notes/warnings

+ not necessarily for this chapter, but from here on in, warning for character death/s.

Discovery

"What?" Rae snarls.

"W-what?" Matsuda gasps.

"I am as intelligent, and probably both as selfish and child-like as Light was," L explains to him. "I very much doubt that I will ever be placed in a situation similiar to his, but I have to consider what would happen if someone ever decided to use another death note here, for the same purpose. It would be remiss of me to remove myself from that contingency plan simply because I believe that I am incapable of being corrupted."

He looks straight into Matsuda's eyes, something he's never really bothered to do before. They're dark brown, and a little wet, and so very human.

"I want you to be my failsafe," he pronounces. "Is that acceptable to you?"

"I can't believe you're even suggesting this," the other man wails, pressing his face to the pillow.

"I'm not a fairy tale character, T," L says firmly. "I am human, capable of error."

"No," Matsuda says, and there's strength in his trembling voice. "No. No! You are L You will always be a force of good. I look up to you. What's happened? What's made you say this to me now? Do you have a death note? L? L? Is there a Shinigami in the room?"

"Stop that nonsense," L chastises. "We were discussing possibility, not actuality. It is true that I am absolutely not Kira. I have no death note. There is no Shinigami. But I must account for all future possibilities."

It's so easy to lie. So easy, even when Rae's right there staring down at him. As a sleuth, he's never found honesty to be a particularly useful virtue, and L has disregarded it for most his life.

Justice is more important than the truth, after all.

"This is a part of what makes you so good, isn't it?" Matsuda sniffles. "The fact that you can suspect yourself."

"This needs to be our secret," L continues. "Just between the two of us. Do you understand?"

"Fine," Matsuda says, wiping at his eyes. "Fine. If you've asked me, then I'll do it. But... but damn you for asking this of me. What if it happens? What if I have to k-kill you? How will I live with myself?"

"You make me feel very safe, Matsuda," L says, a rare note of warmth in his voice. And he's ready to curl up and try and get back to sleep.

"I do?"

"Yes. Goodnight."

Of course, that's not the end of it, either. Matsuda gets to his feet.

"Can I get in with you?" he asks, tremulously, childlike. The way L must have sounded when he asked the same question a year ago.

An eye for an eye.

"If you must," L says. "Just this once."

"Are you insane? Do you want him to find out? What are you up to?" the Shinigami demands.

But it's okay. L knows Rae won't let Matsuda accidentally touch the note while he's asleep. He is, effectively, safe.

And he owes Matsuda this much, after all.

The other man curls up beside him, making the mattress dip so that L shifts too. Thankfully the bed is big enough that they don't touch. Matsuda doesn't say anything more, although L knows he's staring. There is nothing else to be said.

He sleeps, and pretends he can't hear the death god's sneer.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Lawliet."

They set up the third surveillance room for the phone conversation at midday. N takes him aside and asks him if he's sure he knows what he's doing.

She's noticed, then. She's noticed that more and more people have connections to L. Of course, when he'd been alive, it had never particularly occurred to him to shield his identity from the dying.

"I just don't know if it's safe to trust this Maddox character," she finishes, watching him expectantly. "Sometimes, I don't honestly believe you're taking enough precautions."

L tilts his head.

So now, three of my team have demonstrated an unprofessional attachment to me. This is getting dangerous.

Well, maybe it's time to nip that attachment in the bud.

"Then leave," he says bluntly. "If you're so concerned for your own safety."

She frowns at him.

"I'm not concerned for my safety."

"Then you ought to be," he tells her, daintily taking a sugar cube from the bowl and pushing it into his mouth. "If you feel I am lax about my own security, then you must believe I am negligent with regards to your own."

She gapes at him.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the most important person here," L says diffidently. "I'm hardly going to sacrifice myself and not the rest of you. You ought to have worked that out by now."

"I...you..." she sputters. "You what? You. How can you say that?"

She's angry. As planned.

L stares at her.

"Not everything I do may make immediate sense," he says flatly. "But if you do not feel you have been compromised, then rest assured I am perfectly safe."

She clenches both hands into fists.

"You bastard," she breathes, a momentary lapse in control. And then. "Fine. Understood. M will be in shortly."

She leaves without so much as a glance back, and L smugly reaches for more sugar. She'll doubtlessly tell R, and probably Matsuda, too.

A mild dislike between employer and employee is best in this sort of situation.

"Clever," Rae admits. "So does this mean you want to strike out on your own again?"

"Not at all," L says. Matsuda is working at his computer in the room proper. No one should be able to hear him. "They are loyal people. This ought to be just a little push in the right direction. To keep things professional."

"Hm. And after you've only just confessed your little heart out to the idiot, too."

"If anything, contempt for me should strengthen his ability to shoot me and unknowingly thwart you," L informs it. "You ought to be complaining right now."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Rae says arrogantly. "Everything is just fine."

M shuffles into the room without so much as a greeting. L never has to worry about M. He's not sure if M would be particularly bothered if anything happened to him. He's seventy-five percent confident M doesn't care about anything in the world.

Except, of course, the obvious. Because apparently, according to Rem's most recent revelations, Mello might actually be in this world.

And if he is, L will find him. Hunt him down. Drag him back home.

"Oh, hi M," Matsuda says, sticking his head in the door, apparently having reached the end of his pitifully short attention span. "What's up?"

"Haven't you got work to do?" M asks blandly. "Or do we pay to you stand around looking gormless?"

"I've been working," Matsuda protests. "I've been monitoring the CCTV from the entrance and around this building."

M shrugs. He fiddles with some of the wires and presses a few buttons, double-checking the security of the connection.

"Are you using a normal-sounding voice filter, or none at all?" he asks L.

"None, thank you," L tells him. "Is the robot set up outside?"

"Right next to a window, and back-lit," M reports.

"A robot? Oh man, I want to see the robot."

"It's just cardboard with a few joints and some electronics to make it move like a normal silhouette," M says, rolling his eyes. "It's nothing special."

"Oh. Right."

M leaves when he's done. Matsuda sits down next to L, and grins broadly.

"Guess what?"

"Given the vast number of possible options generated by the nonspecific nature of your question, I could be guessing all day," L informs him. "Tell me what you want to tell me."

"Well, I got bored just staring at nothing, so I started to look up some of the older CCTV tapes from the time that Wedy and I were being stalked."

"And?"

"And just two hours before we encountered them, there's footage of them meeting up with another man in a bar in Paddington."

"I see. But I also notice you have not brought me a picture of this man."

"Well, no. I contacted Wedy first, to see if she recognised him."

L frowns, mostly for Matsuda's benefit.

"Wedy ahead of me?"

"I wanted to prove I could do something on my own," he says enthusiastically. "I'd like to make you feel even safer."

L feels a strange rush of warmth at that, and for a split second he is struck dumb, wanting to lean up against Matsuda and hang on. He shakes his head fiercely.

"All right. What happened?"

"Wedy said his name was Terry Bufu, a small-time car salesman. Arrested for numerous crimes and never convicted."

"We can have M hack into his financial records," L says. "He may be some sort of contact for Eve."

"Wait, there's more. I, um, took the liberty of searching for contacts myself."

L raises one eyebrow.

"You've been at that computer for approximately one hour. How could you possibly have found anything in that short space of time?"

"Well, I was only searching for certain names," Matsuda says awkwardly. "And look what I found. Three years ago, he had a business contract with Eiichi Takahashi."

L observes the older man carefully.

"You did a search for all the names of the executives of Yotsuba, I gather?"

"Well, yeah. I just. I think it might be them."

"You're not the only one to have those feelings," L informs him.

Matsuda shifts his weight uncomfortably.

"I'm being rash and jumping to conclusions again, aren't I?" he asks miserably.

"No," L says keenly. "You are progressing well. Thank you, Matsuda. Please go back to your research."

Matsuda lights up like the inside of Rae's chest and sort of twirls out of the room.

L checks his watch.

Thirteen minutes until midday.

L's already forty-one percent certain he knows who Maddox is.

"I'm ready to start tracing," M informs him through the intercom. "N and R are monitoring the robot at the window. We're all ready to go."

"I thought N was supposed to be contacting me," L asks calmly. There's no point in trying to sound surprised, any inflection will be lost on M.

"She says she would prefer not to speak to you right now," M informs him. "Not sure why."

Exactly as planned.

"All right. Tell everyone to stay in their positions."

He takes his finger off the intercom and glances at Matsuda. The man is happily working at his computer, his work ethic apparently having improved in leaps and bounds since L's offhanded compliment.

The phone rings; a high, shrill bleat. The display shows a number that matches the one they've been using to contact Casey.

"He's calling," L informs M. "Tell the others."

"Got it."

L takes the phone from the receiver, but does not speak. He waits.

So does Casey Maddox.

Over a minute of mutual silence drags past.

Who throws down the gauntlet? L thinks. It all comes down to which of us speaks first.

Tick, tick, tick.

It's so quiet. L listens to the faint hum of the traffic outside, and the uneven footsteps of the pigeons on the awnings. He peers at Matsuda, who has stopped typing and is now scribbling things down on a piece of paper. He's also casting sporadic grins at the one-way glass, apparently hoping L will be watching and see him.

L shakes his head indulgently. And then, feeling charitable, he speaks.

"Yes?"

The silence on the other end of the line goes on for another six seconds or so, just long enough to be awkward.

"L?"

L can't pick the voice of everyone he's ever met from just one syllable, but he's been expecting this.

"Soichiro."

"It is you," the man says gruffly. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure."

Something about their conversation has attracted L's Shinigami, who strides into the room and hangs over him.

"I hear you're the second-best gunsman in the world," L says conversationally. "I suppose congratulations are in order?"

It doesn't really surprise him. Soichiro has always been determined, intelligent and hard-working. With his demanding police career firmly behind him, it's only natural that he should channel his talents into some other aspect of his life.

"I have nothing to celebrate," the man says harshly. "I would like to request that we keep this conversation strictly to the business at hand. And...and don't expect me to apologise for the wrongdoings of any members of my family. It's not my place."

"Of course it isn't," L murmurs. "But if you truly wish to distance yourself from the past, why would you want to speak to me?"

"What else have I got left to believe in?" he asks, and he sounds exhausted. "I'm certainly not interested in helping yet another proxy of yourself. I've had well and truly enough of second Ls and fake Ls and new Ls. But if it's really you, I'll do what I can for you."

"You believe in me?" L questions. "But I failed you."

"You sure did," Rae says happily.

"I'm not surprised that you failed. I myself was such a stumbling block for you. I never should have insisted -"

"It's all right," L cuts him off. If Soichiro Yagami gets reflective and self-deprecating, the conversation might go on for hours. "It's not your fault. Listen, has anyone recently offered you money to kill people close to me?"

There's a pause. L fancies he can hear the other man thinking, hear the cogs in his mind twist and grind. He's deciding how much he wants to say.

Clearly, L has taught him well.

"Yes. Or at least, I've been offered money to target someone who could be close to you," is the cagey reply. "Obviously I don't know if they're actually affiliated with you. But if you really are L, then you know of them."

So Soichiro still doubts him. L knows where this is probably going, but he's not particularly happy about it.

"I see," he muses. "Then, would you consider agreeing to their contract in order to help us uncover their identity?" he asks.

Matsuda's Bufu-Takahashi link will not be enough to prosecute, however carefully researched. He knows that. They need Soichiro.

There's another pause.

"You know I'd rather not get involved with any of this, don't you?" he asks, finally. "I don't want anything to do with the police. At all."

"Why is that?"

"You have to ask?"

"Yes," L confirms.

"I don't think I could ever look a police officer in the eye again," Soichiro says bitterly. "After everything...after I produced a mass murderer, after-"

"Still not your fault," L interrupts politely. "You are not your son. Any current or past member of the police force would be a fool to think badly of you. And you were an excellent officer."

"No."

"No you weren't, or no, you are refusing to help us?"

"If you're going to play games, I can hang up right now."

"I'm being quite sincere."

He must know they'll be trying to track the call. He's likely to be using either a public or a communal phone. N said he was reported to be living on-base, so maybe it's a military phone.

L wonders idly how he wound up in the military in the first place. From 'chief of police' to 'grunt'. Hardly a sound career move.

"I don't believe you," Soichiro says, simply. "And to be blunt, before I agree to any accord with your group, I want to see you. Face to face. I want to know it's really you."

He's fallen, cut down to half the man he was before, L realises. He's fallen, just like Mail. Just like Rem, and Mello, and Misa, and maybe even Matsuda.

Everyone who ever crossed paths with Light - even briefly - is damaged.

Even L himself. A little too soft, a little too human, a little too frightened.

But not frightened enough, he thinks, eyeing the Shinigami.

L can put himself back together again. He's always been unusually fast to heal. Watari once theorised that that particular ability was the only thing protecting him from diabetes and heart disease.

L always told Watari that it wasn't about immunity, it was just biology. L had a strong body. He'd die when he was meant to die.

Meant to die.

It was Matsuda who'd explained to him about the Shinigami eyes. That everyone had a designated lifespan that could be cut short using a death note. That a human who traded half of their remaining years with a god of death could obtain the power to see the real name and lifespan of every other living person.

Such a fascinating ability. And one that Soichiro himself had, briefly, possessed.

L wonders if he still has that ability. It's difficult to say which traits are carried with someone when they die. Mail isn't full of bullet wounds, and R's heart works just fine. But L has some old scars on his feet that he definitely remembers obtaining while still alive. He knows one of them, at least, is from stubbing his toe on the sofa when he got into a fistfight with Light.

He'd rather not have kept that particular scar. He'd rather not remember quite so clearly.

He's getting sidetracked. If Soichiro has the eyes, he'll know L has a death note as soon as he sees L's face.

"You must understand that I would be concerned about such a meeting," L replies, voice neutral. "Obviously, if your loyalties are elsewhere, it would be the perfect trap for me."

"That's my offer, take it or leave it."

"You're in Canada," L says. "Do you expect me to leave the safety of my home to come and see you, given the present situation?"

"I was thinking of somewhere more...middle ground."

"Between England and Canada? Are you suggesting we meet in Iceland?"

"Not quite. Newfoundland. Terra Nova National Park."

"Much close to you than it is to me," L points out mildly.

"Five pm tomorrow. Take it or leave it."

L cocks his head, his gaze drawn to the shape of the man working furiously in the room outside.

L cannot leave Matsuda alone. Matsuda must stay inside the building to be safe. Soichiro is their only reliable option for bringing down Eve. Engaging Soichiro means L must leave the building. If Eve is not stopped, it is doubtful that Matsuda will always be protected just by being kept indoors.

Therefore, the very first statement must be rendered untrue. L doesn't like it, but he's not about to let that cloud his better judgement.

"And I have your word that if I am truly L, you will help us?"

"Yes."

He trusts Matsuda, anyway. He decided that just last night. It must be so.

"Done," L says decisively. "See you tomorrow."

"You're leaving me?" Matsuda asks, somewhat gleefully. "Does this mean you finally recognise that I'm not going to do anything stupid?"

"It would seem that way," L says tiredly. He shouldn't be tired. He slept just last night. "I leave very early tomorrow morning. I expect you to keep yourself confined to this room and continue the research I've outlined for you. Any deviations from this plan need to be referred to me, first."

"I understand," Matsuda says effusively. "I won't let you down."

Rae makes a derogatory noise. The Shinigami seems to be uncharacteristically happy. L has been double-checking every decision he's made and every task he's undertaken, but he cannot detect any errors or misjudgements. Nothing in the near future ought to lead to his imminent demise.

Perhaps the death god has simply gone mad. L considers this thoughtfully. Possibly it has always been mad, if its eyes are any indication.

"Do you think Eve is going after anyone else?" Matsuda asks.

L wonders if anyone from Eve will recognise Soichiro as the old chief of police. If they're truly Yotsuba, then they shouldn't. If they aren't, then they might. He may need to disguise himself, or insist on remote contact only. Yes, that might be better. Yotsuba was prepared to hire Coil without seeing his face, after all. And L wants Eve to be Yotsuba, because then he knows exactly what he's dealing with.

But that doesn't make it so.

And besides, it's always possible that there's more than one big group or company involved in this. There's no doubt that plenty of individuals here have good reason to take revenge on L.

Could there be some sort of collaboration?

He's speculating without evidence. A useless and necessary part of the deductive process.

"Doubtlessly," L replies calmly. A woman was murdered in Munich last week. Drive-by shooting. Unknown killers. She had been a popular lingerie model who'd helped L with a high-profile case before.

The problem was, there was no method. Nothing to be learned. These people - Eve - they weren't doing anything clever. They weren't using a killer notebook or Shinigami eyes or burning secret messages into the ground. They were just shooting people. And when the hit-men were caught, they'd hire more.

It was vexing, to be wasting so much time on such a thuggish and simple-minded case. If Eve had targeted anyone else in the world, L would never have bothered to get involved.

L flexes his toes, and absently reaches for another slice of cake. It's the type Watari makes himself, filled with fresh fruit and cream. Matsuda goes back to his research, humming under his breath. He moves awkwardly, even when he's writing. His shoulder jerks every time he moves from one line to the next, and his writing is too flamboyant, his hand flies all over the page like a crab having a panic attack.

L watches him for a long time, and is disgusted to find himself thinking 'I'll only be gone for a day. Nothing is likely to happen in twenty-four hours.'

There's a point zero two percent chance that something will happen while he's away. That's practically negligible, from a statistical perspective.

And even if it does, he's L.

He doesn't need anyone.

Matsuda wakes up when L's leaving, but he pretends to still be asleep. L is standing beside his bed, regarding his pathetically small suitcase. Really, the guy is a superstar. He ought to at least own luggage that wasn't darned in five places and falling apart at the corners.

Privately, Matsuda thinks it kind of sucks for L, the way heaven is so similar to real life. The man did so much when he was alive - locked away so many criminals, kept so many people safe, made so many difficult decisions, brought so much justice - that it was ridiculous and downright selfish of the world to expect him to keep doing it for the rest of forever. He should be placed on a throne, in a proper version of heaven, with angels and clouds and music and grapes. Or maybe grape-flavoured cake. And gorgeous women all around him. Or men. Or both. Matsuda's not sure which way L swings.

Or if L swings at all.

No, that's too sad to even think about. Surely he must have had someone. Somewhere. Once, at least.

Surely.

Anyway, Matsuda has done his part. L officially trusts him. Trusts him! He is no longer a burden. He is an equal member of the team. Finally.

Matsuda grins and snuggles into his mattress. L is scratching his head and looking around the room, head completely still and eyes methodically scanning from one wall to the other.

And then he starts talking.

"Is that right?" he asks, barely a whisper, gaze coming to rest on a place about two metres from the ground and several metres to the left of Matsuda's bed.

"That's fascinating. No, really," he deadpans. "Do tell me again."

Matsuda feels his heart speed up.

What...who is he talking to? What?

This is bizarre.

The pattern of L's speech isn't like his regular thoughtful monologue. He sounds like he's having an ordinary conversation with someone who simply isn't there.

"Or maybe you really are just running out of options," L continues, a hint of satisfaction in his usually-emotionless voice.

Okay, okay, calm down, think. You're a rational adult, starting this morning. L appears to be talking to himself. Maybe he's...oh, maybe he's still asleep. Maybe he's overslept and now he's sleepwalking and acting out a conversation in his dreams.

Yeah.

That must be it.

Unless he's actually gone mad.

Matsuda mentally reprimands himself. L is like, a god, or something. He can't have gone mad, he's a force of nature. Unbreakable. Even Light only beat him because he was using something celestial that L couldn't possibly predict.

"Do you honestly think I'd consider that even for a moment?" L asks the air softly, amused. "Even now, my suspicions of Yotsuba are barely fifty-two percent."

Matsuda wonders if what L is saying in his dreams is true. He suspects Yotsuba a lot, then. Matsuda's already convinced, but Naomi is always telling him off for jumping to conclusions. Just like R is always telling him off for acting irrationally. And M is always telling him off for breathing.

But if L trusts him, that's enough. Who cares what anyone else thinks.

L is silent for a while, and Matsuda's thoughts drift to Wedy. His heart skips a little, she makes him silly. Or more silly than usual, anyway. She hasn't contacted him in a few days, though. Maybe she's gotten sick of him. Like everyone else. He's never been sure whether she's serious, or whether he's just a toy for her. Something to pass the time. Maybe. Probably.

Maybe if L told her he trusted Matsuda, she'd think better of him.

"I am completely aware that I know the names and faces of all of the executives," L whispers. "But, as I'm certain I've told you before, I will not use the note."

Matsuda's blood runs cold.

He's dreaming. He's still dreaming. He's got to be dreaming.

Shinigami are just over two metres tall. If there really were a Shinigami in the room, L's looking at exactly the right place to be talking to it's face.

And he mentioned a note. Names and faces. Matsuda had speculated he'd had a note.

That's enough, he tells himself sternly. I trust L. L is my mentor. L is my hero. He doesn't have a death note, and he's not talking to a Shinigami. He's just dreaming, and reliving the Kira case.

He wishes his heart would get the message, and stop thumping so violently. He clings to the pillowcase, like it'll protect him from any evil in the room.

There is no evil in the room. There is no evil in the room. There is no evil in the room.

In a minute, someone will come for L and Matsuda will see him wake up with a jolt, and then he'll know.

Watari raps on the door not five minutes later.

"Your car is ready, L."

L turns to him, gracefully, without so much as a twitch.

"I am ready, Watari."

Matsuda watches them leave, eyes blown wide open, fist opening and closing over the flimsy cloth, unable to concentrate, unable to think.

He wasn't asleep.

No.

No!

No, no, no, no, no!

He hits his head against the end of the bed, panicked and terrified. L has a death note. L has a Shinigami. And no-one else knows about it.

Matsuda stares at the ceiling, trembling and feeling absolutely, completely alone.

What am I supposed to do now?

tbc

a/n

+ thank you.

+ next chapter up as soon as I finish it, but it might be a week or so. my apologies.