Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Rules ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 4 )

Rules

 

Chapter 3

 

The next morning, Light was heartily ashamed of himself. L had manipulated him into an emotional response. Again. The first time, Light had given away valuable information, and within weeks, L had been breathing down his neck. This time, it seemed that all Light had done was deal a severe blow to his own pride. The effect, however, was the same: L was up one point, and Light could not believe his own stupidity.

 

He attended his morning classes as usual, forcing himself to put aside all thoughts other than his education for the moment. A few minutes before 2:00, however, he found himself walking slowly over to Professor McCormick's office. Perhaps he would talk to her about a few authors he was considering reading and get her opinion on them. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't going simply to see if the Death Note worked or not. After all, there was no guarantee that, if Elijah did die in an accident, anyone would find him and call Professor McCormick before her office hours ended, and if he didn't die, Light would certainly not get an answer by being with her. In spite of this logic, his feet continued to walk in the direction of her office, almost by themselves.

 

When he arrived, however, he found that his professor already had a student in her office: Annie. Suppressing a sigh of annoyance, Light propped his body against the wall next to the door and waited. He could hear snippets of the women's conversation, but he ignored it mostly. At the moment, all he could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall a little ways down the hall.

 

Ten minutes after two, Light heard Annie stand up and move towards the door. He uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, preparing to replace her, when the blonde's cheery voice stopped him.

 

"Oh, I almost forgot! Julie, the girls and I want to have a Halloween party again this year. Can we do it at your place like we did last year?"

 

"Sure, that's fine," Julie's voice answered quickly. But then, she added, "Oh, but I should check with Elijah to see if it would bother him. Hold on a minute."

 

Light's senses went into overdrive as he heard Julie pick up her phone. If the other young man didn't answer, that would not prove anything, but if he did … . Light stole a glance at the clock on the wall. 2:12. He held his breath, the silence in the other room suffocating him.

 

"Hello," Julie said after what seemed like hours. "It's Julie." She paused as the other party greeted her. "Well, I have Annie here in the office with me. She and her friends usually have a Halloween party at my house, and they'd like to do it again this year. Before I said yes, I wanted to check with you and make sure you'd be all right with it." She paused again and then laughed. "Yes, of course you can spend the whole evening in your room."

 

"No he can't!" Annie interrupted. "Give me that." A pause as she wrestled the phone away from Julie. "'Lij? Yeah, it's Annie. You are so not hiding. … No, I don't care! You're going to come, and you're going to have fun. And you'll come in a costume. … Yes, a costume. … No, that doesn't count."

 

Light turned from the door and walked away. He had his answer. The Death Note had not worked. As he walked, his heart pounded wildly in his chest; Light wanted to rip out the traitorous organ. He should not be feeling relieved by this revelation. If anything he should feel annoyed that, once again, his primary enemy could not be eliminated with a few scratches of ink. These ripples of joy tumbling in his stomach were definitely inappropriate.

 

His feet took him to a bench out on one of the quads, and Light sat down to contemplate his next move. Clearly, he needed to reacquire the cool composure and lightning-quick thinking he had had a year ago. Without L looming over him as a constant threat, those parts of him had grown stiff with disuse. Light smiled to himself. A bit of exercise, and they should be back to normal.

 

After a bit of thinking, he decided that he should primarily focus on the how and why of L's return. The how would clearly involve something supernatural. Predictably, Light had absolutely no problem accepting this. After all, he used a magic notebook to control people's actions before he killed them. L coming back from the dead seemed commonplace compared to that. The why was a bit trickier. At first, Light thought L simply wanted to continue his fight against Kira, but now he wasn't so sure. Why return as a homeless American if that were the case? There had to be something else involved.

 

Sighing, Light leaned his head back and gazed at the clouds as they slowly made their way across the sky. Getting any information out of L himself would be damn near impossible. He couldn't use the McCormicks to his advantage either thanks to the other's claim of amnesia. So what resources did he have left? Not Misa. Even if he concocted a reason to bring her here, she would only be able to confirm Elijah's name for him. And annoy him to all Hell. That left Light with few options or allies.

 

Well, there was always …

 

Light rose to his feet and walked swiftly to the closest building that housed public computer terminals. Once he had settled himself in front of one, he pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and brought up his email. He sighed painfully. Misa had sent him thirteen emails yesterday. Determined, he opened the first one and began to scan it, jotting down a few notes so that he could craft a reply that would make it appear as if he had actually read them in depth.

 

Over thirty minutes later, he sat back in his chair and rubbed his aching eyes. It was done. A touchingly sweet and thoughtful email from boyfriend to girlfriend. One that would leave the silly girl floating around with hearts in her eyes for days. And hidden several paragraphs into the letter, just in case anyone else read it without getting stomach cramps, was his message:

 

I'm finding that I'm fitting in quite well. Thanks for asking. I've made several friends already, a few of whom I really like. One of my friends invited me to go apple picking next week. It sounded like fun, but I'm not sure if I should go. Apparently, you end up with tons of leftover apples, and I'm just not sure if I could handle that much fruit without anyone to share it with. Maybe I'll try my hand at making a pie. I think I can do it without destroying the kitchen. I'll let you know how it goes.

 

Light smiled as he reread the paragraph. He didn't know what the record was for a Shinigami flying halfway around the world, but he was sure Ryuk would break it when he heard about this.

 

Satisfied for now, Light closed down the email program, rose, stretched, and headed off to the library to work on his assignments.

 

xXx

 

Julie paused in the act of opening her bedroom door. A faint light had caught her eye. It was coming from Elijah's room a few doors down. She dipped her head a bit and contemplated. He had eaten very poorly today, more so than usual. Even when she had broken down and served him nothing but dessert, his words of gratitude had not reached his eyes. Something was bothering him, and while her common sense told her to mind her own business, the mother within her ached to comfort him.

 

She found him sitting on his bed, reading a book.

 

"May I come in?"

 

He raised his eyes to look at her, but only for a moment. "It is your house," he answered, returning his gaze to the pages in his hands. "You may go anywhere you like."

 

She sighed heavily but let it drop. They had already argued far too long about whether this particular construction of engineering was Elijah's "shelter" or his "home". Instead, she commented, "It's getting late. You should try to get some sleep."

 

"I rarely fall asleep before 3 AM," he stated in a flat tone of voice as if he were reciting his height and weight.

 

Julie's jaw dropped. She suddenly felt extremely guilty for not keeping better tabs on him. He was always awake and downstairs by six in the morning. Did he really sleep only three hours a night?

 

A sudden idea came to her, and she said, "I'll be right back." Feeling rather than seeing his eyes upon her, she turned and headed back downstairs to the kitchen. When she returned nearly fifteen minutes later, she held a large mug. She sat down next to him on the bed, plucked the book from his hands, pushed the mug into them instead, and ordered, "Drink."

 

He peered suspiciously down at the white liquid. "What is it?" he asked.

 

"Warm milk."

 

His eyes snapped up to her with as much disgust as if she had declared it to be poison. "I don't drink milk."

 

"Just try it," she replied with a smile. "I made it very sweet since I know that's what you like." When he did not move, she added quietly, "Please."

 

He winced slightly at her soft request and begrudgingly lifted the rim of the cup to his mouth. He tilted it so minutely that barely any of the milk made it to his lips, but when his tongue licked away the small amount that had, his eyes widened slightly. Julie smiled to herself. She had not lied to him. She had probably put in enough sugar to completely counteract the soothing effects of the milk, but the point of the drink was to relax him and in order to do that he had to drink it first.

 

Once he was happily taking small sips from the cup, Julie reached out and tucked a few stray strands of hair away from his face. He stiffened as her fingertips grazed his skin, and she suddenly found herself the subject of his hard, scrutinizing gaze.

 

"Why do you do that?" he asked. "Why do you attempt to put my hair back into place when we both know it will just fall out again?"

 

She successfully resisted the urge to laugh at the sincere way he asked such a child-like question. "I don't know. I guess it's just a sign of my affection for you." Her fingers continued to run through his hair, farther to the back now, almost petting him.

 

He squirmed uncomfortably underneath her touch. "Please stop."

 

Julie's fingers froze and then, very slowly, retreated from his head. She dropped her hand in her lap and turned her head away slightly. Several things began to click into place, in particular the way he had begun to push her farther and farther away. Softly, she asked, "Does it really bother you that much to know that someone loves you, Elijah?"

 

Elijah started, causing the milk in his mug to slosh dangerously close to the edge. In an equally soft voice, he returned, "You don't love me."

 

This time she did laugh. "Ah, I see. You know the workings of my heart better than I do myself, do you?"

 

He frowned at her. "It's impossible for you to love me. You don't know anything about me. I don't know very much myself. How could you love something that has so many holes and questions in it?"

 

Julie turned to him so quickly that he pulled back from her in shock. Before he could react or protest, she had grabbed the mug, placed it on his bedside table, and captured his face between her hands. "Elijah," she said evenly, "you've got to stop relying on this so much." She tapped his head with one forefinger. "Emotions like love and trust come from the heart, not the head. Of course I don't need to know your past or even all that's currently inside you in order to love you. All my heart needs to know is that you're special to me and that I want to protect you and help you and make your life better."

 

Gently, she leaned up and in and kissed him on the forehead. When she brought her eyes back to his, she continued, "I don't need to have changed your diapers and bandaged your scrapes and listened to your problems with school and friends and girls in order to feel right here --" she removed a hand to cover her chest -- "that you are my son and I love you. And one of these days, I truly hope that you will view my kisses as something more than an annoyance you have to endure." She smiled at the flush that traveled over his cheeks before finishing, "Perhaps even, someday, you'll care enough for me to give one back."

 

He said nothing, only blinked in response, but Julie did not mind. She merely gave him the mug back and waited for him to finish the milk. When he had, she gently guided him off the bed, handed him his pajamas, and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. He returned to find that she had turned down the bed, and she wasted no time in maneuvering him into it, pulling up the covers and tucking them around his chin. After smoothing out his hair, she leaned in for another kiss. "Try to sleep," she whispered in his ear before she pulled away.

 

As she turned out the light and pulled the door shut, she caught his whispered reply.

 

"Thank you … Mother."