Rosaline--DN fic--

Rosaline

    L was very young when he was first introduced to death. Five years old to be exact. He had seen movies with Mr. Wammy that had death in them, but L had simply thought that's what old people did; as Mr. Wammy had explained to him so generally. He figured that only the "bad guys" in the western films they saw actually "died", but not even he knew what "death" really was.

    Not until Rosaline.

    Mr. Wammy was making tea in the kitchen, and L was seated on the floor in front of the television. It was morning and L had just awoken a few minutes before and shuffled sleepily into the room while a yawn spread his mouth open wide. The television was set to the morning news, which usually consisted of the same ol', same ol'. However, today's show was not the bright, cheery mood that it usually was.

    "The body of little Rosaline was found earlier today in the woods only a few blocks from her parents' house," said the female anchor in a solemn tone, "The pathologist has declared the case to be a homicide; the cause of death, strangulation. We've also been reported that evidence of sexual assault has been present. You may have known that six-year-old Rosaline was filed as a missing child a month ago by her parents. They were sleeping across the hall when they say Rosaline was abducted through her window. Police are still not ruling them out as suspects, but fingerprints that did not belong to the parents were discovered on the window ledge of Rosaline's bedroom. The investigation still continues. The police say they will keep up updated."

    L was frozen and horror-struck. They showed her pictures several times. She was a pretty child with blond hair and brown eyes and a cute smile. But she was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. But why? She was only a kid, like L. She didn't rob any banks or tie women to railroad tracks. So why did she die? And because of someone else? Why?

    It hurt to think about it, but he could not stop. He kept wondering what she was like before. She was only a child, just like him. She would never be able to play with toys or eat cake or watch cartoons, not anymore. It hurt so much. It made his stomach and his head ache, made him feel queasy as if he had the flu again. His nose started to run and he wiped it on his sleeve. Then his eyes began to leak so he wiped the tears away, but they kept falling. He sniffed and wiped, sniffed and wiped, but his little hands were not quick enough. His bottom lip trembled, and his vision became runny with tears.

    Mr. Wammy came in with the tray of tea and, upon seeing L's sobbing, quickly set it down and went to aide the boy.

    "L," he said, squatting down in front of the child, "Why are you crying?"

    L sniffed, wanting to stop the tears, but failed to do so as they kept overwhelming him. His tiny mouth twisted into a frown. "I'm sad," he said, still attempting to rub his eyes dry.

    "Why are you sad so early in the morning?"

    "B-Because," he sniffed again, "The-the-the little girl d-died." His chest heaved in compulsion as his lung sucked in gulp-fulls of oxygen. He swallowed saliva that lodged itself in his throat.

    Mr. Wammy looked back at the television. He had been following her missing case for a few days, and he knew they would find her body. But L was so young, he didn't have to see this; but now that he had, how would he explain it?

    "W-Why?" the charcoal-haired lad asked in a sniffle, "Why did she die?"

    The soft blue eyes of the old man saddened when he looked into L's dark ones. He wasn't sure how to explain it. "L, there are people who do bad things. They are mean, bad people, and they hurt other people."

    "Was Rosaline hurt by a b-bad person?"

    "Yes, she was."

    L sniffed and put his hands down. His cheeks were still damp, but the tears had finally stopped coming. "Are they going to punish the bad guy?"

    "Yes, the cops are going to find him and put him in jail."

    L wiped his nose again. Mr. Wammy took his tissue and helped him clear the mucous from his top lip. "How many bad guys are there, Mr. Wammy?"

    He sighed through his nose. After a few seconds, he replied, "Too many than there should be."

    L's large, onyx eyes blinked twice at his caretaker. He picked at the end of his shirt. "When I grow up, I'm gonna catch all the bad guys in the world and put them in jail so no one else will get hurt."

    Mr. Wammy smiled and wiped the hair from the little boy's eyes. "I'm sure that little Rosaline would appreciate that."

    And L kept his word...

    Fifteen years later...

    At twenty years old, L still had difficulty dealing with the murder of children. He folded the manila folder that held all the paper work of his current case, recently solved, yet he still felt bitter. He always did on these cases; this particular case dealing with a pedophile and serial rapists now turned murderer. He felt a deep hatred, a deep, black loathing, for the ones committing these crimes, and he hated the psychologists that attempted to claim it to all be able to be "cured" and leaving them functional. Which is why he tried to steer clear from them if the police did not necessarily require his assistance.

    A cup of tea was placed next to him on its saucer by "Watari". He dropped in a few sugar cubes for L and stirred it for him. "You seem downhearted," he stated whilst stirring.

    "Do I?" L inquired with little feeling. It was not an actual question, but an attempt to steer away from the fact that he was depressed. He took the cup and sipped from it. "I've put another criminal behind bars, but there will always be others."

    "Yes, there will always be more bad guys, but there will also be more good guys, and justice will prevail."

    "Yes, I know."

    Watari's eyes followed along the floor where L was seated in front of his computer at all the papers and police files. "May I ask what kind of case you were overlooking?"

    For these cases dealing with children, they had their own category. L felt a familiar stomach ache coming on.

    "A Rosaline," he answered.