A/N: Le Sigh. Hey there you guys. I'm back! Yay. -_-
I feel all sad and depressed that it took me so long to get this chapter up. I feel like a right cad, that I do.
Eh. Oh well. At least it's here, right?
Okay, okay. Here, let me get into a better mood . . . .
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
There.
WAAAAHOOO! HEY Y'ALL!!!!! I'M BACK! I'M BACK! HIP HIP HURRAY! HIP HIP HURRAY!
And guess what? It's a new chapter that is not an interlude! Whoop! Lol, I actually got mixed reviews about my little ole interlude. It was something along the line of people either hated it or loved it. I honestly didn't get many in between. But, oh well, I had fun with it, and I enjoyed it, so that's really all that matters, right?
Yeah, this chapter, for some ungodly reason, was tough to write. But I gritted my teeth and got on with it.
Okay you guys! I have a new story idea, and I want to get some opinions on it. I'm not going to start it until AoD is finished (and who know when THAT's gonna be, anyway?), but it just hit me the other day, and I'm like, yeah, I like that. I wonder if other people will? So, I set down and wrote a summary.
Tell me what you think! Seriously. I need an opinion on this, because I might start working on this along with AoD, depending on how the rest of the summer goes.
OOOOOO
One Million Apples
His plan worked - L was dead. But Light didn't plan on the guilt, the depression, or the sleepless nights that follow. Ryuk has a solution, but it comes with a price - one that Light is willing to pay if it means bringing L back.
OOOOOO
Okay, so, vague summary, telling title, and I think this might be more darker than AoD. Seems like it would be crackish by the title, but it wouldn't be. At least, not intentionally. XD
So, would you click on this story?
Okay, okay. I digress. My A/N was obnoxiously long. Sorry!
The Art of Drowning
Reunions
L was staring at him.
L had been staring at him for close to fifty seconds now.
Light had never realized how long fifty seconds actually was until he had uttered the devastating secret he had been keeping for so long to the frozen man huddled on the floor not three feet away.
Well, it was more like sixty seconds now. Sixty very long seconds, and try as he might, Light couldn't read L at all. His face was a frozen mask. The other man hadn't even blinked. His thumb was still pressed up against his teeth in mid bite, and Light wondered if the other man was actually breathing.
For the first time in his life, Light honestly didn't even have an inkling as to what the other man's reaction would be. Sure, the scenarios had played out many times in his head, but when it came to reality, Light was lost. He hadn't expected L to keep quiet this long though, and he half expected the other man to attack him once again.
And it was perhaps the longest one minute and twenty nine seconds of his entire life, but finally, L reacted. However, he did something that Light had never even considered he'd do in the million and one scenarios he'd thought up.
The other man calmly rose to his feet, opened the door, and softly closed it behind him.
And Light didn't know what to do.
"It's me, Lawli. It's Light."
". . . It's Light."
". . . It's Light."
Light.
LIGHT!
L braced himself against the bathroom sink, and made an effort to control his erratic breathing. He felt almost . . . detached. Like this wasn't happening. Like everything that had happened to him upon waking up had been a hallucination, a waking dream, or perhaps even an extreme case of wish fulfillment.
He moved to turn on the faucet, trying not to let the stiff pain in his arm convince him that he really wasn't dreaming. He wanted to be dreaming.
He splashed cold water on his face a few times, concentrating solely on the feel of the water against his warm skin.
L backed away from the sink, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was wet and blotched. The bags under his eyes were darker and deeper since the last time he had cared to spare a glance at a mirror, and his hair was wilder and more disheveled than what he was used to.
None of this bothered him.
At least, not as much as what he saw reflected in his eyes.
Fear. Trepidation. Uncertainty. Confusion.
L hated himself for feeling so helpless.
His back hit the wall, causing him to jump and his pulse to spike momentarily before he realized what he had run into. L hadn't noticed that he was still backing away from the mirror until he felt the soft collision.
He slowly let his back slide down the wall, curling into his customary position. He held his knees against his chest, clutching at the denim material with more white-knuckled force than L would care to admit. He was unsettled. More than unsettled. And all because of -
Light.
Raito.
The same person?
L didn't even realize he was biting his thumb until he tasted the blood on his tongue, but his mind was working too furiously for him to give his injured thumb more than a cursory thought before preceding with its mutilation between his teeth once again.
Light Layfield.
L had never seen Light Layfield as strictly a friend. Light had been with him since before L could remember, and in his eyes, Light had been family. But then they had been separated. L knew that Light wouldn't take the separation well. He had begged and threatened and pleaded until he was finally allowed to pause his training one evening and send a letter to Light.
The letter he had received in return hadn't been what L had expected. It had been harsh, callous, and nothing like the boy he remembered. L had been devastated after reading that first letter. He had been sure that Light would never want contact with him again. The letter had certainly led L to believe so.
The depression following Light's letter had led to a two month set back in his training, to the frustration of his teachers, but then one day another letter arrived. Sure, Light had apologized, but the damage had already been done. L didn't believe that Light could ever take those words back, and their relationship had never even touched upon what it had once been.
And as L feel deeper and deeper into his role as the greatest detective in the world, Light ceased to matter to him as much as he once had.
Yagami Raito.
Raito had been L's first ever friend. He hadn't grown up with him since toddlerhood. He wasn't required to be his friend, nor had Raito sought friendship solely for personal gain by befriending the great detective L. In fact, Raito had never actively sought the man's friendship, even going to great lengths to show L exactly how much Raito wasn't his friend.
But their friendship was forged still, and in a peculiar way. Raito was the only person who could ever match his intelligence, and therefore was the only equal to him that L had ever come across. The other man had attracted L in ways that L had never experienced before, and it wasn't just the youth's magnificent mind.
Their friendship was more a rivalry, but L had thrived on it, treasured it, and was certain that Raito was his first ever real friend.
L was a liar. He was a cheater. He was childish. He was selfish, and he would go to any means possible, legal or otherwise, to win.
Raito was exactly the same way.
They complimented each other perfectly. So alike, yet different. And despite the mind games, the plots, the deaths, and the intricate web of lies each wove for the other, L had found a kindred spirit in this man.
But Yagami Raito had been, and possibly still is, the most notorious serial killer in the history of mankind, and L is the detective charged with catching him.
And then something unexpected happened, completely ruining the game that L had stubbornly refused to admit just how close Raito had come to winning.
Raito had figured out L's name. His real name. Suddenly, there was a new game, and L didn't even know the rules.
Light Layfield . . . Yagami Raito.
The same person.
No, it just couldn't be. They were completely different people. It was impossible . . . but -
That would explain how Raito knew his name.
Raito . . . that was the Japanese pronunciation for Light.
L had noticed this, of course. But he had never really noticed it beyond thinking it odd. And even then, L had assumed that Light's name had been Moon at first. It wasn't until later that he was informed that the kanji was pronounced 'Raito.'
Light . . . Raito . . . Yes, they looked very similar. His memories of Light were clear, but if Light Layfield and Yagami Raito were truly the same person - and L still wasn't sure if that was the case or another trick - then Light had changed in the years past. His was no longer a little boy, and his hair had gotten a shade darker, a bit longer. His skin was paler, too. A far cry from L's consistently browned companion of his youth. He supposed the pollution over Tokyo would cause keeping a tan to be difficult.
L put his head between his knees, and stared down at his boney feet, willing the pieces to come together.
Yagami Raito, for all intents and purposes, was the son of Yagami Soichirou and Yagami Sachiko. But - and L had always wondered about this - Raito and his parents looked . . . nothing alike. Raito and his sister Sayu looked nothing alike. The similarities stopped with the family's obvious Asian heritage, and it didn't go beyond that.
But why hadn't L seen this before . . .?
He had done the background checks himself. Thorough, precise . . . but . . . he had obviously missed something. It wasn't right.
And those letters. All of those letters! If Raito and Light were truly the same person, then had Raito been sending those letters to him all this time? The more L thought about it, the more suspicious he got. Raito had been handcuffed to him for months. That was more than enough time for L to figure out that Raito's handwriting and that of the letters were markedly different. It hadn't been Raito.
If Light hadn't sent those letters, then who did? And more importantly, why?
No, Raito wasn't Light. He couldn't be. It just wasn't possible. It -
"It's me, Lawli . . ."
Lawli.
No one had called him that in years. Light had never even addressed him as such in his letters. It was something only the real Light would know . . .
Light. Raito.
They were . . . the same? Light had been with him this whole time? It was Light?
Light - Light was Kira.
The realization made L's stomach roll. His best friend, his brother, the only family he'd ever had, his first friend, the only person in this world who L felt that he belonged to . . . was a murderer. Had been planning L's murder.
Raito was Light and Light was Kira.
L let his head fall back with a thud, and he stared at the ceiling. He no longer felt quite as detached as before. The shock had faded into disbelief, and now that had morphed into a subdued acceptance tinged with anger.
But he just couldn't find the energy to be more that passively annoyed. After all, this development wasn't necessarily bad by any stretch of the imagination. Especially considering what might have happened had Raito not realized who L was. L could be dead by now. That was certainly the direction they had been going in before Raito's shocked announcement of L's real name.
But L didn't want to dwell on how utterly fucked up this situation truly was. He wasn't in the mood to brood. He'd been brooding for weeks. So what was he okay with about all this? What could he find in this whole situation to feel good about?
His best friend and only family just happened to be the same person.
L nodded to himself. It would take some getting used to, but he could deal with that. It wasn't necessarily a good thing, but it was a far cry from bad.
Raito has ceased being Kira - supposedly. Hopefully.
L rubbed his lip. That was convenient. If it was true, then it was definitely a plus. Maybe he wouldn't be having any trouble from Kira then.
The Kira case was closed, and Yagami Raito was assumed dead.
L smile slightly to himself. Very convenient. No one would be missing the other man. L could take Raito with him then.
Raito obviously wanted something to do with him, if he had sought him out and kidnapped him.
L bit his thumb and winced. He ruefully glared at the chewed bloody mess before turning his thoughts back to Raito. Hopefully Raito was interested in picking up where they left off, in both their friendships as Lawli and Light and L and Raito.
L smiled, feeling very happy all of the sudden. He had just gotten his best friend back, after all. It was strange how things had a way of working themselves out.
Suddenly, he frowned, remembering back to the earlier conversation. Raito had thought he was . . . dead?
Why?
And those letters . . .
Who were they from, and why had L received them? Towards what end would someone be sending him forged letters? And Yagami Raito's files . . . obviously they had been tampered with. There had never been anything mentioned of Raito being adopted.
Something was wrong, and if L was right - and he was 98.9% of the time - then he had just stumbled upon a decade long conspiracy centering around himself and the man L could hear nervously hovering outside the bathroom door.
L had been in the bathroom for a while.
A long while.
And Light was debating with himself on whether he should knock or just leave well enough alone. He actually leaned more towards leaving the detective to himself. He honestly had no desire to talk to L about anything messy at the moment, and a messy conversation was bound to be on the plate for their next meeting.
Light sighed. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have just waited, but he honestly didn't want to lie anymore. Especially when L had looked so defeated when he had asked Light to tell him the truth. Maybe Light could have lied to L's face a long time ago, but that was before L was Lawli, and Light couldn't bring himself to lie to Lawli.
Light sighed almost imperceptibly before turning around and walking away from the bathroom door - again. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to even bloody knock. How pathetic was he?
Light moodily dragged his feet down the stairs to the kitchen. Lucky for him, the coffee pot was still on and half full. He searched the cabinets for a moment before successfully locating the coffee cups, and then pored himself some of the bitter brew.
Light gingerly sat at the kitchen table, double checking to make sure he wasn't bleeding anywhere. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the upholstery of a killer for hire's kitchen chair. He didn't find any blood. Light washed away the blood from his nose during the hour that L had spent in the bathroom upstairs, but that didn't mean he couldn't have missed a spot.
Light sighed again, this time more heavily, as he gazed down into the black coffee. He probably shouldn't be looking for answers in the bottom of a coffee cup. He'd heard that looking for answers in the bottom of a whiskey bottle was more prudent anyway. Sometimes you found an answer there.
"Is there any tea?"
Light jumped, sloshing his coffee onto the table.
L stood in the doorway, his shoulders hunched, and his hands shoved into his pockets. He face was carefully blank, just like it usually was, and Light was surprised that the man hadn't bodily tackled him with a purloined kitchen knife.
"I don't know," answered Light dumbly.
L shrugged his shoulders before quickly locating Tank's pantry closet, shoving half of his body inside, obviously hunting for tea.
Light eyes trailed down L's lanky form, but he stopped himself as soon as L straightened up with a triumphant smirk, shutting the pantry door and a tea box in his hand.
Light desperately hoped that the slight warming of his cheeks weren't noticeable.
"It wouldn't be England without tea in every pantry," commented L, before throwing Light a look.
"Unless you have taken me outside of England," continued L, obviously inquiring as to where they were.
"We're still in England," confirmed Light, just now noticing that he hadn't sopped up his spilled coffee. He rose from his chair and fetched a paper towel from the roll by the sink.
When Light was done cleaning up his mess, he found that L had already located a teapot, and had the water on the stove to boil.
With nothing else to do until the water was ready, L sat himself down across from Light.
Awkward might have been an understatement.
Light tried to convince himself that the pile of dirty dishes in the sink really were that interesting, and that he wasn't trying to avoid L's piercing stare. There was a part of Light that growled silently at how cowardly he was acting, and Light roughly shoved the voice away before meeting L's eyes.
His face was as blank as ever. But his eyes . . .
His eyes were something completely different.
And Light couldn't explain what he saw in the other man's eyes. He had never quite seen that look before, but he didn't think it was anything for him to worry about. The man didn't seem angry, at least.
Light was about to speak, if only to break the tense silence, when L beat him to it.
"So, should I call you Raito or Light?" asked L, quirking his head slightly.
Light was taken aback at how casually the other man had asked the question. Obviously, L had taken it better than how Light thought he would. His breath escaped him in a shocked laugh.
"What?" he asked.
"Which do you prefer?" asked L again, leaning forward slightly.
Light shrugged. "I honestly don't care either way. I mean, I'm sure this is probably hard on you, so if you want, you can just continue to call me Raito. That might be a little easier to digest at first."
A small, almost invisible, smile played upon the detectives lips. "How very thoughtful of you Raito-kun."
Light just nodded, the easy air between them suddenly becoming awkward once more, but it had been nice to hear L call him something besides Kira or Kira-kun.
"I really have stopped being Kira, you know," whispered Light, and he regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.
But to his surprise, L merely nodded, but whether it was in agreement or not, Light didn't know.
Light tried his luck again. "And I'm sorry. About everything."
L merely stared at him, but Light didn't let the stare affect him. He stared back solidly, letting L know that he wasn't lying this time. He really was sorry. He had never been more sorry about anything in his life.
"If these events had not come to pass, I sincerely doubt that we would have ever crossed paths again, Raito-kun," said L quietly.
Light blinked, surprised. "Well -"
"But for what it is worth, I accept you apology," continued L.
Light nodded, at a loss for words.
"I assume that you have realized that we are in the middle of a decade long conspiracy that goes far beyond the Kira case?" asked L, curiosity coloring his usually monotone voice.
Light almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. "Obviously."
Light thought he saw a small smile ghost across the detective's face, but the teapot chose that time to whistle, so Light couldn't be sure if it was imagined or not.
L sat back down. He must not have been able to find any china - not that Light was surprised considering whose kitchen it was - and so the other man was using a coffee mug similar to Light's.
"I think it would be wise for us to share our stories," remarked L a moment later.
"Our stories?" repeated Light.
"Yes, Raito-kun. It will hopefully provide insight about who has masterminded this nefarious plot, and what their reasons and goals may be for doing so," replied L, sipping at his tea. Light was surprised to notice a bag of sugar cubes resting next to the cup. He hadn't seen L grab the bag from the pantry.
Light furrowed his brow. "Where do you want me to start?"
L sat down his cup. "I have found that the beginning, Raito-kun, is usually the best and most logical place."
Roger was in his office especially early that morning.
He settled himself behind his desk, taking the morning paper out from underneath his arm. He set it aside and checked his watch.
He'd give it a few more minutes before he made his customary phone call.
The older man breathed a weary sigh. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but despite the relief, he hadn't slept well the previous evening. Really, he hadn't slept much at all. Until he found out that it was truly over and done with, Roger wouldn't catch a moments peace.
The man who took care of Roger's more questionable business had been with him for years. Roger trusted the man to do his job, and the man hadn't failed him yet. But there was something about that boy - the brat had proven particularly hard to kill.
And what with all this Kira business, Roger was even more eager to see the boy gone for good, whether he was innocent or not.
Roger rubbed his aching head. Too little sleep always left him with a headache, yet losing sleep was a small sacrifice. He only had to remind himself that such inconveniences were necessary for the good of the revolution.
He glanced once again at his wrist watch. It was very early, and Roger was a patient man. He had to be, but today he wasn't feeling quite as patient. He wanted to know that the boy was dead now. Just so he could finally get some rest.
Roger took out his cell phone - secret and untraceable - and punched in the well remembered numbers.
"Yeah?" grumbled a sleepy voice on the other end.
Good. The man wouldn't be sleeping if last night hadn't been a success.
"Tank, my friend. I trust that all went well last evening?" inquired Roger, polite interest coloring his words. The man on the other line wouldn't be able to tell, however, because of the voice encryptor.
"You could say that. Ran into a little snag, though. Sorry if he was someone you knew, but I figured you'd want me to keep your ass covered."
Roger paused, his mind trying to grasp what the killer for hire was saying.
"I'm afraid I do not understand."
There was a pause. Roger gripped the phone tightly, suddenly having a very bad feeling worm its way into his stomach.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, that guy. The one that was sleeping in the same bed with Layfield. Yeah, had to scratch him too. Sorry, but he saw me kill Layfield. Don't worry though, I got rid of them both. Already burned the bodies and everything, so you're good to go. Though, I hope no one's going to miss that guy. I'd probably plant a suicide note, or send yourself a postcard, or something. You know, just in case."
Roger leaned forward from where he had been lounging in his office chair, sitting rigidly.
"There was a man in bed with Layfield?" he asked, his voice tense.
Dear God. It wasn't one of the children, was it? It would be hard to cover up the disappearance of one of the brats that ran around this place. Or maybe the boy had invited someone from outside the orphanage to warm his bed.
Roger restrained himself from making a noise of disgust.
Surely that was the answer.
"Oh, what? Uh, yeah, he was a pretty weird looking fellow. He had some crazy ass black hair that stuck out every which a way and bags under his eyes like you wouldn't believe. I was surprised to find the dude sleeping. And he was sleeping in his clothes too. White shirt, blue jeans. At least he took off his shoes, huh? Yeah, he's dead. Like I said, sorry if you knew him, but you always pay me extra to leave no witnesses, right?"
With each word said, Roger felt his throat constrict tighter. A strangled sort of groan escaped him before he snapped his cell phone shut.
He stared dumbly at his desk, his mind refusing to acknowledge what he had just heard. There had to be some mistake. It couldn't have possibly been him. It just couldn't have. If he was dead, Roger's goal would be so much harder to achieve.
It just couldn't have been him.
Besides, wherever that strange little man went, that old fool Quillish was sure to follow. The man wasn't here, and neither was L. Yes, it must have been someone else. The chances of L being -
His office door opened quietly, and Roger blinked dumbly at the man standing in the doorway.
Quillish Whammy scowled good naturedly. "Bollocks. I'd thought you'd still be asleep, old boy. Now you've ruined my fun."
Roger felt something in his chest squeeze, constricting and painful. His whole body seized, and his vision grew blurry around the edges as sharp pains shot through his chest. He couldn't breathe.
L was dead.
With a muffled thud, Roger hit the ground, having slid out of his chair. He barely registered the pain of hitting the ground, and his vision finally blackened to nothing.
EDITED: 7-4-09
A/N: Whew. There. Another chapter under the belt. Ugh, I'm getting fat. This is, what, the 25 chapter I posted? Imma need to get a new belt!
OKAY, YOU GUYS? WHAT DID YA THINK? MIGHT WANT TO say a little something ABOUT IT, HUH?
AND please give me your opinion on that summery and title and general idea. I'm kinda excited about it, and I'm wondering if people will feel the same way . . . XD