Redeemer

Linda gaped.

“We’re really getting off on the wrong foot, you know,” Light continued, sliding over the tray of cream and sugar. “But that’s my fault, and I apologize for pushing your buttons—force of habit where intelligent, potential adversaries are involved.”

And oh God, he was flirting…and he made a damn good cup of tea.

Kira had her at a disadvantage yet again, but Linda supposed it was not so bad this time. She had taken the tea gracefully, not wishing to appear even more bothered than she was by his sudden flip-flop, which she was convinced somewhere in the back of her mind was just another method of attack. But goddamn, did he make it easy to want to believe that charm. Not to mention, the tea was truly that good. Damnit.

Against her better judgment, Linda did not answer him at first—what she should have done was tell him to bugger off proper—instead she opted for silence and then after a moment's hesitation, slid onto a seat across from him. The tea was in her hands, warm and surprisingly comforting. Damn him.

"I wasn't expecting you to make things easy for me," she muttered behind the rim of her cup. But what she also hadn't been expecting was this overwhelming presence—this overbearing sense of superiority; the razorblade smiles and cutting charm; the overt sexuality that had never shown through in any of the footage she'd been given to watch. As L had mentioned—Light had known he was being monitored and thus had usually been on his best behavior and regardless of how many warnings Matt and Mello gave her, it just had not been enough to fully prepare her for this.

How did the bastard even do it? How did he yield such magnetism that even when she sat there, making a damn good point not to look into those eyes of molten amber, she could still feel them on her, piercing through her, all weighted connotations in place.

"Can I ask you something?" she murmured thoughtfully after several moments, lifting those clear blue eyes to him with something akin to the courage she had mustered the previous night.

"Other than the obvious discord you're quite aware you're causing, what is it you're hoping to accomplish with all of this?" she sounded honestly curious, because while she had earned herself an objective explanation out of L, she would not get any further insight there. And Mello was not likely to give her the answers she sought either, so adamant was he about her staying out of his head. Truth be told, the more Mello distanced himself, the deeper Linda wanted to dig. Regardless of having grown up together, Mello had become something altogether different from the ballsy, trouble maker she had once known. And now this - what? - relationship he had with Kira... oh what she wouldn't do to dissect his brain on the matter. But seeing as that was unattainable, and she had Light himself before her now, she tested the waters.

Light’s smile was the sort of pleasant most women would kill to see sitting across from them. He truly had the complete package; it was easy now to understand how Amane had fooled herself for so many years over him. “Insofar as?” He said, sipping his own tea. There was a beat of hesitation on Linda’s behalf and Light lowered his gaze for a moment, long dark lashes brushing still-pale cheeks. He looked too insightful and reflective for it to be anything other than a trick to gain her faith in the notion that he was deeper than he appeared. She fell for it anyway—which was a bad thing because she already knew his every manner was strategy.

“Are you referring to Kira? Or are you referring to last night with Mello?”

She was referring to last night with Mello, that was where her mind was—on the hurt in Matt’s eyes and the way he was willing to let that pain slide in the interest of the case. And of course just before—with L and his…God, she’d dissect L later because the detective made it even harder to fathom than Light did—what was on purpose? (Did L know her eyes kept lingering on him?) What wasn’t on purpose? (Was he aware how goddamn insulting he was all the time?) What was the truth of the matter really? (Was he lying when he said it was not an issue of shallow matters of the heart? When he himself had been so destroyed over the thought of Light’s death merely a day earlier?) No, L was a different study. Just like Mello was a different study, shit, just like Matt was a different study. At least of the 4, Matt seemed the most genuine; he wasn’t maintaining a constant variety of facades—he was just silent when silence was called for. So too, sometimes, was Mello, he was contained, he wasn’t running around pretending, he was just keeping things guarded as he saw fit. L and Light however transcended that particular level—it seemed they very much were among the high echelons of the world’s greatest liars and fakes…they were almost made for each other then, weren’t they? Yin and yang.

“What if I said both?” Linda replied at last. Seemed her approach with Kira was not to answer too quickly—she had to plot out the words and see if he could glean what she meant.

Of course Light’s immediate smile alluded to the fact that he knew she was referring to the night before, but he played along. “I’m sure my motives for becoming Kira are well documented, and have already been dissected a million times over by L in his case files.” He sipped his tea again, and despite the fact it was unnerving how calmly he could discuss the art of mass murder, his elegant and serene manner just then put Linda at ease. “As for last night,” he said, and then a pause, and the corners of his mouth hitched slyly, “What I wanted to accomplish, was very much accomplished.”

Devil. He meant the sex.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Linda grit sternly.

Light honed in on that one fast. “Sex makes you uncomfortable.”

Bastard. Her face flushed despite it. “You make me uncomfortable.”

Light raised his eyebrow with a glimmer of delight. “In a good way I hope,” and he purred those words with far too much innuendo.

Linda pulled herself together before it all just fell apart at that moment. “Are you capable of a conversation without playing games?”

Kira laughed. “Linda, sweetheart, haven’t you figured out that it’s all a game?”

Oh no, she was very much aware of the fact, which did not mean that she was going to play along. Damn him to hell, she wasn't going to be another victim in his too-intricate web. She would hold her own - somehow she would do it. But she felt the need to squirm beneath the onslaught of that too flirtatious intense gaze nonetheless. She could see how he swept women off their feet to the point that they bowed to his every will.

Not me! Linda had insisted, but the traitorous demons were in her head, wanting to fold to that alluring smile, to those soft words, to the complicated game she could get lost in and enjoy doing. God! He was dangerous. Too dangerous. More dangerous than anything she could have possibly imagined.

"Then let us pretend," she said, setting the mug down though keeping her fingers still laced around it, needing something to hold onto in order to keep herself grounded. Focused. "Let us pretend for two minutes that we're not playing your game."

Light’s grin split wide. “Okay, let’s pretend that it’s not a game—clever, you’re catching on.” A game for a game, Linda was almost proud of herself, and just as she was about to settle in and force her mind to match wits with Kira, Light stood up.

“I’m hungry,” he said, “Do you mind if I make something?”

So goddamn polite it was distracting—in fact, the whole thing was distracting, and Linda realized it was more of the same—strategy. He’d just thrown her a curve by getting up, and now as he busied himself with a rather domestic task—the kitchen was big enough that Light had to move about the room, from fridge to counter, to sink and back, that Linda now didn’t have the advantage of him across from her, eye to eye. He’d slipped her noose—or attempt at one—and brought the game back to his own field.

Linda grit her jaw and got up from the table seat to sit instead at the counter bar, watching him, waiting for his answer, which was now no longer going to be an answer, but a discussion. She of course couldn’t help but realize that Light…was very comfortable in the kitchen, he handled food with experience… goddamnit he could cook, couldn’t he.

Linda felt defeated the moment he asked “Do you like your pancakes with or without strawberries?”

But to play with Kira, she had to match him right? Fall into step? She’d read that observation somewhere in L’s files. So she said, “With, please,” and Light smiled seeing she understood the rules.

“I’m afraid, even in pretending that there’s no game being played,” he said, and his tone was intellectual, as though they were a pair of professional peers having a debate, “The answer remains abysmally simple.”

“And that is?” Linda muttered, the baker in her watching the way he deftly sliced the fruit to throw into a batter he’d already fancied up with ingredients she wished she’d thought of while making pancakes—like cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg, and vanilla extract…oh goddamnit.

“I like, Mello,” Light said with a determined amount of certainty, and he emphasized the ‘like.’ “I’m fascinated, truthfully. Whereas with L, I always knew he was of the highest caliber as an adversary—Mello I underestimated from the outset, so he’s been consistently surprising ever since the warehouse—ever since Takada—no, I'm lying actually—he surprised me from the start. So ever since LA, and yet I still continued to underestimate him,” Light smirked, “Not that L isn’t surprising—but I expect L's surprises to completely throw me at every turn, I never saw that coming with Mello. He’s come a long way in a short time.”

“You’re right, that is too simple,” Linda said, it was all she could think to say as she watched him—he grilled the pancakes with butter, and the aroma filled the room and wafted into the hall.

“There’s a mutual attraction and a sense of the ultimate danger,” Light continued, flipping the pancake so the batter ringed a crisp golden edge around the crust. “There’s no misconceptions between us—if push comes to shove, Mello won’t hesitate to put a bullet in my brain and I won’t hesitate to write his name in the notebook. It’s like playing with fire I suppose—because in addition to that, there are ways in which,” he paused, “We are very much alike. Ways different from how L and I are alike. If L ever came into possession of the notebook—the way I did—there is no doubt in my mind he would destroy it. L has never once been tempted; he’s immune—and I’ve known him long enough and close enough to see that. Mello…well, Mello can look at me and somewhere in the back of his head think: ‘there but for the grace of God, go I.’”

Light turned to her to let his point sink in. “It’s a notion that scares him and excites him at the same time. It’s a connection of dark sides—and I’m going to assume you really don’t know much about Mello outside of his youth, but he has a very very dark side. L has turned a blind eye to it for the time being, and for argument’s sake, so has Kira; but let’s just say Mello has carved himself quite a nice niche in some of the highest families.”

Again Light paused, making sure she got the implications. “That’s the sort of darkness someone like yourself, or Matt, can not at all relate to—perhaps you can understand or forgive, but you can’t comprehend, and you definitely have never seen it with your own eyes. But what Mello’s done, he’s done for a greater good, he’s potentially sacrificed his soul—if his God forsakes him in the end—to answer a higher calling of justice…sound familiar?”

Kira purred that last part as he garnished her plate of pancakes with butter and drizzled maple syrup and a quaintly sliced strawberry on top. “I didn’t ask about ice cream, cool whip and chocolate syrup because I figure you’re not L,” he said smiling, sliding the plate in front of her, fork and all, and oh God it smelled and looked so good.

“Thank you,” Linda muttered, watching Light fix a different stack of pancakes as he previously mentioned—heaps of ice cream, and all other manners of sweetness with a veritable mountain of strawberries on top.

“You make it sound like you’re soul mates,” Linda managed, even as she tried her best to look normal, slicing into her breakfast. That first mouthful was nothing short of divine…and she could not hide her appreciation. Another point for Kira.

“Not soul mates,” Light laughed, successfully managing to make a rather heavy conversation sound relatively weightless. “I’m just admitting to the fact that Mello and I share a common chemistry that has made dealing with each other extraordinarily interesting. And that’s leaving out the sex bit.”

He finished with L’s pancakes and slid them to the side. “He’ll be down in a minute,” Light said, winking at her, “I know his nose.”

L was indeed down in a minute—another point for Kira—about the time Light had finished preparing his own plate and had just settled down to accompany Linda. The detective was of course dressed and looking his normal self. He took the plate he knew was his (it couldn’t be anyone else’s considering the pancakes weren’t even visible beneath all the other gooey confections) thanked Light, and then left as quickly as he’d come. And here Linda had half hoped he’d join them…or at least referee—but then again, that hadn’t gone so well at dinner…

Linda was quiet a while even after L departed, leaving them quite alone to their... discussion. She was letting Kira’s words set in, the multi-faceted explanations with all their insinuations slowly falling into place somewhere in the back of her mind. Given what Light had just said, sure she could understand the attraction - she had also witnessed quite closely the way Mello reacted to him, both while Light was very much a statue during his two-week coma, and now. There was something present there that she could not wrap her mind around before, but supposed she just did not want to see it. Did not want to accept it, even.

"And so," she said, still partly withdrawn, pausing to fork a neat piece of pancake into her mouth. Damnit, why did they have to be this good?! "All it comes down to in the end is that, regardless of consequences, whatever Kira wants, Kira gets." She let the words hang between them a short while, then tilting her head, asked. "Isn't it...?"

Light smiled smoothly. “And that’s inherently wrong then, is it?” He purred. “To want something? To set a goal for it?—To strive then to achieve it? The difference between me and a vast percentage of the rest of mankind is that my goals are set high—but I still achieve them.”

He slid a buttery piece of pancake between those lush lips of his, and Linda tried not to watch, but he caught her looking, and the narrow smile in his gaze said so. “You tell yourself I’m inherently evil because I have killed and therefore you cannot relate to me on any human level. So the very fact that I want something automatically means my only motives are villainous in nature. That’s a cookie cutter way of thinking—even L abandoned that route as you can so plainly see. It won’t get you anywhere, because if I were inherently evil my so-called ‘death list’ would look incredibly different. How much homework have you done, Linda? Did you just read the lists and lists of names and contribute them all as Kira’s victims? Or did you take the time to look them up and see just what it was they were judged for? I don’t argue that through a particular moral lens, my actions by the very virtue that I have killed, could be considered evil—but is justice evil when it punishes the guilty? Would you want to take that argument to a mother grieving for a murdered child? A woman forever damaged by a brutal rape? A family decimated for a senseless crime? Would you want to set up your soap box and preach to them the evils of Kira, who when no one else could, was the only one to step in and provide for them the justice they so desperately sought?”

He took a moment to sip his tea, swinging his point back around. “I’m not evil, if I were, L would have given up on me long ago. And so when I sit here and tell you that yes, I want Mello’s companionship, my motives are not evil—they’re actually honest when I state that. When you connect with someone, you want their companionship—tell me you’ve never felt that way. Not only that, tell me you’ve never wanted the companionship of someone you not only connected with, but someone you admire,” he paused and leaned in ever so slightly. “I see the way you look at L.”

Linda tried not to gape, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from going anywhere but Light’s gaze. Out of mercy, he let the comment slide.

“Your problem, Linda,” he continued, getting up then to politely clear her empty plate away. “Is that I’m a ‘monster’ and everything I do is ‘monstrous’ and meant to be so because what I’m really doing—in yours eyes—is breaking Matt’s heart and quite intentionally because I don’t like him. Isn’t that it? Well it’s true, I like him as much as he likes me; but that has no bearing on what is between Mello and I, and Mello will tell you the same. It’s like with L—it has no bearing on how L and I relate to each other, and I suspect from the wilted flare of your previous anger this morning, L already told you the cold hard truth that he just does not care who’s screwing who under his roof as long as he can accomplish his own goals—be they cases or otherwise. So to answer your curt little conclusion about me—of course I get what I want; and I work for it, just like the rest of you. After all, Linda, how many children are at Wammy’s House vying for a spot in L’s employment? And look at you…here you are…perhaps that makes you evil in the eyes of those who did not have the same perseverance and talent it took for you to achieve this. But that’s human nature isn’t it?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d warrant that L and Light had rehearsed this plan of attack as far as the particular topic was concerned. Goddamnit. But she knew better and knew it was not the case, which only made her feel worse as the argument was positively the same. She lowered her gaze to her near-empty mug, watching the tea cast back her murky reflection, and frowned faintly.

Must he always make sense?

And must he always make sense in the worst way possible to leave a person questioning their prior conclusions, their ideas, their very bloody morals? Was this how he had managed to get so close to L and Mello both? Clearly Matt had not swallowed any of it, but she had to wonder if Light had ever actually tried to lure him in as well. Likely not. The redhead was different from the other two – almost too normal to the point it was all too easy to forget that it was he who held number three amongst their gifted generation. And given the lack of interest she had perceived from Matt during their time at Wammy’s, it seemed as if he was third because he had not tried to attain higher. But then again, he’d always been a bit of an enigma in that aspect.

Light, however, was an enigma in the same way he was an open book and that was what puzzled her most and what lured her in strongest. She who was not supposed to have any biased opinions on the matter. Bloody hell. Was this what it was like not to play his game? It was just an alternate way of falling into that cleverly-devised trap and by God, he knew it. He knew it well and he worked her over expertly.

“I may understand your point, but it does not mean that I share your point of view,” Linda said. But one thing was certain, she had had better luck approaching him–or rather, it was more of a case of being trapped by him–on her own. Fancy that. It was telling, but it also left her open for those attacks of the most subtle type. Those that would leave her reeling and gasping for breath wondering what the hell had just happened. At least, for now, Kira was still just playing. In that, she supposed she should consider herself lucky.

“That’s fine,” Light said matter-of-factly, washing the dishes; “I obviously don’t expect you to share my point of view—if you did, you wouldn’t be working for L, you’d be working for me.” He laughed and shot her that charming grin over his shoulder.

“L brought you here to form your own opinions, Linda,” he continued. “—that’s what you’re here to do, that’s your job. So far, I see you cowing down every time L frowns at you, or Matt throws a hissy fit. You think I’m the bully since I’m Kira, but your cohorts can just as easily bend your mind to their purposes—and don’t think they aren’t, L especially; he’s every bit as manipulative as I am, why do you think we get on so well? His advantage is that he’s your life-long hero, which automatically makes me the bad guy.” Another smile and he finished the dishes, moving back toward her casually, sounding too composed and far too level-headed to be the psycho she wanted to think he was. “All I’m saying Linda, is that you understand there is clearly no black and white here. There is no good without evil and vice versa—Matt is no saint, Mello is no angel and L is no messiah. Likewise, I am not the devil—because there is just as much devil in them as there is angel in me.”

He finished off the nicely tailored sentiment rather close to her, and she was quite trapped in his gaze at that moment; her mind a rush of anxiety at his very palpable and sexual presence—and the moment she let herself entertain what his lips might just taste like—what his kiss would be if he reached across and grabbed her by the neck and stole her breath away—was the moment Light’s eyes narrowed hard and flickered up over her shoulder—to the doorway.

“Don’t listen to him, Linda,” and that was Matt’s voice, and Linda got the distinct impression he was suddenly there to rescue her. “Every word he says is poison—that’s how he does it—he makes murder sound like Shakespeare and before you know it, you’re confusing blood for wine. L and Mello both made the mistake of listening to him, things would be a lot simpler if they hadn’t—and it’s not because you’re brilliant, Light,” the redhead continued, gaze hidden beneath his goggles, cigarette poised unlit between his lips, he was holding a coffee mug, here for a refill—but Linda knew that was just an excuse. Matt stopped behind her, suddenly a very physical sentinel there on her behalf, despite his stature compared to Kira, he gave the impression of being much bigger than he was.

“It’s because you’re just as evil as you know you are. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”

Light’s frown was absolutely terrifying at that moment—like the vampire who’d just caught sight of the holy cross, his almond eyes narrowed to slits, that amber color giving off the illusion of red. The hatred was there, and then just as quickly, it was gone—hidden, a veiled threat.

“Cute,” he said, “I’m pretty sure I heard that in a movie once.”

Matt flashed him a smile and shrugged. “It’s applicable—not all the best quotes were written hundreds of years ago.”

Light smirked. “You would think that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt replied, and his nonchalance at that moment was his best asset because it was visibly irritating Kira. “I really only have one thing to tell you,”

“And that would be?”

Matt lifted up his goggles and stared Light directly in the face. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

Light laughed. “Big brother at work, huh? What, afraid I’m after her virginity or something?”

Linda gasped and turned bright red—even that he knew?! But Matt put his hand protectively on her shoulder. “I love it when you show your true colors,” he mumbled around the cigarette, “Now get the fuck out of here before I’m tempted to beat the living shit out of you and put you right back into another coma.”

Ah. Kira was not a happy camper just then, and the danger moved in his face—it made Linda nervous, the moment stretched and taught; but she got the impression Kira wasn’t one to outwardly engage in a physical confrontation with anyone other than L—at least the files never indicated as such; Matt on the other hand…Light seemed very much aware Matt could make good on his threat. So after a moment, he smiled like a serpent and relented.

“Hmm, whatever you say,” his words were sly and loaded, but he moved passed the two of them to leave regardless.

“You should have died in that crash,” Matt muttered. “The world would be a lot better off.”

The statement made Light stop in the doorway, and he turned a bit to catch the redhead in a steady gaze. “Interesting you bring that up,” he purred. “Since the only reason I was on that country road—was because you directed me there.” But that was all Kira said before he slipped into the hall and disappeared.

Matt watched him darkly, eyes narrowing at the insinuation behind that comment. The cool nonchalance he portrayed so expertly was only half false but it remained in place a while longer after Light emptied out of the kitchen. The guy annoyed him to no end. While most of the time Matt could simply play it off and let that arrogance brush right past him, paying as little attention to Light as he did to him, there were times – such as this – that the sly bastard just got right under his skin. His new target was a particularly sore spot because while many of things that happened between Kira and Mello bothered Matt – even prior to them fucking like goddamned rabbits – the redhead would have never come to the rescue. It wasn’t his place as far as Mello was concerned. The blond could handle himself just fine. Linda, on the other hand, had no idea the type of mess she had been summoned into. She had no preconceived notion what to expect.

The cabinet was pushed shut quite forcefully and the redhead cursed. Giving away his annoyance hadn’t been in the plans. But goddamnit! That bastard had his way with everything and everyone! By the looks of it, he had already lured Linda in enough to get that close.

“Thanks,” the girl murmured somewhat sheepishly, indicating that indeed, she had been entertaining all the right – or wrong – thoughts. All according to plan. Matt’s smile was grim and he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me, Linda. Just watch yourself…” he glimpsed over his shoulder at her. “I don’t want to see you get hurt because of that arsehole. Don’t misunderstand me,” he continued, turning around, full mug of coffee in hand and plucked the cigarette from between his lips, slipping it behind his ear for the time being. “I despise him more for how he acts rather than what he’s done. That attitude and that arrogance get under my skin something fierce. I cannot stand how he orchestrates everyone around him like bloody fucking puppets.”

“I’ll be all right…”

“I don’t doubt that you’re capable of taking care of yourself. But have no misconceptions. You’ve just become his next challenge.” With this he pushed away from the counter and sipped at the strong infusion, squeezing her shoulder gently as he passed. “He’ll make you feel as if you’re the world to him and drop you the moment you stop being useful. Tread carefully is all I’m saying.”

* * *

His hatred for Matt hadn’t abated in the slightest when he barged through the bedroom door. L’s eyes shifted up from the laptop and read the anger in Light’s face immediately.

“What is it, Raito-kun?” the detective muttered, but his defenses were strangely up as Kira started pacing, seemingly composing some thought that was most likely not going to be of the rational variety.

Chances were Linda had not done this to him—the poor girl had not even scratched Light’s level yet to garner this mode of anxiety. Light and Mello were on good terms as far as L knew, so that left one person and Matt usually wasn’t one to provoke Kira outright, but perhaps he was reaching a boiling point after all—as Linda seemed to be indicating this morning.

“Tell me something, L,” Light growled. “How did Near find the apartment?”

Oh…. Ah.

L shut the laptop, his full attention shifting to Kira with that statement and Light fixed the detective in a hard gaze, his eyes narrow slits—but as he went to elaborate, L held up a hand.

“No,” he said sternly.

“No what?!” Light retorted. One day awake and they were at this turn already. “It’s a viable concern—that place was off the radar, there’s no way—”

“There are plenty of ways,” L said; “Do not even attempt this game.”

Light stopped short and his temper flew right to the surface; which meant he wasn’t going to listen, not now even as the hard look in L’s eyes threatened him not to cross that line.

“Near had help on the inside,” Light growled.

L took a deep and angry breath; but he knew ahead of time Light would push—he always did.

“Before you say another word Raito-kun, listen to me very carefully: you know what I feel for you, but do not put me in this position…you will not like the outcome.”

Those words did nothing to diffuse the situation, L didn’t expect they would as Light leaned in closer, red eyes burning; “What are you saying?” he snarled low and deep.

L met his fierce gaze steadily, his own eyes narrow and edged. “I will not choose you over them,” he said.

“Liar,” Light growled. “You can’t live without me.”

Already he was using everything to his advantage, and there was a part of L that almost wanted to kill him for it. All that pain and grief he’d suffered at Light’s bedside, turned around and spat in his face—but he had always known it would be like that. He could hope for Kira to do the right thing, but he was more often than not gravely disappointed. All the more reason why L knew he was the sacrifice on Kira’s altar—be it Ryuk’s deadline or not, he was already on borrowed time by virtue of his own shortcomings—he had sold his soul after all.

“I have no intention of living without you,” L muttered grimly, “In the end, you’re my cross to bear—not theirs. I will not let you hurt them, Kira—do you understand what I’m telling you? Abandon this line of thought, and walk away.”

Light was in a rage, looming over the detective who did not flinch from him sitting cross-legged on the bed where he was, his gaze never leaving Light’s. The lines were drawn. This was the beginning of a plan to take down Matt in the worst way possible, and L saw right through it—because today Light’s timing was off, he’d picked the wrong moment—too close to what happened with Mello, too close to Linda’s outburst, too close to the entire incident at hand—and with more rage than he ever would have applied if Matt hadn’t set him off moments earlier. Kira had misfired, and he misfired at the wrong person.

“You won’t choose me over them…” Light growled softly; “You have no idea what you’re saying, L.”

L’s eyes got even angrier. “I know exactly what I’m saying, Kira-kun,” he returned; “I know what it will do to me, but it doesn’t matter—that’s my pain. I am the only bastion between you and them—you won’t get through me, I promise you that. Do not pursue this.”

* * *

Her concentration was a bit amiss after the entire ordeal. Instead of returning to the study she usually barricaded herself in for hours at a time, Linda continued along the hall and without knocking, pushed the door to Mello’s study open, wordlessly inviting herself in.

Mello blinked at the interruption, a recently bitten off square of chocolate firmly between his lips as he was caught mid motion to watch her slip inside and close the door firmly behind her. A slender brow was lifted on cue with one of his many trademark facial expressions but still she offered no explanation. Mello leaned back against his seat, pulling the chocolaty goodness past his lips, about to set the pen down when she motioned him to carry on. “Don’t mind me,” she said and sank down onto the chair nearest the wide paned windows.

The way in which she said it, however, troubled him. But no questions were asked, at least not at first. Mello returned to the material at hand, cursing his luck for the umpteenth time as he penciled in character translations along the margins. It was slowing his progress. He cursed L almost as fiercely as his own luck but pushed on until finally giving it up half hour later. A break was needed and Linda still sat there, staring intently out the windows. Her gaze was distant, but he noticed then that she had snatched one of the notebooks off the coffee table and was intently sketching across the page.

Uh oh. Green eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?” They had not spoken since the previous night’s outburst.

She looked up half startled as if she had forgotten where she was. “Sorry,” she said, completely avoiding the question. “Am I distracting you?”

“No, but you’re making me curious. By this hour you’re generally buried between screens and paperwork. What’s up?” The chair was tipped back as he shifted, propping one heel up on the edge of the desk, head tilting as he watched her questioningly.

Linda could think of a series of things she could have said at that point; of questions to ask and explanations to demand. But… she didn’t. Not just yet, chewing idly on her bottom lip as she considered what to say. “There’s something I’ve been trying to understand.”

“I’d say there’s a lot, but go on.”

Linda cast him a sharp reproaching look, but proceeded nevertheless. “I’ve talked to both L and Light this morning,” she watched Mello’s curiosity grow, and almost instantly his features became unreadable. Instant defense mechanism was it? To Mello’s credit, he did not pound her with questions right away. Always a first for everything. “And I know you don’t want me anywhere near your head, but this is important. It bothers me because I feel it’s a critical piece in the puzzle.”

“You’re talking in circles, Linda…”

“Your mannerisms just completely changed,” she pointed out thoughtfully, reminding Mello far too much of L and his blunt ways of making observations. Minus the bug-eyed look he tended to gain at such instances. “I can’t even begin to imagine what’s been omitted from these case files as far as you’re concerned but… I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” Linda’s gaze was lowered, attention drawn to the sketch on her lap, which she continued to work at. “Not even taking into consideration the facets and understanding in your relationship with Matt, what is going on between you and Light?”

She couldn’t have been blunter and Mello stared. Just what had she been told that morning? “What is you’d like to hear?”

Linda frowned. “The truth.”

“That’s complicated.”

“Try me,” Linda insisted, flicking hair out of her eyes as she looked to him.

“No,” Mello stated plainly, leaning his chair back only to return his feet to the floor. He stood moments later, striding toward her and he too had an indescribable presence about him and yet… was it conscious? She had to wonder. She watched him as he stood there before the windows, hand resting against the side frame, head slightly bowed as he glimpsed across the gardens beyond. “I don’t have an answer for you just as I did not have one for Matt last night.”

“But you must have a reasoning for it.”

“Why must anything have a conscious reason?”

“Not everything, but I believe this does.” She paused briefly. “Did L ask it of you?”

A chuckle. “No,” and Mello sounded amused as he said it, but the smile upon those lips was humorless – dark. “L never asked such thing of me, but I see the necessity of it nonetheless.”

“But it goes beyond that, does it not?”

Mello cast her a sidelong glance and his gaze narrowed through messy bangs. “You’re trying to dig too deep, Linda.”

“Necessary evil,” she countered smartly.

“Why are you so adamant on this?”

“Because I want to know what’s driving it, as it clearly makes little sense on the surface. I’ve gotten an adequate explanation out of Light already, all that’s left is you.” And he laughed quietly at that.

“Adequate?”

“Yes. As honest as I’ll ever get, I suppose.”

“You sure it was honest?” God, now Mello was the one playing games with her.

“Yes. Because in different words, he practically confessed that he was enthralled with you. His reasons make sense,” she continued despite his look of disbelief. “I just want to see if yours are at all similar.”

* * *

The first blow Kira threw was perhaps harder than any he’d ever thrown in the past. There was far too much power behind it—far too much rage—and God, what was it truly that had set him off this way? That thought was fleeting as the room spun over and around itself, and L caught that detached glimpse of blood spatter across white sheets as he hauled himself up. His blood. He slid the back of his hand under his nose and it came away dripping crimson—which meant Light knew what was coming next though it didn’t seem he really cared—Kira had gone ferocious, and maybe it was pent up aggression for what he’d gone through—for what the SPK had done—and maybe that was giving him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t deserve any.

Nevertheless, L spun without warning, and the swift kick caught Light in the jaw and threw him back into the armoire, which smashed the mirror in a rainfall of glass but was really just the start because Kira fought dirty, crouched there as though he was recovering, waiting for L to check and see if he was alright—and the moment L drew close, still trying to blot the blood drooling from his nose—Light lunged at him, tackling the detective to the floor—it wasn’t until the pain opened wide in L’s arm that he realized Light had grabbed a shard of the mirror—and had just cut him deep.

L was completely on the defensive then, his bad arm catching Kira’s good one, the two of them wrestling each other fiercely—as though Light was really intent on murder this time, as though L were really fighting for his life. He managed to throw his lover off, managed to dodge his next swipe with the glass shard that was cutting into Light’s own hand—but that too Kira didn’t seem to notice, and L spun low, swept Kira’s feet out from under him, managed to get him into a submission hold there on the floor to try and choke him out and get him to drop the weapon—and by this point they were covered in blood—and L was getting dizzy because Light had nicked the goddamn vein. He was bleeding out, and Kira was not quite through.

It was all too surreal, completely unexpected when hardly an hour earlier they’d been making love in the same room—everything had been fine; but that was the way of this affair wasn’t it? There was no real respite, how could there be? But there wasn’t violence of this variety either—and the master bedroom was so far removed, L wasn’t surprised no one had come running at the ruckus yet.

But neither of them were yelling—only the mirror crash was any indication there was trouble at all—everything else was just a mad struggle there on the floor, and Light felt stronger because L was quickly getting weaker as he bled out. He did manage to grab Light’s hand, to squeeze it so the glass cut him deep, until Light was crying out in pain—thrashing to dislodge the detective’s vice grip around his body—L didn’t even realize they’d landed across the broken mirror shards until he felt the warmth spreading against his back, Light’s struggling shredding his lover up good—goddamnit Kira—and L landed a hard blow across Light’s face, to at last knock him away

The detective was on top of him then, hands around Kira’s neck, strangling the fight out of him, cutting off the air in just the right way to finally shut him down into unconsciousness without killing him—the way L really felt like doing at that moment. He didn’t let up until the last bit of strain left Light’s arms, defensive, clenched fingers unfurling from L’s clothes and hair before Kira finally went limp.

And L released him, panting, knowing he himself was not going to stay conscious for much longer at the rate he was losing blood. He managed to stumble to his feet, staggering to the door, out into the hall before he lost his footing and hit the floor—blood pooling rapidly from the opened vein. And maybe they’d just both bleed out here and now and end this whole fucking mess for good…

* * *

The sound of shattering glass had been heard albeit quietly down below. Three pairs of eyes had glimpsed upward, but no one had made a run for it because – hell, it wasn’t the first time. And seeing as there was no further sound of struggle, there didn’t seem to be a reason to interfere.

When only silence followed for several minutes afterward, then it was reason to wonder. Linda was mid sentence when Mello, hardly paying attention glimpsed in the general direction of the master bedroom, which was in the same wing. “Something’s not right,” he said, cutting her off and simply walking away from the conversation – a damn blessing too.

It was as he was halfway down the hall that he heard the opening of the door on the floor above and Mello frowned, gripping the handrail, he took the steps two at a time. Linda followed, rushed and worried and the scene all the way down at the end of the hall just did not make sense—L staggering out of the bedroom, white shirt sopped in blood, he collapsed and Mello took the corridor at a run,

Boots slid against the floor as he skidded down to his knee beside L’s prone form. “L,” he gasped without even so much as touching him. “Shit- Linda, get Doctor Gregory!” and the girl jammed to a halt, eyes wide, she spun and ran off the opposite direction to find the doctor.

Mello worked quick, however, ripping part of L’s long sleeve, he firmly tied off the deep gash upon L’s arm, severing the blood-flow. That seemed the worst of the injuries on hasty inspection and Mello pushed himself up hurrying to check within the room. Light was no where to be seen and Light was most certainly the cause of all this.
Glass was everywhere and Mello frowned, finding Light’s crumbled form on the floor. He was not in the same bad shape L was in, though he would be wearing some bruises later. Goddamnit. Already?! Already there was shit?! Mello scowled and returned to L’s side, propping him up gently to rest against one lifted knee. His hand fell to the makeshift bandage, applying further pressure he elevated it to minimize the blood flow. “C’mon, L, stay with me goddamnit,” he hissed, already hearing the fall of footsteps upon the stairs.

There was just no fucking rest for the wicked.

The doctor was quick to the scene, and of the three of them, only Linda looked ready to panic—poor girl had probably never seen so much blood, and to see it on L of all people, she was cupping her hands to her face in horror. Dr. Gregory on the other hand was justifiably concerned, but looked more angry than anything, shaking L back to a semi-conscious state, he and Mello getting the detective up to move to medical room—L was barely responsive.

“He did this, right?” the doctor growled; “Do you see, L? Do you see the bloody ingrate you’ve kept alive? Do you see what you’re killing yourself over? You don’t mean anything to him!” The doctor’s eyes glanced at Mello momentarily, his gaze as accusing as his words—“When are you children going to realize it’s not worth it?!—It’s a bloody despicable waste—you’re all wasting your lives on this bastard when you could be doing so much good in the world. You’re some of the greatest minds of our age—and for what—for what are you going to destroy yourselves? Kira should have been put to death months ago.”

Matt was coming up the stairs just in time to catch them on their way into the medical room—in time to see L completely covered in blood, and Linda all teary, and Mello frustrated to no end, supporting half his mentor’s weight over his shoulder. Dr. Gregory turned to the redhead and it was obvious he too considered Matt the only sane one of the bunch.

“He’s still in the master bedroom,” the doctor grit. “I don’t care what kind of shape he’s in—I want him restrained—understand? I don’t care if his neck is broken in ten places and he’s bleeding from every orifice—get him restrained—and I’ll get to him when I get to him. He’ll live. He always does the bloody monster. No one has to worry about that.”

Matt frowned and glimpsed toward the master bedroom—blood stained the floor right outside its wide open door. He mounted the last step and instead of following them toward the medical room, stalked his way down the corridor, teeth grit and anger bristling.

Light was still unconscious where he lay on the floor not far from the sprawl of broken mirror and Matt would have been lying if he did not gain a sliver of satisfaction from it all. Kira had fucked up, there would be consequences. The redhead shoved him onto his front, yanking Light’s arms behind his back to tightly secure his wrists. He removed L’s laptop from the bed and dragged Kira up onto the mattress – too nice a gesture, but Matt let it pass. Binding Light’s hands and feet, he left him there, about to walk out the door before doubling back to slip a gag over his mouth – the less amount of complaining they heard, the better.

It was tempting to jar him back to consciousness only to get the satisfaction of Light’s reaction when he opened his eyes, but Matt withheld, propping up a chair in the doorway. He sure as hell was not about to leave him unsupervised and by the time he got himself settled, lit cigarette firmly in place, he noticed Linda making her way down the hallway toward him – looking pale and a bit shaken. Dr. Gregory had likely kicked her out of the room in her best interest.

"How is he?" the redhead asked.

"Pretty cut up but looks like he'll be all right." She sounded worried, but almost a little too relieved as she said it. Matt cast her a knowing smirk but did not comment. Linda had been in the spotlight enough times that morning without him adding to the fray. But he never even had the chance to comment, because she continued. "Neither of you seem surprised this happened."

"It isn't the first time, you know that."

"No, but I thought-"

"You thought that because L was agonizing over the bastard these past two weeks it would not happen. Because he," Matt nodded toward the curled up unconscious figure on the bed, "Had been behaving, this wouldn't happen. He's a loose canon, Linda. I suppose I pissed him off more than originally anticipated." Matt paused, taking a long drag and leaned his head back against the wall as he let it loose through his nose. "I just regret he took it out on L instead. Would've loved to have a reason to bruise that pretty face," he said with a scowl.

Surprisingly enough, Linda laughed - it was a nervous laugh but it was there all the same and Matt could hear the tension lifting off her shoulders. "You really don't like him."

"Have yet to be given a reason to."

"I suppose..." she mulled over the fact and through the corner of her eye caught telling movement upon the bed. The slightest of twitches and then those long eyelashes snapped open. The realization that he had been restrained did not take long to set in and even though Light tested the efficiency of the bonds that kept his wrists tightly bound, he did not fight them. No use in acting like a caged animal. However the anger was all too evident upon those amber eyes, tinted red as they settled upon Matt - upon the subtle grin the redhead wore around the butt of his cigarette.

"Mornin' sunshine," Matt baited without so much as looking in his direction.

Even so, it was simple to feel the absolute blistering of Kira’s gaze as he glared with downright murderous intent. There was no doubt that vengeful mind of his was plotting a mile a minute a thousand different scenarios that would most likely end with Matt at the receiving end of a heart attack—and almost as though he sensed this, Matt cast a wayward glance at his prisoner.

Light’s eyes were dripping venom, it was obvious even a scuffle with L had not alleviated his anger just yet, and regrettably he seemed to be feeling no pain despite being covered in blood—though most of it was probably L’s.

“You cut him up good,” Matt grumbled; “You have no idea what that makes me want to do to you.”

“Matt,” Linda gasped, and she sounded fearful, probably because of the way Kira looked just then—probably because she’d only recently familiarized herself with all the ways he could kill people. But Kira wasn’t speaking, and it was more likely than not because of the indignity of the gag rather than the fact that he had nothing to say. His eyes said enough—he wanted Matt’s head on a silver platter, and the sentiment was not lost on anyone there…