A/N: Inspired by the quote near the end, which I got from my Moral Problems text book. It's such a great class; I can relate pretty much all of the moral problems back to Death Note. And of course picture L and Raito battling it out over which view is right. And then making out. IT'S AWESOME.

Ultimatum

A single salty tear hangs off the point of Lawliet's nose for several conspicuous seconds, drawing out its inevitable fall. Finally it gives up its hold and drops with a miniature 'splat' onto the document spread before L on the desk.

Startled, L stares in wonder at the little burst of moisture spreading across the paper, the scrawling letters of his penmanship seeping and blurring blue ink across the spot.

L has never cried before in his life.

Not when his parents died, not when the children at the orphanage locked him in a closet for 12 hours before anyone noticed he was missing, not even when his strawberry birthday cake took a tumble and landed upside down on the floor the year he turned 20.

Leaning back from where he was crouched with his face centimeters above the paper, L tries to puzzle out his own emotions. It isn't a skill he often utilized, mostly because emotions are largely unnecessary to him, but also because he finds them to be distasteful.

However, he cannot have himself actually tearing up in front of the court tomorrow. He needs to be as put together as possible, even if he is only addressing the judge and jury through his computer.

Snuffling into the microphone would simply not do.

So L curls into a tighter ball on his rolling chair and digs into his psyche. What, exactly, does he have to be upset about?

The first answer that comes to mind is, 'positively nothing'.

This seems logical, as he has only recently succeeded in finally exposing and convicting Kira. This same Kira is now confined in the exact cell Raito had been kept in during the early days of the investigation.

Unlike last time, though, security is currently at an all time high.

After Raito confessed to being the killer Kira, L convinced him to explain everything. As a result, the boy is now cuffed hand and foot, blindfolded and gagged, with noise-blocking wax shoved into his ears, laying crumpled on the bare floor. He's being monitored electronically by a team of 32 specialists, who report back to L every 30 minutes.

After the hearing tomorrow, which L has no doubt will rule against Kira, he will be executed. The world will be free, and, more importantly, L will have won.

So why the tear?

Justice has prevailed, there is nothing to be sad about.

Except for Raito's death, a small part of L's brain whispers. L's eyes widen in shock; he hadn't thought of that.

Of course, he knew that terminating Kira meant terminating Raito as well, but he had never considered the possibility that such an event might be unpleasant to him.

But…the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. After all, the whole reason Raito had confessed in the first place was, as Raito had put it, "I'm an idiot, and I'm in love with you".

Certainly, that sentiment hadn't affected L at the time. He had been too excited at finally extracting a confession from the boy.

L replays the scene in his head. He's standing on the roof of the building, rain rushing in cold rivulets down his face. In short time, Raito is soaking wet as well. Then they're inside, and L is kneeling down to dry Raito's feet, because feet intrigue him, and Raito has particularly nice ones.

Then Raito is rubbing L's hair with a towel, and L looks up with a question in his eyes. Raito's honey-toned eyes lock with his, his hand traveling from L's tangle of hair to cup the man's jawline.

And he confesses. L takes him into custody. And that's that.

Somehow, though, L's heart is trying to tell him there's more.

For two hours, L sits in his chair and goes through the scene, over and over, looking for something he missed.

On his 346th try, he finds it, and that's when the tears really start.

L finds out rather quickly that he is not a beautiful crier. His body quakes with racking sobs, and his nose gives way to a torrent of moisture, mixing with the salt from his eyes, which are huge and puffy and red. He rocks back and forth in his chair, spittle flying from his lips as the gasps and hacking cries escape his throat. He digs his fingernails into his forearms and goes through hell.

Finally, he exhausts himself and collapses, unconscious, on top of his paperwork, smearing the lettering on the document arranging Raito's execution.

L Lawliet is in love.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When he comes to, L is in exactly the same position he fell asleep in.

His first thoughts are blurred; his head feels clogged with moisture. Immediately, he wonders where Raito is, and why the boy isn't curled up sleeping beside him.

As he remembers the situation, L almost gives in to another crying jag, but this time manages to restrain himself.

For a few measly minutes, he tries to turn his attention to filling out Raito's death certificate, but he can't concentrate.

The only thing he can think of is Raito, his head is filled with the boy, with his auburn hair and honey eyes, massive intellect and biting wit.

L has always been terrible at denying himself anything, and this turns out to be no exception.

On the way to Raito's holding cell, he turns back exactly 52 times, only to turn around once more and keep going. It takes some doing to convince the specialists to turn the cameras off and let him in; he didn't hire them because they were incompetent push-overs.

But L is L, possibly the most powerful and influential person in the world, and people just don't say 'no' to that.

It feels like a wild animal is inside his stomach, trying to claw its way out, as L lays his fingertips on the special touch-sensitive pad, waiting for the system to recognize him and grant entrance to the cell. L realizes vaguely that he's nervous.

Then he's inside, and as the door swings shut behind him L's gaze immediately fixes on the black bundle of bones that is Raito, curled on his side on a corner of the room.

Oddly, looking at his still form, L feels nothing. The love he only recently discovered is curiously absent. He can't even recognize this person as Raito.

Then the figure shudders and twitches, and a scream comes from its mouth, muffled by the cotton gag. Suddenly Raito's body goes completely stiff, and the yell is sharply cut off, replaced by slow, measured breathes as the boy calms himself down and relaxes.

It's so very Raito, refusing to give in to the panic of being on death row, of having the one you hoped to love and save you hand you over to the guillotine, that L is suddenly hit by a wave of the strongest emotion he's ever felt.

In three long strides he's at Raito's side, wrapping his arms around the boy and hauling his frail body into his lap. Part of L's mind wonders when was the last time Raito was fed, as he curls his neck somewhat awkwardly over the boy's shoulder, breathing in his musky scent.

Raito stiffens, obviously repressing a surge of surprise and terror. Then he breathes in, and evidently something he smells alerts him to the fact that this is L, this is the person he loves, because a muffled cry tears its way from his throat, and he flings his body weight forward, head pressing desperately to L's shoulder.

L holds him tighter, tears seeping from his eyes for the second time in his life, the first being earlier that day, and runs his hands urgently through Raito's hair, desperate to feel the way it slides between his fingers, cool and silky.

His hand slides down to the small of Raito's neck, cupping the back of his head and tilting it upward. He meets the boy's lips ferociously around the gag, fighting to taste all of Raito that he can.

Raito moans through the cotton, a hint of desperation in his tone, pressing into L's kiss with all the force his weak body can muster. L's hands are all over him, caressing him, possessing him, and Raito wishes he had use of all his senses.

Soon they're on the floor, L wrapped around Raito's awkward form, his arms twining through the chains and handcuffs to slide under Raito's shirt and press, hard, into his back. His legs are twined with the boy's as well as much as he can manage, and soon he doesn't care whether he is killed, whether anyone is killed, because this gag needs to come off, NOW.

Breathing fast and heavy, he disengages his mouth from Raito's neck, taking his hands from beneath the boy's shirt at the same time. He sees Raito stiffen with panicked fear; he thinks this is it. That L is leaving him.

As soon as he feels the tug at the back of his head, though, he relaxes, and a tiny seed of hope dares to burst open in his heart as he realizes that L is loosening his gag. It takes several minutes; those knot-tiers know their business, but finally the offending article is removed, and L chucks it across the room.

For a moment L just stares, entranced by Raito's lips and the way his tongue runs over them, licking off the blood left behind from days of tight fabric cutting into his mouth.

Then Raito speaks his name, "L", in a voice that's too low, too cracked and husky from abuse and disuse, and L leans down tenderly, placing his lips lightly over the boy's. Slowly, over-annunciating so that Raito will be sure to catch what patterns his mouth is moving in, and hopefully from that figure out what he's saying, he mouths, "Raito…I love you, too".

And although the boy can't hear, he obviously interprets the movement of L's mouth on his own, because all of a sudden L is consumed in a fiery kiss, hot and wet and full of passion and lost opportunities, and LORD but is Raito better with his lips when he doesn't have a gag in his way, and L is losing it, and before he knows it his shirt is off, and Raito's pants are unzipped, and his hands are in places that can only be considered inappropriate, not matter what the situation.

Then he's pulling away, removing his hands, re-zipping Raito's pants, and getting to his feet. He doesn't know why, but he starts to walk towards the door, almost like he's in a trance. "L?! L! Don't leave, please, no, you can't, I LOVE YOU, damn it, I LOVE YOU. Don't go, NO, NO!! You can't leave me here! L!!!!"

And L starts to cry again, but he doesn't stop, doesn't turn around. Just leaves, shutting the huge, thick door behind him and locking it. He can still hear the screams on the other side as he walks away.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It's two days later; the day of Raito's execution, and L hasn't eaten or slept for the last 53 hours.

He's a zombie, dead but living, his heart has gone missing. He suspects he knows who he left it with, but he's not trying too hard to figure it out.

His mind has shut down his soul, and for the moment he's operating on autopilot. Has been for two days, actually.

So it's not exactly surprising when he feels no surge of fear, love, or regret when the guards carry Raito through the door, re-gagged, and lay him out on the doctor's table.

It is mildly distasteful to him to be here, watching Raito be executed by lethal injection, but as the investigation supervisor, he feels he must see the case through to its ultimate conclusion.

It will likely be a nasty business, however. Lethal injections aren't the most pleasant things; sometimes the mix of drugs is just a little off, and the patient isn't fully knocked out or paralyzed. In the worst case scenario, they can be completely conscious for the whole thing, writhing and screaming in excruciating pain for up to half an hour before finally dying.

It's a quick process; the injection is all prepared, all the doctor needs to do is put on his gloves and stick it in Raito's arm. This particular doctor, however, seems to have a flair for the melodramatic.

Pulling the wax out of Raito's left ear and loosening his gag, he asks, in very old Western movie fashion, "Any last words?"

Without hesitation, Raito responds, "Tell L I forgive him. Tell him I forgive him, and I love him".

The entire company, doctor, judge, and several members of the NPA turn their gazes on L.

For 33 full seconds, L has no idea what to do. Then his heart decides to return to its rightful place, and without consent from his brain starts working his vocal cords.

"Upon further investigation I see no need to execute this criminal. His method of killing has been destroyed, and I believe that, with extensive outpatient mental counseling, he may be able recover and lead a practically normal life under my supervision.

"After all, Yagami Raito was arbitrarily bestowed an awe-inspiring, possibly irresistible power to change the world. As Glaucon once stated in Plato's Republic, "No one, it is commonly believed, would have such iron strength of mind as to stand fast in doing right or keep his hands off other men's goods, when he could go to the market-place and fearlessly help himself to anything he wanted, enter houses and sleep with any woman he chose, set prisoners free and kill men at his pleasure, and in a word go about among men with the powers of a god. He would behave no better than the other; both would take the same course".

"Who is to say that anyone of us, had we encountered the Death Note, would not have succumb to its admittedly seductive powers? In short, would the moral man be any better than the criminal? I believe this boy deserves a second chance. Take him back to his cell, untie him, and certainly feed him. Watari will be by in the morning to pick him up and bring him to my residence. I will secure a mental-correctional staff and have them start their work next week. I trust that none of you will oppose my decision".

Nobody said a peep, even Raito, who was beaming from ear to ear.

A/N: p.s. I ALMOST made this excruciatingly sad. But I didn't. You should thank me. :P