Bean sat quietly in the back of the limousine, bouncing his legs a little to the rhythm of the song that was playing through his headphones. His chin was lifted slightly so he could see out the window, the vibrant, luminous colors of the urban night reflecting in his ever-curious blue eyes. His right thumb rolled the joystick of a fidget cube around in his hoodie pocket, and with a soft little inhale, he scrunched his eyes and yawned. When he opened them again, blinking back the "sleepies," as Anya used to call them, Watari was pulling the vehicle to a stop outside the entrance of a hospital.
Bennett perked up. L stood on the sidewalk talking to someone.
"Papa!" Bean unbuckled his seat belt and sat up on his knees, putting his hands against the window. He watched as Watari got out and walked around the limo to open the back door, then sat back down and shimmied over as L climbed in.
The detective wasn't finished speaking to the young man on the sidewalk as Watari shut the door, so he rolled the window down.
"Don't worry so much," L was saying. "Be patient. It'll become apparent to us if you're not Kira..."
Bean fidgeted a bit but waited patiently while the two finished their conversation. L had been gone several hours more than expected, and to a five-year-old with childlike expectations, the day had seemed especially long.
Finally, L rolled up the window, and the limousine pulled away from the curb to head back to the hotel.
"Hi, Papa." Bean grinned, bouncing a little on his knees.
"Hello, Bean- put your seat belt on, you know better."
The little boy complied rather sheepishly, sitting back down and clicking the safety belt into place. He looked up at L beside him. "Who was that man?"
"What man?"
"The man you were talking to."
"Oh. His name is Light." L's thumb rested against his bottom lip, and his mumbled answers were spoken quietly and distractedly.
"Is he your friend?"
"No."
"Is he your... agent?"
"No."
"Then who is he?"
L sighed. "Bennett, not now."
"But-"
"I said, not now."
L didn't yell. He never yelled at Bean. But his slightly raised, clipped tone was enough to make the child promptly shut his mouth. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, and he slouched a little further down, his right hand finding his stimmy fidget cube again.
Watari observed the interaction through the reflection in the rear view mirror, and his brow furrowed with fatherly concern. It was rare of L to be short with his son... especially after not seeing him all day. The boy hadn't done anything to merit such a response, and so the old man could only conclude that the day had been long and taxing for the unsociable detective. Clearing his throat, Watari asked gently, "How was your day?"
L was staring at nothing in particular as his teeth nipped at the end of his thumbnail. He didn't answer right away, but then he sighed, lowering his hand to his bent-up knee. "Not at all productive," he replied with an edge to his voice. He turned his head to stare out the window. "I just can't seem to figure this one out, Watari..." His words trailed away like wisps of ash from a snapping blaze.
He had lost the tennis match, which wasn't all that surprising, given the number of years it had been since he'd been active in the sport. Still though, he hated losing, and it irked him that he couldn't at least have had that one small victory today.
Light had then taken him to a coffee shop, where they had discussed the Kira Case. All the while, L's mind had been intensely at work, using every available angle in an attempt to uncover something- anything- that might disclose Light Yagami as the reclusive and deadly Kira. But he had gotten nowhere, as any conclusion could only be drawn from speculation, and that was no good.
To add insult to injury, both L and Light had then received phone calls informing them that Soichiro Yagami had suffered a heart attack. As the Chief was still alive and recovering in a hospital, it was clear that the misfortune had not been at the hand of Kira.
And now, here they were. A whole day wasted. L was just as unsure about Light Yagami now as he had been that morning- if not even more so.
This case... he was missing something. Something big. He was sure of it. But what? Where? In all of his thoroughness, what could he possibly be overlooking??
"Did you have lunch with him?"
L blinked his eyes. He looked down at Bean, the boy's small voice having snuffed out his rumination like a candle.
"...what?" he asked stiffly.
"Did you have lunch with him?" Bean repeated with some emphasis. "With Light."
L felt a familiar prick in his chest as he looked at his son. Those imploring, Russian eyes...
Anya's eyes.
"I suppose I did," he answered dryly, wondering what had prompted such a random question. "We went to a coffee shop around lunchtime, so... yes?" He shrugged.
Bean looked down, first with his eyes and then with his head, his shoulders slumping a bit. He didn't say anything.
L lowered his brow. Why would having lunch with someone Bean had never met bother him like this?
Why can't anything make sense today?
The three arrived back to the hotel, and Bennett was quiet as he took hold of L's hand and walked alongside him. When they reached the suite, he let go and sat down on the floor to take off his sneakers.
L kicked his own shoes into a corner and dragged his bare feet over to hop up onto the couch. He pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at the multiple computer monitors that were all displaying a floating calligraphic letter L.
What am I missing...?
Bean stood up and looked over into the living room. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and moved his little socked feet over to his papa. He put his hands on L's leg, wanting him to lower it so that he could sit on his lap. But L didn't move.
"It's late, Bean," L mumbled, his shadowed and pensive gaze lingering on nothing in particular. "Go brush your teeth and put your pajamas on."
Bean didn't comply right away. He stood there with his hands loosely holding the denim fabric of L's jeans and his eyes on the countenance of his father, who may as well be a million miles away. Then, his hands slowly retreated into his hoodie pockets again, and he turned with a lowered head to do as he was told.
L shut his eyes and buried his face in his arms atop his knees, his fingers curling inward. He sat like that for a moment before he heard his name being spoken by a gentle, elderly voice.
"...what is it, Watari?" came his muffled response.
The old man sighed. "L, there's... a certain little boy who, I think, could really use some attention right now."
L lifted his head to look up at Watari. "What I was doing today was important," he defended stiffly.
Watari nodded. "I know that. But he's five years old. He just needs assurance that he's still important to you too."
L sat up straighter, his hands coming to rest on his knees, and his dark-rimmed eyes flashed like the sky before a storm. "Watari." His voice was ice cold. "Do not speak to me about the importance of my son. He is and always will be my top priority. I should think that you would have more sense than to imply otherwise simply because I spent a day absorbed in a case that happens to hold the fate of the world in its outcome."
Watari shook his head. "I implied nothing of the sort," he said calmly, his feathers completely unruffled by the detective's indignantly-spoken words. "I wished only to point out that he is a child, and as such, he may require a few moments of your time tonight before he goes to bed. That is all."
L's gaze lowered only slightly. He was usually incredibly keen at occupying his mind with multiple complexities simultaneously (he could have up to seven games of chess going at one time, for instance), but this... this Kira Case was different. It was filling his mind like a cloud of smoke, choking him from the inside-out and consuming him whole. There were times it felt as if nothing else mattered.......
No. No, Bean matters. Of course my son matters...
The old man started to turn away, but L spoke again, and this time, his voice just sounded so, so tired.
"...why did he ask me about lunch?" L wrapped his arms around his legs again, visibly troubled. "That was so... oddly specific."
Watari's mustache twitched. "Last night," he said gently, "you told Bennett you were going to take him to the Japanese Ramen shop today."
L's eyes widened and then averted as he remembered. "Ah hah..." he mumbled, understanding now. He'd promised his small son he'd spend the afternoon with him, and then he'd gone and spent it with someone else. From a child's perspective, no wonder he'd felt slighted. L shut his eyes again and dropped his forehead to his knees. Another failure to chalk up for the day.
Watari noticed the tension in the younger man's gaunt shoulders, and the slight tremor in his fingers. L's anxiety attacks were rarely obvious to the untrained eye, as this was what they typically looked like... subtle and quiet.
To L, however, they were anything but. His heart was beating rapidly like the thwacking of a tennis ball in his ears. The space between his eyes hurt, and the carefully articulated words exchanged between himself and Light Yagami played over and over like a broken record in his mind. The events of the day all came crashing down around him, constricting him and engulfing him completely so that all he could do was sit there, curled up tightly in inner retreat.
"I'll be right there," he managed to mumble into the fabric of his blue jeans, and Watari simply nodded before turning away.
A few moments later, L appeared in the doorway of the bedroom that was Bean's for the time-being. The little boy was sitting cross-legged on the mattress with his back against the corner of the wall, and he was looking at a book. His eyes lifted to look at L.
L's fingers tapped against his thighs from inside his pockets. "I forgot about lunch," he said bluntly, tilting his head forward a little as he looked at his son. "I had a very bad day, and I forgot." He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand remaining pocketed. "...I'm sorry."
Bennett listened to the simply yet sincerely-spoken words. If there was anyone in the world he trusted completely, it was his papa. And, being the empath that he was, even at such a young age, he understood what it felt like to have a bad day. The kind of day where the world just seems too big, too loud, too much. ...he understood.
Pressing his hands into the mattress, he stood to his feet and walked atop the plushy comforter to stand on the edge of the bed. He was wearing black and white striped pajama pants with a panda-eared hoodie, and he leaned sideways with childish movements to itch the spot behind his knee. "It's okay, Papa," he said quietly. He stood upright again and outthrust both arms with a smile.
L sighed as he shuffled his bare feet over to where Bean stood nearly at eye-level with him. As he stepped up to the bed, the little boy leaned forward to wrap his arms around his neck, and L pulled him in close, pressing his face into the softness of the hoodie. They stood there like that for what seemed like a long time.
There was so much L didn't know about being a father, so much about the role that went against his very nature. There were times he wondered with aching fear if he'd done the right thing... if perhaps his son would have been better off with parents who knew how to raise a child. But those wonderings never lasted, for soon enough, the small Bean would remind L just how much his son adored him. And as L held his boy close after such a heavily trying day, he felt a little of the weight lift from his shoulders.
L's arms moved downward, and he picked Bean up. As he turned to leave the room, he noticed in the reflection of a mirror that Bennett's eyes were closed.
It was a strange mixture of emotions that L felt as he carried his son into the living room. A moment like this should have brought on a comforting and peaceful contentment, and it was there, to be sure. But it was... clouded. Overshadowed by the looming reality that Kira was still out there and the unshakeable feeling that there was something he was missing. Like termites, these things gnawed at the back of his mind, disallowing him the serenity that this moment entailed. They left a gaping hole, their presence as unable to be ignored as the throb of an open wound.
It was with a troubled countenance that L quietly laid the sleepy little boy down on the couch.
Perhaps...
Perhaps Watari was right. You should have stayed in England.
L swallowed the tightness in his throat as he stood leaning with one hand on the back of the couch. His other hand slowly pulled a blanket up over the tiny, curled-up form, his eyes not leaving Bean's face where locks of raven hair fell over the boy's thick, dark eyebrows and closed, lash-lined eyes.
No... You need me.
The detective's long, pale fingers touched gently down against the soft hoodie.
...I need you.
L shut his eyes and sighed in a weighted exhale before climbing up onto the couch beside the dreamy little Bean. He looked down at his son one more time before assuming his previous pose with his head buried in his arms atop his knees.