Author's Note:

Yay, my second Death Note fic!

This is just going to be a two-shot and as you may have noticed, it's only rated T. That is because there will be no explicit sex scene. There will be a hot make-out scene in the next part, but that's it. This takes place in America, but Light's still Japanese and L's still British.

I got the idea for this from something that I saw on Google Images from some site in a language I can't understand, so unfortunately I can't really credit the artist. =/ I will post the link to it in my profile.

Okay, enough of the author's note. On with the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or its characters. Neither do I own the art piece that inspired this story. I only own the random ideas that popped into my head when I saw it. I also do not own the USMC, or any branch of the US military, for that matter.

*~*~*~*

Chapter One

Pain.

That was the first thing the man noticed when he woke up. The searing pain in his left calf. Confusion rocked his brain. Where was he? What happened? All he could feel was the weight of a heavy rigid object on top of his leg and the burning sensation that enveloped the right side of his body. It took all his strength not to scream, to let the world know of his pain, but he somehow managed. Somehow, he knew it was vital to stay quiet and not to make a sound.

Slowly the blurred shapes moving about in front of his eyes started to clear. There was human-like form lying not far from where he was. Behind the still body was an opening with Light shinning into the small dark space. The next thing he noticed was the bright flames a little way away from the opening, dancing across the desert floor. Then it all came crashing down.

Driving down the road. His platoon laughing and joking as the Jeep barreled across the dirt. The sound of something being lit on fire. The sudden realization of what had happened lighting up the faces of his men. The explosion. The turning over of the Jeep. The screams and yells of horror as the soldiers flew through the air. The air being knocked out of his lungs as he was thrown to the ground, the truck flipping and landing over him. Luckily for him they had the roof down and there was a gap of space that he fit in.

He felt the blood pooling around his head and his thoughts swimming through what was left of his consciousness. He was going to pass out, he knew it. He also knew that something heavy was on his leg and digging into his flesh, and that the truck was on fire. If help didn't come soon, he would die there.

Then as he fainted, thoughts of his lover swamped into his mind.

The boy's face, his laugh, how his brilliant eyes would light up when he saw him. The way his youthful skin felt against his own, the way the teenager tasted, the way they would curl up, happy to be together, after making love.

Tears filled his eyes as he thought of the boy. He may never see him again. It sent an aching through his chest worse than anything physical he was feeling right now. He wanted to see his lover again. Just one more time. He would give anything for that one moment alone, holding his slight frame to his.

He had never told the teen how he really felt towards him. How he loved him so, so much. But it was too late for that now. He may never see the beautiful amber-eyed boy again.

Slipping into blackness, one name, one face, consumed his mind.

Light….

*~*~*~*

L woke with a start and lifted his head off of the glass. He was shaking a little, sweating slightly, but his eyes were screaming with the inner pain of his most recent nightmare.

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since it had happened. The car bombing in Iraq. Since he had almost died.

Taking a deep breath to help calm his nerves, L sat up straight in his seat. His dog tags made a slight clinking sound as he did so, drawing the attention of the passenger across the aisle from him.

L ignored the woman, knowing she was staring at him. They all had. He never liked attention when it was good, when he was normal, but it was even worse now. Now he was abnormal.

The healing cut that ran down from in front of his ear, over his jaw, down his neck, and into his shirt couldn't have drawn more attention in the streets than if he had worn a suit of flashing lights with horns that went off every time he put his foot down. It may have been healing, but it was very noticeable. The redness of the skin around said cut was just another grotesque feature that highlighted the wound.

Okay, maybe grotesque wasn't the right word. It wasn't that bad. It was nothing like it had been a few weeks prior, when it had looked like a really bad sunburn that may or may not have been infected. It had now been faded to a light red, as if his skin had only been slightly flushed from the sun. But just because it didn't look monstrous, didn't mean L had to like it.

And as if that weren't enough, thanks to the crumpled metal of the Jeep that cut into his leg, the limp, no matter how slight now, he had just gave everyone another reason to turn their gazes to him.

Turning his eyes out into the blackness of the night, L took comfort in the fact that he would be home soon, back to his apartment where he could take a shower, curl up in his bed, and go to sleep.

'No,' L corrected himself. 'Me and Light's apartment, where I can take a shower with my lover, make love to him in our bed, and go to sleep with him in my arms.'

Just as a small smile of longing started to creep over L's lips at the thought of seeing the auburn haired boy again, a single, strangling doubt crept into his mind.

'But what if he doesn't want me?'

The smile that had started to appear on L's face was wiped away and replaced with a sad, distressed frown. His eyes wanted to tear up just at the thought, but he refused to let them. Swallowing the anguished feelings, L couldn't help but run through a short list of reasons Light wouldn't want him back in his life.

There was the fact that L hadn't written a letter to him, e-mailed him, or even made a lousy long distance phone call to him. Throughout L's entire time overseas they had relayed massages back and forth, saying how much they missed each other and how they couldn't wait to be back in the other's company. During his time in the hospital, L had received at least twenty e-mails, written letters, and phone calls from Light. All of them had gone unanswered. L couldn't bring himself to contact the teen. He didn't want to frighten him with the fact that he had almost been killed in a car bombing. He knew Light would panic and try to get him to resign from the Marines. Which brought L to his second point.

Before he had departed, he and Light had had a fight about him leaving. Of course, they had both apologized in their countless letters, but this was sure to fuel start round two.

Light didn't want L to be in the Corp. anymore. Light understood that he had been in the armed forces since he was eighteen, but he wanted L out of the danger. He didn't want to have to see his lover leaving for months at a time, not knowing if he was coming back of not.

L understood Light's concerns, he really did. But L never really knew anything but the military. His father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and so on and so forth had all been in some branch of the military. L knew he could easily become a detective like Light was—he knew more than a few places that would hire him right away, for he had received several offers already—but it just felt….wrong.

Sure, after he finally did retire from the Marines he had every intention of going into detective work. But it was just too early for him to consider it just yet…. Wasn't it?

L caught his reflection in the glass window of the bus, and had to suppress a shudder. Maybe it wasn't too early. But even if he had contacted Light, even if he did start thinking about getting out, would it make any difference?

L's third point was the one he was most worried about. He had never been one to really care about his appearance, but he knew that Light did. Light liked things neat and orderly. He liked things perfect. And L wasn't.

The ugly laceration down the right side of L's face would be constant reminder to him—and Light, if he decided to stay after seeing the hideous thing—about what had happened. It would definitely leave a scar. There was no denying it.

L knew that the thought of Light leaving him because he had a cut was a bit paranoid, but he couldn't help it. Light had always said how he loved L's clean flawless skin. And now it was battered. Flawed. He didn't want Light seeing him like this.

L didn't have much longer to dwell on his worries. The bus rolled to a stop and he picked up his bag off the floor. Taking a deep breath, L tried to push his nerves aside as he stepped off the bus, heading toward the apartment he hoped Light was still waiting for him at.

*~*~*~*

Light tried to concentrate on the words on the screen but couldn't. His mind was swamped with thoughts that he couldn't shake out of his head. Even sleep didn't provide the peace of mind that Light wished for. And it was all L's fault.

Light couldn't help but worry himself every day because of the man. They had always massaged each other back and forth through e-mails and phone calls, even hand written letters when L was in an area where technology wasn't always the best. But three weeks ago the communication suddenly went cold.

Light had been worried when L hadn't replied to his e-mail three weeks ago. At first he had just brushed it off as L suddenly going to one of those areas where he couldn't receive it and tried to tell himself not to worry. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened.

And he had been right.

Two days later when he was watching the news he looked up to see that the current story was about a platoon of Marines traveling west in Iraq and they had been bombed. Their Jeep had been rigged to go off an hour after the vehicle started, and it had done its job. The truck had been flipped over and set on fire, killing two out of the five Marines it carried. The other three were all in the hospital. But neither names nor pictures were released, of the wounded or the dead.

Light had just about burst into tears when he saw the all but disintegrated Jeep when they flashed to a quick video shot by a reporter. The flames had distorted the metal and charred it to a sickening black colour that resembled charcoal. More fire was blazing around the overturned wreckage, where parts of the moving bomb had detached from the whole and flown through the air.

Light hadn't heard the rest of the story. When it cut back to the news anchor he let out a loud sob he had been trying to hold back. Only one thought registered in his mind. Only one face flashed in his memories.

L.

L was a Marine. L was in Iraq. L would have been traveling west two days ago, when the bombing had occurred. L was in a platoon of five men….

Light had let out sob after sob of worried agony. L could have been in that Jeep. And he more than likely was. L could be fatally wounded. L could be gone.

Those were the only things Light could think about for the past three weeks. And each day that went by his worries deepened. L wasn't replying to any of his e-mails or phone calls.

Tonight was no better than any of the others. In fact, it was worse.

Sighing and trying to push away those thoughts Light tried to concentrate on a situation that he could control. The catching of criminals.

Light's cases had suffered a bit with his thoughts consumed by L 24/7. He still solved them with ease, but it took a little longer with his mind only just in it.

Forcing his mind back on his cases again, Light started typing quickly again, sending all of his evidence to the chief of police—his father—that was sure to send away the rapist that had victimized three women before the pattern left by him had been picked up.

Just as was starting in on another one there was a knock on the door. Sighing annoyed, he got up and walked over to the door.

'What now?' he thought irritably with his hand on the knob.

Light almost passed out from light-headedness when he saw who was on the other side.

Light almost didn't recognize him. His dark eyes were weary and careful, his jaw set in an anxious line. The deep cut down the side of his face and the slight burn that highlighted it traveled down into his shirt. He had almost all of his weight on his right leg, no doubt an injury from the same accident that had put the wound on his beautiful face.

Light couldn't speak. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat constricted. He took in a big gulp of air and swallowed, but it didn't help the lump in his throat that was keeping him from talking.

The man's eyes became even more guarded. Light knew immediately what the onyx-eyed beauty thought Light's reaction was toward. He thought Light was horrified by his wounds. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

Before Light could gather enough control to speak, L broke the tense silence hanging in the air between them.

"Hi, Light."