Hello there! It's been too long, I know. If you're ever curious about any of my absences, I'll undoubtedly have an update of what's been going on at the bottom of my profile page. But in summary, the last few months of school were hellish, my computer got a nasty virus (no files lost), and I lost track of how many performances I had.

The bright side? It's summer and this is by far the longest chapter of Happy Holidays to date, nearly 30 pages of Word document. Yikes. BUT I do hope you enjoy it. I put a lot into this baby, and we're in for a wild ride from here on out. :)

As always, I give tons of thanks to my reviewers. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten off of my lazy butt because of you guys.

The songs that most heavily influenced the chapter were:
The Seal Lullaby by Eric Whitacre
Samson by Regina Spektor
Trust Me by The Fray

Check my profile for a link to the ficmix, if you'd like to listen.

P.S. The bottom half of this somehow lost all of the spaces in between paragraphs and whatnot and I think I fixed all of it. They may or may not be a line or two squished together when they should be in separate lines altogether.

I don't own Death Note.

December 29
Pepperpot Day

Light awoke to find himself lying alone in bed.

Or rather, on the opposite side crouched L over his laptop. His eyes remained glued to the screen.

Light's body, now aware of the fact that things were not as warm as they had been the last time he'd been awake, was wracked by a shiver. He quickly drew more sheets around his body – well, as much as he could with L on top of them – to rid himself of the unpleasant sensation. He kept his eyes firmly shut. His internal clock told him it was bordering absurdly early. Well, at least absurdly early for what was technically Christmas vacation.

But he had arguably been on Christmas vacation for the whole month of December….

Things were normal again. Neither of them would say a word of what had happened to previous day. The thought seeped into his mind as soon as he could grasp at words (opposed to just the cold). So overwhelming of the sudden sensation of lying beneath the sheets by himself that it had for a moment blocked out all other notions in his head. It was ridiculous to worry about something like that.

L still hadn't looked away from his computer to him. Light was certain the man would be aware of his presently conscious state. He peered over some of the sheets around his body. L was the only thing really visible in the dark bedroom. The curtains were still drawn shut and the little stars on the ceiling had lost their glow altogether. The computer screen lit his face and torso.

Sighing to himself under the sheets, Light peeled back a layer or two to reach over to his nightstand. There sat his ever-trusty hairbrush. He went to work at getting whatever knots could've formed overnight, making sure every strand was in place. He had his back facing the busy fingers hopping across a keyboard. Light had accepted the temporary silence, as L was prone to working idly for indeterminable amounts of time, which made it all the more startling to hear his impassive voice.

"What first comes to mind when you hear the word 'pepperpot,' Light?" His fingers had not stopped.

Brush still in hand, Light pondered the word for a moment. His voice was slightly scratchy from sleep. "It sounds average enough, perhaps even the combination of two words. Obviously with that approach this would mean 'pepper' and 'pot.' It's probably hardly that simple, though."

"Correct. There is more than one pepperpot. Your conclusion is accurate for one definition of the word. There is the pepperpot revolver, Mrs. Pepperpot from a children's book series, two buildings in England called Pepperpot and Pepper Pot (the latter separated into two words), Philadelphia Pepper Pot stew, The Pepperpots from Monty Python's Flying Circus, the Guyana Pepperpot dish, and finally the pepperpot lighthouse." L shifted his position slightly. The motion transferred through the mattress. "Naturally, I am quite tired of foods from this month, as I'm certain you may be as well. I veto them solely on this fact. After deliberation I have settled on one of those options."

Light absently toyed with some of the bristles on his hairbrush. "And that would be what?"

"Guess."

Since the detective couldn't rightly see him, Light gave into the urge of rolling his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for a game. Nevertheless, he thought of all the pepperpots L had rattled off.

"You're considering visiting a lighthouse. You almost made it too obvious, however, by placing that at the end of your list. Though of course, there's always the argument by making it so blatantly obvious that it's hidden even better. A 'purloined letter,' you could say…" Light found himself toying with the bristles of his brush, deciding to continue since L made no move to interject. "That, and we've been relatively close to a lighthouse this month. I can't say whether or not it could be called a 'pepperpot,' but it's likely you chose it for that purpose even then."

"You are correct again. We will depart at five in the evening for the very lighthouse you speak of. As to whether or not it's a pepperpot opposed to some other lighthouse variety…" L's spidery finger tapped on the up and down arrows of his keyboard, searching through the sections of text on the bright page. "They're small lighthouses found in Canada, with short towers and located at harbors. Painted white, wooden shingles… Lantern and trim red. But, usually just in Canada. Riddle me that."

"A uniquely Canadian lighthouse in Japan?"

"Indeed."

Light brought the brush back to his hair, resuming taming his locks. A frown settled on his face, though his back remained facing the man behind him. "How old is it?"

"It's quite old…nineteenth century, late. Even more peculiar, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah. You know more than you're letting on." He chose not to phrase it as a question. L, he heard, paused from typing. Undoubtedly a hand was occupied by some other task, like pensively toying with his bottom lip. Light was almost certain he was right.

A soft hum came from the detective, occupying the quiet with the laptop and the sounds of Light's hairbrush. There was a shift atop the sheets.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. If so, you would gain any withheld information at some point after our arrival. Is this satisfying?"

"I guess." The coffee pot was just calling out to him. On top of that, the cold of being out from under the warm sheets and having the metal cuff directly on his bare skin was maddening. He wasn't so concerned about fun facts on a historical landmark for the time being. It would be a normal trip for the holiday as it had been in the past.

"Light?"

"What is it?" Brush bristles still gliding through his hair, he turned his head to glance over his shoulder. L had finally torn his eyes from the screen, but didn't quite meet Light's gaze. It was focused someplace else, but close to his face…

"Light, might I borrow your hairbrush?"

Incredulous, Light finally shifted his body to better face the detective. Was he actually serious?

"You're going to brush…your hair?" Light ventured.

A small frown settled on L's features. "That is what people normally use a hair brush for, is it not? Moreover, I would rather you not speak to me as if I had the mental capabilities of a toddler."

Sighing, Light tossed the brush over to the other side of the bed. He hadn't quite finished, but somehow the loss wasn't so devastating. He could get away with a few moments of brushing his hair gone, just as he could forget to brush his teeth once in a blue moon. He wouldn't be falling apart at the seams from missing twenty strokes…not that he was counting. While L examined the foreign object between two fingers, Light rummaged around for his phone.

It wasn't long until he heard the familiar sound of hair going through the bristles. Honestly, he hadn't ever seen the man try to tame his mess of hair. He humored himself with thoughts of how different L's hair brushed might look, if it was any different at all. The heel of his hand was brought to rub against his eye, trying to get rid of the fatigue that still clung there.

The sound of brushing came to an abrupt halt. It was, of course, to be replaced by another altogether.

Had there been something else on in the background such as the television, a microwave, a telephone…chances were he never would have picked up on it. But in the quiet of the room, it was all too clear.

A slight grunt of frustration.

L's voice came out in a low hiss. He lapsed into English.

"Shit."

He had to admit it, he wasn't all that surprised…. However, Light wasn't about to turn around and offer assistance. Not a chance. A small smirk crept onto a corner of his mouth. L would either have to figure out how to solve his problem by himself or – heaven forbid – give up and grovel grudgingly before Light. Now, it was a battle of will. How long could L hold out?

Perhaps almost as fun as the groveling was the baiting.

"Is something wrong, L?" Light asked. He was the mannerly student, the model citizen. Well, except for that sly smile he couldn't quite seem to wipe from his face.

L didn't even bother to grunt in response.

He was beyond irritated. It was too good. Unless L found some brilliant solution, Light would win. Certainly the detective had figured out this already. It perhaps only further strengthened his resolve, but it hardly mattered.

"I'm sure you can hear me. Refusing to respond is a bit childish, wouldn't you say so?"

There was barely a pause. L drily replied, muttering more so than speaking. "You would know."

It wouldn't be long. He couldn't turn around now. No, he had to stay in wait. Light went through various settings on his phone absent-mindedly, keeping the weak illusion of appearing busy. It wasn't as if L bought it at all, Light knew. If anything, it further teased him.

"Surely you can come up with something better? It's not as if I haven't heard that one a few hundred times…"

"However, it…" L momentarily ceased, attempting another futile downward pull with the brush, and resumed through partially gritted teeth, "…is very appropriate."

Light toyed with his message inbox. Misa, Misa, Misa, Misa, Misa, Misa…oh, look. Matsuda. Misa, Misa, Misa…

"So L, please reconsider answering my question: is there something wrong?"

He could feel a stare burning into his back.

A whispery sigh leaked from L's mouth mixed in with the hum of his laptop.

"I…seem to have a knot in my hair."

"Oh?" Light innocently said.

"Initially I concluded I wouldn't need your assistance. After all, I could manage to brush it out or, if needed be, cut the said knot with a pair of scissors. But…further complications arose."

"'Further complications' being…?"

It was maddening to not turn around. God, he wanted to see the look on that man's face. It would be the grimace to rival all grimaces. He'd have to photograph it and hang it on the wall, maybe even send it to Guinness.

"The hairbrush is tangled in my hair."

"Well, that's – "

L interjected in his fluid baritone, "Please stop being a coy blighter – it's unbecoming of you – and take a look at it."

"Blighter?" Light asked, fully aware of the connotation. He turned his body around to face the detective, legs crossed and his demeanor dominated by a mild sort of shrewd amusement. L merely glanced at him as he readjusted himself.

"You're quite the parrot today, aren't you." His hand still clung pitifully from the hairbrush stuck in his wild mess of hair. It was no wonder he had difficulties; the knot had been at the back of his scalp. "Though I thought it would be less vulgar sounding than 'jack-ass.'"

"You're cranky."

"Blighter."

"Whatever. If you need a hand as you've claimed, the way you're sitting will make the job unnecessarily difficult." Light stretched his arms a bit, body still trying to shake off the stiffness it'd acquired from sleep. He tried to peer around L as well, catching a glimpse of the handle of the brush. Of course, he had to have had a black brush. The universe was never kind.

Silently L pushed his closed laptop to the end of the bed, shifting his position on the sheets. He bent forwards terribly, his chin nearly resting on his knees. His hands fell to his sides on the comforter, palms facing downward, fingertips still. L tended to resemble the walking dead from time due to those long bouts of sleepless nights, but Light still thought it felt odd. It was almost as if he had gone on vacation and just knew he'd left something enormously important at home, but couldn't quite seem to put his finger on what it was. The minuteness of the feeling, however, caused it to be brushed off after a moment or so.

Light brought his right hand to wrap around the handle of the brush, the other holding down on L's scalp to keep his head steadied. How difficult could it truly be to remove a brush from hair? Granted, the spot was hardly accessible for the sufferer. Nevertheless he gave the brush an experimental tug. L tensed slightly, and nothing else happened. No loosening. His finger on L's scalp slipped just slightly, brushing over some strands.

Soft.

Mentally shaking his head, Light attempted a second tug. L barely moved at all and neither had the brush. There it stuck, indefatigable and sturdy as if it were Excalibur. He heard a shallow sigh from L.

"Pulling it out clearly won't be solving anything. I also don't intend to spend the rest of my days with this sticking from the back of my head," he stated simply.

"Then what, pray tell, do you suggest?"

With a rustling of the chain L crawled over to his nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. A drawer flew open and a pale hand rummaged around carefully. In perhaps under a minute he'd drawn out a gleaming object, reflecting the suddenly approaching light of dawn. It began to overtake the shadows and low lamplight with its rosy fingers. L placed the scissors on the comforter directly before Light, resuming his prior position.

"Are you certain that –"

"Of course," he said, seemingly growing dispirited as the time dragged on. "Just don't get rid of more than you need to. That's all. I'd prefer not to have a bald-spot in my twenties if I can avoid it."

Light's eyes traveled over the dull blades. He could barely see himself in them at all. After a short moment of deliberation his fingers slid through the holes, grasping the handles and feeling its peculiar weight. His other hand searched through the hopelessly knotted hair to find a proper place to quickly free the brush. L remained absolutely still. He made his first decisive cut, strands of black hair floating down to the comforter.

The brush did not loosen immediately. Two more snips here and there created a tiny nest of tresses sitting between them. The knot sat amongst the mess. L's hair had barely suffered a loss by the end of it, likely because of the fact that he certainly didn't lack hair, but the small uneasy feeling found its way back into the pit of Light's stomach.

It was only hair.

Once the scissors had been set back down upon the bed, L's hand went back to run through and ruffle the afflicted area. He hardly fussed over it at all, merely tossing the scissors back in his nightstand and shutting it with and outstretched foot. Light looked to him curiously.

"You did a satisfactory job," L commented, voice a scant detached. "Watari will attend to the mess. I'm going to visit the kitchen for some coffee. I haven't seemed to have had anything reach my stomach yet this morning."

Slipping on some socks, Light could do little more than trail behind. He brushed some stray strands that had lingered on his hands quickly, as if they burned his flesh.

It was nearly time for their departure. The sun already began retiring for the day, weary from the winter cold. Light reached for a simple black scarf within the closet and L grudgingly set to work at putting on his beaten tennis shoes. Clad in his coat, Light strode over to the mirror while adjusting his scarf. Everything seemed perfectly in place. Somehow, though, he felt as though he should still busy himself while L fumbled with his laces. He tucked a few strands behind his ear, brushed his pants, and glanced at the time on his wristwatch. The seconds slipped away. He watched offhandedly for nearly a minute before letting his arm drop back to his side.

In doing so, he caught sight of something foreign on the desk. L never worked on the desk in the bedroom. Or, at least, Light hadn't ever seen it. It was always there against the wall, empty and unused. A wasted attempt, perhaps, at getting the detective to work at a desk rather than hunched over on a bed. And yet, there on the lonely furniture lay a stack of photographs. Light was in each and every one.

On the topmost one, there was L.

Together with similar faces of discontent and faces squished together, cheek-to-cheek.

He began to reach down for the photos, but his fingers curled to his palm and the action stopped altogether. His hand stayed suspended in the air. L's voice rang into the quiet before he could even contemplate his hesitation.

"Your mother sent them by means of your father yesterday. He's practically the Yagami postal serviceman at this point, I would say. Anyway, they are the majority of the pictures she took Christmas evening. You may look at them if you like. They're addressed to you, after all." L's thin fingers delicately pulled secure the knot of his right shoe. "In ten minutes we head for the elevators."

Light peered over at him out of the corner of his eye. "Does it bother you that my mother took a picture of you? This is the first one I've seen of you…."

"And the only in existence, granted she hasn't printed more than what sits there or uploaded it to every social network on the internet." L frowned slightly at the task of doing his left shoe. He continued to stare at the thing, as if expecting it to go away. "As long as it stays that way, I'm not angry about the photo. Do what you like with it. Stick it to a dart board, put it in your scrapbook, toss it in the wastebasket, or even draw a comical mustache or two. It really doesn't matter. Likewise for the ones with Miss Amane, I might add."

Hardly even realizing it, the photos had somehow made their way into Light's hands during the exchange. A hand-written note from his mother was forgotten on the envelope, still on the desk. He flipped through the stack, nearly every one identical. Misa beamed into the camera and posed if at a shoot. He looked like the perfect boyfriend with the flawless smile. With that smile he could fool them all, deceive them hopelessly.

All except L.

Misa returned to the desk to accompany the note. He had no use for them, nor desire.

He held instead in his hands a fragile moment made of printer paper and ink. Why was it that the picture could stay the way it was, he wondered, and not age? In it they remained immune from time, from disease, from loneliness, and from Kira. There were days he hated to see fade in the depth of his memories, days he wished could be put in one of those glass cases and left alone. He held in his hands the only photo of L in the world.

The single picture of L and Light.

"Light…? Light? Have you gone into a catatonic state? Do I need to phone a doctor?" came L's voice, somewhat far-off.

Light quickly set the picture down, bringing himself to his senses. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of L peering at him directly to his right. His large eyes bored into him, curious.

"I'm fine. I apologize. We should be going, shouldn't we?" Light glanced at the face of his watch, finding that it was indeed five minutes until their departure time.

Without a word L began to shuffle to the door and out into the hall. His laces dangled precariously above the ground, ready to get caught under his feet at any moment and send him crashing down. Light followed in a similarly silent manner, the photograph left behind on the empty desk.

L was first to step into the bitter cold of the evening. He almost disappeared into his coat upon exiting the limousine. It was the same he'd gotten on Christmas, the one that generated its own heat. Dry, icy wind pulled his black hair eastward.

Light followed shortly afterward and nearly found himself falling on his face. Right off of the paved road they met ground completely covered by weathered sea rocks. Now with the ravages of winter they all were covered in a considerable layer of ice. He held out his arms to properly steady himself, catching sight of L peering skyward to his right. He was still buried inside of that black coat. Light followed his gaze and found himself staring at the strong beam of the lighthouse. It passed over them far more quickly than before now that they had come so close. Nearly everything was illuminated.

A cold tug on his wrist brought him back to his senses. Trudging off to the small cottage near the lighthouse was L's retreating figure. Light struggled to keep his footing on the precarious stones while catching up with the man. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief once he met L at the door of the cottage without having become closely acquainted with the ground. L knocked on the little wooden door several times. His hands retreated at once to the warmth of his pockets.

Two pairs of eyes watched the door as time ticked away. L busied himself by switching his weight from foot to foot, still relishing in the warmth of his coat. Light glanced at the second hand of his watch periodically. It was a weak sort of suspense.

Eventually the door did creak open, revealing the wrinkled face of an elderly man. He adjusted his thick glasses at once, as if trying to figure out if the large-eyed detective slouched before him was real or not. His gravelly voice sent out a weak cloud of air into the cold winter evening. It was laced faintly with nicotine.

"I'm sorry, boys, but the touring hours ended at four – "

"We are not here for a tour," said L suddenly. The bespectacled man was taken aback by L's curt interruption. L, however, still stared at him unblinkingly.

Light concluded he'd merely watch the following scene with some interest.

"Excuse me? And who might you be?" came the man's response. His feathers were ruffled, changing his stance and further opening the door.

"Hmm…I suppose we should have properly introduced ourselves to you, Ashitaka-san." L hardly seemed to notice the man's contorting facial expressions, having not said a word of his own name. "I propose to you a deal. In return for telling us about the history of your lighthouse and the grounds, we will tell you who we are and our purposes. Quid pro quo."

The elderly man, now Ashitaka, continued to look to L reproachfully. He seemed almost paralyzed in the ensnaring traps that were L's eyes. He managed to find what was left of his voice after that short moment.

"What else do you know, exactly…?"

"About you?" L asked. His gaze traveled nowhere, nothing on his face twitched, but Light knew his mind was at work. L sorted through memories as quick as he could, through facts, until he picked the ones he liked most for the situation. "Well, you are seventy-six years old, for starters. Born in Osaka, dropped out of school at sixteen. Worked in a steel mill directly afterward which produced mainly military supplies. Married five years later to M–"

"That's enough!"

"Oh? I apologize. But in all fairness, you did ask."

The man finally glanced around the hunched form of L to Light's straight figure. Some red had risen to his sallow cheeks and his eyes passed over Light for just an instant.

"And I suppose I'm not going to know his name until you get what you want?" he grumbled slightly. A façade for anxiety.

"Correct. Also, might I request entrance to the house? I can't imagine this will do your heating bill any good."

A frown etched the man's face. He now deliberately avoided L's eyes, despite how much older he was than the twenty-something year old detective. Light knew the gaze that Ashitaka had been subjected to. It peeled away your skin to the bone where you thought every thought, every memory, every secret, could be seen by L. That is, if it were possible. Ashitaka, it seemed, was having his doubts.

"Very well. You're welcome to come inside."

L hardly even appeared to care about pleasantries as he shuffled into the house of a complete stranger, a stranger that he knew all about. All too eagerly he kicked off his shoes – no socks on, of course – and started off somewhere. Before he could get to whatever he fancied analyzing the tautness that was the chain made him lurch backward. He cast a mildly peeved look at Light.

Light, on the other hand, had barely stepped foot into the home. Carefully he set down his shoes next to L's grungy old sneakers. Ashitaka closed the door behind him as he shrugged off his coat. The difference in temperature after leaving the evening air was almost startling. He could feel goose bumps prickle across his skin, causing a light shiver to wrack him.

And, of course, Ashitaka was still looking to them expectantly.

Seeing as though L remained obstinate, the burden had shifted to him. Light restrained a sigh.

"We appreciate your hospitality greatly, Ashitaka-san." Light bowed briefly. He was now the focus of the man's attention. "Though I do apologize for any rudeness from my colleague. He's often not aware of when he speaks carelessly of such things."

The man simply let out a kind of grunt, as if waiting for Light to continue groveling. There was a tension in the air. Light still felt distinctly unwelcome, no thanks to L's previous 'greeting' strategy. L seemed to hardly notice or care about his predicament. He was in his detached L-world again, glancing at furniture and carpets as if they held all of the secrets to the universe and life itself. Light quickly began to formulate something to lessen that all too uncomfortable tension hanging around them, when all of a sudden he was saved by the metaphorical bell.

His wife.

Clad in her gaudy Christmas sweater and fuzzy slippers, Ashitaka's wife meandered into the room. Chances were she wouldn't have even noticed three men standing around near the front door, two being complete strangers. However, she had the misfortune of bumping into L.

Her eyes widened in shock, stumbling backward. "Oh! Oh! Who are you! What are you doing-!"

"Calm down, dear," the man quickly. "They're just guests, here to see the lighthouse."

L turned around at last, peering at the elderly woman with curiosity. A finger dangled from his bottom lip.

"My, why didn't you tell me sooner! I nearly thought I had run into a ghost, dressed in white and so ghastly pale…"

Again, Light was second to be noticed. It hardly shattered his ego. L was just so peculiar, it was no wonder he was quick to attract attention. The kind of attention was another matter completely. But, the woman did catch some movement from him and she switched her attention.

"Oh, so this is the other visitor. Now, here's a healthy glow. But you both look so dreadfully cold! Let me fix some tea before to go back out into that winter air to get to the lighthouse." She turned and began shuffling to what Light presumed was their kitchen.

"Wait!"

The voice was loud enough that she did hear it, hardly having taken five steps. Ashitaka's wife turned, surprised to see that the sudden interjection had come from the recently silent specter-like young man. His big, dark eyes stared at her intently.

"Would you happen…to have any cookies?"

"Why, yes. I made some this morning, actually. I wanted something to do in the house, the weather being so dreadfully bad. I'll bring some back with your tea."

"Thank you, miss."

She managed to round the corner without interruptions and disappeared from sight. L continued to fiddle with his lip with a finger, perhaps staring at nothing at all and leaving Light to keep Ashitaka occupied.

Surprisingly, Light wasn't the one to break the returned bout of silence.

"Well, she'll be back in just a few minutes," Ashitaka stated, not quite as defensive as he had been mere moments ago. "We can talk about the stories you'll want to hear and who you two are in the living room as soon as she gets back. It's just over here."

The three men made their way over to the living room, L trailing behind Light as his eyes roamed over knick knacks and rugs and framed photos. Ashitaka took a seat in what Light assumed to be his usual armchair, large and plush. An unused fireplace stood at one side and was covered with more family photos, almost to the point of excess. Light and L eventually found their way to a couch. At once Light could feel Ashitaka's stare as L just continued to act unusually. It was almost alarming at how common it was for Light to witness L's manner of "sitting."

Just as Light thought he'd have to fill up the uncomfortable silence a second time, L finally tore his attention from the decorations and fixtures. He stared directly into Ashitaka's eyes, perhaps not even intending to make the man squirm ever so slightly.

"We will need information about the lighthouse before we are to tell you anything about ourselves," he stated bluntly.

Ashitaka hesitated. It was written across his aged face that he contemplated giving L a piece of his mind, and yet he bit his tongue instead. Frowning, he began to speak again.

"I can't imagine why you two decide to come out at nighttime just to find out that old story. Keeping your identities secret, on top of that. Folks around here all know what happened at the lighthouse, so I'm assuming neither of you are from around here."

"Continue," L simply stated.

"Hmph. Well, the lighthouse itself is a little old. It has nothing on the age of the surrounding shrines, but everyone's been surprised at how long the Canadian's handiwork has lasted. Joseph Harper came down from Canada in the late 1800s, probably 1880 or thereabouts. He built lighthouses on the southwestern coast of his homeland and he carried his trade to here. This was the first and the last lighthouse he constructed in Japan. I've heard it's been called a 'pepperpot' style, or something like that… Anyway, he married one of the local women soon after he finished making the lighthouse and his own home. This home is the same he lived in with his wife."

"What was her name?"

Ashitaka scratched the back of his head, fishing around for an answer. "Kikou of the Hata clan? It was something like that. I'm sure she was a Hata. Her family didn't take kindly to her marrying a foreigner, but she still went off and married him. They probably would've lived a fine life together. For as long as anyone could remember the waters here were filled with fish and the ground good for growing. The soil stayed fine, but one year the fish just seemed to disappear. It hadn't been long since Kikou and Joseph married. People went for a long time without the fish. The lighthouse had been used to direct ships to the area's little harbor after Joseph built it. But, once the fish left it was used for other purposes.

"If the lighthouse's beam wasn't on, ships risked crashing into the cliff here. Often times, though, the rocks would get you before the cliff did. It was risky stuff getting into the harbor at night before the lighthouse. Sailors depended on it heavily when it did come about. Too heavily, though. Joseph found out a clever way of keeping him and his wife fed. Once a month when the moon was black in the sky and of no use to a ship on the sea, the lighthouse wouldn't be there to help guide it. Sure enough, it'd crash into the rocks and the cliff. No one had hope of surviving such a wreck. Joseph would go down and collect whatever money or gold he would get from the ship, and eventually his wife joined in. She hated it from the start, but once their bellies were fuller and she could buy new clothes Kikou managed to bring herself to lend a hand.

"They were able to live like that for nearly two years. Joseph was able to strengthen his lighthouse, his own home got better furnishings… They never flaunted that new money, though. They were worried of what would happen if anyone heard about their mysterious prosperity. No one ever bothered them and their comfortable life continued until –"

"Tea's ready!" spouted Ashitaka's wife. She shuffled into the living room with a tray in hand, covered with four steaming cups of tea, a bowl of sugar, and a plate covered with the fresh cookies of that morning. L at that moment in time could've cared less about the lighthouse's history.

Unaware of the pivotal point in the story, she passed out the warm cups to each of the men and set the cookies and sugar on the table. It sat in the center of the room not more than an arm's length from each chair. She settled herself into a rocker while L went to work preparing his tea. Light merely sipped at his while Ashitaka and his wife stared with mild revulsion at the seeming never-ending amount of sugar cubes L would drop into his cup. Not until he was satisfied with how sickeningly sweet he'd made his tea and he had grabbed three or more cookies did he return to the couch. He stared at Ashitaka expectantly. Ashitaka quickly averted his eyes and drew in a breath to continue.

"Well, like I was saying, they didn't have to worry about food or their finances anymore. Each trip to the ships that they'd destroyed brought new money. No one ever survived the shipwrecks until one evening during the summer of 1891. It was to be the last time they ever sunk a ship, because in the debris they found a young girl, still clinging to life."

The woman raised her eyebrows, the cup hovering inches away from her lips. "Oh, you're telling that story again! That poor, poor creature. Why, I think Kikou –"

Ashitaka sighed. "I'm getting to that, dear. Could I continue, please?"

"Fine, do as you want," she huffed lightly.

Ashitaka resumed, cup in hand but his tea not reaching his mouth. "Kikou felt the worst for the poor girl. She came from a Japanese whaling ship. It was strange, a girl and a young one at that on that kind of a vessel. Probably she was without a mother and had to go with her father when he went out to sea. Kikou and Joseph hadn't had a child. The woman couldn't bear the thought of letting the girl die, so they took the girl back to their home and did their best to nurse her to health. No one knows how long the girl survived, but her health only continued to decline and she finally died one night.

"They were horrified at what they did to the girl. Hastily they hid her body and fled from their home. They took what money they could and the clothes from their backs. Nobody could ever figure out where they went after that. And, no one could ever find the girl's body."

"Some folks think they've seen the ghost of the girl they murdered around the grounds," Ashitaka's wife said, seriousness written across her face. "I've seen her twice on the beach, and once in the bedroom."

"A ghost?" L inquired. Chewed-up cookies in his mouth hardly made his speech audible.

"People have claimed to see a young girl's ghost, yes," Ashitaka replied with reluctance. "The lighthouse gets tourists because of those sightings. They're few and far between, though, so don't be getting your hopes up if that was your reason for coming here."

L swallowed what cookies were still left in his mouth. "I have to thank you for the tea and cookies and, not to mention, your story. I suppose I can tell you who we are at this point. Do keep in mind, however, that we have a number of questions for you." He brought the tea back to his mouth and took a heavy drink from it, licking his lips. "We are both detectives that from time to time work for L."

Ashitaka blinked profusely. "L? Isn't that the detective trying to catch Kira?"

"Yes, the very same. I am Ryuuzaki and this is my colleague Asahi-san. L is devoting the majority of his attention to the Kira case and is therefore unable to focus on his other work. He's asked us to come and solve the case of the girl's missing body."

So that was it, Light thought. It was more than just spooky stories late at night in a haunted house. L wanted to solve a case. But why, he wondered, did he bother to pursue a cold case that had neither a handsome reward attached or any viable reason at all? Finding the body of a girl whose parents were long dead wouldn't put them on the cover of a newspaper or give a family closure. There was something else.

"But, no one's been able to do that! It's been over a hundred years," Ashitaka said, growing more and more perplexed.

It was Light's turn to play along some more, now that L had spelled out his agenda.

"We're merely following L's orders. He handed us this case, so we will put forth all of our effort to solve it. " Light set down his nearly-empty cup and made use of one of the couch's armrests. "Now, you said no one has been able to find her body. Where have 'they' searched?"

Ashitaka's wife piped up again. "Oh, they never sent the girl off to sea. No one like her ever washed ashore. She was never buried. Years ago, previous owners tore into the ground to provide this home and the lighthouse with electricity and the house with running water on top of that. Nothing was ever found buried in the earth. Nowadays people won't dare to look anymore, because of her ghost that haunts the place."

"Are you sure you're going to try to find the girl?" Ashitaka asked. "If you even do manage to do something like that, it'll be more time than you're wanting to invest into this. There have been searches in the past and not a hint of where that body could be."

"We will find the girl. I suspect she will be found before, say, midnight? Yes, that sounds about right…" L nibbled on another one of his cookies. The pile from the table had already dwindled some more. "Now, please tell us more about the actual property. What here is left from when Kikou and Joseph lived on the grounds?"

"There is one room – a bedroom – that no one's ever tampered with. It was theirs. Kikou's kimonos are still in the closet along with Joseph's things. The bed is untouched, Joseph's cigar case is still half-way empty in a drawer, the paintings are the same…" Ashitaka trailed. "Now, we have and past owners of this house have dusted it every now and then, but nothing has ever leaves the room and everything gets put exactly where it's supposed to be. It's one of the attractions other than the lighthouse. People say they see her ghost there from time to time."

"I see…" L shifted his precarious position on the couch cushions. "Have there been any alterations on this house since they left, other than the addition of utilities?"

The elder man's gaze shifted down to the handle of his cup, raking through his memories. "I can't say there has…"

"Very well, then. We'll need to request your permission to have access to any and all parts of the grounds. This includes every room of the house as well as the lighthouse."

"Every room?" Ashitaka's wife croaked. "I'm not so sure about this. I can't have a stranger rummaging through my valuables, detective or not!"

"Miss, I sincerely apologize for your trouble," Light quickly spoke before L could. "These are L's orders and we can't just come back to him empty-handed. After he removes us from the case he will send others in our place, and I can't assure you that they will be quite as polite and considerate as we have been. However, if you allow us to stay we will attend to the other rooms and check them thoroughly before visiting your quarters."

"That doesn't mean you aren't going to go through my things. You'll just be doing that last."

"I'm very confident there's going to be a wealth of information in that untouched room and the lighthouse. It's highly unlikely we'll need to go to those rooms at all," Light assured. He saw a resigned Ashitaka in the corner of his eye.

While L further gorged himself on another cookie – since when were there only two on the plate? – Ashitaka managed to silence his wife's protests.

Standing from his chair, he pulled from his pants pockets a ring of keys. Old metal and modern steel rattled against each other. He tossed them to Light who caught them in his unchained hand.

"You said you'll be done before midnight? Well, I'll hold you to that. You can go wherever these keys can take you, but they'll need to be back to be by that time. If you end up having to destroy anything on your search and you don't find anything, it's coming from your pockets. That's all."

Light quickly glanced down at his watch. Half-past seven.

L claimed he could solve a century's old cold case in four-and-a-half hours.

Or less.

L nodded just slightly. "We agree to your terms. Now, where is this preserved room you spoke of?"

Ashitaka pointed a finger to the hall his wife had previously traveled to get their tea. "Go down that hallway and take a right. It's the last room you come upon."

"Right, then." L carefully placed his bare feet on the floor. "Come, Asahi-san. We have much to do before the night ends."

Light carefully set his now-empty cup on the table and managed to bow again before the chain pulled taut on his wrist. The sour expression on Ashitaka's wife's face lessened only slightly. He caught up to L a short moment later. More walls lined with photos stared back at them. It wasn't until they rounded the corner of the hall and were out of site did Light speak a word to L.

"How was it exactly that you knew she'd made cookies...?"

"Oh, that?" He plucked the keys from Light's grip and flipped through them, still making his way to the door.

"Yes, that."

"She had some baking flour on the corner of her sweater. Elementary, my dear Watson."

"Just open the door."

A jiggle of the knob confirmed the fact that they would indeed have to use the ring of keys. After a careful examination of what they had, L stuck inside a shiny new key. They were awarded with a soft click and before Light knew it, L had pulled him into the darkness of the dead couple's bedroom with the door closing behind them. He froze, totally oblivious to whatever could be in the room and his eyes desperately trying to adjust to the deprivation of light.

"What was that!" he hissed into the dark.

The sound of tinkling metal and fabric met his ears. Seconds later a match hit a striker and burst into a small, bright flame some feet away. L's pale face became illuminated in the dark. The match was clutched delicately between two of his thin fingers.

"I could see no light switches, so I assumed there to be candles or lamps. The latter is over there…"

The flame sauntered off to some other part of the bedroom. Light stood frozen where he was, not too keen on fumbling over furniture or god knew what to follow L in the pitch-black room. Sure enough, though, there was a lamp. L hastily lit the wick and the lamp created a much appreciated glow. Light released a sigh.

Shadows still clung to the corners and behind furniture, but he could finally take in the sight of his surroundings. It was a peculiar jumble of a traditional Japanese home mixed with Victorian. Small Japanese household deities sat before a mirror. Beside them novels of Brontë, Dickens, Wilde, and Hawthorne stacked high. Their pages turned a sickly yellow, spines in tatters. Red silk drapes obscured the window's view. Fine rugs covered the floor with spiraling patterns and intricacies. A distinctly Western bed stood off of the ground with its proud canopy. His eye was then caught by a fine piece of calligraphy hanging from the wall. However, a finger tapped gingerly on his shoulder, as if it would burn if it lingered too long.

He turned to see the expectant gaze of L, matchbox in hand.

"Yes?"

"You happen to be standing in the way of my path to that," L said plainly, arm across Light's face and pointing, "candle on the wall."

Once Light had stepped out of the detective's way, he repeated the process of striking the match swiftly across the striker and transporting the trembling flame to the wick. He shook the match soon afterward, a small trail of black smoke circling up to the ceiling. Already L seemed to have lit three or more candles in the room along with the lamp.

He was still turned as he slid the matchbox into his baggy jeans pocket. L's head tilted ever so slightly to the right, showing only a hint of his profile. That pale skin glowed in the soft flames' light and black hair blurred with the shadows. He remembered the world in that mirror he'd been entranced by, remembered how absurd it was that it could so easily ensnare him. A strange fancy overtook him that this was that other side. Light almost found himself reaching out once more, just to prove that it was real.

The sound of violins and the taste of vanilla dissipated as L turned around.

L's eyes flickered to his for only a moment. It settled on some other object in the room.

"Well, there is enough light to work by. I'll start with under the bed…"

Right. They were working on a case now. A case that reaped no real rewards and held little purpose.

Light found his voice and said, "Just one moment."

L didn't even bother to halt his descent to the floor. He held up the sheets dangling off the sides to peer beneath the bed and kept silent. Before he could crawl underneath and get ghastly cobwebs and dust bunnies in his hair, Light decided to continue rather than wait for a verbal response that would undoubtedly never arrive.

"Why are we even bothering to take on this case? I can't wrap my head around why you're choosing to expend time with this when you've claimed to have your hands full with Kira." He crossed his arms against his chest and briefly glanced at the gossamer canopy. It hovered just above his head.

"What a shame," L said wistfully, seeming to address no one in particular. He still examined the space below the mattress. "It appears that Asahi-san is incapable of working on a project other than the Kira case. I suppose I'll have to work alone. I'm quite accustomed to it. He'd probably only have served to hinder my efforts…"

Light frowned. "Hinder?"

L still didn't bother to turn to look at him. Instead, he poked his head further under the bed and continued speaking. "Indeed. I'll be able to work far better without assistance, I'm sure."

"Somehow I doubt that." Light crouched down, trying to make out where L's upper torso was in the shadows. "Found any important clues or boogey men yet?"

"Interesting. Well, there's a wooden box and dust in response to your inquiry on my search for clues. Whether or not it will yield any important information is yet to be seen. And," he said, pausing to wiggle out from under the bed, "you almost sound as if you're itching to prove me wrong."

Once totally out from the musty world beneath the mattress L placed the wooden box on his lap, faded and rough on the edges. Dust bunnies peppered his black hair. And, of course, L barely seemed to notice. The detective fiddled with the rusty lock. When shaking the lid yielded no results, he set it atop the comforter and got back onto his feet.

"Well."

Light looked at him curiously. "Well what?"

"You sounded as if you'd already seen something peculiar. Do share."

L was right.

Light crossed his arms, choosing to focus his attention on the steadily burning lamp. "But by doing that, I'd be involving myself in this imprudent case. Which, might I add, is still highly unappealing."

"Ah. That's unfortunate."

Light turned his head ever so slightly. He finally shifted his gaze back to the detective. L had made his way across the room to the stack of crumbling books, opening the cover with care between a thumb and index finger. He scanned whatever was inside with his dark eyes, not once glancing to Light.

"I was hoping that I would not have to resort to this, but," L said coolly, setting Dickens aside to examine the innards of a yellowed Jane Eyre, "it seems I'll have to. You're heartily opposed to this Don Quixote way of doing things. As you see it, that is. So, I'm willing to offer you a deal."

Light leaned upon a post, heedful of its age. He didn't dare put his full weight on it. After so long, it would surely break under the pressure.

He inquired, "A deal? What kind of a deal? Surely you don't mean money. You already provide my family with a salary, the last time I checked."

L's thin hands closed the cover on Jane Eyre and set it aside with the rest. "No. Nothing material."

"Then what? You've certainly been eating up time dancing around an answer."

Two black eyes settled themselves back on Light. The detective remained oddly still and silent. There were plenty of lights in the room to work by, but the shades still hung in different parts of the room. It wasn't the relentless brightness of modern bulbs. Even L's face hand only partial illumination.

"I apologize." L's voice cut into the silence, sounding loud despite how muted he truly was. "I'll reveal our reasons for searching for the girl to you…upon actually completing said task. I'm afraid I still haven't shared a select few details with you pertaining to today."

"So…you're searching for this dead girl not just because you can. Hm. I'd hoped you had more sense than that, but –"

"Are you interested or no?"

Light's list of options was sadly low. He was still constrained to follow the themes of each day, whether they were made up by L or not. The former was typically the case. Also, L had played his cards very well. He knew perfectly well that Light was prone to curiosity and when it came to a challenge, especially against L, he found it hard to refuse if just for the sake of winning. He'd been forced to do idiotic things in the past – dare he try to name them all? – and this certainly wouldn't be the worst.

It was practically another game. L and Light were on the same team again, going from room to room… A murder weapon? Perhaps that would prove crucial. Now, the location – that was really the objective. There were only a few hours of game-play. A few hours and he could go to sleep

a lithe body curled up against his chest

in a nice, soft bed. December had scarcely a few more days. He could go home and sleep in his own bed, alone. That was what he wanted. It was still what he wanted.

Wasn't it?

L stared at him expectantly with those owlish eyes in the bedroom's partial light.

"I've decided," Light said finally. L made no move to comment, so he continued, "I'll join in on this investigation. Your goading had nothing to do with it, might I add."

"Oh, it didn't? A shame. I should work harder at it in the future." He hardly seemed to care, finger dangling from his bottom lip. "Nevertheless, I'm pleased. Do share the information you were so reluctant to talk about earlier."

"Fine. It's about the drapes and the comforter."

"Hm, yes. They are quite lovely."

Undeterred, Light went on, "You would expect them to have bought drapes and a bed set with identical fabric. Time would fade the color of the drapes with their contact with the sun. The difference is there, but the fabric isn't the same. Their drapes are clearly fine silk, but the comforter…"

The detective bent over, carefully examining the deep red comforter. "With this, we must hypothesize that they would make sure that their drapes and bed set would match. If this is true, then what significance does your theory hold?"

"It may provide more information on where they put the girl, seeing as though it would be a decent amount of material with which to wrap a body. That could very well explain its absence."

"Perhaps," L mused. "I regret to inform you that a number of theories will hold little evidence to back them. That is, until more peculiarities are found. I'm going to the closet to rummage around. You can try to pry that lock on the chest with one of your bobby pins."

Light grudgingly had brought out a bobby pin and the chest opened without a hitch. Its contents included in both English and Japanese legal documents, letters, foreign dollars, and other miscellaneous paper things – not one was addressed to Joseph or Kikou. The sheer volume of what did fit in the chest was almost staggering. Light read through these more than once, flipped them over, held them to the light. Well, as best he could with L's investigation of the room. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he'd notice him standing perfectly still. He'd stare at a doorknob or even the wallpaper and then, without any warning, dash somewhere else and peek under a set of drawers.

Even worse was when L got down on the floor to look at things from a lower perspective. Again, he would say nothing except for when he cared to share something worthy of consideration. It was just the way he went around on that carpeting that did nothing short of drive Light up a wall. He couldn't decide how much of it was a bizarre cross between a crawl, a crab-walk, inching along, and god knew what else. Some ways L would manage to twist his body partially fascinated him, but primarily disturbed him. If there had been a boogey man below that bed, L certainly would've scared it out of hiding.

At one point or another L dumped some more things on the bed, a mixture of clothes, knickknacks, and more papers. So as he filed through the chest's contents for perhaps the fourth time (the others just two) an addition of weight dropped onto the bed. His neat stacks were slightly disturbed in the process and he hastened to right them.

"Any bold discoveries?" L asked in his baritone. It held a tinge of weariness which the detective undoubtedly strove to hide.

"You could say that." Light set down a stack of faded and brittle hand-written letters. A small few were English. "None of it belongs to them."

L tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. "None?"

"The majority are addressed to men, all with Japanese names. The only English ones are from American traders. I thought it was strange that they would keep something so suspicious, but they all contain information on later import ships. Aside from that, there are deeds and other sorts of valuable documents. Nothing appeared to pertain to the case at hand, but I began to notice something on the most recent papers. If it were brighter, maybe it wouldn't have been so elusive, but…"

Light reached to a stack closest to him, the kanji barely legible on the paper. He held it with the utmost care, as if it were the thinnest of china. L's large eyes followed his every move.

"There are smudges on the majority of these, some more noticeable than others. It's faintly red. I don't suspect it to be make-up. Perhaps – "

Faster than he could blink, L snatched the top sheet from Light's steady hands. He slid off of the bed, disrupting Light's careful work yet again, and shuffled over to the lamp on the nightstand. Protests were useless, so Light merely realigned his things and prayed L's feet would stay rooted to the ground.

"No, it's not any sort of cosmetics…" L stated, holding the paper between his thumbs and index fingers inches from his face. "I've seen this before."

"Where and when?" Light turned more fully to face him, moving some things to let his legs dangle from the mattress.

"Oh, just a few minutes ago. You've seen it, too. On the way to school every day, I'd venture. It's a mineral substance, ground down from what it used to be. Care to take a guess?"

"Bricks."

"Correct. Now I suppose it's my turn for show and tell. All of the furniture of the room as well as the carpeting is spotless. This we can attribute to the upkeep done by the caretakers. However, there are some possessions which they didn't dare try to clean. These are, of course, clothing items. It's difficult to tell if the closet was ever completely full in order to conclude how much they took in flight, but they did try to cover their tracks as best they could. Kikou neglected to totally purge her shoes of brick dust.

"Their hands and their feet had traces of brick. Either they were in contact with terribly old and weather-worn brick – this would be a task, given brick is highly resilient – or they were building with it before they left." L placed the paper he'd snatched down on the nightstand, though his eyes did not leave it. "Kikou shouldn't have had this dust on her things. Even Joseph would protest to her doing anything but domestic work, putting into consideration the day…"

"He needed all the help he could get," Light spoke. His hands rested on his knees. "They had to leave as quickly as possible, so social norms hardly mattered. The walls of the bedroom could –"

"No," L quickly interjected. "There are no bricks behind the wallpaper. I checked this. Our only substantial evidence is from a few pairs of shoes and your letters. They covered their tracks well, but not well enough."

"Then we're looking for bricks?"

"Precisely."

With that, L took the burning oil lamp by its handle and headed for the door.

L was nothing short of a bloodhound on a scent trail. He never seemed to stay still, going from room to room and examining each and every wall. Light nearly struggled to keep up with him. Every couple of minutes a harsh tug would pull him by the wrist out of one room into the next, making him stumble after. L's pale fist would hit the walls with practiced raps, ear pressed to the wallpaper. However, which each little test his lips would curve downward ever so slightly. L was hoping that they'd find her in the house, he just knew.

After all, if they found the body in the house it would be one less trip into the icy winter air.

It soon became apparent that there was only one more place that they hadn't given a look. The last bedroom in the home simply wasn't considered. Both glanced at it distastefully, as if it was contaminated. This left the lighthouse.

Grudgingly, L pulled on his sneakers and tied some semblance of a knot for each. They left the house while the husband and wife reclined in the living room with a new pot of steaming tea. Head burrowed into his coat and hands thrust into his pockets, L trudged onward to the lighthouse, Light in tow.

A short walk was all it took. Light, now with the keys, fished them out and unlocked the lone door to the white structure. He entered first. Light had been given the lantern and he peered into the inky darkness of the lighthouse's interior. He noted with dismay that it was just as cold in the lighthouse as it was outside.

That, and the wooden lighthouse had a brick-lined interior. A reddish brick interior.

L took his time making his way in. He stopped in the middle of the doorway, simply letting the frigid air tear its way into the lighthouse, and stared at the door's framework as if he'd never seen anything like it. Light drew his own coat closer to his body. A rusty metal staircase spiraled up farther than he could see into a mass of black. He took two measured steps toward it, slow clouds of breath slipping from his lips.

There was no more biting wind.

Light turned around with his lantern dangling from a hand. L stood before the closed door, brushing off bits of ice from his untamable hair and looking generally ill-humored. His eyes flickered to the flame Light held and shook the moisture from his palms.

"What do you propose we do now? I think I can safely say we found some brick," Light commented, a tad snide.

"'The proof is in the pudding.'"

"What?"

"We're going to find out whether or not we've been correct," L murmured. He walked past Light and peered under the bottom stairs, crouching and craning his neck at an odd angle to do so. He spoke again more to whatever bugs could be crawling around on the floor than to Light. "You really should brush up on your idioms, Asahi-san."

Ignoring the quip, he replied, "I hardly think we need to use those names now, L. Ashitaka and his wife are eating more of those cookies in their living room, not pressing their ears to the cracks of that door."

"Light is probably correct. However, I would like to request for Light to bring the lantern to the back of the stairwell. There's a toolbox I'd like to get to."

Once the shadows at the base of the stairs were chased away L pulled out a well-used metal toolbox. Rather than lifting it up and placing it on a higher step the detective plopped onto the ground unceremoniously and flipped open the lid. All sorts of steel gadgets gleamed under the steady flame, undoubtedly used for maintenance on the beam resting above their heads. L didn't bother to look through nuts and bolts and wrenches. From the depths of the great toolbox he pulled out a sizeable iron mallet. He tested its weight in his frail-looking hands.

Light let out a small sigh. "You're going to destroy private property to find a dead body."

L blinked. His pupils were perhaps even larger in the dim lighthouse, if that were possible.

"Well, how else do you suggest we find her? If you can pass through walls like Kitty Pryde, then by all means do so and I'll set this aside."

"Look, I know you can pay for whatever damages you end up doing to this place – "

"You mean damages Light will be doing to this place."

" –but. Wait, me?"

"Yes."

Light brought his free hand to his forehead. The night was growing long. He wanted a warm bed more than anything else. Certainly more than looking for a corpse…

"My point is," Light began again, "how will you go about finding her without just tearing apart all of the lighthouse's innards? Not only do we not have enough energy to pull of something so foolhardy, but with that time-limit you put on us…"

"I want to test the walls first. This shouldn't take more than a half-hour, at most."

L held out the mallet with steady arms, staring directly at Light as he always did. Light didn't waver from that gaze. He remembered how vulnerable those two black eyes could make him feel, how ruthless they could be. He couldn't make those things out in the lantern light. There was something different. Perhaps he'd seen it before.

Another sigh made its way out of Light's mouth. He set the lantern down at his feet and took the weight of the mallet. "Fine. What's your plan?"

"I'm going to pick any part of the wall on this ground level. While my ear is against the brick, I'll have you tap several times with that mallet close to where I am. I need to confirm that there is a hollow space between the brick and the wood. I'm almost positive there is."

"How positive?" Light inquired.

L brought a finger to his lip pensively. "Oh, I'd say…ninety-eight percent. A margin of error for misinformation from the lovely elderly couple. They never said anything about a cellar."

"Because you're without fault."

"Well, of course. I am L."

Light could only dead-pan. "Did I ever tell you you're hilarious?"

L looked at him strangely, a slight frown on his features. "I'm not very good at jokes."

After that L wasted no time in going to the wall. His fingers ghosted the surface before he made a move to place his head against the brick. L demeanor tightened just barely; it probably felt like ice. The detective allowed his eyelids to droop in spite of his discomfort, focusing solely on his sense of hearing. Light took this as a sign to advance and made his way over.

L's voice stopped him as he adjusted the mallet in his hands.

"It's probably completely unnecessary, but I'd suggest you don't use that to bash my skull in while I'm not looking. That would be incredibly rude, for one, and would increase your Kira percentage substantially."

"You have little faith," Light retorted, resuming the task of positioning the mallet. It was almost as if he heard L release a humored snort, but he dismissed the idea.

While L stood completely still against the cool brick of the wall, Light carefully tapped the mallet on its surface. L remained there, lingering after the final sound. His features were no longer tight with the discomfort from the chill. He at that moment existed solely for analyzing information, and yet there was a redness about his cheeks. Light could see it even in the shadowy area.

L peeled himself from the wall after that moment. His eyes opened and looked around at the rest of the interior, as if taking into account each and every brick.

"Well?"

L tore his gaze from the bricks back to Light. His hair lay flattened on one side, causing him to look rather comical.

He scratched the back of his head absent-mindedly, as if bothered by it himself. "There is indeed a hollow space. When I first came in, the brick lining the entry struck me as strange. Anyway, I have an idea where we may continue that practice. Should I hear something different…"

"Then we'll assume she's there." Light finished, letting the mallet hang from his side. His shoulders drooped for a moment from its weight. "Somehow, I don't look forward to it much."

"Oh? You don't want this to be a success? All of our hours for naught?"

"You make it seem as though you're giddy with excitement to find a corpse."

L mused, "In a way…"

"Ugh. Just pick a spot. I'm tired."

"Very well."

If there was ever a time Light was certain his arms would fall off of his body from fatigue, it would've been now. L slowly inched his way along the wall, starting from one side of the doorway, and Light had to keep that mallet raised all throughout. God, he was exhausted as it was. He pined for a bed and the winter chill had slithered its way through his body, despite his coat.

L never asked for a second try at a section of wall. Eyelids firmly shut, he'd stay absolutely still and mull over what he'd heard. Hardly a moment later the process would continue. L would inch along a ways and bring his ear back to the wall and Light would once again have to place some tender taps on the brick. His only consolation was that L hadn't ordered him to tear the whole thing apart. So all he could do was keep up with the detective's snail-like pace and not nod off in the meanwhile.

Roughly half-way around the wall's circumference Light began wondering if they'd even find the girl's body at all. He couldn't really check his watch, but he was certain their time was running dangerously low.

It was then that L didn't move on to another spot. He wouldn't budge at the slightest. Curious, Light watched his still form. Not even a finger twitched on the bricks.

L's casual tone was nearly startling. "Light, if you could…try that same spot again. A bit harder this time."

Wordlessly, the younger man complied. L remained frozen all the while. Then, as soon as Light decided he'd finished, L simply peeled his body from the wall and faced him. Light let his mallet hang limp at his side. The detective had a grimace flicker across his features as he attempted to warm his ear with a hand, rubbing at it.

"Well…?" Light spoke, as L made no move to.

"What do you think? We found her, of course." He spoke with the same air Light would expect to hear from someone discussing the weather. How accustomed was he to this?

"No hoopla?"

"Your hoopla would be unnecessary, Light. I'm going to fetch our lantern before we proceed." L retrieved the still-glowing lantern from the center and shuffled back over to look over that expanse of brick. After a brief moment of contemplation, a single long finger came to rest on a point of the wall.

"That is where you will start," he resumed, drawing back. His hand returned to a warm pocket eagerly. "I'll let you know when to stop. The keyword being 'stop.'"

"Clever." Light brought the mallet back up with distaste. "I don't remember seeing 'slave labor' in the job description."

"You neglected to read the fine print. Now, do start."

The bricks were undoubtedly aged, but Light hadn't bet on them withstanding as much force as they did. L made sure to keep his distance as the younger man drew the mallet back again and again, hitting the wall harder each time. The sound of the mallet crashing into the wall echoed throughout the cylindrical interior of the lighthouse up into the pitch-black above them. However, as Light's muscles began to further protest against such late exertions, a small section caved in. He paused to peer into the four inch-wide hole. It wasn't all that satisfying.

He felt L push him aside and hurry to the small penetration. With the lantern raised he peaked inside with a lone eye. It was higher than his hunched form, causing him to have to straighten his back to see properly.

The detective and his wild mop of hair turned from the hole. Light doubted he cared much about the perspiration forming on his brow or the way he held the mallet atop his shoulder as if his arms were no better than noodles. However, it hardly even mattered. L had turned around with a smile on his face.

Light found himself speechless.

Had it not been for the lantern L held at the level of his face, he was sure he would've missed it. All alone in a nameless small-town's lighthouse he could see warmth fill the cold onyx of L's eyes and his smile. It was almost as if –

"Well done, Light."

The lantern returned to L's side leaving him with shadows playing on his face.

A thin hand gripped the mallet's handle and relieved Light of the burden. L went to set it aside against the toolbox and wiped his hand off on his worn jeans. Light's feet remained rooted to the ground, unable to do much else than watch the retreating figure with concealed fascination.

The same hand returned to clutch his limp wrist and lead him up the stairs.

The smell of saltwater and winter assaulted his cold nose upon being brought into the night. Behind him the massive light of the lighthouse rotated its watchful eye. Almost continually it lit where he stood. Light didn't dare look behind him, avoiding the powerful beam. A few more steps forward and his hand met a metal guardrail. The sea greeted him directly below.

Another soft tug came at his wrist. He hadn't yet become unaware of the cool fingers there and the action sent a jolt through his senses. Light tore his eyes from the dark waters to a large pair of eyes looking up to him. L had crouched down with his back to the lantern room. His own small oil lantern sat forgotten in the watch room below.

Without a word Light took the hint and carefully sat down beside him. L's hand let go of its grip and went directly to rest on a knee. The detective pursed his lips.

Waves exchanged foam on the seashore and plowed into the hillside.

Light pored over the dark waters off in the distance and spoke barely over the sound of the waves, "When will we tell them that she's been found?"

"Some time or another." L struggled to wrap his coat tighter around his lithe body. "Your wristwatch said a scant more than half-past eleven, if my memory serves me."

Silently Light took note of how he sat on L's right. He'd grabbed his left wrist, the one which always bore a watch. He hardly saw any point in checking the time himself. They finished with time to spare. Light released a small sigh of relief.

"So."

"So what?" L retorted. His face now was hidden by the collar of his coat, up to the middle of the bridge of his nose. His voice had a muffled quality.

"You promised to explain your motives for taking on the case. I'd like to know what they are."

"Oh, yes. That." A short silence passed. L's large eyes kept staring off into the sea, seeming almost to reflect its blackness. "There isn't a boat in the waters nor a star in the sky. How sad."

Light licked his dry lips and switched his gaze to the sky. Clouds obscured everything, even the moon. It unsettled him. He'd wanted to see the stars. They never really got a chance to shine over the bright city of Tokyo.

"I'd prepared a lie earlier," L commented. His face remained far-off and unreadable. "I don't like it much now. It went something like, 'this would be a nice intellectual game to break from monotony, a task to test your skills,' and some other drivel. When I caught wind of stories about a haunting, the body of a dead girl not found after over a century…I saw the perfect opportunity to take a peek into the realm of possibilities. I wanted to know what it would be like to work a case with you, what things could be. That is, a case rather than this hokum called the Kira case."

L's hand twitched on his knee, perhaps from the cold.

Light turned his neck to stare at the detective's hunched form. Though he hadn't explicitly said it, it rang all too clear in his head.

L didn't want him to be Kira. He didn't want to hand him over to be tried for incomprehensible amounts of murders. He didn't want him to die. He wanted him to stay sitting at his side and solve impossible crime after impossible crime together. He felt his mouth run dry. He stared unabashed at the lily-white skin of L's face as the lighthouse swept over them with its great beam again.

For months now Light had dedicated himself entirely to the role of Kira. Not a day went by that he did not breathe his mission, his sole duty. Ridding the world of criminals suffocated all other dreams until it was all he had left. When he awoke he was Kira, when he walked to school or the university he was Kira, when he ate lunch he was Kira, when he went home to visit his family he was Kira. And yet in December Light Yagami kissed the silken black hair of L and silently swore to himself he would not smell anything as sweet.

Kira sat on the back burner of his thoughts when he felt L's feathery lips on his neck and those precious nights when he buried his face in his chest. How was it that he chased that ever-fleeting goal of justice as Kira day in and day out, his hands fatigued from the slaughter, when inches away sat something commensurate to his capacity for wonder? How had he for so long chased a dream for so long that would keep receding before him, just as L warned? The greenish glow of the ceiling stars would fade as his eyes drooped and he never once knew that a dream he could touch was in his arms.

He prayed that dream hadn't already passed and that he stood reaching into the air on withering blue grass.

He didn't want L to die.

L shifted his position somewhat and released a soft hum. He flashed his owl-eyes over to gaze at Light.

"My dainty Ariel." The wind blew a bit harder, making a few black locks tickle his nose. He scrunched it ever so slightly. "I shall miss thee; but yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so."

"'Dainty,' huh…" Light mused quietly. He drew his eyes down to look at L's hand instead. "What will you do when your December project is over?"

"Why, you almost sound disappointed to go home. I'm dumbfounded."

"You're deflecting the question."

"Ah. You've found me out. You're getting increasingly good at that." Redness had only furthered in his cheeks and traveled to his nose. He continued, albeit perhaps grudgingly, "There is one event, however, that I scheduled this morning and neglected to tell you about. It's for the thirty-first. Miss Amane will come over to the task force building for a short New Year's Eve party and return to her residence in the evening. I figured it was the least you could do for ignoring the poor woman for these past weeks."

Light pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn't protest, at least not vehemently… A sinking fear settled in the pit of his stomach.

How could he now hope to save L when they would be entering the lion's den? Light couldn't divulge his fears and make L privy to the information that Misa could see his name. Misa would become endangered and Rem…Rem would end it all. Light grabbed feebly for options, turning his clever mind and pulling from all sorts of directions. L couldn't know. He couldn't.

He'd stared at L's hand, trembling with cold, until he'd taxed his already tired mind. He would have to think of something tomorrow. Tomorrow he could come up with some plan. They were hours away from Misa's party and minutes away from having to leave the lighthouse. It would never be this still again. He pushed his dread away with distaste and swallowed his cold fear, if only for a moment.

L felt a startling warmth envelop his hand. Without thinking his own wrapped around it, all too eager to be rid of the feeling of ice water in his veins. His gaze flickered down to the sight in curiosity. He made no effort to escape the grasp. It was delicate and he fretted that the slightest movement would break the bond entirely.

And then he raised his gaze to look at Light's face. Amber eyes stared directly into him closer than he thought possible. L felt the grip on his hand tighten just slightly. They met so near that their breaths embraced together. The world turned darker as he allowed his lids to drop and Light's lips just barely hovered over his own. He could no longer hear the waves or the wind in his ears.

L drew in a sharp breath as the hand retreated and Light's face turned away sharply. At once he opened his eyes to stare at the man in confusion when a new sound met his ears. Feet traveled up the metal stairway of the lighthouse and the aged door to where they sat creaked open. They were the footsteps of a man well into old age.

They both directed their attention to the door as Ashitaka and their lantern came into view. A new distance had developed between their seated forms. He held his lantern before him with a gloved hand and spotted them despite the scarf wrapped 'round his aged face.

He spoke loudly against the wind, voice distorted from his scarf, "I figured you'd end up here. It's well-past midnight, so I thought I'd check in. Any luck?"

"Yes," L managed to reply. His voice was as uninterested as ever in spite of the interruption. "She's behind the brick in the ground floor of the lighthouse. We made a small hole for other investigators or what have you to start on, should you care to get her a proper grave. We filled our quota."

Ashitaka stared in astonishment at the two men but the silent praise hardly settled with Light. L took out his phone to call Watari and would ride home in silence.