Hey guys, thank you all for your encouraging reviews. Awesome I got one review that very…pleadingly advised me to read a manga called "Lucky Dog 1 Blast" honestly, at first I thought this person was crazy for going on for a paragraph about this loveless manga. But I had some free time, so I decided to humor them. I found, with great surprise, that this is a very, very good manga. It has well defined characters, humor, and a good surrounding plot. It's about the Italian Mafia in the 1930s. But don't let that deter you, give it a shot. Its only 6 chapters, and I foresee BL in its future. Now I hope my hysterical reviewer can get some sleep.
As for my fic, I'm getting into the adolescence for L this chapter; the young teenage years up to age fifteen. But next chapter I'm unleashing a whole lot of teenaged-L emo sexiness on you all.
Onward and upward my friends…
By the time L was twelve he was by far the most intellegent kid at the orphanage. Many of the other boys adored him, wanted to be as smart as him, to be his friend, but L was still averse to socializing. He kept to himself for the most part, finding that he could easily accomplish things better on his own or with the help of Wammy, who had taken the care of L upon himself: something that shocked everyone in the orphanage.
L was left friendless after Wilson had graduated from Wammy's and became the third best neurosurgeon in the world in only two years. L missed him terribly, almost as much as he missed his parents. Without Wilson nagging him about his manners, his ways of speaking, and criticizing his logical thinking, L found himself generally unsure. Another quality Wilson would have detested. L's older brother wanted nothing more than to manifest a confidence in L, a sense of pride and ability, of ambition. The only thing L had been able to conjure from his long past of subservience was a straight-forward manner and a blunt ability to point out flaws.
The pain from his parents' deaths had dulled as L's innocent perception of the world was gradually taken from him by media exposure. A slow burning hatred churned in L's chest alongside the sadness of what his parents did. He realized that what they did to him was not his fault, but he could not understand why. He let it go, though. He did not understand emotions as much as he did logic. Emotions and logic did not exist simultaneously or harmoniously in L's brain, therefore one or the other would have to be eradicated. L opted for the less painful of the two.
Wammy had been nagging L relentless for two years to pick something to commit himself to, some sort of career, and Wammy himself would see to it that L was successful. Wammy had become increasingly fond of the boy, catering to him out of sympathy and genuine adoration. In truth, L reminded Wammy of his own son who had died of an overwhelming disease. However, despite his persistence, L hadn't picked anything to devote his life to. Instead, he devoted himself to everything. Every subject, no matter how abstract or strange, L knew something of it. He studied, played chess, played tennis, and ate a lot of sweets. The latter was Wammy's true concern. But as long as L was sufficiently healthy and continued to eat other foods besides, he let it slide.
L's true calling came to him one day via the television. He was sitting in the living room, his legs curled under him as usual, reading a book on International Law, his newest subject of the week. He found it particularly boring, but useful nonetheless.
"Hey, isn't that Wilson?" One of the boys exclaimed. L looked up at the television out of curiosity and saw, with great certainty, that is was Wilson.
"Indeed," L said, all the heads in the room snapped to him. L hardly ever spoke aloud unless it was something very important. The twelve year old was regarded as something of an intellectual oracle.
The twenty two year old Neurosurgeon, Wilson Newbury, is being tried for the intentional murder of Joseph Hallow, a forty year old Professor of Neuroscience. Newbury will be tried in the United States, due to the location of the murder. Police are still withholding the details of the case, but it is expected that, if convicted, Newbury will serve twenty five years to life in prison…"
It was impossible. There was no way that Wilson was capable of murder. He got woozy when they had to saw the top of the skull off of his patient the first time. L leaned forward to hear more of the report, but they cut to another segment. L got up, aware of all the eyes on him, and walked briskly up to Wammy's office. L was the only one allowed to disturb the man there.
"Wammy, Wilson has-"
"I know," Wammy interrupted, looking stonily concerned but otherwise unruffled.
"There is no possible way that Wilson has committed murder," L said vindictively.
"I am aware of that L, I am hiring well respected Lawyers, graduates of this institution, to assist Wilson," Wammy said, scribbling something down on a document. "There is no need to worry,"
L trusted Wammy. But he still worried. He worried throughout the night, keeping him awake and safe from his nightmares. He had limited his sleep to only five hours a night in order to avoid the very stressful and concerning nightmares in which his parents and fire always starred. But the next day, the entire next week, L felt sick and weary from pure worry and lack of sleep. The distraction from his studies was both disconcerting and annoying. He could not focus on anything, his thoughts were always on Wilson.
The logical conclusion was that Wilson was being framed. Of course, L did not know any of the evidence that could support that, but Wilson would never have murdered someone outright. Perhaps the professor had some enemies at the university, or perhaps a rival neurosurgeon wanted Wilson out of the picture. But there were too many 'perhaps' for L. Uncertainty did not sit well with L.
Wammy had contacted the lawyers and Wilson, he left right away for the States to help his former charge. L wanted to go with him. At first, Wammy was reluctant. L had never been outside the orphanage, besides his childhood home and nursery school. Let alone the country. But L reasoned, quite convincingly with Wammy. He even promised that if Wammy allowed him to go, then L would decide on his career. So Wammy put together a passport for the twelve year old with a false name: Eraldo Coil.
The airport was an experience for L. He had never been around so many people before. He tried to remain calm, but the combination of being in an unfamiliar place and wearing the, tight, uncomfortable shoes set him into a state of paranoia. The plane ride itself was another story. L had read several books about aircraft, their construction, the statistics and probability of disaster. He was fairly secure that they would not die in a firey crash, but there was still a 1 in 11 million percent chance that he would die.
They arrived in New York three days before the trial. The hotel scene was interesting, L found he rather liked it, despite what his mentor had originally thought. The change was not damaging, in fact the young genius found it exciting. From the window, he took in New York City. It was much different from his hometown, but it was fascinating. The people, the cultures, the new scenery, it all made him want to go out and explore it. But it also showed him how much of life he had already missed out on, being holed up in the orphanage.
The pair went to visit Wilson in jail. He was being held there until the trial. Wammy thought L was too young for such a thing, but L, always the impeccable arguer, convinced him. So they went in, after an extensive security check, and sat in front of the telephone windows. Wilson looked terrible. His skin was pallid, there were deep circles under his eyes, his ginger hair was disheveled, and he seemed a bit jaded. But even through all of that, his eyes were still sharp, piercing, dignified. His sense of self, his confidence and cold demeanor had not shifted.
After Wammy finished speaking with him, he handed the phone to L, who took it cautiously and sat down. He was all dolled up in some sort of expensive outfit Wammy had gotten for him, he found it incredibly unaccommodating.
"Hello, L," Wilson said in his usual, chastising tone. L was never so elated to hear the caustic voice.
"You didn't do it," L said, rather than asked. Wilson offered the slightest smirk in success at L's blunt speech, knowing it was due to his training that he spoke as such.
"Of course I didn't do it! Do you think I'm capable of murder? I'm being framed," he said, rolling his eyes insolently.
A feeling overtook L. He knew in his gut that Wilson was innocent. The possibility that Wilson may be sent to prison permanently on false charges infuriated him.
"You won't be sent to jail, Wilson, not if I can help it," L said, determined.
"L, I appreciate the concern, but there is truly nothing you can do about it. This is up to the U.S. judicial system now. Not a well endowed twelve year old," Wilson said, giving a genuine smile at the kid. He was fond of L, but he knew that he couldn't do anything to help.
"You'll see, Wilson, I will get you out of this," L said. He hung up the phone and waved goodbye to Wilson.
I'll be damned, Wilson thought as his little brother walked away. Maybe I'll get out of this mess after all.
L committed himself to figuring out the truth. He had Wammy give him a copy of all the evidence papers the Lawyers had and started laying out facts. He wanted the police reports, but his hacking abilities were less than capable at that point. So he was stuck using the library and whatever decrypting knowledge he had to get at confidential information.
So far, L knew that the professor did have direct relations to two of the other Neurosurgeons that Wilson had competition with, just as he had originally suspected. Apparently Wilson had become friends with the professor through his work, and often had consultations with the man regarding his cases and patients. One of the other Neurosurgeons was apparently blackmailing the hospital with some sort of insurance fraud. It was clear that the professor played some role in this whole scandal, but L could not figure out what.
"Wilson," L asked, when he went back to the jail for an interview. "Did you know the professor?" L asked.
"Of course, we were good friends," he said, twirling a piece of his hair between his fingers. L sensed there was something that Wilson was not telling him. His eyes flicked very quickly to the side, his body language shifted as he crossed and uncrossed his legs into his typical pose.
"Wilson, it is imperative that you tell me everything," L said, leaning closer into the window. He wished he could take off his shoes and get more comfortable in the chair. His mental process was inhibited in this position, L noticed. He pulled his knees up to his chest. There was about a forty percent increase of his mental process.
Wilson eyed him warily, but ultimately sighed. "Okay, L. I trust you. We were having an affair," Wilson said. L attempted to remain impassive. If he could discern other people's emotions by their facial expressions, he did not other people reading his. But in this instance he could not stifle completely his feeling of shock.
"I am aware I am not well versed in the customary principles involved in adult relationships, but the professor was forty years old, and you are only twenty three," L stated, scribbling down notes with the pen between this index finger and thumb. That was a habit Wilson was never able to break.
"I know, L. But love has no age requirements," Wilson said. L had no idea about love, or emotions. He did not understand such things.
"Did you know anyone named Dr. Theodore Plains?" L asked, skipping over his brother's confession.
"Yeah, that was Joe's stepson," he said, twirling his hair again. "He was also a neurosurgeon at the hospital I frequently fly into to perform complex surgeries,"
One of the suspects was related to the victim? Things started to fall into place.
"Wilson, is there any possibility that Theodore knew of your relationship with the professor?" he asked expectantly.
"We tried to keep it a secret, but he may have found out somehow. He never really accepted Joe as his stepfather, Joe married Theo's mother when he was eighteen. They always had problems, Theo did not think Joe was good enough for his mother," Wilson's voice became hostile.
"Has he ever threatened the professor or you?" L asked.
"No, but when Joe said he was going to divorce his wife, Theo got really upset. He yelled and got in joe's face," Wilson looked at L with his slicing eyes, but L saw a softness behind them. He was scared, and he was deeply hurt by the death of his lover.
So L had a suspect, even a motive. Now he needed evidence. So L went searching and hacking. He reviewed the information from the lawyers that the police had recovered, and eventually came up with gold. He handed the results of his investigation to Wammy, who was shocked and thoroughly impressed.
The evidence was given to the lawyers from Detective Eraldo Coil, a P.I. allegedly hired by Wilson Newbury. Theodore was brought in for questioning by the police and eventually confessed to the murder of his stepfather on trial. He had framed Wilson by writing a few false threatening letters and sending them to the professor, blackmailing him with false information. All of the false claims were disproved and Wilson was found innocent. He was let off free of charge.
Meanwhile, Eraldo Coil, the faceless detective was given all the credit for the result of the investigation. The police chief even thanked him on the television. L took this in stride, but he felt a rush at the recognition he received. Detective Eraldo Coil, PI. The name sounded like a television detective. L liked it. He liked it a lot. L was drunk on triumph. Everything was right with the world. The criminal was being punished, he was going to jail for life. Wilson was free. It was victory, it was righteousness, it was Justice.
Wilson was very grateful and went back to Wammy's house with his brother and Wammy. With some persuading, Wammy convinced Wilson to stay. Wammy wanted Wilson to start his training to take over the orphanage. It would be a five-year internship in which Wilson would learn the ins and outs of training and caring for genius children. Wilson, Wammy said, was just the right combination of cold and dethatched, but also instructive and caring. Judging by the effect he had on L, Wilson was going to be a natural.
A week later, after being reunited with his brother, L sauntered into Wammy's office and sat in a chair. There was silence for a few minutes before L finally spoke. "Wammy, I have decided what I want to dedicate my life to,"
Wammy's head raised with an amused, knowing look. "And that is?"
L raised his head, putting his thumb in his mouth. His eyes met Wammy's and he gave a confident smirk.
"Justice."
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think so far of L's first case and the idea of him being an angsty, sexy teenager. I really appreciate and look forward to your reviews and suggestions. If you have any good ideas, let me know!