Chapter Text
L has been thinking about Mello a lot, for a couple of months by now. He remembers his blonde hair, deep green eyes, and his humanity. A humanity most of the people like them do not possess. A mix of compassion and rage, a shine in his eyes, a voice filled with emotions, empathy, and tiredness. And who would he be without it? Who would Mello be if he didn’t have this big, warm, raging heart?
He was sixteen, only a kid, when he met them. Near was four, Matt and Mello were six. The three of them were too short, even if Matt was a couple of centimetres taller than Mello, wearing too many layers of clothes. Neat was holding a bunny, which eventually, as years passed and he got older, became a Frankenstein’s monster bunny, made with Mello and Matt’s old t-shirts and pyjamas; one of his hands was playing with his hair, and his eyes were lost in the distance, like he didn’t fully understand where he was.
None of them was smiling. He saw something in them that day, something that still worries him. But now, in this moment, it is Mello, as he has always been, the one who worries him the most. L doesn’t know exactly why.
Today, the task force and he are checking the news, like they always do in the morning. He trusts them enough to not put too much attention in the reporters’ voices. After a car crash story in England, the woman on the TV lets out a name. A single name in between other three, involved in a fire outside Liverpool. Lisa Lindal, 19 years old; brownish blonde hair and blue eyes. A teenager selling weapons. Dead.
He breathes deeply and hold the air in for a couple of seconds before he asks Matsuda to turn up the volume. He looks at her photo on the screen. She looks exactly as he remembers her. And it’s fucking disturbing. She was so young. She was so smart. Too smart to get caught by Kira. How did he do it? How did he find her? Linda wasn’t the type of person who made mistakes like the ones necessary for Kira to find her. How did Kira get to her? How did he get so close to him? This, Linda’s death, is the closest this fucking freak has gotten to him. And more importantly, the closest to Wammy’s house someone he had chased has been.
- L – Watari’s voice sounds calm and comes like a sedative for him, and even if he wants to, he can’t get his eyes away from the screen – What are we going to do?
- Later, Watari.
- No.
Watari never contradicts him in public. Never uses his severe, military voice with him when someone else is looking. Now, he has his face tense, his throat dry, his eyes fix in him like he’s a prey in the forest. The task force’s agents are confused, paralyse in front of this bizarre scene. They are looking at each other, trying to find out what the fuck is going on.
- Not now – L insists – this isn’t the place nor time for this.
- Come to the office – the old man says – now. Get that off.
L sighs heavily, standing up from the chair, opens the handcuff on his wrist, and starts walking towards Watari, his head held high like a rebellious teen trying to prove his father he’s not afraid of the consequences of his actions, even when he is. He stands in front of him, looking directly to his eyes. The man does not move or hesitate as L tries to stablish his dominance. He is too old for that, so he just turns around and walks into his office. It’s full of screens, showing places of the building and streets. This is the place where everything really happens. The only place in which L doesn’t mean anything. The old man’s territory.
L thinks in the boys. Their faces. Their voices. Matt’s caring eyes when he’s worry about something. Mello’s nails rasping the wood of the table when he’s thinking. The sound of Near’s dices hitting the ground. They’re just kids. Linda was just a kid too.
- I told you this isn’t the time for this – the young man says – We have other things…
- That’s not true – Watari has a straight back, and is standing in front of him, in the same way he used to do when L was 13 and did something terribly wrong – Trying to avoid this…
- I’m not avoiding it.
- …will not make it disappear – he continues – Linda will have a funeral at Wammy’s, as she deserves to. But you won’t be there. You know you can’t. Neither can I.
- It doesn’t bother me.
- I’ll ask you this…one last time, L – the man sighs – What are we going to do?
- Bring them here, obviously – L answers, sitting on Watari’s chair, looking at the screens – We’ll drag them home, with us. With me. Where they are supposed to be.
- Kira could find you if we do that.
- He doesn’t know about Wammy’s, nor its relationship with me – L explains – at least, not for now. If we take them out from there now, destroy their records, everyone’s records…we can keep them absolutely anonymous.
- Then the boys can stay at Wammy’s…
- No – L stops him – Matt and Mello have had…a not very legal activity since they were ten. Matt, particularly, would jump into an acid pool if someone tells him is illegal. If Kira gets to them, in one way or another, it’d take very little for him to get Near. And if he does, if he finds out what they are, who they are…they’ll be dead in week, just to show me he can.
- It is an unnecessary risk…
- It isn’t.
- You are wrong,
- I’m not.
- You are being unreasonable…
- Well, it’s not your decision to make, is it? – L shrugs his shoulders and draws a tiny smile on his face – Call Rogers, put them in a plane. Bring them here, or I will.
- You could get killed.
- Again, it is not your call. It’s mine. Get it done.
He walks out of the office, but his heart is beating too fast, and his breathing is absolutely out of control. Letting the Task force see him like that is not an option. It would be demoralizing for them, make them feel usure of what they are doing, and he needs them at the top of their game. He passes next to them, pretending he has something else to do, and closes the door of his room. He locks it and sits on his bed.
“Fuck” he thinks, closing his eyes. He’s not known for his compassion or caring personality; he never acts impulse by a controlling emotion. He’s not afraid of anything. He has never care for anyone but himself. It’s a life-saving attitude in front of the dangers of his work.
A man who doesn’t love anything, is a man who has nothing to lose. Therefore, he has nothing to protect…to give his life for.
L is borderline divine, but now, he’s selling the immortality he thought he’d never lose to protect three teen assholes, who probably will try to run away as soon as they put a foot on the building.
Someone knocks on his door. He hates visitors when he’s thinking on the horrible things that exist in the world, and in how fast their hands can grab the boys away. The sound is soft, but unbearable. He doesn’t want to open the door, but it crashes against his eyes like a thunder.
Light is standing there when he opens it, his foot rapidly gets in between, so he cannot close it. Light’s eyes are so soft when they fall on him, his long lashes move slowly and his voice is, like it always has, the most ridiculously sweet he has ever heard.
- Are you okay? – the younger asks – You took our handcuffs off.
- I’m fine – he responds – Do you need something, Light?
- So, now are you changing the subject? – Light laughs – it doesn’t help your case.
L sighs and walks back to his bed, scratching his head and leaving the door open. It is a clear invitation for Light to enter the room, as he does, closing it behind him. The man takes his end of the chain and puts it back on, before sits again, looking at the wall. The teen does it too.
- Does it have anything to do with Lisa Lindal? – the younger asks, looking at him even if L doesn’t do it back – It’s a rhetorical question, but still…was she an old case?
- You can call her like that – he shrugs his shoulders, while he plays with his own fingers – a very smart, very curious, very asshole young woman. The thing is…I don’t know how Kira got to her.
- Police files, probably – Light murmurs – they are not really hard to get.
- Lisa’s were – L talks rapidly, like he’s getting out of air – never caught, not a single time in all her life. Never a clue, fingerprint or hair, no name, no face…never made a single mistake. Her name isn’t in any government’s paper, Watari used to checked on it every few months…and all of the sudden, she’s dead in a building by the hand of some…attention seeker war criminal, next to those second-class drug-dealers.
- How do you know her if she had never got caught?
- It doesn’t matter – he’s holding his hand in between his hands, eyes close, wondering how it is possible he is letting someone see him like this. Heart in hand. A deep, open wound, bleeding intensely – she’s dead now. And I have to do something…that is probably a really wrong call.
- What?
- You’ll find out in…two days or so.