Redeemer

"So are you going to tell me what the hell just happened out there?" Matt had led Mello upstairs - a seemingly impossible feat that was accomplished after several minutes - and into their own private bathroom where he'd tugged off his lover's shirt so that it would not get soaked as he cleaned up the now-dried blood and looked after the blow.

"I'd tell you if I knew," was the blonde's muttered response. He was bitter, that much was obvious. This sort of thing didn't just happen. Not to him damnit.

"I find that difficult to believe."

"Yea, so do I." Mello chewed on a broken off square of chocolate, eying the stone floor as if it had done him wrong, wincing every so often as his brain rattled with the pressure applied to the cut that was a bit more nasty than Matt anticipated. "But it's all bloody fuzzy, so there isn't anything I can say right now."

Matt was silent for a while, sitting back once he deemed his task for the moment complete. "I'm sorry 'bout earlier," he muttered off-handedly, fishing for a cigarette in the back pocket of his jeans. He was startled when Mello leaned in suddenly to capture his chin firmly in his hand. "What?"

"You've been all over the place lately," Mello commented one moment and the next, he was pulling his lover's tinted goggles off, keeping his hold firm, particularly when that blue gaze shifted instinctively toward the light fixtures on the wall mere feet away, which immediately shrunk his pupils. The hold was bruising but the redhead did not try to pull away, knowing better. Mello scowled and his lover looked defiantly at him, albeit offering no excuse for himself.

"I was under the impression you were working on an important case with L," Mello said sternly.

"I am."

"Then what the fuck do you think you're doing?" the blonde hissed lowly, releasing Matt with a slight shove backward. The redhead caught himself, however before tumbling ungracefully to the floor. "I'd say this was one of those times that your mind needs to be bloody damned clear."

"It is," was matt’s return sneer.

"That's debatable." Mello snorted. "And just how long do you figure you'll continue to pull this off before L catches on? No, I'm not going to rat you out, but I suggest you stop this bloody rubbish.” Matt was quiet, lips pursed indicating that he was holding his tongue. “I worry about you…” Mello said after several moments, his tone softening decisively. It was enough to get those sharp blue eyes to lift back toward him, the look there somewhat questioning and still reserved.

“What are you going on about?” Matt grumbled, lighting up.

“I’m going on about the fact that you don’t have to be an arsehole all the bloody time. I haven’t given up on you.”

Matt frowned, exhaling through his nostrils. “Explain to me how I’m the one being the arsehole, cause last I checked it wasn’t me who was sleeping around and getting emotionally attached to a git that hardly deserves it.”

All right, so Matt had a point. “…You think I’m emotionally attached?”

The redhead sputtered on smoke. “Are you bloody fucking killing me, Mell?! You were a wreck when we believed him dead!”

“That was because L—“

“Yes, I know you already mourned L, but don’t even bloody try that shit with me. I know you, goddamnit, and I know he was not all you were thinking of. Somewhere along the lines it’s moved from carnal lust to an emotional attachment deeper than is probably healthy. I don’t bloody well like it, but I understand it. Don’t ever think I don’t. I’m not so stupid. I know you love me, Mell but I am not the only one your heart bleeds for.”

The comment effectively silenced any further interruptions Mello might have had, leaving him staring blankly at his lover as if he had grown a second head in the last two minutes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Matt grit and stood to drop ashes into the sink, washing them down seconds later so that they did not stain the porcelain.

“How would you prefer I look at you, then?”

“Like you used to,” the redhead said into the mirror, capturing his lover’s green visage. “And perhaps that’s asking a lot but, shit Mell… you’ve always fucked around one way or another. I did not care much then. It bothers me now because of who it is, but I’m not going to sit here like a teenaged girl and whine to you about it. I know you better than that—you will do what you like regardless of having my blessing or not but… fuck, I just don’t want to see you end up like L.”

* * *

It was a good half hour later when Matt finally descended to join a very anxious Linda in the study. She looked up as he entered. “How is he?” It took Matt a moment to realize that she’d been talking about Mello. It seemed that long ago since the incident occurred.

“He’ll be all right,” he told her, crossing toward his station. The screens were flicked on and the mouse shaken to reveal the security input that would bring everything back to life. When she said nothing, he glimpsed over his shoulder questioningly. “Did I miss anything important?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” she said, wringing her hands and stealing a glimpse toward the darkened windows.

Matt scoffed, taking his seat. “I told you before, let it be.” Words of a hypocrite. The house’s surveillance footage came up on the laptop screen, allowing him to backtrack to dinner and thereafter. If there was anything amiss, he was going to bloody well find it.

It was as he was scrolling through the footage that L traipsed into the room, hands shoved deeply into pockets, posture just a tad more rigid than usual, hair quite utterly in his face so that neither Linda nor Matt could see his eyes—it was a wonder he didn’t walk into a wall that way.

“Anything?” He asked.

“Not yet,” Matt muttered. “Seems Kira woke up in a fright, paced about his room a bit until he was agitated enough to just take off—was a slow progression, once he clears the garden he’s in the woods and the cameras are along the paths—so nada. He comes back just a few moments after you leave and crumples on the patio—from the opposite direction of where you found Mello…”

“Fright?” L muttered, leaning over Matt’s shoulder. The red head seemed a bit on the edgy side, shifting in his seat as the detective hovered close. L’s attention was on the screen however—rewinding the interior footage back to Light’s bedroom. “Nightmare…” he mused, observing his waking.

“And that’s odd?”

“For him, yes,” L replied. “He claims he doesn’t dream.”

“Rubbish,” Matt said, perhaps a little more emphatically than he needed to. “Everyone dreams.”

“I agree,” L answered, “But I’ve seen him asleep more than any other person alive, and never once has he woken up from a nightmare this way. Something to consider…”

“If you say so.” There was bitterness there.

At that, the detective’s eyes shifted to him, glancing him up and down rather intrusively. “You looked flushed,” he said. “Are you feeling alright?”

Matt clamped down on his attitude. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Mell’s just got me worked up is all, meant nothing by it.”

“Hmm,” L mumbled, but he let it go, straightening and moving away from Matt.

“Linda,” he said, and the girl jumped to attention—her eyes collided with L’s gaze, her cheeks flushing momentarily before she reeled herself in and tried to hide the fact that she jumped every time he addressed her. He most definitely saw it, but again, let it slide.

“Light’s in the kitchen, he’s going to be working with you on the BB case—I need to keep him occupied. He’s also agreed to therapy, but I would wait until his mood is a little better before you start probing.”

Her mouth dropped a bit. Kira’s therapist, she never thought she’d see the day. Matt was frowning deeply, but it was behind L’s back, and despite popular opinion, the detective had yet to grow a pair of eyes in the back of his head—or if he had, his hair was in the way.

“I’m stepping out for a bit,” L said out of the blue, shuffling toward the door—still, oddly enough, wearing the black shirt. “I’ll be on the grounds, I’m taking a tracker and a headset—if I’m not back in an hour, lock down the villa and call in armed support.”

And those were his parting words.

The looks he received as a result were humorous if only the situation had not been so pressing. Matt and Linda exchanged glances but neither had the chance to even ask what in the bloody hell L meant before he was out the door.

“What the hell…” Linda stared incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Matt shook his head and blinked away the moment of confusion. No use dwelling on it. A cigarette was perched upon his lips. “I suppose go check in on Light. I’m still going to be here for a while.” He checked the hour. Yea, several more hours ahead of him.

Linda seemed hesitant but nodded. “All right, I’ll check on you before heading up to bed to make sure you haven’t started wearing the keyboard on your head in the meantime.” She winked, lightening the mood despite the heavy warning that had been left in L’s wake.

* * *

As promised, Light was in the kitchen where L had left him, sitting at the counter with a mug of tea untouched between his hands. His gaze seemed distant and Linda frowned, lingering in the doorway only a short while longer before approaching. “Hey,” she announced her presence quietly, coming around the other side of the counter to lean against it opposite him.

“Hey,” he said. And his prior abrasiveness had once again alleviated, now he just sounded lost again, his gaze drifting after her as she circled around to make herself some tea.

“I suppose L told you,” he said and he sounded somewhat…disappointed with himself.

Linda picked up on the sentiment right away. “Don’t think of me as a therapist,” she said. “Just someone to talk to—someone who wants to help.”

Light’s wounded gaze flickered up at her, and then went back to his tea. “I had a nightmare tonight,” he said.

Linda paused mid motion to glimpse over her shoulder at him. L had said it. Light had confirmed it. It was hard for her to imagine not having a single dream as he appeared to claim. But if it was indeed true, then this was all the more striking. “What happened in it?” she asked, pouring sugar into her tea and at last returning to sit opposite him.

Light smiled in a rather self-deprecating way. “It sounds so cliché it makes me sick.” He confessed, risking another glance at her—and she was staring at him intently, that mix of concern and sympathy and admiration on her face…

“I was being beaten,” he said, scratching absently at the porcelain, “I thought I was with the SPK…”

Linda frowned briefly at the mention of the organization. It was natural for him to have nightmares of the time spent in their mercy – and those details Linda did not even have in full. No one volunteered them and so she assumed the worse, thinking that she was probably right on the money. “I’m not entirely surprised, but you said you thought you were with the SPK…?”

Light glanced up somewhat darkly. “I take it you read the file,” he muttered. “You got here while I was still in the coma, I assumed L had told you…”

Linda’s wide-eyed blink was answer enough, and Light sat back a bit with a long drawn breath. “Ah,” he said. She hadn’t. His gaze dropped pensively. “I suppose if you’re going to be my therap—friend…what I went through with the SPK has some bearing on my current frame of mind…as of late.”

“The coma was indicative you’d suffered,” Linda said gently, “But L said it had been a car accident…”

“It was,” Light replied. “They ambushed me in a high speed chase and literally nailed my car off the road—Mello’s car actually.” He scoffed slightly at that. “It’s what happened after the accident that put me in the coma.” He paused, he paused for a long moment—it occurred to him he hadn’t discussed this with anyone… “Despite my condition and the internal injuries I suffered in the wreck…Near had certain members of the SPK beat and …rape… me repeatedly…” his voice trailed off as though to detach himself from the admission.

Linda was good, her eyes widened ever slightly but her composure stayed in place. And all of a sudden their earlier discussion came back to her – Mello’s comments as to how Light had yet to get over what had happened with the SPK. She had not thought much of it, but it made sense now. Too much sense. Oh shit. “God…” she breathed, lowering her gaze momentarily because the walls had just closed in on her. She regained her sense of self but that statement resonated loudly in the back of her mind. She knew that they were watching Near for a reason – that he had grown over confident and had his sights on L but that was really just the broader image wasn’t it? By God, if he was capable of this then… “I’m sorry,” she uttered at last, returning her gaze to him. It was surprisingly firm. “No one told me what happened during the last few days in Rome. I knew something had gone down but I never imagined…”

“No I suppose not, no one’s really said anything about it at all, me included.” Light’s gaze was still cast downward. “That’s the kind of group we are, what we deal with is on such an incomprehensible scale half the time that the best way to deal is by not dealing at all. L and I rarely discuss the terrible things we’ve done to each other—if I really wanted to, I could lay partial blame for my father’s death at Mello’s feet, and he could lay the pain he suffered from those burn wounds at mine. The list goes on and on, and in anyone’s right mind, there’s no way any of us should be sharing living space…but we are.” He thought a bit. “I told L I didn’t remember much about the SPK…I lied—I remember everything. Gevanni stabbed me in the end—he did it slow, made sure I felt every inch…” Light rubbed his face, like he was trying to blot out the memory. “Ironically the dream wasn’t about that.”

“What, then?” Linda asked and her voice was but a whisper. In all senses of the word, she was truly not playing the part of the shrink here. That wouldn’t do. That wasn’t the route she had wanted to take with him. Not the route he deserved. But the need to talk about it was obviously there or Light would not be volunteering such information like this.

“It’s textbook Freud,” Light scoffed inwardly. “Or just plain textbook. I was being beaten, but not by them… by myself.” He caught the look on Linda’s face and laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “L and I have always maintained there is no separation between ‘Light’ and ‘Kira’ no Jekyll and Hyde split personality factor, but it was so in this dream. I can analyze it just fine—but I’m sure you’d love to have a crack. It was just a little too real, and I’m not very used to nightmares.”

Linda was quiet for a moment, taking the time to sip at her tea. “There is little to take a crack at. You’re right, it is plain textbook,” Linda murmured thoughtfully all the same. “You might as well have been beating yourself up. You consider yourself beaten down and detached from everything you once had. It isn’t a hard one to put together. And while I do not believe there to be any sort of split personality either, the distinction is clear because you do act differently despite being completely in control of it all. And that’s a control you haven’t had for some time, one you long for because it gave you purpose.” She paused as if catching herself running her mouth freely as her thoughts poured on in. Her gaze ascended to meet Light’s.

“Why you would be having nightmares now when you haven’t before is perhaps a bit more of a task, but you’ve been under enough stress to break up those simple processes that do not allow you to dream. Notice that you do not dream of whatever wrong doings you may have committed, of what trauma you’ve experienced over the last six years. You do however dream of this other self beating you down just as you are castigating yourself over having fallen this far out of control.” Linda exhaled and set her mug down. “It’s strange,” she confessed. “To say these things to you when you’ve always portrayed yourself to me as so much stronger, so very on top of your game and impervious to everything else the world might just throw your way.” She mustered a small smile, lowering her eyes.

She felt his eyes on her and when she looked up Light did not look away.

“Funny that,” he said. She’d only heard L say the same phrase at dinner, only there was something a little more dangerous about the way Light said it, and the tinge of darkness in his eyes when he did.

“But you’re right," he continued. "I’m beyond angry I’ve sunk this low, I feel like I’m scrambling to keep my ends together and they're fraying through my fingertips. The people closest to me are my enemies…think about that for a moment. It’s entirely too warped.”

Linda winced. “You consider L you’re enemy?”

Light blinked at her. “Therein lies the rub.”

Linda went to speak, but second guessed it, and before she could slip in her next analytical stab, Light beat her to it. “Have you been in love with him long?” He said.

She would have choked had she been drinking. “I’m not in love with him,” she mustered.

Light’s smile was smooth, and devoid of the wounded nature he’d been clinging to these past two days. “Of course,” he said. “My apologies—it’s just hard to miss even when I’m not trying to watch.”

Linda gulped. How did this conversation switch to her so suddenly? But Light was talking wasn’t he? That was a good thing at least, to keep the communication open…maybe of anyone, he would understand.

“Do you think he knows?”

Light laughed quietly. “I’m sure he does.”

Linda held her face and laughed. “Damnit, I feel so—”

“Don’t,” Light interrupted, and he smiled like butter, that smile that had been MIA for awhile. “I’m equally sure he’s attracted to you—L likes blondes.”

The comment made her blush crimson. “What?”

Light shrugged. “Trust me,” he said. “I know him.”

"That may be so but—oh shit what am I saying?" Linda laughed again, not believing that she was actually having this discussion. That made it the third time that day that her attraction for L was put bluntly on the table. Goddamnit! And here she thought she was doing decently at hiding it. It only made her flush further and shake her head. "That doesn't matter. I'm not foolish enough to throw myself at him or anything." Did that ever sound ridiculous? Throwing herself at L?! Ha. She couldn't even wrap her mind around the improbability of that happening. Ever. "But here we were talking about you and now we're talking about me," she grinned up at him and it was genuine because that little manipulative twist of the conversation was more akin to the Light she knew and had seen several days prior. "I don't think you've crumbled, Light. You may be momentarily lost, but I don't think you're beyond all repair. And besides, regarding what you said... perhaps you're right in one sense of the word. We are your enemies if all you want to think about is the bare bones of the entire operation, but don't you think it's come past that?" She cast him a steady look.

"I was never your enemy, but then again I was never involved until now. L might have been your enemy at one point, but I believe that has changed. He does not seek to destroy you. Mello might have been your enemy then too - as far as a few months ago from what I gather, but that too has changed, has it not? Your enemies do not tend to put their lives on the line to keep you from harm or retrieve you from it..." she pointed out kindly, indicating that she did know about the showdown with the SPK. "It is only Matt who you're at odds with. Frankly I think that's because you never gave him the light of day as you have the three of us." She flashed him a small smile and lowered her gaze briefly. "You went out of your way to make sure I would like you. Just as you went out of your way to gain Mello as an ally. You've manipulated everyone to your cause one way or another and it has worked because we're able to see beyond the factual evidence that you're such a blood-thirsty fiend." She said it with a chuckle and shake of her head. "They understand you better than I, but Matt still sees you as little more than that. Whether you'd be able to change that around now, I don't know. Might just be too late, but what I'm trying to say is that we're not your enemies in this sense, Light. No, we don't want you running a muck with the Death Note, but no one is seeking to destroy you." She paused, meeting that amber gaze. "Does... that make sense?"

Kira was wearing a rather L-expression at that moment—eyes wide and absorbent. Chances were he didn’t expect her to lay it out on the table in quite that way—seemed to suggest it did make sense, far too much sense, and in a way he had coerced himself not to consider. No, Kira still drew those damn lines, even though he himself had worked so hard to blur them and keep his “enemies” sympathetic, it was easier for him now, to believe he was back to being the only one on his own side.

“Though I’d venture to say that it’s easier for you to think along these lines in order for you to bring yourself back into perspective and revive your purpose—your rivalry…” she paused, not because Light had yet to say anything, but rather it just occurred to her….

She was a Wammy kid after all, Wammy kids spent much of their youth striving to be L. She’d been studying B, who seemed the very epitome of that complex, except he wasn’t was he? He and Kira actually shared the same affliction, and it was only easier to see it, because there Kira sat, not an L impersonator or imposter—but a rival…

“You think the only way you mean something to L is if you are his rival.” She said.

Light stiffened, and Linda’s gaze was wide because that seemed something of an epiphany, especially given his reaction—that’s what he’d convinced himself—even now—and that was most likely why he was coming apart at the seams. Kira and B both worked hard not to be like L, but to mean something to him—and the only way they saw to do that, was to challenge him in the most extreme ways possible. And L rewarded them for it, didn’t he? He concentrated on them, watched their every move, obsessed himself with their capture, which only made them work harder…building that relationship, that bond of beloved foe…B truly went off the deep end when he no longer felt he was adequate. So too, now, was Kira.

“You think he’ll discard you when you no longer prove challenging.”

Light had paled considerably, his eyes still owl-wide.

Linda made a bold move then, reaching across to grab him firmly by the face, as if to snap him out of it. “Light—,” she said emphatically. “L loves you. There is no other on this earth he loves more than you. Don’t you know that? Hasn’t he proved that over and over? He wants to save you—everything he does is with your interest in mind.”

She knew what he could counter with, it was there in his eyes, and she tightened her grip on him. Later she’d be surprised at herself, but proud all the same. “What happened several days ago… you didn’t see him afterwards. He was gone, there was nothing left of him once you were dead. We all knew it was only a matter of time before he’d follow. Your death was his own.”

She felt a sliver of resistance in him, wanting to pull back—but those eyes of his could not lie right then, she’d cut him to the quick, and he was ready to bleed out.

"That morning when he came to us to announce that you'd survived, he was completely different. We thought he'd snapped, how could we not after the night we'd all had? From the moment he told us what he'd done 'till that morning, he said nothing to us, simply secluded himself away in the music room and waited—for death, I think. We all felt it. He'd lost you and we'd lost him." She continued softly. "In a matter of an hour Mello achieved the goal we'd all worked for and he crumbled. He'd lost you both and drank himself into a stupor that night." Linda exhaled, finding that she could not let go without brushing silky strands from his eyes. Only then did she allow her hands to fall away.

"You're not as alone as you think you are. It doesn't always have to be a war - and I know you enjoy it. Every last one of you enjoys the constant power games, but it isn't real. I don't think it's been real for a long time," she said. "At least not as far as they're concerned. It is you who's holding onto the notion that the lines must be set in stone; but the lines are not only blurred—they’ve been erased from existence."

Linda had rendered Kira speechless, which only confirmed she’d hit the nail on the head. It was apparent, however, that he was trying to block it out to some degree—that his own self-identity was at stake, and to let go of his ambition would render him just utterly lost. It also seemed apparent, no one had ever quite spoken to him like this—or if they had, they hadn’t gotten through…

Linda’s hand folded over his because she got the sense he was shrinking away. She’d turned his world view on its head, and if the genius could step away from the strategy and look at the practical, he’d probably see that she was right. Except there was something else in there—some ember of a past flame that had yet to go out in his eyes. Linda winced a bit and Light blinked it away.

“A few days ago you would have utterly countered my argument and turned it completely around—and would have made it sound reasonable doing so,” she observed.

Light went to say something, but changed his mind and the words visibly fell away. It took him a moment before he finally found a position sturdy enough to attempt to stand on. “I can’t function like this,” he said at last. “I do not like this person—in fact I despise him, he’s weak and pathetic and I’m sickened by it. L’s sickened by it. And no matter what you say, or how true it may be—about L—I still understand how our relationship has always worked. The contention is necessary, our equal parts of resistance push together and we’re a stronger foundation because of it. If I saw him crumble this way, I would lose respect for him—instead I’ve only gained respect for him, and I see how solid he is… without me.”

“He was anything but solid without you,” Linda pressed. Oh the stubbornness of Kira.

“In mortality speak—maybe—but as things are now, he has me under lock and key, he knows where I am at all times, my threat has been neutralized—and that he can live with and move on while I flounder.”

“He doesn’t want to see you like this,” Linda insisted. “He wants his equal—in a partner and not an enemy. If you get passed this rival mentality, you’ll see that. He already has too many enemies. He wants you by his side, Light—don’t you see that? You are two halves of a whole, but not because you’re opposites, because you’re so similar, you each fill the void in the other. That’s why you can’t live without each other—it isn’t the war, but the war is such an easy answer for you because it is so ingrained.”

Again his answer fell away, and it occurred to Linda somewhere on the back burner—that this was probably the best work here she had ever done.

“You tell me you know him. Well then use that knowledge and look at yourself through his eyes, not your own. Not through your disappointment and lingering sense of failed ambitions. Not through your expectations, either. He worries about you and if things were so clear cut as you make them out to be, then he would not have acted as defensive about you as he did at meals today.” She squeezed his hand, trying to shake him off his own internal thought process and bring him back to himself. “Believe me, this isn’t what anybody wanted. You’re too powerful an entity to bury and too delightful a bastard to destroy like this.” Linda smiled at him. “And don’t think I’m merely blowing smoke up your arse,” she laughed noting the somewhat puzzled look that crept across Light’s features at her choice of expression. “I mean it.”

It seemed, however, clear that Light wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed with that information whether he knew it or not. And he had to know it, if he was as brilliant as his life seemed to boast, Linda knew Light had to realize deep down inside that L wanted him as a partner and not an enemy…of course at that moment, she wondered if the situation was as understood to the detective as it was to her. Sometimes it seemed he was as much in the market for a rival as Light insisted he was—but that was the complex nature of their yin yang relationship.

“Well,” Light said after a long moment. “It seems next session I probably will need a couch if you keep flooring me like this,” and there was a suddenly charming rise of eyebrows as he pocketed her insight and allowed his cool demeanor to smooth over so he could decide just what to do with it.

Linda couldn’t contain a smile to see something of Light’s own self return at that moment even though there was still a guise of seriousness in his gaze. “Where is he now?” He said. “--L?”

Linda’s brow furrowed a bit. “He told Matt and I he was stepping out around the grounds for a bit.”

Light seemed to take that answer as oddly as they had, even though Linda had altogether eliminated the warning L had levied before leaving. But she let it slide.

“He told you about B then?” Light added.

“He said you were willing to lend me your insight on the case.”

Light’s lips quirked up, and Linda gave herself a point for phrasing it in a way that would stroke Kira’s ego best.

“I understand you’re wary about viewing the footage,” he went on, and Linda cringed inwardly at the recollecting of what L had told her of B.

“You could say that,” she said.

Light smiled politely. “Then I’ll take it off your hands,” and he certainly made it sound like he was doing her a favor.

She cast him a thankful look. “I might bring myself to watch some of it. Call it morbid curiosity,” she chuckled and lifted their mugs off the counter, rinsing out the now-cold contents before refilling both with steaming-hot tea. “As for the couch,” she continued, dropping a single sugar cube into each of the drinks. “I’m sure that can be arranged—I’d love to get you on a couch.” She blinked the moment the words were out of her mouth and cursed her timing in having turned around to set the mug in front of him at that precise moment. She stumbled only briefly over the one-sided awkward silence and quickly followed it up with, “You haven’t had any dinner. Let me warm you up some…”

Light of course had caught the amusing slip of phrase and was leaning his head on his hand smiling in that way of his—that sexy, smirking, sultry way that all but eliminated the notion he was ever cracking at the seams to begin with.

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I resist?” he purred, further amused at how Linda’s face flushed pink.

“Dinner?” Nice attempt at a save that didn’t work.

“No, the couch.”

Linda chewed on the inside of her lip, trying her hardest to control the flustered blush that came over her. Long bangs did little to hide the color that spread across smooth pale features. Goddamn her complexion.

“Let’s focus on dinner. From what I gather you haven’t eaten much of anything all day and can’t afford to waste any more energy.” Shit. “Talking,” she quickly added and turned to promptly rummage through the fridge.

Light’s smile broadened at her continued stumbling over sexual innuendoes. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, his tone acknowledging the image that had slunk its way into Linda’s mind—of him on a couch, glorious and beautiful and every bit the living god—but his words were merciful and didn’t outright call her on it. “I’m famished, dinner would be lovely.”

God, his English had improved vastly in only a couple of days—it was frightening how quickly he’d absorbed the proper inflections, but then again, Linda had grown up at Wammy’s House and was terribly used to prodigies. Light was only impressive because he was Kira…and he was gorgeous… and he had that way of looking… and he seemed to be feeling better, which made Linda wonder whether something she’d said clicked, or if Light was working at bringing himself out of it—or just covering it up better.

“So if I’m not getting on a couch at the moment,” he said with a smirk, watching her draw the dinner leftovers out of the fridge. “Tell me about this L infatuation of yours.”

Linda actually grinned as if she had been expecting the question. She was prepared, at least, for that much. That didn't mean that it made the topic any easier to discuss. In fact, she was adamant about not discussing it with Light of all people but cast him a glimpse over her shoulder all the same as she prepared him a plate, which she placed in the microwave to warm. "There is no infatuation," she said and almost convinced herself of the fact, all the while knowing this was a losing game on her part. "But since you brought up the topic of infatuations, I'd much rather hear of your infatuation with Mell." And before he could respond, she continued, turning around to face him, head slightly tilted in question. "You told me before the general gist of it, but it seems to me it isn't as simple as you made it sound at the time." And to think that was only a handful of days ago. It felt like a lifetime away.

Light’s smirking air fell a bit at mention of Mello. “It’s not simple,” he said—surprisingly—as Linda was almost sure he was going to dodge the subject on her. “Not simple at all.”

His gaze shifted downward, and did it shift that way because he was lying? Or because he was telling the truth? Hard to distinguish with him, as Kira had the innate ability to convincingly lie to one’s face and his so-called ‘tells’ were few and far between and most likely only known to L himself, if known to anyone. Linda was going to have to try to work hard at learning the subtle flux of Kira’s manner and what it betrayed—where the lines of façade were drawn; but at that moment, it was impossible to discern if he was playing wounded or if he was.

“I honestly don’t know whether to shut him out or let him in,” Light admitted. “Part of me thinks I’ve let him in much too far already—that a point of no return was crossed and neither of us know how to handle it… though he’s been extraordinarily patient with me since last night… and I’ve been completely,” –a glimmer of a smirk— “insufferable towards him.”

Linda was watching him closely, storing away every strand of emotion that crossed his features. Another bit of information to dissect later. "I think he's been patient with you for more than just a day, Light..." she pointed out kindly. "I admit that my initial reaction was hasty—I had no idea what was going on, but I've had the chance to observe from the sidelines. He won't give me anything to work with, not directly, but the truth is that I hardly recognize him at all." The microwave beeped behind her and she turned to retrieve the warmed dinner, which was set before him, along with the proper silverware. "That sort of patience is something every last teacher at Wammy's prayed for while he was still there," she said with a fond smile.

"He was a handful at best. More likely to explode if you looked at him the wrong than to make anyone's life easier in the slightest. Only Matt seemed to be able to take the onslaught with a deadpan and remain unscathed. When Roger realized it, Matt became the resident pacifier and it generally worked." She chuckled and shook her head at the memories long unvisited. "It must be said that I don't think anyone expected much of Mello from the moment he left, so you can imagine my surprise at seeing them both again when I arrived here on L's summons. I'll be honest—he blew me away. From a little schoolyard bully to an uncontainable force of nature wrapped in leather and telling scars. I had no idea what to make of him, but it was the manner in which he's interacted with you that's made me realize it hasn't just been the last six years that had had a hand in changing him, but you as well." She paused, letting that particular detail sink in. "The last six years have hardened him and made him jaded. You however, cooled the fire."

Light’s expression had gone serious again and he listened intently, as though hungry for that morsel regarding Wammy’s House and Mello’s time there. Much in the same way he was hungry for any crumbs dropped about L’s history. It reminded Linda that here was “Light the Way” destined for Wammy’s but turned away before even given the chance. Seemed like a piece Light felt was missing, and how odd that was. B had taken his place, and Kira had killed him for it, and was now working on replacing B… Linda shook the oddities from her mind and looked into those honeyed eyes waiting for a response.

She wasn’t expecting the one she got. Here she lived surrounded by her peers who would almost sooner drink razor blades than part with personal information, and at that moment, Kira—the so-called enemy, blatantly said:

“I love him, and I told him as much last night.”

Linda stared at him, lips slightly parted as if she had been about to say something and was interrupted, the thoughts plucked from her mind the moment Light confessed that particular detail. Well. That would certainly make a difference, now wouldn't it? And yet, all of yesterday they had been at odds with one another - the tension had been building like thunder in the air. When had this happened? Linda remembered then the empty bedroom, the fact that neither were anywhere to be found. She blinked, regrouping her thoughts.

"You're right," she said at last. "You've already taken a step past the brink and while not even I can help you insofar as how to deal with it all from now on, it can no longer be ignored. But I'm sure you realize that."

* * *

L stood in the doorway of the little cottage house and felt eyes on him. He felt them, like he used to feel them—that ever-watchful gaze hiding in the shadows, and it pained him to do what he used to do all those years ago—and glance over his shoulder continuously.

It crossed his mind before he hit the woods, that he was being paranoid—but the footage was clear, and L knew there was a person on the premises… the sense he got however was that that “person” was anything but human.

Beyond Birthday had never been human—of this L was convinced. He knew now it had to do with the shinigami eyes—that even in darkness B could see him because above his head floated those telling characters. In his youth however, L had no idea, and so the gaze felt as hellish as it actually was.

B’s gaze always preceded him but did not always manifest. Often it was just enough for Beyond Birthday to watch—to be satisfied his beloved Lawliet couldn’t cross a dark hall without continuously glancing over his shoulder, expecting to see his form crouching low at the edge of an opaque doorway—it was as satisfying to not be there as it was to be. If he stayed hidden, Lawliet could imagine him and Beyond was happy to know he was there seated firmly on L’s mind. And if he did show himself, L would usually stop and force himself to face his fear—that ominous dark and foreboding mirror image—the image that compelled him to examine his own darkness, his bloodthirst for criminals—his obsessed drive to destroy Morimoto, his own father. To fight monsters, one had to be careful not to become a monster—and while there were times L teetered on that edge, B had gone over it for him to show L what it was like to embrace his own darkness.

B didn’t so much impersonate him as he did reflect him from time to time, and L was appropriately terrified.

He worked hard early on not to show it—hard as his nights grew increasingly sleep deprived and the dark circles deepened under his eyes, so that when B appeared in the most disturbing ways, L would barely even crack an expression. The technique stayed with him ever since, but much of what he was now, was because of B…

So L was not comfortable standing out there alone in the dark and distinctly feeling B’s long dead gaze on his back… he wasn’t comfortable entertaining the thought that what he’d seen and what he felt was even B to begin with. There was another rational explanation, and his mind was tampering with the possibility that this was one of Near’s tactics—and if so, then Near was well aware how much of his system L and Matt had cracked, and was subsequently plotting far outside of their remote reach. After all, Near had uncovered L’s history with Aiber—digging up Beyond Birthday was only suiting. And yet…

L crept into the house, staying stealthily close to the walls in his dark clothing, peeking around corners to glimpse vaguely moonlit shadows beyond. It wouldn’t matter, if B were truly here, he could see in the dark with those eyes of his… but L was adamant not to consider that the reality—this was an intruder and an imposter and maybe had nothing to do with B in the least, but with himself—after all, B was a well-buried secret, L had at least been seen by more people whether they could identify him as L or not. True he was forced to stay in hiding most of his life due to who he was, and how many criminal agencies in the world wanted him dead—but he did not ‘hide’ per se. L did not hide from his enemies—he never hid from B, he never hid from Kira, he was not hiding from Near—he was taking precautions to ensure his life and the lives of those in his care, but Near knew L was a comlink away at all times, and L did not disguise that fact. So the low figure he’d seen in this house looked like him…it was only because B was on his mind a lot that he’d made the connection to that psycho…

Just as well, L could have scanned the area through the surveillance system instead of investigating in person—but L knew there was a way to confirm his fears… his intuition would pick up B, would sense that gaze that always made the hairs on his neck rise and his skin crawl… much the way they were doing as he slid into the music room, feeling the heavy weight of eyes.

B is dead.

L plastered the thought over his racing conscious.

B is dead, Kira killed him, B is dead and buried… B had the eyes… B was part shinigami… Kira has the eyes… Kira is part shingami… Kira was dead two days ago… and Kira came back.

L’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. And was that it? Was that the warning? The connection? The message all a long? Here they were dissecting B and Kira’s natures—when all along the answer could have been staring him in the face like the Wara Naringo on the wall? Kira was part shinigami and it had brought him back to life… why couldn’t it do the same for B if they shared such traits?

And if that was so… then this presence, this gaze L felt on him now…

“lawliet…”

The voice was a whisper—the sort of whisper L immediately doubted hearing the moment it reached the whorl of his ear—the one he was convinced was only in his imagination… but it froze him in his tracks nonetheless. He went cold, flat-out stone-cold and jerked his gaze around the room. He felt his heart pounding—slamming hard against his chest, and 10 years worth of nightmares flooded his recollection… coupled with B’s crimes, the brutality he was capable of…

L stood his ground despite it—mentally wiping the slate of his rising panic, his gaze narrowing as he said deeply.

“Show yourself.”

There was nothing but an echo of silence… long silence … until from the sheer darkness of the room beyond, came the grinding, gruesome rattle of someone sucking in air hard through a raucous throat…

L stiffened, but reacted more quickly than he probably expected himself to—tearing across the room, hitting the light switch—flooding the small pantry with blinding light to find…. nothing. He whirled his gaze around, but the room was quite empty.

It didn’t put his guard to rest however, and he got on the headset… “Matt, I’m coming back to the house—throw the property floodlights, screen all outdoor cameras and lock the villa down completely. If I’m not in sight in 5 minutes—assume the worst.”

* * *

The coffee that had just been placed in his mouth practically shot out the moment he got word. Matt placed his mug down, yanking the headset up from around his neck. “L? What the hell is going on?!”

“Please just do it,” was the cool reply, offering no explanation nor any further room for discussion.

The redhead cursed viciously and spinning in his chair, clacked rapidly onto the main hub, bringing up the villa’s property plan. The installed floodlights burst to life with near-blinding clarity. In the kitchen, Linda whirled around, eyes wide at the brightness that illuminated the gardens and property beyond. L’s warning came back to mind. “Oh no…” she murmured and without even giving Light a proper explanation, made a bolt for the hallway. “What happened?!” she called before even bursting through the study doors.

“Lock-down,” Matt murmured around a lit cigarette and the first electronic whir of bolts was heard, latching doors and windows, instantly giving away that although the villa was rustic and downright traditional in its design, L had taken every last precaution to make it properly operational.

“Is he-?” But Linda did not get a chance to fully phrase out the question because the redhead was no longer listening to her, keeping an eye on the clock and another on the various wall-mount screens that no longer monitored the case halfway around the world, but every exterior view of the villa, alternating between all its different cameras.

“T’hell is going on?” Mello demanded, appearing in the doorway moments later – no doubt having been making his way back downstairs when the lights blasted through each now firmly shut window. Light’s silhouette was not far behind. Linda cast Mello a glance, then did a double take because not only had he appeared from out of nowhere, he had changed into too-long black jeans and a fitted knit top that left very little to the imagination as she could see the paleness of skin through the fabric. It was a closer mental image to that which she had just been reminiscing about with Light in the kitchen, which is why it threw her. She almost expected to find Mello barefoot, which was not the case. And as he strode into the room, she noted the bump of trademark handguns tucked into the bridge of his jeans at the small of his back.

“L’s ordered a complete lock-down,” was all the redhead volunteered without looking away from the screens. Ashes were tipped into an ashtray without even looking. It was a wonder they made it in at all.

“Why?” the question was sharp as the blonde crossed the study floor, coming to stand behind the desk perpendicular to the wall; hands flattening against the smooth surface as he leaned forward to follow his lover’s watchful attention on the monitors.

“Beats me. He isn’t exactly the type to offer up information in the middle of a crisis. So I’m not even sure if there is a crisis, just acting accordingly.” But he sounded testy all the same. “Two minutes down…” he hissed, checking his watch and lit up another cigarette from the still burning ambers of the first.

They were all crowded around the monitors by the time the clock was half passed three minutes and nearing four.

“There he is!” Linda cried, her voice tense, she was scared, it was painfully obvious—Matt was edgy but smooth in his position, Mello was anxious and Light looked concerned, a look that spread across the rest of them to see L appear on the monitor outside. He cleared the tree line for several paces before stopping, turning around and facing the woods—as though he were waiting for something that was following him. He didn’t move, and was standing at his full height—defensive—it meant he’d seen something, heard something, knew something and no one had any idea what.

He stayed that way for several long and tense minutes, but because he was in sight, his protégés had stopped watching the clock.

“What’s he doing?” Linda stressed, “Can’t he just come inside?!” It was obvious all she wanted was to make sure L was safe—and given the situation, seeing him outside backlit by floodlights, facing down the dark woods alone, did not seem safe in the slightest.

A calming hand slid over Linda’s shoulder to steady her racing mind, and she did a double take to realize it was Light, his attention on the monitors but his fingers squeezed her assuring nonetheless. She leaned into him unconsciously.

“I’ve got him covered,” Matt said tersely, splicing several codes through the system to bring a line of mounted guns up from where they were implanted in the ground. They were remote operated, and in moments, Matt had them covering L from all angles.

L took that as a cue, and after several steps backward, his eyes still quite glued on the tree line, he turned and made his way swiftly back to the villa. Matt opened the door for him via the main hub, and promptly locked it back down once he was inside.

Mello led the way into the hall to meet L just as he was peeling the black shirt off to reveal his usual white one underneath. Linda and Light were steps behind.

“What’s going on?” the blonde demanded—and damnit if L didn’t look …rattled.

Maybe Linda didn’t notice, being so rattled herself, but Light and Mello sure did.

“We have company,” L muttered.

“SPK?” Mello said, and Linda felt Light stiffen…

“Maybe,” L replied, but that answer sounded hollow—like he didn’t believe it and knew otherwise.

“It has to be more than ‘maybe,’, L” Mello said firmly, despite the pain in his head that was throbbing every time he opened his mouth to speak.

“Something’s out there.” L said. “Something that was probably responsible for what happened to you before,” Mello’s face twisted.

L’s gaze went to his own lover, “Light, did you see anything while you were out there?” he said.

Light winced, “I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” he answered, “But no, nothing jumped out at me—what did you see?” Cut straight to the chase, because Kira already knew L had seen something, it was written quite resolutely in the detective’s eyes.

L paused, and then moved abruptly passed them into Matt’s study. “Matt, bring up Camera #237 and rewind it back to 9:08pm.”

The red head didn’t bat an eye, doing exactly as he was told, knowing that was the time Mello and Light were in the woods and L had yet to retrieve them. The screen came up, and L dragged the window to the largest monitor, playing the footage for everyone to see.

“Pay close attention to the lower right hand corner,” he said—and as everyone leaned in almost instinctively to watch—unblinking—that familiar form scuttled by in bleary shadow light.

Linda gasped and drew back; the men around her all narrowed their expressions.

“What are we looking at?” Mello growled, wanting to hear the theory before venturing his own…something odd was scratching at the back of his mind but he couldn’t quite place it at that moment…

“I was here when that was recorded in the small servant’s quarters several meters through the tree line. That is not me.”

Linda’s eyes were tearing—she was closest to the B case at that moment, her mind had already cleared that particular plain, and all she could think was B B B B B…

“One theory,” L said quickly, though again, he sounded like he did not believe it—leaning in to fast forward the tape of the cottage to just several moments earlier when he was there himself, searching room by room… “Near has uncovered the BB case and is using it as a mindfuck,” –not a normative L way of describing something, it only spoke to his own obvious anxiety about the matter.

Matt was disgruntled by the suggestion, since he’d been on top of the SPK for weeks and had not sniffed out any plan of this nature. Linda was still standing there with her hand on her cheek, her obvious stress keeping Light almost protectively close by.

“Second theory,” L said, stopping his scan through the tape and allowing it to play out as he cranked the decibels… his image was on the screen in the darkened music room, standing there straining to listen. A nearly inaudible whisper filtered over the speakers—a word no one there recognized save two—L himself and Kira.

“lawliet…”

L drew back, stiffly. “I wasn’t hearing things,” he muttered, thumb immediately moving to his mouth. He paused the footage long enough to exchange gazes with Kira.

“How?” Light managed, the concern more than disturbingly evident in his voice.

“Who?” is the question, L growled.

Everyone else was confused.

“Someone was there in the house—,” Mello muttered.

L interrupted him. “Matt, I need that part of the footage erased completely—destroyed with no copies.”

A twist of brow under red bangs, “Huh?”

“Just do it please,” L muttered tersely, scanning a bit ahead and allowing the footage to play again. The next noise over the speakers made Linda’s gaze tear up and her hand clamp over her mouth in horror, she pushed back into Light’s steady frame so much that he had to grip her by the shoulders to keep her from falling…

It was a hideous grinding sound, like the sound of someone deeply sucking in air from a room ahead of L. It didn’t matter that when L rushed to turn on the lights in the footage no one was there—the tape had caught it, and that was proof enough…