat:
"I'm... I'm never going back home."
"There is a point at which even justice does injury." -Sophocles
Formulas and statistics, theories and deductions. It all was so conceivable at one time, it was all a complex but very logical strategy. It had all been diligently charted out in Light's mind, graphed out perfectly so that the 'risk' factor was just tagged on as obligatory afterthought. Ryuuzaki would die and Light would take over the position of L. He would control the world police and lead the investigation team, all while secretly acting as Kira. Light would complete his transformation into a God... and then... the world, no crime, only peace... and...
Why did it have to happen like this?!
Light buried his face in his arms and knees to shield himself from L's cameras. His body trembled, overcome by the perception of being surrounded. He was drowning in an arctic sea, and the wintry waves crashed into him and threw his helpless body around like a rag doll. A hybrid of a shriek and a sob bubbled up his sore throat, but he gulped it back down desperately, wanting to rip out his own hair and scream.
He couldn't let Ryuuzaki see that. That fucking, gloating bastard. He had taken everything away, everything! The Death Notes, Light's freedom, outside society, even his own hands didn't seem to belong to him anymore because of the binds that strictly regulated their movement. And now, his own family was gone at the simple flick of a mechanical switch. This was a kind of torture that L meant for Kira – to reduce the God to slavery.
To be out of control was the most wretched type of hell.
And L knew that.
The idea – vile, terrible – that this was it, this was what defeat tasted like, day after day after day without revelation and without salvation-
That the world was so rotten so... damned... rotten...
Light's shoulders stopped shaking, and he slumped forward. His head felt heavy, and suddenly sitting up was too much effort. The life in him felt as though it had been choked into hazy subconsciousness, and his body fell over onto the mattress of the bed. Gravity was suddenly too strong a foe and too vicious an adversary. He was an empty shell without the strength to fight it.
For a few minutes he did nothing but stare and occasionally breathe. First his eyes landed on the hated handcuffs in front of him, then they shifted to the window and the ruthless storm outside. The focus then blurred, and everything was nothingness.
Then Light blinked.
He blinked again.
Critical analysis leaves little room for mourning.
Actually, mourning downright impedes critical analysis.
Like the Buddha, he needed to severe all ties to binding worldly frustration. He needed to think like a strategist. He was alive, and as long as he remained that way there was still one thing that L could never take away from him, and it was the thing that was the most precious: his mind. As long as he still had his mind, he was Kira, with or without the Death Notes. And as long as he was still Kira...
He finally closed his eyes as he lay still on the blankets. He willed himself into calmness, and correspondingly his heart rate decelerated. Exhausted sleep overcame him with the mantra of his thoughts repeating:
As long as I'm Kira, I am Justice.
Justice will prevail.
"We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender." -Sir Winston Churchill
Watari was becoming increasingly agitated with the Yagami situation. L had hypothesized that the circumstances wouldn't exactly grow on him – the old man was not often bothered by the more controversial actions that he took, however, on the rare occasion that he was he made it quite clear both assertively and with passive-aggression. But even though Quillsh Wammy was the man who had influenced L the most, even so far as raised him, more or less, L had no intention of sharing authority. Decisions were his, and his alone, to make.
That night, as he absentmindedly plucked at the keys of his keyboard to send an e-mail to his designated Forensic Evidence Technician, Mindy Sommers, concerning a case of mass poisoning in Ontario, he did not admit that he was distracted. The case was suspected to be criminal activity concerning the political status of the victims, and L would be sorely disappointed if the whole thing was just coincidental food poisoning. Perhaps that was why he could not concentrate, he attempted to reason. Because the case was crap.
The mint chocolate chip ice cream wasn't helping. Neither was the sugar glazed cherry pie or the strawberry angel food cake. He doused his coffee in sweetener but even these extreme measures didn't condense his mind to focus and didn't stop his eyes from wandering back to Monitor 17... where Light and B were in the same room. One in the handcuffs, one on the Courier style print of the case file.
He hadn't counted on the long-since-deceased B stirring this much psychological mayhem when he told Light to analyze the scenario. Nor had he foreseen that his attention would divert so significantly with the adolescent present. Neither could become a permanent occurrence; though he wasn't going to solve this problem Watari's way either, with a lethal gunshot and a dumpster.
When one is distracted, L reasoned, instead of ignoring it one must go to the root of the problem. So as he crouched down by Monitor 6 to finish giving instructions and attaching charts via e-mail to the FET, he told Watari to bring the mass murderer here. A relatively lengthy period of time later, L heard footsteps entering through the doors behind him.
"L," Light addressed broadly from a distance. The footsteps did not come any closer, and L assumed that Watari was setting a limit to his free movement via handgun or other threats. "I do not intend to sound as though I'm speaking out of place, being the humble convict" The cynicism there was tangible in the atmosphere. "However, if showing me the BB case was a mere inquiry as to whether or not I killed Naomi Misora, the answer is yes."
"I assumed that already," L answered flatly. He inclined his head slightly behind him, just enough so that his eyes could strain and lock on to Light's adamant face. "If I ever feel as though I need to make an inquiry to you, the process will be as simple as me asking and you providing an answer. Whether or not you choose to feel remorse for murdering a good woman and FBI agent is a decision I'll leave up to you."
"Is that why you gave me a case that was solved and closed when I was only sixteen years old?" The adolescent's words were composed of the most polite Japanese, but the cutting sarcasm tainted them. "That's useless. I thought you said that you wanted me to serve justice for you, or is that what you call me doing this ridiculous homework?"
"Homework," L repeated, because that was ridiculous. If he had ever been uncertain that Light Yagami was anything greater than an immature, teen-aged schoolboy, that doubt had been thoroughly extinguished. He put a hand on the floor to turn his body completely around to face the criminal, and then he stood up on his feet. "No matter how you think of it, you will need to follow my instructions perfectly or else be detained in isolation."
It had been a test of forensic comprehension and more importantly, a test of cooperation. Light was more than capable of reaching that conclusion.
"I never said that I didn't plan on following your instructions," Light said more calmly, but with an unmistakable dash of bitterness. "Haven't I followed them perfectly up until now?"
If he was still mad about L making him contact his family, he wasn't going to get any pity. This was the best situation for the Yagami's, who wouldn't have to think that their son was dead nor a homicidal maniac, and as for Light – losing the only people that he definitely cared about was a sacrifice he signed his name to the moment he chose to make the Death Note a habit.
L smiled wryly. "Yes, Kira has been very obedient. Oh, would you like some cake?" He signaled a hand over to the angel food, which was on a silver platter beside him. "I'd offer you pie but I ate it all."
Somehow, he had already deduced that the teenager wouldn't be grateful for this altruistic offer. "You know perfectly well that I hate sweets. I would appreciate it if you stopped being a cocky bastard-"
"Light Yagami," Watari cut in with venom energizing his withered voice. "Watch your mouth. If you can't behave, I will be locking you back in the room without another thought."
Light didn't appear to be shocked or concerned by this warning. His face was composed and completely relaxed. The only movement was in his hardened amber eyes, which flickered mildly, reminiscent of how his brain was absorbing data and categorizing it for later calculations. Patiently, he chose his next words: "All right, I shouldn't have lost my temper. I'm sorry. After all, I owe you my life for saving me from Interpol."
"Thank you, Watari. You can go." A smirk found its way across L's lips. Case forgotten about, L stared directly into Light's irises. "Did you have any questions?"
Of course he was referring to the BB case file, and Light knew that, too. Automatically, however, Light inquired, "What's the date today?"
L could have lied (something that Light would take into consideration regardless), but he would have to know that information anyway if he were going to work as a detective. "It's the seventh of January. I'm sorry, but you missed Christmas as well as New Year's in your confinement."
"It's not a big deal to me, but those holidays are excessively commercialized in the United States, right?" He said this easily, as though they were now having pleasant conversation. Half-heartedly pretending that he weren't trying to weasel more restricted information out of his captor, and pretending said captor wasn't well aware of it. "Especially in a city of this size."
"What size would that be?" L implored, cognizant of the fact that it was impossible for Light to deduce such a thing given the measures they had taken to keep him ignorant.
Light turned briefly toward the window on the opposite wall, as though diligently studying the landscape. In vain, unfortunately for him, since the raging snowstorm barricaded out the whole view of the city. Obviously guessing, he turned back to L. "Two million people. Is it Chicago?"
"You could try to be a little more creative when it comes to extracting information out of me." He tilted his head to the side and gave him a thoughtful look. "I have high expectations, so please don't disappoint me. You know, cake really does improve cognitive ability, perhaps you'll rethink my offer?"
The adolescent's eyes narrowed, games over, and he tried the diplomatic approach. "Look, what if we made a deal? We'll exchange information. I know that there's still a few things that you're curious to about the Kira case, and I'm curious as to what the circumstances of my life are now. I won't use the data you give me to escape because I don't want to be in Interpol's custody, and you won't use the data I give you to incriminate me because I've already been caught and confessed."
"Your location is a non-issue to you, Yagami-kun," L dismissed firmly. "You don't have any purpose outside of this building anyhow, so consider it irrelevant."
He looked as though he wanted to argue, but wisely decided against it. "I understand. But to work for you to the best of my abilities, I need to be informed about world news, so the position of Interpol concerning Kira-"
"Is also a non-issue," L interrupted, not caring to hear that sentence through. "You don't have any business prodding in that area any longer. The aftermath of the loser's defeat is in the victor's concerns."
It may or may not have been an insensitive thing to say (though sensitivity was hardly a concern to L when it came to dealing with a mass-murderer), but it was absolutely worth it to see Light try to hold back his fiery anger and maintain a mask of nonbelligerence.
"Also, I might as well tell you now that non-issues aren't open for discussion," L added, snatching a cube of the angel food cake from the platter on the floor and inserting it into his mouth. "You're aware that it also comes across as suspicious behavior, and no matter what your private intentions are I'm certain that you want to earn my trust. So you might as well cooperate."
"I have every intention of cooperating," Light insisted, recovering his insincere voice.
"Not every intention. I know Light-kun better than that."
"Think what you want!" he snapped, his patience dwindling. "I can't do much about that, or much about anything right now!"
"As intended."
Just as Light was about to completely lose his temper, something peculiar happened. The lights in the room began to dim, and then suddenly-
An instant blackness, like a plague of ink and midnight filled everything. The buzzing hum of the electricity that ran all twenty computers was hushed. The only sound was the storm howling outside the glass of the window, as though supremely pleased with itself for its mischief.
Damn.
The darkness swept through the room at the speed of light. It splashed over the walls, throughout the window and it lingered like a ghost's cold breath between their faces. L blinked in surprise, and then blinked again when his eyes realized they were blind. But there was no source of light to reflect his irises away from their blindness – out the large window, all of the city buildings in the distance were also suddenly unlit.
"What's going on?" Light demanded. A pointless question, since the adolescent was more than capable of reaching the logical conclusion, but it was perhaps his habitual paranoia that made his voice waver.
"A black-out, Yagami-kun." L stood up, glancing down mournfully in the direction of his computer. The system had a ten minute auto-save program set up, but when one worked as rapidly as L did then even a few meager minutes meant losing a great deal of progress. At least he hadn't been communicating with the Vice President at that point – how embarrassing, and more than that if the government so desired they could narrow down L's location solely on geographical areas that experienced a loss of power.
Down the hallway, Watari's voice called. It wasn't loud, because the man's voice was too withered and old to shout, but L heard its venerable quality intently. "Ryuuzaki, it's the storm. I don't have an estimate yet of how long power will be out, but I'll contact someone if it takes longer than a few minutes."
L sighed tiredly. "It's fine. Just please find flashlights."
"Would you like assistance in securing the criminal?"
He restrained himself from making a comment about Kira having night vision among his vast superpowers, and instead said in Light's direction, "What do you think, Yagami-kun? Will I require assistance in keeping you restrained?"
The comeback in the darkness was rather sarcastic. "I'm scheming my grand escape as we speak, but please don't let that influence your decision."
"I hope that your grand escape doesn't involve you moving. I'll be annoyed if you step on any computer equipment, stumbling through the dark." There were twenty computer monitors scattered across the floor in an organization that only L understood. That number count didn't include either the other hardware that L used, and he really would be pissed off if Light tripped over something.
"It would also tug at my conscience if I damaged your property," came the cheeky response.
"I'd make you pay for it," L vowed, scratching his head. "Anyway, a hint of advice. Since we don't have electricity, all of the electronic locks are frozen. That means that without the emergency access codes, which you don't know, you wouldn't even make it off this floor of the complex."
"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were trying to discourage me."
The detective smirked at that. Even though he was also blind, he was able to see this room without the use of his eyes. He stepped forward in the direction of Light's voice, avoiding several keyboards and wires. He felt the floorboards underneath his toes, and he moved at a pace precisely comparable to any other day. Even though he could not see his face, he detected that Light was apprehensive about his enemy suddenly being so close to him in the dark. Instinctively the youth retreated a step.
"Yagami-kun," L warned in reprimand against this movement. He then reached over to grasp the adolescent's wrist. The arm tugged away on its own accord, but L's fingers constricted around it fixedly. "Follow my every step. I'll bring you to a place where you can wait."
The journey was a winding road, and L moved slowly enough for the blinded Light to mimic his every move. They navigated through the maze of fragile machinery. Both of the youths were light-footed, and even though Light carried himself with the more natural grace, their steps were equally deft and hushed.
For no reason that was worth rationalizing, L's hand tightened around the wrist. Light tensed slightly in response, his own silent complaint at the treatment but he did not voice whatever frustration he was feeling. The homicidal maniac was probably more than uncomfortable about being lead through the unknown by his worst enemy, but to L, there was something else.
Familiarity – that's what it was. L recalled that he hadn't physically contacted Light since November. As obsolete as the action was, there was just something about it. He didn't often feel familiar with anything, the only constant thing in his life was Quillsh Whammy and perhaps his favorite laptop computer. Everything else was constantly changing, adjusting and moving to the new optimum of social evolution. Light Yagami should have also cycled away, a case buried quite literally in a casket and forgotten about. Just like B.
Even now, L was convinced that his intentions were purely economical and moral. Kira would be extricated and Light would pay for his damage by serving L for the rest of his life.
But this was an anomaly to those convictions. Light's wrist was soft and cool from the chill in the room, but the blood that pulsed underneath was warm. Against his conscious will, L's mind drifted back to the days over the last summer when he and Light worked side by side, connected by a chain in addition to an impenetrable will to succeed. Even now he felt the familiar handcuff encircling Light's wrist, right under where his hand clasped it, as though those old days were crossing over with tonight. The two of them, partners, companions, and... and what else?
"L," Light proclaimed steadily in response to the recondite silence.
Of course, then there was reality. L, he said, not Ryuuzaki. Those days had been a facade on both their parts, an attractive and appealing sort of friendship painted by two insincere artists: L and Kira. But the need for art had disappeared now, and the world was kept in place by handcuffs instead of a pallet of colorful lies.
The truth was black and white.
L had guided them to a corner by the window, on the opposite side from the doors that he wanted the convict to avoid even thinking about. The only thing within a five foot radius of them at this location was a large potted plant that would be much more difficult to accidentally break. He obeyed Light's hint, and released the wrist. "You can sit here."
Immediately, Light tossed his back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Ever so vaguely, L could make out his figure through a pathetic glow of light that somehow managed to reflect off the wild dancing snowflakes dimly tiptoe across the floorboards. Light's knees were drawn up and he wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin in the crevice between the limbs. L had grown accustomed to staring at the ex-suspect, and accustomed to analyzing his every movement. Now that the world had gone blank, L found himself squinting to better make out the form.
"So B was your friend, huh?" Light suddenly theorized.
A thumbnail found itself nestled between L's front teeth, clicking itself quietly as the detective studied the youth in the shadows. "What makes you conclude that?"
There was a brief pause, as though Light were studying him back out of the corner of his eyes. "I assumed that you were emotionally involved in some way. You don't usually take on cases with less than ten dead bodies unless there was high-profile assassination involved, and that guy just killed three unimportant people."
"Unimportant people..." L murmured. "Kira places a rather low value on human life, isn't that so?"
"Those people were of no special purpose to you, to B nor to society. It was a serial killer and it was homicide but you took the effort on a case of relative tiny scale compared to your normal work." Light continued on with confidence, completely ignoring the other's remark. "And even more obviously, the name – B. L, and B. An idiot could figure that one out. And Watari uses the initial 'W' as his signature. This is a whole system, isn't? The alphabet thing."
"Sounds like a conspiracy theory," he answered with exaggerated curiosity.
"The cryptic man called 'L' controls all of Interpol, and no one has seen his face or knows his real name. And B, he was significant enough for you to pencil in an appointment on your busy schedule."
Pencil in time for B, huh? That was quite a way to put it. B was twisted to the point of psychological perversion. He yearned to be the best, he had to be the best to the point where he wanted to annihilate the one thing standing in his way: that had been his lookalike. L. No one had wanted to destroy him so thoroughly and on such personal terms, not until Kira. And not since then had L been so ensnared in his own hardened convictions to put a nefarious, genius criminal mastermind in check-mate – and then destroy them in turn. Not until Kira.
"B was not my friend," L said plainly. He leaned against the wall behind him, shoving his hands into his pockets because of the chill that leaked in through the window. Without electricity, the room was getting colder by the second. "It's true that I was associated with him at one time. He specifically challenged me, and considering his level of intelligence I felt the need to deal with him myself."
"You mean through a proxy, Naomi Misora," Light, ever the smart-ass, added. "Can I throw a hypothesis on the table?"
"You can throw it farther than that."
Unperplexed, Light persisted. "If the alphabet thing is a conspiracy, some kind of organization, and B was intelligent enough for you to take on, then he must have been potentially dangerous, right? This is the most secret and powerful group in the world if they can control all the police through Interpol. B knew your real name. You wanted him silenced."
The eighteen-year-old had a frightening knack for abstract, complex thought. It was this kind of ability that nearly killed L last November. However, it wasn't fear that he was feeling now, it was instead a strange concoction of amusement and severe irritation, such a strange tear between simple emotions that L canceled out the negatives and was back to neutrality. "You haven't considered that I didn't have him executed. His crimes merited just that, considering that California punishes murderers with the death penalty, but the data I sent to court gave him his life. Similar to how I dealt with Light Yagami."
The response was instant and certain. "In both cases you did not spare those in question out of mercy. 'Execution is too good for Kira', you told me. It was economical, but you aren't practical in the conventional sense. B intended to commit suicide after his crimes, you did not allow that escape. And to ensure that nothing he might spill about Team Alphabet was taken seriously, you had him thrown into a high-security mental hospital so he would be forced to live out his days knowing that you had won."
...'Team Alphabet'? There was hardly any kind of alliance between the children that competed for the position of 'L' and the mentors of Wammy's House orphanage. They only shared a common goal and would have similar obligations to fill if they succeeded. ...But the name was rather catchy.
"Your tone is quite condescending," L finally commented dryly, his head lifting up toward the ceiling as though appealing to the heavens to witness this hypocrisy. "Of course, Kira, being quite an egocentric child, is quick to cast judgments to the point of contradicting himself."
"Not true," Light argued. "My actions were economical and efficient."
"Mine are moral."
"Moral!" he cried out, obviously disturbed by this statement and making quite a show of it. "What... what do you know about morality?"
The detective's eyes flickered back down to the prisoner. Without hiding his disdain, he remarked, "Enough to not become the first degree murderer of thousands of people."
That quieted Light. L narrowed his eyes, trying without success to make out the youth's expression. He could see an outline, a curled body that was very still except for a slight shivering that was likely due to the abnormally low temperature of the room.
"You didn't solve the BB case, L," Light finally claimed. "I did."
A disconcerting silence filled the room as assiduously as the wintry chill. L's mouth unhinged without his consent as he struggled to find the proper words to unleash upon this warped attitude that was synthesized from arrogance and boredom.
Before he could come to a conclusion, however, the adolescent commenced his attack. "A criminal who murdered for purely selfish reasons – not out of self defense, not out of righteousness. A disgusting man who graphically took the lives of three innocent people, and one of them was a child. He tortured them and mutilated them and shamed their bodies, all to draw attention to himself. Sustaining a prisoner who has no hope of freedom is a waste of the government's money and resources. He should just die."
"To say those things, that's only the right of governments and gods," L growled, his voice lowering into something dangerous. "And you, Light Yagami, are neither."
"I solved the BB case when I wrote his name into my Death Note." Light suddenly laughed out loud, but it was not in humor – it was a taunt. "I wrote so many names, but I remember his. 'Beyond Birthday'. What a stupid English name, I thought. L, is your real name equally stupid?"
L contorted his tone to amazement, though nothing surprised him. He knew this boy well, he had psychoanalyzed him for over a year. Though finally hearing these words out loud was as satisfying as it was disturbing. "That's how easy a child kills when you give him a murder weapon, huh? He damns human beings to their graves, and all he thinks about is the quality of their names."
Light regained his composure. Quickly, he defended, "There's nothing abnormal about that. I do not need to respect murderers."
"And neither do I," L countered, pointedly looking down at his adversary.
Even in the darkness, Light seemed to feel the glare, and his face snapped up to meet it. "I wasn't wrong. I was not wrong in my actions. Kira was saving the world. There are crime chart statistics, and crowds of supporters to prove it. The equation is mathematical, and someone as intelligent as L is a fool if he can't see it. I will never regret what I did, and I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had the chance."
There was something fascinating about Light's voice, so rich and full of resolution. L could not even see his brilliant amber eyes, nor his flawless expression so grim and convinced of his beliefs. He didn't need to. Light's voice supported itself, enchanted the atmosphere and lit up the darkness. There was a golden fire in his aura that melted the coldness, if only for a few seconds. Yes, so captivating that L let the idiot say his piece, he listened to that misguided and even insane declaration.
Then when L had his turn to speak, he simply said, "And that is why you will be wearing those handcuffs for the remainder of your life."
The remark hit its target on the proud and even ostentatious youth who was trying to psychologically convince himself that he would definitely not spend the rest of his young existence in high-security captivity. L could see him shift, pulling subconsciously against the shackles around his wrists.
L aimed to claim this conversation as his own victory. He stepped closer to Light, and then kneeled down to crouch at eye-level before his adversary. "I'm glad for your honesty concerning your feelings on this issue, and in return I am also being honest. You won't stir any sympathies from me no matter how vigorously you defend your position. However, if I'm not otherwise preoccupied I will be more than happy to inform you of your many faults."
Light's eyes flashed through the darkness. It was crimson, a flash of bloody crimson. For a split second, L saw B materialize in the place where he was sitting. B was there with his red eyes, a mirror image of L in every way except... except everything that mattered.
B had never haunted him. Not when he knew the person in the flesh, not when the man left Wammy's with threats of vengeance and not when he became a ruthless killer. The hauntings began when Watari delivered the news. Here's the criminal death list for last night, Lawliet. Beyond Birthday is among the casualties... But B wasn't dead, he watched in the mirrors, and he resonated in Light's eyes.
"What if you couldn't?" The red eyes were golden again. Light's golden eyes, and the voice was soft and hesitant.
"Huh?" L had been lost in his own ponderings.
"What if you couldn't prove me wrong?" Light said with more confidence this time. "What if I made you a Kira supporter?"
The detective stared at him with wide eyes and spoke in a voice that was dripping with deadpan sarcasm. "Then you really must have god-like powers."
"Would you release me?"
"This is getting far too hypothetical for my tastes," L remarked with disapproval. "And you sound as though you're trying to cast a bargain. That's not really your place, considering your position."
Light's arms raised from around his legs, and his knees lowered until he was sitting on them. His head inclined. "You like challenges, so I'm challenging you. If I win, you have to let me go because you'll believe that I didn't do anything wrong, anyhow."
He quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think that you have anything to bet of equivalent price. I already own you."
"If you win, then you'll never have to worry yourself over my security again. I would never run away because I would believe that I deserved this punishment."
That issue was irrelevant. With enough technology, trust is obsolete and prisoners remain as such. L would never release Light, the notion itself was absurd. They both knew this very well. Why Light had proposed this game was not a mystery – he designed it for his own comfort so that the part of him that wouldn't release Kira would have some hope that maybe one day he would find his way to freedom.
L reached forward, clasping his hand against Kira's. The youth's arm jerked slightly in surprise until he seemed to remember that in America it was customary to seal deals with a handshake.
The hand was beating with the warmth of life. L found himself smiling for no reason aside from this simple fact. The feeling of Light's fingers cautiously bending against his own, and then more firmly as his conclusions hardened. The essence of Light Yagami, the divinity of Kira, all radiating through the fingertips that L could not even see with his eyes.
The smile across L's face widened as the lights finally flickered back on, the blackout fully remedied.
Justice will prevail.
-To Be Continued. . .
Author's Notes:
1. Dead in absentia - legally dead. In many countries, if a missing person is not heard from after seven years, and no evidence is offered to the contrary, they are considered deceased by law.
2. The BB case - is the case that Naomi Misora worked on under L. The facts in this story are very brief in comparison to the story in Another Note, however the only change I made was not mentioning that the second victim - the little girl - had the initials of QQ instead of BB. Complicated, but not worth explaining in this story.
Sorry to subscribers for the late update! Thanks everybody for reading. :-)