Fic - Lawliet - 5a/?

[evandar]

Title: Lawliet
Chapter: 5a/?
Author: Evandar / yamievandar / hikarievandar
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I make no money from writing this FanFic.
Warnings: AU, yaoi, shonen-ai, shota.
Spoilers: L's real name and Mello and Near's existence.
Summary: Lawliet is an autistic, genius super-detective, hidden from the world under the moniker of L; Light is an indigo child struggling under the expectations of his family; Mello is a Mafia brat who wants both to get out and keep his life; Near is a mute orphan ripped from everything he knows by the horrific death of his father. When fate throws them together, the consequences will echo around the world.
Notes: Yeah, let's not even go into how long it took me to post this.

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4

The Wammy House,

November 1994

 

Near was bored. He had been through every single puzzle he was given – and of course, he was only given the ones that were suitable for children his age. He had read a good quarter of the children’s fiction books held in the Wammy House library too. Now he was left with only his toys for company – the other children had started to ignore him when they discovered that he couldn’t talk and that he would not go outside – and he was lonely.

 

He was sitting by the window of the playroom, ignoring as best he could the sunlight glaring off the thick blanket of snow that covered the grounds, and the shrieks of the children playing in it. Instead, he fixed his attention on the model in his hand. He had built the figure a castle to rescue another doll from, only he was thinking of a new and more entertaining way for his hero to die in vain. Again.

 

When the other children had realised just what his games involved, they had started avoiding him even more. Near supposed that they found him creepy, but he didn’t really mind.

 

He didn’t bother looking up when the door to the playroom opened. He assumed it was one of the other kids, coming to collect something to take out into the snow. In fact, the newcomer only got a reaction when his long-toed bare feet stopped right in front of Near’s Lego castle.

 

Near studied the figure in front of him, curious as to who the older boy was. He was quite tall – or at least he looked like it from the perspective of a three-year-old sitting on the floor – and he dressed simply in a long sleeved white T Shirt and blue jeans. He looked decidedly unkempt: his clothes were wrinkled and his hair was an untidy mess of wild black spikes, but his eyes looked alert and intelligent, even though they were ringed with dark circles that stood out like bruises against the stranger’s pale skin. Near realised that the strange boy’s skin was almost as pale as his own, which was highly unusual. He realised that the other boy mustn’t go outside very often either.

 

The other boy crouched down in front of him, staying on the other side of the castle, folding his long legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. His left hand found its way to his mouth, and he gripped the tip of his thumb lightly between his teeth.

 

Near reached for his pen and his pad of paper. He had been asked to carry them around in case anyone wanted to talk to him. So far, no one had spoken to him, apart from a token “hey Near” from a couple of the older kids. This would be the first time Near would start a conversation of his own will, but he was very curious as to who the older boy was, and why he was staring at Near’s toys in that way.

 

Hello. I’m Near. Who are you?

 

The older boy blinked and glanced up at Near. Then recognition dawned in his eyes and he removed his thumb from his mouth long enough to speak.

 

“My name is Ryuzaki,” he said. He had a faint – very, very faint – accent that Near recognised, but couldn’t place. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Watari told me he had adopted a boy who couldn’t speak – it’s through psychological trauma, isn’t it?”        

 

Watari?

 

“That’s Mr Wammy’s other name,” Ryuzaki told him. “I’m the only one who’s supposed to call him that, though.”

 

Mr Wammy…Near had hardly seen him since they had arrived at the orphanage together in September. He had left shortly afterwards, and had not returned yet. Although, considering that Ryuzaki hadn’t been at the orphanage either, it was logical to presume that they had been together at least some of the time.

 

When Mr Wammy leaves the Wammy House, is he with you?

 

“Yes,” the older boy replied simply. “We work together all over the world, but we come back here every so often.”

 

Near paused before writing his next question. He didn’t want to nose too far into the other boy’s business: it was nice talking to someone for one, and Ryuzaki didn’t seem to be frightened of his eyes like the other children were.

 

What do you do?

 

“That’s a secret,” Ryuzaki told him, a gentle smile twisting his features. He looked strange when he smiled, Near thought, though it was comforting to know that he wasn’t angry.

 

“What are you playing?” Ryuzaki asked.

 

Near prodded his hero in the back, and watched as the model fell from the top of the battlements and into the moat, only to be shot at by Storm Troopers. Ryuzaki raised an eyebrow.

 

“Isn’t the hero supposed to succeed in his mission?” Ryuzaki asked.

 

Yes. But I haven’t found a good enough hero yet.

 

Ryuzaki looked down at the model. “I see,” he said quietly. “Then maybe you should have your hero use his brain rather than his muscles.”

 

Near looked down at the model too: it was He-Man from the cartoon series; a hero that Near couldn’t identify with in the slightest. He picked the model up and placed it in the toy box by his side.

 

Who can I use then?

 

Ryuzaki grinned. “Why don’t you learn how to make your own?” he suggested.

 

“Ryuzaki,” said a deep, familiar voice from the doorway.

 

Both boys looked up to see Mr Wammy standing there, a smile half obscured by his large moustache, watching them closely. Ryuzaki sighed softly and stood. He shuffled out of the room – he didn’t lift his feet very far off the ground, and his jeans made scuffing noises against the wooden floor – but he glanced back at Near before he left. He waved one slender, bony hand in farewell, and when Near returned the gesture, he placed his thumb between his teeth again and left.

 

Near stared after him. He felt strange, and he suddenly realised that he had just made a friend. He smiled faintly and grabbed a jigsaw: his princess could wait until a better hero had been made.

 

L Near

 

“So what do you think of him?” Watari asked, as he walked along side the young detective.

 

“He is definitely of above average intelligence for someone of his age,” Ryuzaki replied. “Although his inability to speak would present an awkward issue for his Watari.”

 

“It would be entirely possible, however, to adapt to; it is also possible that his voice might come back,” Watari said.

 

“True,” Ryuzaki admitted. “And I do like him.”

 

“Your decision?” Watari prompted.

 

“I don’t feel comfortable with naming an heir quite yet,” Ryuzaki told him. “For one, I plan to live quite a while longer, and besides, children often show promise in childhood that peters out as they get older, and even if, in Near’s case, it didn’t, he is still far too young to take over from me if things go wrong.

 

“So I will not name him as my heir quite yet. I will watch him for now, but I will also keep the position open to other children in the Wammy House.”

 

“That seems fair,” Watari agreed.

 

Ryuzaki gave him that strange little smile of his and led the way down the corridor to the kitchens, no doubt going in search of his favourite food: cake. As he trailed after the young detective, he wondered if Ryuzaki had realised that he now referred to himself as an adult, and if he did, what Ryuzaki thought of it.

 

L Near

 

The Wammy House

August 1995

 

It was his birthday. Near hadn’t told anyone – no one was interested, so why should he? – so it was with understandable surprise that he received a small parcel. It was handed to him by Roger, eliciting a few curious looks from some of the other orphans before they returned to their breakfasts. Some of the girls started whispering, but Near ignored them. He ignored the package too, preferring to leave it until he was alone to open it.

 

He opened it during his lunch break, sitting on his bed, in his room. All the other children were playing outside, the familiar sounds of their shrieks and laughs drifting in through the open window, though they were muffled by the still-drawn curtains. Near had always thought it ironic that he had been born in August, when he could barely tolerate the bright summer sun for just a few minutes.

 

The parcel contained parts for making a doll, which made Near raise an eyebrow in confusion until he remembered the conversation he had had with Ryuzaki shortly after his arrival at the Wammy House. His mood brightened instantly: he hadn’t seen Ryuzaki since then, and it was good to know that he hadn’t been forgotten after all. He looked through the torn wrapping paper for a message of some sort, and found a folded up piece of computer paper.

 

Near,

 

I hope you like the present. I understand that receiving it might come as a surprise to you, but I wanted to give you something, so I tracked down your birth certificate to find out when your birthday was. Unfortunately, work prevented me from getting the chance to send you something last year; I hope you can forgive me for that.

 

I hope you are dong well and studying hard. I know how lonely the Wammy House can be for people who do not fit in (Roger said that you didn’t have any friends and that you were probably missing social interaction). If you would like, you can email me while I am away. Security reasons dictate that I cannot include my email address in this letter, but if you ask Roger and show him this letter then he will give it to you. All of the computers at the Wammy House are secure, so don’t worry about using them.

 

Ryuzaki

 

He had doodled a panda after his name, and there was a sketchy drawing of a birthday cake in the top-right corner of the paper. Near counted, and smiled when the number of candles on the cake added up to five.

 

He wasn’t sure what to think of Ryuzaki’s overly formal manner, or of the blunt way he had described Near’s social life – or lack thereof, but it was nice, Near decided, to have received something from him.

 

He folded the letter carefully and placed it in the breast pocket of the pyjamas that he always wore. Carefully, he placed the box of doll-parts in the top drawer of his bedside table, alongside the silver crucifix that had once been his mother’s and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Taking a deep, nervous breath, he made his way to Roger’s office.

 

He had a friend.


Go to Part B

 

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