Light woke chipper and lucid at precisely six in the morning, shivering at the chill that had descended on his bed and person, before hopping out to grab an undershirt to wear until he could shower properly. He felt disgusting (there was an odd damp chill that he suspected was dew, which belonged on grass only, and he reeked of sweat and woodsmoke).

L was perched in the same position with a thermos and the sharp smell of peppermint wafted through the tent. "We have a half hour before leaving for the mess hall to eat, Light."

"We're not..." Light gestured towards the fire pit.

"No. The campers are only required to cook seven meals per week minimum." He dropped a sugar cube into his tea and watched it dissolve. "I need you to wake the other three, please. You win if they get out of bed."

A sudden fantasy of Mello being drug from sleep with tender, indulgent kisses left Light swallowing several times before he nodded vaguely and stumbled out the tent door. Fantasy was frustrated when he found Matt already awake, lying prone with sleeping bag kicked down, DS chirruping in his hands. A white-blond head was snuggled into his hip.

"Near slept with you?"

Matt continued to pretend Light wasn't present.

"Matt," mewled a muffled voice from under the lump of blankets at Matt's feet, "make it go away."

The situation was this: Matt had passed out from eating a fermented jar of strawberry jam they'd dug out from under the platform sometime around 3:30AM. Deciding that such an action was abominably dull, Mello had taken a sojourn of the surrounding woods until he'd frightened himself with a mental rehearsal of every horror movie he'd seen involving vegetation and Things That Killed and had fled back to the comforting warmth of Matt's unconscious body. Said body was annoyingly claimed by Near, and Mello wondered whether it would be worth the effort to drag either out to the clearing to leave for the monsters still livid in his imagination. However, exhaustion had overcome him at that point and Mello had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit Matt's knees.

Upon waking up Matt decided their sleeping arrangements should revert to last year's as quickly as possible.

"He's not going away," Mello continued to whine. An angry huff and the pile of blankets wiggled.

"We have to eat," Light tried again. "L sent–"

Mello's head popped up. "Hahaha, remember Richard?"

Matt and Mello erupted into giggles.

"Hey, baby, baby, lover," Mello began in a breathy voice while Matt continued giggling, the sentence slurring into German. The hilarity of the inside joke died quickly; the giggling quieted and Mello nestled himself between his companions and Matt shoved the DS under his pillow before imitating the other two.

Light's wolf smile was frightening as he blessed their nonchalance as a chance for aggressive action. Sidling up to the bed, movements almost silent, Light studied their sleeping positions and decided Near was to be the end to justified means. It was quite a pity—it was almost soothing to watch him sleep, lips parted as he breathed, face pressed against Matt's side. A pity, but the cry of pain as he was thrown outside of the tent to the hard earth was worth it.

A congratulatory victory was Light's when the injured whines coming from Near were all it took for to Mello to rip away from the bed and graze Light's neck with the muzzle of his gun.

"You do not touch him."

Light cracked his neck in a graceful ripple, smirking. He hadn't quite expected this reaction, but it was close enough. "You're up," he gloated. Before either Near or Mello could speak Light grabbed the gun from Mello's fingers before aiming at Near's hand, fingers splayed on the grass as the young boy began to pull himself upright. There was a thrill from the metal in his hand, cool and light. "Mello, if you aren't in my tent in five seconds I'll shoot." One, he thought.

A nervous giggle was halfway stifled. "Oooo look–"

Light fired.

Mello was still screaming when Near clutched an entirely whole hand to his chest, seething and swearing at Mello in half a dozen languages, and then Mello was dragging Near out and across the grass to shove the other into L's hammock, the screaming ending only when Matt and Light materialized looking as collected as can be expected–Light was a trifle heady from the power he'd succumbed to and Matt was already planning war.

"That's a first," L told him as he ran gentle fingers up and down Near's back, looking almost amused. "Usually my subordinates have to get me."

Mello coughed up a vicious diatribe that no one really heard except for Near, but that was the point.

Now, after finally proving his dominance, Light's euphoric burbling wasn't to be quenched on their way to breakfast. He was still outlining his plan for world peace under a hegemony when he began eating the pancakes drenched in raspberry syrup handed over by Misa. He and L were sitting alone at one table on the opposite end of the room from the other three.

L glanced at camera No. 45.6, almost seeing Watari's disproving finger-waggle. It was time to remind Light who held supremacy.

"–and every member of my staff would get cream puffs for Christmas," he was still babbling, a trickle of syrup at the edge of his mouth too metaphorically blood-like for L's comfort as he watched Light cut another piece of earth-shaped pancake. "But my secretary will have had those before–"

"Light."

"–and I'll have to get larger ones because my connections with the FBI–"

"Light."

"–because Area 51 was part of my hypothesis–"

"Light-kun," L purred.

"You–please don't call me that."

"I'm going to answer the questions you had the first day."

To Light, this translated as, "I'm going to offer up my weaknesses and give you the needed information to stage a takeover," as L knew it would, and was unsurprised when Light dropped his fork.

"Yes?"

"I solve the world's problems." He then listed off a select number of accomplishments that left Light more pale and still with each summary finished until L was quite certain Light's legs were falling asleep with how tense he was holding his body.

"That's..." No. He could not be intimidated. Light chose to cough and ask a question instead of indicating he had the brief craving to worship the detective like every other person in the place. "And you're training the campers to serve under you?"

"No. I am training them to surpass me."

"And why am I here?"

"Not satisfied with your own supposition?"

Light remained silent, eager, waiting for the rest of the puzzle pieces to be snapped in place.

"You're not second best. But we've watched you for long enough that we wanted to bring you here to see if you could be useful, maybe." He took a bite of cantaloupe as that settled into the egoist's brain. "We've been observing you for two years now," L continued, watching Light's face. "At least closely. Five years in total."

"Since–"

"Since you anonymously submitted that dissertation on China's foreign policy."

Light felt as if he'd somehow betrayed himself.

"We mostly watched your academic record." Which meant placing spies in the student body and inserting a teacher or two when they felt he wasn't being challenged enough, but L would never tell him that. Light would be fed knowledge, but L would portion it with the utmost care and watch the digestion.

"Ah," Light finally managed. "Were you the one overseeing this?"

So it fell back to his pride. The stalking would be forgiven if he'd been given L's attention. At least, L thought with a little stab of triumph, he seemed to recognize L for who he really was.

"When I saw fit," said L. "Your father was quite helpful when it came to bugging your room."

Seven tables down, Matt hooted into Mello's shoulder. "Did you see his face?"

"I love L," Mello whispered. "I love love love love love L."

"Demoralization of Light Yagami has commenced," Matt began to drone in a pseudo-serious voice.

"–I bet he tells him what I did with the von Weizsäcker case."

"I bet he doesn't," Near said around a polite-sized bite of egg on toast.

"Yeah." Matt, frowning, reached over and traced the skin around a small bruise forming beneath Near's eye. "I put that tuna and garlic stuff in the bag with his camera and laptop that was in that thermos we hid last year."

"Watch," Mello spat.

Every mote of Light's attention was focused with wide-eyed fury on L and in the process of listening (L was explaining that Light's roommates for his first year of college had all been cousins of any of the three in the kitchen) accidentally stabbed the table with his fork. For a panicked minute Near and Matt thought Mello would choke to death after snorting food down the wrong pipe but with a hearty back-pounding from Matt all was righted and Mello continued staring with streaming eyes. "I wish I was a girl," he began, but Matt punched him in the side. "You're creepy, Mello."

"To have L's babies would be–"

"Near look you're so kee-yoot I just want to eat you up in one bite!" Misa threw her arms around the pajama-clad boy and kissed the top of his head. Misa had yet to learn that Near had grown beyond the age of appropriate to pull onto one's lap and did so, ruffling curls with one hand and winking at Matt and Mello. "You guys are cute too, my little m&ms! Really Near, like, I'm thinking grey skinny jeans and a pink sweater, and maybe some light pink nail polish and white gold earrings..."

Mello pulled Near off the lolita with bared teeth. "Aren't you working right now?"

"Nope I'm on my break and I wo-ould be talking to Light but he and L are sooo-ooo busy right now, you know?"

"He said he liked you," Mello lied with a bashful smile, as if he was whispering forbidden secrets at a sleepover.

"LIKE REALLY HE DID MELLO I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SWEETIE I'VE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY IN ALL MY LIFE." She dashed back into the kitchen, arms flapping like wings.

"Watch," Mello breathed, "I bet she crawls under the table and starts humping his leg."

Matt and Mello collapsed into helpless sniggering for the twentieth time since they'd started eating and Near took another bite and let his robot dance along the edge of his plate, fighting down a smile. The excitement of being at camp, being with L, would have systematically worn off by today and the rest of the stay would have been a battle of Near against them, with L as referee, but the materialization of Light had called some kind of truce. It was a bit foreign and Near felt shy at being witness to Matt speaking more than one sentence at a time and seeing Mello's facade lifted (apparently the liquid grace and silver-tongued utterances masked an entity that was all sharp angles, squawks, and a chocolate-smeared mouth). He was secretly thrilled to help form this new trio, which they could tell by the way he almost clung to their every interaction with him. If perfection was anything, it was lonely.

"So what are we gonna do?" Mello asked after showing Matt the proper way to blow chocolate milk bubbles out of one's nose.

"Tents," Matt groaned. He was still sore from sharing a bed meant for half a child with two full-sized ones.

"I mean to him."

Near poked Matt's shoulder, though he addressed Mello. "I have an idea."

Three heads bent down and tactics were outlined in whispers.

Showering in the pool house left Light in emotional and physical torment. He'd been forced to stand in a dingy, mildew-stained stall with concrete flooring under a shower head that dribbled tepid hard water, subjecting his hair and skin to metal and calcium deposits. To add to his misery he'd only gotten one brief glance at a mostly-naked Mello before the view was obscured by a completely naked L (who apparently lacked any sort of modesty) who told him that the hot water only lasted for five minutes, a fact confirmed before he'd finished the sentence. Light had screamed at the intense and sudden revelation.

And now, as they walked the trail back to camp, Light swinging his mother's mesh lingerie bag full of a dozen products, Matt and Mello were seeing who could best capture the essence of his shriek.

"No," laughed Mello, "it was higher, like–"

So it continued. Any sort of affection Light could have bestowed on Mello other than lust was snatched back. He was growing more fond of Near, actually. The boy was as evil as wet kleenex.

Then, then, his nape itched. Light scratched away without thinking. The second nails left skin the itch returned in intensity fourfold, and now his side was itching. The others had barely walked five feet before everyone stopped still at his scream of anguish.

Matt, Mello, and Near watched, mute, wondering if they should have measured the dosage as blood trickled down the enemy's bare trunk, the cursed polo thrown over a clump of milkweed.

L gave the others a single marked look before ushering Light back to the showers.

Light did not want an escort. "You don't have to come with."

Plodding faster, L caught up until the two were walking in step. "I would go with them, but I have to make sure you're safe."

"Oh, right, the wild twin you made up to freak me out."

"Beyond Birthday is real, Light."

"It has a name like that?" Light stopped walking and stared at the detective.

"It's what he calls himself."

Still incredulous Light continued walking and the detective fell behind once more.

"What about the other campers? How do you know they aren't being attacked right now?"

"They have nothing to fear from B."

"So he's only interested in me because you are." Light missed the tiny frown and nod, but didn't need to see it to know he was right. "I hate your campers," Light sniffed, returning to his former grievances. "Is it against my contract to retaliate?"

"No, but I would advise against it."

Light stewed for the rest of the walk and said nothing more until he was scrubbing with masochistic fervor at his wounds. "That's exactly why I'm here, though" he whined. "You're testing me and you need to know how I match up to your spawn."

"I can assure you that I've fathered none of them."

Light ripped the ragged shower curtain back, his scowl disregarded by L, who was perched on the vanity sucking on malted milk balls. The scowl stayed firmly stitched in place as Light stalked to the vanity and L hopped off to give the irate teen room to, ah, that was conditioner he was squirting into his hand.

"I want to go home," Light continued, fingers running through his tresses. "This is not what I came here to do."

"But the expense of bringing you here would be wasted," was the cool reply.

Light decided to ignore L for the rest of the day. This conviction was broken at once when L trailed a calloused finger down Light's back, parallel to a deeper scratch that had begun to bleed again.

"Don't touch me."

L back away safely to a corner where he studied the cracked cement and chewed on the offending finger. "Do you want some antiseptic?"

Could the situation be any more ridiculous? In Japan, everything had been predictable: tests and papers and teachers all handled easily with nothing varying excepting subject and degree of difficulty. It had been boring, but he had been in control. Presently he was at the mercy of perhaps the world's brightest individual and his minions and the most they wanted to do with him was abuse him with juvenile pranks. It was unbearable.

"No, I don't need an-ti-sep-tic. I'm going back to the main buildings," Light snapped. "Wammy needs to be told exactly how you're letting them treat me. Don't follow me."

"I can't permit that."

The punch was born of an unrestrained burst of rage and missed its mark by a narrow margin as a result, but L was still sent crashing to floor, crimson flecking his shirt.

Light scoffed, tossed his head, and walked out.

Then he was on his face gasping for air from a kick to his back that hit with a satisfying meaty sound. L turned him over and pinned him down with freakish ease even with one hand yanking his shirt over his nose.

"Light, it was never you versus them."

Murder plans were quieted and Light listened, the pleasure of seeing blood seeping into that grimy white distracting his focus. But L didn't continue, and Light reworked the meaning of the sentence in his head.

"Oh."

L wondered if signing his own death warrant by admitting that had been worth it as a tactic but then decided it was, as the boy would have figured it out eventually, but it may have been much too soon to reveal it. He hoped Light would mistake his shallow breathing for pain.

"But I thought..."

"I lied," L said, voice muffled behind his shirt.

Light was disturbed by the sympathetic calm in L's eyes. His anger returned in full force at the sudden baffling sensitivity from his torturer, because L was still winning the newly revealed game and now had the nerve to feel sorry for him.

"Get off me. I'll go back." And I'll win this, I'll become you, I'll surpass you, I'll defeat you.

"One moment," sighed L, fishing inside a pocket. Light heard jangling, and L pulled out a chain with a definite metal loop on one end that twinkled in the shallow sunlight. "You disobeyed me," he explained as he snapped the handcuff around the teen's wrist and then attached the other loop to his own. "I wish you hadn't. This could be unbearable."

Now in a state of shock Light allowed himself to be gently tugged to standing and led down a trail behind the pool house he hadn't noticed.

Mello screeched and nursed a finger.

"Sorry," Matt mumbled. He shoved the extra bed into place with his foot while studying the screen of his DS (which was actually a tracking device, among other useful things). "They're heading towards the archery range? I think. I dunno. It won't go to the satellite feed screen..." He banged the precious tool against the bed frame. "Don't be so butthurt, Mello."

Mello stomped out, muttering something about finding Near.

The youngest camper was not in his tent. After a dizzying burst of panic Mello found him in L's tent running data on Light's laptop.

"Watcha doin'?" drawled the blond, wiggling next to him with a sugar-drenched smile.

Near blinked and wedged Starscream between them. "L's thinking in all of this is disconcerting."

"Mmmm" Mello hummed, and with that began chipping red polish off his thumbnail.

"Well." Near's cheeks turned the faintest of pinks and Mello slipped and scraped skin instead of enamel. "No, I mean...watch this." He shambled over and grabbed L's laptop, or at least the double he didn't mind them peeking into, and flipped it open. Watari's obsession, nay, mania to monitor every second of life he could stick a camera in front of came in useful. The video Near opened buzzed to life to show L and Watari. They had evidently just been watching collected feed of Light's interview.

"Did you see the smirk as he turned to leave? It has a certain quality to it that borders on–"

"Sadism," offered L.

"Perhaps. We know he's seen satellite maps of the camp and that he researched the background information of every staff member we allowed to leak. He's been stalking the parents of the two year-olds."

"And you want me to work with him."

Wammy clasped his gnarled hands together in desperation. "Lawliet, this boy is quite possibly the most brilliant creation seen since yourself. We need his mind and he's willingly taken the bait. I have no idea why you've been opposed to this since the beginning."

"His obvious need for control is disturbing. It consumes him. I won't threaten this institution on my own whim because, in the long run, it's needed."

"Yes, yes," said Wammy impatiently. "But we're going to tame him. You're going to tame him. He's bored, Lawliet. He'll be surrounded by people who surpass him beyond any professor they could dig up over in Japan. This is fruit ripe for the plucking, and we'll cut out the bruises as we see fit."

L sighed and reached for his melting butter pecan ice cream. "If you insist. On one condition."

"You already know you can do whatever you would like with the boy."

L poked at a pecan. "Alright." He stood, shuffling past the man and his hundred LCD eyes before turning at the door. "Wammy?"

"Yes?"

"You have no idea what's coming." A smirk twisted around the silver bowl of the spoon and L was gone.

A square of chocolate snapped off, flecking Mello's thighs with flakes. He was about to speak when Matt bounded into the room and gave his own summary (he'd seen this video several days prior).

"So you're L. You're nineteen and never been laid cause you work for a farty old coot that never lets you outside your precious little thinking room and then boom! there's someone who's finally on the same level as you and he's really really hot. But!" Matt waved his DS for emphasis. "He's narcissistic in all the pathological ways and would if pushed in the right direction be a threat to humanity, and that's exciting enough to bring him here and trap him and study him and sex him up so he doesn't kill you and make your heirs slaves!" He took a deep breath.

Near almost gagged at the mental image of L sexing anyone up. "Matt," he winced.

Mello grabbed Starscream and pressed the robot to Near's mouth. "You know he's right. Now all we have to do is figure out if it's us against them or us against Light."

"Light," Matt decided instantly. "You guys, he's got him on a chain or something." Matt wedged himself between them and the three huddled over the console.

The view that camera #678 offered from its nook in a handy maple showed Light going fetal in the middle of the path, with L dragging him along as if there was nothing unconventional about the situation.

"Glad they got their kinks worked out."

Mello sniggered and let Matt's slander stand.

"Here's what we'll do," said Near quickly before any more solemnity left and he'd have to fight to get his grand scheme across. "We'll keep Yagami under surveillance and trust that L's judgements so far have been correct and if any ulterior motivations L may have put us or Wammy's in danger then–"

"–Coup d'état," Mello whispered, blue eyes flashing bright.

Light was not cooperating, and L's arm was getting numb, the cuff rubbing his wrist raw. Really, this was futile surrender if Light was willing to destroy his clothes and get even more bloody being drug over gravel. L suspected that if he tried to assist Light with his wounds (he'd had nothing to change into as all of his day wear had been contaminated, and was too anal to wear a shirt meant for sleeping) he'd be attacked, so L did nothing, though he'd cut the tour of the camp short to swing by the medical office for bandages.

"This is the lodge," he explained, gesturing at a massive structure tucked into the treeline. "It's a major part of the modus operandi for Nuke Day." As they had walked—or in Light's case, bumped over jagged rock—L had alluded to the various fixed celebrations and activities in the camp's calendar that everyone celebrated as a whole but had not garnered much of a response, though "Appreciation That The French Terror Is No Longer Upon Us Day," a part of Historical Appreciation Week, had brought a look of piqued disgust.

What could have brought about this change in Light's attitude?

It was, of course, the linked steel stretching no more than a yard between them.

Light's first vision of this entangled bliss was imagining himself sitting outside a bathroom stall while L defecated. Others had followed, including showering (trapped in that tiny stall, taking turns under the water, accidental brushes of wet skin against wet skin), sleeping (L, perched on Light's chest, typing and bleating out streams of gibberish, dribbling crumbs), etc., etc., until Light was determined to no longer take any willful action. His life was no longer his own.

"Light," L said, "we've reached the medical building. I'm going to let the nurse look at your cuts." It was, as L knew perfectly well, that part of the day where the nurse rotation meant all medical personnel were occupied elsewhere. L shoved Light onto an examining table once no uniformed staff member was to be found and procured a box of gauze and tape and other niceties, which he smiled over before picking the ones best suited to Light's hundred scratches.

Light instantaneously decided with a total change of heart that letting L make any decision regarding himself was some power play snuffing Light's agency. Light would not give up any more control. The pale hand reaching for a bloody shoulder was slapped away.

"Light, I have no qualms about drugging you. Several of these could scar without attention and they all need to be cleaned." L uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "If you had asked, I would have taken the chain off."

"You just wanted to see what I would do," Light said, voice dull. "And see how much control you have over me."

"Mmm," L hummed.

"I hate you. You'll pay for this." He tried to ignore the peroxide-soaked square of gauze heading towards his shoulder, where it hovered in L's hand until Light met his eyes.

"Of course," L replied. "But in allowing me to do this you must have some trust left."

As predicted, Light punched. L dodged it, grabbing Light's arm and flipping him onto his stomach in one twist. The syringe was in a vein before Light could counter and out before he'd tensed enough to snap the needle.

L began splashing peroxide on Light's back straight from the bottle.

Yagami regained consciousness right before a humid dusk. The effects of the drug had left him with no memories of walking (haphazardly) back to the site or being coaxed (forced) into his bed, though he had been awake and chattering happily about a school play in which he'd been the lead, nor did he remember Wammy coming and replacing his laundry with a clean identical set, and he would have been delighted to see the three campers berated, Mello in tears, but he was out cold for that last scenario.

He gave himself a thorough self-examination once he was fully awake. His scratches were clean and the larger ones bandaged. He could find no other needle marks other than the one in his arm, which had begun to bruise. His head was still a bit woozy, but that seemed normal enough.

And, most importantly, there was no chain. L wasn't even inside the tent.

Did L really think himself so omnipotent? Was it going to be mind game after mind game, L unleashing new tortures just to see how Light would react? His profession was ripping scenarios, behaviors, people apart, and Light refused to be torn wide. The next advance, of course, was to act in a way that L would not predict. So Light peered out of the tent flaps in hopes of locating his foe and—yes, there he was, roasting marshmallows with the brats. He most likely thought that Light was still sleeping, would wake just as recalcitrant (or compliant, now that the chain was gone) and they'd resume their battle of wits. But Light wanted to take preliminary action. He was sure L's laptop was encrypted; that would hardly yield personal information even if he could hack it.

No, what he needed was someone who knew L, someone who had, for sixteen years, tried to emulate him.

So leaving the tent from the back, Light strolled into the woods in hopes of finding B.