Better Out Than In

[cliched_case]

[Again, L had been exploring. It was the only method of trying to find a way out...and L wanted out... He wanted to go back. The door opened, and he found himself peering into a strange, multicolored room. The walls and floor faded in and out with various slowly-changing colors--purples, deep blues, light blues, greens, yellows, oranges, reds, and

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[firm_detective]

L's first thought, as he stepped through the door, was that while the room itself was new to him, elements were familiar. He had little time to elaborate on the concept. What room does it remind --

The rush of emotion hit him all at once. Anger and frustration were its greater components, but a notable element of fear was also present: fear that he would never be able to leave, fear that he would limp and hobble forever whether he could go home or not, and his ever-present fear for Misa's well-being. Somewhere, at the bottom of the latter, was a steady, humming thread, a tug at his heart that represented the part of his love for her that overwhelmed him, the small part that was an abject adoration that he didn't want to show.

For the most part, though, he was in a cold fury. His fists and jaw clenched, and his face, usually impassive, twisted into a hateful glare. He turned to the wall and hit it, hard, with his black wooden cane. At the same time, he made a wordless sound of utter exasperation.

He stood there for a moment, his breath coming out in heavy pants, before the man collapsed in the corner caught his full attention.

"Stop crying," he snapped, looking down at his sobbing analogue. "It is useless."

So many of his doubles were too open with their emotions. Of all people, they should understand that image was important in terms of commanding the respect necessary to do their work. It was one of the reasons why he had always kept his true identity secret. If more of them made a show of strength, he thought, almost overcome with irritation, it wouldn't be so difficult to keep order in this place.

[cliched_case]

[In his distress, he was vaguely able to distinguish the words from one who shared his voice. And his other's words were true; L knew this... Knew his show of weakness wasn't solving anything, and yet... He couldn't stop. Couldn't reign it back in no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't reason it away... Not when emotions weren't ruled by logic (or even willpower in this case). Not when there was too much to be sorrowful for... He felt as if he were staring into an abyss of emptiness. A depression that had always threatened somewhere inside but one he'd made every effort to avoid.

[His face buried deeper into his knees, shoulders trembling, teeth grit, and he shook his head against the fabric of his jeans--the only answer he was able to give. There was no way his voice would have held up.]