notes/warnings:
+ swearing like a boss.
+ nudity. do we have to warn for nudity in written media? anyway, there isn't any anatomy mentioned.
Heart
L crouches on the floor in front of his computer, absently tapping the 'page down' key. He has pinned a long stretch of butcher's paper to the far wall, for Rae's records. He cannot recall the last time he actually ate anything more substantial than sugar cubes.
He will never forgive himself if anything happens to Naomi.
Neither of the Penbers have contacted him yet. He is certain that Raye will convince his wife to leave. Sixty-two percent. They should leave. They ought to leave. L might be able to breathe again, if they leave.
The application he submitted to Takada's recruitment website was deliberately gender-neutral.
More people are dying. Most of them are convicted criminals. Approximately point two percent of convicted criminals are actually innocent.
But you never thought of that, did you, Light?
In your own way, you placed so much faith in the judicial system.
Next to L's foot is a wooden case containing a multitude of small, flat pieces of adhesive plastic. Watari has designed them in eighteen different skin tones. The perfect tap. Invisible under clothing, practically invisible even when undressed. Excellent audio reception, difficult to trace.
L selects a grey-white tap and examines it. This one is made for him. It blends in beautifully with his skin. He doesn't understand why Naomi hasn't left yet. This task is madness. He is more likely to fail, alone, but at least no-one else will be hurt.
Is this what he has become? Incapable of saving anyone, reduced to attempting to keep from harming those around him. Pathetic.
I need you back.
The thought materialises unbidden, and L shoves it into a dark little corner of his mind and forces himself to focus on the computer in front of him.
In secret, they will also place just one visual tap. The feed will be connected to a small computer, constantly recorded, available for monitoring whenever Mail is safely absent.
Because he cannot know. He absolutely cannot know. In fact, perhaps it would be best if he left L's employment, too. Maybe the Penbers will convince him to go with them.
L loves his team. He wants them with him. It's best if they go. He cannot bear the thought of sending Naomi out to meet Takada. She's been so frightened, of late. Or sick, if Raye is to be believed. Not that that ought to change the outcome. Indeed, an apparently-ill woman ought to seem like less of a threat than one who is completely healthy.
Eventually, Raye comes and leans against the back of his chair. L does not look at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Simple quality control," L answers vaguely. "And you? What will you do, Raye Penber?"
He will never allow Naomi to put herself in such a position.
Raye grabs the headrest and turns the chair until L is facing him.
"You have no idea, do you?" he says seriously. "You have no idea what you do."
"I know what I do," L replies, confused. "Why would you say-"
"Shut up. I know. And I really don't like you very much, L."
L lifts his chin.
"Have you a plane to catch, R?" he asks softly.
I don't know what I'll do without her. Or you, for that matter.
He ignores the treacherous inner monologue that points out that he'd probably be just fine without Naomi if he had brown-eyed Rae back.
It is irrelevant. What he wants is irrelevant. Whether he is safe is irrelevant.
All that matters is that he win. At any cost.
"Yes," Raye says gruffly. "As soon as we beat this fucking demon. Now come on, my wife is waiting for you to get the taps sorted."
Oh, L thinks, relief and renewed terror rushing through him.
One more time, then.
"I will be another few hours here, at least," he murmurs.
Naomi is staying. Naomi will do this job for him. Everything has to be perfect, then. He cannot make a single mistake.
L remains in the same spot for the next twelve hours, watching the death toll rise, fielding panicked emails from police officials, and ploughing through an entire plate of doughnuts. Rae comes and goes, returning to the base when its brain is near-overloaded with detailed technical and geographical information. It sketches across the butcher's paper; Takada's house, every piece of furniture, the position and range of each camera, the view from every window, the potential surveillance spots just down the street.
"You are doing an excellent job," L says ruefully.
Mail wanders in and out of the room, too, co-ordinating and appraising Rae's information like he's a functional human being and not an empty, grieving shell.
L thinks Mello would have been proud of him.
Naomi visits for a few hours, too, to discuss the placement of the taps. L decides that she ought to carry just three. The fewer there are, the less likely that they'll be discovered. Naomi will wear one on her upper arm, one on the sole of her right foot, and one between her breasts. Watari has modified the tiny camera to sit invisibly inside her ear canal.
L tries to convince himself that she will not be easily caught. They are all geniuses, after all. Surely they ought to be able to keep her safe.
"I am still calculating the best possible persona for you to present to Takada," L says softly. "Obviously we want to win her over as quickly and completely as possible. We will decide upon as many details as we can, but some things must be left up to your own judgement. Communication will be difficult once you have been inducted."
"I'll be there with you, most of the time," Rae comments from the corner. "And I'll be able to go to L and pass on messages to you. But you won't be able to speak to me directly, of course."
"Oh," Naomi replies brightly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," the Shinigami replies, equally cheerful.
L is becoming increasingly convinced that the two of them do not get along at all. His misgivings are confirmed a moment later, when Rae leaves once more and Naomi rounds on him.
"Do you trust that thing?" she demands, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Seriously? After everything it's done, do you trust it with my life?"
"It saved mine," L reasons. "Why would I not trust it?"
"That is not a valid point," she argues. "You are the human it belongs to. You are special to Rae. That doesn't mean it won't try to kill other people."
Naomi's words have implications beyond their basic meaning. Impossibly, L feels his face heat up.
"You are quite wrong," he says sadly. "Rae harbours nothing but loathing for me."
He feels bizarrely like Mail, trying to argue his way out of any possible suggestion that Mello might have cared for him. Except that L's situation has credible merit, because liking a Shinigami is completely pointless, and he knew that from the very beginning.
He is being ridiculous. He is being a child. He wills the warmth from his cheeks and shakes his head, just once.
"Yes, it hates me, and yet, it saved my life," he deadpans, looking Naomi directly in the eye. "I trust it with yours, too. It wants to save people."
He does. He trusts Rae. He just.
"I hate it," Naomi says bitterly.
L isn't exactly surprised, but the revelation bothers him in ways he cannot explain.
"What? Why? What has it said to you?"
"It tried to encourage me to mistrust you," she tells him angrily. "It tried to undermine you to me."
Ah. As predicted, then.
"It believes I am evil," he says quietly. "Since you are so evidently a good person, it is possibly trying to protect you from me."
"It doesn't think you're evil," Naomi snaps. "Can't you see that it's trying too hard?"
L stares at her blankly, and them looks away. He values Naomi's opinion, of course, but she barely knows Rae. And she has never met another Shinigami in her life. No, his deputy is absolutely not qualified to presume to know what Rae feels.
And besides, she is wrong.
"Perhaps. Did it succeed in undermining me?"
"No," she says with certainty, but she cannot quite meet his eyes.
Ah, I see. It has succeeded in causing you doubt.
Perhaps that is not such a bad thing.
"You and R are leaving at the end of this case," he says calmly. "That will be unfortunate. For me."
"Yeah, maybe," she replies. "But maybe if we can get rid of the Kira fanatics once and for all, he'll feel safe enough to stay, and then we can all keep working together."
L smiles.
"You cannot work for me for the rest of your life, you know," he says sagely. Naomi looks so pale and tired. She needs time off. She needs rest.
How will he forgive himself, if something happens to her? He isn't supposed to ruin people's lives, damnit.
"Huh," Naomi replies thoughtfully. "That sounds like a challenge."
She rests one hand on the desk and pulls herself out of her chair. There used to be a time where he could manipulate her so easily. Surely he could do it again. Surely he could make her hate him again.
Yes. When this mission is over, if she decides to stay, he will become deplorable.
Yes.
"I accept," she continues warmly. "Shall we wager money?"
L waves one hand limply in her direction.
"Sleep," he orders. "You ought to be trying to preserve your strength and health, not worrying about tenuous future possibilities."
She curls one arm around his shoulders, and goddamn it, when did everyone decide that they had a right to touch him? No-one touches him.
Because there was something exciting and giddy about that moment, wasn't there? Being drunk and sleepy and tickled on the floor. And what the fuck is he thinking? This is…god, he is tired. He is too tired. That's all.
He watches Naomi leave, deftly stuffing another doughnut into his mouth.
And studiously ignores the tiny, infuriating voice that reminds him that maybe he'd quite like to be special to Rae.
"So, Jeevas has confirmed that he can't hack into Takada's video feed, which means that we'll definitely be relying on the taps," Rae says confidently. "There is no electromagnetic equipment in or near the building, so the feed shouldn't be disrupted. The only safe place to conduct a stake-out is here, around the back, right next to the park. There are several abandoned cars in the area, and a few more shouldn't arouse suspicion."
L squints at his Shinigami's perfectly-illustrated diagram.
"This is too confusing," he says, thumbing his lower lip. "Your reasoning is excellent, of course, but can you label some of these things? The little black boxes are the cameras, yes, and this big square thing here…is…the…"
"Surveillance room," Rae says, rolling its blood-red eyes at him. "Sorry, I thought this chart was foolproof, but I guess I underestimated the extent of your stupidity."
"Mail was getting confused earlier, too," L protests. "Just…label everything, please. It should take you two minutes. Also, I want you to write everything you've noticed of Takada's movements and habits. Please."
Rae hesitates, the pen dangling from its skeletal fingers.
Handwriting.
That….no! That could be disastrous.
A plausible lie, a plausible lie, a plausible lie.
Aha.
"You'll have to do it," Rae informs him coolly. "I can't write."
L gapes at the Shinigami.
"You can't….write?"
"Nope. Why do you think I use your computer all the time for my reports?"
"Do you use a computer to type out names on the death note?" L enquires, utterly fascinated.
"Har har, Lawliet. I can't write human scripts very well. I know your language well enough to read, of course, but I imagine my handwriting would be illegible, at best."
"Oh," L intones. He hadn't thought of that.
"By the same token, I'll type up my notes on Takada," Rae says brightly. "If you don't know what something is, just ask, and I'll tell you."
"So now I'm your scribe?"
"Whatever. Just do it, Miss Marple. People are dying, remember?"
Ah yes. Heaven forbid they actually banter about anything. L feels the smile fade from his lips. People are dying. Rae hates him. He needs to focus.
He grips the end of the pen in his fingertips, and starts labelling the chart in neat, cursive letters.
"From what she's said to some of her underlings and disciples, I get the feeling this woman would probably be easily manipulated by flattery," Rae reports, scissoring its nightmarish wings. "But that will only work if you've already managed to assuage her paranoia."
Raye hates this. He hates everything about this. This is the worst fucking plan he's ever heard of, and in twenty-three hours Kira is going to know Naomi's name and face. And if they don't beat this woman, his wife is going to die.
And Light might come back. Magically. Raye cannot even begin to comprehend how fucked-up this afterlife thing is. People from hell aren't supposed to be able to come back, and now the psychopath who killed Mail's boyfriend is living in the next town and killing people by the dozen.
He doesn't get it. He really doesn't get it. What's worse is that he doesn't think L gets it, either.
He also doesn't get why they have to work with a goddamned evil skeleton-thing, either. But he is sort of grateful that Naomi's not going to be behind enemy lines all on her own.
He just wishes he had L's conviction regarding the Shinigami's reliability. Because he just…he can't get past those eyes. Rae has the eyes of a psychopath, he's sure.
"I can handle that," Naomi says smoothly, even though her hands are shaking and she hasn't eaten since last night.
"To be honest," Rae muses, "you would probably break down her defences best by acting as if you were in love with her."
"Fuck," Raye mutters. Why do so many cases call for Naomi to pretend to be romantically involved?
"No one is asking you to sleep with her, N," L says quickly.
"It might help," Rae counters. "But regardless, she's frightened and lonely. You can use that against her."
"You're an evil fucking creature, aren't you?" Raye growls.
"Yes. So evil I'm trying to save people's lives," the death god replies balefully. "Anything else you'd like to criticise, or can we get on with it?"
"Go on, please," L says quietly. "Go over her daily routine."
Rae ploughs on, without missing a beat. And Raye knows this is useful information, really, he knows, but he just can't concentrate. All he can think of is his beautiful wife, isolated and sick. What if she collapses, and Takada refuses to let her get medical help?
Would L intervene?
Does he love her even a fucking little bit, for all that she loves him? Does he even have a heart in that underweight, anaemic little body of his?
Well, he'd loved Grace, hadn't he? And Matsuda? And he definitely cares for Mail. He'd probably help Naomi. Probably.
Maybe.
Later, when they've finished - when Naomi has gone to rest, and Mail has gone off to do complicated things with computers and taps, and Rae has gone off to eat people's brains or whatever it does – he waits behind with L.
"I know you are angry," the man says diffidently, reaching for another cream-laden muffin. "I too wish this case had turned out differently."
He looks so fastidious and unconcerned, and Raye is instantaneously angry.
My wife is about to throw herself at the mercy of the new Kira, and you're eating fucking sweets?
L is well schooled in combat, but he puts up no resistance at all when Raye grabs him by the middle of his ancient white tee-shirt and slams him against the wall.
You're off your game too, huh?
Great. Just fucking great. At this point, my most competent colleague is fucking Depressy McGrief.
"You have no idea how I'm feeling right now," Raye growls. "Don't you dare!"
L stares at him, his single eye bovine and unblinking, his jaw slack, his hands dangling limply against the wall.
"Do you hate me?" he asks blandly. "I know you don't like me, R."
L's skin is sallow and grey, and there's a bloody mess of knotted scar tissue under that patch. And he smells horrible. And he's got absolutely nothing on Raye. Nothing.
And yet everyone loves him. Even Mail fucking likes him. At this rate, the fucking skeleton probably loves him, too.
And fuck, being around Mail is bad for his vocabulary.
Raye's gaze drops to L's bare chest, and L instantly closes both arms around the death note that's strapped there.
He's thin, unattractively so, and he looks like his flesh would come apart if touched. He has odd bruises and scrapes from goodness-knows-what. And he really does smell awful. Raye half expects to find lichen growing on his hips, or something.
"What are you doing, R? Is this some sort of revenge?"
"No, you twat. I'm trying to understand!" Raye snarls.
He releases L's shirt and leans in violently, crashing their foreheads together. L doesn't have stubble. Not today, not ever. He's a man-child, unable to grow up. His noise is unpleasantly pointed, and his lips look moth-eaten from constant chewing and tugging.
That mouth. Why would Naomi want that mouth?
Are you really nothing more than a sibling to her? But why would anyone just acquire a brother like you? It doesn't work that way. It's all part of this fucked-up little family you've built around yourself because you're lonely and frightened of Light.
It's your fault.
It's your fault!
"I don't see the attraction," Raye says, voice thick with disgust. "I really, really don't understand this…this hold you have over people. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He shoves L back against the wall and walks away.
And still L says nothing.
Kiyomi Takada doesn't sleep for more than an hour at a time. She won't eat anything without dousing it in boiling water. She murders anyone who happens to get to close to her. Two mailmen and a little girl 'exploring' with her dog, so far. Even when she's killing criminals, she seems compelled to stop every fifteen minutes or so, and check in with security. She is without a doubt the most paranoid woman in the country.
And yet apparently, she still has the time to spend two hours in front of the mirror, intently styling her hair.
Women.
That's a generalisation, of course, and Takada is a particularly bad example. She's weak. She needs to feel protected. She's killing people, not out of justice, not even out of spite, but out of some misguided attempt to find her old companion.
To bring back Kira.
Talk about pointless.
But that's Kiyomi Takada. No backbone of her own. She always has to be somebody's puppet.
The question is, whose puppet? Who is controlling her this time?
Who is this Big Jason she keeps talking about, and why is she so frightened of him? Has she actually escaped from wherever she was being punished? L is so exaggeratedly worried about the boundaries of hell. He's just as paranoid as Takada, really.
It's your own damn fault.
You didn't have to-
"Hey, it's you!" Ryuk exclaims, as loud as he possibly can. "Rae!"
"Shut up!"
"Eh, I'd worry less if I were you," he replies cheerily. "Takada's busy, and no-one else can see or hear us."
"I know that. Can't you find something else to do?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know, like anything other than harassing me every single second that I'm here, and Takada has her back turned."
"Oh yeah," Ryuk says thoughtfully. "How's the detective business going? Is L still as brilliant as he used to be? Have you guys worked anything else out?"
"Well, you've just confirmed she really is Takada, but I knew that already."
"Damn," Ryuk groans, and he really is the most useless creature on the planet. "Oh. Hey. Is L still adorable? You know, I was thinking-"
Shut the fucking fucking fuck up about that, it was once and it was a trap, and it was nothing more and shut up!
"Ryuk, is that a giant basket of apples way, way over there?"
"Ooh!"
Ryuk disappears, and is gone for two whole, blissful minutes. Then he re-appears once more.
"You made that up, didn't you?" he says forlornly. "Hey, why don't we get along as well as we used to?"
"Because you are an idiot."
"Oh. Right."
Raye lies on the bed with her, even though it's barely five o'clock and the door is still open and it's obvious neither of them is going to sleep. Naomi probably won't sleep at all. She's being inducted into Takada's little army tomorrow. The application was accepted. It's all official. Her 'interview' is at ten o'clock, tomorrow morning.
L has given her permission to kill, if she needs to.
"I'm the one who made that decision. I told you to, so you won't go to hell, you see. It will be my fault."
She's killed before, of course, they all have. But not a presumably innocent person, and never for such a tentative reason.
It will all be worthwhile if they manage to get rid of faux-Kira, though. And Light, if he is about to be unearthed for some ungodly, apocalyptic reason.
And she's glad, almost relieved, that she's the one venturing into enemy territory. She's still half-convinced that Kira is lurking in some corner of her mind, slowly dragging her to an inevitable death. She might as well be the one who's in danger. No point in two of them getting killed.
She doesn't tell her husband any of this, of course. She just hooks one arm around his waist and holds on.
Time passes. Night falls. Naomi starts idly considering what she wants to make for dinner. Tomorrow, if she is successful in her induction, she will move into a tiny flat in the same suburb as Takada's base. She'll be cooking just for herself, and she probably won't be permitted to leave the place to buy groceries or purchase pizza.
While living there, she is to act like a normal, well-behaved, god-fearing woman. She is not to show any signs of athletic prowess, she is not to handle weapons, and she is not to contact her team. If she needs something, she is to write it on her phone in Rae's presence, and then delete the message without saving or sending.
Takada will probably put a lock on her phone, anyway. She will be all alone.
With Rae.
L ambles past their open door, eye fixed straight ahead, numerous papers and documents dangling from each of his hands.
He looks so empty.
"L."
Naomi calls out automatically, without really thinking about what she intends to say next. And that's…that's okay. She's going to spend the next few weeks guarding every word, second-guessing every movement. Right now, she'll be as spontaneous as she pleases.
He stops and offers her a worn-out little smile.
"What is it, N? Are you all right?" he asks gently.
He looks like he might snap in half. Naomi blames the Shinigami for that.
We're all fucked, aren't we?
But right now, she doesn't feel bad. She doesn't even feel unwell. She throws her free arm out across the empty expanse of bed next to her and wiggles her fingers, beckoning.
"Come here."
L freezes, his eyes flitting from her face to Raye's with agonising uncertainty.
Raye rolls his eyes.
"We're not propositioning you, you know," he says darkly.
And she knows their years-old argument is far from dead, but she's really damn proud of him right now. He could have easily snarled at L and sent him scurrying on his way.
Maybe he knows how scared she is.
"Oh," L manages. "Wait here, I will…uh…"
He disappears for a moment, and Naomi listens to him walk the remaining few feet to Matsuda's room. She hears the door open, and then shut not more than twenty seconds later. She allows herself a tiny smile. If nothing else, she's prevented L from lingering there, with all those painful memories.
If she is killed, will she see Matsuda again? That would be nice.
L pads back into their room, waif-like and exhausted. He clambers fastidiously onto the bed, keeping a polite fifteen centimetres between his body and Naomi's.
She curls her arm around his neck and pulls him close.
"Oh."
He's so light and fragile, and for all that he's meant to have a fantastic metabolic rate, he barely gives off any warmth at all. He is the polar opposite of her husband, and Naomi tips her head back against the pillow, singularly happy.
"You need to shower," she says lazily. "You're starting to smell like something that's been dead for a few weeks."
"I will do that," L assures her, curling his toes against the quilt.
He isn't relaxed, of course. He's bent at the knees, the lower half of his body still positioned in that infernal crouch.
"Since living with you two geniuses, I think we've both become resistant to all forms of body-odour," Raye points out unkindly.
"It's a useful attribute to have," Naomi murmurs.
L doesn't say anything for a few moments, instead regarding their ceiling with fierce intensity.
"Don't forget to emphasise your Catholic upbringings as soon as possible," he says finally. "You are only half-Japanese, after all, raised mostly in the United Kingdom. If you prove you were fanatical about Jesus previously, it will be easier for her to accept that you are now fanatical about Kira. One major change in religion shouldn't be enough to colour you as a disloyal person. Remember that you saw the light when you were still alive, back when the original Kira first showed up. That ought to please Takada."
"Saw the light, indeed," Raye says bitterly, and Naomi closes her hand over his hip, as much comfort as she can offer.
Kira is a demon that they all have to overcome. Each of them, separately, on their own terms.
"I believe we decided against making you vegetarian, didn't we?" L continues stubbornly. "It's better not to be too sanctimonious about life and rights. More important to be focused on justice."
"Yes, I know," Naomi reminds him.
"And mention that you were inspired by your father, a little known judge who worked at the criminal courts, and who-"
"I know, L, we've been through this."
L frowns at her.
"This is important, Naomi. Oh, and remember that you can't be suspiciously perfect, either. You ought to make yourself unappealing in ways unrelated to morality. Fawn over her. Be tiresome, and-"
"L."
"- and become slowly jealous of those around her, in a non-threatening manner. Don't forget that-"
"L."
"- you never worked for the FBI, or for me, but you used to be a low-ranking police officer before you devoted your life to finding Kira."
"L, seriously."
"I will leave it at your discretion to decide whether to later reveal some past criminal-inflicted tragedy. Rape will likely be too close to home. Murder may work, if played correctly, but theft would be…mrgh."
Naomi squeezes her forearm a little harder against his throat.
"That's enough," she says firmly. "You have briefed me, and I have an excellent memory. You need to trust me now."
It bothers her that L doesn't struggle, doesn't even reach for her. She hates it when he withdraws into his passive rag-doll mode. She hates it when he looks so utterly defeated.
If she can win this case for him, he will feel better.
Of course, if Rae would stop being a douche, he'd probably feel better too.
She releases him and he mumbles an apology before he even bothers to start breathing again.
"You don't need to talk shop, idiot," Raye says, continuing his uncharacteristically helpful streak. "Just shut up."
"I understand."
Naomi isn't sure how long they stay there, just like that, her two boys pressed to her sides, but eventually she starts to feel some of the tension slowly drain from L's shoulders.
And eventually, Raye starts snoring in her ear.
"I worry for you," L whispers into the darkness.
"I know," she replies. "That's why I'll be fine."
"I don't know if this is really useful information, but Takada's frightened of big dogs and open flames," Rae announces, casually bursting into the room. "She's also…what the fuck is going on in here?"
The Shinigami folds its arms and glares at each of them in turn.
No, check that. It glares briefly at L, and then looks at Naomi as if it wishes her a painful, painful death.
"Nothing," L says calmly. "We were discussing the case."
"In bed?"
L tries to get up, and Naomi holds him to her.
Just out of curiosity. Just to see. She's an expert at reading people, has been ever since she died. Because no-one is ever going to trick her like that again, damnit.
Apparently, she can read Shinigami, too.
"Yes, in a bed. Well, technically, on a bed. Naomi was tired."
"I see," Rae says darkly, and L seems to crumple under its derisive glare.
"Raye is here too," he protests plaintively. "I am not imposing on…on anything."
"You're imposing, Rae," Naomi says loudly. "Can't you just write this information down somewhere?"
"Eh?" Raye mutters, and Naomi presses her foot against his leg.
Trust me.
"You might give orders to everyone else, Penber, but you don't give them to me," Rae snarls, taking the bait beautifully.
"Of course," she replies, smiling broadly. "L? You want to stay with us a little longer?"
"L, I need to talk to you about Takada," Rae demands. "And I want to get back to her base as soon as possible."
Ha.
"All right," L replies miserably. He knocks Naomi's arm aside and crawls to the edge of the mattress.
"You don't have to do what the skeleton says, you know," she points out lightly.
"Right," L agrees dutifully, ambling towards the door. "But I ought to go and shower. You said so yourself. Come on, Rae, you can talk to me on the way."
Rae hesitates for a moment, and shoots Naomi a feral little grin that plainly reads, I win. Naomi waves lazily in reply.
Oh no, you don't. You really, really don't, Shinigami.
They leave without another word, and that's okay too. She's learned something.
"Finally alone," Raye huffs against her neck. "Honestly, that man is a three-ring circus all by himself. He makes everything dramatic and complicated."
Naomi rolls over to face him.
"We're pretty complicated all by ourselves, baby."
"Yeah," he agrees. "I can't wait until this is over."
"I know," she says, pushing her face into his shoulder. "I know."
"I tricked Ryuk into confirming her identity," Rae boasts. "She's definitely Takada."
"I see," L replies, pulling the door shut behind him. "Did you happen to find out why her name is in gibberish?"
"He doesn't know."
"What a useful character he is."
"You're telling me."
L finds himself battling the urge to grin, the way he always does whenever their conversation edges towards cordial.
"But this is troublesome," he adds, thumbing his mouth. "Takada is definitely in hell. Takada is definitely here. What does that mean, Rae?"
"That this place is her hell, I suppose," Rae replies offhandedly.
"Or she is here to be judged," L muses.
Which is problematic in itself. Should he try and help Takada recognise and pass her test, if he can? After all, he is decidedly opposed to the judgement of the hell-god. Which means that he ought to be trying to protect people like Takada. And Rae. Or, well, Rae seems to be doing just fine on its own, now.
It probably doesn't need him any more.
L tugs his belt free, dumps it on the sink, and hands over the death note. Naomi asked him to get clean. It's the least he can do for her.
"Any news on Big Jason?" he asks, reaching for the taps. "It would be useful to know who's motivating her."
"Nope, nothing. But I've never seen anyone so petrified of another human being. Well, except you, of course."
L pulls his shirt off over his head and sighs.
"And you still believe the original Kira was morally correct?"
"Yes."
"I wish you'd at least debate with me about it," he says, kicking off his jeans. "I'm sure I could convince you-"
"I don't like you," Rae says coldly. "You will not convince me of anything."
"You like Naomi," L points out. "You tried to protect her from me."
"Yes, of course," Rae says, and there's the faintest hint of…strangeness to its voice.
I don't understand you any more.
L finishes undressing and steps into the shower. Before Rae came along, he'd never showered in front of anyone before.
Except for Light, of course. But that was by necessity. This is by necessity too, of course, but he likes Rae. He misses Rae.
And hell, is every single thing he does always going to bring back memories of being chained to a serial killer?
It doesn't matter that he misses Rae, anyway. Rae is safe. He needs to focus on keeping Naomi safe. And saving Mello.
One thing at a time.
L stands motionless; hands at his sides, letting the water soak his hair and tumble from his skin in rivets.
"Tell me something, Rae," he says softly. "What would be hell for you?"
"What?"
"Hell is tailored to an individual person. Which circumstances would you consider to be the most torturous?"
"Besides being stuck with you all day, you mean?"
L hangs his head a little lower.
"Yes. Other than that."
Am I your hell, Rae? Is that what we are? But we were such a good team.
"I don't know."
"Lack of power?" L queries.
The hell-god is manipulating you.
I'm forty-one percent sure.
"I don't know, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you," Rae says with finality.
"I see."
Time passes, and L doesn't actually reach for the soap. The water won't clean him on its own, but it is comforting, the spray feels like rain against his scalp. If Light comes back, Rae won't protect him.
"Same question," Rae says eventually, shattering the silence.
"You know the answer to that," L replies. "That chain. I can still feel it sometimes."
"Seriously?" Rae groans. "Is every single bad thing in your life honestly down to the same person? What about your mother? What about the things that befell that boy of yours?"
"I barely remember him."
"What about never saving Mello?"
"That seems to be my reality, more than hell," L replies morosely.
"You need to snap out of this," Rae says dangerously, getting to its feet and stalking over to the stall. "You can't sulk and whine and wallow in your own doubts. This is a really fucking difficult mission we're about to pull off. And we need to win. Takada is a sociopath."
"Yes."
He can barely see Rae through the frosted glass of the door. Which means Rae can barely see him. The water trickles down between his eyes.
There is another long pause before Rae gets angry again.
"Are you just standing there with the water coming down on your fucking head?" it demands.
Drip, drip, drip.
He ought to dry someone's feet, now. Then he'll be certain to die. It will be him, and not Naomi. And…god. What is he doing?
L shoves the shower door abruptly open.
"I am changing our plans," he tells Rae firmly. "The lack of lifespan over my head will inspire Takada's trust. I will go before Naomi. She need only be dispatched if I am killed."
Rae stares at him. It has seen him naked plenty of times before. He's not bothered.
"You are out of your damn mind," it says succinctly.
"No," L corrects. "I haven't been thinking about this logically. All I need to do is ask Takada to prove to me that she has a note. I could wrap up the case within five minutes of meeting her."
"You haven't even used any fucking soap," Rae chides. "You've been standing in there, angsting."
"Calculating," L returns. "I will show Takada my note, profess my love for Kira, and tell her we are clearly both meant to work together to restore him. She will be able to see that my death note is real, but I will need proof of hers. It is the perfect scenario."
"It is not," Rae says vehemently.
"It is-"
"Shut the fuck up," the Shinigami roars. "Honestly, are you even thinking about this? One, she's going to order you to make a deal with me to confirm her identity, rather than reveal herself. And two, have you forgotten that your first name is 'L'? She'll kill you on sight, just for that! Just in case you're really you."
You really don't get it, do you? And you hate me so much, I thought you'd understand.
"It would be worth the risk," he explains patiently. "To protect Naomi, it would be worth the risk. Even if I died."
Rae strides over to him, puts one hand on his bare chest, and pins him against the tiles. A demonstration of strength.
"I will stop you," it promises unkindly. "I will not let you do that."
Something deep inside L's chest comes undone. Comes apart with a snap.
He's so tired, and god, and on and on and on and on. He's not L, he's just.
He's just.
When did he get like this?
"You have no right to stop me," he says balefully, sidestepping out of the Shinigami's grip. "You ought to mind your own business. Try to convince me to use the note, but-"
"I'll do what I want," Rae hisses. "And if you're too defunct to make your own decisions like an adult, then I'll make them for you."
"You don't care!" L yells, slamming his right fist against the wall.
Rae gapes at him.
"Of course I care," it says haughtily. "I care about people, and lives, and making the world a better place. You know that, damn you!"
"I know, I know," L says, swiping at his forehead, wiping errant drops of water from his eyes. "You're a good Shinigami, you save more people than me, if Naomi survives this it will be because of you. And you've got your red eyes back…and…and…"
He stops in the center of the bathroom. He's such a mess. He doesn't want to. He sinks into his crouch just because it feels familiar. He wants sugar. He wants to eat until he's sick.
"I hate you," he enunciates quietly. "I wish I had never met you, death god."
"The feeling is mutual," Rae responds. "Now get up off the floor and start acting like a fucking detective. The world needs you."
"And I need you!" L snarls, the start of a landslide, everything he didn't want to say. "I need you, and I miss you, and I hate that you need to be this kind of person to be functional. I wanted you to look after me, and I can't…I can't…I can't do this without you!"
He's panting hard, and Rae is staring at him as if he's grown an extra set of arms, and everything is. Everything is broken.
What was it that Rem had said to him?
Heaven only knows what would happen to a human that develops feelings for a Shinigami.
L sits like a lump in the middle of the room, looking both distressed and surprised with himself.
It should be funny.
It ought to be funny.
It is, funny. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. HA HA HA HA HA!
Why doesn't he ever know when to fucking fucking fucking shut up fucking damn it? Why does he even have the capacity for emotions? Why does he put himself in such stupid situations?
Must be that heart. That mighty, powerful, enslaving heart. The one that got Naomi. The one that almost…
Ha, you nearly had me there for a minute. This is what you do, isn't it? Occasionally act as pathetically as possible, to make people want to protect you.
Don't you know that you can't beat me?
Don't you know?
L seems to be waiting for some sort of reply. Or possibly he's just anticipating a punch to the face. His remaining eye is huge and dark, and he's shaking. His shoulder-blades stick out from his back like useless wings. His hair is sopping.
"It's all right," he says, with a tiny little smile. "More than anything else, I want you to be healthy. I want all my team to be healthy and safe."
The change feels like a harpoon through the chest, obliterating everything. The numbers under L's name start to fade, and…
"You are disgusting."
L gets to his feet and nods solemnly.
"No, really, you are. I don't fucking know what you want me to say, but I assure you that I don't give a damn whether you're alive or dead. When this is over, being rid of you is going to be the most amazing thing in the world. Better than being king, even."
He finally reaches for a fucking towel, and manages to actually cover himself. Wonders will never cease.
"I understand, Rae"
"No, you don't. You don't get it at all. You hurt people. I can't protect Naomi from you because she loves you and you use her like a cheap appliance. You take people and you destroy them, all the while pretending to be a hero. You save lives at the cost of other lives. You're not Kira. You're worse than Kira. You're worse than any human I've ever met, you are filth."
L has…his collarbones are…he's…
'Hey. Is L still adorable?'
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!
"Are you even listening to me?"
L cowers a little, head bent as if he's ready to accept every last word.
"This is your hell, L. This is all you get because your own company is the worst thing anyone can ever FUCKING give you! You are a noxious and self-serving little hypocrite who deserves NOTHING AND MELLO IS IN HELL BECAUSE OF YOU, DAMN YOU, BUT THAT'S OKAY RIGHT BECAUSE ONE DAY YOU'RE GOING TO GROW UP TO BE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER!"
Silence reigns supreme.
"You always say things like that," L comments, miserably.
But the sickness is gone, banished like so much evil. There are always obstacles. L will not be difficult to break.
You are nothing. You are nothing to me. I promise.
I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it I did it.
tbc
a/n:
+ next chapter will be up when it is up, because I am a loser who sucks at plotting things. maybe I need to just issue a permanent warning for possible update lateness. yeah.
+ thank you. a special thank you to those of you who leave me wonderful reviews and then proceed to have PMs blocked so I cannot send you back gushing, socially-awkward messages. so, thank you!