A/N Thanks for all the comments and faves on the last chapter guys, really appreciate it! I'm aware that I changed tense towards the end of the chapter but it didnt happen in too awkward a place and I kind of like how it turned out, so I just left it.'

Concrit is encouraged and appreciated.

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, light violence towards the end.


Raito never offered L any more information than what he had given on the first night and L never asked for more. He didn't need to. L knew enough about the way the mind works, he could put together the missing pieces on his own.

Yes, Raito keeping L captive had a lot to do with his desire to humiliate him, to make him watch as the first person that had ever successfully managed to beat him continue to outwit and degrade him. But it had a lot to do with desire as well.

Raito wanted company. Company intelligent enough to be able to keep up with and take part in some of his more involved conversations.

It was something that the boy had always craved. L knew this because he had craved it as well. Companionship was something that every human being craved. Human interaction was the driving factor to most things people did after all, and Raito was no different.

Every night, and sometimes early morning depending on if the task force decided to work late into the night, Raito would feed L then carry him to the bathroom where he would assist L in his ablutions.

But he never spoke. L wondered if it was because he was embarrassed by the display he had put on that first night, or if maybe he was simply just scared to give L too much information.

Whatever the reason for Raito's sudden and unexpected silence, it disturbed L. He disliked the way Raito would quietly sit next to his bedside and watch him eat, or the way Raito's fingers were ever so gentle as they washed away the sweat and dirt that had caked over L's skin during the day.

It made him feel awkward, if L was honest with himself. The way Raito treated him made him feel like a possession, fragile enough to be broken if he wasn't treated gently enough. It was all so unbefitting of Raito's character and L almost wished that it was the Raito with the mad glint in his eye helping him back to bed than the Raito with the gentle hands and the gentle eyes

o~o~o

During the day – and sometimes during the night – L would be kept under a drug-induced sleep. Sometimes, when the drug was wearing off, he was aware enough to hear Raito come quietly into the room to check up on him.

It was becoming difficult for L to keep track of time. The days seemed to blend into each other and drag on and go too fast all at the same time. His concentration was also being affected and his vision was becoming blurred. Sometimes it felt like he was tipping over and falling even though he was lying down.

During those rare moments of lucidity, L found himself thinking that Raito had planned it to turn out this way. The side effects to the sedative were perfect for keeping L quiet, complacent.

It hurt. It hurt his pride in a way that was almost more painful than those phantom pains he would sometimes feel in his chest or the way pain flared up in his legs or arms when he moved even slightly.

The fact that Raito had somehow completely managed to take complete control over L's life didn't sit well with him. Of course it didn't. It was degrading. He hated being treated like an invalid (though in many ways he was) but most of all he hated that it was Kira that was looking after him, helping him do all the things that he couldn't.

And like a caged animal, all L wanted to do was fight back, be it physically or mentally. And seeing as his physical health wasn't up to par, he would have to settle for attacking Raito's own pride, because if there was one thing Raito was, it was prideful. Unfortunately, Raito was also a lot easier to provoke than L was, so he would have to be careful about pushing him too far should Raito become violent.

o~o~o

"This isn't going to work," L says one night, when the drugs have worn off enough to allow him to speak, words slurred and not entirely strung together properly. When Raito says nothing, L says it again. "It can't work, you'll slip up eventually and someone will catch you."

Raito still says nothing, just fills up the syringe and sticks the needle into L's arm. Quick and methodical, the same way L would imagine him writing a name into the Death Note.

o~o~o

Things go the same way for the next few days, L goading Raito whenever he was awake enough to string a coherent sentence together. But Raito never says anything, just stares at L with a faraway look in his eye or a tiny smirk on his face, as if he knows better. L sometimes thinks that he probably does.

And L's getting kind of sick of it. This should be easier. Taunting Raito, getting a reaction out of him should be easier.

So he changes tactics. It's not a huge change, far from it actually. But L's sure it'll work. He knows that it will work.

o~o~o

Raito's feeding him, some delicious concoction of avocado and banana that the boy probably spent all of ten minutes making. It shouldn't taste so good but it did. The spoon moves closer to his mouth but L keeps it tightly shut. A flicker of annoyance flashes across Raito's face and L feels, for the first time in too long, a sense of joy fill his chest.

The spoon moves away and L almost smirks at the small victory. The sense of triumph doesn't last long though, because Raito's standing up now, holding the bowl in a tight grip and walking towards the door. And it's not enough, not nearly enough to make L feel better about this situation – not that this situation would ever feel alright – so he calls out, voice raspy but steady, speaking slowly to get every syllable out perfectly.

"You're worse than the people you kill," L hisses, and Raito stops, hand on the door handle, body tensing up ever so slightly. Seeing this, L carries on. "They maim and steal and violate, but at least they aren't under the impression that what they're doing is just. You're nothing more than a child with a god complex, bound to get caught at any moment. And when Kira's supporters see that he is nothing more than a fo-"

And that's all it takes. Raito is at L's bedside in a matter of seconds, pulling him up by the hair, expression dark as he stares into L's face. It hurts to be jostled around like that, nothing supporting him but Raito's hand in his hair.

"I may be a fool with a god complex, L, but you're the one at the mercy of that fool." Raito's voice is a low hiss as he speaks, and L thinks, 'Finally,' with a flutter in his chest and barely-there smirk gracing his lips.

But it's gone within seconds, ripped from him as Raito's thin fingers grip his throat and squeeze. The air to L's lungs is cut off with a strangled gasp and L knows then that he went too far.

The fingers stay wrapped around his neck until his vision blurs and mixes and his brain slowly starts to shut down. When L thinks that he's finally going to lose consciousness, the fingers loosen and peel away, gentle hands ease him back into a horizontal position and gentle brown eyes gaze down at him.

Raito leaves then, and L falls into a sleep filled with visions of Death God's with red eyes and wicked smirks.