ILL WILL
Welcome back to this strange little adventure/romance, that is Ill Will. To those of you who have read so far, thank you very much for your interest in the story—And I promise you, this is just the beginning. Chapter length will be increasing, most likely, and we will be learning much more about the characters that so many of you know and love—Namely, L, and BB.
Reviews are important, you know. Because I didn't get enough feedback on the 'L flashback' idea, I'm not sure what you, the lovely readers, want. I may have to take control back into my own hands, and just do what I wish with it—But I think that the reader is the most important thing to consider.
Starting with this chapter, the rating is going up to T/M. If you are disturbed by violence, torture, overly emotional outbursts or love between two same sex individuals, turn back now. That is your warning.
I understand that some things may differ from the story (Very little details.) I don't need you to tell me—That is why it is called fan fiction. The characters, plot, they don't belong to me, and while I am writing this, I will bend the details to my will.
With that, please enjoy. And remember—feedback is the key. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen.
Now, to the snow, to learn more about our favorite detective.
"We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties."
Children running, laughing, smiling, safe from all their fears. It wasn't one of those horrible places in books, where children received no love or confidence, where they were forced to work, or locked up for being bad. This wasn't a frightening orphanage. Because those in this place could reason. They did not think that their parents had left—They did not think that their parents didn't want them.
Except for one child, who became so very well known, so very powerful in the eyes of others, that some would sacrifice their entire life to become like him, to try to reach that high. If he died, they would need another. And one of them would be chosen. As if that one life was replaceable.
While the other orphans would run around, play, speak about their interests, what they wished to do when they were all grown up, this messy headed boy would sit in his room, reading book after book, never speaking. If he did speak, it was one word—A simple 'yes' or 'no'. The only one to be able to get more than that out of him was the Headmaster himself. Watari. One who did not judge, and did not gossip. Only listened, and offered advice to the young ones.
And L was a special case.
The day was a quiet one, winter, but without snow. Air outside almost choking, the cold freezing a persons lungs, the wind only increasing the feeling of losing ones self in it. Wind as cold as this boys eyes. Unfeeling, uninterested, unable to understand those around him. What reason would he have to go and 'make friends?' He had never had any before.
Come to think of it, he had never met anyone, aside from his own parents. And that was years ago. Perhaps he saw them a few times a month, locked in his small room, when they would bring food to him. No child had eyes that were dark as the night sky, with no moon. It must be a bad omen, just a show of things to come. His eyes hadn't always been like that—No, no, no, that was impossible. When he was an infant, they were blue as the sea, bright and inquisitive.
So where did they go wrong? Where did the blue get sucked into a pit of sorts, left to rot and fester, until that shade faded, and became obsidian?
Watari wanted to know this. Because in that hidden information was the key to bringing this child back into society. The older man had a feeling that within this little ten year old boys mind was more potential than any other human could hope to possess.
And he wasn't wrong.
"What would you like to do today, L? We could venture to the library, would you like that? They have every book you could ever imagine, all in one place. You can get whichever ones you like."
Silence. That was something that Watari was getting used to. Though, he couldn't let it phase him. L had to work through this, and it certainly wasn't going to happen overnight. Not with what had happened to the boy. Idlely, he thought to himself that this could be the first time someone truly spoke to him in his entire life. Books were lovely, but they could not give someone the care that they needed. L had certainly tried.
"Or, we could watch some television? Would you like that? I know that you've seen one before...Or perhaps read about them? Fantastic things...We could find something interesting. About the World Wars? Or, about the French Revolution? I know you are interested in that."
Silence. Sighing in what could be seen as defeat, the man didn't throw in the towel just yet.
"Tell me, L, how do you feel today?"
It was a seemingly random question. But, if the boy answered, he would get something, a treat of sorts. And L knew that. The young boy was gazing at the floor, seeming to be trying to memorize the patterns of the carpet. Moments passed, a tense silence that could be cut with a knife filling the room. But that couldn't last forever, and L could be afraid of silence at times. Because silence grew other things—Mistrust, doubt, confusion. Why had he been kept alone so long? And why was this man trying to help him?
"...Fine. And how are you, Watari-san?"
That way of speaking, so polite, so soft, so careful, as if the boy was afraid to say something wrong. Smiling sadly, the old man nodded, knowing where L had learned how to speak in such a way unlike most children.
Books. Because those were all L knew. He had never been around people, he didn't know how to use average lexicon. This was from books, so proper, making him sound far older than his age. And perhaps he was, with the fading bruises still on his arms.
"I am fine, L. Now, for speaking so kindly, I shall give you a treat."
Strawberry Cake.
And from there, L's sweet tooth began. A prize, for simply speaking—for not being afraid. For going forward, and not looking so much at his lonely past.
"And, L? You may just call me Watari."
He never did.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all the tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
† † †
"Light-kun?"
After recovering the messages in his strange texts, he had become unaware of his surroundings, only being snapped back to life at L's voice.
"You've been staring at me for a few minutes. Did I do something wrong?"
Shaking his head quickly, he allowed his body language to say 'No, not at all.' What a strange thing to say though...'Did I do something wrong?' Why would he need to ask Light that? Light didn't tell him what to do, or at least tried not to.
"No, Ryuuzaki. I'm sorry, just have tons on my mind, and tired."
L couldn't help but smile at that, staring down at his computer screen. "Tired...You make me laugh, Light-kun."
Light wanted to point out that L wasn't laughing at all, and he had never seen a true, uninhibited laugh come from the other, but he wouldn't start something so seemingly cruel. He remembered not long ago, saying something along the lines of L not being human—and it hadn't been received well. Though, thinking about the implications, it was really no wonder. L was human, he supposed—He just acted more like a machine.
Acted...That was the key to this. There was more to L than met the eye, but the detective would be damned if anyone got too far past the surface to see it.
Stubborn. How irritating.
Putting his laptop down with an irritated slam, he stretched, the chain on his arm not even bothering him in the least. At times, he just wanted to have super-human strength, and pull it off, telling L to shove his theories—Though, he knew that this was the only way he could be totally cleared. And that was the point now. Catching Kira, clearing his name. Though, for some reason, their new problem seemed much more important.
This bastard called BB, threatening L. If L died...
What? If L died, the mission couldn't continue? That wasn't true, and he knew it. Sure, L was smart, smarter than all of them—But if he died, the search for Kira wouldn't stop. So why did he care as much as he did? It would be nice to get rid of the sweet eating, non-sleeping, crime busting machine, wouldn't it?
Yet as he glanced over at the irritation again, he couldn't help but feel that his feelings were getting in the way of his logic.
'Feelings? What feelings? This is L we are talking about here, there is no way...'
A small gasp got his attention. Thinking that the detective had found something worthwhile, he turned, glancing at the others spotless computer screen. "What is it? Evidence?"
But it wasn't the computer that had made L gasp. His pale hand was over his heart, a few small gasps passing through his lips, pain in those normally emotionless eyes. Light, confused, gripped the others shoulder without thinking. "L—Ryuuzaki, what is it?" He hated to admit that he was scared—but it wasn't because of what the other was doing, it was what he was showing. For some reason, Light couldn't stand to see the others eyes showing anything but a blank slate. Seeing emotion...It made him feel like he didn't know L at all.
"I'm fine, just a strange feeling..." He kept breathing strangely, deeply, as if unable to catch his breath. Not putting up with his constant disinterest in himself, he stood up, grabbing the others arm roughly.
"Come on, you're sleeping. I don't care what you say, you can't keep--"
He was cut off, when he felt a sharp tug on the chain, one that ended up sending a wave of pain up his arm. Turning to tell the other to shove his work ethic up his ass, and start listening to his own body when it was telling him to relax, he found himself unable to speak. Actually, he was barely able to stand, seeing what he was seeing.
The eyes staring at him from the genius weren't black at all. They weren't that pool of oil that he was used to seeing, harsh and not allowing anyone in. They weren't pushing him away, for a few minutes in their strange, metal bound relationship.
These eyes were bright, the color of the ocean on a bright sunny day in the summer. Blue as overwhelmingly unrelenting as he had ever seen, something that he couldn't draw his eyes away from, almost hypnotizing him, not relinquishing its grip on his interest, on his curiosity, and something more shocking, his heart.
His heart was beating faster. Much faster.
"...Ryuuzaki?" No, that wasn't right. Not now. "L...?" He didn't know how to respond, how to act. The other wasn't speaking, only staring at him with those wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. Had he crossed a line, one that he hadn't even seen coming? Stepping closer, feeling as though time had slowed, almost stopped, he reached out to the others shoulder. "If you don't want to sleep..."
As soon as his warm hand made contact, the other flinched in a violent way, shaking his head, and turning away. Walking back to the couch, he sat, in his normal almost frightening way, curled up with his legs to his chest, as if awaiting punishment. Light had never noticed how protective that way of sitting was, how it kept everyone away.
Walking back to his side of the couch, he sat, every move he made slow and careful, as if he were dealing with a wild animal. And that was what L was right now, those blue eyes foreign and unfamiliar, except in that one picture he had seen on the screen the day before, one that BB had provided.
That was it. This wasn't L...Or, to be more precise, it wasn't L anymore. This L had died a long time ago, and was making this appearance due to something that had been done, or said.
A twinge of guilt ran through Light, thinking about it. He had done something to cause this—But there wasn't time to dwell on it.
Feeling as though touching L would only make things worse, he gripped his laptop, and continued typing. He wasn't typing anything in particular, just hitting the keys, and keeping his eyes on L, wondering to himself why he was so frightened.
There was a sense of innocence in L's eyes. As if he wasn't stone cold. And that shook Light to the core.
When he stopped his pointless typing, the room was eerily silent. L only sat curled up, gazing straight ahead, as if trapped. Though, it was hard to say exactly what the other was feeling, when Light wasn't exactly sure what had happened.
He couldn't handle this, he realized, but there was someone who could. Slowly taking out his cell phone, he opened it, tapping the down button through his phone book, and searching for Watari. When he found the name, he hit the green call button quickly, holding it to his ear, and talking in a small whisper.
"Watari, it's Light. I can't talk, just come up here, now."
Closing his cell without waiting for a response, he put it back in his pocket. The tension was horrifying, as if anything would shatter the moment, and send things into chaos.
Without a moments delay, Watari opened the door quickly, loudly—and Light inwardly cursed. He should have told the old man to be quiet. He vaguely thought how horrible it would be if Watari didn't know what to do.
The man didn't waste a moment. Walking over to the pair, he looked at Light in confusion, before glancing to L. And the moment he saw the others eyes, his own breath caught in his throat. It couldn't be...This was impossible, this was in the past. Nothing could send him back into this state, though...He supposed because of events within the last few days, it couldn't be stopped. He hadn't meant for this to happen, not yet, this wasn't the point. It was too soon.
Speaking to Light in a low voice, he gave the young detective instruction. "I cannot separate you two, to do this. I don't know if he wants you to see this side of him, but it cannot be helped. Just, please, do not speak. I will take care of it."
Slightly shaken, Light nodded, watching as Watari kneeled beside L, not touching him, but only looking into those uncommonly blue eyes.
"L?" He paused, thinking of the proper key to unlock the genius detective, so to speak. "How are you today?" It was such a simple question, so unrelated to the problem at hand—and Light looked even more confused by the second.
Silence. Just as he had expected.
"Come now, L...What would you like to do today? Would you like to get some new books, perhaps watch a movie?" Thinking on edge, he gestured to Light. "Play with your friend? I'm sure he would like that, L, wouldn't you like that?"
The blue eyed mess didn't even move his head. This was something that Watari was used to, but he had to push. This couldn't continue. Loathing to say something so private (but remembering that Light had seen the computer screen a few days before), he whispered softly. "You aren't there anymore. You are safe here."
L reacted to this, looking up, bright blue eyes interested, almost relieved. He reached out slowly, for Wataris hand, which the old man accepted, smiling. "How do you feel, L? Tell me. Let me hear that voice of yours, it isn't gone."
Silence—but only for a few moments. "I feel fine, Watari-san." Even his voice held more emotion than usual—However, the words were still obviously hiding something. Watari wouldn't push any more, because he knew that it could end in tears. "Would you like some cake, then? With strawberry?"
L nodded, a smile on his face. A smile that wasn't being stopped by anything, that wasn't at all fake. This was realistic, and it had happened for something as simple as cake. Looking over at Light, he spoke in a childlike voice, smaller, but less robotic. "What is your name?"
Light was completely taken aback. What the hell was happening—Did L have some kind of amnesia, did he forget who he was? Seeing Watari giving him a nod to speak, it took him a few minutes to find his voice, which was a bit smaller than usual. "Light. My name is Light."
The detective nodded his head, saying Lights name a few time, as if to get used to the name on his tongue. Watari nodded at him. "Thats right...Wonderful pronunciation, L. See, you can speak, just fine." Standing with a few cracks along the way, he sighed loudly, ruffling L's hair. "Cake it is."
Walking into the kitchen, the founder of Wammys house opened up the refrigerator, retrieving a piece of strawberry cake, and a fork, putting it on a plate, and knowing that L would be back to normal with its consumption. But it had nothing to do with the cake itself.
Reaching into his pocket, glancing out into the living room to make sure no one was watching, he retrieved a small vial, liquid clear within, and pouring a bit onto the confection quickly, before hiding the mysterious substance again. He heard chatting in the room.
"Are you an orphan too?" L asked Light with honest curiosity. Light was taken aback once again, not knowing whether to lie to this new side of L, or tell the truth. Deciding that truth was always the best policy, no matter what, he shook his head. "No, I'm not. I live with my mother, father, and younger sister."
L's blue eyes widened, and his voice became even smaller. "How did you get out?"
"What?"
"Well...Aren't your mother and father cruel? Didn't they lock you up? It's only normal for parents to do that to their children, to bad children. How did you get out?" The calm blue waters of the others eyes darkened only slightly, as he lowered his gaze. "Watari-san says we are safe here."
There was no way to describe how those words made Light feel. Though he was lost for words, and couldn't understand the meaning of the words for a few moments after, the weight of them nearly knocked the wind out of him, chocolate eyes widening, as though he was seeing something alien, something so completely different from his own view of the world, that his own body didn't know how to react. L...locked up? Got out...escaped?
He suddenly felt some desire to latch onto L and never let go. Because this seemed like a lost child, with no sense of self, no sense of safety, who was looking for sanity.
Could L be considered sane?
A mountain of questions were forming in his mind—Though, luckily, Watari returned with cake, handing it to L, who smiled widely, before beginning to eat, almost like a wild animal, scooping far too much onto the fork and devouring it without manners of any type.
This wasn't the L he knew. And all of a sudden, remembered a few nights before, when the detective had gone for cake in the kitchen, and had eaten this messily as well.
What was happening here?
When he was done, he gave a small hiccup, something that registered in Lights mind as 'cute'--Of course, that wasn't the time to say it out loud. Without warning, L shut his eyes, gasping, before opening them again, only halfway.
Dark. Black. Obsidian. Empty. Those words that could be used to describe L's normal gaze could be used again, the blue gone, replaced by something far less emotionless.
"Delicious cake. Now, back to work. Or, would you like to sleep, Light-kun? You complain of being tired."
Light was gaping, as Watari stood, coughing, and trying to get the wrinkles out of his pressed pants. He left without another word, not wanting to confuse Ryuuzaki further.
"I...Ryuuzaki, you..."
L glanced up, blank look on his china doll face. "Hmm? Is there a problem, Light-kun?"
Would it be wise to bring it up? What if it happened again? From things that he had learned in school, he had a few ideas as to what had just happened—Though, for some reason, even if it attributed it to science and the other mans childhood, it still hurt him to see L so...weak. Helpless.
Scared.
And that was what L had been, because Light wasn't that bad at reading peoples eyes. There had been moisture, unshed tears.
This wasn't over. He would learn more, because he was chained to the unstable man. It was only fair that he understand what was happening. "Nothing, Ryuuzaki. Lets rest, we need to." This time, instead of dragging the other off, he waited for the other to come to the bedroom—with his laptop in tow. Light wouldn't reprimand him this time. If he did, who knows what would happen? He could get those blue eyes back.
Those beautiful blue eyes. The ones that made him feel like he was drowning in them. Though he wasn't afraid.
Because part of him wanted to drown in them.
Ωℓ∞∫≈
As the well dressed old man left the room, Watari whispered to himself, frustrated, almost pained.
"Well, BB...I'm doing what you ask. Be merciful."
ℓ‡≈√
Rocking, rocking, rocking, back and forth, back and forth, the balls of his feet brushing against the hard floor, eyes darting around, seeing if the things he saw were only in his dreams. Thoughts rushed his mind, and he couldn't decide which one to follow, which ones to trust, which ones could save him from his current situation. But obviously, he had done something wrong, very wrong—Because if that wasn't the case, why wasn't he allowed out?
Hot, Hot, always hot. One window, in the Gray room, cinder block walls cracked and harsh, providing no comfort to the young boy, surrounded by book after book. He had read them all by that point, but was allowed no others. That was all he got—All books meant for adults, books on law, books on government, books on history. Books that a normal six year old wouldn't want one bit. What about picture books? Wouldn't that be more suitable? It isn't as though his mother cared. Did he have a mother?
He couldn't remember her face.
Flipping through the pages, the one lone light bulb giving him barely enough shimmering light to view each word, some in English, and some in other languages that weren't his own. However, he could see through the words, see meaning, no matter in English, French, or German. He could not remember the last time he had heard someone speak more than one word in succession. Words could be spoken, he knew, but that did not matter. What mattered was each day, because he was aware that something was going to happen. In his small body, he felt something wanting to emerge.
L sat alone in his small room, no decor, nothing. Alone, he read through each book, each tale of war—From the French Revolution, to the Civil War in America, of all the death and pain humans caused one another, and four words always came to the forefront of his mind.
'This world is rotting...'
He had learned the meaning of these words. The world was the place where all people lived, where they all shared the land together, where they were supposed to live in harmony. God said they were supposed to share, to love each other. At least, if God was real. Maybe that book 'The Bible' had been fiction—He wasn't sure.
And the word rotting meant that it was going bad, going sour, that it wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Of course, L was a bad child, obviously—Why else would he be locked up?--But not everyone could be bad. So, why was war affecting so many? Why were little babies dying, and people who hadn't done anything wrong?
Dreams were something that everyone had. And for L, his dream was to make the world a better place. No one would suffer in the world he wanted...He wanted peace, no crime. Crime was a symbol of the weak, and his world would be strong.
He didn't want people to die. People didn't deserve it. Though, there must be some way to stop guns from firing, from cannonballs barraging castles, to swords piercing the skin. Some God must hold the power to make the world a better place.
Crawling over to his makeshift bed of one blanket and one pillow on the hard stone floor, he curled up, body emaciated, bruised, as he closed his blue eyes shakily, smiling to himself, and saying the same word, over and over in his head as he tried to sleep.
'Justice.'
"We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries,
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile,
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!"
-Paul Laurence Dunbar, "We Wear the Mask"
Mmm, that may have been confusing. I hope not. Though, this story is a bit of a mystery in itself, and I want to reveal a bit each chapter, right? No fun to reveal everything right away. That chapter was only a tiny bit shorter than the last, due to recent time restraints. However, if you don't mind, I'm going for quality over quantity. Though, if you like, chapters will be becoming longer...
I need comments, I must say. They help. So, if you decide to favorite my story, or add it to alerts (which I love, don't get me wrong), I would like a review along with it. Makes me all warm and fuzzy.
So, which side of L do you enjoy seeing? He is quite a complex character...And Light is a bit lost, though who can blame him? L isn't as emotionless as he seems...
Until next time.