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 M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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The Worst Feeling Ever

Chapter 23: To Sleep, Perchance to Drown

"Detective Devall, this is Ezekiel Penn. I apologize for contacting you in this manner. I gave your card to a friend, and I do not currently have access to a phone in any event. As you may already have deduced, I have gone into hiding for fear for my life. I witnessed something . . . horrific. Though I initially thought myself unnoticed, it seems that was not the case. I wish now that I had heeded your advice and discontinued my admittedly amateur investigation. But there is information I must pass on to you, while I have the chance, and I must implore you to keep it to yourself, for now. I trust your judgment, and I need your help.

"You must be aware by now that the man who was following me on campus was Officer Maulty. It was some time before I recognized him, and I nearly confronted him, but ultimately I decided to wait and see if he would speak to me first. On the night of the dance, however, while I was out taking a walk, he saw me and began shouting, waving his gun in an alarming manner. He chased me, and . . . I panicked. I ran and hid. I should have spoken to him then, stood up to him, but . . . I was afraid that he would shoot me. I thought I'd lost him when I climbed down into a tunnel behind the cafeteria, but he followed me in. Just as I thought he would turn my way and see me, I heard another man's voice. He walked toward him and seemed to recognize him. I stayed hidden and tried to listen, but between the echo and their distance from me, their words were difficult to make out. I know that Maulty asked 'Why are you down here?' and said something about a conspiracy against the police. The other man made some placating gestures and said something about making an arrangement with him. Maulty began shouting then, saying that the man was 'no better than a murderer' – I heard that clearly enough – and bringing his gun to bear. This man moved forward and knocked the gun out of his hand, and . . . and then he drew a knife and slit Maulty's throat.

"I can still see the blood arcing in the flashlight's glare. It was . . . If I had just . . . done something – yelled, thrown something – maybe he wouldn't . . .

"I – I apologize. I am recording this tape to send to you because I cannot risk entering the police station or even calling you. The man who confronted Maulty in the tunnel, the man who murdered him . . . I do not believe he is the Missing Parts Killer. This man, whoever he is, has been working with the police. Whether Maulty's accusation of conspiracy is correct or not, the fact that the man killed him after the accusation lends some credence to the possibility. I confess that I am not equipped to discern if this is true, but you are.

"The man I saw was approximately six feet two inches tall with blond hair brushed straight back from his forehead. He seemed rather solidly built. I was able to detect some facial wrinkling and jowliness even from a distance, so I would estimate that this is an older man – possibly in his fifties or sixties, but fit. His voice was deep, nearly as much as your own. I had trouble picking out an accent from what I could hear, but . . . something sounded faintly Quebecois about it. As to his outfit, he was wearing dark clothing, including boots and gloves. I noticed the gloves when he slashed . . . when he . . . ugh . . . I wish that I could give you a more detailed physical description, but that was the most I could observe. If this is a man you recognize as part of your team, please be wary of him.

"This man carried Maulty's body up a ladder and out of the tunnel, further down from where I entered. I waited for what felt like a very long time. I was going to go back the way I came, but . . . I wanted to see where he'd brought him. I thought that if I could see where his body was, I could at least call you and give you some solid proof. It was a mistake, I know. The blond man was not there when I found the body, but the police arrived shortly after I did. Perhaps I should have stayed, even knowing that my being there looked incriminating, but if Maulty's conspiracy theory was true, then had I remained, I could have been framed for murder by the very man who committed it. So I ran. And I kept running.

"I have been unable to attend my classes. Were my parents still alive, they would be greatly disappointed by this, and even more so by the circumstances. It has been my intention to contact you since that night, but this has been my first opportunity. Though I am sure that you have an assistant who handles your mail, I am hopeful that only you will be listening to this recording. The blond man from that night . . . I do not know precisely when he saw me, but I have seen him twice more now – once in the vicinity of the police station, and once near where I was staying. It is possible that he is following me. I do not believe that you will be in danger unless you confront him alone as Maulty did. However, I am sending another tape with this information to someone I know who is connected to the ICPO with instructions to move in on this man within two weeks' time, just in case. This is why I have asked for your discretion, and why I am still in hiding. For now.

"I will attempt to contact you again once I reach calmer waters. When I am able, I will specify a place where we can meet and speak in person, if possible. Officer Maulty and I may not have liked one another, but he certainly did not deserve to die. Helping to bring his murderer to justice is the least I can do. Hm. I suppose this makes me a detective after all. Thank you for listening. We will speak soon."

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The man seemed to be pacing, though his path meandered within the small space as if he was running a maze only he could see. Another man spoke to him through the metal bars.

"How did you choose them?"

"Choose? Indeed – there was no need. Why choose when they so helpfully chose themselves? So nice to be surprised, sometimes, by gifts given, unknowing, as if God himself was pressing them into my hands."

"You're saying it was luck?"

"Serendipity is sweet, but strategy is sweeter. There was only so much time to defeat the defeater. The message was all, the precipice of a fall, the materials just ripe for the taking. Had I finished my dream, let be be finale of seem, we would have known who was faking."

"Then what would your message have been?"

"Oh no, ho ho, you don't get your wish. If you wanted to know, you should have let me finish!"

"How was your relationship with your parents?"

The man stopped. Twisting his head toward the bars, he sneered at his unseen interrogator. "If you can ask me that, then you do not know. You are merely killing time for show."

"I know more than you realize. Your mother's death, when you were six, was ruled a suicide. Was it?"

The man turned away from the bars, hands clutching his own elbows, silent as the light glinted off his scalp. He took two steps toward his cot and remained there, facing the corner.

"I remember your father as well." The unseen man's voice was stern. "Interesting that I can't seem to find the file on his case."

The man turned, slowly, his posture unchanged, though his eyes seemed to dance. "That is interesting. But why tell me? What is it that you hope I will see?"

"What I'm hoping is that you'll drop this sing-songy rhyme crap and tell me if your father taught you to kill." The unseen man sounded frustrated.

"Ha! Oh yes – shall I do your work for you? Is working these cases starting to bore you? I'll tell you the truth you think you must know: about killing, I felt closer to Dad when I did so. He worked very hard, and I watched from the shadow, but he did not teach me, no no – not intentionally. Yet I learned. I chose to do what I did, and I did it so well that you might expect me to look forward to hell. What I did, I did my way, and no other. It was the only way I could make up for the loss of my brother."

"Your . . ." The unseen man's voice trailed off. "You were an only child. The only way you could have a brother would be if there was a half-brother, or . . ."

"Did the autopsy not show it? Then more's the pity. My Mommy told me when Dad went into the city. Our little secret, she said, yes yes. But he never knew – or did he? Another unasked question, another –"

"Devall! Get up here – that detective is back and wants to talk to your witness!" a new voice echoed.

"Dammit, give me a minute!" the unseen man snapped.

The man began singing. "I'm so glad we had this time, together . . . just to have a laugh –"

"You're going to have to sing to yourself for awhile, Willette." The voice came through the bars once more, the shadow of a man advancing toward the bars, a dark slash across the floor. "But don't worry – I'll be back."

The man grinned, stretching the scar at one corner of his mouth, and stared at the bars. A loud clatter and clank rang through, echoing within the space. He rubbed a hand over the smooth skin of his head and resumed his meandering pacing.

"Delicious, this dish, whether cold or hot – nutritious or not, it does hit the spot. The strangest taste, so duly disgraced, tripping over my tongue as if springing a lock. I wonder if he knows you know, what a shock. Such questions remain . . . will you refrain from feeding my pet to the hound? A lever moves nothing if it's not attached, but what goes around comes around."

The feed continued to show Willette weaving a trail in his cell, but he was no longer speaking, just idly humming to himself. L watched, as he always watched. He had been lucky that Lopov had been able to break into the police station and plant the necessary surveillance before making off with the security tapes for the day L had been brought into custody, and for two days before and after that – the man certainly seemed to have a gift for evading existing surveillance without disrupting it. Lopov has been quite resourceful of late, he thought; perhaps I will consider employing him more frequently. L was glad that he had guessed correctly regarding which cell the Toronto police would put Willette in. He knew they'd move him soon, and he doubted he'd actually see Coil on camera while he was there, but L was determined to see everything he could.

Beyond had wanted to know why – why Willette had committed the murders, and what the murderer's message would have been. It disappointed L. Beyond had spent considerable time with the man himself and yet had only managed to divine the very obvious motivation: that Willette had intended to expose Coil. I knew why as soon as I pinpointed the murderer's name, L thought. The knowledge brings no comfort, no peace. That this man sought to eclipse his father's crimes as well as avenge the murder of his mother – and apparently his unborn brother – only adds to the long list of ways in which people can fail themselves and each other. Even physically compromised, Beyond should have seen this. L fought to keep his expression neutral, conscious of strangers' eyes on him.

Jason Loud, for his part, had been cooperative enough – he'd sounded relieved, as though L had just let him out of prison. In a way, L supposed he had. The man had expected L to ask more of him, but a few codes and his willingness to stand by was all L had needed. Coil did not have anywhere near the amount of security protecting his finances that L did, and it had been almost disappointingly easy to disrupt and misdirect his funds. L had already expunged the record of Loud's crimes, minor though they were, including Coil's file on it. He had considered having the family renamed and relocated in the manner of Witness Protection Services but decided that was unnecessary. If someone is going to target them, it would be better to know sooner rather than later, L thought. No matter if it turns out to be Coil or someone else, they will tip their hands to me. L had every intention of protecting them – not just Loud himself, but his wife Julia, his daughter Gia, and his son Stephen. Whether Loud became bait for Coil's wolves or not, he would not allow him to be murdered in front of his children, teenaged or otherwise.

Gripping his laptop, L shifted in his seat, waiting for takeoff.

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"Yes, I expect so. He's a bit worse for wear, but improving steadily. It is indeed. Soon. I can send an encoded copy of our itinerary if you –" He nodded, his smile warm. "As you wish. Of course. Yes, actually – I'm afraid we've kept the man quite busy of late. You may inform Old Chance that we're impressed with his man's skill and pass along our gratitude for referring him to us, if you like."

After a moment, Watari chuckled. "Why is it that no one likes my nicknames, yet they still respond to them? Ah. Oh, I see. Well, that's good to hear, Maha. Hm? Yes, I believe it will work, though I have mixed feelings about it, as you may imagine. It's – do you? Oh, I quite agree with that. The objection I have is to the sort of precedent it sets. Mm. I suppose. Really? I may have to mark my calendar – this is the first occasion in a very long time when the two of you have agreed on anything. Indeed. If one can be 'due' for such a thing. Oh, I sent him on ahead – I'll catch up to him once we've got the other two sorted out. Yes. I know. It . . . may be some time. Are you? That sounds lovely. Very much. I . . . Maha? I love you. I know I don't say it nearly enough . . ." He drew a long fluttery breath. "Of course, I – oh God, don't get me started."

Watari's free hand came to rest over his eyes. "Yes. Yes, we will. I know. True enough, but it makes coming home to you all the sweeter. I just wanted to tell you so." A light laugh found its way out of his mouth. "Please tell me none of the children were within earshot of that. Good. Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, old boy – they seem to be sound asleep. It's quiet as a church in here." Gazing across the room and through the door, Watari winked at the boy who had been pretending not to listen.

Aleister blushed and moved away from the door, closer to the bedside. There were times when he envied Watari and Roger's relationship and the easy rapport they shared, but there were at least as many times when he was relieved not to be in their shoes, strewn as they were across separate continents. A long distance relationship, with one of them always potentially in danger, Aleister thought, it must be awful. I wonder if it's worth it. He sank into the chair, fingers entwining in his lap. He knew he needed sleep, but he was unable to quiet his mind.

"Lovers' quarrel?"

Aleister jumped, then turned to glare toward the bed. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"I was asleep . . . maybe I still am . . ."

"If you are, I expect I'll be turning into a unicorn shortly."

"You do everything shortly, henh henh . . ."

"Oh hush."

"You'd be better than a plain ol' unicorn though – you'd have a pink mane and wings, and you'd fart rainbows, and you'd have a huge –"

"Stop that." Aleister shook his head, suppressing a smile. "I suppose I should be scandalized that you see the dream version of me as My Little Pornographic Pony."

"All the better to ride you, my dear." Beyond grinned, his gaze unfocused.

"Very funny." A small crease split Aleister's brow. "You really should just go back to sleep. We'll have to wake you when it's time to go anyway, and the more rest you can get before then the better."

"I told you before, Ally-oop – I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Let's not rush that, shall we? It'd be a shame if you kicked it after emerging alive from the Butcher's abattoir."

"Willette. His name was Claude Willette."

"Well, I imagine it still is, however the media may be referring to him."

"Still? What day is it?" Beyond lifted his head from the pillow to peer across the room at the computer, the cords in his neck standing out.

"It's –"

"Nevermind. It doesn't matter." Beyond's head fell back onto the pillow. "I told him, you know. He didn't call me crazy, but he didn't believe me either."

They were silent for a moment – time, or its illusion, stretching out. He chose his words cautiously. "There's a shock. I have trouble believing you when you say things like that, despite your . . . demonstrations." Aleister shuddered.

"You'll see. Everything true provides its own evidence. It's just a matter of time and will."

Aleister swallowed, looking at his friend sidelong. "Why won't you tell me, then?"

Turning toward him, Beyond smiled almost gently. "Aside from the fact that you told me not to?"

"My saying no has never stopped you before."

"Henh henh – not true, Ally-oop, not true." Those dark, half-lidded eyes stared just above his friend's head for a moment. "You have time," Beyond finally said. "But I'm gonna find a way to get you more, when it comes down to it. I haven't tried everything yet . . ."

"Please. If our fates are as inescapable as you say, I'd rather you didn't try to subvert mine with eye of newt and the blood of a virgin for –"

"Blood of a virgin! You've got a full supply . . ."

"Oh, shut it. You know what I mean. I don't need you to save me."

"And what if I need to save you? What if I want to?" Beyond's grin and tone seemed malicious, but this was standard for him. He had demonstrated enough times that he meant Aleister no real harm.

"For a bloke who believes in fate, you're certainly full of what-ifs, among other things." Sighing, Aleister reached out a hand, letting the backs of his fingers rest against Beyond's forehead. "You're still quite warm – probably still feverish."

"Doesn't make me delusional."

"True. If you were delusional, you'd be back to normal."

"Henh, henh, henh." Beyond's eyes slid closed for a moment, a slow blink. "We should grow old together, Ally-oop. We'd be like Roger and Watari, except without the sloppy make-outs."

Aleister raised an eyebrow. "How do you know they're sloppy? Have you been watching them?"

"Gay elder porn is more popular than you'd think." Beyond waggled his eyebrows. "But I don't need to watch them – I can just tell. Remember when that end table got broken? They never said how it happened." A yawn abruptly overtook Beyond's face.

Aleister did remember the end table from Watari and Roger's bedroom. Only a few months after arriving at the orphanage, he'd broken it by climbing on it in an attempt to reach Roger's prized entomology books. He remembered his shame and his repeated apologies to them both. Apparently, Aleister had been the only Wammy House resident to break into their room, or at least the only one known to Roger or Watari, and to his surprise, Roger hadn't made an example of him. After doing a few extra chores that week, he'd gotten back to his room to find a brand new entomology textbook sitting on his bed. Aleister had read it cover-to-cover, but the field of study did not spark his interest the way he'd hoped. Roger had been disappointed by this, though he'd never said so. All that effort, he thought, just to reap disappointment and broken furniture. But I was younger then. I should know better now. Aleister rubbed his eyes. "We went too far, you know. We should never have come here."

"No, Ally-oop. We didn't go far enough. To meet your goals, you have to be willing to do anything. You have to give yourself to your goals completely and follow your plans to the end. Commitment. Absolute. Even if our fates are set, there are things in between that can be controlled. I'd rather drown swimming upstream than float downstream like a dead leaf. Every second I'm alive, I want to be alive. I want to feel and do, not just be." Beyond's eyes flashed. "I'll bend the world to my will, whatever it takes, and it will take notice." As if in counterpoint, Beyond's eyelids were slipping closed as if to contain the fire.

"Fair enough, Beeb," Aleister said softly, brushing the lank black hair from Beyond's forehead with his fingertips. "But your goals can wait a few more hours. Sleep won't stop them."

Beyond's jaw was already slack, his breathing slowing. The room felt warm, and it was handily making Aleister feel sleepy as well. Perhaps I should try for another lie-down, he thought.

The murmuring from the other room had stopped, so he knew Watari's phone call to Roger must have ended. They'd all be boarding their own flight soon enough, and he wondered if L's plane had taken off yet. There was something almost pleasant about the discomfort Aleister felt in thinking about L, agonizing over when he might see him again and whether they would be able to converse without acrimony. The sensation was different now. It felt as though they were moving further apart in ways he hadn't foreseen. I hope we're never enemies, Aleister thought. I don't know what I'd do.

Hands shaking, he lifted the blanket he'd pinched from another room and draped it over himself as he tucked his feet under, curling into the cushiony chair like a cat. He knew he'd regret sleeping bunched up like this, especially given how cramped the plane was liable to be, but he also knew he'd regret not staying by Beyond's side more. Aleister watched him breathing. He let the rhythm of air slipping in and out soothe him. Eyelids closing, he allowed himself to imagine that he was already back at Wammy House, with the scents of old wood, oranges, and baking meat pies. The leaves would be turned by now, a riot of color in a previously verdant landscape, contrasting the austerity of the sprawling house itself. Wammy House would not feel the same to him – it still held comfort for Aleister, but he had succeeded in escaping its warm embrace. Home, he thought; my second, and the best one I've ever known. At least now I know I won't be afraid to leave it when the time comes, whether I go with Beyond or strike out on my own.

Dozing, Aleister slumped against the wing of the chair, his sandy brown hair slightly mussed, looking for all the world like the child he'd once been, unmindful of the kind eyes upon him from the doorway.

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Author's Note: Cassette tapes may be rarely used now (does anyone still use them?), but they were still occasionally used over a decade ago. Devall is apparently sharper than Coil might have expected, and Willette is guessing at some of the wheels within wheels here. Interesting that Beyond seems to have confided certain things in Aleister.

Every time I get the time to write, my brain tries to pull me in different directions. The positive aspect of this is that I've got a bunch of notes on other potential fics that I may be working on soon-ish, so yay? I will get this fic done before starting on anything else, though – probably by the end of the month, since there are only two chapters to go.

A quick shout-out and thank you to loveinlimbo for bumping The Worst Feeling Ever over the 100-review mark – that's the first time that's ever happened for one of my fics! ^_^ And thanks to everyone for reading!