Psych
Death Note AU
(L/Light or Light/L)
Summary: Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)
Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.
A/N: oh my GOD. this was written the whole time and never got posted. fck. i'm sorry. i'm shamed. i'm…. uh…. posting it now at least. -_-
Chapter 9: (Epilogue)
L wavered, initially. But in the end, better sense prevailed. It really was quite unreasonable, what Light had done. There was no excuse for forcing a physical encounter, no justification that could really make it ok.
Despite the quite physical nature of their relationship thus far, he didn't allow things to backslide, even when he was wavering. He made motions to forgive Light, in the moment, being rather unreasonably swayed by his manner and the silky sound of his french. But he didn't allow anything further to progress, no intimacy.
Instead of being annoyed or frustrated in response, amber colored eyes held the heavy weight of understanding.
And so, eventually, they talked.
It wasn't until almost a week later. L had requested some time to get his head on straight, and Light respected his wishes.
It was mildly infuriating that while Light seemed remorseful over the turn of events, he didn't quite apologize directly for the incident. He maintained that while he regretted allowing his frustration and emotions to rule his actions, that what transpired DID in fact make the point he'd been trying a dozen other ways to get across.
L insisted that it was unnecessarily forceful and that words would have gone a long way in clearing things up.
Light had just crossed his arms over his chest, putting off a long-suffering air, and called him obtuse. By his perspective, he'd tried nearly everything to get through to him, before stooping to drastic measures.
So, they were at an impasse.
"Ok, let's look at this like professionals," Light said after another bout of going in circles.
His tone was slightly irritating in its superiority, telegraphing some of his frustration.
"I'm listening."
"What would either of us advise to a patient, coming in with this kind of situation?"
L frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and gave him a bland but serious look. "I'd tell them to walk."
Light frowned at him, and it was like some inner mechanism deflated, though outwardly was only the sharpening of his expression. "Fine, let's start with that then. Your advice would be to leave, but the reason behind that?"
"Trust."
That should be obvious. Taking such action upon a person was a breach of trust, a violation of an unspoken contract of decency.
Light rubbed his hands over his face and muttered, "...walked right into that one."
"Do you think that is incorrect?" L said it casually, but there was steel beneath the words and a sharp focus. He dared the brunet to say something unreasonable, or dismissive.
"No, no," he was waved off. "Of course it's correct." The frown hadn't budged but he was introspective now. "But that's what it's been about this whole time, hasn't it?" Quick eyes flicked over to him, catching his reaction as this suddenly became personal again. "That's what you meant with your comment about charisma. You fundamentally are afraid to trust."
A deflection left L's lips quicker than thought. "Don't be ridiculous. You parade around with all the earmarks of a Sociopath, and it wouldn't be foolish to ignore such?"
"You say Sociopath, but I'm hearing Narcissist." He seemed a little offended. To be frank, neither were positive.
"You have leanings."
"So do a lot of people. Doesn't mean I'm certifiable. Besides, I'm more than capable of admitting I'm wrong."
"You don't think what you did was wrong."
"We have a difference of opinion, there. You know that's not the same thing."
L ground his teeth. He had a point, but the whole thing still bothered him. He didn't want to hear the brunet sounding reasonable, as if he was always reasonable… not when he'd blatantly done something that was completely out of orbit for reasonable people.
Light spread his hands. "I've apologized already, but I'll say it again. I'm sorry for how things have gone."
He seemed utterly sincere but the apology wasn't hitting the spot. L knew why. It was because it was typically followed by things like 'I wouldn't have done it if you had simply been able to get a clue.' L frowned at him. "Saying you're sorry that I have a problem is different from being sorry you caused a problem."
Light expelled a harsh sigh and raked a hand though his perfect hair. It was shiny and fell artfully back into place. Even that was as irksome as it was appealing.
"Look," L said. "Even if I want to forgive you for this, which I shouldn't, I don't know how." Before Light responded, he added, "And what the hell would you advise your patient to do? Now I'm curious." He could hardly think that there was any other potential course of action that could reasonably be advised.
"I would ask if there was a pattern of behavior."
L chewed on that. It was actually sound…. people did make mistakes…. sometimes big ones. It didn't always mean they had a reckless pattern or were bad people. "And what if the time was too brief to establish whether it was a pattern or not?"
Light leaned back on the couch. He made eye contact at last, though it was reserved and professional. "I would advise that a discussion take place, to make sure the air was cleared so that everybody knew how everybody felt about the situation."
"And then?" L interrupted.
"Wait and see."
"..." Really? Was he serious? Was that not tempting fate? His thoughts ran rampant, analyzing, dissecting, considering. In the back of his mind, he noted that each answer Light gave was succinct, brief, and purposely gave him the space to run through everything in his head, unobstructed.
Once some time had passed, Light added, "There is a difference between a perceived threat and actual danger."
Fuck. That, also, was true. Paranoia versus fact.
"So you're saying I'm paranoid?" he snipped out, a bit confrontational. He was having trouble keeping this discussion in the realm of hypothetical patients.
Light let out a sigh. "I think you know the answer to that."
"Even still, you did do something to severely break my trust."
Light's calm slipped and he shot back, "And would it ever have come to that if you weren't already busily distrusting my every move? Did you not practically will a breach into existence?"
"If you start blaming me again, I swear to god I will kick you right out the door-"
"I'm NOT blaming you, I'm trying to say that perception informs reality, it makes reality. Tell me what I did up until that point that truly earned your distrust?"
"A dozen little things. Most of which I have already told you."
"And I'm telling you that most of those were perception and fear, versus actual breaches of trust, which is my point."
"Agree to disagree," L said unwaveringly. "I see your point, but it doesn't invalidate mine. Red flags are called red flags for a reason. They are indicative of behaviors and are a warning sign. Someone would have to be an idiot to ignore things like that, and would have to live through bad decisions every single time just to reassure themselves that the warning was accurate."
"And paranoia makes a multitude of false flags."
This was also true. And so, it was kind of maddening. They both had a point, they just couldn't see eye-to-eye. He tried to bring things back around, to the hypothetical. "So, you label your patient as paranoid and tell them to 'wait and see'?"
"I'm going to need a drink to get through this."
It wasn't an entirely dismissive statement, and seemed more like an expression of weariness. But the brunet seemed determined to see this through.
L gestured towards the kitchen.
Light got up and rummaged around to find things. Eventually, he worked it out and returned, a tumbler in hand. On his way by, he paused, pressing a second tumbler against the front of L's shoulder for him to take. Surprised, he took it. How thoughtful.
"Look," Light said, settling back on the couch and taking a drink before setting the glass aside. "You keep mixing this hypothetical with our own situation and that muddies the water. Let us focus on one at a time. You asked what I would tell a patient."
L nodded, allowing him to continue.
"Only time will tell if there is a pattern, or if it is paranoia." He paused. "Could we agree upon that?"
"Sure."
Light nodded and continued. "Now, in the instance of a massive breach of trust, the thing I would narrow in on is whether such behavior was repeated. Even if in smaller ways - suggesting a pattern. If none is apparent at the time, then I would look at conflict resolution, and ways to move forward." He slanted a look at L. "If the patient cared about the other person, why not exhaust other options first, such as reparations? I think it is ill-advised to have them walk - it's avoidant."
Again, he had a point, and it was annoying.
Still, he was missing another large factor. "How much, how big, until you would advise otherwise? What egregious thing would rank highly enough that a person could just walk away?"
Light frowned at him, knowing they were talking about themselves again in that moment. "I suppose it would depend on the person, then," he said quietly.
"If I had a client who came in, saying their partner had beaten them, I would advise they walk away. Trying to make excuses or reparations typically results in enabling the cycle. And thus, they become entrapped in abuse, talking themselves out of leaving. Living for the good times and enduring the bad."
"Oh come now-" Light started angrily, "this is hardly the same thing-!"
"Isn't it?" L countered. "You didn't strike me but you took things in your own hands, forced your will upon me. And that is the very dynamic that happens in actual physical abuse scenarios."
"But my intent was not to hurt you! Or vent anger, for that matter. It's not the same!"
"Even still, the result is the same. And you KNOW it's not as far apart as you are trying to make it be. We would counsel a patient the same way in either situation BECAUSE IT'S THE SAME."
Light held back further words with an iron will, and made himself reach out for his glass and tip back the rest of the brown liquor. "What would you have me do, Lawliet?"
"I don't know." Anger was still pumping through him, a rush of adrenaline. Part of him wanted to punish Light, and part of him felt a little bad, because there was a distinction - intent. Light was not wrong about that. But it wasn't fair for him to dismiss the similarities.
Russet colored eyes met his, wary. "I'm not stupid. I realize I've broken what little trust you afforded me. And I also realize that you are wary about telling me anything, giving any clues, because you tell yourself that someone who has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, or whom is a Sociopath, would only use that against you. You are afraid of making things worse for yourself."
"That's correct." He just came right out and said it.
The words seemed to echo in the silence.
"Wow. There it is then," Light responded in an indecipherable tone. "It seems I underestimated the size of the drink I might be needing." With that he rose, still inscrutable, and sought a refill.
After several minutes, he returned. He had no glass in hand and so he must've downed the alcohol quickly, while he was in there.
He towered over L as he paused next to him. A frown was etched upon his face. "I never dreamed you would make this so difficult."
L almost tossed out the easy retaliation, that he'd never dreamed that Light would force sex and in such a way. But Light's hand had risen, a request for pause, and so he did. He was shocked as hell then when Light knelt before him. "I'm asking you, honestly, if we can't find a way to move forward. I'll do whatever it takes."
Seeing him humble himself… that flew in the face of the Narcissistic diagnosis in a staggering way. To those people, perception was everything, having the upper hand was everything. And even if they knew that about themselves, and were just trying to blend in….. doing something like this would be like gritting teeth and chewing nails.
"I was wrong for going about it the way I did," Light said. "As much as I feel I had reason for it, that doesn't excuse it. And I'm not just sorry because you have a problem with it." His eyes cut to the side. "I'm sorry because I know better, and I can't quite justify my actions to myself."
L was floored.
This wasn't an act. He could feel the authenticity. He knew this was authentic. And to admit something like this… a lapse in judgment that reflected upon his professional merits? This was huge.
And, it was finally a real apology, one that held the gravity of true regret.
It eased a burden in him, which he had been carrying up till this time.
"I know you have reservations," Light said. "And I'm sorry I couldn't work out if you had trouble trusting in general, versus an event having impacted you, or…. that things I was doing was sparking off mistrust."
L was caught between full forgiveness and a niggling fear that it was all a supreme act.
He knew Light could be a phenomenal actor. But alas, he was also many other things… and the thought of walking away was never an easy one. He'd made it be cut-and-dry, on the premise of Light forcing that last encounter, but emotionally he'd felt conflicted. Leaving was with the intent to not be stuck in a brutalizing relationship. "Once is not a pattern," L said at last. A concession.
Fragile hope flickered in Light's eyes. "No, it is not," he agreed.
"Twice is almost certainly a pattern."
"And that has yet to happen," he offered. "And may never."
"Indeed."
L gave the moment time, a long time, and the silence stretched out between them. Things were reconfiguring, shifting, resettling. He knew that they both felt it and he could see that knowledge in Light's beautiful, solemn eyes.
In the end, it was Light who broke the silence. "How do I go about rebuilding your trust?" It was an honest question. No manipulation.
It seemed that it made him somewhat uncomfortable to have uttered the words, however, as Light quickly followed it up with talk of the hypothetical patient. "Even in reparations, I would advise that the partner took pains to repair what was damaged. Without trust, the relationship is doomed, forgiveness or no."
"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "It's probably different for everybody."
Light chewed his lip slightly, deep in thought. "What if we begin with a promise?"
"Okay?"
"I vow to never do anything of that nature again, and if such were to happen, you would have my seal of approval on never speaking to me again."
"Ok, that sounds pretty serious," L said in a disarming voice. It actually was almost uncomfortably serious.
"I am serious."
"What about all the other shady stuff you do-"
Light made a bland face at him, as he sensed the offhanded ribbing. "By the way, my statement does not apply to your massive paranoia." He took a jab right back.
"Hey," L said seriously, sticking his hand out as if to shake on the deal. "I hear you. Truly."
Light gave him a suspicious look but took his hand.
"I have a few ideas on how you can start making this up to me," L tossed out lightly, in a way that was purposely intended to be unsettling. He felt the slight recoil of Light's hand in his. He clasped it more tightly, and gave a less than reassuring smile.
Light had never expended this much effort for anyone in his life. He still didn't think he was totally off-base with what had happened at the hotel…. in truth, he'd been monitoring L's reactions the entire time and was solely attempting to push him past the line of realization and no more. To have it compared to domestic abuse and physical violence felt unfair, demeaning, and a bit upsetting to be honest.
However.
He couldn't deny the guilt he felt, and the way it amplified to a roar with how Lawliet treated him afterwards. It was a misstep that might end it all, before it really began.
So, he groveled. Basically.
Meaning, he left himself wide open, put himself on the chopping block, and endured the infuriating exercise of trying to see eye-to-eye.
In the end, it was worth it.
In the end, some sort of resolution had been reached. He promised that nothing of the like would occur again, and Lawliet agreed to try and put trust in that.
In the meantime, he was being subjected to some truly terrible exhibitions of repentance. Knowing how he valued his looks, Lawliet had made him dress in absolutely horrid ways to go out in public. It was a show of penance. It was excruciating and his dark-haired companion was getting a lot of mileage out of it, his eyes laughing almost the entire time.
In addition, things had been kept strictly non-physical for the time being, likely to allow space in which to prove his sincerity. He didn't blame Lawliet for that one, it only made sense. Once faith was restored somewhat, that would likely return to normal.
But this?
This was excruciating.
He'd been given the task of not only letting it slip to Sophie, the secretary, that they were involved…. but in order to do that without appearing like an ethics violation on L's, he had to also come clean that he too was a psychiatrist, and that he went around impersonating patients. It was not an easy thing to say out loud. And, Lawliet was clear that he was not allowed to divulge that her own boss did the same damn thing.
Now, the fact that he'd flirted enough to make her really interested in him was really biting him in the ass. He knew Lawliet took exceptional amusement at him over that in particular.
A few months later….
"Going out for lunch?" Sophie asked as L closed the door to his office.
"Yes, I'm meeting up with someone."
She let out a stream of air and rolled her eyes. "You can say his name, it's not like we all don't know who that 'someone' is."
She'd gotten over the news remarkably fast - only moping for a few weeks - though most of that had been fiction and just a way of torturing him. She'd been miffed at L hiding things and causing her hassles.
He'd been totally stunned the day she'd dropped the sullen face mid-mope and burst out laughing at him. She said that she was just glad he'd finally started seeing someone and taking it seriously. That and apparently she'd been a bit concerned at his lack of dating in recent times.
As payback for having to break the news to her in the first place, Light had let slip about the not-so-black cat, Blackie. And so she often razzed him over that as well.
It was a nice day out, not hot and not too cold. There was a decent breeze and some bright patches of clear blue sky. Light met him at the park, as they often did now, encouraging him to get out more and be active. He'd professed amazement that L did so little to take care of himself or mind his health.
Over time, the rift of trust that had formed after the event at the hotel started to fade. But, Light, being who and what he was, still didn't make all of his paranoia settle into silence. L still worried about things, or was still appalled by the bounds of what Light found to be acceptable, such as his solicitous manner with patients.
Still, he could recognize and cede Light's point about paranoia being different from actual real trust-shattering events.
And so, the months passed, and they eventually fell into a groove much like the one when they first met.
Light was still impulsive and outrageous at times, shocking at others, but he was still fairly reliable. Nothing like that near-rape ever came close to occurring again. And even when Light first floated the idea of messing around with a bit of bondage, it felt more like a way to put the past behind them, than as something to feel upset about. Sure, it toed the line of decency, and he'd felt his stomach drop out a time or two… but Light demonstrated that it was L who had the ultimate say. He could stop anything with just a word. And finally, eventually, he started to relax.
"Hey, you," the brunet greeted him, leaning in with a kiss.
L still wasn't sold on public displays of affection, but he gave into it now and then. Light's lips were warm, familiar, and stirred him up like they always did.
They started a stroll around the manmade lake, enjoying the relative quiet. Some days they talked effusively, about current events or the specifics on how they each would approach a particular problem at work. But also ethics, treatment, and anything under the sun.
Time slid by easily, and yet things felt as fresh as the day they'd begun.
They met up for coffee, went out to bars and clubs, or lounged at L's place to watch movies with L's increasingly larger roommate. Blackie was almost full size by now, a staunch 6 pounds. She'd also woken Light up to the feeling of sharp kneading claws which L found to be hilarious. Misery loves company afterall.
It was even some time after that, and vague mentions of one day possibly moving in together, that L realized he no longer had that empty and restless feeling that had been dogging him most days.
Work was going well, and they were even looking to expand. Partly, it was Light's influence and encouragement that was making him connect to some latent aspirations for such things. But, under Light's tutelage, he'd drummed up more business and things were more regular and stable than they had ever been. They still disagreed on the matter of cost-per-services, but they amicably agreed to disagree.
He also no longer kept to his grueling habit of visiting other psychiatrist's offices as an impersonator. There no longer seemed a need. Something in him had been lain to rest and for the first time in a long while, there was a drifting sense of peace.
FIN
A/N: My sincerest apologies for not posting this earlier. The way the last chapter left things was not ideal, in my mind, and this chapter brought some needed closure to certain things. Thank you for reading!