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Family Ties

Tunes in Profile:

No. 25

No one spoke, and L wasn't entirely sure what to make of it all. But given the way this Shepherd River was pinching the bridge of his nose with a frustrated expression on his face, L could see that the boy's last name was not something L should have been privy to.

Or, more specifically, L suspected that it was the connection between himself and the Lieutenant that shouldn't have been discovered by the Doctor. Though, he couldn't imagine why. What was so important about who he, L, was in this situation? Two centuries was an awfully long time for there to be any remaining significance to anything having to do with L.

Although, L would like to change that. The Doctor . . . he liked her. A lot. She was smart, and witty, and not bad with the conversation. But, he did not fancy being some female's pet, no matter how agreeable she was.

He was L, damnit. He belonged on top of the world, not on top of the plastic . . . toy.

Unfortunately, being bite-sized put somewhat of a damper on that goal – leaving him with no choice but to wait and see what resources the Doctor was going to offer him. She'd said something about putting him in the system, and that sounded appealing.

She'd also said something about putting him in her, and L wasn't quite sure what to think about that. He'd have a body, at least. But then he'd have to deal with all that fact entailed, and even he didn't know how he would react. Last he looked, when he'd had a body, he'd been definite male. And being in a female body? That was going to be . . . different.

What if they fused together . . . permanently, like she'd said? He'd have to piss sitting down for the rest of his life. What if she died, and he was stuck in there? Or what if she had sex? That sounded messy, and talk about awkward.

No. There would be none of that. If he could do it for twenty-five years, then so could she.

Speaking of sex, and more importantly . . .

Near propagated? With a . . . female?

Try as he might, L just couldn't get past that little tidbit of information. Because really, all he'd ever known was the boy, having died before meeting the man Near would have become.

No, scratch that. Not would have become. Had become. L had to remember – life continued on even with him deceased.

And that was something that L did, in fact, regret. Near and Mello had been, for all practical purposes, his children. Not that he'd ever spent more than a day in physical proximity with either of them . . . but he hadn't needed to. He'd known everything there was to know about them, knew their personalities like the back of his hand, and L had come to look on them as adopted sons in a way.

So having to learn about their lives two hundred years later, via the internet of all things, bothered him just a little. And even then, he still didn't know with certainty which one of them had followed in his footsteps. He assumed it was Near, given Mello's inability to control his emotions, but stranger things have happened.

Like Near having children. !!!

As hard as it was to swallow, L could see by looking at Shepherd now that yes, the boy had obviously managed to sire children at some point in his life. The resemblance was . . . not a fluke, like he'd first thought. Shepherd and himself did look very much alike, just as he and Near had.

Something else L had wondered at more than once when he'd been alive. The eyes, the facial features, the personality . . . Near had reminded him so much of himself when he'd been younger, that the similarities had practically begged for scrutiny. But, L had never had it in him to find out.

One's parents abandoning their son on the streets was hard enough to accept. One's parents doing it more than once? Despicable. And L would be better off not knowing, instead of knowing for certain that two such disgraceful people could have produced him.

Maybe they were related after all, just as the Doctor had said. L had, in life, often wondered how much Near would look like him with dark hair. And now here was his answer, sitting on the sofa and staring at the Doctor without a word.

"Lieutenant," L decided to take advantage of the silence. "Am I safe in assuming that you're a descendant of Nate River?" He asked pleasantly, trying his best to ignore the tension quickly filling the small office. He hoped the boy didn't bother denying it. Physical appearance trumped any lie he could tell.

Dark brown eyes focused on him, appearing black in the dim lit room. The more L examined him, the more he felt as though he was looking at himself. It was . . . disconcerting.

"Yes. He was my Grandfather, several times Great." The boy was no longer playing at being a nervous wreck, instead coming off as one in complete control of the situation, although L knew better. Clearly, he was able to deceive the Doctor. But L, who practically wrote the book on such deception, was not so easily fooled.

His ability to analyze the boy's voice pattern helped, too. Elevated, but within range.

"I see. And how familiar are you with him?" The Doctor gave him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, but she said nothing.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking me."

"What I mean is, what can you tell me about him?" L was curious as to how much he knew, and who better to ask than a direct relative?

"Only what has been passed down by the men of my family. After you died, he left the orphanage to pursue your murderer. After that, he carried on your work as 'L' for the rest of his life, occasionally serving as an Ambassador to several countries on the side in an effort prevent the coming war."

Shepherd paused to gather information from his memory, his eyes remaining fixed upon the display questioning him. "This was during a time of political unrest that left no country unaffected. The European Union, which encompassed almost all of Europe and Asia at that time, collapsed entirely."

"Creating a domino effect." L stated softly, glad that he missed that.

"Yes. Economies all over the world came to standstill, and several governments dissolved almost overnight. The American Empire was one of the last strongholds remaining in the political storm, and Nate went there in hopes of convincing them to remain neutral and to continue their policy of acting as benefactors to many of the countries under strain. Japan and Russia, who had remained more or less loyal to L, were already on board and in the process of recruiting a handful of other, still functional nations."

"But," A disgusted frown twisted Shep's pale features. "The American Empire, who had initially been cooperative, later decided to make a grab for power during the chaos. Nate knew about it several weeks before it happened, and intended on making it public. But as he was leaving the country, his confidante in the American Government gunned down both him and his wife on the runway at the last minute. He died at the scene, having taken the brunt of the assault in an attempt to save my Grandmother." Shepherd shrugged. "But she died anyway, a few days later from her wounds."

"She traveled with him?" Idiot. Near knew better.

"She went everywhere with him. She was his assistant before she was anything else. Besides, to hear my father tell it, she was a real virago – so it's not like he had much of a choice. We've never been known for our ability to control our women, in my family."

Apparently not. And L didn't miss the quick shift of the boy's eyes to Vey when he said it, either. Not that it was any of his business, but L found himself wondering at the relationship between the two.

"I understand. One more thing . . ."

Closing his eyes, L conjured up what he remembered of Mello, the other boy in line with Near to succeed his title. Blond, blue-eyed . . . a golden-boy image that turned the unsightly genius stereotype on its ear.

Just like Yagami Light had.

Much like he'd done with the Doctor, L concentrated on the image of the boy – mapping out his features in the same way he used to memorize bits and pieces of information. His 'brain' tingled, a sensation he had since learned to equate with the changing of his physical form. And then there was that chill, like cold energy rippling down his spine. Something he'd always been told came from someone stepping on a grave.

Ink black lightened to fiery gold. He lost a handful of inches. Denim and white fabric darkened to solid black. And when L opened his eyes again, a steel blue color existed in place of black marble.

"This boy. Do you know of him?" L asked, his voice remaining the same dispassionate drone it had always been.

"Yeah. He made for some pretty interesting stories around the dinner table when I was young. Killed by Kira in 2010, although he made it possible for Nate to ultimately catch Kira in the end."

"So you know about the Kira case?"

"Absolutely." Shepherd gave in a smug tone, leaning back against the sofa to cross one leg over the other in a picture of cool, calm, and collected. "The truth is, I know more about you than I do anything else. Learning about the original L is something of a family tradition – something we're all expected to aspire to in our own way. You're like our family . . . shrine, I guess you'd say. Nate respected you a great deal, and that was something he wanted passed down through the generations."

L was thunderstruck. This was so unlike the Near he'd thought he'd known. He'd taken the boy for a real prick . . . a nasty piece of work. Not a family man. Not someone who would instill in his children the legacy of an L other than himself.

Which begged the question – why was he really there? What possible motive could the boy have for bringing him back, if any at all?

"So the half-breed and the Lieutenant are related?"

Pandora popped in to his left, probably just to irritate him with the hatefully worded question.

Vey was the first to react, turning on her in a hushed shout. "Pandora! What have I told you about eavesdropping?"

"Not to get caught?"

"Out."

By the sudden movement in his peripheral vision, L could tell that she obeyed, albeit with a delayed response. He bet it just pissed her off to no end that he could be here, and she couldn't. And that made L feel King of the Hill. Or at least the Doctor's desk.

Remembering his own display, L made a conscious effort to return to his own body. And with a blink of his eyes, L found himself back in his own dark-haired, black-eyed, taller form.

"Excuse me."

The softly spoken request came from the Doctor, who was turning in her chair and moving to leave. L wondered what it was that so disturbed her about this new turn of events? Was 'L' still a title that held some kind of significance in this century, even though she had failed to affirm as such? Or maybe she just didn't like the idea of reanimating someone like him?

He was glad that she had. That was a certainty, now that he'd gotten used to the idea. This future stuff, and all its possibilities, was kind of starting to grow on him.

"Wait a minute." Shepherd jumped from his seat on the sofa, and stilled her retreat with firm fingers around her arm.

"I want you gone when I return." She shot back at him, jerking her person from his hold.

L could sense that the stress levels in her voice were not within range. Maybe she would hit him. L wouldn't blame her if she did, and it would be entertaining, at least. Doubly so if he hit her back. And his money was definitely on The Doctor, who looked like she could knock out Hercules right about now.

Vey turned an angry, controlled fury on the boy. "You lied to me!"

Shepherd remained calm, meeting her red hot gaze with cool composure. "Yes." He answered simply.

"You knew who he was even before he got here!" Vey accused him loudly.

Shep nodded once. "I'd hoped, yes."

"And you kept it from me, because you knew I would refuse him!?"

"Yes." He confirmed in a neutral tone.

So that was it . . . she was uncomfortable with working with such a high-profile subject. Was it because of the instability she'd told him about? He really didn't mind . . . much. After dying once, all other occurrences seemed to pale in comparison. Maybe he should try to explain that.

"Deactivate." She snapped at L, who promptly obeyed in a fizzle of light. He had no choice, having been hard-wired to follow any root command she gave him.

Oh well. He'd try and get the details later.

Turning her attention back to the flesh and blood image in front of her, Vey pinned raging eyes on him. "You used me?"

"No." He made another grab for her arm, and Vey snatched herself away from him to take a step back. "Will you stop being so dramatic, and listen to me?"

"Dramatic?" She asked, incredulous.

"Yes. You're overreacting. Can you at least sit back down?"

"I will not. I gave you an order, Lieutenant. I want you out." Vey straightened herself, putting as much authority in her voice as she could muster.

Shepherd cocked his head, a crooked smirk turning one side of his mouth up. "I'm your superior officer, or did you forget?"

"By virtue of rank, if nothing else." Vey muttered wryly, more to herself than him.

"I think you know that's bullshit. Besides, you don't want me to leave anyway. So sit down, and I'll explain."

He stepped aside, and indicated with a graceful hand the sofa behind him. And after a moment more of giving him the hardest look she could conjure, Vey acquiesced to his demand and took herself off to occupy the far end of the settee. Taking longer than necessary to straighten her skirt, and her temper, she crossed one leg over the other and looked up at him expectantly. And just like that, she was all sweetness, sunshine, and rainbows.

"You have sixty seconds. Please begin."