When AutumnDynasty beta-ed this fic for me, one of the things she asked me was why I wrote it.

It's a good question. I would say a number of sources, to be perfectly honest: My writing of my Gothic-novel-inspired BxL fic, Scarlet Letter; harking back to how much I enjoyed writing my other Victorian-age AU fic, Nevarmore, for the Teen Titans section; my near-worship of Samuel Taylor Coleridge; my recent watching of Basil the Great Mouse Detective; and partly to piss off Narroch, who bitched about Scarlet Letter being set in England.

Guess what, Narroch, my dear: This one is set in England, too. Winchester instead of London, but even so… :)

What can I say? Like many, many people, I have a soft spot for Victorian-type things – and incidentally, AutumnDynasty seemed to enjoy beta-ing it, so it can't be that bad.

It's LxLight in a time of top hats, language more complicated than it needs to be and monocles…

…Which, according to AutumnDynasty (and I quote), are "fun".

Oh, well, old chum – at least I didn't write it in Germany language. -Cackle-

:D

Gaslight Gothic

"I wish you would stop throwing these parties," L muttered blackly. "Or, at the very least, that you would refrain from insisting that I attend them. You know how much I detest these kinds of affairs."

"I am expected to put on these "affairs", and you know that you are expected be there." Quillsh watched the young detective drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece in the reflection of the mirror in which he was adjusting his cravat. "Perhaps you should stop being such a good detective and then people would be less interested in meeting you, hmm?"

"I am not a painting or an ornament for you to show off!" L snapped.

"I know that." Quillsh gave an irritable sigh, glancing at him. "What would you rather be doing? You cannot lock yourself up in your room all day and night, at least not while we have guests."

"I have a lot of work to do," L replied scathingly. "As you just pointed out, I am a good – and thus successful – detective, and I only stay as such because I solve crimes, which means I do not have time for—"

"All I am asking is for you to put in an appearance for a short while. An hour at the most, if you please, L?"

L gave a woeful sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Very well, I will accompany you downstairs, if it matters so much to you – though heed, I am not obliged to feign interest in any of your 'delightful' benefactors and patrons or what they have to say. And, given our bargain, Quillsh, an hour of my presence is all you shall have. Do I make myself clear?"

Quillsh gave a sour, if grimly amused, smile.

"As a bell," he responded. "If you must know, there is someone I would like for you to meet."

L gave a disgusted snort.

"I should have known that there was a motive in your insistence," he bit out. "If it is a young lady with whom you fancy I might strike a match, you may forget it – and forget my promise to attend at all. You know I have no interest in that sort of thing."

"As if I would subject a young lady to your mercy," Quillsh said, his baroque tone disguising a laugh. "I daresay she would be as interested in you as you her, L. No, the fellow I would have you meet is a visitor from the Orient – Japan, to be precise. He is a chief member of the Japanese police in the capital city, Tokyo, and is over here on police business."

"By himself?"

"No, he is accompanied by a small group of lower-ranked investigators. Oh, and he mentioned that he brought his son. You know, a good cultural experience for the young lad, to see England."

"Indeed." L raised his eyebrows. "He will not learn much if he does not speak the language."

Quillsh gave a shrug, finally turning from the mirror.

"I know nothing of the boy, not even his name – his father, however, speaks impeccable English."

L shot him a cold smile.

"As if such a thing should matter," he said. "I happen to speak impeccable Japanese."

"And thus your enslavement to such educational pursuits robs you of important social skills." Quillsh crossed to him, tugging at his cravat. "Incidentally, while I can see that you bothered to make yourself look more presentable, your cravat is, as usual, a disgrace. Why you have not learned to tie it properly at this age is a mystery beyond me, L."

"Because I refrain from wearing one if I can help it," L responded snippily. "They are nothing but a nuisance accessory – completely pointless."

"Well, the dress code in place tonight insists that you wear one and wear it properly." Quillsh finished neatening it and tucked it back beneath L's waistcoat, then tugged his jacket straight. "Dear me, all black? You look like a coroner."

"A coroner, a prince, it is all the same to me," L muttered. "May we please descend to the drawing room and get this over with, Quillsh?"

Quillsh looked at the young detective critically – there was no other colour on him but for the opposites black and white, trousers, jacket, waistcoat and cravat to match his hair and eyes in the former, shirt to match his tired skin in the latter.

"Alright, but stand up straight, for heaven's sake."

"No." L slouched out of the room as though to accentuate this refusal.

Quillsh caught up to him as they descended the hall towards the staircase of the house; the noise of the party drifting across the main hallway and up the stairs from the drawing room.

"Do not think I am ignorant as to why you are so ill-tempered this evening, L," the elderly man murmured. "You know it is not a habit I approve of, but that is your own business – however, I shall not be very impressed if you—"

"I have not touched it since two days past," L interrupted icily. "And I shall not break that stretch tonight, you have my word. Though I should not be surprised if a great percentage of your guests happen to share my indulgence – it is not uncommon in this day and age, as you well know."

"Well, that is certainly a presumption that you would do well to keep to yourself."

L gave an amused smile, nodding more to himself.

On entering the drawing room, aglow by gaslight and the hundreds of candles dancing on the chandelier, Quillsh was immediately descended upon by fellow inventors and interested buyers; L made off over to the buffet table before he was grabbed and presented as the great detective that he was, helped himself to some cake and then migrated to the furthest corner of the room where he was unlikely to be bothered by anyone who didn't already know who he was.

Quite a lot of the single hour of this that he'd made a vow to suffer was gone by the time Quillsh finally approached his corner, accompanied by a tall, smart man of clear Japanese nationality; there was a boy tagging along after them, about seventeen or eighteen years of age, with apparently the same level of interest in this "affair" as L had. Both Japanese guests were dressed in English clothes rather than traditional Japanese garb – smart, well-cut suits, probably bought here in Winchester or up in London.

"L, this is Detective-Inspector Soichiro Yagami of the Tokyo branch Japanese police force," Quillsh said, gesturing to the other man. "Detective-Inspector Yagami, this is L, declared the best detective in all of the British Empire."

L unfolded himself from his seat, standing to shake hands with this Detective-Inspector Yagami.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, L," Yagami said in flawless, accented English. "I have heard many things about you and your work."

L gave a nod and a smile.

"I thank you, Detective-Inspector Yagami," he replied. "Quillsh was insistent that we meet this evening – though I regret to say that, to me at least, your reputation does not precede your title, his desire for this meeting can only be due to his respect for you. You must be an exceptional investigator yourself if he was so adamant that I make acquaintance with you."

Yagami nodded, shaking further still before taking his hand back and using it to gesture to the boy, who seemed more interested in the floor.

"This is my son, Light," he said warmly, making the boy look up. "Perhaps it was predestined that he should visit England, given that my wife and I gave him an English name."

The boy – Light – looked from his father to L and then back again with clear brown eyes that shone with intelligence but nonetheless looked slightly bewildered, leading L to conclude that his mastery of the English language probably didn't match his father's.

However, following a nod from his father, he put out his hand towards L, copying the invitation to shake hands as though he wasn't sure what else he should do.

"I am Light," he said in competent English when L took his hand.

"L," L replied in a lazier fashion, more interested in looking the boy over.

Tall, slender, handsome in a way that still reflected his young age, with auburn hair and chocolate eyes that were nonetheless very sharp. His jacket was pale brown, tailed at the back, and teamed with black trousers, a white shirt and a red cravat.

Light didn't say anything else and withdrew his hand, looking at his father again as though for approval; he received none, for the elder Yagami was engaged in conversation with Quillsh and another bespectacled gentlemen who'd joined them without being noticed by either L or Light.

"L, this is David Madison," Quillsh said, grasping L's upper arm to get his attention and speaking of the new man. "The journalist who wrote that article on those murders in London you solved, if you recall?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course." L shook too with this man, who was chattering away to Quillsh and Detective-Inspector Yagami about other crime stories he'd covered even as he did so.

Light seemed to get fed up and wandered away across the drawing room by himself. L took his hand back from David Madison, though had no sooner reclaimed it than he was presented with an open tin box of thin Moroccan cigars.

"Would you like one?" Madison asked.

"No thankyou." L shook his head and pushed it away, looking past the man across the room for Light, who had all but vanished from his view. "Excuse me, gentlemen…"

He weaved in between them and was gone, leaving them all to take cigars of their own and light them up and continue their conversation about crime and detectives.

The double doors leading out to the grounds of the Wammy Estate had been left open so that guests could go out and get some fresh air; though no-one else had taken advantage of this facility, Light had made straight for them, already halfway across the grass by the time L located him. Incidentally, he had no real idea why he was stalking this melancholy Japanese boy who seemed to want to be left alone – he had no idea what he was going to say to him once he caught him up.

But he seemed an interesting enough distraction for five minutes or so, at least – that hour was almost up, and when it was, L could retreat upstairs to his room without feeling guilty. Get rid of this stupid cravat, too.

L followed Light across the lawn; the boy had already reached the stone bench situated underneath the overgrown willow tree at the far end, though the tree's immense shade was lost to the night sky. He sat on it with his back to both the house and his approaching stalker.

"You seem unhappy," L said when he was only a few feet away, causing the boy to start and whip around.

He said nothing, though; tilting his head and squinting a little, as though he had understood only part of what L had said.

"Are you sad?" L tried again, coming closer.

Light opened his mouth, but paused, seemingly lost for the words he was trying to say.

"I can speak in Japanese, if it would make it easier for you," L offered in Japanese.

Light finally smiled.

"Yes, thankyou," he responded in his own language. "I would find it much easier to communicate with you. I apologise – I have learnt some of your language, but it is difficult from me to apply it or to understand it spoken by a native of your country. I have never needed to use it in such a situation before."

L nodded and came and settled onto the bench next to him, perching in the position he favoured. Light blinked at him.

"I always sit like this," L said, responding to his unspoken question. "I said that you appeared unhappy. Are you?"

"Unhappy? No, I am not unhappy. I like England and have enjoyed visiting it. But, that party… I… I was bored."

L gave a little smirk.

"Me too."

Light blinked, as though not quite sure if the older man was being sarcastic or not.

"I apologise, I did not mean that in a disrespectful manner," he added hurriedly.

L gave a little laugh of amusement.

"You need not excuse your bluntness, Light-kun. I was not being ironic in my own statement – this delightful little gathering has little to do with me." The detective glanced at Light in interest. "What past-time would better serve your interest then, might I ask?"

"I attend university, and I suppose I enjoy studying and reading. I am also quite good at tennis."

"Ah." L smiled. "I am a rather accomplished tennis player myself, actually. It would no doubt relieve our boredom to play, but unfortunately it is rather too dark."

"A shame." Light tilted his head. "…So you are a private detective, I presume?"

"Something of the sort, yes. I am not involved directly with the police, at any rate."

Light gave a small sigh, looking up at the sky.

"I suppose it is an intriguing pursuit?"

"Sometimes. Is it something that interests you, Light-kun?"

Light gave a nod.

"Yes, it is a profession that I plan on following my father into. At this present time I am studying Law."

"An admirable goal."

Light shot him a dry smile.

"I should hope that you would give such an answer, sir."

"Be that as it may," L countered pleasantly, "you do not seem the type to be easily swayed by the opinion of another, Light-kun."

"No, I suppose that is true." Light looked back over his shoulder at the house. "You should probably go back – no doubt people wish to speak with you."

"I would be inclined to point out that your father is much more likely to miss your presence than dear Quillsh is to miss mine."

Light heaved another sigh and stood up grudgingly.

"I suppose you are right." He started off across the lawn, L following him whilst tugging at his uncomfortable cravat.

The party was much the same bland canvas as before – women in their dresses laughing together and men polishing their monocles and adjusting their hats whilst discussing politics and money. In this day and age, there were worse places to be, certainly, but even so…

It was uninspiring.

"I have served my hour to you, Quillsh, old friend," L murmured mincingly to the elderly man on cutting into his conversation.

"Indeed." Quillsh adjusted his glasses. "You are free to take your leave, since you were as good as your word."

L gave a nod and sauntered off towards the door, passing Light, who had rejoined his father and was being talked about but not to.

"Where are you going?" Light called after him in Japanese.

"Light, you must speak this fair country's language whilst you are a guest here," Detective-Inspector Yagami reprimanded him sharply in English.

Light blinkedat him, not understanding anything but his own name; L came back, smiling serenely at his father.

"It is my doing," he said lazily, putting his hand on Light's shoulder. "I encouraged him to communicate in his own language."

He gave the elder Yagami a nod and led the younger one away; his father didn't seem to pursue the matter and went back to his idle chatter.

"I apologise," Light sighed in Japanese. "I know that it is rude of me to expect you to speak in my language when I am a guest in your country, but I find it so difficult to understand what anybody is saying when they address me in English. The structure of spoken English here is so very different to what I have learned."

"I concur; English is a ridiculously complicated language with too many regional dialects to count."

"Yes, I…" Light blinked, realising that L had led him out into the empty entrance hall. "…Where are we going, may I ask?"

"I have been granted leave of that wretched ceremony – I made a deal with Quillsh. I am now retiring to my room, where I do not have to pretend that I enjoy the company of Quillsh's drunken benefactors. Since you also seem insufferably bored, I am rescuing you from the same fate. By the by, I take back my earlier statement – your father seems to me to be a good, honest man, but I do not think he will miss your presence at all."

"A fair point." Light smiled. "I thank you for your rescuing of me, then, sir."

"Not at all. Besides, if you are genuinely interested in becoming a detective yourself, then perhaps you should observe my equipment. I daresay my methods differ greatly to your father's."

Light gave an enthusiastic nod.

"Yes, I think I should find that of great interest."

L's room was on the topmost floor, just below the attic; large, with an exceptionally high ceiling and tall, thin windows that stretched nearly the entire length of the wall. They were framed with tarnished brass and bolted shut, presumably to conserve heat in such a huge, high-up room. The remains of a fire glowed orange in the iron fireplace, lighting the room with a dull pumpkin-coloured glow and adding a little more warmth. But for the metal-framed bed shoved the corner of the room, a desk and a chair, the room was absent of furniture – but what it lacked in furnishing, it made up for with the sheer volume of books that littered every surface, piled up precariously in weaving stacks. Half of the desk was also taken up by stacks of papers and various articles of chemistry apparatus.

"I hope it does not cross your mind to complain about the disorganisation of my belongings," L said flatly, closing the door as Light stepped into the middle of the floor, looking around in silence. "It is all I hear from dear Quillsh."

"Not at all, actually." Light glanced at him, smiling. "On the contrary, I rather like it. This is exactly how I have imagined a detective's quarters to be."

"Oh?" L shrugged off his jacket, crossing the floor to approach his desk, passing Light as he did so. "And, pray tell, exactly how much of your time do you spend imagining what a detective's quarters might be like?"

Light flushed.

"That… what was not what I—"

L laughed.

"As flattered as I am that you appear to take me so seriously, Light-kun, I was merely jesting." He hung his jacket over the back of his chair, then pulled his cravat loose and tossed it over his jacket. "You are welcome to remove your jacket," he added. "I do not employ a formal dress code in here."

"Oh, of course." Light unbuttoned his jacket, giving it to L, who unceremoniously threw it over on top of his own garments – Light kept his scarlet cravat on, however, tucked into his dark brown waistcoat. He glanced about again, looking up at the high shelves packed with books. "Do you do all of your work from this room?"

"Usually. Sometimes a first-hand crime scene analysis is required, but normally I can just work from this room, yes."

"I am very impressed."

"I thank you." L wasn't looking at Light anymore, more preoccupied with rummaging through the drawers of his desk, presumably in search of something.

"Are you trained in Chemistry?" Light asked, looking at the equipment cluttered on the desk.

"I have a fairly broad knowledge of the subject, but it is largely self-taught." L surfaced with some matches, lighting up the gas lamp perched at the far end of the desk. "There, that is much better."

He went back into the drawer as Light drifted towards the bed, drawn by the shelf stacked with black-and-gold volumes nailed above it.

"I do not think I have ever seen so many books outside of a library building," the boy noted, running his fingertips over their ridged edges.

"I pride myself on having read most of them," L replied, clearly distracted by something else over on the desk.

"I should imagine so."

"Do they help you to solve your cases?"

"Some of the time. Do not be disheartened, however. I doubt that they are required reading pertaining to a career as a successful detective, private or not."

Light smiled, more to himself.

"That is good to know. I doubt that many of these have been translated into Japanese."

"Then you will simply have to improve your English, if you desire to read them."

Light turned towards the detective; though more because his attention had been caught by the sudden burning smell permeating the room.

"If I might inquire… what are you doing?" he asked, leaning over the older man's shoulder.

"Breaking a promise." L gave a neutral sigh, tilting the small porcelain pipe he was holding this way and that over the flame of a tiny gaslit Bunsen burner. "I swore I would not touch it tonight, but… I've been working on a tough case so I have not had any for days."

Light blinked at him, thoroughly taken aback by this sudden revelation.

"I… I apologise, are you… addicted to some kind of stimulant…?" he managed to get out.

"A narcotic, actually." L lifted the pipe from the flame and examined it. "Opium."

Light thought it notable that the man had only corrected his categorising of the drug and not the fact that he'd put him as being "addicted" to it. He backed away a little, though L only looked at him boredly as he turned off the flame and brought the thin pipe up to his mouth to breathe in the intoxicating smoke.

"Do you fear me now?" he asked flatly, breathing out smoke with his words. "Because I am not as perfect as you first thought me?" He gave a snort. "Modern society rules that the taking of drugs, be they narcotic, stimulant or hallucinogenic, is a filthy habit – still, it is a more common practice than you would imagine. I can guarantee you that at least half of the guests downstairs sport addictions of their own. Alcohol, tobacco, opium…"

"That does not make it right!" Light replied hotly.

L laughed.

"Ah, the righteous ignorance of youth. How I miss it." He leaned up against the desk, toying with his opium pipe idly. "You have not had time to sin, so can only see one perspective. I am probably not all that much your elder, Light-kun, but I am a detective, and have been for several years. I deal with people, the way they think, why they do certain things, and if I have learned any one thing, it is that humans are not perfect. We, as a species, are not gods. It is in our nature to be cruel, to do "bad" things. Of course, most people will not accept this, and that is a childish viewpoint to take, is my honest opinion. Of course it is not right to kill a fellow human being, but it is clear that we have evolved with that instinct within us. If it was not in our nature we would not do it. And so, this…" L held the pipe out towards Light, smirking. "…I am not ashamed of this. Other people would have me be so, but I accept it and do not scorn myself for it, because I accept that I am not a god."

He drew on the drug again contentedly.

"Incidentally," he went on lazily, "opium use is very common nowadays. It is popular here in Britain, and as for China, India and many of the Arabic countries… it is not even illegal there. I know for a fact that Morocco has a very good opium trade."

He deftly twirled the pipe over his slender fingers, holding it out to Light.

"Would you like to try it?" he asked nonchalantly.

Light stepped right back from him, his chocolate eyes wide.

"No, I would not!" he said sharply. "I thank you kindly for the offer to poison myself, sir, but it is an offer I will not take you up on. I confess I am surprised at you – a man of your prestige and intelligence, not least!"

L smiled.

"On the contrary, this is not a drug for those who are… 'simple of mind', shall we say?" He passed Light lazily, going to the window. "Its effects are profound, often mind-bending; its use makes you philosophically potent, if you will. Many of the world's greatest poets, writers and thinkers produced their greatest works whilst under the influence of opium, and all are regarded as men of great intellect. Indeed, it would drive a simple-minded man to madness, I daresay."

"And that is supposed to sway me beneath your will?" Light spat.

"Hardly. I have noted previously that you appear strong-minded. I think I would be rather disappointed if I was able to sway you so easily, Light-kun."

"Then what is your goal in speaking of its charms?"

"I am educating you." L leaned up against the window, looking out rather than at his guest. "Your opinion of opium is… somewhat ignorant, at best."

He glanced over his shoulder at the boy.

"Forgive me, but I think it is credit undue to you, to suppose that you may speak of opium and its effects on the human mind if you have had no experience of it."

"It is addictive, is it not?" Light said icily.

"Certainly, with constant and prolonged use." L gave a cool little smile. "It is a habit long formed within me; I confess to my addiction, but I will not confess to having become addicted immediately after first beginning to use it, because it is not true. Incidentally, I do not believe it an impossible habit to break – I merely continue my usage of it because it a vice that I enjoy, and also my only vice. Tobacco and alcohol hold little charm for me. I should rather be a profound fool than a drunken one, do you not agree?"

"I should rather be neither, sir," Light responded coldly.

L shrugged.

"Perhaps," he concurred, leaning against the window frame and leisurely inhaling the drug over which their argument had formed, "but be that as it may, I confess that I would most certainly be intrigued to see exactly what kind of effect opium has on a mind as acute as yours."

"Your flattery is wasted."

"I expected that it might be."

Light gave a snort of disgust and snatched up his jacket.

"I am leaving," he said. "I thank you for your invitation up here."

"You are welcome." L still didn't look at him, just standing up against the window with his forearm pressed to the glass, the fingers of that hand slackly gripping the slender opium pipe.

Light gave a nod that was reflected in the glass, though L didn't seem to acknowledge it, and the boy crossed the floor of L's room without another word, approaching the door; but then, as he reached it, he slowed and stopped, looking back at the detective, the opium smoke plaited around him like intricately-weaved grey lace.

"…What was it that made you start?" he asked, clutching at his jacket as though for security.

For a long, painful moment, L didn't answer; and Light began to think that the detective was either lost in his opium-nuanced thoughts or merely ignoring him to be obtuse. He reached for the door handle, resigned to the fact that he was probably not going to get an answer. But—

"Escape," L said. It was all he said, but it was enough to make Light drop his hand and turn again towards him.

"Escape?" he repeated.

L gave an absent nod, finally turning back towards the boy.

"It cannot be denied," he said, "that the world is a mess. Of course, it is humans who make it so, with their wars, their weapons, their machines and their pollution. Of course, those are things that I alone cannot change – as a detective, I focus on the pettier crimes of humanity. Murder, theft, kidnap. But for every case I solve, there are ten more; for every ten, a hundred. It is an endless cycle of self-inflicted pain and it is not going to change. It has always existed – these things have always existed – and they always will. Even in this modern age, a man will still cut another's throat for his loose change."

L lazily twirled his opium pipe again.

"This," he said of it, "does not solve the problem – but it makes me forget about it for a while, and that is what I need sometimes. When I am working on a case, a murder, perhaps, sometimes I will grow frustrated and ask myself what the point is, why solve it, why catch the perpetrator, since no matter if I do or I do not, it will inevitably happen again, and will happen still a thousand times more? That is when I need my fix of this. It does not restore my faith in humanity, but it stops me from loathing it so much that I sit back and allow it to spiral towards its own destruction."

Light dropped his jacket, coming closer again, as though drawn in by some spell L's gospel about the baseness of humanity had cast upon him.

"Sometimes," he said softly, "I feel that very way also."

L gave a dry smile.

"Then perhaps a greater detective than you or I would be a man filled with a greater hope for the future of humanity," he said. "Still, perhaps a man of such greatness does not exist. He would have to be immovably selfless, and I do not think such a human being exists. It is not in our nature to put others before ourselves – this is what causes crime to begin with."

"We are going to destroy ourselves, aren't we?"

"Perhaps not in our lifetime, but yes, certainly we are going to destroy ourselves."

"…Unless someone does something about it."

L seemed amused.

"Such as what?"

Light faltered.

"I… I do not know, exactly."

"Well, if you did, you would be hailed as either a genius or a madman." L tilted his head. "Perhaps both. Still, the idea of one man changing the world is… unthinkable."

"It could be done," Light said defensively.

"I said 'unthinkable', not 'impossible'," L replied languidly, going to his bed and flopping down on it; he beckoned Light to join him. "I do not know if it would be right, either way."

Light hesitated, then crossed the rest of the room and sat tentatively on the edge of bed, looking intently at L.

"But if the outcome was that evil no longer existed," he said, "then—"

"Oh, now you speak of extinguishing evil from the world?" L studied the ceiling intently, leaning back against the metal headboard of his bed. "An admirable goal, but I do wonder how one might go about such a pursuit."

"W-well, I…" Light blinked, then trailed off, apparently lost for words.

Also wordlessly, L once more offered out the opium; Light scowled at him.

"I have a feeling," L said airily, "that this conversation will be a lot more interesting if you free your mind up a little – replace your despising of humanity with a more accessible philosophy of reasoning. Forgive me for glamorising something which you appear to have little interest in, but I am neither stupid nor ignorant of botany. I would not be smoking it myself if I knew it capable of killing me. And incidentally… the experience of something is worth all the written information in the world on it."

Light was silent for another moment more, clearly battling with his simultaneous rile and curiosity, his own feelings and L's smooth coaxing; there was something about this man, something that made Light feel that he always got his own way, and despite the fact that Light himself was pretty good at getting his own way too, L seemed to be more skilled at it…

Though maybe it was just the stray opium that had made its way into the air getting to him already…

Still without a word, he took the smooth, slender pipe from L's dainty grasp and, after further hesitation, brought it to his mouth; L leaned forward towards him, smiling lazily as he watched the boy inhale on it, then start coughing.

"That happened to me too at first," he said cheerfully. "It will take a while for your lungs to get used to it."

Light blindly tried to hand it back, but L pushed it back towards him.

"No, take another. It will be better."

Light obediently dragged on the thing again, irritating his throat and lungs further and coughing more frenetically. He thrust the pipe back at L, at which the detective took it.

"I do… not like that at all," Light managed to get out breathlessly.

"You will when it kicks in. Do you think I smoke it because I like to fill my lungs with smoke?"

Light looked up at him hazily; already his eyes had taken on a slightly glassy appearance, and he leaned backwards a little, resting his back against the wall the bed was pushed up to.

"I do not… feel a thing," he said softly, his voice less aggressive and convictive.

L smiled, more to himself, taking a final draw on the opium pipe before reaching over and laying it on the corner of the desk to burn the remainder of itself away into the air.

"How would Light-kun change the world, then?" he asked, folding his arms and returning to their previous topic. "I am curious. If his idea is good, then perhaps he shall one day take my title from me."

"I… I think," Light said quietly, "that if evil were to be removed from the world, the world would be a better place."

L tilted his head.

"Whilst I agree," he said, "such a notion is not practical, is my opinion. Evil has always existed, and thus it always will. It is bred into us. This is what depresses me so."

"It is certainly bred into humans," Light agreed, rubbing at his hair, "but that does not mean that all humans will do evil things. I have never done a truly evil thing, I do not think."

"So it is your assumption that only some people are evil?"

Light gave a small nod.

"Yes, I should think so. It is only a small percentage of people who will kill or steal or rape. I…" The boy paused, as though debating whether or not he should say what he was thinking. "…I think that… if those people were to be removed—"

"Removed?" L interrupted, sitting up straighter. "And how would you remove these evil people, Light-kun?"

Light gave a shrug.

"I… I suppose the only option would be… be to kill them…"

L sat up straighter still, leaning forwards.

"That is a dangerous thing to say, Light-kun."

"That is not to say that I would," Light replied irritably. "One would need to possess a rather more twisted sense of justice than I believe myself to hold. I mean, I suppose that if one were given a means to kill without getting his hands dirty, any man might convince himself that he is doing the right thing… But the meditation of such a regime and the actual execution of it are still many worlds apart, sir."

L was nodding again.

"That is true." He looked intently at Light. "Of course, if someone like that were to appear – some kind of phantom murderer, declaring himself a god… I would be forced to take action against him."

"Even if he was changing the world for the better?"

"Well, I presume that such a being would target the criminal classes, if that was his goal, but even so… it would still be considered murder."

Light gave a small sigh.

"I suppose so," he agreed, looking up at L's ceiling.

"Still," L said with a smile, his gaze still on his young guest, "if such a phantom killer ever arises, ridding the world of those he deems to be wicked, I suppose I shall know exactly who to arrest, hm?"

Light gave a weak little laugh.

"Indeed, sir."

"You may call me L, Light-kun; there is no need to be so formal."

"But surely 'L' is a formal codename that you use?"

"It is also my actual name." L drew his knees up to his chest like a child, blinking at Light. "It is a fact that not many people know."

"Then are you sure you want me to know?"

"It is too late now, Light-kun."

Light gave another small laugh, this one more amused.

"True, true…"

"How are you feeling, anyway?"

Light gave a contented little sigh.

"Good, I would say. I do not think myself capable of writing an epic work of poetry (1),but you are certainly correct – this is very pleasant indeed."

"I am glad you feel that way."

"I believe I can see why you are addicted to this."

"Would you like some more?"

"No, I cannot say I care for the smoke."

"It can be injected."

Light blinked at the detective.

"I cannot say I would care much for that either," he said.

"Nor do I. I do not think it very safe."

Light gave a lazy smile, then a small yawn.

"I believe it is making me drowsy also," he said. "This is common?"

"If you are unused to it, yes. It is an intriguing substance, at any rate – associated with a great many things."

"Such as?"

"Wealth, artistic genius, seduction, sexual intercourse…"

"Is that so?"

L gave a meditative nod, then pried himself up and went to the desk, pawing through books until he found a green leather-bound one, returning to the bed with it. He flicked through it, finding the page he wanted and pushing it out towards Light.

"Botany," he said. "This book, I mean to say. And this page explains about the properties of opium. Do you know much about botany, Light-kun?"

Light shook his head, squinting down at the page as he took the book.

"I apologise," he said after a short while, handing the book back. "I know little of botany, but more importantly, I cannot read the text in this book."

"You cannot?" L looked at the book himself. "Oh, it is in German.Of course. I am very sorry."

He closed it and put it aside on the sheets, tilting his head to gaze intently at Light for a moment or two; the boy caught his gaze and gave him a mellow little smile.

"Do you speak German?" he asked.

L gave a nod, leaning closer to Light.

"What is the matter?" the boy asked, suddenly seeming wary.

"Nothing," L replied, and he kissed him.

At first, Light didn't seem overtly bothered by this advance, kissing back and leaning in towards the detective; but then he opened his eyes and blinked a few times, finally shoving the older man away.

"You… you just kissed me…!" he stammered, his voice very quiet.

L rolled his eyes and gave a nod.

"Yes, I did." He tilted his head again, glancing at Light through fronds of raven hair. "And before you so kindly point it out, I am aware that we are both male."

Light leaned in towards him again, his expression very harassed.

"I had no idea you were a… a homosexual, sir!" he hissed.

L gave a shrug.

"I do not consider myself as such. I do not consider myself to be anything, really. I have no particular dislike of women, but I also have little interest in them, and they in I. We have little in common."

"I may not speak your language very well," Light said firmly, "but I know about the laws of your country, and thus I know that homosexuality is against the law here, and… and, well, you are a detective!"

"I would never arrest a man for being a homosexual. That is an utterly ridiculous reason for which to throw someone into prison, do you not agree?"

"That does not—"

"Listen," L interrupted wearily, laying a hand on Light's shoulder, "I have obviously unsettled and offended you with my actions, and for that I apologise most profusely. It is not that I judged you to be a homosexual yourself, it is just… well, it cannot be denied that you are an attractive young man, and additionally I expect that the opium played its part. I will not be offended by your leaving now, and again, my apologies, Light-kun."

"I…" Light didn't move, but averted his gaze to the floor; he gave a sigh and shifted on the mattress.

L lay back against the headboard again, tugging his waistcoat straight.

"To give you a fair warning," he said expressionlessly, "you may feel at this moment that you do not want to leave, and would in fact prefer to simply kiss me back. That is most likely the opium.

Light looked up.

"You think me quite naïve, do you not, sir?"

L looked lazily at him.

"You seem so, I confess," he replied.

Light fidgeted for a moment in silence.

"Let me ask another question, then," he said at length. "If it were simply the opium that made me want to kiss you back… is that something to which you would object?"

L smirked.

"No," he replied, taking hold of Light's scarlet cravat and pulling him down to his level. "I cannot say that it is."

L would have been lying if he'd ever said that he had never used opium as a means of numbing the feeling of guilt; it was certainly true that he was more relaxed on gazing at the sight of Detective-Inspector Yagami's teenaged son curled up naked and asleep in his bed only a few feet away now that he'd refilled and relit the tiny porcelain pipe and was lazily smoking it at his desk.

He hadn't meant for it to go that far, of course; but it had and now all he could do was sit and watch the boy sleep while gradually getting less and less worried about it.

Opium had been the cause and now it could damn well be the cure too.

The detective exhaled deeply, leaning back with his hands behind his head, smoke curling up into the air, letting his attention wander away from Light and over to the high, narrow window next to the bed. He was so focused on the dancing shadows cast by the gaslight that his poisoned mind had distorted out of all proportion that he didn't notice the knock on the door, nor indeed the opening of it.

"L," Quillsh said, leaning into the room, "Detective-Inspector Yagami was curious as to just where his son has gotten to…"

The elderly inventor trailed off, stepping right into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him in aghast silence.

L looked over his shoulder at him languidly.

"Hello, Quillsh, old friend," he said flatly.

"Are… are you smoking opium?" Quillsh hissed, crossing to him.

"Oh, of course, how rude of me…" L extended his hand. "Would you like some?"

"You know damn well that I would not like any of your filthy poison!" Quillsh snapped. "You swore to me that you would not… that you…"

L gave a cool little laugh.

"Quillsh, however good my intentions, let us not forget that I am an addict."

"And this is why…!" Quillsh took a deep breath, composing himself. "Very well, I will not shout at you over it – you are a grown man, after all. If you want to slowly kill yourself, then I shall let that be."

"How kind of you, Quillsh."

"Where is the boy?" Quillsh asked snippily. "I saw you leave the party with him well over an hour ago."

Wordlessly, L pointed towards the bed with his opium pipe, where Light was nuzzled up in the sheets.

"Oh, good god…" Quillsh breathed in horror. "Is… is he unclothed?"

"Indeed."

"Then… then you mean… you…?"

"Indeed."

"Oh, L, for mercy's sake…" Quillsh shook the detective roughly, as though trying to physically shake sense into him. "Can I not leave you unattended for two damn minutes?"

"It was rather a while longer than two minutes, Quillsh."

Quillsh fixed his horror-struck gaze on Light again; the boy shifted contentedly in his slumber.

"I do not believe this," the inventor groaned. "This is absolutely disgusting behaviour – you ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself."

"I expect I will be," L agreed blandly, "when this wears off."

"Right, well, I have had quite enough of this," Quillsh snapped, snatching the slender pipe from L's fingers. He threw it onto the floor and stamped on it, shattering the thin porcelain beneath his heel. "…And I have had quite enough of this kind of behaviour, this intellectual arrogance of yours…"

L hadn't reacted at all to Quillsh's destruction of his precious opium fix, and again didn't flinch when the older man grabbed him by his shirt collar and shook him once more.

"Now you listen to me," Quillsh spat. "You are going to wake that boy up and apologise to him, and then you are going to make him get dressed and you are going to personally escort him downstairs and return him to his father, do I make myself perfectly clear?"

L gave a bored nod and Quillsh let him go, stomping out of the room and slamming the door without another word.

L rocked his chair back and forwards for a few moments, debating defiance of Quillsh's orders. Eventually he decided that such a course of action was most likely not for the best, given that Quillsh knew him too well and might indeed expect him to ignore his demands, thus sending up the boy's father himself to retrieve him…

No, opium had its wonderful way of painting the world in colours more mellow, but even so, that was a scenario that L decided that he would quite like to avoid.

The detective went to the bed and shook Light awake, peeling back the sheets to allow the cool air of the room to awaken him properly. Light shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows, apparently confused as to where he was.

"Have you forgotten me already, Light-kun?" L asked languidly, handing him up his shirt.

"No, of… of course not," Light replied softly, a slight dust of scarlet rising to his face as he looked away, unable to meet the older man's gaze.

"Are you ashamed of our actions?"

Light didn't answer this time, distractedly pulling his shirt back on and buttoning it. L gave a little sigh in response to the obvious avoidance and got up, going back to his desk.

"Well, regardless of whether you are or not," he said flippantly, leafing through an ancient copy of Dante's Divine Comedy in disinterest, "I am afraid I must nonetheless evict you from my chamber with haste, given that your father has been asking after you in your absence."

Light looked up in alarm.

"Why… why did you not inform me so at once, sir?" he asked, kicking off the sheets and retrieving his clothes more hurriedly.

"That would have seemed a rather rude form of awakening you to me."

He decided not to mention Quillsh and his barging in here; though his attention was drawn from both his old friend and his new one by the sight of his shattered opium pipe on the carpet. It was the only one he'd had and it was irreparable – he supposed he could always venture on a quest for another, but they were not easy to obtain due to the social stigma attached to the using of the drug itself.

He'd been thinking it was time to move on, anyway…

"Oh." Light had come to notice the smashed porcelain on the bedroom floor now too, and paused before it, blinking. "Whatever happened to your opium pipe? Surely it cannot have smashed on this carpet?"

"No, of course not." L smiled thinly at the boy, opening the desk drawer again and rifling through it. "I crushed it myself. I grow tired of opium. After years of prolonged use, its effects weaken, and incidentally, I recall telling you that the smoke is something I do not care much for."

"Is it a habit that you shall endeavour to quit, then?"

L gave a cool little laugh to this.

"And allow my mind to rot in this depraved wasteland? Ah, sir, that is something that I simply could not endure, you may be certain. No, in its place I think I shall instead simply replace its charm."

Light paused in his dressing.

"Not… cocaine, I hope?"

"Nothing so drastic – no, I should rather keep within those of the same origin. Opium is a stem from which other narcotics have recently been developed. I daresay you know of morphine?"

"I have heard of it, yes."

"Heroin, perhaps?"

Light blinked.

"That one is not familiar to me."

"I thought not. It is a very new development. Illegal but for medicinal use, of course." L seemed to have finally found what he was looking for in his desk drawer, holding out a little paper packet in his oddly delicate grasp. "Highly dangerous, one could say."

Light blinked again, this time taking a step back.

"You… you have some?"

L gave a lazy nod, glancing at the packet.

"For quite a while. It must be injected, thus I have put off trying it for this long. But, who knows… perhaps it is time to try something new."

"But you said it was dangerous!" Light replied sharply.

"Indeed I did. Highly dangerous, in fact. As with all drugs, an overdose can kill, though the exact amount that an overdose of heroin constitutes is… uncertain, at best."

"Then you should not take it! You might overdose yourself by accident."

L tilted his head, smiling at the boy.

"Your concern for my welfare is appreciated, Light-kun; but I believe such a warning too late now. That danger is errant with the taking of all drugs. Might I kill myself doing it? Certainly so, it is a distinct possibility; but better yet, a more pressing question is why do I pursue something which may kill me so fanatically at all? May I take the liberty of comparing it to your phantom scourge of the criminal classes, then, Light-kun? I would pursue such a man, and thus, such a man would endeavour to kill me, I have no doubt. So why pursue him?"

"But that is different!" Light argued. "You do not have to take your drugs. The world will be no less ill if you do not!"

"But yet I would be forced endure that world so ill already. Perhaps your phantom murderer might replace my need for these narcotics – if I could pursue something truly challenging, I would not fear madness as I do. But alas, there is nothing of the sort, and whilst I would not wish such evil upon the sickness already existing in the world, the fact that such a being is mere fantasy is what drives me to such distraction. If there is no fellow of villainous intent intelligent enough to truly challenge me, then I must seek my destruction elsewhere."

Seeing Light struck silent by this, whether he agreed with it or not, L once more held up his little paper packet.

"I shall declare it, then," he said; "pray, what is the morrow's date?"

"The fifth day of November, sir."

"Then so it shall be; on the fifth day of November, in this, the year of 1886, that I shall exchange one addiction for another." That was it; at this, L threw the packet back into the drawer and waved his hand at Light, who was fully dressed by this point. "Come, Light-kun; I have been ordered to escort you downstairs myself."

"What if you kill yourself?" Light asked in a low voice.

"A fact of mankind is that all men seek their own destruction," L replied blandly as they started across the room. "Why else would we do things that are wrong; that are frowned upon?"

"I do not agree with that, L," Light replied icily, knowing he was referring to more than just the drugs.

"That is because you are young; but it is true that even a man with the most generous of intentions will eventually destroy himself. He would be a fool not to, I think; this is a small thesis of mine, at any rate, and just another reason why your concern for me is appreciated, but wasted nonetheless."

"What is?"

"The fact that," L said softly, not even looking at Light anymore, "if I do not destroy myself… something else will."

First of all, I don't want to hear any fangirly rants about the liberties I took in making L being addicted to drugs. Despite the fact that the guy does look kind of stoned 24/7 and thus really fits Mitch Hedberg's voice on fan-dubbed YouTube videos, I do not mean to imply that he is actually very likely to be stoned in the canon Death Note (or on cocaine, heroin, whatevs…).

As, by this point you'll have no doubt noticed, this is an AU, the characters are not completely canon – notice the obvious non-Kira-ness of Light, to start with.

Also, I don't want any sermons about opium or opium use or opium dens or anything. I was already ranted at (nicely, of course) by my beta reader AutumnDynasty, who, being a Pharmacy student, had a three-hour lab on the stuff.

…That sounds like I'm saying "Don't say anything nasty in your review". That's not what I mean; by all means, if there's something you don't like or whatever, please feel free to voice your opinion.

I just don't want to hear about the evils of opium or the evils of me in making L addicted to it. It's a replacement for his near-suicidal obsession with chasing Kira, and, to a lesser extent, cake. I guess it's also reflective of Sherlock Holmes, who was addicted to cocaine.

Okay. Now that that's out of the way… three cheers for Watari being referred to by his first name, L wearing something other than jeans and Light not being an 'I'm-so-awesome-go-me!' serial killer!

Incidentally, this was another point that AutumnDynasty ranted about – that Light is kind of naïve in this. This is true, I don't deny it. She suggested it as something that I work on, but I wasn't really sure how to do it. I can't say I really know much about how Japan was in the 1880s. Would Light have been the arrogant, self-serving ladies' (yet clearly gay) man that he is the modern day? I was thinking that a differing society might affect that aspect of him. Maybe he would have been naïve.

She was also wondering about whether or not L had actually committed a crime in sleeping with Light. On the homosexuality side, certainly – Oscar Wilde got tossed into jail for two years for a number of things, but the real reason was because of his blatant homosexuality. On the age side… I don't think so. The consensual age for sex in the UK is 16, but I think that's a quite a recent thing. I'm not sure it even existed even 50 years ago – and Light in this is meant to be about 17-18.

Anyway… yeah. It's just some random little Victorian-style slant on Death Note.

Super-sparkly-special thankyou to AutumnDynasty for being an excellent beta reader! She has a beta profile and everything, you know – you guys should look her up if you want something thoroughly checked up and beaten into shape for you.

…And now she's going to kill me. :(

RobinRocks xXx

(1) Reference to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who wrote Kubla Khan after an opium/laudanum-induced dream