notes/warnings
+ warning for some discussion of consent issues.
+ warning for not much actually happening.
Supporter
They spend the rest of the day browsing the news for new cases.
Usually, L would have a handful of requests in his inbox. Messages from various international politicians and police forces; all urgent, all asking for his help with complicated cases. Usually he'd be needed.
But nobody has messaged him recently. He's become old and incompetent. Near is in the second world, and so L is almost useless.
Except things won't be that way any more, because Rae is back. And together, they are brilliant. Better than anyone else.
"What are you grinning about?" Raye asks, cautiously.
"Nothing," L replies. "Why are you spending your time watching me instead of your computer monitor?"
Raye rolls his eyes and silence falls once more. Rae is out scouting around the city, in case anything is happening locally. Mail is more or less just staring out the window. Watari is off making rhubarb crumble, and L is kind of looking forward to the results.
"Some crazy guy stabbed a few people and then escaped from jail," Raye points out. "Ross Greenpod. He's considered to be still at large in the London area."
"So what?" Mail asks, grumpily.
"That is probably a little beneath me," L adds. "I know I'm unpopular, but I'm reluctant to start doing everyday police work."
"What will happen if you run out of money?" Raye wonders. "We'll have to split up. We'll have to find somewhere else to live. I'd have to get another job."
"That won't happen," L says, with certainty.
He ends up taking on a case from the local headquarters. A medium-sized drug ring. L solves it on his own, in under an hour. He doesn't feel particularly fulfilled.
He feels okay, though. Outside, the sun is shining through the rain.
Naomi is dead. Mello is still in hell.
L sits with Mail for a few hours, and tries to piece things together in his head. If he is to do anything for Rae, he must act quickly. They have nineteen days left together. If Rae is in hell, if anyone is manipulating his Shinigami, then it is likely to happen once they part company.
I wonder why you were given five years?
Why not four? Why not ten? Five is a nice round number, but that's hardly a good reason. If Rae is being judged or tested somehow, then surely the reason has something to do with L. Perhaps the hell-god – or the king, or whoever – knew that L would end up becoming Rae's friend, if given enough time. Perhaps this test was never meant to be difficult.
But what really bothers L is this: perhaps this isn't Rae's real test at all. Perhaps L's use of the notebook is inconsequential. Perhaps something else is going to happen to Rae.
Unless L can access the hell-god, he will never know until it is too late. And nobody can help him. Rae doesn't believe him, and the others cannot remember. Near has some immunity to the hell-god's influence, but Near will probably try to get rid of Rae himself if he knows too much.
And Near is risky. L doesn't really know him.
What about the one who beat Near? What does he know? Would he be useful, if he were in the second world?
It doesn't matter. It is irrelevant. Bringing an unknown person into this could be disastrous.
What about Grianna Jones, then? She has owned a death note, and she knows of the god of hell. And last time they met, she thanked L. For something.
Would she come, if L summoned her?
Would it be worth summoning her, knowing that he'd have to make a public announcement, knowing that he'd be giving away the location of himself or one of his staff at a given time and place? Knowing that many other people would probably show up, or that someone else might have already bought Grianna's loyalty?
Knowing that Light might be in the world, and waiting for a chance like this?
How much is L willing to sacrifice for his Shinigami? For the tiniest chance of making sure Rae will be okay in the end? And with a tremendous risk of learning nothing, of coming away empty-handed?
How much is L willing to sacrifice?
Mail flicks his cigarette butt in the general direction of the place where the bin used to be three months ago. He shoves his hair out of his eyes, and goes back to his laptop without saying a word. L watches him in mirroring silence.
Mail is his limit. No matter what, he isn't willing to sacrifice Mail.
By the time Rae has found what it was looking for and returned to base, L is asleep. Rae gets to the bedroom by walking through walls. It likes the fact that infrastructure is no longer a barrier. It likes the fact that L can never hide.
L is sleeping with his knees drawn up to his chest, and one arm folded under his head. He looks as young as the day Rae met him.
That's one of the good things about the second world. Nobody ages. L will never grow uglier, and L will never grow old. He'll always be decorative, in his own odd little way. He'll never be beautiful, but he is appealing. His vulnerability is appealing. The depth of his mind is appealing. The fact that, in the end, he fell in love with Rae as if he'd never stood a chance of holding out is appealing.
L doesn't love people. Part of his strength was his emotional distance. And that's why he's more important than anyone else who has ever loved Rae.
L shifts beneath his sheets and mutters something incomprehensible.
Rae has been having waking dreams again, too. The window on the left, the boy on the right, the demand not to look.
Something is wrong with the whole scenario. Something beyond the absurdity of it all, beyond the mere human ordering Rae around. Something to do with the chair. Or maybe the desk.
Rae shakes its head, firmly. It has real problems in the real world, and it will not be distracted by nightmares. There are two things that it needs to focus on, right here and now.
One is L's inherent evil streak. He was happy enough to let criminals roam the streets, rather than being disposed of by Kira. He toys with lives and sacrifices people. And although Rae is convinced that it can make him good, it needs to make him good in time.
Because if L dies in this world, L will go to hell. Of that, Rae is certain. And Rae wants L around. So L must never, ever die here.
The second problem is L's resistance to Kira. Still. After all this time. After everything Rae has done and said and explained.
It's time to do something about that. L is in love, now, so everything else should be easy.
"Hey," Rae says, poking L in the arm. "Get up."
L groans and doesn't open his eye.
"It is midnight."
Rae glances at the clock.
"You can't possibly know that," it says, irritably. "Come on, get up."
L struggles to his feet. Rae puts a hand on his back, and helps him up. Not because it has to. Not because it's socially expected, or because people are watching and it wants to look like a good person. Because it wants to.
Rae wants L to stay with it, but Rae also wants L to want to stay with it. This is new.
It's okay, though. Everything is okay.
"What is it?" L asks, his voice low and hoarse. "Is something wrong?"
"We're going up onto the roof," Rae tells him. "Bring your binoculars. I want to show you something."
You go down to the store again, but they still don't have any chocolate bars. They don't have chocolate biscuits, or chocolate cake, or chocolate-flavoured drinks. They don't even have that plain cheesecake that comes with cocoa sprinkled on top.
"Problem with our suppliers," the cashier says, eyeing you like he's worried you're going to steal something.
Everyone treats you like a criminal. You kind of are a criminal, actually.
"Oh," you say, stupidly. "So, uh. When will there be more?"
You've had a headache all day.
"I dunno," the cashier replies. "Next week, probably."
"Oh."
You feel shaky and unstable. You need chocolate to feel normal. If Near finds out that you're actually addicted, he's going to have a field day. And then he's probably going to make it so that you can never see Matt again.
"Anyway," the cashier continues, "it might do you good. You look like you could stand to lose some weight."
You tell him to get fucked. Then you steal a packet of sweets. It's what everyone expects of you, anyway.
L stands under what is left of Rae's wings. He doesn't want to get soaked by the rain. Not tonight. Tonight is okay.
L shouldn't feel okay. Rae is debilitated again, and he has failed nearly everyone he cares about. He's failed the world. There is a good reason he can't find decent cases any more.
The view up here is fantastic. L can see most of London, spread out in every direction. The binoculars dangle from his fingertips, although really only half of the device is useful to him. Rae leads him wordlessly to a particular spot on the roof, and then points out into the distance.
"Seventeenth floor of the white building. Third window from the left."
L raises the binoculars and peers into the window. He can make out a very small room, only wide enough to fit two beds and a cradle. There's a filthy sink in one corner. A raggedy-looking young woman is nursing an infant, while two young children play on the floor.
"That is their home," Rae tells him. "That one room. That's all they can afford."
"That is sad," L agrees. "But why are you showing them to me?"
"When that baby was born, her husband was still alive," Rae continues. "He was murdered only recently. His murderer was acquitted."
L chews on his thumb.
"If you knew about this at the time, why didn't you tell me?" he says, softly. "We perhaps could have helped the case."
"There was no evidence," Rae snarls. "That's the problem, L. Bad people walk free, and good people get hurt."
"But-"
"Watercross Lane, between the grey building and the Hudson's residential building."
L sighs, and obliges.
"See the homeless woman? With the red hair? She was held prisoner and abused for years. She escaped, but had a psychological breakdown. Her abuser was never convicted. She never recovered."
L is actually familiar with her story. She's done some surveillance work for him, in the past. She's actually quite functional, but has chosen to remain homeless.
Rae probably wouldn't understand something like that.
"I see," is all he says.
"Kira would have stopped him," Rae tells him.
"If Kira was intending to kill everyone who was accused of a crime, regardless of the conviction, he also would have killed a lot of innocent people."
"Those innocent people would not have gone to hell," Rae points out.
"Light didn't know that," L says, irritably.
"Behind you, the parking lot just in front of the bakery," Rae growls. "Someone is getting their bag snatched right now."
The Shinigami is getting angry. Clearly, it was hoping to prove some sort of point to him. But it is wasting its time. Nothing will ever convince L that Light was right. Because Light was wrong. Evil and power-hungry and dangerous and terrifying and wrong. Rae is too idealistic. Rae is exactly the sort of person that Light wanted. Someone young and naïve and emphatic and influential.
"Then, let's call the police," L murmurs, reaching for his phone.
"The justice system is fallible," Rae says. "You said so yourself. You need to make up your damn mind. Look to your left. The big brick building, nineteenth floor-"
"No," L interrupts. "No, I do not need to make up my mind. I know the justice system is fallible. And I do the best I can."
"So you never supported Kira? You always wanted all those criminals to live? To go on hurting other people?"
"Your second and third statements are not mutually inclusive," L warns Rae. "And besides, I would have more sympathy for your case if I thought you genuinely cared about the people you use as examples."
"What?" Rae sputters. "What do you mean? Why do you think I want to be king? So that I can protect people like that."
"If that were true," L says slowly. "If they were genuinely important to them, then you would value their health over their use as examples. You are living with a millionaire. You would have at least tried to convince me to donate to their causes. I don't think you care about them at all."
"Fuck you," Rae says, darkly. "How dare you say that."
"Light Yagami was a monster," L says, and it's kind of a relief to properly make his case to Rae. "He cared only for himself. But you don't have to believe in him, and you certainly don't have to be like him. It would do you well to learn from someone else's mistakes, my friend."
"Do you really think these people don't want their attackers dead?" Rae demands, its voice venomous and angry. "Do you really think they're glad that Kira no longer exists in this world?"
"They ought to be," L says, coolly. "And now, I'm going back to bed."
If there were any loose objects on the roof, Rae would be throwing them at L's head.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
You don't know anything. You're no better than anyone.
L is just a stupid person. Rae doesn't care about him. Rae doesn't need him. Rae doesn't care about anyone, and Kira was right, and everything is going to be fine.
Wait. Rae doesn't care about anyone?
No. That's hyperbole. Rae cares about everyone. They matter, these filthy, disgusting, boring, ordinary people. They matter, and Rae is doing everything for them, like the best sort of charity. Like the best sort of person, and L is wrong.
Rae didn't ask L to help those people because…because that's not Rae's fucking responsibility, anyway. People get themselves into situations and they shouldn't rely on gods and heroes to save them all the fucking time.
But Rae cares about everyone, really.
Slowly, subtly, Rae's intensely-guarded point of view is starting to become unwound.
Kira was right.
Kira was right.
L is wrong.
Kira was right.
It wasn't my fault.
Don't look.
Kira was…
Rae is overwhelmingly angry. It hasn't given up, but it is furious. At L. It wants to take him apart, piece by piece. It wants to hurt him until he understands. It wants to remove him from the world, and be rid of all the terrible things that he says.
And yet, even now, it wants him to live.
"Are you okay?" L asks, when Rae appears by his side a few hours later.
"Don't talk to me," Rae snarls.
L pulls himself up and crouches on the edge of his mattress.
"I like you a lot," he says, quietly. "And I cannot tell you what to believe. I know that for you, Kira is a concept. And conceptually, if we lived in a world without criminals, where everyone was good, then that would be a wonderful world."
Rae eyes him wearily.
"It's nice to know you aren't completely stupid," it says, unkindly.
"And I know you want that, and I know you identify with him because he seemed to want what you want," L continues. "But the thing is, deep down? All Light wanted was to be great."
"Seriously, shut up," Rae says, but a little less harshly.
L reaches out and places his hand over Rae's giant, bony fingers.
"I don't want to see you follow in his footsteps," L says, smiling a little. "You are worth so much more than that."
Rae doesn't answer for a moment. It clenches and unclenches its free hand and seems to gaze around the room restlessly.
"Of course," it says, finally. "Of course I am."
If they can't agree on Kira, at least they can agree on Rae. That is something. That is more than L expected, actually.
"Of course. Do you want to sleep in my bed?"
"No," Rae says, balefully.
So L curls up and goes to sleep on his own, and tries not to think about the fact that through that entire angry, frustration-riddled incident, Rae's eyes stayed completely brown.
Yes, this is good. This strategy is okay.
It won't take long. A few weeks, at most. And it gives Jas something to focus on, besides L's weakness, L's betrayal.
She watches Keehl stumble about in his hell-box, an indulgent smile forming on her lips. He's still hot-tempered and reactive. Easy to predict.
She'll take everything away from him and then offer him the world. And he won't say no.
He's only human.
"There's an email from the police. Some mass murderer is killing a fucktonne of people."
The intercom sounds loud and abrasive, and L flails in its general direction for a few seconds before he gets up.
Clearly, he just isn't supposed to sleep tonight.
"Thank you, Mail," he replies, quietly. He reaches for his laptop and accidentally kicks Rae, who is doing something that looks suspiciously like sleeping across the end of L's bed.
The message from the local police force is brief. The murderer is opportunistic and frantic, and he's killed five people in the past three hours. It's too early to tell whether he's actually an advanced criminal, or if he's someone the police can subdue on their own without too much help. They're probably just calling L because he's close and available, and because he did a decent enough job with the drug ring case yesterday. Which is kind of insulting.
L would rather be insulted than useless, though.
"What's happening?" Rae demands, resting one heavy hand on top of L's head. "Why are you even awake?"
L grins at his Shinigami.
"Want to catch a murderer?" he asks.
"Always," Rae replies.
By morning, the media has a name for this new murderer. By morning, ten people have been killed, systematically and quickly, a chainsaw to the chest. All young men. All with curly hair. The case isn't baffling as much as it is urgent. The police need to know where the murderer is now, and what he's going to do next.
"They all graduated from college in the past two years," Raye says, rubbing at his eyes. "Other than that, I can't see any connection."
"We're not looking for a connection," L says. "We're looking for a killer. Get me all the information the police have on the victims."
"Two of the victims were orphans," Mail says. "Three were only-children. One had seven siblings. Two were-"
"That's not useful," Rae snaps.
"Then you be useful and check the medical records," L says, as patiently as he can manage. This case is a particularly stressful one. A lot of people will die if he fails.
He stares at the photographs of the victims.
"They all look very similar," he murmurs, even though it's an obvious fact that even Raye Penber has probably already spotted.
"Ben Little was diagnosed with autism when he was seven," Rae says. "Malcolm Bait has a family history of breast cancer. Three of the others had influenza vaccines last year. Say, maybe that's the connection."
L ignores the sarcasm. They already have a connection.
They…already have a connection. What they need is a motive. And a suspect. And more time. L is so stupid. It's been so long since he's had a real, important case.
"Contact the police," he tells Raye. "I want every person in London who resembles these men under armed guard."
"That's ridiculous," Rae says. "The police don't have those sort of resources. And they definitely don't have that sort of money."
"I do," L says. "You focus on finding the murderer. I will protect the people."
This is what he is for.
Things don't get less weird, but they do get more successful. L and Rae identify the murderer just before dusk, bouncing ideas off each other like they've been working together for years.
"Look at the way Little was disfigured. The killer must have been left handed. We know something about him already."
"We also know that he was probably having a psychotic episode."
"How do we know that?"
"All the wounds were inflicted from the chest. That means he looked each of his victims in the eye while he was killing them."
"Good point. Hey, you know who the victims resemble? Roland Tank. The cancer patient who was in the news last week."
"Tank? Wasn't he the poster child for the voluntary euthanasia movement?"
The killer turns out to be Roland's brother. Psychotic episode. He watched Roland suffer for months on end while his hospital was emblazoned in an ethics battle with a large religious sect. Now he's trying to euthanise a hundred copies of his brother, over and over again.
The second world. Sometimes it's more progressive than the first world. And sometimes, it's just as rotten. Nobody should have to suffer forever.
Except Light. Raye hopes he's burning in hell. Raye hopes he's screaming.
He also hopes Naomi is okay. Wherever she is, now.
"Seriously, who tries to euthanise someone with a chainsaw?" Rae demands, folding its arms. "That's just stupid. And counterproductive."
"He probably didn't even know what was going on," Raye murmurs. "Poor bastard."
"Do either of you know what it's like to be insane?" Mail asks, very quietly.
"Of course not," Rae says.
"Then shut up," Mail snaps.
L meets Raye's eyes, and then looks away. Raye wonders how he's feeling right now. He wonders how low someone would have to sink, before they'd even consider a Shinigami-
No, he's still not thinking about that. L and Mail seem to be getting along a little better, anyway. The team is working reasonably well.
The team of four. Three, if you don't count the invisible skeleton monster.
Things are getting more successful, but sometimes Raye still finds himself wondering which of them will die next. Like it's inevitable.
They take three more cases; all serial killers, all difficult. The money that L lost trying to be some sort of ridiculous hero is starting to build up again.
The world doesn't need ridiculous heroes. It needs action, not symbolism.
Rae can't remember the numbers that used to be over L's head. It can't remember, but it's sure that L won't die anytime soon. Not with Rae around to protect him. The very notion is inconceivable.
This is new, too. This is a new sort of power. It's a new way to be better than someone; where instead of wanting to crush them, Rae wants to defend them.
Because you are mine.
It's nice. Owning someone is nice. The way L hates Kira - pointlessly and dogmatically - isn't nice, but that's okay. Rae is working on that.
"I don't want to see you follow in his footsteps."
Theoretially, Rae could just pretend to have stopped believing in Kira.
No.
That is drastic. Unpalatable. Losing.
"My reputation has improved," L murmurs, leaning aimlessly against the wall. "I was mentioned on two news channels last night."
"You're welcome," Rae says, sweetly.
L grins and rolls his eyes, like he's trying to convey both affection and exasperation in the same expression. He looks tired, even though it's the middle of the day. He's getting weak in his old age. Rae pokes him in the ribs.
"Look at your wings," L says, sadly. "They're stumps."
"Look at your face," Rae retorts.
They don't have anything to do right now. There is time for banter. Time to be smug. The spoils go to the victor, and Rae never ever loses.
"I want popcorn," L murmurs.
Rae blinks at him.
"Wait," it says, overdramatically. "I think I need to sit down. Did you just say-"
"Caramel-covered popcorn."
"Oh."
"Or maybe frosted."
Rae leans over L. It's tall, taller than everyone. Taller the way a god king ought to be. L is tiny. He watches Rae casually, one hand behind his head, the other at his side. He isn't scared, and that's gratifying in its own way. Rae can frighten people whenever it chooses. But it can also make people feel safe.
Rae has so many skills and abilities, and it is kind of laughable that anyone ever even tried to stand in Rae's way. It can have anything it wants. Anything.
"I'm going to find a way to fix you," L says, suddenly serious again. "I will not have you debilitated like this."
"No," Rae orders, shaking its head. "You mind your own business. If you try anything, I will stop you."
The thing about being big is that you can say whatever you want. You can say what you are actually thinking. You don't need to lie and manipulate and charm and coerce people into agreement. It's kind of a relief to be able to tell L to stop being a giant fucking idiot instead of grinning and bearing all his utter stupidity all the time.
"Perhaps," L muses, in a tone of voice that suggests he isn't actually convinced.
But he should be. Because Rae can stop him. Any time. Rae can do anything it wants. And right now, it would like to make L scream.
Of course, it has always wanted that. But not like this. This is new.
L still doesn't move. He seems to be considering something. With the 'something' probably being his next sugar-saturated meal. Rae touches the corner of his mouth. L is an expensive professional. His popularity is demonstrated by the resilience of his reputation. A dozen failures, a meager handful of successes, and everyone respects him again. He could probably charge a hundred dollars a word and still get jobs.
This mouth is worth a lot.
The sum of L is worth a lot. Of course. Rae would hardly have chosen someone ordinary.
Rae smooths the soft white shirt over L's stomach, and then reaches for his belt. Rae never had any interest in sex until it met L. Now it is beginning to understand all the fuss people make. Rae can drink L's pleasure the same way it used to savour his suffering.
L blinks a few times, sleepy and catlike. And then, without warning, he grabs Rae's hand.
"No," he says, with certainty.
Huh?
This isn't right. Nobody ever says no, because Rae is perfect.
"What?"
"I said 'no'," L repeats. "Stop."
Rae is suddenly struck with the urge to just pick him up and throw him at the bed, because this is suddenly far too much like a competition and L seems to be winning. And L can only ever win if he sides with Rae.
But that would be a crime, and Rae is a good person. Rae is the best person and also the best Shinigami, so it removes its hand from his jeans and glares at him instead.
"Why?" it demands.
Are you actually stupid?
"I want to get a head-start on the next case," L mumbles, and shuffles past Rae, making a beeline for the corridor.
Rae was kind of expecting something like that. Either the next case, or the fact that the door was open, or the fact that L is hungry. Something pathetic and yet easily resolved.
It isn't a big deal.
But then L turns, thumb pressed against his lower lip.
"Actually," he says, slowly. "That wasn't the reason at all. Honestly, I just wanted to know if you'd stop."
Rae freezes, motionless with surprise and mounting anger.
You.
You thought.
You thought I might be like that?
Now Rae wants to throw the bed at L, instead.
"So that's what you think of me," it snarls, furiously. "Everything I've done for you, and you're treating me like a common fucking criminal."
L scratches the back of his neck.
"Is it the 'criminal' part that bothers you?" he asks, with interest. "Or the 'common'?"
He's horrible. He's horrible and Rae has been looking after him and ungrateful and disgusting and small and how did Rae ever even think…
The words L Lawliet flash into existence over L's head. L's lips quirk minutely, as if he can see them too.
And then Rae gets it.
And laughs.
"That was pretty good," it tells him, after a few minutes of pointed chuckling. "I think you nearly had me for a moment there."
L sighs.
"Just give up, seriously," Rae suggests. "I'll see through anything that you do."
"No," L says, gravely. "I will never give up on you."
L is an idiot, but sometimes he says things, and sometimes.
Sometimes.
Sometimes Rae feels…
No. Everything is fine.
The next time they come for you, it's the middle of the day. You're sleeping on the couch, because every store in the town has run out of chocolate and nothing makes sense and there doesn't seem to be any reason to be conscious any more.
They come for you, right through the front door. Dwayne is at work. Nobody is around. They're wearing overalls and motorcycle helmets and carrying guns.
Kira's henchmen have found you again.
tbc
a/n
+ thank you for reading.