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Cries in the Night	By : pinkfeline Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male Views: 5064 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Chapter 6

Perching on a chair, nerves alight with an expectant energy, L waited. Watari was busy at the controls, redirecting feeds and calling up the recordings, his shoulders tense. Those that met L in person would say that it was hard to affect him, to unnerve him or excite in him any strong feelings. L was of the opinion that they simply did not take note of his assistant, or they would redirect their opinions elsewhere.

Watari was an unshakeable rock in the foundations that made up L's life. L had seen much, been through much and discovered even more. No matter the dangers, the surprises - his actions or opinion; Watari never once faltered. He simply did what needed to be done or was requested of him. He handled pressure with an enviable calm and patience that was not part of L's own make-up. This is perhaps what made him such a good assistant and spokesperson.

Even in the face of the revelation of the existence of Shinigami, Watari had never once wavered. So L was understandably curious at the obvious tension, the troubled expression on the aged face. Curious and impatient.

At last Watari stepped back, watching L. L's eyes did not leave the screen for a moment and was unaware of the surprise mirrored in his face. He watched the recording twice again after that, first to assure himself that he had not seen wrongly and after that to examine in detail. At last he turned to his assistant, eyes wide and unfathomable.

"I believe it is imperative that we find Light-kun. Send a team to the Yagami residence as soon as can be arranged. If he has fled, he might have left a clue as to where he intends to run. I believe his father would like to be made aware of his son's disappearance as well."

L turned from Watari then and left - his mind in an uncommon mess.

___

"Kira"

His sleep was haunted with unintelligible and severely fragmented memories. Little jabs of consciousness - internal knowledge that fought to the surface in the muddled state of his mind. Through out it all, he heard the name called and tried to shrink away from the sound. Caught in a rip tide of accusation that he could not escape.

"Kira"

Leave me be. I am not Kira�I'm not him�I'm not�

"Wake-up, Kira. It's not finished yet"

A sudden mental assault of thoughts and memories rushed through the darkness and into startling and frightening clarity. Fragments that pushed and jostled for his attention, sliding through his mind's eye and attaching itself to memories that had been incomplete.

As though pulled from a nightmare, his mind jumped from deep sleep into wakefulness, his eyes wide and startled, his breathing quick and loud. He scanned the room he was confined in for the owner of that voice, that horribly familiar voice, but found himself to be very much alone.

With the newly recovered memories came a terrible knowledge and a deep simmering anger. Light had protested his innocence wholeheartedly for months; unable to grasp why the dark haired detective would not believe him. Why he insisted that Light was guilty, despite obviously false pretences that they were friends. Light had looked forward to the day that he would be able to prove L wrong, that his suspicions had been unfounded and foolish. But L had been right; he had seen what Light in his naivety could not. Light was Kira, and the truth of it pissed him off.

Two mindsets battled for prominence, struggling for his control. But Light's innocence had already taken a mortal blow, his naivete and good intentions fading in the onslaught of bitter anger and relentless ambition. With cold, calculating eyes, he looked about him with a renewed intensity. His cage, a small bare medical room by the look of it, with but a bed as furnishings. Simple, cold and entirely indifferent.

This was no ordinary medical facility - any moron could tell. This meant that it was L's doing, a private place where the detective's actions could not be questioned whether good or bad. A setting completely under L's control. Did his father know of this? For that matter, was Light being kept here due to unforeseen proof that had been uncovered while he had been indisposed? It was true that L was unlikely to be very accommodating after his flight from an almost 'murder', but to isolate him, freed from that damned chain, did not seem entirely L's way of doing things unless he knew more than he let on.

Kira knew not the date and so could not tell how long he had been here, or how long ago he had foolishly bitten his archenemy. His response had been one of idiocy, a shadow of the fear that had gripped him when he first learned the incredible truth that the Death Note was real. The response of a weak-willed creature.

His mind grabbed at the thought and began analysing a very important detail. How was it that his memories had returned to him? According to the rules, if Ryuk had not simply played him a fool, he would not be able to remember the Death Note and all associated memories unless he touched the book or a part thereof. Looking around he saw no sign of book or paper - nothing to reveal to him how the rule had been played.

Neither of the Shinigami showed themselves either, a further mystery on which to dwell. Tentatively Light pushed himself up into a sitting position, relieved when he met no resistance. Glancing down he found the straps that had bound him dangled uselessly from the side of the bed, showing no signs of being forced. So he was allowed to move freely then.

He cast his eyes to the ceiling and was unsurprised at the cameras that stared down at him. Someone was watching - L perhaps? Had they seen anything that would cast the suspicion on him in stone? A door handle turned, drawing Light's attention. The door swung slowly inward, revealing a most curious form.

Light did not know how to react. Should he laugh at the ludicrousness of it all? Or be deeply insulted or even fearful?

The figure that walked in was covered from head to toe in a white suit that hid all identifying aspects. There was no way to see the face or even identify whether it was male or female. The suit looked better suited for a mission in space than whatever this place was, and he highly doubted that he was in space. It looked quite ridiculous from the get-go. Two theories began to form in his mind as he observed his visitor.

The ambiguousness imposed by the suit implicated a defensive tactic used when dealing with Kira - only much more pretentious. Were they trying to disconcert him with such a showy tactic? To make him panic at the conclusion that he had been captured and was now simply a lab rat for the purposes of dissecting? Not worthy of even trial, but to suffer in silence whatever torment they felt he deserved. Perhaps it was to give him the insecurity of being alienated, considered less than human - unnatural? That was one theory, one that he inwardly snarled at.

Secondly, judging by the suit's appearance, Light was under the impression of being contained - quarantined. As though he was diseased and dangerous. Did they imagine Kira to be infectious? A low strangled chuckle escaped him, cut off quickly with a tightening of his lips. It was no time for his emotions or thoughts to reveal themselves unbidden. Or did this have anything to do with Kira at all? He recalled the symptoms he had been suffering the last month or so. Was this a true medical quarantine for some dangerous infection or disease? Light did not like this idea; he had always taken great care to keep himself healthy.

The figure had paused at the strangled sound of his amusement, the trolley that it had been pushing groaning into silence. After a breaths moment in which neither moved, the trolley squealed back to life and was pushed to the centre of the room. Letting his eyes drift over the contents, he found it to be laden with food, a persisting pinch in his stomach reminding him of its lack of sustenance at the sight. The figure retreated quickly after that, the long strides and the gait giving Light an indication of being male.

He followed the 'man' with his eyes until the white door swung shut after his departure. Only then did he stand from the bed and walk over to the trolley. He looked at the food critically, and found none to be particularly appetising. He was also somewhat distrustful of any medicines or drugs that may have been put in the food and so he took only the glass of water and retreated to the bed. He would not even have taken that had his throat not been parched.

Seated once more, he returned his thoughts to his situation. He thought of the changes he had undergone over the last couple of months, the curious symptoms that did not always seem to match. A small shiver ran down his spine at that implication. Was he sick?

There was nothing in the Death Note that warned of any physically adverse effects to using the book, but then the rules would probably be different between human and shinigami. Ryuk had mentioned that he would suffer the fear and the stress of using it - was that the cause? Light had never really been excessively stressed or fearful as a consequence of using the Death Note. It was more a challenge that engaged him mentally, an unparalleled euphoric rush that came from having such incredible power.

Maybe it had nothing to do with Kira and Death Notes at all.

Glancing around the room once more, Light settled himself more comfortably on the hospital bed. Sipping the water slowly, Light resigned himself to a long wait. Without knowing what exactly he was here for, he could not guess at a strategy they would use. The man that had brought the food had certainly not stayed long - minimal contact.

They would come eventually, this he knew, and Light was a patient man.

---

Little flickers of colour and light scattered and moved randomly in the streets below, representations of the feeble and insignificant lives of humans. Pinching forefinger and thumb, one little light was blotted from his view- a grim reality of the frailty of life. With a sigh he dropped his hand back to his side. He considered his reflection within the window, the curves of flesh and bone that was half shrouded in shadow.

He was mortal, as all humans were. It was an easy thing to forget at times. But mortality had never quite had the meaning then as it had now. He frowned, turning his gaze back down past his toes, beyond the glass wall and to the activity below. He often watched like this, separated from society. It is what reminded him that all people were the same, insignificant in the large scheme of things. Little lights without any true purpose of direction, motivated by common factors and susceptible to the same flaws and pitfalls that were a part of humanity. It was the source of his conviction that all criminals could be caught.

Perhaps he had distanced himself too much, stepping back from society to an extent that he no longer considered himself one of them. His gaze flickered briefly to the sky. He wondered whether there was someone looking down from an even higher point of view and how he appeared to them. Regardless, when it came down to it, he too was one of those lights. This acknowledgement was what separated him from Kira, but it was Kira that reminded him of his own mortality.

It was Light that made him question it though.

A nail split between his teeth, withdrawing his hand only long enough to examine the damage before the thumb was at his lips once more.

Everything in this world was mortal and he had never felt it of any gain to consider the possibility of things outside of nature that defied this existence. He had not believed in the supernatural until the coming of Kira. But what was Kira? Was he truly the mortal child that had gained impossible power, or was he truly something that defied a scientific existence? Oh the signs were there, and now that he had an idea of what they meant, he found himself struggling to accept it.

Light was Kira. He had always known this, though there were times of doubt, but the form of revelation was very unexpected. Inconceivable and utterly ridiculous had he not seen it. Still he was almost loathed to the term, to the name and all it encompassed.

Vampire

His nose wrinkled in irritation. Had he spoken the word he might have spat it instead. The vampire - a creature of superstition and myth. A creature created from ignorance and cast into a mould that was meant to entertain the masses. But it was the closest thing that could describe the changes Light had undergone.

Vampirism would explain the increased nocturnal activity and the subsequent slump in energy levels during the day. The loss of appetite in concern to human food, and most of all it would explain the biting. But all of these things could have a perfectly normal explanation. No, physical evidence existed to prove that Light was anything but 'normal'. That night that Light had fled after biting L, the boy had shown an incredible feat in running faster than was humanly possible. The video footage recorded had to be slowed down considerably in order to even identify that a being was passing through the corridors, with just enough detail to identify that it was indeed Light Yagami.

His fingers brushed gently over the healing wound at his neck, frowning at the shiver that coursed through him. He let his arm drop to his side and slowly withdrew into the shadows. The mystery that was Light and Kira had taken on a whole different level, and he was intent on unravelling it.

---

Kira's eyes fluttered open, awareness of the door opening pulling him from the light slumber he had fallen to. He sat up slowly, the hunger in his gut stealing his energy and strength. He turned his head to find none other than L striding towards him purposefully. He cast his eyes over the figure, from the stone cast of the pale face down to the faded blue of his jeans and pale toes. The detective looked no different to the last time he had seen him, whenever that may have been.

As L drew nearer, so was Lights senses awakened to a delicious scent that hung around the elder one like a shroud. It was a mixture warmth and spice; an almost cloying sweetness that brought with it a memory of a night past. A night that he very much wished he could forget. He moved back slightly as L and his scent drew near and almost overpowering. His mouth was salivating at the scent in a way that food had not, despite his increasing hunger.

L noticed the move and paused at a discrete distance. Kira could read nothing in the other's face as they stared at each other.

"Kira"

Light repressed the urge to flinch at the sound of his enemy's voice. The vibrations tickled over his skin in a very unfamiliar and less than pleasant way. When had he grown so sensitive to the man's voice, his scent? His shoulders had tensed, his jaw clenched as hunger dealt him another heavy blow, excited by the delectable smell of the one other in the room. His mere presence was driving Light's senses wild with temptation.

By no conscious decision had he taken note of the steady thrum of L's heart beat, the blood pulsing through his veins. He did make an effort not to dwell on the night he had managed to taste that sweet life giving nectar, else he may lose all self-control and kill the man. That would certainly not help his case any. His control was a hard thing to grasp given his urges, and looking at L, Kira knew it had cost him.

L was staring at him with a cold calculation, watching his reactions and evaluating them. Distantly Light realised that he had never made any form of denial at being named Kira. Well, that was no good and it was too late to do anything about it now. At least he now knew that this was indeed very much to do with Kira.

"L"

At last he had managed to spit out the word as congenial and calm as he could manage. He chose to ignore the strain in his voice when he delivered it.

"How are you feeling?"

Light frowned at the ridiculous question with no small amount of suspicion. L was not one for small talk and never asked a question he did not expect some answer for. That meant that L wanted to know how he felt and considering the setting, Light did not feel comfortable telling him. That this was a form of experimentation ate at him and so he kept his mouth shut. He was not going to play the good little lab rat.

They stared at each other in silence for a good five minutes, in which Light realised he had never seen L stand as straight as he was doing then. The detective did not fidget, had no form of sugar on his person and made no derogatory remarks. He even refrained from nail biting. It was a side of the detective he had never seen before and it made him realise that he had only ever seen what the detective had wanted him to see. L had made himself to be almost comical, a move that invited complacency and a subconscious tendency to underestimate him.

Knowing that L was not going to relent or give up until he had an answer, Light let out a small exasperated sigh, he eyes trained on the detectives own.

"Fine"

L's lips quirked up at the corners briefly, as though he had expected and found amusement from Light's answer. It was gone before fully formed. L's eyes did not leave his.

"I find that hard to believe, Kira-kun. Surely you must be hungry. You have not eaten anything for days now. Any normal person would be less than 'fine'."

Light did not answer, only glared at the curious face L now sported. The expression was fake, Light could tell, a poor attempt by the detective to express normalcy. Light was not amused.

"Do you find the food unsatisfactory?"

So L was here for an interrogation then.

"Hospital grade food is not quite to my tastes"

L nodded, seeing the sense of his words. The black eyes grew shrewd and intent. Having been staring at L for the entirety of this uncomfortable one-way conversation, Light distantly noted that L's eyes were actually a dusky grey. A fact that was hidden by the obvious signs of his insomniac nature. Light pulled his thoughts back on track with impatience; the colour of L's eyes was unimportant.

"What is to your tastes, then, Kira?"

The manner of asking and the intent look on L's face made Light aware that his answer to this question was of importance. Why? He looked back on the foods that had been brought to him since he had woken to this room. It had offered, each time, an assortment of foods. Fruits and vegetables, meat and fish. Soups and sandwiches. Rice and all it's associated dishes and variations. Pastries and sweet things. By no means all the foods available, but enough that he could not quite recall what food he did actually like. In none of the selections offered to him had he felt any desire to eat, nor did it make him wish for something that was not there. He had simply discarded all the food as inedible and undesirable.

He looked back at the detective, having rested his gaze at the floor while he had thought. He had no answer, but that did not quite seem to matter to L. Someone must have been watching, as the door opened at a signal from L. The same ridiculous white suited figure brought in a tray, bearing only a metal cup that was lidded, and placed it on the floor at the centre of he room. The figure retreated again quickly and was gone.

Light could not tell what was in the cup due to the lid, no scent to give him even an idea. Instinctively he rejected it as suspicious and turned to ask L what the hell it was, but the detective was striding towards the door. L paused briefly and turned to him.

"Drink it, you may find that you like it. It will not do to have you starve after all."

With those words, Light was alone in his room once more. Despite L's advice, he made no move to take the cup or drink it's contents. He sat brooding for what must have been hours, but no one ever came to retrieve the untouched cup. A pang of hunger eventually made it hard to think and brood, and so his attention shifted to the cup. No other food was brought, so they must have been serious about wanting him to drink it. That only made him more suspicious, and so he lay down on the bed and turned his back to the door.

With little to distract his thoughts and unable to sleep, his thought returned to the cup. He damned his curiosity thrice over before he rose in defeat. Swinging his legs off the bed, Light stood tentatively. Standing up right made him feel light headed and weak, hence why he had been avoiding it the last couple of days, or what he assumed to be days. Now he ignored it and shuffled slowly towards the tray. He reached down slowly and lifted the cup, the cool metal burning his hands. If the contents had ever been hot, it sure wasn't so anymore.

As with every time before, he returned to the bed before drinking. Looking at it, he saw that the lid could not be removed, but if he turned it, an opening from which to drink appeared. As soon as he did just that, a sweet albeit slightly stale scent rose up to meet him. His eyes closed involuntarily and his stomach rumbled restlessly in hunger. His mouth was salivating at the taste and so he lifted the cup to his lips and tipped it back. The liquid was sweet and deeply satisfying, and in his hunger he gulped it down eagerly. Too soon the cup ran empty, leaving Light still somewhat unsatisfied, but feeling stronger already.

A pleasant calm settled over him, as though the concoction had lubricated joints and aches he had not been aware he had. He placed the cup on the floor next to his bed and lay down feeling fuller and more content than he had for a long time now. Enough so that sleep was able to claim him quickly.

Beyond his room, surrounded by technical equipment and computers, L watched it all. He observed the healthy flush that lightly stained cheeks that had been devoid of colour for so long now. He watched as the boys tense form relaxed into a more natural slumber than had been adopted past. And most of all he could not help but see the blood stained lips that appeared so vivid in the colourless surroundings. His hands had clenched into fists, his face pulled into a frown of distaste. The obvious pleasure Kira had found in drinking the blood had caused his normally stoic stomach to roll nauseatingly. It was unnatural.

It was inhuman.

TBC.

A/N: After a very long absence, I finally got myself to finish this chapter. I had most of it written and only needed to finish it off ages ago, but I only got round to it now. This is by far the longest chapter I have written (minus author comments too), and I am so very sorry for the inevitable grammar problems that will appear. I think that this chapter may come off as a filler, but it is important, and the next chapter should have a bit more action to offer you. When it will come out, I cannot say. Doppelganger's bet is next on my list for updating. Again, thank you for the reviews! It is nice to see people enjoy what I write.
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Cries in the Night