Redeemer

There was no use delaying the inevitable, and thus as Light and L vacated the premises, Mello shut the bathroom light off as he passed through the doorway, returning to his previous spot upon the all too comfortable cushions. He got the impression right away that Matt needed to vent - whether due to the wild amount of foolishness that had taken place that evening on all their parts, or the fact that Mello seemed as if he'd just been kozying up with Kira himself, it was impossible to tell and yet, at the same time, he seemed hesitant. As if that unspoken hierarchy between them - one that had died several years ago - was still in place silencing the words he would doubtlessly regret come morning.

"I could have done that for you." The first hint of jealousy. Mello did not even bother opening his eyes to look at him; head resting back against the cushions. He could so easily fall asleep.

"Could have, but you were out here gaping instead." Touché.

The cigarette was crushed into the ashtray. Bad sign. Here we go. Mello frowned even before the words were out of the redhead's mouth. "Goddamnit, Mello, what the hell is going on here?"

"If I had an appropriate answer for you, I'd give it..." And that was the truth. He simply did not know. There was an amalgamation of answers just waiting to be given, surely enough, but the true explanation was out of his grasp. He did not know why all of a sudden it was all right to wear Kira's shirts and let the devil himself wrap his wounds; he did not know why it was all right to drive him to a covert operation which involved him playing the very same role he'd yearned for all these years, in order to quite possibly save both of L and Matt's asses. He did not know why it didn't bother him when it was those very same hands that treated his wounds and fixed his bloody collar after not an hour prior having sealed the fate of yet another person. He did not know, but maybe - just maybe - it had something to do with the fact that both were just far too fucking tired to summon the energy required to be angry at one another when for once there was an agreement: they'd managed to put their personal shit aside for this common goal and by some Godsend miracle, had actually succeeded. Or perhaps it was the heavy array of painkillers floating about their system. Either way, it did not matter. But then again, little mattered just then and there.

"Regardless of the fact that you two managed to pull this shit off, it was stupid to go out there in your condition. You got lucky."

"As did you that we came to get both of your asses out of there." His tone was low, not quite so neutral anymore. Ah, alas that last bit of anger still remained.

"We had it under control-"

"With all due respect," Mello hissed, looking to Matt at last. "Field work isn't your area of expertise. Nor is it L's. I'd say both of you got fucking lucky at not having been found out before we got there, goddamnit. What would you have done should he have been discovered?" He snarled. "What the fuck were you thinking when you swiped my gun off the dresser and came to check on me? L predicted odds that low that you had to say goodbye?"

So Mello had deducted more than he let on; his fuzzy thoughts did not take away from the realization that had sunk home long before. "Don't give me that look, Matt, because, by God, do you know I'm right." He pushed himself up then, but a little too fast and staggered on his feet a short moment, holding his head. Shit. Matt was at his side, but thankfully silent, biting back the words that would have only fired the argument.

"You need to lay down.."

"I'm fine!" A hiss. Now who was being foolish?

"Just this once, Mell, shut the fuck up and do what I say. You'll have plenty of time to argue with me later."

Fair enough, he supposed.

* * *

L wasn't saying his thoughts, and Light knew him well enough by now to know that despite the outright stubborn risk he'd just taken, he had indeed gotten something out of it—what, L was keeping to himself, but Light could hazard a guess...or several.

There was the obvious: L had met the 5th Kira face to face—it was like that disarming time at the freshman ceremony when Light had first met him officially, when L blatantly waltzed up to him, took his life in his hands and announced to Kira that he was L...it was that brand of risk. And Light had yet to decide how he felt about it. There was no other Kira who needed to see L—that honor, that satisfaction—was his alone. So maybe he was jealous that L had deemed Bella important enough to reveal himself...yeah, at the right slant, that was indeed how Light felt. She hadn't earned the right the way he had all those years ago—she was a copycat riding on his coattails. Fuck her.

And once the obvious passed—that L wanted to meet the 5th Kira to size her up for himself so the threat they were dealing with became more clear in its method and manner...well, there was the personal to consider....

And the personal, was that L wanted to see how Light would deal with it.

Would he sleep through it? Or by some miracle of reaction would he appear at the scene? Judging by the look on L's face at the time, he quite honestly hadn't expected the latter, so was that a point in or against Light's favor? Judging from L's silence, it was hard to tell. There was a chance Light showing up to bail him out of the situation had wounded the detective’s pride. But there was an equal chance Light showing up the way he did, had given L more pride...in him.

It begged the question then, how L felt about the way Light had handled the situation...did he catch that fleeting glimpse of Kira weighing his options? Toying with the possibility that perhaps he would betray him then and there to his followers? Had he seen that? Or did he take it as part of the role Light had just played? Therein was the rub of this whole case—was Light Kira allowed to run amok and resume his original game? Or was Light being Kira for a greater good? And not the greater good he'd originally intended by using the Death Note, but the one that lay at the end of Ryuk's challenge....and L's heart.

Had Light himself decided?

The fact that they were back here in the hotel should have served to Light's credit that he and Mello had run out there against all odds to save them. It should have ended there regardless of how stupid Light or Mello considered the whole plan in the first place, or how dangerous L or Matt considered their 'save' in the second—but that wasn't enough. Not when it came to Kira, and L was still quite obviously weighing the possibilities.

That, and he was determining how to move from here.

He shuffled back and forth across the bedroom, slowly removing the constricting suit he was obviously not a fan of. Neither he nor Light had yet to say anything, but Light had begun to strip down himself regardless, with every intention of crawling into a clean pair of pajamas and climbing into bed.

When he was naked, but for the bandage, rifling through the armoire for a pair of silk pants, ready to bend over and climb into them, L finally spoke. He said one word: "Don't."

Light stopped and craned a gaze over his shoulder at him, puzzled at first. The detective just stood there, staring at him, his face dead-serious, and Light saw the meaning there. He paused, and then dropped the pajamas back into the drawer, turning to the bed nude, and crawling under the sheets that way.

L said nothing else, just finished stripping, and turned out the lights. He slid into bed behind him and Light was lying there waiting, wondering, his brain doing all the math, running a gamut of theories as to what L had concluded about the night's events. There was still so much to consider even beyond what had just happened with Bella—for one, the tracking chip incident still hung on the air, and then there was the accident, and the obvious drugging of the tea after Light had adamantly expressed he had wanted no part of morphine...there was alot of shit and yet L pressed up against him from behind, face between Light's shoulder blades, long arms slipping around him lacing at the front, pulling him close, and Light released the breath he had been holding.

He hadn't been sure what to expect, he wasn't even sure if L was just faking him out at this moment—or if he was testing yet another theory by suddenly going to bed at this early hour of the night, nude, seemingly content to just curl together and rest. He could probably feel Light awake, sense his eyes were restlessly open in the dark, and his arm curled around Light's shoulder, pulling him back further against him, so when the first one did speak, they wouldn't have to speak very loud. But L wasn't about to break the silence...

Light, however, had been deciding the best way to approach this. His head was still fuzzy, and he wasn't clear just yet on his own conclusions.

"You said goodbye."

"I don't recall."

"You were prepared to die out there tonight."

"I am always prepared to die, Raito-kun."

"...And what about me?"

"I instructed Matt that in the event of my death, the three of you would finish the case."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

Light craned a gaze over his shoulder into the dark, and L had his arms locked around him, but he could still barely see the silhouette of the detective in the thickness of the room.

"You were ready to die without me and leave me here alone."

"That was not my intention."

"You were prepared to do it all the same." Light turned back around.

"What makes you so sure I would fail?"

"What made you so adamant to take the risk in the first place?" Light sounded irritable. "Who were you truly testing--them? Or me?"

"You were supposed to be asleep." L's attempts to sound innocent didn't work on his lover anymore. If they ever did in the first place.

"Bullshit," Light cursed, he was quick with the obscenities lately. "I know you. Despite this case--I'm still the Kira that matters."

L didn't reply, but he didn't need to, his answer was in his silence. "I'd prefer you didn't curse," he said after a moment. "It's unbecoming of you." And wasn’t that just L hitting another button, the hypocrite.

Light clamped his jaw shut irritably. "I'd prefer not to discuss this tonight. I'm tired and my head still hurts—so unless you plan on giving me more drugged tea, I'd just as well rather sleep it off."

"You're mad at me."

And Light gaped. "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

L's tone was as flat and nondescript as ever. "Probably not, coming from your lopsided reasoning."

Light's brow knit, and the tension just caused him more pain. "You're incorrigible."

"You were worried."

Light frowned. "I never said I wasn't."

"For me or them?" There was actually a hint of amusement there in L's voice, but only Light could hear it.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," he snapped and he felt L smile. L was working Light's last nerve on purpose, and he was doing it while they were pressed together naked, lying in each others arms.

Light grit his teeth for a moment, and then he took a deep breath. "...Did I pass the test then?" He muttered.

Unexpectedly, L leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Light's temple. "For now," he said against his ear. Then he settled back against Light, holding him comfortably. "Tomorrow I'll send the wine glass to the lab and lift Bella's prints from it—we may need them as proof later of her involvement."

"Proof is not my concern," Light said somewhat begrudgingly.

"It's mine," L replied, slightly muffled as he buried his head in Light's neck.

"It's a waste of time," Light shot back. "Ryuk never specified exactly how this was to go down—obviously just finding Bella is not enough."

"You could ask him, then," L said simply.

"I'd rather not," Light muttered. "He's inside playing Matt's video games anyway. He wants entertainment."

L drew closer trying to get more comfortable and his lips brushed Light's shoulder. "Then I did what I needed to do tonight—I entertained him."

"Bullshit," Light cursed again, and this time smiled at the grumpy little grunt the detective made at the word. "Give me an excuse I can actually work with in the morning. But for now L—just shut up."

* * *

Matt wasn’t sure what to make of it, standing there in the bedroom doorway, staring. It was a fleeting wish at that moment that he hadn’t touched the Death Note the day before, but maybe seeing the shinigami cross-legged on the floor playing his Wii was slightly less odd than if he’d seen the Wii playing itself. Matt wondered if he needed to say something, Ryuk seemed very involved, so he sucked in a deep breath and headed to the kitchen to make Mello that chocolate tea he loved. In passing the master bedroom, the door was open, and the bed—however rumpled—was empty.

“They’re inside,” Ryuk called from behind, but he didn’t clarify ‘inside’ and just went back to his Mario Cart.

Matt just kept moving, and tried to pretend this was all perfectly normal.

Mello on the other hand, had to take a piss, and while his lover was in the kitchen, ignoring shinigamis with a penchant for video games, he hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. It became a question then, which was the stranger sight, Ryuk playing Matt’s Wii, or the way Light and L were cozied up in the bathtub when he walked in on them.

Cozied? That’s how it looked at first, until Mello realized with a slow, groggy blink, that Light was attempting to scrub all the product out of L’s hair from the night before, and that L sat there, between Light’s very naked legs, chewing on his thumb, shoulders hunched, knees to his chest but looking like he was plotting how best to bolt out of the room.

His owl eyes turned to Mello, whose hand was still on the doorknob in an odd state of shock.

“Good morning, Mello,” he said flatly. “How do you feel?”

Ah what a question at a time like this—and spoken by the world’s greatest detective while he had a fair amount of bubble bath suds on his head.

Mello had no words. And cursed himself more when he found himself in Light’s gaze, which had flickered up to him over L’s head, and seemed to speak something on a whole other level. What exactly, Mello couldn’t tell, because it wasn’t a look he was prepared for. It wasn’t lost and innocent, and it wasn’t haughty and superior—it was cool, and furtive, and thoughtful, and somehow…very dark.

“I’m gonna take a leak,” Mello said at last. Graceful.

“Don’t mind us,” L replied.

Light didn’t even acknowledge the statement. “L, sit still,” he ordered, exasperated. Bathing L must have been a task, it certainly looked like one.

“I am sitting still, Raito-kun,” L replied drolly.

“No, you’re sneaking forward and my arm can’t stretch that far.”

There was a sudden rubbery squeak of skin against porcelain as Light grabbed his lover by the waist and slid him back into the cradle of his thighs to scrub his hair harder, and Mello just braced his hand against the wall, hung his head, and closed his eyes—like it was all perfectly normal…Perfectly fucking normal. Right up there with the bloody Twilight Zone they'd stepped into several days ago and had yet to sneak their way out. It seemed there was just no walking right out of this one.

Short minutes later, having left Light and L to their struggle with bath bubbles, Mello was sitting on the couch, squinting slightly at the bright daylight that streamed through the open windows. Up until that moment he had not been privy to the full effect of the shinigami entertaining himself with Mario Cart, so the self-moving controller was worthy of a blink or two. Touching the stray piece of the notebook quickly fixed that problem.

Unlike Matt, he did not cry out but merely continued sipping tea out of the steaming mug; feet resting on the edge of the cluttered coffee table as if there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary with the fact that not only was he looking at a shinigami for the second time, but that this particular one seemed to have an incredible fascination for video games. Matt had found a companion.

Or would have, Mello noted with a hidden smirk, if his lover wasn't so damn creeped out by the creature.

Regardless, Mello seemed to be doing a whole lot better. The pounding in his head lessening to just a dull throb that was easily set aside with a second serving of tea and even though general pain and discomfort was still present, it was not so bad. His shoulder was naturally killing him, but all other damage was for the moment, under control.

Room service had left a neatly folded up newspaper sitting outside the door at some ridiculously early hour of the morning. Matt had retrieved it when he crept out just after sunup to run the quick errands asked of him. He was back before L had emerged from the master bedroom, but there was no hiding the fact that he had left in the first place. That was all right however. At least it hadn't been Mello trying to sneak out that door. The thought had most definitely crossed his mind. But Mello had remained behind like the good boy he was trying very hard to be and now sat on the couch with a mug of tea in one hand, spreading the sweet aroma of chocolate through the rest of the suite, newspaper folded across his lap which was now covered not in his usual leathers but a more comfortable pair of loose, low hanging black pajama pants he'd slid into before wandering out of the bedroom. The bandages were stark against otherwise naked flesh. The red and silver of his rosary the only other thing upon his person.

What he craved most of all was a goddamned shower however and he rose to his feet, seeking the fresh morning air out on the balcony. The little table had not yet been disturbed as neither L nor Light had spent much time outside. So Mello sank into the chair and soon enough the scene became a bit more familiar. The folded newspaper took up half the table; his mug remained at his right. Two stark white guns had been added to the pile as Matt joined him outside, PSP firmly in hand, and along with them, Mello noted with some surprise, a replacement chain and crucifix had already been reattached to the handle that up until the previous night had been missing it.

"You didn't have to do that..." Mello commented quietly. After all, it hadn't been his lover who had lost it in the first place.

"I know that," was the only response before the music came on and the redhead's attention was upon the screen. But Mello knew better and allowed a small smile, picking up his tea. The balcony was private, so he had no qualms in popping out and checking the clips; undertaking his morning routine as he took meticulous care of each one, buffing scratches to near-perfection as best he could under the given condition. His gaze swept the sprawling city; vast from their high vantage point. Just then it seemed impossibly large, encompassing them as wholly as this case had.

* * *

“L, goddamnit! You’re tracking soap everywhere!” Light seemed genuinely pissed about it too, most likely because he’d stepped in a nice thickening bath-bubble stain in the middle of the lush master bedroom rug, while L, the wet rat, shuffled about in little more than a sopping towel because his phone was suddenly ringing, and at that moment—the bath, or at least rinsing off the bath, could wait. Light at least took the time to dry himself off before trailing in after the detective—trying to catch him like an escaped puppy who’d just jumped out of the tub unexpectedly.

“It’s water, it’ll dry,” L said flatly, still shuffling just a step too quick for his lover to catch up with him, he snatched up his cell phone just in time, and answered in the same tone: “Moshi moshi.”

Light stopped, his face twisted irritably as he attempted to read the detective’s expression—an impossible feat while L was on the phone—and at the present moment, it very much resembled the expression of a drenched raccoon.

“What is it?” Light grumbled, and L held up an index finger to silence him. “As, soo desu ka,” he drolled. “Wakarimasu. Domo.” He hung up the phone, blinked at Light, and then shuffled back out of the room.

Light’s patience at that moment was suddenly at 0, and he frowned deeply. “Nan desu ka?” he grumbled angrily. L still didn’t stop walking, but he paused near the balcony doors where Mello and Matt were sitting, having what looked like some semblance of a nearly normal breakfast.

“That was the lab,” L said, suddenly—in English—for perhaps the first time in a long time, a thick, unrecognizable and nearly sing-song British accent seeping through his normally non-descript tone. Usually he spoke to his lover in Japanese, in fact, it was probably the case that Light had never heard L’s real voice before—judging by the way he stopped dead in his tracks and his face twisted. Matt and Mello had very much grown up with a British L, and his sudden use of his native language got their attention immediately. Their heads craned in unison to catch the conversation.

“Apparently they’re having an extremely difficult time hacking into the tracking chip you recoded. Good work, Light, you almost had me, unfortunately Mello’s ineptitude at driving in inclement weather spoiled your plan…though you have yet to tell me what that plan was, so I suppose I’m left to my own devices.”

Light’s jaw hit the floor and his face went from irritated to downright furious. “What?!?!” He refused to speak any language but his own, unless it was for the benefit of the case, so when he yelled, it was still in Japanese. Didn’t matter, Matt and Mello were already paying attention.

The night L removed the chip, he seemed to have made it very clear that he was giving Light a second chance, having discovered that he’d tampered with the device, but not downright accusing him of doing so, especially not in front of Matt and Mello. Now however, it looked as though he’d suddenly reneged on that previous generosity—and inexplicably so. Unless he was pissed that Light had hidden his tracks so well, and if not that…then L’s pride was probably wounded from the night before. Either way, the reason didn’t matter to Kira at that moment.

In fact, not a whole lot seemed to matter to Kira at that moment—because he was seeing red at what he found to be an overtly obvious betrayal on L’s part. Even Ryuk sensed the fury peeling off of him, and had stopped playing Matt’s Mario Cart because there was far greater entertainment about to go down.

L blinked, “Why do you seem so surprised?” And he was still speaking in English—which Light had no problem understanding, though it placed a definitive distance between them. In fact, in English, L’s tone got a whole lot more rude than it ever was in Japanese.

“Surprised?!” Light hissed, and his deep amber eyes had narrowed to razor slits, his temper balanced on the edge of a knife, ready to split open and gush out. “Why would you say that to me now, and at this moment?” That tone was back—that vehement, maniacal tone dripping with menace.

“You asked,” L countered.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!” Light hollered back.

At that, Mello felt the need to haul out of his seat and draw back the balcony door, facing L and Kira like the intervening force he intended to be. Light’s glare shot at him as if from a gun. “Stay out of this,” he growled low and hard—and it was in his face—it wasn’t that L knew about the chip and had just essentially outed Light’s possible treachery, it was that he’d done it during a moment when Light had utterly let his guard down, and had, for all intents and purposes just been taking care of him. Most likely, from the looks of the bed, they had even made love that morning before bath time—so this wasn’t so much Kira caught, but Light burned—and if that was the case, than Light angry was a far scarier thing than even Kira…

Mello did not appear all the least surprised by what had just been said, however. He stared at Light unflinchingly and that look alone spoke wonders. He knew. He had known the moment Light had gotten in the car and flinched at the first jerk of the wheel. He had known when the chip had been removed and pocketed for investigation. It was not so hard to add up the details and deduce that, yes, indeed, Light had had his own plans to carry out that did not include a properly operating tracking device.

"Screaming bloody murder first thing in the goddamned morning isn't going to do anything to remedy the situation, even if it might in the long run make you feel better," he commented blandly, lifting the mug to his lips to take a sip. Matt sat motionlessly behind him. But he had, however, set the PSP down on the table. He was listening.

Mello’s unaffected tone made Light visibly stiffen, and his beating red eyes shifted back to the blonde, drinking in his casual stance, drinking in the redhead behind him watching—that dependable back up ready and waiting like the guns on the breakfast table; and then Light’s eyes slanted back to L. It was clear in his face—in that blaring expression in his eyes, that Light most certainly felt outnumbered, surrounded and poised to be attacked. He had that animal-backed-into-a-corner stance, and he’d flown off the handle so damn easily, it could only mean that L had touched a deeply raw nerve—and if he’d touched it, he’d done it on purpose, because if anyone knew where Light’s raw nerves were—it was L.

And L was watching him intently, testing his reaction.

And Light was raging, but weighing his response at that moment…at that moment he was strategizing something fierce…

Yet, Mello was not poised to attack. Not in the slightest. Not just then. Perhaps still too tired to care, or perhaps still remembering the previous night's events. Either reason did not matter truly, in the grander scheme of things. He watched and he waited. Surprisingly them all he said, "Let it go."

At that comment it was L’s gaze that snapped in his direction, almost as if he were interrupting an obvious experiment. And for some reason it struck Mello at that moment that L was like the kid with the snake in the box, jabbing it with a stick to see it writhe—only the snake in this case was Kira, and Kira was most certainly writhing, and here was Mello, putting a stop to it?

Mello said nothing, but the look was clear. He lifted a slender brow, frowning behind the rim of his mug. Always a game, wasn't it? But he'd already established this much only minutes before. Green eyes were turned away, passing briefly over Light to shift at some oddly intriguing detail within the room. The wheels spun in his head and he wished he had a fresh bar of chocolate to snap in half just then. The tea would have to do.

Behind him, Matt felt the tension almost tenfold, watching it from an outsider's perspective. He never interfered, he so very rarely came between the three of them - although this situation was vastly different. What Mello had done had essentially broken an unspoken agreement. This was L's territory, not his. And in that one short moment, he had not only neglected to back L up in what could have been considered an attack, but attempted to soothe things over - dare he think it? - on Light's behalf. Matt lit a fresh cigarette.

L blinked and put a finger to his mouth, drinking in Mello long and hard. “I think Mello’s defending you, Raito-kun,” L said blandly and once again in Japanese, but even so, his experimental curiosity was piqued, and the game went from pushing Kira’s buttons, to testing where these new camaraderie boundaries lay between Light and Mello…or, seeing as how L had probably presumed Mello already knew about the chip—why had he made it a point to draw his attention to this in the first place? If not to see how Mello would react—stay neutral? Take L’s side? Or take Kira’s?

"It isn't a case of defending anyone," Mello countered in the same tone, which could mean that indeed he had meant nothing by it or was doing a damned good job hiding his true intentions. That much, however, he was not willing to reveal just yet, if at all. To make his point more clear, he turned his gaze toward L. One of the few who had ever been able to meet that deadpan look in his eyes; the analyzing glint of blackness, the emotion tucked away so deeply most would interpret that it was not there at all.

"You're baiting him just as you're baiting me now because you're still ticked off regarding what happened last night."

"Mello..." it was Matt; that dear voice of reason, low and steady, warning him off from what could turn out to be yet another ugly argument.

L’s eyes were quite possibly as round as any human eye could go—and he did not blink, in fact, he hadn’t stopped chewing his thumb. “So desu ka.,” he said, as if Mello had just turned on a lightbulb and suggested something he hadn’t already considered. Which was bullshit of course, he was drinking this all in—and he wasn’t the only one.

Light had quieted. His anger was still there, simmering in his eyes, but his posture had straightened, shoulders steadied, and his gaze had moved almost permanently to Mello, only the look in them wasn’t the same warding-off look as it was a moment ago; it was back to that cool consideration—he was surprised, actually. Mad as hell that L was pushing his buttons, but surprised Mello had not only stepped in, but talked back to L in that manner… if anything was a surprise, it was that

"Ee-. So da," Mello returned tensely, not having bothered up until that point with the Japanese Light had been insisting on spouting out. "As far as I'm concerned, we've got every right to be pissed off at you as you may be at us. We might've potentially fucked up each other's plans, but you know what, goddamnit?" The mug was set down a bit too heavily upon the small table. "You're still breathing and last I checked, that was one of our main concerns regarding this case."

“Hmm, yes, I suppose,” L said, and this was L, not wanting to discuss this matter in depth. “Everything was prepared for should I have failed last night—I suppose Matt already informed you, Light-kun is to take my place.”

Blatant fucking liar.

Matt’s mouth dropped almost as if to say so, but Mello’s back was to the redhead so the barb found it’s mark far too easily and Mello’s jaw dropped—blindsided. L wasn’t testing Kira on this one, so much as he was testing Mello. In fact, he’d been testing Mello the moment he spoke the first English syllable to get the blonde’s attention. After last night, L wanted to see just how bonded the two had become. Mello had come to Kira’s defense—would Kira do the same?

“You have some fucking nerve,” Light growled suddenly. And L blinked at him, which meant that was probably not the response he had been expecting. “You always have everything figured out, huh L? What if I said I have no intention of taking your place? What if I said, that’s Mello’s right now?”

L listened—and then he smiled. “Clever, Raito-kun.” He said. “I see what you’re doing.”

Light glared harder. “I don’t fucking care. I’m done. It’s your case—you finish it. My fate is sealed regardless.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and stormed back into the bedroom.

Mouth parted but no words escaped him. Mello stared just as Matt stared, all three watching Light retreat into the bedroom and the silence settled thickly upon them. Matt still smoked, but he was all too aware of the situation; how complicated it had just become. Another game. Always.

Mello was just gobsmacked. It was perhaps all he could do to keep from throttling L at that moment "What's all this?" he demanded.

"Mello." Again Matt’s warning voice. The chair scraped the floor as Matt had pushed himself up.

But Mello wasn’t paying attention. "What's going on here that I'm clearly not seeing, L? Your methods are far from ordinary but this?" He waved his one free hand, that gaze sharp, studying the older man intently. "You take stabs at him all the bloody goddamned time, but you've now resorted to testing me as well. Why? Where the fuck is the need for all of this?"

A hand brushed his shoulder. It was shaken off. "Mihael!" The hiss served his purpose. Matt stood at his side, verbally shaking the fight out of him when nothing else safe of a fist would likely do the job. The words fell dead upon Mello's lips, his gaze narrowed, dangerous but contained. Matt would doubtlessly get a sharp rebuke later on, but for now, he remained silent, backing off the attack when it seemed that he had been ready to rage.

“I trust you to see what he’s doing, Mello,” L said, again in English and his tone had sobered considerably. “He’s been hard at work ever since he kissed you in the shower; but it wasn’t so much the kiss—that was an expected tactic since Light often uses sex to get his way. It was the vulnerability he let you see. It hooked you, and now he’s working hard to gain an ally in you—to endear you to him, and I see that it’s working…I should know. He did the same to me.”

Mello scowled. He knew, goddamnit, he knew but it wasn't about that. Fuck, 'till the previous evening, there had been no damn decent words shared between them despite however much vulnerability Light mustered for his benefit. "Shit, it isn't about that..." he muttered, pushing stringy bangs from his eyes. Tired again. Too much to handle, too much to pay attention to. And here the day had started out so nicely - strange as it might have been.

"It might not all be about whether or not he's charming you whatever way he can, but truth of the matter is that he's succeeding," Matt chimed in, casual as always. Ashes tumbled to the balcony floor. "I know you, so I cannot blame you for it. I saw it once you found out just how damned he was despite the outcome of this case. And I saw it again last night. The fact that you were pissed off at the two of us certainly contributed to his cause..."

Mello was shaking his head, refusing to hear it if only because he knew it to be true. Fuck.

L watched Mello shake his head. “Understand something, Mello,” L said, and god were his eyes ever deep at that moment—it seemed to speak of just how hard he tried to hide around Light sometimes, and how much harder hiding from Light was getting. “It hurts me to hurt him. I would love nothing more than to be absolutely sure that Light is on our side, that he wants to help us, that he is—deep down—good at heart. I want to believe that. I know I can’t. He is Kira. He will always be Kira. Even powerless, he is not truly without power, and he is still Kira. The moment he decides whose side he is on, is the moment I fear the most—because it is in his hands. Tracking chip, kill switch, followers, Death Note—it doesn’t matter, once Light picks a side, it all ends one way or another for him. Do you understand what that vulnerability is you see in him? Fear, yes. He’s terrified of his fate. That’s why he is bluffing now. He is not going to leave circumstances to chance when his death could be imminent. But he’s also uncertain—he dose not know where his loyalties lie anymore. In confusing him, I’ve bought us time, hopefully time enough to solve this case, and once it is over, Light returns to the way he was before: Locked away from the world—and that is the best case scenario, and still, it will kill him. Before this deal, I was not sure he was going to last a month in captivity—he is wretched. So you see, if he chooses us, he is punished. And if he chooses them—if he aligns with Bella and his church and attempts to betray us—well, I will not let him win. Light is scrambling because he is damned in every event…he will grow desperate, and ultimately find the one thing I haven’t thought of yet…because he is smart, smarter than he should be, smarter than I am—at least at this moment. And that one thing will end me, and most likely, end you--if you fall for him now.”

Mello blinked, gaping.

“Oh, and I lied,” L added, turning then to take up his normal place on the couch. “I would never let Kira be my heir—I hope neither of you think me so foolish.”

* * *

Bastard! Light hissed, and he wanted to throw something heavier, something that would crash and shatter and ring loudly through the walls of the bedroom, but there was a time he knew how to contain himself so much better than he’d been doing lately. So he refrained, he sealed it in and stood there, breathing, calming. When had he opened himself up to such attacks? He and L used to be masters at not letting the other affect them, but lately pushing buttons was so easy. And most likely it was because of the way L felt inside him that morning, or the way they slept, limbs entwined, or the way they could communicate on the same level without any words at all. Because when Light had lost everything, there was one thing left to hang on to…and it was fucking him up completely now.

Six years ago this situation would have been ideal. Had he romanced Ryuuzaki and made him fall for him, L would have been dead in a heartbeat. Light had had so many chances, and now…now he even knew the detective’s real name, and with a piece of the Death Note in his pants pocket it could be over in seconds! Yet still he stood there, prisoner to the Alphabet Children, containing himself from doing what he never would have hesitated to do years ago…

“You’re not the only one confused, buddy,” and Ryuk just floated nonchalantly through the wall. If nothing else, Light had given him a whole new soap opera to watch as of late, and whether Ryuk approved of all these new elements that had never been a huge part of the L/Kira struggle before—like love and sex—he was definitely keeping it interesting, because it was all so utterly unpredictable and for once…Light had no solid plan.

It seemed L didn’t either. And Matt and Mello were getting all twisted up because how could they follow the detective when he was knowingly setting himself up to fail? And when he turned on them like he had just now? …interesting that. Interesting more that Mello had not jumped into the fray guns blazing. Quite simply, L was still bitter over everything that had already transpired the night before. In all honesty, there was no way L could have saved that situation, and he knew it. But wasn’t that what Light was supposed to do? Back him up? Work alongside him? Weren’t they supposed to be partners in this?

“You’ve changed, Raito,” Ryuk observed, and Light was still standing there in a towel because he was too angry to even move a muscle. “Why are you letting them walk all over you this way? You never used to be like this.”

“That’s not true, Ryuk,” and he tried to sound like his old self—composed, collected, but there was a grit of jaw in those words. “I subjected myself to countless humilities during the past investigation.” True. 50 days in prison—bound at the wrists and the ankles, not even taking a piss was easy in that situation. The handcuffs was another trial altogether.

“Yeah, but Raito,” Ryuk grinned, “That was all part of the plan. What’s the plan now?”

Light closed his eyes, trying to channel that pride, that haughtiness, whether it came off genuine—well, he could probably tell by the fact that Ryuk was laughing at him as he turned his back to get dressed.

“The plan is to play your damn game, if you recall.”

“I suppose,” the shinigami replied, floating on the air, head propped on one hand like a lazy god. He watched with an odd twinkle in his eye as Light continued to try and brush him off by acting as if this was all perfectly normal. “But even I cringe when I see what those guys out there are doing to you.”

Light didn’t turn around, selecting his clothes from the armoire—black pants and fitted long sleeve turtleneck—black. He wasn’t going outside, and the AC was already raising bumps along his arms. “You don’t take sides, remember?” He reminded the shinigami.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have a favorite,” Ryuk replied. And at that, Light turned around and fixed him in a hard gaze.

“You’re either trying to tell me something—or you’re just pissing me off.”

The shinigami laughed. “You curse a lot lately, I think that day in the warehouse had a really bad effect on you.”

Light was beginning to think Ryuk kept bringing up the warehouse just to see the scowl twist his face. “Why are you even here?” Light growled.

“I already told you,” Ryuk simpered. “You’re more interesting than she is.”

“So you only picked her for me to find.”

“Yup.”

“Still,” and Light pulled on his shirt, turning away from Ryuk again. “You’re not my shinigami—you’re hers.”

Ryuk was grinning from ear-to-ear, and Light was scowling out of the corner of his eye.

“Doesn’t have to be that way,” the death god said.

And at that, Light’s hands visibly faltered, and he turned around to face Ryuk fully. “What?”

But Ryuk didn’t reply, because at that moment, Light saw it—there on the floor, flat and black and waiting for him to grab—like that first time outside school…the Death Note.

All the color drained from Light’s face, and he just stood there, his eyes glued to the notebook—his heart pounding so hard it was rocking him, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“That’s cheating,” he managed, his voice barely breaking a whisper.

“I don’t think so,” Ryuk replied. “It’s my game after all.”

“You can’t change the rules midway,” Light murmured, and his voice was nearly gone—he was trembling, like a junkie for a fix, the sight of the book right there making him shake. And still he could not tear his eyes away from it…and yet he did not bend to reach it…

“Maybe I thought of a new game?” Ryuk replied. And that wasn’t a good reply—that was a thoughtful one. Ryuk had spent far too much time around Kira, he was picking up bad habits. And Light gleaned what he was getting at—what was the game after all? Why was he sitting here in this hotel room with them, and not watching as Bella and her ring systematically killed off whole prisons of people? Why? Because the new game was on moral ground. Light and L were no longer clearly drawn lines…and here was Light, with the ingenuity and intuitiveness to beat the detective and win his new world, but he wasn’t doing it. Every chance he had, he let slide by—so what if the whole of his world was right there directly in front of him? Who he was, what he was, everything he’d fought for—KIRA—right there for the taking? What would he do?

Ryuk wasn’t making them play a game for him. He was playing a game with them—and he’d just upped the stakes. He wanted to see what Light would do now.

Light still hadn’t moved, his eyes glued on the book, and then very slowly, very steady, he said: “What are the rules now?”