Hi everyone! This is Dbr-chan! My muse is a bitch...I was about to take a shower, get breakfast, and then go back to bed but it hit me over the head with this idea...So here I am, cold, starved, showerless, and tired. But I can't stop writing because then the idea would go away. Figures... My muse never liked me. There is a lot of word repetition in this. It's meant to be that way. This is my first DN fic so go easy on me! Feel free to press that review button!!! It is a LXRaito oneshot going from L's earlier life to his death and it is in L's POV. So without further ado...enjoy!

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The Voice that Blinds

My life, my reason for living, my death—is a voice. I loved how the air would rustle my hair in a gentle caress when the voice spoke. I loved how it would comfort me during my darkest nightmares. I loved how when I felt alone, it was always there to make me feel wanted. It is a beautiful voice.

Ever since I was young I could hear it. Everyone told me it was just my imagination. I remember how they would pat my head and tell me how cute it was that I had an imaginary friend. The fake smiles plastered on their faces were sickeningly sweet even as they discussed the "strange kid" behind my back. They think I can't hear them. They think I can't understand what they are saying. They are smiling as they're stabbing me through the heart with their revolting gossip. I wonder how they would react if I told them I knew? If I told them that I knew they hated me. Would they feel shame? Would they laugh it off as a joke? Instead of reacting, however, I would continue to eat my cake with the rest of the kids in the orphanage as if I'm as unknowledgeable as they think I am. Only when I'm alone, would I let the tears fall. In the beginning, those times were usually the times when the voice would start talking to me. A melodious, soothing voice that calmed my tears. It told me how much it loved me. It told me that I am never alone. I don't know who the voice belonged to or where it came from. But I know that it is always with me. It is there in my waking moments and in my dreams even if it isn't talking. I can feel the presence. It is there, all around me, subduing my fears.

Gradually, it began to talk to me more. It began to tell me jokes and make me laugh, not just comforting me when I'm alone. The voice started talking to me even when there are other people around, although they don't seem to be able to hear the voice like I can. I felt special that I'm the only person privileged enough to hear the beautiful sounds it can make. I started to learn things from it. I learned the ways of life and how to catch criminals. I learned to solve complex cases and the ability to figure out any math problem. Slowly, the talks of the "strange kid" became the talk of the "child genius". The people who once looked at me with scorn now looked to me with respect. They praised me for becoming so intelligent and sharp. However, no one praised the voice. I would have told them it was the voice's doing, but it told me that it was ok. It told me that it did not need to be acknowledged by the common folks. They would not understand anyways.

Everyday, I did as the voice told me. I followed its orders and I went in hiding along with an old man that I had befriended. He was loyal to me like I was to the voice and he followed my every bidding. The man cared for my well being and he always made sure that I was happy. He was like the father that I've never had.

As knowledge of my genius spread, I became known as the three great detectives of the world: L, Coil, and Danuvue. Case after case was solved by my three aliases. Cases that no one else even dared try to crack. People who knew me didn't make fun of my odd behavior anymore. They didn't say anything about my love for sugar or the way I sat. They didn't mention that I always wore a baggy white sweater and faded denims. And they kept their mouth shut about my disheveled appearance. I was feared and respected among the people.

Then I met him. The voice. It was during the time when I was trying to solve the case of the murderer, Kira. He came to me in a vision of perfect grace and elegance as he and I both stood up to give the graduation speech. As he read his lines, I stared at him, allowing shock to register on my normally stoic face for a fraction of a second. I've heard that voice before. The melodious lilt that it carried and the soothing quality was all so familiar to me. He is my main suspect for Kira, but I hoped among hope that this one time in my life, I would be wrong in my judgment. I do not want him, my voice, to be Kira. If he was Kira, then I would be forced to prosecute him and he would be given the death punishment. I do not want that. I want my voice to live no matter what the consequences. He was the voice that kept me alive all these years. He was the voice that helped me along the dark times when I felt utterly alone.

As the speeches concluded, we walked down the stairs back towards the cold, metal seats in the auditorium. Quietly, so that no one else could hear me, I whispered to him. It was only three simple words, but it got the reaction from him that I feared.

"I am L."

Just three simple words and my world came crashing down. He didn't think I noticed. He thought I can't tell when his fists clenched just a fraction of an inch tighter. Or that his face grew taut for a millisecond. But I did notice. And in that brief moment, my suspicion and fear was confirmed. He is Kira. The murderer, the criminal, but also the voice—my voice as I've grown accustomed to call it. I knew all this and could have acted on it and saved my own life when I had the chance. But I didn't. For saving my life meant sacrificing his. I will not kill him. I refuse to kill him. I've searched the world to find the one who carried that voice and have spent my entire life living for the one cause. The moment he spoke, I knew I had found it. The voice that had been inside my head since the moment I was born. I've gone far to find the owner of the voice, and despite my better judgment, I cannot bring myself to kill the one who I've lived for. So I played along. I made it known that I suspected who he is. Although I only told the others that the chances of him being Kira was less than even five percent. I had his father, who was working with me in the Kira investigation, put cameras and bugs in their house under the guise that it would help solve the Kira case. Everyone else on the task force thought that both his father and I would be watching the monitors, but in reality, I locked his father out and watched the tapes by myself. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to hear him talk to his family or mutter quietly to himself while solving a math problem. I wanted to hear him talk in his sleep and watch his innocent face while he tossed and turned on his bed.

I could have saved myself. I could have lived. But I chose not to for I had fallen in love. The mighty detective L had fallen in love with his suspect. I could have laughed at the irony if it didn't hurt so much. He didn't love me. I knew that from the beginning. He thinks of me as a roadblock for his ambitions to "purify" the world. My voice hated me. And that fact hurt more than any heart attack that Kira can give.

I stood in the rain, looking up to the sky. The bells are loud today. The funeral bells. The voice was talking to me again. It told me how much it would miss me if I died. It told me of a vast love not comprehendible to many. Then I heard the one I love call to me and I turned to look at him. His voice drowned out the voice in my head as he came out into the rain to stand beside me. There was concern in his eyes as he told me I might catch a cold. For one moment in my life since I met him, I felt happy, even though the happiness was only for a brief moment.

As I slipped from my chair, time seemed to stop. My body fell, almost in slow motion, towards the looming ground that was growing ever closer. He dove after me and caught me in his arms. The warm, strong pair of arms surrounded me and I breathed in his scent. I heard his voice, panicked and urgent, as he called out my name. My mind seemed to freeze as I stared at him with my eyes wide open. I watched as his face quietly changed from concerned, to one of malice and evil. It is an expression only meant for me to see.

I know he planned on killing me. I knew from the start. But I didn't do anything to him. I would never do anything to him. I love him. I love his voice. The voice that dictated my life. I felt my eyelids grow heavy. They began to close agonizingly slowly. I don't mind. I don't mind because I can hear the voice in my head. It is singing to me. A soft lullaby that resonated through my mind, blocking out the cries of the others. As I took one last look as his face, twisted into an unrecognizable expression of triumph, I smiled. It is a beautiful voice.

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So how'd I do (glanced through her bangs timidly). Tell me in a review if you hated it or not.