notes/warnings:
+ swearing.
+ attempts to discuss someone's sex life, albeit not very successfully.
+ mildly implied physical/sexual abuse.
Faux
Her life has been absolute hell ever since she arrived in this place. First, she was kidnapped – again – and sold into slavery to pay off the debt of some worthless and unknown family member. She then became the property of Big Jason, a mafia boss with too much money and a god complex.
As if she would ever believe that such a disgusting creature could be god. She knows who god is. She met him. She knows.
And all she wants is to see him again. To claim what is rightfully hers, finally. After all of this suffering and degradation. After years apart. After death. After everything.
Jason considers her family's debt paid after five years of service. Today. Finally. His paid thugs unfasten the manacles from her slender arms and lead her to a washroom. They even bring her clothes to wear. Fine clothes, like she deserves.
Oh yes. Things are finally going her way.
She pins her hair back and descends the stairs unassisted. Jason is waiting by the car, clad in a crisp cream suit and designer sunglasses. An expensive cigar dangles from his foul lips. She hates him with every fibre of her being, but he is a powerful man. She has to respect that, at the very least.
She would like to be powerful, too.
"The limousine will take you to the nearest town," he drawls. "You'll have to make your own way from there."
"Thank you," she replies curtly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I never want to see your face again."
He grins at her boyishly. He chills her to the core. How can a person have so little perspective? He uses people mercilessly. And then he lends money to another struggling family in exchange for another human toy.
He is despicable.
"Aw, come on. It wasn't all bad, was it? We had some fun."
It was all bad. She will have nightmares for years to come, maybe for the rest of…however many lives she has left. But that doesn't matter. How she feels doesn't matter. Everything will be bearable once she finds him.
"Well, that's mostly why I came to see you one last time," Jason tells her. "You see, I've got a proposition for you."
"The answer is 'no'," she replies glibly. "Now please move out of my way."
She cannot stand the sight of him. She has memories, very fresh memories, of him leering at her while he…while…
"No problem. It's just…heck, I like you. I thought I'd make you an offer. See, I've got this guy in high security at one of my other properties. He was a down payment, like you."
"That is not my problem," she informs him harshly.
"Of course it isn't," he agrees smugly. "It's just that I've heard you mention his name. Thought you ought to know that his head goes on the chopping block in three months. And his family don't have a nickel to spare. So sad. Smart guy, too. He could probably work the money off himself, if he weren't impounded."
Big Jason sounds positively gleeful about the whole situation.
"What was his name?" she asks, a little too quickly.
"Name?" Jason asks, curling his lip. "Hmm. Hmm. Japanese guy. Ya…tako? Yachiko? They all sound the same. Yagami?"
"Light!" she blurts out, her heart racing.
"That's it! That's the one. Psychopath. Boy, is he some fun to play with. Heh."
"Stop it," she demands frantically, bile and terror rising in her throat. "Stop it! Let him go. Don't you understand that he is god? He won't forgive you for this! You need to let him go!"
Jason has Light. No. This is not acceptable. She needs to make another deal with him. Something. Anything.
"Well, unless you want to pay off his debt," Jason muses, pursing his lips. "But I wouldn't let a guy like that go easily. It'd be…expensive."
"I can pay. You know I can pay," she says quickly. "What do you want? Five years? Ten years?"
Light will make it all worth her while, when she saves him. The world will treat her with respect. An Aphrodite. A queen. A god.
"I don't want your miserable little body any more," he sneers. "I want solid payment. You'd have to take on a job for me."
Kill someone? That's fine. She's good at that.
"Name the job."
Jason laughs horribly.
"For Yagami? You'd have to take out my worst enemy."
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a thick envelope. With disgust, she realises that he has predicted her actions perfectly.
Utter, utter bastard. He will get his comeuppance. Oh yes. Kira does not like bullies.
"That shouldn't be a problem," she assures him.
"Oh, this will be a problem. In here is everything I know about him, which can be summed up in five words. The detective known as L."
She almost laughs.
"You want me to kill an enigma?"
"Said it would be hard, didn't I?" he crows. "Eh, why not just leave it? You're beautiful. You'll find some other guy, right?"
"I'll do it," she reiterates. L was Light's first enemy. It will be a pleasure to send him to an early grave. Again.
Justice will prevail. No more wars. No more suffering. A perfect world. Their perfect world.
"Excellent. Inside is also something to help you with your quest. Use it however you wish. I have taken measures to ensure that you cannot harm me."
She takes the envelope, which turns out to be surprisingly heavy. Then Jason helps her into the car. The touch of his clammy hand makes her skin crawl, but she consoles herself with thoughts of freeing Light.
She is technically a free woman. Technically.
"Thank you," she replies stonily.
"You have three months," he continues, leaning in the window. "Three months until he accidentally dies. Good luck."
When they reach the nearest town, she locks herself in a public restroom and tears open the envelope. Inside is a notebook, bound in leather, achingly familiar.
"Hiya, toots," someone says from right behind her.
Things go smoothly for the next six weeks or so. They power through the cases. L does not dwell on his own inadequacies, and Rae is generally able to restore its eyes easily and quickly whenever they change. Sometimes L needs to join in and aggravate, but usually it can find some flaw of his to rage about without any assistance whatsoever.
The two of them save a lot of lives and catch a lot of criminals, and L becomes grudgingly satisfied with his life once more.
"I am fourteen percent certain that the murderer works at the same facility as the last two victims. What do you think?"
"I think you are far too certain," Rae replies derisively. "This guy is clever. He wouldn't kill people with whom he could be so easily linked. And Yates Incorporated is a cutthroat business. People would suspect workmates."
"Absolutely correct," L intones. "My actual percentage was about point eight."
"You were testing me?" Rae asks, obviously trying not to laugh out loud. "You're certainly feeling confident tod-"
"Brown," L warns.
"You elitist, arrogant dick! You sit there, and you criticise other people, and you humiliate people, and you fucking torture people, and you stink, and-"
"You're good."
Rae sighs and relaxes again.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Where were we before we started discussing my personal hygiene?"
"Probably not a colleague," the Shinigami reiterates, slipping straight back into detective mode. "Which leaves, what? How deeply have we investigated those that benefited from his will?"
"I was thinking the same thing," L replies cheerfully. "We ought to…someone is coming. Mail, I think. The footsteps are too light to be anyone else."
"Oh," Rae says, with a strange lilt to its voice that L doesn't like. "Oh. Should I leave the room, then?"
L rolls his eyes. Does the Shinigami actually, honestly think he has romantic feelings for Mail? The man is like a son to him. Like a son. A son who has been studiously avoiding him for quite some time now.
Mail kicks the door open in lieu of knocking. It is a habit that he picked up from Mello, and it makes L's heart ache a little.
If he gets close enough to Rae, maybe he can finally find that loophole he's been searching for. There ought to be some sort of trial, at the very least. He ought to be able to speak for Mello.
Redemption. Maybe that is the replacement for a fair trial. How archaic. Throw the witch in the water and see if she drowns.
"M."
"L," Mail replies gruffly. "My computers are outdated. I need to replace all of the parts to keep working."
"That is not a problem," L tells him. "Tell Watari what you need. The price is irrelevant."
"Right. Thanks."
The younger man turns to leave. His hair is tied back with a rubber band, and his clothes are so filthy and ill-fitting that he makes L look like an up-and-coming fashion model.
"Matt."
The single syllable stops him dead in his tracks.
"I hope you're referring to the thing covering your carpet," he says darkly. "Because that name is dead. It died with him."
"I'm afraid it is still how I think of you," L admits gently.
"I don't fuckin' care!"
"I don't blame you," L continues. "But please, return to the way you were before the night we got drunk. Your aversion to me is starting to affect the quality of your work."
"Aww, you want him back," Rae croons.
Mail stomps over to his desk, eyes flint-hard and cold.
"It's not like you even really need the rest of us," he hisses. "You already solve most of the cases on your own. Why don't you just go off by yourself?"
"I will not leave you," L assures him steadily, and Mail wrinkles his nose and backs away. "That is not a proposition, Mail. We have a business arrangement, do we not?"
"I know!" Mail replies, in a slightly softer tone that indicates perhaps he did not know at all. "I know, I just. I have run out of things to try, and I told you things, and they were my things, and then you touched me, and I'm his, damnit! And why do you care about me? Just, just, just…just fuck off, okay? Leave me alone. Treat me like you treat that man. And if you don't need us any more, then just go!"
L runs the words through his head a few times, and still has no idea what exactly Mail is feeling. Which means that Mail probably has no idea what he's feeling, either. All he knows is how to grieve.
"He needs counselling," Rae declares. "And possibly sex. Hey, you can do both of those things. Can't you? Can you? You know, I've never even seen you-"
"I would leave," L replies loudly. "If I did not need you, M, I would leave. This is a lull, that is all. I am taking on some easier cases to pass the time. You may do the same. The important thing is that we are all here, together, when the more difficult criminals start causing trouble once more."
"Huh."
"You know that it is true," L continues. "I do not indulge in unnecessary emotional attachment. I care for you because you are valuable to me. Because you are the best at your job. And… I know you are his. I have not stopped knowing that for a second. Affection is not automatically the same as romance, you know."
Mail seems to be fighting with some unknown inward force.
"I know," he mutters, finally. "Whatever. Just don't touch me again. And…and you should care about him, not me!"
He strides out of the room without another word, his coat flapping behind him. L watches him until he is out of sight, and then gets up to pull the door shut.
"He wants you," Rae pipes up, unhelpfully. "I'm two hundred percent certain."
"No, you are being a tool," L quips.
"I was not. And I was somewhat serious. Maybe you need to dump your father complex and sleep with him. It might make him realise there are other people in the world."
"I have every confidence that doing so would destroy any trust he had left in me, and probably lead to him killing a lot of people from lack of direction," L replies.
"'Every confidence' isn't even a specific value," Rae crows. "You're totally not sure. Besides, maybe you need it, too."
"Because suddenly, inexplicably, you care about my needs. When it suits your purpose, which is presumably to sabotage our working relationship?"
"Say what you like," Rae huffs. "I've been with you for four years, and in that time I've never even seen you touch yourse-"
"Stop. How do you even know so much about sex?"
Rae shrugs.
"I spend a lot of my time with humans. Most of them tend to actually have relationships now and then."
You spend a lot of time with humans, or you are human? Were human? How long has it been since you entered hell. Or are you one of the ones Rem spoke of, who are tested before they enter hell? How long has this test been going on?
What are you supposed to do? Make me use the death note?
"I see," L replies dismissively. "With your apparently extensive knowledge of human emotions, surely you can see that Mail is deeply in love with someone else?"
If your eyes are becoming damaged, does that mean your time is running out?
"Yes," Rae agrees. "Yes, I can. And so can you. But whatever you say, you do love him. And I'd wager you'd do anything for him. Even if it was only going to make him the slightest bit happier. Isn't that right?"
L suspects that statement is exactly right, but he prefers not to think about it.
Rae continues to have nightmares, and L wakes early one morning to find it leaning heavily on its arms, clutching the floor like it is frightened of falling.
"It is just a dream," L says, comfortingly. "It is neither real, nor symbolic."
"You and I both suspect it is symbolic," Rae grits. "I just…that boy. I hate him!"
"Do you? What does he look like?"
L crawls out of bed, and ambles over to squat next to his Shinigami.
"I don't know," Rae snarls. "Not anyone that I recognise."
"Hair colour?"
"I don't know! I didn't pay that much attention."
"You said he seemed important somehow," L counters. "Eye colour?"
"Brown," Rae whispers. "That's…that's the thing, L. They're…it's like he is possessing me."
Interesting. Is that the human I'm seeing in you, then?
"Brown is the most common eye colour in the world," L reasons. "Even if you were being possessed, there is no particular reason to blame this boy. Besides, your personality doesn't exactly change."
Not exactly. Maybe a little. It's as if one is a softer version of the other. Brown-eyed Rae and red-eyed Rae.
"I know. I just. I hate this. I hate all of this. I just want to become king and make the worlds better places to live. Why is this happening to me?"
So frightened.
I am sorry.
Today, they solved three cases. Three. He cannot deny it. Rae is a part of his team, now. Rae is under his care.
"I don't know," L replies firmly. "But I promise you, I will do everything I can to protect you."
"From what?" Rae asks. "From imaginary boys? From disability? From failure?"
It doesn't ask him if he will write in the note.
"I don't know, yet," L tells it. "But I will find out. Brown."
"I fucking hate everything," Rae howls, punching at the air, bitterly angry.
This time, its eyes do not change back.
"Hm. Two convicted murderers dropped dead yesterday, and another five this morning. Suspected heart attacks. Strange."
"This is ridiculous," Rae mutters.
"That another death note might be circulating?" L asks, shoving another fistful of liquorice into his mouth.
"No. That my eyes aren't reverting," Rae snaps, like that is the only thing going on in the world. "It's been almost two days. I can't see anyone's name or lifespan. You promised to protect me!"
"I am sorry," L replies, guiltily. "I have been thinking about it, I assure you. I believe the king is lying to you."
"Lying about what?"
"I don't know, yet," L confesses. "But I think if we can figure that out, we will know how to treat your condition."
"I can't take you to see the king," Rae tells him, knocking its skull against the wall. "He refuses to consort with humans."
"And the queen?"
"Is completely useless."
"Could we use that to extract information from her?" L asks hopefully.
"Definitely not. She and the king absolutely support each other."
"Right, okay. Can you contact Rem?"
"Er. No. How would that be useful?"
"She knows more about the Shinigami realm than you do," L protests, feeling a little insulted on Rem's behalf.
"And she despises me. She'd be happy to let me fall to pieces, L!"
"Right, right. I need to think about this for a little longer, then. Maybe a lot longer."
Fixing Rae's eyes is easily the most difficult task he has ever accepted. He has absolutely no idea of even the basic biology of a Shinigami.
"I'll look into the strange criminal deaths, then," Rae grumbles.
"You could work on getting angry," L suggests.
"I've been furious at least six times an hour since this started. I've raged about the king, and this task, and the weather, and various humans, and Rem, and many other things. There is no improvement."
Yes. That much is painfully obvious. L's brilliant strategy has suddenly ceased to yield results. And there is no apparent explanation, no trigger that L can locate. Rae has had the nightmare hundreds of times before, and nothing else has changed. Not externally, anyway. It is certainly still capable of fury, so the change is somewhere in the completely ambiguous connection between Rae's emotion and Rae's iris colour.
But he has solved impossible cases before.
"I see. I will keep thinking."
"I don't see how you are going to come up with an answer when I cannot," the Shinigami tells him. "But I appreciate it, I suppose."
"I keep my promises," L replies simply.
Chillingly, the killings do not stop. They merely diversify. Two in China, four in New Zealand, one in Russia, and three in Canada. All convicted serial killers. All died of heart attacks.
L rubs at his face. There is no denying where this is going, certainly not to himself.
"This is strange," Rae notes, tracing the screen with one skeletal finger. "It's like-"
"Kira," L interrupts tersely. "I know."
He just doesn't know why. He feels as if his chest has been put in a vice. It is happening again. It is all happening again.
How long before he hears the bells?
"Are you okay?" Rae probes. "You're breaking out in a sweat, L."
"It can't be him again," L says weakly. "It can't be."
"You're talking about Kira, right? Of course it can't be him. This person has no obvious purpose. They're killing random criminals, and not very many at once. There are far more names and faces being advertised on international news. Why stop at so few? This person is seeking attention, not justice. This must be a copycat."
L sucks in a deep, noisy breath, and tries to force away the fear that grips him. Light isn't here. Light is in hell. Even if - heaven forbid – he is released from hell, he will go to the third world. Not here.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, scrubbing at his face. "I just…"
"You were pretty screwed over by that case, weren't you?" Rae surmises, sounding almost concerned. "Maybe you shouldn't have taken him on, if you were going to get hurt so badly."
"I had to. I had to then, and I have to now. Copycat or original, this new killer is my responsibility, too."
"You realise this person probably has a death note, right?" the Shinigami points out unnecessarily. "It will still be dangerous. But, you know. This is different. You won't be alone."
"You're going to help me? I thought you'd be supporting this sort of thing," L queries, surprised.
"Strangely enough, I'm not a fan of people who kill for attention. Faux-Kira is no better than his victims."
L taps on the desk idly, and without any particular rhythm.
"But this is not fair. I promised you I would solve the problem with your eyes, first. I cannot ask you to assist me when I am abandoning your cause."
"Temporarily, right?" Rae asks, and L nods hard. "Right. Then I have decided that we will both focus on this case and get it solved as soon as possible. I can deal with these eyes for a little while."
"That sounds like the right decision," L says warmly, and smiles.
He is not alone.
"So how is killing random criminals going to help you uncover L's real name?" Ryuk enquires loudly, tiny pieces of apple spraying from his mouth.
She smiles at him coldly, but doesn't glance up from her notebook. She's so boring. He hates assignments.
"Light told me about this man," she says softly. "He was fascinated by Kira. If it seems that Kira has returned, L will do everything in his power to get close to him."
"Ah, got it. So you're letting him come to you?"
"Correct."
"So, you're just going to sit in front of that computer twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, until L comes knocking on your front door?"
"Also correct."
Damn. He possibly might die of boredom. And lack of apples, because he's just eaten the last one. Doesn't this lady ever need food? Doesn't anyone ever do anything interesting any more?
Three weeks until he can make his big suggestion, according to the script. Until then, he will have to amuse himself and lay low.
"Swell," he grumbles, and decides to check the cupboards. One more time. Just in case anything interesting has appeared.
"I believe faux-Kira is residing in the United States," L concludes. "Each day, he seems to target the criminal who has made the most national headlines. The rate of killing has also changed, considering that in the initial period, several killings took place on a daily basis"
"Different pattern," the Shinigami says thoughtfully. "See? Attention-seeking."
"I don't doubt it," L says, indulgently. "You have done well."
"I know."
When it is not angsting about its eyes, Rae has been inexplicably cheerful of late. It hasn't even shouted at him in a while, which is nice.
"I suppose we have been lucky to avoid copycats thus far, really," he intones. "Kira is still worshipped in some parts of the world. And there are a lot of people seeking that level of fame."
"Well, yeah, but what bothers me is that our new friend doesn't even share Kira's ideals," Rae points out. "A death note in the wrong hands is a dangerous thing."
"The wrong hands?" L chuckles. "What, are you telling me that Light Yagami used it responsibly?"
"Was there a lower crime rate?" Rae asks.
"Yes, but there was also a criminal on the loose who was worse than all the others combined," L counters carefully. "That argument is irrelevant."
"But aren't we trying to reduce the crime rate?"
"We are trying to bring some justice to the world. There is a difference, Rae," L explains. In some ways, the Shinigami is more mature than he is. And yet, at times, it is so childish and idealistic that he worries for its future subjects.
"Look, if that is all true, then why are you okay with me selectively killing evil people with the death note?"
"You are not a human," L states. "I do not worry about your actions because they fall outside of my jurisdiction. What you do will be considered an act of nature. It is not up to a human to condemn other humans to death in such a manner."
"So you are vehemently against countries that still have the death penalty in place?"
"That is different. There is a trial. There is evidence. Multiple people decide. The process is complicated and difficult. Murder should not be easy, Rae. We humans should never take it lightly."
"Har har."
"Yes, quite. Now, the question is, is faux-Kira seeking the attention of anyone in particular?"
"You are so vain, do you know that?"
"I didn't necessarily mean me," L clarifies. "He might be looking for Light himself. Or Misa Amane. Or any of the original Kira's followers. Or members of the initial investigation team. There isn't enough of a pattern yet to suspect that he's giving any particular message in the killings, so it is impossible to do anything but theorise at this stage."
The familiarity of the situation still bothers him. Sometimes he can still feel the weight of the handcuffs around his wrist. Sometimes he still worries he's about to drop out of his chair at any second.
"Right."
"We know that the death note can kill in more interesting ways, so why is he so persistently sticking to the default method? Is he building up to something?"
"You haven't told your team about this yet, have you?" Rae asks, horribly perceptive. "Cause I'm pretty sure they'd all be in here right now, otherwise."
"Yes. That is right."
"So, why not? I thought we wanted to do this as quickly as possible."
"I do not wish to frighten them," L replies honestly. "Naomi, Raye, Mail, Watari. They were all destroyed by the Kira case last time. I do not wish them to have to relive it for a second longer than necessary. They will be told when they need to know."
"I still don't understand why you didn't cut your losses and walk away," Rae says idly. "Was your pride really worth so much more than your life?"
"Other people's lives were worth much more than my own," L tells it.
For once, the Shinigami has no retort.
"Someone who truly wanted justice would have let themselves be discovered rather than destroy innocent lives," L rants. "The only honourable way to do something like that is to accept that you have become a criminal in order to save other people, and be punished the same way."
"That is completely unjust-"
"Maybe in your world, Shinigami. But that is the way things work down here."
"Whatever. Arguing isn't solving this case, you know."
L frowns. If anything goes wrong with this case, he needs Rae to back him up. And yet they cannot even agree upon the basic principles of right and wrong.
Of course they can't. Rae is a Shinigami. It kills people for a living.
What is he thinking?
"Are you going to eat that enormous gooey thing on the table, or just leave it there to annoy me?" Rae asks.
"It's a blancmange," L explains. He can recognise a peace offering when he hears one. "Would you like some?"
"No."
"But it is delectable."
"You just stuck your finger in it. Now the whole thing is tainted. If was tempted before, I'm not going to be any more."
"Would you like something else? Watari is an excellent chef. I could probably even get you something…you know. Not sweet."
"Savoury?"
Crash.
L spins on his heel, startled. The door to his room has been flung open with considerable force, and standing in the doorway is one Naomi Penber, with her fists clenched and her pretty face arranged into a frightened scowl.
L processes the situation. He was arguing. Distracted. He didn't hear her walking along the hallway. Which means that she must have been standing outside for at least long enough to hear part of his conversation with Rae.
Which is fine. He can pass it off as a phone call.
No, he can't. He was offering to share dessert. Dessert that is right in front of him. Ah. That would be the reason for her expression, then.
Oh dear.
"Who are you talking to, L?" she enquires tersely. "What's going on? Is there someone else in here?"
Rae, helpful as ever, promptly walks through the wall and leaves him alone to deal with her. L stares at his deputy blankly. First, he needs to find out exactly what she heard. Then he needs to come up with a plausible excuse.
For having an imaginary friend.
This ought to be a challenge.
"I do not understand," he deadpans. "What are you so upset about, N?"
"Don't you lie to me," she says fiercely, striding across the room until there is only a few inches worth of space between them. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Researching potential cases," L tells her blithely. "Do you wish to accuse me of something?"
"You were having a conversation about the blancmange," Naomi says, her eyes flickering back and forth, scanning the room. "Who were you talking to, L? There…there isn't anyone here."
"Am I not allowed to talk to myself?" L asks, voice carefully neutral. He and Naomi both know that there is nowhere to hide another person in this room, and they are about twenty stories above ground level. Anyone that might potentially have been with him must have escaped via the window.
Sure enough, that is exactly where Naomi's eyes linger. But the timing is wrong. He was still talking casually when she burst in, and of course, she hasn't seen anyone leave.
He can guess at what must be going through her mind right now.
What to do, what to do?
"No, this was definitely half a conversation I heard," she snaps. "With a definite pauses, as if you were getting unspoken replies."
"Are you certain?"
"I am not stupid!"
L curls his toes.
"And if I were talking to someone, what business would it be of yours?" he asks coldly. "Am I so untrustworthy that you must check up on me? I suppose, as your employer, it is good that I know how you really feel."
"How I really feel is worried, L," she grits, tugging at a strand of hair. "I wasn't coming to spy. I simply heard voices, and. Damnit, all I really want is some assurance that you aren't going mad, or being haunted by some supernatural monster, or something."
There is absolutely nothing useful he can say. Certainly, he still has authority over her and can end this discussion here and now. But if he doesn't come up with a good reason, she will eternally suspect him. He knows her nature. She will be compelled to monitor him, out of concern. He will not be able to work with Rae easily. He will have to spend most of his time downstairs, around others, in order to assuage her fears.
And he may never convince her.
"Why do you think that?" he asks weakly. "Why can it not be that I have a woman hidden up here? Why am I afforded no privacy?"
"Right, because she'll totally believe that you suddenly have a sex life," Rae sneers, floating through the open window behind Naomi's back, something clutched between its giant hands.
"Are you trying to be funny?" she growls. "Just, look. You can trust me. Just tell me what is going on."
"Admit to it," Rae advises. "Admit that you have someone here, and tell her you've been lonely and that you have every right to company."
L tries not to look at it directly. Things will only get worse if Naomi catches him staring into the middle distance.
"Trust me," Rae says. "I'll get you out of this."
Fantastic. He is forced to trust a childish Shinigami who doesn't understand why Kira was a bad person. Splendid. Wonderful.
But…it has been treating him reasonably well lately. Heck, it hasn't even been getting properly angry with him when he has tried to rile it, for its own sake.
And it isn't as if L has any other options.
"Am I supposed to be denied companionship as part of my job?" he asks Naomi, resisting the sudden urge to cross his fingers. "Is it necessary for me to always be alone?"
"You…you have something up here, L?" she asks tremulously.
"Tell her to check under the bed," Rae urges.
"The bed," L confesses, mystified.
Naomi snatches the cover from the bed and looks underneath. Two yellow eyes stare back at her.
"What are you?" she demands, squinting a little.
"Woof!" the thing replies.
Naomi apologises to him seven times, with heartening sincerity.
"Really, it is fine. I pay you to be perceptive, and you were. What if I were being controlled by someone else? It is important that we all notice and investigate odd behaviours in each other."
Naomi slams her teacup down on the table.
"But really," she says disgustedly. "Here I was expecting a Shinigami or something, and it hadn't even occurred to me that you might just be harbouring a pet? I acted irrationally, and I accept that. You are our leader, after all."
"I was still doing something technically illegal," L sighs, reaching down to ruffle the dog's ears. "Body corporate does not allow animals in this building."
"Can't you just buy body corporate?" Raye asks. "She's really cute, you know."
She is a six-month-old spaniel cross. She has no tags, no collar, and no microchip. Probably obtained from the local pound.
Rae has done very well.
"How long have you had her?"
"A week or so," L replies vaguely.
"She cannot stay here, L," Naomi tells him gently. "I know you are attached to her, but she's going to grow far too big to stay in an apartment. Even one of this capacity."
L sighs again. He is attempting to appear as emotionally invested in the dog as possible, otherwise the situation will become intolerably suspicious.
It is, apparently, socially acceptable for people to attempt to hold conversations with their pets. Which makes not one lick of sense to L, but he is hardly in a position to complain.
"I understand," he replies listlessly. "I just…I just want her to have a home, I suppose. And dogs are loyal and can be taught commands. Is it possible she could live remotely and still be a part of the team?"
He knows the answer already. Dogs do not travel well, are too recognisable, and are easily manipulated and tracked. The Penbers will 'talk him out of it', the fluffy canine will find a new home, and he will be free to work with Rae unquestioned.
If his Shinigami were human, L would feel inclined to buy it a drink right now.
"Don't you patronise me," she whispers coldly. "Don't you dare patronise me."
Raye rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I'm not trying to, honey. I just don't understand why you did what you did today."
"Because I heard him talking to someone!" she explains, frustrated at the way he refuses to sympathise. "After everything I said about trusting him and wanting to help him, and he's still…"
"A few hours ago you said yourself that you acted irrationally," Raye tells her, puzzled. "Surely that's the end of it. Besides, it was a dog. That's no great secret. The man should have some privacy in his life, surely."
It wasn't just a dog, she thinks, fiercely.
"I think there are other things he is keeping hidden," she replies. "At least one thing."
Raye groans.
"What one thing?"
"I don't know what it is!" she snaps. "If I did, this would be easy!"
"So because he hid a dog, you think he's hiding something else?"
She twirls her hair around her finger, tugging at it sharply.
"No. The way he's acting doesn't seem right. L wasn't attached enough to the dog."
"He's hardly the most emotional man in the world, Naomi," Raye says comfortingly, reaching for her.
"Back off," she warns darkly. "I can't explain it, okay? Something else is wrong. Something important. Call it intuition, or whatever."
"There's no such thing as intuition," Raye says poisonously, clearly stung by her momentary rejection. "Only cold, hard evidence. I thought you, of all people, would know that. Especially since you're practically his disciple."
She lifts her head slowly, haughtily. He wants to make this nasty, does he? He ought to know by now that she's no good little wife. She'll speak her damn mind.
"From him, I learned the style that suits me best," she tells him smoothly. "And I am his deputy."
"You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you," he grits. "More than you'd do for me!"
"And that's exactly as it should be!"
There is silence. Her damning words still echo around the room, around the inside of her skull. There. She said it. What was he expecting?
She made her choice. A man she cannot trust over a man who cannot quite believe in her. Because the former represents a hero, and the latter is still just a man.
Raye stands where he is, shaking. It is possible that he's read into that statement incorrectly. In fact, with his selfish view of the world, that is incredibly likely.
She doesn't mind that much. She's never argued with him before. She's barely raised her voice to him. She has always placated and smiled and comforted, grateful for what he has given up, that they might have this life together.
"And that's how it is, is it?" he asks, voice raspy and weak. "You…him. After all this time."
She touches her wedding ring.
"I would hope," she says, a touch more gently, "that you would make the same choice. Saving the world should take precedence over me."
How did it turn into this? She's angry at L right now, damnit.
"You are my wife," he roars. "I married you! Or did you not notice, being too busy being married to your job. Or married to your boss?"
"Now you are being childish."
"Am I? Because I'm the only one here who is adult enough to want a life as well as saving the universe? Are we not allowed to be happy?"
Ah. The clincher. Yes.
"I am happy here," she replies. "You know that."
"With a man you cannot trust?"
"I will figure him out," she replies, with a confidence comprised mostly of anger. "And we'll move on. That's what we do."
"I see. 'We'. You and L."
"Why would you say that? Are you suddenly not a part of this team?"
Raye slaps his open palm against the wall.
"Maybe I don't want to be, anymore," he growls. "You know, I feel like I understand you less and less every day."
"Ah," she says serenely, sensing he is at breaking point. "Perhaps you should try listening, then."
"Screw you," Raye replies, voice quietly vehement. "I have given you everything!"
He doesn't wait for a reply. He turns on his heel and leaves.
Naomi presses her head against the cool wall. Her mind is a mess. She does not want L to be hiding something. He's better now, damnit. He's gotten back on his feet, closer to the person he was before. She wants him to go on being her ideal role model. She wants to grow up and become what he is.
So she'll work it out. It may even be a test for her. Who knows, when it comes to L?
Her husband just walked out, and all she can think about is L. She's angry. She's been a bit off-kilter, just recently. Her body doesn't listen to her the way it used to. She is getting old, maybe. Or sick.
She ought to see a doctor. When she has time. Maybe next month. If she is ill, she doesn't want Raye to know. What kind of a wife does that make her, then?
She isn't sure. But she is a damn good detective, and that is enough for her. That is what matters.
Later, she will go after her husband, and try to find a way to undo what she has said. He is a good man, after all. He just doesn't understand. He does not share her passion for what they do.
It's not as if she doesn't love him.
Love is such a complicated thing.
L is such a complicated thing.
She is so tired. Exhausted. She feels like L looks. Like Raye looks, on his bad days. She leans her weight into the wall, comforting pressure across her forehead.
Intuition versus intellect. She knows there is something wrong, but she has no evidence. L and Raye and Mail will all argue the case with her.
"I could really use your help right now, Touta," she says fondly, to the empty air.
tbc
a/n:
+ I have nothing to say about the story this time, except that it is making my brain hurt. I'm starting to panic and pray like hell that I can get everyone to where I want them to be by the end of this fic. and without having to evoke too much suspension of belief.
+ thank you for reading, and for reviewing.