Protégé Moi
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His body felt so much more tired before he had climbed into bed. And now that he had, his brain buzzed, energized with thoughts that should have festered and died a long time ago. The pillow was soft, the blanket was heavy and provided an ample amount of security, and the lights from the buildings outside were drawn out so that they dimly lit the room and scared away a potential block of pitch black. He was comfortable. Warm. Soft clumps of his hair fell over his eyelids trying to persuade them to close and surrender to what he had set out to do in the first place.
Despite all of this, Light Yagami could not sleep.
To think, it was he who could not sleep now. All those nights he had spent awake and chained to the detective wishing that he would just allow him to lay his head down and doze off seemed like a blessing now. And when the miracle of L agreeing to actually go and sleep in a bed this time arose after much gentle persistence from Light, it was as if Christmas had come early.
And his body threw the gift away. He lay awake in the bed, a foot and a half away from an unconscious L, and he was jealous beyond belief.
He was accused of being Kira so many times during the investigation. But after his incarceration, everything just seemed so blurry, so uncertain. He had no recollection of those murders he was convicted of. In the end he decided that the cell in which he was kept was something of a sanction in some way.
He used all of his power to make it so he was truly guiltless in the task force's eyes. At first he was focused on proving his innocence, deftly avoiding and disproving anything that pointed to him being the culprit. But it was times like this that the allegations got under his skin, and he considered the possibilities of L's assertions. Had the ultimate murderer really crawled inside of his mind and controlled him? Was he really Kira's puppet and forced to use the blood soaked strings attached to his arms and legs to kill all of those people? Was he really the executioner of hundreds of whom he had never known at all personally?
Light's once firm principle that he wasn't the person who was killing by vast numbers behind a veil of false justice and cowardice was on its last stilts. Because even if he wasn't in control, couldn't keep himself from killing them, even if it were of no real fault of his own…
He would still be a killer.
And he wasn't completely sure he could handle that.
No…
He wasn't completely sure he couldn't handle that. And such a realization was quite scary.
How could he bring a criminal to justice when his own innocence was faltering heavily?
God he just wished he could go to sleep. Just shut off his chattering thoughts and rest. But instead, he was laying on his side, still trying to settle himself in a temporary serenity, and staring into the face of L who was also sleeping in his direction.
What else could he say about the detective besides that he was as distrustful as he was cunning? Fearless as well, perhaps…
It bothered Light, how someone could be so…what was the word…
Detached?
It was the only word that fit. Although L was obviously fervid about his profession in his own quiet way, sometimes Light would look at him and just see a puddle of logistics and equations; the contents of the deep bowl that was L's head. So filled with data that there was no room for anything else. Light wondered, was there anger beyond that insipid skin? Sadness? Joy?
An empty shell. With nothing but the problems of the world keeping his heart pumping.
It dispirited Light to think that.
And yet even the expressionless innocence on the detective's quiescent face didn't disprove the possibility at all.
Light couldn't deny it. He was scared. Scared of the deadly likelihood that he was Kira. That they would find Kira. That Kira was really God descended upon the Earth. That Kira was everywhere and everyone, and would never be caught.
In Misa's room, they had fought tooth and nail (or rather…fist and foot) about L's confession about being frustrated with the case, but even as the heel of his foot connected with Light's cheek, he felt an eerie vacancy in his blows.
Ugh…L.
His rival, companion, partner, and friend.
And ironically it was him who was sleeping peacefully that night while Light was kept up by the constant taunting of their endless predicaments. Never in their entire time together had he seen him sleep. In fact, most of the time while he rested he could hear the clicking sound of a laptop keyboard all the way in the dream realm. Light was so tired, but could not find it in himself to simply close his eyes and join L. Then again, perhaps it was the fact that L was sleeping at all that was making Light unable to finally succumb to his own exhaustion. It was just too weird sleeping next to someone who barely called the action habitual.
The blanket was pulled up to his sharp boney shoulders, keeping out any breeze that would have wanted to invade. His eyes were closed, lashes joining the dark bags in looking like two feathery black crescent moons. Two thin almost nonexistent lips were parted in leisure to allow heavy breaths bordering on snores pass through. Only a large clump of split ended onyx hair was visible from under the comforter.
Light narrowed his eyes. The guy didn't even like to sleep, and there he was across from him on the king sized bed, completely unaware of the world around him for once, and disconnected from the grating of the handcuff around his wrist; something that Light still had to endure in consciousness.
Having sweet dreams.
No…he doubted he even had the humanly attribute to dream.
Why he was sleeping in the presence of the supposed Kira though was peculiar.
Perhaps he truly wasn't capable of feeling fear, or any other intense emotion that was so popular amongst normal people.
L's lack of fear. Light's possession of it. Frustrating.
He rolled over, not caring if he pulled most of the blanket over on his side. And for one last time before he accepted that he was just going to have yet another sleepless night, he shut his eyes tightly and tried to force himself to rest.
After a few moments…or hours, Light couldn't exactly determine which, there was quite a lot of shuffling on the other side of the bed. He didn't pay too much attention to it at first, until finally he felt the freezing chain of the handcuffs land on his leg, having been thrown onto his side by L's apparent restlessness. Growling quietly in annoyance, Light looked over his shoulder, only to have his eyes widen a small fraction.
L's face wasn't calm anymore. It no longer had the appearance of a baby who had aged too quickly. His absent eyebrows were bunched together, and his lips were curving into a small grimace. With his cheek resting on the very pale underside of his forearm, he opened his mouth and involuntarily bit the pliable skin.
Light rolled back over, if only to stare at the frightening yet remarkable occurrence.
"Protégé moi…"
At the outlandish utterance Light sat up, gazing down at the man with a newfound concentration.
The detective was dreaming.
No, having a nightmare.
"Protégé moi…"
This time L said it with much more prominence. And he sounded…dare Light think it…scared?
And what in the world was he saying? It was late; and although wide awake the younger man couldn't place right away what he could have identified easily in the day. Protégé moi…protégé moi…
...Protect me?
He couldn't take this anymore. Light reached over with a gentle but sturdy hand, cupped L's shoulder, and shook it.
"Ryuuzaki…Ryuuzaki!" Light whispered harshly, hoping the wake the man before the nightmare escalated into a night terror. Well…that was admittedly pretty improbable, but there was just something unnerving about seeing the detective mutter such an unsettling phrase in his sleep. Who knew what he was dreaming about?
L awoke abruptly. His eyes snapped open, wide and like that of a nocturnal bird of prey, as if he had never been asleep in the first place. The only giveaway was his uneven breathing.
"Yes, Light?"
"You…you were talking in your sleep." Light said softly. Why was he talking to him like a deer he was afraid would scamper off? He was a grown man for God's sake.
"Was I?" L said mildly. "I apologize."
They stared at each other for a few seconds. And then Light frowned.
"It sounded like you were having a bad dream."
"I'm sure it did."
Their words paused, but their gazes didn't break.
"Care to share?" Light asked suddenly.
"I don't, I'm afraid…" L said faintly, not sounding entirely dismissing. In fact, he still seemed out of breath from whatever he was running away from in the confines of his mind.
"Who were you asking to protect you?"
The older man paused. "Anyone, really."
"And from who?"
"…I don't remember my dreams very well, Light."
Now that sounded dismissive. So Light decided to drop it.
The two lied in the bed for a few more minutes before L sat up and stretched, bending the warp in his upper spine in the opposite direction. Light winced as he heard several sickening cracks as the discs released the air pockets in between them. L then leaned over the bed to fetch a laptop from underneath the bed.
"I'm quite awake now, so I'm going to do some work. It's three hours until the sun rises, so you're free to go back to sleep if you wish."
The screen came on, lighting L's face unmusically. Light shook his head, and sat up as well.
"No…I'll join you."