L is incredible, Mello knows this—far be it from him to need their help. But, God! What Mello would do for the opportunity to give help.

At fourteen, he is deceptively powerful, comprised slender and delicate, all skin and bones. He is intense and serious and admirably controlled considering the world exploding within him.

Come the lightning, crackle fire, this world melts for circumstance.

He nevertheless does not give in to distraction during work, and remains remarkably focused throughout.

Almost.

Near is maddeningly composed, white and blank and without emotion almost as a challenging taunt laced with unspoken arrogance.

Mello used to want to hit him, and Mello used to hit him, and he used to make him promise and swear that he won't say a thing, but it made things worse because it was never satisfying and, by default, it left Near triumphant and righteous.

So then Mello took to hitting everything else, walls and pillows and ultimately his friend Matt, who, far from protesting, seemed strangely grateful for the attention so seldom bestowed on him.

"Mello, I—"

"Don't."

It wasn't right, he knew, and he forced himself to hold back, and all it did was make him more enraged with frustration, and that's how he lived.

"This isn't right."

"I don't mind."

"I have to study now."

"But—"

"And you have to study, too."

--

Light watches L from the bed, warm and dry and covered but still bound and without hope of release anytime soon.

There on the desk is the sterile bag containing disintegrated remains of a page from the third book. Light doesn't fully understand this, but he understands and reasons enough to know that he must somehow get to the powder before L touches it.

On the other side of the desk is a stack of papers in a neatly prepared file, something of undoubted importance as L tends to it in the midst of his investigation of the extract.

"Ryuuzaki," comes the word in the softest and most composed of voices, "I want to see my family."

At the desk, the older boy stops working and he seems deep in thought as he turns his face upward along the wall to the front,

"I'm sorry, Light-kun, but it's too dangerous right now."

"I see," it comes calm and obedient.

What are you trying to do, Yagami?

Up until now, Light was bound almost entirely by choice. Without doubt and whether or not he fully understands this, he is now attempting to prevent L from getting to the book before him.

How does this work, L wonders, will he merely need to touch it? This can't be enough, because ongoing cutaneous contact did not seem to awaken Light.

Indeed, as a source of particular gradient alone, the powder activates only olfaction without the full vascular effect that requires the entire book. That is, it can be used merely as an activator of emotional memory and not a means of possessing the book or perceiving the works with which it is associated.

So even when L touches and even samples it, it does nothing.

I might need Light then, he muses, keeping this in mind as a last resort.

With his free hand, he reaches for the file on the other side of the desk, big eyes trained with quiet focus as he reads.

They work well together after all. But it isn't without its price.

The real reason behind this mess isn't Light or Higuchi or Misa. The root of the problem lies in the fact that, for whatever reason and by whatever means, instruments of unparalleled chaos and destruction were introduced into the population.

Is there truly a way, L wonders, to ascertain that this sort of thing is put to a halt?

There is, reads the report, assuming that rules so meticulously planned and painstakingly inscribed were formulated by someone, for some reason.

--

Absent blue eyes gaze up vacuously, the alternating sequence of light and shadow from the ceiling fan reflecting motion in their glossy surface, and, right arm tucked behind his head, Mello lies tense and still.

I hope he thinks it's good.

"You're worried about the project."

"I'm not worried."

"You're all tense."

"I—shut up."

Soft red locks sweep across his narrow waist, light and feathery, and Mello is too uptight to care—which is why, to Matt's absolute appreciation, he is allowed this tonight.

"Can I take this off?"

"Whatever."

"Cool."


To be continued...