Redeemer

"Hmph. Company again," Mello stated blandly as he peered at the screen before dropping to phone into the nearest coffee holder. The light switched, the sports car moved forward.

It was Saturday. The city was crowded. How he had not even realized that they were already heading into the weekend? The month was streaming by quicker than favorable, already mid-month and only a few more to the deadline - but did that even matter? He had to wonder.

Their goal was not center city, however. Not just yet. Mello drove them to less crowded areas, although given the apparent wealth reflected upon building facades and the splendor of the villas they passed, it was not shadiness that kept the tourists away. It was at one such villa he parked, pulling up beside the main gate. "Wait here," he said, killing the engine and instinctively removing the keys from the ignition. The door was pressed shut seconds later. As if Light had any choice other than to remain.

Mello's game, after all.

12:25pm

Whatever he said into the intercom to make the gates open went unheard by Kira, and once Mello disappeared into the gardens, Light was left with little else than the view of the villa, the otherwise deserted road and a too-nice car he could not take off with. His keeper was, however, merciful in not letting him waste away in boredom for very long, and after what only seemed a handful of minutes later, Mello returned, duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"I would not recommend showing up for your date armed with anything more than your charms," he murmured with a partially hidden grin, starting the engine. The bag was dropped in the small space behind the seats, just enough to shove equipment into. "But it'll be here in case you need it."

They were moving again. "I'll leave the car at the public parking lot and we'll walk our separate ways from there. The gardens are that big, but will allow enough cover for her goons. Keep me on the line at all times or I won't be able to get you out should an emergency surge." Mello warned him sternly, casting Light a sidelong glance.

12:45pm

The Porsche was parked, Mello held the ticket between his teeth as he maneuvered into the spot. "Do what you need to do," he told Light quietly. "Jus' keep her on your side a while longer."

* * *

“Signora.”

She was standing at the fountain, sharply dressed, silk scarf around her hair which was pulled tightly back into a neat dark, bun. Dark shades hid her sultry eyes, and her bee-stung mouth was full and red, and quirked at the corners to see him.

“Signore,” she purred.

He matched her well, having changed into one of those designer suits he wore like a pro, and Bella approved, she always did. Mr. And Mrs. Kira, it was almost a perfect little portrait, better than Misa had ever made—visually at least.

“Things are progressing well,” Bella purred, and Light’s lips spread slightly.

“Good,” he replied. “I suspected as much, I got the code through the message board.”

“Of course, amore mio,” Bella said, “I am concerned at recent developments.”

Light offered her his arm, which she took casually, leaning her weight into him as they walked calmly along the garden path. There was no shortage of bodyguards—all heavily armed, lining the garden walls like silent sentinels. “Explain this to me, Signore Misora,” she said.

“The SPK is the second task force created by one of L’s heirs to hunt me.” Light replied lowly, it was for Bella’s ears and Bella’s ears only. “They’ve broken away from L because they do not agree with his methods. I readily give them credit for putting me on life support several months ago. That had not been L’s intention... Their leader is a 19 year old boy-prodigy named Near. That’s not his real name, I have yet to uncover such information as L has gone to great lengths to conceal those who work for him. Near is aggressive and tenacious and he wants me dead by the most violent means possible. I am positive he believes me alive despite what L did to fake my demise. Near is here in Rome to bring you down—but moreso, to bring me down.”

Light stopped, facing Bella, cupping her cheek with that seductive affection he wielded so well against her. “Do everything in your power to make life difficult for him,” he said smoothly. “Ultimately I want him splayed wide open on a silver platter before me, but all things in due time. Understand this, Signora—I hate Near more than I ever hated L. L is my adversary, he has my respect, Near is another animal altogether.”

“Understood and then some, beloved,” Bella purred.

That seemed to please Kira. “Though like L, Near has the world’s police force at his beck and call,” he continued. “But the SPK itself is made up of only a handful of members. I encrypted and sent a file to you with the necessary information regarding their details.”

They turned again to resume their casual stroll, and Bella’s gloved hands squeezed against Light’s arm, a pawing sense of desire bottled like her magnetism under that conservative dress.

“I require your protection,” Light said simply.

“You have it.”

“Then I have more news for you,” and Light’s mouth quirked wicked. “To make our plans easier, I have employed a former associate of mine to carry out Kira’s normal daily judgments—it will lighten the church’s workload.”

“Then I am in your debt,” and Bella smiled when she said this, her humble servitude always just a step further toward conniving seduction.

Light smiled smoothly.

“And L?” Bella purred.

“Under control. Near is keeping him busy for me, it worked out quite well.”

“Hmmm, and you?”

“At present, I have a babysitter, but again, it’s under control.”

“And they don’t suspect?”

“This is L, we’re talking about, he and his always suspect. But it is rather easy to divert their attentions—I have an arsenal of methods that have yet to fail me.”

Bella laughed. “I can imagine,” she smiled, tilting her head up at him. “I was rather hoping to indulge in one of those methods.”

Light chuckled. “I still have an hour,” he said.

And Bella’s eyebrow rose. “Then I have a garden cottage right over there—with a bed.”

* * *

“Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you.”

That had been her steady mantra for months on end, and no matter how much it screamed inside her mind, how often those words erupted from those widely splitting fissures throughout her body—they never felt real. It never felt real.

She had seen it, had been there when Mrs. Yagami identified him where he lay cold and bloody on the slab—when the poor homely woman took her son’s limp form in her arms and screamed at the surrounding policemen that they had killed him—they had killed her Light. Misa had been there, collapsing against the wall in a fit of wailing sobs, sinking to the floor beneath the observation window—just a wall between her and the man she loved—just a wall between her and his body, riddled with gruesome death.

And then at the funeral. That coffin, heaped in flowers, all those mourners who had known and admired him, his mother and sister sitting there stunned, Matsuda crying, Mogi and Monchichi holding her up on either side because try as she might, Misa could not get her legs to work.

“Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you Oh god I miss you.”

No he wasn’t in there, she kept telling herself. He wasn’t in that box, he wasn’t dead—but the ceremony proceeded as though it didn’t know the difference…and then they burned him.

They burned him.

They burned her Light.

So when the memories came screaming back to her the moment she touched the book—it wasn’t the intensity of the pain that had yet to abandon her that made it so terrible to bear—it was knowing she had loved him that much more. More than she knew even then, when she saw his body, his coffin, his ashes—knowing that she had given herself to him so completely and they had taken him so violently away. That those men who offered her false comfort and support were the ones that gunned him down, sold him out to death, ripped him out of her life…

“I’m going to kill the whole world, Ryuk,” she said simply, opening the notebook where it sat on the floor—it was a dirty floor, it hadn’t been cleaned in god knows how long, and Misa wasn’t even sure the floor was hers anymore. She couldn’t remember much of life as it was now—she knew who she was from time to time, she knew she wore striped thigh highs and one of his shirts, but her hair hadn’t been washed, and she wore no make up—and it was an old shirt, before he’d matured into the man he became, his shoulders broader, his arms so strong and comforting—it was an old shirt, from when he was young, when they first met…

Oh god I miss you.

“Eh, Misa, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” and the Death God was amused. He should be, Misa was going to show him how to burn the world—burn the whole world the way the world had burned her Light. She crawled to a dresser, and started pawing through it to find her jelly pens—a rainbow of colors—she would burn the whole world with a rainbow of colors…

“I disagree,” she said, “I think it’s a very good idea. I’m going to start with them—the ones who did it,” and she put her pen to paper, starting to scrawl the first letter: M… “And I want the eyes, Ryuk,” she said. “I’m going to need them if I want to kill the whole world.”

“Eh, well, you can have the eyes, Misa—but you should probably check with Raito about killing the whole world.”

Her pen jagged the next letter and ruined it.

“What?”

The shinigami laughed. “Yeah—he’s alive, Misa. So is L, L faked Raito’s death so he could capture him. Raito sent me here to tell you, he wants you to know that he loves you and that they’re keeping him from you.”

The little blonde girl blinked, sitting back on her knees, wide-eyed—she stared at the death god. She stared at him long and hard, so much so that Ryuk was actually getting uneasy. Then she giggled, “Ha! That’s a good one, Ryuk! You make Misa Misa laugh, you see her so sad, you make her laugh cause you know she’s hurting, and you know the only thing that will make her better now is her Raito.”

She smiled, beamed in fact, put her pen to paper, and then her face fell dramatically. “But it wasn’t really very funny. Not very funny at all,” she whispered.

The death god was confused. “Uh, yeah, well, he told me to give you this.” And he handed her the scrap of paper. Misa took it from him, and stared at it. The names meant nothing to her, even if she recognized one of them from long ago—it was the handwriting that held her attention, that lovely familiar scroll of intelligent letters, of elegant fingers…of him.

Her hand started shaking and her eyes welled up. “It’s not funny, Ryuk,” she whispered again, barely audible. “It’s not, it’s not—” she traced the vague imprint of letters with small fingers. “Oh god, I miss you.”

“He’s in Rome, Misa,” Ryuk said.

And Misa nodded absently.

“He wants you to be Kira for him.”

She nodded again and there was a long, long silence. Ryuk danced from one foot to the next, waiting. “Okay then,” he said, even though Misa hadn’t moved. “That’s it I think, you got that?”

“I’ve got it, Ryuk,” she said in a small voice.

“Good,” the shinigami sounded like he thought he’d done his job well. “I’m gonna go back to Raito now and let him know. I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you as soon as he can,” and that little bit he added on his own, which was good thinking as far as Ryuk was concerned. Of course he told Light later that morning, while Light was standing quietly at the window, dressed all in black:

“You have no idea what you’ve done to that girl. She wants to burn the whole world down in a rainbow of colors. But she did the eye trade.”

* * *

Mello was doing his damned best not to be livid, and thus far, it was working.

He sat upon the ironwork chairs at the garden's cafe, sunglasses firmly in place, steaming espresso and a book in front of him, but his attention was not on the words printed on the pages, instead it was on the shapes that wandered away in the distance. Old associate, was it? He glowered behind the tinted lenses. Of course Light would take every measure imaginable to save his own ass, but whether or not he was jerking Bella's chain, Mello could not tell. Certainly he would not lie about something of that nature as the results would be obvious. She remained wrapped around his finger, but the amount of information revealed was almost startling. Necessary evil, he supposed, but goddamnit.

Granted, this much had been expected. Mello had not only allowed Light to continue meeting with the woman, he had set up the bloody meeting. And so again that sense of doubt was instilled. The bastard played both roles all too well and after the previous night's episode, well... no one would blame him for being on edge.

Someone should most definitely give Mello a fucking award, however, for completely and utterly tuning out the more than obvious sounds of sweet attentions Bella was basking in. The woman was downright loud and when those gasps and groans were released indirectly into Mello's ear, it was a wonder he managed to idly waste away the minutes, counting down every last second until the next part of his plan could be put into motion. When it at last sounded as if Bella was quite done groaning desperately into his ear, Mello murmured discretely into the com. "Start getting yourself ready. We're on in twenty, but remember that I won't be able to give you more than just a couple of minutes notice, so be ready to move."

He had returned to the car, monitoring both Bella's men as well as SPK's movements through the laptop he'd packed into the back earlier that morning. What a goddamned awful time for L and Matt to have unwelcome company sitting about. Mello needed an extra set of eyes on the lines to inform him of all the happenings while he was focusing on getting Light the hell out of sight. He exhaled irritably, snapping loudly into a new bar of chocolate and backing the car out of its spot, and maneuvering the car around within view of Bella's convenient little cottage. Remaining out of sight, all the while being in the direct line of escape.

The minutes ticked away, and Mello was practically squirming in the driver’s seat, digits tapping impatiently upon the steering wheel. At last. The information was fed through all the right sources. Ten minutes to spare. He watched the streets as closely as he did the split monitor. “C’mon…” he whispered, positively antsy.

There it was, near-immediate movement. The false message he sent that Kira had been spotted was too good a setup to pass on even if the source of the information was anonymous. The SPK was on the move regardless and the same exact message would cross both of L and Matt’s screens within instants. Mello trusted them to react accordingly in the presence of whatever company they still entertained.

The blonde saw them then—the first specs of movement upon the radar. “Get out,” he ordered Light sternly into the com, firing the engine to life. Bella’s men would have their hands full within minutes. Near had doubtlessly sent Gevanni and whoever else he had on staff these days. “Hang a right when you get out of there,” Mello directed, “They’ll be forced to approach from the opposite side with this traffic. Head straight into the intersecting street and I’ll pick you up.” The sports car was forced into gear and Mello sailed the wide perimeter to the planned rendezvous point…

* * *

The moment they were inside the cottage Light was slamming Bella up against the wall and kissing her hard and deep. What followed was the kind of play for dominance usually only found in the animal kingdom—and Light had absolutely no intention of letting Bella win. Unlike their last encounter which was for all intents and purposes, borderline romantic, here Bella chose to expose her true colors—and probably exposed them best when she literally hauled off and smacked Light across the face as hard as she possibly could—she drew blood even. Ironic, that. Light however, reacted how he had expected Mello to react the night before—twisting her around, slamming her against the wall and fucking her hard from behind—and she loved it. Light had to wonder, if Mello listening in understood the irony—but then again the blonde was not benefiting from any visuals, and was probably already seething angry about the information Light had chosen to disclose all too freely to both him and Bella. For the love of the game, truly.

Of course, in terms of Bella at that moment, Light also had no real intention of allowing her to see the sort of marks Mello had left behind on his body—it would go too far to insinuate Kira’s own tendency for bedroom submission, and that was a chink in his armor Light couldn’t afford Bella to know. So taking her from behind was in the plan at the getgo. God, but she made him work for it, and he was hurting almost as badly as she must have been by the time she collapsed to her knees on the floor praising the Virgin Mary and every other holy divinity she could for her orgasm—another irony, that.

Disheveled as he was, Light managed to put himself back together relatively quickly, giving Bella her moments to pant and glow down there on the floor before he helped her up and she wrapped herself in his arms.

“I have to go,” he said, rather composed, all things considered. And Bella groaned in protest. She would have preferred several more hours of marathon fucking, but of course at the same time, Mello was snarling ‘get out’ into Light’s ear, so Light shoved the woman down onto the bed, dutifully obliging that wicked look of hunger in her eyes with his own brand of teasing seduction. “I will contact you when I can,” he said, and left her there.

“Hang a right when you get out of there. They’ll be forced to approach from the opposite side with this traffic. Head straight into the intersecting street and I’ll pick you up.”

“I’m on my way,” Light muttered, and Mello could all but hear the aggravation already peeling off of Kira for this plan. Here he was about to knowingly reveal himself to the SPK and god it was pissing him off. But he followed Mello’s directions to a T, and as he hit that intersecting street—he saw them, Gevanni and Lidner behind the wheel…and they—saw him.

Hard gazes connected, and maybe it was the lack of surprise in Kira’s cold face that would tip them off later that this had been a set-up, but at that moment, Near’s two best agents were too busy with their mouths hanging open to comprehend anything more than that their phantom target just been visually confirmed…

* * *

Visual confirmation: Kira has been spotted.

The message popped up on L and Matt’s screens simultaneously, and L’s eyes went owl-wide—he leaned in, nose to nose with the screen and scanned the com transcript between Gevanni and Lidner: Near, it’s confirmed, it’s Yagami, target is alive and has id’ed us—repeat, Yagami is alive and has seen us.

L slapped the laptop closed rather dramatically. “Nathaniel will you tend to this in the next room please,” he ordered, despite the confused expressions on Matsuda and Aizawa’s faces. “You must forgive me,” the detective mumbled. “I do not wish to disclose certain elements of the case to you until I’ve had a chance to fully brief you both on the situation.”

Matt took both laptops and hurried into the master bedroom, and L abruptly thrust a heaping file on Bella’s church at the two policemen sitting there rather stunned. “Please review this,” he said, popping a lollipop in his mouth and then hurrying to join Matt, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Matt was already cursing into the live connection on the screen. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” The mic having already been activated without a second’s hesitation as he pulled up the necessary data – SPK’s movements and communication, city maps – feeding them all to Mello as he had in the past.

“Are your visitors gone?” was the blonde’s unusually clam reply. Concentration. Dangerous games. Too risky. Matt recognize that calm for what it was – Mello tended to fall into it whenever things got hairy, or he was enjoying himself a bit too much. He feared it just happened to be a mixture of the two.

“No-“

“Then save the bitching for later and pay attention.” As if Matt needed telling.

And Mello watched intently as Gevanni and Lidner were forced to stop face to face with Light, sending immediate visual confirmation of Kira’s existence to Near, and Light was already crossing the street as indicated. Mello reached across the seat to shove the door open. “C’mon,” he hissed and seconds later the engine was roaring as he took off down the cobblestone street the second Kira’s seatbelt clicked shut.

“Take a left at the next intersection,” Matt chimed in seconds later, back to business tone, cigarette firmly planted between his lips. “Another left at the light will put you on Via Leonne XIII.”

“I’m being tailed.”

“Police sent to the site prior to confirmation. Near has rerouted some of his men. Lidner and Gevanni stayed behind. Bella’s men have engaged and they’ve got their hands full.”

Mello was scowling and bit harshly into a bar of chocolate before dropping it into his lap in order to reach behind him and press one of his guns into Light’s unsuspecting hands. “Blow out their tires.”

Light didn’t look happy. “What!”

“You fucking heard me. I know you can shoot. Blow out their fucking tires and don’t argue with me right now.”

Matt had his head in his hands, utter disbelief crossing his features. This had bad written all over it but there was no way in hell he was about to tell Mello that. And yet, as he cringed, watching the screens, he heard the first of three shots.

The bullets soared true enough to blow out the front driver’s side tire, sending the police car spinning into the divider and for now, off their tail.

“Light’s a good shot,” L managed, eyes still bulging at the screen, and he had a headset on as well by this point. “He just hates guns. Mello, I’m calling off the police pursuit as a false alarm, L still overrides N as far as the world is concerned—that’s at least until N exposes me.” L said it flatly, but he sounded dry and cynical despite it.

“Won’t come to that if I can help it,” Mello returned. “Do what you can but don’t compromise yourself. I can shake them if needed.” Even then he glimpsed in the rearview mirror, another car had joined the fray but they were far behind. With no telling license plate pinning Mello to any given identity, it would be easy to simply disappear.

“Appreciated,” L mumbled, and then he was switching to another connection and speaking to Rome’s policia, convincing them he had men on the situation and their services were no longer necessary.

That, however, had no bearing on the SPK themselves. Lidner was creative on the field, she’d gotten herself and Gevanni out of Bella’s clutches and was heading fast after Mello—unbeknownst to her. Matt caught it.

“You’ve got company,” he said. “Coming fast up the rear—SPK.”

“Hang on,” was all the warning Light received before Mello pulled the hand break and expertly spun the wheel into a too-sharp right turn. The tires screeched, but the turn was smooth and within seconds, he had released the break and was gearing up through the yellow light much to the discomfort of several slower drivers who took the liberty to protest in high tones. Lucky for them, Mello had practically memorized the city’s blue prints before L and Light had even joined them from England. It had been instinct to familiarize himself with the area should such similar circumstances arise. And here it was; full blow pursuit from the SPK on his tail. Damnit, and he had not wanted to reveal himself just yet.

“They blew past the street, but are coming around the circle ahead,” Matt chimed in, tackling furiously away to keep up. “There’s a detour two streets north of your location, it’ll put you straight into A1.”

“Avoiding highways.”

“Would be your best chance of getting them off your back.”

“No, it’ll just lead to a high speed chase, which I’m also trying to avoid for the moment.”

Stubborn. Matt sighed. “Coming up on your right.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, catching sight of the sleek black car coming up on the adjacent street. Traffic up ahead. In a single move, Mello hit the breaks and with a sweep of his hand, pushed the passenger’s seat back, shoving Light out of the way as the previously used gun was drawn and pointed in a graceful line across Kira himself and toward the pursuing car.

Lidner was behind the wheel, having also been forced to a stop. Her weapon was drawn seconds later, but rather than pointing and firing with the determination she would have usually shown, she hesitated as recognition dawned. Mello met her gaze, releasing a breath through gritted teeth. There was no time for this and that second’s hesitation was just what he had needed to shove the Porsche into reverse and zip back the way he had come.

Lidner wasn’t going to halt pursuit, it would be too obvious, especially since Gevanni hadn’t seen Mello the way she had. But she was going to lose them, Mello was certain of that—partially because he was going to force her to. There were things that would need to be handled between them, but that was without Kira being in mortal danger right beside him.

“She’s coming back around.” Matt informed.

“I’ve got it handled,” and Mello hit the clutch again, spinning the car back around, jamming it fiercely ahead, weaving between other cars; if Light was having a coronary, he was hiding it well—aside from the deep scowl plastered across his handsome face he at least understood this was Mello’s scene and if he wanted to survive he truly did have to put his life in Mello’s hands. He did however have a rather white-knuckled grip on the bar above his head.

In a less serious situation, he would have likely made a crack about the way Light was very clearly hanging on for dear life, but Mello let it pass. It was good enough that he was keeping quiet and letting Mello handle things as they needed handling. Even through the chase, the blonde spared the moment to snap into a bar of chocolate, holding it in his lap so that he could shift gears, winding their way down the road all the while keeping a close eye on the rearview mirrors. Halle was on his tail, but not for long.

Mello took the first turn, just narrowly avoiding a group of teenagers on BMXs that managed to stop short just in time. His apology was silent. There was no time. Lidner followed, but more sloppily around the turn. The Porsche hit a main road and performed just as he had anticipated it would—proving it’s bloody weight in the assigned gold. It had the acceleration power the SPK’s little company car did not have, and so with some added creative maneuvers that had Light closing his eyes and scowling furiously at immanent death, Mello lost her at last, taking two consecutive turns and ducking into a parking garage right in time to get out of sight.

At least they could breathe. He ducked into a spot and remained still, engine idling just in case there was a need to make a quick escape. But it did not come. Mello released a breath.

All according to plan.

Light seemed to also ease after a moment, but shot Mello that same scowling look regardless. Mello snapped his chocolate. “What?” He snorted.

“Nothing,” Light sneered back—but yeah he was safe for the time being, so it had better have been nothing.

“God work, Mello,” L said over the com. “I have guests to tend to, I’m signing off. Matt is here if you need anything further.” And with that L was gone.

“So what now?” Light muttered, raking his hands back through his hair, yeah he was a little more unnerved than he let on. Mello on the other hand was still quite exhilarated. Light turned an amber gaze on him. “What’s the next part of this plan of yours?”

Mello lifted a brow at him. “What, you actually plan shit several steps ahead?” He said in all seriousness, making it downright impossible to tell whether he was daring to make a joke or not.

Light’s gaze twisted incredulously. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I plan shit years in fucking advance, so your plan better go a little beyond me exposing myself to the SPK so you could tear ass through the streets of Rome in your fancy fucking car!”

Mello laughed and goaded by Matt’s barely stifled chuckle on the other side of the com, he just about lost it but managed to contain himself, knuckles brushing his lips. He cleared his throat and diverted his attention to the problem at hand. “What’s the situation, Matt?”

“They’re pulling back. I’m sure I’ll have more for you once Gevanni and Lidner return to headquarters with the news. Think she’ll out you?”

“Don’t know. Hoping not, but expecting it all the same. Near’s bound to catch on sooner or later. Am I clear to go?”

“Yea, you’re clear all the way back to the flat. I’ll keep a look out ‘till you’re safely out of sight.”

“Fuck you both,” Light glowered, turning his head away, bristling angry and obviously feeling outnumbered. But he was the one who’d screwed up his own plan—had done all that work and catering to Mello’s every sexual desire to fit himself squarely between Mello and Matt, and now of his own accord he’d turned back into an intolerable prick—he only had himself to blame.

He stayed quiet on the ride back to the flat, but his sour mood was peeling off of him in sheets and landing squarely in Mello’s lap. When they were safely parked, Light got out of the car rather abruptly, waiting impatiently for Mello to get himself together and head toward the stairwell up to their suite of rooms. Mello had the key after all, and Light still wasn’t talking, in fact, he didn’t even really want to look Mello in the eye at that point, not that he had any qualms about glaring him down regardless.

Mello took his time, rather enjoying Kira being so frazzled. And that was part of it, Light didn’t want to admit how nervous the whole experience had made him—Kira didn’t like to be nervous, Kira liked to be in control. He was definitely not feeling in control at that moment.

“Settle down, Light,” Mello said at last. “I got you back in one piece.”

“That’s debatable,” Light growled, stripping off his suit jacket and loosening his tie, undoing the first several buttons on his shirt which gave Mello a clear eyeful of one the rather nastier love bites Light was still sporting.

“I’ll make you some tea to ease those nerves of yours,” Mello smiled. His amusement was clear in his voice.

“Fuck you,” Light snapped. And Kira was actually pacing. “God, I feel like killing someone,” he grumbled to no one in particular. The thought struck him funny then, and his sharp gaze glinted at Mello as he laughed. “You know what? Sure, thank you for being a raving maniac—I suppose I do get to breathe another day because of it.” He threw the jacket on the couch, but obviously didn’t know quite what to do with himself.

Mello actually grinned, nodding in what could have been mock thanks as he swept away to put his things down. “I understand you’re not exactly accustomed to experiencing life outside of that rigid control of yours, but it’s not so bad once you get used to it.” He grinned. “Calm down, will you?” Mello murmured at last, easing on the obvious mirth that plagued him. “I don’t plan on having you go through that again anytime soon.”

“No, of course not,” Light retorted. “Next up in the grand life experience, I get captured and tortured by the SPK. Didn’t have to be that way mind you, we could have led Near around in circles for quite some time, L and I, but you need immediate gratification. Whatever. I’m done—I’m taking a bath,” and he stormed off down the hall.

Ironically, Mello heard the liquor cabinet open before the pantry cabinet, even though the only thing in there was rum, and Light didn’t drink, but the distinct sound of a bottle being lifted was clear even from the next room.

A few minutes later and the tub was running…

Light hadn’t closed the door all the way—or he had and the latch was faulty, but that was fine, the water was running so hot at that point he’d probably suffocate himself if he didn’t crack the door just a little. He stripped down, cracking the seal on the bottle and swigged it—hating the taste all the way down, but he seriously was just at a loss and he didn’t have a Death Note readily available to work off the frustration. Funny how therapeutic cleaning up scum was—he’d never quite noticed it until it was gone.

He hung his clothes on the hook, and didn’t really give a shit that he wasn’t exactly taking care of them, he hadn’t purchased them anyway, so it didn’t really matter as he sunk slowly down into the searing water and let it eat away the tension. That and the alcohol—the steam enveloping him, running the sleek moisture over his face and body where it wasn’t submerged; his hair dampening and sealing wetly to his skin. Light settled back, resting against the porcelain, just trying to get a grip.

He couldn’t help it. After getting himself settled, Mello peeked through the gap in the door, pushing it open just enough to inspect what Light was doing within. And indeed, he was chugging from the bottle. Heaven’s sake, the world was on end. Mello’s brow lifted, stuck somewhere between impressed and puzzled as to the choice of relaxation picked at that particular moment.

But the blonde invited himself inside once Light took another swig, crossing the distance just in time to catch it on its descent. “There will be no wasting of that,” he reprimanded, sinking down to the edge of the tub. Bastard. Even when he didn’t even try, Kira was too damned desirable; the sweep of bangs from his eyes, dripping in lightly scented bath water, the contour of toned muscles disappearing beneath the surface. And then there was that look as he peered up at him, the rum already taking effect as Kira just did not drink. So a little went a long way and those heavily lidded eyes peered up at him in such a way that Mello could not help but take it in… admire those gorgeous features for what they were, despite whose they were or perhaps… perhaps because of whose they were.

Light’s tension seemed to unravel quite easily beneath the spell of rum, and Mello helped himself to a swig just because.

“Why do you do that?” the blonde muttered, leaning on the lip of the tub, fingertips grazing the hot surface of the water, yes just glancing the shadows of secret contours beneath the water.

“Do what, Mello?” And the alcohol made Light’s voice deeper—low and sultry and feathered at the edges—or maybe the alcohol just released him from that false tenor tone he often used to sound as pompous as he usually did. Kira spoke in the low tones, and Mello had wondered in the past which voice was the more genuine. Seems he got his answer.

“Look this way, even when I’m trying to brush you off as the prick you are.”

Light lifted a lazy, but far-too sultry eyebrow. “I’m not doing anything,” he replied, his words slow and composed because the rum was indeed hitting him and he didn’t want to sound foolish by slurring. “You came in here on your own.”

Green eyes bore into amber ones, and Mello reached across, palming Light’s face in one hand, pressing a thumb across those lush lips wet with rum and steam.

“I should tell you to fuck off,” Light said lowly.

“But you won’t,” Mello replied, his tone also dropping an octave, finger still pushing against that sinful mouth.

“Or is it bugger off, where you come from?” And god, he said half of that sentence in English, which meant his inhibitions were really loosening up, as he stared at Mello through half-lowered lids.

“Go have a wank and be done with it,” there was just something about Kira drunk and looking so molten and speaking British slang in broken English that did something.

“I want to fuck you,” Mello said deeply. “And you’re gonna let me.”

Light mocked incredulity. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Mello responded simply, following it up with a second and last chug of the bottle before setting it down on the floor and safely out of harm’s way. Buttons were flicked open and Mello shrugged the dress shirt off, tossing it carelessly over the edge of the nearby sink. He rose, then, taking the time to disarm and flick open the belt which would practically loosen the laces of his pants for him, seeing as he had the habit of neglecting to tie them.

He wasn’t trying to give Light a show, but it might as well have been one as the tight leather was peeled off and kicked aside. Mello joined him then, sinking down into the wide clawed foot tub which seemed to have been designed to be occupied by more than one person at any given time. Knees hit the bottom, the steaming water rising up to his waist as hands fell to the lip of the tub on either side of Light’s damp shoulders.

There had never been any sort of hesitation in the past, and there sure as hell was none now as Mello leaned down, claiming those lush, kissable lips fiercely, tasting the rum and the familiar sweetness he had come to attribute to Light himself. It was enough to lose himself in; enough to forget all else and just give into that sensation of pleasure, of lust, of utter debauchery it generally ended up being. He had confessed it before, Light was able to drive him completely and utterly mad across the spectrum. And perhaps the worst case of all was the fact that Mello kept coming back for more.

Of course it was all over once Light started in with those noises of his—the desperate panting, that ragged breathless moaning he knew drove Mello to all manners of madness, and it did not fail this time either, Mello already forcing himself between Light’s legs, water sluicing over them, Light gripping the edge of the tub to keep from going under and Mello grabbed him around the waist, pulled him into his lap—Light throwing his head back to groan, and it seemed he’d melt all too easily, and Mello was all but ready to push hard inside him and pump until they were both dancing on the fringe of oblivion, but Light quirked that wicked mouth, and with a foot, shoved Mello away.

This again. Mello hadn’t been in the proper frame of mind to recognize it the night before when Light had laid the challenge out by slapping him. He probably wouldn’t have caught it this time around if not for what had happened with Bella earlier that day; nevertheless, he wasn’t exactly sure still what it was Light wanted him to do; but the demanding force of his desire was not going to make him second guess.

He moved to grab Light back, again pulling him close into the cradle of his body, the water making it too easy—the slide of skin on porcelain—but Light shoved him away again; making Mello all but growl his protest—his desire rock hard and demanding the satisfaction of Light’s warm, tight body—but Light at last made the challenge clear. “You want to fuck me, Mello?” he growled, breathless, “You have to fight me for it.”

Oh shit. This was going to get brutal. The problem being, at that moment, rational thought was already out the window—melding with booze and the searing pulse of desire, the sensation of Light right there against him, and not where he wanted him to be—and that animal instinct poised to take over.

Drunk as he was, Light was still mad wasn’t he? Only he was mad and turned on, turned on in the worst way, in a way they hadn’t exactly gone before—prior encounters hadn’t led to this, preceded by domesticity and camaraderie; prior encounters hadn’t suffered 24 hours worth of anger and hostility toward one another.

Mello’s face went feral as Light shoved him back for the third time, the third and last time, before Mello pounced and it became a full out wrestling match there in the water, limbs flailing, shoving, scratching and fighting and Light grabbed a ruthless handful of Mello’s hair, yanked him off balance so Mello nearly went under. Mello recovered enough to slam Light back, and without thinking he hauled off and smacked him hard across the face, much the way Light had done to him the night before, harder than he truly intended, if he intended to at all. It almost broke Mello out of his state, had Light not responded with pure anger on his own behalf, rising up on his knees, looking to slam Mello from here to the next side of tomorrow—Light wasn’t pulling punches, all the aggression was coming out; and it was pissing Mello off because he was on the defensive, and he had to catch Light’s arms painfully, crush him back with his weight, relying on the water and the slippery tub to tip them both painfully back, and Light was yelping cause he’d landed on his arm wrong, which only allowed Mello the upper hand—not caring if the limb was truly wounded or not, he twisted it back, pinned Light down, and Light was still fighting him, bucking against him—there was pain in his voice, but more anger than pain because he would just not go down easily.

And at this point, Mello had no plans of giving up either.

Light managed to squirm his good arm free, and decked Mello hard across the face—closed fist, meaning to do damage, neither of them were playing, and Mello saw red. He grabbed Light by the throat and shoved him under water and Light started kicking and flailing like he’d probably never had in his life, arms straining up, trying to knock Mello off of him, the fear of drowning inherent in his every defense as he clawed at Mello’s face, fingers arching at Mello’s eyes.

It was evil, but Mello used that advantage to push again between Light’s thighs, and this time he got there, shoving away every fleeting notion that this whole scenario was one of the more twisted things he could recall in recent history, because he was just too goddamned yearning to care. He continued to hold Light under with one hand, and with the other, helped guide himself there, forced the penetration, felt the pain in the way Light’s body stiffened and strained and clawed, and after the first two brutal thrusts, Mello finally let Light up for air.

He was coughing and spluttering and positively beside himself, but Mello barely gave Light a moment to recover, before pinning him to the porcelain to fuck him blind. And the minute Light managed to clear his own airway and suck in that first breath passed those brutalized lungs, he was moaning and gasping and ironically, still fighting so that Mello truly had to pin him and hold him down to fuck him.

“Stop, stop—” Light's words were interspersed with ragged groans and the ruthless pounding of Mello’s hips, and Mello didn’t truly believe him. After all, Light had laid out the challenge—after all, it seemed he practically wanted Mello to force him, to rape him—the psychology was beyond them both at that moment, but goddamnit there was a safe word, and Light knew it, and he hadn’t said it.

So Mello fucked him, fucked him deeper, fucked him raw until Light just couldn’t manage one coherent syllable, and was actually clinging to Mello’s wet abused shoulders for dear life, until they were both grunting and groaning their deepest pleasure, straining and teetering over into the black and white of oblivion. And Mello emptied himself deep inside Light’s body—spent every last drop at the same time feeling Light’s warmth flush against his stomach, and when it was done—when the vile act was finally accomplished, and Mello was seeking God somewhere in the back of his mind to find him, to save him, to forgive him, he sunk against Light’s brutalized body, both of them wrapped tightly in the other’s arms—he sunk there and just held on, shaking from the exertion, and quite possibly from something else.

That something else could easily be attributed to receding anger, disbelief at what had just taken place, anxiety over the fact and the aftermath of explosive pleasure, and yet still it felt suspiciously like something else. Only God knew what.

Minutes passed in silence only shattered by the lightly sloshing water and the calming of ragged breaths; heartbeats at last easing their frantic pounding and it was just about then that the pain would start setting in. Mello’s jaw was sore. Goddamnit. Would likely be wearing a bruise to prove it. Light, however, would likely be a bit delayed in feeling the effects once the adrenaline passed and the lull of the rum left him completely. More strangely still was that, as Mello rose carefully to support himself up just above his abused lover's body, he brushed wet amber strands from his gaze. "... you all right?" He would not believe it had he not heard and felt himself speak the words just then.

It was one hell of a loaded question.

* * *

When Matt returned to the main sitting room, both Matsuda and Aizawa looked up owlishly at him. The redhead lit up a cigarette, earlier anxiety washing away as smoothly as one would rinse dirt off a plate. He lifted a brow in question but neither dared voice their curiosity. After all, L had already returned to their side several minutes prior and had more than likely not given them much of a clue was what the hell had just happened.

Personally Matt simply wanted to tell them that he had just had to assist Mello in getting Kira the hell out of the SPK's grasp and see their heads spin right off their shoulders. Would most likely not believe him. Not only would they know Mello from his typically chaotic involvement with the Kira case several years ago, they would begin questioning just why the hell L was assisting Kira if they were out to stop Bella. Ah the complicated ramifications. It almost made him smile. Almost.

He fought off temptation rather well, however, plucking a small canolli off the table and promptly alternated it with his cherished cancer stick as he set his laptop back on its usual spot on the edge of the table. Now free of all incriminating evidence of their deeper involvement in the case. Which left the question hovering right back over the two policemen's heads: just what sort of involvement were they supposed to have on this particular matter when Near had obviously not done much to brief them on the situation?

* * *

Light looked shaken, didn’t help that he was still trembling, and it seemed for certain he just did not have it in him to answer that question with any semblance of rationality. He pressed his palm to his mouth, not trusting his own voice, he went to nod, then shook his head no, and Mello saw him slipping—saw all of Kira’s carefully bottled contents threatening to spill out, and he pulled Light up against him, wrapping his arms around him tightly, strong, anchoring hand clamping over the nape of Light’s neck, stroking the frayed edges of damp hair.

“It’s alright,” Mello whispered, “It’s alright.” And what the hell was he doing? What the hell was going on? Why was it okay for him to be comforting Kira after he’d just practically fucked him to death? And why was Light accepting that comfort? Wrapping himself hard around Mello, battling to hold in whatever he was feeling at that moment, but it was there in his grip, the white-knuckled grip on Mello’s shoulders.

“Oh my god,” Light breathed at last, and it didn’t sound like him, it just didn’t sound like him at all. “What have I become?”

* * *

This was a double-edged sword, and perhaps it was the look on Matt’s face that started to bring it around full circle to L. The detective hunched further, thumb spreading across his full lips, deep in thought. Yes, Near had not informed Matsuda and Aizawa of anything beyond the truth of a new Kira case, and yes, he had a reason. He was banking on the two men’s emotional involvement—that was the rub. Matsuda was obviously suffering, he was guilty over Light—that he’d shot him, certainly—but moreso he was guilty that he’d trusted him, befriended him, supported and defended him only to be betrayed. To have to learn that all this time the person he’d looked up to, was actually Kira; had done everything they were fighting against, and literally had done it right beside them; had essentially destroyed his own father…a man both Aizawa and Matsuda admired and loved greatly.

Yes, Soichiro played an immense part in this, Near was counting on it. After all, if Aizawa and Matsuda were to discover Light was alive, that L was protecting him, had saved him, had now essentially employed him to work on the new case—and given him freedoms he never deserved—was even turning a blind eye to his resumed functions as Kira Proper—Death Note possession and everything, well then what would that do?

It went without saying neither policemen would ever trust L again, would most likely hate him for doing something so terrible—traitor to justice, and everything they fought and bled for—Near wanted that. He’d set L up for it. This was not just a matter of breaking it to them gently that Light still lived, this was a matter of not breaking it to them at all, otherwise, what would their honor force them to do in their current state? The wounds were fresh, it had only been several months, they were still coping with all that had happened…oh and what of Mello? Light aside, Mello was actually the one who physically instigated Soichiro’s death. He was just as responsible as Kira for a great man making the final sacrifice—and sacrifice for what? For Light? Who was Kira? Who’d orchestrated everything? For L? Who was not truly dead at the time? Who’d betrayed them in that as well?

The detective glanced at the two officers. They had been loyal to him once, had trusted and did what he’d told them, stuck through to the very end even when they believed he was gone, they’d carried on for him, in his name. It was obvious they were ready to pick up where they’d left off…but what if they did know the truth? What were they capable of? L had once deduced that had Soichiro ever discovered the solid evidence to prove Light was Kira, he would have killed his son and then himself. And Soichiro had not argued that fact—instead insisted to be incarcerated to avoid it…And Matsuda had already proved that he was quick on the draw in light of betrayal. That his broken heart could drive him to pull any necessary triggers…

Did Near want them to turn on L? And if so…could they? L wanted not to think so, but everyone had changed after the warehouse. He could not afford to take anything for granted. His better sense told him that although they may forsake him and everything he wasshould they find out, they would not kill him…but what guarantee did he have? If even Matsuda could prove to be a loose canon when the situation arose, what guarantee did he truly have?

* * *

Mello had no response for him. How could he? This entire situation had just flown completely out of control and he was left plucking up the pieces without knowing just how the puzzle fit together in the end. So, as he sat there, holding onto Light's trembling body, ignoring the death-like grip Kira had on his shoulder, Mello could barely even think as the words were gasped so sharply - so unfamiliar - into his ear.

It had taken some honest effort, but the bathroom had been abandoned and left in disarray until further notice. There were more important things to take care of right now; Light currently being at the top of the priority list. Mello had pulled him away, saying nothing all the while. Twenty minutes later, they sat in the kitchen. A simple black robe had been pulled over Light's shoulders and he held a steaming mug of tea between his hands - still trembling—Mello noticed from his spot across the table. He had his own mug, but had opted for the usual vice of hot cocoa. He supposed they just kept surprising each other that afternoon, cause at last the blonde broke the silence, reaching up to tap Light's hand to get his attention. "Hey..." he murmured quietly, and then added as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Talk to me..."

Light’s gaze shifted to him briefly, and then flattened back against his mug. “I can’t,” he said at last. “I have nothing to say.”

Mello fingered the lip of his own mug, watching the steam rising off the clotting chocolate surface. “What just happened in there?” he muttered.

“I don’t know,” and Light was not looking at him.

“Did you want that?”

“I don’t know,”

“Yes you do—you just don’t know if you like the answer. Pain and submission get you off, Light, we both know that well by now.”

At last those amber orbs met his green ones and found them unwaveringly sympathetic. “Yes, I wanted it,” there was cold hard truth in that statement, and it was scary how easily Mello detected it—which almost made him wonder just how many lies he’d already swallowed because Light never sounded that truthful…ever.

An awkward silence lingered because Mello seriously didn’t know how to follow that up, and Light didn’t seem to have any explanation. He was cracking, falling apart, and he didn’t know why, and Mello didn’t know why he cared, but he did, and this was a long time in the making wasn’t it? Goddamnit he needed L’s unwavering Kira insight right about then. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one.

“I wanted you to hurt me. I wanted you to force me. I wanted to die.”

Oh. Oh hell.

“I wanted you to kill me.”