It was approaching midnight.

L was in one of the Tokyo hotel suite's bedrooms helping Bean get into his pajamas.

"I'm not sleepy, Papa," Bean remarked, wrinkling his small nose as L lifted the little boy's t-shirt over his head.

"I know," L said, kneeling in front of the now shirtless child in the patterned footie pajama pants. "It's only afternoon in England." He tossed the striped t-shirt into a corner and reached for the cotton pajama shirt on the bed.

"Because of the sun," Bean pointed out, his eyes brightening with understanding. L had used a globe to explain Japan's time difference before they had left the United Kingdom.

"That's right," L nodded. He held open the long-sleeve shirt, patterned to match the pants, and Bean ducked his head through the hole.

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"I'm hungry." Bean tilted his head as he pulled one long sleeve over his arm.

L glanced over at a clock on the wall. Back in England, it was past lunchtime, but the Task Force would be arriving very soon.

"Alright, come on," L stood to his full height as Bean finished adjusting the shirt over his small, pale frame. "Get your hoodie."

Bean turned toward the bed and retrieved the light yellow zip-up hoodie with brown fleece bear ears. Pulling it on, he followed his papa to the kitchen area.

L opened the refrigerator and took out a platter of deli sandwiches.

"You'll have to eat in your room," he explained to Bean as he opened the cupboard and took out a plate. He set it on the counter, and his index finger and thumb lifted a sandwich to place it on the ceramic dish.

"I'm not sleepy," Bean said again, holding a drawstring to his mouth. He looked rather like a teddy bear standing there in his soft hoodie with the rounded ears.

"You can come out when you're done," L said patiently. "But you have to be very quiet. I'll be working, alright?"

Bean just nodded, his inky black hair flopping up and down over his eyes.

Some strawberries joined the sandwich on the plate. L poured a glass of milk and handed it to Bean. Then taking the plate, he headed back into the bedroom with his mini-me in tow.

Against one wall, to the left of the large bed with the plush comforter, was a wooden desk. L set the plate atop it, and Bean lifted the glass of milk to the desk's corner. Its contents nearly spilled over, but L's quick hand prevented disaster. Bennett climbed up into the desk chair as L looked toward the clock again. It was just past twelve 'clock midnight.

"I have to go," L said, looking back down at the small Bean with his hands pocketed. "But I'll be just out in the living room."

Bean nodded, his mouth filled with a bite of the sandwich he held in both hands.

A smile rounded L's mouth, and he reached out to toussle the little boy's thick, black hair under his hood. A tightness formed in his chest as he felt the weight of what he was about to do.

No one in the world outside of a select few individuals had ever knowingly seen L's face or heard his true voice. But tonight, all of that would change.

As L stepped out of the bedroom, he turned in the doorframe, holding the handle.

"Bean?"

Small and slender blue eyes swiveled to meet a tired, grey pair. Bean tipped his head as he took another bite of his turkey sandwich. "Mm?"

"Remember what we talked about." L's voice held a solemn tone, and his shadowed gaze was ardent.

"My real name is a secret!" Bean chirped.

L nodded. "I mean it, Bean. This is very important. You cannot tell anyone your real name."

Bean nodded then, his expression becoming more serious. "I won't, Papa. I promise."

L gave his son a long look. Then he briefly lifted an index finger to his lips and shut the door.

Just as he did, he heard a knock.

L took a deep breath.

He stepped over to the suite's front door and flipped the lock.

"It's unlocked," he said. "Please, let yourselves in."

He took a few steps backwards and stood with his hands in his pockets as the door opened.

Five men- all members of the Japanese Police- stood in the doorway. Their expressions turned from solemn to shocked almost immediately.

L, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, used his toes to scratch his ankle.

"I am L," he said simply.

The men just stared.

L scratched the back of his head.

Finally, the man appearing to be in charge lifted his police badge.

"I am Yagami of the NPA," he said.

The other men did the same.

"Uh, Matsuda."

"I'm Aizawa."

"Mogi."

"Ukita."

L groaned inwardly. What were these people thinking? Didn't they know that Kira only needed a face and a name to kill? They were being so careless! The one who called himself Yagami was speaking, but L wasn't listening. Instead, he lifted his index finger and thumb and pointed at the group, as if holding a gun.

"Bang!"

Naturally, the men were quite taken aback by this. A few of them protested noisily.

L remained calm as he explained. "If I were Kira, you'd be dead, Mr. Soichiro Yagami, chief of the NPA," he said in an annoyed tone. "Kira needs a face and a name in order to commit murder. But I'm sure you've already figured that much out, haven't you? Please, do not give out your names so carelessly. Instead, let's value our lives."

With that said, he turned toward the living room and, after instructing everyone to turn off their cell phones, he took a seat in one of the chairs, bringing his knees to his chest like always.

There was a coffee tray on the table in front of him, and L didn't say a word until his hot drink was poured and properly sugared according to his excessive standards. Then, the meeting began. He started by requesting that everyone call him "Ryuzaki" from now on, just to be safe.

He spoke for awhile, going over his deductions and his plan for action. Picking up a black marker, he began writing directly on the coffee table.

Just then, one of the suite's bedroom doors opened.

The Task Force was all at once in a state of complete bewilderment as little Bean stepped out. He clicked the door shut and turned to run with tiny steps over to L's chair. He then proceeded to crawl underneath it, and then he just... stayed there. He sat with his footie-pajama legs crossed, sticking his face out from under the chair and looking at everyone curiously.

The ends of both hoodie strings were in his mouth, and his hands were stuffed in his front pockets.

L barely skipped a beat and continued talking about the case and the FBI agents as though nothing were amiss... but he realized quickly that no one was listening. He sighed.

"Alright," he said firmly. "I'll introduce you, but if we are going to be working together on this case, you cannot allow yourselves to be so easily distracted. Is that understood?"

The Task Force looked a little embarrassed, but they all agreed and some mumbled apologies.

"Everyone..." L leaned forward with his hands on his knees to look down at the small face that was now peering up at him. Bean's mouth formed a smile around the hoodie strings he was chewing on.

"This is my son," L said plainly. "You can call him Bean."

If the Task Force was attempting to hide their surprise, they were not being successful. Eyebrows raised and lips parted. The youngest policeman, the one who had called himself Matsuda, murmured incredulously, "L has... a son?" He received a sharp jab to the ribs in return from the tall and broad-chested agent Mogi.

Chief Yagami appeared a bit perplexed as to the unexpected presence of L's son. But he met the little boy's eyes and nodded in a friendly manner. "Hello, Bean."

Small, slender fingers left their hoodie pocket to wave childishly, then retreated back inside.

L got right back to business and continued writing on the tabletop with the permanent marker. The meeting carried on as though nothing had happened, and Bean obediently and contentedly remained very quiet from his enclosed little spot beneath his papa's chair. His keen eyes studied the Task Force members as his teeth and tongue rolled around the little plastic aiglets on the ends of his drawstrings.

"So," L said at last. "Does anyone have any questions?"

"Actually, Ryuzaki," Chief Soichiro Yagami spoke up, "I do have one question for you... does the fact that you've shown us your face mean that you've lost? By just being here, are you admitting defeat to Kira?"

All eyes turned to L. His shadowed gaze met the chief's, his hands resting atop his knees.

"That's right," he said softly. 'By showing my face to you now, and by sacrificing the lives of twelve FBI agents, I have lost the battle."

His eyes traveled down to his son again, who was looking up at him curiously. L's voice lowered with determination and ferocity.

"But I'm not going to lose the war." A smile rounded the peculiar detective's mouth as he lifted his gaze once more to the Task Force. "We will show Kira that justice will prevail no matter what."

"Hey, yeah, that's right!" Mogi perked up optimistically.

"I like the sound of that!" Matsuda added with hope in his voice.

"We can do this!" the agent called Ukita cheered.

"Alright then, let's do this, Ryuzaki!" The fifth policemen hopped on board. His name was Aizawa, and Bean was fascinated by his puffy, round afro. He curiously wanted to touch it. But he remained tucked in his enclosed space beneath the chair wondering if it might feel something like the soft, wooly sheep at the petting zoo.

L stood then and dragged his bare feet over to the suite's large window, his hands loosely tucked into the pockets of his blue jeans. Bean shimmied out from under the chair and followed him.

The Task Force talked quietly among themselves for a few moments. It was Matsuda who once again voiced his surprise.

"I can't believe that L has a son..." he said, watching the pair by the window. "And now that I've met him, I have to say, he doesn't strike me as the parental type."

"Maybe not," the chief said slowly. "But he doesn't exactly strike one as the World's Greatest Detective, either. I'll admit I had my doubts about whether it was really him at first, but there's no mistaking it. This man is L."

"He's risking his life to be here," Aizawa pointed out.

The Task Force was quiet as they all looked toward the window.

The legendary detective L stood before them, his back turned. One hand was pocketed, and the other rested against the side of a soft teddy bear hoodie.

And Bean stood there beside his father, looking out over the glittering night lights of Tokyo with one small fist full of faded denim fabric.