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/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.
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Never even have to say a word
That's the best thing that I ever heard
You have left a fingerprint on me
Just dust and then you'll surely see
I've got my reservations
And I hate my generation
– excerpt from "I Hate My Generation", Sloan
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The Worst Feeling Ever
Chapter 12: Surface Tension
A long walk on a sunny day had put a spring back in his step despite the storm clouds raging behind his eyes. He felt as though no progress had been made, or would be made, and he tried to tell himself that it had only been a few days. There was still time to turn things around, to circumvent what seemed inevitable. But Beyond wasn't supposed to have been gone for this long, he thought. I should have gotten a message from him by now – he'd want to know what I've learned from L so we can make our next move. Could he really have gotten into trouble? As he set the bag of apples and bananas down in the room, hoping they hadn't bruised, Aleister recalled an invitation he'd received two days before and headed to the kitchen to collect.
The hall was oddly quiet. Aleister supposed that it was too soon for dinner for most and that enough classes were still in session for the dorm to be mostly vacant. Part of him wanted to explore, to test out some of the lock-picking skills he'd learned from Beyond, possibly discovering case-related evidence in the process, but he knew such an idea was reckless. Without knowing where to look, his search would be too haphazard, and the odds of everyone being absent were low – not to mention, there were some things he'd rather not walk in on.
Entering the kitchen, Aleister saw that someone had the fridge door open – bent hips, jeans-clad, were visible just past the edge of it. For a moment, he considered backing out and leaving, but then the fridge door was shutting and brown eyes behind glasses were meeting his.
"Oh, I . . . hi."
"Nice to see you . . . Janine, isn't it?"
"Yeah." She nodded, dropping her eyes, container of blueberry yogurt in one hand.
"Alessandro," Aleister said, extending his hand. "We . . . sort of met earlier this week."
"I remember you from, uh, Sunday night." Janine took his hand loosely, her fingers cool, shaking once and dropping it.
"Well yes, that, but . . . we were in the laundry room on Monday."
"Oh! Oh god, I think I blocked that out." Janine blushed. "I mean, um . . ."
Aleister smiled. "Don't worry – I will keep your trials and tribulations with uncooperative undergarments a secret. I think I may have learned a word or two from you." He winked at her.
Janine pulled open a drawer, still flushed as she rummaged through cutlery. "Sorry about that."
"Not at all. I'm always happy to learn new things."
Her fingers extracting a spoon, Janine's mouth worked as if it sought to find the right words to say before her brain could. "I, uh . . . heard you guys made it to spaghetti night." She closed the drawer with an elbow.
"We did, actually. We brought garlic bread and cannolis."
Janine exhaled through her nose. "I bet I know who brought what."
Aleister chuckled, hands raised. "No contest there."
"Did he even eat anything other than sweets?'
"I forced him to take a plate, and he did eat an entire meatball." Aleister smirked at the memory. "The expression he gave me was rather like one you'd see on a dog after spooning medicine down his throat."
A short laugh escaped Janine's lips. "I don't know how you deal with him."
"It's . . . trying, sometimes. It always is, with family."
Her expression darkened, and she turned away, looking toward the flyer-laden bulletin board on the back wall. "I guess so."
Aleister tilted his head. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he likes you. I saw –"
"I know better." Janine's voice was low as she interrupted him. "And you can stop pretending to be nice to me. Whatever weird information he thinks you can get out of me, it's not going to work."
"Wha – I wasn't pretending, and I'm not trying –"
"He's the one who's a suspect!" Janine rounded on him. "Has he ever been a victim? Does he even know what that feels like?"
Aleister stared at her for a moment. I can't tell her the truth, he thought, but I've no idea what he's told her already! "He . . . has. He does. We both do. Being adopted, we both . . . lost family. But we were lucky enough to be gathered into a new one. I know how he seems, but he's not a hollow shell. He's a person, even if he doesn't . . . do well with showing his feelings."
Shaking her head, Janine turned back to the door to walk past him, her shoulder brushing his. "That's a pretty big understatement. I know he's your brother, so you're on his side. Just . . . keep him away from me, OK?"
"I'll do what I can." Watching her disappear from view into the hallway, he sighed. What the bloody hell did you do to THAT one? Aleister wondered, opening the fridge and extracting a container of leftover spaghetti marked "For A, love K!" He weighed the information he might get from L against the likelihood of launching yet another argument and decided that maybe this time he wouldn't ask.
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Despite the addition of a disgruntled roommate to his living arrangements, the rest of the week had gone smoothly enough. The lack of leads on Beyond's whereabouts continued to be frustrating, and L knew that Aleister was more worried than he let on, but he did not press him about it. They rarely debated anything more significant than the pragmatic aspects of investigation, not since their last discussion of justice. This suited L fine. He preferred the silence, he preferred being able to think and watch and reach conclusions and plan actions. Twice he'd gone out looking for the Butcher's base of operations overnight, searching the campus grounds while Aleister had remained behind to watch the feeds, but L had not found anything conclusive among the academic buildings or in the park. He thought that there must be something obvious he was missing – it was just a matter of refocusing himself to find it.
Somehow over the course of his stay, Aleister had managed to get him to be more sociable among his dorm-mates. To his chagrin, L could not fault Aleister's logic that interacting more frequently and positively with them would do much to dissuade them that he was any threat, and so he had found himself attending Wednesday's 'spaghetti night' with his fellow residents on floor six as well as an ice cream social with the entire dorm on Friday evening. L had no doubt that most of the other dorm residents still regarded him with suspicion following the newscast, but he could see them mitigating their behavior enough to accommodate the possibility that he might not be a murderer, which he supposed was of some value.
Now that it was Saturday, which L had decided was his least favorite day, he expected that Aleister had any number of social involvements in which to ensnare L – which was why it came as some surprise when he returned from the bathroom to discover Aleister throwing his clothes into a bag.
Aleister didn't look up. "I'm off."
"So I see. Why is that?"
"It'd be verging on implausible for your little brother to be visiting for more than a week. It makes more sense for me to leave either today or tomorrow in order to protect your cover."
"Why not stay another day then?"
"I could do. But there's no need. I can participate in the investigation just as well from W— grandfather's location, and frankly, he's got more room, and more than one bed. I'll be more comfortable there."
L was certain that Aleister was referring to more than just creature comforts, but chose not to say so. "Of course. Will you be watching the feeds from there?"
"I'll do that during the day, while you're in class. You can watch overnight, as you were doing before. We've got more than one rig, so he can keep an eye on you and watch the feeds too, plus the hotel room."
"Has he extended the reservation?"
"He has. Just for another week. There's been no activity there, so he's not hopeful, but we want to be sure."
"I understand."
Aleister cinched the bag shut. "No more late-night walkabouts for you, though. We're to observe only. He sussed out what you were doing that first night, by the way, but he was firm about it when I spoke to him today."
"Oh really." L's eyes drooped to half-lidded. "I recall his telling me that I was still the lead investigator, so if I determine that I must investigate directly, then –"
"Take it up with him, then. I've no doubt you'll reach some sort of agreement." Aleister turned to go.
"Thank you, Aleister." L watched him come to a halt near the door, still faced away from him.
"For what? Annoying you?"
"For everything you've said and done."
Seeming to sigh, Aleister left without another word, shutting the door quietly behind him. A simultaneous feeling of relief and dread came over L – relief that he did not have explain his every move to a boy who both understood and did not, and dread that he might not have the opportunity to explain anything to him again.
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The complete absence of cake was unbearable. Compensating with pastries, ice cream, and pie was adequate to his needs, but it had been over five days and L's craving was escalating. Though it was the sugar and carbohydrate components that he needed for quick brain fuel, he supposed that he found the textures and flavors of cake comforting, as was the psychological reminder of a home long lost to him. He wished that he was less dependent on such things.
Crunching into a cherry turnover, L sullenly regarded the shower of pastry shards falling to clink softly onto his plate. Allowing himself to feel displeasure over a trivial matter like sustenance was handily distracting him from the fact that, yet again, the Butcher had dropped another body part and he had not witnessed it. A foot had been deposited on the roof of the hospital, the first time any part had been found on a building rather than on the grounds where Watari's cameras were deployed. The hospital had no security cameras installed there either, to L's extreme displeasure. The drop had apparently occurred around the time of Aleister's departure from his room yesterday, in broad daylight. L was relying on Watari to obtain information about the new crime scene from the police, and he knew that he would be able to review the details soon. It did, however, disquiet him to know that the part could have come from one of two people he knew.
"Dude, cakeless again?"
"Yes." L nodded at Geoff. "It seems the cafeteria staff is conspiring against me."
Geoff set his tray down, sitting across from L. "They'll bring it back, I'm sure." Digging into his meatloaf, his eyes slid to L and away. "Maybe you can get your little bro to bring you one."
"Even if he had the time to visit me again, I doubt he'd be willing to assist me. You know how siblings can be."
Geoff's face went blank, seeming to pale slightly, and he nodded at his plate. "Yeah sure." He shoveled a large chunk of meat in to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a few moments as he stared toward a window. "You could always make your own." His voice was muffled, eyes still downcast, cheeks bulging.
A frown crimped L's face for a moment. "I attempted that once. My goal of increasing the sugar content resulted in an inedible disaster, I'm afraid."
"Well, yeah – it's usually a good idea to follow the recipe." Geoff swallowed, raising an eyebrow. "You could get a box mix." He shoveled in more food.
"Mm. Those aren't as good."
"Better than nothing."
"I suppose. Though the odds of others wanting some if I baked it in the dorm kitchen are fairly high – I would say 89% in favor."
"So? Just make it, like, a thing – a cake social or whatever. Everyone who attends has to bring something."
L's eyes widened. "You . . . are suggesting that I coerce others into bringing cake?"
Geoff laughed. "No, dude. You have to do it too. It'd be like a potluck, except with cake and stuff."
After pondering the notion for several seconds, stroking his lip with his thumb, L shook his head. "I do not think that anyone would be interested in attending such an event. Particularly if I am the one initiating it."
"I dunno. A week from tomorrow is the first Monday of midterms for the undergrads. If you scheduled it for this Friday, when people usually like to party but might be staying in to study, it'd probably be a big hit."
"Hm." L wondered what reason Geoff might have for pushing this idea.
Geoff sopped up some gravy with the corner of a roll. "You just gotta put it out there, you know? Most people will go along with an idea if it sounds cool."
"I was under the impression that an invitation to share cake with a social pariah and possible murderer might be the antithesis of cool."
"Well, when you put it like that . . ." Geoff traced the tines of his fork through the gravy on his plate, hunching over his food before taking a bite of potato. "You're not the only geek in the dorm, though, dude. And nobody really thinks you're a murderer."
"I am fairly certain that there are those who do."
"I don't."
"Really? And why not?"
Geoff shrugged, still munching. "Call it a hunch."
"Hm." His pastries gone but for a few sugary bits on his plate, L regarded Geoff intently. He is unlikely to be the murderer himself, he thought, though it is interesting that he is so certain that I could not be. I do know his whereabouts for the times of several of the drops, so he could not have participated in those. However . . . "You seem to have given this 'cake social' idea a fair amount of thought."
"Heh. Actually, I didn't think of it until we started talking. Spaghetti night is always fun, and most people like parties. I just figured, you like cake, and more people equals more cake, so . . ." Geoff lifted a hand, palm up.
"I feel . . . underqualified for an endeavor of this kind. And there is no way to be certain that people will attend, let alone bring anything."
"Tell you what," Geoff said, finishing his last bite of supper, "I'll make the sign-up sheet and post it in the kitchen. I can put up a couple of announcement-type sheets around the dorm for you too."
"Are you really just doing this to help me get cake?" L narrowed his eyes.
"What, I can't like cake too?"
"You have never shown much interest in it before."
"I dunno. I guess . . . it's the social aspect I'm into." The barest hint of pink touched Geoff's cheeks as he reached for his glass of virulent green soda.
A few moments passed as L stared, pondering this, a few clues popping into place: increased reticence in selected situations, changing eye focus, odd micro-expressions, altering body language, variations in blood flow to the face, all concurrent with certain interactions. Several images shuffled through L's head, all clicking in, confirming the now 86% likelihood of his hypothesis. "You are attracted to Janine."
Coughing erupted from Geoff, and he set his glass down, thumping his own chest with the side of his fist as his face reddened and eyes watered.
"Hm. I did not anticipate this reaction, but it serves to bolster my theory. 93% now."
Geoff drew a ragged breath, his long face flushed from choking. "Dude . . ." The coughing continued as he shook his head. "How did you know?"
"Your reactions to her have been subtle enough that I did not realize it until now, but it was easy to determine based on your past behavior and your current interest in initiating an event that would almost certainly include her. I do not believe that she knows how you feel. If we proceed with your suggestion, the gathering itself would provide you with an opportunity to learn more about her, should she attend. Of course, my presence would be a dissuading factor . . ."
"I doubt she thinks you're the murderer either. I'm pretty sure –"
"It is for other reasons. A week ago, I misread her behavior and reacted badly, and she has not forgiven me."
"Oh. Well . . . sorry to hear that."
"You should not be. It increases your advantage. Perhaps she will attend simply because you are there."
"That – I dunno. Probably not." Geoff looked away.
L stared at the crumbs on his plate, thumb pressed to his lower lip. If Janine and Geoff become romantically linked, he thought, they will have less time to interact with others, including myself. "Do you really think people will bring cake?"
"Totally. It's just weird enough to be awesome."
A brief smile stretched L's lips. "Then I agree to your plan." Seeing Geoff grin in response, L nodded once, thinking of plans of his own. As long as I keep my inquiries subtle, he thought, I can determine whether any of them is, or has connections to, the Butcher. It's time I got more solid answers.
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"Anything?"
"No change."
"I see. We may need to more seriously consider the possibility that he won't be –"
"No." Aleister turned in his chair. "We need to give him more time. Keeping the hotel room, with his things in it, will give him the chance to get a message to us."
"Even if sending us a message is among his intentions, he may have expected the room to be let go by now. And . . . we must address the possibility that he has met with foul play." Watari's tone was gentle.
"I know we can't rule that out, but it would also be just like Beyond to make us think he's met with foul play when in reality he's gone into hiding to pursue a lead. Odds are he's watching the room just as we are – which means that we can send him a message, if we've a mind."
"And what message do you think should be sent?"
"I haven't thought of a proper one yet. But if we let the room go, we'll be giving up a potential mode of communication."
Watari sighed. "I see your point. However, I don't want you going back there to muss the bedclothes and make it look as though you are both still occupying the room simply to fool the cleaning staff. The risk isn't worth the reward. You can go back when you've devised a message to leave for Beyond, but that is all."
"If you insist."
"I do indeed. I will extend the reservation for an additional two weeks."
"Thank you." Aleister found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"I expect you've looked in on our other charge. Any news there?"
"Not really. The usual ungodly amount of sugar and coffee being consumed. He's been watching the feeds overnight in lieu of sleep, and I caught him doing some actual schoolwork earlier."
Watari smiled. "Trying to keep his mind sharp, as well as maintain cover. Good to hear."
"How did he react to the lab results for the last drop?"
"He was calm, as expected, but I did detect a timbre of disappointment in his tone. The information I acquired from the police results confirmed the matching blood type, though they seem to be holding this information back from the media. Ms. Fragaria's demise would almost certainly be featured in local news reports otherwise."
"We're certain they're dead, then? The Butcher's victims?"
"We cannot be certain, Aleister. Given the sheer number of victims, however . . ."
"He'd have to have quite an operation going to keep many of them alive, I know." Aleister sighed. "Maybe he keeps them alive for a bit after removing parts, before . . ." He shook his head. "It seems wrong to hope the murderer's torturing people, but if he is, then lives could still be saved."
"And lives will be saved. You must believe that."
"I do," Aleister said, not believing it entirely. I'm just depressing myself with all this, he thought. Shake it off. "One slightly odd thing . . . I noticed L's bought several boxes of cake mix."
"Oh dear. He's not pouring mix down his throat, is he?"
"Ugh." Aleister recoiled. "Is that something he's done before?"
"Not with cake mix. I did catch him downing cocoa straight from the packets once. He later conceded that it tasted better as a beverage when I scolded him for his impatience."
Shaking his head, Aleister pressed two knuckles to his brow and produced a half-smile. "How do you put up with any of us?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Watari's smiling eyes.
"It takes some doing, but it's worth it." Watari stepped away toward the small kitchen in their suite. "How does salmon and chevre en croute with fresh greens sound for supper?"
"Sounds fantastic." Aleister felt his mouth watering as he continued viewing the feeds from the cameras arrayed around campus and the hospital, as well as the hotel room and L's room. He clicked on the latter and saw L holding a box of cake mix aloft with thumb and forefinger, his head tilted as he seemed to read the instructions in the dim light. Before he clicked away, he saw L reach back and scratch his butt, and he had to choke back a laugh, hoping Watari hadn't heard him. Every once in awhile, you show me you're human, Aleister thought, yet in some ways, I wish you weren't.
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Author's Note: Continuing cake fetishes and awkward social interactions ftw? Oh yes. ^_^
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