Redeemer

Linda practically fainted on the spot, only that steady grip at her shoulders kept her steadily affixed to the moment. “My god…” she breathed from behind her fingers, eyes wide in fright.

Mello was staring intently at the monitor, even as Matt stopped playback and as instructed, wiped clean those couple minutes of footage, shredding the data beyond recovery. They had all seen it, however. It was enough to be unsettling. His brow furrowed and the throb in his head only grew more steady and merciless. It practically hurt to think, but that whispered word had brought something back. And perhaps it was simply fabricating information due to this sudden development but… Mello looked toward the windows, chewing on his bottom lip, features puzzled. His own name—he’d heard it. Fully spoken with less then perfect pronunciation but it hardly mattered as it shouldn’t have been said in the first place. No one other those present – Linda excluded – knew it.

Beside him, Matt glimpsed up from his seat behind the wall of computer screens, casting Mello a questioning look but the blonde merely shook his head and promptly winced. No, this made no bloody sense. BB was dead – Kira had seen to that – and no one else would have known it. If it was indeed a ploy orchestrated by Near, they had missed something terribly important. Somewhere along the lines someone had fucked up but he was not eager to believe that either. No. They had missed something, but it was not the SPK’s movements. This wasn’t the sort of thing Near would do, but then again much had changed, had it not?

On the screens, live video resumed but the villa appeared still. Not a single thing out of place. The mounted guns disappeared beneath the well-concealed trap doors and out of sight. Matt turned around then, crushing a cigarette onto the tray. He was edgy but operating just as perfectly while the scare touched each of the others. “We’ll figure out the who in due time, for now all that’s certain is that there is someone on the property. L, what’s the course of action?” He asked the detective pointedly. “Under normal circumstances I’d say a search and destroy method would be the best, but seeing as our position has been compromised without raising alert until now…” And he sounded annoyed at that. That he perhaps had missed something during surveillance. Impossible when both he and L had been keeping a 24/7 watch, but it raised questions all the same.

“I need some time to think…” L muttered, “…and investigate a theory.” The detective’s gaze had drifted into deep thought. “For now, lock down stays as is—the villa is self-sufficient. Everyone stick together and don’t wander the house too much—I want to know where you are at all times. I will be on surveillance, along with Matt, then Mello and Linda—we’ll work in shifts…” his gaze moved to Kira.

“I need your brain,” he said flatly; “Come with me.”

* * *

“It said your name,” Light observed when they were up in their bedroom, and L was bringing up all the surveillance screens on his monitors. Morimoto was placed on the back burner yet again in view of more pressing matters—but that had been the way of L’s life-long hunt, and he shut the files on the case with a disgruntled look that made Light raise an eyebrow.

“You think it’s B,” Kira concluded.

“That’s insane,” L replied, “B is dead.” He was playing Devil’s Advocate and he wanted to hear Light’s argument in favor of B alive.

“Should be,” Kira muttered. “The picture I had on the prison records was charred, but I believe it worked—his facial features were distinguishable enough to present a fair image… and the police records I hacked confirmed his death.”

“Then it’s not B,” L said.

“But how did it know your name?” Light continued.

“Near could have found it and set the whole thing up…”

“Then Matt should be fired,” Light replied somewhat haughtily. “And besides, L, I know you—you’re already convinced. You have no evidence aside from that footage which you just destroyed—”

“I will not have my name on record,” the detective defended.

“I understand that, but what’s the percent that the presence in that house—in those woods—is B?”

“5%,” L said without hesitation.

“Rubbish,” Light replied. “The odds are less—” because in L speak, on this matter, 5% translated to 95%...

“It was a 5% chance you were Kira the moment I laid eyes on your picture,” L said dully, crouched before the line of laptops, staring obsessively at each screen in turn. “Look how that turned out.”

“I was alive the first time you laid eyes on my picture,” Light added.

“And you’re alive now,” L replied.

“How very observant of you,” Light muttered, then turned as he felt the detective’s heavy gaze fall on him; L’s eyes in that moment were unsettling.

“You weren’t alive several days ago,” the detective droned.

Light stiffened, but not because L struck a chord—his eyes widening slightly. “B had The Eyes,” Light said, “Which meant B was imbued with some power from the Death Realm…if it’s anything similar to mine, then…”

“There’s no reason he couldn’t come back to life the same way you did,” L replied. And he had another screen open, not a surveillance screen—a screen of unsolved murder cases—gruesome ones. “I missed something,” he said, thumb between two plump lips. “If B is alive, he’s been sending me messages, and I’ve been so involved with you, I missed them—it would have to have pissed him off, he’d seek me out in person then and resort to his old ways—his old scare tactics…”

Light didn’t say anything, arm folded across his chest, fingers absently plucking at the partially open collar of his shirt. L missed that look—that wise, knowing and greatly satisfied look of Kira in control.

“L,” Light said a moment later, “What was the second noise on the tape?”

L didn’t miss a beat. “B had a habit of sucking in air like that, deep in his throat like a Ju-On movie, it was a frightening characteristic of his.”

Kira was silent—strangely silent, and L glanced up to see Light was a tad paler than normal. “I know,” the detective muttered. “It always disturbed me as well.”

“That wasn’t in any of the files,” Light said.

“No, personal detail—I left it out on purpose, along with quite a few other things.”

And at that moment, Light’s voice was a little too dry to respond…

* * *

Linda was pale. She sat on the couch staring at the coffee table and the neat pile she had organized a few hours prior. The B case was staring right back at her. But how could it be when… No, stop thinking about it Linda. You’ll drive yourself mad, she chastised and making an attempt to look elsewhere with little success.

Matt was grumbling and had returned to his previously abandoned cup of coffee. “The fuck is going on here…” He was more than annoyed, having kept it under wraps while L was present, but now scanned the footage and ran the past several hours through the screen in front of him at high speed, taking in every last boring incident that had occurred that day. There was nothing. Not a bloody sign that anyone was on property, much less the creep L seemed convinced it was.

Mello on the other hand, was pacing in front of the tall, armored windows, arms crossed against his chest, head down but his brows were furrowed and a diminishing square of cocoa hung between his lips. Something was bothering him. Something he could not lay a finger on… of course he may have just been imagining things. His pride was ever slightly injured over his earlier misfortune; the fact that he might have simply… fallen. Mello did not just fall in pursuit. That simply did not bloody happen. But all signs indicated that to be the case. Until now. Grasping at straws or was there more to it then that?

“Bloody hell, Mell, stop pacing already,” Matt snapped several minutes later, blinking at his lover who stopped midway through the trajectory to just look at him. “You’re driving me mad. Sit your arse down.”

The blonde lifted a brow at him and even Linda cast him a questioning look. But then Mello laughed and whatever tension had built up dissipated. “I can’t,” he said.

“Then get some bloody sleep, cause I’ll be waking you up to take over in a few hours.”

“I’d say its you who needs some rest,” Mello countered smoothly.

“I’m not tired,” the redhead responded from behind his monitors and Mello shook his head.

“Linda,” he called, and the girl practically jumped off the couch. “Calm down. I know what you’re thinking, but calm the hell down. The probabilities of that are stupidly low.” Linda nodded, knowing quite well that he was right and she was being foolish but she could not do away with the chill that crept up her spine, and she shivered involuntarily. “C’mon,” Mello insisted and reached down to tug her to her feet. His grip was strong at her hand, grounding her.

“I’m all right.”

“Rubbish. But you will be. Come on. You’ve done enough reading for the day. I’ll walk you up to your room.”

But as they reached the upstairs hallway, Linda was suddenly hesitant to cross the threshold into her room and chewed nervously on her lip. “Mello?” she called once he turned to head to his own bedroom. He paused, glancing back curiously over his shoulder at her.

“Can… can I stay in your room tonight?” Linda half expected him to laugh but when he didn’t she glimpsed up hesitantly to find him looking at her a bit puzzled but… sympathetic. “Nevermind, I’m being foolish—“

“Get in here,” he motioned her over, pushing his door open and Linda did not need to be told twice.

* * *

It was sometime around 3 am when Mello’s internal alarm went off and he opened his eyes in the dark. Things were groggy but clarified when he twisted to see Linda huddled up in a tight little ball beside him. Lock down. Right. It was his shift.

He slid out of bed, stretching, but careful not to wake her, poor girl had a hard enough time trying to sleep as it was; and when she finally stopped tossing fearful glances around the room at every sound, it couldn’t have been more than two hours ago. Mello was adamant to let her sleep then—so he slipped from the room with barely a sound, and closed the door softly behind him.

No alarms had sounded, so that at least was a good sign. And as typical, the light at the end of the hall was on, which meant L was still up—24/7 vigil…Mello decided to approach just for a briefing before heading downstairs to relieve Matt.

His eyes, of course, however, went to Light first. Kira had called it a night obviously, and was sound asleep in the bed across from L’s line of laptops, expensive silk pajamas under Egyptian cotton sheets; Light slept with his back to L, who’d dimmed the laptops enough so they wouldn’t be overly annoying. This was practiced and Mello knew it. Light had gone from a solitary sleeper who needed total silence and darkness in order to get the best rest possible, to someone entirely too comfortable with L’s insomniac behavior even to the degree that he felt more secure falling asleep while the detective was right there awake beside him. And that was without the threat of nightmarish doppelgangers roaming the halls.

L looked up.

“Just changing shifts,” Mello said softly. “Linda’s in my room, but you probably know that,”

L nodded.

“Anything happen?” Mello ventured then, and L shook his head.

His attention was riveted to the screens, and even though Mello was quite sure there was not much going on in the house, one would think it was a source of endless entertainment with the way the detective stared.

“’K,” Mello said. “I’m going downstairs—yell if you need me.”

L nodded again, and Mello left the room, heading downstairs, still too tired to really be that concerned with looking over his shoulder.

Matt was in his usual place, but looked as though he were fighting off sleep with a vengeance. “Thank bloody Christ,” he mumbled, when Mello finally walked in. “I’m utterly knackered.”

Mello snorted, moving to the seat Matt was in as the redhead vacated. Instead of bowing out of the room however, Matt grabbed a blanket and pillow and promptly collapsed on the leather couch.

“You’re gonna crash here?” Mello muttered.

“Yup,” Matt said, eyes already closed. “Too tired to go much farther—and besides, I want to get up in two hours and drop in on the other case.”

“Ah,” Mello breathed. “So you’re aiming to run yourself into the ground.”

"Not necessarily the plan, no." Matt grumbled, already half cocooned into the blanket and sinking into the couch so that only his eyes were showing above the blanket and even those were partly obstructed by haphazard bangs. Mello glanced at him disapprovingly but shook his head, offering no further comment. Might as well let him sleep without argument. The redhead was going to do what he wanted regardless.

Half an hour in Mello was ready to take a gun to his own head if only to break up the monotony. It was mind-numbing to stare at all those bloody screens without so much as a diversion. This was not normal surveillance; this was not the field support work Matt had been doing—this was downright boring and it was driving him mad. Feet were propped on the edge of the desk, cup of coffee in one hand, opened book upon his lap but his attention was split and so progress was slow as far as his reading was concerned. In his room Linda still slept, he noted. She'd migrated onto the center of the bed and huddled beneath the covers. He had to wonder if she had ever realized that he had abandoned his post at her side. So long as she continued to sleep was all that mattered, he supposed. L still sat motionless in front of his own screens, staring at the monitors with utmost attention—disturbing really when one stopped to think about.

He was looking for something. Waiting for something. It unnerved Mello to think about it because he was very willing to dismiss the idea that the detective's reasoning was right. Irony that. And perhaps it was that train of thought which led him to abandon his book, pad over to the coffee table and leaf through Linda's work, coming back to the desks with half-read case files and her personal notes. For someone who was long dead and buried, Beyond Birthday had become a whole lot more trouble than he was worth.

* * *

Linda’s eyes peeled open and collided with a swath of oppressive shadows—but not utter darkness. It was funny, that moment between sleep and waking where things felt fine until she realized she wasn’t in her own room—then it came back. The lock down, the sense of sheer unsafety… the voice of Beyond Birthday on video.

Linda bolted upright—she felt silly doing it, but she realized just then that she’d gone to sleep in Mello’s bed, with him beside her. Way back in their youth he would have sneered and chastised her for being an ‘ewww, girl’ but his quick, understanding acceptance of ‘Can I sleep in your room tonight’ had been just another shade of the impressive person he’d grown to become.

He wasn’t there now however, and that was unnerving, because Linda was alone. She tried to tell herself to stop being silly, that she was overreacting, that although there was obviously someone out there on the premises—as evidenced by the tape—it couldn’t be him. B was dead, and no reasoning in the world… but that wasn’t true was it? Several weeks ago she would have never believed that Kira could kill simply by writing names in the notebook… there was reasoning, it was just Beyond Believable.

“Damnit,” Linda cursed, trying to decided whether to lie back down, pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep—or get up and find someone to buddy system with. She’d even attach herself to Light with absolutely no qualms at all. In the grand scheme of things, Kira didn’t support lunatics like B—Kira, in that scenario…was the good guy. Ha.

Linda tentatively glanced around the room—watching the shadows cast by a wall-mounted night light. The windows were shuttered with bullet-proof iron slats, just like all the others in the house—it shut out all the natural lighting and made everything that was once open and airy and opulent feel quite oppressive and dark.

It wasn’t healthy either that her mind was spinning tricks on her, and everywhere she looked she thought she could make out the lump of a crouching, shadowy figure. She tried to block the notion—but the more she shoved it away, the more it persisted, until she remembered L telling her of the way B used to sit at the edge of his bed—how L knew B was coming and would watch that tug of the sheets, the long arm ascend, the rest of the mongoloid figure follow… too graphic a notion just then and Linda threw back the covers and stood up from the bed.

It didn’t matter if any of her peers thought her foolish, she wasn’t going to stay there alone, and her eyes darted to the closed bedroom door. She had to pass by the open closet to get to it—why was the closet open? Hadn’t she made Mello close it?—the thought stunned her for a moment, and logically it just stood to reason that the blonde had needed something and left it open by mistake… but… Linda couldn’t bring herself to move—

That was until the cool grasp of fingers reached out from under the bed and brushed her bare ankle.

She screamed—and in a flurry rush of horror tore out of the room and into the hall, heart hammering madly as she ran—fleeing terrified from the lingering sensation that there was a hand on her skin, that someone was under her bed, that…

She collided head-first with L at that moment, who obviously had come immediately at her cry. And nothing mattered beyond her fear, because Linda wrapped around him completely, and would just not let go…

* * *

Mello was half off his seat when he caught Linda bolt from the bedroom, and on the next screen over was L coming to the immediate rescue. That meant there was no one else on watch and there was obviously something out there that had spooked her, but had there actually been something or was Linda’s imagination getting the best of her? The case files were shoved aside as Mello brought up his bedroom on a bigger monitor, splicing it in two, keeping one live and rewinding the other to several minutes before Linda even woke up.

* * *

"There's something in there!" she gasped into the soft cotton of L's shirt, clinging desperately to him as a pillar of strength and protection. The only thing she had. Of course there was no possible explanation as to how someone could have come inside after the villa had been completely locked down. There was no feasible way. Just like there was no feasible way that BB could still be alive and out there somewhere. Goddamnit. But her reasoning was being drowned beneath an onslaught of panic because she could not let go for the life of her and tears dampened her eyes.

L had one hand around her trying to anchor her, but it was obvious his full attention was on the room from which she’d just come running.

“It’s alright, Linda,” he was trying to say, aiming to pry her off, “I’m going to check,”

“No, no no no no no,” she whimpered, as illogical a request she knew it was.

“I have to,” L muttered, “Stay here.”

Funny how Linda’s head and her body totally split on that one and she didn’t loosen her grip on him in the slightest, even though she had no desire to venture anywhere near that particular bedroom again at that moment.

“Linda,” and L’s voice was stern, his strong grip prying her off his person to move past her. She caught him by the hand before he could free himself completely, adamant that she not be alone and he not go alone, and as irrational as she was sure L thought it was, he let her cling to him, and led her back down the hall.

“Where?” he said, noting how she gripped his hand in both of hers, pressing up against him from behind as though he were a shield.

“Under the bed,” Linda gasped, peering over L’s shoulder into the darkened room. “Something touched me from under the bed—and the closet’s open…”

L winced, untangling himself from her to enter the room, hitting the lights, and crouching to examine the bed. He pinched the blanket between two fingers to lift it as Linda stood agitated in the doorway, shivering unconsciously—and he had a moment of recollection. He’d done this before—countless times in his youth, that ritual under-the-bed check. He remembered when he used to lift that blanket, and see after squinting, that huddled mass of B just waiting there…

But there was nothing there now. Nothing but a shoe, half pushed beneath the mattress—and L held it up. It was possible Linda had stepped on it and her imagination launched to the worst possible conclusion at the cold sensation…nevertheless, L checked the rest of the room—parting the clothes in the closet to examine every corner. Still nothing, and Linda wilted—her nerves shot.

Distraught, she pressed a hand to her face, feeling foolish, still scared out of her mind—it was surprise then when L sympathetically wrapped her in a warm embrace and she just folded against him.

“I’m sorry, I thought—”

“It’s alright,” the detective responded, rubbing the chill from her body. “I understand better than anyone how B can get to a person—truthfully it’s better if you’re on alert this way, but I don’t want you scaring yourself to death.”

Linda managed a weak chuckle.

“C’mon,” L said, and his body felt warm and good against her. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Linda did not particularly want any tea, but she wanted to be alone even less, so she followed him down the hall and toward the kitchen. She sat at the counter, ironically taking the same seat Light had occupied several hours earilier during their talk and then she asked, eyes wide while L prepared the kettle. "You don't believe it truly is him, do you?" She looked so small then - and felt the part, too.

L stopped to consider the question, or more accurately, to consider his answer. “I’m not ruling it out,” he said at last. “I’ve seen too much these last 6 years to rule it out.”

Linda’s face was appropriately wide-eyed and L set the tea in front of her. “Let me put it this way,” he continued, “Kira came back to life—why can’t B?”

“It’s crazy,” Linda lamented.

“So is killing people with a notebook,” L replied.

Oh God, he had a point and Linda’s hands were still shaking. L took the liberty of placing the tea between them and wrapping her fingers around the mug to stay them—Linda took the liberty of reaching for his fingers instead. Must have been a strange sight to Mello who watched the scene on the monitors several rooms over, but Linda hadn’t even noticed she’d done it—and L had the patience of a saint all of a sudden. It was probably because he understood what it was like to deal with the fear of B.

“I’m sorry, that’s not very comforting,” he said, referring to the argument in favor of Beyond Birthday being alive. “but it’s better you’re warned.”

“So you do think it’s him,” she whimpered, squeezing his hand—absently noting it was warmer than she’d imagine L’s hands to be—for some reason she’d always thought of him as having cold hands, cold skin… it was probably his complexion which gave that impression since he was anything but cold just then.

“I sense something that is far too much like him,” L replied thoughtfully. “I can’t say whether it is for certain—but I do know what I heard in that little house, and I do know what I saw on that footage. I also know there’s more to it than that—and chances are likely Mello wasn’t careless enough to throw himself into a ditch earlier this evening… but it has yet to make sense.”

Linda was watching her tea, which still remained untouched in all senses of the word. Her fingers still gripped his, finding security there in that warm, strong touch just as she had minutes earlier in his arms. And for once she did not flush at the realization because it was true without there being a need to hide it. And sure enough it looked strange from Mello’s vantage point, but he supposed there was no need to be surprised. In the time it had taken them to get downstairs and discuss the probability of having BB on the premises, Mello had found no hints of intrusion within his bedroom. Her imagination was surely running wild. He did not blame her.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, pushing long bangs from his eyes, which he rubbed moments later. The little sleep he’d managed earlier had hardly been enough, plus there was still that annoying throb stubbornly afflicting his head.

Mello lifted his coffee off the desk and drained the mug, staring at it sadly before setting it down. It was just half past four now. Only an hour and a half since he’d been down here and already it felt like an eternity. In half an hour Matt would wake – how he’d do so without a set alarm, Mello had no idea, but also had no plans in waking him right away either. Not everyone could live on L’s sleeping patterns. It wasn’t healthy. Plus if the redhead was going through the downer Mello suspected—he was on that shit again and they both knew it—he’d need more than just a couple of hours of sleep to wipe the trace of it from his system. Granted, Matt did not function in the morning without a proper cup of coffee and cigarette to jump start the day anyway and Mello shot his lover a glance; the redhead had all but disappeared beneath the blanket, blotting out the light and effectively cocooning himself in what seemed like a most deep sleep. Good.

His attention returned to the screens and he hissed a curse. Mello was bored. A dangerous thing that and one that generally did not end well. He spun a pen deftly between idle fingers, gaze alighting on each screen even though he could split his attention between the entire setup. There was nothing to see, and that was the problem. His gaze flickered toward the one monitoring the kitchen. Linda and L still talked. Two screens over, Kira slept soundlessly without a bloody worry in the world. How did he ever manage it? The blonde frowned, watching him—so perhaps the earlier nightmare had been drug induced? That was one way to explain his earlier erratic behavior, but then again… that wasn’t the only thing about Kira that needed explaining. In fact, there was plenty.

And here, alone in the silence of the study with the entire property to monitor, the thoughts were still loud in his head. Light… loved him? L had said so. Inwardly, Mello had already known but it was startling to hear, more startling to feel the response trapped in his throat, and he had to swallow it down. Call it a matter of pride, or something else altogether. It didn’t really matter. His emerald gaze swept up toward that telling monitor—Light had shifted, rolled onto the opposite side. Peaceful as ever. Damnit.

And Mello slouched further in his seat, green eyes drawn upwards, studying the curve of Light’s body beneath the blankets—it had only been a night ago that lithe, lissome form had been spooning so passionately against him—unbridled and alive and brutally honest in its emotion…now he seemed so controlled again. Pampered in his expensive pajamas and his expensive bed while everyone else was unnerved, or restless, or anxious—he was absolutely pristine and sleeping like a babe…sort of like the way he used to be.

But that just as easily could have been further illusion—of course it was, Light was falling apart. Now even Linda was involved as Kira’s personal shrink. Perhaps L at last decided a woman’s tender touch was needed to balance his fiendish ways. Whatever the case, Mello knew he just could not tear his eyes off of his lover…and he wasn’t referring to Matt.

With the passion they’d both enjoyed only 24 hours earlier, this particular present should have been so much different. Light had sequestered himself away again, barely even saying two words to Mello since last night. It wasn’t supposed to be that way—Mello had broken through, he was supposed to collect his winnings—he was supposed to have woken up with the dawn, with Light still entwined thickly in his arms—they should have spent lazy hours kissing, and smiling at each other like idiots. Wasn’t that what love was? Weren’t they supposed to share and elaborate that bond they had forged in the throes of ecstasy when Light had confessed ‘Ich liebe dich?’

God, and why was Mello even lamenting over this? This lack of affection on Kira’s behalf? He could have let himself go, and instead he was scrambling to pick up the shards of his former life…The nightmare should have been a good sign—it proved conscience and humanity—this peacefulness was not.

But what was worse, was the thing at the foot of Light’s bed that suddenly caught Mello’s eye. He winced, and squinted at the screen—zooming in until the pixels began to blur—and he could not make out if it was a shadow playing over Light’s leg under the sheet (but the angle of Light’s body didn’t seem to allow for that) or something else… something that looked like—an arm…

"What in the bleeding hell..." Mello breathed, hardly above a whisper; he pushed himself up, hand on the keys—zooming in, zooming out. It wasn't a trick of light and shadow. There was something there. Mello moved from the chair, crouching down to shake Matt from his slumber. The redhead came to with a curse but Mello shoved an already lit cigarette between his lips, and Matt simply blinked.

"What time is it?" he groaned, glaring through squinted eyes at the offensive desk lamps.

"Five. I need you to take over for a few. Check on your other case, I'll be right back." And without any further explanation, Mello bolted from the room to take the stairs two at a time to the upper level. Bare feet were silent against the floor and even so he slowed down along the hall, pressing against the wall beside the doorway. Weapon firmly in hand, he pushed the door open, rolling himself in along the doorframe, gun pointed in the direction of the end of the bed.

Nothing there. Teeth grit in frustration, and Mello slipped further into the bedroom, edging along the far wall so that he could keep an eye on the entirety of the room - after properly checking behind the door from which he had just come in, of course. There was something too bloody weird going on here. Crossing toward the windows, he ensured that the glass panes were closed and the metal panels were in place. Nothing out of the ordinary, so what the hell...

Mello scowled, scanning the dimly lit room more closely, but there was only so much to inspect. L's station remained untouched and after keying in a few codes, he brought himself up on one of the laptop screens, zooming into the bed. Whatever had been seen before was now gone.

The cold barrel touched his forehead and he hissed his frustration quietly so as not to disturb Light. They could not all be going mad here. Linda had felt something, he'd just seen something. L himself had seen something earlier. No, there was more to this than their imagination, but at least L did not come across as the madman for seeing things in a locked down house.

"Lord, let my mind be clear," Mello grit out quietly, opening his eyes moments later to find Light awake and looking back at him, having lifted himself up onto one elbow to peer at him with the proper tilt of his head. Mello did not draw without a reason, now he simply looked endearingly puzzled. Or perhaps the blonde's mind was indeed in need of rest. Nothing made an inkling of sense anymore. "Scheiße..." he breathed, lowering the weapon.

“Should I be worried?” Light said rather smoothly. And it was funny, now that everyone else seemed to be losing their mind, he seemed on steady ground. A damned seesaw.

“Thought I saw something on the screen,” Mello muttered, slumping down at the foot of the bed.

“In here?” Light asked, sounding concerned, but not anxious.

“Yeah,” Mello mumbled glumly, returning his gun to its proper place.

“And you came to my rescue?” Light replied, a little coy, and warmly teasing—it was a tone that had been absent from him for the better part of a week and Mello crooked a gaze over his shoulder. Green eyes met amber ones, and God he loved the way Light looked when he first woke up—that healthy glow, those mussed amber locks that framed his handsome face so naturally.

“Seems to be a bad habit of mine,” Mello confessed—ah, here was a sudden opening… “Don’t know why I bother, since you seem to have shut me out again.”

The playfulness in Light’s face melted a bit. “That’s my mistake,” he said soberly. “The last thing I want to do is shut you out.”

Mello twisted now to face him. “But you keep doing it.”

Light’s gaze didn’t drift with guilt or settle somewhere else with shame—he maintained eye contact, and Mello took note. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I don’t know what to make of myself lately—I’ve had to step back and try to pull it together.”

“Which you’re doing,” Mello prompted.

“Trying,” Light reiterated, but his slimly humble tone, and his leveling gaze spoke on two different chords. One was transitory, and one was quite firmly in control. “Speaking with Linda earlier helped,” he confessed. “I told her what I said to you.”

Mello’s face fell serious. “Did you mean it? Honestly, Light—it’s been driving me mad.”

“Me as well,” Light answered, and his eyes flickered down, but not with the heavy forlorn weight they’d been crumbling under all day—he was merely being thoughtful. “And I did mean it, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how you feel about it—I want to think I do, but I’ve been second-guessing myself a lot and I’m not used to that. If there’s one person I’ve never second-guessed before, it’s me.”

"You've been second guessing yourself?" Mello chuckled quietly and looked toward the barred windows. "I don't talk about myself, Light. Personal guideline hammered into my brain early on and only reinforced through the last six years. I suppose it has not been helping the situation." And that he admitted that much was a surprise. It was one thing to hold discussions regarding Wammy's as they had back in Rome, another to go deeper and scratch beneath the surface at thoughts and feelings. Mello’s guarded personality had generally never been questioned, but now Light was knocking on those boundaries. "Here I am on shift bored out of my bloody mind to the point that I catch myself watching this room closely enough to see things that aren't there. Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's something wrong with this scenario."

“Which part?” Light muttered. And god, that was an all-encompassing statement—he meant it as such too to bring on a bit of levity. After all, there was a lot that seemed wrong with this scenario—the very fact he was sitting there at all was quite wrong. That Mello was sitting next to him, that L hadn’t taken out Kira like promised, that Mello was L’s heir instead of Near, that Near was Public Enemy #1, that here they were all holed up in a villa in Sicily on lockdown because a dead psycho may have been running amok… the fact that Kira was in love with Mello and the feeling was seemingly mutual factored in there somewhere, but seemed almost laughable when held up to everything else.

Light’s smirk seemed to say as much, but those commanding eyes spoke louder as he held out a hand to Mello. The gesture was reminiscent of countless religious iconography Mello had ingrained into his psyche, and the allusion wasn’t lost on him that it was most likely intentional because this was Kira doing it—and one day somewhere in long past, Mello would have drawn his gun on the bastard, bent on going down in a blaze of glory before ever taking up that offered hand—but in that moment, he slid his fingers into Light’s soft palm, and willingly curled up against Light’s prone form, head on Light’s shoulder.

“I have work to do,” Mello muttered distantly, at a loss for his own behavior. The statement and his actions were polar opposites.

Light cradled him comfortably and damnit he felt so good. “I know,” he said, but made no move to shoo Mello from the room. They stayed that way for a few quiet moments before Light asked: “Where did L go?”

“Downstairs with Linda,” Mello answered, “She freaked out earlier, thought something was in her room. L searched but found nothing, and now he’s calming her down.”

Light breathed in deeply. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “There is something very wrong here… L is convinced it’s B.”

"It’s a theory I'm not willing to accept," Mello stated without a moment's hesitation. "L is seldom wrong about these things, but just this once I'm not buying it." Plain and simple - it made no sense and regardless of whether or not they had another explanation, B was not it as far as the blonde was concerned. "Whoever's out there isn't B," he stated firmly. "Someone doing a damned good job at pretending to be him, perhaps, but that's as far as it goes." It was a wonder he could still command that much impact through words half-muffled against the soft, expensive fabric of Kira's top.

“Has he told you his reasoning?” Light replied, his own mind gearing through the scenario on a wholly different level. ‘B’ was apparently in the house.

That was good—he hadn’t exactly given Misa those instructions to penetrate the fortress so to speak—and how she’d done so without tipping off the cameras was a marvel. The girl was an “actress” yes, never had been a very good one—though her work with Higuchi had been impressive in the least. She was most certainly not a stealth ninja, but seemed to have miraculously acquired those abilities because this was above and beyond…quite literally. And if she’d managed to slip under L’s security of all people and land on the inside of the villa before everything locked down…well then—the close quarters made things more interesting.

More risky too—as Misa had to have been hiding somewhere in the shadows out of sight, but to slip from Linda’s room (presumably) to his own (presumably) with Mello on guard over the monitors and not be seen was fairly remarkable… granted L was distracted and that sort of thing would not get passed those unblinking owl eyes. But L was with Linda, and Mello already admitted he was bored—and Matt…Matt was off some how. Light had sensed that earlier. Overworked, probably, pissed about his lovelife—most likely, involved with L’s other pressing case… yeah; but there was something else there sniffing beneath the radar which worked to Light’s advantage just as well. He didn’t particularly care about what was bothering Matt at the moment anyway as long as it factored into the distraction.

He did not need this scenario to last very long—in fact, the quicker the better. He just needed to get the information he had to get while everyone else was seeing shadows in the dark. Then he needed Misa out and gone and back to her role as the Second Kira, because at present, she was doing a far superior job than him.

There was just one thing bothering Light… the noise. The noise in the cottage. Misa knew L’s name—she had the Eyes—she could speak it to him in the dark, that was not bizarre. She and B shared that quality… but the noise, the sucking in of the air… not even Light knew about that. Hell, it seemed only Linda and L had been privy to it when it happened…so how would Misa know to do that?

“No,” Mello muttered, snapping Light from his thoughts. “But I can venture to guess he’s relating it to your uncanny situation.”

Light’s fingers fluttered through the flaxen strands of Mello’s hair. “L believes that if my ‘shinigami’ traits—so to speak—could resurrect me the way they did, who’s to say they couldn’t do the same for B? It’s ludicrous—but so is thinking that a notebook can kill people, and that I can crawl out of a grave after a more than lethal injection… I hate to say it, but with that idea, I can’t altogether rule B out either… like you, though, I’d much rather find a better explanation. And I’d most likely venture to say Near is behind this…”

Mello scoffed. “Doesn’t seem his style, but who am I to judge at this point? Nothing seems his style anymore. The truth is that there has been no evidence of activity on his end.” Mello exhaled irritably, leaning away ever slightly, just so that he was no longer talking into Light’s chest and getting distracted by the rhythmic beat of his heart. That was the last thing he needed. “Why appear now that all of this has come up? Why now just as Linda’s gotten herself buried to the neck in old cases and is jumping at shadows with the mere thought of Beyond Birthday? It’s too bloody coincidental if you ask me.” Plus there was that evening’s incredulous incident that he was not eager to forget so soon.

“I don’t know,” Mello said at last with a shake of his head, sitting up but not sliding away just yet. “Maybe it’ll all make more sense in the morning,” and he pushed long bangs from his gaze suddenly remembering that he had to relieve Matt, it was still his shift after all. “Go back to sleep,” he told Light, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I’ve got to get back to work…”

Maybe it was the fact that Light knew Matt was watching, that he grabbed Mello for just a moment longer to press the kiss just a passion deeper before letting the blonde go and smiling in that intoxicating way of his.

“Okay,” he said, his voice smooth and thick like honey.

Mello’s gaze held firmly for a moment, drinking in that glow Light seemed again to possess and suddenly—or not so suddenly—he really just did not want to leave.

“Mello,” Light murmured and the blonde raised an eyebrow. “Thank you.”

* * *

There were two laptops missing from Matt’s personal station when Mello came back to the study. The redhead was out of his surveillance seat the moment he heard his lover’s footsteps crossing the threshold, and with hardly a glance in Mello’s direction, was curling back on the couch to resume his self-induced coma.

“Where are the other stations?” Mello muttered, casting a wary glance as Matt yanked the covers over his head rather dramatically. “See for yourself,” he mumbled and Mello winced, sitting down in the chair again.

He glanced at the screens, and was not surprised that his gaze went first to Light’s monitor, to see him curled back on his side, and apparently sleeping soundly again. The scent of him still lingered in Mello’s hair, and he had to tear his eyes away to search the rest of the screens for the answer to his question—he found it oddly enough in the sitting room. Usually so full of airy sunshine in the day, with lockdown it was rather like an iron prison, with the plated slats over the wall of windows.

On the couch however, was L—missing laptops set up on the coffee table before him, and draped in his lap, sound asleep and covered with a blanket—was Linda. Mello’s brow went screwy, and Matt practically heard the expression.

“Yup,” the redhead muttered from beneath the blankets. “Girl’s got it bad for him—and apparently he’s humoring her to just let her fall asleep hugging him that way. I had to bring him the machines so he could monitor without waking her… would have been nice if you’d come down a little sooner instead of dawdling up there with Sleeping Beauty. I lost about 2 minutes in setup time, and had to back lag.”

Mello frowned, snapping into a freshly unwrapped piece of chocolate as he turned his attention to the screens. “Sorry…” he muttered but Matt had disappeared beneath the blanket, properly comfortable and too unconscious to respond. Mello’s gaze turned back to the sitting room where Linda lay perfectly at peace, clinging to L as he went on about business as usual.

Way too goddamned bizarre. Mello lifted a brow but shook his head, not wanting to touch that one with a ten foot pole and instead, he returned to the mundane watch.

* * *

The sun was up somewhere beyond the armored windows, but within it still felt like the dead of night. An hour prior the rest of the household woke to find themselves under lock and key and mild panic ensued. Mello had to run out with an explanation, came back coffee in hand—but it sure as hell was not doing much of anything at this point. He drained the mug and set it down to key in a message to L.

Wake her up to take over. I need to crash and Matt will be out for another couple of hours.

L clacked back a message rather promptly: Light’s awake—give the task to him a bit. I’m going to let her sleep longer. You go get some rest.

Mello had to wonder, truly. And it could have been a case of L having sympathy for Linda, or the fact that maybe… just maybe, he enjoyed having a young, beautiful, intelligent blonde girl draped in his lap that way… Mello snorted, but was too tired to really give it much more thought than that. Instead he got on the comlink to Light’s room, where the brunette had finished dressing: Light - L wants you on watch for awhile. I have to cash.

He watched Light glance at the message on the laptop screens upstairs before typing back the reply: I’ll be right down.

* * *

Light turned to leave the room, feeling rather different that morning than he had been all week. There was purpose again—and though he had yet to measure out the sort of consequences he was about to procure for himself, he still couldn’t put it out of his mind that he was again on a mission. He wanted to smile about it, but cameras were rolling everywhere, and he was once again under 24/7 surveillance, even if this time he was not the main target. Interesting.

He was almost across the threshold into the hall when he heard a slight scuttle behind him—like nails on a wood floor, and his head quirked—because he knew suddenly that he wasn’t alone, but he could not necessarily betray that fact. Ha. Mello hadn’t been seeing things—‘B’ had been in his room last night, and was apparently still there. Under the bed.

If Light actually stopped to think about that, it was rather disconcerting; but he supposed his personal Beyond Birthday was just waiting for the opportune moment to move. And if Light was on watch, he could provide that for her as long as L was appropriately distracted… Misa was just going to have to have patience… but it seemed to Light that ironically—she very much knew what she was doing.

Funny that.

* * *

Mello was still sitting at the desk when Light came in, watching the screens with the last bit of attention he could spare before sleep claimed him. Sleep—it sounded marvelous. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, not necessarily surprised as he had watched his lover’s trajectory through the villa on the screens. Light had taken the time to fetch himself some tea before appearing in the study. That was alright. The blonde stood, clearing off the desk—returning Linda’s work to the coffee table quietly, collecting the several mugs he had gathered through the night. “Try not to die of boredom,” was the only advice he offered as he shuffled out the door. Of course it never did occur to him to wake Matt up and drag him upstairs. Of course it never did occur to him that Light sitting at the work station – Matt’s work station – was the first thing the redhead would wake up to later that morning…

Light cast a glance at the sleeping redhead, but slid into the station easily as Mello left the room. At that moment, if Kira was bored, he was only pretending to be.

That was the main hub after all, and all the information Light was looking for was locked away inside it…

* * *

Linda stirred and shifted, tightening her arms around L’s slender form, nestling further into him as though seeking his protection. L’s arm draped casually over her shoulders—rather unconsciously too as he watched his lover on the screen—L watching Kira watching L—it was rather ironic. But Light was at the main hub, and that was essentially dangerous—maybe there was a time it would have been worse, but nevertheless, L had his eye on him, and Kira most likely knew it. He sat there for a while, before getting up to reach for the BB case, presumably to occupy himself while keeping watch… and L had yet to figure if that was a good idea.

* * *

It was mid-morning, climbing steadily toward noon by the time Matt stirred somewhere in the cocoon of his blanket. He unburied himself with a distinctive groan of annoyance because the couch wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on, and the windows were still barred, stealing away all indication of the hour. The redhead did not notice Light at first, having gone back to sleep while Mello was still on watch, he had no idea how long he'd been out and at that moment was more preoccupied in finding his goddamned cigarettes. It was through the initial haze of smoke that he spotted Light's distinctive figure sitting quite at home in his chair, at his station and the cancer stick tumbled from Matt’s hand.

Certainly L knew of this arrangement, as the detective was most definitely keeping a close eye on the screens at all times but... perhaps that's what made it even worse. Had everyone gone decidedly mad around here?! What the fuck where they thinking in giving Kira this much access to play with?!! Of course Matt wanted to open up the conversation by asking just what in the bleeding hell did Light think he was doing, but that was a stupid question with a rather obvious answer—he'd had plenty of time to get accustomed to Light's ways and endless games of superiority. "I'm fetching coffee. Consider yourself relieved once I get back," Matt gruffed instead, dropping his pack and lighter onto the desk.

“Good morning to you too,” Light muttered back, barely raising an eyebrow at the grumpy redhead. “And I can’t just yet,” he added before Matt was over the threshold of the doorway. “I’m doing analysis for L—when I’m finished, you can have your station back.”

Matt stopped—nuh-uh, no way. If there was one person he didn’t take orders from, it was Kira. And if there was one more person he didn’t take orders from about his gear—it was Kira.

“You’re doing what?”

Light’s eyes shifted up, and Matt was standing rather defensively in the door with a narrow gaze crooked over his shoulder—his normally aloof nonchalance seemed more like borderline anger, and as had become his custom lately, his tone had particular bite. That was fine with Kira, his resolve had thickened overnight and he met Matt’s attitude with an immovable wall of his own.

“I’m analyzing footage of B as per L’s request,” Light said low and slowly, as though Matt were a particularly dense pupil. “When I’m finished, you can do whatever you’d like.”

Matt visibly twitched. He was halfway into the first cigarette of the day but he had yet to set eyes on coffee, so his disposition was less than pleasant. Not that he ever made too much of an effort to be nice to the bastard in the first place. "I don't think you understand how things tend to work around here," he grit out slowly. "All you're doing is analyzing that footage? Good," he said cooly without giving Light a chance to respond. "Take a laptop and do it elsewhere."

The order was barked as Matt made it out the door, livid as he stormed the kitchen for that much needed caffeine. The string of curses as he yanked the cabinet door open to retrieve a mug was impressive, even by his standards and he stood at the counter, hands flat against its surface as clear blues impatiently watched the coffee drip into the pot. The fucking audacity! Just who the hell did Light think he was?! How good a watch was he even performing when he sat there 'analyzing' B's footage? And besides, Matt had slightly more important things to do. He scowled, pouring the coffee at last. Just because L's attention was once again diverted from the case of his lifetime—quite literally—the redhead was still expected to be there as steady field support. It was just a damned good thing that no important shit had gone down during their crisis the previous night.

Clearly Matt had not expected Kira to simply cooperate and vacate the hub in his absence, but the sight of him still there was infuriating all the same. Or perhaps the redhead was looking for any excuse to slug him. It would be rather satisfying, but he did nothing of the sort, approaching the station in silence. The mug was set down next to the smokes and rather than properly address the bastard who was watching him with a lifted brow and infuriating impassive look upon his face, Matt walked around the desk, pressed one of the laptop screens down and firmly disconnected it from the organized chaos of wires.

He was back around before Kira could utter a word, tugging the chair backwards which could have been highly humorous because he firmly spun it around and deposited the computer into Light's hands. "Out."

There was a myriad of reactions Kira could have pulled out at that moment. Surely his pride did not just allow for anyone to essentially ‘push’ him around in that manner, and by anyone—most specifically someone as unimpressive to him as Matt. And there was a moment where Matt anticipated that fleeting rash of pompous insult to flush Kira’s cheeks and make him throw a minor wobbly, to which Matt was fully prepared to deck him—he was showing remarkable restraint just then regardless.

Instead Kira—smiled—that wry, sardonic, man-eating smile that spread his lips like the Cheshire Cat and coupled with that sudden arrogant, crescendoing cackle he only seemed to use while at his antagonistic peeks, he stood from the chair, laptop in hand, leaned close into Matt’s personal space so they were eye-to-eye and purred “You seem threatened.”

There was barely a beat of hesitation—blame it on the lack of coffee—when Matt swung at him. He wasn’t aiming per se, and that was only because he really didn’t want to have to deal with the temptation of following that first blow through to the inevitable smackdown that would follow—but just because he didn’t expect the blow to connect where he most wanted it—fatally to Kira’s cranium—didn’t mean he wasn’t intending to break that pretty nose. So it was more than a mild surprise when Kira’s own reflexes were just a tad quicker than Matt ever thought they would be.

Kira caught the blow—deceptively strong, murderous hand palming Matt’s fist mid-swing. The crack was loud, had to have been painful, the force reverberating through Light’s limb, but it was an effective defense regardless and the satisfaction melted haughtily in that reddening amber gaze.

Light clacked his tongue reproachfully with the sort of disdain that made Matt’s temper shoot through the roof. “Such violence,” he tsked, long fingers still wrapped over Matt’s knuckles, meting out the necessary resistance to keep the desired blow from connecting. “You should probably do something about that.”