Legacy [A Death Note Fanfiction]

MrsMcGinty

MrsMcGinty

New member
So, this fanfiction is kind of a mix of the anime and live action movies. All of the events in the anime happen up until the events surrounding L's death, which are like the live action movies, so L has 20 days left after Light dies. This story is about those 20 days. The dates used are in line with the timing of the anime (or the manga, I can't remember, but L is 25) =) I may even go after L dies and follow new characters. ;) So here is...

--November 5, 2004--

~20 days left~

L sat quietly as Light’s body was taken out of the building on a stretcher. He had won. Kira was defeated. Justice had prevailed.

He sat biting his thumb as he thought about what to do next. There was really no reason for him to stay in Japan. And he would like to revisit Wammy’s House. He reached for his phone to call Watari, then remembered that Watari was… no longer available. He stood and walked out to a small, black car that was parked next to the entrance. He got in, slipped on his trainers, and buckled up.

As he was driving to a small airport, he dialed a number on the car phone. After a few rings, a voice came on the other line.

“Wammy’s House, this is Roger.”

“It’s L,” he said. “I’m on my way to the airport now. I’m coming to Wammy’s for a few weeks.”

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” Roger said. L sighed inwardly. “I’ll have your old room ready for your arrival. I assume this means you have completed the Kira case.”

“Yes,” he said. “And as soon as I arrive, I wish to speak with you privately. Even before anyone is informed of my arrival. Please keep it secret until then.”

“I understand,” Roger said. “We’ll be expecting you tomorrow.”

L took this as a dismissal and hung up. Roger was used to this. Several minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. An hour later, he found himself sitting in the very back of a small plane. The only other passengers were a mother and her small son. He seemed to be around eight years old. He was laughing and helping his mother solve a Sudoku puzzle. He had light brown hair and brown eyes. There was something familiar in those eyes…

“What are you doing, Light-kun?”

“Solving a Sudoku puzzle,” Light replied. “Here. Try one.”

“I do not know this puzzle,” L replied, studying the partially filled boxes. “What is the objective?”

“You have to get the numbers one through nine in each box, row, and column,” Light explained. “It’s mainly the process of elimination.” L took the puzzle book from Light’s hands, intrigued. He took the pencil Light offered him and situated himself in his usual awkward position before examining the puzzle. He smushed the rubber eraser into his lip in thought. Light pretended not to notice L getting his saliva on the pencil and toyed with the chains connecting them. After about twenty seconds of simply staring at the page, L quickly filled in all of the empty spaces on the page. He handed back the book and pencil with a smile.

“That was fun,” he said.

“That was an easy one,” Light said. He flipped to the back of the book. “Try this one.” There were a lot less numbers given in this one. L studied it for a little bit longer than before. He slowly started filling in numbers as he found them, then handed the finished puzzle back to Light, who simply shook his head with a smile.

“Show off,” he muttered. L turned to him. Light hesitated, then brought his gaze up to meet the detective’s. Charcoal grey eyes met chocolate brown ones. Light swallowed. L smiled and walked away.

“Sir? Sir! Sir!”

L was brought back to the present by a loud voice and a curious pain in his leg. He looked down. The little boy with Light’s eyes was poking him with his pencil and gazing up at him intently. L was unable to look away from those eyes. He was kicked out of his reverie when the boy looked over to his mother, who smiled and nodded an encouragement. The boy turned back to L.

“Are you all right?” the boy asked. L’s eyes widened.

“Why do you ask?” he responded, finding it strange that his throat was tight. The boy looked at a spot on the wall behind L.

“You were staring at us and started crying,” he said. L quickly swiped at his eyes and was amazed to feel tears on his cheeks. So he had been crying.

“So I was,” he said. The boy looked at him expectantly. “Thank you for your concern. I am fine.”

“Okay,” the boy trailed off. He looked at his mother again, who said nothing, verbally or otherwise. The boy turned back to L. “Would you like to do a puzzle with me?” He held out the puzzle book. L looked down at it, then back up at the boy.

Without a word, L moved over a seat, allowing the boy to accompany him. The mother smiled and turned back to face the front of the plane. L could see her pick up a novel from the seat. He wondered how any mother could trust their child to a stranger. But soon, his mind was otherwise occupied with assisting the boy in his puzzles. He could easily have gone through the entire book in half an hour, but he let the boy do most of them, only correcting when a mistake was made and offering advice when he got stuck.

Midnight passed.

--Let me know what you think, if there are any death note fans out there.--
 
FYI, I will not update this unless I get some feedback. I have all of chapter 2 done (4 parts, it's loooong) so there will be updates if you request them. =) Keep in mind, I will update for a single person, because I'm nice like that. :p So if you want to read more, please let me know and I will update.
 
Agreed. But he lives forever in our hearts and through... FANFICTION! :D haha would you like an update, btw? =) This is an extremely long story (well, it will be if I ever finish it)
 
All righty then. =) You are the only audience at the moment. Here's Ch2.

--November 6, 2004--

~19 days left~

The boy was very talkative and light-hearted. L learned that his name was Peter, and he and his mother had gone to Japan to visit his father, who was away on a business trip and would continue to be stationed in Japan for a month. They were on their way back home to England. Peter was top in his class and wanted to become a detective. He said his idol was L, which made L cough and stare into space for a moment. Peter already knew that the Kira case had been solved because his mother’s phone had internet and he checked the news constantly. He chattered on for the entirety of the plane ride. His mother had fallen asleep against the window once, then proceeded to finish her novel. A half an hour before the plane was scheduled to land, she closed the book and came back to join them.

Her name was Andrea and she was a history teacher at a local high school where they lived. L could tell she simply adored Peter, from the way she looked at him. It was the way Soichiro had looked at Light once.

“So, what’s your name?” Andrea asked. She was looking at him now. L thought hard for a moment. He had also thought this through in the car, and had decided to no longer hide his identity. He would also solve no more cases. He was retiring, so to speak, and had no need to worry about his identity remaining hidden.

“I am L Lawliet,” he said, and waited for their reactions. Andrea simply mulled it over in her head, thinking it was a rather strange name. Peter, on the other hand, had made the connection. He was staring at L, his mouth hanging open. He was attempting to speak, but nothing was coming out. “Yes, I am the detective.” Peter remained in awe.

“Oh, really?” Andrea said interestedly. “What are you doing going to England so soon after finishing such a big case like Kira?” L cringed inwardly at the abrupt question.

“I’m going home,” he said simply. Andrea nodded knowingly.

“Why did you tell us who you were?” Peter asked. He looked worried. “Isn’t that dangerous?” L smirked.

“Not anymore,” he said. “I’m retired now.” Peter gasped.

“No,” he said. “Why?” L decided the truth was a little bit too brutal for a child, and also he didn’t want to think about his impending death.

“I felt the Kira case was a way to ‘go out with a bang,’ so to speak,” he said instead. “It was the most difficult case I’ve ever had to solve. It was my greatest feat.” Just then, the little red lights above their heads turned on.

“We are preparing to land. Please fasten your seatbelts,” rang a voice through the speakers.

“We should get back to our seats,” said Andrea. She took Peter by the hand and led him back to their row. When the plane landed, and he stood to leave, L noticed Peter had left the Sudoku book in the seat next to him. When they got off the plane, he handed it back to him. The boy took it and said his thanks. He looked slightly nervous.

“Can I have your picture?” he suddenly blurted. L chewed his thumb a moment, then relented. L didn’t think that photo would flatter him at all. He was sleep deprived, shower deprived, and just plain not photogenic. He quickly said goodbye to Andrea and Peter and hailed a cab.

The entire ride to Wammy’s House (a total of two and a half hours), L slept leaning against the window. He was jolted awake by the gravel drive up to the orphanage. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about. He paid the cab driver and walked up to the door. It felt strange to be in front of this building again after so long. He pushed the door open, and smiled because nothing had changed about the place so far. It was exactly as he remembered it.

When he walked in and let the door close behind him, he took an immediate left towards Roger’s office. The old man didn’t look surprised as he looked up from some papers on his desk. He smiled and stood, gesturing for L to take a seat in a comfortable-looking chair. L remained standing by the door. Roger sighed and leaned back in his chair. He seemed slightly frightened.

“What have you done?” he whispered. L looked to the carpet. It was still the same ugly red and gold pattern he used to see every day.

“I’m going to die in nineteen days,” he stated flatly. He didn’t look up. “The weapon Kira used to kill all those criminals was a notebook. If someone’s name is written in the notebook, that person will die. If the cause of death is written within forty seconds of the name, the circumstances surrounding the death can be manipulated.” He looked Roger in the eye. “It was the only way to solve the Kira case. I wrote my own name in the notebook and gave myself as much time as the book’s rules allowed. Twenty-three days. There were two notebooks in existence. Since I had already written my name in the first one, when my murder was attempted in the second notebook by Kira, it did nothing.” L dropped his gaze again. He couldn’t stand the look Roger was giving him. Like he was the most amazing thing he’d laid eyes on. “We let Kira think he’d won, and then ambushed him. We had him cornered. He died.” L felt the burning behind his eyes, but refused to acknowledge the tears that would surely come. “So here I am. I wanted to spend my last weeks at the only place I was ever able to call ‘home’.”

There was about three minutes of silence. L was sure Roger could see the tears dripping down his face to the hideous carpet. He didn’t care.

“I don’t want you to tell anyone else,” L said. “Especially Near and Mello. I need to watch them carefully before… And I don’t want them to feel any more pressure than necessary. As far as they’re concerned, I still have many years to make my decision and they have just as long to convince me of their capabilities. I will try to be as optimistic as possible around everyone. If anyone asks, I’m just taking a couple weeks’ vacation after a long and tiring case.”

“Understood,” Roger said. “You’ll be staying in your old room, of course. No one’s touched it since you left. We keep it dusted and clean, of course, but nothing’s been moved.”

L hesitated.

“Is Rachael still here?” he asked, avoiding the man’s gaze.

“Oh, yes,” Roger said with a smile. “She’s still in her old room too. Right next door to you.” L smiled at the floor.

“That’s good,” he mumbled. “Does she work here now?” he asked interestedly.

“I think you want to ask her all those questions,” Roger said, moving a pile of papers from his desk to a drawer. “She’s actually due here in about twenty seconds, now. Have a seat and wait. I want to see her reaction.” L gave a small chuckle and moved to an armchair in the corner of the room.

As soon as he was settled, a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Roger said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. The door opened and L almost choked on his own spit. This was Rachael? He looked her over from head to toe and back again. She had long, straight brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. She always had. But the last time he’d seen her, she’d been seventeen years old. She was… twenty-six now. Almost a full year older than himself, as she had always needed to remind him in their younger days. She walked right past him and up to Roger’s desk, behind the chair he had been offered only moments before.

“I have the reports you asked for, Roger,” she said and laid a stack of papers on his desk. Roger just looked at her with a goofy grin and waited for her to notice the third presence in the room. It should’ve taken her less time, L thought, since he was boring into the back of her head with his eyes. She soon felt his gaze and turned. And stared. Her eyes were wider than L had ever seen them, though that was to be expected. L’s lip twitched into a smirk at her shocked expression.

Before he knew what was happening, Rachael had rushed over to him, lifted him up in the chair, and squeezed him tight, squealing excitedly.

“Oh my God! L! I’ve missed you so much!” she was shouting into his ear. He lightly returned the hug while putting his feet on firm ground. She was taller than he was now. Barely. She turned back to Roger.

“Roger, you old goof, this is why you asked for a student’s progress report at six in the morning!” she reprimanded. She turned back to L. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I’m guessing this means Kira’s been put to justice,” she said in a jokingly deep voice. L’s smile wavered.

“Indeed,” he said. He turned to Roger. “I’m assuming my old clothes are still in my closet as well, am I correct?”

“Yes,” Roger said.

“Good,” L said. “Because I didn’t bring any back with me from Japan…. I also left a car at the airport….”

“Can’t you just go and get them back some time?” Rachael inquired.

“I’m never going back to Japan,” L stated and left the room. Rachael stared after him a moment, turned back to Roger, who nodded, and then followed him to his room, which was next door to her own.

L paused before touching the doorknob of his room. He knew Rachael was behind him, watching what he did. He entered and left the door open so she could follow. He slowly took in every familiar item and furnishing, and inhaled the scent of paint that still lingered in the air after so many years. This room had been brand new when he had arrived, and it still looked like it was. He walked over to the twin-sized bed and flopped down, letting gravity stretch out his back. He hadn’t laid on a bed in years, having slept in chairs and on couches during all of his investigations. Even when he was chained to Light, he’d slept in a chair next to Light’s bed.

Rachael’s face appeared in his line of vision, smiling down at him. He turned his head to look at her and shifted so he was only on half of the bed. She laid down next to him, staring at the ceiling fan.

“Are you going to tell me why you got defensive about returning to Japan?” she asked bluntly.
 
P.S. There's still lots more.

--cont.--

“Yes,” he said. She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand so she could watch his face.

“I have all day,” she said. “So I want the whole story.” L sighed. He wanted to tell her…

Maybe he could.

And pretend they hadn’t spent a decade apart?

But it was just that natural of a thing where Rachael was concerned.

And that was how it should be, and how L needed it to be. He needed to talk about it. He didn’t talk about things enough anymore.

So he told her everything. He told her about the Death Notes, the Shinigami, Light, Aizawa and Matsuda, the execution test where Soichiro had to shoot Light, the handcuffs, deciding to write his name in the Death Note… everything… Except for one thing, which he wasn’t even sure about yet. But that wasn’t important at the moment. And she listened. She probably shed more tears than L did, and he had to stop once in the middle of the story. When this happened, Rachael grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He found her presence oddly comforting and when he had finished his story, his eyes were lightly closed and her fingers were still intertwined with his.

He was on the edges of sleep when she broke the silence, keeping him from dozing off.

“L…” She hesitated. “What’s your real name?” He opened an eye to look at her. She wasn’t looking at his face though; she was looking at their clasped hands. He hadn’t noticed, but he was absentmindedly rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. He didn’t stop when he noticed, but he was curious about it.

“My name actually is L,” he said. “L Lawliet. My mother must have been very creative to come up with something so original.” His fatigue washed out his sarcasm a lot, but Rachael still knew he was joking, and chuckled softly.

A comfortable silence fell between them and they both started to doze off. They could hear classical piano music drifting down the hallways of their wing of the orphanage. L had always loved hearing the other kids practice. He particularly preferred Jazz, but any piano music was satisfying.

“Do you still play?” he asked. Rachael was already half asleep.

“Hm?” Her hand started sliding out from under her head so much that she fell forward, towards L. It jerked her awake slightly though. “Do I still play what?” she asked, gently laying her head on his shoulder. “L Lawliet.”

“Piano,” he clarified, laying his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh,” she murmured. She was falling asleep again, as was he. “All the time…”

They had slept for about twenty minutes when there was a loud banging on the door. It woke L, but Rachael was still asleep on his chest. And she drooled. Nice.

L scooted out from under her, letting her bury her face in his pillow, and opened his door.

He was immediately glomped by a blonde-haired boy of about fifteen years old.

“L, you son of a bitch, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?!” Mello shouted. L quickly shoved Mello off of him and slapped him across the face, not hard enough to hurt, just to shock. Mello stared at him like “WTF?” but L merely glanced at the bed as Rachael turned over in her sleep, mumbling.

“Oooh, L’s got some lady company, Matt,” Mello sniggered to the boy behind him, who was playing a PSP intently. Matt glanced up at L and smiled.

“Hey, boss,” he said. “Who is she?” Matt asked Mello, not really interested at all. “****! I died!” He quickly restarted the PSP with a sigh. Mello walked around the bed to see her face.

“****, it’s Miss Artsy Fartsy!” Mello said, laughing. “Should’ve known by the shoes…” Matt rolled his eyes. L frowned. Artsy Fartsy? Made sense, but still… Fartsy?! He didn’t know why he felt so insulted for his friend, but he walked over to Mello and smacked him harder. “Ow! What the **** did you do that for?!”

“Watch your language,” L scolded as Rachael woke up slowly.

“Yes, mother,” Mello said, sneeringly.

“L?” Rachael asked as she shoved her now tangled bangs out of her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Mello and Matt were just leaving,” L said, taking Mello by the ear—“Hey! Get the hell off me!”—and dragging him out of the room. “They’re going to wait until dinner to talk,” he said directly to Matt, knowing the teen would handle Mello. “We’ll be down in time for chitchat beforehand.” Matt nodded and shoved Mello ahead of him down the hallway. L heard Mello say “Damnit!” before he closed the door again. How did such young teenagers get such dirty mouths? He would never know.
 
--FLASHBACK--

He fidgeted nervously by the fireplace. All the other kids were busy opening presents and throwing wrapping paper into the fire and watching the colors of the flames. For a brief moment, he thought of the chemical components that must have been used in the brands of paper to make each different color.

He knew this would be his last Christmas at Wammy’s House. And he had bought a present for someone for the very first time in his life. It wasn’t elegant (though he thought it should have been), and it wasn’t expensive, but it did cost almost his entire savings from the past eight years (how long he’d had anything resembling an allowance or income) and he hoped it would be worth it.

He sat in the corner of the room, holding the little rectangular box wrapped in black paper with silver glitter specks in it, with a royal blue ribbon. He knew she liked the night sky when you could see the stars, the color blue, and that she preferred ribbons over bows and boxes over bags. “Bags rip and tear,” she had always said. “Boxes, you can re-use multiple times. And ribbons are less girly than bows.” He smiled slightly.

He sat up straight when he saw her enter the room with a large stack of presents in her arms. He rushed up to her, hiding the box in his pocket.

“Do you want help passing them out?” he asked, taking the top half of her gifts.

“Thanks, L!” Rachael said with a big smile. She has beautiful teeth, he thought. The teenage boy turned from her to deliver the packages—or, you know, hide his flushed face—and stepped over a power cord that ran to the big pine tree and its twinkle lights and star. As he handed out the presents, explaining that they were from Rachael, he kept one eye on her, at the other end of the room, and one eye on his feet. He didn’t know why, but he seemed to be prone to tripping when he was around her, or thinking about her, or talking about her…

They met back up by the Christmas tree. For years she had given every person in the orphanage a present of some kind, and he had given none. Her present and one from Watari on Christmas and his birthday was all he ever got since he could remember. Watari would always give him something very parent-y like socks. He remembered being humiliated at breakfast a couple years ago when Watari had gotten him white-y tight-ies for his birthday and insisted he open it at the table.

This Christmas, Watari had gotten him a pack of undershirts. He loved the man and all, but did he ever get him anything besides underwear? He wanted to wait until after Rachael gave him his present and he opened it to give her hers. She seemed nervous as she held out a large, flat rectangular box to him. He carefully untied the ribbon and placed it aside on an old recliner chair. He wanted to keep the paper and ribbon. When all he had left to do was open the box, Rachael spoke.

“It was my first attempt ever,” she said as he pulled up the lid and looked inside. It was a painting. “I’ve never used acrylic before this.” He lifted it out of the box and stared at it, his mouth slightly open. “It’s just, Miss Donners wanted to start us on a new medium and it was for a grade and it was supposed to be something that was important to you and she said to be creative with it and I got an A- because I took longer on it than the others, but she said I would’ve had a hundred otherwise,” she rambled. She was looking at the floor and cracking her toes against the hideous, red carpet. L quietly placed the painting back in the box and closed the lid. “Do you like it?” she asked, peering up at him through her bangs.

He pulled her into a tight hug that he didn’t think lasted long enough at all, and said, “I love it!” He felt and heard her sigh in relief. “I’m going to hang it on my wall tonight.” He leaned back and smiled at her. “It’s beautiful. I swear, you are the best artist in the world!” She giggled. He truly believed it, too. All of her sketches and colorings were exquisite. And now this painting… It tugged at his heart. He started to open his mouth to give her the present, but she cut him off.

“Let’s go,” she said. “We can drop off the painting in your room and then go stargazing.” She headed towards their wing. He turned to the chair to pick up the ribbon and paper, but someone had already come around collecting trash and it was gone. His mood was somewhat hampered by this as he rushed after Rachael to his room.

The painting laid on his bed as he gathered a couple fuzzy blankets and put on more layers of clothing. His neck constantly itched and he could already feel blisters forming around his ankles from the shoes. He and clothes did not agree with each other in excess.

Rachael had gone to the kitchen to get their snack (the same snack they’d had since before he could remember) and she would meet him on the roof. They had discovered this little nook between two turrets in the roof that was sheltered from rain and snow, so it was almost always dry, but the ceiling was glass, so you could see the stars when the weather permitted. Since both of them enjoyed looking at the stars and talking while eating, they made it a regular habit, every weekend when they didn’t have school in the morning.

He had to admit, they were getting a little bit too big to share that small space lately, but they didn’t mind sitting instead of lying down. Plus, they could always lean against the roof or each other. They hadn’t been up there in a few weeks, though, because of bad weather, but the forecast for the next few days was supposed to be clear and they were jumping at the chance.

He had the blankets set up and had only been waiting for a short moment before Rachael climbed up and joined him. She had to sit with her legs draped over his lap, due to lack of space, and lean against the roof. She set a bowl in her lap and rolled up her sleeves. Before she could open the bowl, he put a hand over hers, making her look up curiously.

He reached into his pocket before he got too chicken. He held the present out to her. She stared up at him in slight shock.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispered with a small smile. She gingerly took it from him, letting their fingers brush each other lightly. He gasped, and wondered if she felt the same chills he did. He carefully watched as she untied the ribbon and opened the small box. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.
 
--STILL FLASHBACK--


It was a silver locket. He had bought it at a small antiques store. It was probably worth a lot more than he paid for it, considering on the back there were two letters carved in an elegant script: “RL”, which meant it might have belonged to an old family a long time ago. When he’d seen the letters, he knew he just had to grab it. It looked like the letters were swirling in and out of each other, yet they were distinctly separate letters. On the front of the locket was a detailed key imprint and what could have been vines or paisleys, he couldn’t tell. It was too small. The overall shape of the locket was a heart.

“L…”

“Open it,” he whispered. She did. And stopped breathing for a moment. On the left-hand side was a photo of him he’d had taken earlier that day. She knew how huge this was. He never had his picture taken. For anything. “I have to tell you something.” She looked up at him with a smile creeping up on her face. He was staring straight ahead into the nearby woods, a scowl upon his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning. The wind kicked up slightly, tossing his hair around. He closed his eyes.

“I’m not going to be here at Wammy’s much longer,” he said. “I’m going to start detective work around the world. I leave in a few months.” He looked at her, sadness filling his eyes. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Months, years… decades… I guess I just don’t want you to forget me.” He looked at his lap where his hands were playing with the fabric of her sweatpants—anything to avoid her gaze—and continued.

“And it gives me something to come back for.” He turned to her. “I have to fill in the other frame with an updated photo when I get back.” She had already latched the locket around her neck and was playing with it where it dangled… right between her breasts. **** it. He knew the chain was long. The only person it really even affected was him.

He’d come to terms with the fact that he liked Rachael a long time ago. He just didn’t want to change their relationship because that friendship was the one thing he could count on to always be there. She was looking at the locket. He stopped playing with her sweatpants and moved to giving her calves a massage. She looked at him and he was shocked to see tears in her hazel eyes. ****! What had he done now?

He maneuvered the best he could in the small space and knelt right beside her.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, wiping the tears away with his thumb. She leaned forward, resting her head on his chest as she cried for a moment. He stroked her hair like he’d seen couples do when he went to see a sappy romance movie (like twice in his entire life, both times because Rachael wanted to), and it seemed to work.

He could smell her shampoo—strawberries?... Or maybe he was just smelling their snack that they hadn’t touched yet: chocolate and yogurt covered strawberries dipped in sugar. She had stopped crying and began to talk.

“Damn straight, you have to come back!” she said. He laughed. “Even if we’re old and wrinkly.”

“Er, I don’t plan on being away that long,” he said.

“You don’t even have a plan at all,” she pointed out.

“You got me there,” he said. “But I promise I’ll come back.” He kissed her hair and let her sit back up straight. “I swear.”

He hadn’t even noticed she was leaning closer to him until she sighed and he felt it in his mouth. There was a very strange sensation in his stomach and he froze. When her lips touched his, he seemed to melt. How could she do this to him without even knowing it? Or maybe she did know it. He didn’t care either way. He’d wanted this so badly for so long.

She pulled back and he seemed to be rendered speechless—and possibly brainless—for a moment. Her lips had been so soft, yet slightly chapped. Perfect. Was that weird? He found perfection in chapped lips? It was probably just because they were her chapped lips…

Rachael smiled. L chuckled once, then let his lips go slack as he leaned in this time. Before his lips touched hers, though, something sweet and sticky was shoved in his mouth. Rachael laughed as L chewed the yogurt-covered, sugar-dipped strawberry she’d stuffed in his mouth. She popped a chocolate one into her own. L smiled and shook his head at her.

“You, young lady, are sneaky,” he said.

“And you, young man, are supposed to be one of the best detectives (or soon-to-be) in the world,” she said.

“Not fair, though,” he said. “You attack me with kisses and sugar-amplified fruit. There is no defense against such tactics. Especially for a sixteen-year-old boy who’s never been kissed before.” He stopped and averted his gaze from her face.

“You can’t say that anymore,” she said. He turned back to her. “You’ve now officially been kissed, so you can’t say you never have before.” He picked a small strawberry from the bowl and held it out for her. She took the whole thing in her mouth and sucked the juice off of his index finger and thumb in the process. L swallowed hard. He felt blood rushing to his… yeah… Not good.

Rachael dipped her finger into the bowl and got a bunch of sugary, chocolate-y, yogurt-y strawberry juice from the bottom. She held it to his mouth and he licked it off slowly, never taking her fingers into his mouth, but licking it like an ice-cream cone… A deliciously sweet, wet, warm ice-cream cone…

I’m going to have a fixation with strawberries and sweets now, he thought. And licking things… The only problem with his method was that it started to drip down her hand and wrist, so he had to lick that too. He heard her groan in pleasure when he ran his tongue from the inside of her elbow to her palm, and she curled up closer to him.

After about twenty minutes of kissing, licking, and sucking—fingers only—Rachael started to get drowsy. L had discovered that if she lay on top of him, he could actually lay and stretch out all the way, and she could do the same. So at around one thirty on Christmas morning, they fell asleep on fuzzy blankets next to an empty bowl that had once contained chocolate- and yogurt-covered, sugar-dipped strawberries.

--END FLASHBACK--
 
--cont.--

He turned back to see Rachael trying to flatten her tangled hair in front of the mirror on his dresser. It wasn’t working. He smirked and approached her. He leaned against the side of the dresser and watched her a moment. When it became clear to him that she wasn’t even really trying anymore, because it was a lost cause, L reached around to the front of the dresser and slowly pulled open the top left drawer (the one closest to him) with one finger. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time, gauging her reaction. She looked down in the drawer when he opened it.

She narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him as she picked up the comb from the drawer. He laughed quietly. L had barely used that comb while he was here. He had never been very prone to combing his hair or trying to style it. He just let it do its own thing. He watched her comb her hair through in silence. When she started taking care of smeared eyeliner and mascara, he spoke.

“You still have the locket,” he whispered. Of course, he’d noticed as soon as he saw her. She looked at him, forgetting about her eye makeup.

“Of course, I still have the locket!” she exclaimed. “It’s the only jewelry I really wear.”

L glanced at the wall behind Rachael. Her painting was hanging there still. It probably had a good layer of dust over it. It was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Speaking of which,” Rachael said, bringing his gaze back to hers. “I do believe you owe me an updated photo.” L smiled.

“I believe so,” he said. “We’ll put that on the ‘To Do’ list for the next few weeks.” He looked at her for a moment, then reached for the locket without asking. Consequently, she wasn’t prepared when his fingers lightly grazed her chest and goose bumps instantly sprang up along her body. She hadn’t felt so alive in… since he left…

L opened the locket and looked at the photo of his sixteen-year-old self… He was overcome with a wave of sadness. His hair had been shorter, his face had more color, he was smiling—which rarely happened while he was away—and he seemed… much more innocent in a way. He snapped it closed and let it fall back against Rachael’s chest.

It was time to distract his mind.

“Shall we go to dinner?” he asked, offering her his arm. She smiled and looped her arm through is offered one.

The dining hall was exactly as L remembered it. There was one long table down the middle of the room where places had been set in preparation for dinner. Near, Mello, and Matt were already there, waiting for them. L could smell roast cooking in the nearby kitchen. He hadn’t had roast in over nine years. It didn’t even really sound appetizing to him, but he’d eat it out of courtesy.

As soon as they were through the door, Mello rushed over to them and directed L to the seat next to his. Near watched this with narrowed eyes. He knew what Mello was up to, as did everyone in the room. Matt shook his head as he returned to his PSP.

“Give it a rest, Mel,” he said, using the nickname to make the teen angry. “The only way you even have a chance at being his successor is if you be yourself.” He looked Mello in the eye. “And you know it.” Mello huffed and slouched in his seat.

“You act like you’re my mother,” Mello complained. Matt chuckled.

“How would you know?” he said jokingly. “Anyways, you need someone to keep you in line.” Near took this opportunity to ask about the Kira case.

“How was he killing people?” he asked. “Tell us everything.” The next half hour was spent explaining the Kira case. L didn’t tell them about how he wrote his own name in the Death Note. He had just gotten to the part where Ryuk wrote Light’s name in his notebook when the entire orphanage stormed through the doors for dinner.

There were a few seconds of loud chattering, then silence as the kids saw their role model sitting at their table (especially when he was sitting crouched, the way he was). L ignored them and finished his sentence and his story. Roger came in and ushered the children into their seats. Dinner was about to be served.

As the last child sat down, the doors to the kitchen swung open and three teenage girls walked in carrying the food. They were students at Wammy’s House, too, and they got paid for cooking the meals on top of their studies. When all the food was laid out on the table, the girls took their seats at the opposite end of the table from where L was sitting. Roger said a quick blessing over the food and everyone started digging in, passing the side dishes around the table clockwise until everyone had a chance to get what they wanted. L didn’t put very much on his plate, settling for a little roast beef, some creamed corn, and a lot of sweet potatoes, even though those were technically for dessert.

Rachael looked at his plate with mild interest.

“Developed a sweet tooth while you were away, I see,” she said, digging into her own vegetables. He smiled.

“You have no idea,” he said. He pretty much avoided the meat, but nibbled a little on the corn because it was slightly sweet. Mello took advantage of the noise in the room and turned to L.

“Do you know who you’re going to pick yet?” he said. “Are you even close to deciding?” L turned to him.

“You have plenty of time to convince me that you are worthy of the position,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re going to get it, then you’re going to get it. It’s not really in your power.” He pointed towards the ceiling with his fork. “And of course, the decision is mine to make. Just do what you normally do, and I’ll make my decision based on what I see.” His tone made it clear that the conversation was over. Mello grumbled and stabbed his roast with is fork, making it screech against the plate.

L had finished his supper way before everyone else, so he sat and watched everyone, trying to figure out who was new and who was still there from before he left. He recognized a few of the older teenagers, but couldn’t put names with any of them. He’d been gone far too long.

--FLASHBACK--

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, handing him his bag. “Am I selfish?”

“A little bit,” he said with a smile. “But it’s human nature to be selfish. I’d be lying if I said I’d rather leave than stay here. But I have to do this.” She shook her head.

“No, you don’t. You could stay. Become a teacher.”

“You know better than I do that I wouldn’t make a good teacher,” he reasoned. “Too much of my thought process is jumbled into randomness that even I can’t put into words.” They both laughed.

“Yeah,” she said. “I just feel like you’re leaving me…”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said. “Well… literally, I am, but I promise I’ll come back.”

“But I won’t have a way to contact you,” she cried. “I won’t know if anything happens to you.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not happy about that either, but it has to be done. It’s for my protection and yours.”

“I don’t see how that protects me,” she mumbled.

“Now you’re just being frustrating,” L said, rubbing his forehead. They’d had this conversation many times before.

“I’m being frustrating?!”

“Yes, you are! Do you realize how big this is? I’m going to be going after extremely difficult and dangerous cases.”

“So you just cut yourself off from everyone around you? Everyone you love?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever said I love you.” That hit a nerve.

“I thought—“ She couldn’t finish that sentence. Tears freely ran down her face now. He wanted to say he was sorry, but he hadn’t really even lied. She turned angry. “I hate you! I don’t even know if I WANT you to come back!” L was surprised by her change in tone. It made him irrationally angry.

“Fine! Maybe I won’t!”

“Good! That’s two less gifts I have to buy this year!”

“My gifts never even cost you money! My gifts were your homework!” He dug the painting in its box out of his bag and tossed it on the floor at her feet. “I actually went out and spent money on you! I risked my life on your present!”

“Oh yeah, a photograph can really get you killed!” She nearly broke the chain off her neck and threw it at him. He caught it with ease, not even looking at it, but at her.

“You never know! Someday, that lack of a photo might save my arse!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” They were both breathing hard now, exhausted. “Your car’s here.”

“I know.”

“You have to go.”

“Rachael, I—“

“Time to go, L.” He was ushered out of the building by Watari. As he left, he laid the locket on the table by the door. He wanted to apologize. To take back everything he’d said. But the doors had closed and he could only see her face through the window by the door, where she’d moved to. He could see in her eyes that she wanted to say something, but it was impossible now. He quickly realized he’d left her painting lying on the floor in the foyer. He hoped she would keep it.

As the car drove off, he looked out the back window and was sad to see she’d left the window. He still stared at the building for as long as he could, but then they turned a corner and all sight of home was lost.

--END FLASHBACK--
 
--cont.--

At around 9:30, Rachael opened his door and walked into his room. He’d been staring at her painting and remembering their last conversation before he’d left. And he’d decided that that conversation was the reason he’d stayed away so long. The reason he’d waited until the end of his life. And he was furious with himself. So, when she walked in and saw him scowling at her painting, she didn’t know what to think. His face immediately softened when he saw her.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing his eyes awake. Then he noticed that she was holding a bowl. And the smell coming from it reminded him of their first kiss. His mouth quirked into a smile.

“We need to talk,” she said. L dropped his gaze to the floor.

“I know,” he said. He slipped on his trainers and grabbed the blanket off his bed. “Let’s go.”

They squeezed into their old meeting place on the roof. It was a little cramped, but they managed. They both stared up into the stars of the cold November night. They were silent for almost a half hour. The strawberries started to melt and goop together, but that’s how they liked it.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time. Rachael chuckled.

“You first,” she said and fished out a squishy strawberry dripping with the yogurt, chocolate, and sugar mixture. He sighed.

“I was mad at you,” he admitted and started playing with his sleeves. He fought off painful memories and tried to stay on track. “I was also confused. I didn’t know why you were suddenly so angry at me.” She kept her gaze on the bowl of strawberries. “I think I know now, though. And I understand. It’s easier to say goodbye to someone you’re pissed at than someone you love.” She smiled and looked at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said I love you.” He narrowed his eyes at her, then quickly snatched the bowl from her hands.

“Me either,” he said and started picking at the leftover strawberries. “Yet, here we are.” They slowly ate the rest of the strawberries and somehow managed to get rid of the goop in the bottom of the bowl as well. Rachael broke the silence.

“But I do,” she said.

“You do what?” L said, swiping his finger over the bottom of the bowl, retrieving the last of the sticky juice. She reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear and he looked her in the eyes.

“Love you,” she said. “Always have.” She toyed with his hair while she waited for him to say something.

“I think I’ve always loved you too,” he said, laying the bowl aside. “I just didn’t realize it until I was in the car and leaving.” He reached down and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers. Rachael sighed.

“Well, we’re here now, and we’re both more sensible than we used to be,” she said. “We can make up for lost time.” She snuggled her forehead into his shoulder and planted a small kiss on his arm.

“Yeah…” he drifted off. “So are you working here now, or…?” She chuckled.

“Getting the small talk out of the way?” she teased. “Yes, I’m the art teacher here. Figures.” He smiled. She was struck with an idea. “Let’s plan a day tomorrow,” she said. “It’s Sunday. Hmm… Oh, I have our whole morning planned already.” She gave him an evil smirk. L’s stomach churned.

“Oh, dear Lord, you’re going to do something to me, aren’t you?” he said. She laughed.

“Yes,” she said. “Then, we’ll go get that photo you owe me and spend the day out at the park.”

“But what are you planning on doing to me in the morning?” L asked, slightly frightened. She and her friends had tried to give him a makeover when he was twelve. He remembered scraping hot pink nail polish off of his fingers for a week and vowing to forever avoid Emily, Sarah, and Rachael’s sister, Beverly.

“Nothing terrible,” she scoffed. “But you really need a haircut.” L’s hand went to his raven locks. He had to admit, it was long.

“Fine,” he grumbled. She outright laughed and poked him in the side. He squirmed and swatted her hand away. “No poking.” She still laughed, and he eventually joined in. Hardly anyone knew that he was ticklish, and he liked it that way. Rachael’s watch beeped midnight.

--that's the end of ch 2--
 
Ah, you caught that, huh? ;) Yesh, I had fun writing that flashback. Mwahahaha. ^_^ I'm such a romantic nerd. :p Updates will now be fairly slow... Because I actually have to write now. XD
 
Well, let's just say I'm a slow reader... :o I've finished the bits before the Flashback, and I promise I'll catch up later. So, feedback? I hope you don't mind.

“I’m going home,” he said simply.
Click to expand...
My favorite line. :) So simple. Yet, so... touching?

And I need a little help with names here, because I read the comics in Chinese, so English names can be confusing for me. So, who's Soichiro?

Oh, and a small reminder. This is a family-friendly forum, so the mods discourage strong language. It might be a good idea to mellow down a little. ;)
 
There's not really any more language, just the occasional swear from Mello or Matt (and his PSP) lol and thanks! Oh, Soichiro is Light's dad. I guess I just assumed everyone knew that. XD hahaha sorry.
 
If anyone's interested, I'm working on a series of short stories about Jade (Tales of the Abyss) and L (Death Note, obviously) as kind of an inside joke between me and my friend, Christin. She cosplays as Jade all the time, and I will only cosplay as L. XD lol I refuse to go as anyone else (well, maybe I'd go as.... I won't get into that. spoilerzomg! XD ) Anyways, well we were joking around like "We should do a crossover yaoi" XDD hahaha! Nothing vulgar. That'd get waaaay uncomfortable for the both of us. lol But lots of implied things. I love to make L have his head constantly in the gutter (definitely not in Legacy, but with the Jade stuff) In Legacy, L's completely oblivious. XD hahaha! It's amazing how one can twist a character around so many ways. :p OK! Back to writing. *scribble scribble* MWAHAHAHA!
 
Sorry for not updating in forever. I'll probably update this weekend. I've just been really busy with school and Fresh Faces (acting thing for freshmen. we perform Friday!) so I'll be extremely busy these next few days. *dies*

If any of you are reading my Celtic Thunder fanfic, I'm getting ready to update a sneak peek. Check it out. http://narniafans.com/forum/showthread.php?t=25960
 
I've read the rest of it, and I'm looking forward to the update this weekend. :D
You write nicely. This is a side to L that I've never really thought about. Not being a big fan of romance, I'm not quite sure what I think of this. [But bare in mind, I'm just plain prejudiced against romance unless it's very very well done (i.e. the work of the Masters), and happens to suit my tastes. So when it comes to romance, I'm hard to please. Please don't take offence.] But I have to say, I don't think I'll be able to read the books again without thinking of Rachael. In a positive light. :)
 
Wow. Thank you so much! I've never really considered writing, but I might start to take it up as more than just a hobby... uhh... actually probably not. XD haha I like writing fanfics and those never get published because of copyrights and if I try to change things around to not offend the copyright, it just won't be the same. :( Maybe I'll just be famous in the fanfiction world. lol XD Thanks so much! And let me say, there will be a lot of romance in it, but ya know... eventually somebody has to die. :( So then there's a lot of angst and sadness. Mwahahahaha! >:] lol
 
Back
Top