A/N: Written for a request on Livejournal where one of my friends wanted to read about Death Note L - His mind had many chambers, yet most of them were closed off, even to him.

Disclaimer: Ooba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi and all associated companies are the owners of Death Note. No copyright infringement intended and no money is being made from this. Please support the mangaka by buying the original work!

Warnings: none.

Perfect For Tearing Apart The Dark

In a different time, L supposed, he could have become something else. He had the mind to become anything – a doctor, a pilot, a scientist, a lab worker. That he was a private detective was only a caprice of his mind; a mind which he wanted to utilise fully, even if he knew that, by scientific acknowledgement, it wasn't possible. Moreover, he did not wish to work with other people, always feeling better on his own, following his own terms. His personality didn't allow him to have any superiors. Thus, becoming a detective gave him the freedom and the ability to use his mind however he wished. And since he couldn't use every last bit of his mind, he at least wanted to find out how the minds of others worked. But no ordinary minds would do for him, no. He needed a challenge. And he couldn't think of anything more challenging than the minds of criminals. Their ways of thinking were clearly exceptional; different than the norm.

Piecing together the minds of law-breakers bit by bit, walking one step ahead of them, figuring out all the hows, whys and where next to see the whos – and not their faces. No, not their faces, but rather the entirety of their minds. That was the thing which appealed the most to L.

In a different time, L supposed, he could have become one of them. Another B.B., perhaps. But by becoming one of the criminals he risked to find someone just as good, to find someone better. It wouldn't do for the ease of his mind to know that somebody like that existed. Somebody like that had to be put down; pushed down from the pedestal. Right now L was doing exactly that – looking for the perfect criminal, for the perfect unsolvable crime. B.B. had almost given one to him. L had met his match, almost.