notes/warnings
+ return of the second-person POV
+ swearing, as usual
+ updated the summary and categories. this will eventually be a romance. (in fact, the whole point of this fic was to challenge myself to write a pairing that I, personally, hate. wooo).
Company
Forty-eight hours later, they're back in the United States, and in the middle of researching a new kidnapping case, when M opens the window and casually fires a shot into the next building.
R grabs him and tackles him to the floor.
"You've actually gone insane," he roars. "What did you just do?"
"He shot someone," T says, peering through the curtains. His hands are shaking where they rest on the table.
"Someone who was pointing a gun at L," M grits. "Get fucking off me."
"He's correct," L says, sipping his tea. "That man did appear to be about to shoot me."
"Pity he didn't get the chance, really," Rae says darkly.
L smiles. It's sort of refreshing to have the Shinigami back to it's old self. More of a challenge.
"You...what?" R gasps, releasing M on the floor. "He was? You noticed and you didn't do anything?"
"What I know and our sniper probably didn't know is that the glass is at least seventy percent bullet proof," L says. "He would have needed to go through a lot of ammunition before he got to me. I daresay I would have ducked by then."
"Then there was no need for M to shoot him," N says, aghast.
"He didn't shoot to kill," L verifies.
"That's right," M mutters.
"I would appreciate it if some of you went up there and brought him in for questioning," L adds cheerfully. "I'm sure there's a lot we could learn from him. Like who he works for, and what he's doing shooting through windows at perfectly ordinary citizens such as myself."
The sniper's name is Jessica Peterson, and she tells them everything at the first threat of torture.
"I don't know the name of the man I was supposed to shoot," she says, sobbing underneath her blindfold. "I was just hired to kill the dark-haired man working on the twenty-second floor of this building. That's all I know."
"Why did they want this man dead?" L asks through his voice filter.
"They believe he is connected to the detective L," she says sadly.
"We wouldn't have actually tortured her if she'd resisted, right?" R asks, eyeing L carefully. "Surely someone as intelligent as you doesn't need to resort to that sort of thuggery?"
L ignores him.
"Never mind that," N hisses. "She knows who you are!"
"No, she knows I am connected to me," L corrects. "There is a difference."
"I don't think so," R argues. "Even if you presume that M's hair is too neutral to be considered dark, that still leaves a choice of three people matching her description. Why did she go for you?"
"Because I was sitting in the most difficult position to shoot, of course," L says in a derogatory voice. "She was intending to take all three of us before we could react."
"You can't possibly know that!"
L shrugs and switches his microphone on again.
"Why do they want L dead?"
"Am I going to die?" she asks, breath hitching. "Please, I don't want to die. Not again. Please throw me in jail after this. They'll kill me if they find out I spoke to you."
"Just answer the question, please," L instructs, patiently.
"I don't know, they don't talk about it. He's wronged them, somehow. I don't know who they are, but they're rich, really rich. The sort of people that are obsessed with making money. I don't know if it's a business, or a family, or some sort of firm. Heck, they could be government agents. I don't know."
"Why did they instruct you to come here?" L asks. "Why did they connect us to L?"
She lifts her head.
"Are...are you not connected to L?" she asks, tremulously. "With all the gadgets and the amazing firearms skills, I presumed you must be."
She doesn't know which one of them she's talking to, of course.
"A few of my men have met L in the past, once or twice," L says. "We're a part of the FBI. Even if my men had been capable of contacting that particular detective, how would it benefit your employers to shoot him dead?"
"I think they believe L will show himself if enough people close to him are killed," she replies. "I actually think that sounds stupid, but who am I to question half a million dollars?"
"Thank you," L says. "That is all. The police are on their way."
"So who do you think was behind that?" N asks him. "And more importantly, were they intending to target you, Raye, or Matsuda?"
"I can't say for certain," L says. "Certainly, there are a number of people who - due to their circumstances before they died - would be able to connect either Raye or Matsuda to me. In addition, I have occasionally appeared as my own agent a number of times since dying. I imagine it could be any of us."
"It's not a good strategy, at any rate," M says lazily. "Like you'd show yourself just because they murdered someone you met once."
"If they murder frequently enough it might work," L says, chewing on his thumbnail. "If we were talking about hundreds of people, it would only be right of me to show my face."
Of course, if they'd targeted M, he'd have been forced to comply with them immediately. But very few people knew that, and clearly Jessica's employers weren't among them.
"It seems like a pretty isolated incident to me," T says. "I mean, there's been nothing before or since. Just a one off. You're bound to have enemies, L, that's just the way things are."
"Quite," L says. "All the same, I believe we should abandon this case and go somewhere else for a little while. Just to be on the safe side."
"L!"
"You don't have to exclaim everything you say, you know," L says sleepily. He's doing a little more research on the Remiras. Rae is off somewhere sulking again. It seems to hardly be able to stand being near him at all, which suits him just fine.
Of course, he's not sure whether his research actually needs to be kept secret from his Shinigami, but he'd prefer to be careful.
"Oh, right. Um. L?"
"What is it, T?"
Matsuda rubs the ankle of one foot against the back of his calf. L already knows what it is, of course.
"Um, I just got another call. From W-Wedy."
"Oh? Does she have information for me?"
He's in a sarcastic sort of mood.
"Uh, I don't...yes, she must. She wants to meet up. Er, but just with me. I don't know why. I think she's getting paranoid."
"That must be it," L says.
"It's at the Botanical Gardens, about half an hour's drive away," T continues, clearly nervous.
L's gaze lingers on the computer screen for a good few minutes before he looks up.
"So, er, can I go? She must have an important lead!"
L stares at him blankly.
"You don't really think this is about a lead, do you?" he asks, slowly.
Matsuda flushes and stares at his shoes.
"I...I don't know?"
"I think it's about time you did know," L tells him. "For my part, you don't need my permission to see people in your own time. Your private life is your own."
Matsuda looks up, slack-jawed.
"But I thought she was still considered a criminal. Am I not supposed to arrest her, if given a chance?"
"Yes, perhaps," L says. "But arresting her now would not benefit us as a team. She is useful. I suspect the correct thing to do would be to arrest Wedy only when we have rendered all the other criminals in the world such that she is the worst that remains."
Matsuda processes that for a minute, and smiles brightly, childishly.
"Thanks, L. You're the best."
L lifts one corner of his mouth.
"Good luck, Matsuda."
"Thanks. Hey, you said my name again."
Oh yes. He always slips up on Matsuda. It's hard to file him away, as just a faceless employee, as only a set of abilities, weak points, and uses. He's so intrinsically human.
And he shot Kira.
"Yes, I suppose I did."
Matsud...T! T leans over him for a moment.
"Ooh. Old cases. I used to hate reading about the Remiras when I studied criminal history in school. Such an awful story."
"That she loved him so much and he left her to die?" L asks, raising an eyebrow. That fact isn't particularly worthy of being exclaimed. He wonders if T has already started to become a little softer, even before anything has really developed between Wedy and himself.
"What? No. I just hated the bit where he thought she was cheating on him and slash," T lunges at him, brandishing an imaginary knife.
L blinks, nonplussed.
"He cut out her eye," T finishes with a dramatic gesture. "Isn't that gross?"
Not really, L thinks. What's gross is that she let him. How can someone continue to love a person after that sort of treatment.
No one is capable of that much love.
L realises with a jolt that that statement isn't quite true.
Misa Amane was, he thinks, carefully. Is that what I'm supposed to see, Rem? Are you trying to vindicate Misa?
It's true that Amane may have been without significant blame. He can't possibly know how overpowering her love for Light Yagami truly was. There is no way to judge the depth of another person's emotions, not even for him.
"I'm more interested in how you know about Rebecca and Mark," he says out loud, thumbing his mouth. "It's not even a well-known case, let alone famous."
"Oh, I used to read a lot of crime textbooks when I was a kid," T tells him. "I didn't really have many friends at school, so that was what I did. I remember a lot of them. Especially the ones that bothered me."
L regards him keenly.
"Some day, I'd like to open up your mind and take a look inside," he says, succinctly.
"Uhh," T says, looking severely frightened. "Um. I'm not sure I'd like that."
L turns back to his computer.
"Please ask Wedy if she knows of anyone who is presently tailing you, R, or myself," he says, with a dismissive wave. "Contact us, obviously, if you run into any trouble."
T's face lights up, predictable.
"Yes L! I will."
Wedy escorts a bewildered Matsuda back to the complex within the hour.
"There were two men following us," she says by way of explanation. "I shook them on the drive here. Don't worry, there were no bugs placed on the car."
"I wouldn't even have asked," L says.
She's shaking. He's never seen her ruffled or nervous before.
"What happened to them? Did you see their faces?"
"I'm sure you could go and see their faces yourself, if you want," she snaps. "But I doubt it will do your investigation any good. They certainly aren't going to talk."
"You killed people?" R asks darkly. N shakes her head at him and ushers all of them further into the building.
"We should stay away from the windows," she says softly, always the voice of reason. "Especially you, T."
"Yes, I shoot people who are trying to shoot at people I care about," Wedy informs him coolly. "Don't you?"
"More snipers," L says quietly.
"Snipers," Matsuda echoes, hollowly. He's quivering and wide-eyed. Wedy has one perfectly-manicured hand on the small of his back, rubbing in small circles, but L doubts he's noticed.
"Then it's T they're after," N says, sounding a little awed. "Why?"
T. Yes.
"And on top of that, they've followed us," R says.
"We have been spending a lot of time in England, recently," L says thoughtfully. "Perhaps we have been lax to return here so often, and for so long."
He's reluctant to leave, though. Rem said she'd contact him in three days time. And he's not sure of where she'll be or if she can track him easily. Surely even Shinigami are limited in some way by how far and how fast they can travel.
Last time, he was in London. Surely it would be best to stay in London.
"You are the one making all the decisions," R says angrily. "Now you're telling us they may have endangered our lives?"
"Yes," L pronounces. "I will not conceal my own mistakes. However, I'm only twelve percent certain that our being in this particular city has at all influenced whether or not our stalkers found T. I suspect they were probably tracking us in some way."
"That's not possible," R says, with certainty. "Not with you and Watari and my wife on the team."
"Of course it's not impossible," M says. He's been leaning against the wall, staring straight through Wedy as if he loathes her just for being blonde and wearing leather. "If these people are rich, they could have spies everywhere."
"And when you and R went out to the store yesterday, no one followed you?" L asks N.
"No," she replies. "I'm certain of that."
She can't be one hundred percent certain, but L's prepared to let that slide. For now.
"And no one attacked M when he went to church the day before," L continues. "In both instances, the parties were gone for over two hours. But T was targeted in a quarter of that time."
"Yeah," T says weakly. "They were really fast."
He's leaning against Wedy. L feels strangely protective, and presses his fingers to his palm in a momentary, brief imitation of clenching his fist.
"Meaning that whoever sent the snipers only recognised Matsuda as being connected to L," he says, considering. "Which means that whatever run-in they had with me must have occurred after your death, Nao...N."
She raises her eyebrows at him but doesn't speak.
L sorts through his memories. Who knew about Matsuda working with L? Their identities were kept fairly secret, after all.
"I have a question," T says, voice tremulous.
"Do you? That's nice," M says dismissively, and N slaps him hard across the face.
"Learn some goddamn compassion," she growls. He doesn't respond.
"Go on," L says, addressing only T. The man looks far too vulnerable. L briefly despises him for it.
"These people could have had their run-in with L after you died, too," he says. "I mean, it was never publicised that L was replaced, or that the person who was L for the last four years turned out to be...you know."
"Kira," L says. "Light. You only make it sound worse if you avoid saying it."
"Right," T says, hanging his head.
"You also make a valid point," L adds, rubbing his hands together. "Okay. M? I want you to list everyone who could possibly have known Matsuda was associated with L after I died. Get T to help you. I will compile a list for the time period prior to that. We'll narrow our investigation down to those individuals."
The entire situation would have been slightly less stressful if Rae weren't sitting right beside him, laughing softly and making derogatory comments about Matsuda.
"N, I want you to leave with Wedy. See if anyone else is tailing her. Double back when you're certain she is alone."
"Yes, L."
"Wedy, go now. Please contact me if you notice anything like this again."
"Sure thing, babe," she says, mussing Matsuda's hair as she passes him. He gazes up at her with a lost, frightened expression.
"Is this guy a detective or a little child?" Rae asks nastily. "Look at him. He's going to cry."
"R? Please contact the local police and get me photographs and names of the men who were tailing Wedy and Ma...T."
R salutes grimly.
"And as for you," L says, finally coming back to Matsuda.
"Um, yeah. This is all k-kinda scary. Why me?"
"I don't know," L admits. "But as of right now, you don't leave this building, and you don't leave my sight."
"But-"
"I have handcuffs if you don't feel like complying," L says calmly, and Matsuda flushes and sputters at the same time.
"Which means we're both confined to the inner rooms, away from the windows and doors," L says. "Hm. I'll need to have Watari make some alterations to the locking system. And we'll need to move your bedroom to a more central part of the building."
"Is this really necessary?" Matsuda asks, clearly overwhelmed.
"Yes," L says simply.
You must be safe.
It's only three days until Rem is supposed to contact him again.
The stalkers turn out to be hireable snipers, excellent in their field but no known loyalties. No links to their most recent employers were found, either.
Typical.
Wedy has been left alone, so L presumes she killed them before they could make any reports about the woman accompanying Matsuda. The others in his team have similarly not been attacked, confirming L's earlier suspicions.
Only a very select few people know that Touta Matsuda is still in contact with L. Common knowledge is that L works alone. Therefore, their enemy is either someone very close to them, or a common thug who is happy to murder on the off-chance that it might affect L. If it is the latter, than anyone seen in Matsuda's company would likely become an intended victim as well.
L grinds his teeth a little. He'd have preferred, honestly, to see N or R targeted. At least they'd be more able to look after themselves. And his personal view of both of them is strictly professional. But Matsuda...T is such a source of comfort to him. If he's not careful, he'll react illogically.
And he can't afford any mistakes.
When the first list is finished, he has M do a little background reading and earmark the high-earning individuals and companies. The snipers had all been expensive, and he was about fifty percent certain there were also spies employed by the same group.
He already has some suspicion of who is responsible, but he's not even one percent certain. He needs more proof. A lot of people hate L, of course, and Matsuda was never particularly careful with his own identity.
Their list of possible suspects contains nine hundred and twenty-two entities. Searching the recent financial records and tailing prominent individuals could take over a year.
L's pretty certain they can't keep this up for a year. In fact, he'd prefer to have it over with in two days.
He checks his email. No one has requested the services of Eraldo Coil in order to help defeat L. It would only be too easy if they had.
The problem, he knows, is this. The longer he lives, the more he does, the more people will know something about him. And the more people know about him, the less safe he will be. Theoretically, he shouldn't last a full twenty-five years in this world, because more people can identify him. And if there's a third place to go, if he dies here, he should be even easier to beat.
Eventually, L Lawliet will be truly, completely dead. Spurned from every world as soon as he arrives, permanently in limbo, too many enemies. Eventually, he will burn out.
That is just the way the world works.
"Hey L?"
"Yes?"
Matsuda can't keep quiet for longer than two minutes. And when L's not being interrupted from his research, his mind keeps wandering to a pointless and irrational dislike for his Shinigami. It has been mostly silent recently, and L isn't sure whether it's sulking or plotting. Probably both.
So childish, he thinks. I wonder how old it is?
Do gods of death even have ages? Or are they immortal?
He'd like to be immortal.
"I was just thinking," Matsuda says, "about how maybe...uh..."
"I see," L says. "You don't have to fill the silence all the time, you know."
"I know," the other man says awkwardly. "I just. Sometimes I think it would be better if you didn't protect me."
"Better?" L muses.
"Well, if I don't associate with you guys, then they'll just shoot me and be done with it. Even if they're investigating other people, it's clearly not any of us. It's dangerous right now because I actually am your associate. These people may not realise it, but they're really close. What if they bust into here trying to find me?"
"I see. And if you just went out there on your own, there would be no repercussions for me?" L asks, intrigued.
"Well, it's not as if you're really going to get mad and reveal yourself just because they kill me," he replies. "I mean, I'm hardly anyone."
"You got that right," Rae mutters.
L very discretely, and very delicately, extends his middle finger in its general direction.
Enough is enough.
"Hardly anyone," he echoes. "Well, I suppose when you consider there are approximately six billion people in the first world, and about the same number here, then any one person is 'hardly anyone'. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't value human life."
"That's not what I meant," Matsuda tells him. "I'm not important, like you and Watari. I'm not useful to the investigation the way Naomi and Raye are. I'm not talented like Mail. I'm just ordinary. Expendable. In a way, you're lucky they went after me. You can just get rid of me and not be any worse off."
L cannot easily explain the momentary rush of blind fury he feels at those words; boiling up inside him, unfamiliar and unexpected, until he feels like Rae, perpetually on fire.
It only lasts a second.
"You are absolutely wrong," he says, voice deathly quiet. "Under no circumstances are we sacrificing anyone."
"Right," Matsuda says, laughing nervously. "Right. Of course. Um, I'm glad."
L turns back to his computer screen. It's only sensible, to keep Matsuda with him. He's too useful to lose, it would be detrimental to the functioning of the team if he was killed. He's...well.
Well, the only thing he's really done is fatally wound Light.
L touches his lips. Is that one thing really worth risking his own safety, and the safety of his entire team?
Yes, yes. Absolutely, yes.
Ninety-nine percent.
Near twists his hair around his finger, over and over, like he's wringing the answers out of it. He's in a meeting with the President of the United States of America. Of course, the USA gave in to Kira a long time ago, but there's always a chance. If they're so weak, then they might give in to Near just as easily.
"You are destabilising your own government, Mr President," he says, without respect or fear, without any sort of inflection whatsoever. "You have been brought to your knees. You need to rise up again. Wasn't America once the land of the free?"
The president shakes in his chair. He's scared and unsteady. Pathetic. Just like you.
"It's been six years," he bleats. "No-one has been able to stop this guy. If we take a stand, he'll kill us all."
Near snorts.
"Kira doesn't want to kill everyone," he counters with certainty. "He wants a perfect world, not an empty world."
Dwayne waddles up beside you. He's chewing something. Gum, maybe. Or the end of a pen. A small furry animal. Who knows, with Dwayne?
"He's brilliant, isn't he?" he asks admiringly. "Absolutely brilliant. I feel lucky to have been brought along for this case. I've never seen either of the two Ls in action before."
To the outside world, Near and L are one and the same. People say L realised he needed help shortly after he faked his own death. You're not sure of the logistics of that particular ploy. You vaguely remember that after he apparently died, he disappeared for a good four and a half years - presumed dead - before returning to the SPK, but the memory is hazy. It doesn't matter, anyway. Clearly it's all part of some genius plan that you'll never understand.
Together, they'll win. Everyone keeps saying that.
"Yeah," you say, and Dwayne doesn't hear you choke on the words. "He's brilliant."
"I...I don't know," the president babbles. "I need to consult with my ministers."
"You do that," Near says. He has Gevanni and Lidner with him. You're only there because you can't be trusted unsupervised, and Dwayne's there because L decided if you had company, you'd be less likely to become troublesome.
The problem is, Kira has worked out the weak point of the SPK.
You.
You've been kidnapped six times in the past two years. You don't know by whom, but they always manage to torture some crucial piece of information out of you before someone inevitably bursts in to save you. It's how he's managed to stay one step ahead of the investigation. Because of you, Kira goes on.
You can't bear to think about it.
Near comes back out.
"We're done here," he says, not to you. To the others. He walks right past you.
"Yes, sir," his cronies say in unison. Lidner spares you a tiny, sad little smile, and you wish she'd just ignored you, too.
You hate Near, and you'd like to hate her as well. It's just easier.
"Back to the parking lot, boss?" Gevanni asks, and you smile in spite of yourself. Near's third agent is waiting with the car, and he's by far your favourite.
"Hey," you say, and your voice sounds stupid and uneducated compared to Near's. "Hey...Near?"
You want to know. You want to ask him why you're always targeted by Kira's henchmen. You're not even sure exactly what you want to ask, or how you're going to word it. Sometimes, it feels like nothing makes sense. As if you've been dreaming all this time. As if you're living in a story written by someone else.
But the feeling only lasts for a second before it disappears. This is reality. You know it's real, it's painfully real. This is all you have, all you deserve.
"Please don't talk to me," Near says calmly. "I have important things to do right now."
"Okay," you say, and go back to looking at the ground. Dwayne digs a bag of mixed sweets out of his pocket, because neither of you can go without eating for more than six minutes.
'Addictive personality.'
It's written on L's file on you, alongside 'dim-witted', 'aggressive', 'tempermental', 'overweight', and 'to be considered as excess baggage'.
You caught a glimpse of it, once. Back when you were still convinced you were clever and one day you'd prove how useful you could be.
It had helped you understand what you know today. That you are nothing.
You dig out all the chocolate-covered sweets, and leave Dwayne to eat the plain ones. Serves him right.
You all arrive back at the car. It's heavily armoured and glossy-looking. He's there, sitting on the bonnet, legs crossed in front of him. He looks amazing in a a suit and tie. He's got the stupid goggles on, pushed up into his hair, and the wedding ring on his finger is polished so brightly you can see the glint of it even when you close your eyes.
"Near! How did it go, man?" he asks, warmly.
Near smiles.
"Exactly as predicted. He's reconsidering. That won't be enough on its own, of course."
"You're too hard on yourself," Matt says, smiling admiringly. "But then, you always are."
"I'm exactly hard enough," Near corrects, hopping into the car. He's so tiny that Gevanni has to help him step in.
"Lidner," Matt says. "It's been a while."
She arrived by aircraft, with Gevanni. You're not sure if there's something going on between the two of them, and you don't much care.
"It sure has," she says. "You get more handsome every day. How's the fiance? I haven't seen her in months. I can't believe you two losers haven't set a date yet."
He grins and pulls her into a hug, and your wish is granted. You hate her. For that one second, you despise her.
You're evil. You really are a terrible person. You just can't help it. Everyone says that.
Lidner follows Gevanni into the car, and Dwayne gets in on the other side, guffawing about something. Which leaves just the two of you.
"Hey," Matt says gently. "Haven't seen you for a while, either."
"No," you agree, staring at a spot on the parking-lot wall over his shoulder, because you haven't been able to look him in the eye in years. Your heart still skips, and you hate that too.
"They looking after you?" he asks, and he's the only person who ever asks how you are. Except for Jasmine, of course, but you consider Jasmine to be Satan, so it doesn't count.
"Oh, yeah," you say, stupidly. They treat you about as well as you deserve, can't ask for anything more. He knows your situation, anyway. It's a wonder he even bothers to talk to you.
You push a hand through your hair. It's sweaty and disgusting, and about an inch long. Your fringe is longer on one side than the other, because you like to pretend it covers some of the scar. Dwayne says it makes you look retarded, and he's probably right.
You have these memories, but they're so vague. You think maybe you used to have long hair, down past your chin. Like you remember being skinny and fitting into awesome clothes.
Wishful thinking. You're pretty sure you've always been fat and ugly. That's what Near tells you, anyway. He'd know. You don't remember much before you put that woman in the back of a truck and almost died of a heart attack. You're still not sure how you managed to live, because she wrote your name down. Your real name. You saw it there on the paper, after they'd rescued you.
Just one more thing you don't understand. Nothing unusual about that.
"Hey, you awake in there?" Matt asks, waving a gloved hand in front of your face. You track the movement of his fingertips with your eyes, because you're just that sad.
"Yes," you say quickly. "I'm fine. Sorry, what is it?"
"I wanted to ask you something," he says. "I mean, you were the first person to know that Jasmine and I were getting married, and I know we haven't set a date yet, but..."
"But what?" you ask, gently. You have no idea where the conversation could possibly go.
He ducks his head, smiling.
"You wanna be my best man?"
You don't know what to say. He'll cop all sorts of flack from putting you in that position. Heck, he's criticised just for voluntarily socialising with you. And no, no you don't want to be someone who's enabling this wedding that will make him ridiculously happy with someone else. No.
"Yes," you say, because you're powerless against him. "Yes, of course."
He pulls you into a hug.
Sometimes, you wish you'd just died in that truck.
The trouble with Matsuda is that he doesn't always understand that people aren't as friendly and open as he is, and therefore does things that could be considered annoying and completely inappropriate.
Like, for example, deciding that L's shoulder would be a good place to take a nap.
"How pathetic," Rae says flippantly as it passes, apparently making rounds of the building.
L ignores it in favour of staring at M's list. He's circled several entries. One is 'Souchiro Yagami'. Technically, it shouldn't even be there. He knows the chief wouldn't betray them, at least not intentionally. But then again, he has a ridiculously good heart, and L knows he can be fooled. Well, they were all fooled, weren't they?
Perhaps, finally, he'll contact Yagami.
Another name is 'Aiber'. T is supposed to be researching him, instead of drooling on the collar of L's shirt. He's heavy and warm. Sometimes, L wishes he'd never met Matsuda, either.
Hypothetically, Aiber might sell their information for money, L isn't certain enough of his values. But why only sell Matsuda? Surely L himself would fetch a much higher price.
Well, there are reasons, of course. Perhaps Aiber is holding out for a higher payment, or perhaps he believes L is in hell? And the same reasons could hypothetically be true for Ukita, as well. Even Matsuda's colleagues, who never really got involved in the Kira case, could link him to L. If they were swayed by money or power, then any one of them could be the informant.
And everyone is swayed by money. And power.
But the name that's really bothering him, underlined in red, is 'Yotsuba'. He knows the company has re-formed here, and obviously their ideals haven't improved even slightly since the first world. All the core members would have arrived not long after he did, so they'd have had ample time to put together this little vendetta. Presuming they weren't all in hell, of course.
"Nnn," Matsuda says, and puts his arms around L's waist, dangerously close to the hem of his shirt.
And the death note.
L shoves him awake.
"You were snoring," he says, by way of explanation. Matsuda rubs his eyes and sighs.
"Oh, sorry."
"That's okay," L tells him.
He wouldn't normally bother accepting an apology about such a trivial thing. Mello was always the one for apologies, not him. They always seem so useless. He's not sure why he feels the need to placate Matsuda.
"I guess I should get back to work," Matsuda says, rolling his chair back over to his own computer. "Oh geeze, it's after midnight."
"So it is," L agrees.
Which means it is now officially the day that Rae will leave to visit the Shinigami king, and that Rem is supposed to contact me.
What shall I do if she wants to meet up again? I can't speak to her here, in front of Matsuda. And I can't leave him.
Can I?
L shakes his head. Why couldn't Rem have said everything she needed to say last time? He'd never understand the inner workings of a death god's mind. If she expects him to drop everything again and go to some remote location to meet up, she's going to be disappointed.
His gaze slides to Matsuda, who is apparently conducting some sort of image search, which L highly doubts is related to Aiber.
Such a child, he thinks, and then realises with disgust that Rae said exactly the same thing.
He wants to see Rem again. It's refreshing to talk to someone else who knows of Rae, hates Rae, even. Her existence offers him a small amount of exactly the same sort of animalistic, improbable safety that Matsuda's presence also brings.
L sternly reminds himself that he doesn't need any of them. He can handle Rae. And whoever is out to hurt him now. And if Light ever, ever, ever shows up again, well, he'll handle Light, too. He needs no-one. Other people can be useful, but it's irresponsible to rely upon them.
And selfish to take comfort in them.
"What?" Matsuda asks him, derailing L's train of thought.
L glances at him.
"You were sucking your thumb really hard," Matsuda says. "I figured you must be working out something awesome,"
"And you thought it would be a good idea to interrupt me?" L asks, a little more scathingly than he'd intended.
"Oh, sorry," Matsuda says shyly. "I...I guess I just get carried away sometimes, watching you work. You're amazing. You're kind of my hero."
L stares at him for a moment.
"Go back to your research," he says sternly. "You can go to bed at two, if you need to."
He doesn't need any of them.
He doesn't need any of them.
Nothing bad can ever happen to you, Matsuda.
This time, Rae doesn't actually mention that it's going to leave, it just walks through the wall and doesn't come back. L notices a little of the tension release in his hands, and frowns. He needs to be less affected by the death god. He still occasionally has nightmares about its eyes.
He wonders if those eyes have special powers, beyond the normal Shinigami abilities.
Strange that Rae hasn't offered him the deal, now that he thinks of it. Surely that giant, evil thing would love to cut his lifespan in half.
Matsuda gets up at six, surprisingly, and flops back into his chair.
"It was a good idea moving my bed into the office," he says, immediately bright and cheerful. "Now I can nap whenever I want."
"Yes, you probably need another four hours yet," L says. "You shouldn't try to work while sleep deprived unless you've conditioned yourself to function that way."
"Okay," Matsuda says. "Maybe I'll take a nap after breakfast. Anyway, there's something I wanted to show you, first. I found it last night."
"Is it to do with the current case?" L asks, already knowing the answer.
"Not really?"
"I see."
Matsuda thrusts a piece of paper at him. It's a print-out of a painting. L takes it and examines it, mostly to appease his employee.
"Rebecca Remira," Matsuda adds. "Artist's impression of her shortly before she died. There aren't any other illustrations. I just. I knew you were interested in her case, and I did a quick search, and this came up. You can see she's missing one eye. Well, you can't. There's a patch over it. But you get what I mean, right?"
L holds up one hand to silence him.
If the drawing is correct, she was pretty. And taller than he'd expected. He's not even really sure why he takes a second look, why he's indulging Matsuda in any of this, but he does. Rebecca's face is pointed, strong chin, no wrinkles. Her hair hangs down to her shoulders in thick dreadlocks.
"She looks like a pirate, doesn't she?" Matsuda asks. "Here, I got you a picture of Mark, too."
He heads back over to the printer.
L should be thinking about how he needs to tell Matsuda to sit down and go back to work. He should be thinking about how he's going to monitor the man while in a meeting with someone no-one else can see. He should be thinking about Yotsuba, and whether they need to launch a formal investigation.
But all he can think, staring at the paper in his hands, is oh my god.
tbc
a/n
+ dwayne is totally my self-insert
+ I don't know how far away the next chapter will be.
+ I've been warned that the premise of this fic is overly complicated, so let me see if I can explain.
everyone in the fic is dead, it's essentially 'the afterlife'. ordinary and good people just go to a near-identical world to the one they were in before they died (the 'second world'). these people are not judged or trying to redeem themselves, they're just going about their business as if they were alive. people can be killed in this 'second world', and may or may not go onto a 'third world'. people who've done 'bad things' while alive, however, are put into hell where they are given just one chance to redeem themselves before they are stuck in hell forever. what 'hell' is depends on the person. hopefully explained more in later chapters.