Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
A/N: To make up for the lack of updates I spent all day writing this one for you guys. :D I hope you find it interesting. It was quite difficult to write. I worked so hard to keep L in character. xD Thank you so much to Danicasdeath for reviewing.
"Just sleep."
That's what they had told him. L lay in the hospital bed with curtains closed. They didn't filter the daylight well and all they really did was dim the room. He stared at the sterile tiled ceiling and pinched the crisp and starchy sheets with his fingers. Mrs. Larsen's gaze was imprinted on his irises. It had been confident and it seemed to be almost hungry. As if it was to captivate him, trap him and then consume him. He was positive that she was the one who had killed his mother. But now what? She was going to take him in. This was getting dangerous.
He remembered what she had said to him after giving him that stare.
"I'm going to take care of you." It was like a promise. She sounded so sure of herself when she said it. Take care of him? Was that code language for her getting rid of him for good? He shivered and ducked under the covers. What an earth was he going to do? He was all alone now. Letting the tears dribble down his features, he wished that his mother was still alive. She'd know what to do.
He squeezed his eyes shut and nuzzled the pillow. The bed was unfamiliar and unwelcoming to him. If he tried to sleep he would probably have nightmares. The only thing stopping him from getting up and running was the fact that he was still cold to the core. The room was too bright. He could see the red of his eyelids as he desperately begged for sleep. Any escape from reality would do. He silently decided that the next nurse to stick her head around the door would be begged to make the room darker. The redness reminded him too much of the blood that had singed his tongue and remained dithering on his taste buds.
But then again, at least he could see. He didn't want to be blind when he was in the situation he was now in. He buried his head into the duvet that smelled so strongly of detergent. He should just relax. No that was silly! He had to be on his toes. He snapped his eyes open in fear and glanced at the door. The blinds had been pulled over the window but… he could see a shadow. A woman who seemed to be quite old with the way she was hunched slightly. Her hair was loose and- This was it! He was sure that it was Mrs. Larsen.
He heard a voice and the lips of the shadow moved in time to the words. The click of the hinge as a hand rested onto the door handle. She pressed it down and L bit his lip to stop himself from crying out. Despite being so cold earlier he was now burning with fear and his palms were sweating. His skin tingled nervously and he tried not to hyperventilate as the door creaked open. A figure holding a large heavy object stepped towards him.
"AAAAAARH!"
"I'm sorry dear did I scare you?" Mrs. Wammy said in an upset tone as she stepped into the room. "I brought some of the muffins I was baking here because I thought you'd need something to cheer you up."
With a relieved sigh L relaxed. He was sure that this woman intended no harm to him at all. Her husband entered the room after her and closed the door.
"We spoke to the nurse and she said it would be okay if you had one." Mrs. Wammy continued as she opened the biscuit tin she held and the comforting smell of home baking filled the room and masked the hospital smell. She offered him the tin and the monster they named hunger in his stomach roared as he realised how starving he was. A trembling hand reached out and automatically picked up the largest chocolate muffin.
Ignoring the fact that he was in the company of people he didn't know very well, he crammed it into his mouth and ate it in record breaking time. The sweetness melted and caressed his tongue, taking away the pain and bitter blood. Eyes fluttering shut in bliss; he swallowed. When he opened his eyes he saw Mr. and Mrs. Wammy watching him in interest. Mrs. Wammy seemed to be pleased with how well her baking had gone down.
"I'm sure they won't mind if you have another." She said with a smile, offering the tin again. Warmth spread through him.
"Are you okay?" Mr. Wammy asked as L, who had finished devouring the muffin, once again pulled his legs up to his chest and crouched. He looked at the elderly man and responded.
"I just feel safer this way." They both nodded.
"The nurse said you should be sleeping, so we'll leave now." Mrs. Wammy said, closing the biscuit tin and leaving it on the table. "You can have the rest of the muffins."
They both stood up and began to leave, opening the door. Just before it closed behind them, L called out to Mr. Wammy.
"One moment please, sir." He begged. Mr. Wammy opened the door again and made eye contact with L. His wife stood behind him in interest. "There's a matter I wish to discuss with the pair of you." They exchanged glances and entered the room once more. "I wish to speak to you in confidentiality." He added.
They were a little taken aback with the extent of the eight year old's vocabulary but nevertheless they shut the door and drew chairs up to his bed. For a few moments he just started at them, not taking them in at all as he gathered and collected his thoughts.
"As serious an accusation it is, I suspect that Mrs. Larsen is the killer." He said calmly; heading straight for the point. The two adults seemed to be pretty shocked, as expected.
"Do you have any evidence?" Mr. Wammy asked eventually.
"It's just instinct. However she has no alibi and has stepped in claiming that the killer contacted her therefore she is a suspect."
Mrs. Wammy looked at him in disbelief.
"Shouldn't you be speaking to the police about your suspicions?"
"Madam, that would be a foolish move. Let's pretend for a moment that you are the killer. You hear that somebody suspects you. What would you try to do?" Mrs. Wammy looked at him in slight defeat. "You would try to get rid of them, correct? If I don't prove to the police that she is the killer immediately and the information that I believe she is the one who murdered my mother is leaked, it would surely result in my death."
Mr. Wammy now spoke up, now understanding where L was coming from.
"But surely, if we leak the information, you'll end up dead as well? How do you know we can be trusted?" L looked him right in the eye and answered the question without hesitation, still crouched in the bed.
"At the time of my mother's death I was with Mrs. Wammy so I know for a fact that she is not the killer. As for you, you would barely have enough time to make the phone call from the killer to my household before Mrs. Larsen knocked on your door and told you about the phone call she received. Mobile phones are also very large and when you arrived at my house you weren't carrying one so I doubt you contacted the house while you were on your way over."
"I fail to see the reason why you speak to us rather than the police though."
"Mr. Wammy, I trust you and I request that you trust me as well." Mr. Wammy looked at L as if he were insane. The boy had only just turned eight and yet he had so much authority and potential.
"As you have said, I require evidence to prove my suspicions. I ask both of you for your assistance."
Mr. Wammy thought about it for a moment.
"I have no doubt that you shall not share this information with another as doing so could potentially put your life at risk." L spoke again.
"What do you want us to do?" Mrs. Wammy asked uncertainly.
"Mr. Wammy I ask you to escort me to my own home so that I can listen to the phone call and confirm my suspicions. Please note that accompanying me to the house may result in many consequences. The killer may be in wait for us." Mrs. Wammy looked alarmed at this comment.
"What happens if he refuses to take you there?"
"Then I shall go alone."
"Very well then." Mr. Wammy said without even pausing. It was far too dangerous to let L enter the house by himself.
"Why are you even agreeing?! L should be sat in hospital, not messing around at a murder scene!" Mrs. Wammy cried in frustration.
"You have to trust me." L said.
"Why would listening to the phone call confirm your suspicions?" Mr. Wammy asked curiously.
L put his thumb into his mouth as the taste of the muffins faded away and the unpleasant aftertaste of his mother's death bathed his tongue again.
"Mrs. Larsen claimed that the killer called her house at exactly five to ten. If my suspicions are correct, the phone call at my house should also be at exactly five to ten. How can a person make two separate phone calls at the same time? I considered the possibility that the killer is not working alone however I am almost certain that Mrs. Larsen is the only person involved. Why would the killer contact Mrs. Larsen? Without a doubt, I am sure that Mrs. Larsen was lying about that phone call." The adults were staring at him with the stunned expressions again.
"What do you like me to do, L?" Mr. Wammy asked, realising that there was no use stopping him now.
"I'll need some more evidence that Mrs. Larsen is in fact the killer. The police won't be eager to rule out the possibility that she is not working alone. I'm going to need to search her house."
"You want to trespass?" Mrs. Wammy said in disbelief.
"Yes, I do." He replied patiently, not flustered about it at all. Mrs. Wammy caved in.
"What's the plan?"
"At six o clock this evening, yourself and your husband shall knock on her door and invite her out to a meal with you. Whatever you do, make sure that she has no choice and must go to a restaurant with you. Take a taxi down to the restaurant and keep her there until at least half past seven. It is vital that you do not spend even one moment alone with her and must be in public at all times. We cannot allow her to have the opportunity to kill you. Mr. Wammy, you're an inventor, correct?"
"That is correct."
" As an inventor I assume that you have such a device as a tape recorder?"
"Yes, I do."
"In that case Mrs. Wammy. I ask you to keep a tape recorder in your purse and record the conversation. Mrs. Larsen may let something slip if she has a little too much wine to drink. Mr. Wammy, does Mrs. Larsen know that you're an inventor?"
"Yes, is that a problem?" he replied.
"And would she rely on you to fix a broken door?" L responded, ignoring the question.
"Yes I think she would if I offered."
"In that case, here's the plan…"
It was ten minutes after Mr. and Mrs. Wammy left the hospital before L peeled back the covers and jumped out of bed. He was still wearing his plain white shirt and jeans as he had refused to change into the hospital gown. Without evening bothering with shoes, he pushed his door open slightly and was pleased to see no nurses walking by. He slipped out of the room and tried to blend in with the visitors that walked back and forth down the corridor. He had to be careful and make sure he wasn't spotted. He mustn't be gone from the hospital too long otherwise there would be a big panic and Mrs. Larsen would find out. He was certain that she would realise that he was on to her if she discovered he was missing from the hospital.
He successfully reached the lobby of the hospital. A fancy glass front desk with three busy looking women behind it watched the large glass front doors. He ducked behind people passing by every time a nurse or doctor walked past him on their way through one of the many double swing doors that branched out to the rest of the hospital. He crept past the luscious leather chairs and dark brown coffee table next to the large television and scooted past the vending machine before finally reaching the entrance and dashing out of the hospital.
He rocketed through the car park; the skin on the bottom of his feet screaming in agony as he slammed them onto the tarmac. It was about a ten minute drive to his house from here. After he reached the edge of the car park and left the premises completely he walked casually to avoid drawing too much attention to himself.
For five minutes he walked down the street, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes concentrating on the ground. He nearly walked straight past Mr. Wammy in his car. Looking up just in time, he opened the door and slid into the seat next to Mr. Wammy. He started the engine and they skidded down the road.
"Forgive the violent driving but its half past five already and we need to be at Mrs. Larsen's door by six." He explained. L nodded in approval, glad that they were sticking exactly to the plan.
They stopped the car around the corner from the house and stepped out as L had explained that it was suspicious to have the car sitting right in front the house. They walked into the front garden and L closed his eyes in remorse as he remembered yesterday and the familiar cold tickling of the grass on his feet. It was as if he was going to follow the trails of cats again and replay the horrific event.
He opened his eyes and automatically walked to the nearest flowerbed and dug in the dirt with his bare hands. He loosened the soil and pulled out a key that would have been shiny if it wasn't covered in mud. He wiped the majority of the soil off of the key and walked towards Mr. Wammy and the door.
They unlocked it easily and entered the building cautiously. It smelled strongly of blood though they both knew that the mess would have been cleaned up by now.
"Where's the phone?"
"In the front room." L said nervously. He knew he would have to walk back into that room again and it tore into his chest with savage pain. Taking a shuddering deep breath; he went into the room. The bells in his mind shrilled louder than they had done since he had first seen his mangled mother and the taste in his mouth spread throughout him. The room was so empty and lifeless now. He reached for the phone and pressed play to hear the messages. The first few were from Mrs. Wammy; he fast forwarded through these. Finally he got to the message from the killer.
"October the 31st, 9:55." L instantly pressed stop, not wishing to hear the message as even the first syllable of whatever the killer had to say in the crude disguised voice stabbed at him.
"It was Mrs. Larsen. She killed my mother."
A/N: :) If you read it and you enjoyed it or hated it, either way I'd love to read a review so I can improve my work. It's great to hear back from people who read what I write.
