Redeemer

Italian Suit.

It probably cost more than Matt’s last car, and the bastard wore it flawlessly. It was not an observation lost on Mello for the umpteenth time, that the devil was perfect; or at least boasted every pretense of perfection. God and he stood out in the sort of way a model or movie star did—elegant and statuesque even just sitting there in the outdoor café, black coffee, newspaper, cathedrals cast in picturesque fashion behind him. He’d cut his hair—it was back to the length most familiar to him, the Kira length, the Light Yagami length. Gone was the lax, casual sexuality of the Abercrombie poster boy Mello had actually grown accustomed to, now he seemed to scream of wealth and importance—of, dare they conjure the notion… divine omniscience?

Where the fuck did Light learn how to just ooze that sort of charisma anyway? His father certainly didn’t possess such a knack, neither did his very normal sister and homely mother—the guy was a breed apart, and Mello had to humorously wonder if the Notebook had made him as magically cool as it did lethal? Ha. But yeah, he stood out, which was the intention of this whole spectacle and despite the fact he was a young Japanese man in the heart of Rome, the foreign territory did not jar his poise in the slightest. He’d confessed to being able to speak Italian several days ago, turned out he wasn’t abhorrent at it, in fact, he wasn’t even bad, he was actually rather fluent the way he was with French. Both were better than his English, which he could translate perfectly, but still wrapped a rather thick accent around whenever he spoke it. It didn’t stop there, as he had so nonchalantly confessed that one summer he had dabbled in Latin and Greek, of the ancient variety, on a whim.

Sometimes it was no wonder L felt connected to him, and other times, there was no reason to be impressed. Whatever Light had done to better himself, was wasted like money on heroin the minute he got involved with the Death Note. Whether they solved this case in the allotted period or not, he was on borrowed time anyway—his fate sealed years ago. The true goal at hand was saving L’s life, not Kira’s—but Kira was the key to that, and so they came full circle.

They were doing the surveillance, Light seemed convinced that the members of the ring were not going to approach him so quickly, but instead scout him out, watch him from afar, develop their strategy from there. So without ever engaging that overpowering intellect of his, he had to exude the very qualities he wanted them to see, basically just by sitting there….and it seemed to come so damn easy to him.

Mello snapped his chocolate, watching from across the way. Light of course knew they were there, that was the plan. And in the last half hour, no less than 7 rather lush Italian women had already flirted with him rather aggressively—waitress included of course. He handled the attention with the sort of ease most men would have killed for. Considering he’d spent the better part of the last couple of months as the veritable prisoner in the tower, to see him adapt so easily to the cultured life of a seemingly wealthy socialite, well, it was just a tad unnerving. How easily he could change the channels of his personality, how simply he could shuffle off the lies.

Mello of course couldn’t help but wonder about L, and hated that for a moment he considered L the spurned lover hiding in the shadows as Light flitted about ever commanding the radiant spotlight for himself. Ironic that, considering what he was—or maybe not so ironic. Light checked his watch, his amber gaze hidden by bangs and sunglasses. People had passed, had approached him, had broken their necks to stare at him, but nothing yet had sent up red flags, and Light sipped his coffee looking rather bored. He wasn’t the only one.

Mello tongued the grooves of his teeth marks in the sweetened bar of cocoa, idly listening to Matt’s PSP beside him. L hadn’t said much over the com either, but was most likely scanning everything within range for suspicious activity.

“Know what pisses me off?” Matt suddenly muttered, having not glanced up once for the past 20 minutes.

“I could probably rattle off a list, but then we’d be here all day.”

“Nothing rattles him out here. He’s Mr. fucking Perfect and doesn’t deserve to be.”

Looking at him like this, it was impossible to ignore the harsh fact that had been set before them. Once again Kira was free, under 24 hour surveillance, but free nevertheless. Free to walk the streets decked out in his incomprehensibly expensive suit and designer cologne; free to play up the arrogance and let that swelling charisma flow just as naturally as it had in the past. Without a care in the world - or so it would seem. Mello knew better, or at least he would like to believe so. Would like to think that despite it all, the act was just a perfect lie - too perfect, unfortunately - but that just a little bit of conscience remained somewhere deep inside in the back of Light's head. Whether or not it would be heard when the time came, they would have to wait and see.

The Ducati shifted beneath him as a weary breath touched his lips. Arms crossed comfortably over the tank, fingers tapping restlessly on the grips. He was definitely not cut out for such mundane surveillance. Not when there was nothing to see, nothing to follow. It bored him. And boredom tended to make Mello dangerous. When the tenth woman sat down opposite Light, luscious legs peeking through the short flow of skirts crossing for his benefit, Mello dropped his head. This was impossible. Necessary and yet still a waste of time. There were other things he could be doing. Certainly Light didn't need both of them on his tail when all the bastard was doing was sipping down graceful gulps of coffee and pretending to look aloof and important all at once. It was working, surely enough, but toward all the wrong sort of attention.

"Goddamnit," he muttered. "Fuck this," and he tugged his helmet on. "Don't take your eyes off him." As if on cue, Matt simply nodded without glimpsing up from the constantly moving graphics on his handheld. Typical. "I'll be right back," Mello told him, revving up the motorcycle with a purr. "You need anything?"

"Yea. Two packs of cigarettes and a bigger memory card."

* * *

L had broken com contact more than 20 minutes earlier, and half the dynamic duo across the way had already sped off presumably in search of chocolate and cigarettes. With yet another empty promise to a beautiful woman about meeting over Belinis at sunset, the scene was suddenly down to just Light and Matt.

Light had scanned the crowd ten times over in the last hour, and aside from locals and tourists and the occasional business men, there was no one truly standing out like a sore thumb. There was however, a rather larger Italian man in a suit hovering inside the corner of a distant villa, and Light’s gaze had slid his way more than once already.

“Matt, do me a favor,” he purred into the com device hidden under his shirt collar. “There's a rather large man who's been hanging out in the shadows of the corner villa for the better part of the hour—can you get some information on him?”

There was rarely cause for Matt and Kira to speak, but the younger man didn’t miss a beat at the broken silence between them. “I'll see what I can do,” he muttered over the incessant beeping of his PSP. “I can't get a clear enough angle on him to see his face though. That something you can help me with?”

Light was smug. “Yeah, I could blow him a kiss and see if he comes over.”

“Hey man, you never know. He might have a thing for pretty Japanese boys in expensive Armani suits.”

This could go on for awhile. And while Matt sounded aloof and nonchalant, Light could still detect that sliver of aggravation in his voice at having to communicate with Kira at all….or perhaps Mello had told him about the brownies. “Funny,” he simpered. “I was thinking he fell more into Mello's arena though, given the less-than obvious shape of a weapon under that jacket. Hence why I ask you to get a bead on him. I'm still waiting for L to break silence...then if you still need me to, I'll get his attention.”

The pause was filled with the obvious sound of Matt trying to finish his game level. “Nah, he’ll move eventually—but maybe you could wink at him all the same.”

“I doubt he’d see it at this distance,” Light replied drolly, the waitress more than happy to fill his espresso and show him her cleavage at the same time. He thanked her in Japanese, because she’d already expressed her passion for all things Asian—and his voice made her blush all shades of olive-toned pink. The thought that he hadn’t been laid by a woman in awhile trifled at the corners of his bored amusement, and casually he glanced up as Mello’s motorcycle roared back into view. The Wammy kids were bored. He was bored. L had either died or fallen asleep—that was a joke—L never slept on a case; but he was damn quiet, and just as Light was pondering what he could do to shake up this situation a bit, his eyes fell across a man getting out of a cab.

Light crooked an eyebrow, his gaze drawn—a quick up and down glance safely hidden behind sunglasses. The man was tall, probably about his height, and slim, neatly dressed in a rather expensive suit, jet black hair pulled back into a short ponytail, wisps of random bangs feathering against a pale forehead. His eyes were concealed behind a very dark pair of shades, but it was obvious from his coloring alone that he was not a local. Interesting, but not exactly suspicious, attractive, hmm, definitely, the shadows even from far away falling under a chiseled pair of high cheekbones, deepening the plush depression of a full solemn mouth. He walked with a strange sort of grace, not the comfortable fluidity of Light’s own movements, but it was there, if not a bit constrained. And Light’s gaze lingered, the notion of beautiful women was suddenly completely lost on him in that moment, and he smirked at the irony of his preference—tall, pale and handsome, and probably the one object of attraction that Light would have to approach rather than be approached by. The thought was suddenly distracted by Matt’s voice over the com.

“Wait, he moved,” the redhead muttered, referring to the hulking man across the way in the villa. “I can run an image check on him. Gimmie 2 minutes.”

“Mmm,” Light sighed, bored. “Copy.” He was about to turn his lax attention back to the newspaper, when the attractive man from the cab suddenly sat down opposite him at his table—which was completely random and unexpected.

Light’s brow knit. “Scusami?” he said in Italian. “Posso aiutarvi?”

The young man turned a flat look on him, his face up close even more striking than Light had prepared himself for, but he didn’t let that morsel of reaction into his own expression. There was a dry beat of silence, before the man blatantly reached out to grab Light’s coffee, sliding it over toward him with two fingers; he proceeded to start abusing it with a barrage of sugar cubes.

That was when Light’s own face went completely and utterly wide with shock—an expression he didn’t often wear.

“There’s only so many things I can change in one sitting, Raito-kun,” the man said, balancing the last sugar cube the cup would hold, before that mouth Light had been unabashedly admiring pulled up into a small smart smile.

But Light was at a loss for words…except perhaps one: “L?!?”

* * *

The cigarettes were tossed without even looking as the bike was thrown onto its rest and Mello dismounted. "Who the fuck is that?" were the first words out of his mouth, staring intently across the busy plaza where Light now sat accompanied and looked a bit too surprised for his liking.

"L," was Matt's emotionless response. But, upon closer inspection it was not so much emotionless as distracted. He consulted not his PSP, but the handheld network access which gave him access to most if not all of their database.

"What?" Mello lifted a brow, obviously having missed something.

"That's L who just showed up and gave Light a fright. Would've loved to have seen the exact expression, but I'm trying to find out who the hell that guy there is," and with this, he nodded toward the edge of the villa. "Been hanging around for a while and Light's getting antsy." Blue eyes seemed to glint behind the colored lenses of his goggles. His lips parted in a slight grin as he lit up a cigarette. "Anyone you know or should I keep looking?"

Mello's gaze was already scanning the distance for the mentioned suspect. Well, not so much a suspect as a worry. Paranoia, much? Sure enough anyone who hung around this long had to be suspected under these difficult circumstances, but then again that brought his eyes back to the small café table. What the hell was L doing out in the open like this?! His chocolate gave him the most satisfying snap as he bit into it. "Keep looking, I don't recognize him."

Seconds later, Matt came up with the answer, still ignoring the fact that Kira currently found his jaw upon the floor. "Adriano Melchiorre, 37. No outstanding police record to speak of. In fact, not a whole lot of anything of note. The makings of a goon for hire with no immediately known affiliation. Anything else you'd like to know?" His tone was chipped but to the point. Maybe that would be enough to re-compose Kira to the role he was supposed to be playing.

A role that seemed absolutely impossible for Light to focus on at that moment; he couldn’t have made his sudden lust for L’s new look more obvious if he tried.

“You have to admit,” Matt said, lighting a fresh cigarette with the butt of his last, “L certainly got the drop on him—Kira’s totally floored and it’s pretty funny. Guess something can rattle the bastard after all.”

It wasn’t only rattling Light, but also those still loitering around who’d hoped to gain Kira’s romantic attentions. They all now seemed to be spearheading L dramatic looks of hormonalized jealousy because he’d obviously accomplished what they couldn’t. He had Light’s rapt and unwavering attention, and quite characteristically, he didn’t look like he cared, testing the coffee to make sure it was sweet enough.

Mello smirked, and popped the ear bud back into his ear to listen to their conversation.

“Raito-kun, are you paying attention to anything I say?” L’s voice was his usual nondescript tone, but it was hard to pin that familiar audio to the rather different looking individual sitting like a normal person across from Light.

“Of course,” was Light’s rather syrupy reply. “Everything. I'm capable of admiring you and listening to you at the same time.”

Matt groaned.

“Well please stop, at least for now,” L returned, concentrating more on his sugar cubes.

Light smiled that molten smile which was discernable even from so far away. “I'll stop now if you promise to indulge me later. Do you realize how much jealousy is being directed at you this moment? You're the only one here who's captured my complete and utter attention today. Truly, you never cease to surprise me.”

Matt flicked his ashes. “Can we just shoot him now and get this over with?”

Mello’s mouth twisted wryly at that. Not a terrible idea really, but he slid a glance over at L all the same, watching as L looked up at last to face his nemesis-lover companion, and very stoically simply said: “That’s because no one else has been doing it right.”

Ha.

Mello had to shove a piece of chocolate into his mouth in order to stifle the laughter that would otherwise give away his utter amusement. It wasn't like L to make him crack up at any given time, but just then he had succeeded. The blonde pressed a still-gloved hand to his lips, hiding the near-manic grin, eyes glistening with suppressed laughter. For a minute there it felt as if this was but a run of the mill case - as if L would accept anything but the most complex - and no one's life was truly on the line. The moment faded all too quickly, even if the hints of amusement did not dissipate completely.

"You've got my approval to shoot if he makes any more similar comments," Mello commented offhandedly, hopping up onto the edge of the fountain upon which he sat all too casually, one knee drawn up to his chest, the other dangling freely over the edge. It was probably the most public place they could have picked, and thus perhaps the best of them all. Sulking around in an alley was just far too obvious when the best place to hide was amongst the crowd and of that there was plenty. A constant influx of tourists streamed past them; the cafés were frequented at all times, university students poured over books, retired residents idled away the time watching the flight of pigeons and the ever consistent array of people who came and went at any given time.

Now if only there was something to actually watch other than Light making a total ass of himself over the com as his tongue licked the floor and his eyes, so very usually composed, screamed "take me now!" at L's changed appearance. How surprising could it be that L would change his appearance in order to step out in public? After all, it was his life that was on the line this time around. Or perhaps Light saw something Mello didn't - or couldn't even though Mello fancied L one of two people he could trust and the only one he had ever looked up to like a brother who had moved away long before a proper familial relationship could be established, only to return years later a gleaming star in a child's eyes. It wasn't too far from the truth. Not for him and not for several others that had been raised on that notion within the walls of the orphanage.

The man Matt had previously been watching moved again, retreating into the depths of the villa as if on cue. Perhaps thwarted by L's unexpected presence. Wary that someone else should approach when it had seemed unlikely that Light was truly waiting for someone all by his godly lonesome. It got the redhead's attention and in turn Mello's, whose gaze followed his partner's from behind the lightly tinted lenses of his sunglasses.

L seemed to notice the movement as well, his eyes following the man from behind the sun glasses. "Don't turn around," he said to Light, who despite his unabashed drooling, managed to focus enough to maintain his composure.

"Is he leaving?" Light asked, flagging down the waitress, who was all too happy to trip over herself to serve him. He ordered another coffee that had not been thoroughly ruined by L's sugar cubes. It was interesting to note the glance-over the waitress gave L in the process—it was probably safe to say L didn't normally attract the attention of the sexes quite in that way, but his new look was definitely having some influence, though maybe she quirked a quizzical eyebrow at the overflow of sugar cubes in his cup.

“Yes, he’s leaving” L mumbled. “But maybe just to make us think he is.” He thought a moment. “We’re leaving too, Raito-kun,” he said.

Light quirked an eyebrow. “We are? It’s about time.”

L nodded. “Yes, there’s a small little place on the outskirts of the main plaza—they have the best cannoli.”

Light raised a more dubious eyebrow.

“We’ll sit inside in the back, if he wants to continue spying on us, he’ll have to come inside and get closer. We’ll give him what he wants to hear, and then depart.”

Light sat back in his chair casually, but his eyes were still eating up L rather wolfishly. “I did tell them I was meeting a business associate here,” he said.

“Then that’s what I am.”

And Light’s return smile was about as far from virtuous as one could get.

Cannoli? Mello balked at the explanation and sincerely hoped there was more to this place than serving good freaking cannoli. Then again, this was L's logic operating at its height, and if the sickeningly sweet gooeyness made the wheels of his mind spin faster, then by all means. With a brief nod to Matt, they split up. It was as easy as that. A slight cue, no spoken words, none needed. They'd worked together long enough. The redhead stuffed his PSP into his back pocket and flicked away his cigarette, distancing himself from the fountain. If it weren't for the startling red of his hair, the crowd would have already swallowed him whole, but Mello would not allow that rich color to be covered up. He'd grown far too fond of it. With a bemused smirk, he slid off the fountain's stone edge, taking his time in mounting the Ducatti, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the pair across the vast extent of cobblestone.

They already had all the necessary information, L had made sure of it. The city's inner workings as well as its streets had been memorized in the two days they'd been in Rome on their own. Learning its quirks, its habits, its norms. Main streets memorized; escape routes fixed. The same went for most establishments along the more crowded areas. Thankfully they'd been blessed with a photographic memory as such knowledge had already saved their asses in the past, there was no doubt that such seemingly mundane information would prove useful soon enough. Still, he remained behind, taking up the rearguard so to speak, moving only when L and Light were on their way. Making a note of whose eyes trailed after them, whose lingered the most. Their mysterious watcher did not disclose himself, curious but not surprising. Subtlety was of the essence.

They walked it, and Light still managed to keep heads turning, but then again, oddly enough, so did L. He was not as visibly uncomfortable as Light knew he was; fighting the urge to slouch and shuffle along, he was actually fairly adept at pretending his upright movements were natural. He was still L, despite the chic appearance, but after 6 years of never seeing him any other way but the way he normally was—with the exception of those nights where he surrendered more than he was usually prepared to give—Light found this change of appearance utterly refreshing…maybe refreshing wasn’t the word. L had conjured a new mystique, because as always, just when Light was ready to take him for granted, he threw in a twist. Making a public appearance was not in the plan, and once Light wrapped his head around the idea, he found himself slightly floundering at L’s reasoning behind it-other than to jar him. In which case he was successful.

But Light had already determined—and disclosed—that the best possible explanation for the prison deaths, was that Kira #5 or their notebook-writing proxy, had The Eyes, and most likely were personally present to record and write all the names they needed to pull off such a feat. A lot of work for one person, so it must have been prerecorded in stages, as Light had previously suggested, which meant that the notebook user was very possibly a prison guard or official, or posing as one. It suggested two things: obviously that the user had made the eye trade, and that since only the user could make the trade, the chance was quite good that if he or she were off killing prisoners in Scotland, where L had last tracked them, then they weren’t in Italy waiting to snatch L’s name literally off the top of his head.

What was also fairly reassuring was the fact they were now dealing with a Kira who was not Japanese. Meaning, unless they’d been practicing their kanji, Light was sure there would be no reading of his name either…barring photographic memories at work, to copy and hence decipher said kanji. He could have been more worried than he was then at that moment that L was out in public with him. He was however, well aware that those watching him were most likely going to assume that his associate was very likely his captor… unless of course, he was something else.

That notion occurred to him as they were sitting down at a quaint table in the back of an even quainter café. The table was small and round and draped in a neatly pressed floor-length table cloth. L faced the door, Light, faced L.

“Recommend anything besides the cannolis?” Light joked, glancing over the menu.

“The biscotti, tiramisu and tortoni are also quite good.”

“How about real food?”

L glanced at him dully, and by this time he’d removed his sunglasses, his dark encircled eyes at last bringing some familiarity to his appearance. “Since when have you seen me eat real food?” He asked.

Light shrugged, not really sparing him a glance, feigning disinterest, which meant he was planning the contrary. “Since never, but Italy seems a good excuse to start.”

L ignored him and ignored the menu, his gaze fixed on the door, seeing Mello across the way, waiting to see if their mysterious follower would do just what L was expecting him to. It took a few moments before his hulking figure blocked some of the daylight as he entered the café. L’s eyes followed him, but not obviously—no, the motion was only obvious to Light, who knew exactly how to read L lately, so he could tell their company had arrived, and it was about that moment that he chose to slip his hand over L’s thigh under the table…

"Coming your way," Mello gave the warning just as the hulking figure of the man slid across the entrance and slipped inside. It was now out of his hands. The blonde cursed inwardly and located Matt slipping in after him, only to surrender several coins in exchange for a canned drink at the rounded counter nearest the door. His refreshment secured, he abandoned the café, straying only as far as one of the esplanade tables. Mello had to arc a brow at the laptop that was promptly set upon the rounded table, he recognized it as one of the lower end ones with the least amount of incriminating information. The backpack used to carry it was further emptied with what appeared to be a text and notebook. "Well shit, don't you look the part," he commented mirthfully. It had not been a bad plan. In fact it was brilliant as it let him sit as close as they were ever going to get without direct interference without being suspected.

When Light’s thumb found that one place deep in L’s thigh that made the detective stiffen and shoot him a near-horrified glance, Light merely shrugged nonchalantly. “The way I figure it,” he purred, far too quietly for anyone but L and the wires to pick up. “He wants to know who you are. You might be a business associate, but these people are too clever for that. So for sure, they’ll decide you’re someone else.”

L’s eyes were wide, and whatever public discomfort he may have been fighting before, it increased tenfold at the notion of being caught in this particular situation. This would have been an easier plan to get away with in Paris…

“So that constitutes your hand on my thigh,” L said, successfully managing to deadpan the statement. Well, that meant Matt and Mello were now in on it.

“Mmm,” Light agreed, sly and catlike, and ever so discretely, brushed his fingers across L’s face. The general populous didn’t catch it, but their watchful new friend did. “And that constitutes you being identified as my lover.”

L got it alright, but it didn’t make him any happier with the scenario.

Despite all their guarded movements, two heads shot up simultaneously. Matt caught himself just in time and passed it off as if he'd heard something on the street, fighting the urge to look inside. Mello, on the other hand, free of the watchful eyes of their stalker stared dumfounded at the little café. Outrage hidden behind his sunglasses but surprisingly enough, he silenced any comments he might have had for the bastard at that exact moment. How dare he? How the fuck dare he play such games?! Fuming, Mello snapped into a new bar of chocolate and made it a point to look elsewhere. Light was certainly not making his job any easier.

L had to deliberately maintain his composure, and it suddenly got that much harder not to curl into his natural position—it would have certainly cleared his head at that moment. But Light was right of course, their new friend had caught the gesture, his face twisted in that hard, Italian, slightly-horrified way. Wasn’t expecting that was he. And Light was certainly playing with fire, here they were dealing with the church and the mafia and neither had been very open to male on male relationships. L supposed this was the god-complex at work, or just Light at work. After all, no one else mattered, the games had always ever been Kira vs L, as if they were the only two in the world, and everyone else fell somewhere in the vast hierarchy below them…

But that was correct, wasn’t it.

L’s brow lowered and leveled and he fixed Light in a cool stare for a long moment. He could see the spark dancing in Kira’s eyes, the anticipation, the thrill, if L folded and took this treatment as uncomfortably as it seemed, then Kira won this round.

The waiter brought their water, and Light ordered the Bellini he’d been considering all morning, and then L stood up smoothly.

“We should wash up, it was a long walk.”

Light’s eyes widened at the suggestion. Consider the ante upped at that moment. He swallowed his initial reaction, and rose flawlessly to follow L into the narrow hallway toward the men’s room. They were out of sight of everyone, but not out of hearing range for the two on the other end of the wire.

L chose the spot where the shadows were darkest to suddenly slam Light against the wall and shove his tongue down his throat—teeth gnashed, lips bruised, tongues tangled, and goddamnit it felt good—breathless sucking, brutal—Light gripped his face hard, encouraging more, and it was long moments of fierce aggression as they grappled with the kiss before they pulled apart—their eyes sparking. Challenge met.

Welcome to the games of Kira and L.

Utter silence followed on the opposite side of the wires. Matt seemed to sink into his chair ever slightly, a hint of color rising to his cheeks - whether it was borne out of momentary embarrassment or downright annoyance it was impossible to tell. Mello, on the other hand, could hardly believe his ear. Already the mental image of flinging the earbud onto the cobblestone, smashing it beneath his heel and then having the grander satisfaction of running his wheels over it was forming in his mind. But, despite the joy it would have brought him just then, it was not something he could afford to do. Therefore, he resorted to clearing his throat rather loudly over the com, with extra emphasis so that his point had no chance of being misunderstood.

It was one thing to know what happened behind closed doors, even to have the misfortune of walking in on it, another all together different story to have to stand there, in the middle of fucking Rome while getting a direct account of all little noises either of them made when teeth scraped and tongues were shoved down the other's throat. That was downright fucking unnecessary. Mello felt as if he could have shot them both for it just then. Not to kill, no, just to maim ever slightly. Goddamnit L!! He twitched, tapping his foot impatiently against the polished stone and glared furiously in the general direction of the café. Their new friend seemed equally affronted albeit for completely different reasons.

"Goddamnit!" Mello hissed under his breath, careless of whether or not the other two would hear him. Just what the fuck kind of game were they playing?! They all knew who they were dealing with here, on one level or another. Such...display was not going to get them far, even if it effectively swept L out of their radar as Kira's possible keeper. After all, any given person their God was fucking surely couldn't be his own captor. That kind of mentality just did not jive.

Ha. Didn't Mello know the feeling?

Scowling for no one's benefit other than his own, Mello chewed intently on a dark square of cocoa. Inside the man seemed as if he did not quite know what to do, but had taken a seat nevertheless, at a table within hearing distance of their own. Back to the wall. Eyes on all possible entrances. "Fuck," he breathed under his breath, recalling the man's name. Sure enough it was not familiar but what did that mean? Hired goon he was, as Matt had aptly put it earlier, but who was he working for? On whose behalf had he come here? And better yet, was he alone? His gaze scanned their surroundings as if expecting to encounter something, someone else. Anything at all that would give him any further hints as to who they were dealing with. It was too vague, all of this. Too many games - careful games at that - and now Light had to go and make a goddamned bold move like that. Fucker. Did he even realize what he was doing? Goddamnit!

Light was breathing heavy and his amber eyes were positively on fire—riding the high of the thrill. “Mello’s not happy,” he purred, like the devil who’d just gotten away with it.

“Mello’s a professional,” L responded, and he’d contained himself, or at least gave the impression that he did, now standing a foot away from Light.

“And you’re not?” It was Devil’s Advocate, appropriately enough.

“I know what it takes to deal with you, Raito-kun,” L answered simply.

“The implications are still there,” Light smiled, he looked finely debauched in the lighting, he’d have to visit the men’s room regardless to return to his previous flawless state.

“We determined a long time ago that we’re both childish and hate to lose, so of course the implications are there.”

Light looked wicked, and L met his gaze with indifference, his dark eyes perhaps just a little more weighted than usual. “Go wash up, I’m going to order my cannoli.”

Light snorted, running a hand back through his hair. “Order for me too,” he said, pushing the men’s room door open.

L’s expression twisted a bit. “A cannoli?”

“Surprise me.”

Apparently everything was a game, and Kira off his leash was a lot more dangerous than he should have been. But he’d successfully flustered and disturbed the Alphabet Children. The satisfaction was in his face still when he met his own reflection and ran a hand under cold water to press on the back of his neck. He could hear Mello’s breathing on the other end of the com, and it was so very tempting to antagonize him, but truth be told, he was probably being watched by more than just Mello and Matt and Mr. Homophobe. Hmm, yes, definitely being watched. He wondered if L or the others had picked up on it yet, probably not…it was only because he’d spent 6 years used to this sort of surveillance that he was fine-tuned to know the weight of this particular gaze. He looked up into the mirror, scanning the empty wash room behind him. It was empty, just him—but not really. He turned the water off and paused—long and hard—he just stood there, watching the space behind him, watching it intensely…waiting…it could have been a draft that tipped the stall door behind him open, the draft and uneven hinges that made it open all the way even though there was no one there. Light crooked an eyebrow and smiled darkly. He wanted to say something just then, but it was enough to know that everything he’d done until now had gotten him exactly where he wanted to be. It seemed obvious too, that he was missed. But he was too long in silence, and Mello would wonder, so he dried his hands and left the washroom.

L was seated at the table, and the man who’d been watching them was turned away, not watching them. Only so many people could take the weight of L’s gaze, and L was still himself enough to be boldly rude in any situation. Apparently this was no exception.
“I ordered you the Saltimbocca alla Romana,” he said flatly. “It’s veal.”

Light shrugged, “Sounds fine.” And L nodded.

The bellini was already on the table, the slushy peach puree already melting sweetly into the sparkling Prosecco. Light took a graceful sip, his gaze trained on L, whose gaze reflected him, unyielding and steady. Without looking away Light purred into the com, “Mello, tell us everything you know about our friend here.”

“One moment," Mello interrupted him before Light even had a chance to get the full sentence out. Despite his slight disgruntlement toward the situation, he was a professional as L had assured. The moment things looked amiss, he was already one step ahead, taking the necessary precautions.

The change was seamless. Not two seconds after his comment to Light had he turned away from the café to rattle off smoothly in Italian into the phone, removing the ear bud so that the conversation was not so easily followed. But the little that was heard clearly over the wire had been enough: as if it were someone all together different just then, his tone cool, collected with an edge never before used in neither L nor even Light's presence. It demanded respect, it spoke of danger. And to accompany it, even his stature seemed to straighten as he spoke business and collectedly demanded answers to the questions that plagued them. It would seem that Light was not alone in his practiced ease of flip-flopping personas at will.

Once or twice he glimpsed over his shoulder to get a closer look at the man in question, brows furrowing in thought. The metallic phone snapped shut minutes later, and it was only after a short pause that he took up the ear bud once again. He could just about hear the expectant 'well?' upon their voices even if it was immediate silence that greeted him, coupled with the ambient sounds of the cafe across the way.

"Our friend here has been in town long enough to earn enough trust to get hired out but not to make a name for himself," he explained, chewing on his bottom lip. "This one's out of my hands as it would appear he's dealing with someone other than the local mafia. Whoever's hired him out is paying enough to keep him silent and their business out of the famiglia's ears. However before this new job took him under secrecy, he had been involved in several church related incidents." He said the latter word with distaste dripping bitterly from his lips. "I'd say it's safe to assume that his tailing is not accidental and the ring's suspicions are stronger than we originally believed. Congratulations Light, you've successfully warranted their attention," he added without skipping a beat already walking back to where the motorcycle had been parked. "I do not however, dare assume that his are the only eyes following us right now. L, with your leave, I'll scout the area. Unless you think you'll need me."

L watched Light drink his drink, his ear trained on Mello, half his gaze idly panning over to the man Mello was speaking of. “Please do have a look around.” L said, and to anyone there, it seemed as though he were speaking to Light. “And keep me updated. We will be leaving here once the meal is finished and returning to work for awhile. I want to gather and discuss today’s findings with you,” and that meant “all of you” but L wasn’t about to give away numbers in public. He was however doing the math on Mr. Melchiorre, but so was Light, and his math, unbeknownst to his Wammy companions had gone up just a hair inch higher. But he wasn’t about to give it away either, he had a theory to test.

“Veal,” he said suddenly.

L’s gaze flickered up at him, as though Light had been slow to understand.

“Why veal?” Not that he had a problem with it, but L never did things for mundane reasons.

“The thought of killing baby calfs has always struck me as particularly cruel,” L answered flatly.

Light arched a cultured eyebrow. “So you’re calling me cruel.”

L blinked, and Matt snorted. “You have your moments,” L replied, unconsciously slouching lower into himself until his chin was almost upon the table. There was only so much longer, it seemed, that he could put up with his current front.

Light’s mouth tightened. “That hurts,” he said.

And by this point, due to L’s sinking, his vantage was basically beneath Light. His eyes shot up, and the angle registered for a second far too similar to the one he’d had when he ‘died’ in Light’s arms—and that cruel face staring down at him. L had tried to rub it out of his mind countless times.

“No it doesn’t,” he said.

* * *

They were walking back with every intention to catch a cab, when Light loitered his way over to a nearby fruit stand to flirt with the young girl who was making coy eyes at him. L was momentarily stunted, but followed along, his slouch becoming more pronounced, his movements beginning to reclaim their characteristic shuffle. He gave the impression of a dog following its master, who walked as always, like he owned the world.

Mello was still elsewhere, or so they assumed, but Matt was trailing them, on foot this time, laptops stuffed away in bags—he looked every bit the bohemian foreign exchange student, and oddly enough blended in under that pretense. He of course stopped to smoke when Light made his unanticipated deviation, and for a moment it seemed as if Kira were just taking every opportunity to rub his gift for charm in the face of those who were forced to hide in his shadow.

L put a finger to his lips, watching quietly as Light chatted it up with the young girl, before buying a single apple. He said his goodbyes, without explanation for the pause, and took up pace again with L falling into step beside him. L didn’t ask, and Light didn’t say—not for several more blocks until he paused at the pedestal of an ancient statue and took a moment to contemplate it. Again, L didn’t ask, and again Matt thought Kira was stalling—obviously so, which was making him rather antsy.

Light took out the apple, and in mid-pseudo-brilliant comment regarding the history of the statue’s artist, he simply set the apple down on the stone and started to walk away, leaving it there as though it had slipped his mind.

L didn’t say anything, but he was taking it all in and Light flashed him a wise smile.

“Matt,” Light said suddenly into the com. “Watch the apple.”

If Matt could pull one of Mello’s famed WTF expressions, he would have. But L got it.

“Please do as he says,” the detective reiterated, and Matt planted himself across the way, and quite discretely watched the apple. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes,” Light replied.

“What am I waiting for?”

“Oh, you’ll know when it happens.”

L and Light left the frame of view, and L muttered something about meeting them back at the room when Mello was ready. Of course, during this whole discourse, their tail was still there, keeping a furtive distance, but watching every move Kira made with new intent. The look on his face once the apple entered the picture was odd to describe—he seemed almost awestruck. He’d certainly seemed to have left his homophobic views behind at the café—and like Matt who was now stationary watching a piece of fruit, so too was Melchiorre.

Again… WTF?

It was minutes however, around when Light and L were at last hailing a cab, that the apple…moved. Matt caught it, and thought he’d missed it, so he focused harder, and in a flash, the apple halved itself once, then twice, and was gone into thin air, like a mouth came out of the sky and ate it.

The cigarette dropped from Matt’s lips and he cursed.

“Is it gone?” Kira’s voice slid over the com, and sounded far too confident.

“Yeah, it’s gone alright,” Matt grumbled.

“Good,” Light said. “At least now I know which Shinigami we’ll be dealing with.”

* * *

What Mello had not told them, however, was that he had no intention of severing communication. Therefore, even though the com was turned off on his end so that he would not drown them all in the muffled roar of his motorcycle, Mello still had full sound from their part. Thus, as he heard the latter exchange, he paused, listening closely all the while trained eyes still scouting the surrounding areas. As expected no one had come out waving flags and shouting for attention, but there had been enough curious glimpses cast his way. Only his eyes were visible from behind the visor, hair hidden away and out of sight. There would be no chance of identifying him so easily. Still, one could never be so careful. And although he wanted nothing more than to return to the scene and witness for himself whatever the hell had just taken place, continued putting along the alley, kicking the bike onto its rest.

Maybe it had been just a shadow. One could hope. Sunglasses promptly fell over his gaze as he located the building's entrance. It was residential and so the front lock forcefully locked. A quick, apologetic story later, he'd gotten his buzz in and raced up the length of the stone stairs to the top floors. The metal door that gave access to the roof opened on the second try with a forceful shove, which sent it flying open. Thankfully it was also stopped just in time before it slammed against the opposing wall. Mello grimaced and scanned the wide area. It was then that he saw him, flattened against the parapet on the opposite side of the building facing one of the main plazas. It wasn't hard to guess what he would find before even following the lead of the scope. One of those bullets had L's name on it.

The cross cast a small shadow in front of him as the gun was silently removed from its hiding spot against his back. "Caduta la pistola," he said lowly, muzzle trained on the back of the sniper's head. The surprise was evident on his gaze, but it soon vanished - replaced by something all the more frightening. A smile, simple as that. As if such an event had been anticipated. As if it was still all going according to plan. From his vantage point he could see L and Light enter a cab, leaving only Matt and Melchiorre behind.

The rifle never fired but the snipper giggled - for there was no better term for it at all. Green eyes widened from behind their darkened lenses. "Where's the goddamned joke?!" he snarled despite himself, coming closer at last to rip the rifle from his hands. But it was too late. He saw it then, the glory, the victory in his gaze. Blind fool. "Sono stato trovato," he'd murmured somberly to the communication bud pressed into his ear, until that moment out of sight. Within seconds those eyes had glazed and Mello stepped back, handgun instinctively lowering. "Shit," he cursed as he sniper hitched a breath, falling to the hot pavement. Dead within moments. "Shit," he repeated, backing up more urgently. Gaze slid through the skyline of surrounding rooftops. Below in the plaza all seemed normal.

The riffle firmly in one hand, he tore down the steps, daring them two at a time. He mounted his bike in a hurry, shoving the weapon against the ferring so that it was for the most part, out of sight. The com was properly reconnected and he wasted no time giving the alert. "Matt, get the fuck out of there!"

"What?" he heard his partner whisper urgently into the com, still in the midst of the crowd.

"You heard me, get to the car and get yourself out of sight pronto. I'll meet you back at the flat within the hour and we'll rendezvous later." He could only hope that there would be some kind of print left behind on the weapon, something to identify them by. It seemed too easy. Too... unlikely. Why bother with artillery if a notebook was all that was needed? Granted, he much rather preferred the old methods himself, as tempting as the Deathnote might have been at one point.

Before any further questions were off, he removed the earpiece, and shoved it within the depths of a pocket. It was no time for questions nor interruptions.

* * *

“Borrowed time,” L murmured, and Light hitched an eyebrow as he dumped the room keys in the empty candy dish.

“What was that?” He said, loosening the knot of his tie.

L turned a flat gaze on him, idly pulling the rubber band from his hair. The uncharacteristically brushed locks fell out around his neck and shoulders, a silky curtain slipping over one large and darkened eye.

“We’re living on borrowed time,” he clarified. It was not a statement Light seemed to enjoy. He didn’t want to be reminded.

“I’m aware,” he grumbled, working the buttons from his expensive shirt collar.

“Mello just interrupted a sniper,” L replied, slouching and shuffling into the kitchen to locate the nearest source of sugar, and the statement hung in the air.

“What?”

“A sniper, Raito-kun, someone was trying to kill us—you, or me, or both. Mello intercepted the hit, seems Kira took care of the rest.”

Light winced, following L. “That didn’t take long at all,” in his voice he sounded more irritated than the words came out and both he and L still had the earbuds in place.

L nodded, as if it was no surprise whatsoever, and promptly began feasting on his sweet of choice. Light was disturbed, it was in his manner.

“Any indication who they were aiming for?” He muttered.

“Hard to tell, we were standing next to each other. Though my guess would be me, if they already assumed you were Kira. Your trick with the apple most likely cinched your identity—good work on cutting right to the chase.”

“It’s not like we’re working with a substantial amount of time here, L,” Light frowned.

“So if you’re Kira, I’m most likely L, or at the very least, someone the new Kira doesn’t want around. Unless they want Kira dead, in which case, they were aiming for you. So like I said, hard to tell. Solving the case to Ryuk’s pleasure is one thing, Raito-kun, staying alive long enough to solve it, that’s something else entirely.”

L stood, candy platter in hand, and began shuffling back down the hall toward the living area already decked out as their main headquarters; “Hence living on borrowed time,” he finished, brushing passed Light.

Light caught him by the elbow, pinching the expensive fabric of L’s suit shirt in his fist.

“Why’d you come out today?” He said, quite consciously backing L up against the wall. The detective’s gaze didn’t falter, far too used to the weight Kira employed in his every personal tactic.

“You already said so yourself,” L replied, meeting Light’s eyes with his own solemn look. “We’re running out of time. The 5th Kira has now identified us, and this will further progress considerably.”

Light was close and his features softened unexpectedly, those deep honeyed eyes under long bangs, drinking in L’s face, that haunted look that wrought his stoic features. It was hard to tell whether that look deepened when Light brushed the back of his fingers against L’s cheek, stroking the soft skin affectionately. He was close by that point, his body pressed up against L’s as his satiny hand slipped gently to cup the bend of L’s jaw. L watched him carefully, his deep black eyes always a blend of fascination, adoration and tragedy when considering the true nature of their very complicated relationship.

“I didn’t want them to see you,” Light said quietly, “I could have handled them on my own. Mello and Matt were there.” He sounded genuine, but that was the problem, he often did, even when he wasn’t. There was doubt in L’s eyes, the sort of doubt that went hand-in-hand with the desire to believe the lie. Light saw it.

“You think I wanted you to give yourself away,” he said. And his tone was tough to decipher, his voice dropping lower, intimate. L didn’t answer, as though he hadn’t decided. And that’s when Light leaned in to capture his lips—kissing him deeply, altogether differently from the kiss in the restaurant. L was hesitant beneath him, gradually giving in, kissing him back until Light leaned back, satisfied, glowing, meeting his gaze. L looked slightly flustered, but his business tone barely broke a whisper as he said: “There’s a 50% chance you will betray me before this is over.”

Light’s reaction was odd. Usually—if the past was anything to judge by—even under the tightest circumstances he could smooth into any lie the situation required, but for a moment, the revelation looked like it surprised him, not because L knew or had figured out some truth he’d been hiding, but because it seemed until that moment, he wasn’t aware himself what the actual truth was. The reaction caught L as much by surprise as it did Light, and Light pressed their foreheads together, seemingly at a loss for words.

The silence stretched long, and to those on the other end of the com, probably sounded as though Light had been caught in a lie for sure. What they didn’t see was Light take L by the hand and lead him away from the headquarters, back toward the bedroom. L let him, fully aware Matt and Mello were supposed to rendezvous with them soon, he didn’t protest when Light closed the door, turning to him to kiss him again, deeply, adoringly, his hands cupping L’s face, slipping to his neck, working free the tie, the shirt buttons—and by that point, L was mirroring him, the two of them stripping each other—moving toward the bed, falling together in a knot of limbs and bodies that fit so well together—Light moving above L, pressing into him, smiling as the detective lost himself against him, small gasps breaking across pale lips as he clutched Light tighter, and his embrace seemed very much to speak of the faith he so wanted to have… in Light… in Kira… in himself...

* * *

What's the matter with you?" The words escaped him the moment the door was closed firmly behind him. Mello stood before it, a brow lifted questioningly.

Matt looked grim. In fact, it seemed as if he had been caught mid-grimace. The stub of a cigarette between his fingers was used to light up the whole one that had made its way to his lips. Chain smoking. Never good. Mello noted the rather populated ashtray on the table beside an abandoned console controller. The PS3 winked its lights invitingly but the redhead had not succumbed. "When are you planning on going to speak with them?" he asked, ignoring the original comment as if it had not even happened. Yet, Mello looked no less suspicious he wandered his way inside, noting for the first time that the little ear bud had been set on the table like an unwanted thing.

"Now sounds like a good time," he commented offhandedly, wrapping the sniper's riffle securely in a towel to avoid detection as well as the accidental introduction of fingerprints.

"I'd rather wait."

"What? I know I didn't exactly give you specifics but we were targeted - or L was, goddamnit. There is no tim-"

"I know what happened," Matt returned without looking at him, his words muttered around the filter. "L already deducted what happened from your reaction alone."

Mello blinked. "So what in the bloody hell makes you think it's a good idea to wait?"

There was a long silence before Matt responded, glimpsing at his partner through the tinted lenses of his goggles and wispy strands of red. "Because if I go over there right now, Light's going to be eating my fist."