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inmyownworld (inmyownworld) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

Death was always uncertain and mysterious, to L, but with the aching wound in his side and a brain soggy with morphine, it seemed somehow closer than it had the day before. Maybe he was dying, right now, of a damaged or infected liver, and maybe dawn would find him colder than Laura. He almost... almost let himself find comfort in the idea, but his hesitant relief turned to chilling dismay when he understood that, even if it was a painless death, and Laura held him as he passed on, he would still be leaving her. He would still be a burden on her conscience, and proof of her failure to protect him, and her mess to clean up. He continued to draw air into his lungs, one breath at a time, inhaling and exhaling, confirming to himself that he was still alive. He put the idea of following Laura into the darkness out of his mind, but it was through tremendous force of will.

The worst part about seeing the spike being pulled viscerally from Laura's chest was the certainty that a living person would never be able to do it. Surviving the act, without pain, and under one's own power, was so astoundingly impossible that it left L shaking and breathless. The things he usually found comforting about Laura, her gentleness, her serenity, her peace, were all missing from this scene. When she stopped, stroking his hair away from his forehead, he swallowed, his gaze flickering downwards, disappointed that he was so human when faced with something so grisly.

Truly, L was already thinking about the details of the idea. He was planning things more rapidly as he recovered from the shock of Laura's self-administered un-impaling, wanting to help her and keep her body from losing its ability to house her consciousness. At first, he wasn't quite sure what she was trying to tell him, but as what she wanted him to understand became clear, he could only nod in silent comprehension, his cheek resting against his pillow. His eyes pricked and stung, but water was in short supply; he was dehydrated, and he was spared the humiliation of dealing with tears. He couldn't understand... if Laura didn't want them, why did she give people like Jay fodder to taunt him with? Why did she need other men to validate her worth when L thought the world of her, and said so often?

He wasn't angry. He couldn't be angry, especially since Laura had told him. That meant that she felt that what she had done, even if it was only flirting, was terribly wrong. "Laura..." he said quietly, trying to ignore the pain that was returning more rapidly as the influence from the morphine gradually wore off, "Laura, I..." his tongue couldn't seem to form words. He couldn't think of what to say. While she had been looking for him... that meant that, while he had been lying in a grave with Jean, or passing out from shock while he was being carried to the gym, or sobbing into Merope's shoulder while House took a dirty shovel out of his side, Laura had been engaging in "witty banter."

"I should apologize, too, Laura... if I had stayed you might not have felt the need to seek companionship elsewhere. Also... before a doctor saw me, my friend Merope stayed with me, and...kissed me. That is worse than flirting. I am sorry."