"Ryuuzaki."

Soichiro-san's voice is always so easy to read. He's nothing like his son. Sad, really. Maybe some psychologist might see Light's sense of wanting to see justice done as something ingrained in him from childhood, from his father's instruction—but L is not a psychologist; L is a detective. "Yes?" The computer chair twirls around, wide eyes turning to focus on something interesting in a (sadly) irrelevant way.

L sips his tea. "Was there something you wanted, Yagami-san?"

"Ryuuzaki, I'm not an idiot."

"I have nothing but the utmost respect for your intelligence, Yagami-san." And nothing but a slight regret for its limits.

Soichiro sighs. "Compared to you, Ryuuzaki, I think we all feel like idiots sometimes—to be perfectly frank—but you must think I'm blind, to not think I know you still suspect my son."

"Hm?" He doesn't like green tea; it's too bitter. He always forgets that. He should forget things that are less convenient to remember. Oh well.

"The way you watch him all the time, you always look at him wherever you go. With such suspicion. It worries me." Repetition, Soichiro-san. "It's been proven beyond the shadow of a doubt—" Beyond doubt. Not beyond a shadow. There is no such thing as 'beyond a shadow'. When you are L, Kira, Light-kun, when you pass a certain point you cannot assume anything beyond a shadow. Shadows are what you study. Shadows are the language. "—that my son—" Not 'Light'. 'My son'. It's all so transparent. "—is not Kira."

"That is true," agrees L.

"Ryuuzaki, you may be a genius detective," Not as far as your son is concerned. "but…" He looks uncomfortable, but also like he's in his element. Older and wiser, that would be it. "You're…you and Light, you've got a—a sort of rivalry with each other, over this, but it should be over. I can understand how you might have a sort of—frustration, over losing this particular…argument, but…nonetheless. You need to let this go."

That kindly smile like some sort of reassurance.

He's actually thinking that he's giving L something he lacks.

How many times has L thought this? Spare me the good intentions. He's seen Watari with that look before. He has not called Watari anything but Watari for three years, because as Watari is Watari he is L and certain boundaries must be maintained. He will accept that kind of expression from Watari, because there is a difference between Watari and Yagami-san. Watari has done him a favor. In return, he gives Watari that indulgence.

But from Yagami-san, it is more than a little pathetic.

He probably looks at Light-kun like that sometimes. Not quite—not with that slight curious lack of comprehension that everyone except for Light looks at him with, that who and what are you—but the general concern, the generic concern.

Light-kun's never wanted it. Even if Light is not what L believes him to be, Light is too brilliant and too confident and too focused and far, far too apart for him to have ever needed that kind of expression. To think he has to pretend it means something, day after day. It would be easy practice for a slightly higher level of deception. That makes sense.

But SoichiroYagami doesn't understand anything.

L feels the underlying sensation that is possession and recognizes it for what it is; doesn't banish it because of its truth:

I know Light Yagami, Soichiro-san.

You do not.

"I'm sorry if I've worried you, Yagami-san," says L, meeting his gaze. He keeps his voice level, strange and lilting emphases on syllables like always. "I understand. It is certain that Light-kun is not Kira; I am aware of this." It is certain; therefore it is not certain. Nothing that one can say is certain is. This is basic and he only half understands why others do not recognize this.

"You haven't answered my question, Ryuuzaki." Soichiro sounds faintly annoyed.

Soichiro is stupid.

"You never asked a question."

"It was implied."

"…Light-kun is interesting, Yagami-san."

And what the hell is that supposed to mean?

"…"

"I watch Light-kun because he is interesting to watch."

He stands up.

Yagami-san doesn't see him like that often—so used to the strange sitting position crouched as usual in front of the computer, or on the couch next to an aggravated Light devouring some pastry or another, he rarely sees L actually standing.

It's because L started out never presenting himself visually and now he is accustomed to using the appearance he has.

But that's irrelevant.

Soichiro eyes him.

"I wonder sometimes," says L, "why you do not do the same."

It's obvious that the older man does not understand this. The look he gives L is more wary, more guarded; as if 'guarded' wasn't a mockery in this context. He had forgotten for a moment that L is not very predictable.

"You're his father, after all."

Soichiro stares.

L walks away.

…A long time ago, L lived in an orphanage.