"Affection."

Because everybody needs affection. Wammy's children reflect on this matter.

Disclaimer:

I don't own Death Note, or any of its characters. They belong to the fantastic and amazing Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I'm not making any profit from this. I only wrote this for fun.

Warnings:

The following chapters will contain spoilers till the end of Death Note. If you haven't read/watched it all, some things might not be easy to understand.

Author Notes:

So here is the second part of the L chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and please tell me your opinion through a review. Thanks to my readers! :D


It had been a month since little L had come into the Wammys lives. Quillsh had already proved that the kid was an exceptional genius. A genius who didn't like to sleep or eat normal food. He liked to stay awake all night devouring science books and then looking for ways to apply the knowledge the next day. He also liked to eat cookies, cake, ice cream, lollipops and all sorts of desserts while studying.

He was not normal, therefore Quillsh didn't plan to send him to a normal school. He figured the boy obviously wouldn't adjust well, and he would be bored as hell. Besides, the teachers wouldn't understand him. So the couple decided to educate him in their home. They didn't expect him to be a college graduate, so a school certificate or diploma didn't matter much to them. They just wanted him to be a healthy and well educated child. That was all.

So there L was, studying in Quillsh's studio while he was experimenting with several materials to create God knows what, like any other day. Only that this day was anything but ordinary.

"L, what time is it?" The man asked. He had taught L how to read the clock and he had learned it in the first attempt. Quillsh had figured that if L was unable to learn something, it was because he hadn't been taught well.

"4:45 pm." The kid answered, after glancing at the clock for a moment.

"So strange... Penny should have come back from church at 4... Maybe she went to buy groceries..." And saying that, he continued with his work, while L continued reading the Bible, with his knees to his chest in the edge of the chair.

It was odd that Quillsh being a scientist and whatnot, had married such a religious woman. He personally believed in God, but he also believed in many other things and he didn't think it was necessary to praise them. She didn't share that opinion, thus the catholic images that adorned most places of the house, excepting his studio; and the amount of religion books that were easy to find in any drawer. So L had been studying the Bible, she was happy that he had discovered religion, and he was glad that the boy would now adquire a certain criteria on serious matters. She had wanted to bring the child to church with her, but she didn't want to push him, so she let him learn a little bit more about all these instances and promised to take him with her next week...

One more hour passed and she hadn't returned yet. Quillsh was starting to worry, so he called Roxanne, one of Penny's friends, to ask her if she happened to be at her house. She claimed she hadn't seen her in the whole day. Strange. He thought they were going to church together, but apparently she had gone with another friend, named Susan. Roxanne gave him Susan's number and he called to her house. Her teenage son picked up claiming that she hadn't returned either. So... what was this supposed to mean? The preaching had extended? This was too weird.

He hang up the phone and returned to his work. Well, he didn't know this Susan person, so maybe she was one of those women that liked to go window shopping even if they didn't really need to buy anything. Penny wasn't that type of woman, but she was a sweet and easy going person, so she could have just gone on with it to please her friend.

About fifteen minutes later, the phone rang. He went to pick it up...

"What a disgusting joke!" L overheard him yell at the person on the other side. "You should not waste your time making these sorts of imprudent calls... No, no, there has to be some mistake..." At this point L put down the book and turned around to look at the man. "This... has to be... I... I will be there as soon as possible." He hung up and stood there for a moment with his head down.

L wasn't feeling well. He didn't know what this was, but he knew that he didn't enjoy this kind of silence. Quillsh was still there in front of the phone doing nothing, and this made L uneasy. What had happened to him? Why didn't he come back to work?

"L..." The man finally spoke. "Try to comb your hair, we're going out."

What was this? What kind of chain reaction had originated this? And what was wrong with Mr. Wammy? He wasn't usually like this. Yes, he was serious and more rational than emotional, but this was just... cold. His voice sounded cold, and he seemed to be just frozen there. No matter how much of a genius L was supposed to be, he couldn't understand human's complex behaviour just now... maybe he never would.

Obeying his caretaker, he got up from his chair and went to the bathroom to comb his hair, while trying to organize his thoughts. They were going out. He hadn't been out since he arrived to their house. Did that mean that they were returning him to the streets? That this was all? And why did he need to comb his hair? How was that relevant? He wasn't understanding anything and it stressed him. He wished he could simply get the information, but he didn't want to be upfront because, well... he was scared.

He was scared that the man wouldn't respond his question, and instead would yell at him like he did with the person at the other end of the line. He didn't want to be treated like that, it made him nervous, it gave him a weird feeling that he didn't like at all. He finished combing his hair, with the help of some water, and exited the bathroom to go to the living room where the phone was located, finding Quillsh with his hat and jacket on, sitting on the couch with his hands on his face.

The image disturbed the boy. Everything was out of place. This wasn't ordinary or rutinary, what exactly was going to happen to him now? Was he about to meet his fate? Why the silence, why the eyes away from him?

"L..." The man finally spoke. "... Penny is dead."


"We are deeply sorry that you had to find out this way..." A policeman told Mr. Wammy. "But we thought there was no other choice."

"Oh, God..." The grown man answered as he covered his face with one hand, avoiding to look at the corpse lying on the floor. She had died instantly, the police had said, from a shot straight to the heart. He had also been told that the killer had been just a few inches away from her, since there was so much gunpowder in her clothes. "My Penny, my sweet doll... What kind of sick bastard could have done this to you?!"

He then backed away and started to walk in circles. It was as if he wanted to see her but at the same time he didn't. Either way the scene was horrible. It was a scene that no one would expect to see at a museum. Counting Penny, there were three murders in the same place. The others were her friend Susan, who had received several gun impacts on her limbs, and an unknown man, who had been shot in the neck and died instantly as well.

It made no sense at all. Nothing made sense. Why was she in a museum? Why was she dead? Who the hell had murdered her? For what reason? All these questions assaulted the police, Mr. Wammy, and L too. For a child like him, this sort of thing simply made no sense at all. He understood that people died, and he understood that people were murdered, after all, he had been raised on the streets, but that someone had decided to murder 3 people in such an uncommon place simply couldn't get through his head.

He observed her biting his thumb. There lied Penny, the woman who had taken such good care of him, who had done nothing but to treat him well and make him feel comfortable... now she was a corpse. He felt a knot in his stomach very similar to the void he felt when his mother disappeared. Maybe he should start getting used to the fact that nobody was eternal and everyone was meant to leave sooner or later.

"Hey, kid." A policeman stood in front of him, blocking his sight. "You shouldn't be in a place like this. This is a crime scene." And then he proceded to lead him somewhere else, when Quillsh called for him.

"The boy came with me. I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone I could leave him with."

"He can't be here..." The officer told Quillsh. "And you shouldn't either, we're going to process the scene now, so you should wait at home until we call you."

"...Alright." Mr. Wammy said after taking a deep breath. "Let's go home, L..."

Quillsh started walking towards the exit with L, not even bothering to look behind or say goodbye to anything. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. His thoughts and memories of his beloved Penny, who meant everything to him, who was the only one he really loved and the one he lived for. Now she was gone and so was his heart. There was nothing left to do except wait until he was able to bury her and say his goodbyes.

He clenched his fists and forced himself not to cry. He was a man. Men didn't cry. Not even when their world fell apart in front of them. Not even when their lives stopped having a meaning...


L sat alone in the kitchen floor looking at the ceiling. He enjoyed sitting in that spot. It was spaceful enough for him and the floor had a certain coldness that made him feel good for some odd reason. He was just there looking at the nothing, listening to the silence... It felt so lonely. There was no one around, no one to notice him sitting there, no one to ask him to get up or to offer him a hypothetical chicken cookie. It was then that he realized that even ordinary objects had some affection attached to them. That the reason why humans associated certain people with certain actions was because of the way they did the things they did. No matter how much time passed, rainy nights would always remind him of his mother, and chicken would always remind him of Penny, and chess would always remind him of Mr. Wammy... He wondered if anyone would remember him when looking at a certain object or event.

Even after they were long gone, their essence would remain in the things that involved them.

He stood up from his spot and left for the living room. There was Quillsh still, face buried in his hands, sitting next to the phone with a picture of a young version of him and Penny at his side. L didn't know what to say or do. Mr. Wammy was in pain, that was sure, and he understood the reason, but there was nothing he could do to make it right. He sat in the couch in front of him with his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, picturing the scene in his head again. It was a horrible thing to look at, really. Three corpses in one place, all so horribly murdered, for no apparent reason. He couldn't wash the image off his mind, it bothered him, beyond the fact that there was dead people involved, it... bothered him.

The phone rang. Quillsh quickly changed his position and picked it up.

"Hello? Yes, it's me. Yes... I understand. Thank you." He hang up and then noticed L was there in front of him. "They have no idea who the culprit may be. They theorize it was a random killing spree by some sociopathic bastard..." Tears started to fill his eyes as he couldn't contain himself anymore. "I know that you shouldn't know these things because you're a child... but I really need to speak to someone, anyone, and you're the only one around... I'm sorry for being such a selfish man."

"I understand..." L answered. "You don't need to apologize, Mr. Wammy. You don't have to worry about me."

"You're so mature for your age... that sometimes I forget you're just a kid. And I just want you to know that I'll make sure you find a nice home, as Penny would have wanted."

L felt a void again. His future had once more become uncertain. Well, so be it. He never had much control over his life anyway. He never had any control over anything, actually. He just let himself be guided by the circumstances and the people who happened to be there for him at the moment.

"Mr. Wammy..." He spoke again. "I want to be useful in this event. I don't want to be a burden for you."

"You're no burden, L, you're just a kid. You shouldn't even witness this sort of things."

He still felt like he needed to do something. So he just nodded, got up and went to his room, where he sat on the bed and started picturing the scene again. It bothered him... for whatever reason, it just bothered him to no end. It was clearly a display of the unfulfilled wishes of a sick, sick mind. Who could possibly want to kill 3 complete strangers? What for? At what cost? Whatever their goal was, was it really worth it? What was the killer's needs, his message? What was he trying to say? These questions bothered L more than the mere crime scene. He didn't mind the blood. He minded the impact it caused on other people, especially Mr. Wammy. He minded the concern it caused the police. It disturbed him how a single person's actions could have such a terrible impact on others.

He pictured the scene in his mind again, so clearly. Penny was lying on her back with a bullet in her heart. Susan was on her side, lying in a pool of her own blood. And the man was also on his back with a shot in his neck. In a museum. How did they get there and why had they been killed?

First of all, how did they get there? As far as he knew, Penny and her friend were at church. The only possible way they would get there would be walking all the way there, unless someone forced them to... but that was unlikely. So, one of them probably convinced the other... Knowing Penny, she wouldn't have done such a thing without making sure to call Quillsh first... so maybe Susan convinced her to go? To a museum? Out of nowhere?

Hmmm... He bit his thumb in thought. Maybe they were walking back home and noticed something interesting in the museum. Something interesting... What sorts of things could result interesting for Penny? Well, there were several. She liked anything related to being a housewife. She also loved children and animals. And music. He needed to know what was in the museum that could have gotten her attention.

"What do you mean you want to go back there?" Quillsh asked visibly shocked and worried, still sitting in the same spot in the couch as L had proposed the idea of returning to the crime scene. "There's nothing we can do now, L. We can't bring her back, and we can't even bury her until the detectives finish their research."

"But I think we can get a clearer idea of who may be the culprit if we go back to the place where it happened." He answered with his voice calm and sweet.

"What do you mean getting a clearer idea of who may be the culprit? We don't even have any suspects. Besides we can't do such thing. I'm an inventor and you're a child. How do you expect us to find something that the police missed?"

"We are connected to this, we are connected to Penny." L replied. "We can provide them information about her, we can notice if there's something unusual."

"You have a point there..." Quillsh answered. "I really just want whatever psycho bastard did this to go to prison and pay for it... How dare he take her away from me, from all of us, and then just get away with it?!"

His voice broke again and he buried his face in his hands to avoid looking at L. The kid didn't understand why, though, he didn't need to hide. He really didn't. He was a human being with feelings and weaknesses.

It was only then that L learned the meaning of justice. Justice wasn't always right. Obviously there was no punishment on earth equivalent to taking away the lives of 3 people, so locking these sorts of murderers away was the only price they could make them pay. It wasn't equivalent, it wasn't worth the lives involved, but it was just.

"Mr. Wammy..." L called again in a low voice. "This culprit shall go to prison. He is not getting away."

Quillsh knew that he was just a kid, but what he said comforted him. He really wanted to believe in this special child, L. He attempted to smile at the boy and sighed. "Yes."

So then both the boy and the inventor returned to the place where Penny had breathed for the last time. That area of the museum was still closed to the public, but it was located in an angle where you could easily take a good look at it. And take pictures too, which was what everybody seemed to be doing. People loved murders for some odd reason. They liked reading about them, and liked going to the places where they happened if they had the chance. It was part of the human nature. A morbid nature indeed.

They took this opportunity in their favor, and observed the area from a distance. They also overheard people comment on their own theories. L noted mentally every information he could gather, but for Quillsh it was all nonsensical local gossip.

They returned home in silence. On the way Quillsh bought some bread, supposedly to make himself a sandwich for dinner, but he wasn't really hungry, nor was he in the mood to even bother washing some tomatoes. He sat in the same spot of the couch in absolute silence, alone in his thoughts, after telling L to eat whatever he wanted. Even if he meant real food, L went for the cookies. While eating them he started to organize his thoughts. Maybe the cookies helped him think better. It sure seemed like it, for the ideas were flowing smoothly.

Penny and Susan were friends. The man was unknown to them. Why kill two friends and a stranger? Maybe the other man was friends with the killer. That would make them two pairs of friends. Alright. Penny and Susan were about the same age, and so was the man. It was possible the killer's age was similar to them. Or it could be a coincidence. Another cookie. Two women and a man. One had been shot in the chest, one in the limbs, one in the neck. Woman, heart. Man, neck. Woman, limbs. Hmm. Was this really random or was it personal?


The next day the police detective in charge of the case called Wammy again. They still didn't know who could be the culprit, but they were processing the scene looking for evidence that could lead them to a list of possible suspects. He asked Wammy to go over to the station to pick up Penny's belongings. He did as he was told and again, brought L along with him.

He was given Penny's clothes and her purse, as well as a piece of paper in a plastic bag. It was a flyer, and apparently belonged to her since they found it covered in her blood. Thus the plastic bag. Quillsh claimed he didn't want it nor need it, but they insisted on him having it, in case it gave him some information about her last activities. He took his wife's belongings and returned home, checking the purse on the way back. Everything was in there, her ID, her money, her make-up, her keys, everything she carried with her. Except...

"The photo is missing." He spoke out loud. L just blinked and looked at him. "The photo that she always carried in her purse. It was a picture of us when we were younger. She had it with her at all times."

And with this they returned to the station.

"Do you mean something is missing from the purse?" The detective asked the older man. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure. She always carried it with her. Always. Do you think the criminal could have taken it?"

The detective and the officer exchanged glances. "Why would a criminal want to take a family photo, instead of taking the money?"

"Why wouldn't he?" L's voice was heard. "If no one and nothing stopped him from murdering 3 people, then no one would stop him from taking the photo out of Penny's purse."

"What is the child still doing here?" The detective asked.

"I apologize again. I need to find someone to take care of him."

"Mr. Wammy, remember what people were saying at the museum. They said someone entered, no one saw his face and he just started shooting. Security had no time to do anything. If he could get away with 3 murders he could get away with stealing one of the victim's belongings." L added, ignoring the others' intentions to make him stop.

"L, we are not discussing if the murderer was able to get away with stealing the photo. We are discussing why, why would he take a photo and not the money." Quillsh explained to the kid.

"It's a why question, just like wondering why he killed these people in the first place." L answered. "Just because money is a strong motive it doesn't necessarily mean that it is the reason. It's clear that he didn't enter the museum to rob it, and that he didn't kill them for money or expensive belongings. The photo means to him something else entirely. Are things missing from the other victims' belongings too?"

"...Who is this child?" The detective asked again, staring at him a little shocked.

"He's..." Quillsh decided he had to be honest in his answer. "He's a kid that Penny and I picked up from the streets. I will try to find him a home as soon as possible."

"He seems to know a lot." The detective remarked.

"Yes, he's... a very special boy indeed." Quillsh answered. "Well if the photo appears please let me know, it has sentimental value."


That night L couldn't sleep. He felt a certain rush, that forced him to think, to think better and faster. He felt as if he needed to figure this out, as if it was his obligation to Penny to figure out who had killed her. And why. After hours of lying in his bed unable to sleep, he decided to get up and go to Quillsh's little studio/lab room, as Penny liked to call it. In there he picked up a few books, as well as the bag with the bloody flyer, and the photo that Quillsh was holding to himself the day before, and that afternoon, as he sat on the couch sobbing to himself.

The next morning he had figured it out. Well, part of it.

He exposed it to Mr. Wammy.

According to his theory, Penny and Susan were walking back home from church when someone gave them the infamous flyer. It was almost impossible to read because of the blood, but he could tell it had something to do with a contemporary artist, whose new work was being exhibited at the museum. The two ladies had gone to take a look, and as they stood in the area where it was supposed to be, the killer appeared in front of them and shot them, as well as the other man. L deduced that the flyer was probably fake and alluded an exposition that wasn't actually there, so it was probably given away by the killer himself or an accomplice. For whatever reason, he wanted to specifically kill 3 people in that same spot, he wanted them all to be there at once and he killed each one of them in a particular way, then ran away. L also said that the victims' personal belongings were taken before he killed them, for it was impossible for the killer to have time to rob them after killing them, when security would be after him.

According to the books he had consulted, -even if they were mostly police novels with fake characters, but he was certain they resembled reality somehow- murderers who killed several people at one specific spot using personal methods, had something to express. Considering he had taken Penny's photo as well, it was clear he was hinting at something.

Mr. Wammy didn't even blink. Now he was absolutely determined to catch the bastard.


They went to the police station yet again and Quillsh told them all about L's deductions. To his surprise they had already interviewed witnesses who confirmed that they saw a fourth person talking to the 3 victims just minutes before they were killed. Was he trying to extract information out of them? L bit his thumb. No. He already knew them. Somehow he had information about them, that was why he had decided to gather them there. The police had also retrieved the photograph... The half that showed Quillsh was on Susan's purse, and the half that showed Penny was in the man's wallet.

The case seemed to get more complicated, but for L it was starting to come together. The flyer, the flyer was handed to them by the murderer or an accomplice. It was given specifically to the 3 of them. Why? Why them? The photo. The photo showed a young marriage. Penny and Quillsh. A man and a woman. The murderer killed a man and two women. Why was there an extra woman? Could it be a mistake? No. He had made it clear that he wanted to kill 3 people exactly, for the methods for each murder were quite different. The woman's picture in the man's wallet. The man's picture in the woman's purse. And Penny... the photo belonged to her but she was left with nothing.

"Officer..." L called to the man. "Which of the victims was killed first?"

"L..." Quillsh said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Sir, I know you can't leave this child with someone else, but you shouldn't let him be so informed on this case. He's a kid." The officer told Quillsh.

"I know, but..."

"Don't worry, sir." L interrupted. "It's already too late for that, I would have found out one way or another. I really want this culprit to be punished for what he did."

The two cops exchanged glances again, confused, then looked at Quillsh who seemed as lost as they were. L just observed them while biting his thumb, his big black eyes staring at them, like they were reading into their minds.

"This is absurd." The detective said with a sigh. "What is this now? A freak show? You want to present us a mini Sherlock Holmes?"

"I swear that he has figured it all out on his own. I'm convinced that this child is a genius. He learns things extremely quickly and he has great observing skills too." Quillsh explained.

"Yeah, yeah, ok. Look, we're very serious here, and this is not the only case we have, so I'd advice you stop distracting us with genius creepy children." The officer added. "And answering your question, it seems that Mrs. Underwood (Susan) was the first one to be killed, followed by Mr. Valliant (the man) and lastly, Mrs. Wammy."

"It makes sense..." L said, apparently lost in thought. "First the woman who hides a man, second the man who hides a woman, and thirdly the woman who has nothing."

"What are you talking about, L?" Quillsh asked, concerned and confused.

"Officer, I'd like to see your criminal records. I need a list of people who has testified for child abuse."

"Excuse me?" The officer said with a smirk. What did this kid think he was? "Please, sir, if you have no other questions, I would like to ask you to leave."

"Please don't ignore him..." Quillsh pleaded. "I know that it looks crazy but it's possible. This kid has a brilliant mind. He can be really helpful!"

"I'd like to ask you to leave, Mr. Wammy. Your recent behavior has been quite suspicious. You weren't with your wife at the time she was murdered, and then you come here trying to sell us the idea of a nameless child who really needs to see our records."

"Are you inisinuating-?!" He said getting desperate. L pulled on his sleeve.

"It's ok, Mr. Wammy." The boy said. "Sooner or later they will come to the same conclusion."


Quillsh was angry the whole day. He had just been insulted and treated like a suspect of his own wife's murder. And what hurt the most was that they mocked them. They mocked L. They were too ignorant to understand a mind like his. But he didn't seem to care much. Why then, why was Quillsh so upset about it?

Because he believed in L. Of all people, he would always believe in L. It was crazy, he was just a kid with a letter for a name, who came out of nowhere, who mentioned his mother from time to time and who would always reject chicken for cookies. That was all he knew, and yet he trusted him, he trusted him so much, that he could bet all of his inventions' money that L would get the answer one way or another.

And so the police decided to give the victims' bodies to the respective families, so they could give them a decent sepulture and let them rest in peace. They had concluded that the analysis of the bodies would lead to nothing, and they needed to research somewhere else.

L would never forget Penny's funeral. How Quillsh had a tailor made a suit that fit the small and thin boy, how careful he was with every detail concerning the whole ceremony from the flowers to the amount of people, how he went to observe her corpse every now and then and would burst out in tears. L would never forget it. It was the moment where he learned the thin line that separated love and death, and how these two concepts always seemed to go hand in hand. He couldn't grasp it, he couldn't bring himself to cry, but watching Mr. Wammy so devoted to his wife, even in death, almost made him feel it. The pain, the loss, the grieve. And the love, the adoration as well.

L understood. So he bowed his head and tried to mix between the rest of the people. He obviously failed, for he was the only kid there, and he was unknown to everyone. And Quillsh had separated from him to go arrange some thing or another, so L was on his own, ignoring people's stares and simply walking around looking for... he didn't even know what for... Justice, maybe? Peace? Answers? Affection?...

Yes, he would never forget this day.


Finally after a month of researching, a letter from the detective arrived at Wammy's house, where it was explained that they found the culprit. He was a man in his early thirties. According to his confession, both of his parents abandoned him when he was a child and left with their respective lovers, and he was raised by his aunt, who, in his opinion "was heartless", and she used to beat him up almost on a daily basis. This man had stated that as a kid he could never take revenge on them, and when he finally found himself being independent and strong enough, these people who ruined his life were already dead. He thought he had overcome it, but now that he had found himself beating his own child, he realized that it was not over, that his demons wouldn't stop tormenting him yet.

The day his ex wife denounced him for the way he was treating their child, he decided to take revenge on someone. Anyone. As long as he could take the burden off of his shoulders. So on his way home, he stood outside the museum, just a block away from his house, and observed people, realizing that so many of them reminded him of his broken and heartless family. In a moment of inspiration he made fake flyers for an interesting exposition in the museum, which unexistant author had supposedly stated that his art tried to raise awareness about child abuse. He had handed them to the people that resembled his family, and after they went inside, he entered too, walking around until he had them all close to each other. Then he had approached them, commented something about this unexistant author, and somehow started talking about some family topic that brought Penny to proudly take her photo out of her purse, which he took in one hand and then pointed them with the gun he had in the other.

First he had killed his "mother", by shooting her in the limbs, for never showing him any affection. Then his "father", by shooting him in the neck, for leaving without saying a word, and finally his "aunt", in the heart, for being, like he said, heartless...

The man was convicted and justice had prevailed. And L had been right. Quillsh felt relieved that the monster finally got the punishment that he deserved, and he also felt proud of L, who had ultimately proved how incredibly smart and useful he was. He had already made a decision. He would keep the boy, he would never be a father for him, but he would make sure to raise him, to educate him, and to let him do what he wanted to do.

And what L wanted to do the most was work on solving cases like this, or more difficult ones. He enjoyed cracking up the mystery, he liked making things right. They were not always fair, but they were right. Justice was never wrong. It was something he had learned at such a young age, and he loved it, he truly enjoyed it. It was the only thing that he thoroughly enjoyed. He was not normal, he wasn't entertained by things that normal kids considered fun. No toy cars, no jumping the rope, no. His fun was about putting an order to everything, it was about everyone getting what they deserved.


And so years passed with Mr. Wammy still selling his inventions and L remaining hidden to most people. Not only did he prefer to stay inside, it also avoided them more trouble. Mr. Wammy was simply tired of trying to make up excuses for the boy, he didn't have the time or the need for that. He simply prefered people not knowing about his existence at all. Ultimately they had found the way to make it work. Quillsh was still the inventor people knew him for during the day, and at night he was Watari, the agent who communicated people to L, the armchair detective with no face and no name, whom no one ever suspected to be a little boy. Quickly his fame had easily expanded when he had defeated the world's greatest detectives, taking their aliases as a prize. He could be all that he wanted to be, because Mr. Wammy was so proud of him.

When his fame had spreaded, and their economy improved considerably, they moved to a bigger house in an area where they weren't recognised by many. Quillsh still didn't get used to L's success. He still couldn't believe how a little unknown boy had accomplished so much and had helped so many people. From an inventor's point of view, L was quite possibly one of the best things that had happened to humanity, so he wondered what would happen to the world when L would eventually be gone.

And thus, Wammy's House was funded. L had no objections to this, in fact, the idea excited him. Knowing that there were children who wanted to be like him, who wanted it more than anything, it made him happy. It made him feel proud, admired and good. He had evolved so much... He had gone from being a child from the streets whose mother disappeared one day, to being the world's three greatest detectives. He had it all. He had money, he had endless amounts of sweets, and he had Watari by his side. The only person in the entire world he really trusted.


On November 5th, 2004, L found himself feeling sad. He hadn't felt that way since the day that Penny had passed away. It was a feeling comparable to the day his mother disappeared. He wondered if those feelings were related. Why would they be, and why would he be feeling them now? He understood that it was normal to feel sad when a person close to you died, but it was not as if he was supposed to feel it before those events happened... right? So L felt sad. And not understanding why, he turned to the only person he trusted.

"Watari..." He called to the older man, who had entered the room holding a trail of cookies of several different flavors.

"Yes, L?"

"I feel bad today."

"What do you mean, are you sick?"

"No." He shook his head, turning his eyes away from the computer screen to look at Watari's face. "I'm sad."

"Why is it?" The man said, not dissimulating his concern as he put the trail on a table and continued looking at the now young man, still sitting with his knees to his chest like he did when he was a child, still wearing a white shirt and blue jeans.

"I can't explain it well." He still couldn't grasp it, what was this feeling? It was like he felt the urge to return to being a child and being with his mother, or Penny. But why? "But I don't like it."

"You've been obsessing about the Kira case. You need to work on other things as well, to think of different things besides catching Yagami, I mean, Kira."

"I know." He nodded, biting his thumb. "I just feel like, I'm going to achieve it, but at the same time..." He stopped abruptly, lowering his eyelids. Then he spoke again. "Watari... Thank you."

He smiled awkwardly at the old man, who raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've never taken the time to thank you for everything you've done for me. You've always believed in me, and done anything you could to help me. And even when I wasn't your child, you've always made me feel like it. You are like the father I never had." His awkward smile changed into a more natural one.

"L..." Watari approached him and patted him on the head. L's big and curious eyes observed him. He was still a child, no matter how much he had grown. "I care for you as if you were my own son, too."

And then L understood it. The pain and the void in his heart, when he found himself alone on the streets, when he had lost all hope of having a place to call home, and now... they were all the same. They were loneliness. They were a lack of affection. They were the feelings that people experimented when they lost a family member, a close friend, a lover, or even a close acquaintance whose presence they took for granted. It was a feeling of loss and sorrow, a feeling of things never going to be the same again. It was the feeling that some criminals experienced, in a higher and more twisted level, when they took revenge on someone for not giving them what they wanted, what they deserved... People died for affection, and killed for affection. It was something worth living for and dying for. And even if he wasn't like the rest, he was still human, and he felt it, too.

He recognised the feeling. He was about to lose something, no, someone who mattered a lot to him. And he knew it, because it was his fault. Because of him, he was going to lose this person. And that was shattering him.

"Watari..." He looked at him as a lost child. "If anything happens to me, I want you to delete all the data."

"No such thing will be necessary. You will solve this case just like any other."

And the man had smiled at the younger one, who still looked like a child to him.


Later that day, L truly felt it. As soon as the electricity went off, and his curious eyes, now full of real concern and fear, were looking everywhere for the man who was like his father, and found that all the data was deleted, he felt it. The devastating pain that meant he had lost the only person who cared for him, and whom he cared about. But thanks to whatever unknown force, it had been replaced for a much more powerful pain, at least in physical terms. And as he felt his heart stop beating, and his body falling in what seemed like slow motion, his life flashed through his eyes. He remembered Watari patting him on the head, bringing him cookies, he remembered going to Wammy's House to talk to the kids pretending to be a former member, he remembered the tea that Penny used to make, he remembered her smile and her voice, and his mother, whose face he couldn't remember, but he just knew that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

And it was dissipated when he was about to hit the ground, and Light caught him. His diabolical grin showing him the face of fear and defeat. L had lost. For the first and last time. But it didn't matter anymore. Sleep, or something was taking over, and he found himself amazed by that light at the end of the tunnel that actually existed...

The End.


Author's Notes:

I've noticed that I'm one of the few people that still writes "the end" at the end of a story. I'm old-fashioned like that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first two-shot about L. I know that it's pretty average, if not failsome, and that it lacks a lot of things. I'm not entirely pleased with this, I know I could have done better, but it's my first time working on a DN fanfic, and I hope I can improve from now on. The next chapter is about Near and I'm already working on it, it will be a long way though. Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this, and if you take the time to review it will make me happy, even if it's just to say it sucks xD

Again, thanks, see ya in the next chapter! :D

-Raven.