Title: The Cleaner (Five hundred points for whoever guesses where I got that name. And don't read the disclaimer, cause that's cheating! D:)
Rating (of d00m!): Well… actually, I probably should be more serious about this, but… it's going to be rated M. For… obvious reasons once you read the warnings. Or… just open up the story for that matter, cause it starts out with that shit. :D
Authors Note: YAY NEW STORY!! I got this idea in my head at about 7:00 last night, and I haven't been able to get it out since. Let me just say it… this is sort of my "Home away from Home" for DN Cell. Don't get me wrong, I'm not quitting it or anything, it's just… I'm a born multitasker, and I just had to have something else to work on. Besides the fact that this is probably… oh… the single best idea I've ever had! XD Well, I doubt that, but… it's really close. Oh, I almost forgot. OFFICIAL NOTICE: This is a replacement for "Crossing The Unknown". Which, if you read my "Upcoming Stories" file, you would see it was one of the stories listed. Sorry if you were looking forward to that, but now you get a better model! Anyway… Holy shit, I'm actually running out of things to say… OH! Remember that friend I told you about that was writing a story? Well… she gave me permission to post it up here, so look for it really soon. It's called "Sudden Death", and it's a Death Note related thing. And… if reading that story, you come across someone writing little notes called the "Editor". That's me. :D She's the author, and because I'm so horribly anal, I have to be the editor. But I really, really want you guys to read it! She's an incredible writer, and I'm sure all of you will love it! Anyway… I really better stop rambling, now that I've taken up a lot of space. YAY, I love doing that. Anyway… on to the story, betches!
Summary: They call me "The Cleaner", but you'll never hear it come from my mouth. They call me a God, but I don't believe them. They call me a child, but I'll never listen. They call me names, but they don't hurt. He calls me in the middle of the night, and I let myself cry.
Pairings: LxLight, like usual. You know, I really shouldn't have to put anything here anymore. I should just say: "The Usual." And then every one of you guys should know what I'm talking about. D:
Warnings: Yay, lot's o' warnings! XD that's always nice.
This. Is. Not. For. Kids.
An elaboration, this is not for kids for many reasons… I will list them.
1. Drug abuse. (Just because I write about it, does not mean it's okay. I can't stress this guys, and I know I sound like your freakin' mom, but DRUGS ARE STUPID. Don't do it. And… furthermore, don't do the shit I write about. Please.)
2. Um… gayness? (Lol. Well, that's just an immediate when you open up my stories, so… but if you don't like two boys thrown together, get out. )
3. Language. (Seriously. Of course you know that's going to happen with me, obviously. I have the largest mouth on the planet, and you guys are gonna fucking hear about it! –shakes fist-)
4. (Oh, no… I really, really, reallyhate putting this here, but…) Character death. (In the very end, and you don't know who it is, so… nyeh! D:)
5. AU. (If you want something actually following the story line of Death Note, my stories aren't exactly it. Because… that shit's too complicated.)
Disclaimer: All right, if you're reading this just because you want to figure out where I got the title from, just because you want 500 points… SHAME ON YOU!! –hits you with broom- Heh…heh. Anyway, if you haven't guessed, I got the title from this new show that's on here. (I don't know if it's on anywhere else in the world… but… I'm in America, and I know it's on there.) It's called… tadah, "The Cleaner", and it's odd that I would choose the title, because… I. HATE. THAT. DAMN. SHOW. It's sooo stupid, and I can't stand to be in the same room with it. D: But… I guess I stole more than the title, because what Light does in this story is basically what the guy does in that story. Enjoy? D:
All right, this… is going to be kind of suckish, because I know absolutely NOTHING about drugs. I don't know if Heroin is illegal in Japan, but… I'm guessing it is. I just spent the last forty-five minutes on Wikipedia looking at an article about Heroin. Yeah… really sad, I know. Well… at least I know a little more now. A little. Anyway, this story is from Light's POV, and it's going to be written as each day that Light is with him. If you're wondering: Why the hell are you calling him "Elle", it's because in this story, it's AU… and I wanted him to have a semi-normal name, okay? Okay. (Elle's name? Spelled: E-l-l-e, pronounced: L.)
Anyway, because the summary is MAJOR confusing, here's what this is about: So here's what it's about. Light Yagami is 19, and he works for the NPA. They call him "The Cleaner", because of his job. What does he do? He helps people overcome their addictions. After finishing a rather nasty case ending in suicide, he is called to help a young detective named Elle Lawliet with his addiction to Heroin. (Elle is pronounced like "L") At first meeting they don't get along, but that changes over the course of their month together. They both help each other in some strange way.
XxX
Chapter 1
My name is Yagami Light. I am 19 years old and currently employed at the NPA. Most people there, when they see me, call me "The Cleaner". Just for the record, I hate that name. I don't think it suits me at all. It suits my job, but I hate thinking about what I do. If you're wondering what I do, I help people get over their addictions. Whether it is drugs, sex, gambling… you name it. I'm the one that brings them back forth into a normal life. I'm quite good at what I do, despite my age… and most of the people I have helped are now functioning members of society. I check up on them every so often, just to see how they're doing. None of them have ever gone back to their addiction. Ever. But then again, some of them have ended up dead. Either they had been murdered, or they committed suicide. There… are just some people I can't help. I'm not perfect.
Some of them call me a God, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I'm not a God, I just help people. What's so Godly about that? I'm making the world a better place, but… I don't want to be revered as a God; it's… just not my type of compliment. Enough about me, though.
XxXxXxX
(August 9, 2008)
I was given his address (which, nonetheless, I am not able to disclose here) and the date and time on which to arrive. I hadn't spoken with him before in person, only on the phone. He had a very calm voice, despite what I was told about him. I was worried, but… I always am when it comes to people older than me. I feel that they look down on me because of my age; most of the people at the NPA do.
He lived in a very nice place; I assumed it must have cost a good deal of money. Two floors, with Ionic style pillars leading the way to the front door. The whole outside of the house was brick, and it gave the impression that it would be very clean on the inside. Getting out of my car, I took the crumpled piece of paper with his name from my pocket and looked at it. "Elle Lawliet." I said out loud, not quite sure how to pronounce his first name. 'How strange.' I thought. 'I wonder where he's from…?' I stuffed it back in my pocket, my heart beating loudly. Something about that man made me nervous, and I wasn't going to find out why until later.
Feeling somewhat closed in as I knocked on the door, I looked around. When that didn't help to calm my nerves, I went through my own personal steps in my head. 'Step one: Identify the addiction. Step two: Understand their history and their reasons. Step three…' I stopped going over the steps, extremely annoyed. "Why is it taking him so long to open the fucking door?" I said, sighing loudly. I had been out there a good two minutes, and I didn't even hear footsteps. Looking to the right of the door, I noticed a doorbell. I punched it angrily with my finger several times, my temper flaring. (That was one of the reasons I felt I was inadequate for the job; my temper.)
After a few more minutes of waiting angrily, the door swung open in front of my eyes. Right when I was about to tell him off, he stepped out from behind so I could see him better. All my anger dissipated in those few seconds, replaced with genuine confusion. Sure, most of the people I had dealt with that were strung out on drugs looked like shit (you expected them too), but nothing compared to him in the two years I had been working with the NPA.
He was tall, just a little taller than I was, but that wasn't what took me by surprise. He was so… disheveled isn't the word, but it's pretty damn close. What took me in at first were his eyes. They were wild, and huge, and the darkest blue I had ever seen… almost black. He had telltale dark circles underneath, signaling he probably hadn't slept for a day and a half or so. His hair was as dark as his eyes, even darker still, and it looked like it hadn't been combed in months, maybe even years. His long bangs fell over his forehead, but didn't conceal his eyes. Something that worried me was how thin he was. He was bordering on malnutrition he was so skinny, and I wondered if he had an eating disorder along with his addiction. He wore a white t-shirt and dark jeans, that both looked at least four sizes too big for him.
It took a while of staring before I finally remembered to speak. But when I did, it came out as a raspy squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "E-Elle Lawliet?" I asked. His eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down before shaking his head no.
"Oh. Then… could you tell me where he is?" I breathed a sigh of relief. So I had gotten the wrong person. Good. Because, not to be rude or anything, but I really didn't want to spend my time with that man.
"No, that's not what I meant." I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again. 'Damn it! He sounds like the man I spoke with on the phone, it's probably him…' "I meant that's not how you pronounce my name."
"Oh. Sorry, then… how is it—"
"You pronounce it like the letter 'L'." My jaw dropped. 'Who… is this guy?' He looked down for a second before stepping aside. "Come in." His voice held a heavy tone, like he didn't want me to be there, almost like I was unwelcome. Somehow, I didn't blame him. If I were him, I wouldn't want somebody telling me what to do with my life. But that was my job, and… it was what I had to do. I nodded a quick thanks and stepped inside.
I was right about my intuition that it was clean. I wondered if he had a maid for a while; I didn't think this man was capable of cleaning anything, really. The floor in the hallway was hardwood, a lighter color. Not something I would have chosen myself, but it still looked good. My shoes clacked loudly, and I stopped walking a few steps in. Everything was completely silent, something I hated. I needed to have some type of background noise, but I wasn't about to bother him.
"Hey." His voice from behind me made me jump a little, and I turned around to face him. He had a serious, judging expression across his pale face. "You're him, aren't you?" I tried to speak again, but he threw me off so much I could barely find my voice. "Don't they call you 'The Cleaner'?" I swallowed loudly. 'Jesus, so he knows too? Well… he's a detective, he works with the NPA, I wouldn't be surprised…'
"Yeah." I finally answered. "That's me. But… if we're going to be personal about this, you can call me Raito." I turned around to face him, looking him straight in the eyes. My attempt to be intimidating didn't faze him as much as I would have liked.
"Raito?" He repeated slowly, almost as if trying out my name. He then shrugged his thin shoulders and brushed quickly past me to close and lock the door.
"Mm-hm, you write it with the characters for…"
His eyes bored into me harshly, and I lost my voice and trailed off pathetically. "I don't care." He mumbled.
"W-well… okay. What should I call you?"
"What do you think?" I almost felt like asking, 'why do you answer everything with a question! This isn't a fucking game, you know!' But I kept my mouth shut, refusing to answer. Taking note of my silence, he quickly added: "I'm just joking. Call me Elle." I nodded curtly and crossed my arms, trying to keep my gaze away from him and his creepy eyes. He started walking ahead of me, and I jogged to catch up with him. He moved surprisingly fast for what I thought, and he took longer strides than I did. I looked to my right, and a large spiraling staircase loomed over my shoulder. Slowing my pace to stare at it, I was jolted when I felt a hand grab my arm. I looked down and saw his pale fingers intertwining with the fabric of my shirt. Damn it, his hand was cold! "Are you coming or are you going to snoop around?"
I couldn't take it anymore. This guy was just too damn rude! "That's my fucking job." I snarled back, but he didn't do anything. I thought I saw the corner of his mouth tug up slightly in a half-hearted smirk, but it may have been my imagination. Still not letting go of my arm, he led me through an archway into what I assumed was his living room. I looked around, and all I saw was bookshelves. There must have been thousands and thousands of books in that room. I was so mesmerized I almost forgot his hand on my arm, and bumped hard into the corner of his couch.
"Shit!" I whispered angrily, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my knee. He let go of my arm and turned around. I felt my face flush.
"Pardon?" I shook my head, embarrassed.
"N-nothing, never mind. Sorry…" He shrugged with ease and led me over to the offending couch. He himself sat on one end while I nervously sat on the other. I looked up, and my jaw dropped for the second time that day. He was curled in on himself, his knees pressed hard up against his wiry chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and pulled them closer, if that was even possible. I blinked once, twice… just trying to take him all in. I shifted uncomfortably and finally remembered to take out the small notebook and pencil I had in my pocket.
I opened my mouth to speak, to ask my first question, but he interrupted me. "Why are you here?" I lost my grip on my pencil and it clattered to the floor loudly as I stared at him dumbly. 'Is he being serious? Or is he just joking like he did earlier?' A million options raced through my head until he bent over and handed me back my pencil. As he placed it gently in front of me, he asked again: "Why are you here? Or do I have to guess?"
I spat out the first words that came to my mind. "Are you fucking serious?" I felt my face grow even redder after I said it; it was evident that he didn't always like my choice of language. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. After I breathed for a couple seconds, I looked back up. "I mean… back there, you said you knew who I was. Why are you asking?"
"I said I knew who you were, I never said I knew what you did. At least…" His eyes trailed around the room absentmindedly, and once again I was transfixed. "…I don't recall saying that." I swallowed. He was right, after all. He never said he knew what I did… but… how could he not know? 'Is this guy a total recluse or something? Everybody knows what I do…'
"Okay, fine. I understand." I smoothed the back of my hair, my stomach churning and heart pounding. 'Why is this guy making me so nervous?' I tried to reason. 'Usually I'm not so un-professional…' I took a deep, shaky breath before speaking again. "I'm here to help you." Maybe it was just me, but I thought I saw his eyes widen just a fraction of an inch. When he didn't respond, I continued. "With your Heroin addiction." Letting the words slip past my lips was always a tough part for me, usually they got angry whenever I mentioned their addiction. He just seemed to sit there, his lips parted slightly, staring at me intensely. "D-don't act like you don't know. I was sent here by…"
"I'm not playing dumb." He whispered, looking away. I closed my mouth, set down my pad and pencil and folded my hands in my lap. "And I really don't want to know who you were sent by. You work for the NPA, correct?" I nodded solemnly. "But… may I ask a question, Ratio-san?" I nodded again, silent. "Why would they send a child to help me?" 'Damn it. I knew this was coming. Everybody always asks the same question.' I stood up, taking my items in hand.
"I'm not a child." I said forcefully, trying to sound intimidating. "I'm nine-teen years old, and who cares if I'm a little young? If I wasn't qualified, they wouldn't have hired me, you know." He looked back up at me, and stood up himself. I watched, confused, as he extended his hand toward me. "Wh-what are you doing?" I asked. He just smiled a little, and put out his hand more. I took it reluctantly.
"I like people like you, Raito-san." He instructed me to sit back down, and I did so, extremely confused. 'What the hell is this guy doing? Was this some kind of test or something?' He sat back down after watching me, and curled up in the same position. This time he began to chew on the nail of his thumb, and I leaned back slightly. "You're strong-willed, I appreciate that. You really like what you do, don't you?"
"No!" I answered all too quickly. 'Shit. I probably just fell into another one of his traps, didn't I?'
"Stop lying, I can see that you do." I shifted awkwardly again. I had heard rumors that the man before me was a genius, the smartest person alive, things like that… but I never expected him to see right through me like that. It was like he had known me since I was born, been with me every moment of my entire life. 'I guess he really is a genius…' "Like I said. You like what you do, don't you?"
"I guess." I answered numbly. "It's not… you know, selfish or anything, it's just… I like helping people, I like making the wo…" I stopped mid-sentence, not wanting him to hear my true thoughts about what I did. He gave me a look that suggested 'go on', and I couldn't do anything but comply. "…I like making the world a better place. Th-that's what I say, I guess it's not really true…"
"No, I can see where you're going with that. If I were in your position, I would likely think that, too." I picked up my pad and pencil and placed the tip delicately on the paper.
"We need to get started, I can't necessarily just sit here all day, talking."
"But you want to, don't you?"
"No!" I answered too quickly again. He shrugged and stood up, stretching. As he stretched, his shirt slid up slightly, and I was shocked by how thin he really was. I could see just a tiny bit of his ribs stick out, but what I did see made me worried for him. "But we need to get start…"
"Actually, if you'll excuse me… I need to go to the restroom." I sighed loudly. 'If this was anyone else, I would believe him… it seems like he's just making up excuses to get out of talking to me.' I watched him walk off without another word, and I was left in silence as I heard a door close and lock. I dumped my pad and pencil on the coffee table in front of me angrily. There was no way I was going to make any headway with this man; I could already feel it deep inside of me. I settled back uneasily on the couch and looked around.
After several minutes of Elle being gone, I began to grow angry. 'What the hell is taking him so long?' I thought, crossing my arms. I looked back over my shoulder at the spiral staircase, and I thought I heard… children laughing, but I ignored it. The laughter grew louder and louder until I heard feet running down the stairs. Suddenly something flew over my head at a dangerous speed, and I ducked just in time. It hit a bookcase in front of me, and as I looked up I noticed it was a soccer ball. The running got louder until two people rushed into the room. All talking ceased at that point.
"Sorry, did we hit you?" One of them asked. He spoke in English and had a lower voice. I turned around to see who had almost killed me. Two boys stood behind the couch, both looking about thirteen or fourteen. They both had platinum blonde hair and pale skin, and the same intense eyes as him.
"N-no." I stuttered, standing up.
"Could you hand that to us?" The smaller boy spoke up. He was dressed all in white, and had curly, short hair. The other was contrary, dressed all in black with bone-straight, long hair. I walked over to the soccer ball and tossed it back to them. I was about to sit back down when the one dressed in black asked:
"Are you one of his dealers?" My eyes widened, and I looked back at them, shocked. 'These children know about him?' Slowly, I shook my head no, and they exchanged a look of relief. "Then who are you?" He tossed the soccer ball up and down lightly. "By the way, I'm Mihael. This is Nate." He gestured to the other child, who rarely spoke.
"I'm Yagami Light. I'm…" I stopped, wondering whether or not I should tell them who I was and why I was there. I sighed, figuring it couldn't hurt. If they already knew about his addiction, what was the harm in telling them I was there to help? "…I'm here to help Elle." They exchanged glances again, and Mihael dropped the ball.
"Help him?" Nate said, stepping forward. I backed up a little bit. "You mean with his drug problem?" Mihael looked away when he said that, almost as if he was ashamed.
"Y-yeah, I work for the NPA." He walked right past me to pick up a couple books that had gotten knocked over when the soccer ball had slammed into the bookcase. "What… relation do you have to Elle?"
"We're his children." Mihael said, and seeing the shocked look on my face, back peddled. "I mean, not his actual children, we're adopted. He adopted us." I stayed silent. "So you're really gonna help him?" I nodded slowly, watching the expression on his face change from one of caution to one of… almost gratefulness. He opened his mouth to say something, but Nate cut him off.
"There's no way you'll be able to help him."
"Wh-why?" I asked, watching him stand up.
"Because," He twirled a strand of blonde hair around his finger. "He's been doing this for years, as long as we can remember. And he's had us for a long time. Even someone with such good intentions as yours, still… he's just too far gone right now." My heart sunk, and I had a feeling the child was right. Those were my first thoughts when I had my phone conversation with him only several days before.
"Is he in the bathroom?" Nate continued. I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "He's not… really in the bathroom." Suddenly everything clicked, and I knew what he was going to say next. "Well… I mean, he's in the bathroom, but… you know what he's doing, right?" I stayed silent, somewhat astonished that those children knew so much. Nate sighed, and brushed himself off. "He's injecting himself." My heart skipped a beat, but he continued. "He gets one-hundred-and-fifty milligrams a day, every day."
"C'mon, man. You don't know if this guy can help Elle or not, that's no way to talk." I was glad Mihael stood up for me, but I thought he was wrong. More or less, I agreed with Nate. He seemed to make the most sense. It really didn't look like I was going to be able to help him.
Just then, I heard a door open and a few seconds after, Elle walked into the room. He must have been in there for twenty minutes! He stopped when he saw Mihael and Nate. "What are you two doing in here? You weren't bothering Light, were you?" They shook their heads, and Mihael picked up the soccer ball again. Elle placed his hands on their heads. "What did I tell you about playing soccer in the house? Go on." They scurried off, Nate giving me a glance over his shoulder as he left.
I looked at him, and my temper flared dangerously. I strode over to him and looked him straight in the eyes, glaring. He seemed taken aback for a few seconds, then his expression settled back into the strange calm mask that was seriously pissing me off. "What were you doing in there?!" I shouted. His eyes darted to the hallway where his "children" had run off down.
"What did they tell you?"
"I don't care, Goddammit! What were you doing?!" He stayed silent, and I grabbed him by the collar. "Were you fucking shooting up?!" He didn't answer again, and I shook him. "Were you?! Don't you have the sense not to do that while I'm in the house?!"
He sighed, and removed my hands from his shirt. When I looked into his eyes, I could see a roaring fire burning behind them. I tried to get away, but he held me close to him. "Get out." He whispered, shoving me backwards. I stumbled a few steps, but caught myself before I fell.
"Wh-what…" I stopped, staring at him. He stepped forward quietly, and my heart skipped a beat again. "N-no… I… I could have you arrested, you know…" Not five seconds after the words escaped my lips, I was thrown backward as his fist connected with my nose. I landed hard on my back; I could already feel warm blood running down my face. "You son of a--!" I started, but he cut me off.
"I told you to get out." Without another word, he pulled me up by my arm and led me to the door. 'Is he serious?' I thought as he unlocked the door. "Go." He gave me a push and I stumbled outside, but not before getting a good look at his face before he shut the door in mine. He looked… worried.
It took a while of staring at his front door before I felt the warm blood drip onto my shirt. I rolled up my sleeve and wiped my mouth and nose, stunned. 'Did he really just punch me and throw me out of his house?' I thought, wiping the blood away from my face again. Figuring there was no way he would let me in again, I climbed into my car and began to drive away. Keeping my eyes on the road, I was able to not think of what had just happened for a short period of time. But after five minutes, they began to creep their way back into my head. 'There's no way I'll be able to help him if he's stupid enough to shoot up while I'm in the next room. Jesus… how much did that kid say he takes every day? One hundred and fifty milligrams? Shit, that's a lot…' I shook my head, trying to scatter the thoughts away. I tried not to think about the people unless I was with them.
That's what had fucked everything up in the first place, after all.
Author's Note: WOW. That…was…AMAZING!! So fun to do. :D I'm not giving up Death Note Cell for this, don't worry… lol. Actually, putting Mello and Near in was a last-minute decision, so forgive me if their part seems a little… different. The only thing I'm not happy about is how L came out. It may be just me, but I think he seems a little OOC. I like Light, though! He's always fun! XD Anyway, sorry for my extensive lack of knowledge of drugs. Or… just… how things work in general, but… yeah. That's me. This actually sprung from a single thought last night: I was sitting on my bed, just thinking… and all of a sudden I thought: "I wonder if L's on crack or something like that. He looks like he'd be strung out on drugs." And then this came forth. I couldn't stop thinking about it at all! This took me so little time to write. Is it just me, or is the language a little more extensive in this than in the others? "Fuck" is used gratuitously, you can tell that. That's like my new favorite word. XD AAAANNNNYWAY, I hope everyone looks forward to the new chapter soon. (And don't worry; the wait is not going to be too much longer on DN Cell chapter 8, either.) BYE!!