Redeemer

“Kami-sama,” he spoke it as a pensive whisper because L was already lost deep in thought. The café bustled around him not far from the Piazza di Santa Maria in the heart of Trastevere, the surviving earthy pocket of medieval Rome, replete with tourists and trendy local eateries. The waitress had brought the espresso—black, no sugar—but L hadn’t touched it and whereas Light could sit there with grace and poise and attract attention of the deeply admirable variety, L could sit there with grace and poise and keep most people away.

It was in his manner, he was intimidating—the deep, probing stare, black as pitch—the solemn, serious nature of his expression. He sat like Light, casual, arm draped over the back of the chair, leg crossed over his knee—a very mimic of Light’s normally effortless mannerisms; it spoke volumes of how much L had studied him, how he’d committed his very essence to heart—how much he was changing himself to do this role.

But L’s gaze was nearly trancelike, trained on the cobblestone ground and the constant parade of passers-by—he was utterly aware of everything around him, but he didn’t look like he was— his thoughts turned deeply inward, analyzing and absorbing a mode of thinking he perhaps never wanted to entertain, adopt, or even pretend to believe…but that would be the way of it tonight…

Kira was… god… kami…

Truly, and utterly, the first and the last—the only. And L was Kira’s Second. His beloved. Most loyal—devout, impassioned, a full believer in everything Kira had done and would do. The opposite of everything L himself believed. There was only one piece of that mentality that scraped across the truth…he did love Kira. He did love Light. He did want to believe in him—in a whole different respect—and his faith was feeling more and more blind by the hour; but wasn’t that what faith in god was supposed to be? Unconditional…no matter what. To follow Light to the ends of the earth without question…that’s what Misa had done wasn’t it? Without question. She’d written any name he’d asked. She would have written her own name had Light demanded it…how many followers of this church were prepared to do that?

L had—he had offered his life for Light’s.

So what did that make him?

Where was the line drawn?

He was the favorite, the beloved, the Second Kira—and that notion was fully set in his dark eyes when he caught the first glimpse of her shapely legs—heels and nylons and a dark conservative suit, hugging close the full curve of her hips, a narrow waist, a heavy bosom—white shirt collar open beneath a chic jacket, and a cascade of thick, wavy chestnut hair sweeping over one shoulder. She had an exotic face—like a goddess in a Bouguereau—bold brown eyes, a lush full mouth, high cheekbones and sharp jaw.

She had him set in her sights, and only L’s eyes lifted to her—unimpressed. Light would have taken the opposite approach, but he wasn’t Light…and he wasn’t L. He was the Second Kira, lover to a god, and he was not impressed by this woman who thought she could wield the power to attract Kira’s attention…to attract Kira himself.

“Signore Masaru?” She said, in a milky smooth voice. “Signore Shin Masaru?” Her eyebrow arched smartly, and L’s expression did not crack and was not exactly friendly. He was the buffer between Kira’s, and she perceived it.

“Correct,” L said; but did not address her back. She helped herself to the seat across from him, and the table was too small for comfort, which was why L sat with his chair slightly pushed away—detached.

“I’m disappointed your associate, Signore Misora could not join us.” She purred—and there was familiarity in that snake-like lying tone.

“Misora-san sends his apologies,” and L motioned to a bottle of Biondi Santi Brunello di Montalcino Riserva, vintage year 1997. “He hopes to make your acquaintance soon.”

Her other eyebrow rose, and then her gaze lifted to the Death God hovering just over L’s shoulder. L didn’t break his position, staring up through dark lashes at her, still looking rather stern and unimpressed. He wasn’t going to make a mockery of himself and attempt Light's suave manner—that was for Kira to do. “As you can see, an entirely different associate has joined me.”

She nodded, “Ryuk.”

Ryuk laughed. “Heya Bella.”

She extended her hand to L: “Rosabella Cavalcanti,” she introduced.
L didn’t bat an eye. “Indeed,” he said. The doubt in his voice was obvious—all but spelling out that he knew that was not her real name—it alluded to the fact he was the Second Kira…and that he had The Eyes.

Rosabella frowned slightly, catching the look there. And L wasn’t hiding it on purpose. But if she was unnerved by him, she was working hard not to show it; and the smooth nature of her lying façade reminded him of someone else entirely.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” she continued, sounding as polite as she did seductive. She’d learn quick that approach had no effect on L—but he didn’t look like the odd panda boy he usually did, he was handsome and respectable, albeit overtly grim and serious as though he was not about to take any shit.

“Hajimemashite,” he was purposely being rude in Italian before being polite in Japanese, but by the slight wince in Bella’s features, her Japanese wasn’t exactly polished. She smiled, that buttery, low lidded smile, and L returned nothing.

“We have a lot to discuss,” he said.

Her smile broadened, and L couldn’t help but think if Light were here, he’d most likely be bedding her before morning. “This is Italia,” she said, with fleeting good nature. “First we eat, then we talk.”

* * *

He had to admit, L was impressing even him with this all too dangerous game of pretense. Matt sat on the steps of a museum halfway across the piazza, keeping a close eye on the scene that unfolded before him all the while remaining positively alert to their ever-changing surroundings. It was with an almost unnatural calm that he leaned forward, resting extended arms upon his knees, ashes crumbling down onto the stone steps beneath him. For now he attributed it to the ease with which L was actually pulling this off; earning the perfect unapproachable effect. That was just what they needed. Just the right attitude needed here. After all it was up to Kira himself to woo this woman, they were just there to move this mess along. But part of it was likely also to be attributed to the cool press of metal against his back and the short chain that dangled just above the bridge of his pants. He'd snatched one of Mello's own weapons for the night, hoping perhaps that should it come down to it, its bullets would shoot true.

Truth be told, he certainly hoped it would not come to such desperate measures. Not when it was Kira they were dealing with. Not when L had neither Eyes nor notebook. It was a shitty situation regardless of how one was to look at it. And clearly, the Shinigami would be of no damn help. Those were the terms. Matt disliked this whole 'deal' more with each passing day.

The cigarette was crushed against the edge of the step he sat upon and in the same movement, Matt pushed himself up. "Everything looks clear thus far," he murmured quietly into the com, trusting L not to so much as flinch. "Sweeping the area."

As predicted, the plaza was crowded. It was still early. The sun had barely just made it over the horizon; May days lengthening as they crept toward what promised to be a hot one. And yet there did not appear to be something out of the ordinary. In fact, unlike the last time, there was not even so much as sight of shadows on Kira's tail. Interesting. Was Bella just that confident, or were they just that good to elude him? A troubling thought whichever way one were to look at it.

* * *

Something was amiss. The thought nibbled at the edge of L’s brain, and he kept scanning the area every time his companion shifted her eyes down to pay attention to her food. She’d ordered veal. Ha. Apparently Melichiorre did an excellent job of relaying every detail to her—so if she knew about the veal, she knew everything else that had gone on the day before between he and Light. Given Melichiorre’s apparent surprise at the true nature of Mr. Misora and Mr. Masaru’s relationship—it had to go without saying that Bella knew exactly who she was dealing with…in that respect.

“You’re not eating much, Signore Masaru,” she said.

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” L answered. He’d ordered a risotto dish made with strawberries and Prosecco, he’d touched some of it, but those who knew L, knew when he’d decided there wasn’t enough sugar in something. Still, he’d made it a point to control that side of himself.

“You’re not entirely Japanese, though,” Bella presumed.

“There are many Japanese who have more than healthy appetites, there’s no reason to assume my heritage is my reasoning for a lack of one.”

Bella paused and glanced up. He wasn’t making it easy on her, and it was obvious she already believed that his behavior was due to being a jealous lover. Good. That’s what he wanted—it was a comfortable presumption for her to rest on without feeling too threatened. It would probably make her pursuit of Light more aggressive, because that just seemed the type she was. Up for a challenge, the notion spread her lips a bit.

L caught it, he also caught the person at the neighboring table smile in a similar fashion, and his gaze swept the other diners at the café…his brain beginning to piece it together quickly. He never wanted to take any Kira for a fool…even Amane had had her moments of cleverness independent of Light—like the time she’d fooled Higuchi. He was not ready to assume that Bella was so secure in her familia and its reputation that she wouldn’t take extra precautions—she’d proved as much with the sniper the day before, and L still had yet to figure if that was a misjudgment because she thought he was someone else… Bella showing up alone, and according to Matt, without any escort sounded foolish, and too good to believe.

But L realized at that moment, she wasn’t alone, not by a long shot…

For the first time his expression broke and he smiled the kind of smile Light was a master at—small and slow and devious. “Clever,” he said.

Bella looked up, her eyes gave her away, and then she laughed. “Grazie,” she said.

L leaned forward. “Every single one of them?” He asked, his gaze dark. He showed no fear, but had indeed realized just how outnumbered they were.

“Si,” Bella said. “They all wanted to see God, for themselves…”

Matt froze mid-step, eyes widening despite himself. Thankfully he was well out of sight of the cafe by that point for it to matter. All of them. Dear god, how could he have been so stupid?! Of course no one had shown up to tail her. They'd been there all along. They'd seen L pull up. They'd been watching all along and here he was making his rounds never once considering that possibility. Grave error. Shit! He cursed furiously and flicked his cigarette away, turning back and covering the last two windy blocks he'd walked at a run. Unbelievable!!

The fucking odds had just gone from bad to worse in a heartbeat.

He slowed down before emerging onto the plaza from the opposite end of the cafe, all too aware now of those who sat upon the esplanade, taking up a great majority of the round metal tables. Matt flattened himself against the stone facade of a building, which upon closer look, disclosed itself as one of many fancy hotels that populated the area, and dared a glimpse around the corner, counting at least seven others sitting at the esplanade and L in their midst. Completely surrounded.

Please pull this off, he urged the detective silently. Everything was now riding on L's personal success rate with this woman. This unpredictable woman who had fooled them so very well. Shit. Matt grit his teeth, resting his head back against the wall as his gaze swept along the wide plaza.

L held his poise extraordinarily well, his expression didn’t flinch—not even minutely, and perhaps Bella was a tad disappointed that he showed no fear, and maybe she was impressed.

“Kami-sama isn’t here,” L said in response to her previous statement. He could hear Matt over the com, knew he’d run himself back to the scene. Damnit, L wanted to apologize to him for this, and at the same time, he hoped that Matt would survey his company and start feeding him the details of their identities as fast as possible.

“A grand disappointment,” Bella said, raveling her pasta against her spoon.

“But a necessary one…” L replied, he fingered his wine glass delicately but didn’t drink it.

“L?” Bella ventured—the hazard guess at the reason for Kira's absence. And at that single syllable, L sensed a stiffness wash over the surrounding brethren. They certainly wanted L dead, didn’t they.

“Of course,” He said simply, confirming her suspicions, however wrong they were. “I’m sure you and the Ring have noticed a particular lack of activity lately.”

“He’s close then.”

“He’s always been close. But Kami-sama has always been smarter.”

“L is in Rome?” She sipped her wine, and L could see the wheels turning in her eyes. Murderous wheels.

“It hasn’t been confirmed but Misora-san would rather not risk it.”

“So his absence has nothing to do with us?” It was obvious then that they were still trying to read Kira. Or at least Bella was—and maybe she’d already decided not to fully trust Light on faith alone. That would make her wiser than any Kira before her, save for him of course.

L smiled smoothly. “Do you think he would come into this alone? Please give him more credit than that.”

“Does L know who he is?” There was more than curiosity in her voice, a reminder that she herself didn’t know exactly who Kira-sama was.

“L has always known…” L replied, and his body language was still casual enough to convey that these people posed no threat to him, however opposite was the truth. “L suffers from the burden of proof and Kami-sama is always 2 steps ahead. For nearly 7 years, L has gotten nothing solid on him.”

Bella dipped her bread in sauce. “…my apologies….”

“For what?”

“Your were misidentified yesterday….”

“As?”

“L.”

Thankfully L didn’t miss a beat—instead he laughed, a haughty laugh ripped straight from Light. Perhaps L had missed his calling as a mimic.

Bella seemed mildly insulted by it. “Is it so funny? Many of us have been of the mindset that Kira’s independence was compromised.”

“Does it look compromised?”

“He could have been forced to act on behalf of L…”

Not good, but L already knew a majority of them suspected such a thing. His gaze darkened and his smile vanished. “I’m glad you just said that to me and not to him,” and the tone of his voice was angry and almost threatening. It made Bella stop and look him in the face.

She took on an incredibly fake air for a moment. “Please understand, Signore Masaru, no insult was intended, like Him, we too must take precautions.”

L made it sound like the insult still stood. “Really? And when you suspected me of being L—what kind of precautions were you about to take?”

Bella smiled then. A low, creepy smile. “The same kind of precautions we are prepared to take at this moment…if the need arises.”

Again, Matt’s eyes raised skyward, scanning rooflines and possible hiding spots. The city itself consisted of all too perfect sniper positions but he did not have a trained eye for spotting such things, thus he looked as his handheld scanned through registrars. The onslaught of information came soon enough as he matched up identity scans, wasting no time in jumping from one to the other in quick succession. Unlike the previous incident that had revealed their silent tailer as Melchiorre, Matt idled away no time. Neither of them could afford it as he started rattling off identities, knowing L’s magnanimous brain would keep up with ease.

"Two tables to your right, Rodrigo De Luca, to your left Sergio Deluca. Directly behind you, smoking that godawful cigar, Maurizio Sella." A slight pause. In the meanwhile Matt hissed impatiently at the monitor. "The two women sitting together nearest the street. Lucia Romano and the blonde is Caterina Tavaroni. The younger guy eying Bella as if he'd prefer to eat her for dinner is Cristiano Giorgetti. Just right of the entrance, talking to the waiter now is Lorenzo Mussari." He had moved again, returning to the museum steps, but keeping himself for the most part, out of sight while still able to keep an eye on the entire company. "I'm crosschecking them all now."

Matt’s tone was even if not almost casual. Well shit, didn't he deserve a pat on the back for that? The truth was, he worried. How long must this go on before this over-zealous group returned to their normal lives - whatever that may be - and L would be allowed to walk free. He worried because unlike Light who played this part all too naturally, reveling in the attention, in the games, he did not believe it was L's forte despite the detective having done incredibly well thus far. Matt chewed on his bottom lip. The sudden intake of breath gave him away as he eyed the screen with an unfriendly look.

"Mr. Maurizio Sella there runs Banca Sella and is the president of the ABI - Italy's association of bankers." Not only was the main bitch herself something of importance, as were her followers. It had been expected, naturally. Should he keep on searching, he expected to dig up lawyers, doctors, business owners, university professors. Just the type of crowd Kira had always sought to reach. The type of crowd that would 'understand' his warped idealism and run with it. Even more dangerous still than the ignorant general populace.

L was memorizing everything the instant Matt said it, and continuing to look as though he were completely engaged in the conversation. “Is that a threat, Signora?” He said coolly. “It’s not appreciated.”

Bella was eyeing him closely now, “Surely you must give us credit for creativity,” she said. “The unfortunate part is that no one has ever seen L, and therefore a positive ID cannot be made—we had to use other means of confirming your identity.”

“Confirming my identity?” L sounded even more taken aback.

“Actually,” and Bella sat back, crossing those shapely legs one over the other nonchalantly. “We’re still in the process,” and as she said it, she swiped L’s wine glass, which had his fingerprints on it, and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. It became obvious then, that even the café staff was a part of this. And L’s gaze followed the glass on the tray—they were going to run the prints of course. And he was in no database, which either meant Mr. Masaru was extremely clever at hiding his identity, or he was someone who had never been “seen,” so to speak. To not find him was almost evidence enough to support that he was L, rather than if he wasn’t.

Bella seemed satisfied. In fact the entire lot of them did, but L didn’t let his true aggravation betray him. He was however, extraordinarily pissed off.

“Further precautions,” the woman justified simply. “I’m sure Signore Misora would appreciate our being so thorough as a matter of procedure.”

Anyone who knew how to read L, would see the furious look dancing in his eyes, but Bella didn’t catch it. She did however look quite victorious, and before L had a chance to counter her ingenuity, someone else spoke up to the rear, just outside the interior entrance of the café.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Signora—though I appreciate the concern.”

If his voice was ever welcome, it was at that moment—and yet at the same time, his sudden presence was completely and utterly staggering. Even L’s eyes widened to see Light standing there, fully dressed to perfection, having snuck through the back of the café to surprise them all with a very unexpected and unannounced appearance.

He nonchalantly lifted the very wine glass Bella had just confiscated from L off the stunned waiter’s tray and sipped it casually—holding it in his possession while making his way gracefully toward the front table where L and Bella sat—equally aghast. In fact, the entire outdoor dining area had hushed, all eyes trained on Kira, who commanded rapt attention without even trying. He was their god, and as he passed, Lucia Romano had the audacity to even reach out and touch his hand—wanting to make contact with his divinity. Light ignored her, slipping his hand away gracefully as he continued to move—his gaze fully fixed on Bella.

L, on the other hand, scrutinized him hard, and knew, despite Light putting up the sort of front the likes of which he’d never seen before given the extenuating circumstances; underneath that poise he was in just as much pain as he had been earlier…except by some staggering miracle, he was hiding it so very immaculately at that moment. For how long he could keep it up, remained to be seen…

"What the fuck..." Matt practically dropped the monitor, having been intent upon it when he first heard Light's voice, head shooting up to confirm that indeed, he was most certainly not hallucinating. What in the hell was he doing here?! Typical, certainly, but last he checked, Light had been very much drugged and very much asleep when they left several hours ago. He hadn't taken the care to wipe all traces of the preparation that had gone into this 'date' but to do so would have been foolish should anything happen to them. This, however, he had not expected. Not in the slightest. Light had either just saved their asses, or doomed them all.

Matt checked his phone. Nothing. No attempted contact, not even an alert. Matt frowned and turned his attention to the unfolding scene. Already he noted that Light’s appearance had caused a bit of a commotion; the instant stillness that had overcome the area was far too noticeable. Something was off and the crowd that swept across the highly polished cobblestone streets was beginning to take note. This could be bad.

“Signore,” Bella gasped. And Light did the charming thing and kissed her hand, smiling up at her—those amber eyes a promise of so much. He was magnetic, and she was defenseless.

“Signora,” he purred softly, that inviting mouth quirking with mild amusement. “Tell your people to stop staring, it’s causing a stir.”

Bella came back to herself long enough to wave some sort of signal, and slowly, gradually, the Ring members began their din of conversation—though it had grown hushed and speculative. Passers-by most likely thought Light was a celebrity of some sort, though a foreign one they did not know, so they took the hush for what it was, stared a bit, and kept on their way. Light nodded his thanks all the same, and another waiter rushed over to bring him a seat. He took it gratefully, and he still had the glass. It was obvious to L and Matt that he’d perceived what was going on, that he was probably wearing a com piece this time, and had heard everything Matt had rattled off to L and vice versa. This could have been a brilliant save, and L had to just play along.

The detective had already wiped any trace of surprise from his face, and sat there as he had been sitting there, calm and cool and unapproachable. Though he and Bella were already pretty much established at that point as rivals—and it was in his eyes: how dare she question his identity. At least, it was meant to be in his eyes as he played the role of Second Kira, jealous lover… if Light had glanced his way he would have seen the fury L had just immediately established for Kira #5. He was already hunting her down, but now his passion for destroying her and her followers was about to increase tenfold.

“My apologies…” and Light paused in a manner that alluded to his blatant knowledge that her name was an alias. “Bella.” First name basis already, he worked fast. “But I’m afraid I’m only here at the moment to retrieve Masaru-san. Unexpected business has come up and I’m in need of his…talents.” That was Kira-talk and Bella wasn’t going to question him.

She did however, look upset about it.

“However,” and Light was laying it on as thickly as possible given his time constraints regarding whatever miracle pain-killer he must have been on, “I want to set up another meeting between us that will be more,” and that seductive gaze of his slanted in regards to the others surrounding them, “Private.”

Bella nodded demurely. “Of course.” Hook line and sinker, at least insofar as Light’s sexuality was concerned. Whether she trusted Kira, or was frustrated he’d just intercepted her plan, remained to be seen.

At that moment, however, a shiny black car pulled up in front of the café—windows drawn and deeply tinted. Light rose from his seat, and L followed his lead casually. He took the incriminating wine glass Light handed to him, having already discretely wiped down the piece of silverware he’d also touched. And in a gesture of obvious antagonism, he dumped the remaining alcohol onto the ground.

Light didn’t flinch at his actions, though Bella did—she downright glared at him, and L wasn’t phased in the least. He apparently had a penchant for provoking Kiras—favorite pastime or something.

“Please understand,” Light purred, and he wasn’t referring to L, but to his rather lightening-fast departure. “This is nothing personal, necessity has dictated my actions as of late.” His smile was like syrup and she bought it. In that same moment, Light slid her a small card. “A token of faith,” he said, holding her fingers as he passed it to her for just a fraction longer than he needed to. Smooth.

On the card were a name and a time—a time that had already passed: 8pm. Bella glanced at it: Antonello Giordano. Mafioso—deeply buried Mafioso. Kira’s latest victim apparently. Bella could do her research and discover he’d indeed died of a heart attack at 8pm.

Light said nothing more, instead turned toward the car with L in tow. L opened the door for him and Light climbed inside, L following, about to bury him in a barrage of questions the minute the door shut and the car pulled away until his eyes fixed on the driver. Yeah, he was maneuvering one-handed, other arm in a sling, but at that moment Mello looked even more aggravated than L did.

“Matt,” he grumbled, “We’re picking you up three blocks from here…”

That was his cue to leave, but Matt did not move right away, downright astounded that they'd pulled such a stunt. When he at last managed to pick his jaw off the floor and push himself up, he exited the plaza, taking the necessary turns that would put him out the safe distance ahead for the arranged pick up. The fancy black car was already waiting, neatly tucked against the sidewalk. The redhead crossed the street and peeled open the passenger's side door, barely containing himself to let the door shut before he set his eyes on Mello, then on Light and back. "What the fuck where you thinking?!" he snarled without so much bothering as to remove the com piece from his ear. The car hesitated only a moment before taking off. Could not afford to raise suspicion.

Mello flinched at the outburst but said nothing, obvious by the sharp set of his jaw that there was a story to tell and judging by his less-than-cheerful mood, there had been some serious words thundering between he and Light in order to make this happen. Or so was Matt's best assumption. Yet, given the fact that all assumptions had been utter, downright fuck ups that night, there wasn't a whole lot he could go on.

Matt was pissed. That did not happen often. Hell, Mello could not remember the last time he had seen his lover truly furious at anything in recent days. Sure, they'd argued in the past and sure enough Light or rather, Kira was enough to set anyone off, but this was different. He could feel the anger waft off of him in waves of tension. Of course, that might also be a result of misplaced relief. They had come close - too close some would agree - to having blown it all on this one not-so-flawless plan…