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Fifty Days	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Het-Male/Female > L/Misa Views: 2868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
CHAPTER 17: New Place
L decided he didn't want to go to the new headquarters yet. There was something very comforting about being alone in this hotel suite. He found himself wandering across the thick carpeting on his bare feet, toes sinking in luxuriously. He jumped onto the bed, sliding across at an angle, and stretched out his arms and legs as far as he could, loving the feeling of being out of the restraints, being free, being a person who could make his own decisions about where to go and when. Suddenly, he was struck by memories of being in a bed without restraints, at Hideki Ryuga's place, with Misa, the last time they had...
He curled up, trying to push out those memories, trying to make the bed into his own territory again, make it into something that had nothing to do with Misa or with all the horribleness and the scheming that had gone on between them. He pushed at those thoughts, trying to clear his mind, but they just wouldn't go away. He felt dirty. He'd gotten rid of Misa's blood during the rudimentary cleaning hours earlier that had immediately preceded getting dressed in Hideki Ryuga's clothing, but it felt like some kind of phantom blood was still on him. He could almost sense the cloying stickiness of it, almost smell the disgusting scent.
L abandoned the bed and ran to the bathroom. It was an old-style Japanese bathing and showering room, with the entire floor being a tiled draining surface, so you could actually walk around wherever you wanted and spray yourself with the flexible showerhead on the end of a hose, though normally you were supposed to sit on a short stool while showering and clean yourself that way. The tub was extra large, and was primarily for soaking and rinsing after your shower. One entire wall was a gigantic mirror. L thought that he looked very tired, very worn out. He needed this. It was perfect.
He shed all his clothing and sat on the little plastic stool, almost absurdly short, while he took the soap from a container on the wall and scrubbed himself all over. It took three sessions of completely covering his body with suds and then rinsing it clean with the showerhead before he felt even slightly clean.
He looked at his image in the mirror-wall, trying to consider whether to go for a fourth time. The marks he most wanted to get rid of wouldn't wash off. Fading hickies covered his neck, and healing bee-stings and some razor slashes covered his legs. His eyes looked deeper, wider and more like black pools than he had ever remembered seeing them. His facial expression didn't quite seem like himself either, not like the face he was used to seeing.
No, continuing to wash endlessly was illogical; it would just turn into yet another obsessive-compulsive activity if he weren't careful. L made his way over to the bath. It had already been filled by hotel employees, in the traditional Japanese style of letting bathwater sit all day. There were heaters in the floor underneath, and as he stepped in, he could feel the warmth soaking upward. The expansive, roomy tub and warm water relaxed his muscles, began drawing out the aches, and as he lay there and lost track of time, it felt as if his soul was getting a little cleaner too.
When he finally stepped out of the bath, his skin felt weird, super-relaxed, almost rubbery, and the cold air of stepping out of the bathroom felt enormously invigorating. He enjoyed it for a few moments, not even drying himself with the fluffy towels he'd snagged for that purpose, simply dripping onto the carpet, his skin super-heated from the long soak. Then he began rubbing himself dry with the towels. When he'd almost finished the procedure, he found himself getting aroused.
L looked down at his erection; it was continuing to harden even as he watched it. Immense confusion surged through him along with weird emotions he couldn't even put a name to. He hadn't masturbated since before Misa had taken him prisoner. His hands hadn't been free, and besides her sexual schedule had been relentless most of the time, usually more than once a day. She'd drained him enough that he hadn't even had a wet dream in all that time. For the last 25 days, Misa had caused every single orgasm he'd had. Misa had... said she owned him sexually... and she'd made it true. It hadn't been a lie. She'd owned his body, every drop of his semen, just as she'd said. Her claim had been true... but... it had to change; he had to prove it was different now.
L sat on the floor and reached forward toward his erection. His movements were tentative. It felt... wrong, disobedient. No, this was his; it was his body, a part of him. L ran one finger gently from the base to the tip, feeling a little shiver working through him. It wasn't just sexual stimulation, it was something else. There was anger there, and a deliciously naughty thrill, like the feeling he'd had trespassing onto private property as a child, and... jealousy? What... who was there to be jealous of? There were other emotions there too, even deeper and more hidden, layers enclosed within layers, like an onion. L felt like he shouldn't think about them too much. If the depths were stirred too soon, he'd lose his composure, lose the ground he'd gained so far. It wouldn't be good. He might not function that well.
L concentrated on the surface emotions and continued running his fingers up and down his length with teasing strokes until he was panting and trembling from desire. Then he looked around the room, located some hand lotion on a bedside table, got it and settled again onto the floor, squirting a generous amount into his palm. Wet friction was always a better way to do this. For a moment, a memory of Misa spreading ointment on him popped into his mind, but he successfully banished it.
He took a deep breath and began stroking himself hard with both hands at once. He usually closed his eyes, but he felt a strong need to watch himself do this, maybe to prove that it was real. He watched his hands move up and down his sensitive, engorged erection. Every bit of sliding pressure was so delicious, and it was him, him doing this to himself, him in control. He could stop any time he wanted, but he didn't want to stop, it was good, it felt so good. He craved it with a mindless, instinctual need. His panting increased and he let out a little whimpering cry.
His mind filled with the pleasure. There was nothing else, only the sliding movement bringing him closer and closer to climax, a hard squeezing and frantic pace, the repetitive movements of his hands almost hypnotic as he stared at them, some of the lotion dripping onto the carpet from between his fingers. Along with the rising, tightening feeling of bliss in his groin, something else was rising too, a kind of anger. He wanted to hurt someone. L didn't resist. He was too tired of trying to separate out mixed emotions and squelching some of them. He allowed both feelings to rise within him at once.
He was shaking. Everything in him was so raw and primal, and as the tension rose to a sharp point, he let out a snarl and then lurched forward on his knees and leaned over, spurting heavy, thick glops of semen onto the carpet, intense pleasure washing through him with each distinct spurt. Stunned, he stared at the design made on the carpet as if hypnotized by it. The anger had come to a peak at the same moment as his climax, and he still felt pleasure and anger running high within him, burning through his veins. He couldn't take his eyes off the cum spread out on the carpet. It was somehow terribly important.
"This is not yours, Misa," he whispered, "you'll never have it again. You took it, but I've taken it back. It's mine now."
L had never been interested in his own semen before. It had just been a mess to clean up, like blowing your nose and throwing away the tissue. But, he couldn't help but reach out a finger and trace through the substance, then hold the finger in front of his eyes, looking at the glistening white drops. He brought his finger to his lips and tasted it, licking it all off. It wasn't good, but it wasn't too bad. Like extremely salty bitter tea with maybe a hint of some taste like walnuts or fish. Then he stared once again at the design splashed onto the carpet, crouched over it.
Suddenly he started laughing. He wanted to leave it just like that, for whoever would clean this suite after he checked out. A mark, unmistakably showing what he'd done. Proof that he owned his own penis, could manipulate it as he wanted, without asking Misa. The laughter wouldn't stop for a while, and it felt insane and angry, but when he'd finished and the laughter died away, he felt cleaner, stronger. He dressed, checked out of the hotel, and then had his limo driver drop him off three blocks away from the address Watari had given him for the new headquarters. All around was a mixed-use business district of consisting mostly of small office buildings with a few scattered warehouses. L walked in the wrong direction for a little while, using various tricks to be sure he wasn't being followed, then doubled back and walked to headquarters.
It was seemingly a warehouse with a few extra stories for offices, and when he first went in the doors, he came into a large, dim space, probably ordinarily filled with pallets of boxes up to the ceiling. At the far wall, there was a little stairway that went up perhaps half a floor and another door. L was halfway to it when Watari's voice came over a speaker and said, "The bottom two floors are empty of anything useful. We're still installing security measures. All of us are on the top floor now."
L said, "I understand," without slackening his pace.
So, this was it, a new headquarters. First, there had been conducting the investigation by moving to a new hotel suite regularly, preventing Kira from attacking a known location. Then, there had been the skyscraper L had built especially for that purpose, the one he'd designed as the ultimate weapon for catching Kira, and it had failed. None of its special features had been really been used, and its highly extensive surveillance system had failed to account for Light and Misa conspiring by whispering into directly into each other's ears on the outside steps.
As L walked up the stairway to the next door and through it, he couldn't help but think of all the things that had happened in the old headquarters. There had been a time when his suspicion of Light being Kira had been low, and they'd almost been friends. Almost. He'd never trusted Light. Well, he trusted almost nobody in any case, but he'd been certain that Light had been Kira at one time and then L had no idea how or when the Kira-mind might return. The process of how Kira had been removed from Light was a total mystery, and at one point L had been almost convinced that some third party moved the power from person to person, and that Light and Misa had both probably been victims of some kind, or Light at least, since he wasn't a Kira supporter in his innocent state.
Misa had only changed by suddenly having different motivations and no longer denying certain events, but the change in Light had been like a personality transplant, like someone else entirely had replaced him. Yet, L was able to see the connecting elements, the inherent personality flaws that could turn a justice-obsessed teenager into a ruthless serial killer, if faced with exactly the right circumstances.
L had seen it before, had studied the process of corruption in those who saw their evil acts as necessary and right. Yet, Light had been purer than the vast majority of serial killers. If Light had been faced with a similar situation where he came into a lot of power, with the difference that Light would have needed to kill in person like a normal serial killer did, then Light probably wouldn't have done it. He was too prim and proper, too squeamish, to kill directly. The death note was perhaps the only corrupting influence that could easily turn Light Yagami into a serial killer.
Still, there was something in L that wished to once again see that innocent version of Light, the almost-friend who had been chained to him and shared his every moment for so long. L rubbed his right wrist, the one where the handcuff had always been connected, while he walked down a barely-lit hallway and onto a dingy-looking freight elevator, a kind of cage surrounded by criss-cross bars of black metal. An image came into his mind of Light on the end of that chain, his eyes so round and innocent, his face intent with the desire to help, the blissfully unaware desire to hunt down Kira.
Then, as the elevator rose, L was suddenly envisioning Light during those last minutes of his life, and his stomach clenched violently. So much blood and vomit, those horrid red bubbles, the terrified regret in Light's eyes once the point of no return had passed...
No! No! Not this!
L stared at the floor, at the patterns of grain in the rough wooden floorboards. He allowed his mind to be filled by those patterns, tracing the subtle curves of the wood with his eyes, noting the knots where everything came together in little concentric circles. His mind detached from the disturbing visions and he let them float away, to be replaced by thoughts of the wooden floor, and then his mind was reaching ahead to all the things he must do, the errands to run, the countless little details that would fill his time and keep him blissfully occupied until the next Kira was caught.
He pulled himself together, breathed deeply, and stepped off the elevator on the top floor. It was a large low-ceilinged room with many cubicles and desks piled in one corner, while new furniture and special computer equipment had been installed at one end in a massive array of wires and monitors. The furthest wall had a number of doors that looked as if they led to conference rooms and individual offices for important people. L started walking toward them, and Watari came out of one door.
Watari said, "All our bedrooms are along this back hallway. We have more prepared than we need, so you may choose any except the one Wedy is already occupying. I'm afraid we don't have individual bathrooms, just the communal men's room and women's room in this hallway, but we can get some built soon. Or, if you want to move your bedroom and occupy a floor by yourself, you'd have two bathrooms to yourself. The only showers are in the basement locker rooms, but I'll have more suitable facilities installed soon."
L nodded and said, "You've done an excellent job, Watari, especially for just a few hours of work."
Then L gave Watari an account of everything that had been done with Aiber and the small amount of information he'd gained from Rem, basically nothing more than an admission that there was a new Kira and Rem would do nothing to either help or inhibit the search. He left out everything about Misa except that he'd faked a marriage with her for the possibility of later investigating her relatives for clues and that she was still unconscious with a fluctuating chance for survival.
L didn't mention the pregnancy test he'd ordered the doctors to perform. That would probably require an explanation, and L hadn't quite decided how much to say or when. It could wait. It wasn't the most urgent issue. The result might not be in yet, anyway. Hospital tests were more accurate than store-bought tests but took longer, and he'd asked for it late enough in the day that it might have been shunted to the list of tasks for the next morning.
Then, Watari went into detail on all the tasks he'd been working on in the meantime. There had been arranging for Matt to arrive around noon the next day and taking care of many things to do with setting up the new headquarters, along with coordinating with Wedy to search Misa's entire apartment for clues and install a tap on the phone along with microphones and video cameras everywhere just in case the new Kira might try to call or visit Misa. It was a low chance, but worth trying. So far, every call that had come to Misa's home phone or cellphones had been business contacts, the media, or friends and family members. Most of the contents of Misa's apartment had already been moved to a room downstairs, for later detailed searching for any clues.
Then, L checked the available bedrooms and chose the one he thought had the softest mattress, wrapping himself up in the covers and quickly sinking into an exhausted sleep. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he felt grateful to Misa for letting him sleep in a bed, and then reminded himself that she had nothing to do with it this time.
L woke up in the middle of the night screaming. He'd tangled himself tightly in his blankets, and it felt like the straightjacket, and he could have sworn the bees were crawling up his legs, about to sting, and through it all there was the feeling of her hands, roaming over him possessively.
L thrashed helplessly, then lurched free of the worst of the tightness, stood up on the bed and unwound the blankets, throwing them against the wall with another scream. In that same instant, Watari entered the room, saying, "Ryuzaki, what's wrong?"
L knew he needed to tell Watari, to have a talk about what had happened. A very difficult talk. It couldn't be delayed. Some of it would come out soon anyway, or else there would be questions he couldn't answer and the truth would be easily guessed. It was almost too horrible to say, even to Watari, the man who knew most of his secrets and had been his constant companion for so many years.
L crouched on the side of the bed, pulling his knees tightly to his chest with trembling hands.
He started out by saying, "She was... she was... sexually abusing me."
Then he was silent as he turned the issue over and over in his mind. It was certainly sexual abuse, but was it rape? He'd tried to convince himself it wasn't, but, he'd never been given a real choice except with the second half of that hand job in the very beginning. She'd coerced him into sex using death threats and the implied threat of worse torture if he didn't cooperate. L hadn't said "no" but he'd been placed in a situation where he was afraid of the consequences of saying it. If saying "no" didn't feel safe, then consent hadn't truly been given.
By deciding he'd let Misa do what she wanted sexually, he'd tried to use the power of his mind to turn it into something other than rape, but if it were that easy to avert such a thing, then nobody would get raped. Yes, it had to be rape. It fit the definition, and being in denial didn't change anything. If the death threats had ever disappeared, L would have run away without a second thought. He would not have returned in order to fuck Misa some more.
L was trembling more strongly, and he couldn't look Watari in the eyes. He had to say it, get it out in the open.
L looked at the wall, and in a very quiet voice he said, "She raped me, repeatedly, and she claimed to be pregnant with my child."
Then Watari was closing the distance between them, reaching out. L didn't want to be touched; he didn't want anyone to ever touch him again. But, before he could say anything, Watari had bent down and enfolded L in a gentle hug, and it felt very good, not at all like her gentle hugs. L leaned his head against Watari's shoulder. L's face was wet. He reached up and his fingers danced across tears flowing in multiple tracks down each cheek. The two of them stayed that way for a long time, until L was done crying and had wiped all his tears away with the edge of his sleeve.
When Watari drew away, L was businesslike again.
L said, "I have already asked for a pregnancy test. We should know in the morning if she was telling the truth or not."
Watari asked, "What do you intend to do?"
L was silent. No thoughts were entering his head. At last he said, "I don't know. I need to think more."
Watari said, "You should try to decide soon. The longer you wait, the more likely it is there will be questions and consequences."
L said, "It has been a very long and tiring day. I will think better in the morning."
Watari very gently said, "The worst torture I had was when a mission went sour; we walked into a trap set up by a mole, and half my division was captured. We could all see what went on in each other's cells. In addition to the regularly scheduled torture by our captors, the guards were cruel to us for their own amusement. Three of the men were considered good-looking and the guards raped them. Every night they passed by me, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the guards only put shit in my food and didn't rape me. The one man who was raped by a female guard had a more difficult time than the others, and he killed himself a few years later."
L said, "I will never kill myself over this. I want to live very badly, or I would have never have made it this far."
Watari said, "Mental wounds need care just as much as physical wounds. I think you should go back to therapy."
"No," L said, "I'm strong enough to handle this."
L didn't say his real reasons, but he knew Watari remembered their previous arguments on the subject well and would realize it was pointless to restart them. The problem with therapists was that all techniques of therapy relied on the idea that the patient wasn't vastly intelligent. If the patient was far smarter than the therapist and knew where everything was going several steps before it got there, it just turned into an exercise in being fake and hearing your own words reflected back at you, with no progress whatsoever. It was maddening to sit there and have someone tell you things you already knew and lead you by the nose through little steps that you were perfectly capable of figuring out for yourself.
Watari leaned down and drew his arms around L again, hugging him close, and said, "Thank you for saving my life. You are a true hero, L."
Watari patted L a few times on the back while hugging him, and then left the room. L sat awake for a long time, but when he did finally sleep, it was deep and peaceful, with no dreams whatsoever.
When L woke up a little after six o'clock in the morning, he immediately began familiarizing himself with the new computer system and the data that had already been loaded onto it. It was a good set-up, but nothing like they'd had at the old headquarters. With time, this one could be improved to match it in everything except for lacking the erased data that had been lost when the building was attacked.
The new data was sparse and mostly consisted of two things: information on Misa, and an attempt to rebuild the database of all Kira-related deaths that had once existed. Since nearly every government in the world attempted to keep records of whom Kira was killing, this was mainly just a process of obtaining already-existing databases from various governmental agencies and weeding out the mistakes along with adding some that only his own team had known about, such as the deaths benefiting Yotsuba.
The process would take a few more days to be complete with the limited personnel they had, but that wasn't an issue because the older deaths weren't important to finding the new Kira. No, the real issue would be studying the new deaths and trying to figure out who Misa might have sent Ryuk's notebook to.
There had already been five deaths that could clearly be attributed to the new Kira, heart failure deaths of new criminals who had been announced after Misa had shot herself. However, since shortly after Light's death, there had also been a large number of heart failure deaths among criminals whose identities and crimes had been known for a long time, but had been passed over by previous Kiras.
They had been avoided by Light because he usually didn't kill minor criminals or major ones he judged to be accidental or highly repentant, and avoided by Higuchi because he was lazy and only killed newly-announced criminals. This new Kira was either reveling in the power by going on a one-time killing spree, or the new Kira had stricter standards than Light for who was allowed to live along with having none of the laziness of Higuchi. That would seem to indicate a more fanatical personality than Light. Which meant a high likelihood of trading for the shinigami eyes, so this opponent was particularly dangerous.
By the time L had finished with those tasks and was about to contact Aiber's guards for a status update, Watari came in wheeling a cart containing hot tea and all sorts of breakfast desserts, and L suddenly remembered about Misa's pregnancy test. His mind had somehow managed to completely steer clear of the subject for more than an hour, ever since he'd woken up.
He contacted the hospital and had to talk to a few different people in order to prove he was a person it was okay to release Misa Amane's sensitive medical information to. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like a very long time and L had to wipe away a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Finally, he was talking to the right doctor, who insisted on first giving him a status update on Misa herself, something he needed anyway, but he wanted to bite his nails off with the waiting.
Misa had for a short time gotten much worse due to brain swelling and an increase in intercranial pressure, but she'd had a shunt installed in her brain and had improved after that. She wasn't conscious, but it wasn't a true coma, but rather "apallic syndrome" or an open-eyed coma. Her eyes kept opening periodically even though they didn't follow anything and she did not respond to touches or whatever was happening around her. There were any number of cognitive disorders that could result from all this, and death was still likely, but Misa's chances of surviving were much greater than other patients with her symptoms simply because of her being only 20 years old.
Then, the doctor described the result of the pregnancy test. Misa was pregnant, and had been so for two or three weeks. L almost dropped the phone, but he kept listening, barely hearing the doctor discuss the various factors affecting Misa's chances of having a miscarriage. Misa was pregnant. Pregnant! He'd expected it, but part of him had always suspected her of lying all along, there had been so many lies, so why should this one be any different? She'd probably gotten pregnant one of the first few times they'd had sex, maybe even the very first time.
L listened to the doctor go back to the subject of Misa's brain injury and discuss all the little details of Misa's symptoms and what they could mean, but he felt numb, almost unable to take it all in. A part of him noted that Wedy had wandered into the room, smoking and drinking coffee at the same time. Everything the doctor described all sounded so uncertain and fluctuating, numbers and probabilities and speculations. As L had thought, it would probably be a couple of weeks until the probabilities for survival and for various types of damage stopped fluctuating. L listened, and made terse little replies, and finally the doctor got to the end of everything and L put the phone away, staring at the floor.
Watari said, "What is the news?"
L replied, "Misa is pregnant."
Wedy said, "That look on your face. Is it yours?"
L didn't have the strength to lie, so he said, "Yes."
Wedy suddenly looked angry, so angry that L took in a sharp breath and thought about hiding under the table.
She said, "I came here because I trusted you! I trusted you not to betray us! How long has this been going on? Is it the real reason you killed Light?"
Every accusation was like a physical blow. First Aiber, then Yumiko, and now Wedy. Everyone thought he was the one who had...
He couldn't even speak, he couldn't say one word, and his hands were clutching his knees so hard it hurt and suddenly he felt like the few bites of donut he'd absently swallowed in the last few minutes were going to come up. He was staring at the floor and his stomach was wrenching. He covered his mouth with one hand and he heaved and tasted the awful sourness in his mouth and felt it dripping between his fingers.
Watari was suddenly standing in the way defensively, using his body as a barrier to block out Wedy.
In a grave voice, Watari said, "Wedy, he's a rape victim."
L couldn't stand having it on his hand, he had to get rid of it, he couldn't wait, not one moment. He wiped his hand on the front of his shirt and then peeled the entire shirt off carefully so the vomit patch never touched him again, then wiped his mouth with the shirt, even the inside, and dropped his shirt on the floor. He could still taste it, so he rinsed out his mouth with tea several times, spitting it into an empty cup. Then he closed his eyes so he couldn't see her face, but he heard the softer tone in her voice when she spoke again.
Wedy said, "I need to know what happened. This is part of the investigation too."
L spun his chair around so his back was to her and in quick, quiet words said, "Misa forced me to obey her in everything, including sexual matters. If I had been disobedient or run away, even if I'd managed to kill her first, the shinigami would have killed me afterwards. The shinigami claims I am only alive now because of Misa's pregnancy and because there is a possibility Misa might love me. I've had to create an illusion of concern and cooperation."
Wedy asked, "Will you be able to act against Misa?"
"Yes, when the time comes. I have some Stockholm Syndrome but it will not stop me. Still, I must not threaten her right away. I need time to set up something that won't cause suspicion in the shinigami, or we'll all die."
Watari said, "Wedy, he is reliable even in the most difficult situations. He has already risked his life multiple times to get this far. If he wanted to elope with Misa he could have done so before this instead of setting up this new investigation."
Wedy hesitated, and L heard the sound of her taking a long drag on her cigarette. Then she said, "You have good points. I'll stay."
L said, "When Matt comes, do not tell him about this. Let him think Light caused her pregnancy."
Wedy agreed, and the three of them briefly discussed the exact story Matt would be told. As the time of Matt's arrival approached, L found himself restless, fussing with his appearance. He considered trying to use concealer on the fading hickies still visible on his neck, but then decided to wear a turtleneck for the first couple of days until the marks faded.
And then, slightly after noon, L found himself waiting on the lowest warehouse floor, the giant empty room, waiting for Matt's arrival. It had been almost exactly two years, since the Christmas before last, and Matt was likely to be at least slightly surprised.
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Fifty Days