Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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"Go to the cross roads, bow down to the people, kiss the earth, for you have sinned against it too, and say aloud to the whole world, 'I am a murderer.'" He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him.

– excerpt from Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky

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The Worst Feeling Ever

Chapter 25: Fading Oscillations

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GREATER TORONTO EDITION, October 31, 1996

THE GLOBE AND MAIL

Canada's National Newspaper

MISSING PARTS KILLER SHOT

A bitter end to the series of murders

by Kara Waldoon

Murderer Claude Miller was caught for the second time this week when his escape attempt was thwarted by police. Miller, alternately known as the Missing Parts Killer or the Toronto Butcher, broke away from handlers transferring him to a more secure facility, and after a short chase was shot by police. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Both officers involved are now on leave pending investigation.

The investigation led by world-renowned detective Eraldo Coil determined that Miller had committed the series of murders while employed at Toronto University as part of the maintenance crew. University officials made assurances that they had conducted background checks, but Miller had had no prior criminal record. As the Globe and Mail reported yesterday, the remains of several victims were discovered in Miller's possession, on University property. Despite the shocking revelation Monday that the Missing Parts Killer had lured several of his victims to an abandoned outbuilding associated with Toronto Hospital, no motive has yet been discovered for his crimes.

Local Detective Vincent Devall stated, "Miller was clearly the one committing the murders and leaving body parts out, but there are still aspects of the case we're tying up." He went on to say, "Now that we have more intact remains, we've begun the difficult task of identifying them and contacting relatives where possible." According to police, Miller had no known surviving relatives.

When asked, neither Devall nor the Chief of Police would comment on the murder of Toronto Police Officer David Maulty, assumed to be one of Miller's victims, though it is unclear which if any of his parts were dropped. A memorial service is planned for the fallen officer on Saturday.

Several witnesses have been cooperating with police, including Institute of Medicine graduate student Geoff Thornapple. Witnesses are being kept in what Devall called "protective custody" away from news media. Officials are under pressure to close this case soon and release information to the families of victims.

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The clicking indicated the start.

"A telephone call? Really? I'm disappointed. Almost as disappointed as I was by the message you had Thornapple deliver: 'I could not finish my alphabet, but I was never your fishing net. The puppy ran free, until he met me, and his bones can no longer pay your debt.' The implication that the Toronto Butcher had killed you was bad enough, but really, a limerick? The murderer would never have composed anything like that." The baritone with the slightly nasal inflection, a South African accent noticeably mixing with Quebecois, paused.

"Given his penchant for rhyming, I disagree." The smooth voice had a Parisian accent to it.

The other man chuckled. "Oh, he spoke in rhyme rather frequently, but he did not assemble those rhymes into any poetic forms – at least, none more complex than a couplet. I don't think he could help himself. It is an aberration of his speech, to reflect the aberration of his mind."

"I do not believe that this murderer's rhyming is unintentional. He uses it to alter the expectations of others. It is likely to be an ingrained habit, one he may have picked up during childhood, but his manner of speaking . . . it seems deliberate. This does not exempt it from being connected to his mental problems, of course. Using a simple poetic form like a limerick is well within his capabilities. Certainly an encoded message intended for you would have been important enough to him for him to give it more structure than his speech. Who knows what sort of message he might have composed for us had he gotten the chance – he might have treated us to a sonnet."

"I think what you're really saying is that I was important enough to you for you to compose a poem." The baritone was teasing. "It's almost flattering."

"It was important to me that you become distracted enough by the message to misstep. The poem, it served its purpose."

There was a sound of throat-clearing. "I'm sure it seems that way to you. Did you know, I was actually looking forward to another face-to-face conversation with you."

"It should be enough that I am no longer disguising my voice. This is good, yes?" The smooth voice responded. "My face, eh, it is just another mask, une autre visage. You understand this, I know."

"What I understand is that I am in jail as a consequence of your lies."

"Lies perhaps, but not my own. You repeatedly lied to the Toronto police and the ICPO, and now you are trying to lie your way out of jail. These lies, they are not your biggest problem. Murder is another matter. I wonder, how many others have you killed while carrying on your charade, eh? How much of the blood of the Butcher's victims is on your hands alone?"

"Now you're talking nonsense." The baritone held a tone of annoyance. "Claude Miller is a serial killer, and I caught him. You didn't even get close! I stopped his reign of terror, and these trumped-up charges against me are just your petulant attempt at revenge for beating you to the privilege. Even if you have the locals convinced, I have people who will get me out of this, and out of here, soon. And I can assure you, I will even the score."

"'Miller' you say, interesting . . ." The smooth voice sounded bored. "I will thank you for this, eh, threat you have made. It only strengthens my position. And these people you think you have? Let us say that the loyalty of others is somewhat compromised when they cease receiving payment. Did you think we would not find your assets and freeze them?"

There was silence for a moment. "Whatever you think you've done, I will find a way around it. I have more allies than you know."

"Hm, you may, though I suspect that you have, eh, fewer than you think. But they cannot save you from yourself in any event. Your crimes are your own burden to bear."

"I have committed no crimes! Everything I've done has been in the pursuit of justice!"

"Perhaps you intended to pursue justice, but I think you lost sight of her a long time ago. You are an imposter, hiding the truth even from yourself." The smooth voice was stern.

"I'm an imposter?" There was a sharp laugh. "Everything about you is false! You hide behind technology, avoiding human interaction at all costs, and tell as many lies as you please to manipulate events to your satisfaction! You have no understanding of how cases are meant to be solved, let alone how justice must be upheld! No matter the outcome of all this, you are a failure, L."

There was a faint sigh. "You are delusional. I am not L. And I believe you are, what is the term, projecting your tendencies onto me. Your faceless television announcements, your deception of the police – these are all things easily attributed to someone who manipulates events to their satisfaction, as you say. There are some powerful men who are quite upset with you, Monsieur Merrivale. As you have been told, I am Agent Roussel with the ICPO. My understanding is that L refused to take on the Missing Parts Case. He was last reported to be working on a case in New Zealand –"

"Don't play games with me. I know who you are, and you know who I am. Don't let your cowardice control you, boy. You've been trying to surpass me for years now – trying and failing. Pretending to be a pawn of the ICPO won't save you."

"I suppose if I truly wanted to pump you for information, I would play along with your little fantasy, but this conversation is merely a formality. The fact remains: you are not Eraldo Coil. You are Auguste Merrivale, a well-to-do accountant dissatisfied with his life. You are not the world's greatest detective, and you are not engaged in a melodramatic battle of wits with the detective L."

"Using my own alias against me, eh? Clever. But it won't work. I will extract myself from your web of lies, L. I will win this."

"You are forgetting something, I think." There was an almost bemused tone to the Parisian-accented voice. "Regardless of what you may claim, the police are less than forgiving of those who kill their compatriots. They are unlikely to let you out of their sight. Also, even if you had not murdered this Officer Maulty or the student, I think perhaps the Toronto police would find certain elements of the Mississauga Murders Case to be very interesting. I expect handwriting analysis would come into play, not to mention re-examination of any DNA evidence left behind on handwritten notes, or, for example, the rope Sebastien Willette supposedly used to hang himself . . ."

There was another pause. "What do you think you're playing at?"

A low humming laugh could be heard. "If you were actually Coil, you would know. This is no game. Excising the file of this case from the ICPO's records was his mistake. Well, attempting to excise, since I had kept a copy for my personal reference. There are also those in the Canadian police force who remember this case quite well and do not need a file from an international organization to tell them what they know, what they saw first-hand. I will confide this much in you: we are seeking the real Eraldo Coil. You are fortunate that we saw through your deception, as it would have been embarrassing to convict you of crimes Coil himself committed. I can see why he allowed you to impersonate him – he stood to benefit were you convicted in his place. When we find Coil, we will hold him fully responsible for his actions, among them murder, extortion, and falsifying evidence."

"How amusingly ironic of you." The baritone sounded defiant but tense.

"We will also publicly expose Coil for the fraud that he is, effectively undoing his reputation as a detective and casting doubt on every case he ever worked on."

There was a long silence. "The ICPO would never do that. It would create too much work and would sow public dissent."

"Work? So you are implying that the ICPO as a whole is lazy? I think you will find that we place a much higher value on truth than on convenience. The consequences of Coil's actions are his responsibility alone. Though I suppose it is possible that he could strike a deal of some kind with us instead, yes . . . something along the lines of agreeing to retire and share all the information he has hidden or falsified, for example, in order to escape public humiliation. This is a matter we will take up with him. You would be wise to reconsider the folly of masquerading as Coil, considering the number of crimes that would be added to your own debts."

"Merde." There was a sigh. "It seems we have underestimated each other. But Coil is not the only one who is responsible – L's actions will have consequences as well."

"It is good to hear you admit that you are not Coil, but as I said earlier, L was never involved in this case. This is just as well, really. Though he might have had some useful insights, I find him . . . annoying."

There was a chuckle. "Oh really? It seems we have something in common after all. I'm sure he'll find all of this very interesting."

"Just once, I spoke to L – this was, eh, over a year ago – and I can tell you that he does not care about Coil or the ICPO, let alone people like you and me. He focuses on facts and does not care about people."

"Is that so."

"Mais oui. I am certain that L will hear about this case, and about Coil's situation, but I suspect these details will not interest him much. Coil may be a criminal, a scoundrel, but L . . . he is too cold, a machine almost."

"How sad for him. But no man is a machine, no matter how much he might will himself to be. Our feelings shape our choices – suppressing emotion in favor of pure logic impairs judgment. To be complete, to be human, and to know how to judge, one must feel."

"Yes, yes. I feel I should thank you, but I won't."

There was another faint chuckle. "Why is that?"

"Because you have inadvertently taught me something important."

"Inadvertently, eh? You seem to think the worst of people. You really should break that habit."

"I have tried to, but people continue to disappoint me."

"Well, it is your choice, after all."

"This is true, and you have choices to make as well. Detective Devall, he still has the confession, ready for you to sign. Choose wisely, Monsieur Merrivale."

"Oh, I will, Monsieur Roussel. May roses bloom for you in winter."

"Au revoir."

"Adieu."

The recording ended. L considered listening to it a third time but decided that doing so was unnecessary. There didn't seem to be anything truly incriminating in the ICPO's recording of his phone conversation with Coil, which as far as they knew had been between Roussel and Merrivale, as Coil would now be known, at least in person. L, as Roussel, had already told the ICPO that the accusation he'd made about the Mississauga Murders and the charges against Coil had been a ruse to persuade Merrivale to confess. Predictably, they had believed him. It was still possible that someone would look into the Mississauga case, but it was unlikely – the ICPO was filled with people who wanted Coil kept on his pedestal. People believe what they want, L thought, because the truth is too ugly.

L wondered if Coil had arranged for Willette to die while escaping custody after the conversation he'd just listened to had taken place or if he had planned for that to happen all along. It was possible that Coil hadn't set those events in motion at all, but L considered the likelihood of that rather low. 7%, he thought. He may have done no more than given Willette a key for his cuffs, knowing what sequence of events would most likely occur as a result. Ugliness indeed.

Walking to a window of his suite, L peeled aside the curtains he'd duct-taped shut to gaze out at the Eiffel Tower, lit up against the night sky, a beacon pointing accusingly at the darkened heavens. He knew he didn't need to be in Paris to solve his newest case, since he intended to avoid direct interaction with suspects and police, but he liked being here, due in no small part to the availability of excellent pastries. He was surprised that Deneuve had not taken an interest in the case for which he was present, since it centered around her home city, but he supposed that she might think it beneath her. As much as he loved competition, he was secretly relieved. A series of clever cons and rumored extortions resulting in the amassing of several million francs by a mysterious and charismatic suspect over the past few weeks was a case with less moral heft to it than a series of murders, but L didn't mind. The circumstances were challenging enough – more so than the five other cases vying for his attention, which he would no doubt also solve – and the differences between the two cases already felt like a refreshing counterpoint.

In a few days, Watari would be joining him in Paris to assist. L hoped to have this case, and the others, all solved by Christmas, when Watari would leave his side once more. He wondered how things would be between them when the man arrived, but brushed his doubts aside. He knows now that he was wrong about me, L thought; the facts are clear. Certainly he will value catching criminals above maligning me. Our work will continue as it has done, because it must. He knew he wouldn't miss the distractions that Christmas at Wammy House tended to include, but he already ached at the thought of missing out on all the cakes, cookies, and holiday pudding. I will have to compensate somehow, he thought.

Objectively, it could be argued that his direct involvement had been unnecessary, his time in Toronto a waste, but the experience had provided him with valuable insight. Losing the trust – or, in fact, discovering that he had never truly had the trust – of his mentor had been one of the worst feelings he'd ever had. When his parents had died, he had been much younger and losing them had made him numb, the pain only rounding on him later, after making perhaps the worst of his mistakes. Every experience had shaped him, though he did not feel whittled down as Aleister had suggested. He felt stronger. Those things I have failed at, he thought, will be additional motivation for me not to fail again. Gaining some sexual experience had come as some surprise and had arguably resulted in one of the best feelings he'd ever had. So strange, L thought, to reach such extremes in so short a time. It makes it harder to quantify my accomplishments logically when feelings are what stand out. And if Coil believes that feeling is necessary for judgment, then that is all the justification I need to suppress my emotions. Perhaps I did have something to prove by investigating in person. Perhaps I indulged myself too much by visiting the city I lived in when I was two. L dug his toes into the lush cream-colored carpet. My parents preferred Belgium anyway.

L glanced back into the room at a package that had been delivered that afternoon. It sat on the glass coffee table on top of a Toronto newspaper next to an empty teacup, a large square box wrapped in brown paper. He knew what its contents would be: fresh-baked vanilla cake with strawberries and whipped buttercream icing, the confection covered in plastic and double-boxed with dry ice all around. Condensation continued to form on the glass of the table, moisture darkening one corner of the box. It was possible that there would also be a card, with a note chiding him for staying away.

If I had a single wish, L thought, it would be to surpass both Coil and Deneuve by the time I am 20. Perhaps I can do it sooner, but I have much work ahead of me if I am to eclipse their achievements as detectives. After all, mere wishing will not make it so.

"Happy birthday to me," L murmured, deciding to open the package at last, before the clock struck midnight to declare his day, and his year, spent.

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GREATER TORONTO EDITION, November 1, 1996

THE GLOBE AND MAIL

Canada's National Newspaper

COP-KILLER MURDERED STUDENT

Evidence of second murder implicates suspect

by Kara Waldoon

Further evidence has come to light in the case of murder victim Officer David Maulty. Suspect Auguste Merrivale, already in custody, is now accused of killing a second person, Toronto University student Ezekiel Penn. According to police, Penn may have witnessed the murder of the police officer. Though his body has not yet been found, police recovered the murder weapon and other items from the scene on the bank of the Don River.

"There were clear signs of a struggle," Detective Vincent Devall said, "and we have the fingerprints of both the victim and the murderer, as well as clothing and blood evidence, at the scene." Devall indicated that the evidence was still being processed and said "we are confident that we have enough proof to convict this dangerous criminal."

Stranger are the reports that suspect Merrivale had been in contact with the police regarding to the Missing Parts Case, which was concluded just days ago. This reporter asked several contacts within the Toronto Police Department for more information, but no one would confirm or deny that this man had impersonated a detective, and no indication was given as to whether Merrivale may have impeded that investigation.

The loss of student Ezekiel Penn was felt by fellow students. "I can't believe he's gone," said undergraduate Janine Noh. "He was a good friend. Why would anyone do this?" Undergraduate Danielle Thompson said, "I know what the police said, but I'm not going to believe he's dead unless they find a body." Guillaume Germain said of fellow grad student Penn, "He was really odd but a nice guy, and smart as hell. He could've taught our professors a few things!"

Police have thus far been unable to contact next of kin for Penn. Fellow grad student and Missing Parts Case witness Geoff Thornapple indicated to police that Penn was an orphan, though a few other students mentioned meeting Penn's adoptive brother and seeing a man who appeared to be his grandfather. Relatives of Ezekiel Penn are asked to contact Detective Devall of the Toronto Police.

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Back in the House, the air felt cool and smelled of oranges and musty wood. Everything was falling into place as though nothing had been removed or changed. He felt cloth slip over limbs that he willed to be numb. He preferred it when Watari helped him – the man's indifference was a balm, where the pity in Aleister's eyes needled him. He did not need needling. Strength was returning to him, though he continued to pretend it was not. His intentions had not changed, whatever else may have. Oh, what did you get up to when I was not watching you, my little Ally-oop? What emotional excesses did you allow to distract you? What sweet poison did you fail to notice slithering in your veins?

Beyond stared out the window, ignoring the steady patter of attempted conversation spilling from Aleister's lips. A few blushing leaves still clung to branches outside, but they would give up and let go soon. He would not. What happens must happen, and I know what to do. I can be patient, but I need to work quickly to prove it to you, that I am right and he is wrong. Everything true provides its own evidence – unless you bury it deep enough. Beyond swallowed the smile that threatened to bloom on his face. Knowing who and when and how is not enough when I need to know why. The why is always the key, and he's keeping it from us, as if we're unworthy. I will do whatever it takes to steal it back from him.

Inevitable events and the forward march of time were not his enemies. Only one could hold that honor, for the audacity of being first. He could still win, and he would – he knew it. The win would present itself along a new path to the same destiny, the one he felt himself marching toward, getting just close enough to glimpse the edge of it. Beyond would make L want to know why, and then rob him of that knowledge, rob him of victory, rob him, at last, of the right to be L.

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Author's Note: And here we are at the end. I finally decided to specify a year, so I went with the manga timeline, but you can handwave and imagine I've kept it in line with the anime instead if you prefer (which would make it 1999 rather than 1996, I think). Coil going to prison will certainly limit him, but the Detective Wars haven't happened yet, so he's not completely out of the picture.

In this story, I kept myself strictly limited with PoV (3rd person limited, mostly L, some A, and a bit o' B at beginning and end), though I suppose maybe using newspaper articles is cheating a bit. ^_^ At some point I will be putting some things up on AO3, including the uncut version of this story. I could probably write a follow-up fic based on "When I was 17, I did strange things too" but I probably won't. There are a few other projects calling for my attention, only some of which are fanfic-related. We'll see what happens, but then I always say that.

A shout-out and big thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story as I've been posting it: ImperialJedi, Blind Justice, Shinigami M, Sashocirrione, Crazymusician22, amainage, music controls me, Colwyn, aflaskj, Rainbow27Stardust, C. Holywell-Black, , Lamanta, Miss Bright, scrambled-eggs-at-midnight, reverse-paradox, swim4life4ever, aiushtha, Princess Senshi, cwilder, TheSlyCatMonster, Fixated-Fixings, cheyjeevas, loveinlimbo, gnyork, Pandora Darkspell, Sylvertongue, urpleprose, and haipa-chan. Hearing feedback from you guys always made my day, and I really appreciated it.

Hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Thanksgiving to all you US folk, and thank you to everyone for reading!