Minion: Eheh… yo. Sorry for the complete lack of updates. I've… been distracted? What with crazy work schedules, Christmas and all that entails, and getting completely caught up in beating Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, I guess I… let time get away from me. …What? Don't give me that look! It was distracting! Link is totally incompetent, Navi is irritating, the Water Temple is a bitch, the Gerudo Fortress made me wanna stab something, Zelda is annoying and SOOOOOOOO not as good as Sheik, and Sheik is just… mmmmmmmmm. …There was epic ping pong, don't judge me. Yeah, so… sorry. Anyhoo, this chapter isn't as good as I anticipated. The content is… interesting, I hope, but L is so (bleep!)ing hard to write dialogue for while keeping in character!! AGH! HATE! …but love. Blast you, L.
Oh, and obvious FYI: The title of the story has been changed. Used to be Brighter than Sunshine, but when I stopped to think about it, I decided it was muuuuuuuuch too fluffy and happy for Matt and Mello, whose angst is only surpassed by a meager few, so I chose the much angstier and more appropriate (for the end of the story) Swans after the song by Unkle Bob. So freaking sad, makes me wanna die. Yupyup.
Disclaimer: Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye.
.VI.
Mihael was distracted. Whether it was the late morning light casting dancing shadows across the classroom wall… or Mr. Hughes' monotonous honey-smooth voice, which had already put approximately half the students to sleep… the blond simply could not bring himself to concentrate.
And honestly, it wasn't that big of a deal… he'd already read the chapter on the Black Plague in the text book, as long as he re-skimmed it for notes before the test, he should be fine.
"--what is called a 'pandemic,' probably originating in central Asia--"
Taptaptaptap. Mihael blinked blurrily, lifting his chin from where it had been cupped in his palm and twitching his head to the side as the pencil continued to thump pointedly against his back. Tap.
'What the…?'
Taptaptap. Tap. Taptaptap. Taptaptap.
Understanding dawned very quickly as the eraser of Mail's pencil continued to thwack dully against the base of the blond's neck. A week ago, he and Mail had turned in a rather detailed paper on Morse Code as an extra credit assignment, and the redhead had adamantly learned the code left, right, and backwards simply out of fascination and a foresight for mischief.
He stared straight ahead very deliberately, blindly letting his pencil trace out a line of dots and dashes in the corner of his paper, before quickly translating.
(. . . .) H (.) e (…. . …. ….) y. (. … . .) L (….) h (. …) a (. . .) s (… . . .) b (.) e (.) e (… .) n (. … …) w (. …) a (…)t (… . … .) c (. . . .) h (. .) i (… .) n (… … .) g (… . … …) y (… … …) o (. . …)u.
He frowned at this, his brows furrowing as Mail emphasized his point by drawing the eraser horizontally along Mihael's shoulder blades in the direction of the door. Discreetly glancing at the doorway from behind his bangs, he caught sight of the teenager hunching around the corner, a tiny smile quirking his lips as he observed the two boys. He bit his lip lightly.
The reclusive eccentric had almost literally disappeared immediately following Mihael's first glimpse of him upon his return from London. Well, maybe "disappeared" was not the proper word… everyone at Wammy's knew exactly where L spent his time while at the orphanage; the entirety of the basement had been converted into a well-furnished underground flat of sorts, entirely for his use. The detective rarely ascended anymore, and Mihael was nearly positive that L had been purposely avoiding the children… that L was, just maybe, hiding something from them.
(. . … .) F (. … .) r (.) e (. …) a (… . …) k (. .) i (… .) n (… … .) g (… . … .) c (. … .) r (.) e (.) e (. … … .) p (… . … …) y (. … . .) l (. . …) u (. … .) r (… . …) k (.) e (. … .) r.
Mihael gave a short snort, his eyes flicking once more in the direction of the raven-haired man, only to find the hallway outside the classroom completely empty. He frowned in confusion, before tapping a slow, discreet tattoo on the edge of his desk with his own pencil.
(. . . .) H (.) e (. … …) w (. …) a (. . .) s (. … …) w (. …) a (…) t (… . … .) c (. . . .) h (. .) i (… .) n (… … .) g (… . … …) y (… … …) o (. . …) u (…) t (… … …) o (… … …) o.
Mihael paused halfway into his room, arm still outstretched in the act of hanging his book bag on the door handle. A small, blank envelope sat in the center of his desk, perfectly framed in the square of fading golden sunlight filtering in through the window. He couldn't help glancing about the room suspiciously as he stepped forward to scoop up the intruding article.
He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. Curiosity finally getting the best of him, he glanced over his shoulder at the door before he smoothly ripped the side open and shook out the paper.
Mr. Keehl,
Please come to my quarters on the ground floor of the south wing at promptly one o'clock pm, tomorrow, Saturday, March 12th. There is business we must discuss.
Thank you kindly,
Quillsh Wammy
The blond blinked, taken aback by the succinct manner of the message--no flowery greetings, just straight to the point. It didn't seem like the warm, grandfatherly Mr. Wammy so much as L.
He licked his lips slowly, fighting back the tingles of excited curiosity amassing in his stomach as he slid the letter back into the envelope and tucked it into the top drawer.He sat down slowly, tapping his fingers against the edge of the desk in a mixture of confusion, dread, and gut-wrenching excitement.
L's trip to London, his secret return and reclusion, lurking in hallways and spying on classes, mysterious letters appearing out of nowhere--it was like some cheesy drug store mystery novel… and so L-like all at the same time.
'What the hell is going on…?'
Mihael rapped sharply on the door, tossing a short, cursory glance over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps echoing his own treck down the hallway behind him. He blinked in mild confusion as a somewhat familiar head of long auburn hair came bobbing into view, before his attention was stolen by the sound of the door opening.
"Ah, Mr. Keehl… Miss Locke, please come in." Mr. Wammy stepped immediately aside, one arm swinging around elegantly to direct the children down the short hallway toward the warm, golden glow of lamplight puddling on the carpet before the only open door.
Casting surreptitious, puzzled glances at each other, the two slowly stepped around the elderly man as he moved to close the door, tiptoeing cautiously down the hall to peek around the doorframe of the indicated chamber. The room was simply furnished, centering around a coffee table framed by a couch on each side and a single, care-worn armchair at its head.
Catching sight of the room's only other occupants, Mihael stepped quickly through the door, making a beeline for the couch across from where Mail and River were already sitting--the former glancing about the room with a sort of nervous fascination, the latter seemingly unfazed and completely captivated by his robot action figure.
"Mihael!" Mail exclaimed upon catching sight of the blond, far less shocked than the other boy felt he should be at this strange turn of events, "Autumn… hi. You… you guys got notes from Mr. Wammy, too, then?"
Mihael opened his mouth to reply, a confused 'What the hell is going on?' building in his throat, when the door behind them closed with a click and he jumped, spinning to glance around at the three figures who had just joined them. Wait. What? What was going on…? Everything was moving so fast….
"Autumn, Mihael," the newly-arrived L said softly, shuffling in their direction, "please have a seat. Jessamine--" The dark-haired boy on Mr. Wammy's other side jumped slightly at being addressed, "please." He gestured toward the couch across from Mail and Nate before languidly folding himself into the armchair and waiting, unblinking, for the children to settle themselves as well.
Mihael fidgeted uncomfortably, squirming his way into the farthest corner of the couch away from Autumn and Jessamine as L placidly took the cup of tea Mr. Wammy had been holding out to him. The teenager took his time, meticulously dropping nine sugar cubes, one by one, into the cup before stirring it a total of eighteen times--nine clockwise, nine counterclockwise--as his audience stared at him in silent speculation.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mihael caught Mail's curious cerulean gaze darting from L's hunched figure, to the still bowed silvery head beside him, across to his own intent, alert profile. He ignored the redhead as L took a single, noisy sip before setting his tea down and looking up.
"You're all wondering why you're here," he said simply; it was not a question. He left several seconds open for some of the children to get another round of uncomfortable squirming in, before reaching blindly behind him, his hand outstretched for an instant before Mr. Wammy placed a small stack of paper-clipped files in his expectant palm.
Mihael's brows furrowed and he allowed himself to finally cast that quick glance at Mail, their gazes locking questioningly for a moment before each quickly riveted their attention back on the man before them.
"River, Nate," he began to read from the top packet, "Birthday: August 24, 1991. Age: eight. Orphaned: age five. IQ of: 202. Shows particular proficiencies in: mathematics, problem-solving, profiling. Comments: 'Has never received a grade of less than 100 percent.'" He glanced quickly through the next several pages of the packet--presumably additional observations recorded over the time Nate had spent at Wammy's, before setting it aside and plucking the next up by its corner. "Keehl, Mihael. Birthday: December 13, 1989. Age: ten. Orphaned: age nine. IQ of: 199. Shows particular proficiencies in: psychology, mathematics, research. Comments: 'Aggressive; consistently number one of the class.'"
Mihael scowled, sinking back into his seat as L read, aloud, his shortcomings in comparison to River.
"Jeevas, Mail. Birthday: February 1, 1990. Age: ten. Orphaned: age four. IQ of: 195. Shows particular proficiencies in: computer science, technology, mechanics. Comments: 'Idle; Not fulfilling his potential.'" The next packet was retrieved, along with the teacup. "Locke, Autumn. Birthday: March 7, 1988. Age: eleven. Orphaned: age six. IQ of: 189. Shows particular proficiencies in: sociology, research, observation. Comments: 'Top of the class.' …Sharett, Jessamine. Birthday: July 29, 1987. Age: eleven. Orphaned: age seven. IQ of: 184. Shows particular proficiencies in: mathematics, computer science. Comments: 'Consistent superior marks.'" (1)
L allowed all of the files to fall to the table before him, silently raising his piercing gaze to the small group of huddled children. All was quiet for a pregnant moment as Mr. Wammy appeared with a second tray--this one complete with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, glasses, and a pitcher of milk--and set it in the middle of the table with a soft clunk, before retreating back into a corner of the room near the door.
"Impressive résumés, all, and that was only a fraction of the first page in each," L murmured quietly. He paused for a long moment, humming thoughtfully around a large bite of cookie as his beetle-black, soul-piercing stare settled on Mail for a moment. "As I am sure most of you may have guessed," he continued abruptly, "I recently spent several weeks in London working to solve the Winchester serial murders."
A not-so-subtle excited glance passed between several of the seated children, followed by a triumphant glare from Mihael in Nate's direction.
"However," L continued when he was sure he had everyone's attention once more, "this was not my first case." He cast a critical glance over the rapt children. "For the past year and a half, I have been working in secret to help Interpol bring several of its more notorious unclosed cases to conclusion."
Mail blinked, feeling slightly overwhelmed. He glanced across the table at Mihael--the blond had been correct in his deductions, but neither of them had realized how much bigger than a simple murder case it had really been. And why was L bringing all of them into it…? He had a bad feeling about all of this. Slowly, he shifted toward Nate, his best friend's physical presence giving him comfort enough to focus back on L.
Almost as though reading the redhead's thoughts, the detective continued. "However," he said, idly picking at a wrinkle in his well-worn jeans, "my identity was kept secret not only from the public and media, but from the members of Interpol, themselves. As I am sure you have come to realize, it is a common preconception that knowledge comes only with age, and, in general, humans often struggle with the notion that one younger than themselves may, in any way, be more intelligent." His mouth curved into a wry, half smile as he spoke, his thumb automatically raising to press thoughtfully against his bottom lip. "Thus, Mr. Wammy and I agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest if I were to refrain from direct contact. To them, L is no more than a distorted voice coming from a computer."
There was a short, awed pause as the children soaked this information in, fidgeting slightly--there was still so much left unexplained.
"Why…" It was almost comical to see the group huddled on the couches flinch in shock as Jessamine broke the silence. The brunet, himself, winced lightly as his voice cracked through the pregnant air like a gunshot, but he forged on bravely. "Why are you telling us this? If you're trying to keep your identity secret, won't we just be liabilities?"
The corner of L's mouth twitched in an approving smile as several heads nodded in questioning agreement. "I am telling you this," he said casually, scratching the tip of his chin, "because you are the best candidates for what I have in mind. I am offering you the opportunity to study criminal justice."
Mihael's jade green eyes widened to roughly the size of the saucer in L's hand in disbelieving excitement, while the rest of the children sat, staring, open-mouthed, at the man calmly taking in their reactions to his revelation--even Nate's stone-faced façade cracked ever-so minutely at the news of this opportunity.
L set down his tea, his hands folding elegantly over his knees as he looked at them, jet-black eyes solemn. "This is not something to be rushed into, though," he said gently, his gaze meeting Mihael's pointedly, "If you were to choose it, the life before you will not be easy, nor glamorous. The person you are now must be forgotten." He nibbled at the tip of his thumb as he met each of their wide-eyed stares in turn. "Mail Jeevas, Nate River, Jessamine Sharett, Autumn Locke, and Mihael Keehl would all be erased. There could be no record of you--your birth, true names… faces. You would be ghosts, nothing more than an alias to those who even know of your existence at all."
A heavy silence settled over them as L's slow, quiet voice ceased, leaving them to their own thoughts on the subject.
"Why us?" the question was simple, thrown at L through the dense quiet.
He glanced over at Mihael, who had pulled his feet up to rest on the couch cushion after he spoke--almost an imitation of his own position--scrawny arms wrapped around his legs for some sort of comfort. "Because I have watched you… all of you. And because I have watched men and women throughout the world who call themselves criminal investigators. It is not enough--they are not enough. Society lives in the shadows of it's wrongdoings, and there are not enough of those who would step forward and put a stop to it. With proper training, I know you would." He surveyed them with a cursory glance, taking in the fear, determination, and excitement written on each face in turn. "I don't ask that you make this decision immediately. I will give you a week to think about it--observe your daily life, and ask yourself if this," he gestured to himself emphatically, "is the future that you want. If you decide to continue, please return here in exactly one week: next Saturday, the 19th, at one o'clock."
Without another word, the raven-haired man unfolded from his chair and hunched out of the room, leaving his audience reeling in the abruptness of his departure.
"It's like the Men in Black or something!" Mail whispered conspiratorially as he and Mihael ducked studiously over the thick textbook, jotting down notes for their research project on the East-West Schism during the Crusades. The blond snorted, casting a bemused emerald glance his way before burying his nose in the book once more. "I wonder if he's gonna burn off our fingerprints…" the redhead mused thoughtfully.
Beside him, Mihael sat up with a triumphant flourish, dropping his pencil onto his notebook and glancing around to see if anyone else's notes were as neat or long as his own. When it proved impossible to see the papers of the entire class--as they were scattered about the library--he turned back to Mail. "I think the furthest he would go would be to delete our official records," he replied finally, "There's not much else he could do."
Mail sighed in disappointment, scratching his temple with the tip of his eraser. "D'you think we'd get cool aliases?" he inquired hopefully.
The other boy arched a haughty eyebrow. "Is that what you're basing your decision on?" he asked scathingly.
"Well, no, but--"
"This isn't one of your video games, Mail. Why do you think L was telling us all how terrible it's gonna be? Why do you think he keeps his face a secret? You really believe that bull about it just being prejudice? Yeah, right! It's because it's dangerous." He leaned over the table, getting right in Mail's face with a sneer. "If you became a detective, criminals would hate you. They'd be scared of you and they'd hate you and they'd try to kill you." Mail's sapphire eyes widened. "They'll hunt you down and murder you in cold blood, and no one will save you, 'cause no one else knows you exist. And you won't respawn. It's real-life and you'll be dead and no one will care."
Mail gulped, quickly hunching over his notebook in an attempt to hide how much Mihael's words had rattled him.
"S-so," he cleared his throat, trying to hold back the tremors skating up and down his spine, "you gonna do it?"
The older boy leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, balancing himself expertly on the back legs. "Yeah."
Mihael hid the small shock of surprise he felt when he re-entered Mr. Wammy's office the following Saturday to see Mail seated next to Nate in almost the exact same position as the week previous. He'd been almost positive that his mini-rant in the Library had scared the redhead off.
A small tingle of pride swelled at the knowledge that Mail was braver and more stubborn than he seemed at first glance, accompanied by warm gratitude welling in his stomach--he hadn't really wanted to face the trials L had in store without his best friend.
Mail glanced up as the blond took the seat across from him, sinking down next to Jessamine, and their gazes locked. He beamed warmly at the older boy, giving him a discreet thumbs-up from where his hands were resting in his lap. Mihael nodded slightly, granting a small grin of his own in return as L once more shuffled into the room.
The detective rested his hands on the back of his armchair, surveying the group with a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I am glad to see the five of you again," he greeted, before rounding to collapse into the chair and immediately pouncing on the bowl of strawberries on the coffee table, "Let us begin."
To be continued.
(1) Note: I've changed their IQs. I'd done a meagre bit of research on IQ scores when I first wrote the section, but someone reviewed saying that their scores were probably much higher than that. So I was like, "Nuh-uh! Really? Wow, then what's the highest recorded IQ score...?" I looked it up, and I have been proven wrong. So I changed it! Yup.
Sorry it's lame… and short… and lame. I dunno why I suck so much. (Pouts) I can semi-confidently promise that it will get better relatively soon!
Thanks for reading... PLEASE REVIEW, YES!?
Review'd!
Esoteric Memories: Ominous clouds, indeed! Man, you just wait and see what I have cooked up. Heheh. And how terrifying would Matt in charge of the world's satellites be…? Pretty friggin' terrifying, I tell you. As usual, thanks for the review and hope you tolerated the chapter decently! AXENATOR: Wow, I'm really flattered to hear that, thank you! L is such a bitch to write. I learned that the hard way this chapter. Grrrrr! I hope my OCs are still decent! Anyhoo, thanks so much for reading. And huzzah for House!Dawn-at-Midnight: Don't worry, it sounds like our Mary Sue rants are very similar. Gah. I'm glad you understand my Matt 'n' Mello dynamic logic… and Near, well… he's necessary to the story and will add to the drama quite nicely. Especially in part two. Hmmm. (Innocent look) As always, thanks so much for the review, I love and look forward to them. Hope you were able to muddle through this chapter relatively unscathed.Meli Aile: Long live red-headed, big Matts and green-eyed Mellos! One shouldn't be allowed to call themselves a Death Note fan without reading the manga. Just the anime? Ew! They butt-raped Mello and Matt! …no matter how much I love anime!L and anime!Light… they ruined my other OTP. (sobs) Anyhoo, thanks for the review, glad you liked it, hope this one was half-way decent! aya: LOVE chess. A life without chess would be… no life at all. I'm glad I could please! Hope you like this one, too… I hate it. Blegh. Solo Maxwell-Yamato: I'm so glad you understand! I can't picture them any other way… it would just… deplete the love for the characters AND pairing. (Pout) Thanks for appreciating the OCs… dunno how the story would go without 'em. Poor MattyMattMatt and his imminent choosing…. Thanks for reading! Ev: PMSing!Mello is love! lol. And ohhhh the hooker boots. I got a pair of boots for Christmas (they're awesome and Mello-like) and was standing next to my Abi!Matt and she glanced over and was all, "Uh… dude? Why are you as tall as me?" And we were like "le gasp! That's how Mello's considered taller!" Haha. It's so true. Thanks for reviewing, always love your reviews! (Hugs) youreverlastinglight:Brilliant. Love that song for that scene. I'm not sure how you'll cook one up this chapter… since it was all so droll and whatnot. Hmm. Thanks for readin'!Aclatis: …I'm lame, I know. (hangs head in shame) This chapter is lame. But soon! "I have to go… play Halo and be… manly." momijikk:Wow, thank you so much for taking the time to review each chapter! I appreciate your feedback and thoughts on each one so much! I hope you continue to like it… thank you, thank you! the-beginning-of-the-end: Er… I'm sooooo sorry I failed at the updating! Feel free to seek revenge in any way you see fit. I hope you like this chapter… it's not good enough for the wait it got, but hopefully it'll do…. Thanks so much for the review! Trinity Spark: Man, I don't know how anyone but Matty could be able to handle those two. Hmm. And OMG L, indeed! Look at all the crap he gets in this chapter! lawl. Thanks for the review… and don't worry about it being late. I mean… look how later the freaking chapterwas! Heheh….
Bwoff, peeps!