PianoCatRulez: Thanks :D Yeah, Matsuda's not having a very good time of it so far...

Anonymous: Nice try, but if you do sic Mello on me, you'll never find out what part he and Matt have to play in this fic XD But thanks, I'm glad you liked it :D


JULY 31

Soichiro woke up hungry at half past four in the morning and groaned. He'd never been a good traveler. On the single occasion when he and his family had come on vacation to Europe, even little Sayu had shaken off the jet lag faster than her father.

Thinking that it was hardly worth going back to bed for an hour and a half, and that a mug of coffee might help assuage the gnawing pangs in his stomach until a more civilized time, Soichiro dragged himself to his feet and stumbled through into the lounge. When he got there, he realized he wasn't the only one with insomnia; L was also awake and perched at the dining table, sifting through the files Soichiro had brought back from Wammy's House and making notes on the back of an envelope.

"What are you doing up at this time?" the deputy director demanded.

L shrugged. "I had a bad dream. Woke up about four am." He fell silent for a few moments, then cleared his throat, staring straight ahead, and added, "I apologize, Yagami-san. I never intended to disturb you, especially not since you're due to start work later today."

Soichiro glanced around from where he was rummaging in the cupboard for coffee. "What's with the sudden formality?"

L didn't answer. He didn't even give the slightest sign that he'd heard the deputy director, although that didn't mean anything; the young man excelled at pretending not to hear people.

"What were you dreaming about, anyway?" Soichiro tried as he finally located the coffee and set the kettle on to boil.

A shiver coursed through L's body and he reached out, lifting one of the files with the tips of his fingers and burying himself in its contents.

"I don't remember," he said.

Soichiro raised his eyebrows. "I see. And is that the I don't remember kind of I don't remember, or is it the I don't want to talk about it so shut up and leave me alone kind?"

No answer, which Soichiro knew from experience didn't really mean anything either. He wished Matsuda was there, so much so that he briefly considered waking the younger detective. In the past, L had shown very cautious overtures of friendship toward him, and Matsuda might be able to worm some of the truth out of L.

He might, a little voice inside whispered. Or his presence might make Ryuzaki feel outnumbered and drive him into his shell. Besides, how often has Ryuzaki confided in Matsuda, compared to the number of times he's confided in you?

That was true, Soichiro admitted to himself. L did trust him. It was a wary trust, a trust that would be lost in half an eyeblink if the deputy director screwed up somehow, but it was there.

What did you expect? Remember what your father always told you: you never know someone until you live with them. Based on that, he's only really known you on that level for about a month, if you don't count that time he spent in a coma. If you looked at it in that way, the older man thought it was amazing L had already learned to trust Soichiro as much as he did.

The deputy director located the coffee, automatically started to make one for L as well, then stopped as he thought of something more appropriate. L had bought this stuff in only yesterday; it would be a shame not to use it. Besides, if anyone deserved a pick-me-up, it was L, and so Soichiro took the biggest glass he could find out of the cupboard, added some cocoa powder and two spoonfuls of sugar, just enough boiling water to cover the bottom of the glass and when the cocoa and sugar had dissolved, filled the glass with ice cold milk and brought it back to L along with his own coffee.

"Here."

L stared at the glass, then at Soichiro. "I should get up at four am more often."

"Don't get used to this," the deputy director told him, although he was smiling a little. If this was what it took to keep L grounded in reality after what happened yesterday, Soichiro would make him as many chocolate milkshakes as he wanted.

But you should still tell him about what happened yesterday, right?

Soichiro suppressed a groan. That was all well and good and no doubt morally sound, but the problem was that he knew L well enough by now to know how he would react. A twenty three year old young man whose desire to become normal was slowly creeping toward the realm of obsession would not be happy to find out that he had regressed to the age of around seven or eight and tried to draw a nonexistent picture with nonexistent crayons.

Soichiro didn't know how long he stared into his coffee, debating things through in his head, but either he was giving off certain vibes or L was more attuned to him than he had first thought, because at some point the young man abandoned his milkshake and said, "What's wrong?"

The deputy director shook his head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

L raised his eyebrows. "Is this some kind of new role reversal game you're playing now? Because that doesn't sound any more convincing coming from you than it does from me."

Soichiro smiled a little. "No, it's not that. It's just..." He hesitated, then took a deep breath, certain that L would never let the subject drop now. Perhaps it really would be best to get it over with.

"Just what?" L persisted.

"Just..." Soichiro hesitated. "Ryuzaki, do you remember getting back from Wammy's House?"

L blinked, then nodded. "Yes, but not to the depth I usually remember such things. My chest was hurting and I wasn't at my best."

Soichiro nodded. He'd taken a look at L's chest when they'd got back, and although there was no more damage, the young man had exerted himself so much in such a short space of time that it was hardly surprising he hadn't felt at his best.

"Alright. And do you remember what you did after we'd got back from Wammy's House?"

L considered this, then shrugged. "Not really. I think I dozed off. Why? Did I miss something important?"

The older man glanced around, looking for some kind of distraction or stalling device and completely failed to find one. Besides, L was the master of stalling; he'd see through such an obvious ploy in an instant.

"You didn't fall asleep," Soichiro told him, managing to keep his voice normal with a real effort and his eyes on an odd wall decoration that looked as if someone had put a purple dressing gown inside a glass box. "You, ah, you drew a picture."

L stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed in disbelief. "Is that supposed to be a joke? I'm not much of an artist, Soichiro. Even my stick figure doodles are out of proportion."

It really was a very interesting wall decoration. Soichiro didn't look away from it as he answered quietly, "Well, you drew something yesterday."

"Really?" L gave him a look that flickered between amusement and skepticism. "So where is this masterpiece?"

Why did they never teach you useful skills in the NPA? Soichiro wondered wretchedly. Was a day release course on How To Break Bad News To A Traumatized Genius really too much to ask? Alright, so the Japanese public would probably whine about it being a waste of taxpayers' money, but it would really come in handy at a time like this.

"Before I tell you that, answer me one thing: when you were living in Wammy's House, where was your room?"

L blinked. "In the attic. Why?"

"Attic?" Soichiro echoed.

"It's not what you're thinking. They had the loft space converted to a living area, oh, years before I showed up. It gave them three extra bedrooms and one bathroom. Mine was a small room but it was private so it worked for me. I'd rather sleep there than in any of the dormitories."

"And if you were going to give me directions to get to your room from the entrance of Wammy's House, how would you do it?"

L shrugged. "Go straight in, up the main staircase, turn right, up the staircase at the end of the corridor, right again, up the other staircase, down the corridor and it's the last door on your left."

"Left?"

"Yes, left." L raised his left hand as Exhibit A. "Soichiro, do you mind telling me what all these questions are in aid of?"

The deputy director wasn't certain that he should, but having come this far, he couldn't very well leave L in the dark. In an effort to try and break the news to him gently, he asked, "When are you due to have your next bad day?"

"Twenty ninth of August. Why?"

There didn't seem to be any good way to drop the subject, not now he'd brought it up, and Soichiro answered in as neutral a tone as he could manage, "Because you had one yesterday."

"I what?" L stared at him. His face was suddenly hard, but there was a tiny glimmer of fear in his eyes, fear that the older man may be right. "Soichiro, if this is some kind of elaborate joke on your part, I assure you it's in the worst possible taste."

"For God's sake, Ryuzaki! Do you really think I would joke about something as serious as that?"

L lifted one hand to his mouth, nibbling on his thumbnail as he thought this over. At last he said in a low voice, "No. Not really. But I don't want you to be telling the truth either."

"I know." Soichiro couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this terrible, unless it was that night in front of his family when he'd begun the longest lie of his life, the lie that Kira had murdered Light. "I'm sorry. I should have kept quiet."

"No," L said in the same low voice. "No, you shouldn't. If—I need to know these things, Soichiro. But I still don't think it was really a bad day. Like I said, my next one isn't due for another twenty nine days."

Soichiro didn't want to argue with that and so he just said, "Perhaps."

"But..." L bit a little harder, then flinched and drew his hand away from his mouth as blood blossomed at the corner of his thumbnail. He stared at it for a while, as if wondering what it was.

"But?" Soichiro prompted.

"But I really don't remember what happened between getting back to the hotel room and Matsuda phoning. That doesn't usually happen to me except on the bad days. It's like when I kicked you that time, or trashed that apartment. I couldn't stop myself from doing it, but at the same time I knew that I was doing it. I mean, I remember it now, and that never happens with the bad days." L shifted his weight, glancing around for something Soichiro couldn't identify. "But I don't draw pictures when they come around. I don't do anything; I just sit there."

"Did Watari ever talk to you about it?"

The young man shook his head. "No. Never. He said he didn't like to, so he ordered me never to mention it to anyone." He lowered his eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of having broken that particular promise.

Of course he did, Soichiro thought grimly. He still didn't believe that Watari had gone out of his way to damage L – unless you counted suppressing all the young man's memories prior to Wammy's House – but he'd been a very intelligent man. There was no way he could have failed to see what was wrong with L. How did it feel, Watari? The deputy director was sure that was the reason why Watari had so strongly forbidden L from talking about what happened to him, because he didn't want to face what the life and pressure of being a super-detective was doing to the young man.

"Did he tell you anything at all?"

L licked his lips. "Yes. He said I just got quiet. When I asked what he meant, he told me that I didn't do or say anything; I just sat there. Is that true?"

Soichiro raised his eyebrows. "Well, I haven't seen you on enough of your bad days to really know the answer to that. The first one I saw was when you were ill in my house. You were just curled up on the couch. You didn't do anything, but you did respond and speak to me."

The young man curled into a tighter ball, face half buried in his knees.

"Did I make any sense?" he asked.

"Not much on that occasion. You knew who I was, but you were very confused. You didn't seem to have a clue where you were – you didn't even realize you were in Japan – but in all fairness, you were extremely ill at the time and you told me yourself that your memories of those early days with me are a little hazy. It's possible – even likely – that your illness made the bad day a lot worse than it would be normally."

L was motionless and silent for a long time, so long that Soichiro began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. At last he said in a low voice, "What about yesterday?"

"Yes, you spoke to me yesterday, and no, you didn't know where you were. You also spoke with a strong Aomori accent." Soichiro considered this for a few seconds, then said seriously, "The best way I can think of to describe it to you on both occasions, Ryuzaki, is that you went back in time."

L stared at him. "I...what? You mean I had some kind of flashback?"

"Not quite. I mean that you seemed to think you were in another place and another time, but you still knew who I was. You called me by name and when I asked you what you were drawing, you said you were drawing Roger and Sakanaka dying."

The young man continued to stare at him, plainly at a loss for words. Eventually he asked, "Did I, uh, did I say how they were dying?"

"No, but you seemed to think it was going to need a lot of red crayon. Even though you knew who I was and who Roger and Sakanaka were, you seemed to think you were a child back in Aomori." Soichiro paused. "You also mentioned two people: Sugihara-sensei and Kenta-kun. Do either of those names mean anything to you?"

He watched as L visibly racked his brains, then the young man shook his head slowly. "No. Do they mean anything to you?"

Soichiro, whose memory had finally thrown up a single card after he'd lain awake last night for a few hours thinking about it, nodded. "Yes. I read the name Sugihara in your file. I'm not sure you got that far; the notes about your history were right at the back. She was your homeroom teacher in Aomori. From what you said, Kenta-kun was the name of a kid next door that you used to play with."

L shook his head again, harder this time. "No. I don't remember anything about that. Are you sure I did this?"

"How, exactly, could I be mistaken?" Soichiro asked as politely as he could.

"Dammit!" L slammed his hand down onto the table and surged to his feet, balancing perfectly on the edge of the chair. "I can't have this! Not now! I need my wits about me."

Soichiro watched as L jumped off the chair and started pacing. This was nothing new; when L got agitated, he got fidgety. Occasionally the physical activity calmed him down (or tired him out; the deputy director was never sure which). Usually, it just made him more worked up.

"Your wits are fine, Ryuzaki. Would you rather I hadn't told you?"

L shook his head. "No. I'm glad I know. I just don't understand why. All the others, something happened to trigger them. I don't like having bad days and I don't know why some experiences cause them and others don't, but at least I know what did cause them, so I always know when they're coming. I can't start having new ones now, because..."

His voice tailed off but Soichiro didn't need him to finish the sentence. He could fill in the blanks himself.

Because if I still get them, even after getting out of the detective business, what was the point in quitting to begin with?

"Did you ever have bad days that were one-offs?" he asked.

L was silent for a few moments, then nodded slowly, the manic energy gone from his eyes. "Yes. Not often, but I had them." Beat. "Are you saying that's all that this was?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility." Soichiro sipped at his coffee, found it had gone cold and pushed it away with a grimace. "But your bad days only seem to happen on an annual basis, so you're safe for at least another year."

L bit his lip. "What if it happens again?"

Soichiro shrugged with a nonchalance he was far from feeling. "If it happens again, it happens again. There's nothing either of us can do about that except deal with it when the time comes."

The young man was silent for a long time, picking at his jeans. The older man didn't try and push the conversation; L was often more comfortable with silence. Small talk wasn't one of his talents.

At last the young man raised his head and looked at Soichiro.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he said.

"I don't think it's a case of whether it bothers me or not, Ryuzaki. It's more a case of you not being able to help it."

"But does it?" L insisted.

Soichiro thought long and hard about the question before answering honestly, "If you mean, am I afraid of you when it happens, then the answer's no. I've never been afraid of you, you know that. But I do sometimes worry that one day you won't be able to shake it off."

"Do you still think I can be repaired?"

The deputy director blinked, not puzzled by the question so much as the choice of words.

"Repaired?" he echoed.

"Yes. That time on the roof, you said I was a very damaged, very angry, very confused young man. Your exact words. Do you still think that all damage can be repaired?"

"Yes, I do, but these things take time. Your problem is that you're too complacent. Has there ever been a skill you've tried to learn that you haven't been able to master in a very short space of time?"

L blinked. "No. Of course not. What does that have to do with this?"

"You think that being normal, as you insist on calling it, is another one of those skills. You mastered those quickly enough, so you expected to master this one just as fast and because you haven't, you don't know how to handle it." When L was silent, Soichiro pressed, "Am I close?"

L shrugged, which was as good as a yes. Soichiro knew full well there was nothing the young man hated more than having to concede he was less than perfect.

"Whatever you think of yourself, you're a fast learner. I never have to tell you to do the same thing twice."At least, he didn't have to do so often. L still had something of a mental block when it came to things such as table manners and not using one's tongue to clean out a yogurt pot.

"But you never seem to run out of things to tell me either," L protested. "When am I going to learn everything there is to know about behaving like a normal person?"

Soichiro wasn't sure how to answer that.

"It's not that simple," he said at last.

"Then it should be. Even if it isn't, Soichiro, I'm a genius. Why can't I do this?"

"Because you think that acquiring these skills and social instincts is as simple as learning out of a textbook. All the time you're torturing yourself with this—" Soichiro indicated the case files— "you're going to spend so much time obsessing over it that you'll forget all about your own needs. You have to learn how to let go."

L shook his head as if fighting to clear it. "But—"

"Ryuzaki, the world is not your responsibility. The only responsibility you have now is for your own actions. Let everyone else handle their own lives and concentrate on rebuilding yours."

"Alright, but if—" L was now doodling on the table top with a long finger— "if my actions caused, well, problems for somebody, doesn't that make them my problems too?"

The older man leaned back a little, wondering what this was leading up to. L never asked hypothetical questions unless there was a real question buried in there.

"It depends on the problems. If you solved a case and the criminal was arrested, then I don't think that's something you should lose any sleep over."

L shook his head. "No. Nothing like that."

"Then what?"

There was a silence. L shifted his weight from foot to foot, leading Soichiro to wonder – yet again – how the young man was able to stay in his ball for such a long time without getting cramp.

At last he said, "I'm L. People can get in trouble just by knowing me. I have hundreds, possibly thousands of enemies, Soichiro, and that's not hyperbole, it's just a fact. Some of them I don't even know about. It wasn't just because of Watari's determination to control me that I spent so long locked away from the world. Face it: it would be in the best interests of anyone looking to commit a major crime to kill me before they started. If someone innocent got in the way and got hurt, don't I have a responsibility to that person to try and help them?"

Soichiro was quiet for a few moments, not sure what to say and above all, not sure what L was really asking about. Glancing at the files on the table and noting one in particular, he asked, "Is this about Mello?"

Another shake of the head. "No. He got hurt, yes, but not because of me." Glancing down at the bite scar on his wrist, L added, "I'll never forget that. His face got stuck."

The deputy director blinked, certain he must have misheard. "I'm sorry?"

L indicated Mello's file. "He got burned in Wammy's House. No one bandaged him – I suspect because no one could get near him – and although he finally let me clean it up, that was as far as he would go and he'd only let me use water." L was quiet for a few moments, massaging the bite scar with his thumb, then said, "It's just as well, really. That burn was very close to his eye and I didn't really want to risk getting disinfectant in there. Of course, the burn was still oozing when he came to my room a few hours later. He was acting mostly on instinct, I think, and ended up burying his face in my chest. The burn got stuck to my t-shirt." L shook his head, a wan smile on his face. "It was all I could do to stop him going hysterical and shrieking the place down."

"How old were you?"

L shrugged. "Nineteen? Twenty? It was after Kyoto, so I can't have been any younger. Watari took me straight back to Wammy's House. He told me it was because I needed a clean break to recover from what had happened to me. I told him I wanted to stay, to try and find some trace of Hitomi or at least her kidnappers, but Watari refused. He said he wanted me back at the House for Christmas, to give some kind of inspirational speech to the kids he was training to replace me when I died. We fought over it. He won." He fell silent, curling up into his I don't want to talk about this ball.

Soichiro was quiet too, not wanting to push things. L didn't confide in him very often and when he did, it was usually with a sullen, almost resentful air, as if Soichiro had forced the confession out of him, but which the deputy director knew full well was down to L's determination to always be perfect, regardless of the cost.

"Did you help Mello to escape?" he asked, after several minutes had gone by and the atmosphere had eased considerably.

L blinked, then shook his head. "I didn't smuggle him out, if that's what you were asking. But I gave him as much advice as I could and I promised I would never help the House to search for him. He ran the day before he turned twelve. Watari wasn't too pleased about that." He hesitated, then glanced sidelong at the older man. "Soichiro? Do you think I did the right thing?"

The deputy director was silent for a long time, thinking this over. At last he said, "I don't know. Helping him get out of the House is one thing, Ryuzaki, but leaving a boy that age to make his own way in the world alone?"

"He wasn't alone. He ran with another kid called Matt. The House never caught either of them."

"I see. And just how old was Matt?"

"About a year younger than Mello," L admitted, not looking at him.

"I see," Soichiro said again. "So in other words, you helped someone too young to live independently to escape with someone even less prepared to do so."

"Wammy's kids are very different to average ones," the young man countered.

"They're also a hell of a lot more sheltered and inexperienced."

L snorted. "Not Mello. He lived on the streets for four years before being brought in."

"By Wammy's?" Soichiro asked, although he thought he already knew the answer.

The young man frowned. "I'm not sure. It's not likely; they wouldn't know how smart he was just by watching him on the streets. I think he was found by an orphanage in his own country, wherever that is, and the House somehow found out about him." L stared at Mello's file for several moments, then turned it around and slid it toward the deputy director. "Why did you bring this back?"

"Because I remembered the name and wanted to find out more about him." Looking down at the sickening photo of Mello's burned face, Soichiro added, "Ryuzaki, would Watari—"

"No. He had nothing to do with that. I know he didn't because I was the one he wanted to keep an eye on the most, and he never did it to me. Never hurt me in any way at all." L nibbled at his forefinger and then, without looking up, said in a low voice, "Soichiro, please tell me the truth: do you think I'll ever be capable of living independently?"

The deputy director bit back his initial comment re how he always told L the truth and instead answered as kindly as he could, "I don't think you are at the moment. You still need someone to teach you a few essential skills."

"Ah." L reached out and closed the file he'd been looking at and pushed it to one side, then leaned back in his chair and gave Soichiro his full attention. "Then please do so."

Unable to think of a good reply, the older man floundered for a few seconds and then said, "I didn't necessarily mean me—"

"Why not?" L cut across. "You're someone. More to the point, you're someone who's already raised two kids to adulthood and independent living. Alright, so Light-kun died, but Sayu-san's about ready to look after herself if something were to happen to you and your wife, so you must know which skills are needed to get to that stage."

"Well..." Soichiro looked around for some kind of inspiration and his gaze fell on L's now empty glass. "For example, can you cook?"

He was expecting a flat-out denial, was surprised when L answered, "Yes, a little. I mean, I'm not as good as Sachiko-san and I don't think you'd pay to eat my food in a restaurant, but I can do basic meals and there are always restaurants and street vendors. I can't clean, but I can pay someone to clean the old headquarters for me, so that part's alright."

Soichiro nodded, although he thought that if L was serious about getting someone in to clean the old HQ, then the young man would have to deactivate a lot of the security measures first.

"Alright then. Since you own that building, you'll have to insure it against fire, and I advise you to add an earthquake policy as well." He leaned back, thinking he really should have mentioned this before. "Speaking of which, we need to talk about my family. It looks like we'll be staying there longer than I originally thought, so I should probably look into paying—"

"If you so much as think the word rent, I'll push you off the chair," L threatened.

"—monthly renumerative fees," the deputy director answered, not missing a beat. He hadn't intended to pay in the beginning, back when it looked like they'd only be staying for about a week, but now that week had stretched into a month and didn't look like ending all the time Sachiko was under police protection, Soichiro's conscience was starting to give him a few nasty jabs.

"That's the same thing! Soichiro, you were the only one who responded to my email back in May, asking for help. You were the only one who came back after the Kira case, when it was my time, because you were also the only one who thought that I might not want to die alone. And when you found me in Aomori, you practically adopted me." He swallowed, gripping his knees so hard his knuckles turned white. "I know I saved Sayu-san's life, but you didn't know that was going to happen and I don't think you would have taken me into your house just for use as an unpaid bodyguard for your daughter and I won't take your money now!"

"Alright," Soichiro answered, his voice calm. He still didn't feel comfortable with the idea of staying in L's apartment for free, but there was no point in letting the young man work himself into a state over it. "Alright. Just calm down."

"I am calm!" L gulped air for several minutes, then took a deep breath and repeated in a quieter voice, "I am calm."

He sat down again, not looking at Soichiro, and pulled one of the files toward him again. For a moment the two of them sat there in an awkward silence, then L muttered, "And you still haven't answered my question. I know you think I can't live alone now, but what about in the future?"

"In the future..." Soichiro hesitated. Lying would be too cruel. "In the future, probably, but I don't know for certain. At the moment, you're legally an adult, but in many ways you're still that eight year old child who was taken from Aomori. Like I said before, that's not your fault, it's just how things turned out."

"Could I have been? If Wammy's House hadn't..." L swallowed.

"Yes. If you hadn't gone to Wammy's House, you would have graduated college by now and gone on to do...well, whatever you wanted to do as an adult."

A small smile appeared on the young man's face. "Actually, I wanted to join the NPA."

Soichiro raised his eyebrows and settled himself more comfortably on the chair. "Really? Is that something you still want to do?"

L shook his head hard. "No. Nothing personal, but I'm not sure I could handle you as my boss. I find our relationship confusing enough already. But while we're on the subject, tell me more about this case you're working on."

The deputy director shrugged. "There's nothing left for me to tell you. You now know as much as I do. Probably more, in fact, since this is you we're talking about."

L smiled quietly. "True. So we've already established it's a suicide club at this school, probably inspired by that one in Japan if the similarities are anything to go by, but we don't yet know how these kids found out about it – although the internet's the most likely source – and we don't know why they'd want to kill themselves in the first place. How do you plan to investigate that? No, wait a minute: first tell me why they're taking such an interest. They could get your expertise easily enough over the phone without flying you over here."

Soichiro stared at the table before replying, "There have been two suicides already, one twelve year old and one fourteen year old." That first one burned him to the core. Building pressure of exams and trouble at home might combine to make a fourteen year old do something like that, especially if she was being bullied, but the thought of a girl as young as twelve wanting to kill herself left a filthy taste in his mouth. "One of those girls was the daughter of the director of English police. Or whatever they call them here," he added. "The press had a field day and now this guy's calling in all the favors he possibly can, which is where I come in. I don't quite know how it was all arranged, but the point is it was, and I have to be ready to start the investigation in a couple of hours."

"Oh?" L dipped his finger into his milkshake and stirred it, focusing completely on the swirling milk. "How exactly are you planning to investigate the school? They'll be too frightened of the press to let a stranger in."

"That's all taken care of. They seem to think that a foreigner would attract less attention, so they've arranged for me to investigate. I'll be going undercover as a teacher."

Several seconds went by.

"It's not that funny, Ryuzaki," Soichiro said tersely.

"Oh yes it is!" Gasping, L came up for air, grabbed the table and hauled himself upright again, wincing a little. "You don't speak a word of English!"

"It's just as well I'll be teaching Japanese then, isn't it?" the deputy director retorted, although his voice wasn't as severe as it might otherwise have been. Seeing L laugh was a rare sight, but it was a hell of a lot better than seeing him as the moody zombie he'd been ever since they'd left Wammy's House.

L shook his head, the occasional snicker still escaping from his lips. "I give you two weeks. I would give you one, but you're a very stubborn person. What are you going to do if they ask you a question?"

"They'll have to do so in Japanese. I've dealt with enough foreigners in Japan."

"No, you've dealt with foreign tourists who needed directions to the nearest trap. Any foreigners who get themselves arrested have interpreters. And teaching a foreign language isn't just a matter of standing up in front of the class and waffling on. You'll have to make lesson plans and give out homework, although I doubt that last one will be a problem since we both know you're the master of forcing annoying and completely useless and unwanted tasks onto people who would much rather be doing something else."

Soichiro drew himself up a little and folded his arms. "Is this about that time when I asked you to help me unpack the groceries before you settled down to watch TV? Because we've already talked about that."

"Yes, I remember. And I'm sure I can find a lawyer somewhere who would agree that forcing me to perform that kind of menial labor is a direct infringement of my basic human right to vegetate on a couch in front of the TV and turn my brain to sludge."

"What really frightens me about that statement, Ryuzaki, is that you're probably right."

L glanced at him, a slight spark of mischief in his eyes. "Seriously though, Soichiro, you might need someone along who can interpret for you."

"Someone isn't going to be you."

"Ah." The young man pondered this for a few moments. "So you're not going to need me at all today, is that right?"

"Yes."

"And you're sure you don't want an interpreter?"

For a long time afterward, Soichiro would wonder how things would have panned out had he answered L differently, but at that time he had no way of knowing what was going to happen and so he just said, "I'm positive."

"Alright. I suppose that fits in better with my schedule anyway." L got to his feet and walked over to the door. Soichiro couldn't help thinking that the young man was moving slower than usual, but after everything that had happened, the deputy director supposed it was hardly surprising. "I might be late back tonight, so please don't worry if I'm not here when you return. There's something I need to do."

The deputy director blinked, surprised. "At this time of the morning? What kind of something?"

L paused, his hand on the doorknob. He stood there like that for a long time, then glanced over his shoulder at Soichiro.

"Something responsible."


AN: Sorry for the longer wait :( I'm working on getting the next one up faster (hopefully my own stuff will be done soon and I can get back to a weekly/fortnightly update!)