Seven:
Equilibrium
Watari was…at a bit of a loss with everything. L had been missing about a month now. Anyone else and Watari's extensive knowledge of criminality would have told him that the kidnapped person was dead. For some reason, he didn't get that feeling about L; it just…wasn't like him.
Besides, it didn't explain why L's cases were continuing to be solved. Perhaps…perhaps Roger was right and L had decided to go out on his own. Watari beat down the idea. No. It might have just been some form of almost-parental ignorance that made him not want to believe it was possible, but going off on his own wasn't like L. And it didn't fit in with Beyond Birthday's escape and subsequent disappearance. Not to mention Mello, Matt, and Near were acting strange lately. Frowning, he decided that too many things weren't adding up. There were too many…coincidences. Nothing made sense anymore. And, as far as Watari was concerned, they were searching for L on borrowed time.
L was sick of it all. Sick of the metal room he was stuck in and sick of being watched all the time. He was sick of the shower not working when he wanted it to and of only being able to sit on an uncomfortable cot. He was sick of the tiny, cold tv dinners and cans of soup he was always waking up to. He was sick of cold coffee and only having a single extra cup of water to drink through out the day. And he was sick of the power occasionally going out to leave him in long stretches of utter darkness. But, above all, he was sick of B not doing anything.
It was actually getting to the point where L was almost hoping B would do something to him, if only because L could use it as a way to test getting out.
That was why, after waking up one time (who knew if it was night or day) to his cold coffee and food, L dropped his plastic spoon he'd been left and abruptly moved away from the tray. Well, that and because his tongue and lips were numb. So, B was trying to sedate him again after all this time. He must be ready to move to the next stage…so what is he planning now? Has the game changed again? Or does he just want me to think it has? Am I looking into this too much? There was no telling which was true without taking the sedatives—which he refused to do. Being drugged limited his abilities far too much for his liking. No, if B wanted him drugged, he could come in and do it himself.
"What's wrong, Lawliet?" B asked through his hidden speaker.
L, acting a bit petulantly, didn't deign to answer. Instead he sat down on his cot, holding his knees to his chest. You're getting complacent, B. I won't fall for the same tricks twice. It was hard to say "no" to something to drink, though, with how dry his mouth felt.
He forcefully looked away and tried to think of something else. Something, something, anything. Anything that would capture his attention. Almost obsessively, his mind returned to the coffee cup. Unneeded memories of the smooth, bitter taste of coffee on his tongue, the grit of sugar under his fingers, the aromatic scent…it hit him like a two-ton truck and then hit him again. And again.
L drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind.
Though he had seen news stories about people surviving over a week without water, L had a feeling, given his current state of well being, he would be on the three-day end of the spectrum. That said, the day after B's latest attempt at drugging him, L had still refused to drink anything set out for him. He wouldn't even test it, on the off chance that his self-control snapped and he ended up just letting B sedate him. B was going to have to work for it. He'd said time and time again that he wouldn't let L die just yet, and now was his chance to prove it.
And if B had lied, then…well, B would have lied and there'd be nothing to do about it.
Still, thinking about his possibly impending demise was not a good way to pass the time and there were other, more crucial details to think about. For instance, L was fairly certain (about seventy percent, if he had to put a percentage on it) that he was in a small room in a large complex. He couldn't be certain of the type of complex, but whatever it was had to be completely self-contained judging by the singular fact that the shower hadn't worked since L had stopped drinking, which implied that B had some control of the mains…or L was completely wrong and all B had figured out was how to turn off the water valve in a building. Which, admittedly, wasn't very hard to do. Still, he was favoring the self-contained theory. It didn't seem like B to hide them in an area where anyone could come across them. Plus, that theory was backed up by the amount of small power outages they seemed to have. The unpredictable power supply had given him the idea that they were either in a country with an unstable power grid, or they were far removed from a city and the electricity was coming from a generator. The generator seemed more likely and, seeing as it was always cold in his little room, L had decided they were probably in an older building in the North of…of…he hadn't figured out which country.
L tried in vain to bring up a foggy memory of when he'd first been kidnapped. He knew he'd seen some type of landscape while B was transporting him, but he was unsure if he'd dreamed it or if he'd really seen it. Given how much his head was pounding and how blurry that "memory" was, it seemed more like a dream than anything.
Besides, it was hard to think too much when his heart was mimicking a trapped frog—sometimes jumping erratically and sometimes beating too slow to really feel—and his tongue felt like an old sponge. And, honestly, the sickly feeling it was giving him was worse than the thirst. No. Get over it. Think. Don't let your personal feelings affect your judgment this time. Think about what you know of B and how that pertains to this case.
B…well, the almost absolute level of control he exerted over his crime scenes was concerning, but it was a good hint as to what to expect. If he were B, L was certain he would have multiple layers of security. Given that B was the type to do everything himself, L doubted that security was guards. No…if he were B, he would have had to make that security tricks and traps. Unless that was why B was keeping him sedated and keeping the door hidden. Perhaps B's ego had grown to a point where he believed that simple tricks would work better than complicated ones because he was simply better than L. To a point, L agreed that simple was better for both of them. Better for B, in that he didn't need to focus on obsolete details to achieve results. And better for L for the sheer reason that, if he bypassed B's tricks, it would be easier to escape and recapture B. Ideally, all things considered, L would have liked to goad B into telling him what he wanted to know. But he knew B would see through it. If he could see through appeals to his ego, he would see through outright manipulation. Maybe, once he got out, he would sit down and have a chat with Roger and Watari about how they were training his successors a little too well.
If he was honest, refusing to drink was taking too long for his liking. Immediate results were always the best and there was no way to immediately make B react to this stunt. L paused, tightening his grip on his knees. The quickest way to make B react would be to actually attempt suicide. Could he really go that far? His mind immediately brought forth memories of the Kira case. Even when he'd challenged Kira to kill him, even when having to appear on tv because of the second Kira had seemed like a very real possibility, it was always more of a gamble than anything. It was far different to risk your life than it was to do something you knew would end it and, as far as L was concerned, those two instances fell under the risk category. This, however, was something else entirely.
Looking around the room, he could see numerous ways to get B's attention by harming himself. He could bite his tongue or create a situation in which he would asphyxiate. He could pry a screw from any of the numerous bits of furniture or remove a spring from the cot's mattress and gouge his wrists open or stab himself. The lights in the room flickered slightly and L glanced up at them, wondering if he could get up high enough to start an electrical fire with their wiring.
Annoyed with himself, L abruptly shook himself out of that line of thinking. No victory would be gained if he died. (And, if he planned out even a fake suicide, he was certain he would die.) Everything counted on B's desire to see him alive until B had no more use for him. At the moment, it was simply a matter of who as more stubborn; B could see what L was doing, and L knew very well that B was demanding for L to submit. Neither would move until the other pushed them hard enough. If L was patient, he would have a response to his actions in the next twenty-four hours (at the very least). He didn't need to rush this or do anything stupid.
All that was left to do was wait.
The next morning dawned to the first nice day the region had seen in a long while; everything was coated in a shimmering layer of glittering white that simply begged to be played in. Unless you hated snow. Then it was the first day of the New Year in which it was best to avoid going outside.
L, however, had no knowledge of how the outside world looked. Nor would he have particularly cared to hear it. The sound of his blood pounding in his ears was threatening to split his head in two. He wanted to open his eyes and distract himself, even if it meant staring blankly at the wall, but the light hurt his head, as well. Not to mention that the room swam violently every time he moved—and that seemed to include moving his eyes.
He'd stopped thinking about B's motives several hours ago. It wasn't that he was out of ideas, it was just that he was too lethargic to really focus on them. At this point, though, he didn't even really see a point in thinking them over. It seemed like such a better idea to catch up on all the sleep he'd missed during…well, every case he'd ever worked on really. Yeah, that would work. Some distant part of his mind reminded him that his throat was extremely dry and that he should probably do something about it. L filed away the mental note for later use and rested his head a little more comfortably against his arms, ignoring how that tiny movement made him feel like a ship on an angry sea.
"Hey, are you okay?" someone asked after he'd been drifting in darkness for a while.
L slowly raised his head and looked to his right. A little girl with pigtails was sitting on her knees beside him, wearing a look of deep concern on her round, cherubic face. It didn't occur to him to wonder where she'd come from or why he didn't feel so bad all of a sudden, but it did puzzle him that she seemed to be so concerned about him. "I'm fine, Linda."
"You don't look like it," Linda retorted, moving to sit cross-legged.
L noted that there were ink smears on her hands and more than a couple old paint splatters on her clothes, evidence of her favorite hobby, and he looked away to stare at his knees. He…wasn't good with kids, especially not little girls. Something about them was disarming. Sometimes even dubiously alarming. It was best to just not answer.
"Actually," she added when L didn't reply, "you look upset. Was someone mean to you?"
He watched her out of the corner of his eye, more than a little disturbed by her kindness. It wasn't that no one had ever been kind to him before—Watari, for example, was always very kind to him and tolerated him with more patience than most would have (especially given that he'd always been a bit…dependent on Watari) and he was sure his parents had been kind, though he had no real memory of them—but Linda's kindness was overwhelming. It always had been, too, ever since he'd first run into her at the Wammy's House.
"If you're not hurt…and no one was mean to you, are you scared of something?"
He turned his head toward her fully, giving her such a probing look it seemed he was trying to look into her mind. Did she know his secret? Had she somehow guessed?
"Was it a monster?" Linda asked, completely serious.
Yes, it was a monster. Not one of those ones that caused trouble by stealing children or creating nightmares or eating people, but one that was much worse: a monster who always told lies. The worst of the worst, L thought, because those were the most cunning. They pretended so easily to be normal people, though they knew nothing about human emotion. They never hungered and nothing could stir their interests. They've no knowledge of friendship, because they can never love. Those frightened him the worst, especially the thought of being devoured by one. because Because, in truth, he was that monster. "Yes."
The girl tilted her head slightly, her pigtails swinging. "You're not a monster."
"Are you certain? One hundred percent certain?"
Linda nodded.
L took a deep breath and slowly got to his feet. "I don't know anymore."
He started to turn back to her and a sharp pain flashed through his head and chest. He gasped for breath that seemed to be having a hard time reaching his lungs. Metal walls spun dizzyingly around him and, coughing, he tried to sit back down on his empty cot. It was a little too far out of reach, though. Damn. And then the floor was rushing up to meet him.
B could count on one hand all the times he recalled being actually worried about something. This was one of those times. He'd been waiting to see how far L would push this, trusting his eyes when he saw just how much time the detective had left to live. He'd taken it to mean that L would stop before he dehydrated himself to the point of death. Maybe, as only rarely happened, Beyond's eyes had failed him. Sometimes…sometimes people just died before their time was up. No.
Lawliet hadn't even fully hit the ground when B had already begun to make his way to L's room. L couldn't die. It wasn't part of the plan. He had to stay alive. Or…maybe the truth was that B needed L to live if only for the self-gratification that would bring B. Really, he didn't care what the reason was as he half-ran down several corridors and got the door to L's room open.
"Lawliet?" he asked, trying to wake L up. He hadn't even bothered to close the door behind him, instead choosing to crouch beside the man he'd always idolized as he tried to make him regain consciousness. "Come on, Lawliet. I know you're not dead. Wake up."
Get up. You need to get up. B can't...just wake up! Why won't you wake up?!
The numbers of L's lifespan were clicking down at their usual rate, but still he did not wake up. He did not open his eyes. He did not move. B's fingers somehow found Lawliet's wrist and a stab of horror went through him as he realized there was no pulse to be found.
AN: I'm back! Rejoice! Or...you know, don't and curse my name. I'm gonna pretend you're rejoicing though. Okay? Okay. Wow, drama happened this chapter. Lots and lots of drama and break downs and people doubting themselves and the people around them. B's plan is beginning to go out a window. And Linda made a cameo...even if it was just in L's poor, deprived head. I'm starting to feel bad about torturing him. As always, reviews are treasures and I beg you for them. Now...I'm gonna go crash in bed and catch y'all in a couple days. Thanks to everyone who's reading!
