A/N: Hello again~ Thank you for your awesome reviews on the first chapter! I sincerely hope you like L's chapter as well, though it gets even darker. Even more insanity ensues.

Also, do not read if you don't much care for non-con. It's not very graphic and not very violent but it needs a warning, anyways. (I felt a little awkward writing that part, so if it shows, I apologize. I'm still learning ^^')

... I just finished writing more of I Won't Say, I don't really feel like taking all this dark stuff seriously... XDDD But seriously speaking, we're back at ideologically sensitive content. Especially if you like your L virgin pure, solving cases out of sheer want to do good etc, umm, don't read it. :D Or if you do, at least don't bash my L. I decided to go for a very different version, this time.

The italics in the beginning are flashbacks from when they were chained, and later they're L's thoughts.


ii

L: Abandon the World

There's a memory inside my head
It feels like a part of me is dead
I should save you
But I want to watch you drown

There is nothing you could say or do
Words mean nothing when your lips are blue
I love you
Now that you're six feet under ground


There was something about murderers.

I seemed to attract crime with my mere presence. This was partly why I became a detective.

Crime, much to my dismay, seemed to attract me even more. This was also partly why I became a detective.

I have never felt compelled to commit any serious crime myself, though I tend to go against the law quite often to achieve what I want, but I don't deny that I have a criminal mind. I have what it takes to steal, blackmail, stage, destroy, even murder, though I have never resorted to that.

Not rape, though.

I do, however, have what it takes to get raped. No... I have what it takes to make someone rape you.

I have what it takes to place the blame on someone else.

"There seems to be," I had said, once, so long ago, when he was Light and I was Ryuzaki, "something about me that makes people want to... hurt me. I don't know if it's my appearance, my attitude, my arrogance, the way I speak... I admit that there are plenty of reasons to despise me, but something about me makes everyone want to harm me."

What is a rape, anyway? Is it a rape if you arrange it?

"Even you, Light-kun – not only when I provoke you, but even right now, even as my friend and lover... you don't want to wait until I'm ready, you want to take what you want, right now, and you want to hit me for refusing... don't you?"

I first came to realize this when I was a child, and I was quick to learn to use it to my advantage. Kids I didn't like would end up getting grounded or even suspended for beating me up, and they could never tell why they had wanted to hit me in the first place. The idea had just occurred to them. When I got older, I learned it didn't only go for physical violence but psychological as well, and I found out that there were many other ways to hurt someone other than breaking their ribs. It became clear to me that while I wasn't attractive, something about me made many people want to dominate me, even own me, in one way or another...

I guess it's no wonder I turned out so strange.

"It doesn't matter if you admit it," I had whispered, my arms around him and his safe and secure around me, comfortable and careless and foolish and feeling like I belonged there, "because what's important is that you would never actually do it. You would never even consider doing it – you have probably never even realized you want to."

It never fails to surprise me that even after all these years I can still make a complete fool of myself in matters such as this.

"Good evening, Light-kun," I greeted him that night, months after the beginning of my imprisonment, standing in the kitchen, having just gotten up for more cake, but the moment I saw his face, I knew I had already said something wrong. Light had left to work, but Kira had come home instead of him.

I managed to dodge the first blow, but that only made his second one stronger.

My body was never anything more but a tool, just like my mind. Both had proved to be of nothing but trouble as long as I cared what happened to them, so I stopped caring. I chased criminals, pretended to be one of them, became one of them, executed them. If there was no evidence, I would come up with it.

If there was no crime I could prove, I would create one. I would become the crime.

There was something about me that made everyone want to hurt me...

The police handled it as a rape, as did the judge; the criminal was executed for a rape, because I had no solid evidence he had murdered.

But was it really one when in reality, I arranged it all, from the struggle and the eye-witness to the staged suicide of the teenager I was pretending to be?

"Light-kun," I gasped, finally getting a sound out of my mouth when the blows suddenly stopped raining on me. "No, Kira-kun... What is it, Kira-kun? Did something happen today?"

It disgusted me to hear my voice say this – I was attempting to calm him down, tell me what is wrong and I'll make it go away, honey, practically one step away from calling him Kira-sama and crawling at his feet – but even with every part of my body aching, I had to say it, had to be kind and regret it at the same time.

After my supposed death I had never once said I cared for him, but I did. I did, but because something had grown the wrong way in my heart when I had been young, it didn't automatically mean I wanted to keep him happy and safe.

Oh, I wanted. But I wanted to see him crash and burn, too, for all the hurt he'd put me through.

If I can't bring you down from the outside, I will make you rot from the inside, Kira. I will make you what you hate. I will make you hate yourself.

I could always say I loved Light and hated Kira, that I wanted Kira's destruction to save Light from his wicked ways, but I know it's not – at least not yet – a case of split personality. Kira was only a mask Light wore to be able to do what he thought was right, and Light was a mask Kira wore to do what he wanted.

Having him executed was my responsibility as L, the detective, and saving him from the darkness of his soul was my responsibility as Ryuzaki, his friend and lover. I should have helped him to cling to his remaining bits of sanity, for his sake as much as mine, but...

Watching you drown is so much more fun.

Light was not the first one; I had once allowed Beyond Birthday abuse my body the same way, to redirect his violent tendencies from the innocent bystanders to me. It sounded nice and noble, and I guess I did want to keep him from killing meaninglessly – but I'm much too selfish to sacrifice myself like that for people I'd never know. There was something else. There was a thrill to it I had never understood.

"Oh," he said, and even though that was the first syllable to leave his mouth after he had come home, I knew instantly that his personality had shifted again – not necessarily back to Light, but even deeper into the Kira side of him – and really, they were merely different shades of Light, because Light and Kira were just one person – the blood red part, the sadistic part that not only enjoyed hurting me, but was aroused by it. "Nothing happened... just nothing. My day has been utterly boring... That put me on such a foul mood, L..."

His hand caught me by my hair, making me hiss in pain, and dragged me onto my knees from the floor, conveniently and unsurprisingly positioning me in front of his growing erection.

"I hope I'm not keeping you alive in vain," he murmured as he slowly lowered his zipper, golden red eyes glaring down on me through thick lashes, his words stabbing me straight through my vanity, my self-confidence and my survival instinct.

"If fellatio is what you're keeping me alive for, I suggest you hire a prostitute," I heard myself say. Provoking him on purpose.

What truly scares me is that I can never be sure if it's Kira or Light who gets off from hurting and humiliating me.

I had known, of course, that provoking would only make it worse, but still I was a little shocked, a little frightened by the force with which he drove himself into my protesting mouth. My struggles were first awarded with sharper yanks of my hair, or violent blows to the side of my head, but eventually with him pulling back.

I had two foolish seconds of relief before I was jerked onto my feet and thrown against the kitchen table; I collided with it hard enough to make me cry out for my already bruised and sore hips, and then Light – Kira – no, Light was hovering over me, his chest flush against my back and his hands roaming wild and free on my unguarded body, still making me feel so filthy even after this had transpired so many times before.

He prepared me quickly, not for my comfort but for his own, and entered, opening old wounds that had barely begun to heal and earning a hoarse, scandalous cry from me in response. He was trying to make sure it hurt, and it did, it hurt so much that I could feel the tears burning behind my eyelids; his fingertips were leaving more bruises on my white skin, and the violent, cruel pace of his thrusts was tearing more blood and breathless, raw gasps from me, and yet...

… and yet, at the same time, I could feel the mad laughter bubbling on my lips like the finest champagne, rolling off my tongue the moment his forcefulness finally brought my guard down.

It was never about justice. Justice was a codename just as much as Ryuzaki and Deneuve were. Justice was an excuse.

I solved cases because I was fairly certain that had I not become the world's greatest detective, I would have become the world's greatest criminal. An idle mind is a dangerous one, especially when it is capable of so much.

After the Death Note first touched my hands, I often found myself wondering whether I would have turned out the same way as Light had the notebook landed in my hands instead. Yes and no, I believe; when I was younger, less powerful, I would have probably embraced a wonderful device like that, but as L the detective, I had no use for it, because quite frankly, I could achieve almost anything I wanted merely by pulling a few strings.

But I had always been able to understand Kira. Offering to become his companion was something L Lawliet could have done, but challenging him as L the detective proved much more enticing, much more interesting... much more lasting.

He could ignore my cries, my tears and my depression, but try as he might, he had no way to block my laughter from his mind.

"Stop it, L!" he finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!"

He grasped my hair again and pulled, stretching my neck backwards until I couldn't breathe properly; gasping, I managed to stop the laughing, wheezing out a taunting, jeering, "Is something wrong, Kira-kun?"

"You are wrong, L Lawliet," he hissed, pushing his body so close to mine I felt it was physically impossible to get any closer, "you are so fucking wrong in your weird little head. Do you ever wonder why I'm doing this to you? That's why. Listen to yourself, moaning and writhing like a slut -"

" - you want to be loved by God just as much as everyone else."

He had said this to me so many times that I could feel it seeping into my unconscious mind, making me crave for the slightest compliment, ready to do anything to please him in any way for a moment of undivided attention and love. Everyone wanted to be loved by him; even after all the trauma he had put me through, even though I knew very well who and what he was, I wanted it, too.

The insane laughter retreated back to my lips but refused to die, and instead emerged as a small snigger. At hearing it, he finally lost his renewed self-control, flipped me onto my back so hard that for a moment I feared he had fractured my spine against the side of the table, and backhanded me across my face.

"Snap out of it," he growled as he positioned himself and thrust into my weak body again. "You're making me sick."

"Not quite sick enough," I heard my voice rasp out.

He stopped moving, still deep inside of me, still pinning me down with far more force than was necessary, and brought his dark golden red eyes to loom over mine. "You didn't fight," he spat, and it was not a defense, it was an accusation. "You didn't struggle at all when I hit you, or when I fucked your mouth. You didn't even say no."

He made it sound like I had betrayed him.

The violent phase was over, for now, I realized. It was time to twist the situation into my benefit.

"I did," I lied in a weary voice, allowing my shallow eyes to wander as if I had a hard time to keep them focused, making sure to fight for each breath. "I told you to stop, and I tried to fight, but... you wouldn't listen... and you were too strong... I couldn't..."

I could keep the tears out of my eyes – that is, I wasn't able to summon them – but not from my voice, and either adrenalin or my acting skills made my whole abused frame tremble; Light looked like I had slapped him. He knew well enough that when he lost his temper, he could easily pass my protests without even noticing them, knew that he could change from caring to cruel and back to gentle in a matter of minutes.

He did not know that I knew that he knew.

He never said he was sorry, and even though I hesitate to use the word, I believe I could say that I... loved... that about him.

He remained silent for the rest of the night; pulling out of my body right then and there, washing my hair and my body gently in the shower, tending to my injuries after it; when he was satisfied with making me comfortable, he laid me down on our bed, threw our towels to the floor – so much for the shower – and, with kisses and caresses, coaxed me into spreading my legs for him for the second time that night. This time, he made sure to be as gentle and considerate as possible, but for some reason, it hurt so much more than earlier, because he was trying to give me pleasure and I was seeking to destroy him.

But in the end, if this young, reckless god of murder wanted to love and hate me with all he had, I had no reason to stop him from doing so. It was better than having to live without him.

And...

Away from the judging eyes of the world, his arms were the only place I had ever felt safe to sleep in.


I know, I know, I like my L sweet and innocent, too. But I also like L this way, and I think this is a little closer to the original - he definitely strikes me as a vengeful person. All that "immature sore loser" stuff, you know... I hope you're not too disappointed that B only really appears in the final chapter - but hey, at least it'll be twice as long as this one!

Hopefully you weren't too traumatized to tell me what you think?