A/N:

Made a doodle of Light in photoshop yesterday and decided to upload it as a cover. Discovered the use of a certain filter in my play. Heh. Anywho~

Shout out to FireWolfAbianvi, Kaioy, She Who Wears Red for reviewing

She Who Wears Red: Love your reviews. ^_^ And no, I don't swear very much nor do I hang around those people. Even my step father who cusses like a sailor compared to most people I know, doesn't swear AT people. Most of the cursing I know/hear/use is for comedic or emphasis purpose. Not quite sure how to make it sound properly, er, insulting I guess? If you'd like, you can be my swear corrector. Just shoot me a PM with some suggestions to clean up Mello's odd cursing. Heh. Or not. Also, I will be referencing various types of cards and suites through this story, including playing cards and tarot. As for the queen reference, I'll keep that in mind.

House of Cards

By Catsitta

Part Eight: Plans Backfire

Time had a way of slipping past unnoticed. Since arriving back at Whammy's House, L lost track of the days flying by as he desperately tried to circumvent disaster. Old habits crept back into focus. He would find Misa and neutralize the threat, even if it meant locking himself in his bedroom for countless hours on end, eyes fixated on his laptop screen, a phone perched at the crook of his shoulder. It did not help expediency that the only agent at his disposal was useless to the nth degree...Matsuda bumbled about through life, accidentally leaving chaos in his wake as well as haphazardly stumbling into greater truths.

If nothing else, he was loyal and purely intentioned.

But it was growing frustrating to make no progress in finding Misa Amane.

He was ready to throw his laptop in frustration. Could anything go his way again? Ever since the Kira case, things just fell apart in his hands as fate watched on, laughing at his misery.

"L? L, we need to talk."

The detective paused and blinked at the door. Roger was asking for him? Right. He wanted to speak with him after he rested...how long ago was that? A chill went down his spine as he thought to check the date at the corner of his screen. He counted backwards. Had he already lost that much time? Two weeks...

Had he really been subsisting on Mars bars and tap water for two weeks? No wonder he felt a little light headed. Watari wasn't there to ply him with more nourishment while he lost himself in his work. With the door locked, no one but he could enter the room. Did no one think to knock? Maybe he had not heard them? What a mess.

Closing the lid of his computer, L stood and shuffled to the door. He pulled it open slowly and peered through the gap.

"I'm rather busy."

"I thought you were here to rest."

"Things came up. Since I'd rather live another few years, I decided to resolve them."

Roger slammed an open palm against the door, forcing it to swing inwards. L stepped back and allow it to bounce open.

"Is there a reason for this intrusion?"
"One would think that even you would pay some attention to your guest."

"Ah. Light. Is she well?"

"I could have kicked her onto the streets days ago and you would have never known had I not come here today."

"But you haven't and wouldn't. Is there a point to this discussion? There truly are urgent matters in need of attending."

The last thing L expected was to be scruffed by the larger man. It was years since anyone grabbed him by the nape and hauled him like a disobedient child. L, too shocked to react, provided no resistance. Roger never laid a hand on him. No one dared to do something like this to him!

As he recovered from his surprise, Roger released him with a shove.

"You married the girl, which means you need to grow up, L."

He glanced up at the ornate door before them. It was the medical wing of the Whammy's House.

"I'm curious why Roger cares how I treat my wife," L said after a pause. "He does not like Light's presence here, likely believes these kinds of relationships are a distraction. Shouldn't Roger be thankful that I am not hovering at Light's bedside until his recovery?"

That earned him a cuff to the back of the head.

"Go."

L sighed and complied. As the saying goes: Time makes the heart grow fonder...He opened the door-

-and ducked.

My, my. Someone was making progress. L fought back a small smile as he met the blazing stare of his young wife. She was standing, a nurse nearby helping her through physical therapy exercises. The object chucked at his head was a stress ball. They were working on improving coordination in her hands and strengthening her grip. L picked the rubber ball up and gave it a small toss, catching it easily as he matched Light's gaze coolly.

Light looked ready for a fight, but she did not move from where she stood. Instead her face went blank and she turned bodily away from him. The immovable facade.

"I believe my shoulder is much recovered," she said politely to the onlooking nurse, who was looking a touch pale. "Do you think I will be able to play tennis again someday?"

"You are making remarkable progress, Madame," the nurse replied in a French-thickened accent. "But I encourage you not to strain your injuries. You are a long way from playing tennis."

L crossed the room once the pair stopped speaking. He sidled up to Light's side and took her bandaged hands into his own. The wrists were still bound tightly, but the fingers were given enough freedom to grip objects. It must have been painful to throw the ball at him.

Light ripped her hand from him.

"Don't touch me."

"A husband may touch his wife," L responded.

"I don't care what kind of paperwork you have, I'm not your wife."

"But, my dear, you are my wife. Forever and always."

"I hate you."

"Ah, but hate and love are precariously close to the same emotion."

"Why are you here?"

"Now Light asks. I am here because Roger demanded it. Light seems well enough."

"You forced me to England and married me, only to abandon me to these doctors."

L reached up and played with a lock of Light's hair. It was growing out again. Soon the strands would be the same professionally boyish length as when he first met the girl. She jerked away.

"Light missed my company. How sweet. Does this mean he enjoys my presence?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"Now why should I do that when I have a lovely wife? I quite look forward to when Light is recovered enough to join me in my rooms again."

"Pervert!"

"Hn. Why must Light be so angry? I did save his ungrateful life on multiple occasions. He should be dead right now. Yet he speaks so cruelly to me."

Light shivered. Then did something unexpected. She smiled. It was a nasty, scheming little smile. "You think I'm cruel? You think I should be a thankful little wife? Perhaps you should rethink your plans for happily-ever-after given that you forsook your honorable ideals and false justice when you lied to the whole world and declared Kira dead. What exactly would people think of the all-wise L when they found out he not only did not kill Kira, but he married her. That he knew from the start who Kira was and instead of doing his job, he let thousands die so he could play act at love and fuck his prisoner."

L made to retort, but froze. The nurse was standing right there, and Roger. He peered at the doorway and felt all the blood in his face sink to his feet. Three little heads were clustered around the visibly outraged headmaster.

Silence blanketed the room.

It was broken by the quietest of voices.

"I suspected as much."

All eyes zeroed in on Near, who was passively regarding the scene as if it were just a casual conversation. He dug into the pocket of his pajamas and pulled out a handful of finger puppets. Each looked eerily like individuals involved in the Kira case. Near waggled his small digits.

"How disappointing it is to be correct."

With that, he turned and left.

-tbc-

A/N: (So the cat's out of the bag. Whoops. Read and review please!)