He wanted to shake the hand off of his shoulder. His position made it impossible.
He knew that whatever was planned for him wasn't anything he would have chosen; his task was to endure it without breaking. His captors had selected him for this procedure, but in doing so, they had given him the opportunity to be a first-hand observer. Therefore, it was imperative that he recognize, recall, and analyze every detail he could. He would find a way to make it count: he would turn it on Landel in the end. He had no question that he would survive it, knowing that others had.
What was Watari's part in it, though? Why would he participate? The question didn't just nag at him; it was one of the few emotional blows he had ever experienced. If I can understand it, I can--
Watari began to speak to him, then, and he felt his stomach twist. He understood the words, but not the meaning behind them. --Plans? They didn't have any plans that involved L being abducted to a travesty of a psychiatric facility, sedated, or strapped to a table. He turned his head to look at Watari as soon as he was able to, and the beeps sped as he confirmed that his benefactor was in the room with him. The pressure of the pulse oximeter was firm around the tip of his finger.
He could see no point in hoping for rescue; if it were coming, he would not be in his current state. He would be in a helicopter, enjoying a thermos flask of tea, or maybe under a blanket in a van, waiting for the knowledge that he was safe. He thought of the message he had left for Watari, two nights earlier, and wondered if this was its ultimate result.
Pushing the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth, he tried to find his voice again. Watari's face swam in and out of focus, and L's nose wrinkled as he squinted and blinked.
With difficulty, he croaked, "What are you talking about?"
"I am talking about the investigation," Watari replied with more conviction as he met L's eyes. "We already knew the risks and the sacrifices we were willing to make when we began this case, did we not? I would be ashamed to call myself your associate if I didn't do everything possible to ensure the apprehending of our target, regardless of the... difficulty."
He set a hand to the edge of the table to help himself to his feet, then gestured at the equipment surrounding them. "I'm afraid that all of this is a testament to the difficulty that our target has given us. I... took it upon myself to make the necessary arrangements. I apologize, Ryuuzaki, but this operation's success hinged on you being kept in the dark."
At that last phrase, something strange crossed Watari's face. He looked down at L with distant objectivity.
"Given your usual methods, I'm sure you can understand."
In L's peripheral vision, a shadow crossed the room's stark light; there were other people in the room besides Watari. One of them seemed to be preparing something on the tray table to L's left.
He couldn't understand. The beeps continued in the background at a pace that anyone would have been able to identify as rapid. Even if he tried to appear calm, the pulse monitor showed his true state.
And yet--what would he do to solve the case? Light Yagami was Kira. L knew it, but as hard as he had tried, he hadn't been able to prove it. The way his arms were strapped down, the way the buckles clanked when he pulled against the cuffs... it reminded him of the three months he had spent chained to Kira, albeit an iteration of Kira who had been ignorant of his own deeds. L had thought that the close observation might give him the information he needed, and indeed, while that hadn't been the case, he couldn't say that the three months had been wasted. They had captured Higuchi; they had acquired a Death Note from him.
L's wrists had now been free for two weeks. For the first few days, the chain's absent weight had tugged at him like a persistent ghost, but he'd soon become accustomed to a full range of motion again. Then he'd woken up in the Institute, all pretense of freedom gone, the knowledge of his approaching death dropped in his lap in one of his first conversations with another patient.
He'd always given his work everything he had; Watari knew that. This situation, this procedure... was it too much? Was there anything he wouldn't give, even up to his life, to solve the case?
Strapped to a table, it was a question he couldn't answer. There was no time to deliberate, and no decision was being asked of him; the decision was a fait accompli which didn't involve him at all, except as its subject. He tried to draw the threads of his thoughts together into something cohesive, but they slipped away, leaving him with a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. Every attempt to force himself to focus failed.
Two nights ago, the doors had sent him to a place that seemed, in all respects, to be his headquarters. Enough was irregular about the situation that he had found it hard to trust. Even so, he had determined that if there was some small, unlikely chance that he could get a message to Watari, he had to try--so he did. Was this the response to his attempt to communicate? If so, it wasn't what he'd envisioned, not at all.
He realized that his attention to his surroundings was breaking up, drifting away in innumerable directions. There were other people in the room; why hadn't he noticed them already? Someone was doing something with a tray. A glint, and then --
"What are you doing?" His voice came out soft, as if it was a reasonable question, not reflecting the panic he felt. "I didn't consent to this, I don't--"
I don't want you to do this to me.
The impression that he was forgetting something, that he was missing some vital fact or connection, was almost unbearable. He stared at Watari--indisputably Watari, in face and voice and mannerisms--with wide, startled eyes.
Again, a look of remorse crossed Watari's otherwise impassive face, but as he met L's eyes and held his gaze, it seemed to be the only sign of his discomfort with the situation.
"Ryuuzaki, I refuse to patronize your understanding of our work by assuming you don't understand each individual part of it." He brought up one hand to gingerly slide his glasses off his nose, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the lenses. "We both know that you are the greatest investigator in the world; therefore, if you fail to apprehend Kira, it is highly unlikely, if even possible at all, that anyone else will be able to stop him."
In L's range of peripheral vision, one of the doctors seemed to be picking up a sealed package. He opened it, drawing a syringe from it with gloved fingers. Watari glanced at the man as he inserted the end of the needle into a vial, then looked back to L.
"You are the best there is, but I am afraid that in this case, the best is not good enough. I know that you have already discovered that..."
He trailed off. The doctor began to approach L from the side, silently, but then paused, as if waiting for Watari to finish his explanation. Watari, a look of remorse crossing his face, leaned forward to put a hand on L's back.
"Thanks to the technology in this place, both you and I know the grave and inevitable danger you will find upon your return home."
His fingers tightened against L's back. He bowed his head.
"We have been given a chance to change that outcome. Perhaps I cannot be saved, but I am not as pivotal. You, Ryuuzaki - I would never forgive myself if I gave you up to that fate, knowing there was a way to prevent it."
As if on cue, the doctor stepped forward and pressed the needle into L's neck.
He knew that whatever was planned for him wasn't anything he would have chosen; his task was to endure it without breaking. His captors had selected him for this procedure, but in doing so, they had given him the opportunity to be a first-hand observer. Therefore, it was imperative that he recognize, recall, and analyze every detail he could. He would find a way to make it count: he would turn it on Landel in the end. He had no question that he would survive it, knowing that others had.
What was Watari's part in it, though? Why would he participate? The question didn't just nag at him; it was one of the few emotional blows he had ever experienced. If I can understand it, I can--
Watari began to speak to him, then, and he felt his stomach twist. He understood the words, but not the meaning behind them. --Plans? They didn't have any plans that involved L being abducted to a travesty of a psychiatric facility, sedated, or strapped to a table. He turned his head to look at Watari as soon as he was able to, and the beeps sped as he confirmed that his benefactor was in the room with him. The pressure of the pulse oximeter was firm around the tip of his finger.
He could see no point in hoping for rescue; if it were coming, he would not be in his current state. He would be in a helicopter, enjoying a thermos flask of tea, or maybe under a blanket in a van, waiting for the knowledge that he was safe. He thought of the message he had left for Watari, two nights earlier, and wondered if this was its ultimate result.
Pushing the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth, he tried to find his voice again. Watari's face swam in and out of focus, and L's nose wrinkled as he squinted and blinked.
With difficulty, he croaked, "What are you talking about?"
Reply
He set a hand to the edge of the table to help himself to his feet, then gestured at the equipment surrounding them. "I'm afraid that all of this is a testament to the difficulty that our target has given us. I... took it upon myself to make the necessary arrangements. I apologize, Ryuuzaki, but this operation's success hinged on you being kept in the dark."
At that last phrase, something strange crossed Watari's face. He looked down at L with distant objectivity.
"Given your usual methods, I'm sure you can understand."
In L's peripheral vision, a shadow crossed the room's stark light; there were other people in the room besides Watari. One of them seemed to be preparing something on the tray table to L's left.
Reply
And yet--what would he do to solve the case? Light Yagami was Kira. L knew it, but as hard as he had tried, he hadn't been able to prove it. The way his arms were strapped down, the way the buckles clanked when he pulled against the cuffs... it reminded him of the three months he had spent chained to Kira, albeit an iteration of Kira who had been ignorant of his own deeds. L had thought that the close observation might give him the information he needed, and indeed, while that hadn't been the case, he couldn't say that the three months had been wasted. They had captured Higuchi; they had acquired a Death Note from him.
L's wrists had now been free for two weeks. For the first few days, the chain's absent weight had tugged at him like a persistent ghost, but he'd soon become accustomed to a full range of motion again. Then he'd woken up in the Institute, all pretense of freedom gone, the knowledge of his approaching death dropped in his lap in one of his first conversations with another patient.
He'd always given his work everything he had; Watari knew that. This situation, this procedure... was it too much? Was there anything he wouldn't give, even up to his life, to solve the case?
Strapped to a table, it was a question he couldn't answer. There was no time to deliberate, and no decision was being asked of him; the decision was a fait accompli which didn't involve him at all, except as its subject. He tried to draw the threads of his thoughts together into something cohesive, but they slipped away, leaving him with a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. Every attempt to force himself to focus failed.
Two nights ago, the doors had sent him to a place that seemed, in all respects, to be his headquarters. Enough was irregular about the situation that he had found it hard to trust. Even so, he had determined that if there was some small, unlikely chance that he could get a message to Watari, he had to try--so he did. Was this the response to his attempt to communicate? If so, it wasn't what he'd envisioned, not at all.
He realized that his attention to his surroundings was breaking up, drifting away in innumerable directions. There were other people in the room; why hadn't he noticed them already? Someone was doing something with a tray. A glint, and then --
"What are you doing?" His voice came out soft, as if it was a reasonable question, not reflecting the panic he felt. "I didn't consent to this, I don't--"
I don't want you to do this to me.
The impression that he was forgetting something, that he was missing some vital fact or connection, was almost unbearable. He stared at Watari--indisputably Watari, in face and voice and mannerisms--with wide, startled eyes.
Reply
"Ryuuzaki, I refuse to patronize your understanding of our work by assuming you don't understand each individual part of it." He brought up one hand to gingerly slide his glasses off his nose, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the lenses. "We both know that you are the greatest investigator in the world; therefore, if you fail to apprehend Kira, it is highly unlikely, if even possible at all, that anyone else will be able to stop him."
In L's range of peripheral vision, one of the doctors seemed to be picking up a sealed package. He opened it, drawing a syringe from it with gloved fingers. Watari glanced at the man as he inserted the end of the needle into a vial, then looked back to L.
"You are the best there is, but I am afraid that in this case, the best is not good enough. I know that you have already discovered that..."
He trailed off. The doctor began to approach L from the side, silently, but then paused, as if waiting for Watari to finish his explanation. Watari, a look of remorse crossing his face, leaned forward to put a hand on L's back.
"Thanks to the technology in this place, both you and I know the grave and inevitable danger you will find upon your return home."
His fingers tightened against L's back. He bowed his head.
"We have been given a chance to change that outcome. Perhaps I cannot be saved, but I am not as pivotal. You, Ryuuzaki - I would never forgive myself if I gave you up to that fate, knowing there was a way to prevent it."
As if on cue, the doctor stepped forward and pressed the needle into L's neck.
Reply
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