A/N: WOOOOOOOOO, YOU GUYS LIKED IT! YOU REALLY LIKED IT! Excitement aside, I am happy that you guys are liking this story and the writing style of it. I actually felt rather hypercritical on chapter one, but due to DEALTHY's success, I have posted chapter two earlier than what I had said. So, thanks guys! Your reviews really meant a lot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. And, actually, SOME of the ice cream in the world belongs to two guys named Ben and Jerry, not me.

Chapter 2: Lineage

Stretching my limbs briefly, I turned away from my window to begin dressing, ecstatic about my birthday. After all, what child wouldn't be? My gaze drifted toward the wardrobe, which held multiple hooded sweatshirts that went with a typical outfit. But, what made them odd was that they were all the color navy, my personal favorite color. Gone were the faded yellow T-shirt that I now found revolting and the jumper that had too many patches to count. Things can change within a year, even opinions on attire.

Really, though, I hadn't a care for my outward appearance, unlike the other little girls my age. So, I donned my sweatshirt, pair of jeans, and a T-shirt with little to no thought process involved.

Just like my brother, who threw on a white shirt and jeans every day; I was increasingly becoming more like him. Perhaps we Lawliets do think alike, much rather like great minds do. Then again, we did have the highest IQs out of all the residents at Wammy's, so that expression proved true in our cases.

As soon as I pulled my sweatshirt over my head, I apathetically ran a brush through my hair, which I honestly had no anxiety over. Maybe I wasn't the average girl, but I could hardly control my fate as to my abnormal upbringing. My parents died in a tragic car accident six months after my birth, winding me and L up at the orphanage. Luckily, Watari had been notified of our situation and walked up to our doorstep two weeks later. The rest, as they say, is history.

When I reflect on what L had to go through prior to Watari sort of "rescuing" us, I feel so much compassion toward him. He had to figure out how to raise me for a fortnight at age eight, and I was merely a baby who could barely utter a complete, intelligent sentence. Most kids at his age at the time can't say that; they're the fortunate ones. But, currently, I am getting too far ahead of myself when it comes to narrating this tale—I plan to return to my task.

I took an approximately thirty-second gaze in my cracked mirror before practically flying down the stairs to meet Matt and Mello for breakfast. At Wammy's House, each ordinary event was meticulously scheduled. Breakfast began at eight o'clock sharp, first class started at eight forty-five, second class started an hour later, etc. As future successors to my brother, we had to mature in a strict environment or we would stray from our paths. And that was something Roger, the caretaker of the orphanage, could not risk.

Arriving at the cafeteria in a timely fashion, I let my ebony eyes seek for my two friends. Sure enough, they sat at our usual table, which we had all to ourselves. Despite the several cliques and alliances formed here, we were considered the outcasts, not counting Near who liked his life as a loner. The reason why Matt, Mello, and I relied only on each other was obvious: Matt was too shy, Mello too rowdy and bold, and I was L's sister, the current envy of the orphanage. Instead of appreciating me for having the Lawliet blood flow through my veins, the other children rejected me due to that—L supposedly found me as his favorite.

My peers' behavior toward me, I admit, was questionable, considering that they worshipped the ground my brother walked on. No matter, I dismissed them as being hypocrites. Maybe my sense of pride came off as too severe.

I seated myself across from my two friends, a small knowing smile gracing my lips; Matt and Mello had yet to discover my secret.

"I think today will be a great one," I told them in my quietly confident tone, inwardly thrilled at the prospect of receiving a birthday visit from L.

In the mean time, my friends looked rather befuddled, their shining orbs clouding over with deep thought. Tapping my fingers patiently on the artificial wood of the table, I meandered into a realm of daydreams. I knew that Mello and Matt had probably forgotten my birthday again, so I had no worries. I didn't expect them to memorize that date anyway, since I found it...well...unimportant.

One of the cafeteria workers broke the silence by setting bowls of ghastly pale, mushy mass before our respective places. As soon as she retreated to the kitchen to distribute more of the unidentifiable substance to the other orphans, Mello groaned.

"Oatmeal again? This is the fourth day in a row we've had this crap!"

"At least we're being fed," Matt responded in his ever smart-alecky way. Really, he behaved like this, what with the tossing of sardonic comments, in order to cheer us. And, usually, his sarcasm proved to be to our benefit when it came to overall happiness.

"Whatever," Mello snarled, his upper lip curling slightly like a vicious dog's.

Testy as he was over the disappointing breakfast, he grabbed a fistful of that vile, flavorless oatmeal and hurled it at the nearest child's head. The male victim in question cried out angrily before swiveling his head Mello's way; Matt and I politely tried to suppress our laughter. For some reason, witnessing an unhappy person protest the meager rations of the orphanage amused me. Maybe this was because the food honestly tasted revolting.

"That's a good birthday present isn't it, V?" Matt hissed in my ear before returning to his task of attempting to swallow his portion of oatmeal.

My eyes dilated with obvious surprise; he actually remembered my birthday today.

Noting that he had just missed out on another trivial event, Mello averted his previous attention that he had wasted laughing at the boy back to us.

"Is it your birthday today?" he asked for confirmation.

"Yes," I replied, demure as always, wrinkling my nose when I put some oatmeal through my lips. "I'm eight years old today."

"Sorry I forgot," he muttered gruffly as he shoved his bowl to the side.

"It's all right. It's not that important anyway."

"You're kidding, right?" Matt peered intensely through his goggles at me. "Aren't we kids supposed to look forward to our birthdays?"

"If you haven't realized this yet, Matt, we're far from ordinary," I responded in my cool, collected manner that I had adapted since L left. I truly was becoming more like him every day.

The three of us fell silent once more, struggling to eat more of our most important meals of the day. Ha, what a joke! My friends knew as well as I did that oatmeal in itself is less than perfect. An idea bubbled in the peripherals of my mind as I continued to observe the displeasure Mello and Matt showed. This plot served as rather devious in a mischievous way, but I saw no other way around it. We would either do this or suffer from the monster that would haunt us called indigestion.

"Let's go to my room—I have better food up there," I told my friends, promptly standing to my feet and wearing a determined expression. They agreed.

Like sneaky thieves, we made ourselves scarce from the mess hall without any supervisor suspecting our disappearance. The good thing about Wammy's was that we children were very poorly supervised. This enabled us to do as we pleased without any adult getting a word in edgewise. So, if we ate sugary foods high in trans fat for breakfast, they would remain blissfully unaware. We tiptoed in the most circumspect manner up the infamously creaky stairs; we could scarcely risk having one of the adults nab us.

Safely, we entered my bedroom without any incident, much to our relief. In fact, Mello couldn't say it any better when he told us, "I've already been in trouble five times this week. So, it's a good thing I didn't get caught doing this."

"Why would you say that? I mean, you're always in trouble, Mello," Matt said rather realistically, which deterred the blond somewhat.

While they started bickering when Mello retaliated with a "But you're the innocent one!" I procured a bag of miniature chocolate chip cookies. Once they glimpsed the blue wrapping, the boys unintentionally let their jaws drop open.

"That's definitely better than oatmeal!" Mello exclaimed as he practically pounced on the bag the minute I opened it.

"Nice job snitching these, V," Matt congratulated and gave me a high-five.

The bell for first class tolled once the last cookie crumb had been devoured, and we promptly went to our respective classes. I had chorus, which offered me a chance to hone my singing ability. Singing had been my passion since age two, according to my brother. I even could boast of having a four octave range that enabled me to sing even the toughest ballad. With this in mind, the caretaker of Wammy's House selected chorus as one of my classes when I turned four; I was supposedly that gifted at what I did. However, I am a harsh critic of myself, so I often chided myself whenever I assumed I hit a high note terribly.

Today, once I took a seat in the back of the classroom where I remained perpetually non-existent to my disdainful peers, the teacher took out her teachers' guidebook.

"OK, class, today we are going to sing 'Auld Lang Syne.' Now, I drew a name out of my basket to see who will lead us..."

The instructor primly allowed a moment's silence in which all the students waited with bated breath, whereas I slouched even further down in my seat. Instinct told me this would not bode well.

Finally, the teacher broke the tension by announcing in her sweet, angelic voice, "V, I suppose you won't mind starting us off, will you?"

Sensing twenty pairs of hateful eyes glaring mercilessly at me, I muttered softly, "I suppose not, Miss Ferguson."

As luck would have it, though, I was spared from any further torture when the door abruptly opened. All of us craned our necks to see this visitor, eagerly wondering whether he would acknowledge us or not.

When a certain raven-haired young man entered, everyone gasped with awe, and I could barely suppress a smile.

L had come!

"Miss Ferguson, I am sorry to interrupt this class, but,"—his eyes rested briefly, barely a millisecond, on me—"may I talk to V privately?"

When Miss Ferguson gave her consent, considering the fact that the L was courteously asking her permission, I sensed more heated gazes. These didn't bother me now that L had arrived; my misery slipped away. Together, we walked outside the classroom, where the door to it closed after our departure. I smiled genuinely, joyful to share the same corridor with my brother once again. It had felt as though decades passed since the day he moved out of Wammy's.

"So, L, how have you been?" I inquired, my dark eyes glowing with intrigue. "Is being the world's greatest detective everything you thought it would be?"

"Yes," he returned my smile slightly, "I have solved several cases on the side of weeks."

My pride for L could have burst, for its immensity astounded me. I knew that he would utilize his deduction skills for the greater good, especially considering his own purity.

Pleased with this news, I replied, "That's very impressive, big brother. I wish I could be as smart as you."

"You shouldn't complain; your IQ is 185, after all. Happy birthday, by the way." He slacked his stride to expose something he had concealed behind his back. I nearly had to suppress a grin when I was presented with a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

Glancing about the corridor to check if all the classroom doors had been securely closed, L explained quietly, "I am highly aware that you like ice cream, so I bought you this on my way here. Dies the mint chocolate chip flavor suffice?"

"More than enough—thanks."

Promptly taking my spoon out from its place in my shirt pocket, I opened the pint and shoveled into my esteemed dessert without a second thought. I allowed the delicious mint flavor to entice my tongue, and nothing coincided with this better than chocolate chips. Suddenly, I thought I could go to Heaven just by eating this confection, considering how saccharine the treat was. I contently sighed, aware of possessing the best birthday gift ever. My abrupt joy, however, vanished once I espied a grave expression on my brother's face. I wondered what his true objective was by coming here.

So, inevitably, I resolved to inform him of my light suspicions. "I have a feeling you came here for something more than just to visit me. Am I right to think this?"

"You are indeed, V," L sighed almost wearily and no wonder. The ever present bags under his onyx eyes had grown considerably larger since last time. Obvious determination at being the best that he could be in his career field took a toll on him, despite him never having slept a wink in his life. I often wondered how he could survive torturing himself like that.

Noting my concerned gaze, he added, "It's nothing too serious, but Watari informed me a while back that I have to choose successors. In the event that I die, one of them has to take my place, as well as my name. My job is becoming increasingly dangerous."

Awestruck by what he told me, I couldn't help but think that L was being rather contradictory by dismissing choosing successors as "nothing too serious." If I was as emotional as Mello, I would have stressed out and demanded answers. However, I placated my anxieties enough to say calmly, "Tell me about these successors."

"I will. Let's sit down," L stated just as calmly in his monotone voice when he gathered his knees close to him as a way of sitting. I situated myself opposite him, though I crossed my legs before doing this similar action. Appraising me to ensure that he had my undivided, rapt attention, he began his story.

"At first, I was rather taken aback by what Watari told me. Then, I realized he had a point in what he said, so I followed along with it. He suggested the orphans in this very home would serve as successors. After making sure that my memory still served me well, I figured out the lineage I wanted in the exact order. You must promise me that what I say from here on out will be kept a secret."

I bowed my head to signal my assent, as well as respect for him. "All right, I won't tell anyone. You have my word as a sister."

He nodded before continuing, "Here is what I believe. Near should be my immediate successor, considering his calculating manner. He is a worthy genius and must not be forgotten. Mello would be after him, followed by Matt. Hopefully, I will act as L for a long time."

Remaining silent, I picked the dirt from my fingernails, which were jagged from habitual nibbling. Where did I fall into all this? I, too, was an orphan who resided in Wammy's House, after all.

My gaze pierced L's when I inquired very softly, "What number am I, L?"

He almost moved his eyes away from mine, but quickly responded with, "Twenty."

Nervously, I stuffed my hands into my shirt pockets to abate the sudden trembling that occurred. Number twenty? I found that difficult to discern; this sense of inferiority overwhelmed me. Pondering over why my number in the lineage was so high, I returned to my ice cream to take rather unnecessarily large bites. Had I done something to displease L?

Now, taking into account of my age at the time, I can see why I inwardly panicked, an emotional action I rarely considered enacting. The idea of unintentionally shoving myself from my brother's favor terrorized me. It served as a claw that squeezed my heart overzealously tight. I just couldn't bear it.

"Why am I number twenty?" I found myself raising my voice. "Have I done something wrong? You should know better than anyone I'm highly capable of what you're doing! I—I'm your only family, L, so why—?"

He urgently pressed two fingers to my lips to quiet me before I went totally haywire with my impending, full-fledged rant. "V, please understand this. It is because you're my only family that you are number twenty. As a brother, as well as a detective who defends the law, I absolutely cannot put my own sister's life at risk. You need to live a long, healthy life with hardly any cares. I know that you are vastly intelligent—more than qualified and live up to standards—but I can't sacrifice you."

I was torn between relief and disappointment at his words. If we had switched places, I would have most likely done the same for L. On the other hand, I wanted something to live for; to be the entity representing justice would be thrilling. Still, I knew my brother loved me as only siblings could, so I submitted, "I understand, L."

I almost thought a relieved smile appeared on his face when he said, "Good, that is all I needed to know."

A/N: I never thought I would ever write that much of a portion about oatmeal. XP But, it was used for comedic tendencies, so why not? And it seems L is a bit overprotective over his sister and rightfully so. But, hmmm...I don't think we will be hearing the last of V being connected to cases by a long shot (hint, hint). Well, I, sadly enough, have two other stories on my plate. But, it's summer, so this one should be updated more frequently.