Redeemer

Mello’s eyes shot up to Light and Light wasn’t making eye contact, but he didn’t sound like that was some melodramatic declaration he’d just pulled out of the ether either.

“What?” The blonde tried to keep the surprise from his voice, but it was there, because this one he was just not prepared for.

Light took a breath, eyes plastered to the table top, fingers still trembling against the cup cradled loosely in his hand. “There is a part of me that wants to die—in every off moment I feel it, and it’s getting worse. By the day, it’s getting worse.”

“Bullshit,” and the emphasis wasn’t as harsh as it could have been. “You’re scared Light—you’re terrified because right now all the odds are stacked against you and you’re deluding yourself into thinking you can perform business as usual. You’ve lost your grip on the game…or you’re just doing your damnedest to manipulate my feelings for you at this very moment…” Feelings? Had he just said that?

Light’s gaze flickered up, and his face was unreadable. Purely L-style, unreadable.

“Fine.” He said.

“Fine?” Mello’s brow screwed up. “That doesn’t cut it.”

Light was silent and he wasn’t arguing and Mello eased off. “Okay…” the blonde said after a few more moments. “You want to die. Why? Death scares you more than anything. Death is the end for you, there’s nothing after it.”

“I know.”

“And you want that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“...”

Mello shifted, frustrated, legs sprawling outward, body slouching down further. “Are you fucking with me?”

“…”

Mello took a deep breath, picking up a fresh bar of chocolate and unwrapping it. “You know you weren’t in any true harm in there,” he said after a moment. “I wouldn’t have put you in any true harm—as much as it may have seemed differently.”

“Perhaps that’s why I could want it,” Light said then. “Because at your hands, it felt safe—because if you did it, or L did it, then it would be okay. I could die that way.”

Mello didn’t notice that his grip on the chocolate was hard enough to crack it, not until he did.

“You don’t want to die,” Mello said, watching the chocolate flop over his hand limply. “You’ve driven that point home quite desperately. Kira has no desire to die.”

“No, he doesn’t” Light answered rather certainly.

And Mello paused, looking at him. “You’re saying ‘Light’ does,”

Light winced. “Maybe. Maybe, sometimes…yeah.”

“You’re saying there’s a distinction.”

“I would think that’s obvious,” Light replied, “Given the dramatic alteration in my personality when I’m without my memories.”

“I’ve never had the benefit of witnessing that.”

“Ask L,” Light said. “Ask L why he let’s me keep possession of the Death Note.”

At that point, Mello wanted to ask L a lot of things. “You’re saying you’re a split personality right now, that Light and Kira are two different entities living in the same shell and one is against the other.” Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. Perfect.

“No, I don’t think it’s as quaintly cut up as all that.” Light replied. “I just think there’s residue—of who I was, of what I used to believe. It’s influential, especially now, after all that’s happened, and because I’m not doing the things I’d grown so used to doing. I’m not focused, and I can’t seem to get focused because—”

“Because you don’t know what you want.”

“Things were clear once,” Light said. “And now they’re not, they’re not clear at all.”

Mello flipped the chocolate over, scratching idly into the sweet, creamy surface. “You haven’t picked a side yet, have you, Kira?” His voice was distant, and yet far too insightful.

Light’s long silent pause was telling enough. “No,” he said. “No, I haven’t.”

“And this constant battle, with me, with L, with Matt even—with Bella and Near and the SPK, this constant push to your every limit in every way you can measure it—sex, violence, strategy—it’s all you trying to force yourself to pick a side. It’s an extreme ploy of weights and balances and the only scales you’re trying to tip are your own and you’re driving yourself mad doing it—and that’s why, in every off moment, you want to die. It’s what you fear most, it’s why you need to chose a side that will win, but if you can face that fear—embrace it, accept it, then it’s over, all of it, and you don’t have to suffer for it any longer. You flirt with death when you feel it’s safe to do so, to convince yourself that it’s not the threat you know it is. Because you know, neither L, nor myself, at this point in time, have any intention of killing you, Light. But Near does and quite plainly, it’s driving you mad.”

Light sat there for a long time, processing it, listening, and he smiled in a vaguely self-deprecating way, eyes still drawn to the table. “Yes,” he said at last; “Yes, that will do.”

“Hm…” was Mello’s only comment at that moment, allowing his own comments to repeat back to him in the depths of his mind as if he had not quite thought about the words that poured out with astonishing accuracy. He took a sip of the hot cocoa then, daring a glimpse toward the wide sliding windows just a few feet away. “You’re a case study if I’ve ever seen one.” There was no insult in his tone as he said it, even if most people would hardly take the comment lightly. Another sip of the steaming chocolate.

He rose then with the quiet brush of loose fitting pants he had pulled over his still-damp body earlier, and occupied himself in flicking on the espresso machine. It would be needed shortly enough. And then, again, the unexpected. But this whole situation was utterly fucked anyway; completely turned on its head so nothing was normal anymore, nothing was truly expected to abide by the rules. Neither of them were certainly doing it. Mello swept toward him, digits sliding over one taut shoulder as he leaned closer, taking Light in a one armed embrace across his chest from behind.

“No one will make the choice for you, Light. It sucks, but it truly is all on your hands,” he said quietly into his ear. “You will be pushed to the very end, whether you play us all and attempt to come out solely victorious or not. I will drag you down this road until both Near and Bella are defeated or until you throw up your hands and put an end to it yourself. I’m aware of the risks more than it probably appears but it isn’t going to make a lick of difference. I will protect you when I must, but I will also not hesitate to put a bullet in you should circumstances turn out that way.” And while there should have been a harsher threat to his tone, there wasn’t. In fact, it was muted and devoid of any hint that Mello was antagonizing him. “While I may not have any intentions of doing away with you, and right this second you’re first on the priority list, it will not carry out that way the moment you bare your teeth at any of the three of us. You know that as well as I.” As if the situation was not mind boggling enough, Mello actually pressed a light kiss to Light’s temple, fingers running through damp strands of amber as he made to release him.

* * *

L was a mind-reader. Or very near to one. It was perhaps a half an hour later that Mello’s phone rang and the detective’s dry voice lifted from the other end.

“How is he?”

Mello’s eyes glanced up. Light had been quiet since their talk, had changed into a pair of black pajamas and was currently occupying the couch across from Mello, keeping tabs on Bella. He seemed calmer, down, but calmer, as though getting certain things off his chest had had its desired effect. He hadn’t gone much more into the depraved turn his appetites were taking—a reflection of his own mental downward spiral into a deepening madness only Kira himself could experience being at the root of so much death and destruction—and Mello was aware of it, perhaps better now than he had been before. Though after all, if depraved appetites were indicative of madness, Mello would be joining Light soon enough in that particular ring of hell, if he wasn’t there already.

Instead, however, he got up and crossed the room to the hall, slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him. Light knew L was on the phone, and Mello knew he did not want to have this discussion while he and Light occupied the same hearing range.

“Funny you should ask,” Mello said at last.

“Company is gone for the day,” L replied, “I can speak more freely.”

“Should I ask after ‘company?’” Mello ventured.

“Not until you answer my question,” came the blunt response.

“There were issues,” Mello said rather cryptically—a method L did not exactly appreciate.

“Firstly, Mello,” the detective muttered rather nonchalantly, and Mello had no idea if Matt was in the room or not, “I am well aware of your sexual relations to Light at present. It’s none of my concern, I’m acquainted with his appetites, I’m aware of yours—the two of you are firmly matched in your contiguous debauchery and it’s a necessary evil to maintain any rapport with him, so let’s get that off the table and out of the way. Now what issues are you speaking of?”

Mello’s eyebrows were already scrolling up at L’s blunt take on his and Light’s infidelity to their respective lovers, maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. And maybe L was lying and maybe he truly didn’t care who Light had sex with. He and Light were two halves of a whole in an entirely different realm—a brilliant realm, and that was the world L functioned best in, sex or no sex.

“Did you know there would be issues?”

“Of course,” L replied. “I know him.”

“Do you know he fantasizes about dying?”

There was a beat of complicated silence on the other end. “He said this freely to you?”

“Well since we’re pulling no punches about our respective appetites—there was a rather violent sexual incident and then yes, among other things, he confessed a partial desire to die.”

L breathed deeply. “What else?”

“He said he hasn’t chosen a side yet.”

“I already knew that—it’s been my intention to keep him dangling on the fence as long as possible. It’s the best way to buy ourselves time.”

Mello shuffled an anxious set of fingers through his long hair. “My insight regarding him is a bit better than it was, assuming he’s being honest with me and I’m psychoanalyzing him fairly accurately.”

“I have no doubt you are,” L said.

“Of course,” and Mello’s tone was borderline cynical. “A second opinion would be nice.”

L didn't hesitate. “The first thing Yagami Light said to me after he lost his memories and I showed him the evidence that he was indeed Kira, was that he wanted to be executed. He wanted to be delivered unto justice, and he wanted to pay the price. He would not take no for an answer—he was prepared to turn himself in in every sense of the word.”

“When was this?”

“Directly after Ryuk made the deal with us. Several days after Light was moved from the hospital and into my care.”

“When he was having all those fits and episodes?” Mello asked.

“Yes, when things were at their worst and he could not deal with having been caught,” L replied. “Ryuk was ready to end it for him and write his name in the notebook. Instead, I intervened and we made the deal with the Death God. But the first condition of the game was that Light give up his memories as Kira. He did so very unwillingly, and I was left with Yagami Light as he once was—smart, but not brilliant, sharp, but not clever—not Kira. And Kira was essential to solving the case. What made things harder was his stern sense of honor and justice—just like his father. The moment he learned he was Kira, all he could think of was turning himself in. The case was lost, our lives were forfeit, and Light just wanted to pay the penalty knowing it meant death and nothing else. He was unwavering.”

That was a hard bite to swallow, knowing Light as he’d come to know him. Mello leaned against the wall. “What changed him back?”

“It took me some time to piece it together, but I gathered he’d hidden a scarp of the death note inside some possession of his that I had unknowingly transferred to his suite—must have been a failsafe he'd implemented should such a thing occur. It worked, he found it quite by accident and the moment he touched it his memories returned literally the same night they were lost. As you already know, he sewed it into his skin so he would not come to lose them again. He made no attempt to disguise their return because he knew without Kira, I was as good as dead myself.”

“So what are the odds he retains that desire to pay the ultimate penalty despite having his memories back?”

L paused. “50%. There is certainly the chance his mind regresses occasionally to what it once was. But I don’t generally subscribe to that notion. Kira indeed is a multi-faceted complex of complicated personas, but they’re all the same person. He’s not two people, I don’t believe that, and neither does he as much as the explanation may suit him for its relative shock value. And that’s the other reason—I know you feel for him. So do I, and to hear him say that he wants to die is indeed a statement of shock value, especially when he’s tried so hard to convince us otherwise. He wants your sympathy, Mello. He wants your sympathy and companionship and dare I say it—your love, in some deluded way. He wanted it from me too—and he got it.”

L paused. “What I can say for Light, is that not being able to sustain his task as Kira by routinely passing judgments and writing in the notebook has had the most profound effect on his clarity. As an active Kira, he had terminal focus. He’s losing that and it’s fogging his entire outlook. Instead of the notebook, instead of the constant ambition to become a living god—he now has little ground to stand on, save for me, and now you. He’s realizing that all the more—and that is what’s staying his hand for the time being. The task of Kira is beginning to look empty—and that terrifies him. He sees the sort of people he’s attracted in Bella and her brood. They are not on his level and could never compare to us. So Light is fighting himself to determine what it is that really sustains him. This goal he’s fought so hard to achieve of being an empty god with a sterile utopia—or quite frankly, us. Our game, our rivalry, our love and our hate. When Light figures out what means more to him, is when he will pick a side—that’s if he doesn’t destroy us or himself in the process.”

Mello sat on the bed.

“Does that make sense to you?” L muttered.

“Yeah,” the blonde breathed. “It fits.”

“And how is he now?” L asked.

“Quiet.”

“He’ll reset, he always does.”

“I’ve noticed,” and Mello was pressing his fingers to his temple. L, on the other hand, was eating something. Obviously he’d gotten his appetite back, and was most likely a lot better off without Light’s constant presence.

“Mello,” L said between mouthfuls.

“Yes L?”

“It’s okay to feel for him—he is a tragedy, whether he wins or loses, he has always been a tragedy.”

Mello pondered that for a moment. “Do you still want to save him, L?”

“Without question,” came the detective’s immediate response.

Immediate and expected. Mello nodded, lifting his gaze from the cool stone floor to the window across the room. “I promised him my protection,” Mello confessed because at that moment all bets were off and L needed to know, if he didn’t already suspect something of the sort had taken place. “To keep him out of the SPK’s reach and get him back should a capture occur. I don’t think he wants to allow himself to trust it, but at the same time he is clinging desperately to it as his only salvation. Last night’s outburst was partly attributed to the fact he believed himself betrayed.”

“He trusts you, Mello,” L said, “He just won’t admit it to you, but he’s trusted you for awhile now—probably since you first talked to him that day on the balcony, maybe even earlier.” L clacked a lollipop against his teeth, shamelessly sucking on it. “I notice it more since the warehouse—in fact, it’s only since the warehouse that Light seems to need companionship, he virtually depends on it. It’s why he’d have fainting spells if I left the room on him those first few days he was in custody. He was never like this before—I can’t even blame the handcuffs, because he lasted fine without me while he believed I was dead. Then again he was constantly surrounded by Amane, who doted on him hand and foot, so perhaps that sufficed at the time. No one worships him now quite the way she did, not even Bella, and his ego has taken a hit. Kira’s unstable on his own two feet—but in all honesty, that’s the way we want him right now. If he was independent of us, we’d both be dead.”

“More than likely,” Mello murmured with a deep breath. But now that the question was answered, and some light had been shone on part of the endless complexity of questions that was Light Yagami, Mello moved on to the next topic at hand. “Neither of you have mentioned who Near sent this time, what’s the big secret?”

“Two members of the former Japanese Kira Task force,” L responded. “Touta Matsuda and Shuichi Aizawa. Near sent them without even briefing them that I was alive. You can imagine their shock. I am certain that if they discover Light is still alive, they will consider that my ultimate betrayal, to them, to the victims, and to justice in general. It’s exactly what Near wants, to disgrace and discredit me. But it’s not the full plan…the probability that Near has put out a contract on my life is 99.9%”

Mello’s eyes widened instinctively. “Motherfucker!” Mello cursed furiously. “Sorry…,” came the almost immediate apology. He was off the bed, pacing the distance between it and the windows. “Christ, the task force?!” he hissed in hushed tones. Not only did this complicate matters on a whole other level, it was downright annoying. As far as he was concerned, neither he nor Light could show their faces to those two without discrediting L in some way or another. Fuck! And of course there was that matter of the contract on L’s own life…

“These two men are not against me, Mello.” L said, still sucking on the lollipop. “I considered the possibility of the threat coming from them, and even if I was exposed, I do not fully believe either of them would resort to harming me for it. I am indeed a traitor to them and all they believe—all things considered, Light and his father and the years of blood sweat and tears the task force contributed to the case—that is the truth. I have betrayed them. I understand that and have accepted it. If Near intended for either Matsuda or Aizawa to assassinate me, I believe he will be disappointed. But I don’t believe that is his intention. The threat is going to come form somewhere else, but I am certain now that Near has his confirmation Light is alive, I am, completely expendable. As far as his reasoning, I have betrayed justice, harbored Kira, and am no longer essential to this case in terms of locating Light. He’s going to take his shot at me soon since today I made it just as clear to him that I am protecting Kira, by calling off the police pursuit.”

Shitshitshit. Mello’s mind spun a mile a minute, the gears turning with each pacing step taken. He heard L well, but in the back of his mind was already formulating a way out of this mess. Essentially, he had set the ball rolling in Near’s favor as well as against him. Too many elements to consider that he did not even know about. Damnit. Eyes were pressed closed, allowing him to think, to plot. “Which is to say I’ve got less time than originally anticipated. All right,” Mello murmured. “All right… I’m going to need to know everything that goes down on your side. Can’t afford to waste anymore time. I’d planned to jerk Bella around some more, but I see now that I can’t do that…” Mello paused in front of the window, hand resting against the frame as he looked down upon the streets. “Dejavu all over again isn’t it…” the words were quiet, spoken mostly for his own benefit. The stakes had been raised yet again. Not only was he to keep Light out of harm’s way, he must do so while carrying out his plan of execution on Near and do so quickly enough before L come to any harm. Well. Shit.

“Don’t worry about me, Mello,” L said. “I can handle myself, and I have Matt to back me up. Protect Light. Keep him safe from them. I don’t want to see him come to the sort of harm he’s come to at their hands before. Stay the course. I will keep you briefed on everything here at my end; but let me worry about that.”

Mello frowned but did not argue. L knew quite well he would not let it go; both knew that he would keep worrying despite everything that was already lying on his shoulders since the initiation of his risky plans. But what point was there to argue? L still called the shots despite the fact that he’d put Light into Mello’s care and Near’s life, quite literally into Mello’s hands. It would go down his way, but L would still have that last final say and one Mello could not – would not – contradict. “I’ll do all I can…”

“Thank you,” L said. “I appreciate all you have already done, and all you continue to do, Mello.” He paused to let that sink in and perhaps hear the gratitude in Mello’s silence on the other end. “I have work to do before the task force arrives tomorrow,” L continued. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call.”

He ended the call then and Mello was forced to collect himself before returning to the living room. Of course, Light saw it in his face right away—and because he already knew it was L on the other line, he was immediately concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he said. “What happened?”

Mello could have cracked at that point and simply answered with the question ‘which part?’ upon his lips, but Mello decided to spare him, Light had already had enough episodes in the last twenty-four hours to last a lifetime. “Couple of things I’d rather not divulge but you’ll find out anyway sooner or later.” At least he was honest. His abandoned chocolate bar was picked off the table and bit into with a vengeance. He’d be missing it in there. “Which would you prefer first, the shitty, or really shitty news?” And by asking in the first place, he was only gaining himself time.

Light’s eyes were wider than normal in response. “I suppose give it to me in order,” he muttered. That personable demeanor of his was returning—that false sense of domesticity between them. In truth, at that moment, Mello was actually looking forward to spooning with Light in deep uninterrupted sleep—he nearly snickered at the sudden thought; but for certain, the need was there because he really felt as though he’d just been hit by a truck, and he knew Light already felt the same. An extra set of arms to curl into would probably do them both some good.

“To put it simply, I’m afraid we’ll both have to remain out of sight as far as L’s concerned. Near decided to get some old friends back in the game and sent Matsuda and Aizawa to assist on the case. Kicker of it is that they know nothing of what’s been going on beyond the surface of the case here in Rome. Needless to say they were dumbfounded to find L quite well and alive after what had happened and have no knowledge that either of us is also in quite good health.” He said it quickly, laying down the facts instead of beating around the bush, because frankly, that was the last thing either of them needed. “The shittier part of it still is that L’s practically one hundred percent convinced that Near’s got a contract on his head. Threat won’t come from those two idiots, but it’ll come soon enough after today’s stunt. In other words, we’re moving quickly.” He sank down onto the couch, falling silent and biting into his chocolate while Light picked up his spinning head off the floor. Man, did he know the feeling.

Light set the laptop aside, twisting to hold his head in his hands. Oh the irony was there in his eyes—it was there. He could end it in a few simple letters. End Near to save L, to save himself, to save Mello… “For some reason the task force doesn’t surprise me,” Light muttered. “This is poetic as far as Near is concerned. A contract on L’s life however…that sort of self-righteousness—to eliminate his mentor for having essentially betrayed the faith of justice—goes beyond the Near I was dealing with. He’s passing the sort of judgment on L that he despises from Kira. You’ve seen the effect the Death Note has had on me. You know Near better than anyone, multiply him by that same effect—I guarantee you he doesn’t have the notebook locked away in some iron safe. It’s with him, it’s on him, it’s his and he wants it that way. L is not considering the bigger picture here. Near doesn’t want him dead solely because he’s betrayed him—Near wants L out of the way. He wants me out of the way because he has bigger plans and they hinge on the notebook. They all hinge on the notebook, Mello. That’s just the way it works.”

“Think I don’t know that?” Mello countered quietly and the corners of his mouth descended just a tad bit more. “I know he’s got at least one notebook stashed away somewhere – we’ve known that from the get go. But the bastard would rather go through each painstaking process of crushing us into the ground rather than make matters easy and just erase all barriers off the board.” And that bothered him. In fact, it bothered the living shit out of him. “Those fucking notebooks are a plague,” he scowled, letting his head fall back against the couch. Mello supposed he had to consider himself lucky to have lost it when he did. Things would have likely turned out much different or… or would that undying loyalty still remain so that, either way, the hellish thing would have been given up and destroyed? Ah, the what-ifs.

Light looked at him darkly, and yeah, this was still Kira sitting here wasn’t it? No matter who on this planet had stumbled across a shinigami notebook in the past, Kira was the father of the here and now. Kira... Light. Mello looked at him. “Are you going to defend it?” the blonde said.

“Haven’t I defended it enough already?” Light replied. “You know my position on the notebook and who should and should not have it.”

“And you still keep to all those same opinions? Even after what you told me tonight? Even after everything you’re going through?”

Light winced, and stood up. “The only part of me still clear, is that part,” he said.

Mello’s brow knit and about that moment a message scrolled across his laptop screen from L: Scores of criminals have died across Japan today, ask Light about this…

And all of a sudden that afternoon’s events came to mind; the conversation overheard between Light and Bella. Of course. Christ, he had practically forgotten all about it in the fray. “Is Misa still one of the few whom you find worthy of ownership?” He asked, lifting his gaze off the screen without so much as trying to hide it. It was a detail that would have been put together sooner or later. She sure as hell had wasted no time in carrying out her beloved’s request.

“I trusted her for years,” Light answered rather casually. “Why wouldn’t I trust her still if given the chance? With supervision of course,” he shrugged. “I once caught her attempting to scribble down the name of her hairdresser for a bad cut she’d gotten. Misa’s something of a loose canon sometimes when left to her own devices, which I tried not to do too often.”

“And how about now? Is she a loose enough canon to attempt to eradicate half of Japan’s current criminal populace in a day?”

Light was in the midst of turning toward the hall, but that stopped him. “Why? Is that what’s happened?”

“According to L,” Mello replied. He gave it a beat further. “Light, please don’t play stupid—we both know the truth here.”

Light crooked a sly gaze over his shoulder. “And that truth would be?”

“You’ve gotten ahold of Misa and put her back to work as the Second Kira. You can’t do it, Bella isn’t doing it, and that’s the one part of you that’s still clear.” Mello raised an eyebrow smartly, using Light’s own words against him.

Light turned to face him, studying his expression keenly—and then like a fucking pro he said: “I wouldn’t know, I’ve been with you this whole time.”

"No," Mello countered, sitting up and leaning forward in his seat. "You were not with me last night, nor were you with me for a good portion of the morning. And if I remember correctly, your pet shinigami - no offense Ryuk - also mysteriously disappeared last night for a good while. So Light, I do believe that you would know. You would know exactly what is going on because you've returned one of your notebooks to her." He paused then, gauging Light's reaction, which remained expectantly under utter control.

Mello lifted a brow, watching him intently. "Just what kind of shock do you think she received at the news of your death, and now to have it turn out to be a lie..." he actually chuckled. "Yea, I'd think she'd be as a loose canon as there has ever been right now. So tell me, what were her orders? Judge at will, which only ends up in eradicating half of Japan in order to make up for lost time and release her frustration all at once?"

He pushed himself up then, closing in the distance on Light, who had yet the chance to say a word in his defense. The approach was not as threatening as it could have been and Mello paused within touching distance, eying him carefully. "You may not have yet picked a side but you're doing a fair job covering your ass for the long run. That's good... that's even acceptable, I suppose. But tell me, who's name does she have now?" A brow was lifted as a lone finger curled beneath Light's jaw. "Mine... L's... Near's...?" And the fact that he was truly beginning to understand just the way Kira operated should have been perhaps a bit unnerving, but it wasn't. At least not just yet. "Bit of a risk, isn't it... trusting her like that without even knowing her present state of mind."

Mello exhaled with a brief shake of his head, his features otherwise unreadable. "You truly are an insufferable bastard." And somehow, as he said it, the blonde managed to make what would normally be considered an insult into something closely resembling a term of endearment.

And Light heard it that way. The satisfaction spread those inviting lips of his and he caught Mello’s gaze with those honey-sweet eyes. “Think of it as insurance,” he said smoothly. Ah, the knowing confession. Had he truly wanted to hide it, he never would have mentioned it to Bella knowing Mello was on the other side of the com. “There’s only one person Misa will listen to—one person she ever listened to.” He backed off then and turned to go to his room. “Besides Mello, to kill with the death note, you need a face as well as a name.”

* * *

It was probably close to 2:30 am when there was a light rapping at the door. L’s head bobbed up over the lap top, dark eyes fixing ahead, noting the deadbolt was locked but the chain was not up. Matt had retired maybe an hour earlier, but his door was open and he was in hearing range and these days he slept with a gun under his pillow.

“Room service,” called a familiar voice, and L glanced at the heaping tiers of sweets that surrounded him. No, he hadn’t ordered room service in quite some time—but at least now he knew who was outside, not that that exactly budged him from his spot on the couch.

Another rapping. “Come on Deneuve,” Aiber called through the door. “I know you’re there and I know you’re awake and I know you’re wondering whether I’m here to kill you—let me assure you that I’m not.”

L’s ears perked at that rather harsh assumption, then again Thierry had been skilled once in understanding L’s thoughts on occasion. That was part of why he was in L’s employment to begin with.

“Not convinced,” L muttered more to himself than the door, his eyes going back to his screen, essentially ignoring his visitor.

The rapping came again more insistently—“Fine, Deneuve, be that way.” And then there was the unmistakable sound of the door being jimmied open, deadbolt and all.

L’s gaze shot up, and then he was off the couch immediately, heading to bar the door just a split second too late. It swung open and Aiber caught him faster than L had a chance to knock the man on his ass—the conman slamming the detective against the wall, and sweeping in rather abruptly to capture L’s lips with his own—bruising and relentless.
He tasted of wine, a slight overabundance of wine, but that was usually a cover Thierry used to excuse unwanted behavior the next morning. L knew his ways, didn’t mean he was particularly happy about this little development.

The man had fully pinned him with all of his bulky weight pressing wrongly into L’s bad ribs and he was not coming up for air because he knew the second he did, L would knock him on his ass…

Sleeping with a loaded gun under his pillow was one of Mello's most cautious - some would call it paranoid - habits Matt had caught onto as of late. And it proved rather useful when the sharp slamming of the door roused him with a start from a fitful dose. The lack of dialogue that followed was even slightly more worrisome and so he was up within seconds, pressed against the doorway which gave him a clear shot to the scene that unfolded at the entrance. The silencer was expertly screwed on and the gun was pointed with unwavering aim.

Matt did not bother telling Aiber to back the fuck off. No, he simply stated the facts. "The first shot might cost you a knee. The second your life. I suggest you think really fucking fast."

The man was truly daft if he expected L was there alone, especially under the circumstances. But nevertheless he stiffened at the sound of Matt’s voice, breaking the rude and unwanted kiss and relenting long enough for L to get that shove in he’d been meaning to from the start. At that point Thierry didn’t know which way to look for the first attack—Matt standing there gun in hand—or L looking very dark and supremely pissed off—for L anyway.

The sudden swift, wide-sweeping kick that caught Aiber in the face and sent him abruptly to the floor was probably his first clue; but it was lights out at that point anyway.
If L cursed, he probably would have at that moment, instead he just stood over the man, scowling angrily that his person had been so rudely invaded, and so Matt cursed for him.

“Fucker,” followed by an immediate, “Sorry—but where the fuck did he come from?!”

“The better question is why is he here,” and L kicked Thierry’s limbs inside enough to close the room door and lock it properly.

Matt tucked the gun away, crouching down to pull Aiber’s arms behind him, using his belt to temporarily restrain him. “You think he’s here to kill you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past either him or Near,” L muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Then what was that called?” And Matt was referring to the kiss, “A diversion?”

“His way,” L grumbled.

“He seems intent on it,” and the very sight of Aiber was making Matt sick just then. For him to think he could just barge in and assault L that way. It was the same notion both Matt and Mello had when L was being held by Bella—no one touched L like that, no one dared.

The incident already was obviously bothering the detective more than he cared to admit as well.

Matt hadn’t asked earlier, but the question was burning now. “Why is he so intent on pursuing you like that?”

L slid a hand to his ribs and winced. “He thinks there’s something between us,” he said, the obvious grit of discomfort in his voice.

“Is there?”

“No,” L replied flatly and rather quickly. He paused then, wrestling with it, “He was the key to a very important case I solved in Paris as Deneuve when I’d just turned 20. His full cooperation came at a price I still regret.”

Matt blinked and had to consciously keep his mouth from falling open. Had L just confessed to whoring himself for a case?

Matt did not gape, but he did not manage to be utterly smooth in his response either. "Oh..." he murmured and let that particular topic drop, never thinking that would be the case. He'd assumed something had taken place between the two but... well, this was another animal all together different. But even then, that was one hell of a long time ago for this bastard to still be harping on about such details. It would make sense, though. As to why Near had chosen him, hoping to gain every advantage possible. Christ. When had things changed so drastically? When had all semblance of respect they had all had for L get flung out the window as far as Near was concerned?

"Regardless of what may or may not have happened, that is not the matter at hand now," he dismissed the clearly uncomfortable topic and nodded at the man's slumped form. "What d'you want me to do with him?"

* * *

Somewhere along the course of the night, Mello had ended up tangled into Light's bedsheets. Thus when the phone rang somewhere near his ear, he jolted from a light dose, finding himself pressed against Kira's back, one arm slung loosely over his middle. Bizarre. The ringer was insistent. There was no ignoring it. Yet, as he fished for it off the nightstand, he froze mid-motion, eying the number reflected back at him on the small visor.

"Most people tend to sleep at this hour," he answered gruffly, feeling Light shift beside him, undoubtedly curious as to who the hell he would greet in such a manner.

"Last I heard, you should not be sleeping at all." Lidner countered, her tone reserved as if the call had been made in order to confirm that she had not been seeing things earlier that afternoon.

Mello exhaled, disengaging himself from Light's too comfortable body to sit up and lean against the headboard. "It's late, Halle."

"We need to talk."

"I'm not in the position to do that right now."

"Shit, Mello, you are shielding him."

"I'm also not about to have this conversation." He rubbed at his temple, long lashes falling against his cheeks as a breath escaped him.

"Meet me tomorrow. There's something I need to tell you." She rambled off an address which he simply committed to memory, his frown deepening.

"Can't promise anything..."

"See you then. G'night." And with that, she severed the connection.

"Bloody hell."

“Who was that?” Light said sleepily.

“No one, go back to sleep,” Mello replied, slumping down to resume his former position behind Light. It was strangely comfortable to just pull Kira into his arms that way, fingers linking, silky amber strands brushing his face. Despite everything that had happened that day, from anger, to violence, to psychological complexities and Kira wielding his murderous hand once again—this arrangement, this love affair, still felt way too natural.

“I don’t believe you,” Light managed, but Mello essentially had him captured in his arms, and if nothing else, would force him back to sleep that way.

“I don’t care,” Mello replied. No use getting Light’s panties ruffled over the fact that the SPK was calling his personal connection.

“You said Halle,” Light observed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mello muttered, arms constricting tighter around his far-too complicated lover. “She and I have a different rapport—she is not 100% on Near’s side.”

“So you’re fucking her.”

“How very astute of you,” Mello replied, closing his eyes. “Does that mean you’re jealous?” He was teasing. The slight hiccup in Light’s response said otherwise. Interesting, that.

“Concerned,” was the accepted reply.

“Don’t be, I can handle Halle. Let me worry about it and go back to sleep.”

The minutes ticked away, but Mello still felt the tension thick in Light's body. Instead of going back to sleep, he'd done the exact opposite and lay there very much awake, thinking hard on the ramifications of this possible meeting with Lidner. She who had carved those ghastly scars into his back. As if Mello could read his thoughts, he bowed his head, luscious mouth brushing along the smooth curve of a scarred shoulder blade. The gesture drew immediate shivers down the length of Light's spine and Mello could not help the faint smile that touched his lips.

"Thought I told you not to worry 'bout it and go back to sleep..." he murmured, digits drawing slow wide circles along his abdomen.

"I can't-"

"You won't," Mello interrupted him, breath hot against the side of his neck; sensitive and responsive regardless of his stubbornness. A breath escaped him and Mello used it to his advantage; tongue flicking against Light’s earlobe - just enough to taunt, to tease, to promise sweet things that may or may not come. Just another game, although a slightly more innocent one.

If anyone dare call this relationship innocent.

Within moments Light's breathing had changed, deepening with slight hitches where he attempted despite himself to control the reactions his body betrayed all too plainly under each brush of Mello's tongue, each touch of his lips upon Kira's neck, his shoulder - and once he was pressed down on his back, his throat. Lips parted, long dark lashes fluttering desperately against flushed cheeks. Elegant fingers tangled into the sheets as Mello trained fleeting kisses along his chest. Spoiling him, making him forget. How easily Kira succumbed to such soft treatment as he did to pain and sexual torture. Interesting that.

Green eyes swept up to look at him, unsmiling but the predatory smugness was evident upon that gaze. Light saw it and did not comment. Good. Or rather, perhaps couldn't the moment digits trailed down his sides, drawing first strain upon those otherwise composed wanton features and then... a chuckle. Something sounding suspiciously like a giggle. Light’s hand flew to his mouth and Mello's brows shot upward.

Well shit.

Kira was ticklish.

“Goddamnit,” Light hissed. Ah, secret was out.

Mello’s brow rose amused and their eyes connected—yeah, cat was most definitely out of the bag, he had to suppose all their other encounters were far too hardcore to expose this tender side of Kira. So with a lazy, exploring finger tip Mello circled Light’s bare hip—just the softest teasing touch—and Light reacted just the way he had, or had not expected him to. Twisting, writhing, recoiling, and doing his damnedest to suppress…a giggle.

“Dear God!” Mello exclaimed with unabashed amusement. “This is a sight I would never think to picture.” The hilarity of it was too precious. Kira, God of the new world and all that jargon, was still affected by life’s simple things. Like a fit of tickles. The world was surely coming to an end now, because Mello sure as hell did not even know what to do with himself – other than, of course, test the theory once again, this time by allowing that light trailing touch to sweep slowly low across his abdomen. And again the result was the same, with another curse thrown at him in the midst of the most light-hearted laughter Light had likely mustered of in the last several years. Contained as it was, it was there. Mello heard it. As if there weren’t a goddamned care in the world. Goddamn.

And it was a lovely laugh too, light and lilting and borderline angelic. Light rolled over, trying his best at subtle defense, “C’mon Mello, stop,” he pleaded, even as Mello continued to swirl those teasing touches over bare skin—that rose with goosebumps in response. And Light was flailing at him, “No! no!” But he was laughing the whole time, and Mello’s amusement only grew.

“I’m enjoying this far too much,” Mello purred. And no matter which way Light twisted to escape, Mello found another spot that was just as ticklish. “It’s everywhere huh?” He chuckled, fingers scrolling each oversensitive area he could, until Light was whimpering and desperately trying not to laugh until his sides split. “Yes! Yes!” he conceded, “It’s everywhere, always has been—now stop! Stop!”

But it was difficult to take Light seriously when he was laughing so hard.

“That’s nice…” Mello purred and he could be referring to a number of different things at the moment; the unlikely squirming, that lovely laughter, the fact that Light’s features were free of every heavy thought and worry that plagued him with each waking hour. It was a nice sight whichever way he looked at it, and he could not help but grin victoriously that he managed – albeit accidentally – to draw it out. With the lazy grace of a cat, Mello folded one arm over Light’s abdomen, resting down against him. Pure deviousness mirrored in those eyes, partly obstructed by a sweep of messy blonde bangs.

Light was then given a breather, allowed to regain some semblance of composure, but before all shards of dignity could be picked back up, Mello dipped his head. That expertly tongue swept a slow, languid line along the curve of Light’s hip. Delighting in the way his back arced slightly off the mattress.

And the resulting moan Mello drew out of his lover he felt all the way down his own spine. God, Light’s voice did such marvelous things to him—Light’s voice, and his ragged gasping, the borderline whimpers that grew more wanton the closer the tickling grew to something of a more intimate measure.

One hand clenched in the sheets, the other lightly folded over Mello’s scarred shoulder, fingers kneading, asking—no—pleading for more, pleading for that soft touch, that gentle sweep, that loving attention Mello seemed to be lavishing him with these dark hours. It seemed like something Light himself had been pining for, had been missing, had done without for god knows how long. He’d replaced tenderness with pain, intimacy with depravity, sex with fucking—not that that was essentially bad, but it seemed he needed more, and at that moment there was nothing Mello wanted better than to give it to him.

So as those fingers kneaded into his shoulder, Mello lifted his own hand to trail a fleeting touch along the inside of Light’s arm, up to the elbow and back to his wrist. His teasing proceeded only a short while longer, lips pressing what could very well be interpreted as tender kisses mixed in with those devilish sweeps of his tongue along Light’s abdomen, his hips, sinking lower still. Free hand slid beneath Kira’s leg, lifting it so that in that instant hungry lips touched sensitive flesh; teeth sinking lightly into the inside of his thigh, threatening the mark that would not be there come morning.

Those quiet moans, half repressed by the score of teeth upon kissable lips, only continued – accentuated by sharp gasps and hitches of breath as Mello seemed to surprise him every step of the way. The torture would stop at last, but not those soft cries. That was hardly the intention.

Fingers slowly drew around Light’s now throbbing length, Mello awarding him a sweep of his tongue before taking Kira between his lips well into the warm depths of his mouth. The assault was immediate; deep suckles that elicited the most delightfully sharp gasps from Kira’s own mouth; the practiced flicks of tongue and just the lightest touch of teeth. Mello swallowed him down greedily.

And Light was arching off the bed, chest heaving, those delicious broken gasps of stricken desire, they found those sensual vocal chords of his and Light was soon just barely groaning Mello’s name; fingers tangling in flaxen strands, gripping, but not painfully—there was just no pain between them tonight. The pain had been accomplished already, the bruises showed from earlier, but right now Mello had Light absolutely titillated and writhing and all with gentle tender touches—and ironically, Light seemed to be reaching his peak a lot quicker than he ever had before. Mello could hear it in his voice, those heightening tenor tones.

Mello knew Light by now—days of mostly sex and lovemaking had been his teacher and he knew Light’s most intimate secrets, the places that turned him on, the way his voice broke and gasped when his pleasure was upon him, he knew his taste—the taste of his lips, his sweat, his sex—had already determined Kira was a rare delicacy to the palate, he knew the way Light liked to link their fingers in the throes of his orgasm—that insistent connection that seemed so out of character for him in the cold light of day.

Mello gripped Light’s hips, trying to counter those undulating movements of his pelvis—he was perhaps enjoying this more than Mello had witnessed before, and the sobbing pleasure was most definitely there on Light’s lips as he gasped brokenly: “Oh Mello—oh god, Mello—”

Had he not been otherwise occupied, Mello would have more than likely had a smartass response for the incoherent cries that touched Kira’s chapped lips. But he did muster a brief smirk; releasing him momentarily to hear the gasp of outrage before swallowing him whole once again. He was being downright generous, all things considered. Paying just the right amount of attention, pushing just the right buttons, threatening that all too sensitive sex with just the right amount of pressure from dangerous teeth. But it was his tongue, that above all that had set Light on edge. Each brush, each creative flick. It was one of Mello’s most impressive talents, and one he was quite proud of because the reward of those fingers burying into his hair, the gasp of air, the hitch and break in that glorious voice that told him climax was eminent was too rewarding.

Mello gave damn good fucking head, and maybe sometime later once Light got his brain back together, he would agree. Just then there was only feeling, not thought. And his body responded far too quickly, too easily to the ministrations awarded upon him. When at last he cried out sharply, spilling hotly, Mello shoved his hips down but did not let him go. Not just yet. Shamelessly drinking him down to the last drop, licking away every last hint anything had ever happened. Then there at last, lifted his gaze to Light, who was far too flustered to fully comprehend he was being watched at the moment. Certainly he would have something to say about that too-smug grin the younger man flashed him just then as he took his previous spot, sprawled alongside him, arms crossed casually over his abdomen and all too proud of himself.

Light’s breathing was still erratic, his cheeks flushed a most delectably shameful shade of pink. His eyes were closed too, but he sensed Mello’s movements, the weight settling beside him, he even sensed that satisfied smirk on his face.

“Can’t talk right now,” Light panted, and he didn’t even try to suppress the beaming smile that spread its way across his mouth.

“No one’s asking you to,” Mello murmured, lips brushing against the heated flesh at Light’s side. Ah this was too damned good. Who’d ever thought that something that simple would set Kira glowing in such a manner. It was almost... endearing.

Light chuckled softly, and then with some effort, those glazed honeyed eyes opened and turned warmly on Mello—heavy lidded and gleaming with an aura of grateful satisfaction. Mello met his gaze and they stared at each other for a long moment before Light managed to lift a sluggish limb and cup Mello’s cheek, drawing him gently closer into a soft appreciative kiss—sucking the faint residue of his own essence off of Mello’s lips.

The gesture was returned and for the first time since he had initiated this diversion, Mello realized that it had worked, but in a most unexpected way. That was all right. He would add this incident onto the book of Kira analysis and file it away for a rainy day. “Get some rest,” he whispered faintly against Light’s mouth, rewarding him with a flirtatious flick of his tongue, gliding briefly along his bottom lip. Mello leaned up then, just enough to meet that amber gaze and that smirk was back. He chuckled quietly, flicking damp strands back into place – as if a pristine appearance was important at that point in time.

Light smiled and stretched, rolling over conveniently into Mello’s arms, head snuggling against Mello’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle. “Okay,” he sighed, closing his eyes, but smiling more when Mello enveloped him in a firm return embrace, fingers continuing to stroke through his hair. It didn’t take long after that for the strong, soothing drum of Mello’s heart to lull Light into a very overdue slumber.

Mello watched him a while, even when Light’s breathing turned deep indicating sleep at last. His hand still swept through his hair, enjoying the feel of it as it passed between his fingers. What a complicated little predicament they had here and Mello exhaled softly, narrowing his gaze on the opposite wall. He could not even gauge what time it was by now, but most likely a ridiculous hour taking everything into consideration. Tomorrow was a new day. There were no early morning appointments to meet at least. Just Halle… shit. What was he going to do about that? It was obvious that he would not be taking Light along with him to that particular encounter, so what options did that leave him with? He frowned and shifted, getting comfortable against the press of his body, the demanding embrace. He would have to leave him here. Mello would have to trust him for a couple of hour’s time while he simply abandoned his post for… for what? A chance at information? Reconciliation? Fuck, he didn’t even know.

Too late to think. Mello’s brain had shut down sometime earlier in the night. That was all right. That was quite welcomed. For now he would sleep, rational thought could return with the sun. Because there sure as hell was nothing rational in the fact he held Kira all too comfortably in his arms and slept as if there were absolutely nothing wrong with the idea.