Well, Narroch fairly gets around. She sent me the completed version of this chapter from Florida – and the whole reason for today's update (18th July) is to commemorate the one-year anniversary of our first (and thus far only) in-person meeting, when Narroch arrived on British soil on 18th July 2007.
So I guess you could say this is also kind of celebrating the "birthday", of sorts, of Poison Apple, given that I sprang the idea for the fic on her while she was over here. :)
Yes, we were together for a whole month, in both the UK and the US. As you can see, the world didn't end (although we may have done some lasting damage to The Walt Disney Corporation in regards to the things certain people will now associate with their princess movies…).
Speaking of, AutumnDynasty made me a brand new shiny Snow White-inspired Poison Apple icon for my profile. It is very lovely. :D
Thankyou to: WhiteWolfCub, Scripta Lexicona, FacelessIdol, Cween Almond, OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles, Lostpharoah, Hikari Daeron, Kai Mine, TheQueenofMediocrity, WithABunny, Kaze Kimizu, daxterandboxer, MiaoShou, kehtolaulu, The Sacred Pandapuff, shad0wform, recipeforinsanity, Fyahe, Peaches-Destroyer, CheeseFaerieXXL, Mayura-Hikari-090, Skyhe, AccordingToMel, Pluto, Mask of Mirage, Synonymous Brian, anja-chan, Tobi Tortue, fantasies4eva, PikaNecoMico, Shima-ru, Layalas, Phoenix of Hell, Creates-Hell-For-Himmmm, Deus3xMachina, DeeJay, Anna, InkHeart17, Insane Author, Chron, Rin Cho, kyousuke21, Magic Mind, SaphirePhoenix, NETTLE'SneverNOTE, Name?, Lawliet's Angel, Liviania, blondevil, rain angst, Anna P.T, ayachan, xxxyuniexxx and professorkatze.
A final point on the meaning of the title: You may recognize the phrase "sevatis a maleficum". It is taken from the Evanescence song Whisper, in which "servatis a pereculum, servatis a maleficum" is chanted at the end. It is the Latin for "save us from danger, save us from evil"…
The latter being the meaning of this chapter's title.
Servatis a Maleficum
Light's life as of late had become nothing more than a chain of terrifying discoveries – and his attempts to compensate for them. Waking up at all had been the first, finding a revived L had been the second, and a defiant Misa the third. Those were all shockers, like a jolt, sudden unexplained disturbing, but passing through disbelief quickly enough.
However… this new realization was different.
It was terrifying because it crept up on him in tiny fragments of horror, and shuttled back into the shadows of his mind before he could turn and grasp the full meaning. It came and went in waves of uncertainty, more than just how he was going to survive, or how he was going to kill L (again), or even how he was going to become God.
The queasy flighty uncertainty germinated in his own insecurities; in his sudden inability to know who he was.
He hadn't felt it in Mu – he hadn't felt anything in Mu. And even when he had been gathering his mind together in a slightly coherent heap that could function as Light Yagami in a distended numbing atmosphere, he hadn't felt it then either. But one doesn't analyze one's inner workings when fleeing from death; the whole of him had been focused on escaping that nothingness. And when his personal consciousness had popped up with enough wherewithal to both notice itself and realize something was missing, he had already been thrown into L's vengeful presence. Succumbed to the horror, the second road to death that he and his heirs represented.
It had been more about survival, and less about Kira than ever before in his regime.
So it was only now, when his forfeited future felt slightly more secure, and his haunting past felt slightly less homicidal, that he noticed a vital vacancy within himself.
It was a strange state of affairs, really; that L, with his mere presence – and with the imprint of the relationship he and Light had shared prior to his death – could make him question his being Kira.
Question his own laws.
Strange; because, in life, even with L in his arms (or vice versa), it had been his mere presence that had made Light all the more determined to be Kira.
Drives? Morals? It ran deeper than that.
Who knew? Light was not a quitter, but if L had never become involved in the Kira case at all, the boy might have realized the futility in trying to pull evil out by the roots on his own, or he may have eventually gotten bored playing at god and stopped. L had stepped in to put an end to the killings, but maybe it was his defiance of Kira that had simply made the whole thing a lot worse.
Light suddenly had a target, an adversary, someone who had risen up and directly challenged him, raising the bar. With such a blatant and tantalizing turn of events, it was impossible for him to back down from that point, even if he wanted to. For the price of Lind L. Tailor's life, he had had vowed not to stop until L was no more – a punishment for one so arrogant as to think he could stand against the new world's god and live.
But now L… again L, always, always L…
Yes, always L.
Light had been a bored young individual. He'd been bored because his schoolwork hadn't challenged his intellect, his "friends" had been flighty-headed morons obsessed with far-fetched anime and comic books, girls had only flocked around him because of the way he looked, and his everyday routine had been humdrum and unchanging. That was why he'd become Kira. That was why the interference of L, the best detective in the whole world, had excited him as opposed to frightening him.
Quite simply, L had eased his boredom from the get-go.
"I don't know why I love you," he'd said to L.
It wasn't true. He did know why he loved L – he'd loved him for the same reason L had grown to love him back. It was because L was the only person he'd ever connected with properly; and truly, it was as though it had been a connection, a physical rewiring. Meeting L was like crossing wires, joining cables that had previously been smoking in irritation, unable to complete the circuit, and sending a sudden, never-felt-before Full Power surge coursing throughout Light, making colors that once been washed-out and monochrome brighten into a gleaming primsacolor gems, illuminating this new world in which he found himself—
This world of murder and detectives and notebooks.
(In which he murdered a detective using a notebook.)
The connection hadn't been enough to allow him to spare L – they had always been enemies. Even whilst friends and lovers they'd still been enemies. It was the greatest constant between them, something they both silently acknowledged. L would have let him die, Light knew that – if only he'd confessed, L would have had him executed. They had loved each other but, in the end, the determining factor, the final word, had never been love.
It had been Light or L – never Light and L.
Their relationship had never been about them. It was just circumstance, a perfect connection in an imperfect situation. They were merely the pioneers of a war, not the war itself – but brought together by that war.
A war for the sake of mankind.
L could make him question his being Kira, perhaps; but he was only questioning it in response to both L's pain and his own. It was his being Kira that forced itself between them like a barrier – it was his being Kira that made them both suffer like this. The role he had taken upon himself was the frame of reference, chronicling their pain as he refused to let go of it.
Yet his being Kira at all was not about them, or for them.
It was, or so Light Yagami believed, for the sake of mankind.
(And so, Kira, why do you exist?
…To save them from evil.)
—
The sheets were stained with the scent of their lovemaking.
Naked beneath his blue robe, having come from the bath, Light sat on the edge of the bed and one-handedly rubbed his hair dry with a towel.
The fingers of his left hand trailed over the sheets wistfully, skipping over every wrinkle in the fabric, remembering how last night these same bedclothes had twisted beneath them and then, when it was done, how they had settled over them intertwined, like a skin to preserve the moment and protect them from the rest of the world.
Needless to say, Light was preparing to get into bed alone tonight.
He let the towel drop to the bedroom floor, his auburn hair hanging in damp and disheveled spikes across his face as he ran both hands over the sheets. It was a slow probing caress, almost like a test, as though willing them to rumple themselves beneath panting entranced bodies, searching to find any of the residual warmth still in them. It wasn't, the sheets were cool and unruffled, almost sanitary, except for when he sank onto the bed and buried his face in the fabric. He could smell the pleasant musky perfume he and L had created, smell the sex, smell the life, and it simultaneously reminded him of every other night he'd ever spent with L and of the time after L's death, before the room – this room – had been cleared out, when he had curled up alone on the bed – this bed – and breathed in the lingering scent of something that was now just a memory.
—It didn't have to be just a memory. He could summon Ryuk, bargain with apples for hearts, awaken Snow White or Sleeping Beauty from the dead… The insatiable gears in his mind began to turn against his will, playing out the scenario so perfectly that it was only a sharp reprimand of what he couldn't have, and yet, he did nothing to prevent himself from falling into the wishful, deceitful, beautiful dream. L's memories were selective at best when restored to life, Light would be able to convince him that it was his turn tonight – wouldn't that have been a more desirable state of affairs than lying here alone? To sink his hands into that black-as-ebony hair and shower that white-as-snow skin with bites and kisses and see his own beauty reflected in those mirror-mirror eyes…?
If, by L Lawliet's own words, both one who takes life and one who gives life were as monstrous as each other, then what of one who could do both? What of a man who could both give and ruin a heart?
Am I still a monster, L; or the fairest one of all…?
Still, it was nothing but hypothesis. Just because he could breathe life back into a dead man didn't mean he should or would.
He knew he shouldn't; and so, no matter the temptation, he wouldn't. He knew nothing of the pain it caused L to go from dead to living to dead again, but for even the apathetic Ryuk to label it "agony", he knew it must be the highest caliber of torture, whatever it entailed on L's part.
Maybe Light Yagami was not one for usually putting others before himself, but this…
He couldn't do it again. The lifeless desperation that had been beseechingly transparent in L's voice this morning, in requesting that Light not revive him again – L had never begged anything of him so sincerely.
…Which left him at this. Simply lying here, chasing after the last lingering fragments of a mirror now shattered; the final wisps of a once upon a dream now lost. The memories floated past him like flimsy ghosts, too insubstantial to grab hold of, yet too mesmerizing to ignore. If he could not requite his love for and with L, then he was left with merely the tattoo of it etched into these bedsheets – that, and the knowledge that the struggle of their relationship was as futile as it had ever been.
From their very first kiss, given by Light to L out of sheer spite, it had simply been a painful, fruitless quest for a happy ever after they were never going to have. For every moment of true happiness they'd shared, they'd paid the price in suffering, punishment for believing they had the right to…
And yet, despite that domineering truth, Light couldn't help but indulge in what he couldn't have, he couldn't stop the memories of L's flushed face, his sweat glossed form writhing under him in complete ecstasy. The feeling of being filled with his throbbing heat, the sharp pain that countered the pleasure to make it all the more intense…
Before Light even realized where such thoughts would lead, especially while lying in that particular bed, and breathing in those particular scents, it was already too late. Suddenly he was pulled from his daydream by the carnal heat that was now unsheathing itself between his legs. He sat up, hunching over his lap so that the bulge wasn't noticeable through his robe.
He was mortified by how quickly it had arisen within him, how easily it slipped past his usually tight control over his body. He could lie with a straight face, and kill without breaking a sweat, but the single thought of a passionate L, even without any physical stimulation, could send his libido into a frenzy and override his restraint, dismissing it in a wave of hormones.
He sat there, angry at himself for indulging too far, and afraid that L himself would choose this very embarrassing moment to walk in uninvited. Light grimaced; he could only imagine the ways L could torment him if he realized his arousal, since he was the cause of it to begin with…
He gave a frustrated sigh, clenched his fists and willed it to go away. But after a second of concentration, he knew it was past the point of no return. He would either have to wait a long while for it to take care of itself, L's old method, or he could jerk off and remove it quickly, as well as clear out the hazy sexual thoughts that were now permeating his mind.
He weighed the options for a few seconds, battling out the pros and cons, while his arousal battled against his robe, and eventually decided that a complete physical catharsis was the only way he was going to be able to go to sleep in the bed that was still stained with their unique flavor. If he didn't take care of it now, it would keep him up all night. It was a completely logical decision. Or so he told himself, despite the delicious satisfaction he felt from simply giving into his simplistic male desires.
He glanced furtively around the room, checking for a stray Shinigami, before quietly lifting the robe to reveal the source of his problems. He scowled at his erection, despising the needy pulses it was sending through him, but after a moment, the glare faded and he let himself drift back into the images that had started it.
L was beneath him, mouth open, legs spread, taking him in like it was the only thing he was truly meant for. He wasn't a detective trying to convict him, nor was he a reincarnation trying to hate him; he was only a physical being, completely caught in a web of pleasure, tangled in it as helplessly as Light was. He continued thrusting into him, and the only thing L could say was his name; not Kira, no -kun in sight, just Light, over and over again as if begging for a way out of their darkness.
And there was no Ryuk, or little brothers, or Death Note, only the soft keening sounds that were spilling from his lips as Light continued to move inside him, only the jerk of the mattress as it took their combined weight, only the slow swell of desire that twisted inside him, building pressure until L arched, and the delicious tension imploded in on him and rushed out in a burning blinding streak…
And there was no L. Only dripping hands that began to shake and curl in on themselves.
Those old fairytales might have taught that true love conquered all – that love's kiss could awaken the dead – but it not saved them from evil.
Light knelt forward wearily, wanting to bury his face in his hands, but unable to because of the warm liquid now covering them, undeniable evidence of his weakness. He was tired and dejected, with the beginnings of a headache at his temples – and, to crown it all, his eyes were hurting. Damn that Ryuk, the lying bastard – it was not like putting in a pair of contact lens…
He wished he hadn't traded for them – half of his damned life for them to sting and water like this? They were getting blurry with unshed tears, completely useless. He wouldn't have traded at all if not for the desperate need to get rid of Mello and Near. With the way things went last time, half a life-span might be longer than the time he would have left if he allowed Mello and Near to run about and screw up his plans…
That was his only consolation as a stray droplet actually streaked down his cheek.
He shook his head, shaking it away, and began to clean himself up, wiping his hands on the robe, and pushing his damp hair back.
He pulled on his underwear, slipped out of his robe and got into bed, all in mechanical thoughtless routine. He huddled up under the sheets and closed his aching eyes. He reached over drowsily to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
It was around twenty minutes later when the bedroom door slowly creaked open, allowing a growing slab of lamplight to cover the floor; it was enough to rouse Light from his state of almost-slumber, but not awaken him completely. He was slightly aware, but still not compelled enough to do anything about it.
He did, however, bolt awake when he felt the mattress shift; felt the sheets move with the evidence of someone sliding in next to him.
Someone colder and crueler than Ryuk.
Someone who delightedly ran a thin icy finger up his spine; making him jerk away from the shivery touch and sit upright in bed, hand flying out towards the lamp.
L smirked at him in the gold illumination the bedside lamp cast across the room; peeking out at Light from beneath the covers like a child in a makeshift den.
"You're not funny," Light hissed, edging away from him even so. "Get out."
"Hm?" L cocked his head. "That's strange, you practically dragged me in here last night—"
"That was different!" Light exhaled deeply. "You were different…"
"How fickle Light-kun is, to like me one day and not like me the next," L mused, sitting up and letting the covers slide off over his head. "It's very strange – but perhaps I would think it stranger still had I not witnessed this in Light-kun before."
"Is that so?" Light bit out.
"Of course." L blinked. "That day when Higuchi died… do you think I didn't notice that you had changed…? I couldn't say how exactly you had changed, of course, it was an alteration that was completely internal and invisible, something unrecognizable – at least, at the time. I know now, of course, that your touching of the Death Note had forced all of your memories back into you. How else to explain your sudden murderous intent?"
Light rubbed at his throbbing forehead in despair.
"Why are you in here?" He asked quietly, closing his eyes.
"I've come to gouge your eyes out, Light-kun."
Light's head jerked up again, the wide amber eyes in question snapping open to stare at L.
In the dumbfounded silence that followed, L tilted his head and smiled.
"Do you think I'm joking?" He leaned up towards the alarmed boy, who shrank back against the headboard. "…Why would I be? I know why you swapped half of your life for them – so you can kill my heirs. Why would I be joking, Light-kun?"
Light took a frightened little breath, his head suddenly spinning with queasy vertigo as L averted his gaze to the ceiling.
"Of course, I have to say, I'm actually a little offended," he mused. "You tricked Rem into killing me – you claim to love me, yet I was not even worth half your life. But for my heirs…"
"Do you think I wanted to give away half of my life to Ryuk?!" Light snapped.
"Then why did you? Really, Light-kun, I think you're old enough now to realize that there is no call to do something if it is not to your liking…"
"I can't believe you're asking me that…"
"I simply find it ridiculous, Light-kun. Trading half of your life for a killing tool you don't even want? Or… well, perhaps this is simply wishful thinking on my part, but might I presume that you didn't particularly want to kill me?"
"You can't just go around doing the things you want to and ignoring the things that you don't!" Light blazed, letting anger override the panic he had first felt. "Don't be an idiot, you know that…!"
"I do?"
"Of course." Light looked away from him. "…Well… would you have wanted to send me to be executed, if you'd managed to prove that I was Kira?"
"Not really."
"But you would have anyway?"
"…I suppose so."
"Well, there you are, then."
"But that's different, Light-kun."
"How is it?" Light hissed. "Because Kira is wrong and bad and whatever?"
"No, nothing like that. It's just that…" L looked up at Light, his eyes utterly lifeless. "…Your death wouldn't have cost me half of my life."
Light's eyes narrowed.
"Just as yours didn't cost me half of mine, L."
L was silent for a long while, looking at the bedsheets.
"Regardless," he said at length, reverting back to their original topic, "perhaps it is best that I take out your eyes, Light-kun – the welfare of my 'little brothers' aside."
When Light gave no answer to this, L leaned up towards him, placing a hand against the wall on either side of Light's head; inclining into him, effectively trapping the younger man between himself and the headboard of the bed, and stopping only when their faces were centimeters apart.
"Your eyes, you see," the dead detective whispered, "…are treacherous to you. They have betrayed you many times. It's for the best, you see, if I take them from you. Then you won't see, but… it'll be better for you. They cannot betray you then."
"Betray… me?" Light gasped out, breathless with fear at L's proximity, the detached malice in his voice, the chill which sapped his strength, the deadness of his eyes, a blank blackness yawning at him like the lips of a grave.
L gave a serious nod.
"Why did I presume that it was only that you had forgotten you were Kira, not that you had never been Kira to begin with…? Your eyes, Light-kun. When you were in confinement, there was something – a turning point at which, I distinctly recall, you said of your pride, "I'll have to get rid of it". And in the moments which followed that statement, your eyes changed. That was why, no matter your sincerity in denying that you were ever Kira, I could never believe you. The truth is, you were not lying to me, because you yourself believed that you were telling the truth, but just because you were not lying personally never meant that the statement "Light Yagami is Kira" wasn't true in itself. Your eyes told me that you were innocent, but they had also told me that you were guilty. Do you understand?"
"That hardly matters now," Light spat, now reaching up to try and push L away. He couldn't breathe properly when he was so close, as if he turned the air itself frigid and lifeless.
"I beg to differ. That wasn't all of it, Light-kun. The day your memories were returned to you, your eyes changed once again. How can you have thought that I hadn't noticed? The eyes that believed in your own innocence were the ones I had come to know intimately – and then, after Higuchi's death, they had vanished completely. It was nothing to do with my intelligence, Light-kun, or my deductive capability, or even my suspicion of you. It was simply that your eyes had changed. I could see it."
"And you think that's a good excuse to claw them out, do you?" Light bit out.
"I am merely trying to save you from your own folly, Light-kun. You should never have traded."
"Well, I did, and I'm keeping them." Light shoved hard at L, ignoring the way the coldness pushed back just as hard, sending tendrils of ice into his arm and settling in his bone. "Now get off."
"Keeping them?" L echoed, not budging. "No, I cannot allow that…"
Still trapping Light, L lashed out with one hand, grasping a handful of Light's hair; twisting it in his grip and forcing his head back so that he couldn't pull it away.
Panicking, Light thrashed about underneath him, wrenching at L's wrist in an attempt to break free from his grip; L had very thin bones, he could probably snap his wrist if he pulled hard enough at the angle they currently were in—
"Don't do that, Light-kun," L said calmly, his other hand nearing Light's face. "I'm just going to end up tearing out your hair if you keep pulling."
"Better my hair… than my… eyes!" Light panted desperately. "Damn it, L… stop it—!"
But his free hand was already poised, hovering over his face with his fingers held in a talon-like position, as if he was going to pluck them out like they were grapes off a vine.
A painful jerk of his head prevented L from sinking his claw-like fingers into his right eye, and instead, the nails tore across his cheek, raising painful red welts. Desperately Light swung his elbow around, solidly hitting the far side of L's wrist. The hard point of his elbow landed squarely in the dip of the joint, and he felt bone give under the pressure and eventually buckle in on itself since L still hadn't released his grip on Light's hair.
The moment of collapse was accompanied by an audible snap. The sound made Light's stomach twist into queasy knots, and he winced despite himself; he hadn't meant to break it…
L didn't even blink.
The rupture did however, allow Light to yank his head free, the tendons and muscles in L's hand becoming unresponsive despite the fact that he hadn't felt any pain; but the younger man was still trapped between his assailant and the bed, his cheek slowly oozing blood.
His wrist having been snapped had little effect on L's mission to relieve Light of his eyes; his undamaged hand instead coming straight at Light's face—
"Don't!" Light screeched, flinching.
…And the blow never came.
Light dared to open his eyes, finding L's white icy fingers a few centimeters from his left eye – but frozen there, unmoving. He looked up at L, who blinked once or twice, and then withdrew his hand, suddenly very calm.
"Yes, of course," he muttered, more to himself. "I… sometimes forget myself…"
He got off Light wordlessly, standing up beside the bed; his left hand swaying haphazardly from the broken wrist. He lifted his arm to examine the joint, the snapped bone jutting at a grotesque angle against his paper-like skin. He stretched out his arm, flexed it and then drew his good hand across the limb as though putting on a stubborn glove. The bone slid back into place, seemingly repairing itself.
Sickened, Light watched him in speechless horror.
"I won't take your eyes, Light-kun," L said softly. "You have my word on that. It… is not my place to, and you made a fair deal for them…"
He trailed away towards the bedroom door, having lost all his fervor, suddenly smaller and just as monochrome as he always was. Light watching him wordlessly – stunned into silence by both L's announcing that he was going to blind him and then his sudden unexplained one-eighty in regards to the plan. He knew it couldn't have been because of his wrist, not with how casually he had just fixed it…
"Don't you think it's ironic, though?" L mused, stopping to look back at Light as he opened the door.
"What is…?" Light asked softly, his voice almost failing him.
"Well, that last night there was nothing but love between us, and now I would terrorize you like this? And, well…" L gave an offish shrug. "…If only you'd given me another heart tonight, you would have nothing to fear from me, for I would have no knowledge of either your being Kira nor of your eyes, and thus would have no reason to attempt to damage you so."
"B-but you're the one who begged me not to revive you again!" Light cried in despair. "Ryuk said it was agony for you…! I… didn't want to make you suffer again…"
"Yes." L smirked. "…Isn't that ironic, Light?"
He departed, leaving Light alone, shallowly gasping in fright, trying to force the frigid air from his lungs and the permafrost from his muscles. He still had them, still had the eyes he'd given half his life for, the eyes for which he might have had to pay more than even that…
…What had L been trying to blind him to? His own evil…
…Or the ability to see L's?
"I'll go by myself," Matt said decisively, throwing his chin out and snapping his goggles on to adjust them over his eyes.
"That's probably best," Mello agreed, watching quietly. "We don't want to be attracting too much attention."
"…Given that it's abandoned, you mean."
"Right." Mello took up a red marker and drew a quick, uneven circle around the previously-highlighted spot on the map spread over the desk of their Tokyo hotel room. "Locked up and left desolate by the Japanese Kira taskforce on the fourteenth of November, 2004 – nine days after the deaths of L and Watari. It won't necessarily lead us right to Light Yagami, but it's a good place to start."
"Thankyou, all-night internet research." Matt cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, popping the vertebrae there as well as though to make a point.
"I'm not going to praise you for simply doing your job, Matt," Mello snapped in reply, completely ignoring the grin now plastered across Matt's face.
"Meanie." Matt headed for the door. "Well, we're not getting any younger here…"
He snatched up Mello's dark leather jacket that was slung over a chair as he left the room, pulling it on; and was ignoring 'No Smoking' signs as he languidly crossed the hotel lobby by the time Mello realized he'd made off with it.
—
Matt spat the cashed remains of his third cigarette to the pavement, looking up at the grey mirrored building stretching towards the night sky, cutting out the stars as effectively as the light pollution surrounding it.
It had been Mello's idea to come at night, when the streets were all but deserted; and his own idea to break in from the back rather than the front. The place might have been locked down and abandoned by the Kira task force in the aftermath of L's death, but Matt didn't expect to just be able to stroll right in. There were probably still security measures in place – perhaps alarms or camera feeds.
Of course, that was precisely why Matt had come to do the breaking in.
As it turned out, there was a security grid in place – Matt hacked into it and overrode it with ease, the glass doors sliding gracefully apart to grant him entrance.
Okay, he was past the first hurdle and in. Matt reached into one of the large pockets in his cargo pants and fished out a small black electronic device, flipping it on as he glanced around the dusty room.
A lobby, he imagined; very long, thick with dust and grime. At the end furthest from him, close to the front entrance, was a staircase leading up to the floor above; odd architecture, twisted into a helical spiral like that in a fairytale castle…
Matt crossed the lobby, pausing at the foot of the staircase to look down at the screen of the device he'd brought along.
He blinked at it; then pulled his goggles up to his forehead so that he could look at the screen properly. The gadget was a simple one, designed to pick up electronic wavelengths and frequencies within a radius of around a hundred meters or so and pinpoint their location so that he could track them down. He'd brought it with him to help him navigate towards any online security measures so that he could disable them without first setting them off, but this…
There was a frequency value flashing on the screen, located at being about fourteen meters above him, and it simply wasn't right to be that of a security code-lock or an alarm system. It wasn't even close to what it should have been, it was more like the reading of…
…a computer.
A computer? What would a working, online computer be doing in a building that had been without residents for over three years? Even if someone had accidentally left it on when the place was locked down, there was no way it would still be running now – the modem would have completely burned itself out years ago…
Fourteen meters. He calculated that as being about two floors up and, frowning again at the device screen, started up the staircase. He found the culprit on the second floor, as he'd predicted; it was across the room from him as he entered, but he paused to look around the area before he crossed to it, baffled.
This room was clean.
Devoid of the three years' worth of dust and grime he'd witnessed on his way up here – there wasn't even a speck of dust on the glass coffee table sitting between two sofas, and the lights and ceiling were free of cobwebs. Blinking, Matt cautiously crossed the room to the computer mainframe; a long desk with a row of chairs and computers, although only one of them was on, blinking quietly in a locked sleep mode. Above the desk was a large network of screens, apparently in standby mode, all dependent on the single operating computer.
What the hell was going on here? Was the place abandoned or not?…
Well, the reading was leading him right to this computer; and Matt fingered the slim revolver nestled in his pocket, reassuring himself before closing the distance in order to check it out. Matt leaned over the deviant computer, brushing a few fronds of fiery hair from his face. It too was in standby mode, although a tap of the Enter key booted it back up and illuminated the room with the glow of a welcome screen that demanded three passwords and a security code.
Matt frowned at it. He couldn't hack this computer right here, without any equipment – he'd need to get into the system from his own computer. He pulled out his phone, making a note of the mainframe number as a Contact and storing it safely for future use. He pocketed both the phone and the frequency pinpointer, leaving the room and finding himself in a corridor with a flight of stairs going upwards and an elevator. He was apparently back in the Land of Dust and Dirt, but the cleanness of that last room – some kind of office, by the looks of it – had piqued his curiosity.
Why was it clean? Why was a computer working and online? Logically, there was only one answer:
There was someone here.
Perhaps the police? Maybe another Kira investigation group he and Mello had no idea about?
…Near?
Matt ascended three sets of stairs, finally finding himself in another corridor, at the end of which was a single door; drawn towards it, he tried the handle, half-expecting it to be locked.
It wasn't.
The door swung inwards, hinges creaking a little in the deathly silence of the whole building; he was all nerves, and it sounded like the rumbling of thunder. Matt paused, and then took a breath, actually pulling his gun out, before entering the dark room beyond. He couldn't shake the beginnings of a small shiver crawling at the base of his spine, apprehension scuttling across his skin – there was something a little strange about this place, a little creepy.
It almost felt… haunted.
Well, perhaps that was to be expected – after all, L and Watari had died within these walls. But still, Matt couldn't help but shake the feeling, the creeping third person déjà vu that made his hair stand on end and his eyes dilate in fear, even as he felt about for a light switch, that he was being…
…watched.
—
Ryuk was very entertained by this human; younger than Light, maybe very late teens, with dark red hair, green-tinted goggles perched above his forehead and strange clothes. Well, they seemed strange to Ryuk, who was more used to Light's immaculate, fitted attire, Misa's lace and things dangling off her in all directions, and the detective, who, frankly, didn't look all that much worse for being a walking corpse due to his continuous sporting of the "pulled-it-unironed-out-of-the-laundry-basket" look.
So Ryuk had never seen anyone who looked like this boy before, in his odd baggy trousers with too many pockets, a fitted leather jacket and a black-and-white striped top that reminded the Shinigami of a movie he'd once seen Light watching, called Beetlejuice.
Needless to say, Ryuk had been floating after him throughout his entire ascent through the "abandoned" headquarters building, and now, as Matt entered the area Light inhabited, he started to cackle gleefully, laughter boiling up and spilling over in malicious giggles.
Having a mercenary approach to all this was far more fun – to fly ahead and warn Light about his visitor would spoil everything…
He hovered unseen behind Matt like a cloud of grinning smog as he looked around the living room, apparently astonished all over again by the cleanliness of every surface and item in the area. Lucky for Light that he hadn't carelessly left any Death Notes or stolen hearts lying around…
Matt left the living area and went through into the kitchen, frowning around again at the way everything gleamed, eventually approaching the paper bag on the sideboard, apparently to inspect it. Ryuk flew after him indignantly—
"Hey, those are mine!" The Shinigami snapped – unheard, of course – as Matt lifted an apple out by the stalk, frowning at it as it glowed ruby under the neon kitchen lighting.
Ryuk flailed comically, eyes bulging with possessiveness that flared out beyond their sockets, but he did however, resist the strong urge to snatch the fruit away from him; the boy seemed quite a bit on edge anyway and he didn't want to frighten him off just yet…
Matt gently put the apple down again and went through the kitchen into the corridor leading to both the bathroom and the bedroom, Ryuk soaring through the wall after him, amber eyes gleaming like cursed jewels. He followed him as he wandered into the bathroom, delighting in the soft gasp the boy gave on seeing a mirror at each wall, cracked to offer not a single picture, but a thousand in each.
Matt slowly approached the closest mirror, seeing each of his thousand miniature, distorted reflections come nearer to him.
He could not see the thousand miniature, distorted Ryuks behind him, giggling gleefully at each of his actions.
"Bedroom next, bedroom next," Ryuk whispered loudly, capering behind Matt like a court jester desperate for a single laugh. "Come to rescue Sleeping Beauty, Prince Charming? Well, he's not in here…! You have to go to the bedroom!"
Matt actually froze up, blinking at the mirror – and Ryuk froze too, grin sliding off his face. Had been heard? Seen, perhaps?
No, that was impossible, he'd have to have touched the Death Note Ryuk was attached to, and since the Shinigami had been watching him the whole time since he'd entered the building and hadn't seen him do just that, he knew that couldn't be the case.
But it still gave him the creeps to be stared at by a human who couldn't actually see him.
Matt glanced behind him, nostrils flaring, and pulse racing, as he look around the bathroom; straight through Ryuk, who waved at him experimentally.
Nothing. The boy only gave a small shake of his head, took in a steady breath, and left the bathroom, footsteps quiet on carpet.
Ryuk bobbed after him like a macabre carnival balloon, hanging back a bit as he watched Matt try the door handle to the last room – the bedroom. The door opened silently, and as Matt stepped in, Ryuk started to follow him again—
Only to have his path blocked by L, who gazed at him impassively.
"There's a human wandering around in here," Ryuk snickered, pointing over L's shoulder.
"I know." L's dark, lifeless eyes narrowed. "I want you to stop following him."
Ryuk looked like he was about to argue, gazing longingly over L's shoulder to see what was happening inside the room. But after moment he deflated, shrugged, and skulked off.
"Whatever," he muttered. "…Though, for the record, you were more fun when you were alive."
—
This room – the bedroom – was illuminated by a lamp. Matt paused to take a look around, but his attention was immediately grabbed in a chokehold by the slim, plain black notebook sitting on the desk.
Matt went to the desk as though pulled there by a magnet; he'd only ever seen the Death Note in grainy photographs contained in police reports he'd hacked into. But it had looked something like this – thin, black, although…
He could have sworn that the one he'd seen in photographs had had the words 'Death Note' written on the cover in shaky, white English capitals. He picked this notebook up, turning it over. There was no writing on either side.
However, when he flipped through it, he came across page after page thick with neat kanji – names of criminals, condemned to die by Kira.
It was a Death Note. Maybe not the Death Note he'd seen – but then again, that made sense. The Death Note he'd seen had been in police custody, hence the police pictures of it. Was it possible that there was another notebook? It must be true, if the killings had continued after the incarceration of the notebook taken from Kyosuke Higuchi by L.
Maybe there were even more than two notebooks. Who knew how many there were on Earth?
…Well, if that was the case, then Kira wouldn't miss this one. Matt quietly rolled the notebook up and slipped it into one of the larger pockets of his pants, buttoning the popper to keep it safe.
You're here then, Kira – or, should I say, Light Yagami…?
Matt turned to face the rest of the bedroom; and had to use every fiber of self control to clamp down on the scream that lodged itself in his throat. The shock was so great he nearly fainted when he realized that he'd completely overlooked the figure asleep in the bed, barely more than a meter or two away from him. He stilled in silence, waiting for the body to roll over, for the eyes to fix on him and pin him; but after a long moment, long enough for the cold sweat to break out across his skin, he knew that he must not have wakened the person, and he imperceptibly relaxed.
Apparently his barging in here and thieving a killer notebook hadn't awoken Sleeping Beauty…
Matt silently approached the bed, his heart pounding audibly in the quiet of the room; and there he found, fast asleep on his back, the object of their chase after all.
Light Yagami.
He was grateful to have not awoken him, although puzzled; it seemed as though he truly was beneath some kind of spellbound sleep, dead to the world.
Matt rubbed at his forehead wearily. Now what was he supposed to do? He'd found Kira, asleep and defenseless, and also found physical proof that he was Kira in the form of the Death Note he'd found on his desk, but… he couldn't arrest him, exactly. He had nothing to restrain him with, no means to cart him back to his and Mello's hotel room and no police support. He supposed he could just call the police but then Mello would absolutely hit the roof, no doubt about that…
"He's beautiful, isn't he?"
Matt froze at the sound of a voice – speaking English – coming from behind him; he didn't move, waiting for the barrel of a gun to jab him in the spine.
Nothing of the like came; and here L chose to step up beside Matt, joining him in overlooking the sleeping Light.
"If you're wondering why he hasn't woken up," L went on softly, "it's because he's taken sleeping pills. I confess to having terrorized him a little bit earlier and he couldn't sleep, and so eventually he drugged himself. A brave thing, with me hanging around." The dead detective tilted his head a little. "…Although it's also ironic, for him to be taking sleeping pills…"
He eventually turned his head towards Matt, who was staring at him, eyes wide with intermingled horror and wonder.
"Hello, Matt," he said. "It's been far too long. How are you?"
Matt opened his mouth, but neither words nor a scream came out; his voice merely shriveled in on itself as he looked at L.
L gave an understanding nod.
"I expected this kind of reaction." He nodded towards the door. "Do you mind if we leave the room? I'm not very comfortable about having you around Light, given… well, recent circumstances."
He took Matt by the sleeve of his stolen leather jacket and steadily pulled him from the room anyway, closing the door quietly behind them.
"You're… alive?" Matt got out in a strangled whisper as he stumbled into the hall after L. "B-both of you… you and Light Yagami… you're both alive—"
"He is," L interrupted calmly. "I'm not."
Matt blinked at him, helpless confusion swimming behind his eyes.
"You… you look alive…" he said faintly. "Look, you…" He grasped L's hand; then dropped it again, shocked by the coldness.
"Looks are deceiving, Matt," L replied blandly. "You know that. Do I look like a detective? Does Light look like a mass murderer? If it were easy to tell everything about a person merely from their looks, I'd have wrapped up this Kira case myself a long time ago."
"But how can you be here if you're not alive?" Matt cried. "And if you're here, and able to be here, and speak to me like this, then why did you leave us?! We needed you; Mello's never been the same since—"
"Matt, I was killed," L interrupted flatly. "It was slightly beyond my control at that point."
"Then why are you here?!"
"Again, circumstances beyond my control. Far beyond." L's eyes narrowed at his third heir. "Though I could certainly ask you the same question."
"Mello and I are tracing Kira. We… found an old notebook of yours, a blue one, and you'd written in it… that 'Light Yagami' was Kira, and then we did some research on him and found that he'd apparently been killed two days ago by Misa Amane, alongside you and Watari, but… well, of course we knew you were already dead, so… we thought we'd start here searching for clues…"
Matt trailed off; the explanation had rushed out on a single breath, and died lamely. L wasn't bothered, and gave a small understanding nod.
"Impressive detective work. I'd expect nothing else, of course, but…" He grasped his heir by his elbows. "Matt, I want you to leave. It's dangerous for you to be here."
Matt blinked, still wading through the revelations and unable process the words.
"…What? But…" Matt pulled away, suddenly seeming suspicious. "…He is Kira, isn't he? Light Yagami, I mean?"
"Yes, he is."
"And he killed you."
"Not personally, but the fault lies with him."
"But if you're back now and you know that he's Kira, then… why haven't you done anything, L?! Why are you just letting him get away with this?"
"There's nothing I can do," L snapped. "I had my chance against Kira, and I didn't win. He killed me. I'm powerless against him now."
"That's not—"
"That's why I have you, isn't it?" L leaned in towards Matt, who shrank back from his cold, lifeless eyes. "Isn't that why I chose you?"
"I…" Matt could only stare at him helplessly, rather afraid of him and the overbearing presence that was now pouring off him. "…L, you… you're different…"
"Of course I'm different." L backed up from him again, turning away as though highly impatient. "What do you expect from me, Matt? Dying isn't exactly a picnic…"
"L—"
"Don't be so weak." L smacked away the hand that had been reaching for him. "That's exactly what got me killed."
"Well, what do you expect from me?!" Matt burst out, frustrated tears beginning to well in his eyes. "How do you think it felt, to have Mello tell me you'd been killed by Kira?! You were everything to us, the person we admired, and then you died…! We hadn't seen you in like a year, we— we didn't even get to say goodbye!" Matt wiped fiercely at his eyes. "And now you've come back to life out of nowhere and you just want me to treat it like it's another piece of data?!"
"Yes, because if you don't treat information as merely that, and suspects as merely suspects, then you end up dead," L spat in reply.
"Look, Mello and I know you and Light were… well, that you were… involved, but—"
"The notebook," L said quietly in recollection.
"…Yeah," Matt replied softly. "The notebook."
"And you still admire me?" L stepped past him, heading down the corridor. "Even knowing that I… well, I needn't bother going into it." He stepped out of sight into the bathroom.
"Of course." Matt followed him. "You're still L."
"And, as L, I had a sexual relationship with Kira."
Matt stepped into the bathroom doorway, faced once again with the thousands of shattered Matts, now intermingled with thousands of shattered Ls.
"I never said it was right," he said softly.
"Of course it wasn't right," L replied, and his every reflection spoke with him.
A painful resonance of the fact that it hadn't been – wasn't – right for him to love Kira.
"But I paid the price for it," he went on softly.
"L, you didn't deserve to be killed, and…" Matt lowered his gaze, hardening it in anger. "…And least of all by someone who said that they loved you."
"It doesn't matter. It's done now."
"If it doesn't matter, then why are you here?" Matt challenged, the anger now tainting his voice as well.
"Because of him."
"Well…" Matt looked up again, now resolute. "That's why I'm here too."
"Matt, I cannot allow this." L's voice had grown very cold once more. "I would like you to leave, right now."
"I don't understand you. One minute you're saying that you can't do anything and that's what we're for, and the next you're telling me to leave—"
"Because it's dangerous."
"I know." Matt's tone was equally icy. "We all know. After all… you died, didn't you?"
"Because I had no-one to protect me. Even Watari couldn't save me, but that was my own fault, not his. But you, and Mello, and Near—"
"Do you think you can save us, L?" Matt looked at him hopelessly. "You're too late for that."
"Matt, please…" The cold firmness in L's voice had given out, and he could only look at him wearily. "Just go."
Matt folded his arms, and grounded himself to his spot on the carpet.
"Then you come with me."
"I can't."
Matt puffed up a few extra inches, incredulous.
"Why can't you? Are… are you a ghost? Can't you leave the place where you died?"
"Of course I can."
"Then come with me!"
L shook his head, not looking at the boy.
"No."
Matt scowled; twisting his face in contempt as he suddenly realized a distasteful explanation.
"Are you protecting him?" He snapped. "Light Yagami?"
"No, I'm protecting you. Matt, I'm not going to say it again. I want you to go, and I want you to go now, understand?"
Matt looked at him for a long time; then finally came to a sulky decision.
"Okay, I'll leave. But make no mistake—"
"No," L said, heading him off; he was no longer looking at him, rather gazing at his own multiple reflections. "Don't come back, either you or Mello. By all means find the evidence to expose Light as Kira, but don't come back. It's too dangerous."
"Do you really expect me to keep that kind of promise?"
"Yes, I do."
Matt had no answer to that; instead he trailed towards the bathroom door in silence.
"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" he asked, pausing in the threshold, glancing across at L, who had his back to him but was watching him in the shattered reflection of the mirror opposite.
"Why would you want me to say that?" L inquired dully by way of reply.
Again, having no answer, Matt gave a sigh and left in defeated silence, L watching a thousand of him trail away.
"You have a wonderful way of sucking the very life out of all the humans you're around," Ryuk observed gleefully, choosing this moment to poke his head through the wall. "…Of course, you were kind of that way when you were alive too."
L ignored him, leaving the bathroom and slipping back into the bedroom to go to the window, watching for Matt to make sure he left.
"Jeez, you're such a drag," Ryuk griped, sliding through the door after him; he glanced over at the bed. "Of course, so is Light. I was sure he'd use his new Shinigami Eyes to kill that guy, but he's too busy playing Sleeping Beauty…"
Light shifted in his sleep, sheets rustling; just as L was satisfied in watching Matt, now a tiny figure, emerge from the building and saunter off down the street, a minute flare of orange in the dark an indication of the cigarette he was lighting up.
"What's the story with you and that guy, anyway?" Ryuk inquired nosily, floating over to the window. "Not cheating on your murderer boyfriend, are you?" He snickered to himself at the thought. "He seems kind of young for you, though I guess you're quite a bit older than Light too—"
"Be quiet," L snapped viciously, the cold authority in his voice freezing the sentence as he turned away from the window. "It's none of your business."
He stopped at the bed again, looking down at Light; still content and still unspeakably beautiful in his slumber.
"You didn't tell that guy – Mail Jeevas – about Light's Shinigami Eyes," Ryuk murmured, his voice suddenly much less playful and far more malicious.
L stiffened; but didn't offer Ryuk his gaze.
"No," he replied emotionlessly, his own eyes on the scratch he'd made on Light's perfect face. "…I can't."
Mello was frowning down at his cross-referenced notes, dark eyes darting back and forth between pages, when his phone went off, vibrating in silence on the hotel room desk.
He picked it up without checking the caller ID, taking for granted that it would be Matt calling him up to tell him how the break-in had gone.
"Matt?"
"Afraid not," drawled a familiar, blasé voice.
Mello's eyes widened marginally before narrowing to dagger points, fingers tightening on the body of the phone.
"Near," he spat.
"I'd prefer N."
"And I'd prefer if you'd quit calling me up like some kind of pizza delivery service!" Mello snapped. "What the fuck do you want now?"
"Are you in Japan?"
"Why the hell do you care?"
"Well, if you don't want to tell me, I can just trace your phone signal," Near replied pleasantly.
Mello bit his lip furiously, fighting the impulse to chuck the phone across the room.
"You already know Matt and I are in Japan," he growled finally.
"I wanted to confirm."
"Well, now you know, so screw off." Mello was about to hang up, but heard Near call his name, suddenly sounding more desperate.
"Mello—!"
"I said screw off," Mello bit out, bringing the phone back up to his ear and savagely brushing back a few spikes of gold hair from his face. "What, do you think I'm a fucking idiot? You only call me when you want something, so don't try and fucking tell me this is an old-times phone call."
"Mello, L didn't intend for this," Near replied flatly. "We're supposed to be fighting against Kira, not each other."
"I can multitask."
"…Look, I'm in Japan too. Can we—"
"What, meet up?" Mello mocked, cutting him off. "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm sorry, N, but I find this a little bit suspicious."
"Is that so?" Near's voice was toneless. "But I'm not the one who stormed out of Wammy's House. I wouldn't have minded working with you, Mello. It's you that had the problem."
"And that problem still stands," Mello hissed. "I'm working with Matt, not you, so stop calling me. You're not using either of us as pawns."
"I'm just thinking about what L would have wanted."
"Well, L's dead, so fuck off." Mello hung up on him and angrily tossed the phone down onto the desk, seething.
He was still in a filthy mood when Matt let himself back into the room, shrugging off the jacket; the redhead was silent, and although Mello wasn't talking himself, angrily banging about making black coffee, he did shoot a puzzled glance at him.
"What?" He asked eventually, his tone clipped as he brought Matt over his coffee; the redhead had flopped into a chair at the desk, pulling off his goggles. "What's the matter? Didn't you find anything?"
Matt glanced up at him dully.
"You're in a bad mood," he observed.
"Never mind about me," Mello snapped, putting his own coffee down on the desk; right now he was so pissed off at Near he couldn't even bring himself to bitch about it to Matt. Bringing up L like that, using him as a weapon, the little fucker…
"Come here," was all Matt said, reaching out and pulling Mello towards him by his waist onto his lap.
"What?" Mello blinked down at him as he wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist.
"Nothing." Matt rested his head against Mello's chest in silence for a while, breathing in the familiar scent and letting the warmth soothe his jangled nerves.
"Did you find anything?" Mello asked again, resting his cheek on the crown of Matt's head; calmed down by his touch.
"Yeah," Matt breathed. "I found plenty."
Mello lifted his head again.
"Like what?"
"Like this." Matt retrieved the Death Note tucked snugly into his pocket, pressing it into Mello's hands.
"Matt… is this…?"
"Yeah." Matt hugged him tighter; but Mello hit him over the head with the Death Note.
"Then what are you all moody about?" He asked incredulously, his grin wide and wicked. "This is brilliant!"
"Yeah, I know… it's just…"
"Just what?" Mello asked suspiciously.
"It's… well, it's…" Matt took a breath. "…It's L."
"L?" Mello repeated, color draining out of his face. "…What about L?"
"I… just saw him…"
"What? Where? How?" And when Matt fell silent again, Mello grasped him by his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Matt, answer me! How can you have seen L? He's dead!"
"No, he isn't." Matt finally looked up, his eyes meeting Mello's. "Not anymore."
He'd dreamt of a pale boy; small, fragile, with pastel skin and snow-white hair and large, dark, mirror-mirror eyes.
L's eyes.
But the vision had not been projected on the usual hazy dream-like film; the wraithlike boy curled on the floor of a warehouse building, manipulating tiny toy figures like chess pawns, L's eyes gleaming with the cold malice Light remembered all too well.
Remembered…
He knew, upon waking, that it had not been a dream itself; but a memory embedded within a dream.
A memory that had come back to him, unbidden.
The memory of Near's face.
Still, a memory within a dream was not enough for his Shinigami Eyes; he still knew nothing of Near's true name.
His eyes still stung, but he ignored the pain in them, relieved that he still had them at all. The scratch on his cheek, just beneath the right eye, was enough to remind him of the price he'd almost paid for them. He cleaned the dried blood from his face with a wet towel and went back to the bedroom, shaking his aching head. Sleeping pills always did a number on him the morning after…
L was curled up on the bed; Light eyed him warily, keeping a wide circumference as he headed towards the wardrobe. He didn't trust him not to make a sudden lunge for him, promise or no about his eyes; although, granted, L seemed to have lapsed back into his depressed fit from yesterday.
He did blink up at Light though, those eyes the same as those which had gazed at him so judiciously within the memory encased within his dream—
Just without the mirror-mirror part that Light had simultaneously loved and been afraid of.
"He has your eyes," he said simply; just to get a reaction out of L, really.
"Near, you mean," L responded.
Light faltered in opening the wardrobe; he hadn't expected L to just come right out with it like that.
"You're still here," he said, turning away to pull out some clothes and changing the subject as he did so.
L took much longer answering this; though it hadn't been a question, and Light hadn't really wanted a response either way. Eventually the dead detective spoke, his voice suddenly echoing with a strange, melancholic defeat:
"…Of course I'm still here, Light-kun."
To all who enjoyed the Light-jerking-off scene, thank Narroch, not me. It was another case of my usual going-to-write-it-but-not-bothering, followed by another case of Narroch's usual rolling-her-eyes-and-writing-it-in-herself.
So:
-Mello and Matt have a Death Note and know of L's (re)existence.
-Light is clueless of both of these instances but is rather more preoccupied with being relieved that he isn't blind.
-L is as cryptic (and creepy) as ever.
-Ryuk is amused.
-Near has no friends.
Har har har.
Poison Apple is beginning to draw towards the conclusion, but a lot still has to happen, so…
Make sure you keep reading!!111!!1!
RobinRocks and Narroch
xXx