Cheers to the folks who've reviewed! Here's a much less emotionally dramatic chapter haha – I apologise in advance if people feel like not enough happens, but it's supposed to be the 'calm before the storm' so to speak, so I didn't want to rush this quiet interlude. I hope you enjoy it.

Rose blinked awake, shifted uncomfortably in the reclined plane seat, and checked the time. It was late evening. It wasn't just the time difference between the countries - the exhaustion of her emotion that morning had made her sleep longer than usual. We'll be in Russia in only a matter of minutes. Matt had his headphones on, and was playing some kind of hyper-violent video game in the seat in front of her. She could just catch a glimpse of oversized guns, blood splatters and exploding people. Rose turned her head sideways. L, looking strangely like a large bird, was crouched on his seat peering at a screen.

"The quote," he said, having heard her movement, "was lyrics after all. And their connection with Mello proves without a doubt that your suspicions are correct. The reason we never found them was because they were originally written in Russian – by Andrei Keehl, of course. However their band-name is English, like two of their albums – Revolta. A good word to use for a politically active punk-metal band – the dual meaning between 'revolting' as 'disgusting' and 'revolting' as a 'popular uprising against the authorities' is highly appropriate for such a group."

"I see." Rose pushed herself and her seat upright, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The little window revealed a land mass that was becoming more detailed by the second, as the plane descended beneath the cloud layer towards Moscow. "How is he?" She asked L, motioning towards Matt.

L shrugged. "He hasn't looked up from that game for nine hours and twenty six minutes, except to refill his vaporiser after hour five. I imagine you can come to your own conclusions from that evidence."

Rose nodded. "I suppose you can't expect anyone to take the simultaneous double-betrayal of one's girlfriend and best friend 'well'."

"No, one cannot."

The plane landed, and the shuttle took them to the front of the airport where their hire-car waited. Matt immediately switched from vaporiser to cigarette.

"All aboard ladies and gentlemen," he said, but without his usual verve and aplomb.

The journey into Moscow from Domodedovo Airport took about an hour. Matt was uncharacteristically quiet, tuned in only to the alien sound of Russian radio, and Rose knew L was not going to offer forward any small-talk, so she took it upon herself to create conversation. Having no desire to dwell upon the case for a little while, she engineered a conversation about Russia. L seemed happy to oblige, and they discussed their knowledge of Russia, its culture, language and politics for pretty much the whole journey. It turned out, of course, that L could speak Russian. He seemed to think that he was only 'passably' proficient, but to Rose's ears it sounded perfectly fluent.

When they reached The St. Regis Moscow Nikolskaya Hotel and entered the foyer, Rose raised her eyebrows. "Did you deliberately choose the most expensive hotel in Moscow?" she murmured.

L scratched his head shiftily. "I thought we all deserved a treat."

Rose stifled a laugh. "I'm not sure how it'll help, especially for Matt. Money can't mend a broken heart."

"No, but it's very good at helping you to forget it for a short while. That's all I'm trying to do."

Rose hmmmed her assent and then fell quiet as a porter came to guide them to their suite.

As soon as the equipment was set up the phone-line was buzzing with messages and calls from the UK and US governments. L sighed. "Deal with the UK, Fern. Matt, you carry on communicating with the Russians. I'll take the US."

Rose found herself on the phone, under cover of the distorted voice, to a very stressed Secretary of State for Defence.

"So? What have you discovered? We've got to give the media something, they're like circus leaders throwing scraps to starved lions, the public have gone wild, talking about our incompetence and insecurity. Everyone's afraid, L, we HAVE to get this resolved."

"I understand, and I am pleased to tell you that we now know the identity of the assassin and we're hot on his tail."

"So? Who is it? Some nut? A foreign agent? A large conspiracy? Do they have an agenda?"

"I'm afraid for security reasons I cannot inform you of his identity yet minister." L had decided that if at all possible they should mask the identity of Mello, in case his arrest caused the government to investigate Wammy's House.

"Security reasons?! I'm the fucking Secretary of Defence!" Rose heard him bluster, and bit back a sharp retort.

"Be that as it may minister, I cannot yet reveal his identity. But you may know that it is indeed the same figure that murdered the President and he goes by the code name 'M'. We have followed him to Russia where we will shortly apprehend him." Rose heard the minister suck in his breath.

"So it's true what the Yankees said, gone to Russia. Is he a Russian agent? Is this Russia's way of starting world war three?"

"To my knowledge he is not an agent of the Russian authorities, he is working quite alone."

"Yes yes, well we'll see about that. All I can say, L, is that you better live up to your reputation and catch him quickly, because if you don't, I can see the Cold War becoming a very 'Hot' one shortly."

With that doom-filled prognosis, the Secretary of State for Defence hung up. Rose groaned. Within a couple of minutes L had finished his phone-call too. His countenance was dark.

"The US have decided that this is Russia's doing."

"Yes, I'm aware," Rose commiserated. "And the UK government refuse to contravene the US's opinion on the matter – they will just follow them blindly in this, even if that means starting a war."

"I've never known a client to be so obstinate that they'll directly contradict my judgement," L muttered irritably. "I thought my assurance that it was not the Russian authorities would be enough – but no, they're too scared and determined to keep up their show of bravado to just let things happen at their natural pace. No, they have to be seen to be 'doing' something immediately, and unfortunately that something seems to be very stupidly antagonising the Russian government by hypocritically accusing them of international aggravation. Governments," he cursed.

"Governments," Rose agreed.

"Okay, the presidential building is on lock-down," Matt piped up from the other side of the room, where he'd been setting up a complex monitoring and security system around a cream embroidered chaise-long. "The president's reluctantly done as you asked and has cancelled all appointments for the next three days. He wasn't happy about it, I can tell you. He'd agreed to take his most important meetings on Skype. Manpower in security has been doubled, surveillance is being relayed to me, and every person to go in and out is fully searched."

"Good job. Any sign of the two M's?"

"Not yet. Mello left the airport before we sounded the alarm and disappeared to fuck knows where, and it doesn't seem that... that Misa Amane has entered the country." Matt veritably spat out her name. "Of course she may have travelled under a fake identity in disguise, but I think until each airport has fully searched their CCTV footage we should assume she isn't here."

"Yes I'm inclined to agree. I suspect Misa has been no more than a pawn in this game, and is probably now irrelevant to proceedings. However, we would be unwise to underestimate her again. We must keep a global watch for her."

L rang for room service. "Urrrh, one large plate of Zefir, a Ptichye Moloko cake, and... a plate of Pastila, please. And for you two?" He asked.

"Whatever they've got that isn't solely meat and carbs," Rose requested.

"Whatever they've got with the MOST meat and carbs," Matt conversely demanded. "And a large bottle of your finest vodka."

L relayed the instructions, before speaking in Russian to the double agents that the authorities already had living amongst the more important criminal organisations in Moscow.

"Being as M infiltrated the UK crime scene thoroughly, to be cautious we should assume that he has done the same to a limited degree in Russia. They may be sheltering or aiding him in some way, so tell us if you hear any word of this man. Or of a woman that looks suspiciously like him. We'll send you each a photo of him shortly. If you do come across him, do not act rashly. Call us immediately, and WE will form a plan of action. Unless your very life is threatened, do not attempt to catch or kill him yourself. That will be all."

"Yes boss," replied several voices.

The food arrived and they tucked into their respective meals, Matt pouring a double-shot of vodka and downing it in two gulps, immediately pouring another. Rose sent him a sharp look.

"Don't get wasted, Matt. We need your full attention on the surveillance equipment."

"Relax. I can handle it. Want one?" he asked, brandishing the bottle.

Rose hesitated. "Okay, just one."

"And you, L?"

"We're working on a case, what do you think my response is going to be?"

When the food was done Matt fine-tuned his programming of the equipment, and Rose and L discussed what they knew already carefully, trying to uncover a clue as to where Mello might be, and what he might do next. But nothing seemed to reveal anything of relevance beyond what they already expected: that he might make bombs, and might kill the president. With the country on high-alert, and the city of Moscow on even higher alert, it seemed – annoyingly – that there wasn't actually much for them to do but wait for more information to present itself.

Matt poured himself his fourth shot, and waved the bottle around again. He was lying on the chaise-long amongst all the surveillance equipment, and had been trawling lazily from screen to screen for about half an hour. "Anyone else?"

Rose looked over at him from her own plush, embroidered armchair. To be fair, it was very good vodka. And there's not much to do. "Just one more."

As Matt poured her second, L wordlessly handed him an empty cup. The goggled young man raised his eyebrows, and then grinned, taking the cup. "I knew you'd warm up to the idea! Fuck the world, it can take care of itself."

"I am merely trying the taste. We must be alert and ready for any new occurrences."

"Yeah, yeah."

Rose watched as L gingerly took the cup between forefinger and thumb, sniffed the liquid, and pulled a face.

"Are you sure this is fit for human consumption?"

"Hell yeah it is!" Matt assured, and downed his as if to prove it.

L followed suit, and Rose saw his eyes widen with shock as the alcohol burned down his throat to his stomach. She stifled a laugh.

"It isn't at all like the alcohol Fern gave me in Japan!" He coughed.

"No it isn't," Rose agreed. "And I didn't give it to you, you stole the bottle out of my kitchen," she reprimanded.

He wiggled his toes, and rolled his eyes sideways. "Oh yes, so I did."

Two hours and most of the vodka later Matt was sitting on the floor, half-slumped against the chaise-long, a cigarette burning out between his fingers as he crooned miserably along to a selection of melancholy love-songs he'd loaded on youtube.

"And every time I try to fly, I faaaall, without my wings, I feel so smaaaall... I guess I need you baby... And every time I see you in my dreeeaams, I see your face, it's haunting meeee... I guess I need you baby..."

Rose was sitting sideways in the plush armchair, her legs hooked over one of the arms and her head resting on the other, staring upwards. She smiled at the ceiling – hearing Matt sing pop songs half out of tune (that he usually wouldn't be caught dead listening to) was about the funniest thing she could think of, and she would have teased him about it if he hadn't seemed so genuinely depressed. But, as it was, she didn't have the heart to mock the melancholy guy.

Off to her left L was creating sugar-cube towers of increasing complexity on the marble coffee table. He had been silent for the last hour or so, steadily building, apparently completely absorbed in his task. However, Rose knew from the faraway focus in his eyes that he had been thinking deeply, and therefore had refrained from disturbing him, even when she'd found there was something she wanted to say. Yet presently there was an unexpected sound, and Rose turned to him in astonishment, not believing her ears. No, it's true! It's actually happening! L is humming along to Britney Spears!

Matt had been one thing, but this was more than she could bear. Rose howled with laughter, and almost rolled off her chair. Two serious pairs of eyes looked at her in confusion.

"What is it?" L asked.

Their oblivion just made her howl louder, convulsing with giggles, until eventually they subsided and Rose just sat there, grinning fondly at them.

A couple more hours passed. Matt's singing gradually became quieter and more out of tune, until he curled up on the chaise-long in a deeply unconscious sleep. Grey morning light was peering around the edges of the curtains, and Rose felt her eyelids drooping.

"Sleep," L said softly, not looking up from his sugar masterpiece. "I'll keep my eye on things."

So Rose ambled tiredly to the bed, and within minutes was unconscious too. She dreamt of mountains. What happened in her dream was lost and forgotten, but she remembered the mountains – green and purple and grey, swathed in tendrils of cloud, and as empty of human life as the sky above.

Waking after three hours, Rose stretched, sat up, and saw L standing by one of the windows, staring out at the city.

"Many things have happened since you slept," he said, and Rose tensed at the deceptively calm tone to his voice.

"What?"

"The president has been assassinated," L replied, in the same calm, sad voice that made Rose frightened.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"I thought it best to let you both sleep," he continued, and his voice was faraway and soft, like the whisper of a breeze in the leaves of a distant tree.

"How did he do it?"

"The president's breakfast was poisoned. He died at 09:21am this morning, just as a doctor arrived. The accomplice, a young kitchen porter by the name of Vlad Dubinin, left immediately after the deed was completed, and has since disappeared. It is assumed that he must have been working there as a spy for several months."

"And, is it definitely Mello behind it?"

"Nothing is ever definite," L responded after a moment, still staring out of the window. "But I think it is sensible to assume his involvement, and to assume his ingratiation with the more powerful of Russia's underworld has been successful."

There was a protracted silence. Rose, watching him carefully, wondered what was going on in his head. Usually such an occurrence would spark L into a blaze of passionate, righteous, incredibly well-thought-out action, but he didn't seem to want to be doing anything about it at all.

"What's wrong?" She inquired cautiously. He didn't reply immediately.

"B..." Was the first thing he said, and the letter hung in the air, meaningless to Rose. "When B did what he did, I brushed it off as an anomaly. I told myself that he was a special case, that he already had a tendency for madness and violence, and none of the other pupils of Wammy's House would be likely to share that derangement. But now, as Mello follows the same pattern, I begin to wonder... I begin to suspect that it is no anomaly. It's our fault. It's Wammy's fault. It's my fault. We have created monsters."

"It's not your fault," Rose protested, and stood up to move nearer.

"Polarisation..." L murmured to the pane of glass... "I begin to think that if one tries to create a strong force of good, the only sure result is that a strong force of evil will rise up to meet its challenge. If I had not been doing the things I was doing, there would have been no B, no M, no you protecting The Group, no Light wishing to bring justice upon the world. I'm beginning to wonder whether the whole world might be safer if I were simply to... disappear."

Rose snaked her arms around his waist from behind, laying her head on his shoulder, and pulling him close. She felt troubled, but certain in her convictions. "No," she contradicted with peaceful surety. "For each bad thing you've caused, it is without a doubt that you have prevented several more from happening. The institute of Wammy's House itself has some serious answering to do, but it's not YOUR fault. Not everything rests on your shoulders – you've been a victim of its failings too."

L didn't answer, but the arms that wrapped around hers and squeezed gently were enough of an answer. Rose nuzzled into his bare neck, relishing the sweet warmth of his skin and the tickling of his locks of hair.

"He knows not what he does," L said softly, and Rose heard on top of the sadness a strain of fear laced through his voice. "He is like a child that pokes the nose of a sleeping dragon. Three of the world's great forces have been angered. Once these beasts have been roused, they do not sleep again until their wrath has burnt and desecrated everything that they believe has disturbed them. When their revenge strikes it will come down upon the sacrificed party like the heavy hand of god, and we will be powerless to stop them. The wheels are turning, Rose. And there's little we can do."

They stood that way for a while longer, staring unseeingly at the spread of buildings before them. Drops of rain began to fall from the sky and slide down the windowpane, blurring their view into a fractured mirage of shapes bent slightly out of normal shape.

Brriinnng brriinnnng.

The phone made Rose jump slightly. She felt L take in and release one long, purposeful breath, and then he turned round, dropping her arms.

"Let's see what this brings."

He moved over to the desk and hopped lightly into a chair.

"Yes?"

"We've found Misa Amane, sir. She's just entered the country and is heading to Moscow. What shall we do."

"Follow her," L said immediately. "Follow her and do not let her escape your sight for one second."

"Yes boss."

He hung up.

"I assume you're thinking she'll lead us to Mello?" Rose checked.

"I do, and if she doesn't, it will be valuable to capture and question her anyway. If we can apprehend Mello in time and prove to the world it was him and not whichever institution they choose to scapegoat then we may still be able to avoid catastrophe." L's jaw tightened as a shadow of deep, calm fury settled over his face. "I will pull him out of whatever hole he's hiding in myself if I have to. And when I do... that boy will suffer the consequences of his stupidity. Justice will prevail."

Rose grinned. "That's better!"

Thanks for reading, do comment if you have a moment, it's interesting hearing peoples thoughts =] I'll be posting another one tomorrow, where things start heating up again!