Yo.

Beta credit to Skylara, and the dedication still stands to the one-and-only awesome-sauce Socii! Love you guys!

Oh yes, and no Misa-bashing in this fic. Unlike you nutty yaoi/slash fangirls out there, I actually confess to liking Misa-Misa. She's a bit bonkers when it comes to Sir-I-Am-Kira-But-Not-Kira-But-Am-Kira (also known as that bastard that killed my favourite character besides Hatake Kakashi ever). But me likes Misa, and Misa is cool. So...er...yeah.

And yes people. I'm allergic to coconut. And latex. No, I am not L. So stop asking!

Ja ne!
UK.

Chapter Nine
Misa

2 October 2004

Harry was laughing so hard he fell off the couch.

It was better to laugh than to stammer, blush, and then half-heartedly deny that no, he didn't feel that this was a double-date at all.

Misa was obviously not thrilled to have another addition to her 'date' with Raito, if her shrill "Wha?" was to account for anything. She complained about not having enough alone time with Raito until she paused and asked slowly, "Wait a minute...Ryuzaki, is this going to be a double-date? You really are a creepy pervert after all, chained up to Misa's Raito, and now this guy is here too..." Harry snorted, getting a grin from the actress-model.

"I'm not doing this because I want to," Ryuzaki said blandly, with the air of someone who had had this conversation once before. Raito looked embarrassed at the show his girlfriend-but-not-girlfriend was giving.

Harry simply fell off the couch and tried not to think about how he wished it was a double-date, and a voluntary one at that, but with another couple. Maybe Ron and Hermione, although they had a tendency to either be too sappy or too fearful that their children had burnt down the house with Daddy's wand or something.

Apparently, Ryuzaki had been an unwilling participant to the rather dull dates the two suspects were having daily. Raito seemed to be an unwilling participant as well.

Harry thought this was rather funny; hence the falling off the couch episode. By the time he had righted himself and wiped his eyes from the few tears, he was being stared at by the other three like he had suddenly sprouted a Grindylow head out of his ear, not that they knew what that was, of course.

"What?" asked Harry with a chuckle. "I was just remembering something." Then, in a mocking voice that was way too sweet to be normal, Harry chirped, "'Oh, Ryuga-kun! That man just wouldn't leave me alone, asking me for my number and all! But come on, gorgeous, let's go get something to eat after you get off work! I've been waiting to see you all day!'"

Misa was choking, whether from amusement or horror he didn't know (probably a mixture of both), and Raito looked between Harry and Ryuzaki as if figuring something out in his head.

Ryuzaki, on the other hand, mumbled, "I forgot to kick you for that."

Harry snorted, and then replied, "You have to admit that it was hilarious. But if you had seen the guy, you would've been just as reluctant to piss him off as I was. I mean, he looked diabolical. Anyway, you called, and did your job wonderfully Ryuzaki."

"So you and Ryuzaki are boyfriends?" asked Misa in her feminine voice.

Ryuzaki cocked his head, that speculative expression back in his eyes, and Harry knew that the detective was thinking about their last meeting together. Hastily, the wizard laughed and said, "Nah, he just called at the right time. We're...friends, I guess."

Raito's caramel eyes were intently focussed on Ryuzaki's expression, trying to decipher the thoughts running though that always-active brain of the detective's.

"Yes," Ryuzaki finally said, picking up another cherry from the bowl in the centre of the table. "We are friends."

Misa grinned, shot a glance at Raito, and said, "Well, if Misa wasn't so in love with her Raito, Misa would think you were very cute. You should work with Yoshida Productions! I know they would love to take pictures of you! You're so exotic looking! Do you have a girlfriend? I know this girl named Sa—"

"James-san is homosexual," interrupted Ryuzaki, chewing thoughtfully on a cherry.

"Wha?" shrieked Misa for the second time. "I thought you said—"

Harry shot his dark haired friend a stern look. "Yes, I am homosexual, Misa-san, but there is...Ryuzaki and I are not together like that. Especially since Ryuzaki-kun makes it sound so bad."

Ryuzaki looked over at Harry, his dark eyes glittering, and then delicately took out the newly-knotted stem from his mouth and said, "I'll give you this cherry stem if you forgive my imprudence."

Fuck, this should be illegal, thought Harry, suddenly miserable as the knotted stem was placed in his hand, still slightly glittering with saliva. This is completely evil, Ryuzaki. How could you do this to me? How could you give me a cherry stem that you knotted with your tongue, you bastard...?

"Well, I still think you are very cute, James-san!" Misa said, recovering from her mild shock with gusto. Her enthusiasm and happy-go-lucky attitude made Harry instantly like her, even though she was a bit ridiculous with the obsession with Kira and Raito both...and if Ryuzaki was correct, Kira and Raito together, rolled up into one bundle of godly sunshine.

But Misa went on. "You should think about working with Yoshida Productions, where I am currently modelling! I know they'd love you in their male campaign!"

At that, Harry nearly broke out in laughter again. Him? Yeah, and the entire Wizarding world would tease him until the day he died. Harry could picture it even as he sat there with a shocked expression on his face: 'Who cares about killing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Harry Potter's half-naked, doing photo shoots in Japan!' Yeah, that was some potentially reputation-destroying stuff there. Witches and wizards would laugh at him even after he was dead.

"No thanks," Harry said, forcing himself to smile. "I've had enough pictures taken of me to last a lifetime." This wasn't a lie. However, most of them were while he was mostly dead on his feet, usually covered in blood or some other foreign substance that indicated being in a long, hard, nearly-fatal battle. Either that or he was being thrown in a photo shoot, like during the Tri-wizard Tournament.

Yeah. No modelling jobs for him. He'd rather annoy Ryuzaki or pop in to visit Ron, Hermione, and the million kids running around the humble Weasley abode.

Misa went to speak again, but Raito interrupted her with impatience, "Shouldn't we be working on trying to find the Kira connected to Yotsuba? We're just sitting here wasting time when we have quite a bit of information to plough into. Honestly Ryuzaki, when are we going to start investigating?"

"Just sitting here wasting time? We're having a date!" Harry honestly agreed with that. Raito sure was being a total dick.

"Raito-kun, please shut Misa-san up," complained Ryuzaki, picking out another cherry and popping it in his mouth (seemed like Ryuzaki was taking Raito's side on this one...). Then with his mouth full, the detective continued, "Well, actually, I'm working on a suitable way to infiltrate Yotsuba. I've called in two specialists, Wedy and Aiber, and they're going to be the main part of the infiltration method. We just have to wait until they get here."

"What do you mean, Ryuzaki?" asked Raito.

Again, the cherry stem came out in a knot, but he put it on the table instead of giving it to Harry, which was probably merciful. "It means lots of things."

Harry sighed and absently scratched his scar with his left hand, unknowingly making both the lightning bolt shaped mark and the shiny words gouged in his hand more noticeable. For a long moment, there was silence, and Raito seemed to ignore Ryuzaki's words in favour of stating, "I must not tell lies."

Harry immediately flinched. Dolores Jane Umbridge was still active in the Ministry and very much alive, although at a stunted job. Unfortunately, the woman still attempted to make his life a living hell by reporting horrible falsehoods to one Rita Skeeter, who jumped on that like a fly on meat. There was many other diabolical things to add to her I Hate Harry Potter campaign, but at the moment, Harry said hastily, "Oh, er—yeah. It's a long story."

"What happened to your forehead?" asked Misa.

The emerald eyed wizard felt a stab of irritation, not at just Misa for bring it up but at Raito and Ryuzaki both, who were looking at the forehead and hand scars respectively. In all actuality, Harry had been quite surprised that Ryuzaki hadn't mentioned it before, because he knew that the detective had noticed it.

"Honestly, have you ever heard of tact and privacy? I'm entitled to it from all three of you. It's none of your business, thank you very much."

How exactly could he explain it, anyway? A perfect lightning bolt scar, literal words etched into his hand...it just wasn't normal, in every sense of the world. So, therefore, he wasn't going to tell lies and be caught making them later. Besides, Ryuzaki knew by Harry's facial expressions when he was lying.

Yes, it was much better to not answer at all and tell them that it was an off-limits question. Ryuzaki probably wouldn't have abided by that at all before being chained up to his Kira suspect, and most likely still wouldn't, but it held off the questions until he had an appropriate excuse that they would buy. They happened to be a hell of a lot smarter than the Muggles who had previously asked that question. Ryuzaki and Raito would pick at it with their ridiculously clever minds and realise that he was lying somehow...

Besides, even thinking vaguely about it just depressed him. The scar on his forehead was a constant, never-changing reminder of why almost everyone close to him had died.

Harry glanced at Ryuzaki, who was still looking at him with that unfathomable look in his eyes, and shook his head softly. "Later," he mumbled, letting some of his jet-black hair fall down into his glasses. He wasn't sure if he was talking about the scars or the much-needed conversation they needed to have about what had happened in the bakery, but Ryuzaki seemed to understand, as he turned his attention towards the cherries.

Yeah. It was definitely coming up in the near future, with or without Raito present. Hopefully without.

L was curious.

It wasn't the usual curiousness, though. It was the kind-of curiousness that tore his brain to shreds trying to figure it out to the minute detail. It was almost like the curiosity he had with the Kira case, but it was different too. With the Kira case, it was his mind battling itself, stripping every detail down only to reassemble it all again to find a connection.

With Harry NoLastName, it was his mind battling itself, along with a pressure in his chest and stomach that he had no name for. Perhaps sadness? It could've been that, only to an intense degree. Because when L thought about Harry's scars and the obvious drop in his usual happy and joking nature at the subject of them, the twenty-four-year-old detective knew that it was hurting Harry deeply. This, in itself, was what was causing that tight pressure to push on his chest, around one of the most vital organs in his body. In a way, he couldn't breathe right, and even the multitudes of sweets he was used to ingesting didn't taste as sweet and lovely as they usually did.

It could very well all boil down to the curiosity.

L fought the urge to sigh. It was actually quite ridiculous that he could analyse people better than most, and that he could discover hidden motives and emotions down to the last detail, yet he couldn't even understand the emotions that were rolling around in his own body. The detective hadn't really allowed himself to become involved emotionally with anyone except Wammy, and that was a small case. Wammy was the man that had literally saved his life when he had been filled with nothing, keeping him from becoming one of those orphans who failed in life and ended up dead before the age of twenty.

L could distantly remember having friends in Japan, during the short period of his life that he had lived there. He also recalled friends and caring handlers in the orphanages, and pretending to fish in koi ponds only to get chased off by the caretakers. That had been about four years into the War of All Wars, and yes, he remembered the shortages of food and clothes, but he vaguely recalled being happy and carefree for those few years.

Not for the first time, he felt a brief stab of hate. While Japan had been a refuge from pain, war, and the outside world, the Russian orphanages and the insane asylums there were enough to break any person.

A Russian woman that had died to give him life had nearly destroyed just that.

He forced himself back to the scars. He refused to think about his own past, and Harry NoLastName's was much more important than L's.

Scars were natural parts of life. L had them himself; he was only human, after all. However, scars that perfect were causes for concern. Even if someone could explain the lightning bolt on his forehead, it would be really hard to try to give excuses on why I must not tell lies was carved into his left hand in shiny letters.

L didn't know if Harry had done it to himself. It didn't make logical sense that someone with as big a heart as he did would intentionally carve words of that nature onto such a visible part of his body. There was a small, insignificant chance—about eight per-cent actually—that this was the case. It just didn't fit the profile that L had managed to create of Harry.

There was an even more unlikely chance that he had sat there and let it happen to him without even fighting it. And since the words were so clear and precise, in scrawled handwriting, it proved that there had been no struggle during the cutting.

Furthermore, it was sloped, curved, and quite frankly, human skin just didn't cut that smoothly. Cutting into flesh was quite choppy, with more angles and points. It was almost like carving a name or phrase into a piece of wood; overall, it would be rather alright, but even so, there would be letters that couldn't be cut unless it was more in an angle-like shape. Like the circle in an 'a' being more square than circular. Yet Harry's skin had been just like writing I must not tell lies on a sheet of paper and being transferred into the flesh.

Lasers might've given that illusion, but it wasn't a burn scar. Those words had been carved, with a pointed object, thin and delicate and perfect, meticulous in the carving...

"Ryuzaki?" came the voice of the man always in L's thoughts.

L took a deep breath. He glanced away from the computer screen he had been staring into for the past thirty minutes without comprehending, and the thoughts flew from his bustling mind when he finally stared into those emerald eyes.

"Yes?"

Harry and Raito were in L's personal room, both sitting on the edge of the unused bed. L was at the laptop, surrounded by open case files and a couple of crates full of cell phones with L's written labels on the back. They had been here for about an hour, L working on various cases that he needed to get done and talking rapidly in cell phones to government officials and the like on the cell phones. Harry and Raito had been shooting off details about the Kira case, the same arguments about his powers and his current killing profile.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his cell phone rang and he sighed. Pulling out the red phone, he looked once at the caller ID before grumbling absently, "If it's something to do with Hermione smacking Ron with a broom because she's hormonal again, I'm going to go to England and strangle him..." He paused, flinched, and then said with more volume, "Um, sorry Ryuzaki, Raito. I have to take this."

As he walked out, he flipped open the phone with a dull greeting and a quite loud British accent yelled, "DID IT WORK? ARE YOU WITH YOUR BO—"

"You do not have to yell, you moron!"

When Harry finally walked out, Raito turned to L and said, "What is up with him? He's almost as bizarre as you, in a normal way."

"That doesn't even make sense, Raito-kun," replied L, tearing his eyes off the closed door and focussing his attention on the glass of sugar-coffee to his right. He took a sip, smacked his lips, and continued, "But he is a very interesting human being, so I believe that it works in his favour."

"Interesting," stated the copper haired teen. "But do you know what's up with those scars? I can't stop thinking about them, and I don't know which one is worse. I don't think he did it to himself, but there doesn't seem to be any other explanation."

"I don't believe that it is of much concern. Ninety-eight of the human population have scars, and frankly, if he felt like volunteering that information, he would enlighten us with the facts."

Raito shot back, "That's not like you at all, being all kind and chivalrous towards a person's attributes. Usually you demand facts and won't rest until you completely solve the puzzle, even when it comes with someone's past. You can't tell me you're not curious."

Yes, L was very much curious, but he wasn't going to tell Raito that. "Everyone is entitled to secrets when it comes to aspects concerning scars and other physical deformities."

Harry walked in, shut the door, and walked towards the bed, falling face-first into it, saving L from Raito's continuing tirade about L's sudden Harry-influenced courtesy. Harry mumbled something against the bed sheets before turning his head towards L and saying, "Sorry. I turned off my phone. I hate when my friend Ron calls me. He's—er—not very good with telephones, among other things. Anyway, I was going to ask if you're usually like this or if you just didn't show me how space-brained you are in reality."

L debated on throwing a file at Harry's head and decided against it. He picked up an éclair and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, and then he stared pointedly at the emerald eyed man and said, "Excuse me. I have quite a bit on my mind." L quickly looked at Raito, who was absorbing the conversation into his mind, and then decided to switch to French, as they were as alone as they were going to get.

"Harry-san, did you do that to yourself? The writing on your hands..."

Harry sighed, sat up, and said, "Yes and no. You wouldn't understand." Ignoring Raito's annoyed eyes at being left out of the conversation, he continued, "It was a long time ago, something that...happened when I was still in school. Let's just say that a teacher didn't like me yelling out truths in her class, embarrassing her and her...the government, and she tried to force it out of me."

L tightened his legs closer to his chest and grasped his knees with his hands, his eyes intense on Harry's green orbs. Raito said something, but he didn't pay any attention, instead asking, "And the one on your forehead?"

Harry's expression darkened and his eyes tightened behind those round glasses of his. "The man who killed my parents...he carved that into my forehead on your second birthday before he disappeared."

L didn't know how to reply to that. The pain swimming in his eyes was visible even to Raito, who had caught on to the clear fact that some deep things were being shared between the two due to the tense atmosphere. Continuing on with a hard chop to his words, he said, "Don't tell him. Don't tell anyone. It's my business and my business alone."

"Yes. Do not worry about that, Harry-san. Your secrets are safe with me. I'd prefer it if he knew as little about you as possible."

"Aw. You're looking out for my safety. How touching," Harry said sarcastically.

"Don't make me throw an éclair at you, Harry-san. But I do have another question, especially since this is as alone as the two of us are going to get."

Quickly, Harry's expression went from dark to anxious. L could tell that the emerald eyed man knew what was going to come up, and was preparing to make a run for it. This led L to the conclusion that Harry was either embarrassed about the last time they had seen each other or was reluctant to admit anything. This meant that he was either confused about the situation or disgusted by it. Something twisted in his stomach at that thought, so he decided to filter that deduction to ponder later.

"Yes...?" Harry asked quietly, dragging on the word.

"I believe you know what I'm asking without voicing it aloud, Harry-san." Code for 'No, I don't want to say it aloud, because it's slightly strange for me to speak about'.

"Ryuzaki...just—stop with the honorifics, please." It was a hasty diversion to admitting why he had kissed L, but the detective wasn't letting it go that easily.

So he took a deep breath, exhaled through his nose, and then said, "Harry. Why did you do it? I believe I have the right to know."

Silence. Harry's eyes were focussed on the beige comforter, biting the corner of his lip—and no, L wasn't staring; it wasn't distracting, absolutely not—with his white teeth. L could practically see the cogs turning in his head frantically, indicating that some lying was about to take place. That, in itself, was enough to make him speak again, to warn against it.

However, Raito beat him to it. "Okay, you two. I'm out of the loop and it's getting a bit tiresome just staring and twiddling my thumbs. Besides, I have to use the lavatory, and I'm handcuffed to you, Ryuzaki."

Not missing Harry's relieved expression (along with something that seemed to be anger, or was it jealousy? And why would he be feeling that way anyway?), L stood up and said, intentionally forgetting to omit the honorific, "Harry-san, we will continue this conversation when Raito's finished."

Harry stood up as well, hesitated, and then reached a slow hand out to rest on L's shoulder. His hand was large and warm, cupping the rounded flesh in a firm, but gentle grip. Raito paused on his way to the door, watching the exchange silently and analysing it, while Harry murmured, "I won't be here. I've outstayed my welcome. Perhaps I'll see you soon, with more information."

He turned to walk out, passing by Raito without saying goodbye, and L found his mouth working without his brain keeping up. He called out after Harry in a voice that the detective hadn't heard come out of his own throat before, "You'll be here tomorrow, won't you?"

Harry came to a stop mid-step, looking back over his shoulder with slightly widened green eyes and gave him a smile that caused L to stop breathing. "Yes Ryuzaki. If you want me here, I'll be here."

Harry turned around and disappeared around the corner.

For over a minute, L stared at the spot Harry had just vanished behind, his lungs screaming for air without registering the discomfort, until Raito said, "Ryuzaki, you're turning pink. Breathe or you're going to pass out. And what was that about?"

The oxygen was heaven to his lungs, but for some odd reason, it didn't seem very fulfilling. Gaining purpose again and ignoring his suspect, L began walking fast towards the main room of the headquarters, his long, slender legs striding as fast as he could. He reached the destination, his dark eyes already going towards the monitors to watch the tall, dark headed Harry NoLastName journey through the lower levels until he walked out the door and disappeared past the sight of any cameras.

L's chest felt tight again.

Ryuzaki's shoulder had been so very warm and fragile in his grasp.

The emerald eyed wizard flexed his right hand, still feeling the brush of soft, baggy cotton hiding that pale, warm skin that Harry longed to touch. With that smooth feeling still present in his mind, he journeyed down a dark alley and Apparated to his flat with a loud crack, nearly scaring Kreacher to death. He brushed off the house elf absently with a glance at the clock (21:46, and when in the hell did it get so late?), and then went to his bedroom and flopped onto his bed, legs still dangling. He was sluggish and slow, his eyes heavy and itchy with the lack of sleep he had been getting as of late, and sleepily kicked off his shoes so he could climb into bed and finally get a somewhat-decent night's rest.

...decent...sleep...sleep...

Ryuzaki was standing there, eyes narrowed, wrong-wrong-wrong, something different about him, oh yes, Harry, something bad.

Bad, Harry, you better fly.

"You're going to let me die, Harry, aren't you? How many people have you killed? You killed Sirius and Dumbledore and Lupin and Fred and Tonks and Bill and Neville and McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley and Luna and Ginny...everyone. You killed Draco, Harry, you killed him, made him die and fall with a flash of green light and you couldn't save him, could you? You couldn't save your only love, so how are you supposed to save me, Harry? I'm going to die and you're going to lose me, because I'll be rotting and dead and clutching my heart with agony. You won't save me, because you can't save anyone. Everyone and everything you touch dies."

That's not true.

"It's true, Harry. You are a failure at keeping the people you love alive, so I'm doomed, aren't I? I'm going to die because you kill the people you love. Am I just going to be another Draco? Am I going to die right in front of you, with no chance of waking up again, with the last thing in my eyes a snapshot of you screaming, cursing, dying along with me?"

I won't let you die.

"Prove it, Harry Potter; prove to me that you can save me." And he fell, oh God, he fell, he fell, eyes wide and grasping his chest with bitten nails, the lollipop in his delicate grasp shattering on its impact against the stone floor of the Department of Mysteries. His mouth gaped with pain, and he screamed, a terrible and horrible shriek that echoed in the empty air around them, and Harry reached for him, no!

The veil is going to touch his flesh.

He grasped the skin of his shoulders, already cold with death, and worked-worked-worked, fighting-fighting-fighting for Ryuzaki's survival. His wand was broken in half, and the Elder Wand was all he had left to use, and he whispered the spells and felt the dark power entering Ryuzaki's still form until he cried the last one without sound. And he woke, he woke, he woke! He was breathing, but his eyes were red and slit like a cat...

No, you aren't like him.

...but still beautiful, so beautiful, skin like porcelain but still cold like ice, dark hair contrasting around those eyes, those red eyes, his eyes-his eyes-his eyes, mouth wide and flushed and pressing, moving. Dead; yet alive, because that wand was evil, bad, vile, evil...

Don't touch me.

But he did, oh yes he did, and he was naked, gloriously naked beneath Harry's fingers even though Harry couldn't make out the sight. Still cold and dead but heaving and thrusting into the touch with a breathy gasp even though Harry couldn't describe the touch. And he couldn't stop, couldn't keep himself from pulling on it, the desire, the taste, tongues battling against each other even though he couldn't taste the taste, strawberry shortcake and cherries and those goddamn cookies. The heat was unbearable, burning his nerves and his brain past recognition, and then—

Get away from me you monster.

It was gone, and Hermione was giggling, her stomach bulging and nearly prepared to pop. Ron was kissing her softly on the cheek and it was adorable. There was nothing cuter than the two of them, snuggling close with nothing but love in their eyes, even though they did have their many insane arguments. Usually it was Hermione's hormones talking nowadays, but they were so ridiculously devoted to each other that it made everything okay again.

Why can't I have that?

You do, though, Harry. You have him.

Good.

"You'll be here tomorrow, won't you?"

Of course, Ryuzaki, because I love you and I will always love you.

"I don't understand love yet."

I didn't expect you to.

"But that's okay, Harry-san. You saved me." And Ryuzaki walked forward, the handcuff that was normally chained to Raito trailing on the ground behind him. He was normal now, alive and warm, with his big, charcoal grey eyes sparkling with his usual speculation. This was the Ryuzaki that Harry knew and loved and kissed over a small, two-seater table.

I will always save you.

"Why did you kiss me, Harry-san? I have the right to know."

I told you already; I love you.

"Good. Come back tomorrow."

I will never leave you.

"I know, because I won't let you." He reached forward and delicately handcuffed Harry's wrist where Raito had been, linking them together for as long as they needed.

Now I'll be here to save you and shield you.

His lips were just as soft as the last time, timidly pressing against Harry's own. Harry equalled the pressure, raising his hands to cup that narrow face in his palms, loving the soft, white skin and its texture beneath his fingers. His thumbs lovingly caressed the dark bags under his eyes, feeling the raised skin that seemed to be colder than the flesh around it, and then brushed his eyelids, his mouth slanting against Ryuzaki's so he could feel more, even though he knew that it was only his imagination.

I love you.

Love.

I love you.

Ten kilometres away, L Lawliet fell into a light sleep with his cheek cushioned against the side of his unused bed, his arms surrounding his knees like normal, and a small smile upon his lips.