What if... (A Stri and Hawk Oneshot)

L blinked in, waving a half eaten candy bar vaguely at something behind him, his hair somehow even spikier than usual, as though it had just barely dried off. His attention was focused on something in front of him, his eyes narrowed as though he was either thinking very hard or staring into a very bright light.
“ - I didn’t say you were going to die, I said…”
He trailed off, sitting back as he realized where he was. Right. The House. He gave a small sigh, pulling the candy bar back and giving it a quick inspection before he set it to the side. He hadn’t decided yet how he felt about food from his world that had come with him into the House. Until he made up his mind, better safe than sorry. Even if he could no longer offer it as a peace offering when he blinked back, which was a bit annoying. He’d have to come up with something else.
He got to his feet, shaking his hair back and glancing over his shoulder. No one else seemed to be present, for now, unless he just couldn’t them. He listened for a long moment, but still nothing…he’d assume he was alone until he had reason to believe otherwise, then.

L turned at the sound of music, beginning mid-song, as it usually did when someone blinked into playing it. He didn’t need to look to recognize who it had to be. There was exactly one person who could play music like that.
He hesitated, eyes widening a second later as he processed the face looking back at him, a very Orpheus sort of expression on his features. He was Orpheus, there was no denying that, but it was also…not Orpheus. Except it was.
He blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what was happening in his head. It was as though he recognized him, but not what he looked like. Was that even possible?
“Orpheus?” He tried after a moment. He hadn’t intended it to be a question, but he couldn’t deny that it did sound like one. It was him. It was definitely him…right?
It was as though he knew something but he didn’t know how he knew it. Which was…a bit disconcerting. He eyed Orpheus carefully for a long moment, a tiny frown coming over his features.

L searched Orpheus’ gaze, feeling his heart quicken just a little at the words. Was something wrong? Should he be alarmed? It wasn’t actually alarming, not intuitively…his gut said it wasn’t a bad thing. His gut said it was okay, that this was truly Orpheus and whatever the reason for his new appearance, it wasn’t dangerous to either of them.
He wasn’t sure whether his lack of instinctive concern was a good thing or a bad thing. He’d felt too trusting in the House before, and that had been becoming it was in his head. This was the living room, it shouldn’t have been the House toying with them, but he’d always been aware that that wasn’t a rule it had to follow, most likely. The best liar was someone who told the truth most of the time. The best trick would come from something you thought was impossible.
His thoughts were moving quickly now. It only took a couple seconds for him to reply.
“No, no, everything is fine, more or less,” he replied, shaking his head a little. “It’s only that…are you alright? You have a different face than usual.”
Blunt, but he didn’t really know how to soften that. Hopefully, Orpheus would have an explanation. Or if not that, hopefully he wouldn’t freak out.

L watched Orpheus carefully, trying to decide whether he looked surprised or not. Or…whether L could tell. Could he read a face he both recognized and didn’t recognize at the same time?
As it turned out, he could. Orpheus didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know anything had changed, or why it might have happened. So if this was the House, Orpheus was as in the dark as L was.
Probably. He felt the need to question everything until he understood what was happening, but he didn’t want to go into emergency mode just yet, either.
“I can recognize that you’re you, but I don’t recognize your appearance,” he explained, watching Orpheus closely. He couldn’t see any harm in being completely honest about the situation until he had a reason not to be. He trusted Orpheus, as long as this was really Orpheus. He didn’t see any reason to immediately assume it wasn’t. If the House had wanted to deceive him, it would have made a copy.
“It’s a very odd experience. It’s as though I have some sort of strange amnesia and I know who you are, but I’ve never met you. Do I look the same?”

L gave a small nod, relieved that he still looked the way he always had. He wouldn’t have liked it much if he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure what to make of Orpheus’ new appearance, though…he could remember what he’d looked like before, but it was as though both appearances were filed under the name “Orpheus” in his head. This appearance was still connected to that identity, in spite of his never having seen it before. It was actually sort of fascinating, once he got around the strangeness of it.
“Your face is the most obvious,” he replied, studying Orpheus for a long moment. “Also your hair. You appear to be Korean, now. You weren’t before. Your clothes and instrument are still the same, though.”
His eyes widened as Orpheus looked at him suddenly, and he considered that, glancing down at the instrument. He knew it was really a lyre, but Orpheus was right..it looked like a guitar to him. He had never understood why that was, really, but…maybe…
“You mean the House is changing you to match my expectations?” He asked, frowning a little. “Wouldn’t it have done that in the beginning?”

L didn’t mind the change, as long as it wasn’t dangerous for either of them. He didn’t mind Orpheus looking different as long as that was all it was. As long as Orpheus was alright with it too, anyway, some people were rather attached to their appearance, not to mention the strangeness of being told you looked very different and not even knowing how. Would he recognize it if he saw his reflection? Did he remember what he’d looked like before? Would he see any difference, or was he right in thinking it was like the lyre, only different in other people’s perceptions?
He tapped his lip, eyeing Orpheus carefully as he considered the options. He’d never heard of that, but…he was reminded of the clone room. He had had a double once. Did Orpheus know about that? He didn’t think he’d never told him.
“That doesn’t make sense…you looked like you could be from my world before,” he noted, shaking his head. “I would say you could be a from an alternate version fr your world, but then, how would you know me…? Unless…perhaps you know an alternate version of me and the House just switched us to see what would happen. That would explain why it’s happening suddenly, and in the living room. Assuming everything in my life was the same, I would also be the same. That would be why we still know each other. I don’t understand why I recognize you then, though. Unless the House is adjusting my memories. Which it would need to break its own unspoken rules to do in the living room, but are we sure this is the living room? It could be a room that only looks like the living room. I doubt the House is above that.”

L thought about that for a long moment, trying to decide how possible he thought it was that this was just a side effect. He didn’t know if he should have been able to recognize a different version of someone when they didn’t look the same…that did feel like House magic. But if this really was the living room, it also felt possible that the House hadn’t actually messed with either of their heads. It had had no problem blinking the clones into the living room, had it?
He raised an eyebrow, watching Orpheus quietly for a long moment before he shook his head a little. “No, you’re probably right,” he acknowledged. “The House isn’t very into giving us any sort of explanations for what it does, is it? This is only one more intriguing thing I don’t quite understand. I hope to, someday, but all things considered, I’m inclined to believe you’re still very much yourself. It’s not any less likely than it was before. The House could have tried to trick me with a fake you and simply copied your appearance, so really, I can never be 100% certain that anyone is who they appear to be, but…in short, I’m not alarmed, just curious.”
He considered for a moment. “Well…we could attempt a room. There may be a mirror somewhere in one, if the House wants you to see for yourself.”

L didn’t know for sure why the House had any rules at all. Were they really rules? He didn’t trust them. It was very possible that the House was messing with them in the living room and just seeing how long they failed to notice, believing they were protected for the time being.
Being as paranoid as he was, L was used to being aware that things were possible without acting on them. He knew that the House could probably be doing something to him at that moment. He also knew that he could theoretically be compromised in his own world, his information owned by the wrong people, his actions under careful scrutiny as they decided what they wanted to do about it. He knew nothing was certain, which meant what seemed like paranoia to others was actually him being as sensible about the risks as he could be.
“Mm. that makes sense. You seem more interested in understanding the people in the House, rather than the House as a whole…which is why you came up with the idea of making it even. I wouldn’t have thought of that, most likely. I think…I’m more likely to solve the House, but…you’re more likely to make it better.”
He glanced at the hall, then gave a small nod, stepping towards it. “Your voice is different too, by the way.”

L could see what Orpheus meant. They were both trying to figure things out in different ways, after all. And their priorities were the same, at the end of the day. L wanted to figure the House out for the sake of knowledge, of course, but also to protect the people in it. They didn’t deserve to be hurt. He had friends here…he had Orpheus here. The more he knew, the less helpless he was.
The nudge made him glance up, but it warmed him more than anything else. Casual physical contact was a sign of trust and friendship. He did of course believe Orpheus when he said they were friends, but sometimes it was nice to have casual actions to back it up, too. Especially with the way his job was. Any reminder of the things that were genuine in his life was more than welcome, really.
“We could work at the same time, too,” he offered. “I figure something out, which in turn makes you able to make it a little better, which helps me figure out more, and so on. It could certainly work.”
He was still thinking about it when Orpheus froze and he turned quickly, searching his expression, eyes suddenly sharp as he tried to figure out what Orpheus was suddenly distressed about…
And then it clicked. His voice. He didn’t care about his appearance, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about any part of this…stupid, L scolded himself. Stupid not to have predicted that. He knew Orpheus better than that. Of course his voice would be more important to him.
“No, sorry, I didn’t mean…that came out wrong,” he said quickly, taking a small step towards him. “It’s alright. You were singing when you blinked in, and there was no difference in the effect. Your voice is…different, yes, but in the way the rest of you is. Your music is part of you. I’d know if you’d lost any part of it.”

L was…less than optimistic about most things. A casualty of his work was his ability to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, in almost any situation. Sometimes he thought that was simply the way he was…a personality trait, inherent in his nature. One he’d simply taken advantage of to do his job well, but perhaps a flaw, all the same. He had played enough chess in his life to know that something helpful was not always something desirable, after all.
Other times, less frequent times, he considered an alternative scenario. What if he wasn’t built to mistrust at all? What if he was actually as trusting and idealistic as Orpheus was, at his most natural state? Wouldn’t anyone who’d lived his life and dealt with the worst of humanity on a daily basis be where he was now? Could anyone who had walked in his shoes be even an inch less paranoid? Would Orpheus, were their lives switched, be just as inclined to assume the worst before anything else, and only believe for a second that something good was happening when nothing else made sense?
They were, perhaps, opposites in that way. Nature or nurture, Orpheus assumed the best in people and life alike. How he had never had a friend before L…well. L may have had at least near the highest IQ in the current population of his world, but that was a mystery he doubted he would ever have the answer to. Truly good people were rare. And yet, L believed that Orpheus was one of them. It was a gamble, as trust always was, but in this case…somehow, this poet from another world had broken through his defenses.
Somehow, when Orpheus spoke, L was inclined to assume he had no ulterior motive. It should have scared him. It did scare him, a little. But he couldn’t deny that he trusted Orpheus completely.
Not that he thought it would hurt if Orpheus did get a tiny bit more suspicious about things. Existing was a dangerous game, and just because he trusted Orpheus, didn’t mean he trusted anyone else any more than he had. It just meant there were more places for a bad guy to aim if they wanted to hit L’s heart.
He brought his thoughts back. He was lucky his mind worked as fast as it did, he thought ruefully…if it didn’t, his habit of staring at people with somewhat unnerving intensity would be even more noticeable as he waited for them all to fly past.
“It may be better to test it now, then,” he noted, watching Orpheus closely. “If you’d like. Rooms tend to take all your attention, for one thing, and having something else eating at you is a bit dangerous. Also, they sometimes end without bringing you back to the living room. Sometimes, they end with no warning at all. I don’t know if…whatever this is…is a long term thing, or more of a test of sorts, but it would be safer to go ahead and test it now, if you want to be sure you have a chance to.”

L firmly believed there were more ways to do good than to save lives. His work was important, of course. There was no denying that he was needed, and that the world would feel his death, should it occur before he could choose a successor. But he thought Orpheus did just as much good, if not even more. There was living, and there was being truly alive, and those were two very, very different things. L could make sure you kept breathing, or if not that, then at least make sure you got justice, and your death wasn’t for nothing. Orpheus…
Orpheus didn’t seem to realize how much of a difference being truly kind made. Aside from his music, which was nothing short of incredible, that was his real gift. He made people happy. He gave himself so freely, and he expected nothing at all in return. He cared. Maybe he couldn’t actively keep people alive, but he was the reason L did. People like him, good people who deserved a safer world to continue being good in. Who made the world worth saving.
That was why he hadn’t been as immediately worried about the music, he supposed. It was clearly still Orpheus behind those eyes, even if they were a different color. The music was incredible, but at the end of the day, it was a tool, the way L’s intelligent was. It was easy enough to believe that was everything you had, everything you were, even. It mattered, it mattered a lot. But it wasn’t everything.
He gave a tiny nod. He didn’t feel like he needed to be thanked for something as simple as telling Orpheus he was free to test his voice before instead of after, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was in no hurry. He didn’t even mind if they didn’t end up making it to a room. There would almost certainly be other opportunities.
He waited as Orpheus tentatively began, as though he were making his way across ice and he was terrified to fall through it. It sounded the same, to his ears. Not the voice, necessarily, but…the power. The emotion. The besting heart, or perhaps the soul, if such a thing existed. It was like hearing someone say something you’d only heard a friend say before then, only this only made L all the more certain this was the real Orpheus. The House was powerful, but L found he didn’t believe even it could replicate Orpheus’ music, not truly.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t know whether his opinion was wanted, here. The main thing was that Orpheus himself was convinced he still had everything he’d had before this had happened…L’s certainty that he did meant little.

There were too many lonely people in the world, in L’s opinion. Maybe singing was easier than fighting crime, in a way, but harder didn’t always mean better. There were less detectives than there were poets in the word, probably, but…there were also less criminals than there were people who were lonely, sad, lost…
Humans were selfish beings at heart. L didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing, but when it came down to it, everyone was the main character in their own story, and in most stories, the side characters got less developed, less serious problems, less intense emotions…it was necessary, to tell a story from one person’s perspective not to overwhelm the audience. The problem was realizing that it wasn’t true of real life.
Orpheus had a way of reaching those problems. Even if they weren’t happening to him, he seemed to be able to see people, touch people, more than most people even thought of trying to do. What he did…his goals…well. L couldn’t imagine he had done any more good in his world than Orpheus had done in his own.
He waited as the last note faded. Orpheus looked calmer, now, which was probably a good thing. Maybe that meant he’d been convinced that, even though L didn’t hear the same voice he had before, the heart behind the music was the same.
“A room sounds good,” he agreed, nodding a little and tucking his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know if it will have anything to do with your new appearance or not, but it could. It depends on whether the House wants us to focus on that or not.”

L didn’t deny that he did a lot of good. He didn’t deny that he was the only one really capable of doing that type of good, for the moment, anyway. With luck, he would be able to make sure that changed by the time it mattered. He hadn’t told Orpheus about Wammy’s House, had he? He would have to, eventually, when it came up…he wondered what the poet would think of it. What he’d think of the idea of children who might become the next L one day.
He wasn’t trying to be humble about it. He didn’t see the point in diminishing his own accomplishments, when it wouldn’t really do anyone any good. He just didn’t think that meant he did more good than Orpheus did…they were different, too different to be compared. He couldn’t possibly measure how much good either of them did, especially when you added the harm either of them had done into the equation.
Although…L was pretty sure he’d caused a lot more harm than Orpheus had, so perhaps that wasn’t a fair example.
He joined Orpheus, moving towards the hallway, leaning forward a little as they came closer so he could see if anyone was inside yet.
He leaned sideways, inclining his head at Orpheus as he continued. Narcissus…he didn’t know the full myth, but he got the jist of it. He didn’t think Orpheus was at any real risk of falling into such a trap, though…even if it wouldn’t have completely surprised him, from more of an aesthetic than a personality perspective.
“I don’t think we need to worry about it too much,” he replied, dismissing the thought. “You don’t strike me as vain, and I often forgot what I look like. I do think this indicates that the blink is planned beforehand…whether the room is about your new appearance or not will be a good indication of it too. If it is, then at least some blinks have to be planned out.”

Orpheus was right, of course. It seemed more and more likely that the room they chose would have something to do with Orpheus’ new appearance the longer L thought about it. It was always possible it wouldn’t, but maybe this gave them a unique opportunity to prepare themselves for what they might step into. It would at least narrow the options down by a lot.
“That’s a good point. We should be careful,” he said, giving a small nod. “I’m curious whether you can see any difference, but it could be a trap for you to look. We should probably avoid anything reflective, at least at first.”
He stopped by the door Orpheus had picked. It looked the same as every other door, and he’d never been able to tell if they didn’t have any feel to them at all, or if he just couldn’t sense it.
“It’s as good as any other,” he replied, and followed, ready to slip in right behind him.