Bean

Chapter 5: The Object of the Game

L stood facing the door, feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

Watari stepped inside, carrying a large suitcase. He smiled encouragingly at L and then looked downward behind him and gestured lightly in a forward motion.

L's wide, shadowed eyes moved down and over to the left of Watari's legs where a small figure stepped into the room. The three year old was wearing jeans and little sneakers and a striped t-shirt with a dark green, zip-up hoodie. The hood was up, and his thick, black bangs stuck out from underneath it. He was wearing a small backpack and both of his hands held the straps. The end of a hoodie string hung from one corner of his mouth.

He stepped up next to Watari. Then he lifted his head and looked straight at L.

And for the first time in his life, L's heart skipped a beat.

The resemblance was even stronger in person. Anyone with the gift of sight could see that this child was his flesh and blood.

But those eyes...

They were hers.

L drummed his fingers on his thighs from inside his pockets.

"Hello," he said simply. He spoke in English, knowing that Bennett spoke both English and Russian.

Bennett looked up at Watari who offered him a smile and a nod in L's direction. Then, adjusting his little backpack, he looked downward and took a few steps to stand before the very tall man in the jeans and white t-shirt. He stopped in front of L and lifted his gaze.

L stared down at his mini-me. Then, he lowered himself to the ground with his legs bent up to his chest and his hands on his knees. Even still, he was not quite at eye-level with his small son.

L lifted a thumb to his teeth and tipped his head.

Bennett chewed on the plastic end of the drawstring.

The two just looked at each other curiously.

Finally, L returned his hand to rest atop his knees.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked plainly.

Bennett nodded. His left hand twitched twice, and he moved it to his hoodie pocket.

L looked to Watari for support, then back at his son.

"So, you know that I'm... I'm your..."

"Papa," Bennett finished.

L stared back at the little boy. He had used the Russian title for "Dad." Not the formal "Otets" for "Father," but the informal, more affectionate, "Papa."

Slowly, L nodded. He extended his hand toward the boy who now had both hoodie strings trailing from his mouth to his collar.

"It's very nice to meet you, Bennett," he said.

L's son extended a childish hand. His fingers were long and slender. He took his Papa's hand and they shook, maintaining eye contact.

"Mama called me 'Bean,'" Bennett said quietly.

L had already planned on coming up with an alias for his son. He supposed that "Bean" would suffice.

"Alright," L said, letting go and placing his hand atop his knee again. Then he stood to his bare feet. Bean's eyes followed as L towered over him.

Watari stepped back out of the room and began to close the door.

"Where are you going?" L asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

The old man smiled, more with his eyes than with his mouth. "I'll be back later," he said.

L's eyes pleaded with Watari to stay.

"You'll be fine," Watari assured him. And he shut the door.

L stared at the closed door, his elbows bent and his hands in his pockets. Then he looked down at the upturned, little face beside him.

"Um..." L lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Okay, um... Well, here," L reached out and hooked his index finger under the loop on top of the red and blue backpack.

Bean pulled his arms out of the straps, and his hands immediately returned to his front pockets.

L set the backpack on a chair. He turned around and saw that Bean had already made his way into the living room. L shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and just watched him, still marveling to himself that this little boy was his.

Bean looked especially small as he stood in the middle of the grand hotel suite with his hands in his hoodie pockets. The strings in his mouth moved ever so slightly as he chewed on the ends of them. His elongated, blue eyes traveled all over the architecture of the big room, from the fancy, plush furniture, up to the ornate carvings on the ceiling, and back down along the wall over the desk containing multiple computer monitors and wires. His gaze laid to rest on a chess board set up on a small table against a wall. He moved over to it and picked up a piece. Turning it over in his long fingers, he studied it closely.

"That's a knight," L said.

Bean looked at him, and then back to the wooden chess piece in his hand. His top teeth moved back and forth over his bottom lip and played with the strings in his mouth. Then, with his other hand, he picked up another piece and held it out toward L with a questioning look.

"That's the queen."

The knight returned to the board and the king was plucked up from his square.

"Is this the king?" Bean asked in a small voice.

"Yes. The object of the game is to protect him."

"Does the knight protect him too?"

"All of the pieces protect him." L moved over and hopped into one of the table's two chairs. "Sit down, I'll show you."

Without hesitation, Bean climbed up into the other chair. He sat up on his knees and leaned forward with his forearms on the table. He stared at the chess board, eagerly nibbling on the ends of his drawstrings.

"Alright," L began. "As I said before, the object of the game is to protect your king. He is your most valuable piece."

Bean leaned forward to tap the cross atop L's king. "This one," he said.

"Yes, that's my king. This..." L reached over to tap the king on the opposite side of the board. "...is yours."

Bean looked down at his king and then back up at L's. He nodded, his black hair bouncing up and down under his fleece hood.

L went on to explain the rest of the pieces. Bean was thoroughly intrigued, and L noted with a tiny spark of pride that his memory and rate of learning were impressive. His strategic skills were limited, of course, by his young age, but he didn't have to be told anything twice regarding the names or the movements of the pieces.

And something happened to L as he sat there, watching his son move the figures around the board with hands childishly identical to his own. Every single priority he held promptly moved down a notch. Every area of his life that held value was immediately de-ranked. The most valuable piece on his board all at once sat across from him in the form of quirky little Bennett Alexei.

And it was then and there that L made a solemn vow within himself to protect the small Bean as long as he lived.