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Fifty Days	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Het-Male/Female > L/Misa Views: 2868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 24: Christmas II
L felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He blinked a few times in disorientation before recognizing the room he was in - one of the smaller living rooms, only holding two couches and three chairs. He'd been asleep crouched in one of the chairs, and Mello was hovering over him, looking worried. Nobody else was there. Probably most students were either outside playing in the snow or in the largest living room, which had earlier been a very busy scene of games, socializing and watching Christmas movies.
In a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard, Mello said, "What's wrong with you? Matt won't say anything, and you're sleeping. You! And I saw you eating peas, carrots and potatoes. It's like the world is ending."
"The world ends if Elliot eats vegetables. You think too much of me, Mello."
Mello dropped his voice even more and said, "You know what I mean. Something's wrong with you. Seriously wrong. You look like shit, even for you. And that's saying something."
A girl walked past the open door to the living room. Mello's eyes narrowed as he watched her. When she was out of sight, Mello said, "Elliot, are you okay? I need to know."
"No. I'm not okay."
Mello turned away, walked to the door and looked both directions down the hallway, then closed it and returned. In an angry whisper he said, "Are you dying? Is that why you came back now?"
L whispered, "It is possible I could die, but I don't think that will happen soon."
"Then, what is it?"
Any shinigami could be watching me right now, invisibly, and they wouldn't even need to be in the room. Those viewing portals Rem talked about - they are incredibly dangerous. What if other shinigami make a habit of watching me? Then, as soon as Rem is no longer bound to Misa, she might go back to her own world and hear what I've been doing. The less time I talk about anything that sounds like plotting against Rem, the better it will be, the less chance it'll be overheard.
L said, "I look this way because I made a mistake. Because of that mistake, Kira captured me and tortured me for nearly a month. One of the Kiras also has my real name, but is unlikely to use it soon. If I die, you are one of the people who will receive my files with the full story. I should not say any more. Kira's friends could be listening."
Mello's face looked incredulous and angry at the same time. "Kira's friends?"
"Kira has more power than was ever displayed for the public to see. Killing at a distance is just one of many abilities."
"That's cheating."
"Life isn't fair, Mello. And criminals almost always cheat."
"Can't you just-"
Mello stopped, obviously unsure of what he wanted to suggest.
L said, "There is nothing to do for the moment, only waiting. I assure you, I am trying very hard to win. I do not want to die."
Mello's fingers were twitching, his teeth gritted. He had a look on his face as if he desperately wanted to do something. If he did become a detective someday, he'd probably have a problem with patience.
Mello said, "Kira doesn't have the right... your other cases... the world needs you."
L said, "Mello, you've done a wonderful job keeping my identity secret. Matt didn't realize until he met me in Japan, and I am ninety-nine percent sure that none of the other students suspect me."
Mello looked a little taken aback. He didn't know how to deal with praise, even though he craved it. He gave out an awkward little laugh, short and sharp, and then said, "Well, if I stay here any longer, that creep Near might catch on. Matt and me will go back to ignoring you. We'll protect your identity."
Mello clearly didn't want to leave, but he started for the door.
L said, "Mello, I realize I've given Matt a lot more time than you, and it is probably difficult to be in the same building as me without being able to talk openly. If you need to talk, wait until you know I'm in Roger's office and then do something to get in trouble so you'll be sent there."
Mello said, "I'll do that," and then he was gone.
But L had the feeling that Mello had decided to tough it out as long as he could to prove his worth.
It was already four in the afternoon. In a few hours the cafeteria would be opening for the evening meal, though many of the kids would probably eat only a small dinner because all sorts of sweets would be served throughout the festivities, and because eating in the largest living room would be allowed for the holiday.
Misa will be twenty-one years old tomorrow, Christmas day. It is also the day I would have died if she'd kept to her schedule of killing me after fifty days. Though, it is tomorrow already in Japan.
To the empty room, L whispered, "Happy birthday, Misa," before hopping out of his chair and going downstairs.
L spent some time in Roger's office, not talking about the case but just catching up socially, and then he dressed warmly and wandered outside, where students and a few of the more adventurous staff members were playing in the snow. It was still cloudy but not too cold. L took a few moments to size up the two factions that were involved in a snow fight from behind built-up snow walls, and then wandered to join the one that seemed to be losing.
One of the staff members, Joyce, turned to greet him as he arrived, and as soon as she opened her mouth a snowball hit her directly in the face, leaving her sputtering and gasping. L ducked down, flattening himself against the safe side of the wall, and a 10-year-old boy who was part of a supply line pressed an already-formed snowball into L's gloved hand.
As Joyce clawed away the last bits of snow that were trying to fall inside the collar of her coat, she said, "Elliot, do you want to take over? I'll be happier after all this is melted."
"No, I'm not a babysitter. If you don't like it, why are you here? The kids look like they're doing fine."
Joyce motioned back to the supply line, an efficient set-up of snowballs being created and then passed forward to those on the front lines. "If I don't watch these guys, Linda starts making iceballs."
Linda looked up from where she was crouched near the source area, a gigantic snowdrift that was getting the center gutted out to create more snowballs. "A layer of ice on the outside doesn't hurt that much. Besides, Mello finds ways to sneak a few iceballs into his stash no matter how much he's watched, so we should be allowed to do the same."
L said, "An arms race! Those usually don't work out well. The other side can always copy whatever you do. Nobody won the cold war. The best they could do was to keep their spy networks robust, so that either side couldn't make a single move in secrecy. That just paralyzed both sides until the communists collapsed from their flawed economic model."
Linda rolled a ball thoughtfully between her mittened hands, packing the snow hard and almost perfectly circular. "So, we need to keep Mello's side from making iceballs. I know how they do it. They send in kids with plastic bags in their pockets to fill up from sinks in the bathroom, and then they sneak back to the fort and pour water on their snowballs when whoever is watching them gets tired and isn't paying attention."
L said, "That's a very good system. I'm not sure if it could be stopped with your current resources."
Just then a snowball hit the wall above L, splattering and raining down on his head; a few fragments getting inside his coat.
A boy in the supply line approached and said, "Elliot, you can't use the snow wall as protection unless you fight. If you're just going to talk, move back here and let someone who fights take your place."
L looked down at the pile of snowballs, the ammunition, that had accumulated on the ground by his side just since he'd arrived. The supply line had impressive speed, and most of its length was protected by a high, curving snowdrift, which also supplied the material. Those taking snow were taking it so that they were sculpting out a tunnel through the middle of the snowdrift, probably so that they could range even further for more supplies once the tunnel was finished. This was what happened when you put a lot of smart kids together. If they hadn't been forbidden from it, each side would probably be building a trebuchet to launch giant snowballs.
L pulled the drawstrings around the hood of his coat tight, to try to keep out the snow, and joined the fight. Even poking one's eyes slightly above the top of the wall to aim provoked a furious onslaught, and once the enemy had your position, they constantly threw snowballs onto where they thought you to be. If they thought you'd secretly moved, they threw them so that they hit the wall exactly and broke into a spray of wet fragments to shower down on whoever was close. Nearly everyone had hoods or hats and showed very little of their faces, so it was difficult to tell who the enemy was, but after fighting for a little while L was pretty sure he'd glimpsed both Mello and Matt on the opposite side.
The coat didn't make much difference. Fifteen minutes later, L's shirt was completely soaked with ice-cold melt water. The main fighters on the other side had an uncanny knack for hitting directly on the face and neck, and their snowballs seemed designed to burst into bits on contact, dripping directly down the coat collar.
L even got hit with a mushball once, the inside full of half-molten slop that instantly soaked him, the outside hard-packed snow. But he never got hit with an iceball. The mushballs were probably more devastating weapons, anyway. When you got wet enough, you had to go inside, and the staff would not be patient with too many wet clothes in the laundry. It was an efficient way to decrease the number of fighters on the opposite side.
Soon after his shirt was completely soaked, L went back indoors. He descended to the guest room they'd reserved for him in the basement, got out of his wet clothes, took a hot shower, and put on a clean outfit. He thought about going up to the main living room, a place full of couches and chairs and large enough for all the orphans and staff to comfortably relax together at once. There would be a Christmas movie playing at all times, and various games, but he didn't want to, not yet.
L felt antsy, restless. He itched to go back to working on the Kira case, or really any case at all. Wandering around and just doing leisure activities and talking to people... it was hard. It felt like work, like an effort needed to be exerted in order to do it. Cases were a kind of game that was meaningful, where the play saved lives or helped the world, unlike snowball fights. It was a soothing habit to look through information about crimes, sorting it into patterns and then helping those who needed it.
Almost automatically, L went to his laptop, turned it on, and connected to his main computer, the one in a largely empty room in a high-security building far from here, the one with a death clock countdown. It was also where all requests for Eraldo Coil's help ended up, after being sent through a complex system of bouncing from one computer to another to confuse the trail.
The number of built-up cases was huge, more than ever before. It had been a long time since L had gone through the list and deleted those he wasn't interested in, or those that had been solved by others. Simply scrolling through them and looking briefly at each one filled him with a calm, drew him into the process. This was his domain, what he should be doing, what felt comfortable.
L did experience a twinge of guilt when halfway through the list. This was supposed to be a vacation, after all. Watari, if he found out, wouldn't approve. If an emergency came up in the Kira case, it would be completely acceptable to drop everything and work on it, but this was something else. This was deliberately looking for work while on vacation.
I'll just go through the list, and then I'll head upstairs to join the festivity. I've already started this, so I should finish it. I know I'm not going to take any new cases now, anyway. I'm just looking.
Towards the bottom of the list, among the newest requests, one caught L's eye. He went through all the police files on the case and then quickly brought up some news reports too.
This was not the sort of case he usually took. There was too much time pressure in this one. L needed some assurance that he could fully investigate, to explore every possibility as well and as deeply as he needed to. He liked to double-check everything and test all his assumptions.
No, the case had caught his attention for another reason. It seemed almost perfectly tailored to be a temptation for any justice-obsessed person with Kira's power. There were hostages being held at this moment, in an unknown location. The suspect was almost certainly guilty. There was more than a ninety percent probability that the suspect indicated by the police, Raul Alexander, was indeed the kidnapper. And, the suspect had prior convictions. He'd murdered before.
The lives of two women and five children were at stake. It would be easy for someone with a murderer's notebook to make Raul unable to harm anyone, and force him to turn himself in to the police. It would be like a sniper's bullet, fast and efficient, taking out the bad guy and rescuing the hostages.
This was different than what Light usually did. It was a mockery of the justice system to kill criminals who had already been caught, tried and sentenced. If the criminals had already been given the death penalty, killing them with the notebook to prove a point was just arrogant, and it might interfere with the family's grief or with police efforts to make sure all accomplices had been located. When used on criminals who hadn't been given the death penalty, it was subverting the law and thwarting society's will, essentially saying that one person with power should be allowed to force their will on society by using murders, no matter what everyone else had already agreed was the proper punishment for that crime.
And, killing criminals who had not yet been tried, or those who had been tried and acquitted, as Light had sometimes done, was purely and simply evil. Those people were the ones most likely to be innocent, and everyone deserved a trial in a courtroom, not a secret trial by a madman who based his judgment on how the media perceived things. Initial information released in the media often made the wrong suspect look guilty.
But this circumstance was one of the few in which using the notebook might be justifiable. It was also eerily similar to the case of Kurou Otoharada, Light's first victim. There was no possibility L could use the notebook on Raul Alexander. It was in Japan, in a special safe in headquarters. But the thought continued to haunt him. The lives of seven innocents were hanging in the balance. The kidnapper was probably guilty.
What would happen if I started looking at new cases before destroying all the murder notebooks? This temptation would return. I would never wish to use the notebook for punishing criminals the way Light did, but in some circumstances I would be tempted to use it to stop in-progress crimes involving hostages, or to kill fleeing fugitives who I thought would be likely to hurt more people in the course of fleeing.
L couldn't stop his mind from creating possible scenarios, situations where the power of the killing notebooks would be particularly tempting. And those situations, though rare, were bound to occur from time to time.
Light had used the power like a sledgehammer, crudely and forcibly trying to terrorize the world into his version of a utopia. But if you discarded Light's ridiculously ambitious goal and instead thought about what else the notebooks could do... if there were someone who only rarely used the power, not to change the world but to solve very immediate and specific problems one at a time, using it like a scalpel, precise and non-intrusive for the world as a whole...
No, as Soichiro had said, the power to kill in such a way, completely outside the justice system, could only be a curse. The killer would experience mental deterioration over time, leading to impaired judgment. An insane person should be the last person who should ever be trusted with using the power to murder anonymously from a distance. Anyone who used the notebooks would go insane, quickly if they used them in the way Light had, gradually if they used them infrequently and just for particularly compelling situations.
The end result, however long it took to get there, would be exactly the same. A crazy person with a callous ability to murder, and no system of checks and balances to make their actions accountable to society. Society couldn't check up on a Kira, no court could challenge their decisions.
L disconnected from the database and then turned off his laptop. A shivery sick feeling twisted in the pit of his stomach.
If I had found a murderer's notebook instead of Light, I would not have been corrupted by it at the same speed as Light, but would I have used it and eventually ended up just as insane? If I didn't just disbelieve it as a joke, if I actually tested it, and found myself knowing the power was real and already being a murderer, would I be able to turn away? Or would I keep it around for emergencies and slowly succumb to its power?
L wanted to be sure he would never do such a thing, but his mind was entirely too skilled at putting together scenarios where using the notebook would be very tempting. He couldn't imagine himself ever trying to kill off all criminals or attempting to create a utopia, but he could imagine himself using Kira's power for smaller, more manageable goals.
I've already abused the power once, when I killed Light. These notebooks are dangerous things. I must destroy them all as soon as possible.
Suddenly, L desperately needed to be with other people. The room felt too small, too dark, the walls pressing in. He brought his laptop with him as he exited the guest room and ascended the stairs, seeking out the largest living room, where most of the noise was.
There was a steady stream of students and some staff members going between that room and the cafeteria. L joined a line and when he had passed through and gathered enough treats, he circulated back to the living room and found an out-of-the-way corner to crouch on the floor, eating and opening his laptop to play a game. There was nothing compromising on the laptop. Even if one of the kids managed to snatch it, they wouldn't be able to get into files with anything meaningful or important, which were all stored at other locations. L could use any laptop to access his files; there was nothing special about this particular one.
The noise level continually increased as the last of the kids from outside finally made their way inside, and nearly everyone who had been in the cafeteria returned with food. Several tables were brought in and placed into corners of the room, piled with additional cookies, candy, puddings and pies. Staff members circulated through the room, giving out paper cups of non-alcoholic eggnog and hot, spiced apple cider.
The current Christmas movie ended and was replaced by another. After a single thought of, How many times are they going to remake this one, L ignored it, and it seemed everyone else was ignoring it too.
Near was off to the side, in a corner protected from much foot traffic by two carefully-angled couches. He had a large platter in front of him and was using graham crackers and a tube of squeezable frosting to gradually build a structure. From the half-built facade it looked like it was probably going to be Westminster Cathedral. The reddish-brown crackers and white frosting were a perfect match to the real building's color scheme.
Roger and Watari entered the room together and were quickly swamped by kids asking if they could open their presents yet.
"No," Roger said, "in America presents are opened on Christmas morning, not Christmas eve."
Linda said, "American Christmas traditions are variable. It can be either way."
Matt said, "You know we'll all be down here at five in the morning if you make us wait. You should just do it now. Remember how awful it was when we did a Mexican Christmas and everyone had to wait until January sixth?"
Roger sighed and looked very tired.
Watari said, "The boy has a point."
The noise in the room increased as most of the kids started pleading all at once. Roger raised a hand for quiet, and as soon as everyone stopped talking, he said, "We will open presents."
All the kids became very quiet, almost unnaturally so, and those who were still walking around picked places and sat down. L could see that Mello and Matt were sitting together, and both were not even looking in his direction. For Matt it must be easy, because he'd be back at headquarters in a few days, but for Mello it had to be an effort. L resolved to give Mello another in-person visit once the Kira case was finished. Mello didn't need any more fuel for his jealousy.
The process of distributing and then opening presents took a long time. First, four staff members dug through the huge pile of presents under and slightly to the side of the Christmas tree, as all wouldn't fit under, and brought the kids their presents one by one. By the time the pile was down to nothing, nearly everyone was fidgeting. Then there was a last check to make sure all the kids had at least three presents, one from Quillsh Wammy, one from Roger, and one from "L" (some kids also gave each other presents).
Then it was complete chaos as everyone started opening at once. L stopped playing the video game on his laptop and opened his only present, from Watari. For an instant, he thought that Watari had simply wrapped up his old tennis shoes when he wasn't looking, but he knew those were sitting downstairs in his guest room, soaked through. These were surprisingly similar, but less worn. He slipped them on and took a few experimental steps in them. It felt good. Not perfect, but far better than they should feel. Suddenly, Watari was beside him, looking proud and pleased.
Watari said, "I had someone with your foot size and shape break them in. I think these will be easier than the last new pair you bought."
L took a few more steps, evaluating the feel, and then said, "I think this is the best Christmas present I've ever had. Thank you."
The corners of Watari's lips lifted in a subtle smile, and then he was accosted by kids who had finished opening their presents and wanted to talk with him about just how wonderful Mr. Wammy's presents had been. Only a few of the kids were doing likewise to Roger. He tended to give overly decorative knick-knacks that weren't fun, and he wasn't sure what to do when kids thanked him, being awkward and gruff.
Over the next few hours, L tried to socialize with Roger, Watari, the kids and the staff, while consuming an immense quantity of pie slices and spiced cider. But it was difficult, and he often found himself shutting out the noise and bustle by returning to his laptop and playing more video games. He tried to resist the urge to retreat to his room in the basement and do a little work on the Kira case. Even so, he couldn't resist looking at the latest news reports about the Raul Alexander hostage situation.
It had been solved, at the cost of one hostage. The police had rushed in after hearing a gunshot. They'd secured Raul, but Raul's accomplice, an accomplice nobody had suspected existed, killed one hostage and injured a second while the police were occupied with Raul.
If I had written down Raul's name to control him into surrendering and not being able to harm anyone, would his accomplice have killed all the hostages?
It was a chilling thought, and all the more reason to resist the temptation of the notebooks. Anyone who used them would sometimes make mistakes, even if they were only used in restricted, highly unusual situations. L closed the news reports and went back to his video game.
Soon the kids wanted to sing carols, and an argument broke out about which ones were appropriate.
Mello was holding a songbook open in front of Roger, pointing at a page with sharp little jabs of his index finger.
Mello said, "Look, this one doesn't mention Jesus or any other New Testament figures, just Abraham and Moses. The two Jews and one Muslim can be fine with that since it's all the same. And, the agnostics and atheists can think of it as some kind of silly fantasy story and they'll be fine. They see plenty of those things on TV all the time without whining, so they can stick out this so the rest of us can have one semi-religious Christmas carol."
Glad was at Roger's other side and said, "But that's not fair to me! The rules say that holiday decorations and activities with religious themes are fine, as long as no religions are excluded and nobody is forced to participate in something they don't want. This is participation. I'll either have to listen to it, or I'll have to go to one of the sound-proof rooms."
Mello said, "This is a joke, Roger, and you know it. If Glad had any real faith, he wouldn't switch religions two or three times a year. When he was a Yazidi, he would have been just fine with this carol. Now he doesn't even have a real religion. There is no such thing as a Satanic Buddhist. Those are two completely incompatible religions."
Glad knocked the songbook to the floor and said, "I'm a Buddhist Satanist, not a Satanic Buddhist! And religious syncretism is a valid process. Try getting your facts straight, Mello. There are thousands of people in Haiti who consider Voodoo and Catholicism to be perfectly compatible. And if nobody had ever thought Islam and Hinduism were compatible, Sikhism wouldn't exist."
The room at once erupted in multiple conversations, some defending Glad, others defending Mello, and altogether it sounded like a college-level comparative religions class.
I wonder if there really is a God, or gods, who exist and are also worthy of being worshipped. There certainly are false gods, and things that exist but don't deserve worship. Have humans ever worshipped shinigami? They probably have. History shows that humans will worship anything, including rocks, fire, and the food they eat.
As the argument continued, L picked up a mincemeat tart and looked at it critically before taking a bite.
It's a great thing, but I'd never want to worship it. People can be such idiots.
The argument gradually died out without any Christmas carols being agreed on. Roger looked rather relieved to be let out of that dilemma so easily. As it became later, the kids dispersed more through the building. L could hear remote-control cars and trucks going up and down the hallways, along with quite a bit of laughing and talking.
Shortly before midnight, L's cellphone went off. He pulled it out and looked at it. It wasn't actually a phone call; it was an automatic notification. Ide must have seen Ryuk. L's heart was instantly pounding, his mouth dry. It might be the end of everything, closing the Kira case forever.
There were soundproof rooms in the basement, but there were too many kids to get past on the way there. Every second counted in a situation like this. There was only one way to get fast privacy. L slipped his shoes on and sprinted for the door, his laptop computer under one arm, stumbling out into the snow without a coat. He ran to the middle of an open field and sat down, opening his laptop and calling Ide at the same time.
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Fifty Days