Disclaimer: I don't care if you "wanted" me to be Kira! I'm not.
A/N: My school starts this week. I will try to keep on top of my schedule, but may not be able to. I'm also switching updates to Saturdays, as Sunday is homework day.
Worry and Paranoia
Even though he had already achieved his goal of "Great Detective," L reserved one hour a day for studies. He was around college freshman level. One evening, in the summer of 1986, L came to Quillish to request changes in his curriculum.
The Knock came. L entered Quillish's office.
"Quillish," the boy said.
"Yes, L?" asked Quillish.
"I need foreign language tutors. I intend to begin international work soon, and having a translator for everything I and the other party say would not only be an annoyance, but also a security risk. I require the services of any foreign language teachers in your employ. Excluding teachers of my native language, of course." L said.
"Alright. During your usual hour?" Quillish said.
"No. I am ceasing detective work for several weeks to accommodate much longer lessons." L said.
"Okay, then. I'll assign you tutors for every language we have." Quillish said. L nodded curtly, and left the office.
About a week later, Quillish heard an enormous crash from the orphanage library. Or rather, a series of crashes so close together that they sounded like one long crash. Quillish jumped up from behind his desk, and rushed out of his office.
He arrived, panting, at the library moments later, to a scene of carnage. A bookshelf had apparently tipped over, and taken the others with it like dominoes. That wasn't supposed to be able to happen. These bookshelves were bolted down for safety.
Quillish immediately began searching among the book-filled wreckage. It was lunch hour, so he didn't think anyone would be in the library, and if they were being crushed under books they would probably be screaming, but they might've been knocked out. You never know.
Other orphanage employees showed up about a minute after he did. The librarian was out for lunch, and his office was almost next to the library. They asked him what happened, and when he explained, they began to search the destruction with him.
A few minutes later, it was ascertained by the group that the book avalanche had squashed no one. Then began the arduous task of putting the library back together. Quillish applied himself to it for about an hour or so, then began his own task: figuring out the cause of this mess. When he examined the bolts of all the bookshelves, they appeared to have simply been ripped out by the force of becoming a giant domino. The first "domino," however, had seemingly had its bolts completely removed. Someone had done this intentionally. Quillish wondered indignantly who would pull this malicious and sociopathic prank. And then he realized.
Who was sociopathic enough to pull this sort of prank? Who was infinitely amused by all sorts of trouble? Who was not currently working, and so would be bored out of his mind?
Quillish set out to confront L.
He knocked on L's door, and was greeted by the usual,
"Enter," L was on the floor, surrounded by books full of Chinese characters. "Yes, Quillish?" he said, not bothering to look up.
"L, did you cause that mess in the library?" Quillish demanded.
"What happened in the library?" L inquired, still not looking up.
"Someone unbolted the bookshelves, and they imitated dominoes. Did you do it?" Quillish asked.
"That's unfortunate," L commented, sounding supremely unconcerned.
"Did you have anything to do with it?" asked Quillish, trying to get past L's evasions.
"No, I did not." L said, finally deigning to look at Quillish.
"Hm." Said Quillish. The boy could be lying. But he could also be telling the truth. There was no evidence that he did it, he was simply the most likely suspect. Quillish decided to go with L's story until he had some kind of evidence. "Alright then. Sorry, L. Goodbye." He said, and left.
But who had taken the bolts? In the next few days, he searched all over the orphanage for them. He even searched the orphans' rooms. Even L's. He found the bolts nowhere. He began enlisting the help of some staff.
Until one day, he found the bolts in his locked desk drawer, where they had not been the day before. That was just a mean mindgame. Not fair. And it had L written all over it. but still, no evidence. He went so far as to dust the bolts for prints, but they had been wiped completely clean.
His gut said L, L, L, L, L! and Quillish put his head in his hands. Living with that child had made him so suspicious…
But the mystery stayed unsolved, and Quillish eventually forgot it.
A few weeks later, when L announced he'd be going back to work, Quillish breathed a sigh of relief.
When L got his first overseas case, he decided to see Carla off at the airport. So, he needed someone to drive him home. "Someone" meaning "Quillish," of course.
So Quillish tagged along behind L and Carla, as they crossed the airport to the gate.
When Carla reached the point at which only actual flyers could continue, she bent down, picked up L, and hugged him. Quillish imagined that either L would fight the embrace like a wild animal, or demonstrate foresight, and accept the hug without a fight, so as not to be dropped. Never in a million years had he expected L would return the hug. But return it he did.
"Aww, I'll be so worried about you!" cooed Carla.
"Unnecessary. Good luck, Carla," said L, in his usual monotone, seeming not the slightest bit annoyed.
"Aww, thanks. Be a good little supergenius while I'm away!" said Carla. With that, she entered the part of the airport that the rest of her group could not, and L and Quillish set off back to the car they'd come in. L looked at Quillish with a slightly pained expression.
"Does she not realize that both she and I, and, at slightly larger intervals, you and she, will be in regular contact?" L asked.
"She does, she was just being sentimental," Quillish replied. He was still slightly shocked by the hug, and L's general niceness towards Carla, so he added, "you hugged her,"
"Yes. It is a display of affection, is it not? And I do regard her with some affection, the way one might regard an… exceptionally stupid hamster." L replied. Quillish thought about this. He laughed inwardly at the hamster comparison. It was just so rude, and yet it was quite kind, coming from L. As the two continued, Wammy's House-ward bound, Quillish mulled over this strange development.