Bullet with Butterfly Wings- 'Betrayed Desires'
Death Note's 'what if' situation.
---
Against the lamp post, a dark figure leant with a slouching grace. Above its bluish glow, the night sky looked empty and infinitely dark, as if all the stars and moon had been drawn into the void.
It was in this shadowy scene that L waited, hands in pockets and eyes trained on the looming, inky sky overhead. He glanced at a spot of shadow and nodded slightly at it, as if they shared a deal forged long ago.
"Days and weeks and years," he recited quietly, "How long until their assassins find me?"
He waited in silence for a time, though if it was a millennia or a minute he couldn't say. Gone were the nightly pretenses, all acting abandoned. This would be the last of these evenings—why bother now?
Maybe he'd never need to again.
Too soon, or not soon enough, a shout shattered his silence.
"L Lawliet! You are under suspicion for the Carving Murder Case!" the voice declared, as a crew of four uniformed men rushed out of the back alley, "Come peacefully and we won't have any problems."
Calm as a winter night, L turned his head to see the leading officer. Their eyes met and the policeman stopped in his tracks. The suspect's knowing orbs, rimmed by dark crescents, were black as the sky above, and far too old for a man not yet twenty-six. They bored into him with a terrifying power, and he knew instantly that they had seen things no man should ever see.
With no warning, L whipped his hands out of his pockets and thrust them at the petrified officer's face.
"Well?" he asked with a vague amusement, "Aren't you going to cuff me?"
--0--
Some people take years to understand Charisma, and that all over again to harness it for their own will. Then there are other men, like Raito Yagami, who are born into it.
Detective Light flashed an angelic smile at the restaurant hostess, a brilliant thing that nearly gave her a heart attack, and was instantaneously lead to the best seat in the house. One which already seated an occupant, and a strange one at that.
"L-san, it's a pleasure to meet you." Raito offered a hand to the table's shadowy occupant. "I am— "
"There's no need for that," the darker man broke in, taking the proffered hand, "I'm fairly certain I know who you are, and I severely doubt you plan to give me anything but a pseudonym."
Raito noted that the older man was sitting in a rather peculiar fashion, knees drawn up to chest. In his head, annoyance warred with respect for anyone who could keep their balance in that position.
The detective withdrew his hand, quickly reevaluating his 'guest'. It was difficult to read the Frenchman's expression, seated as he was in the darkest corner of the room. Raito now had no doubt that the choice in seating had been purposeful.
"Regardless, you may call me Raito," he insisted, taking a seat. A normal Japanese man would never use an acquaintance's first name so soon, but neither of them was properly Japanese.
"And you may call me L, if you like," the suspect replied, practically dripping a flippant attitude. "Though you might want to use 'Ryuzaki', just to be safe."
"Alright," the investigator agreed, raising a brow slightly. "Anyway, there's a reason why you came here."
"You mean, a reason why I was ordered here, Raito-kun," L pointed out, looking mildly amused. "Let's not pretend normalcy."
"Fair enough." The brunette fought down a scowl and glanced at his menu. "In that case, how about I get to the point?"
"Do," answered the pale man, leaning into the light.
Raito had picked a European style restaurant, and an expensive one at that. The kind with chandeliers. Their dim light cast L in stone, it seemed, ebony and ivory carved in the likeness of some tragic hero, a breathtaking balance of beauty and ugliness.
The detective shook his head slightly, berating himself for losing focus. It was unusual for him to be so caught up in the physical… but then, L was an unusual man.
"You, Ryuzaki, are the prime suspect for the Carving Murders Case," he continued, picking up where he'd left off. "Actually, the chances of you being J are high enough for me to consider some serious action."
"More serious than abducting me from my post, you mean," the suspect corrected him once again. It was unsettling, his almost mocking monotone. "I had prior engagements, you know."
"Sorry to ruin your… plans," the teen apologized, not sounding apologetic in the least.
"Mmhm. Well, I'm sure you have an excellent reason, Raito-kun," his guest replied, raising his thumb to his lips.
"I'd like to think so. L, I know a lot about you. Yeah, I know, it sounds kind of creepy, but I pride myself on being a thorough man. I know you're intelligent—you know you are, for sure—and I think we can work something out."
Detective Light leaned forward, a wicked shine in his eyes. "I'd like to put you on my team. I pay well, and you can finally put your brilliant mind to good use."
"And the catch?"
"Well, I can't have a suspected man on my team, can I?" Raito beamed. All according to plan.
"And suppose I'm not interested in your generous offer?" droned the criminal.
"Did you know you don't legally exist? You know, one of these days, we'll simply have to do some background checks to get you a new identity."
L eyed him over a badly chewed cuticle. "Touché, Raito-kun."
The tension broke as the waitress sashayed over to take their order. Detective Light rattled off something expensive and fancy then glanced at his companion, who had the desert menu open.
"This one," he pointed to a kind of cake, "and this one."
The server stared at him for a long moment, glancing back at Raito as if to confirm that this pale stranger had indeed escaped from an asylum and was now holding the expensive table and its striking occupant hostage. With an exaggerated eye-roll, she finally trotted off, muttering under her breath about eccentric patrons.
"Dessert for dinner, Ryuzaki?" the younger inquired, amused despite himself.
"Naturally," the older answered, nibbling at his thumb, "Here I find myself at an expensive restaurant with a handsome man, and I intend to have my cake and eat it too."
For Raito's part, sure if he should scowl or chuckle.
"Now why don't you let me in on this magnificent plan of yours," L continued, glancing idly at the room and its haughty occupants. "I would like to prove my innocence, if at all possible."
"Good to hear. My method involves twenty-four hour surveillance, of a sort. I think it'd be pretty useless to put cameras in your home, since I could only monitor you a portion of the time, so things would be hazy at best. It would be better for you to work with me for now—I often work multiple cases at a time—and kill two birds with one stone."
L looked at him with an unreadable expression, relaxed as a jungle cat before the kill. "Handcuffs."
"I'm sorry, what?" Raito's eyes widened despite his best efforts to maintain a poker-face.
"You're going to have to handcuff me." He clarified, "Obviously, you can't watch me one hundred percent of the time unless you have me with you all that time. Physical attachment is the only way of making sure I don't contact anyone. That's your plan, is it not?"
The detective frowned slightly. He hadn't expected L to catch on that quickly, never mind accept the plan so easily. That.... wasn't what he'd expected. He was supposed to give something away under the pressure, not jump at the chance! And how in the world had he predicted it?
"You aren't worried about what my team will think? The details?"
"Raito-kun," the suspect tilted his head curiously, "You have a girlfriend, don't you?"
"What on earth does that have to do with this?" Raito demanded, entirely thrown off.
L gazed up at the chandelier above, tracing its curves and shadows like nothing else in the world existed. "Quite a lot, actually. Nonetheless, I am not worried about it, so unless you have an objection of your own...?"
That was when their food arrived, saving Raito from doing something he might (or might not) regret the next day. He'd never met someone who could get so deep under his skin in so little time, and it was disturbing.
"No," he answered slowly, reigning in his temper. "If you agree, then it'll work fine."
Then, bright as a starburst in the night—and just as surprising—L smiled. Not just smiled, though: he smiled at Raito.
And for a moment, the detective forgot where he was.
--
The ride to Light's headquarters was long and awkward, though no one could say they didn't travel in style. People outside their windows stopped, wide-eyed, as Raito's personal limo passed their sidewalks. But within the car, an unexplained sense of doom hung over Raito's head, clashing with his earlier exaltation like polka dots on stripes.
L sat in his peculiar fashion across the limo, expression unreadable. He had seemed so talkative in the restaurant, but now more resembled the lifeless stone Raito had compared him to earlier.
The sense of doom grew, and the brunette fervently hoped he hadn't accidentally agreed to chain himself to a manic-depressive. As if life wasn't difficult enough…
"Why are we here alone?" L's question came out of the blue, as was becoming his typical pattern.
"You mean," Raito knew exactly what he was alluding to, "Why are we here together with no protection."
"Mhm. I could kill you so easily right now. Or at least, it would appear so."
In spite of himself, the detective let out a laugh. His suspect was smarter than he let on. "I'm not as defenseless as I look. I'm an accomplished martial artist, and I carry at least one knife on my person at all times." No need for him to know that Raito couldn't really use it.
"Suppose I could overpower you?" L pressed, slowly regaining his spark.
"In the unlikely course of events ending with my death, my driver would be immediately alerted and stop the car, initiate a lockdown, and kill you himself. And I assure you, he would not be as easily taken care of."
"But what if," the Frenchman argued, eyes bright with suppressed mirth, "My goal wasn't to kill you?"
"Well, I can't imagine how you would escape with me still alive." The investigator blinked.
"Ah, then you misunderstand my intentions, Raito-kun. There are many things I am capable of, that I doubt you would approve." L flicked his eyes over Raito's form.
"Ryuzaki," the Japanese man frowned, uneasy, "is that a confession?"
"Of course not," the suspect countered easily, "Most every man is capable of at least murder—I can feel it in you too. It's strange how so many police and detective seem to possess the most murderous dispositions…"
That inspired a new argument, as the detective forcibly squashed his own unease.
At the risk of sounding superstitious, there was just something about the way his suspect looked at you; it felt like he was unearthing all of your soul with his eyes—dark and light both. Detective Light shook his head.
They talked for a while of justice and how it was influenced by society, about right and wrong and morals. Raito proposed that Japanese morals were truer to human nature than their western counterparts, uninfluenced by religion, while L countered that religion is molded by human nature, and is therefore equally pure.
The closer they drew to headquarters, the less Raito wanted to arrive. When was the last time he'd had an interesting conversation, a conversation not about a case?
Despite his wishes, at last the limo began to slow. He cut off a sentence and rolled down the partition between the driver and their seats, glancing up at the rear-view mirror in silent question.
"We've arrived," the older man noted.
"All right, James. Would you help our guest with transferring whatever extra luggage he has?"
"None," L substituted, once again emotionless. "I have three shirts, two pairs of jeans, an assortment of personal items and a wallet, all in one bag. Your chauffer will not need to assist me."
"One bag?" Light was surprised in spite of himself. He made a 'carry on' motion to James, and turned back. "You traveled across a continent with one bag?"
"I started out with more than that," the suspect corrected him in a drone, "But I soon found that we don't need in life as much as society tells us we do."
The younger man simply shook his head. He never traveled with less than four suitcases, and he would testify to their necessity in court. How a person could survive with only one was a mystery to him… though it did explain L's generally unkempt appearance.
"Right. Then I'll be wherever you need me, sir," the driver answered gravely.
He acts so serious around my staff, Raito mused silently, and I suspect the team is terrified of him.
The two men climbed out of the limo, Raito offering his 'guest' a hand down. The younger disembarked with a forced grace, the older with a lack of balance he did not bother to hide. Shadows filled the corners of the carport, and L slid into them seamlessly even as Raito anchored himself under the dim light.
"Who is your driver, Raito-kun? I admit, he looks familiar."
Now, the detective was a man of few weaknesses, priding himself on a nearly imperceptible mental armor, but if it had one failing at all, it was that he loved to talk about himself. He blamed it on the tedious anonymity of his job.
"I don't see how he could," Raito lied flawlessly—he did have an idea… "He's my personal assistant. I met him a long time ago; he taught me everything I know about fighting and politics—and lying. Not that there's really a difference."
L's strictly uncaring expression softened, and his eyes shone for but a moment as he replied, "Nothing but press coverage."
Illogically, Raito felt pleased.
"Exactly. But now he works for me. Because, truthfully, I have a precious few people that I trust."
The detective opened a door for his suspect, leading them through into a hall.
"I understand," the Frenchman nodded, once again chewing on his thumb.
"You might want to talk to him, actually, since you'll be staying here for a while."
"How long do you think that will be?" L asked, eyeing the checkerboard tiles of the hallway as if they might give way under his feet at any second. "As hospitable as you've been, I would like to go home eventually."
"And where is home for you, Ryuzaki? Here, France, somewhere in between?" Raito prodded, gesturing at another door, which would lead them into the lobby. He really should have come in the front way, but his paranoia would never stand for that kind of carelessness.
"Wherever I make it," the pale man replied mysteriously, pushing open the door with two fingers. "It may be that your headquarters will become just that, in which case I will have to leave it in order return home."
The two of them stepped into the shadowed room, aiming for the elevators across the room. With a sidelong glance at his companion, the detective punched the down button.
"I see," he said, not really seeing at all. "But then, where is it now?"
"Monsieur," L replied in French, "You presume more than your station permits. But," he continued, reverting to Japanese, "don't think I haven't noticed how you avoided my question."
Raito stepped into the elevator, feeling a hint of embarrassment rise up. He was growing far too complacent lately, surrounded by dullards and simpletons who only needed the most basic of redirections. Perhaps this arrangement would be just the thing to whip him back into shape—get him back on his toes.
"Ah, well I'm not entirely sure myself, it could be a while you know. It'll be a bit like a scientific experiment: lots of observation. I'll need your fingerprints and such, by the way, to compare with the crime scenes."
"And what do you think the chances of my guilt are? Percentage-wise," L inquired, looking thoughtfully at Raito.
"Percentage-wise?" the detective felt himself tense a bit. "Maybe… ninety percent. The fact that you're in this country at all is half the case against you."
"Ah," said the suspect. He didn't look disappointed—rather, he looked mildly pleased with the statement. Surprisingly, his ungainly posture straightened a bit.
Raito found himself, for the first time in a long time, confused.
"Anyways," Detective Light continued, pushing a button, "You'll hear plenty about that soon enough. For now, I'd like you to meet my team."
L looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Well," he noted in a monotone, face unchanged, "I suppose that's the end of our lovely dinner date."