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Fever Dreams	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > L/Light Views: 2733 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 31
- 32
- 33
CHAPTER 32
Light knew he was being tortured. He was groggy, too tired to open his eyes, his thoughts sluggish, his brain stuffed full of cotton. He was being stabbed in the hands repeatedly, while soft, insistent voices hovered above him.
He tried to cry out, tried to tell them that he wasn't Kira, tried to tell them to stop drugging him, but they weren't listening. The voices only became harsh and more demanding, barking out orders that Light thought he understood when he heard them, but had lost all meaning by a few seconds later.
Light was being forced to breathe something. He tried to turn his face to the side but his neck was too tired to move, and then he was gone again, all thoughts stifled in a nothingness that swallowed him up completely.
An indeterminate time later, Light was awake. He opened his eyes. He couldn't see well. Everything was dim and somewhat wavering in his vision. Medical workers swarmed just out of reach, their faces always turned away. Light closed his eyes for a time that seemed either a few seconds or an eternity, and when he opened them again L was crouching on top of him, straddling him, looking down with bulging, black, owlish eyes, licking ice cream from a spoon obscenely. Each movement of his tongue was sickening to watch, his saliva thick and ropy, dripping down his lips. L's expression was distant, his eyes holding some dark secret.
Light could still feel the stabbing pain in his hands.
With all the force he could muster, Light whispered, "You bastard! Stop torturing me."
Just saying that much drained almost all of Light's strength, and he had to fight hard to keep his eyes open.
L looked to the side, as if staring at another person out of view, and calmly said, "There is a ninety-eight percent chance Light is Kira."
Light tried to turn in that direction to see who L was talking to, but instead saw the tray holding L's dish of ice cream. It was melting fast, entire chunks of it slipping down. No, it was wriggling, horribly, obscenely. There was a large slug in it, crawling around, that was why the ice cream was moving so much. L ate around the slug with delicate, flicking motions of his long spoon, like a moth drinking from a flower with its proboscis.
Light wanted to tell L that his food was disgusting but he was falling asleep too fast to say anything. He was in and out of sleep after that, sometimes feeling cool hands on his face or his neck, at times feeling giddy and euphoric, and he remembered questions being asked, but he couldn't remember what they were. He wasn't sure if he'd even answered any of them. Sleep was an abyss that he kept falling into over and over again.
The first time he woke up and felt as if he could stay awake for more than a few moments, nobody was immediately apparent. Light blinked, looking around the room, seeing scattered items of furniture, blank white walls, and two doors leading to other rooms. The lights had been dimmed, though there were soft glowing cracks around the edges of the curtains, so it had to be daytime.
His arms felt strange and he focused on them, seeing that they were raised above his bed by a series of padded straps and buckles, keeping his bandaged hands safe from any pressure or danger of brushing against things. Still, they hurt, even when not touching anything. Light experimentally moved a finger and yelled in response.
L's voice said, "Are you truly awake this time?"
Light had never before heard L sound quite so monotonous and lifeless.
Light turned his head, seeking out the source, and guessed at the hospital bed next to his own, half-hidden by a curtain that went from ceiling to floor.
Light shifted slightly in bed and realized his butt was sore as well, in several different places. And his neck, where he'd been bitten. But those pains were nothing compared to the strong ache in his hands.
Light said, "Yes, I'm awake."
The sound of computer keys being tapped started up, slower than L's usual typing, and then the curtain began sliding back, revealing L's bed, as the lights became brighter at the same time.
L was crouched in his bed, in the middle of a nest of blankets, wearing a hospital gown. His hands were covered with white bandages, held up rather than resting on his knees. A laptop computer was open in front of him and one foot was stretched out, his long toes tapping at the keys. He looked small and lost in the large bed.
The bags under L's eyes were darker and more pronounced, his eyes were haunted, and his face was pinched and drawn. He used his foot to close the laptop and then withdrew into a huddle, trying to place his hands on his knees but flinching at the touch and raising them in the air again. L looked extremely pitiful, and Light hated Kira with a fierce, burning need for revenge.
Light said, "Will you be okay? Will you use your hands again?"
In a very quiet voice, L said, "Both of us will use our hands again. Mine are in better condition than yours. The layer of soil created some protection. With you, they were forced to remove what remained of one of your fingernails, and they had to take seven skin grafts from your butt to repair the worst areas on your hands."
"Kira... he attacked us, right? Did he get away again?"
Light realized he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. His fantasies of harming Kira were getting quite vivid. The kind of sick person who would force others to burn themselves deserved something worse than just an execution. His thirst for vengeance brought with it a cold wash of fear. Light was horrified that he could think such things, even about Kira, but Kira deserved it.
L stared blankly, saying nothing, then looked at the wall and said, "It is possible we have Kira. Determining who he is among the suspects, that is the problem. I was almost certain of Kira's identity at one time, I remember that. I don't remember the reasoning that I had used to reach that near-certainty. My memories disappeared once again, and without being able to recreate the steps of logic I took at that time, I cannot... besides, I was not completely sure even then, I know I still had a few doubts... so what I did remember must not have been absolute proof. And now, even that which I had has been taken away from me."
That expression of hatred he had in the pit. He means me. But Kira is trying to trick us. If L thought I was Kira at that time, then his memories were being led in a particular direction. How can we trust our own ideas if Kira can manipulate our memories? No, there must be a way to defeat Kira. The two of us can figure it out.
Light said, "There are new clues, even if we can't remember them. Before, we were able to fill in some of the gaps by examining data that had not been destroyed. We'll look over everything, and I'm sure something will occur to us."
"That is my plan, yes."
"You haven't been looking over the data yourself, yet? I thought you weren't in surgery?"
"My deductive abilities were impaired until recently because of pain medication. I have only looked at a few things. Watari has been forcing me to sleep instead of letting me work on the case."
That's right. He hadn't slept for three days straight when the explosion happened.
Light felt a constriction in his chest, a wild panic, and said, "We can't waste time. Kira could be getting away right now. Since when could Watari force you to do anything? Order him to let us work."
"Watari has been conducting interviews himself and gathering data through the police and the agents we have at the scene. Every Kira suspect is in protective custody or is being followed. We are in a public hospital, so the doctors have more authority about my care than I do, especially if Watari agrees with them, as he is posing as my grandfather. Now that you are awake we will move to a more private facility stocked with my own doctors, within the next few hours."
Light had a sudden flash of memory, of someone asking him questions over and over about what he had seen and experienced in the Yotsuba sub-headquarters' basement. The memory was garbled and unclear but it didn't feel like a dream.
L continued talking, saying, "If you wish for your family to visit you, it must be before we move to the high-security facility. I am afraid I cannot allow outsiders in that place. I have already prepared a cover story for how we were burned in such an unlikely way. We were trying to save what looked like a dog from a fire, but it turned out to be a stuffed animal. This was during a trip to-"
Light said, "You were interrogating me, when I didn't know what I was saying!"
L shuffled in place and said, "I did not ask you any questions. Watari interviewed both of us, while we were disoriented from stronger pain medication than what we are on now. He had to be clear about some details in order to know how to conduct his part of the investigation."
L looked at the wall and said, "Watari separated us for the questioning process. He does not trust me. Watari believes that, out of love, I would sabotage the investigation for your sake. He needed to be sure that both of us had experienced the same memory lapse, that I was not faking it in order to conceal incriminating knowledge from him."
That would be wrong... but what does L think? He looks blank, does that mean he would do it? Or that he doesn't want to think about whether he would do it or not?
Light said, "You don't have to worry about that. Don't sabotage anything! We'll catch Kira, I know we will."
Light heard someone's throat clearing loudly, and turned to see Watari standing in the door, holding a dish of ice cream. He looked very calm, considering what he must have heard.
Watari said, "Light, it is good to see that you are awake. I believe we can move you to the new facility in another hour."
As Watari walked over to L's bed, L said, "Excellent work, Watari."
Watari sat down next to the bed and said, "Since you only slept for half an hour this time, I will restrict you to eating half of this."
L simply opened his mouth, and Watari began spoon-feeding L the ice cream.
Watari said, "How do you keep getting these laptop computers in here?"
Between bites, L said, "It's actually a very complex trick. You've come quite close to figuring it out twice now."
Light watched L eat and thought hard. His thoughts kept going around in circles. He was angry and he itched for more information. Everything was taking too long. He wondered if L had secretly viewed all the data. If that were true, then everything being shown was a lie, an elaborate performance to see what he might do.
Light tried moving his fingers again. He regretted it. Whatever was under the bandages felt hyper-sensitive, stretched to the breaking point just from small twitches. Still, there was something about it that felt dulled, not as bad as it could be. Some sort of pain medication was obviously in his system, just as L had said.
At exactly the halfway point, Watari got up, taking the ice cream out of reach. L's eyes followed it. He looked like a puppy that was about to start begging.
Watari said, "If you sleep at all before the time the move will start, I'll give you ten cookies."
Watari turned to Light, and in a gracious, jovial voice said, "Do you want to eat the rest of it?"
Light remembered the horrible slug dream and said, "No. Just work on getting us to the new place as soon as possible."
Watari said, "Very well," took the laptop and left.
L was crouched in his bed, staring. Light stared back. There was an odd sort of tension in the air. L's eyes were incredibly penetrating.
Is he nervous about being with me now? What is wrong? It's not like him to be afraid, if that's what it is.
L didn't stop. He kept watching and watching, then blinked twice in his characteristic puppet-like way and cocked his head to the side. He said, "It is strange, now, isn't it?"
"You mean, without our memories?"
L placed a bandaged thumb at the corner of his mouth and jerked it back instantly. Then he said, "Light, do you want to have sex?"
Is this another attempt at evaluating me, or a genuine desire for sex right this moment?
"No, I can barely even sit up without feeling tired. Besides, we'll get caught."
L raised his head, gazing behind Light, and said, "You are correct."
Light looked in that direction and saw a male nurse. He was pushing a wheeled cart with supplies and a food tray, just starting to come into view. He attended to L's bandages first, taking them off to reveal bright red skin that was covered with blisters and looked as if it had been boiled. L winced throughout the process of having his hands inspected and cleaned and the bandages replaced, but he didn't say anything. L looked incredibly tired.
Next, the nurse helped L use the bathroom. Watching L walk across the floor in nothing except a hospital gown was odd and wrong. It simply wasn't L's clothing, it wasn't the way L should look, all fragile and with so much skin showing. And L, of all people, wasn't supposed to need help with something as simple as using the bathroom.
Then the nurse turned his attention to Light. He spoon-fed Light some bland, mushy food, checked the IV bags and adjusted them, and helped Light use a frightfully cold stainless steel bed pan.
After that task came the removal of Light's own bandages, the nurse delicately peeling them back, but Light still cried out at the act, feeling too sensitive. Even the cool rush of air on his damaged skin was almost overwhelming.
It made him sick to look at his burns. While L's burns had been mostly red, Light's burns were multi-color, with mottled reds, blacks, whites, yellows and even a few tiny areas of various shades of green. He could see where the skin grafts were, and also some small areas that had miraculously survived almost undamaged. Everything else was a terrible, confusing mess. It was hard to believe that in the future there could be anything like relatively normal skin on his hands.
It was shortly afterwards that the move to the new facility occurred. Light slept off and on through most of it. At the new place, they were both set up in hospital beds, with medical personnel checking on them frequently, in a large, high-tech room similar in design to their old headquarters in the skyscraper, with multiple monitors at one end of the room.
Then it was many long, grueling hours of watching videos and examining data, some old, some new, the process periodically interrupted by meals and by various procedures done by the new set of L's personal medical staff. Light found that the pain he'd thought he had was nothing compared to the real, true pain. Right on schedule, every four hours he needed another dose of painkillers, needed them quickly, needed them in a way that he had rarely ever needed anything in his life.
Watari had arranged it so that everything being shown was chronological, presented in the same order that it had actually happened, and, for the sake of time, excluded things that Watari knew had not been erased from their memories the first time it had happened.
It was strange, seeing himself reacting on video to things he'd forgotten, and then forgotten a second time. Light had an eerie disconnected feeling, as if the "Light" he were watching were someone else altogether. The holes in his knowledge were painful.
The idea that he could forget things that he'd clearly had so many conversations about, things that he surely must have tried to fix firmly in his mind, sent chills through his body. His mind kept returning to Misa, and to those times in the beginning when he'd taken her up to his room for long conversations that were largely a mystery to him. He could remember only bits and pieces of them.
Light still didn't remember forgetting and then re-learning about shinigami and magical notebooks the first time, but he could see that exactly that had happened from the evidence on the screens in front of him.
He saw his video self reacting to that knowledge in the exact same ways he was currently reacting, an eerie sense of duplicated events, of having been through it all too many times already. L even nearly fell from his seat again at the first mention of shinigami, just as he had when watching the second Kira's video for the very first time. Light remembered L falling back then, but not why, and not anything about a shinigami.
And L's eyes were like a burning presence throughout all the revelations, watching, judging, evaluating. L said nothing. There were no accusations, but Light could practically see L weighing scenarios of guilt and innocence in his mind. Every mannerism, every movement, spelled out, "Processing, processing, processing," clear to read for anyone well-versed in L's habits.
L's eyes looked troubled and especially deep. He kept trying to nibble at his thumb, but in a half-hearted, distracted way, and he withdrew from pain every time.
Light knew he was just as much an object of scrutiny as the data they were examining. He was a part of the test, part of the experiment. L didn't just want to use the data to compensate for the gaps in his own memory, he also wanted to observe one Light Yagami reacting to that same process as they underwent it together.
It was like being a specimen in a lab, and something visceral deep inside Light rebelled at the concept, wanted to... do something. Become angry. Get frightened. Start yelling at L. Apologize to L and feel guilty for all the bother he'd put everyone through. Somehow instantly locate Kira through an incredible feat of deduction and then beat the living crap out of him. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do, but he wanted it very desperately.
When they got to the point where they were about to watch themselves entering the Yotsuba sub-headquarters in Osaka, Light couldn't stand the silence any more. It was silence like a weight bearing down on him. L had to say something, damn him.
Light said, "What is your opinion?"
"It was all a set-up. It was too meaningless, as if it were an event designed to draw our attention, but it was so simplistic, not like Kira at all. The trap for us was very crude. No, Kira would do something more sophisticated, more subtle. Unless there will be more to come, this has most likely been a pointless distraction. I look forward to discovering what actually happened."
Is that what he really thinks, or is all just part of the test?
And yet, L was still surprised by things. By their cameras being destroyed, one of the cameras even catching another in the process of floating up into the air and being crushed. By the audio recorded by Watari, by figuring out the things Ryuk and Rem must have said and by finding out about the two written messages through crime scene photos and Watari's pre-recorded interviews with Mido and Namikawa.
And hearing that the fight had been to destroy the notebook, that cursed, troublesome notebook that probably wasn't any kind of decoy, or else why would touching it restore memories and make a shinigami temporarily visible? It had power, it had to.
L was genuinely surprised and confused. He could only fake things so far, Light knew that, and if L truly wanted to conceal his emotions he would just go blank.
At one point, L even rolled his head to the side, resting it on his unhurt shoulder in a curiously bird-like posture, and said, "I don't understand."
Further detailed questioning of Mido and Namikawa over a live video connection did not really resolve anything. Watari had been very thorough during his previous sessions. Light was able to tell that Namikawa suspected he had met the real L, but that was hardly of any consequence. L had for years made sure to plant plenty of fakes to stir up suspicion, and literally hundreds of people thought they had seen the real L when they had only encountered a proxy.
L at last became frustrated and turned off all the screens, refusing to view the same evidence yet one more time. He looked small and fragile crouched on his large bed, lost and alone, not himself.
L turned toward Light then and said, "You refused to let Rem kill me, and you did not attempt to flee with the source of Kira's power. Light, why did you do it? Why did you burn the notebook?"
"I don't know! My memories were erased again. I suppose it was like I said on the recording, that it was the only way to stop Kira. You said something very similar in the plane, that if we were faced with a choice between stopping Kira but destroying evidence, or risking that the Kira murders would start again, then we should take the smaller victory. I must have known enough about the situation at that time to decide burning the notebook was the only option. Maybe the notebook makes people go insane. Maybe it would have been too dangerous to keep it. Maybe Kira had a fool-proof plan to snatch it back from us if I didn't destroy it immediately."
"That is not exactly what I meant," L said, "I was looking for a deduction. When you are able to relax and consider the situation subjectively, you are able to make stunning deductions about yourself, about your possible role in Kira's schemes."
This is it again, then. I owe him. I'll do my best.
Light said, "Based on which assumptions?"
"First of all," L said, "I know that Rem must have offered to kill me. Otherwise, if that were not true and you had tried to imply such an offer using the human-only side of the dialogue that was being recorded, I would have contradicted you. So, we can take it as a fact that Rem offered to kill me, and you ordered her not to. It could have been a pre-planned, staged performance, but in any case those things were actually said."
I saved him. He doesn't need to be quite so harsh about his doubts, does he?
Light replied, "What else?"
L said, "Also, you were not destroying evidence, because you left people alive who knew that the notebook had existed. Burning it would not erase Watari's audio recording or the memories of Mido and Namikawa. Let us assume that the entire incident was a scripted attempt to establish your innocence. You save me from a shinigami and you prove yourself willing to make a painful personal sacrifice in order to destroy Kira's power. Could such a person possibly be Kira?"
Not at first glance, no. But things still don't add up.
L continued, "However, if you truly think about everything, then this incident does not make sense as a performance. It does not actually absolve you of anything. In fact, it makes you appear to be more involved than you initially claimed to be when you first said you had been Kira's victim, someone merely manipulated by threats. From your perspective, you would have been far better off if you had simply allowed yourself to remain in the same situation as before. You did not prove your innocence, and you revealed potentially damaging new clues. I know you are more intelligent than to try such a trick. You know how I think. So, I am asking you to deduce what the true purpose of this stunt was."
"Based on the assumption that I am Kira or the assumption that I'm not Kira?"
"Both ways, please. This is... complex, and you have not slept in twenty-two hours, so I expect you may need to sleep on it and think on it for some time. Take as long as you require."
I'm not Kira, but if I don't hold myself back from examining that assumption, if I fully analyze it from every angle, then I might be able to prove that I'm not.
L is right. This will probably take a few days.
Light tried to restore himself with sleep, but he could feel his mind continuing to work on the problem, exhausting him even in his dreams. He was chasing Kira through burned-out rubble and collapsing hallways, along the course of the chase falling into deep pits and barely clawing his way out.
Kira was hard to get a good look at; he was a slithering dimly-lit form in a nice suit who always had his face turned away and was generally in the process of disappearing around a corner. A few times, Light almost thought it was Namikawa, thought he glimpsed long hair in that style but it was so dark, so dark, and the glimpses were far too brief to make judgments.
When Light was awake it wasn't much better. Working on the problem was infuriating. He felt stripped bare, over-exposed, with L's pale face and dark eyes often looming in his peripheral vision, patiently waiting. His thoughts were being tied in knots, with dozens of what ifs competing with each other and attempting to link up in patterns, but the patterns were like wild scribbles a child would make on paper, circling and circling and hopelessly tangled.
Light knew he was becoming irritable. He tried not to be, but he couldn't help snapping at the staff whenever they came near. He hated being told that it would be six weeks until it would be a good idea to use his hands. It was humiliating and demeaning to be spoon-fed and sponge-bathed by others, and to have complete strangers telling him when to take naps. Naps! As if he were a small child.
He had a little more patience with Watari, and he didn't say anything nasty to L. L didn't look as if he deserved to be yelled at, or as if he deserved anything bad. L was even refusing pain medication, to keep his mind clear, and every bit of that pain showed on his face. It was a haunting, strained face, only slightly darker than the stark white of his bandaged hands.
At last Light decided that it was difficult to think while spending most of his time in a bed, in a flimsy hospital gown with only a few ties keeping it from gaping wide open in the back. He needed to be in a more comfortable situation to really think well. That had to be it.
The medical staff disapproved of him dressing himself so soon, and they made him wear short sleeves to leave the bandages clear of obstructions, but once Light had set his mind on it he was able to force them to give in and show him how.
Under their guidance, Light learned how to dress in normal clothing without using his hands or jostling any of the burns. There were "dressing aids" that the medical workers supplied and demonstrated for him. These were stick-shaped things that he could clasp between his forearms at one end and then use hooks or clamps at the other end to pull clothing into place, to fasten buttons and close zippers. It was an incredible amount of work to dress himself, and left him sweating and weak, but it made him feel more capable, more like himself.
Getting out of bed and into another room onto a nice, soft couch helped even more. The feeling of being in a waking nightmare reduced though it didn't go away, and Light was able to actually feel as if his deductions were... well... making some progress. His mind felt more settled, at least. It was nice to be wearing real clothing. His arms became sore from holding his hands up, but very soon a nurse came and arranged some more of those slip-strap harnesses, attached to points in the ceiling, putting all the weight of his arms onto his elbows and lower forearms, cradled gently.
Like most of the rooms L had designed, this room looked like part of a nice hotel suite, with beautiful furniture arranged around the outer walls, windows with thick, luxurious curtains, small tables with ornate lamps, and plenty of over-stuffed couches and chairs arranged in the middle. Light's mind went back to the many, many similar places he'd been in with L. He wanted to hold a pencil or a pen in his hand, not to doodle or write, but just to think better, to spin it between his fingers and allow his mind to roam.
Light was startled by a touch on his knee. L had somehow managed to approach silently, and was kneeling on the floor in front of Light, resting his chin on Light and staring upward, unblinking. His hands were held up in the air, and he looked thin and small. The bumps of his backbone stood out starkly between the gaps where his hospital gown didn't quite close.
In a tone that was almost a sigh, Light said, "L."
L didn't answer, but he turned his face back and forth, snuggling against the fabric covering Light's thighs. His breath was remarkably warm, coming out in soft puffs that oozed right through the material. Light wanted to run his fingers through L's hair.
Light said, "What were you thinking, when you could remember?"
"Huh?"
"Right at the end of your time in the pit, from then until the notebook was burned, what were you thinking?"
In a sleepy voice, L said, "I remember being almost certain that you were Kira. After that, I was convinced that you were going to flee, to attempt to disappear forever. I was confused when it seemed that you were not going to run away, but I suspected it of being a ploy, that you were merely pretending and would bolt for freedom at the first opportunity. I was also thinking that you were lying to myself, Mido and Namikawa. Beyond that much, I do not remember my thoughts from that time."
Light said, "You were angry."
L said, "You would be angry too, if you seriously thought I had been Kira all along, wouldn't you? If it turned out that I had been a lying murderer in secret, tricking everyone and putting them through torments, judging criminals but refusing to be judged myself even though I was the worst of them all. How would you feel?"
"It would be awful. I'd hate you. I don't know if I'd ever forgive you."
L said, "What do you think about retribution, Light?"
He doesn't usually talk this way. He talks about justice, not about the finer details of it.
"Well, we don't have to deal with it. Once we hand criminals over to the authorities, they decide the punishment according to the laws in their own country and according to whatever consequences judges and juries think is appropriate."
L pressed his face forward, sliding it further into Light's lap, his elbows sitting on either side of Light's thighs.
L said, "Retribution and deterrence, the two major reasons for the punishment of criminals. Deterrence stops others from committing similar crimes, or stops the same criminal from breaking the law again after they've been released. Retribution is simply the idea that people who do bad things should have bad things happen to them in return, even if the punishment has no influence on future events."
Light said, "Kira must have had deterrence in mind, and probably retribution as well. But Kira could only reduce the crime rate by seventy percent at best, and that was with the numbers skewed. Every time Kira took a break for even a day, the crime rate skyrocketed. The logical conclusion is that Kira didn't stop crimes of passion at all, and for pre-planned crimes he only caused most of the criminals to wait or to perform their crimes with more stealth."
L muttered, "You have been studying Kira's failures. I thought so."
"Plus, unexplained disappearances during that time more than doubled, and there were fewer arrests even for minor crimes, and more cops getting killed in the line of duty. Regular murderers were simply trying harder to dispose of all evidence and witnesses, and because criminals no longer had anything to lose, they were so desperate that the cops were either afraid to arrest them in the first place, or were being intimidated or bribed during arrests, so that it merely seemed as if crime had gone down so much. That seventy-percent reduction did not tell the full story. If Kira's reign had continued, the media and police forces would have become overwhelmed by bribes and threats; perhaps they would have been taken over entirely by hidden masterminds of organized crime."
Light wanted to see L's face, but it was nestled too deeply in his lap, turned to one side but with Light's left thigh and L's hair hiding his expression.
L said, "Then, do you admit that Kira's plan is wrong and that it is also a complete failure?"
Something pulled at Light's gut to say it, but he said, "Yes, Kira's plan is a failure. It might work for a while, but it wouldn't really work over the long term. Anyone who killed that many people would go insane. And I don't think it worked very well over the short term, either. Studies show that punishment as deterrence works best in moderation. If there's no punishment or only a minor one for a crime, that crime will become common. If there's a very severe punishment, it only deters criminals slightly more than a normal punishment, because most criminals are convinced they won't be caught. Even the punishment of criminals can't escape the rule of diminishing returns. If it could, then every intelligent nation on earth would have long ago instituted the death penalty for all major crimes."
Light had a bitter taste in his mouth, his tongue curling from sourness. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere other than where he was, doing anything other than talking about that subject.
I'm not Kira, so it doesn't matter. This is just speculation, and it will help the case.
L's partly-muffled voice came from Light's lap, saying, "I am sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but we need to thoroughly understand Kira's thinking. We need to know what Kira might do in the future. Listen to my next point and try to make a deduction based on it. I did not anticipate that Kira's killings would stop for so long. Ever since they stopped, I have been expecting them to resume at any time, but my predictions have continued to be wrong again and again. What could cause this?"
"There are only two possibilities. Either Kira has retired forever, or Kira is merely laying low for now and will resume murdering later when conditions have improved."
"And why might Kira stop the killings for this long if he intends to continue?"
He is leading me to this conclusion too tediously. I'm not so fragile that he needs to approach everything in small steps.
Light replied, "If it is Kira's plan to continue, then in that case Kira would only temporarily halt the killings if he were under too much suspicion to continue without getting caught. The only people who meet that requirement are myself and Misa."
"And Misa is obviously the second Kira, not the original."
"Are you just bringing things back to an accusation of me? I already know this, there's no need to repeat it."
Light tried to sound unaffected, but he could feel his voice trying to develop a slight shake. Kira's murders, all those people who had died. Kira was the worst mass-murderer in history, and he'd killed cops too, not just criminals. Any possible association with Kira, let alone actually being him, just felt worse and worse the longer Light contemplated it. It was like drowning in blood.
L said, "I believe that you are not Kira now. You do not have the acting talent to fake everything I've seen these past few days. If you were Kira before, you remember nothing of it, so whatever plans you might have formed while you had your memories are now unknown to you, perhaps waiting for a future event to bring your memories back again. Even so, I think we must assume that if Kira's plan were to start the murders again, then that Kira would have to be you. No other person who could be Kira would have a reason to wait so long and then restart."
He almost never speaks this openly. What is he up to?
L's head was a warm, heavy weight on Light's thighs. He radiated a calmness in his posture, in the way his bandaged fingers curled loosely, and in the shape of his shoulders, slumped, relaxed.
I need to prove to him that I'm not dangerous. I know I wouldn't hurt him, but he doesn't. He deserves to know that much, at the very least.
Light said, "I'm sure you've already thought that far. If we assume I was Kira in the past and had set it up so I would start murdering again in the future, it makes no sense for me to wait this long."
"I agree. You're far too impatient. Yes, you would have fled by now. You should have run and then operated as Kira from hiding, using all your talents to be sure you'd never be found. The question is: why are you still here, Light? Suspicion is justifiably high. New evidence has been pouring in, and perhaps a good case can be made against you from it. You are in considerable danger. Even one new clue, or two existing clues fitted together in just the right way, could be enough to doom you. Why don't you run?"
No, he isn't calm. He's resigned. Resigned to whatever the outcome will be.
Light wanted to say, "I don't run because I'm not Kira," but instead he said, "If the only Kira who might resume the murders is me, and if I would have run by now if had I planned it that way, then I think we can say Kira's murders are over. They won't ever restart. We can be almost completely sure of that."
L said, "Should I let my guard down? Should I appear in public?"
Without thinking, Light said, "No!"
Then, in a calmer voice, Light said, "We still don't understand everything. It's best to be careful. Besides, you've always been paranoid. There's no reason to stop now. Other enemies might take advantage of any weaknesses in security."
L said, "Now, let's apply ourselves to the other possibility. Regardless of the identity of the original Kira, that person may have decided to quit. If Kira truly has retired, if Kira does not intend to start killing people again at some point in the future, then the only purpose of punishing Kira is retribution. Even if we catch Kira, the world will never know his fate, so his punishment would not be a deterrent to anyone else who might gain the same powers in the future. Purely retribution-based punishment is morally questionable. It is not useful to society, and it is very similar to revenge."
"Are you suggesting that if we do catch Kira, he shouldn't be punished?"
"It is something to think about, to consider as a possibility."
Light said, "We didn't forgive the Beaufort Strangler just because he'd stopped killing young girls and wrote a letter of apology to the police. And he only killed fifteen people. Kira is far worse. It would be wrong to just let Kira go free after everything that has happened."
L said, "Speaking hypothetically, would you still be in favor of punishing Kira if it were proven that you were Kira?"
"Of course," Light spit out, "justice should be equal. If I excused myself on grounds of personal feelings, then it wouldn't be fair to the family members and friends of criminals who are forced to watch and wait, unable to avert the punishment to their loved ones. Justice has to be consistent."
Light's hands ached and throbbed. He glanced at the clock. It was still more than an hour until they would let him take more medication.
"Listen to me, Light. Your personality changes are a clue. Whatever you may have been in the past, I believe you do not currently approve of Kira. When you regain your memories, you scream, but I do not. This suggests you remember something that makes you extremely upset, such as murdering thousands of people."
Light could feel his heart beating faster, and only L's warm weight on his lap kept him from getting up and leaving the room.
Light said, "We don't know the threats Kira used to force my cooperation. Perhaps it is too painful to think of it. He could have threatened to have my entire family tortured and killed in disgusting ways. He could have threatened to make sure my sister and mother get raped. Nothing would be too extreme for Kira."
L replied, "Under international law, it is illegal to execute anyone for crimes committed when younger than eighteen, or to execute anyone who is insane."
"Yeah, well, you know as well as I do that plenty of individual countries ignore those laws. I'm sure that Kira would be an exception. Because of the attitude Interpol has already shown, I expect Kira would either be immediately executed or spirited away to some top-secret facility to be tortured for everything he knows, in an attempt to learn how to acquire his powers."
L said, "That is my evaluation also. It may be entirely unethical for me to deliver Kira to the authorities. It would be best for me to retain custody in a secret location during the trial. Kira would probably prefer death to a lifetime of torture, and if the execution order were given, there are agents employed under myself who are authorized to carry out field executions."
Light could imagine what it might be like, being convicted as Kira and then handed over to powerful government agencies who wanted to know how to kill people from a distance with only a name and a face. They might not believe that the power had been in a magic notebook and that the notebook had already been burnt to ashes. They would have no incentive to give up. The cost of keeping one prisoner alive was miniscule compared to the potential gain. They could bring such a prisoner to the edge of death again and again, torturing him, brainwashing him, conditioning him. No tool would be left unused.
Light shivered and said, "Are you asking me if, if I did turn out to be Kira, if I would prefer you to have me killed instead?"
"No, I am thinking something different. Please evaluate what I am about to tell you. If we take the assumption that you were the original Kira, then your killings lasted almost exactly six months, starting on November twenty-eighth with the presumed first kill, and ending on the first day of June when you handed yourself over for voluntary confinement."
Light said, "I know where you are going with this. During the first three months I was seventeen, and the last three I was eighteen."
"Yes. You probably did not commit any other murders outside that time period, with only one possible exception: Higuchi. However, there is no evidence for that and perhaps the shinigami killed him instead. If you had used the notebook while sitting next to me in the helicopter, I would have noticed, or Watari would have, or the cameras would have caught it. My memories were not erased until days later, so if I had evidence of you killing Higuchi I am sure I would have acted."
Light sighed and said, "You're going to say that for three months of the original Kira's killing spree I was underage, and that by the date of my eighteenth birthday, if I were Kira I would have been insane, so the rest of the killings didn't count either. A lot of lawyers try to use the argument that any crimes that are extreme enough must result in a diagnosis of insanity."
"You make it hard to help you, Light. If you were Kira, then you are in very deep denial."
"You would be the same, L. If there were any reasonable chance that you could be the true Kira, would you just sit there helplessly and make no effort to defend yourself? No, you would be repulsed by the very idea. You would never submit quietly."
L said, "Beyond deterrence and retribution, there is also a third theory: rehabilitation. It is not exactly a punishment, and could even be seen as a reward, but criminal justice systems that lack a rehabilitation component don't function very efficiently. A heavy emphasis on rehabilitation instead of punishment is best suited to juveniles, the mentally ill, and those with drug or alcohol problems."
Is he finding it so hard to talk to me that he has to discuss all this as if I were a child? Telling me about these basic theories in such tedious detail?
Light said, "So, you're saying that crazy, underage Kira didn't know what he was doing, he just needs to see a psychiatrist or take anger management classes instead of facing the justice system like everyone else?"
"No, because you are sane now. Your other self is the insane part of you, and I am not sure it would respond to treatment while it is dormant."
Light tensed his legs, prepared to raise them and push L away, but just then L rolled his shoulders to the side and looked up. Something strange glittering in his eyes stopped Light from acting.
L said, "Light, if you were convicted as Kira, there are also consequences for others. Rem has promised to kill me if I arrest the true Kira, and I expect your father would probably commit suicide. Why should three people die for the sake of retribution alone?"
He's pushing this too hard. He's already promised to find a way to hide any conviction of myself from my father and I know L wouldn't break that promise. Also, I expect he thinks Rem's threat is a bluff, considering that Rem has killed nobody so far, and that if it isn't a bluff then Rem will likely give him a chance to negotiate at the last moment, since Rem apparently has no other way of protecting Kira.
Light said, "L, I know what you're thinking. This is another test, to see if I'll make a deal for rehabilitation and a minor punishment in return for not holding back at all, for using the full extent of my intelligence to dig hard for every possible clue that might make me look like Kira."
L said nothing.
Light said, "It doesn't matter either way. Even if you do truly intend to protect me from punishment if I would ever be pinned as Kira, you would still need the cooperation of N and Watari, and perhaps other people as well. I doubt any of them will see this reasoning as you've described it."
L did not reply, but reached forward with his mouth, taking the button of Light's trousers between his lips and deftly undoing it with tongue and teeth. He followed with the zipper and then tugged at the underwear fabric, pulling it out of the way. L breathed wetly on Light's soft, curled-up penis and then gave it a few long, slow licks.
Light said, "What?"
L looked up with an expression of bewildered innocence, an expression so perfect it had to be contrived. He said, "Are you too tired? I will stop if you wish."
"I'm sure my percentage went up considerably. How can you do this?"
"Because I am childish and selfish. I want sex in the same way that I want candy. Will you indulge me, Light? Both of us need to do something to release our stress. It is to our mutual benefit."
He's trying to make me stop thinking about all of this, is that it?
L gave another lick and Light shivered under it. Light closed his eyes, leaned his head back until it was resting on the back of the couch, and said, "Yes."
That was all L needed to take the entire thing into his mouth, and then he was manipulating it skillfully, coaxing it to further hardness, bringing heat to every place his mouth latched on, incredibly wet and messy.
A blow job that sloppy and moist could only have one purpose.
As soon as Light had that thought, L was moving forward further, sinuous and slinky, his mouth opening each button of Light's shirt starting with the bottom and moving up. L crawled forward and situated his body carefully, suddenly awkward and slow as he maneuvered between Light's outstretched slings for each arm, barely avoiding jostling all their bandaged parts, moving his own arms into that space elbows-first.
L was using his teeth to pull up the front of his hospital gown as far as he could, out of the way.
Then they were belly-to-belly and L placed his head to the side of Light's face, the unbitten sides of their necks against each other, the exact opposite placement as when they had bitten each other. L's arms were stretched out, resting lightly on each of Light's shoulders, his hands dangling somewhere unseen, out of the way behind Light's head.
L said, "Light, I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No, just be careful."
Any movement other than vertical would possibly jostle Light's injuries. His hands ached more strongly, two points of pain pressing in on his awareness even as the pleasure and anticipation gathered in his groin. It wasn't time for more medicine yet, but it wasn't too far off.
L leveraged his body downward, trying several times to capture Light's slippery erection before he achieved penetration, then deliciously sliding downward on Light's shaft, his knees pressing into Light's armpits as he descended. L's skinny body fit next to his own perfectly, slipping so close, into all the small spaces.
L hissed wetly next to Light's ear, his belly muscles shivering and tensing against Light's bare stomach as he adjusted to the intrusion inside him. When he began sliding up and down he still wasn't quite ready, an exquisite tightness that tensed uncertainly in pulses around Light, almost making him lose it too soon. Light breathed carefully, resisting the pleasure that wanted to surge through him and into L.
Very soon, Light was breathing fast, all the tension needing to be released. It felt so good inside L, so very right and warm and comforting, washing away all his thoughts in the closeness and the shared heat of their bodies. There was a feeling of being connected everywhere and not just at their groins, L tucked neatly into every contour of Light's body.
That was when L, without changing his rhythm at all, whispered directly in Light's ear, "They have no way of hearing this. I will help you escape and hide if you ask. I will not follow you or try to find you. You would be safe."
This is a trick, isn't it? To see if I would run, or to let me run but secretly observe me to see what I would do on my own? Could L be serious?
Light didn't say anything in return, and L speeded up slightly. Light strained upward, almost unconsciously. He was exhausted, but L's relentless motions spurred him on, made him almost lose himself in the experience. The entire act was a balance between pain and pleasure, the good feelings almost drowning out the bad, but he was constantly aware of the two points of pain, never completely shutting them out.
L was insatiable, his movements and his cries full of desperation and need. He rubbed his chin against Light's shoulder, his cheek against Light's jaw. The side of L's face was damp.
Is he sweating this much from the exertion, or is he crying?
With a sudden forceful, downward slide by L, it was suddenly too much. Light was coming with a strangled moan, experiencing such a sense of relief, emptying and emptying, almost too sensitive as pulses ran through his cock, twitching where it was buried deep, deep inside L's hot body.
There was no way to reach between their bellies and help L find his own release.
Light finished, panting hard, his limbs feeling jelly-like from exhaustion. He needed to sleep. He needed his medication.
Light said, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."
"That's okay."
L didn't move; he didn't withdraw. Was L planning to wait the necessary minutes until it would be possible to continue?
Light said, "Maybe if we switch positions, I could give you oral sex."
But as soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake. Even his voice was tired. He could never do so much work and hold his hands up the entire time. Exhaustion pressed down on him like a heavy weight.
L said, "I don't think you could. No, let's go to your bed. I have an idea."
L got up then, leaving a feeling of lack behind, of something missing. L helped Light by undoing the buckles with his teeth, to release Light from the slings that held his arms, and then also used his teeth to removed Light's half-pulled-down trousers and underwear, so he could walk without stumbling. L scouted ahead for the next room, poking his head around the corner of a doorway and verbally shooing away the medical workers.
Then L set up Light in his own bed the same way, with the slings suspended from the ceiling and cradling the entire weight of Light's arms, keeping his hands up out of the way without any need to use his muscles or to exert himself in the slightest.
L said, "I have nothing to prepare you with, except my toes. I think you are too tired to endure it. We can avoid these problems with interfemoral sex. Try to hold your legs together tightly. If you're not strong enough, relax and I'll use my knees to help keep your legs in position."
L climbed on top as soon as Light was situated, a tube of surgical lubrication he'd found somewhere held between his teeth. He squeezed half of it out into a cold puddle right between Light's upper thighs, gradually oozing downward. Then L tossed it aside and was moving forward, straddling Light, crawling on elbows and knees. L rested his head on Light's chest, his hair tickling Light's chin. He was gradually hardening against Light's thighs, right in that cold puddle.
Light was tired, so very tired, and his hands were starting to feel almost as if they were on fire again. It wasn't quite time yet, or he would have shooed L away and starting screaming for his medicine.
L was snuggling, at first innocent but quickly becoming aggressive, L nipping at Light's chest between heavy, ragged breaths, and L's erection pressed hard, beginning to slip into the tight crevice between Light's thighs, and then it was suddenly vigorous rutting, L pounding into that place as if he had an insane need.
Light had no energy to press his legs tightly together, but L took over that job, using his knees to lock Light's legs in the right position. The constant rubbing wasn't erotic; it was not close enough to Light's erogenous zones to give him stimulation, except for the occasional slight brushes of L's stomach against Light's penis.
Light kept looking at the clock. His hands were burning. He wanted to call a nurse, but not yet, not yet. He felt almost as if he were drifting away, so tired he could barely pay attention to L's actions. L was taking a long time. Was he in too much pain to have an orgasm? If he was, it was his own fault for refusing to take anything to alleviate that pain.
Then, finally, Light felt the rush of warm stickiness between his thighs. He pitied the next person who would have to sponge-bathe him, but he was too exhausted to feel much embarrassment, too focused on his hands. The clock told him it was still six and a half minutes until they would let him have medication, so he let L rest where he was until that time came, and then told him to leave.
L pulled the blankets up around Light and left the room. The moment he was gone, a nurse came in and administered Light his next dose. As soon as Light started feeling the effects, L was back, curling up on top of the blankets next to Light's side, snuggling with his head, his elbows, and his knees all at once, awkwardly.
When L tried to lick his armpit Light flinched back and laughed.
In a completely serious voice, sounding as if he thought he had a real chance, L said, "How long until we can fuck again?"
Light said, "No! No. I'm sorry, it's been fun, but I'm too sore and sleepy. I probably won't even be awake much longer."
L didn't say anything, but merely made a breathy, trembling moan.
Light closed his eyes and said, "That's not going to work. If you're still horny, you'll have to take care of it by yourself."
L made a disappointed-sounding whine, and then Light felt the warmth and pressure of L's body withdrawing from him.
I'm sure L can get Watari to send over one of the hands-free toys. Or, if not, then L can fill a sock with lotion and put it between two pillows.
Light tried to sleep, he honestly did, he put real effort into the process as sleep continued to elude him. He thought someone as utterly tired as he was couldn't have a problem sleeping, but his body paid no attention to his logic and continued to thwart his wishes.
He got close to sleep sometimes, but a kind of strangling panic tried to overwhelm him every time he thought he might succeed.
At last he had a nurse help him get out of the arm-slings but then waved the nurse away, stumbling to the nearest bathroom by himself. L was back in his own bed by that point, but he didn't say anything or try to follow.
Light used a foot to close the door, though he doubted he had any real privacy. He turned on the sink's faucet with an elbow and pressed his face into the stream, reveling in the cold shock, panting, feeling as if everything except his face was too hot and stuffy. He gasped and gulped, but couldn't get enough air, though his mouth was outside the stream of water and in theory there shouldn't be any problem. Then he pulled back, rested his elbows against the counter on either side of the sink, and leaned forward to stare into his own eyes in the mirror, searching their depths.
Who is Kira?
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Fever Dreams