It felt like someone decided to cleave L’s head apart with a blunt axe when the detective slowly regained consciousness.

Regained consciousness?

The great L could easily function with five hours of sleep a week. The thought of being out cold was almost enough to elicit a little laugh. Almost.

So what had happened to leave him in such a state? L never dared to drink. It would decrease his deductive ability by a value greater than 40%. Sweet treats never made him ill despite the rate he consumed them at. So what was the reason?

L needed to sit up to think better. He’d never get anywhere laying in bed. Perhaps Wammy would be able to get him a custard danish or two that would warm him right up?

The second he tried sitting up, he was confronted by the clinking of chains. The absurdity startled him so much that his eyes snapped open but L regretted it when looking around made it feeling as if broken glass was rubbing against his eyes. When he let out a small groan, L heard a chuckle.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Lawli,”a familiar voice hummed. L’s blood ran cold.

It couldn’t be. But it was. It was you. He’d know your voice from anywhere. After all, it was you — the only person he’d ever made the mistake of truly considering his equal. Of trusting with everything he had. His partner.

His traitorous partner who went against what he stood for. Justice. Who was just as depraved as the next criminal. The killer behind one of the worst cases he’s ever seen and he was too stupid to let it happen right under his nose.

When he’d caught you, he was foolish to have spoken up for you. He should have let you get the death penalty. He should’ve heeded your threats to kill him but a stupid, emotional part of him cared about you too deeply.

Now here you both were, three years later, with you ready to fulfil your promise.