Redeemer

The water was warming again because Light had knocked his foot against the faucet to refill what they had splashed across the floor. But it was still red, because L was still bleeding—little surface cuts that would heal up, and the soaking was probably doing them good—but L didn’t seem ready to move just then anyway, cradled in Light’s arms, wrapped tightly around him with his head nuzzled against Light’s chest. Light had him firmly locked in his own embrace, which was why he was controlling the water with a foot and holding L with the rest of himself.

“Are you alright?” He couldn’t help but ask. They’d gotten carried away.

“Yes, please stop asking.” L was obviously getting tired of the nurturing act. “I’ve been well trained, you know.” he said, his voice muffled against Light’s skin.

Light’s brow knit. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“For field work,” L replied. “Self defense, martial arts, marksmanship…probably doesn’t seem so convincing considering the events of last night, but trust me, I can take pain.”

L had never openly just told Light anything about himself before—probably not since he admitted to being a tennis champion in England. Light would have been suspect of that too had he not played against him. “I see,” he said softly.

They stayed that way quietly for a moment, the water moving around them, the tint unnerving and concealing all at the same time.

“Quid pro quo,” L said suddenly.

Light frowned. “Why?”

“Because I just told you something, it’s unfair if I didn’t get something back.”

“Life’s not fair,” Light replied grimly.

“Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

At that Light laughed. “Don’t you know everything about me? I would imagine that was your primary goal during the investigation, and you had my father there most of the time to fill in the blanks.”

“Exactly,” L said plainly, “Which is why this will be difficult for you.”

Light drew a deep breath, the water clapping around his movements as he shifted his legs to better accommodate his lover between them. “I don’t know,” he sighed, and it was obvious he was searching the depths at that moment. “I…used to play the piano.”

L smiled. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do,” Light replied.

“I bet you were good.”

“I was excellent.” No lack of confidence, as usual.

“Why did you stop then?” L shifted his eyes up, but at his angle all he got was the graceful curve of Light’s jaw.

“I don’t know; I got bored I suppose. It wasn’t my passion.”

“What was your passion, Raito-kun?” L asked.

Light’s sigh this time was deeper and more impatient. “I didn’t have one. Maybe early on it was to follow in my father’s footsteps, but that was when I was young and used to run around in a policeman’s hat and play pretend games. Later on there was just nothing—no challenge, everything I put my mind to, I did, and then it was no longer interesting. But you know that.”

“And your passion now?”

“I’ve already given you more than one thing, it’s your turn.”

L’s smile turned a bit impish. “I play the piano too,” he said.

“I’m sure it’s cheating to say the same thing I just did.”

L shrugged. “Not if it’s true.” He paused, ignoring his lover’s ever lingering sense of competition. “I’d like to play with you one day.”

“I’m sure I’m rusty,” Light mumbled.

“I’m sure you’re not,” L replied.

“Then it’s a date, I guess,” Light said, his cheek pressed against L’s wet hair. “You have to provide the piano though.”

“I will make a note of it,” L said, his fingers drawing lazy circles over Light’s back. “And your passion, Raito-kun?”

“You know what my passion is,” Light said quietly.

There was silence. “I know them both, I suppose,” L replied.

Light was quiet for a moment. “There’s only one, L,” he said. But he didn’t clarify further and L wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

They didn’t move for far too long after that, and it just fell to reason that the fluid warmth of water and lulling quiet of breaths and heartbeats pressed them into a deep state of unconscious just the way they were—utterly locked in each other’s arms, L against Light’s chest, Light’s head dropped back onto the side of the tub, their bodies steeped in red water with only the crest of knee or hip visible through the murky surface. They were used to it, but to anyone else it looked like a murder scene, or a suicide pact, which may have been just the thing to cross Matt and Mello’s minds when they at last stumbled in during the wee hours of the early morning to find Light and L that way…

“Mello.."

"Hm..?" It was four in the bloody morning, and either had yet to score any proper semblance of sleep, having just tiptoed their way back into the hotel room to find it in a much similar condition to what it had been left. But those details had yet to sink in. Mello was freaking tired and the promise of a bed, or hell a couch, was all he wanted just then. But it seemed that Matt could not take a piss without having to call him over, only, Mello noticed, the redhead had not made it past the bathroom door. "What's the matter?"

"Come here and tell me this is all perfectly normal and I don't have to kick someone's teeth in." That someone naturally, being Light. "'Cause I may be tired, but something just does not seem to...click." By this time, he'd gained Mello's curiosity, willing him to distance himself from the guest room to peek over his shoulder at the scene inside.

It was grisly enough to cause worry, Mello deemed with a frown and almost immediate sigh. "Sure. Perfectly normal," he muttered in his trademark deadpan sarcasm, eying the mess that had become of the bathroom. The floor surrounding the tub was positively soaked, and no wonder, he noted darkly. After a moment's hesitation that could best be interpreted as a summons for the last strand of patience awarded him that day, Mello slipped his way inside; boots splashing against pinkish puddles on the otherwise pristine marble floor.

"Hey," he murmured lightly, crouching down beside the tub to brush their shoulders individually, stirring them from their unlikely doze. Who the fuck fell asleep for this long in the bath? "As endearing as this might be, you've been soaking for a few hours too many in less than sanitary water." It was the nicest way he could muster to put it just then. But then again, at that hour of the night - or rather morning - he didn't quite feel like being particularly mindful of his somewhat testy words.

And that was why, without so much as a fair warning, he threw the knob and drained the by now chilly, blood-tainted water, giving it just a moment's head start, before flipping a warmer stream of water upon them with which to wash. Just who was babysitting who now a days? He thought grimly, all the while digging beneath the sink for a fresh roll of bandages. The bath might have done L some good, but the exertion was a whole other story. And one Mello did not particularly want to entertain for too long just then. It was far too late and he was far too goddamned tired and sore to care, and normally wouldn't have. Had it been someone else, he would've told Matt to go about his business and head straight for the pillows himself. But what choice was there when it was L?

What choice was there when even Kira needed tending every so often?

Matt had been silent throughout the exchange, watching from the door frame with a scrutinizing eye. Not commenting, but before he reached for a set of neatly folded clean towels from the rack, passing them to Mello, it seemed as if he would not volunteer his help. "Could you fix 'em both something to drink? I've got it here." Mello asked him quietly, making it seem like a request when what he was truly doing was liberating the redhead from having to stand by. Matt took it in stride with a short nod, backing out of the bathroom. He could be heard in the kitchen moments later.

Light and L were both equally groggy and looking rather shell-shocked at the interruption, in fact, the darkening circles around Light’s eyes were probably competing with his lover’s; and he hissed as he sat up, hand immediately flying to what must have been an excruciatingly stiff neck. L on the other hand was semi-rinsing off, but decided the shower would serve the purpose better, and flicked the lever—which meant Light was suddenly, and very unpleasantly doused with a face full of raining water.

“Goddamnit L!” He yelped, jumping, and covering his eyes.

L just blinked at him, then blinked at Mello standing there like an exhausted sentinel. “Where have you been?” the detective asked, like it was all perfectly normal, and like he’d even expended one ounce of brain power to worry about it—given what the activities must have been to make the bathroom look the way it did.

“Out,” was Mello’s nondescript reply.

Like a punctuation, Light chose that moment to stand up, the rush of water releasing him as he rinsed quickly and took the offered towel. “I’m going to bed,” he grumbled, still rubbing his sore neck, half drying his hair before managing to wrap his towel around his waist just as Matt returned with the requested drinks. He didn’t bother to hand Light the tea he’d made him as Light brushed past without even acknowledging him—wasn’t really worth the effort then to the redhead, so he sipped it himself; setting L’s cup down on the counter.

L was wrapped in a fluffy towel by that point and Mello tossed a second towel onto his sopping head, drying his hair as though L were a seven-year-old just out of his bath. It could have been amusing had it not been so damn late and in such…odd…conditions. “Do you want a lecture?” Mello muttered.

“No, not really,” L replied, only the bottom half of his face visible beneath the hard-working towel.

“Good, cause I’m too tired to give one right now; but as far as I’m concerned, you’re both nuts and completely self-destructive.”

L was quiet and Mello handed him the cup. “Here’s your tea,” the blonde droned, he’d reached auto-pilot stage. “Now I’m going to do your bandages, and then you’re going to bed, and not getting up until I say so—got it? We have three days, and you’re using them to get better—or else I’m going to kick his arse,” and he meant Light, “Because I’m not even going to bother to try to kick yours.” He wanted to add that it was most likely sore enough already, but didn’t.

L nibbled on a thumb tip. “Ah, understood,” he said. Whether he’d actually listen was a moot point at that moment and Mello just couldn't bring himself to care...completely.

Properly bandaged and groomed - Mello had even dared to take a brush to that otherwise fuzzy mop of black hair - L was led out of the bathroom. It looked as if the sun was attempting to peak over the horizon by that point, which only annoyed the blonde all the more. Goddamnit. He walked the detective as far as the master bedroom door, giving him a firm look that allowed no arguments and motioned him inside. "Get some proper rest," Mello murmured, releasing a weary breath he didn't realize he'd been holding once L shuffled inside and the door was closed.

"You've had the patience of a saint lately." Matt was suddenly behind him, tugging him backward by the shoulders.

"Yea? I'm getting the impression that it doesn't fit in with the lifestyle, though. I'm bloody tired." And he sounded it, giving up the composure he'd exhibited before the other two. It was easier to let himself be led across the suite and toward the all too comfortable bed that had until that point been denied.

Hours earlier he had promised L that he and Matt would have cleared out of their rented flat by noontime. He had to chuckle quietly to himself, falling face first onto the mattress. It would be an accomplishment if he was at all coherent by that hour at this pace.

* * *

It had been a long while since Light was the first and only one up at that hour. It gave him time to settle himself, shower, dress, actually run a comb through his hair. Coffee, breakfast…the newspaper, almost like a normal human being—barring the rather grotesque death god that hovered on the balcony railing as Light quietly ignored him.

“You’ve only gotten more interesting as you get older, Raito,” Ryuk observed. “In the beginning I wasn’t sure what to make of all this—I mean, I’ve seen you every way there is to see you; I used to watch you with Misa all the time too,” he laughed at the insinuation and Light grimaced faintly.

“Do we have to talk at all right now, Ryuk?” Light muttered, his eyes scanning the news, memory snapping tidbits he found particularly interesting…

“You never really loved her, did you?”

“Of all people, Ryuk, you were there—you should know.”

The shinigami shrugged, and crunched an apple. “I guess so, I don’t know a whole lot about how humans love each other—it seems pretty complicated to me. I mean, I figured you didn’t ‘cause you’re so good at lying—and she was pretty annoying…except when she wore those little lacey nighties…”

“Ryuk,” Light chided. “That’s disturbing.”

“What else was there to watch? Sometimes you two having sex was the most interesting thing going on—I hate to break it to you, Raito, but sitting there for hours watching you write names in the notebook didn’t make for much entertainment. Why do you think shinigami rarely do it? You always seemed to enjoy it though…” Ryuk put a thoughtful claw to his broad mouth and tapped his teeth.

“Nevertheless,” Light answered haughtily, “The fact that you watched us have sex is really not something I care to discuss.”

“I watch you have sex with him,” Ryuk muttered. “Like last night. Not that I like that sort of thing—but it interests me…now that I see the difference, it’s pretty clear to me you never loved Misa.”

“I loved her enough not to kill her,” Light replied defensively, and folded the newspaper.

“And what do you think her life is like now? Without you there?”

Light’s gaze fixed on the hunched gargoyle at his side and his frown deepened of its own accord. “That’s no longer my concern,” he said.

Ryuk laughed despite the angry glare Light shot at him. “I think you might be lying.” The shinigami grinned. “But I do know one thing for certain.”

“And that is?” Light grumbled.

“You’d never say that about L.”

Further comments were interrupted as the balcony door slid open and Matt froze two seconds later, obviously not having expected to encounter anyone – especially not Light. Tense silence followed, but of course, the moment’s hesitation had already given the redhead a disadvantage and proven just how much he did not particularly like the man. But of course, he couldn’t just back out and pretend it never happened because that could be considered running away.

So Matt stood there a moment as if testing the waters before swallowing his discomfort rather than his pride, and stepped outside, leaning against the railing on the opposite side of the balcony. That sweet first cigarette was lifted to his lips at last and sparked to life. Now the morning could start. But he still needed that coffee. Ah. Second priority.

He was tired, but not overbearingly exhausted, all too used to the erratic schedule he and Mello were used to keeping, which involved longer nights than days, nine times out of ten. Not having expected company, he had not bothered to properly dress for the occasion—just jeans, no shirt. A wide cloud of smoke escaped slightly bruised lips, the previous night’s events still evident upon tender skin; the cut upon his lip, the bruise that accompanied it, a wider one where the door handle had pressed into his lower back, the red threads of nails along shoulder blades. Unlike Mello, Matt was not the type to parade about half naked, unless of course it was just the two of them. That was different. This most certainly was not just the two of them. This was Light – Kira. And as troubling as the thought might have been, the redhead managed to keep it firmly hidden and disguised behind a casual drag of breath and smoke and nicotine.

Except Light had already gleaned it off of him and was reveling in the discomfort he was causing. It was oddly apparent at that moment that he liked Matt as much as Matt liked him—especially considering the closet incident, and that begged the question—what did Kira do to people he didn’t like? Aside from killing them of course. Further fucking their boyfriends seemed like the next option, and the little devilish smirk that spread Light’s lips almost confirmed as much—or Matt was being paranoid, because Light seemed to have already dismissed him in importance altogether—continuing to read his newspaper (and considering that was Kira’s often main source of victims, it was unnerving to witness despite it’s apparent innocence). The redhead was not even worth speaking to at that moment, and that possibly irritated Matt most of all just then…

There was always the option to antagonize given company, but Matt was not confrontational like Mello. He would not spite Kira in order to get a reaction, mostly because even though he knew his file forward and backward, he did not know how to deal with him and therein lay the problem. But the fact that he was considering confrontation was enough of a hint that his mood had not fully improved just yet. The previous night’s romp had done something to get out some of that pent up aggression, but he was still ticked.

Or perhaps it was just Light’s keen charisma at work hitting all the wrong nerves.
Light knew he was irritating the redhead to no end, and he wasn’t surprised at the microbial pleasure he was deriving from Matt’s increasing discomfort. The Wammy children had yet to perfect L’s apathetic façade—Mello may have been doing remarkably well under recent conditions, but he was still a pent-up ball of aggression, and so it seemed, was Matt—only Matt was afraid of him. Kira was not an entity Matt was prepared to confront head-on, and Light was able to lift that simple truth rather easily. In fact, even Ryuk was able to lift it, which meant Matt’s own art of seeming disinterest in every given situation was slipping like all the rest of them. Fronts were falling right and left and those salvageable pieces were being chipped and cracked oozing gory internal contents, splayed for all to see.

“Hey Raito,” Ryuk chuckled, “He seems kind of nervous.”

If Light weren’t concentrating on maintaining his calm veneer just then he may have started cackling at the very blunt way Ryuk had just addressed the matter. The shinigami had never directly involved himself before, but it was clear Ryuk was having a damn good time watching all the rules get broken in this current predicament that even he himself was willing to push buttons. And here they were after all—the root of everything—Kira and his Death God, the Death God and his Ultimate Creation…there was a strange reality seeping to the surface just then…Ryuk was proud, wasn’t he? He was proud of Kira. Whether he agreed with Kira or not, he was proud he’d helped create something so effectual to the human world, and Light was beginning to see that all too clear.

“He does,” Light replied casually, still reading his paper. “Perhaps you should ask him why.”

Matt’s cigarette faltered. They were tag-teaming him! And the worst part was, they both felt so demonic in that moment that he was truly not sure how to respond, if he was to respond at all.

It ceased being Light sitting there like the arrogant prick he was the moment he engaged Ryuk’s challenge. Now he was straight Kira—he might as well have sprouted black wings and a scythe, because that’s just what he seemed. And still he’d not even spared Matt a glance, reading his paper calmly and with the full knowledge of what he was doing. And this?? This monster was what L was so willing to sacrifice himself for?!? Why???!

“How about it, Matt?” Ryuk wanted to see conflict. He was having too much fun at all of their expenses. “You look kinda scared.”

Light just smiled at that. He smiled…

It took some serious amount of will power, but Matt regained some of his composure, eyeing the death god. “It isn’t a matter of being scared. It’s a matter of distaste.” he returned flatly, sparing Light a short glance before looking away once again. Godamnit. Goddamn them both.

Light laughed. "The feeling's quite mutual then."

“Good,” Matt retorted, crushing the cigarette against the railing before flicking it carelessly overboard. “Glad we got that out of the way.”

Light scoffed again, his arrogance was in full swing. "You're out of your league, you realize that don't you?" He simpered. Another turn of the page, and still no eye contact.

What? Brows were furrowed before Matt could catch himself. Too late. His temper was still too close to the surface, boiling too hotly to put down quite that easily. And perhaps this confrontation had been coming all along. “Am I?” his words cold as he turned to face him at last. “And how in that oh-so-bloody-brilliant mind of yours did you come up with that?”

"You're the only one who hasn't had the guts to step up to the plate," Light's eyes slid over to him at last, and Ryuk chuckled.

Matt actually allowed a faint grin. “Is that what you think this is?” He gestured absently. “No, this is me not wanting to even bother ‘cause it sure as fuck isn’t worth it.”

"Such an easy answer."

"I could say the same for you."

Light's smile broadened. "Not worth it eh? And you'll stand by that."

The look in those clear blue eyes was dark beneath the messy array of red bangs that had yet to be properly combed through. After that moment’s pause, Matt approached, closing in the distance he had been so very conscious of several minutes prior. Hands were set down on the opposite edge of the table and he met those amber eyes dead on. What was there to fear other than another headache due to that goddamned attitude and despicable arrogance? “Quite simply, you’re not worth it. You’re not worth what we’ve been doing here. You’re not worth what they’re putting themselves through for your sake. And you sure as fuck are not worth the faith L has in you.”

”My sake? Is that how you see this? That’s a rather narrow perspective.” Light looked plausibly amused, and Matt wished he’d figured out the trick to reading Kira so he could determine jut how much of that expression was a front. “I know it’s a nice neat package for you to wrap this whole thing up and plant it in my lap,” Light said, “—if that’s what you’re comfortable with, then fine—nothing you say to me matters anyway. I could truly care. You obviously have absolutely no grasp in the least of what’s between L and I, and it’s none of your business anyway. We’re all capable enough of making our own choices here aren’t we? There’s no need to just simply follow along…” Light hitched an eyebrow at that last statement—he was baiting Matt at that moment, and to what end, what amusement, what little game, it was anyone’s guess.

The bait was good. Too good. It had almost got him and it showed in Matt’s pause when it seemed as if he would give in; when it seemed that he would either tell Light to fuck himself or jump on the defensive. Matt’s deliberate response incorporated none of the above. Good. Give a point, take a point. “Don’t pretend to know me.”

“Don’t pretend to know me either,” Light volleyed, “It’s more than obvious you don’t.”

This was generally where Matt would tell Light to go fuck himself despite managing to avoid that a mere two minutes earlier. “Right.” The table shifted as Matt pushed himself up and off of it, the fury swirling behind those eyes obvious. Itching for a fight, but keeping it at bay. For who’s sake, one had to wonder.

“And whose sake are you containing yourself for now?” Light continued to bait him, and perhaps he just didn’t want to quit until he wore Matt down, and perhaps there was something more to it than that—but Light was certainly attempting to goad him to his boiling point. “It’s just us out here, Ryuk only watches, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that already. If you were as strong as you’d like to think you are, you would have confronted me about Mello already. Or is that not worth the effort either?”

A traitorous twitch at his brow betrayed him almost immediately. What was the purpose? What was the point of goading him in such a manner when indeed, it was just the two of them out there and last time that mouth had only earned Light some damn nice bruises? Matt most definitely did not look like someone who needed to stand behind the aimed barrel of a gun in order to hold his own. Shorter stature he may have, but the frame he usually hid beneath loose fitting shirts was not by any means slight. “Mello has always done what and who he wants at any given time,” he returned and while someone else might have said it bitterly, Matt actually grinned.

Light smirked at that. Of course Matt didn’t know how Kira had controlled that situation, had controlled Mello like putty in his hands, aggression through passivity, superiority through submission—it was a keen and all too enjoyable manipulation, so let the redhead delude himself into thinking Mello had driven his own dominance, Light already knew otherwise. As did L. To his credit, Mello indeed had known what he was doing. He’d wanted to fuck Light senseless—he still wanted to fuck him, Light could sense it, that primal urge moving just beneath the surface every time their eyes connected. It was an animal attraction, the draw of the taboo.

So did Matt see that? Was he threatened? Or was he just adept at practicing he didn’t care who his lover fucked, even if it happened to be his worst enemy. And despite it all, Light still couldn’t move himself to care very much about what Matt thought anyway. He tried pushing all the buttons, tried to tap that primal vein to allow him to see some deeper part of the redhead—after all, passion, even if it was hatred, endeared his adversaries to him. L had passion. Mello had passion. Even Near had passion…passion in hatred…but Matt…Matt was not making the impression Light was seeking. Perhaps the redhead could over power him physically, it wouldn’t be the first time, but then again Kira’s power was never in the physical, but in the psyche. Matt was containing himself as a means of self defense. And Light had yet to determine how he felt about that. Disappointed perhaps? Ryuk certainly was. Matt was doing his damnedest not to crumble, figuring Light was only doing it to get a rise out of him.

Ironically he should only know that Light really wasn’t happy living his life in a constant state of physical duress. But Matt was either too deeply buried under a surface of nonchalance and quiet following, or he just wasn’t deep at all.

“Hmm,” Light simpered. “If you say so.” And he went back to reading his paper. It wasn’t so much a dismissal because he’d been defeated, but because he was quite suddenly…bored. Yes, Mello definitely had more passion.

The dismissal hit a nerve more severely than all other comments had. That Light had simply… brushed it all aside with a proverbial sweep of his godly hand and returned to that bloody newspaper. Unbelievable. Matt’s jaw could have gaped at that moment. He needed a fucking cigarette, but it wasn’t his pants pocket his hands reached for in hopes that he had shoved the pack back there. No, what he reached for was the pristine collar of Kira’s shirt; yanking him up from across the table, just enough to come to a too-close-proximity of the man and glare furiously into those all too contained eyes. His free hand itched to pack a fist into that already-bruised jaw, itched enough that it came up as if he were about to do it. But at the very last moment, thought better. “You… are goddamned fucking despicable!” Matt hissed sharply and shoved Light back and out of his grasp, with some luck to topple right over the chair he had previously occupied.

“What is it with you Alphabet Children?” Light growled, and there was an obvious hitch of pain in his voice, because that damn iron chair definitely caught him in hip and left its indelible mark. “Being fucked over in every way possible has practically no effect, but the minute someone brushes you off like the children you are, you get violent.”

“You might want to inform yourself better before creating nicknames that make little sense,” he scowled, only then reaching for that much required cigarette. “There’s only two people to which your endearing term applies.” He paused, lighting up. No one other than L and Near had officially been granted their own letter to go by. L was a given, and Near – well, that was a matter of unpleasant circumstances that were better off not discussed. “Do some homework, will you? Might just figure out some of the reasons as to why we’re all so seemingly fucked in the head, huh?”

“Semantics,” Light hissed, and his godly tongue was ready to wag. “It doesn’t really matter what I call you—you’re all a bunch of socially-challenged pseudo-geniuses clamoring for L’s throne, regardless. But if you want to play that way, the only one who gets a letter besides L is Near—because like it or not, he’s the one who climbed out from under that goddamn rock and established himself. Even L is playing his game, because Near’s good enough to have created a game. Can you say that for yourself? Or doesn’t that rank in your little Wammy-mind? Mello’s on his way—even you see that. He’s loyal to L, it hasn’t escaped L’s attention, and lately Mello’s saintly patience has made a definitive impression. So when he gets M, what does that leave you? Hmm? Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. Not my fight. You haven’t registered on my scale, and you can shove and threaten and lock me in tight spaces all you want—it won’t make a lick of fucking difference. Because you don’t have what it takes to deal with them—and you certainly don’t have what it takes to deal with me. You want to prove otherwise? Make an earnest attempt to step up to the goddamn plate—or just get the fuck out of the way.”

Well Ryuk certainly liked that one, he was grinning from ear to ear. And Light had certainly finished, standing there rather threateningly, chest heaving at the exertion of his little speech, eyes agleam with that dangerous Kira-fervor. And yet for all his verbal zealotry, he’d kept his tone low enough so as not to wake either L or Mello, or so it seemed. But both of them were staring at Matt, and why was Kira even making the attempt to challenge him now if he was already deemed so unimportant? What was the game really?

But the bait would not get the rise out of Matt that Light might have been hoping for? He was fully aware of the gritty details but Light had failed to aim true as far as the redhead was concerned. He scoffed quietly with a slight shake of his head. Such misconceptions. He did not have dreams of fame nor any delusions of grandeur. He, unlike many others at Wammy's had not fought with all he had for that number one place that would land him the attention to be next in line. Frankly, he did not want it. Not really. And that is why his position at the time served him well, just as it did now.

But these were the finer points Light had no way of knowing. Try as he may to understand how each and every one of them ticked; try as he may to understand the inner workings of the institution that had raised them all, it was not so easy. They were not all so easily read, nor so predicable.

"You're wrong," Matt told him through a haze of smoke. "Not entirely, but wrong all the same." And in that instant, the flare of anger appeared to have subsided. "So tell me what the point of all this is." He beckoned with a sweep of a hand. "If I'm but a speck under your precious radar, then why waste your time and your breath baiting me? What's the fucking game this time? Or are you as bored as your shinigami that any source of entertainment is enough to sate you for the time being? Or is it merely because I'm the only one around here who isn't minimally inclined into buying any of your shit?"

Surely enough it had been made more than painfully obvious that Light would not find an ally in Matt. There never had been that potential, not from day one when he had first opened his mouth back in Japan to question why the hell they did not all just call him "Kira". Perhaps it had been the wrong foot to start on, but it left little room for misunderstandings. So what was the goal behind these tactics? Why bother with the antagonizing game other than for sheer amusement. Somehow Matt doubted that was the real reason. Be what he might, Light was not so shallow. There was a goal that had formulated itself somewhere between the time Ryuk had first opened his damned mouth and this last spew of sharp words. What did he have to gain by pissing the redhead off even more than he already was? It did not seem to make any sense, and that in of itself was downright frustrating.

Light leaned back on his heels, his defensive stance lessening, his gaze dimming until that cool exterior had completely reappeared. Not worth it. “You’re right,” he said, and gave the moment poise. “I am bored—very bored. I have better things to be doing right now.” And if he’d had a deeper purpose, he’d swept it away again with a second dismissal.

Of course Light had already done the math. L would not have gone onto the field the way he had without first making preparations in the event of his death. He’d assume the three of them would work together to finish the case—or he’d assume that Light would break away and fully embrace his former role as Kira. If that was so, the first order of business would be to knock off his top opponents, he had Mello and Near’s names both; which left Matt. And Matt…was most likely not his real name. Light didn’t have that. It was so mundane a consideration Light hadn’t even thought about it until he’d unraveled L’s intentions, in which case, it made no sense to leave the ends to Matt if he was so easily defeated. But he was a Wammy and all Wammy’s had aliases, why should Matt be any different? Especially if he was being made to work alongside Kira just then. None of them were that stupid.

And further, if L was entrusting it all to Matt in the end, it now seemed it was because he had no other solid options after Near and Mello. And that was depressing to Kira, because Matt was not a worthy adversary in the least. He’d hoped perhaps there was a spark there other than general distaste and a penchant for playing the loyal disciple role, but apparently not. There was just no challenge and Light sighed. Hacker it was then. Hacker without ambition. A job Light could probably do himself—had done—In addition to playing both the roles of L and Kira simultaneously while working with the task force. So Matt was entirely expendable in all ways and that just struck Light as disappointing. He wouldn’t even take vengeance on behalf of his lover. His only power was at the end of a gun or the throw of a fist—and Light had no respect for that.

Early on he’d considered Mello the same way, but there was more to Mello, more to Mello that stirred Light’s own passions, whatever they were. Not just the sex, but the game—Mello he could play against, play with, play for. Mello’s beliefs were most certainly part of it—and his reaction to what Light had said to him the other day—to Kira’s side—well, that was nothing shy of exhilarating; like L’s every move and every strategy was exhilarating, they could keep each other going. Matt wasn’t like them. He was normal. Oddly intelligent maybe, but normal.

Light picked up the bowl of apples on the table, ensuring his death god would now follow him along like a lost little puppy. “Oh but just one thing,” he said, crooking a narrow gaze at Matt. “You lay a hand on me again, and I guarantee you will deeply regret the consequences.”

The redhead regarded him coolly, a brow disappearing beneath messy strands. "Yea?" he asked as if honestly curious as to what those consequences might be. The threat tucked away in the back of his mind, but not taken as heavily as some might. For now, he was safe. Matt went as far as raise his hands in mock show of harmless intent. "I'll think about keeping my hands to myself as long as you manage to do the same." And there it was, the belated defensive stance that had been lingering on the edge all this while. True enough, Mello did whatever the hell he wanted half the time, but Matt was not so blind to Light's keen manipulations, even if his lover was just as much at fault for what had come to happen. The details were unimportant. He and Mello had settled their issue, but this here was a more difficult one to come to terms with.

And just as easily as Light had dismissed him, Matt turned away from him the moment he'd said his peace, still livid somewhere under the surface but containing it a hell of a lot better. So what if he remained under the radar as far as Light was concerned? If anything, it served in his greater interest. It kept him out of the spotlight, which in turn allowed him to move more freely. It was a game he had years worth of expertise at playing. Stay in the background, assist but do not become the center point of attention. It was easy to be forgotten that way. Easy to be underestimated. That was quite fine by him at this point in the game.

* * *

It was twilight—that gray area between worlds, the sky inky and clouding fast with an oncoming storm. The wind caught in his white hair, whipping it across his pale cherubic face—the heavy dark depression of serious eyes glancing away deep in thought. He stood there, barefoot on the dry gray ground, the shade of crosses and graves falling in shadows across his white clothes.

L pushed a finger to his lips to watch him there, and he had that lingering realization that they truly did not know he’d slipped out of the hotel room this way. No one had come after him, and how long had it been? Hours? It didn’t seem to matter.

“You wanted to meet me,” L said lowly, shoving hands into pockets, shuffling closer toward the short figure in white.

“Yes,” Near replied. “I have something for you.”

“Is that so?” L asked, the wind blowing his bangs deeper into his face. He met Near’s gaze as Near turned to him.

“It’s done,” Near said, and held out a hand, short fingers tightly fisted in wispy honeyed locks. L’s gaze trained down…his mind piecing together the image—a once beautiful face, now pale and lividly hued, dead eyes upturned, dry lips parted, caked in blood—the same blood that dripped from the ravaged stump of a severed neck—the gory trail leaking in dark, banding ribbons down Near’s white-clad leg.

And Near smiled, low and creepy. “Now L, Kira’s dead,” he said.

* * *

L started awake, his gaze colliding with the ceiling, heart pounding for those wildly spinning moments before he’d realized he’d been dreaming. He hated dreaming. His dreams were never airy and un-weighted, they all carried the kind of gravity that made him prefer to live without them and exist on hardly any sleep at all. It had been much easier until recently—and how long had he been asleep? What time was it?

He twisted his head—the room was dim, but the curtains were drawn, so it could be morning or afternoon or even twilight—he couldn’t get a gauge on it. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was alone—Light was no longer beside him, and the place he’d left empty was long-cool.

“Raito-kun?” And L tried to blot the image of Kira’s severed head from his mind; it felt like it had been scratched into the back of his eyelids—and he rubbed them, forgetting the wealth of healing cuts he’d already sustained.

L hissed, caught himself, and managed to sit up to drain away the confusion. It was quiet, but for the hum of the TV in the next room. Someone was up, maybe all of them. It still however, took some effort before L clawed his way out of bed and to his feet. He was horribly stiff and sore all over, and his mind just barely grazed the events of the night before—the bath with Light—that had been more intense than L had truly intended, and he was only just now feeling the effects. Nevertheless, he managed to shuffle along, pull on some clothes, and open the bedroom door—and maybe the nightmare still showed in his face and maybe it didn’t…

* * *

Mello had risen some time prior. By now it was mid afternoon and the day well on its way to having been wasted. But there was always the night. The blonde stood in the kitchen, arguing silently with the coffee machine that was just taking far too damn long to give him his much-needed caffeine. A normal day in Kira's domain. Matt, however, was nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was also a distinct lack of equipment scattered about the suite. The only one that remained behind that L had not brought in himself, still monitored the SPK's every move.

It had not been difficult to tell that something had happened by the way Matt had returned to the guest bedroom some few hours earlier. By which point Mello was stuck somewhere in a state of grogginess, refusing to accept the fact that he was indeed and most regretfully awake. But it was obvious. Tension was written all over Matt’s face, all over each and every muscle then taut and unyielding even as the blonde had lured him back between the covers. Deft fingers and practiced lips could only release some of that temper, but the rest would take time. And that was why Mello now stared at the coffee machine impatiently and Matt had been entrusted with the task gutting their flat for any hints that they might have even been there to begin with and transport their equipment to the new hotel room that had been set up once he was out the door.

Mello had full intentions of joining him within a few hours, seeing as vehicles needed to be moved - although it was doubtful whether or not he'd be able to ride the Ducati himself - and he still needed to replace the Alpha Romeo. Risks had already been taken using "Kira's" car to pursue L, no such compromises could be dared now that Near had entered the picture. True enough they were behind schedule, but it was not the first time that Mello had been put into a similar position where his presence needed to be erased completely and relocated elsewhere. In fact, he and Matt excelled at it by now. It was more important that L would get the rest he needed at this point.

L's presence was almost immediately noticed; the faintest sound of the door, the hushed brush of footsteps. Little things most people would not pick up on and Mello had trained himself all too well to be aware of, even in the middle of a dispute with an inanimate object. His head shot up, noting that it was L at last, he offered the detective a slight grin. "Mornin'," he greeted. "How did you sleep?"

“I dreamt Near cut off Light’s head,” Oh, and there it was, and a fine good morning back. “What time is it?” And that was L pushing the conversation along way too quickly, but Mello’s face had already twisted, not that L stopped to stare; instead he spotted Light sitting quietly on one of the sofas, L’s own laptop propped on the coffee table in front of him.

Light wasn’t being particularly sociable that morning, had barely muttered two words to Mello, had by no means clarified what had obviously happened between him and Matt. Of course it was Light, no process of elimination necessary—the only member of their group who wielded the power to utterly piss off anyone else was Kira. He had a knack, and god knew what his Lordship had said to the redhead, but Mello could possibly hazard a guess…or maybe not, and no one was talking besides.

Light’s general abrasiveness didn’t ward off his own lover however, though he was no less surprised when he wound up with a sudden lapful of L. Mello supposed Kira hadn’t heard the remark about the dream, his eyes went a bit wide as L flopped down intrusively, curling his legs underneath him, head on Light’s leg, eyes on the computer screen—indeed like a child who had just awoken from a bad dream.

“What happened?” Light asked.

“Near wants to flush you out and kill you,” L mumbled, long limb stretching toward the keyboard and obnoxiously interrupting whatever Light had been doing.

“Doesn’t that go without saying?” Light muttered, watching L type with those long, preternaturally quick fingers. “Or did you find out something new?”

“I just know,” was L’s muffled reply, one cheek squished against Light’s knee. “The sooner we hide you the better.”

Light’s face sealed grim at that, and Mello gleaned a definite rebellious sense there. Nope, Kira did not want to be his and Matt’s roommate—not at all, and certainly not without L there to police them.

“Even if Near doesn’t contact me in three days,” L continued, “He’s going to send someone to find us—arriving here before the agreed time will allow him to catch us in the act; we need to reduce this operation down to two days—maximum. Sooner if possible…Mello, even if the headquarters is not ready, I want you to take Raito-kun away from here tonight.”

Light’s brow at last knit. “Tonight?” Oh he didn’t like that at all.

“Yes,” L replied, even though his body language definitely said otherwise—he didn’t look like he was about to let Light up from the couch, let alone chase him out of the suite tonight. The words: I don’t want to go, were poised on Light’s lips, but even he deemed them too childish to speak just then.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” So he chose those words instead.

“I will be fine, Matt or Mello can stay here with me tonight—whichever one doesn’t feel like staying around you.”

Ha.

Mello wandered out of the kitchen, coffee in hand just in time to catch the majority of the conversation. He too seemed about to respond in surprise, but Light beat him to the punch. Tonight? Christ. Moving a little quick, weren’t they? “We can normally be up and running the same day, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Whatever stays behind can be carried over tomorrow so that we’re not making multiple trips this evening.”

As to who would be staying here? Well, that was painfully obvious, wasn’t it? Especially after that morning’s fiasco, there was no way that Light and Matt could share the same living space for an hour, much less the entirety of a night. It was going to be tough with just the three of them, but it was a necessary evil, regretfully so. Hopefully Mello would be enough of a buffer in L’s absence. Doubtful, but the only option left to them at the time.

Goddamnit Near.

“I’ll have to head out shortly to deal with the landlord and get us a new car. The new flat is on Piazza Vittorio Emanuelle, across the way from the metro station.” Which put them several minutes away, but the distance was a necessity that had been taken into account when he’d made the calls several hours ago, but also meant that they would not be able to be there right away should something happen. A double edged sword.

And Light was grumpy as all hell given the sudden change in plan. “I suppose I should pack then,” he grit, and the words came out a bit testier than he probably would have liked.

“I suppose,” L replied, but he wasn’t moving, and acting rather obtuse about it to boot.

Light huffed, leaning back against the couch. “I can’t go with you on top of me,” he said, frustrated.

“I realize that,” L answered, still engrossed in the screen, still wrapped around Light’s leg, and ironically, Light’s gaze went to Mello—exasperated, as if indicating L’s antics as evidence to why they indeed drove each other nuts.

“You’re only making this more difficult,” Light said at last.

“I don’t feel like moving,” L returned flatly.

“Well, then I’m perfectly fine right here.”

“Nope, you’re leaving,” and at that L was up and off the couch and not even looking at Light. Light’s temper visibly shot through the roof, but he reigned it in, watching angrily as L shuffled into the kitchen in search of something sweet.

Mello watched the entirety of the display in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself only lifting a curious brow at Light as their gazes met. It was not Mello’s business to butt into and so, he didn’t, merely stepping aside to let L through to the kitchen. The blonde shrugged at Light as if to say, ‘out of my hands’ and with that, plucked his phone off the coffee table, dialing as he crossed the distanced toward the balcony, standing outside but not bothering with the door.

“Change of plans. We need everything up tonight, or at least enough to be able to function.” A brief pause. “Yea, L wants him out of here tonight. Meet me at the dealer in,” he paused, glimpsing inside to get a hint of the time. “An hour and we can go from there.” The phone clicked shut and was shoved into a pocket. Free hand touched his left shoulder, wincing ever slightly. It still bothered him. Unfortunately it would bother him for longer than he could afford to worry about, and given the continued shit they were put through, it was a wonder it was healing at all.

Thankfully there was barely a need for him to pack as they had never truly moved in and had been living off the strictly necessary. The important things had already been carried off, which left Mello to deal with the business transactions and escorting Light to his not-quite-so-luxurious temporary home. No use delaying the inevitable. Mello eyed the sky. It was dark across the northern part of the city. With some luck, they’d beat the more-than-likely rain. With a brief scowl upon his lips, Mello turned away from the sight to shuffle back inside, downing his coffee swiftly as he returned the mug to the kitchen. Might as well get moving.

* * *

“Mello,” and L’s voice was low, making sure Light didn’t over hear in the next room where he was finalizing his packing. No trace of him could be left behind either, and Light proved his neat-freak status above and beyond by basically scouring every trace of himself out of the master bedroom and bath. No more stylish suits in the wardrobe, no more hygiene and beauty products L wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole—no amber hairs laying anywhere in sight. He understood what Near was after, but that didn’t mean he was a happy camper doing it.

The detective himself was crouched in the kitchen chair stirring a cup of over-sweetened tea. Beside him was a package that had been delivered that afternoon—several of the latest video games he’d apparently purchased for Matt. Oddly enough, L seemed remorseful for what he’d been putting Matt and Mello through in regards to Light and his antics, and it reminded Mello of the times at Wammy’s when L would do such things for them on the sly whenever he was in town. He was always the protector, the older brother figure—the closest guardian and friend even if he remained mysterious to them for most of their collective youths. They knew he cared, he had ways of showing it, which was why seeing him lately, the way he’d run himself down, was beginning to gnaw at Matt and Mello so badly.

L folded his toes over each other—he had strong feet, in fact, at certain angles, he looked so much stronger than the impression he usually gave. And Mello assured himself for the umpteenth time that this was L—he could do this, if anyone could, it was him.

“I’m not telling you anything you won’t already have guessed—" L started. "But this will be the first time Light is fully out of my care since before the warehouse. He’s grown very dependent on me, and I’m wary about how his behavior will be affected under these current conditions. He’s a spoiled child, he wants to be the center of attention—I haven’t been able to pay so much as an ounce of attention to any case outside of Kira, and he wants to keep it that way—if my attention isn’t on him, it drives him mad. Keep a close eye on him—I fear what he may do to keep the spotlight firmly fixed where he wants it. He’s not yet stable enough to function on any normal level.” L paused.

Light’s silhouette filled the doorway moments later. He was looking very unlike his normal self—worn designer jeans snug in all the right places and a fitted black t-shirt, a stylish leather jacket even; not the sort of Kira garb he usually sported. But they were taking to the streets, and both Bella and Near had eyes everywhere. His hair was even shaggy and tussled, of course purposely so—god forbid Kira lose his vain edge, but on sight he didn’t look like himself.

“Everything’s ready,” he said quietly. The former tension in his handsome brow had unraveled—infantile tantrum avoided, now he looked slightly lost and more than a little anxious. And so did L. Mello took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll do a last check,” he said, slipping past Light and into the main rooms.

L curled his toes tighter against each other, and Light just stood there.

“Don’t make it hard for them,” the detective said. “This is our world, between us—leave them out of it…. Especially Matt.”

Light winced and L just stared at him; those deep black pools of his eyes welling even deeper, and Light caught it there—the emotion he was seeking. L was upset and it was proving difficult for him to hold in.

Light dropped the leather bag he was holding, closing the distance between them, slipping his hands against L’s still-bruised face.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered.

I don’t want you to go, L thought, but he said nothing; just stared at his lover and withheld those words he knew Light was waiting for. Light gave up after a long moment, and gently pressed his lips to L’s forehead.

And still, L said nothing.