Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/gore.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes

in the stone boats. They are more like stone

than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse

to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.

– excerpt from "The Truth the Dead Know", Anne Sexton

The Worst Feeling Ever

Chapter 4: Pebble, Dropped

The evening air was cool as it drifted over the windowsill, but warm enough to be soothing and still redolent of cut grass. He fought the urge to begin pacing again, not wanting his footsteps to attract the attention of anyone else in the house. Tracing his jawline with a knuckle, he stared out into the darkness, eyes sharp for fireflies, wishing for the cold comfort of winter.

A sharp rap on the door was followed by it swinging wide and slamming shut. He regarded his visitor with waning patience. "Oh, nicely done. Intending on waking the entire house, are we?"

"They can get their beauty sleep some other time." The dark-haired visitor grinned. "If you're that bothered, I can just save you the trouble of looking at what I found."

"You'll bloody well show me if you want my help – in fact, you'll show me whether you want my help or not. I've not been causing diversions and waiting all evening not to see the fruits of our labors."

"Interesting choice of words, h—"

"Give me that." He yanked the sheaf of papers from the other boy's hand, stalking back to the open window with it.

"Hey!"

"Shut it. You're the one who wants to do this. I have absolutely every intention of being entirely prepared before we embark on our little adventure."

"Don't say it like you don't want to go. You're just as bored as I am."

"Bored? Yes. Just as bored? Not bloody possible." He thumbed through the pages. "This is everything?"

"Everything they've stolen from the police. Add this to what they've already shown us, and we've pretty much seen it all."

"Hmm." He continued to skim through the reports, glancing at the grisly photos, searching for something, some reason, some outward justification.

"We can solve it before he can." The other boy's voice was at his ear. "It'll prove we're better than he is, and then –"

"I could not possibly care less about competing with him, or you, or anyone else!" He found himself glaring into the other boy's wide-eyed, grinning face. "I have no interest whatsoever in securing bragging rights over the solution of a case. I'm all for stopping murders, I assure you, but this is not a game to me!"

"Yeah, yeah, you've said that before, but you're the only one from here who thinks that way." The dark-haired boy took the papers back.

"That's what worries me."

"What doesn't worry you?"

He tossed his sandy brown hair, brow furrowed. "I'm not the least bit worried that you'll run out of ways to annoy me, for example."

The other boy threw his head back and laughed. "What are friends for?"

Despite himself, he felt a grin slip onto his face. "You drive me quite insane, you know."

"If I'm driving, I guess you're riding shotgun, henh henh henh."

He met the boy's eye. "So, when shall we set this all in motion?"

"Soon. I already have the key I need. If you can start working on some other 'diversions' . . ."

"I've a few ideas on that. The trick will be avoiding unnecessary complexity."

"Don't dumb it down too much – we want them to catch on eventually, just not immediately."

"You don't say." Eyes half-lidded, he pointed at the door. "You'd best get back to your own room. I'm actually going to require some sleep tonight."

"Meh. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Careful what you wish for, you barmy git." His expression was still warm as he shooed the other boy toward the door. "Hide the papers where we discussed. And do try and learn some stealth while you're busy not sleeping. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yeah, OK, OK. G'night, Ally-oop."

"Goodnight."

Shutting the door at last, Aleister turned to face his bed. He pushed from his mind the possibility that plans might be made without him as he re-crossed the room. There's nothing for it, he thought; I've got to get some rest – I cannot simply go without as these lunatics seem able to. Still faintly stunned at what he and Beyond intended to do, he pulled down the covers, hoping he could find some refuge inside them, if only for a few hours. He flicked off the lamp at his bedside and breathed in the night air, listening for crickets, feeling the movement of air as though Wammy House itself were breathing with him, or for him.

Warm, humid air enshrouded him, almost making him forget how far north of the equator he was. His footfalls thudded dully along, leading away from the now-closed cafeteria. L was glad he'd been able to get there in time – as much as he disliked accommodating schedules set by others, he felt that he was adapting well. Belly filled with pie, ice cream, and cake, he contentedly considered whether to jump further ahead in his coursework or get back to the case right away. It had been six days since Janine had found the container of blood, but he knew that Watari would not be contacting him with any results before tomorrow – which meant that working on the case would entail, at most, going over the information they'd gotten from the police files, thanks to his and Watari's hacking skills, examining the footage captured by the remote computer of the blood drop (which only showed a landscaping truck with no license plate trundling to a stop and then resuming motion, the bulk of the vehicle blocking the camera's view of the birdbath and the person who had approached it), staring at the screencaps of the hooded man yet again, and keeping vigil over the video feeds. L sighed. He was used to extended observation, and the often slow process of compiling evidence, but even he was getting bored of it. To his disappointment, L had already determined that there were no significant connections among the discoverer-victims, though he wondered if there was some other pattern he'd not yet discerned.

A rustling from the bushes beside him caught his attention. 87% likelihood that this is a squirrel rather than a person, L thought, deciding to investigate anyway. He knew Coil had men working for him – according to Coil's reputation, he didn't like working with women – but no one had shown L the level of scrutiny befitting the elder detective or, really, befitting anything beyond the normal amount of curiosity. Bending slightly lower, he stepped off the path and peered in through the thicket of branches in the dimming daylight. He took another step closer, dropping fully into a crouch, and froze when he heard a distinct hiss.

After a moment, L made a repeated 'tsking' noise he'd once heard Roger make when coaxing a kitten out of the rain. Wondering blandly if he was about to be bitten by a rabid feline, L was surprised to see the cat nose out of the underbrush and pad toward him. It was a calico, just like the one from the flyer – in fact, as he looked more closely, the pattern appeared to be identical to the photo. Acknowledging to himself that he'd just found the missing cat, L reluctantly draped his hand closer to the ground, waiting to see if the cat would approach. He didn't mind cats – truth be told, he preferred their aloofness to the neediness of dogs – but he could see that this one was quite dirty. As it bumped its head against his knuckles, L noticed that something was in its mouth. Before he could decide what to do about that, it dropped the item and began to purr, licking his fingers.

L managed to remain calm, staring at the pale object on the dark ground while he scritched behind the cat's ears. His eyes darting, he scanned the area, but didn't see anyone approaching. In a smooth, sweeping motion, he scooped up the cat and grabbed the object, standing as the cat twisted in his arms to rub against his shirt. Grimacing, L hoped the cat wasn't infested with lice as he pocketed what was unmistakably the bone of a human finger. It seems I'll be shipping Watari more evidence to process, he thought. Walking in the direction of the home of the woman who had lost the cat, L contemplated the possibility that the bone might not have originated from a source on campus and that he might now be headed toward the lair of a murderer.

"Lucy? Oh my god, Lucy! You poor little sweetie – look at you!"

"I . . ."

"Here, come to Mama." The woman in the gauzy purple blouse opened her arms, and L happily deposited the cat into them, flinching slightly when his arm grazed her bosom in the transfer, though she seemed not to notice. "Come in, come in," she said, "I can't believe you found her! Where was she?"

"She was hiding in some bushes not far from the campus cafeteria." L regarded his shirt with distaste as she closed the door behind him. If he recalled correctly, the woman's name on the flyer was Angelica, though he decided not to address her that way unless she asked him to do so.

"Poor little baby." She looked into the cat's eyes as it meowed at her, tapping her cheek gently with one paw. "And you are filthy, aren't you?"

"Yes . . ." L said, realizing belatedly that she was still addressing the cat.

"Oh dear, your shirt is a mess. Let me get this one fed, and I'll start a load of laundry. It's the least I can –"

"That is quite alright," L interrupted. "I have laundry to do back at my room in any event. Of course, if you have a plastic bag . . ."

"Well, sure – is a kitchen trash bag OK?"

"Yes, that will do nicely." L watched as she entered the blue and yellow tiled kitchen, setting Lucy down on the worn wood flooring. She filled a bowl with dry cat food and set it in front of the mewling cat and then filled another bowl with water and set that down too. Turning to the cabinet under the sink, she opened it and extracted a white plastic bag.

"Here you g— oh."

L finished pulling his shirt over his head, careful to keep his face away from the dirt that was now ground into it and making sure the garment remained inside out. Recognizing that his behavior might be seen as odd, L opted to explain. "I am somewhat . . . germaphobic."

"Oh my." Angelica handed him the bag. "But . . . you picked her up anyway?" She looked L up and down as he shoved his shirt into the bag and cinched it closed.

"Yes. I could not be certain that she would follow me all the way here if I did not carry her." L actually calculated the odds of the cat running away immediately had he not carried it as being nearly 100%.

"Well, aren't you sweet! I feel terrible now."

"Why would you feel terrible? You have your pet back safely, as you had hoped, and –"

"Well, of course I'm happy about that," she interrupted with a wry smile, "but in the flyer, I promised a reward, and after my car battery died last week, I had to get a replacement, which completely shot my budget this month . . ." She shook her head.

"I do not expect a reward, so you need not worry about any form of recompense."

"Oh, I'm not going to worry about it, but I can't just let you go off empty-handed." Angelica put one hand on her hip. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Wait right here!" She dashed out of the kitchen, long dark hair swinging, completely ignored by her pet as it crunched away.

I could make a run for it, L thought, practically burning with the need to leave – in part because he wanted to get the new evidence to Watari, but also because he really wanted to bathe. After a distant thud and some rustling, Angelica returned with something in her hand.

"Here – you can't just go running around half-naked." She thrust something soft into L's hands.

"It is quite warm out, actually."

"Don't be fooled. These Canadian nights can sneak up on you."

L held the t-shirt up, his thumbs and forefingers pinching its shoulders. "Who or what is 'Sloan'?"

"Ha! That settles it – you're definitely not from around here. Although there was a little something about your accent . . ." She trailed off, then seemed to realize he was staring at her. "Sloan is a band. I recommend them, in fact."

"I see," said L, not seeing. "I can get this back to you when –"

"Nope. It's yours now. It was my ex-boyfriend's, but he's long gone and it wouldn't fit him anymore anyway. And I don't wear white." Angelica raised an eyebrow. "It's perfectly clean, I promise."

"I . . . believe you." L gingerly pulled the shirt on, noting that it fit loosely, as was his preference. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now . . . I'm a pretty good cook. I know cafeterias can be a little . . . ugh." Angelica's bottom lip pulled down on one side. "What kind of food do you like? I can make you –"

"I like cake."

Angelica smiled. "Cake, huh? Well . . . what about brownies?"

"I like those as well."

"Tell you what, then," she turned, her smile becoming impish, "since I made an extra batch of brownies, I'll wrap some up for you, but if you'd like me to bake you a cake sometime, just call me a few days in advance, and I'll make you whatever flavor you like."

"That would be wonderful." L felt a smile touch his face. "I was unable to memorize your phone number, since it was smudged on the flyer, however, so could I simply request a cake for this coming Sunday? Vanilla with strawberries is my favorite, but any cake is good."

After a pause, both eyebrows raised, Angelica laughed. "Alrighty then." She finished bundling up the brownies and brought them to him. "Here you go. So . . . you memorized my address?"

"And your name. And Lucy's appearance. It was not difficult – I am good at remembering things."

"Well, that's handy." Her brown eyes fixed him with a mix of trepidation and amusement. "The flyer didn't say this, but my friends call me Gellie, so you can do the same."

"Thank you, Gellie. You may call me Zeke." L wasn't sure why he'd given her the nickname he loathed. He supposed it seemed equivalently casual to the name she'd given him. As he retreated back over the threshold with a wave and a half-smile in response to her gratitude and goodbyes, he rationalized that it was likely the name she would have settled on calling him anyway.

"Oh man – they got you too."

"What?" L's key was still in his door as he turned to regard Geoff, who in turn was regarding his newly acquired t-shirt.

"They have a pretty active street team, though, so I guess it's not too surprising." Geoff nodded sagely.

"Mm. I acquired this from an individual, not a roving squad of t-shirt dispensers." L twisted the knob. As he crossed the threshold, he noted with mild annoyance that Geoff was following him in, but kept his face blank. "My own shirt became soiled retrieving Gellie's cat, so she gave me this one."

Geoff's normally half-lidded eyes widened. "Whoa, you found Lucy? That's awesome." He leaned against the wall just inside the door. "She must really like you, too, if you're already calling her Gellie."

"I believe that she was simply grateful to have her pet returned to her." L was itching to assemble the package of evidence he needed to send to Watari, but did not want to appear suspicious. He placed the trash bag and the parcel of brownies on his bed and shoved his hands in his pockets, receiving an abrupt reminder of the finger bone he'd pocketed as it brushed his knuckles.

"I bet she was – she loves that cat. Did you get a hug out of it?"

"A . . . hug?" L's brow furrowed slightly. "No. She said she would make me a cake . . ."

Geoff laughed softly. "Man, what is it with you and your cake fetish?"

L's expression became a sullen scowl, and he fought to rein it back in. "I like cake. Need there be a reason?"

"No, dude, it's cool. As things go, liking cake is pretty harmless." Geoff pushed off the wall. "By the way, would you mind being my lab partner next week? Martin already asked me, but I know he won't pull his weight."

"That is acceptable to me, yes."

"Cool. Catch you later." Geoff twisted the doorknob and the spoke over his shoulder. "Just so you know, if those are brownies Gellie gave you . . . don't overdo it. One at a time, and you'll be fine."

"I will take that under advisement."

Geoff nodded, passing the rest of the way through the door, the click of the latch as it closed filling L with relief. Being caught with a human bone would have been suspicious indeed, but L had been more worried that Geoff might have wanted some of his brownies.

Carefully extracting the finger bone from his pocket, he reached for a small plastic bag to contain it separately. L wanted to prevent any further compromise to the evidence, hoping for some kind of lead, something more substantive than what the police had acquired thus far. After a moment's thought, he decided to bag a small sample of the brownies and the plastic wrap that enclosed him, if for no other reason than to test whether the ingredients matched any substances pertaining to the case, and to have an example of Gellie's fingerprints, just to be sure. It is highly unlikely that Gellie is the murderer, L thought, though it is possible she could have some connection to a victim. L didn't want to risk missing anything. He was determined to finish packaging everything and call Watari for pick-up as soon as possible so that results would be forthcoming sooner rather than later. Eyeing the rest of the brownies as he worked, he knew he would damn well have as many as he liked.

Author's Note: Mwahaha – I've been looking forward to playing with A and B a bit. They're very Odd Couple, n'est-ce pas? ^_^ And L keeps getting himself into social interactions, despite his distaste for them, but at least it looks like he may get some cake out of it.

I should probably leave this possibility dangling, but I'll tell you anyway: Deneuve isn't in this. Perhaps I'll play with her some other time (yes, in my mind she's a she).

Thanks for reading!