A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Novocain! Any mistakes that remain are entirely my own.
Warning: major spoilers, yaoi, mature content.
To answer any questions regarding the title, here is an explanatory passage from Wikipedia:
The phrase "Swan song" is a reference to an ancient belief that the Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) is completely mute during its lifetime, except for singing a single, heartbreakingly beautiful song just before it dies. By extension, swan song has become an idiom referring to a final theatrical or dramatic appearance, or any final work or accomplishment. It generally carries the connotation that the performer is aware that this is the last performance of his or her lifetime, and is expending everything in one magnificent final effort.
The story is dedicated to Shaitanah and Dune Master. :D Enjoy!
Swan Song
The silver Swan, who living had no Note,
when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast upon the reedy shore,
thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:
"Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!
"More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise."
Orlando Gibbons madrigal (The Silver Swan)
It was inevitable for him. After desperation came acceptance, slow and forced, and after acceptance came sorrow and reminiscence.
He remembered a myriad of things. (Snippets of rushed conversations, the rustling of cloth, sweet-smelling blond locks tickling his cheek, the soft fuss of a semi-broken fan as it sent massive cool streams of air to caress the back of his head.) He remembered a man dying happy and another man dying betrayed - hundreds of men dying with a flick of his wrist. He remembered joy - somewhat pure, but mostly tainted, joy - in contrast to pain. The pain of the body in contrast to that of the -- Ah, such childish thoughts. He almost laughed, then winced. How pathetic. How much more disgraceful could death get? Like a spawn of the Hydra, it lurched on him suddenly to rob him of his future, of his legendary success, right when he had almost tamed it.
He was only one year younger than he had been when he died. But, unlike L, he was never meant to die. Gods didn't die; simply put, the world would wither without them. Yet, as he lay on the dirty wooden stairs, his fate was no mystery to him. He was going to die - no, he was halfway there. Neither heaven nor hell would open their gates for those who had used the Death Note. Wherever he was meant to be from now on - nothingness, in all probability - he would be haunted, he knew. He had seen it in his rival's wide eyes, black as misty tunnels, the moment before they closed; it was the first and only time he had ever seen them drift shut. The dark-haired man had looked strangely serene then, like he was sleeping - and Light had felt like something was out of place, something that not even he could quite understand at first. Only when he realized that there was no longer someone constantly watching him, sharp and vigilant, did he smile in triumph. It was so much easier to breathe. The rest didn't matter.
--maybe that's why he had always avoided sleep... so close, kindred to death--
When alive, Light was Kira, a god made of the same materials as his human victims but armed with a notebook of Death, and as such he had no reason to be afraid. When dying, he was already feeling the alien clench in his chest. When dead, there would be no one left to feel fear. The thought was unsettling, but he had run out of time and luck. There was no point in begging. The ominous clench inside him tightened, most of his body limbs getting more and more unresponsive with each passing, neurotic tick of his wrist watch.
His eyelids became heavy. The world softened and the sunset dulled, red, orange, and gray blurring together into nothingness. And then... the dreaded haunting assailed his senses, surprisingly clear and painful. The obscure figure of a young man appeared before his vision, slouching and disheveled, soft and firm; a man childish like the ocean, persistent like a bug, incomprehensible like a sphinx, and - frowning, smiling, pinning everyone with his gaze, invading Light's personal space, eating candy, a kick in the face, "I'm a pervert...?" and "You look so mad, so I thought you might want some cake too." - everything that was L, infuriating, challenging, and undeniably dead by his own ingenious scheming.
This was L's last attack in a game they had ended long ago. Had it been planned from the start, this ultimate move? Perhaps... But Light would never know, and the thought wasn't surprising. L had never cared much for rules.
His world was soon shifting into that of pain and scorching hate - the world of a tight metallic box shrinking around his heart and of hands squeezing his head with a shinigami's strength. It was the world of a stifled memory.
At some point Light realized that he had never been particularly fond of hide and seek, but this little game was too intriguing for him to resist.
Not that he wasn't still looking for ways to outsmart his opponent and seize victory with both hands, but even he could tell that he was enjoying this a little too much. In some secret, twisted way, he was excited by this intellectual match of life and death. He was forced to constantly wriggle his way through lies and flawless plans, and it was a race, a bet, a struggle - it was the struggle, the one that proved he could face anything to achieve his salutary purpose. He could already feel what victory would taste like on the tip of his tongue, sweet and fulfilling like the ice-cream cones his most dangerous opponent had a habit of licking day and night.
His memory was back now and the ignition mechanism he had so carefully set up, using various people and death gods as his makeshift, fleshy pawns in a chess game, would go off as soon as Ryuuzaki made the key move.
Soon... soon, the world would blossom under Kira's unrestrained reign. He resisted the urge to grin against the rim of his cup. Instead, he took a large sip of tea and glanced at the only other occupant of the room. L was sitting on his armchair, in his usual bizarre way that resembled an upright fetal position, hunched over the Death Note. He was balancing the notebook on his knees, eyes glued to the page with the rules.
"Did you come to any new conclusions, Ryuuzaki?"
L continued pouting absently at the paper. "I don't think so... Given the information provided by the shinigami and assuming that it's trustworthy, I'll have to dismiss my previous theory as unmistakably invalid."
Light breathed deeply and stretched his arm over the sofa's cushion.
"Ah... I see."
This time, L lifted his gaze to meet that of the the younger man.
"What do you see, Light-kun?" he asked, apparently only half-interested in the answer as he set the Death Note on the table and proceeded to throw four sugar cubes in his drink.
"Does it matter?" Light's answer was quick.
"Dodging one question with another, hn... Ever the evasive one," the detective mused, the corners of his mouth lifting up in a slow smile. "You were wondering where this new development leaves me, weren't you?"
"Maybe. You had based everything on your previous theory. Even though the evidence we had so far did lead to the conclusion that somehow Misa and I were directly involved in the Kira ca-"
"-were the first and second Kira," L corrected.
Light nodded imperceptibly. "Even though the evidence initially led to that, our long, supervised detainment would have been enough to prove the assumption that either of us was Kira to be false. And now that we've finally had the chance to examine Kira's weapon, it has become even more obvious."
"Yes... And you've also spent the last few months with your wrist chained to mine, and I saw firsthand that there was nothing suspicious in your behavior. Except, perhaps, for an astounding lack of interest in Misa-san's invitations to her bedroom," L added, his expression even although his eyes held an extra spark of amusement.
Light didn't even bat an eye anymore at the private man's surprising lack of bashfulness.
"This hardly counts as suspicious behavior, Ryuuzaki," he replied before stating the obvious. "Unless you still suspect Misa and you think that I wanted to keep a distance so as to avoid an obvious connection between her and myself."
L placed his cup on the saucer carefully and fixed his huge black eyes on Light. It was more intense than indifferent this time around.
"That would be too obvious for someone like you, Light-kun. And I doubt you would bother with saying this as a way to set up a two-way trap, since you knew I wouldn't fall for it. Furthermore, you knew I would know." He took an expression that would been similar to that of a lifted eyebrow... if he had normal eyebrows.
Light pressed his lips together and faced the speculative gaze with composed chilliness.
"You speak as if you refuse to stop second-guessing everything I say. Especially whatever concerns Misa."
"Does that surprise you?"
Light's shoulders seemingly tensed and then relaxed immediately. He let out a short laughter. "I suppose not. I wouldn't expect anything less," he said in a radically different voice.
L responded to the friendly tone with an affirmative throaty sound, among the crunching of a chocolate bar.
"You still haven't thwarted my latest observation, though," he noted gingerly, taking another bite off of the candy.
The brown-eyed man removed a lock of hair from his face. "Which was?"
This time it was Ryuuzaki who really grinned. "Don't play dumb, Light-kun. It's not your style. Or is it? Hmm. Anyway, you know what I'm talking about."
Light furrowed his brow. "Does this have to do with Misa?"
"Of course. If you don't remember, I can remind you..."
"No, it's fine. I remember. My relationship with Misa has nothing to do with this case."
L showered him in his innocent, wide-eyed look, then blinked. After a moment's pause he got up and slouched all the way - every single one of the three steps - to the sofa. He climbed on the seat next to Light in one cat-like move and sat in his classic, telltale position. Cocking his head to the side, he threw the other man a sidelong glance.
"On the contary. It might have a lot to do with the case," he said finally, his smooth voice reverberating more deeply now that he was closer. Light sat up straighter in his seat, as if to accentuate the difference between their postures. By looking calmly ahead, he elegantly refused to acknowledge the curious set of eyes on his right.
"How so?"
"Don't look so strained, Light-kun," he remarked. "To answer your question, it's uncommon bordering on unnatural for boys your age to refuse a girl when she's so openly offering herself to them." The way he looked at Light under his dark eyelashes, the mysterious circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, made it impossible to tell whether his tone was joking or serious.
He wouldn't fret, Light decided. He could feign that role as well as the rest.
He swallowed loudly.
"What exactly are you suggesting, Ryuuzaki-san?" he choked out, and to his actual surprise saw the other man's features contort slightly. L was clearly invading the young Yagami's personal bubble, but he didn't seem to care. When he leaned in another centimeter, Light wondered if he could really feign ignorance for much longer. He noticed how the edges of L's messy, dark hair looked soft, sharp only at the edges.
"Not what you're apparently suggesting. I was thinking that maybe a young man would lose interest in love-making if he had other, greater things on his mind." Proving once more that he wasn't speaking in riddles, he specified, "If they were Kira."
Light turned to face him abruptly and had to suck in a breath when his nose almost collided with his opponent's. He fought to keep his composure at the close proximity. This man didn't understand the concept of personal space. He mentally tried to coax himself into keeping his cool – it would ensure that his acting abilities were exploited to the fullest. Yet something was keeping him from playing his part. Maybe it was the heat of another body so close to his - a body lean and wiry, smelling faintly of vanilla and men's pleasantly neutral-scented shampoo. Or maybe it was his own veiled shock from L's words. Light swallowed again, and this time he had a feeling it was less fake.
"Although, I wouldn't put the other option out of the picture... yet," Ryuuzaki concluded, and his voice was tinged with a darker quality. Light opened his mouth to retort, uncharacteristically reserved, but there was something different clouding L, an aura surrounding him, that made him stop. The innocent expression was now obsessive, wide-eyed, and bordering on scary. Light could feel waves of heat emanating from the lanky man who was absorbed in staring at him as if he could sense a sensual, misty threat inside Light - like a dangerous child attracted to more danger. "What is it you really want, Light-kun?" he continued, and his breath fell on Light's upper lip. It smelled of chocolate. "Or... who?" Light glared at him, trying to wipe the smug expression away, anger boiling inside him at the sound of the words and the sight of the unusual smirk, tiny as it was. So many limits breached... Yagami Light was burning inside. Clenching his lips tight, he grabbed the front of L's white shirt and jerked his hand once, then twice, not daring to break the eye contact nevertheless. L's head fell back marginally, and Light snarled at the newly-exposed, well-defined lines of L's throat and collarbone.
"Watch... what you're saying!" he whispered harshly. Two pale, thin lips smiled wider in a childish dare and within a moment came crushing down on his own. The question was there, but the mouth against his own was demanding and disorienting and - he couldn't care less for questions and dares. He tagged at the tortured white shirt again, and pulled the squatting man down, where he fell on his knees. L's lips weren't soft and fleshy like any woman's he had ever kissed but firm and undeniably warm. They weren't sitting or lying - more like something of both in a mess of entwined limbs - and Light was uncomfortable and aware that maybe the other other investigation members had awoken, but the kiss demanded nothing less than his full attention. What started as rash soon became a lazy, passionate exploration. L broke away to lick Light's bottom lip, smoothing over the now overly-sensitive flesh and sending a violent tickling sensation down the man's lower abdomen, where the heat was becoming unbearable.
Light suddenly released his grasp on the fabric and moved away, almost trembling. They were both breathing heavily, but L still had the same intense look in his eyes. It was unconceivable how he could remain unaffected. It was insolent. Unforgivable. There was a momentary silence during which only shallow heaving could heard, and then...
"Damn it!"
Light caught a fistful of L's hair and launched at him, trapping the man's lips with his own and pressing down hard until the sweet-tasting man opened his mouth. The experience was much more unsettling - no one complained when L's hands found their way to the waistband of the equally disheveled man's jeans, fingers drawing mindless patterns on the rough denim cloth, palm pressing fully, rubbing firmly, steadily. No one complained when Light sneaked his own hand under the white shirt and pulled it up, eager to see more of the - so troublesome for his peace of mind - pale, slick skin. He threw the shirt over L's head and attacked anything he could set his eyes on with his tongue, panting breath, and teeth. He was nibbling at L's throat with fire in his veins; he was placing open-mouthed kisses against taut skin, over the the v of his collarbone; he was lapping his tongue leisurely over one nipple; he was tightly pressing the man's bicep, wanting to feel the flexing muscle. He traced a finger down L's abdomen, circling around the navel, exploring, feeling, and tasting - enveloping himself in another body's unique, spicy smell - when he heard the sound of a zipper - his own - going down and grunted loudly.
After a moment of wriggling out of them, the jeans were discarded to the floor, and soon L's were as well. With his own shirt and boxers a part of the forgotten heap on the floor, they were fully naked, exposed to each other's gaze, very obviously wanting more of this, of the other, of the precious feeling of seeking control and winning or losing the battle. They were consumed by this new game of exploration, drawing blood from the other's lips and tasting the metallic token of the battle of wills on their palate (stroking, murmuring, cursing, licking, biting, caressing, and pulling at strands of hair that were in the way) before one of them finally succumbed to the other.
It had to be the guilty one who would be on the receiving end of the guiltiest pleasure shared between the two. And so it happened that Light felt more of L in him than he had ever imagined possible. When the sounds of groaning and panting were enough to not only drown out the noise of thrusting and the occasional creaking spring but to also wake up the occupants of the rooms closest to them, they collapsed on the sofa. L's body enveloped Light's, and the detective marveled at the shocking difference between the cold current of air making his sweaty back shiver involuntarily and warm, solid body below him. He buried his face in the soft, damp hair.
After Light's raging heartbeat had calmed down again, he got up and and slowly slid back on his clothes. He gestured at his watch and then at the rest of the scattered clothes, implying that the man lying impassively on the sofa should put them on as well. There was no response from L. Light noticed that he was staring at him, poker-faced once more.
Wordlessly, L picked up his clothes and followed his lead. They were both clothed, drained, and the game was over. They picked up their usual game from where they had left it.
"I'm curious, Light-kun..." L spoke, the words coming hoarsely from his throat. "How is it that you missed such an important detail? Did you really not know that the way you kept ignoring your girlfriend, an idol with so many fans, myself included, would seem out of character for such a perfectly normal college student as yourself? I wonder how you would have acted if you had known I was suspicious of your peculiar treatment of Misa-san."
"Nothing would have changed. There is no hidden motive behind my actions on this matter. Maybe she's not my type of girl. Maybe-"
Light averted his gaze meaningfully, trying to keep his dignified air about him.
"How did you miss such an important little detail?" the quirky detective repeated.
"It's only a meaningless fact, an unimportant detail," Light said impassively, somewhat deadpan.
L slouched a bit more and smiled sadly.
"But when it comes to lying, these tiny details are everything - the alpha and the omega."
"And how would you know, Ryuuzaki?"
Light was once again the future. The God of the new world. The Killer - Kira. The man of the thousand faces - and now one of the many intricately-painted masks was on.
"I would know because I like to keep my secrets. And, between two thieves, there is no point in hiding the candy."
Candy... Back then, so close to his end, that was all there was for L.
A friend - an enemy - lust - candy - a case.
And there he was - the odd smile, the warm hands, the illusion - and Light could almost smell the candy and taste a couple of unfulfilled dreams, past and future together, mingled in a single cacophony that was life and death.
After reminiscence came regret, an emotion too fragile to exist - it dissolved into hate. But hate was too strong to last at a time like this.
In its stead came the stinging balm of oblivion.
A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)