Past in Present

It was a long time before Tenma left Nina. Light waited, sipping some of the worst coffee he had ever tasted. Hospitals were even worse than police stations, he noted ruefully. He wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the antiseptic or if something had worked its way into the water, but it tasted like shit.



He had no idea where L had gotten off to. It niggled slightly, but he shoved it aside. There was more to worry about than one malfunctioning detective.



Tenma stepped around the corner, into the hallway where Light was sitting and he stood, quickly, happily abandoning the coffee on the small table.



“I wondered if you would be waiting.” Tenma said quietly, clearly tired.



Light took several moments to say anything, because in truth he didn’t know what to say. “Is he…”



“Alive?” Tenma shrugged a little, nodding. “He is.”



“You sentimental fool.” Light knew his voice was sharp and didn’t care, advancing on him.



“Am I?” Tenma folded his arms, calmly holding his ground, something that Light wasn’t sure if was infuriated or impressed by.



“You know he’ll kill again.”



“I know no such thing.”



“Excuse me?” Light couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not from Dr. Tenma of all people.



The doctor looked thoughtful. “There is a large chance that he will never wake from his coma.”



Light grimaced. Tenma was being obtuse, probably deliberately so. “And if he does?”



“He will not kill again.”



“How do you know?” He hated how he sounded slightly plaintive.



Tenma sighed and dropped into one of the chairs, his shoulders slumped, the dark circles standing out under his eyes. “Of course I am not psychic, but... I am as certain as I can be. Johan is not the same person.”



“Not the same person.” He snorted. “Really, you’re ridiculous.”



“Am I? Then why don’t you kill him yourself, Kira?” Tenma’s tone was not the same mocking tone that L’s might have been – but it still rankled. Light, of course, could not admit that it was impossible. He still wasn’t even ready to accept that it was impossible. If Misa were still alive… He cut the thought off ruthlessly.



“Call it an experiment. A test of sorts.” Light smiled tightly, without mirth. “I was thinking of offering the power of Kira to you.”



Tenma flinched a little, a faint frown on his face. “I would not have accepted.” He said it quickly, without hesitation.



“Why?” Light could hear the tension under the surface of his voice, threatening to erupt, but he reigned it in, tightly.



“Johan and you both tried to convince me that one human can be intrinsically worth more than another. You both tried to prove to me that people – even the worst of people – cannot change. But you are both wrong. Humans can become anything, Light. They can become monsters, but they can also become better. I believe that now more strongly than ever.” His voice was light, almost wondering.



Light snarled under his breath. Stupid, stupid man. “Even if you are right, do you really believe that Johan will want to change?”



“I suppose, if he wakes up, we will just have to see.” The doctor stood, bowing formally, then straightened. “Now you will have to excuse me. I need to sleep.”



Light watched him leave, feeling strongly that it was the last time he’d ever see the doctor.



And with that, there was no reason to stay at the hospital. He turned his back on it, left after ascertaining that L had already done the same.



He arrived to find the hotel room empty. Completely empty and L’s things were gone. The only thing left of him was the tracker, neatly picked open and lying on the middle of the bed. L, somehow, had figured out how to get it off and allow it to still run. Clever as ever.



It wasn’t a surprise. That was the thought that he hadn’t thought, what had been bothering him before. He should have felt angry, but he didn’t. He was filled with anticipation, hot and curled in his stomach.



For a moment he contemplated writing his name and being done with it. But no. That was far too simple and wouldn’t be satisfying. He got himself a drink before he called his contact in the local police, smirking as he gave the order to have L brought in alive.

Perhaps this is what he wanted, what he was waiting for.



----



L was good. Surprisingly good for someone who Light had always assumed stayed in a comfortable hotel room without directly engaging in cases. He, at least at first, seemed to disappear without a trace, leaving the local police as useless as usual. It took a lot of detective work to pick up his trail, work that he had done himself in order to avoid dealing with the police department’s incompetence. Light found most of the information digging through L’s files on the computer, finding the back-doors he had created.



The plane ticket was the best find, and had brought him to England. The rental car had been well-hidden, but once Light had gotten to the airport, things fell into place. Bless England for having cameras everywhere – it became enough to track L through them.



This was a mystery. The imposing brick building in front of him was deserted, had been for several years, according to the records he could access on it. In fact, it had been deserted since just after he had captured L. It seemed to have fallen into some disrepair, since. Still, L had gone there directly and it clearly held some significance.



Light pushed his way in, cautiously. He was alone, having decided – perhaps foolishly – to go without police presence. It was thrilling, like old times, to face L on his own. He was the better man. He was a god. He knew it. He did not need anything else.



The halls echoed ever-so slightly as he wandered through them, stepping into a large room – it looked like it had been an oversized parlor. He started as he realized that he was no longer alone. L-but-not-L sat on a moth-eaten plush bench under a large window, a book in his hand. The light caught his hair which was so blonde to be nearly white. It took a moment for Light to realize that it was L that he was looking at, even though the features were identical. Well-fitted brown slacks, light-blue button-up shirt. The only things that remained of L were those deep, bruised eyes and his fine bones and too-pale skin.



Light frowned, stepping into the room, the movement catching L’s attention. He didn’t seem surprised or upset. He simply straightened a little, looking up at Light steadily.



“L.” His footsteps echoed just a little as he wandered up to the detective, staring down at him for a long moment.



“So this is how you managed to get past the police.” He reached out to take some of the hair in his fingers, combing them through and then letting it fall again. “I admit, I didn’t expect it of you.”



“I was trained in field work, Light.” L said it smoothly, calmly, as he closed the book and set it aside.



“Hn.” He should have expected that, but L was so socially maladroit. “What is this place?”



“My home, in a manner of speaking.”



Light felt his eyes widening a little. “England?” This was it. The information that L had always taunted him with, always hinted at but never admitted. It set him back for a moment, head spinning with possibility.



“Apparently.” His voice was dry and full of humor.



“What is this place? Unless of course you’re a lordling and you never bothered to tell me.”



L laughed just a touch, humorlessly. “An orphanage.”



Oh. Light looked around. So many pieces fell into place with that simple admission. L’s obsession with Johan, even his obsession with the children’s’ books. It clicked.



“You were raised here?”



“An interesting question.” He shifted and with the movement Light could see a rosary wrapped around his wrist, dangling from his hand. “But first, I have one for you.”



“L…” He said, warningly, but allowed him to continue, eyes studying the cross hanging from L’s pale fingers for a long moment before he looked back up.



A slight smirk twisted the detective’s mouth – one full of as much pain as humor. “What good have we done, Kira? Who have we helped? Did we prevent even one death?”



His voice was full of uncharacteristic passion, he sat ramrod-straight and his eyes flashed angrily. Light drew in a breath, feeling again so much more unsure about the Note, about Kira, about himself than was comfortable. Damn this case.



“There is no divine judgment to be had here – no justice. We failed, both of us. Kira and L.”



“We didn’t fail. We did stop him.” Light pointed out quickly, his hands balled into fists at his sides.



“No we didn’t. He stopped himself.”



“You and Tenma-sensei…” Light snarled under his breath. “Neither of you seem to acknowledge that Johan would not have stopped, and he will not stop now.”



“Of course he won’t. He has lost his reason to kill.”



“Even if that is true, does it change what must be done?”



L paused, leaning his head back against the window, eyes trailed on the ceiling thoughtfully. “We have both continued on this whole time as if one is defined by their past. However, if you had two men – both murderers – one who has no memory of the crimes he committed and is now living peacefully, without hurting anyone. The other remembers each one in detail, and as such is ‘trapped’ in his life, continuing his crimes. Which one would deserve judgment more?”



“Whoever has killed the most.” Light answered without hesitation.



L half-laughed, as if he anticipated the answer. “And if they had killed the same amount?”



“They would deserve equal judgment.”



A quirk of an eyebrow. “And if the one who forgot his past was now a humanitarian?”



Light let out a frustrated breath. “L, do stop trying to mire me in your meaningless ethical and philosophical problems.”



"Fine, then, answer me this. What make your reasons to judge more valid than his? He killed, like you do, to keep an innocent safe – not some nameless faceless innocent, but his own sister. He killed, like you do, out of vengeance. What makes your hands cleaner? The fact that you do so in the most cold-blooded way possible – by writing down a name?” L said, scornfully. “Kira is a coward. I have more respect for Johan’s methods. At least he was unafraid of what he had become.”



Light cut him off, angrily. “He killed indiscriminately. He involved innocents.”



“Kira, you have involved innocents to keep yourself and your agenda safe.” Light’s jaw snapped shut on the tirade he was going to start, meeting L’s eyes. L’s voice dropped, but was no less intense. “Kira, tell me you would not burn the world, to keep what happened to them from happening to anyone, ever again.”



“You will not get me to admit that his methods were understandable, L. If you think you can, you are as insane as Johan.”



L nodded. “An interesting point. But sometimes I wonder, how am I different than Johan?”



“He’s a murderer. You used to put murderers behind bars. You used to send them to the death penalty.” He snapped the last part, reminding L that he had no right to moralize. L was as guilty of judgment as he was.



When L spoke again, several heartbeats later, his voice had lost the inquisitive fire it had earlier. “Yet we are both simply products of our training.”



That made Light frown deeply, back-tracking, realizing L was trying to tell him something, something real. “Your training?”



“I was chosen to be L. Johan was chosen too.”



Light stayed silent, absorbing this, absorbing the fact that L was telling him so much, so suddenly. He tilted his head a little, trying to encourage him to go on. The detective stayed silent for several infuriating moments before shrugging. “I was adopted because of my intelligence. My aptitude for solving puzzles. I was trained to be L. That has always been my purpose.”



Light slowly sat next to him, feeling his breath sort of leave him. “How old were you?”



“Young.” He shrugged a little. “It doesn’t matter. The past is the past, now.”



Light hissed under his breath, looking at him angrily. “Fine, let’s talk about the future.”