Redeemer

The phone went off and L was on it before it could ring twice—and as the doctor was bandaging his ribs. It was Mello, at least it was supposed to be, so L was not exactly prepared for Light’s voice on the other end. Dr. Gregory noticed the detective suck in a sharp breath, and not because of tender injuries, but L covered it over, and avoided both his doctor and Matt’s insistent gazes.

“Calm down, Raito-kun,” he said flatly in Japanese.

There was almost a collective groan in his company, but the voice on the other end did indeed sound borderline hysterical.

“He’s having an episode,” the doctor observed drolly. L’s eyes shifted to him, but he didn’t respond.

“I gave Mello orders to carry out a task as he sees fit—” L started to say, but was obviously interrupted by Light hollering the details of Mello’s intended plan of action.

Matt was practically on his toes trying to glean what was going on—more than a bit satisfied that Mello had done something to piss Light off—and as much as L was trying not to, he looked exasperated; it showed in an obvious drain in his face. Dr. Gregory paused and studied him. It was clear the elder man would prescribe 'abstinence from Kira' as L’s be-all and end-all miracle cure if he could.

“Does he have my name?” The doctor asked suddenly. And L quirked a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“No…”

It was all Dr. Gregory needed to hear before promptly snatching the phone from L’s fingers and snapping it shut—ending the call. Ironically L didn’t even protest; he just watched the motions, slightly stunned, and slightly…relieved.

* * *

Mello was there to swipe the phone out of Light's hand as he stared incredulously at it.

"Listen to me," the blonde said, no longer smiling. His tone was harsh, demanding attention. "Listen to me!" He hissed, tossing the phone aside so that he could catch Kira's chin in his hand and force that narrowed gaze to his own. "I'm not feeding you to the wolves, goddamnit. I'm not oblivious to all that L has done to cover your ass up all this time. I won't ruin that, but Near knows you're here. He knows regardless of whether or not we want to admit it—listen!" he growled, shoving Light back against the nearest wall as he opened his mouth to complain. "I don't plan on making a public spectacle of this, but I will lure him out and you're the only bait I've got. You're going to have to trust me. Somewhere in there," he jabbed at Light's chest forcefully. "You're going to have to find it in you to trust me. I made my promise. I'm treating you no differently than I would anyone else." He paused, regaining his breath. "I won't let them have you.."

Light didn’t look convinced, obviously because Light didn’t have it in him to trust anyone but himself. The thought visibly crossed his face and then he cracked, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, knees to his chest, he started to snicker and then he was laughing, full-blown laughing—perhaps not so maniacal a laugh as he’d displayed in the warehouse—but that insanity was there in his tone. Unbalanced. Those slits of his eyes shifted to Mello beneath his bangs.

“Do you know what’s funny?” And Light had to catch his breath, even though he was actually sinking further into himself, looking very disturbed and borderline psychotic. “I don’t need you—I don’t need any of you, I can handle this on my own. I have everything I need to do it—to wipe the board completely: you, Bella, Near—L. All of you are alive right now because of my good graces. So tell me, Mello—what the fuck is stopping me? What the fuck is really stopping me? And I’m not talking about some lame kill switch—whether it exists or not—I’m not talking about your ability to pull a gun on me either. We all know I’m the one with the biggest hand in the game—and I’m more than sure Ryuk is wondering what the hell I’m waiting for. He’s not the only one—so if you have a viable answer, I’d love to hear it, because right now it’s not making a whole lot of sense to me why I don’t write all of your names in the Death Note and walk away from this completely and utterly—free.”

If Mello was at all perturbed by Light's rather eccentric performance, it did not show. He did release him, allowing Kira to slide down as he lifted a brow without comment. Not until Light had finished. Not until the question was laid out. And still Mello did not flinch; having expected it perhaps. Most obvious, however, was the lack of surprise or outrage—through all this, the carefree conversations, the freakishly domestic life, the insane amount of too-good fucking, Mello had kept his head. He had not been swept away by Kira's wiles as easily as one would have thought. He had not pretended, no, but his rationality was still his own.

"Should I not be asking you that question, Light?" he returned. "There has never been any misconceptions between us. You will finish me as easily as I will you should circumstances turn that way, so you tell me why you have not scrawled off all our names and walked free." He let the statement hang in the air between them. Turning it around deftly on Kira, but the pause did not prolong itself long. Not when Mello had more to say. "But tell me," he murmured, crouching down to be eye level with Light. "Could you do that? Could you write it all off and walk away free as if nothing had ever happened, because correct me if I'm wrong, Kira," he accentuated, narrowing his eyes. "Despite how fucked up the situation might be, you love the game just as much as L and I."

“I love the game…” and Light’s voice was distant, not so much pensive as it was vacant—going off, away, somewhere else. Mello grabbed him by the face and forced him to focus and Light winced at him.

“I told you this before,” Mello insisted, his grip tightening, “Neither L nor I have any intention of relinquishing you to Near. But right now, Light, you have no choice in this matter because we’re doing things my way. So you can sit here and throw your tantrum, or you can go dig up your Death Note, or you can decide to actually fucking cooperate for once, but this is how it’s gonna be and there’s no room for argument.”

Light was painstakingly quiet at that, but Mello could almost see the gears of his mind spiraling out of control in those angry eyes. The blonde watched for a moment, and perhaps entertained the brief notion that Light might actually have been considering writing them all away to avoid whatever pain he might have to come up against in the face of the SPK. Kira had dealt with pain before when he was plunged into it—problem being he anticipated it now, he knew some of what to expect, and it was no secret to Mello that it terrified him.

There was actually a sliver of sympathy for him in that respect—something else Mello could boggle at down the line—that he had sympathy for Kira, that he actually, as much as it went against everything he thought he’d stood for, did not want to see Light hurt…and did not truly want to see him killed. If that was the way things had to be later on, then Mello would deal the way L was prepared to deal, but for now, if it could be helped…

He pressed in against Light and sealed their mouths impulsively together, kissing Kira like a brand—like promise—making it deep and bruising and comforting all at once, before he pulled away and left Light there to figure it out on his own. There were other things to be done now—the trap for Near had to be set.

* * *

Matt was fidgeting, and L knew he was dying to know what had been said on the other end of the phone. The detective of course was waiting for his doctor to clear out before he disclosed any details of the case, so when the distinguished elderly man finally wrote down a prescription for pain meds they all knew L would not be taking, and at last departed for a nearby hotel should his services be further required, L settled down on the couch—laid down in fact, staring at the ceiling until Matt’s impatience practically filled the room.

The former redhead was not exactly showing his mood, but L was perceptive enough to sense it bouncing off the walls.

“From what I gathered,” L said out of nowhere, perhaps 45 minutes into a long pensive bout of silence where he hadn’t moved from the couch but to dip a lollipop in and out of his mouth, “Mello plans to use Light as bait to draw out Near.”

He let the strategy settle, ironically dropping the honorifics from Light’s name, since when they were alone, neither L nor Matt had any use for Japanese, L was speaking in his normal voice, the one that put Light off the most—the low pensive British accent which seemed to dance the fence between refined and Welsh and sing-song depending on his mood.

“Obviously, Light is not pleased with the idea.” He paused again. “I’m not sure how I feel about the matter…strategically it makes the most sense, and I trust Mello, so Matt—get in contact with him and make sure he has everything he needs to carry this plan through. Make sure to tell him he has my full consent and to pass that information along to Light at his discretion.”

At that L popped the lolly back between his full pale lips and continued staring at the ceiling, every now and then outlining shapes in the air with his wandering fingers.

* * *

How anyone was supposed to focus with these many goddamned interruptions, Mello just did not know. Granted, he would have functioned just fine if not for the flaring temper that aggravated him at the present moment. Thus, when the phone rang, he did not so much as look at the outer screen before flicking it open with a decidedly annoyed "What?"

On the other line, Matt actually laughed. He was smoking, Mello could hear the sharp exhale of smoke through the mirth that escaped his lips and he used that moment to reclaim some semblance of composure.

"You're out of your fucking mind, you know."

"So I'm aware. That what you're calling me for?"

"No, but thought I'd throw that out there regardless," Matt grinned and it could practically be heard in his tone. "But seriously," he added before getting hung up on. It would not have been the first time. "How are you planning to do this?"

"I'm making it up as I go along."

"You always have, but there's a whole lot more at stake here."

"No shit," Mello hissed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "I'll more than likely need you on the line as backup. There's a lot of goddamned players involved. I've tipped off Bella's group as to Near's movements, so they're all in a commotion. With some luck you two will be able to move a bit more freely soon enough."

"What about you?"

"I'm keeping myself in the shadows as long as I can muster it, but I doubt it will last long. It won't matter."

"Mello..."

"I want him to know, Matt. I want him to know I'm the one orchestrating this chaos from behind the scenes. He's a smart boy, he'll figure it out soon enough."

His lover exhaled. "I just hope you know what you're doing. L's given you the full go-ahead across the spectrum. It's as good a chance as you'll ever get."

"Understood. Will keep you posted." The phone was pressed closed and instinctively, Mello glimpsed toward the bedroom door, breathing away that last bit of aggravated tension. It would return soon enough, but right then he needed a clear head.

* * *

Matt sat in front of the screen, eyes wide, cigarette just barely poised upon his lips as he read through the chaos Mello had mentioned. Kira's circle was indeed in a commotion. In fact, they were out for blood. "Dear god..." he exclaimed under his breath. And then with a shake of his head, sat back, a ghost of a smile lingering upon his lips as ashes were deposited upon the tray. "He wasn't kidding when he said he was orchestrating utter chaos. Within days Near's going to have not only Bella's church, but the bloody mob at his doorstep."

* * *

Light hadn’t moved from his sulking spot against the wall for hours. Mello may have crossed by once or twice just to toss an eye on him, but for the most part Kira had sunk himself into an ever silent and brooding state. He didn’t touch the coffee Mello laid near his feet on the floor, or the sandwich he brought later on—and soon after the blonde stopped caring, too enveloped in his plotting to pay much more attention to Light’s antics. Which was about when Light finally decided to come back to the world.

“Ryuk,” and his voice was low, rusty. The death god snapped to attention, it had been awhile since his favorite human had even acknowledged his presence—days in fact—since both Kira and Mello were too enveloped in their burgeoning sex affair to deal much with the shinigami. It had been entertaining at the very least, to see Light debase himself so utterly, but for what, Ryuk was trying to comprehend. He figured it was for Mello’s unwavering protection—ironically it appeared that plan had backfired, and Light had been sitting there these past hours not staring angrily into space—but plotting, as was his way.

That was encouraging, since Ryuk was about to give up on him for the time being and go check on Bella.

“Oh hey, Raito,” the shinigami said, as though the two hadn’t seen each other in awhile.

“I’m discarding one of my notebooks,” Light said immediately after the fact.

The statement was met with a decided: “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, Raito, but—”

“I want you to give it…” and Light kept his voice low, “to Misa.”

The shinigami’s face went from perplexed to delighted—that Cheshire grin spreading wide from ear to ear.

“I can no longer afford not to have any loyal allies,” Light grumbled. “Misa has only ever been the most loyal person in the world to me. I need her back. Tell her—Ryuk—tell her everything. Tell her I'm alive, that L's alive, tell her to be Kira, to do the judgments, tell her where I am and tell her how much I miss her. Tell her I love her and they are keeping me away from her.”

Ryuk laughed at that. “I suppose spending all this time with you, my talents at lying are getting better—I can do that, Raito.”

“Good,” Light muttered. “And give her this for further insurance,” Light handed the shinigami a piece of paper—normal paper—on which were scrawled three names: Nate River, Mihael Keehl, and L Lawliet. “Tell her to keep this safe—secret—and if anything happens to me—if I die—tell her to find their faces and write these names in the Death Note immediately.”

* * *

Light emerged from the doorway when night had fallen completely. He still didn’t look happy, but he did seem better composed. It took Mello a moment—busy as he was—to look up at him. The blonde’s eyes settled over Kira, and he waited. There was a glimmer of rebellion in those amber eyes, but their focus was back—their all-too keen focus.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Light said.

Mello regarded him quietly a moment, all traces of any possible suspicion he may hold expertly hidden away. Or perhaps, he simply did not care what Light may or may not be plotting out of his own accord. Those green orbs watched Kira intently, however, and after several moments fell away as he picked absently at the meal he had –somehow- found the time to prepare. Multitasking at its best.

Leather creaked as Mello uncrossed his legs, leaning casually against the desk. “Nothing different from what you’d been doing before all of this exploded in our faces,” he returned, jabbing a not-entirely-dead-looking square of steak into his mouth, attention returning to the screens. “You’ll be visible where necessary and disappear when needed. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I’m afraid I might have to take you on a few errands tomorrow since you’re not to be left here on your own.” The fork was set down, his glass lifted but not sampled. Mello glimpsed at Light through the veil of haphazard blonde strands. Too quiet. He’d planned something all right. “I don’t think it will be necessary but I’ll get you a Kevlar and some firepower just to be on the safe side.”

* * *

“Matt…”

The former redhead looked up from his screens, and L had basically been occupying himself by lolling on the couch in different positions for the better part of the evening. He hadn’t said much since he’d cleared Mello’s plan across the board. Now he was on his stomach, stretched across the couch pillows, laptop propped in front of his face.

“I’ve booked us a suite in the Hotel Hassler." He said, brownie poised between two fingers. "Pack up, we’re moving there tonight.”

* * *

Light remained quiet, in fact, agreeing to Mello’s orders without so much as a shrug of disapproval, he consigned himself to the domestic role yet again and cleaned up the mess Mello had left in the kitchen. Mello kept barely half an ear trained on him, idly wondering what trick Light was playing at now, since he’d done a complete 180 upon first hearing the plan.

To be expected Kira would not sit back and take it, but to what lengths had he prepared to go? And was it only in his head, or had he already implemented part of his strategy? He’d been the in bedroom all day, hadn’t been on the laptop, and aside from his frantic phone call to L, had not had any contact with anyone save… the damn shinigami. Yeah, come to think of it, Mello had heard Ryuk speaking earlier in the day. He’d dismissed it, Light and Ryuk often bantered back and forth here and there, but now it seemed the Death God was nowhere to be seen. He’d been lingering about, and Mello had caught glimpses of his putrid grinning face in the shadows, particularly while he’d been fucking Light into oblivion these past several days. Hell, the shinigami had even questioned Light as to why he was subjecting himself to such treatment. Heh. So where was Ryuk now? And was he indeed Kira’s pet that he would run errands for him? That would make his claims of not getting directly involved in the affair and taking sides null and void.

Light settled down with a laptop shortly after he’d finished the dishes, presumably to communicate with his church. Mello was wired into his every move, and it seemed Light was merely just scrolling through the mess Mello had made. If the nearly indiscernible crease between his brows was any indication—yeah, he was doing just that.

“This is some mess you’ve made,” he remarked, slightly pompous. “You realize how fucked I am if I don’t meet with Bella to ease some of her concerns on the matter, don’t you? Thanks to L, she has my real name. If nothing else, I can reinforce your strategy that she make life difficult for Near; but if I don’t make some move, she’s going to assume I’ve abandoned her and then you can kiss your bait goodbye.”

He might have looked composed, but his attitude was carping. And at that Light snapped the laptop closed, shooting Mello an edgy gaze before announcing he was going to bed.

“There’s a fresh pot of coffee inside,” he simpered, disappearing down the hall. “I figure you’ll be up all night with that. Enjoy.”

Mello’s face twisted and instead of sitting there idly on the receiving end, he abruptly got up and followed Kira to the bedroom. The door was pushed open just as Light swept some semblance of neatness and order over the sheets, making himself comfortable beneath them with a distinctively unfriendly look.

“You truly aren’t even capable of sparing an inkling of trust or belief in anyone other than yourself anymore, are you?” Mello grit and while the words could have been downright nasty, Mello spoke them quietly, regarding Light with something of muted contemplation, which hinted at ghosts of old so cleverly hidden behind endless cockiness.

“You adore beating upon me your mantra, care little of what I may or may not do as I fuck you into oblivion, demand promises of me and answers I would normally not freely give and yet, frankly it doesn’t matter, I don’t care. Yet, when the time comes, the tables shift and someone else takes your life into their hands for the sake of your own sorry ass, then all is not well in your carefully elaborated world.” Mello frowned, but mustered a faint, bitter chuckle all the same, leaning against the doorframe as digits still lingered upon the doorknob. “I’ve always known where I stood, Light, don’t believe me a convert to your ways. I said I’d see you through this and I will, but do not expect me to throw myself at your feet and throw all other worries to the wind.” He let the statement hang briefly before continuing.

“You will be meeting with Bella tomorrow afternoon. Calm her, fuck her, do what you will to get her cooperation. I won’t wire you, but ask that you wear a com. I’ll be nearby and you’ll only have two hours. Follow my instructions and you’ll be out of there just in time to just be barely spotted by Near’s dogs.” Mello pushed himself away from the doorframe. “Get some rest.”

Of course after that, rest was the last thing on Light’s mind. He threw the covers off, kicking out of bed and storming after Mello. “Don’t you fucking condescend to me!” He growled, “You’re relishing this shot at taking Near down once and for all, but it’s my ass you’re putting on the line! Near would just as easily come running if he caught a glimpse of you—make no mistake, Mello, I still know where I fucking stand and it is definitely not in favor of this!” Kira was far from being rational and Mello had to assume it wasn’t exactly what he’d just said to him that set him off—but something more. Mello’s brow quirked slightly just before he felt the need to catch Light mid-rant and slam him against the wall to shut him up. It seemed more than probable at that moment that Light was reacting the way he was not only out of fear of the SPK and its methods, but because he genuinely felt Mello was betraying him…

“You can’t stay hidden away in here forever,” he returned lowly. “And fear not, Light, yours isn’t the only life that’ll be on the line, ‘cause while you may be used as bait, it isn’t you who’s going to finish this.” Mello scoffed. “How much more of a fucking coward can you be?” He hissed, leaning closer.

And that one word probably pissed Light off the most. His eyes went red and the resounding crack of his hand across Mello’s face was quick and loud and satisfying for that one split second that Mello’s head whipped to the side with the unexpectedly forceful blow, lips parting in surprise and he blinked momentarily stunned. His fingers brushed his heated jaw, eyes at last turning back to Light. “Feel better?”

Kira was glaring, and yet somewhere under there looked slightly surprised at his own behavior. Though Mello recalled L mentioning that he and Light had gotten into quite a few fist fights in the past, and Light was always the one to throw the first blow.

“No,” Light growled. He was still bristling angry. But it seemed he couldn’t explain his own emotions to himself.

Mello flashed him a dangerous, toothy grin. “Do that again and I’ll make you fuckin’ regret it.” He said, slamming a hand into the wall right beside Light’s head, it too had a significantly satisfying sound to it. “Now if you’re quite done and have little more of consequence to contribute, I’ve got work to do.” Anger bristled, but it was kept for the most part, in check, right beneath the surface.

The notion was simmering on the edge however—Light wanted to test him further, he wanted to push it, provoke it, dare Mello to follow through on his threat, but he was hesitant, reading the warning deep in Mello’s green eyes, his own amber ones unyielding, toying with that desire to toe the line. Mello saw it there, and he waited, waited for Light to test him—waited for that second crack across his cheek. Seemed Light was provoking himself to do it…

So neither was surprised when he did.

But Mello was not one to fall short on threats and just as that hand connected, he barely gave himself the time to recognize the proper impact of the blow before he grasped the offending hand by the wrist. Mello yanked Light forward just enough to twist his arm behind his back, forceful enough to hurt just as Kira earned a faceful of the wall. “Do not push me,” Mello growled lowly into his ear; his breath hot upon his lips, his heart thundering in his chest from that one spark of adrenaline.

Light hissed, fuming and aggravated. “Fuck you!” he spat, struggling in vain, but he managed to shove back with enough force to jar Mello’s balance, which resulted in Mello slamming him even harder into the wall.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Light snarled—but it was beyond obvious at that moment. He wanted to fight. He wanted it.

“I don’t fucking think so,” and Mello tightened his grip, tangling calloused fingers into those rich brown strands, which in turn caused Light to lean his head back to ease the strain. “There’s only so much of that shitty holier-than-thou attitude I can tolerate, and I’ve just about had it!”

Light was grunting and snarling at the painful angle Mello had him in, but that didn’t lessen his temper any. “And what the fuck you think you’re going to do about it?!” He growled. “You’re already delivering me to my execution, one way or another, anything beyond that is just fucking happenstance. Fuck you Mello—you can take your threats and go straight to fucking hell for all I care.”

Mello actually laughed and with a sharp yank upon that precious hair, stepped back so that the momentum threw Light back, staggering hard across the hall. “I wouldn’t get so creative with your execution. Don’t flatter yourself into believing that’s what this is.”

Every further remark had Light snarling angrier. “Flatter myself?! What, you think I fantasize about a brutal death?! That’s your area—I’ve already had my taste, thank you.” He was backing down the hall as he said it, his eyes fixed and blistering on Mello, warning him to keep away at that point—or at least he seemed to be.

“Then I suggest you stop the overdramatic claims that I’m delivering you to your death,” Mello pointed out, slowly inching forward, making a casual show of it. “The dramatics sure as hell don’t suit you and no one’s out to kill you at the present moment. Although you’re seriously making me reconsider that pesky little promise…”

All of Light’s attention seemed to zero in on that last comment, and as had been the case this whole time, he was quite literally skating right over the true matter at hand and utterly ignoring the fact that Mello had not really done anything to suggest he was out to harm him.

“I knew I couldn’t fucking trust you,” Light hissed. “Stay the fuck away from me,” and he darted into the other bedroom, slamming the door. But Mello wasn’t about to let him get away that easily, catching the door before the close, the violence of his momentum slamming the door back so it hit the plaster and dust rained from the door knob. In fact there was such brutality in that act alone that Light almost froze in his tracks, and the anxiety went wide in his face.

“So that’s all it comes down to isn’t it? Whether or not I will follow through in the end…” A chuckle. There was no humor there, only anger. Dangerous palpable anger that seemed to radiate from Mello in waves as he stood framed by the entryway, hand still on the wooden door. “You’ve got a hell of a way about you, but this… this is fucking ridiculous. What the fuck DO you want from me, Light?! All this,” he gestured with a sweep of his hand. “All this goddamned bullshit, for what exactly?! What is it you hope to accomplish, you son of a bitch?” He snarled, slapping away the hand that came out to keep him at bay and grabbed Kira by the throat, not so much aiming to injure as to threaten and focus all that attention on himself.

“No—!” Light’s protest was strangled, but his struggles weren’t and his thrashing attempt to dislodge Mello from his throat resulted in the failure of balance between them both, and they were suddenly toppling against the bed, Mello inadvertently pinning Light to the mattress, and Light bucking wildly to throw him off. “Get the fuck off of me now!!” He was hollering, in a state of panic that was either extremely well choreographed or utterly fucking insane. And could it be that Kira was feeling an utter void of allies, or was this some new ploy.

Mello, however, was all too practiced at such outbursts and although he did rise, choosing to straddle Light, knees on either side of his middle without so much as touching him, with the exception of keeping those wrists pinned. “Get a fucking grip,” he hissed sharply into his ear. “I’m not doing anything to you, you goddamned bastard.” But the outburst was certainly telling. Choreographed or not, which Mello was actually willing to bet on the latter judging by the panic that crossed Light’s features and the briefing he had received from L prior to undertaking this particularly difficult babysitting task.

It almost made Mello wonder how L would have handled it had he been there. Not that Mello was willing to bet he and L shared Kira-sitting methods…though he couldn’t exactly say for certain. For worse more than better, Light was certainly working himself into a fit—it was quite a thing to watch considering it was, for the most part in his head. He was still tossing as Mello kept him pinned, trying to get him to focus, it was as though Light basically expected Mello to rape him then and there against the bed and he was acting downright unreasonable…at least Mello thought he was. Kind of ironic considering they’d spent the better part of the last two days endlessly fucking and now Light was shouting for Mello not to touch him.

Unbelievable, truly. Mello watched him, the frown deepening upon his lips. He shifted then, sliding one leg over him to settle upon the mattress beside him, hands still remained upon those straining wrists. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone all together different from the angry snarls of just minutes prior. “I don’t want to knock you out, but I will if that’s what it will take. Now I’m going to let you go…” he murmured and slowly released one hand, digits sliding along the inner part of Light’s arm as he pulled his hand away. “Get yourself together and cool the hell down..”

Light rolled away from him, onto his side, panting—most likely hyperventilating, and this was one of those attacks wasn’t it. He seemed to be fighting it off at that moment, eyes clenched, breathing erratic but slowing gradually. “Take me back to L,” he muttered somewhere muffled in the blankets.

Mello’s brow screwed up. “You know I can’t do that,” he replied, and Light seemed to burrow further into the blankets to escape him.

“Then leave me alone.”

Mello sighed, wishing he had a bar of chocolate to snap into. “What is wrong with you? Aside from the fucking obvious.”

Light didn’t have an answer for him, most likely because Kira himself had no fucking clue.

Fingers were brushed though messy bangs and Mello slid off the bed as gracefully as humanly possible as if attempting not to disrupt him, yet, he crouched down beside the edge of the bed, peering up into what he could see of those features, mostly obstructed by the fluff of blankets. “Listen… We may be playing things my way from here on in, but that doesn’t mean that you’re any more expendable, all right? Trust me if you want, I can’t dictate that out of you. I’ll carry out my plans and if for once in your life, you’re willing to cooperate than I can guarantee that I see you through all this mess alive. All I ask is that you don’t make it any more difficult than it has to be…” he murmured quietly, as if soothing a child. And to follow up the analogy, he brushed his fingers through Light’s hair as he rose. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“I want to talk to L,” the demand was made before Mello was even over the threshold.

“I’m not going to bother L with this, he has enough to worry about.” One amber eye was peering over the messy ridge of sheets, but Light didn’t follow up Mello’s answer with anything of his own besides that look.

“Listen, Light,” Mello said, maintaining that saintly patience. “L warned me about these episodes of yours. Just get some rest, ride it out, and if there’s anything reasonable I can get for you, let me know.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then of course the reply was:

“I want to talk to L.”

Mello sighed. “Fuck.” There was no reasoning with him and he sure as hell did not want to bother L with this. The hour hardly mattered since it was very doubtful that the detective was sleeping – glued to a screen was more like it. Mello cursed once again, disappearing into the living room. It was only a short while between his disappearing from the bedroom and the initial words muttered into the phone. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath just as the line went live and L clicked on the other side, which only caused him to repeat the curse. As if that alone gave away the circumstances, Mello did not so much as offer an explanation before simply saying, “He wants to talk to you…”

It shouldn’t have been surprising that L didn’t even ask why.

“Put him on,” came the flat reply; but his voice sounded stronger than when Mello had last spoken with the detective, and there was the distinctive pop and crunch of sweets being consumed on the other end.

Mello paced his way to the bedroom and handed Light the phone, which Light took and pressed to his ear, and said…nothing.

L was equally silent on the other end again save for the sweet-savoring and the incessant clack of the keyboard—something Mello could hear because he still had his own earpiece on, and was tapped into the com. In fact, neither L nor Light made even a remote attempt to speak to one another and this silent conversation went on for literally several minutes, long enough for Mello’s head to spin, before L finally said, “Get some sleep, Raito-kun.” And it was a casual order, to which Light didn’t respond, except to end the call and hand the phone back to Mello. He rolled over again so the blonde only continued to get an eyeful of his back, and said nothing further.

Somewhere Mello felt it should have been odd that Kira just needed L’s presence at that moment, that L knew exactly what he was after, and that the two of them understood each other so well nothing further was required after that. Actually it was slightly disturbing—and perhaps that much more enlightening.

He watched him a short while, then crossing over to the window, drew the shades to spare him from the early morning assault of sunshine upon his face, then just as quietly, Mello retreated, closing the door behind him. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The hours were already long – too long, Mello noted glimpsing through the living room windows. Eyes were pressed shut, reclaiming himself. What the hell had just happened anyway? He most certainly felt as if he were going positively out of his mind.

One look at the screens and he dismissed it all together. He couldn’t think just then, and thus opted for the couch. Just for a little while, just to unwind. Chocolate was at last bitten into. It couldn’t have been a greater comfort but the phone nearly vibrated right off the table, startling him out of his momentary stupor. The text was brief, “You ok?” Mello mustered a smirk. “It’s under control,” he hastily typed, and lifted himself off the cushions, returning dishes to the kitchen and, upon seeing that freshly brewed coffee sitting in the pot, poured himself a cup before shutting off the machine. It would do little to keep him awake, but it was a welcome enough distraction.

For once since they arrived, he’d at last get to sleep in his own bed that night. The room was as it had been left, perhaps with a few extra things tossed about. The bed was cleared off, clothes put away, bags shoved into closets. He sank onto the mattress, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, mug of coffee in hand. And after a short while, that free hand clasped the end of the rosary that hung at all times from his neck. Fisting the silver cross tightly, he brought his hand up to his lips. “Forgive me…” he muttered the words under his breath. Heavy words, too full of meaning. More than he himself could probably sort out at the present moment. There was too much to be sorry for, far too many apologies to distribute. But for now that one would encompass all and get him through another day.

* * *

The view from the suite in the Hotel Hassler was most impressive even at night and Matt spent a good minute or so drinking it in before he finally set his gear down on the table. They’d moved relatively quickly, but there wasn’t a whole lot to move since Matt had already cleaned out most of their stuff the day before. And despite his injuries, L was fast paced and quick on his feet, smoothing out of one hotel into the next without incident, so it came as a surprise to hear him suddenly say: “We were followed the whole way.”

Matt screwed up his brow and turned to the detective, who was flipping open his laptop, and crunching away on an endless supply of lollipops—probably more than Matt had seen him eat in days.

“By whom?”

“SPK,” L replied. “And Aiber—he’s acting as their infallible agent.” L caught the disturbed look on Matt’s face and plucked the cherry sticky-sweet out of his mouth. It was staining his plump lips with faint color. “Don’t worry,” he said, “That was my intention. I expect Near will be contacting me tomorrow and sending over the next wave of my backup.” He didn’t outright give the word its due amount of cynicism, but for L, it was definitely there.

That was about when the phone rang and L snatched it up. It was Mello’s ringtone, and at this hour it was either case related…or Light related. The question was answered quickly.

“Put him on,” L said, settling down on the sitting room couch, getting comfortable as though he’d never been displaced. He rolled the lollipop against his tongue, eyes glued to the screen, clicking through a variety of messages and not saying anything on the phone. Light didn’t seem to be saying anything either—and this went on for minutes until Matt looked thoroughly perplexed.

“Get some sleep, Raito-kun,” L said at last, and shut the phone.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that one,” Matt said, and the irony was present in his voice.

“There was nothing to hear,” L answered simply.

“My point exactly,” Matt replied, and this dialogue he was getting himself used to with L of all people was becoming more comfortable in its unusualness than he was prepared for. Back at the orphanage Mello was the only little brat who had the balls to seek L out and badger him with attention-questing.

“It’s an oddity of his,” L said. And there was no need for him to explain, something they both understood, but he went on anyway. “I believe it stems from the time we spent in the handcuffs. 24/7 companionship, we could go hours without speaking, but we were always right there in the same airspace. I know Light dwells on that sometimes, we both do. I suppose I never fully considered the psychological ramifications of months spent chained together—at the time it was a means to an end for the case.”

“Is that when—,” Matt stopped himself. “None of my business, nevermind.”

“When we became lovers?” L already knew.

“I suppose,” Matt replied. Not terrain he really wanted to cross, but he had broached the subject hadn’t he?

“Not entirely,” was the unexpected reply. “Kira seduced me long before I handcuffed him to my own wrist. So if you’re wondering whether I’m deluding myself and pining for Yagami Light without his murderous memories—no I’m not. Yagami Light holds no interest for me.”

Matt listened quietly, and wondered just how much of that he dared to believe. If there was anyone who could lie as well as Kira himself, it was L.

“Get some sleep, Matt, tomorrow will prove interesting,” and L was twirling his candy around. “Check on Mello if you need to, but get some sleep.” And that was the last L felt the need to say for the night.

* * *

Mid-morning sneaked up on them with the brush of sunlight streaming through the windows and the warmth that it brought as the flat basked in that initial onslaught of light. Mello woke with a start at the faint beeping of his phone somewhere scattered across the nightstand. The alarm had been set, but never heard. The first thing he realized was that he was sprawled across an otherwise very empty bed, the second that the reason being was because he had crashed in his own room unlike it had become custom. With some definite effort did he reach up to check the time. 9:50am. Not as late as predicted, but later than he had anticipated dragging himself out of bed. Damnit. How many hours had he even managed to sleep?

The morning routine was done in a haze, letting the coffee brew as he doused himself in the shower in hopes of getting his head back together. Light was still nowhere to be seen. The bedroom door remained closed. Mello left him alone for just a little while longer, claiming that much deserved coffee as the water still dripped from shoulder length hair and returning to his own room to dress. His wardrobe had only two stages: casual and business. Today was business: All soft leather despite the warmth that grew by the day outside. Form fitting pants, fitted zipup black shirt, half undone of course. The sleeves rolled up halfway. Hair tied back securely in a short pony tail, just the right amount of liner accenting those clear green eyes. His two trademark guns slid snuggly into the back of his belt and properly kept out of sight beneath the tail of his shirt. Most definitely business.

The meeting had been set. Bella would be waiting for her deity at 1pm in the gardens near her cherished church. Not exactly in the safehouse of her own territory, but close enough and secluded enough to offer cover should she find the need - and Mello was willing to bet that she would most definitely find that need. SPK would also be tipped off within a few hours' time. Should it all go smoothly, it would be enough to assure Bella's hysterics and grant Near's hounds just a glimpse of Kira proper. Enough to draw questions, but not enough to make confirmations. Mello would play it conservatively enough for now and with some luck, Light might actually cooperate.

It was with a piece of toast firmly held in his mouth that he knocked on the bedroom door at last.

100am

"Light," Mello called before pushing the door open. "I need you minimally coherent within the hour. There's coffee made." Ah back to that distorted sense of domestic life. There was coffee and breakfast proper, if the perfectly golden toast, eggs and sausage were anything to judge by. But then again, it might just be those pesky British habits peeking through.

Strangely enough Light was awake. In fact, not only was he awake, he was showered, dressed and standing by the window just staring blankly out at the city. All in black again, that sleek, form-fitting designer wear, complete with lightweight turtle neck to cover up the love marks Mello had peppered his throat with two nights before. His mood was hard to judge from behind, but there floating over the bed was Ryuk again, grinning as usual, crunching an apple nonchalantly. And why did Mello get the impression that Light’s melodramatics the night before had been a diversion to the real issue at hand? Maybe it was the shinigami’s knowing smile that did it—but then again, Ryuk always looked that way.

“Thank you, Mello,” Light said calmly, and his tone was austere, detached, polite. He paused, but still didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry for lastnight,” he said, and hmph, he sounded borderline humble. “The fits are something I’m still trying to get control of.”

Mello quirked an eyebrow. Man, did Kira ever have multiple-personality disorder, or…perhaps, he didn’t.

* * *

L wasn’t on the couch when Matt sauntered lazily into the room. The laptop was in sleep mode, and so it seemed was the detective—visibly sprawled on the master bed inside the master bedroom. L had funny ways of sleeping, if he wasn’t curled up in some infantile fetal position, then he was sprawling—and he usually sprawled when he didn’t fully intend to fall asleep in the first place. He was still dressed and the door was open, so Matt guessed that was it. How long he’d been there for, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t see L’s face because his head was tipped back over the side of the bed facing the balcony doors, so yeah.

“I’m going to order room service,” Matt said, crossing to the desk near the door to lift the menu.

“Chocolate chip Pancakes with Nutella and ice cream, please,” came the muted reply from the unmoving body. “Might as well order half the desert menu as well.”

At least he was getting his appetite back. It didn’t escape Matt’s attention that L’s improving mentality coincided with Kira’s absence, and he had to smirk at that. Kira was a fucking plague, end of story and no offense to L or Mello it seemed, but Light needed to be dead by the end of all this, he really and truly did. That was the surest fix when all was said and done.

“No problem. Did you sleep well?”

L still hadn’t budged. “Half an hour,” he said. “Maybe a little over.”

That was not nearly enough, but this was L, so it was no surprise.

And just then of course, there was a knock. Matt wasn’t ready for that.

“Nathaniel,” L called from his sprawled state, “Please get the door.”

"Waste no time, do they?" Matt groaned, dropping the room service menu back on the hallway table as he passed it. A dress shirt was pulled over his shoulders and buttoned enough to hide ink and scars that would indicate him as something more than just a techie. Fingers were run through his hair as he passed the hallway mirror to the door, not particularly bothering with putting on a friendly face as it was clear who the visitors were going to be. Only Near would send someone at this hour, and since they had been tailed the previous night as L indicated, there was no surprise. But that did not mean he had to be Mr. fucking cheerful either.

The chain was flicked off, the lock turned, door opened without so much as peeking through first. What point was there? Matt leaned against the door frame, pulling the door open halfway. Unlike Aiber, Near's second wave looked very... familiar. Distinctively Japanese and so painfully out of place.
Matsuda should not have been standing in the doorway of L's Rome hotel. Matsuda shouldn't even have been outside of Japan as far as Matt was concerned, so what the hell was he doing here? But recognition did not sprawl itself across his features. Matt simply lifted a brow, clearly indicating that he was familiar with him, but not to what extent. Never that. And because he was not particularly feeling the urge to resort back to Kira's tongue, he greeted the officer shortly. "Bit early, isn't it?" But despite it, moved aside to allow him in.

Light was going to adore this.

What was worse, was that the angle of the door had concealed one other person—also familiar, and Matt wanted to chuckle but didn’t. Aizawa too. Near had sent L’s own task force to him.

“Ah, Mr.—“

“Crane,” Matt replied flatly, watching Matsuda attempt to be professional but not very successfully, some things never changed.

“We were sent by L to assist in the Kira investigation. We served as Japan’s Kira task force—”

“Save it,” Matt said, instinctively fishing for a cigarette. “I know who you are. And don’t you mean sent by N?”

Matsuda looked dumbfounded, and Aizawa was scowling and it occurred to Matt suddenly that they didn’t know. Near hadn’t told them. Oh. Wow. The little bastard.

“Gomen,” Matsuda tried to cover up, blundering his tone as usual, “We were sent by N, the Second L—”

“There is no second L, Matsuda-san,” L said suddenly from behind. He’d shuffled out of the bedroom and was already poking through the remaining lollipops near the laptop. His normal nonchalance however did nothing to remedy the absolute shock that plastered across both policemen’s faces.

“Ry—Ryuuzaki?!?” Matsuda’s jaw quite literally hit the floor, very closely joined by Aizawa’s. In fact, it seemed the younger man’s eyes almost welled up instinctively. “You’re—alive?!”

L stopped and regarded their reactions. “It’s a shame Near did not warn you,” he said flatly, his gaze keen and dark, but not for the two men before him, rather for Near’s approach to the situation. Maybe the boy just wanted Matsuda and Aizawa to see for themselves that L was not dead the way they’d been made to believe for so many years—maybe he figured that was the surest way they would believe it. And maybe he figured that a shock on this scale would alert their brains to entertain the very real notion that if L was alive…so too, was Kira.

“I don’t understand,” Matsuda sounded heartfully broken up. “All this time we thought you were…” and then the pieces fit, he was a detective after all. “…Then you did it? You won? You tricked Raito-kun?!”

Interesting that, Matsuda insisted on referring to Kira as Light.

“I did,” L replied, his tone as monosyllabic as ever, but L was perceptive, he heard the inflection as Matsuda spoke the name, he heard the unmistakable ring of regret there. Light had left his indelible mark on the poor blundering detective hadn’t he? It was plain as day.

“I faked my death to trick Raito-kun,” L explained. “He was getting too close to me, I needed to remove myself from the equation in order to outsmart him and avoid being killed. I confess, it was not my intention for it to end so regrettably, but such is the way of things sometimes.” At that, the detective watched keenly as both Matsuda and Aizawa darkened a bit—Matsuda moreso.

It was quickly reoccurring to the young detective how manipulative L could be sometimes, and he seemed to take that particular statement as L’s indication that he’d overreacted when he’d shot Light in the warehouse. L hadn’t truly been implying blame one way or another, but he was testing for it, and Matsuda showed him exactly what he expected. Aizawa on the other hand looked like a betrayed father, a telling sign that his empathies for Soichiro Yagami still stood. So Near had sent the two task force members who’d invested the most emotion into the case, another point for him.

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” Matsuda’s voice was barely audible, but the guilt was so close to the surface all L had to do was nick and there it was.

“Matsuda-san,” and L’s voice was stern and chiding, “We’ll have none of that. What’s done is done, there’s a new case now. Raito-kun’s disease has spread, there are at least 2-3 notebooks at work here in Rome, all at the hands of Raito-kun’s former shinigami. It falls to us again to stop it—that’s why you’re here.”

Again, another test. If they had some ulterior purpose, L would have gleaned it off both men immediately. Guilt-ridden and loyal to L as they were, any implication that assisting in the new Kira case was not their main priority would have revealed itself in their eyes. But L saw no such sign. So Near had truly kept them in the dark…and why exactly, L wanted to know. He stood there for a moment, just staring them down until they were essentially squirming—no matter how long they’d worked beside the great detective, it seemed neither man truly knew how to read him, only Light had learned that knack.

“We’re glad to see you well, Ryuuzaki,” Aizawa said at last, that proud, solid Japanese tone in his voice. “And we’re honored to be able to work with you again.”

“Good,” L replied. “Thank you, Aizawa-san. Let me then introduce you both to my associate, Nathaniel Crane—he has been running my tech operations this whole time. He is close to me and very trusted.”

Matt nodded at them, but didn’t make any further attempt to be congenial.

“And,” L added, “He was just about to order us breakfast.”

Ah yes, breakfast. Of course. Back to normal it was. At least present company was a bit less frustrating than Aiber had been. Granted that having the task force in their midst forcefully kept various details in the dark seeing as, himself included, there were a lot of people who were supposed to have been very much dead. Ah. Details.

Breakfast was wheeled in by room service some fifteen minutes later. Although it truly looked as if it was a bakery shelf itself that got carted in. A sickening sight for some, but it was refreshing to see that L was once again indulging in those little things that made him tick. Both Matsuda and Aizawa stared at the cart as if they had never seen such a thing before, while the contrary was quite true. Fair enough, it had been a while. Matt set several of the pastries down on the table before L, pouring him the sickeningly sweet tea without being asked. "Help yourselves," he addressed the officers with a nod, indicating them to the assortment of pastries, and some less cavity inducing breakfast items such as good ol' regular toast. He wanted nothing but to shake them for information regarding what Near had and had not told them. This whole thing was downright unnerving. Just what kind of game was the brat playing at?

He did no such thing, however, excusing himself briefly to disappear into the secondary room, carrying off some of the bags of equipment that had been left out the previous night. It was a good excuse as any. Once out of sight, he hastily punched in the message, sending it on its way. "Switched hotels. Got company. Do not try to contact us 'till I tell you it's clear."

While he had never had any true reason to detest the twit, he was beginning to sympathize all the more with Mello's avid distaste.