Redeemer

Seemed L was more pissed than Matt initially realized. That was probably because Matt had never truly seen L pissed, not even at Kira—well, at least not in his presence. He was certain Light must have pushed L to some limits; but these? Well, these, he wasn’t sure.

“This is not going to be pleasant,” L muttered, flipping on the tub faucet, crouching, bare feet on porcelain to watch the cold water soak into expensive Italian fabric, welling up around Aiber’s still rather unconscious body. It was most likely the frigid temperature that made the conman start to stir, eyes opening to see the detective literally perched on the tub over him, regarding him rather coolly.

Kudos to Aiber, he managed to treat the situation with a modicum of nonchalance considering he was tied hand and foot and stuffed in a tub slowly filling with water.

“Deneuve,” he managed, taking stock of the situation and visibly working to keep his calm, “I always knew you were kinky.”

L didn’t bat an eye. “I want to ask you some questions,” he said flatly.

“Of course,” Aiber replied, “Turn off the water, give me a towel and ask away.”

That was when L leaned back against the wall, stretching a strong foot down to Aiber’s rather solid chest, and with one rather forceful movement, pushed the man down. The water wasn’t high enough to put him under…yet, and that was the point L was trying to make.

“This can be over quickly, Thierry,” L muttered. And his stoic expression hadn’t cracked in the least. “Or…not. I have the patience of a saint when it comes to interrogations.”

Aiber stopped squirming and met L’s deadened gaze—there was nothing there to suggest the detective was bluffing.

“Okay, Deneuve,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“What are your orders? Why did Near send you?”

“To ruffle your feathers,” the conman replied, his mood still rather flippant considering the circumstances. “He found out about Paris, not sure how, I know I didn’t tell him.”

L shoved him down with a stern foot and the water reached Aiber’s ears. “You’re lying.” L said flatly. “You told him.”

Matt shifted in the doorway. This sort of thing he expected of Mello, sure—but L? He’d never really imagined L doing something along these lines. Though Matt supposed if the incarceration of Amane and Light was anything to judge by those years ago…and after all, this was the same L who’d knowingly handcuffed himself to Kira 24/7…nevertheless, this was, well, rather blatant torture.

“Okay, I told him,” Aiber relented. “Bragging rights no? I got your virginity after all.”

L shoved him under—and held him there. Aiber wrestled against his bonds, struggling and squirming with no luck—he was too big, the tub was too tight, and L was too strong. It was painful to watch, and Matt was doing his damnedest not to cringe. A very tense moment passed before L let him up and Aiber was choking and spluttering for air.

“What are your orders?” L repeated.

“Surveillance,” Aiber gasped. “I’m supposed to watch you like a hawk—Near’s convinced you’re harboring Kira.”

L rolled his eyes, shoving Aiber back against the porcelain. “Do you live under a rock, Thierry?” He said. “Surely if you’re watching as close as I know you are, you’re well aware of what happened today.”

Aiber shook his head, but felt the threat of pressure against his chest. “Okay, okay—yes, I know. I know Yagami was spotted.”

“Then if your task was to look for Yagami, it’s essentially over isn’t it?” L said.

Aiber laughed nervously, “I suppose it is, isn’t it?” He managed.

“So what are you doing here now?”

That was when Aiber turned slyly rebellious. “I thought that would be obvious, Deneuve,” he said. “I wanted to fuck you, like the old days yeah? You remember—I know I do—I loved how you used to whimper when I enter—”

He didn’t quite finish the sentence before he was gulping water again rather violently. In fact, if Matt didn’t know better he was convinced L was actually about to kill the man then and there…then again, did he know better? Matt was beginning to wonder the longer L kept Aiber under.

Though it wasn't really a matter of worrying over whether or not the bastard would die here tonight. Truthfully, the whelp could drown to death right there and it would be too kind a punishment. No, it was the fact that it was their own fucking bathtub they'd be hauling him out of. And the fact that Matt's rationality had come to such a cold cut state only indicated how jaded they'd all become somewhere along the line.

Plus, there was one other issue. L's standing was already shaky through this whole fiasco. Near had far too much dirt to go on, and this would only add another notch onto the less than reputable record the brat was most eager to reveal. So when Aiber continued to struggle beneath the surface, yearning for the air that was simply being refused from his lungs, Matt inched forward, hand just brushing L's shoulder. "I don't particularly care if you finish him off, but at least do so in a way you won't be further compromised," he pointed out casually as if it were the bloody fucking weather they were discussing at that particular moment. It sure as hell would be just like Near to set up this elaborate little plan. He would come out on top either way one would look at it. Bastard.

L blinked at Matt rather flatly—but still held Aiber under for several moments more…

Come dawn, it hadn’t exactly ended either. Matt had sunk down on the couch and dozed, and when he opened his eyes, there were still sounds of agony coming from the washroom. Aiber must have been shriveled like a prune by that point, and extremely exhausted. L obviously wasn’t since he’d barely broken his perch over the man.

Matt glanced at his watch, it was 7:30am, at 8 o’clock the task force was expected to arrive. Lovely. He stretched, got off the couch and shuffled over to the door. Aiber’s eyes shot to him, he was panting and rather blue in the face and looking just a bit more than worse for wear and he was shivering to boot.

“You have an 8 o’clock meeting, you know,” Matt muttered, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket to poise between his lips.

“I’m aware,” L replied, “Thank you Nathaniel.”

“Has he said anything particularly interesting?”

“He’s never been particularly interesting.”

Matt snorted. Yeah, yeah this was about to turn into a cluster wasn’t it?

“I’ll go put the kettle on,” he said, scratching a lazy hand through his hair.

“Order breakfast too, please.” L said, “I’m starving.”

* * *

“How long?” Light sounded dazed and sleepy as Mello pressed the coffee into his hands.

“A couple of hours maybe,” the blonde replied. “Can I trust you here, alone, for a couple of hours?”

Mello was fully dressed and preparing to go to the intended meeting place to see Halle. He’d slept late, and Light probably would have continued sleeping—a thought Mello had entertained, had he not decided it would be best to tell Light just what was going down rather than have him wake up to an empty house.

Light smirked over the rim of the cup. “I don’t know, can you?”

“Smart ass,” Mello murmured. “I’m fully prepared to handcuff you to the radiator you know.”

Light didn’t skip a beat. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he sipped the coffee. “I’m not about to waltz out in public now that the SPK have confirmed I’m alive, and I’m not going to Bella without backup, and L’s got me tracked so I can’t exactly leave the country either even though I’m craving ramen something fierce.”

Mello snorted, buttoning his leather glove at the wrist. “Well then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll bring you back some pasta.”

“Not pasta, ramen.”

“Don’t think you’re in luck there,” he stopped and glanced at Light, who was sitting up in bed, sheets in his lap, looking rather warm and inviting with his tussled hair and golden skin. Light caught him looking and smiled—and Mello tipped Light’s head back with a finger under the chin to capture his lips gently.

“So help me, God, Light, if you fuck me over,” Mello said rather sweetly.

“I know I know,” Kira muttered, “Fire and brimstone and all that.” He quirked a witty eyebrow. “You don’t have to worry, Mello, I’ll probably just sit around and write in the Death Note or something.”

Ha. Of course, he probably wasn’t joking.

* * *

Halle had one hell of a sense of humor. The Ducati came to a purring halt at the address she had rattled off the previous night and through the tinted visor of his helmet, Mello eyed the chapel erected against a painfully blue sky and frowned. It was just like her: Lidner was always either making a point in the harshest way possible, or luring him to bed with the excuse of traded information. Nevermind the fact they both knew it was information she gave willingly whether or not he went that extra mile, which in retrospect had never been so awful. Quite on the contrary.

After several moments of contemplation, Mello killed the engine at last, kicked the bike onto its stand and mounted the chapel steps, helmet under his arm. He had not step foot in a church - Bella's hardly counted - since their initial arrival in Rome and to do so now in the midst of so much chaos, and at Halle's beckoning was troubling. Perhaps that had been just her intention.

The door opened smoothly under the pressure of his hand. Within several worshipers sat on pews and because they were far from most tourist attractions, no groups invaded the peaceful silence within. Mello swept forward and knelt briefly at the start of the main isle, head bowed as he crossed himself. It was as he straightened himself that he saw her, sitting in the second to last pew, staring straight ahead but he had no misconceptions that she already knew he had arrived. "This is hardly the place to have this conversation..." he murmured quietly, sinking down onto the polished dark wood. Mello did not look at her, gaze intent on the altar ahead, a small frown marring his features.

"What conversation do you expect this to be?"

"I can only begin to guess." He sighed and at last, turned his attention to her. Those sharp features were unreadable, reserved. She was either unsure of what to think of the situation or was hiding something. He was most certainly betting on the latter and hoping for the former.

"I did not think you would be alive."

"That was the plan."

"Yesterday's fiasco became quite apparent who was pulling the strings, Mello. It had your style plastered all over it. Near has yet to say a word, but I have no doubts that he already knows. If Kira can still be alive after all that has happened, then so can you."

"Not the first time," he pointed out quietly.

"No... You have an uncanny ability to survive under the most unlikely circumstances."

Mello grinned at that. If she only knew what that last particular situation had entailed. But it was not the time to go into such details. In fact with each passing minute spent here, was another name that could very well be written down. Another sentence passed. And the minutes did tick away in silence between them, until at last she spoke again.

"Are you working on your own?"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific than that, Halle. You're not the type to beat around the bush. Don't start now."

"This operation has your name written all over it, but you've got Kira under your guard. How is that possible?"

A sardonic smile touched his lips and he shook his head. One of the many questions he could and would not answer.

"You're working under L still."

"That is correct."

Lidner exhaled, crossing her arms under her chest, with only accentuated the fitted dress shirt she had put on that morning.

"Does Near have a price on L's head?" Mello’s question was blunt, if not downright brutal.

Halle gasped, staring at the unblemished side of his face as Mello had taken to looking straight ahead once again. "You're surprised," he commented thoughtfully. "Because you did not expect me to know or because you would not think it of him?" He cast her a sidelong glance. "And that look won't work either. C'mon Halle, don't jerk me around. Not now. I don't particularly care whether or not you agree or even understand what is going on - I don't even understand what's going on anymore, but I know what I'm doing here. You said there was something you needed to tell me. Here I am... what is it?"

She looked thoughtful a moment, then nodded toward the double doors. "C'mon... You're right. This isn't the place for this conversation..." And before so much as giving him a chance to respond, inched her way down the isle, heels resounding against the stone floor. Mello checked his watch.

45 minutes had already passed.

* * *

45 minutes…hmmm, didn’t feel so long; but glancing at the alarm clock, Light realized he’d been far too distracted to even notice the passage of time.

Ryuk was laughing. “Hey, Raito, it’s been awhile.”

“Mmm, tell me about it,” came Kira’s plain response. Another name, another death, he’d filled pages already, clicking through the laptop news reports under a private filter he’d rigged nights earlier to communicate with Bella. Damn and his fingers hurt—had it truly been so long? He supposed it had, he hadn’t done this many judgments of his own accord since school. Though unlike Misa, he was spacing them out across the board, different countries were being targeted so the results weren’t so concentrated, and the deaths weren’t all happening at once.

It truly had been quite some time since he’d played strategies with the Death Note itself—it felt good to get back to basics.

“When you gonna talk to Misa?” Ryuk asked, chomping on an apple.

“When I can,” was the apathetic response.

The sunlight was pouring in over the bed, and Light was content to just lay there on his stomach in a pair of jeans and write. The coffee had gone cold by now, he hadn’t had time to finish it.

“Do you think Mello knows what you’re doing?” Ryuk was floating around the room, gliding passed the window—back and forth, back and forth.

“Of course he does,” Light replied. “That’s part of the thrill. Neither he nor L can stop Kira. They’ve lost focus, I probably have Near to thank for that.”

The death god shrugged, “I’d say you have yourself to thank for that.”

Light raised a languid eyebrow—another name down, he turned the page.

“How do you figure, Ryuk?”

“You’ve been very…distracting…to both of them since the warehouse.”

“You mean the sex,” Light returned flatly.

“Sure,” Ryuk shrugged, “All of it. The sex, the mood swings, the pathetic confessions and appeals for sympathy—you’ve got them wound around your fingers whether they know it or not.”

“Pathetic?”

“You always were a good actor, Raito,” the shinigami snickered. “You’ve just gotten a whole lot better lately. You put yourself at more risk than ever, but yeah—it’s been quite a show.”

Ironically Light didn’t have an immediate response, and the death god just chalked it up to Kira’s concentration on the judgments.

“If that’s the way you see it, I suppose me being separate from L now is giving him a chance to get himself back together.”

“Probably a bad idea,” the death god agreed. “You should reunite with him soon before he decides to try and defeat you again.”

Light’s brow knit, legs crossed behind him, he stretched his arm and smiled at the ink stains on his fingers. “L never stopped wanting to defeat me,” he said. “He’s just going about it differently now. He’s trying to save me from myself, not destroy me. Rules have changed.”

“Yeah, I gather.” And the death god was quiet, just hovering, head turned to the glass. “Say Raito,” he muttered, moments later.

“Yes, Ryuk?” Light was still distracted scanning the crime reports. He’d hacked into Interpol and was offing their top priority lists.

“When do you think Mello is coming back?”

“Don’t know, Ryuk. You’re supposed to be keeping watch.”

The shinigami laughed. “Oh yeah, right.” And there was another pause. “Is it only Mello I should be keeping watch for?”

Light hesitated, sharp eyes abruptly shooting upwards. “What do you mean?”

Ryuk pressed against the glass like a Garfield in a car window. “Well, cause, Raito…I’m pretty sure that’s Gevanni down there, heading this way…”

* * *

At that moment it felt as if the similarities between he and Kira had only been upped a notch, Mello realized dully as he followed Halle along the too-fancy hallway toward her personal hotel room. Or at least one she had booked for the occasion. Perhaps the only difference here was that even though they had technically been using one another for years, there was a semblance of respect there present. The lines between business and pleasure had been clouded many a time, but one thing that remained was the lack of complicated attachment that sometimes trailed along behind similar circumstances. So as Mello pressed her against the wall right beside the now shut door, Halle locked it unflinching.

"Tell me what he's up to," Mello whispered, lips kissably close to her own.

"What's your rush?" she purred, that too-familiar flirtatious look returning at last; reflected upon dark blue eyes and tilt of faintly colored lips. "I'll tell you what you need to know..."

"But?" he prompted, tangling calloused fingers into her hair.

"I've missed you-" she hissed against his lips, demanding that kiss, that undivided attention she was certain he would give. The hands at her waist, slipping beneath a once pressed shirt; the heat of that kiss and the press of his body. And unlike Light's careful maneuvering so that Bella would not see the marks of rough sex upon his body, there was nothing to hide. Not because Mello did not wear them - though in less quantity - but because he had always worn them one way or another. She had never asked. He had never volunteered the information. It now served in his best interest.

One hour and fifteen minutes had already ticked away since he had left Kira to his own devises.

* * *

“Ah, Ryuuzaki, I brought fresh donuts, just like old time—” Matsuda wasn’t quite able to finish his sentence upon entering the sitting room and catching sight of L perched on the bathtub over a spluttering Aiber. Aizawa’s brow knit firmly behind him.

“Ryuuzaki! What is this!?”

L looked up at them both flatly. “Interrogation,” he said simply. “It’s been going on for quite some time now.”

Both detectives spluttered and Matt glanced up from the laptop, just to see what they would do.

“That’s—Aiber-san!?” Matsuda, ever the observant one.

“Ryuuzaki, I demand to know what’s going on here!” And Aizawa had gone up the police force ladder since the warehouse it seemed, not that either man was about to throw up their hands and abandon L at the sight of such…tactics?

“I suppose I will put this plainly,” L said, and Aiber had to be grateful, because the time out meant a break for him. “Near has turned against me.”

There was a collective ‘what?!?’ followed by a rather unexpected outburst by Matsuda: “Aizawa, I told you so!!”

Both Matt and L squinted. “What was that, Matsuda-san?” L managed.

Matsuda dropped the donuts on the table, suddenly animated and happy to help, he moved to the doorway. “Near—I always knew he couldn’t be trusted! He set up Raito-kun with the Death Note, and killed Mikami-san in prison! None of the others ever believed it!”

L let that one settle, and then he got off the bathtub and approached the slightly older detective, scanning his elated features for a moment. “Well, with the fact that Near is not to be trusted—I agree. With the idea that he killed Mikami-san in prison, it’s probable. Raito-kun however, needed no help to fall from grace. I fear Matsuda, believing Near set up Raito-kun is just a way for you to exonerate the guilt you feel for the situation—having been the one to have shot Raito-kun and cause his fatal injuries.”

Matsuda’s face fell.

Aizawa interrupted quite on purpose. “Ryuuzaki,” he stressed. “Why is Aiber-san in the bathtub?”

L picked up the bag of donuts, and pawed through them, selecting the sweetest, gooiest, pinkest pastry of the bunch. “Because, Aiber-san was sent here last night to kill me.”

* * *

Light was at the window in a heartbeat, plastered to the glass quite like his death god—and yes, indeed, fucking Gevanni.

“They set me up,” Light hissed, slapping the Death Note closed and stuffing it into the back of his jeans as he quickly pulled on a light-weight white button down shirt, stuffing his feet into a pair of Mello’s combat boots. “Fuck!”

He was out of the bedroom and tearing through the sitting room, snatching the nearest cell phone, pulling the plug on all the equipment and grabbing the goddamn Porsche keys before spinning around and heading for the bathroom. Ryuk followed dutifully as Light slammed and locked the door, jamming a boudoir chair beneath the doorknob and immediately looking to the window. It was small, but he was svelte, and clamoring over the tub, he tore it open, scanning the outside—the fire escape—and wondering if there was any SPK waiting at the rear entrance. There had to have been, he couldn’t go down, so Light craned his neck upward and decided on the bloody roof.

Ryuk seemed elated, but Light was ignoring him—grand fine entertainment that would result in his torture and execution if he didn’t figure out a way out of this. Light climbed out onto the fire escape, scaling the rickety ladder to the villa roof—the neighboring buildings were cramped close together which was a goddamn blessing, cause he was tearing-ass across, and knew he heard the sound of a door breaking somewhere in his wake.

The bastards were fast, and Light managed to dodge through long sways of drying laundry, ducking into an open rooftop entrance. The woman there nearly screamed when he practically collided with her, grabbing her by the shoulders to move her out of his way—ironically one look at him and she shut her mouth. Funny, even in a crisis his natural charms still worked their will.

“Porta!” He hissed sharply, and she thrust her finger in the direction he needed, her face still white, but otherwise silent.

Light didn’t even bother to thank her, racing through her house, passed screaming children and out the front door into the villa hallways. He didn’t know how hot Gevanni was on his tail, but when he was down several flights of stairs he heard hollering above him and decided that was close enough—Light hit the streets running, weaving into alleyways, circling back around to the garage where Mello had parked the Porsche.

He hit the locks and tumbled into the vehicle, panting, revving the engine—he’d figured out the method of driving the stick the day before watching Mello—ah the benefits of a far-too-brilliant mind, so Light wasted no time, tearing the vehicle out of the garage, just in time to narrowly miss clipping Gevanni who drew his gun fearlessly. “Yagami!! Stop!!” He tried to aim for the tires, but the car was too fast, and in a blur Light was on the streets, breathing hard, driving harder, and flipping the cell phone open to communicate an immediate distress call to L and Mello… one hour 15 minutes by himself and already the world had gone to hell.

* * *

The distress call certainly came at an awkward moment, but once Mello heard the custom ringer he'd set for that number - an extra phone he'd left back at the flat should there be an emergency - all bets were off and disregarding Halle's groan of dismay, reached for it.

"Gevanni's on my tail!" came the harsh snarl the moment the line clicked live and Mello was up within instants.

"What!?" He could hear the hard revving of the Porsche in the background. So Light had gotten himself out in time, then. "I've got you tracked," he told him, not wasting any further time with senseless questions. "I'm on my way," and severed the connection.

Strangest of all, perhaps was that Halle looked completely puzzled, eying him questioningly. "You set me up," Mello growled lowly, directing his attention back to her and those dark blue eyes widened as she sat up, doing only a half-minded effort of keeping the sheets around her body.

"We didn't have your location! He wasn't going to act until tomorrow night."

And so there it was. Mello scowled, hastily pulling his shirt back over his head. "Then you too, have been duped."

He was on the road within minutes, having taken the emergency steps two at a time on his way back down to the motorcycle, which peeled off the cobblestone with a skid of its backtire before he was racing his way down the street. Ear piece firmly in place, he contacted Matt.

"Already on it," the former redhead said. So Light had also contacted L. "I'll feed you coordinates to your GPS. Directing him out of this mess if he doesn't kill himself attempting to imitate your mad driving skills."

Mello chuckled. "Thanks." And true enough, the image showed up almost instantly on the small GPS he had rigged onto the handlebars. Light was several minutes away and tearing through the streets of Rome with abandon. Mello had to admit that he was mildly impressed, all things considered. Gevanni was not too far behind, however. It was all he could do now to catch up in time. Brilliant Kira may be, but he was not the most experienced in running the fuck away from skilled field officers with one hell of a goddamned mission.

Mello watched the traffic light, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. If he crashes my car, I'm fucking killing him myself, he thought idly, tearing away.

* * *

L was not happy, not happy at all. Light was essentially flying blind—no com, no GPS, just the cell phone and some mad driving skills he had to develop on the fly. Matt was doing his damnedest trying to direct him—but the two still very much hated each other, and neither had much patience, Matt trying to navigate directions over the phone while Light was essentially in a panic. And all this while Aizawa and Matsuda were there…which meant Matt was communicating without using Light’s name…

“You’re not listening to me!” Light growled, swerving in between cars, “I don’t care what your goddamn radar says, there’s three of them on me—I’m watching them in my fucking rearview!”

“My screens just show Gevanni,” Matt was relaying, and Light was ready to throw the phone because he saw the tails and he knew it wasn’t just paranoia. They were working in unison, they were friggin herding him somewhere, and it didn’t matter where Matt told him to go at this point, they were fucking with his every turn.

“Where’s Mello?!” Light snarled.

“He’s about two minutes behind,” Matt said, and the aggravation was thickening in his voice, “Just shut the fuck up already and do what I say—get off that road.”

“Fine!” and Light cut across several lanes of traffic and hit the exit at an insane speed. Matt had to wipe his brow at that one. “He’s going to kill himself,” he muttered, and L’s stern face hadn’t cracked. He’d done what he could to assuage the concerns of the policemen there witnessing this, but it would only go so far, especially if they at all happened to overhear the frantic and familiar Japanese voice sneering into Matt’s ear on the other end of the phone.

By this point Matt’s directions were petering out onto country roads, straightaways of blind racing stretches where the Porsche could perform at peek—it would also give Mello a chance to catch up as long as Light kept that pedal to the floor and stayed ahead of the SPK.

Light couldn’t help it, he was feeling overwhelmingly like Higuchi at that moment, and that scenario didn’t end very well for Higuchi. He wouldn’t put it passed Near to have the cavalry show up in a helicopter either, much the way L had done. But the Roman policia, surprisingly had not joined this chase which either meant L or Near had kept them at bay—and if it was Near’s doing that boded absolutely terrible for Light. It meant Near did not want the police interfering with his plans.

“I can’t help feeling I’m going right where they want me to,” Light growled at the cell phone, compulsively checking his mirrors—Gevanni still behind him, but no sign of the other two tails. He was loathe to think he’d been wrong about them, his gut instinct was never that far off.

“You stay on this road, Mello is going to come up behind Gevanni and finish it,” Matt growled.

“I’m sure Lidner has warned them that he’s on his way,” Light shot back and if Matt could reach through the phone and strangle him, he would have.

“Just listen to me!”

And Light was flooring the car, chasing up over country hills—he cleared the crest of one and saw there up ahead, the other two cars. “What the fuck?!” He hissed. “They’re in front of me!”

“What?!” Matt was scanning the screens and saw nothing. “What are you talking about???”

“The goddamn tails are in front of me!” And Light swerved the car at a sharp angle, tearing into a smaller road. “You fucked me over!!”

“No, I fucking didn’t!!” Matt snarled, “They’re no where on my radar!!”

“They’re cloaked,” L muttered suddenly. “It’s a trap, get him out of there.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

But at that moment there was an absolutely horrible metal-crunching sound on the other end of the phone, before the line went dead…

* * *

It wasn’t three tails, it was four—the fourth was lying in wait and Light didn’t figure it out fast enough, didn’t really have the chance to—the truck came out of nowhere, hidden behind a line of cypress trees, it intercepted him as he was speeding passed and the timing was bloody impeccable at those speeds, reinforced bulbar nailing directly into the side of the Porsche, the impact basically threw the sports car off the road, rolling it several times in a bloody wreck across the neighboring field.

It was only minutes after the violent collision that Gevanni and the other tails pulled up to survey the damage and collect Kira—dead or alive.

* * *

The screen did not know what to reflect back to him. It looked as if the chase had stopped but Mello knew better. The racing bike tore along the road – it had been once Light had been led to the open country road that Mello had begun to truly catch up, gunning the accelerator and spot specs of black in the distance. Once or twice he glimpsed at the speedometer, but it was best not to even pay attention at this point, because three digit numbers were just not the thing to think of during a two-wheeled chase of this caliber.

But that was when it stopped making sense and before he even had the chance to voice command the comlink to contact Matt, his lover’s voice appeared first. “Hang back.” The order made no sense, and worse still was the tone in his voice. Matt was always generally composed when carrying out this sort of task, but just then he sounded… apprehensive.

“What?” the blonde demanded sharply, but eased on the grip nevertheless. Shapes were starting to form ahead.

“He’s down. This whole thing was a fucking trap. Two of them were cloaked – they knew we’d be watching. The line’s dead and from what I gathered so’s your car…” What was left unsaid, however was that, at those speeds… it was likely that so was Light.

Mello slowed down considerably then, inching toward the side of the road until he finally stopped, flipping the visor up the moment his feet hit the floor. He was staring in the distance and had yet to say a word to the less-than-welcoming news.

Near had won.

Kira was more than likely dead.

Near had won…

Something felt terribly wrong about this. He felt his hand shake where it rested on the gas tank, his breath heavy as if he’d run the whole fucking way.

“…you still there?”

“Yea.”

“Do not pursue at this moment. We need you to come back for now.”

“No.”

Stunned silence. Matt actually leaned back in his chair, blinking stupidly at the screen where the little dot that mapped Mello on the map stared back at him. “What?”

“I’m not coming back yet—hold on.” And he clicked off. It was Lidner on the other line. A bad transmission to boot but she was clear and cut to the point.

“Just got word. Gevanni caught him. In bad shape but still alive. …I do this to help you, not Kira.”

Mello closed his eyes, and released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I know,” he said lowly, “… thanks.” And in the same moment, he switched connections, starting the Ducatti back up. “He’s alive.” There was a pause in which Matt doubtlessly mouthed the news to L. It didn’t matter. “I’m in pursuit. You either forward me the radar images or you don’t, but I’m finishing this now.”

Shit. Matt recognized the rasp in his voice, the anger. Mello would be shaken down to the core – Near had outmaneuvered them all. Lidner included, it would appear. Near had very well nearly won this battle and that, above all, could not be tolerated. Not in that personal competition Mello had generated so many years ago. It was still very much alive and still very much real. “Please think about this…”

“There’s no time. I’m going after them and wiping that fucking smile off his face once and for all. Will call you when I’m through.”

“Mel—” Matt had begun desperately into the phone but the line was cut before he could even muster to get the word out. Mello took a moment to double check that both guns were still in place snuggly against his back; extra clips had been shoved into his jacket and as always, extra arsenal was packed away into the Ducatti’s body. The visor was pressed down and he took off.

Already having failed one part of that promise, Mello was furious. Fuming to all hell’s end, and to think that Near had done this… had orchestrated this in such a way that he would come out victorious. But he wouldn’t. By God he would not. The fact, however, that they had found the flat could only mean that as Lidner predicted, Near was already very much aware that Mello was alive and working against him on all scales of this operation. L’s man through and through but also Kira’s current personal bodyguard. The two job descriptions would have contradicted once upon a time.

* * *

The scene was a wreck. The Porshe was upturned upon gravel; shattered glass lay scattered across the road; the truck still remained in place where it had hit but all other cars had cleared out without a trace. Mello dismounted, slowly approaching the beat up sports car and his heart tightened. Lidner had told him Light was alive but the crumbled piece of metal made it hard to believe. There was blood upon the seat. The cell phone he’d been using lay smashed several feet away. Mello crouched down, gloved hand touching the door which hung askew from its hinges and then glimpsed up ahead. It was deserted country road, but it was the only way they could have gone as no vehicles had passed him since the collision. Near had indeed orchestrated this well.

“I’ll get you back…” Mello whispered to no one in particular, fingers curling into his palm. The punch came seconds later, hard and bruising into metal and with it a scream of outrage.

* * *

“Aizawa, Matsuda-san, I need to conclude our meeting for today, if you’d be so kind.”

L was barely looking at them when he said this rather forcefully, his eyes drawn into some deep and darkening well of vile anger and frustration—and heartbreak—which was obvious to Matt at least. The way Mello sounded over the com was the way the L looked. And it was a good thing the two policemen knew how to read that at least, because they cleared out rather quickly, understanding there was something terrible at work, and maybe even suspecting what it had to do with. They’d heard at least one name so far—Matt had been careless because he’d been so distracted, but he’d said ‘Mello,’ more than once. Fuck.

The moment the two Japanese men left however, L turned, ignoring Matt, he stormed into the washroom with a purpose and slammed the door behind him. For a moment Matt hesitated, until he heard Aiber start screaming—pain enriched screams the man hadn’t dared to make this whole time during the course of his interrogation. Shit.

Matt jumped up. “L!” He called, honestly not knowing what the detective was doing or thinking at that moment. “L! We’ll figure this out!”

Aiber kept screaming, and then he was spluttering something, information, prayers, Matt couldn’t tell until L ripped the door back open, shoving passed Matt he grabbed the com and put the headset on.

“Mello,” he said, “L.—Near is stationed in a grand villa in Tuscany, I’m programming the coordinates into the computer and sending them to your GPS. It’s heavily guarded, he has Interpol officers working for him. It’s approximately 2 and ½ hours from your current location. Matt is working on hacking into the Villa’s surveillance system,” which was news to Matt, but L was clicking his fingers at him and pointing to the other laptops.

Despite Aiber moaning in the next room, Matt set to work without another thought to the man. There didn’t appear to be blood gushing but whatever L had done had been severely effective, so Matt decided he just didn’t want to know.

“I’m remaining on the com link,” L continued, “When you have visual, I need to know if I’m sending in backup.”