November 1, 1997
Winchester, England

"Watari," the young detective spoke up, a fork lingering on his tongue. His lips were dotted with chocolate cake crumbs, the slice being leftover from his birthday, as he'd just turned eighteen.  Having just won the Detective Wars, he'd certainly made a name for himself over the past several years.  

The old man looked up from a file folder he held.  "Yes, my boy?"

The powerful entity known as L was a far cry from the tiny orphan boy Wammy had rescued.  But of course, the world did not know that the enigmatic man behind the infamous monogram was just a quirky, awkward boy with an insatiable sweet tooth.

"I believe this case would be much more efficiently solved if I brought in this Anya Petrova I told you about...  Her name is coming up everywhere I look." L tapped the fork against his lips. "I've never worked with anyone else on a case before, but... I suppose there's no harm in it, provided I use an alias, of course."

Thick but trimmed, white eyebrows rose above gold-rimmed spectacles.  He gave a slow nod.  "If you think it's best."

"I do think this is the best option," L said decidedly, his youthfulness prominent in his low voice. "I believe this could increase productivity on the case by nearly sixty percent, as I am so uneducated on the Russian mafia." He turned in his swivel chair to face Watari, his long toes curling over the edge. "I'll need an alias with a full background. A private detective out of London, let's say. She's living there now, so we'll need a suite in the city. I'd prefer if arrangements were made for her to have a room in the suite as well... I'd like to avoid any going back and forth on her part, as it raises the probability of suspicion."

Wammy nodded again.  "I'll see to it."

The young man swiveled back around again. "Thank you, Watari." 

And so an alias was set up with the name Detective Cayde Bennett of London. A backstory was set in place with official papers, and contact was made with Miss Petrova, who agreed to meet at the London hotel suite.

**********

November 4, 1997
London

Anya stepped out of the cab with a sense of excitement filling her. The clothes she wore were nothing like her usual attire of oversized Goodwill sweaters paired with leggings and combat boots... and even that was better than the horrid little dresses she'd had to wear at the Soviet orphanage. 

She remembered it all too well... The cold stone building with the looming cast iron fencing outside and scant furniture inside.  She recalled with perfect clarity the long dining table in a plain room with yellowed walls that had been white a long time ago, her breath visible as she ate her potato soup made with watered-down milk.  To behold the sight, one might set the date in the early twentieth century, assuming war was raging in Europe... but this had been the 80s, and the world wide web had just been invented. Sitcoms aired on televisions, Batman and Indiana Jones were popular films, and Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston were all the rage, as were neon colors, bold patterns, and big hair.

...but not at the overcrowded, underfunded orphanage in Russia where Anya had grown up, where children wore coats and fingerless gloves to supper because the storms all too often shut off the electricity and the heat.

But today, on what she felt like was the first day of the rest of her life, she wore nice, dark jeans with a white button-up shirt that had little blue flowers all over it, courtesy of Mr. Coil, as was everything else in the suitcase she carried.  Her gaze was on the tall hotel now, shamelessly gawking before a smile spread over her whole expression.  Her teeth were mostly straight with one eye tooth just a little crooked.

She was very small, and not necessarily in height. Standing around 5'5", she was around average, but her build was very slight due to years of malnutrition. She'd stayed active, though, and she knew how to street fight, so she wasn't exactly skin and bones either- just petite. Her short chestnut hair hung piecey and layered without hair product or styling, and the two longer pieces framed her face just below her chin, one curving in and the other quirking out. 

She just stood there, taking it all in until the cabby nudged her, and she was brought back down to earth to pay him for the ride. She lugged the big suitcase through the gold revolving doors and hoofed it over to the elevators, taking it to the top floor, as she'd been instructed to do. Once the doors dinged open, she walked to the double doors of the penthouse suite and set down her suitcase before exhaling in preparation. Then she lifted a slender, ivory hand with a scar across the back and knocked.

The door opened to an elderly man dressed like a butler.  "Ah, Miss Petrova, I take it?"

"Yes." Her hand flicked a finger gun towards him. "So I am in the right place, then.  That is good!" Her Russian accent was very strong, the harshness of the language contrasting with the brightness of her voice.

"Please, come in.  Detective Bennett will be available shortly."

The door opened wider, and she entered the suite, not even attempting to hide her intrigue as her blue eyes took in the grand décor and the lavish furnishings. She whispered something under her breath in Russian, something the equivalent of "my god..." or "oh wow..."

"Your room is just through here," the old man was saying.  "Please, make yourself comfortable." 

Anya gave him a warm smile as she passed him, her eyes bright and alive with curiosity and awe. As soon as the door shut, she giggled and jumped up onto the bed, flopping onto her back with her arms out wide. 

A whole new life... And all she had to do was find out the guy's name. Easy enough.

**********

January 3, 1998

It was raining.

Not an angry, stormy downpour or a soft spring shower, but a grey, dreary drizzle. Thunder rumbled lazily in the distance like a grizzly bear rolling over in its sleep.

It was a fitting atmosphere, the young detective thought to himself. It wouldn't have been appropriate for the sun to be shining.

Not now.

Not today.

L stood at the window with his hands in his jeans pockets and his back hunched over a little more than usual. He stared at the raindrops on the window, trailing like a steady stream of tears down the clouded glass.

This was a hurt he never knew existed.

Never in his eighteen years of life had he known pain this real... this raw. He hated himself for letting his guard down. For letting himself fall for her...

How could he have been so stupid?

She had gotten to him... and now, he couldn't take it back.

Anya.

The brilliant, sassy girl with the wispy, chestnut hair and the intoxicating blue eyes who had won over the quirky, introverted insomniac infamously known as the World's Greatest Detective.  Her intelligence and quick wit had intrigued him from the start, and over the past several months, they had spent hours together, challenging each other's deductive skills and debating one topic or another. She was fascinating to him, and she had seemed to like him too.

And then...

L shut his eyes tightly as he regretfully recalled that night... The night he had given in. He felt so, so stupid.  So naive. She had won him over. With her funny sweetness and her tender smile, she had made herself irresistible to him. He had been with her in a way he'd never been with anyone... and no one, not even Watari, knew.

It was a night he'd never forget... but one that now, he sincerely wished he could.

Because now, the computer screen blatantly and mercilessly displayed evidence that she had known all along. She knew he was L, and she had been hired to discover his name by a man who had been beaten in the Detective Wars. The case she had stepped in on? Fabricated. Set up. None of what he'd come to love was real... None of it.

...or so he thought.

Another rumble of thunder rolled in the distance as a small knock sounded on the door.

"It's open," L said plainly.

The door opened, and Anya stepped inside the little room.

L wanted to scream. But he didn't. He just stood silently at the window and continued looking out.

"You wanted to see me?" she said softly.  But she knew.  The heaviness of the room was not at all lost on her.

Without a word, L turned on his bare heel and walked toward the desk. With one swift motion, he turned the monitor so she could see what was on the screen... So she could know that he knew.

He watched her face as she took in the information. He watched as her gentle smile faded and pain took over. And he didn't look away as her electrifying blue eyes lifted to meet his shadowed grey ones.

She swallowed hard. "Bennett..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "I-"  She dropped her gaze and looked down at her hands.

L's sleep-deprived eyes didn't leave her. They were locked bitterly on her face. His expression was cold and terrifying.

Anya looked up at him again, her cobalt eyes shining with tears. "You have no reason to believe me..." A little sob caught in her throat, and she swallowed again before continuing. "It all started as a lie, but... But things changed.  I didn't go through with it.  Bennett, what I felt for you was real.  Those things I said... I meant them, I-" She tried to go on but couldn't. She dropped her head into her hands and cried softly.

More than anything in the world, L wanted to take her to him. To tell her that he believed her and that it didn't matter.

But it did matter.

Without breaking eye contact, L pressed a button on the intercom on the desk.

"Send them in."

The door opened again, and several policemen filed in. One of them took Anya's wrists and cuffed them.

She didn't struggle.

He was Justice, and she knew that. She had known it was only a matter of time. And maybe it was selfish, but she had wanted all the time she could get. These two months had been the happiest of her life.

She stood with her head down and her hands behind her back. A policeman gently held her arm.

"Anya Petrova," the officer spoke. "You are under arrest for crimes of theft in the city of Moscow."

Anya expected him to continue, but he didn't.

Wait... that's it?

Her mind whirled. She looked up at L... at Detective Bennett.

And the conviction in his eyes told her all that she needed to know.

He was having her arrested for her petty crimes, but nothing more. He knew an arrest based on treason would result in a sentence of life in a high-level security prison... or worse. But this way, she'd serve a few years and then be released to live her life. 

It was his parting nod to what they'd shared together; to what she had meant to him.

L remained motionless as they began to take her away.

"Wait," she pleaded softly, and she turned to look at him one more time. Tears lined her face, and her eyes spoke volumes more than her words ever could.

She loved him. Surely, she hadn't planned to. But she did, and that's why she didn't even try to fight. She knew she deserved this and had already resolved within herself to go quietly when the time came.

But she had to look at him one more time.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

L's expression remained rigid and deceitfully unfeeling. He spoke clearly and strongly, "Goodbye, Anya Petrova."

Then he turned his back to her, and they took her away.

**********

When Watari returned to the suite some time later, the lights were off, save for the flickering glow of multiple computer monitors. L was slumped in his swivel chair, his forehead dropped to the desktop with his arms haphazardly flopped around it, one hand holding a fistful of his hair. A bluish square was cast over him from the window, the shadows of raindrops running over him like tears. Besides the hum of computer monitors and the ticking of a wall clock, the suite was completely silent.

Wammy felt his whole heart go out to the boy.  He had his suspicions that L had liked her more than he'd let on... but of course, he was unaware of just how much, nor what it had led to.  Even still, it hurt to see him like this.  He moved wordlessly over to the desk, ensuring that his presence was known before he placed a strong but gentle hand on L's shoulder.  "Is there anything I can do for you, my boy?" he asked in a fatherly tone.

L didn't answer right away, his form so still until his gaunt and youthful shoulders lifted and fell in a weighted sigh. He lifted his head up stiffly, his hand coming to his forehead, pushing his hair back as he stared with bleary eyes.   "...some coffee?  I think... perhaps..." His mouth formed the beginnings of a word, but his voice trailed off, as if hitching a ride on the single tear that rolled down his cheek.

Wammy gave a nod.  His hand tightened, the gesture saying what words could not.  "Of course."  He turned to oblige.

"...she's going to prison." L mumbled the words as his shadowed eyes wandered, his fingertips pulling a little at his bottom lip. "But only for her crimes in Moscow."

A part of him felt like she deserved more punishment than a year or two prison sentence, but another part of him- the part that remembered her laughter and her smile and, yes, even the taste of her lips- just couldn't bring himself to convict her of more than petty theft. She wasn't evil... he knew that. After all, the things she had shoplifted had only been things like food and feminine products, and despite the hurt she had caused him, he knew that her heart was good and beautiful.

But he couldn't bear to see her again.  He couldn't risk it.  For the sake of his career, his secret identity, and his broken heart, this was best.  He never should have contacted her in the first place, but what was done, was done.

Soon, a cup of generously sugared coffee was being placed before him.

L stared a moment more before forcing himself out of thoughts of her.  Of that night.  He reached for his coffee and sat up straighter, one wrist stubbornly swiping away all traces of tears as he cleared his throat. "Watari, please eliminate Cayde Bennett from all records," he said, his voice sounding dull.  "Make sure that I disappear... I don't--" A sharp pang hit him in the chest. "...I don't want her ever finding me again."

"I'll do that," Wammy said gently.

"But-"  He drew in a sharp breath.  "...keep an eye on her.  I want her monitored.  But I don't want to be informed."

"Very well."

L was still staring. But then he took a sip of coffee and set it down again, resolving one thing: 

I will never think of her again.