Redeemer

The knock on the door made both Matt and L look up with concern. Matt was already mired far too deep in the muddled mess of this whole fiasco—and not for any of the technical reasons now that he had the SPK system fully tracked. L, was abnormally quiet, his doctor was boarding a 4pm flight out of Heathrow and L hadn’t said much since that particular phone call. Neither of them had ordered room service either, so a knock at the door was most unexpected.

L waited a moment, finger at his lips, mind working through all the probable scenarios—when no clarifying voice followed a second knock, L looked to Matt. Whoever was at that door was not supposed to know that Matt was alive, be they SPK or otherwise—and if they were Bella’s people, Matt needed to be a hidden advantage.

The redhead drew his gun as L slid off the couch, wordlessly shoving a finger at the closet. Matt moved fast, slipping into the narrow space he’d ironically locked Light in days earlier, and just as he did, L opened the door. From where he hid, Matt could only see through the narrow slat in the hinge, and what he saw was L standing there looking fairly …surprised. Maybe surprised wasn’t the best word—he looked slightly shocked, and in a bad way.

“Bonjourno!” a smooth, yet fairly caddy voice greeted. “I’m the first wave of your back-up, my sweet Deneuve.”

L’s expression went dark, he’d never felt like killing Near before…but now he just might have to reconsider it. The boy had far more perception than L had ever given him credit.

“Did you miss me?” And Aiber dared to say such a thing in that tone because he had no idea Matt was in the closet with a gun ready to go.

“No,” L said flatly, turning on his heal to permit the conman to enter. “And don’t call me, Deneuve.”

Aiber chuckled good naturedly, closing the door behind him and following the detective into the suite. “You’re lying,” he teased.

“And you’re early,” L muttered. “I informed N that the SPK was not to make any moves for three days.”

“I’m not the SPK,” Aiber replied, waiting for a moment before remembering that L was not the most gracious host in the world. “I’m going to help myself to your kitchen, then” he said, “Long flight.”

“You’re here at Near’s orders,” L replied, back to his own work. “The difference is the same.”

“And we intercepted a call to your physician,” Aiber replied; “There were concerns, so I volunteered to take the risk and arrive early. I see you’re in worse condition than any of us imagined.”

“Not appreciated,” L replied rather abrasively. “And my condition is fine.”

Aiber disregarded him. “Who worked you over?”

“Kira’s people,” L replied.

Aiber poured himself an espresso. “I understood Kira was dead.”

“Light Yagami is dead,” L muttered; “Kira is alive and well with a church and a veritable army.”

“So the disease spreads,” Aiber observed, moving to hover over L’s shoulder. L’s eyes slanted narrowly in his direction, but he didn’t turn to face the man. He was however, quite visibly bristling.

What happened then had Matt’s face widening with surprise even from inside the closet. Aiber brazenly reached over and slid his hand against L’s cheek, cupping his jaw to make L face him. L’s eyes were perhaps as dangerous as Matt had ever seen them, and that was just before Aiber stroked his thumb across L’s plump lips and repeated rather breathily…”Tell me you missed me.”


It took all of his self-control to keep Matt firmly in place. The barrel of the gun was cold against his temple and along his jaw – clenched tight once the initial surprise passed. Just what the hell was going on here? He watched through narrowed blues at what could be considered the start of a rather compromising situation. Several questions jumped to mind – who the fuck was this guy? He gave the impression of pure sleaze, and as if that was not bad enough, he was obviously familiar with L which, Matt decided several moments later, was perhaps what puzzled him the most.

And then his gaze shot across the setup in the living room. His equipment remained scattered across tables, but that was easily played off as L’s own, however the distinct scent of cigarette smoke still clung to the air – and the ashtray remained on the edge of the coffee table, a chilled glass of coffee sitting next to it. He practically cursed under his breath and hoped ardently that the slight details would go unnoticed. This visit had not been anticipated. They weren’t expecting anyone so soon, let alone someone that was already familiar with L as this jackass obviously was.

Shit.

Matt’s free hand rested on the doorframe, tapping silently against the smooth wooden surface as he ran through the scenarios in his head. When was it appropriate to reveal himself? Or was he doomed to remain in the damn closet and watch through a narrow slit of hinges as the scene unfolded. And considering that the blonde man was now leaning quite intrusively over the back of the couch and invading L’s personal space more than any normal person would, Matt was seriously weighing his options.

L’s face was dark and grim—and only got grimmer when Aiber leaned in suddenly to kiss him. It was about that moment that the intrusive blonde conman found himself with a faceful of canoli, and L was up and over the arm of the couch before Aiber even knew what hit him.

“It would behoove you not to try such things,” L mumbled, walking toward the balcony, hands shoved into pockets as Aiber spluttered and laughed good naturedly at the detective’s dodge of his advances. He licked some the cream off his fingers before moving to follow L. “Playing hard to get, Deneuve? How very feisty of you.”

“Don’t call me Deneuve,” L grumbled now from outside. It was obvious to Matt that L was leading his visitor away to give Matt a chance to slip out of the closet. Now whether Matt vacated the premises or himself invaded the scene—he had to consider the consequences. The blonde man he did not know, and assumed did not know him. To suddenly show up as part of L’s own team would be a fair scenario, and one that would allow Matt to keep an eye on this obvious pervert who already seemed to share a very unlikely history with L of all people…

* * *

This was impossible. There was no work being done, not of the productive kind—especially not when the computers were in the sitting room, and they were once again tangled in between the sheets.

Light stretched like a satisfied cat, again folded quite comfortably in the crook of Mello’s body. The scars didn’t seem to bother him in the least, and he slid his arm around Mello’s torso, stroking the lean muscle with the familiarity of a lazy and contented lover…

“You know…” Mello murmured several minutes later once the flush had faded from his features and the sweat had dried upon his brow. His gaze was unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling without really seeing it. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d fallen into bed with heated kisses and matching touches; furious demands of carnal passion and unbearable lust. It was enough to snatch Light’s attention and although Mello felt his eyes on him, Kira had barely even moved. “This wasn’t what I meant when I told you to be productive…” A snap of chocolate. “I mean, I know I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, but this is jus' a bit ridiculous.”

By God, he had just made a fucking joke. The world would crumble soon enough at this pace.

But Mello was not laughing, either not having meant it as a joke, or he was just that damned good at keeping those scarred, handsome features positively neutral. Another snap of chocolate. Black polished nails trailed idly along Light’s shoulder, getting lost in messy strands at the nape of his neck. Too familiar indeed and yet, just then he thought nothing of it. Sprawled across the mattress, tangled in sheets that had fallen half off the bed, basking in those moments of peace that followed with bodies still pressed together, like this, it was easy. There wasn't a single thing to think or worry about because it was a language both of them spoke quite well. Sex was easy, the consequences that followed were not.

“I could purr right now,” Light murmured against Mello’s skin. He was referring to those black nails combing idly through his hair, with some vague misplaced trace of affection
both of them seemed to be getting all too used to.

Mello smiled and Light smiled with him, against his skin, before those amber eyes trained up to graze across handsome scarred features.

“There is no thought being applied to this right now,” Light murmured.

“None whatsoever,” Mello replied flatly, and drew a lazy circle around a beauty mark on Light’s golden shoulder.

“Good,” Light breathed, snuggling in tighter, lips brushing Mello’s chest before an impish tongue circled the tight bud of a dark nipple. Mello sucked in a breath, eyes closing. “Incorrigible bastard,” he breathed, and Light grinned against him, shifting to get a better angle—hard kisses and gentle teeth and far-too skilled a tongue.

Mello’s fingers tightened in Light’s hair, Light’s own fingers digging into Mello’s flank, and just as Light’s tongue found the shallow valley of Mello’s chest, gliding tauntingly over the red crystal rosary—the cell phone cried a message.

There was a collective groan between the two of them, and Light caught Mello’s wrist and pinned it to the pillow. “Don’t get it,” he said, mouth finding Mello’s pulse and sucking hard, returning a bruise or two Mello had sucked into Light’s own flesh the night before.

Mello entertained that rather tempting notion for a moment because Kira’s mouth was so goddamn distracting; but ultimately, there was still a job to do wasn’t there? And it could have been important.

“I can’t” he muttered at last, stretching to reach the phone, feeling Light’s disappointed reaction against him.

Mello flipped the phone open and read the text—it was from Matt of course and it didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Light saw the confusion scrawl in one of Mello’s patented expressions. “What is it?” he asked, and Mello instinctively snapped the chocolate.

“Staying with L, he needs backup, someone is here.”

“Someone?” There was more than a hitch of worry in Light’s voice at that, even though he covered it over quickly.

“If it was SPK, he would have said SPK,” Mello grumbled, “Goddamnit, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Even if it’s not SPK, it has to be Near’s doing, because if it’s not Near…”

“It’s your fucking nutbag worshippers,” Mello all but growled.

Light’s brows knit. “No,” and he sounded far too certain. “I ordered them to keep away from L, to leave him to me—if it’s Bella, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

So Kira was threatening his own? Mello crooked an eyebrow and Light’s gaze was unyielding. Perhaps Light had been more productive than he let on, and perhaps he was still up to something. Nevertheless, from Matt’s text it almost seemed as if L was in danger….almost…

* * *

The text had been sent hastily as L led this recent newcomer from the living area. The phone then shoved forcefully into a pocket before Matt cracked the door open, peeking around the corner before emerging from the enclosure. He dared grab nothing off the table, as suspicious as it might have been for some of his things to be present, it would only raise further questioning should he remove them now. Thus, inwardly cursing his luck and whoever the f u ck this bastard happened to be, Matt eased from the suite, taking the elevator down to the bottom level. A new approach was required. And currently, his one and only choice was to take to the afternoon throng, and with yet another fierce curse, swipe the box of dye off the shelf.

It would have been easier to return to the rented flat, but he could not afford to leave L on his own for much longer, not when so little was known. Mello would have had immediate answers in so far as an instant change of appearance was concerned, but Mello was... presently occupied. Teeth were grit and in that moment, the redhead lit up the remaining cigarette in the pack, crushing it mercilessly before tossing it into the bin.

* * *

It was just under an hour later when Matt returned, having turned in his jeans for black pants, his too comfortable tee for a fitted button down of deep gray. His trademark goggles replaced with sunglasses perched on top of still-haphazard strands of recently dyed brown. A cigarette still hung from his lips as, with an ease that would have made his lover proud, he keyed in the access code and allowed himself back into the suite. A second message had been sent as he swept across the lobby. An image would be sent within minutes so that Mello could award him with proper identification of the stranger. Stranger which, Matt noted with a lifted brow, hand still gracefully on the knob, had made himself particularly comfortable on the couch all the while L still looked as uncomfortable as he had ever seen him.

"I was not under the impression that we would have company today, Ryuzaki." He commented flawlessly in their native English, awarding himself an extra second before shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Nor was I,” L replied flatly, and of course he kept all reaction to Matt’s appearance in check, though Matt did get the sense L was proud—it was exactly what he’d wanted him to do.

“Nathaniel,” and L was addressing him, pulling an alias out of thin air, “This is Theirry Morello, more commonly known as Aiber. He’s a professional conman I’ve employed in the past on both the original Kira case, and several others. He would be dead right now had I not purposely logged his true name wrong, in the event that Yagami should discover it and write it in the notebook.”

Aiber laughed, “Which he apparently did, the little prick.”

L didn’t bat an eye, but didn’t look exactly pleased either. “Aiber, this is Nathaniel Crane, my tech assistant.”

Aiber’s blue eyes fluttered over Matt, drinking him in, charming conman smile fully in place as he lounged there with his arm stretched over the back of the couch—and L seemed to be edging away from him little by little the longer Aiber’s arm stretched.

“I was under the impression you no longer had a team, Deneuve,” Aiber murmured, and despite L’s continuous disapproval continued to address the detective by his French alias. That said something—seemed to allude to their roots and Matt made a mental note since he was fairly certain L would not come out with the whole sordid tale here, nor did he really have the chance unless he opted to be entirely blunt and say it in front of Aiber himself. Perhaps in certain circumstances he would have, but it didn’t seem likely in this case…which meant L was less than proud of their roots. And that said something else.

“My field team is dead,” L replied, “Nathaniel was not among them. However he and I are the only ones left at present, until you I suppose.”

Aiber lifted his coffee cup in salute, “And I am but the first wave,” he grinned good naturedly.

“Then I hate to see the second,” L deadpanned, and that wasn’t exactly like him either.

Aiber feigned insult, but his eyes sparked as though it were a challenge. “Deneuve! You break my heart!” He laughed, and boldly stroked the back of a knuckle down L’s arm. L shot him a look that could have turned most people to stone in a heartbeat—though Aiber seemed fully aware he was making the detective vastly uncomfortable, especially in front of Matt. “But you have been breaking my heart for years, and I keep coming back for more.”

It seemed L might growl at him then, instead the detective abruptly got up and, shoving his hands into his pockets, headed into the kitchen. “I won’t deny you may be of some use on this case,” L said from inside; “But you are not staying here, and you are not moving with us to our new location—you will be on call and on call only.”

“To the contrary, mon amour, my orders were to stay by your side at all times.”

“Those are Near’s orders,” L emphasized rifling through the cabinets presumably for any variety of sugar he could find at that moment. His shirt hitched up in the process, giving Aiber a nice view of the bruises across his pale stomach. “This is my case, and those are my orders and you will abide by them or—”

Aiber cut him off, “Or you’ll have Yagami write my name in the notebook?” He hitched a wise eyebrow and L stopped, fixing him in a steady, unflinching gaze.

“Yagami is dead.”

“Which explains your coolness toward me,” Aiber injected, baiting L on multiple levels.

“My coolness toward you is another matter entirely—and it too, is dead. As it always has been.”

And that’s when Aiber grinned like the cat that ate the mouse, flashing Matt those less-than-charming blue eyes, he crossed his legs nonchalantly and purred: “Not always.”

Matt clearly got the distinction that there was more going on here than he even cared to be privy to, and yet, it would appear that Aiber was all too intent on taking every jab that would enlighten him - but only just enough – as to the history they shared. He just barely contained a disapproving frown around the butt of his cigarette, awarding the blond with a lifted brow at his latter comment. "I do not believe that to be any of my business, or relevant to the situation at hand," he returned with a firmness that once upon a time could have been considered particularly uncharacteristic.

"What is relevant, however," he continued, crossing the distance at last to come into full view within the living chambers. Leaning down, he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray that had been left out in the open upon the coffee table, and in the same movement, he made a distinct impression to press the screen of his laptop shut. "Is that such claims are nothing but an infringement upon someone else's jurisdiction. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Near has not only just recently picked up the case, he has yet to achieve last word on such... delicate matters." It was his turn to award Aiber with a smile of his own, cordial if not charming, but there was a distinctive hint of unfriendliness lingering around the edges. The conman had yet to make a good impression, and just then, it worked in Matt's best interest to plant himself firmly in the middle. After all - he was the last of L's team. Such protective behavior was to be expected.

“Hmm, guard dog,” was Aiber’s less than congenial reply. “Rather young though, but then again if Yagami is anything to judge by, Deneuve has always enjoyed robbing the cradle, so to speak.”

Matt could see L’s fists clench against the counter, and the detective actually seemed on the verge of an outburst. Aiber’s knack for getting under L’s skin seemed to actually out-skill Light’s which was a feat in and of itself.

“I’m sure we could all do without your crude insinuations,” Matt said smoothly and Aiber shrugged, finishing his espresso.

“I don’t think it’s crude, most people don’t realize there’s a softer side to Deneuve—it’s rather pleasant actually, how fragile he can sometimes be.”

The cabinet slammed and L was back in the room. “That’s enough.” And his voice was perhaps more firm than any time Matt had ever heard it. Hell, he didn’t even speak to Kira like that.

Aiber’s hackles rose, and he met L’s unwavering and downright threatening gaze. But L continued without regard. “You may jab at me with your bitterness all you like, but I will not tolerate it in front of my associates, or otherwise. Out. Now.”

He was not taking any prisoners with that tone, and Aiber’s cool expression melted away. He set down his coffee cup and went to speak but L interrupted him before he even got the first word out.

“If I need you, I will call you—that’s the way it is and that’s the way it will always be until you’ve served out your sentence and fulfilled your end of the bargain. You are in my employ, and not Near’s, you will take my orders and my orders alone, and if you so choose to disobey me, I will alert Interpol to your every account and you will serve your prison sentence proper. You either understand this or you don’t, there is no room for debate.” L’s words were hard, but not so hard as the grit in his voice, and Aiber indeed had no room to argue, stared down as he was by the stern detective.

“Well then,” the conman said at last. “I suppose we have an understanding. It is a pity though, I would have at least liked to have taken you to dinner. This is Rome after all.”

L’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Theirry,” he said, British accent thick and low. “Leave.”

“Very well,” Aiber sighed, getting up from the couch. “Pleased to have met you,” he said congenially to Matt. Then he turned to L, and his charm had yet to abandon him entirely. “Until you have need of me, Deneuve.”

He left the suite after that, and L promptly deadbolted the door behind him, head bowed for a moment, composing himself. He didn’t meet Matt’s gaze as he passed a moment later on his way back to the kitchen, but his voice had most definitely softened.

“My apologies you had to witness that,” he said.

Matt watched him quietly, letting him pass undisturbed before following several moments later. He leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, crossing his arms as he watched the detective’s mood resettle, if a bit more darkly than it had been prior to Aiber’s unexpected visit. “Some would say you keep questionable company,” he murmured lightly, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips in attempt to lighten the situation. But before L could respond, Matt continued, digging his pack from his pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette, but it remained unlit. “Don’t worry about what I saw or did not see. It obviously bothers you more than it does me.” Perhaps he was spending far too much time around L – that bluntness was beginning to rub off. Granted, it had also been a lengthy couple of weeks.

“The question is,” he continued, wandering into the kitchen to swipe the tall mug L had started to reach for off the shelf – shorter he might be, but there were no stitches to watch for – and he set it down on the counter. “Is this to be kept between us? I sent Mello word earlier that someone was here since I didn’t know who in the hell he was, but have yet to follow through.”

L shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, long fingers wrapping over the lip of the mug, as though he’d forgotten why he’d wanted it. His dark eyes fixed on Matt, drinking him in—his demeanor, his new appearance, the way he was handling the whole business. L’s long dark bangs blocked the expression in his own brow, and perhaps that was a good thing, because Aiber had indeed shaken him more than he wanted to let on—and it showed in his face, he knew it did.

“No, brief Mello—brief them both.” He paused a moment, as if wondering himself how to handle it—full disclosure? Did he tell Matt right then and there what it was Aiber had on him? Or did he treat it like most things and shove it away, bury it deep, keep it out of sight? But it wouldn’t stay that way, would it? Even if neither Mello nor Matt cared to know the details, there was one person who would ultimately stop at nothing to discover them—and that was of course, Light.

“I am ready to assume that Aiber will continue to take orders from Near while pretending to take orders from me," L continued. "This may be my case, but Near is usurping control since his team is fully convinced that Kira is alive and I am concealing him. Being that that’s the truth, I am at a disadvantage, and since it is also obvious to me that Near is aware of my history with Aiber, I can only imagine he’s going to use that along with every other chink in my armor to get to me—and by getting to me, he will get to Kira—his true goal. I am no longer part of the solution; I am part of the problem for him. I believe Near is prepared to destroy whatever is in his path to bring Light into his custody and execute him—that includes me, and of course you and Mello should he discover you.”

L paused and looked at the mug, still absently fingering the lip, his mind rolling back to unfavorable memories. Chink in his armor…why did he suddenly feel it so acutely? There was a time that would have never been the case—there was a time he didn’t feel much at all, and yet now all the blows he was taking—they were bruising, they were bruising black and downright bloody and he was scrambling to keep it all together; a feeling he was very much unfamiliar with... No. No, he could handle Aiber. He could handle Light. He could handle Near—he was L, this was not beyond him…but when his gaze flickered to Matt, to the loyalty and concern he saw in the younger man’s face—knowing that Matt, despite his feelings for Kira, despite his wounds at what Kira was doing at that very moment without question—was fully prepared to do anything to support L, to be there for him—to save him if need be, whether it was from Bella or Aiber or Light himself; it swept an unexpected draft of pain into L’s eyes.

L tried to catch it, felt his contents threatening to spill out at that moment, and he turned away, almost desperately brushing passed Matt and moving toward the nearest room. “I need a minute to think,” he lied brokenly, slamming the bathroom door, falling back against it and sinking to the floor, head in his hands, fighting off all the agony at once there by himself and leaving Matt relatively stunned in his wake.

Stunned was just a positive understatement. Matt watched him go, wishing to stop, or to go after him but kept himself in check, a deep frown marring his features. This was more serious than he had originally predicted. The entirety of this case – from beginning to gruesome end – was taking a deeper toll on L than even the detective would admit to. Matt cursed, lighting up at last as he swept through the living area toward the balcony, fishing for his phone all the while. The familiar number was dialed and even before he could utter a word, he heard Mello on the other side.

“What the hell’s going on over there? You never sent me visual!” yet his demand bled worry rather than reprimand. A change from the usual outbursts Matt was accustomed to.

“I know, but it doesn’t matter now. Does the name Aiber mean anything to you?”

“Aiber?” the blonde repeated and Matt could hear the growing curiosity to his tone. A snap of chocolate followed. “Not off the top of my hea—” but the thought was not finished and in that instant Matt had the distinct impression that Light had overheard the mention of the clearly familiar name and his reaction was good enough to pause the words upon Mello’s lips.

Matt felt himself smile, and continued before the certain interruption could come. “He’s alive and working under Near’s orders to keep an eye on L. We got rid of him for now, but I don’t believe for long. Supposedly he’s only the first wave of ‘backup’ sent by SPK. We’re out of time and apparently Near’s got more of a hold on these people than we initially thought.”

“You’re staying there?” a hint of worry.

“I’m not leaving L alone. Besides, unless Near himself comes knocking, I won’t be recognized. I wouldn’t usually say it, but Mello, lay low for a while.” And with that, he pressed the flip cover shut, gaze hardening as it zeroed in on the street below without truly seeing it. Details had been omitted, but it was for the best. There was only so much he could tell Mello now. The odds in their favor had just dropped another notch.

* * *

“Aiber?”

It was probably not a good sign that Light’s face went suddenly dark and dangerous. He sat up in bed, sheets falling into his lap, unsheathing a long smooth back scored with Mello’s nail marks. God he was covered in bruises: love bites, circles of skin sucked so hard during the course of fucking that it blotched black—Kira was immaculate no longer, and whereas that notion may have darkened his gaze thoughtful once or twice during the in between moments, right then Light could care.

“He’s supposed to be dead,” he growled, raking long murderous fingers through cropped amber hair. “I killed him years ago.”

“But who is he?” And Mello was leaning back on his elbows, watching the agitation of his current lover overtake what was probably Light’s remaining grasp on rational thought.

“He’s a conman in L’s employ. He came in on the Yotsuba case while I didn’t have my memories—posed as one of L’s aliases to trap Higuchi, who was at the time, the third Kira.”

“And you killed him? Or rather, tried to…”

“Loose end,” Light muttered. “I couldn’t be sure whether L had disclosed anything of the case to him beyond Yotsuba.”

Mello hitched an eyebrow and snapped the chocolate. “But that’s not it is it?”

Light slid a dangerous gaze over his shoulder, narrow amber eyes between tussled slats of bangs. “No,” and he nearly growled the word. “There’s something between him and L—I was oblivious to it while my memories were lost. It only became obvious after I regained them—Aiber has something over L, even though he’s in L’s employment, presumably serving out some sort of plea bargain similar to mine—far more lenient of course—but there’s something there. If Near sent Aiber to L, he already knows what it is, and we don’t.”

“You don’t, and that’s what’s pissing you off right now,” Mello said, snapping the chocolate.

“He’s going to use it against L,” Light sneered, “Near’s broadening his horizons—he wants to take down L just like the rest of us.”

The snap of chocolate that followed was louder. "That's not broadening his horizons," Mello sneered irritably. "That's gettin' desperate because he's damned sure you're not out of the picture. Not only that, he wants so badly to gain control of the situation that he will use every ploy imaginable to discredit L every step of the way." The words were grit out as Mello toyed with the phone in his hand, eying it accusingly as if it had anything to do with the matter at hand. That bastard. That bloody fucking bastard of a cheat.

"If it's gotten this far, then I have no reason to doubt that he will stop at nothing to get to you." A pause. A bitter chuckle. "Makes me wonder if he's truly here for Bella, or has just sniffed out L's trail instead. It would be downright convenient - undermine L, destroy Bella's deluded reign and take you down once and for all." Mello set the phone down on the nightstand and shook his head. "Bloody hell," he cursed, momentarily switching to English for the proper intonation. "God, I'd get such bloody satisfaction out of wiping that condescending fucking smile off his face. Instead I'm stuck lying low behind the goddamned scenes. Fuck!" he ranted on, careless of whether or not Light was keeping up with the heavily accented spews of frustration.

“Why lie low then?” Light said suddenly, and his voice was slightly muffled because now he was angrily sulking with his arms across his knees and his head low and sinking lower. “Why just sit here and wait for him to gain every goddamn advantage? It’s no secret he wants me dead—utterly and agonizingly dead. I don’t think there’s much of a secret he’d want the same for you—only at his own terms. And L—it seems he’s deemed L no longer worthy of his own title and now seeks to usurp him. So why just sit here and let it happen? Isn’t it your specialty to hunt down people from the shadows? I want Near dead as much as you do, Mello. At this point, give me the word and I’ll write his goddamn name down.”

* * *

He managed to pull himself together long enough to get off the floor and emerge from the bathroom, but his brain did not take him much further than that. Perhaps it was because it was working either too hard, or not hard enough. He needed sugar, and he was quite literally having a hard time recalling just when he’d last had some. Nevertheless there was none in plain view at that moment, so L moved slowly to the balcony and went outside, breathing in the air for just that moment, long fingers wrapping over the railing, head titled back at the sky. It was pregnant with rain clouds, and twilight was beginning to fold over the horizon.

What was going on? Just what was it that was causing him such angst? Robbing him of the clarity he usually had in every given situation? It was not just Aiber’s unexpected visit. For certain that was unpleasant, but he was not so crippled by their unfortunate history to let it affect him this way. And it was not so much Light at this moment either. In fact, Light’s physical absence had alleviated something of a weight from L’s mind. It went without saying that Light’s focus just then was Mello, he was trying his damnedest to wind the blonde around his fingers, if not for some darker purpose, then to ensure himself an ally. And even if the attraction was obviously mutual—L himself had fallen for Kira’s wiles, so it was not so surprising that Mello was captivated—L was still confident Mello could distinguish the lines between Kira’s manipulations and his sincerities—if any remained.

Maybe it was just everything. But maybe more, it was Near. L had underestimated him and it wasn’t until Aiber’s appearance that he realized it in full. Near was out to take over, to bury him as L and take his place, ensnare Kira, execute Light, rip Bella’s church apart and continue from there. Near wanted it all didn’t he? The race for heir was no more, Near was going to take it for himself because in his mind and in the minds of his team, L was no longer worthy. Near was set to conquer. There was a difference between L sacrificing himself to play Ryuk’s little game, and Near deeming him unfit to have everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. Because if Near felt that way…what did that ultimately mean to L? Had he indeed betrayed himself? And was he too far gone now to even know it anymore?

As if his thoughts were plastered all too visibly upon his face, Matt appeared with an entirely too sweet cup of tea, which was placed silently into L’s hands. He then sat down on the nearby chair, not looking at the detective, but glimpsing out across the city. He’d changed into his more comfortable wardrobe; goggles holding deep brownish strands out of his eyes. The ever present cigarette hung from the corner of unsmiling lips. It was not so hard to deduce the thoughts that crossed L’s mind at that moment, because he too had been having them ever since the bathroom door had been pressed shut. Ever since that phone call had been made.

He let the silence thicken, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. They were both quiet by nature. It worked. But as the minutes passed without a single shared thought, Matt decided to take it upon himself to break that tangible silence at last, still not looking to him. “Have we reached a point where greater risks must be taken?” He let the question linger a moment before those clear blues turned upon the detective at last. “I may not be your first choice for a field agent, I can hold my own, but Mello is. And if I know him well enough, he’s already getting antsy. He will follow you to the very end, L, but the odds have tipped dangerously enough to throw all reason to the wind – which he is prone to do. Mello won’t sit still much longer. Near’s message is clear enough, we’re on a race against time.” Facts they both knew quite well, but perhaps L needed them to be said – spoken aloud and heard elsewhere other than in the depths of his own mind. “Just say the word,” the younger man told him, tapping ashes over the edge of the balcony. “And we can end this quickly.”

* * *

It actually took several moments for Mello to realize just what Light had told him. As if the words did not make sense, but then… he chuckled. It was bitter, but the dark mirth had returned to his eyes. “No,” he breathed with a shake of his head, rising off the bed and gradually crossing toward the shaded window. “You will do no such thing, and not because I don’t approve, but because that’s too easy. That’s not how any of this is going to go down.” He balled one hand into a fist, pressing the tight knuckles to the window frame as he peered outside. “As creative as you may be able to get with it, that’s not the way…”

And here he was, discussing the possible use of the Death Note with Kira himself. Unbelievable. Nevermind the fact that he had once nearly written his own soul away to the lure of the simple black notebook, but this was altogether different. A bit more twisted, perhaps. As if fucking Kira wasn’t enough.

“No,” Mello repeated, chewing absently on a chocolaty square, his gaze narrowed, unseeing. Thoughtful. “This will go down much differently than by the end of a pen. Ultimate irony it may be but he has yet to write your own name down and I sure as fuck know he’s got at least one notebook. That fucker wouldn’t have incinerated them, and if he’s as sure as can be about you being in L’s custody, then he’s also playing a different game. Nah… the notebooks will be left out of this one..” the glint in his eyes suddenly turned predatory, all too dangerous. “Let him come…” Mello hissed, grinning widely at the thoughts in his head. “Let him come and see who he’s dealing with.”

It went beyond rivalry and competition. Near had made sure of that, unknowingly as it may be. But now it was not only L’s credibility but quite possibly his life on the line. That shitheaded twit would stop at nothing to get his way. And what of himself? Was it just for L’s sake that the darker threads of Mello’s mind were already putting plans into motion, or did Light have anything to do with that? How far would he go to safegard him – the very entity he had vowed to destroy seemingly so many years ago?

The look on Light’s face seemed to confirm as much, those astute amber eyes drinking Mello in deeply and there was more than just a touch of anxiety in that gaze. “Let him come,” Light murmured thoughtfully. Mello turned to face him, regarding him, the tension that so visibly tightened in Light’s shoulders.

“What?” Mello said. He knew, he wanted to hear Kira say it.

Light’s eyes shifted to him, and his face seemed pale. “For me that’s tempting fate.”

“You’ve been tempting fate for years,” Mello replied.

There was something lost deep in Light’s gaze…no, not lost—scared. “He’s not going to kill me quickly,” he said. And he sounded so certain. “It won’t be like the warehouse, he’s going to make it hurt.”

Mello stood there in the dimming pallor of the room, the sensual sway of his nude, muscular body half hidden in deepening shadows. “Ask me, Light,” he said at last, his voice smooth and dulcet.

Light lifted up and looked at him, reading the expression keen in Mello’s features, understanding and yet so hesitant to venture out to meet that invitation. Mello waited, and wondered if it was because Light was feigning a certain humbleness, or if he was truly unsure of the answer. It took a moment before Mello closed the distance between them and took Light’s face between his calloused hands. “I’m saying this honestly—ask me.”

Light blinked at him slowly. “Protect me,” he said. “Protect me from them.”

Mello’s thumb stretched across the arch of Light’s cheekbone. “If they come for you,” he breathed, staring deep into those honeyed eyes, “I will stop them. If they take you, I will get you back. I will not abandon you to the fate Near has designed, Kira.”

He promised with the sort of low lilting smile that most definitely had Light on edge. Ah but Mello meant every word and he leaned in closer. “You don’t belong to Near,” he said. “You belong to L—and now you belong to me.” He pressed his forehead to Light’s gently sucking Light’s bottom lip between his own. “Do you understand?”

Light’s eyes clenched tightly shut, but he nodded, and that was all the consent Mello needed just then.

* * *

L didn’t move, his gaze drawn up to the grey sky heavy with clotting cloud cover. But he heard Matt. He heard everything.

“Consider the word given,” he said at last.

* * *

It was then as Mello held Light's mouth firmly with his own; the kiss heated and bruising, fingers mercilessly tangled into short amber strands at the back of his neck that the phone cried out a second time. He just barely heard Light's groan of protest against him as he reached for the phone, flipping it open to read the unexpected message within.

"L's given the go ahead. Use all and any methods necessary to keep Near at bay. Will be here if you need me."

He read it twice, unmarred brow lifting beneath the haphazard fall of bangs, and then... he laughed, tossing the phone carelessly down on the mattress. He hadn't needed permission to do what he meant to do should things get ugly, but this made it all the better. This severed the leash completely and allowed him to play by his own rules as far as Near and the SPK was concerned without going against any pre-conceived plans. The puzzled look upon Light's face only made him chuckle further as he sat there, straddling Kira's lap with one arm still draped casually over a bruised shoulder.

"Brilliant," he murmured giddily. "Near is mine. We're playing by my rules now, and..." his grin widened although the laughter had eased upon his lips; the glint in his eye devilish. "And since I still can't let you out of my sight, you'll just have to come along for the ride..." he purred, dragging one lone finger across those lush lips.

Light’s eyes widened, his brain piecing it all together immediately, and perhaps projecting forward just a bit. “L?”

“Wants Near…dealt with,” Mello grinned, positively titillated, and his thumb crossed Light’s lips with a bit more aggression. These were the orders dreams were made of, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit they were making him hard just then—not that that was something he could lie about.

Light may have had something to say about L’s sudden mafia mentality, but the words didn’t get passed his lips as Mello leaned in and promptly sucked them away, his kiss hard and bruising, crushing Light down against the bed, he pinned Kira’s arms above his head with one hand, the other roughly knocking bruised thighs apart so he could fit between them—lifting Light’s hips with his own, and that first punishing thrust inside had Light’s voice grinding and keening in the most delicious of ways…

It was rough. It was downright merciless and the very way Kira desired it—no, needed it. It had gone beyond carnal lust to something all together twisted; a penance of sorts, a mutual understanding that the punishment somehow justified the lust. It didn't, not by any means, but it certainly helped matters along, and as Mello fucked him - this self proclaimed God - into oblivion, he detected the faint grin upon Kira's lips; the wanton look that passed those features and removed all doubt whether or not this was what he truly wanted. Who'd ever thought Kira's pleasure lay in the brutal act of submission itself. The ironies of the world.

When Light woke next, an hour or so later, it was no longer in the comfort of that warm body pressed against him as he remembered. The bed was empty. In fact, the bedroom itself was empty, but there was a distinct voice wafting out to him from the living room.

Mello was pacing. He'd located some semblance of clothes - his trademark leathers for the occasion and little else - and seemed to have picked up the pace as far as their productivity went. Phone glued to his ear, he chewed on a half-devoured bar of chocolate. Judging by the amount of foil upon the coffee table and work desk, he'd been at it for some time. All monitors had been turned on, running data and following SPK's movements. But it only told him so much. Near was not that stupid. He'd grown more careful after the introduction of Aiber into the mix, but apparently he was still not aware that both Mello and Matt were still alive and kicking, not only that but keeping close eye on him.

"Che è corretto," he purred into the line, gaze returning to the screens. He had yet to notice Light's debauched presence in the doorway. Or perhaps was simply ignoring it; the matter at hand distracting him from everything else. While before his focus was practically non existent, this new insurrection of Near into the picture and the recent string of orders, had brought him back to himself with a vengeance. "I do not believe it wise to question me, signore," he continued flawlessly in Italian. "Not only have you gone against my word, but have sided with a heretics after a new world order." Green visage caught sight of Light at last, letting that gaze settle for only a second before he turned, resuming his pacing and conversation as casually as if he were discussing the bloody weather. "No, signore, you will listen to me because while signora Bella may kill you at the end of her pen, I will take great pleasure in cutting you open well in sight of your beautiful wife. Do not take me lightly." Whatever hysterics followed on the other side of the line drew a grin out of him. "Now that we understand one another, let's talk..."

While months earlier he would not have dared to speak so plainly in front of Light, Mello simply sank onto the couch cushions and allowed him to overhear the seemingly foolish plan he executed. He asked the man not to betray Bella, but... gave him full warning as to SPK's movements on the case, conveniently leaving himself and L out of the fray. And while Near's life was his own to claim, this extra pressure would only assist them in the end. And besides, Bella, too, was theirs to take down. Or rather, she was Light's. It was a dangerous game to play, but one he was not so unfamiliar with and thus, once the phone was flipped shut, Mello rested his head back against the couch, glimpsing up at the ceiling but his expression changed little. Too immersed in his thoughts to worry; the risks did not matter - they never had. Not with him. Not with this exhilarating game he prided himself in.

* * *

The ‘oh’ was preceded by a long sigh of dismay and L just sat there, hunched, his eyes drawn up like a guilty child to meet his doctor’s expression. The man had barely dropped his bags in the door but had immediately gone to the detective to check his condition. L stripping off his shirt even days after his torture at Bella’s hands was still a grisly sight and Dr. Gregory was not so much at a loss as he was—upset.

It occurred to Matt that there was something about L that naturally endeared fatherly figures to him—figures like Watari and Roger—and maybe it was that child-esque way he had of behaving and maybe it was that eternally haunted look in his eyes. Matt knew it had always been there, that look, he’d just always mistaken it for aloof stoicism.

“Sit up straight, Ryuuzaki,” Dr. Gregory said, and L blinked at him as though that was a particularly droll statement. “I know you’re capable of it, I’ve seen you—now I need to get a better look at your ribs.”

L’s expression didn’t shift, but he did sit up straight, shoulders and everything, which ironically made him more imposing. L had surprisingly broad shoulders for so slight a frame, and that was most likely his non-Asian qualities at work.

His doctor examined him quietly, pressing tender areas, trying to gage L’s mostly blank reactions. A few moments passed before the man said anything. “Where is he?”

Matt’s eyebrows rose from where he stood against the doorjamb. He would have minded his own business, but L’s doctor seemed to be one of the few people who could boss L around—for L's own benefit of course—and he wanted Matt there to observe the examination, just in case L ‘failed’ to disclose any serious injuries in the interest of the case.

“He’s in a secure location.” L answered.

They were of course talking about Light. The man was Light’s doctor as well—in fact, he was the very person who’d saved Kira from dying after the warehouse. That was an unfortunate burden L had placed upon his shoulders.

“I half expected him to be here,” the doctor said.

“We’re relocating,” L answered, sucking in a sharp breath when stern fingers pressed into a particularly tender bruise. The doctor examined that area more closely.

“And how has he been….”

“He had an episode the other night,” L replied flatly. “Nothing spectacular—anxiety attack and fainting spell.”

The doctor grunted. It was more than obvious he was not particularly fond of Light, and Matt snorted to himself.

“And his mood swings?”

“Typical,” L said. “But more conservative than when you last saw him.”

“Hmph,” the doctor grunted, leaning back and taking one of L’s long lean arms between his hands, testing the joint, feeling for the bones. “You know my feelings on the matter,” he said.

“Yes, I do,” L replied, eyes following the doctor’s fingers.

“He should be put on meds and locked up.”

“Thank you, I know,” L replied. “I will deal with him.”

“I would like to examine him myself, actually,” the doctor replied. “He is due for an exam.”

Maybe the corners of L’s mouth turned down a little further, and maybe it was the shadows. “I don’t anticipate being in his company for some time,” L said. “Circumstances of the case. And I would prefer you not to have contact with him outside of my supervision—for your own benefit. He is fine, all things considered.”

The doctor fixed L in a stern gaze. “Ryuuzaki, if there is one thing Kira isn’t, it’s fine.”

* * *

The circle was in outrage. As if L's interference upon their domain was not enough, this new talk of the SPK's involvement had quite literally lit a fire beneath their respected rear-ends. Mello was grinning widely as he watched the screen, chin rested casually upon his arm, which in turn was draped over a raised knee. The ball was rolling, then. The word had been released and warned Bella and her self-righteous church that they were being very closely watched. As to where the tipoff had come from, that had yet to surface. Good. For now, they were occupied and all efforts would be kept on keeping Near and his precious SPK occupied, while with some luck, getting rid of some of their numbers.

However, that was only a small part of the scheme and Mello had yet to divulge any of it to Light—old habits of secrecy and working such plans out on his own. For years, not even Matt himself knew what was going down around them until they were both neck deep in it. Risky as it may have seemed, Mello had never let them down. But he knew Light was squirming. In fact, had demanded on several instances to know just what the hell Mello was planning, but Kira was only rewarded with a tsk. The second half of Mello’s plans would not be welcomed with open arms and the blonde knew it and yet... could not particularly care. He was treating Light as he did himself. Not particularly expendable, but risks had to be taken and would be taken. When at last dusk grew thicker outside and the now empty wrapper was tossed into the bin, Mello rose from his spot, unfolding with the grace of a cat, a predator, he joined Light in the kitchen from which the telltale sound of the espresso machine was hard at work. "I'm going to expose you."

The delicate cup just about tumbled off the counter and Mello bit back a grin, tilting his head against the door frame he so casually leaned against, arms crossed over his bare chest. Before Light could so much as question his sanity, or lack there of, the blonde proceeded. "I've set Bella up against the SPK, so they're going to have their hands full. And by fully exposing you, all attention will be directed to the two of you, hopefully easing some of the pressure off of L so that he and Matt can move accordingly." He paused, gliding forward to snatch the espresso right off the counter and sip at it uninvited. "And if Near decides to engage you directly, well..." that crooked grin touched his lips. "I'll just have to make sure you come to little or no harm."

Ah. There was Kira. Mello had been wondering what had become of him these past days of quaint domesticity and utter wanton submission. Light saw red, and when he saw red, it was quite obvious, his eyes narrowing next to nothing and practically lit with venom and fire—the kind that spoke of his ability to sweep lives off the board with ease.

“You’re going to what?!?!” His tone tipped over into rage, that composure he’d practiced so hard in the past nearly non-existent. It also smarted with a sense of sudden betrayal. As far as Light was concerned, he’d bought Mello’s protection—literally whored himself for it. This was not in the plan, and Mello could only stand there and smirk at him.

“Are you fucking insane?! Do you have any idea what that would mean after all L went through to cover this up?! Not only would that eradicate all of L’s credibility as L—no doubt Near would quickly spread around Interpol and every other organization that L had not only failed in eliminating Kira, but went so far as to protect him—but I’m as good as executed no matter what you do. SPK, Bella, Interpol—most likely your fucking mafia friends—No. I won’t let you.”

He shoved passed Mello, who managed not to spill more than a drop of espresso—and angrily stormed into the living room, hard eyes scanning the table, finding Mello’s phone, snatching it up and in an instant Light was fleeing to the bedroom—slamming and locking the door behind him.