notes/warnings
+ butchering the character of my favourite deathnote girl.
+ language.
Gods
"You seem happier today," Matsuda comments, poking him in the shoulder.
"Please don't touch me," L says, mostly automatically. Matsuda is incorrect, as usual. He's not happy. He's reeling. He's trying to decide if his suspicions could possibly be true. He's trying to decide if his suspicions could possibly be fathomable.
There's so much in this world he doesn't understand.
Yet.
"Okay!" Matsuda says, and then, a few seconds later. "Why?"
L stares at him, caught off-guard.
"Because I told you not to," he says, uselessly. He shouldn't need to explain himself. He's L. No one touches L without permission.
But Matsuda's still watching him, with an oddly serious expression.
"I think you need more friends," he declares, before returning to his computer screen.
Another thing Matsuda doesn't understand. L doesn't do 'friends', because friendship usually ends in disaster. In fact, one hundred percent of his previous attempts to be friends with people have ended in them killing him.
So no, he does not need friends.
His phone buzzes. It's a text message from an unknown number. Impossible. His phone is blocked to the point where only a few other phones in the world can contact it, and they are put through rigorous identification programs first.
Does now suit you?
L props his elbow on the desk. It's an ambiguous message, not in the least bit incriminating, even if someone were to later come across the phone she used.
He approves.
My location in five minutes, he sends back quickly.
"Who was that? I didn't even hear your mobile make any noise," Matsuda says, surprised. L stares at his phone. Perhaps Rem didn't need to be so ambiguous. Perhaps the text message, like the rest of her, would always be invisible to other humans.
He's intrigued by a Shinigami using human technology in such a way. He wonders what other powers the gods of death possess.
And how would I trick Rae into using them for my benefit?
Depends on the situation, I suppose.
"Left it on silent," L says by way of explanation. And then he calmly handcuffs Matsuda to the desk.
"Hey!"
"This may be a little annoying," L concedes. "I need to take a conference call from one of my associates, which means I have to leave you here and go into the third surveillance room."
"You can trust me, you know!"
"Hmm," L says, regarding him with scrutiny. "Yes. Perhaps one day, I will."
The third surveillance room is built into one corner of the main room, enclosed by three brick walls and a panel of one-way glass. L will be able to see Matsuda at all times. He's not sure how soundproof the room is, but that shouldn't be a problem considering he's supposed to be talking on the phone.
"Is it safe?"
L turns in time to see her come sweeping through the wall like it's made of water. She looks like she always does, unchanged. L is calmed by that fact.
"Yes, Shinigami," he says quietly. "It's safe. We can talk here."
Rem crouches next to him on the floor. Unlike Rae, she seems content to bring her face down to his level.
L still has the printout stuffed into his pocket, but he's waiting until she asks.
"So, again," she says softly. "How have you been faring, L?"
"Fine, thank you."
Her visible eye sharpens for a moment.
"And Rae has-"
"Been completely manageable," L says. "Although I have to concede that your own information about the hell process did, on one particular occasion, help me to determine that Rae was lying to me."
She closes her eye.
"I'm glad to have been of some assistance."
"Having said that, I don't intend to become a pawn in the rivalry between two gods of death," L adds firmly. "I have to live with my Shinigami for another three years and eight months. As much as I might personally agree with your viewpoint, I cannot actively dislike Rae the way you do, or I would make my own life unpleasant."
"Very well," she says, and her ethereal voice sounds somewhat annoyed.
"Why have you come?" he asks. "What is the purpose of this second meeting?"
She stares at him, her expression almost...cautious. As if maybe she's been caught out doing something wrong.
"I thought you might have more questions," she says, and she's clearly not telling the truth. If his own death god was half as transparent as Rem, L would have no problems at all getting rid of it.
"Since I consider you as something of an ally, Rem, I would prefer if you would refuse to answer my questions, rather than lie."
Rem frowns.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," she informs him, coolly.
"Is this about you trying to protect me from my own Shinigami?" he asks. "If it is, I appreciate the sentiment, but I will refer you to my previous statement on the matter."
"Ungrateful, aren't you," she observes.
"You are here because you aim to foil Rae in some way, and not because you have any interest in my own well-being," L reminds her. "You told me as much the last time we met."
"That is true," Rem concedes. "Popular opinion also states that you are a force of real justice, of which I categorically approve."
"I cannot save Misa," he says bluntly. "As we also discussed before."
"You do not need to remind me of that fact."
"I see," L says, scratching his chin. "All right, then. Let me think. Do I have any questions? It's true that I harbour some curiosity about the Shinigami and their realm."
There are no sweets in the room. He fidgets with the hem of his jeans, instead. It's a poor substitute.
"So, Shinigami have genders. Or, some Shinigami have genders. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"So, is the king always male?"
"Not at all," Rem says. "The previous king was female, if I remember correctly. She was before my time, however. The title of 'king' simply means 'leader'."
"Very much like the title 'president'," L muses. "I see. And how fascinating, to have an entire species with only one leader."
"We are gods," Rem says, drawing herself up to her full height. "Not animals. Please don't discuss us using such flippant comments"
Well, perhaps he won't wait until she asks.
"I see," L says. "And are you all truly gods?"
She stares at him for a moment.
"What kind of a question is that?" she asks, hoarsely. Her tone is uneasy, and somewhat resigned.
L takes the paper from his pocket and flicks it at her.
"Rebecca Remira. The woman you wanted me to research. Housewife, murderer, inmate, tragic figure."
She hovers over the sheet, without touching it. It's lying face-down on the ground.
"Don't you want to look at it?" L asks with interest.
"I...I don't remember her face," Rem says, voice barely audible. "I don't want to see it again. I just...wanted you to know."
"So, she was someone you loved?" L asks. "Your first human companion, perhaps, Rem? Was that why you wanted me to know how she suffered? Or did you just want me to research someone who was in a situation that was similar to Misa's, so that I would understand Misa's pain and forgive her?"
Rem looks down at him, both relief and disappointment plastered across her face. L smiles indulgently.
"Those are the things that I would say if I were just slightly less intelligent than I actually am," L adds, languidly repositioning himself on his chair. "However, Rebecca Remira was never someone that you cared for. And you probably never recognised her similarities to Amane-"
"She was nothing like Misa Amane," Rem roars, her voice suddenly awful. "Misa was never evil!"
L is unmoved.
"In fact, I'd say that Rebecca was the one person in the whole world you never loved, not even a little bit. Am I right?"
"Take back what you said about Misa," Rem demands obstinately.
L gazes at her. He's never tried to stare a Shinigami down before, mostly because the only Shinigami he's met more than briefly has eyes so horrible L is sure he'd go mad if he glanced at them for more than a second.
Rem looks away. Slowly, she sinks back to the ground.
"Hell...works in many ways," she pronounces, simply.
"Rebecca," L says.
"That name is dead."
"She is still you," L says. "You are Rebecca Remira. A human that became a god of death. Am I incorrect?"
Rem is silent for a moment.
"You still look enough like your old photograph," L adds. "Some features remain the same."
Rem reaches out and touches the dirty carpeted floor with one finger.
"'Became' is such a pretty word," she says, finally. "I did not become this. This is my punishment. This body, this mind. These eyes. This role. This is my hell."
So it's true. L's mind boggles a little with the enormity of it all.
Hell. What? What is hell? If you are in hell, and you are here, does that mean that others in hell are also here?
Where is he, Rem?
"Are all Shinigami like you?" he asks, curiously.
"No. Very few are like me. Ryuk, for example, has never been human. He is eternally a god of death, absolutely immortal. I am weak by Shinigami standards. Easy to kill and manipulate because of my origins."
"If that is true, then Rae must also be absolutely immortal," L surmises. "Completely, utterly, absolutely immortal."
Because Rae is the least human thing he has ever encountered.
"I am not permitted to discuss your own Shinigami with you," Rem says, tersely.
L presses his thumb to his lips, thinking.
"Do you personally know of anyone else who is in hell?"
She stares at him hard.
"Yes," she replies, cautiously.
"How many people?"
"Just the one."
L rubs his neck.
"So people who are in hell can not immediately see each other or contact each other?"
"It's hell, L," she says, as if he's very simple. "The idea is that one suffers endlessly. I cannot reach Misa."
"Or Mark?"
"Or Mark," she agrees. "Hell is many different places. Separation is a part of that."
I know that, L thinks.
"The one person you do know," he asks, because he has to ask. "Is their name Mihael Keehl?"
Rem appears to be thinking.
"I have never met anyone by that name," she says slowly. "Nor have I heard any of the others mention them."
As expected. The likelihood of any particular person being Mello had about twenty-five zeros between the decimal place and the number one.
But still, here is someone who has experienced hell first hand. There must be something she knows.
Surely.
"So those in hell are aware of where they are?"
"To my understanding, often they are not," Rem says. "Most humans are put into some sort of altered reality. Knowing that it were not real would detract from the impact."
"How do you know these things?" L asks. "How do you know about the hell of others?"
"I don't know!" she says, uncharacteristically frustrated. "It's part of my hell to know the fate of others, I suppose. She tells me things, sometimes."
"Who is she?" L probes. "What does she know?"
Rem blanches, which ought to be impossible.
"Do not ask me that," she commands. "One should never discuss the queen."
"The queen?"
Rae's mentioned the queen before. Offhandedly.
"She is simply an acquaintance of mine," Rem informs him. "I can give you no further information."
How curious. A queen. Shinigami are so ...interesting.
"And your own redemption?" he asks, changing the topic. She's been useful to him, after all. It doesn't hurt to be kind.
Rem shoots him a withering look.
"I am over one hundred and fifty years old. My period for redemption would have ended a long time ago."
"I thought you said someone never knew when that period was?"
"Correct," Rem says. "But I am positive that I have been here too long. No, this is me. For good. I think you would say, one hundred percent certain."
If that is true, L says, feeling strangely mollified, then the hell filter is every bit as vindictive and unfair as I want to believe.
"Do you know why you are in hell?" he queries.
"Because I murdered a lot of people, of course," she says, as if it's obvious.
How does one judge that? L wonders. How does one judge who is the murderer? Light Yagami was my murderer, not you. You were a tool, nothing more. I do not blame you. I would be an idiot to blame you.
When people have strong emotions, they are both amazing and fragile, he notes. And useless. Mello's death had been a mildly helpful stepping stone in the Kira investigation. Anyone else could have done what he'd done. It wasn't necessary.
It wasn't okay to sacrifice a mind like that, just because it was wrapped in a truckload of anger. Just because it could be easily done. Near should have known. If he'd really been like L, he would have known.
In any other situation, Mello would have won. He would never have been walled into becoming a... a thug. A pawn. He would never have raged hard enough and desperately enough to actually use the death note. He would have had life, and happiness, and Mail.
L's not certain that he's being entirely rational.
"Were you not sorry?" he asks, dragging his attention back to the conversation at hand.
"I don't remember. It was a long time ago," she murmurs.
L draws closer to her. She's been used. Like a weapon, like a plaything. Like Near used Mello, in the end. A disposable body. A means to an end. He can't stop drawing the comparison.
At least she got to throw away her life for someone she loved, and not someone she despised.
At least there's nobody left behind grieving for her.
Probably. He's not actually certain, of course.
"Rebecca Remira," he says softly, clearly. "You made mistakes. You always fell in love with those who were evil. Even here, in your own hell, you have not stopped."
She looks like she wants to slap him.
"You have no right to judge me, L!"
He knows that. But higher judgement has obviously failed her, and isn't it better to hear it from him than no-one at all?
It is acceptable for any idiot to judge someone as innocent.
"Being a murderer is not the same as being in love with a murderer," he declares. "All your life, you have been manipulated. I do not believe that you deserve to be in hell."
Her eye widens, and she stares at him as if he is a monster, as if she has never seen him before. Her bony shoulders tremble.
"I knew someone like you once," L says, by way of explanation. "The man I asked you about before. Mihael. He's in hell, like you, only recently."
"He has a chance, then," she says, and she sounds like she's choking. "L. He has a chance."
"Yes," L says. "I know. He needs to take it. He is so very. Important."
They sit together, in silence, for a long time. Rem touches him on the shoulder.
"Does this mean you forgive Misa, L?"
L cups his chin.
"By my own principles, I suppose I must," he concedes. "Yes. She was not to blame."
Rem smiles at him, honestly smiles. Her whole face lights up, and for a moment she looks so much like the painting that L wonders how he'd ever doubted it was her.
"There is one more thing."
"There always is," he says, grinning.
"We have discussed many things today," she summarises. "I have said things I did not intend to reveal to you when I came here. However, something that has been brought up today that could be of implicit important to your own happiness. You need to deduce what is was, and arm yourself accordingly."
L raises an eyebrow at her.
"I see. No further hints?"
"That is all I can tell you."
"Then, thank you," L says softly. "Thank you."
When L comes out of his meeting, he looks even more disheveled than usual. Matsuda theorises that he's been having complicated conversations, one hand delicately holding the phone and the other casually wringing his hair into knots.
He loves watching L work, every movement calculated and intricate. He loves being part of the L squad in general.
He kind of loves L, actually. Not in a way that involves wanting to take clothes off - those feelings are reserved specifically and awkwardly for Wedy - but sort of in a way that Matsuda wants to work for him forever.
"What is it with you and handcuffs, anyway?" he asks cheerfully, when it occurs to him that L has probably realised he's staring.
"They stop people from doing incredibly stupid things," L says simply, but he wanders over and frees Matsuda's hand, anyway.
"Thanks!"
L goes over and gets back into his own chair without a word. He moves like a cat, all sinew and grace. Until he's meeting someone new, someone outside their little team. Then he scratches and stumbles and looks like a fool with his big blank panda eyes.
He's so ridiculously clever. One day, Matsuda wants to be just like him.
The thing is, he knows he could be so much more useful if only they'd trust him. If L just let him go off on his own, they'd see. He'd catch his own snipers if other people weren't around to get in his way. He knows he's capable.
They just don't ever give him a chance.
"Matsud...T?"
"You can just call me by my name," he says meekly. "I don't mind."
"You ought to mind," L says. "There may be death notes in this world. Your identity ought to be protected."
His blood runs cold.
"D-d-death notes?" Matsuda stammers. "No way. Nothing that evil could be in a place like this. This is supposed to be better than life, after all."
L looks at him with those flat grey eyes. Matsuda can never read his expression. He's an enigma, a mystery.
"Be that as it may," L says boredly, "your identity is still an important thing. Had you been a little more careful with it, we might not be in the present situation."
Matsuda flushes hotly.
Why is everything always my fault?
He just wants L to like him, damnit.
"I've got something that might be useful," N tells them later that night. "I've been reading up on our snipers. Of the five recognised top gunsmen in the world, Jessica and the two men comprised only the bottom three."
"So either the first two were too expensive or too ethical," L says thoughtfully. "That's useful. We have both money and justice on our side. Well done, N."
"Casey Maddox, and Charlie Nastazik," she continues, without acknowledging his praise. "Canadian and Polish, respectively. Research suggests they're both military men. M's already found their contact details for me."
"Get in touch with both of them," L orders. "See if either party is willing to reconsider the offer from whoever-it-is, while acting as our agent."
"Right away," she says efficiently, and leaves.
L grabs a handful of boiled sweets from the bowl and tosses them one-by-one into his mouth. Matsuda is gaping at him. Again.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"What have you got on Aiber?" L asks wearily.
"I found something, actually," Matsuda says energetically. "It can't possibly have been him who sold my information on."
"Why not?"
"He's been dead for at least a year."
"Oh," L says. He feels as if he ought to have been aware of that. "He's died twice, then."
"Yes," Matsuda says sombrely, stretching his arms over his head. "L? What do you think happens when you die a second time?"
"You spend the rest of eternity naked, covered in barnacles, and tied to the underside of a tug boat," L says, absolutely seriously.
"What, really?"
"No, Matsuda. How could I possibly know that?"
"Well, because you're really clever, I guess," he replies, sounding moderately hurt. "Do you always have to make fun of me?"
"Perhaps I do," L says, considering. He does enjoy the diversion Matsuda brings. The other man scowls at the ground, kicks his feet, and doesn't look at L again.
L smiles. Grins a little, even. Matsuda is so…human.
"Enjoying yourself?" an unwelcome voice asks from right beside his ear.
Yes, thank you, L types, keeping his expression utterly polite. And yourself?
"Oh, I'm just fine," it says, with a toothy smile.
You've been quiet lately.
"Oh, you've noticed? Goodness me, you are brilliant, aren't you?"
Interesting, L taps, deleting the previous sentences. You used to pretend to be so dignified. You were never openly snide until I saw through your 'friendly' act. I suppose you're running out of tactics, Shinigami?
The spell-check underlines the final word in angry red, which amuses L a little. He wonders if he ought to add it to their online dictionary, for completeness.
Sometimes, Rae petrifies him, with its bloodbath-red eyes and the sheer power it holds and the ferocity of its persuasion and the way it's always there, right behind him, unshakeable. Sometimes he forgets all of that, or disregards it, and the banter between them feels like little more than sibling rivalry.
He might not know all of the rules, but L's still smarter. He'll beat this thing. All he has to do is not use the note. He's got the easy job, really.
"I don't need tactics," Rae informs him snottily. "All I have to do…is wait."
Wait for what?
"Hm?" Oh, nothing. It shouldn't take long. A couple of days, by my calculations."
What will happen in a couple of days?
"You'll see," Rae says, with a feral smile.
L closes the document.
"Aww, what's wrong? Are you frightened?"
"I'm busy," L says, irritated with himself for being irritated.
"Uh, I didn't say anything," Matsuda says, maybe a little balefully.
L regards him for a moment.
"I know," he says, finally. "But you can, if you'd like. I wouldn't mind right now."
"Nastazik wants nothing to do with any of this," N reports back, that evenings. "She's got a newborn baby, and she just wants to be safe."
"I can understand that," R says pointedly. L's fairly certain he'd still dearly love to be safe and have a family.
Well, he can leave whenever he chooses. Any of them can.
"Maddox is, well, cagey," N adds, chewing her lip, an unconscious habit. "Casey Maddox clearly isn't his real name, he speaks through a voice filter, and he says he only wants to deal with L himself."
"How does he think he's going to know if he's dealing with the real me?"
"He wants to see your face," N clarifies.
"What will that prove?" L is dangling a spoon between the fingertip and thumb of one hand, and swinging it gently in the air. "I could show him any face. I could send any person."
"Apparently not," R says. "He told us he knows what you look like, and that he'll only help if he deals with you, alone."
L stops swinging, fascinated.
"He knows me. Or it's a less than clever ploy to get me to reveal myself, meaning that he's already been bought out by our present enemy."
"Can't I give them a name, already?" Matsuda asks petulantly.
"Go ahead."
"Uh….Eve."
"Eve? We've decided it's a woman?" R demands, incredulously.
"Well, no, but one, why do we always have to use men's names for unknown villains? That sounds sexist to me. And two, Eve stands for evil. Evil person, evil corporation, whatever it is."
"Ingenious," M says flatly. "How did you ever come up with that?"
"Anyway," N says sharply, "Maddox apparently has some idea of how careful L is. He's offered to speak on the phone, first. No voice filters. No one else involved."
It's a fairly reasonable request. It's highly unlikely L can be traced by the sound of his voice alone. Of course, if there are spies in or near the building, Eve might be hoping they'll be able to visualise whoever is talking on the phone and kill him.
Which is fine. He has no intention of leaving the windowless centre room he's been sharing with Matsuda. If anyone outside behaves strangely at the time of the conversation, they might finally have themselves someone to arrest.
In fact, it wouldn't hurt to put up a silhouette of a fake L having an obvious phone conversation right next to an open window at the same time. If anyone shoots, he'll know Maddox is a phoney. Or at the very least, bugged.
Yes. Perfect.
Of course, if Maddox is genuine, he's obviously hoping L will recognise him by the sound of his voice. Which means he's someone L has met at least once.
"L?" R asks gruffly. "What will we do? Maddox specifies he doesn't want any current or ex police officers involved with him, so I presume he's probably a criminal."
"We can plug Matsuda's ears," M suggests unhelpfully.
"It's fine," L tells all of them. "Set the phone conversation up for midday, tomorrow. Leave Maddox to me. Here's what I want you to do."
L breaks his insomniac marathon, and goes to bed at the same time as Matsuda.
"I never went to slumber parties when I was in school," the other man says as soon as they turn off the lights. "Mum was always worried about bed bugs."
"A fairly rational concern. Not only can bed bugs cause allergic reactions and skin rashes, they can also have alarming psychological ramifications."
"Please never ever remind me of my mother again," Matsuda says with distaste, and L chuckles, in spite of himself. He rolls onto his side and listens to the covers rustle over him. M is monitoring the camera feed, and he never sleeps. Matsuda should be safe. He's wearing five shirts, and a cotton pillowcase over his death note. Matsuda should be safe. He closes his eyes. He can hear crickets outside, a long way down.
He knows Rae is standing over him. The damned thing is always close by when he's sleeping, like it's trying to intimidate him when he's most vulnerable.
"L?"
"You're still awake?" L cracks one eye open and sure enough, the Shinigami is standing at the head of his bed, leaning over him menacingly.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You had better hope the answer is 'yes', because you just did," L points out sleepily.
"Oh...yeah. I guess."
A long pause stretches between them.
"What is it?" L prompts, because otherwise this could go on all night.
"Do you remember that time when you got really sick last year?"
"Sick?" He's never ill.
"Yeah, your sleep cycle got all screwed up and you couldn't sleep at all. Don't you remember?"
"I remember," L says, truthfully. It's not something he'll quickly forget. Above him, Rae snickers.
"What actually happened?"
L listens to the seconds tick by on his watch.
One, two, three.
Matsuda can't possibly suspect anything. No one suspects anything. If no one else does, he certainly can't.
"It's a temporary psychological disorder, I believe," L explains. "A snowball effect. If someone who functions at a standing level of sleep deprivation starts to suddenly get even less sleep, then -"
"I heard you first," Matsuda interrupts, nervously. "I...I went to your room because I could hear noises and I knew you weren't well. Then I went to get M because, well, he's better at locks than I am. But I heard the things you said. You were hallucinating gods of death. Talking to them. Begging them to stop. I don't know what. It was just. It was creepy."
L's breathing doesn't change. He doesn't know anything. There's still nothing L can't brush off as a psychological symptom.
Matsuda takes a deep breath and plows on.
"L...do you know if there are death notes in this world?" he asks. "Or Shinigami? All the gods of death that we've ever met have been neutral. Why would you imagine an evil one?"
"Because I was hysterical," L says matter-of-factly.
He's feels slightly better seeing Rae regard Matsuda with a mix of disgust and uneasiness.
"What? How has the clown guessed this much? What have you told him, L? You've done something! I thought we agreed you weren't going to tell anyone."
Perversely, a very small part of L wants to tell someone else about the note. He wants the weight off his shoulders. He wants the security of someone else to reign him in if Rae ever...
If Rae ever beats him.
It's a zero point zero zero zero zero zero two percent chance. But he has no backup plan. No failsafe for stopping him from becoming the next Kira, if everything goes wrong.
L sometimes wishes he wouldn't have these sorts of revelations while he was trying to get a few hours of rest.
Does he trust Matsuda? Does he trust Matsuda that much? He needs someone who can act independently. Someone who'll steal the metaphorical plane without previous instruction.
Matsuda's good at shooting Kira.
Why hasn't this occurred to me before?
He keeps silent, wondering what Matsuda will say next.
"And I just...I mean, we're in heaven, right?"
"Not any version of heaven I've read about," L corrects. "Just the afterlife."
"Right. So, there could easily be gods and angels and ghosts and monsters -"
"And bears, oh my," Rae interjects.
"...and legendary creatures and god knows what here, and it would make perfect sense, right?"
"In theory, yes," L agrees. "However, the fact that we haven't seen any effects from any of the things you just mentioned probably means that if they do exist, they clearly don't interact with any human society very often."
"Kinda like Shinigami, then?"
"As far as frequency of encounters goes, yes, I imagine that they are like Shinigami."
"But the Shinigami realm must be in the first world, right?" Matsuda asks. "Or connected to the first world. Or do you think they can pass between the living and the dead?"
"Go on, L," Rae jeers. "Tell him."
"I don't know," L says immediately.
"Oh," Matsuda replies. "Yeah. I suppose that makes sense. I hope we never have to defeat another person with a death note, anyway. But at least this time we'd know the rules. I suppose it would be worse if a different sort of god dropped something for some human to abuse."
"We don't even know if there are different gods," L says. "Please go to sleep."
"Okay," the man replies comfortably. "I just wanted to make sure there wasn't a giant evil Shinigami following you around, that's all."
L's eyes open wide, and he slowly clenches one hand around a wad of bedsheet, mind racing. He sits up abruptly.
"Matsuda."
"Er, yes?"
"I wish to extract a promise from you."
The older man props his head up on one elbow, looking utterly serious, for once.
"Of course. I'll do anything for you."
"What are you doing?" Rae rasps. "What? What is this? You can't tell him. L!"
It's admitting to a weakness in front of the Shinigami, but it's a weakness that Rae surely already knows exists, otherwise it wouldn't keep hanging around him and trying. And to admit to a weakness for the purpose of stoppering it altogether, surely that's no real confession at all.
It's a 'fuck you', in fact, as M would say.
Fuck you, Rae.
"If you ever have good reason to believe that I may be a Kira, I want you to shoot me in the heart," L says calmly. "Do you understand?"
tbc
a/n
+ thank you. to everyone who's stuck with this monstrous and monstrously retarded story so far, thank you. I swear it will get better. (as far as events go, not as far as quality of writing goes. there will eventually be romance, and happiness, and stuff. there's just so much plot to get through before that can happen. I feel like L needs to be in a certain place, emotionally, before he could ever get with anyone else).
+ every time I write a new chapter, I have to go and read some fluffy M2 so I can deal with it. THEY WILL HAVE THEIR DAY, DAMMIT!