Theme 56: Danger Ahead

It's coming.

With a sigh L looked out the window, watching the dark grey, ominous clouds roll across the bleak sky. He pressed his forehead against the glass, leaning forward in his chair, knees resting on his computer desk. Dark eyes searched the outside world, noting every detail and analyzing what it meant—for him, for Kira, for the investigation, for the world.

I can sense it.

The investigation. L sighed, letting his eyes slide closed and his shoulders slump; never before had he been a part of a mystery this intense, this important. With his sharp senses and quick wits, of course he knew more than he told anyone—hell, by now, was he not expected to?—but this time, he could feel himself slipping. He knew he was missing something—he even knew why he was missing it—but he couldn't quite name what it was he was missing.

And it was so frustrating.

This ominous feeling…

L cracked his eyes open, forcing his brain to stir the thoughts of Kira back to life. He ran through all of his discoveries again—all the reactions of his crew—the percents—the times—the dates—the motives—the abilities—the chances—the alibis—the people…

And reached no new conclusions.

…I can almost taste it…

But what of Light?

L knew Light was playing a role in the murders—though how big, or for how long, he had no idea—but even now, he still tried to make himself believe Light was innocent. His mind knew otherwise, of course, but his heart refused to listen to logic—he couldn't wrap his mind around the thought that his new-found lover was the very criminal that he was chasing.

Lover. Maybe not. Logic told him that Light did not, in fact, love him—most likely didn't even care for
him. But part of what made L who he was was his ability to use his logic to his advantage—and since Light and L had made love (repeatedly, in fact), that made Light his lover. In a sense.

What should I do—

L turned sharply as the quiet patter of socked feet met his ears; a split second later, Light appeared
on the stairs, casually trotting down them and into the living room. He glanced at L—who was unable to tear his eyes away—and cocked a brow. "What is it?"

"Nothing." L slid off the desk, spinning around in his chair to face Light fully. "It's twelve thirty. Normally you're up and about by ten fifteen, thirty at the latest. What have you been doing?"

Light scowled, walking to the couch and grabbing his shirt—he had left it there last night, after proving that he was L's lover once again. He tugged it over his head, muttering, "Why do you always have to analyze every little detail of my life? It's freaky."

"I asked a question first," L replied, watching Light grab his backpack off the floor. "What have you been doing?"

Light rolled his eyes. "Sleeping. It's this new thing that normal people do."

L blinked. "Sleeping is a new activity by no means. What were you really doing?"

"…You're so weird." Light slung on his backpack, walking toward the door. His hand reached out to grab the knob—

And in a flash L was by his side, pale hand wrapped tight around Light's wrist. Brown and grey eyes met—each confused as the other—before Light roughly pulled away.

"The hell are you doing?" he snapped, scowling. L paused, thought, blinked; he pulled open the door and slipped outside.

"I wanted out first."

Once he was outside, L quickly retreated to the roof of the building; he crouched on the railing and peered out onto the bustling city, trying to clear his racing mind and calm his jittery nerves.

He didn't even remember running over to Light's side. He had no idea how he got there so fast, or—even worse—why. He had grabbed Light's wrist without a thought, purely on impulse, though he still didn't know what that impulse was or why it was there--why had he done it?  Why?

He didn't have an answer.

And that terrified him.

L had built his life on the foundation of truth and knowledge, of knowing why and how everything occurred; the mere thought of an action without a motive was impossible to wrap his mind around. And to know that he himself—L Lawliet, the world's greatest detective—had done something purely on impulse…

The thought was blasphemy.

L closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward to rest on his chest; he let out a quiet sigh. Why had he fallen for Light? This man, out of millions—why did it have to be the one man he had no choice but to put in jail?

Why?

L wracked his brains for the answer—nothing came up. No matter how he worded the question, how he snaked through his brain, how he searched his soul—nothing.

Why?

Was this why he had been slacking on his case lately? Because he knew that Light was involved with Kira, and that if he worked too hard he'd lose Light forever? But he knew better than to ever put anything before justice…

Why? Whywhywhy?

"…dammit." L flopped off the rail and onto his back on the cement, staring up at the sky; the clouds were now even darker, taking on faint purple hues as they lazily dragged themselves across the sky. L sighed quietly, too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the sound of footsteps until a tall shadow loomed over him.

L blinked and cocked his head, sitting up. "Light?"

But it wasn't Light Yagami that stood before him; the man that towered over L wore Light's face, but his entire demeanor was eviler, darker. His eyes held a strange reddish tint as he stared down at L, and his grip shifted around a small black notebook held in his palm. "…L."

L slowly got to his feet, muscles tensed and ready for action. His eyes flicked down to the notebook, reading its cover.

Death Note

L's eyes widened a fraction. He looked sharply at the man before him—his mind whirred to life.

"L." The man took a step closer, tilting his head slightly. "L…L Lawliet. You're the world's greatest detective, are you not?"

L stepped back, keeping a wary distance. "…some would argue that, yes." He licked his lips. "Why?"

"The world's greatest detective has weaknesses, doesn't he?" Steel glinted from the man's belt as he straightened up. "He's not made of ice."

"Everyone has weaknesses." L glanced behind him quickly, noting that he had almost reached the edge of the roof—what lay beyond was a ten-floor drop to the cement below. He turned back around. "Why—"

L cut off with a gurgling choke, eyes flying wide; he looked down in alarm, to see a hunting knife buried hilt-deep in his stomach. He looked up, to see Light looming over him—L stared into his eyes, into those deep, blood-soaked pits of evil, and it clicked.

"Kira."

The word came out barely more than a whisper from the dying man's lips; with a groan L sank to his knees, the knife cutting up and pulling out of his gut with a wet sucking noise. He looked up dully at the monster towering over him, and shrieked in pain as Kira sliced into his stomach again. This cut was perpendicular to the first; the blood from the two wounds bloomed onto L's t-shirt, creating a crimson replica of his trademark letter.

If he hadn't been dying and all, L would've enjoyed the irony.

"You're a fool, L Lawliet," Kira hissed, dropping to a knee to be at the detective's level. He grabbed his chin roughly. "A fool…"

L couldn't make out what Kira's next words were. Not that he was really trying; his mind was focused on other things.

Why hadn't he seen it sooner?

Why had he forced himself to believe Light was innocent?

Why had he let his emotions override his sense?

But most importantly…why hadn't he seen this coming?

This ominous feeling…

Maybe Kira is right, L thought, as his vision slowly blurred. Maybe I am a fool…

It's coming…

L felt a change in Kira's presence, and forced himself to look. Kira was staring at him with a look of utter shock, and—why?—horror painted on his face—but the longer L stared, the more he noticed; the eyes were back to a mahogany brown, the dark aurora was gone.

Light had returned.

I can almost taste it…

L dimly felt Light curl his body close and hug him tight; the muffled sound of sobbing reached his ears. L pulled back, weakly staring at Light—his makeshift lover, his roommate, his best and only friend (whether he knew it or not.). He uttered one word, before his body slumped over and his eyes fluttered closed.

"…why….?"

And the rain began to fall.