DESIDERATUM: Chapter 10
Disclaimer: Serria is now a poor college student. She is putting off buying rights to Death Note until after she has that education type thing, and that money type thing.
GRAND CARICATURE
"So Lindstrom didn't bite the dust after all," Diane Wittlinger commented off-handedly as she ran a few painted nails through her vivid curls of hair. She said this off-handedly because it was a simple fact that everyone in the Interpol knew already, that President Dressler knew already and the NPA knew, and L knew too. It was a comment as simple as 'so the sun did rise today!' or 'Kira is a sociopath.' Simple words that read truth like computer coding.
Akiyama hadn't shaved in a week. He was completely distracted, always reading one report or another with eyes that were either bloodshot or bloodthirsty. He glanced now at Diane with vexation, only partially focused on her. "That's only true for the next half-hour."
She raised a plucked eyebrow. "That so? But the Death Note thing..."
"No, not the Death Note. Something much more grand, and of human creation."
'Murder' is a matter of perception. Some prefer to call it 'necessity'. Others still call it 'justice'. The only one who doesn't give a damn as to the title is the victim, whose opinion is the most irrelevant.
Thomas Lindstrom had been promised freedom if he participated in the experiment. He had never been told what exactly the experiment was, only that he had to write down the name 'Anton Gates' while observing the mug shot of the man. Whatever they want, he had thought. Freedom was a good enough promise for anything. He had been in prison for twenty years and was ready to see the sunlight.
But the world is cruel.
He was taken to a chair and strapped down all over again, the day after they told him the experiment would be done. He wondered briefly if they were going to debrief him somehow, tell him the results and explain the conditions of his release.
What he hadn't expected was that a small crowd of security would be gathered around him, stone-faced. A man in white delicately held a small syringe containing 100 milliequivalents of the lethal drug, potassium chloride. Lindstrom, who had been on death row for long enough, knew that this chemical was going to stop his heart from beating as well as any of Kira's heart attacks.
And he saw it coming.
"Oh sweet Jesus!" he moaned out loud, struggling against the straps. "Please, God! You promised, you promised!"
"Thomas Lindstrom. Your sentence of death by lethal injection has not been overturned," one man said. Thomas couldn't see who it was because everything was a blur and he didn't have his glasses. "You have been charged with mass manslaughter and given indictment. At this moment you have the opportunity to give a final statement."
"You promised!" he shrieked. "Oh God!"
But the needle still plunged into his vein, and the poisonous contents of the syringe were emptied. In no less than seven minutes, the man was a carcass, slumped over in his chair with death written across his features like black ink over some mortal work of literature.
As she witnessed this, a thought crossed Diane's mind. She mumbled it quietly, as such a thing wasn't in her usual nature to suggest: "Maybe gods keep promises better than humans do."
Akiyama glanced her way. "He's damned, either way."
And suddenly, Diane wasn't sure if he was talking about Thomas Lindstrom or Kira.
It wasn't until ten o'clock that Light woke up, and when he did, it was sudden and quick. The memories scrambled through a desperate mind at the speed that light fills a room as soon as a switch is flicked, except that the thoughts were nothing so comforting as salvation from the dark. Instead it was an instant frenzy. He sat up from the bed, which he was lying in alone, and immediately he thought that perhaps he was in handcuffs, or in a jail cell. Perhaps in the execution chair, perhaps his heart was pounding its final beats...
But he was still in the exquisite Sofitel le Faubourg, buried in white blankets and free - in some sense of the word, anyway. L, who must have been awake for hours, was crouched on the mahogany chair by the table, his eyes narrowed and focused on the laptop in front of him. Light's heart beat irregularly as he watched his enemy. Thirteen days was false and now L knew it for sure, as if he ever had a doubt in his mind. So what would happen now? That in itself was enough of an excuse to put Light back under surveillance, even more diligently because of how suspiciously coincidental the circumstances were.
"Good morning, Light-kun," L greeted monotonously, his eyes only momentarily flickering to Light before they returned to the screen. "Did you sleep well?"
Still in the dark as to if, or how, they were going to continue to play this game of pretend, Light cautiously slipped his bare feet onto the carpet. "Fine, thank you," he murmured as a neutral response.
Thick silence followed as L typed at his keyboard - for all Light knew, he was telling Interpol exactly where and when to pick up their most wanted criminal. Tap, tap, tap, abomination. After a few minutes, the detective glanced at him haughtily. "Is there something bothering you?"
Aside from the fact that I'm a step closer to lethal injection? "No, nothing. What are you doing?"
"I am typing on my computer."
It was as though the lanky imp of a man enjoyed watching Light squirm uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. His lips twitched in a suppressed smile, making an obvious show of studying the screen.
"Fine," Light snapped, standing up all together. He wasn't in the mood to play games with this bastard. There was no way that L would tell him his situation with Interpol, not now and not after an hour of coaxing.
The issue to calculate was the same issue it had been since the beginning of this journey. Stay with L, or run? Running was as good as a confession of guilt, and that option could only be chosen if all else was failing. If he stayed, the outcome was foggy and unknown. There was a possibility that L would let him tag along longer, and another possibility that at any moment he would deliver Kira like a neatly tied package to the nearest police agency.
"Light-kun." Ebony eyes darted up to meet him. "You aren't meeting my expectations. Aren't you going to say anything?"
"...What?" Light stared at him, wondering what these 'expectations' were. To bring up the thirteen day test? To vehemently deny guilt, or sobbingly admit it? What kind of psychological game did he have in mind to pinpoint him as Kira now?
"In all of you sexual experiences, I imagined that you would say the morning-after words to give the occurrence closure, instead of leaving it awkwardly on the table."
...L looked dead serious.
He looked dead fucking serious.
"Are you serious?" Light asked, just to clarify, wondering briefly if he had heard right or if he had finally lost the last shreds of his sanity. Last night... oh God. Awkward, what was awkward?! He hadn't been thinking about that, he had more important things on his mind - such as contemplating strategies to stay alive and methods to kill the detective.
That... had just been the result of stress, and neither man was in his right mind.
"Would I lie to you?" came the cool answer. L's head cocked slightly to the side like a curious dog. The kind of dog that ate people. And lied about it later. "Light-kun is blushing, I had no idea he was so shy about such matters. After all, he's had twenty-three sexual partners."
"Sexual? Kissing, Ryuuzaki! For God's sake, how about you grow up a little?"
"Grow up?" L's voice was so detached, it was almost frighteningly monotone and robotic, as though he were making a scientific observation. "Grow up, Yagami-kun says. Perhaps the reason that he has said no words of closure is because he does not yet mean for there to be closure. I deduce this from his Freudian slip."
Did L really just say that?
He looked dead fucking serious.
And Light did not want to use that word to describe how serious L was any longer.
If Light hadn't been flushed red before, he was certain he was now, as red as Ryuk's favorite apples. Or fire. Or blood. Or hell. "I'm sorry, what?"
Now L was lopsidedly grinning. He stood up, hunched over as arrogantly as always and casually paced over to Light. "I'm only teasing you, Light-kun. You were scowling, and it's a shame to be scowling on a vacation in Paris. Though judging by your current expression, I'm conjecturing that you're a virgin."
"No!" Light hastily let out. "I haven't been a virgin for years."
... Oh God. What was happening? How was L suddenly manipulating him into confessions about his personal life when he had been resisting just that for a good year?
Because he was so edgy, of course. He realized this, and L realized this, too. There was only one reason that he would be edgy... But L's face showed no sign of putting this fact in the spotlight (for whatever good that meant - his face was always as blank as an unplugged television screen). He paused, watching Light with an amused smile and a thumb pressed against his lower lip. "You're edgy, Light-kun."
Damn it.
...But wait.
Light allowed himself a few seconds to stare in contemplation at the gangly problem before him. The simple expression, the disheveled appearance and a nonchalant slouch: the dirty bastard, his dearest mortal enemy. L was offering him an invitation that was either very delicately computed, or absurdly rash (at this point, both were equally probable). The outcome was still uncertain, and any conclusion that L was trying to reach was unknown. But what he was saying was...
We've already been pretending for this long. Complicated circumstances have taken a toll on this fragile balance... so let's jump start it... by taking it one step farther.
...Because... facing the truth isn't really convenient for either of us right now. Actually, we both want to win, while simultaneously running away. We left a lot of problems in Tokyo, so what do we do when they start chasing us?
...We do what liars do best.
It was as ridiculous as hell, it really was. It was preposterous how they danced between and around facts, manipulating even the intangible and leaping between bitter hatred and deranged companionship. But that kind of recognition only truly sunk in if you were a spectator, and not a player in this twisted game of cat-and-mouse.
A caricature of desideratum.
As it was, in this they were in full agreement. Light understood the message and accepted. Now that the game was on, he didn't intend to be walked over. His face, which had previously been contorted into half-concealed anxiety, melted into total composition. He leaned back slightly on the mattress, holding himself up by his hands, and simpered presumptuously: "After your performance last night, shouldn't I be a little nervous?"
L seemed pleased with this answer, and was quick to retort with words that seemed alien in a voice that was the same familiar drawl. "I was hoping that you would request an encore. Perhaps it's me who should be nervous. After all, my audience has seen many shows before me."
"So?" Light asked, softening his voice in a way that he generally did to charm young women. Really, really fucking bizarre to use that tone with his deadpan nemesis, but that didn't matter as long as he was buying himself a chance to win. He swore to God that he would give anything at this point to buy himself more time, all he needed was more Time, and that was something that L was, apparently, offering to provide. "So, are you nervous?"
The detective's eyes widened as he studied the brunet, and a bony finger hooked around his bottom lip. "I'm confident in my abilities, and through investigation I will uncover what acts for which Light-kun will applaud the loudest."
A flimsy voice of rationality whispered into Light's ears, assuring him that his sanity was dissolving into dust, crackling up into ashes just the way that Rem had crackled up into ashes. The competition for victory had never been quite this fucked up, never, because at least before it made sense. This was L, and he was Light Yagami, and they were on different god-damned sides.
Light stood up, stepping forward so that his body was mere inches away from L's. Both of their cryptic eyes, in the middle of this chaotic façade, suddenly revealed something very clear and very honest: a maniacal challenge. Madness. And Light put his hand on L's shoulder, chuckling under his breath as though they were both on very friendly terms.
Two snakes, the creatures of knowledge and the darkness that subsequently follows, smirking like only serpents can. Forked tongues flickering outward, daring the other to advance so that they might lunge and bite their poison into tender flesh. That was a game Light knew how to play.
The kiss that followed was a caricature: Kira reached forward and tenderly flickered his tongue against L's bottom lip. Their mouths met - but gently, never adding unnecessary pressure, no force, only the mocking threat of intimacy. He inclined his chin to better absorb his adversary's warmth, the only kind of warmth that sent chills down his spine…
The chills brought with them a kind of masochistic pleasure. The chills themselves were sadism.
L, do you know?
Light could play this game to win against the ticking clocks because Kira had a plan. Kira had been in communication with Misa ever since she had arrived in Massachusetts, USA. The circumstances were rigid, and the plan was a shot in the dark, but that shot was going to kill something. Either way, it was sure to capture Interpol's attention for awhile.
Everything was a gamble. Time was the prize.
"By the way, Light-kun," L commented off-handedly as Light retreated toward the bathroom to take a shower. "I think that you'll want to wear a turtleneck shirt today."
"You son of a bitch," Light stared at the mirror in awe at the aftermath of previous night, where L's kiss had bruised his neck. Misa would kill him if she saw it. "Son of a bitch."
"So... wait..." Ryuk said. "You're giving up the Death Note? I'll have to clear your memories if you relinquish ownership."
"I'm not relinquishing ownership," Misa answered snippily. "And who said anything about giving away the Death Note, huh?"
"Uh..." Humans confused the hell out of Ryuk. Though he knew better - this new 'plan', after all, was of a Light Yagami copyright, so obviously it was going to be elaborate.
After all, it was Light's idea that they come here to the country called United States of America. It was his fault that they were sitting here on the bench outside of the college university called 'Harvard'. The place was mildly brushed with snow but still just as pleasant (and prestigiously upper class, Misa had told him) as Light's own To-Doh back in Tokyo. Misa, of course, was not attending such a place as a student: her focus was not the location, but the crowd of people that had begun to form near a platform that stood not far away.
"Look, see?" The girl reached into her denim handbag and retrieved a thin black notebook. 'Death Note' was scribbled across the cover, but instead of in Shinigami pen the ink was that of a cheap silver marker. The cover and back was nothing more than construction paper. It looked like some five-year-old's art project. "It was Light's idea. I made this notebook, and because it's black and says the title, it'll fit any description that L might've given Interpol."
"Uh, great, but even if it says 'Death Note' it's not gonna kill people," Ryuk tried to reason, unsure if the girl understood this fact.
"Oh, yeah it will." Misa grinned devilishly. "The first three pages of this notebook are taken from my Death Note. Look at this rule, right here: One page taken from the Death Note, or even a fragment of the page, contains the full effects of the note. So my fake notebook will work just fine."
"A fake notebook, huh?"
"And, this rule." Misa flipped through her real Death Note and stopped on the corresponding page. "Even if you do not actually possess the Death Note, the effect will be the same if you can recognize the person and his/her name to place in the blank."
"Why are you telling me the rules? I know 'em all," Ryuk insisted, but he took this all in very carefully. "So you're gonna give away a fake book."
"It'll start as just one, anyway. Light told me about this rule, too. How-to-use XXXI: The number of pages of the Death Note will never run out." The girl paused, studying the two books in her hands. "That means even if I ripped out all the pages of this real Death Note, they'd just grow back again, wouldn't they Ryuk?"
Ryuk blinked his bulging eyes, and lifted a clawed hand to scratch his head. "Well, yeah. I guess you can remove all of them that you want and make fake books. But you said that only the first three pages in your fake book was real, why is that?"
"We don't need them any longer than it takes them to fill up three pages. They might go all psycho if they have that kind of power for too long."
He chuckled at that. "Yeah, psycho. Hyuk, hyuk."
"But that's what we want," Misa continued. "Someone crazy enough that will definitely get Interpol's attention, with a little help from me. And when they get arrested, I'll kill them, because I have the Shinigami eyes."
"Ah, I get it," the God nodded. He stretched his arms into the air and cracked his stiff neck. "So anyway, I need an apple here, Misa. Can we go back to the hotel now?"
"Hold on..."
The crowd before them was large now, very large. At least a hundred young and brilliant humans - or maybe not so brilliant, Ryuk never understood why this peculiar species equated a multitude of trivial facts with brilliance, anyway. He didn't bother to read every name that he saw above each particular head, and he didn't even bother to get a good look at the large, cardboard signs that the students fiercely wielded. Instead, he and Misa's attention turned to the man at the podium, wielding a microphone.
"Kira is the Protector of the weak and the helpless!"
Misa was holding her breath. Ryuk strained his ears to hear past the yelling of the crowd of well-dressed children.
"Kira is the Saviour, come down from Heaven to punish the wicked who plague our society!"
The campus was pretty, too. Ryuk wouldn't have minded taking a nice, relaxing fly around the buildings and go sight-seeing. Unfortunately, the rules said he couldn't go too far away from Misa, since she owned a Death Note that was under his name. And she liked to go to these pro-Kira rallies, sitting on the bench in the back of the crowd and probably daydreaming about her noble Light Yagami.
"He, who wields the Sword of Justice, bears hope and integrity that he offers to humanity!"
Annoying it was, especially since that book really belonged to Shidoh, an oaf of a god who probably didn't even realize that it was missing. Even though he only had probably less than ten years left to his cumulative lifespan. Anyway, that couldn't be helped.
"Kira, He who has already made the world a better place..."
Eh, who the crap was this guy, anyway? Ryuk turned his attention back to the podium, where a student of Japanese descent stood in business suit and dark-rimmed glasses.
"He who is unafraid, an Angel of Justice..."
Well, Misa was sure watching him intently. If Ryuk didn't know better (and he did), he would have thought that maybe she was in love.
"Kira, it is you who is the new God!"
Ryuk suddenly trembled, an uncontrollable grin spreading across his face. Damn, if Light was here, they'd both get a kick out of that! Back in the good old days, Light had expressed his intentions to make Kira a god-like figure, but even so they had laughed together when they saw Kira worshippers on television. Sure, Light definitely enjoyed that, but not even he could deny that it was funny... The kid wasn't here now, so Ryuk laughed all alone.
After the rally, he was surprised to see the Japanese student spot out Misa, and rush toward her with his briefcase in hand.
"Hally!" he greeted with a polite bow of his head. "I'm so glad that you could come."
Misa smiled her sugary blonde-model smile. "You were as well-spoken as ever. Kira was watching you, and I know that he approved."
The man's eyes widened slightly under his glasses, and he lowered his voice. "So you really do know the God, Hally?"
There was a delicate little giggle. "Consider me God's prophet, and if you listen to me then I can also make you a disciple. How does that sound, Mikami Teru?"
Immediately, Mikami fell to his knees. A gesture that was recognized in Japan, and completely alien in the United States - the utmost respect. But Ryuk was taken aback by the passion in his expression:
"I belong to him, heart and soul. I will do anything that Kira asks."
Light might have wondered if L had finally snapped under all the pressure and sudden disappointment of Higuchi's death, except that he was certain that the man was somewhat insane regardless. If he had been sane, he wouldn't be standing here outside in the pouring rain where he was sure to catch a fever.
Not that it mattered. He would be dead soon, anyway.
"Ryuuzaki, what are you doing out here?" Light asked.
"It's the bells. They're awfully loud today," came a soft response with the most peculiar look. It was as though the L in him was just a Halloween mask, but the falling raindrops had made such a thing soggy and transparent. All that was left was Ryuuzaki, a strange and almost otherworldly being.
Light couldn't place a finger on what was different about Ryuuzaki that made him suddenly so alien. He was always alien, in his posture, words, eating habits, convictions... but this, this was different.
"The conditions are favorable, so the sound is carrying," Ryuuzaki explained, not in the way that he annotated cases like a mathematical formula, but like a child making clear some new concept to another of the same age. "I wonder what it could be... a wedding? A funeral, perhaps?"
"I don't hear anything," Light said after straining his ears, unsure if the wrenching feeling he felt now was severe irritation at this pointlessness or a certain level of regret that... well, not like it mattered, the ball was already in motion and there was nothing to be done about it, even if he had reservations.
Which he didn't.
"You don't?" L looked at him through the oddest gaze. His unruly raven hair was plastered with water, framing his expression. The honesty of the question, unburdened by malice, caused Light to frown.
And then he realized it. The thing that was alien was that honesty. It was unsettling.
"The bells..."
"Peuple français, peuple de frères,
Peux-tu voir, sans frémir d'horreur,
Le crime arborer les bannières
Du carnage et de la Terreur?
Tu souffres qu'une horde atroce,
Et d'assassins et de brigands,
Souille par son souffle féroce,
Les territoires des vivants!"
"Hey, what's that guy singing?" Light inquired with casual curiosity as they passed the performing Frenchman down the Paris street.
It was a battle revolutionary hymn. French people, can you watch without shuddering as crime unfolds? The ironic parallel to the Reign of Terror in the French Revolution next to Kira was something L might have found appropriate, if only this wasn't another pro-Kira rally. Instead of telling the truth, the detective glanced at Light and tersely replied, "It's a love song."
"That so?" The teen seemed to accept this explanation, nodding with disinterest. "So it's true that Paris is obsessed with love-making. Not that it's taken me this long to notice."
"No, Light-kun is smarter than that," L smiled. "You're a guest in my home country, so how about you show a little patronage?"
It was entertaining, if nothing else, saying such things and receiving a befuddled look from Light as a reward. Such perplexity was quickly remedied as the teen shot him a superior smirk. The straight-A Yagami student never liked to be second best, so he seemed to conceal his blush as he retorted, "Teach me how to say, 'you are beautiful' in French."
L raised thin eyebrows. "If you want me to flatter you in the language of the romantics, you need only to ask."
"I don't need your flattery," Light said distastefully, which briskly morphed into arrogance. "I'm making a wager. If you teach me that one line, I bet that I can get any girl in Paris between ages sixteen and thirty to kiss me."
The detective gaped, a finger hooked around his bottom lip. "This renders the perfect Light Yagami a prostitute."
"As they say, 'When in Rome,'" he answered smugly.
L blinked, and then continued to walk. "I do not appreciate you making such inappropriate remarks about Paris. It is a place of art and beauty." But Light chuckled, as though by these words he had won the wager - and gained a victory against L. Momentarily, L glanced at the adolescent again. "So what are the stakes?"
"I was willing to do it just for fun," the teen said lightly, giving a cocky grin. "But if you want to reward me when I succeed, that's fine, too. Give me your laptop."
"Laptop?" If L had ever had suspicions about whether or not Light was actually a paranoid mass murderer (which he didn't), that would have increased them. Light was only denying guilt now for courtesy's sake, and that in itself was somewhat comical. "I'm not sure if Light-kun's kiss is worth ten thousand US dollars."
Light smiled brilliantly. "I can get any of those girls to disagree with that resolution."
"Hmm…" L studied the adolescent's face as though he hadn't studied it a hundred thousand times before that. "How much is Yagami-kun worth? He has a pretty face, he's also well-bred and charming in romantic affairs. However he is currently looking quite thin and dirty from travel, so his dishonorable ulterior motives are quite obvious."
"What? I'm thin and dirty?" Light said incredulously. "And what do you mean, how much I'm worth?"
"Thirty euros," the detective said decisively. "For the night."
The adolescent cleared his throat. He straightened his posture with arrogance, as though he suddenly had a level of social maturity incomprehensible to his companion. "If you're afraid to gamble, just say so. I'm betting you that I can make out with a girl, let's say for one full minute of time. Are you up for the competition or not?"
This kid really was a brat, L thought. A cocky teenaged brat. "Then I'll be taking your cell phone when you lose."
That was fair. Though the phone was obviously inferior to the computer in monetary worth, this was a gamble beyond cash value. Light knew that L was contacting Interpol with his laptop. L assumed that Light was also plotting by means of his cell phone.
"Fine by me," the aforementioned brat shrugged. "Also, I've changed my mind."
"About the stakes?"
"No. I can win this without saying a single thing."
L had already assessed that Light Yagami was the type of person who liked to bask in attention. Of course, with his intelligence, he possibly deserved that attention but that didn't change the fact that he had a history of obsessively studying for tests and writing elaborate reports just to ensure that he was the best. Then there was the fact that the attention Kira was getting was clearly pleasing to him.
They hadn't walked much farther when they came across a group of young females passing the sidewalk in the other direction. The blonde girl became Light's victim. She was standing on the curb, facing the street and looking intently at the cars as though she were waiting for someone. Light tapped her on the shoulder, two quick but gentle collisions. The blonde immediately reacted by glancing around her shoulder, catching the adolescent's passionate irises. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, and when Light smiled at her, she turned her entire body toward him to offer a fuller attention.
And then Light, the conniving and manipulative fool that he was, went forward. L meticulously observed his movements as his lips brushed against the blonde's, and his hands fell to her waist. The girl's eyes widened like two baby blue saucers, staring at Light, and then her face seemed to smile even if her mouth was occupied. Eyelids closed, and her perfectly manicured hands wrapped around Light's back.
Well.
So much for the "I'd never manipulate a woman" hogwash that Light had fed L during the period that they were handcuffed.
Furthermore, this wasn't how Light usually kissed. Or, rather, it wasn't how Light had kissed L. L observed the act very curiously, and noticed how well-performed it was. It was refined and perfected, honed like a skill. But it wasn't real.
Not real at all.
"Pardon, mademoiselle," L interrupted, hunching over near the sort-of couple. "Il prefer a embrasser les garcons."
The girl's baby eyes widened again, and suddenly she forcefully shoved Light backwards. She glared fiercely, and then with an offended "hmph!" she went on her way.
L didn't bother to hide a smug expression as Light scowled at him. "What the hell, Lawliet! I was enjoying myself there. And I also had fifteen seconds to go."
"Light-kun did not make any terms about halting any kind of interference on my part," L answered breezily. "And I had no desire give you my laptop."
"You wouldn't have given it to me anyway. You could've just let me have fun on my Paris vacation."
L bit his thumbnail. "It's not your Paris vacation. It's my Paris vacation. I'm funding all of your expenses - you've been bought and paid for by me. I see no benefit in sharing. Also, I do believe that I've won your cell phone."
"I don't have it," came the dramatic answer. "I lost it."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it for you, Light-kun."
"I'm not giving you a thing. You wouldn't have given me your laptop!"
"You can not prove that."
"It's in your personality."
"Such evidence does not work in court, unfortunately. Or else I would be a much more efficient detective."
"Drop it, I'm not giving it to you."
"We made a legal contract."
"No we didn't. Even if you did, you cheated!"
"I did no such thing. Don't be such a sore loser."
"No, you're the sore loser, because I was about to win and you went and told the girl some half-assed thing-"
"To me, it was very funny."
"What the hell did you say?" Light demanded, crossing his arms.
He never had the chance to find out though, because at that moment they reached the entrance of one of the most renowned cathedrals in the world: the Notre Dame. And for a moment, they both had to stand and stare in silent awe.
Quelle est cette lenteur barbare?
Hâte-toi peuple souverain,
De rendre aux monstres du Ténare
Tous ces buveurs de sang humaine.
Guerre à tous les agents du crime!
Poursuivons-les jusqu'au trépas;
Partage l'horreur qui m'anime,
Il ne nous échapperont pas.
Notre Dame de Paris, a French Gothic masterpiece was as close and grand as L could get to bells in Paris. And a grand place it was. A lavishly constructed cathedral that was an even more fine tribute to ancient architecture than Roman Catholicism, its elaborate towers stretched into the sky. Stained glass windows colored the stony outside, and at the entrance where the pair of liars stood was a carved sculpture of the most famous of biblical myths.
"Adam, Eve and the serpent," Light identified as they lingered in the entry area, admiring the artwork.
"The serpent guards the Tree of Knowledge," L surmised. "Adam and Eve are the epitome of innocence, they are young and favored dearly by their God. The serpent is not human, however, and he tempts Eve to eat the fruit off of the tree. This fruit promises her superiority, enlightenment, a power above where she used to be."
"And so Eve falls to sin," the mass murderer added, almost sarcastically, when L paused for emphasis.
"And so Eve falls to sin," L agreed. "And she used her charms to make Adam follow her. But God was watching all, and he couldn't have such impure creatures in the Garden of Eden. So he banished them to a sinful world that suited them."
Light laughed out loud - laughed at the mythology, and laughed at the comparison that L was trying to make. "I don't know if I should be surprised that someone like you has read the Bible. Does that make you a Christian?"
L jammed his hands into his jeans pockets as continued into the cathedral, knowing that Light would follow. "I didn't read it. I glanced over a summary online during a particular case, where a highly religious man was murdering those he considered heretics, all while leaving a trail of biblical clues."
"How stupid," Light said flippantly. "Leaving clues, I mean."
The detective didn't answer. The competitive side of him wanted to say something snide along the lines of some criminals know better than that, don't they, Light-kun? and another side of him had become depressed. The magnificence of the church only served to remind him of that convict who believed so strongly that in the end, a god would bring him to salvation. He believed with all of his being that if he prayed, he would be spared.
The United States judiciary system was who James Thompson should have been worried about though; he was behind bars and his execution date was pending.
"Joan of Arc," Light observed with a certain level of reserved awe, pointing to a statue as they continued inside the cathedral. "A martyr for her faith."
"Do you think so?" L asked thoughtfully. "Her persistent character annoys me and in the end, she accomplished very little. Not even her own country gave a damn about her when tensions rose, and as usual in these cases, politics were the priority. Whether or not some remote deity was pleased that she was pitifully burned at the stake is a fact that remains to be proven."
"A valid argument." The brunet nodded carelessly toward the statue. "Her life was pretty useless, though here, in the end her name has become immortal. They made her a saint."
L contemplated the figure. The architects had sculpted her into the shape of a beautiful woman, strong and unyielding with hands clasped in prayer. "Such a memorial does her little good when she's dead and unable to witness it."
"Maybe she was proud enough of her beliefs during her life, that she didn't care what the history books would say about her."
He was reminded briefly of their stay in Moscow, during one of their fights. An ill and delusional Light had screamed something at him, something about how people like to have beliefs. "I suppose. That's what religion asks for, doesn't it? Unyielding and unfounded faith."
Light chuckled. "An atheist isn't expected to understand."
"I understand," L said, too pensive to even bother sounding defensive. "But to be tortured and burned alive for it sounds as stupid as it does heroic. It seems to me that if one wants to believe in something and hold on to it until death, then it ought to be something more definite and realistic than religious ideals."
The altar of the cathedral was up ahead. A golden cross rose up, and even higher were the stain glass windows on the cylindrical wall behind it. L saw Light's Kira as clearly as that cross, inspiring the whole church to grovel in astonishment. Martyrs who named themselves servants of God, willing to do his bidding - however they interpreted such a thing to be - because the satisfaction of feeling righteous weighed more than the pain of torture.
The truth was that L did not understand. He did not understand blind beliefs, they were dangerous and wholly unproductive.
Blind beliefs. Gods? Mythology? Names?
And then the bells began to ring, signaling the time as noon:
DING, DONG. DING, DONG.
A massive choir of metallic chiming, from soprano tinkling to the booming of base. They were magnificent, yet painful, damned agonizing and loud.
DING, DONG, DING...
The answer to everything is in the bells, he had thought, always thought when he gave himself time to think. The bells that proclaim everything stupid and righteous, on the sides of churches and temples and shrines, next to gods like Kira, or...
Everything sacred is just another game-
-a sort of reason that people crave to live.
And they ring on the hour, forcing you to psychologically become Time's prisoner.
A holy caricature indeed.
"Ryuuzaki!" Light's alarmed voice cut through him. He realized that the younger boy's hands were on his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "You look like you're going to faint, what's going on?"
L blinked out of the trance he had fallen into and lowered his head - he had been staring up in the direction of where the noise was coming from. Like the feet of giants, stomping upon everything that made sense and distorting it into something terrible. His gaze moved to Light, whose amber eyes flickered in genuine confusion, maybe concern.
The adolescent's hands slid down L's arms, and then detached from his body completely. After a pause, Light told him, "There was a Shinto shrine with bells near my house. I used to go there and pray when I was a child."
"But you stopped."
"I stopped relying on gods to grant my wishes, and instead took on that responsibility for myself. Instead of praying that I might do well on a test, I study. Aren't you the same way?"
L stared at him and made no effort to hide it. Finally he turned his gaze back toward the golden altar. "I've been here before, when I was younger."
"With your family?" Light inquired.
"By myself," he corrected. "I came to Paris on my own, and that's where I met Watari."
"How old were you?"
"Seven."
The adolescent paused, looking a little puzzled and unsettled by this answer. "Seven? Then you..."
L gave him a sideways glance. "Yes, I was an orphan, if that's what you're trying to ask. My mother was fifteen and already a crack addict, and was impregnated by an unidentified male. The drugs made her rather sickly, and shortly after having me she disappeared, and a few months later they found her body. I lived with my only known family member, my grandmother. When she died of cancer, I was thoroughly orphaned. I was displeased with the initial orphanages, so in my early life I wandered France."
Light looked even more unsettled, as though racking his brain for the appropriate social conduct. "I'm very sorry, Lawliet," he finally said. "That makes sense that we came here, then, and I'm sorry for bringing it up."
"No," L disagreed and not out of kindness. In fact, something harsh was rising inside of him like the tide of an ocean. "France was never my final destination. I only wanted to see Notre Dame again because I am fond of it, nothing else. There are no mysteries here to solve, the answer is it does not make sense. Light Yagami can try to rationalize what he wants, but these circumstances are inane and to give them meaning is useless."
"I'm not rationalizing anything," came a hasty reply. "It's just a pity that such circumstances have to occur. Fifteen year old girls shouldn't be addicted to drugs and mothers shouldn't have to leave a child like Lawliet behind. I wish that we lived in a world where that didn't occur."
"Yes. An ideal world, correct?" he surmised with a ruthlessly calm demeanor. "A Garden of Eden where there is only goodness and righteousness."
Amber eyes flickered with irritation at this sarcasm. They narrowed, and Light said, "And why not? Why can't I wish that the world wasn't such a rotten place?"
"Because Eden's not real, you damned child!"
It was a sudden shout, and it earned them a few looks from other tourists. It rang and echoed throughout the cathedral, vibrating through the following silence.
Light stared at him first in surprised confusion, which hardened into aggression. Fierce and hot at this mockery of Kira. "I knew you were a very grounded person, L, and I had long since deduced that you reject the possibility of a utopia. But you've changed since Rem tried to kill you."
Even L was rendered to a stunned wordlessness that Light was daring to bring up such a thing.
"You were once quixotic, now you're a pessimist," he went on with brutally cold eyes. "I wonder if she killed you after all, right next to Watari."
"Are you really in the position to chastise me, Light-kun?" L said with twice the chill.
The subtle threat met its target, for not even Light Yagami could hide a twitch of fear at its implications.
It was unknown and irrelevant who had crossed the line first. But Light was the one who would have to retreat this time.
"I did not speak with the intent of chastising you, I was only observing," he said quickly in an apologetic tone that L had grown to recognize as absolutely insincere. "But I'm clearly treading on unwelcome personal grounds, so I'm going to give you some time alone."
L grit his teeth as his own childishness caused him to refrain from calling Light back as he turned around and walked away.
He couldn't go far. He had no where left to go. The pieces on the chess board were set, no matter what L or Light did at this point. Interpol was closing in like a wolf stalking a deer with a lame leg.
'Lawliet' wasn't the key player in this twisted saga. That was 'L'. And L wasn't the one who was going to protect the self-proclaimed Messiah who stood on the rising Tower of Babel up to the heavens, no, L was the one damning him back down to Earth.
In the end, it didn't matter whether or not he had his heroic intentions. Lawliet was a word like any other, to believe in or not to believe in. In the end, what counted were statistics and results.
On his way out of Notre Dame, he glanced again at Joan of Arc. Then with a sigh of displeasure, he dialed his cell phone.
Représentants d'un peuple juste,
O vous! législateurs humains,
De qui la contenance auguste
Fait trembler nos vils assassins,
Suivez le cours de votre gloire.
Vos noms chers à l'humanité,
Volent au temple de mémoire,
Au sein de l'mmortalité.
That bastard.
Light should have stayed in Tokyo all along. At least that way he would know what the hell was going on with the case. Yes, it might be dangerous to have Interpol watching him, but L had left. Light definitely had the support and confidence of everyone in the task force, and they would vouch for his innocence. Was playing defensively really such an absurd scenario? Even if the fake rules were proven false, that didn't necessarily conclude that Light had to be Kira. Evidence was still minimal, especially if they pursued the idea that Kira's powers can transfer from person to person. After all, it wasn't as though he were the one killing people right now.
He couldn't be convicted if there was no solid evidence.
...Right?
"Damn it." Light wasn't sure of anything anymore. What he needed was a plan.
Misa had claimed that she had found the perfect scapegoat. That was good, and maybe that would keep Interpol's attention for awhile. They would chase after this new Kira, and upon his arrest, Misa would kill him.
And then they would play that game again.
Misa could keep distributing Death Note pages, and Interpol would be overwhelmed. It would be ceaseless. Of course, that in itself wouldn't be enough to keep them away from Light and Misa if they ever found out that they were L's primary suspects... but...
Then, the pressure would multiply.
The Federal Bureau of Investigation had publicly backed out away from Kira when Light had killed Ray Penbar and the other twelve agents. Kira would therefore make it known that any agency who makes a stand against the cause and actively tries to capture Kira would be sacrificed for the greater good. Even the NPA might have to be silenced in order for the statement to be made. Aizawa, Mogi, Ide, Matsuda. Even... even Soichiro, his father, if that's what it took.
As unpleasant as it was to think about, Light grit his teeth and pondered. The thing that made Light the best Kira was the fact that he was willing to make sacrifices, no matter how painful. Because in the end, all that mattered was that the world was a better place for the largest amount of people. That meant incessantly destroying offenders, and simultaneously those who tried to prevent him from doing so.
Kira had to establish a foundation to stand upon, one that was recognized by every governing body. After all, it was only the government who hated Kira. Light wasn't an idiot, he knew that in the safe confines of the public's hearts, they were praising their Savior's name. Once the foundation was established, then Eden-
"Light? Light Yagami?" It was a voice that shattered his thoughts. That was his name, and the speaker was definitely not L.
Light didn't turn around right away, though he slowed his pace. No one should know that he was here. No one should know his real name, because he had never once been to France in his life. There were no connections. It could be the police, or some Interpol organization... what the hell had L done during this short separation?!
"Bonjour, kiddo!" the voice laughed, and it was friendly. "I never thought I would see you here in Paris. Fancy that!"
Slowly, he turned around to see the smiling face of a man in a violet dress shirt, sunglasses over his eyes blocking long strands of blonde hair from getting from marring his face. Tall, strong, and a criminal mastermind, it was none other than the con-man called Aiber.
"Why the glum face, Mr. Yagami?" Aiber said in English. "I hope you've been well, anyway! But I must insist, keep me company for awhile, it's not every day you run into an old co-worker."
Light's first reaction was surprise at running into the man - he did not even know that he was French when they worked together to catch the third Kira, Higuchi. A con man doesn't reveal much.
But being with a con man could be beneficial. If L were to call the police, what better place to hide than with another convict? A professional one, in fact, one that the law enforcement did not - could not - touch. He needed to buy more Time. This was a safety net, and that's why Light decided to follow Aiber to his Paris home.
Aiber's house might as well have been a smaller version of the Sofitel le Faubourg. Of course he was a con-man, Light remembered, and good enough of one for L to keep on his side. So logically, he would be quite well-off financially. The man himself gave a charming smile, pushing his sunglasses up along his slicked-back yellow hair and revealing kindly eyes.
"The young Mr. Yagami," he said in a voice like warm oil. "Welcome to my humble estate. I must admit that I'm surprised as can be to find you here in Paris. The last I heard of you, you were in Tokyo and asked me to trace down L's credit card accounts. Would you allow me to get you a glass of wine in exchange for a story?"
Light wasn't overly accustomed to drinking, in fact he had hardly had a drop of alcohol since he became Kira. But it was bad manners to reject a host's hospitality, and he had been raised better than that. "Thank you," he said. "Or should I say, merci."
"Ah, très bien, the genius knows my language," Aiber chuckled. "However, as you are my guest I will conform to your own language of Japanese, which if you remember from when we worked together, I speak fairly enough."
Light sat at Aiber's table anxiously as the man left to go find his wine.
"Champagne with the finest chardonnay," Aiber said when he returned, holding two glasses and a bottle. "In France, we have been exporting wine for hundreds of years. The best in all of Europe! Close your ears to Italy when they say that they rival us, also with the Spaniards. It takes grapes grown on French soil by French men to master such an exquisite drink."
"I'm not well-versed in wines," Light said, and it was true - he sipped his champagne and resisted the urge to gag. "But I believe you."
"Do you?" The con-man smiled winningly, flashing his white teeth. "The Japanese have sake, and that's fine - I do not find that it carries the same romance of our wines. However, it serves its purpose. Tell me, Mr. Yagami, what do you think that purpose is?"
Light shrugged and took another sip. His head hurt, he was anxious and paranoid as hell and had come to bad terms with his most bitter enemy. Aiber was still looking at him expectantly though, so he muttered, "To get drunk?"
"Ah, not so eloquently put, mon cherie, but still as correct as a genius such a yourself could be." Aiber's handsome features were as suave as his voice. His eyes lacked that offensive intensity that L often wielded, instead they were a soft - and thoroughly manipulative - understanding. "Alcohol is the sweetest and strongest friend in the world to mankind. Provided that one has a bottle, wine will always be there to soothe you, to take you on an adventure. It can enhance romance, it can replace romance. People have been drinking for thousands of years and will continue to drink so long as there is alcohol to consume."
"Yes... it can be addictive, can't it?" Light contributed dully to the conversation. He did not support an alcohol-dependent lifestyle, such a thing often lead to the crime that he purged.
"Addictive?" Aiber leaned forward, raising his glass. "It's a savior. What else besides alcohol can truly save a human being from his troubles? I'm a con-man, Mr. Yagami, and you are a policeman's son. We both know that humans can't be trusted. We're a backstabbing species, they do it, we do it. And the world is a cruel place for the unlucky ones. The gods are not merciful, but they gave us one companion that will never fail us. So I ask you again, why do people drink?"
"To... forget about those troubles," the adolescent answered tentatively, but with honesty. "To forget about the ticking clocks."
Aiber's next smile was almost predatory. "Oui, my friend. That was much more poetic. Keep this up and I'll make you an honorary Frenchman."
A silence followed, and Light took another sip. If only it were that easy. Kira couldn't afford to slip up and get drunk. He couldn't afford to take a break, because a moment's hesitation meant the death penalty. Contrarily, moving forward would always be a step closer to the world's salvation - why did it seem so easy at first, when he first explained it all to Ryuk? Damn it all. Some things really were more quickly said than done.
"How about a story from you, Mr. Yagami?" the con-man asked. "Why are you absent from Tokyo, and does your father know you're here?"
"I'm traveling with a friend," Light said plainly, though that was a lie grand enough to damn him to hell if he ever heard one. "Through an exchange program in my college."
"Ah, that's not the full truth. You're melancholy. You must elaborate for me."
"There's not much more to say," he answered briskly.
"Alright, alright," Aiber laughed. "Keep your secrets. But I advise you, drink to your sorrows and they won't seem so bad. Think of it as an offering to Dionysus, god of wine. Pray to him for your troubles and he will be gentle."
Pray to him.
L, at the church. L, under the bells. L, out of his sight, doing only a god knew what.
Light was filled with a hardened resolve. He slammed the glass back down on the table. "I'm sorry, Aiber-san. Thank you for your hospitality, but I don't have the time for this."
Aiber stood up slowly as Light did. Light bowed once out of respect, and turned around to leave the way that he came. He intended to find L, for all that he had been the one who left. If the detective had his cell phone on, he could just call, either way-
"Actually, kiddo, you're staying here."
But the world is cruel.
Something hard jabbed Light in the back, and after a split second of intoxicated confusion, he froze. A cylindrical shape, cold and metallic. His heart had stopped beating, and when it began again, it was pounding far too fast. Slowly, Light turned his head around.
Aiber dug the barrel of his handgun into Light's ribs. "Yes, that's right, please don't move because I will shoot you through the heart. My plan was to use my charms to get you drunk before we took this route, but you're as impatient as ever."
The color drained out of Light's face and he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling. "Aiber-san, I don't understand," he said with an attempt at calmness.
"There's a whole underworld that you don't understand," Aiber grinned, flashing his white teeth. "Kira can easily kill the petty lawbreakers, but honorable criminals like myself are more sophisticated than that. Now, put your hands in the air slowly. Behave and it'll be easier on you."
"You misunderstand, Aiber!" Light insisted. "I'm not Ki-"
The words ended in a grunt when Aiber slammed the barrel into his ribs again. The con-man said, "Yes, yes. That's what we all say: it's not me, I'm innocent, but we are all liars. But as long as L says you're Kira, no one except your daddy is going to disagree. Are you going to play nice, kiddo?"
L sold me out. But why to a criminal? Was this his sick idea of irony? When and how did Aiber get involved? This was planned, it was all planned! Had he really been stupid enough to think that the con-man just happened to run into him in a city as huge as Paris?
Had he really been stupid enough to think that a criminal had invited Kira to his house on friendly terms?
Aiber pulled a set of handcuffs that had been tucked in his belt underneath his dress shirt. The adolescent grimaced as his arms were twisted painfully behind his back, and the steel was snapped on his wrists. His mind was racing in a frightened frenzy: what was going on? Would Aiber be handing him over to the police? If so, Light would have to plead that he didn't know what was going on. But Aiber was a criminal, would he tangle himself in law enforcement?
He couldn't believe it. No, he could, but now that it was happening, everything was surreal. His mind was racing: Aiber didn't have proof, did he? What had L said? Momentarily he pushed away from the con-man, only to be grabbed roughly and have the gun jabbed into his side.
"You lead a fun chase, Kira," Aiber murmured into his ear. "You killed some of my friends on your little holy crusade, and you were a thorn in a lot of sides. An annoying enough of a thorn among the underworld that a mafia group offered me twelve million for you alive. I can't promise that you will have much fun with them, but I'm certain it won't be too long before they allow you to die. C'est la vie, mon cherie, such is life."
French people, people of brothers,
Can you watch, without shuddering in horror,
As crime unfurls its banners
Of Carnage and Terror?
You suffer an atrocious horde,
Of assassins and brigands,
Soiling with its savage breath,
The lands of the living!
What is this barbaric languor?
Sovereign people, hurry
To return to the monsters of Tenairon
All these drinkers of human blood.
War against all those who practice this crime!
Hound them to the death;
Share the horror that impels me,
They shall not escape us.
Representatives of a just people.
O you! humane legislators,
Whose august countenances
cause our vile assassins to tremble,
Follow the path of your glory,
Your names, beloved by humanity,
Rush to the temple of remembrance,
In the bosom of immortality.
Author's Notes:
1. Desideratum lives!!! Hooray! No, okay, sorry guys for the slow update. For whatever reason, the last month and a half of summer slaughtered my muse. Clearly my mind was not engaged enough for writing inspiration, but now I'm in college and I'm filled with determination. It's not the plot that's the problem - I've had the main plot written out ever since I started writing this fic in April. Some details are newly developed, but the ending is inevitable.
2. "Il prefer a embrasser les garcons" - L told the girl that Light preferred to kiss boys.
3. Tower of Babel - in Biblical myth, humans united to use their skills to construct a tower that would reach up to Heaven.
4. The song is a French revolutionary song (the translation is at the end).
5. Raise your hand if you want me to update sooner than in another month and a half! Ha, ha.
Extended thank-you goes out to reviewers and subscribers. When I lose inspiration it's lovely to receive feedback and hear exactly what you guys think. Cheers! -Serria