When Watari returned from his errands, he found L sitting on the couch hugging his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees.

"Are you alright?" the old man asked.

L didn't answer.

"L? Are you sick?"

"No." L's answer was muffled in the denim fabric of his blue jeans.

Watari could sense something was wrong, but he didn't pry. He removed his long coat and hung it up on a wall peg.

As he was turning to make his way into the kitchen, though, he heard L's voice again.

"Watari?"

"Yes?"

Slowly, L lifted his head and stepped off of the couch. He pocketed one hand, and the other held a few stapled sheets of paper. With his head down and his shoulders slumped over, he shuffled over to where Watari was standing. Then he just stood there, seemingly unable to lift his gaze to meet the old man's eyes.

"What is it, L?"

Without looking up, L lifted the papers, holding them by their stapled corner between his index finger and thumb.

Watari took the papers and looked over the top page.

"Is this a new case?" he asked.

"No."

"Then, what-"

"Do you remember Anya Petrova?" L asked abruptly.

"The... Russian girl. Yes."

L swallowed. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck.

Watari was trying to be patient with L's cryptic behavior. Finally, he just stepped forward and placed a hand on the thin shoulder of the troubled, young detective.

"L?"

Bringing his thumb to his teeth, L looked up into the eyes of the only father he'd ever known.

Watari raised his white eyebrows and spoke softly. "What's wrong?"

The kindly old man had seen a lot in the shadowed eyes of L Lawliet over the years. Determination. Passion. Bitterness. Exhaustion. But this was something he hadn't seen in many, many years... This was fear.

L lowered his gaze again to the papers that Watari still held. He gestured toward them. "Last page," he mumbled.

"Alright." Watari removed his hand from L's shoulder to comply. He flipped to the last page and looked down at a photo of a child who looked awfully familiar, though not exactly.

Watari looked up questioningly.

L stared down into nothingness as he gnawed on the thumb tucked between his back molars.

"L, who is this?" Watari asked.

L's gaunt shoulders lifted as he shoved his hand even deeper into his pocket. He didn't look up.

"He's mine," he said quietly.

Watari's eyes widened, though the extent of his shock was not expressed outwardly. He just looked at L, processing what he'd just been told. At length, he cleared his throat and spoke calmly.

"Did you know?"

L shook his head.

"You've only just found out today?"

L nodded.

Watari looked back down at the page he still held and the printed photo on it. It was hard to argue the truth value of L's claim. This little boy looked exactly like him... except for those svelte, royal blue eyes.

Watari cleared his throat again. "Did, ah... did she contact you somehow?"

L lowered his hand from his mouth and returned it to his pocket. "She died," he replied plainly. "Yesterday morning." He stood with his back arched and his head down. A heaviness had settled in his chest and stomach, and a dull throb pulsed beneath his plain, white shirt.

Watari sighed. Wordlessly, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his boy. L stiffened only for a moment, and then dropped his forehead despondently onto Watari's shoulder. His hands remained in his pockets.

"I'm sorry," Watari spoke gently.

L shut his eyes tightly, still working through it all in his mind. "I have a son, Wammy," he mumbled into the old man's suit jacket.

Watari's right hand moved to the back of L's head.

They stayed like that for a moment longer.

Then L stepped back to look at Watari. His expression had never looked so lost.

But Watari smiled at him. "Well, L," he said, taking a deep breath, "...congratulations."

L lifted an index finger to scratch behind his ear.

"He's a handsome boy," Watari commented.

L looked down at the photo Watari was holding. His index finger stayed behind his ear, listlessly moving up and down. "His name's Bennett," he said quietly.

"Bennett..." Watari repeated. "Ah, as in Detective Cayde Bennett." He was reading through the file now.

L nodded. Then he said softly, "He's like me, Watari."

"What?" Watari looked up.

"He's like me." L fidgeted in the carpet with his toes. "...kind of."

Watari lifted the first page and read through the psychological evaluation. He began to chuckle a little. "Yes, a lot of this does sound familiar," he noted.

"So... What do I do?" L asked. "How do I get him?"

Watari's head came up quickly. "Get him?"

L kept staring at his toes in the carpet. "Yes, how do we do that? You've done all of this legal stuff before."

Watari wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "Uh... why don't we sit down?" he suggested.

They moved to the couch and L stepped backwards onto it, assuming his hunched over frog stance. Watari took a seat next to him.

"L..." he began slowly. "Are you aware of the responsibility you are looking at here?"

L just stared blankly at the coffee table with his arms folded over his knees and his chin atop them.

Watari continued, choosing his words carefully. "You have to think of this little boy... of Bennett. Think of your lifestyle. Is that best for him?"

"I never knew my parents," L responded simply. He arched his shoulders and hugged his knees a little tighter. "I would like to know my son."

The old man found it quite difficult to argue with that. But he proceeded gently. "But L, are you ready for something this monumental? Are you ready to be... a parent?"

"No," L answered honestly. Then he looked at Watari. "Will you help me?"

Watari looked at L for a long time. Then he sighed. "If you really want to do this, of course I will. But may I strongly advise that you take a few days to think it over? This is still... quite a shock."

L nodded. "Okay."

But a few days came and went, and L did not change his mind. He was determined, albeit terrified with no idea of what to expect.

Watari and L talked for hours, longer than they ever had in such a short span of time. They worked through the legal aspect of everything, and Watari gave L all the preliminary fatherly advice he could think of.

Because of Watari's influence in the world of adoption and orphanages, the process moved along rather quickly, and only a matter of weeks later, Quillish Wammy was listed in the public records as Bennett Petrov's legal guardian.

Within his own records, however, Watari handed over full custody to L, and the boy's name officially became Bennett Alexei Petrov-Lawliet. These files were tucked away with all of L's own legal documents.

At long last, everything was in order, and L found himself standing in the middle of a large hotel suite in Moscow. Watari had just called to inform him that he was on his way up with the boy.

L stood as he always did. His back was curved and his knees slightly bent. The toes of one bare foot played with the hem of his blue jeans, and his hands were stuffed in his pockets.

He heard footsteps and Watari's voice.

Then the lock on the door whirred and clicked, and the door opened.