notes/warnings:
+ swearing.
+ mild mentions of sex.
+ mild death-god-on-death-god violence.
music: ain't no sunshine, by eva cassidy
Manipulation
L stays awake for several days straight, watching the death toll rise. He is painfully aware of the unease and speculation surrounding this case. Once the media makes the connection and announces that Kira has returned, the whole world will panic.
Which is presumably what faux-Kira wants. And what L doesn't want. He needs to move fast.
Of course, this new Kira will not be expecting L to have a Shinigami as a colleague.
Hm.
"If we can deduce his approximate location, we could send you to search that area," L tells Rae thoughtfully. "You will be able to spot another of your kind quite easily, yes?"
"Maybe, if they are out in the open. But if they are inside a building somewhere, it could still take weeks of searching. Plus, and I don't know if you've noticed, but Shinigami move around. I could quite easily miss them completely."
"But it is more likely that you would see them, correct?" L queries, thumbing his chin.
He cannot use the same trick as last time. Faux-Kira will be expecting that, if he's done his research. He will not be stupid enough to kill someone purporting to be L on international television.
Probably.
"I suppose."
"I have no choice but to take this case on," L reiterates quietly, bowing his head. "If it is – and it isn't – but if it is him, he will kill me. And I will not even have written in the note for you."
"Okay, one, I doubt he's going to kill you. And two, you don't need to say such things to convince me to help you. I don't like faux-Kira any more than you do."
The terror he feels for this case isn't perpetual. It comes in waves. And between those waves, he feels strangely calm. He thinks that has something to do with meeting the less-than-monstrous gorgon. And a lot to do with the giant standing next to him.
Rae will protect him. It wants him alive, after all. He can place his faith in its ulterior motives.
"I know."
L is wearing headphones over his ears, and he is speaking at a softer volume than usual. He has hidden sensors along the hallway floor at five, ten, and fifteen meters distance from his room. The puppy served its purpose, but Naomi obviously lacks confidence in him. It will not take much for her to suspect him once more, and she will not be so easily dissuaded a second time.
"Rae," he says carefully. "I need you to do something else for me, as well."
He gets up and locks the door. Then he stands in the middle of the room, reaches under his shirt, and tugs the death note from its fastenings.
"I need you to take this," he requests. "For a few weeks, at least."
The Shinigami holds up both its hands, palms flat.
"What? Why?"
"Because it would not take very much searching for a member of my team to find it, that is why."
"I think you'd notice if someone stuck their hand up your shirt, L. Even you aren't that oblivious."
"But if I get in a physical fight with someone, if I stretch and twist at the wrong angle, if my shirt is accidentally cut –"
"All things that haven't happened in the past four years, so there's no great likelihood-"
"But if it does happen now, Naomi is certain to notice."
"How certain?"
"Ninety-six percent, I believe."
"Right," Rae groans, snatching the note from his hands. "Okay, fine. Three weeks, tops."
L wishes he could help it in a more substantial way.
"Agreed," L replies warmly.
Twenty-one days is a lot of time to lose, he thinks. You must be quite convinced I will use it in the end, no matter what.
The thought bothers him a lot less than it ought to.
It is late. L is having trouble focusing. Five years ago, he would have laughed at the mere suggestion of him, L, ever having difficulty paying attention to a case. Five years ago he could still pretend that he'd never dropped out of his own chair with bile in his throat and a dead heart.
The only light in the room emanates from the screen in front of him, luminescent blue, barely potent enough to cast shadows across the desk. His eyes are drawn to the glow, but...
Eye.
His eye is drawn to the glow, but he's not really processing. Names and faces. Dates and times. Always heart attacks, nothing special. The information is being sent directly to him from various federal governments. The deaths are being concealed. A concerted effort is being made to prevent this information from becoming public.
L might not be able to stop faux-Kira yet, but he can prevent the bastard from becoming a terrorist. What people do not know, cannot frighten them.
That's why they concealed his mother's death, after all.
And L, L should be frightened. L should be bursting his brains trying to defeat this newcomer that just might send him the same way the last one did. But he is tired. His back hurts. And with all the worrying about Mail, and Naomi walking in on him, and the new case, Rae has pretty much been placed on the backburner.
He remembers the night he was drunk. When it first found out about its eyes. It was openly terrified. Now it avoids the issue and changes the subject and soldiers on, even though its eyes have been stuck on brown for over two weeks. The Shinigami is tolerating its condition, because it wants to help him solve this case.
What consequences will there be for it? Will it die? He cannot have it die. Will it fail to be king? Will it be trapped in hell forever?
Why doesn't anger work any more? Anger always worked in the past. Nothing has changed.
Who was that boy?
Suddenly, his vision is blocked, his entire world rendered completely black. There is a familiar presence right behind him.
"Hallo," he says politely.
"What time is it, L?" Rae asks sweetly.
L thinks. He was looking at the clock just a moment ago. It is…it is…. Well, he cannot really remember to the exact minute, but he knows it is at least…
He has no idea, actually.
"What is the title of the page you've got on the screen, L?" Rae asks, tone bored and strangely paternal.
Hmm.
"I am not entirely certain of that."
Rae sighs.
"How many hours since you last slept, L?"
"Two hundred and thirty-"
"Bedtime," Rae says firmly. "Switch your computer off. Your research will be useless if you're this spaced out."
"May I have the use of my eye back in order to complete that task?" L hazards, moving his head against the bony arm that keeps him blinded.
"No."
"Ah."
No one has ever told him to stop before. He cannot rationalise exactly why the Shinigami's actions make him feel slightly better, but they do.
He will fix its eyes. As soon as this case is over. No matter what.
It turns out that L doesn't need any clever televisions broadcasts. Faux-Kira gives away his location without any prompting at all. He kills an accused rapist whose identity was accidentally released the day before his trial concluded. The offending newspaper was a local one, circulated only in Sacramento, California.
Easy.
Almost too easy.
There is another reason he has been so reluctant to include the rest of his team on this case. Some of them are going to take news of another death note very, very badly. Violently, even. And possibly with a side helping of setting nearby buildings and people on fire.
But if they are closing in, he needs to involve the others. He doesn't want to give them any further reasons to distrust him, after all.
It is time to inform Naomi and Raye. Vaguely. They do not need to know of the exact investigative methods he is going to employ.
"Rae," he says softly. "I want you to go to Sacramento."
"Yeah, I figured."
"That is a small enough area, correct? You will be able to find another Shinigami relatively quickly?"
"Probably. I can also fabricate some feasible evidence once I find our faux-Kira, too. So that you can explain your sudden raid on a seemingly-random location."
So it knows he is going to tell the others. Very astute.
"Thank you," L replies gratefully.
"I'll be gone at least a few days. It'll take me an hour or so of travelling just to get there. You won't be able to contact me."
"Yes, I know," L murmurs. "Will you be all right?"
Rae tilts its head.
"Me? I can't be hurt."
"You are impaired. What happens if your eyes stay brown for too long? You will not lose your capacity to be king?"
"No," Rae insists. "I'll be fine."
"If you say so."
"Don't do anything stupid until you hear from me," Rae adds. "And that's an order."
L taps his fingers against his forehead in a mock salute and smiles.
There is something very gratifying about the way it values his health.
"I fail to see how this will help," she says icily, and takes a dignified sip of her green tea. "I prefer my own methods to yours."
He laughs.
"If that were true, princess, you wouldn't have immediately gotten on a plane as soon as I told you to," he points out. "Besides, your methods are boring."
"So preoccupied with being entertained," she sneers. "Are all Shinigami such children?"
"Hey, that's not fair," Ryuk protests. "I'm practically an elder."
"You are practically an idiot."
"Is that any way to treat the guy who's going to deliver L right into your hands?"
She sighs and deposits her paper cup delicately into the nearby bin.
"If you do that, then you will have my respect," she says faintly. "Right now, you are just a tool. An unhelpful tool, at that. You have the capability to deliver Light to me right now. Even Big Jason is just a mortal. You would have no trouble overpowering him."
"Sorry, toots. That's not the way we work," he replies, as contritely as he can manage.
"Of course not," she replies crisply. "Very well. I am in London, and L thinks I am still in Sacramento. Explain to me how this is useful."
Right to the chase. Ryuk sighs. Doesn't anyone have time for banter any more? Or making apple pie?
Never mind. The sooner he can get through this, the sooner he can get back to his friend. Then they will have so much fun. Possibly she will help him play a prank on the queen. That would be splendid.
"Now you're going to get L to deliver himself right to you," he announces grandly.
She folds her arms.
"How will I do that?"
Ryuk grins, and fishes a small object out of the pocket of his fetid robe.
"All you need are a few helpers and this."
She rolls her pretty eyes disdainfully.
"That is a mobile phone. How will it be useful to me?"
"You won't be able to make calls or send messages from this, but you can still read the history," he explains. "The last dialled number is L's. I know that for sure. I know the person who had it last."
She folds her arms.
"And what does it cost me to take it from you?" she asks suspiciously. "I have already sacrificed half of my remaining life for these eyes."
"Yeah, so it'll be easy. Send him a message to meet up with you. You'll get to see his face, read his name, and presto! Oh, the phone doesn't cost anything. Consider it a gift."
She takes the phone gingerly, as if it might be burning hot.
"Even if what you say is true," she huffs. "L will not venture out to meet someone he does not know, and even if he does, he will be heavily guarded and probably masked."
"Not if he thinks he's meeting a friend," Ryuk points out cheerfully. "All you need to do is sign off under the right name."
"I see. And what name would that be?"
Ryuk grins to himself. This game is about to get interesting.
He might even have some fun, before the week is out.
There is little that L can do until faux-Kira is located, so he spends his time eating friands, training, and squatting companionably in the same room as Mail.
Raye refuses to have anything to do with him, and he has no idea why. And he has caught Naomi watching him with a sad, confused little expression that doesn't suit her.
Clearly, they are not taking news of faux-Kira well.
Of course, he also spends a reasonable amount of time sitting in his office, pretending to research the case, so that when he suddenly locates their suspect, it will not seem so odd.
And when he is not in the presence of the others, he notices the silence. It is always the same, every time Rae leaves. He has become too accustomed to company. L worries that he is a little too satisfied with the more comfortable things in life. There was a time when all he needed was a secure room, a lamp, and a well-connected computer.
Now he needs so much more than that. The beginning of the end. He used to be so strong.
Or at least, he pretended to be so strong. Light still knocked him flat like so many bowling pins, didn't he?
Maybe L is just smarter now, compensating for his weaknesses instead of pretending they don't exist. Yes, he would like to think that.
"L."
"Mm?"
Mail is sprawled in his chair, his long, skinny legs kicked out under the expensive desk. He doesn't smell particularly disgusting, so L presumes that Naomi has recently forced him into the shower. His fringe is eternally flopping into his eyes, and L is still occasionally surprised by the absence of his once-beloved goggles.
He does not really understand why Mail discarded so much of who he was prior to death, when he is also desperate to cling to Mello's memory. It's almost as if he's attempting to sabotage himself.
Maybe Mail actually doesn't want to remember. Regardless of whether he does, L knows he would be happier if all his memories of Mello were erased.
Is there a way to do that, I wonder?
And would he do it? Would he betray his own pseudo-son like that?
I'd wager you'd do anything for him. Even if it was only going to make him the slightest bit happier.
Rae really ought to hold its cursed tongue.
"This case is getting ridiculous," Mail sighs. "The fuckin' bastard keeps abandoning his scam websites and making new ones every three days. It's impossible to hack him in time."
"I need you to keep trying," L urges. "His victims total over two thousand, now."
Mail kicks at the air.
"What if I'm sick of it? What if I want to work on the new serial killer case with the rest of you?"
L smiles a little.
"You? Wanting to do something that involves other people?"
Maybe he is even a little better. Just a little. Almost imperceptibly so.
And damn Rae for even suggesting that L ought to have sexual relations with his protégé. Now every conversation between them has become distinctly awkward. Mostly because L feels obliged to analyse and amend every comment he makes that might sound even vaguely suggestive. Just in case Mail is thinking the same thing.
"By 'something', I meant work. By the way."
"I want to do something easier. This sucks," Mail groans. L shouldn't worry, really.
"Come on," he says fondly. "It isn't like you to give up so quickly."
The younger man rounds on him, eyes glinting.
"I don't give a shit about being challenged," he declares. "I'm not him."
"Oh no?" L ventures, completely uncertain as to whether he is about to make things better or worse. "Why do you insist upon living in his shadow, then? You almost seem to crave it."
"Shut the fuck up! How dare you talk about the two of us as if we're even comparable. He was leagues better than me. And you insult him by suggesting otherwise."
"There is not such a great difference between two and three," L points out, and then ducks as Mail aims a punch at his head.
"There is! And of course I crave his shadow," Mail wails, grabbing him by the top of his shirt. "I crave everything. Anything that is his."
So much sadness. L cannot imagine ever feeling something so deeply. He cannot imagine grieving for five years.
He still misses Matsuda quite distinctly, but it isn't the same thing.
"He would not want to see you like this," L enunciates. "He would want you to be happy."
Mail laughs, an ugly, unhappy little bark.
"He never gave a shit whether I was happy or not," he sneers. "If you knew anything about him, you'd know that. And you can cut the sanctimonious bullshit. You sound like you've been reading too many self-help books."
"You are right. I do not know enough of his character," L concedes. "However, I know of his values. And he would want you to keep yourself in peak condition, so that you could solve cases as rapidly and fairly as possible. And yet you have disregarded that."
Mail releases him, and L is a little grateful.
"That's what he would want of everyone," he cries. "Not just me. I'm not…I wasn't…he wouldn't want anything in particular of me. I am no-one to him."
"Ah," L says knowingly. "I see. So this is a selfish venture. You will not be what Mello would have wanted you to be, because he did not feel for you specially?"
As far as he knows, they were mutually friends. And on several occasions, Mello had gone to significant lengths to ensure Mail's safety. There is a high likelihood that he must have cared for Mail, at least a little. But L can only hold down so many different arguments at once.
"That's not what I'm saying," Mail yells, despairingly. "I don't want to be special to him. I just want to be with him."
L touches his fringe, pushing it out of his eyes just a little. Mail jerks away hurriedly.
"Mail Jeevas. I believe you have tried every possible avenue of grief by now," he says kindly. "Perhaps it is time to simply work around your emotions."
"Don't you tell me how to feel!"
"It is a suggestion, nothing more," L reasons. "Keep him as your priority. But take on his goals as you took on his clothes, his religion, and his name. Do what he cannot do right now."
"I already am. Why do you think I'm here?"
"Because you had nowhere else to go. You cannot tell me you are trying your hardest for the cases. Indeed, you are scarcely trying at all."
Mail snorts, bitterly.
"So what? You want me to eat, and exercise, and become normal because that's what he would have done?"
"Your entire life is a memorial of his," L points out. "I do not see why this is a problem for you."
Mail shakes his head, and L's phone vibrates neatly in his pocket. L retrieves it. A message.
'L, I need to speak with you urgently. Something has happened. Staton Park in forty-five minutes. Rem. '
"What is it?" Mail asks, obviously relishing the change in subject.
L stares at his phone, as relieved as he is perplexed. She's safe, and nearby, and contacting him, and he had not realised how distinctly he has felt her absence up until now. And her timing is superb. He would rather meet her without any antagonistic Shinigami tagging along.
He cannot deny that Rae is less of a problem now than it was six months ago. There is no question as to its motives – clearly it still wants to pervert his morals for its own means – but right now it is helpful and supportive and singularly useful.
And…it is with him. All of the time.
"My informant," he replies vaguely.
He wonders what has happened to her. What had she said? I'm going to do something else for you first. He wonders what she could have done that possibly could have taken so very long.
He doesn't dare presume that she has had contact with Mello.
And why is she calling from a different number? Why does she want to meet him in a different place? Staton Park is also within walking distance, but it is in the opposite direction from Roxbury, where they first met.
She tried to do a favour for him, and now something has gone wrong. Is she being followed? Have other Shinigami gotten angry with her?
Not that any of these things will affect the nature of his reply. No-one knows of his previous liaisons with Rem save for the two of them and Rae. And there would be no benefit for Rae to fool him like this. Therefore, the message must therefore be genuinely from Rem. And she would not lead him into a trap, or into danger. She loves him, after all, and he knows how extensively loyal she can be.
Perhaps she needs his help. Perhaps she simply wants to ensure his safety. Either way, he will go.
He taps out his response quickly and delicately.
'I'll be there.'
He must go.
"For the murder case?" Mail asks, a little shakily.
"Yes. Will you continue to focus on the scammer for the time being?" L asks. "I do not quite know how long this will take, but I should be back before nightfall."
"Whatever," Mail replies.
Things only get more uncomfortable when L leaves, and there is nothing to distract her from the silent, bitter figure in the chair across the room. Naomi has half-heartedly attempted to make her peace with him, but it is clear that Raye wants nothing less than grovelling.
She is not prepared to beg, unless he does the same. It takes two people to have a disagreement, after all.
And he is not the focus of her concerns. Rather, she is concentrating on abetting the mounting panic that has threatened to overtake her ever since L told them about the new case.
Another one, another one, goddamned it, another one.
Of the entire team, she has always been the one who was least affected by the Kira case. She had not emerged from it frightened, or broken, or haunted, or grief-stricken. Occasionally she has nightmares about being in that horrible, passive, empty-headed state. About the other creature in her mind, controlling her, urging her closer and closer to that edge. About the way her detached, unresponsive hands knotted the cord even as she screamed at her body to listen. And the way her feet, still clad in her favourite boots, deftly kicked away the stool as she cowered helplessly in one corner of her own being.
But a nightmare is just a nightmare. A bad memory, a bad dream. Nothing to be afraid of. Not now. Not in this place.
Naomi Penber has always been perfectly in control of herself. She never gets sick, she never becomes weak, she eats well and trains hard and her body does exactly what she asks of it, all the time.
She can predict her own capabilities – the reach of her fist, the strength of her kick, the extent of her sight, the fragility of her bones – as accurately as L can predict the rest of the world.
And so there is no good explanation as to why her body has suddenly started failing her once more. There is no screaming ungodly presence, no absolute rebellion, but there is a lurch to her stomach, a fuzziness to the world around her, a limit to her stamina, an unpredictability to her mood. Things that were never there before. A slow overtaking of her mind and abilities.
Something is wrong with her, and she does not know what it is.
And now, there is a new Kira.
The nightmare is back.
"Wow," Ryuk says dumbly. "You look, er, pretty."
He has always been a little more uncomfortable around human women. It's not something he's ever bothered to try to explain, not even to himself. They're softer and prettier than their male counterparts, and sometimes they confuse him, just a little.
She clicks her tongue at him and goes back to powdering her face in the mirror.
"I am meeting an important man today," she says, with an ugly little smirk. "I ought to look my best, don't you think?"
He taps his chin.
"I don't understand at all. You're killing a human who is universally accepted as being good. Surely that's not what you ought to be doing, as goddess of the new world."
"A necessary sacrifice. A goddess is nothing without her god. Once this ridiculous little game is finished, and I have Light back, we will be straight back into our old routine. Bad people will be punished, and good people will live in safety and comfort. And when that day comes…I will kill Big Jason. I want to hear him beg for mercy."
Humans don't make any sense at all. But in a kind of hilarious way, so he doesn't mind. Besides, death gods don't make much sense, either.
He doesn't have the heart to point out to her that no death note in the world could possibly kill Big Jason.
The white note, on the other hand, might just be capable of such a task. He has to find out. Plenty of time for that later. Plenty.
"Where did you find all of the extra people so quickly?" he asks, changing the subject to something that is hopefully more interesting.
"What, did you think Kira had no supporters left?" she scoffs. "This world might be overflowing with the lawless and the heathens that he purged from the last, but it also contains a large number of law-abiding, moral citizens. Some of them even died for his cause. He will be so impressed to find us all again."
"Right. Great. And your plan from here is to…?"
"Acquire everyone who sets foot in that park within the next two hours," she replies derisively, as if she can barely tolerate speaking to him. "It is relatively abandoned, the chore should not be too difficult for my assistants to handle."
"So how are you going to find the real one?"
"It will not matter. I will execute them all with the death note. Doubtlessly, he will be amongst them."
"Right. And then you'll get Light back?"
"Of course."
He sort of feels sorry for her. He is almost tempted to tell her the truth. Except then the queen would eat his theoretical liver.
Plus, he's kind of enjoying this. And he has something much more interesting to do with his time right now.
He stretches his wings and flies straight out of the room, without another word.
He hopes he gets back in time to see the show.
L doesn't take much with him. A single gun down the back of his jeans, a phone up his sleeve, and a hooded shirt. As an afterthought, he dons an intricate mask that Wedy made for him years ago. It covers the bottom part of his face, ages him considerably and renders him almost completely unrecognisable.
Just in case.
He leaves quickly. According to his calculations, Rae ought to return either today or tomorrow.
The last thing he needs is to referee another Shinigami catfight.
He passes the man himself on his way to L's headquarters. Ryuk waves automatically, even though he knows L cannot see him. He's looking forward to the final conflict of today. He knows L is clever. And L has people around him who love him and will fight for him.
The thing Ryuk is interested in is this; just how many people does L have in such a position?
Humans are fascinating.
So are gods of death.
He reaches the building and flitters through the rooms. He notes the completeness of the surveillance system, and the taps on the walls and floor. He briefly regards the other humans, the depressed young man in a room full of acrid smoke, the frightened woman pretending to be confident, the angry man who is obviously working way beyond his actual capacity.
None of them interest him. He is very specific in his choices for entertainment. Besides, there's only one thing in this place capable of seeing him right now. His favourite colleague in all of the worlds.
Who isn't actually here yet, but will be in a few minutes. Ironic, really, the way they just managed to miss each other.
Ryuk plonks himself down in the middle of L's room and waits. A moment later he gets up, raids the fruit bowl, and goes back to waiting. A few seconds after that, he spits out a mouthful of polystyrene and mutters balefully about L's choice of artwork.
Stupid fake apples.
"Ryuk? What the hell are you doing here?"
Ryuk beams and stands up.
"Hi, kiddo! How have you been?"
Rae glowers at him.
"That was not an answer to my quest….where is L?"
"Why are those the first words out of your mouth?" Ryuk sulks.
Fine. Is no one going to do anything amusing around here?
"Because he's missing, and here you are," Rae snaps. "What the fuck is going on?"
Clever, that one.
"Well, I've got some good news, and some bad news."
Rae punches him. It happens so quickly that Ryuk doesn't have time to duck or block or react. He's already laughing by the time he connects with the wall.
"Say, you're doing well. You're learning from L and his team, huh? But I guess you haven't convinced him to use the death note yet."
"He will, and tell me the goddamned news before I hit you again."
"Geeze, okay. Well, the good news is…um. And the bad news. Err."
Ryuk sticks one spindly finger in his mouth and regards the ceiling. He hadn't actually planned this conversation much past that particular line.
"Wait, is L being murdered by a Kira supporter with a death note good news or bad news?"
Rae screams at him in response.
Heh.
The park is mostly deserted, the mid-afternoon rain soaking the grass, the benches, and his clothes. There is mud between his toes. The area is almost excessively secluded, bordered on three sides by lines of thick trees.
He crouches on the ground, with his back to a tree-trunk, and waits. The soft background noise of precipitation handicaps his hearing, and he swivels his head back and forth to make up for his huge blind spot.
He hates feeling so useless. He hates the way he needs Rae, or one of the others by his side in order to function normally.
Rem will protect him, when she comes. He trusts her. She will keep him safe.
There was a time when he could rely upon himself so utterly that even Watari's duties were mostly peripheral. Sometimes he wants nothing more than to relive those days, over and over, the best he ever was.
There are people around the park, beyond the veil of foliage. He can hear faint voices, and he can smell the distinct tang of petrol from recently-parked vehicles. They were here before he arrived. He is not being followed.
He hopes Rem has information on the faux-Kira case. That would be infinitely helpful. The investigation will be nothing but stressful for everyone involved, and the sooner it is resolved, the better.
He wishes he didn't see remnants of Light in so many of his cases. He wishes he could forget, surrender the memories of that man as completely and easily as handing back a death note. Because, oh yes, he knows about that little loophole. He knows exactly how Light pulled it all off. So clever. How could he possibly have competed?
If Light ever returns, L will be able to take him on knowing all of his secrets. Theoretically, L ought to win.
'Theoretically' is not a very comforting word.
But oh, if that day must come, L would have it come right now. He would have this faux-Kira be the real Light, psychotic and laughing, all the last shreds of pretend morality evaporated. He would have that fight now, today, or at least within the next ten months.
While he still has Rae.
Because L is sure, he is absolutely certain, that the two of them could vanquish Light for good. Rae's staunch agreement with the original Kira's goals is purely idealistic, and if Rae saw the real Light - lying and scrabbling and manipulative and pathetic - L knows it would take his side in a heartbeat.
And Light Yagami would be begging to be let back into hell.
And that is such beautiful, satisfying mental imagery that L neither hears nor reacts to the footsteps near him in a timely manner. His hands are seized and dragged backwards, pinned to either side of the tree that was supposed to hide him. A tiny, shocked noise escapes him. There are two men standing over him, faces hidden inside gas masks.
"What are you doing out here, old man?"
He kicks out, but they're too nimble, and they've got him at the perfect angle. They planned it, they planned it, and yet they cannot possibly know who he is. Only Rem knows he supposed to be here. This is an ordinary mugging.
How did this escape his notice? How stupid has he become?
One of the men presses a rag over his mouth and nose, and the perforated latex mask does little to protect him from the emanating fumes.
Fuck, he thinks, and the world goes black.
"I don't really get why you care, kiddo. Surely if he dies, another human will be much easier to convince. And you've still got the better part of a year."
Rae is ignoring him. It is standing in the centre of the room, with both hands on the back of its neck, panicking.
"Fucking hell I can't believe you let someone pretend to be Rem. He's…how much time do we have? At his walking speed, he'll-"
"He'll be there by now, they'll already have him unconscious," Ryuk points out gently. Shinigami can't actually suffer from high blood pressure. He's pretty sure. They don't have any blood to start with.
"When I am king, I will have you thrown in the fucking dungeons!"
"Oh yeah, about that," Ryuk begins, and then remembers he isn't allowed to say anything about that. "Never mind."
"I'm going after him!" Rae decides. "And…and don't you dare interfere with any of my humans ever again!"
"Uh, how is that going to help? You can't…touch anyone or move anything in front of other humans. If L can't see you then you can't talk to anyone. Rules are rules, you know."
"And it's not against the rules to enable a human to pose as a Shinigami?"
"Not as far as I know."
Rae is pacing the room so fast that it's painful to watch.
"He doesn't know that Rem is dead! I didn't tell him. He's…you've…you…fuck you, what do I do?"
Ryuk tilts his head. This is also…interesting. And not entirely what he expected. Maybe.
How much damage is too much damage?
"I dunno? Nothing? I mean, the lady who owns my note doesn't have the funds for cameras right now, but I will only take ten minutes for the car to arrive at her place, and then she'll see his face, and you'll have to get a new human to play with."
Something glints in Rae's eyes, and Ryuk suddenly realises he's missed something. The eyes have changed. Geeze.
But that's a different conversation for a different day.
"Nothing I can do, huh?" the younger Shinigami says darkly, examining its death note. "We'll see about that. Damn you, Ryuk."
Raye Penber is no damn genius, that's for sure. He is an ordinary man, with very basic desires and goals. He wants to make the world a better place, and he wants to be rewarded for his efforts, and right now he'd really like L to just disappear out of his life. And more importantly, out of Naomi's.
The bastard just…he doesn't even realise what he's doing, and that's the worst part of it. He unwittingly consumes people. He steals wives from loyal and deserving men without even meaning to, through some indescribable magnetism that Raye detests but does not understand.
And…and Naomi loves L. More than she loves her own husband.
Well, fine. This isn't over. L isn't the all-powerful enigma that he used to be, and Raye will prove to his wife that he is more worthy of her time than an emotional cripple with one eye and no social skills.
Intellect only goes so far. Only Raye can offer Naomi a future.
And if she won't accept that, then.
Then…she'd damn well better! After everything he's done! After living in this godforsaken place day after day. After blindly following L through fire and slings and arrows. After he's waited so long for them to be a proper family and have a proper life.
After everything.
He hates L. And Naomi is exhausting him. And…oh, here's his other favourite person. Bloody perfect.
"Hey," Mail says, a failed attempt at a courteous greeting. "I'm bored again. I'll work on this case with you for a while."
"You will not," Naomi says sharply, because she has to comply with L's orders, of course.
"You can't tell me what to do."
"I can in L's absence," Naomi retorts. "I'm second in charge."
Maybe it's the power, Raye realises. Maybe it's got nothing to do with L, really.
Or maybe that's how he gets people. They are drawn to his infamy and strength.
"I don't have to listen to him, either."
Mail hasn't fallen for L, so obviously his power isn't limitless. Then again, Mail is so fucked up that he quite possibly has ash coursing through his veins instead of blood, so that is little comfort.
"But you do," Naomi reasons. "You listen, and you work for him, and you stay here, and you continue to live."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"You care about the things he says," she finishes defiantly, and Mail flinches and scowls at her.
"How the hell is that attitude helping anything?" Raye snarls. "Are you trying to push him into leaving? Your precious L would be devastated."
"Don't talk about him like that!"
"Don't talk about him like that!"
They both speak at the same time, united in their indignation, and then Mail glares at Naomi, and Naomi glowers at Raye and silence reigns supreme.
Raye tries to disregard the fact that if Mail left, Naomi would be the only member of the team for whom L held non-professional feelings. She would be the focus of his social attention.
Not that the man has been seeking very much social attention lately. Wasn't that part of the reason Naomi was so suspicious of him in the first place?
And what is her problem, anyway? L aside, she has been picking fights and making less-than-brilliant decisions all over the place. Her stamina has been sapped, and if he didn't know better, he'd say she had taken ill.
But his beautiful wife never gets sick. Which means something else is wrong. Ane he is terrified, absolutely terrified, that that something is her heart.
The three of them are standing in an angry little triangle in the middle of the room, barely an arm's length between any of them. So when someone presses something hard and flat against his shoulder, he presumes that it must be Watari.
Said object turns out to be a black, bound notebook, and Watari then reaches fucking over his head to tap Naomi and Mail with it in turn.
Wait a minute. Watari isn't tall enough to reach over his head. And that arm isn't…what…what the hell?
Is this some sort of practical joke?
"Oh my god," Naomi breathes, one hand clamped over her mouth, her skin rapidly turning from pale to white to a faint, waxy green. She looks as if she might pass out, and Raye is about to assure her that Watari is just dicking around, for some absurd reason, when Mail takes a shotgun out of his coat and fires several rounds into the wall behind Raye.
"Yeah," says a new voice. It is unfamiliar and therefore definitely doesn't belong in their headquarters. "That isn't going to work."
"Jesus fuck, it's talking," Mail hisses. "You. Man. Turn around, there's this…there's…there's…"
Raye is distinctly certain that he does not want to turn around, because there's a chance that the two of them aren't actually hallucinating.
Naomi grabs him and practically reefs him to her side, ridiculously strong for her fragile state.
"It's a monster," she whispers into her hand.
Raye can see it from here, and he would really like to wake up from this nightmare right about now, because it's a ten-foot flaming skeleton with wings like knife-blades and it is going to kill them all and this cannot possibly be real.
"It's a Shinigami," Mail corrects shakily. "Fucking fucking fuck."
"I don't believe it," Naomi says softly, and he loves her with all his heart, really he does. "We're all going to die."
"Oh, shut up, all of you," the thing snaps. "You don't have time for this. You have eight minutes to intercept a car carrying L before he is delivered to the new Kira and murdered."
The colour returns to Naomi's skin impossibly fast, and she cocks her head.
"You…you're working for L?" she demands, and there is an air of told-you-so in her voice that baffles him. There's a fucking skeleton in the room. Who cares about L?
Wait. He's going to be killed?
"He can explain everything later," it says, with an irritated haughtiness that Raye can almost relate to. "Right now you need to go. I can show you where the vehicle is headed."
"I'm going to kill you," Mail declares, his eyes wide and vacant. "I'm going to kill all the Shinigami. It's your fault."
The skeleton stares at him. It has brown eyes, which is kind of disturbing. Bare skulls shouldn't still contain eyes.
"You do that, crazy," it says nonchalantly.
Naomi's sucks in a little breath, and then smiles wryly.
"You've been here for a while, haven't you?" she says knowingly. "I knew something was wrong. When we find him, I am going to fucking kill him."
And, immediately taking charge, she grabs his hand and Mail's arm and drags them towards the door, already dialling Watari. The giant death-god-monster-thing flaps after them.
All he ever wanted was a damn normal life.
tbc
a/n:
+ next bit might be another two weeks, maybe even more. I have to do some serious plotting before I'm ready to post it. my apologies for this. I am a woefully disorganised sort of writer.
+ for anyone who is wondering, I aten't drowned.
+ thank you, thank you, thank you.