IMPORTANT: It has been brought to my attention that I made quite a mistake in the last chapter. At this point in the investigation, L shouldn't know about the notebook—so for the sake of continuity, I edited the last chapter. Now, instead of talking about the notebook (which again, L shouldn't know about), Beyond simply refers to the notebook as Kira's power. You may want to go back and reread just the conversation between Beyond and L just to clarify. So, L does NOT know about the notebook yet. Sorry (really sorry), and thanks so much to the two reviewers that pointed that out. I can't tell you how much I cringed after realizing what happened.

To Mika: Beyond's call was untraceable, even for L. Thanks for asking! And of course, thanks to everyone else who reviewed. You really made my day!

Chapter 4: Midnight

L crouched on the floor of his room, Light's body cradled in his lap. How did I let this happen? He questioned himself endlessly as he raked his fingers through the boy's sweat-soaked hair. His normally perfect features were drawn into an expression of unease, his flesh paler than it should have been. He looked nearly deceased. Briefly he considered the possibility, then scolded himself for being so childish when he reminded himself that Light was quite literally gasping for breath, so he couldn't be dead. But the rational part of his brain seemed to be ignoring that fact, for all he could think about was the fact that Light had collapsed, he was in pain, and he could be about to die! L clutched Light close in an attempt to quiet his mind, to convince himself that the collapsed teen was not, in fact, dying. Although the way he was gasping for breath didn't promise good fortune.

"L," Watari said from the doorway. "The ambulance is on its way. I will move Light downstairs, if you allow it."

L was too shaken to reply at first. What? What ambulance? Was there something wrong? He shook his head violently to clear the fog from his brain. "No," he said. "I will carry him." The detective wrapped his arms around Light and lifted him, fighting against his weight to carry him from the room and to the elevator. Light shifted weakly in his grasp, his breath still coming in short pants. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors opened and L stepped out. They were on the ground floor now—and L could hear the sirens of the ambulance approaching. He lay Light on one of the sofas, not comprehending what was going on around him. He thought that maybe the task force was asking questions, that Soichiro was kneeling beside his son, that Watari had a hand on his shoulder—but then again, his mind was addled, so it might not have been real. Then, finally, the paramedics were there, and someone was asking him to step away. It was only then that he realized he hadn't let go of Light. As it was, Watari had to step in to pry his arms off the teen.

L insisted upon riding in the ambulance with Light under the declaration that he had to keep an eye on the Kira suspect. Of course, anyone present could see right through the shallow lie. He was simply too concerned to leave Light's side. The paramedics worked on Light as they rode. One hooked an IV into the back of his hand; another hooked up sensors that broadcasted Light's vitals. L was stunned to hear the irregular beat of his heart, and how the paramedics sounded so frantic while attempting to repair the damage done to his fevered body. His fever was dangerously high—they claimed that that, along with dehydration, was the cause of his collapse. They said L had made the right call in calling for the ambulance—the dangers of having this high a fever for this long were endless, and every second Light wasn't receiving treatment, the dangers grew greater in number. Of course, that only served to remind L of how careless he'd been with Light's life. He'd kept the boy, suffering, for upwards of four days, lying helpless in his room. His chest constricted at the very though of what the teen had been subjected to. L began to raise his thumb to his teeth—no, he thought, lowering it. He had been gnawing on the abused finger far too often lately. It was beginning to crack and bleed.

They were at the hospital and in Light's room in what was probably minutes, but felt like seconds to the stunned detective. Time whirled around him too quickly, leaving him behind. One of the nurses questioned his wellbeing with a concerned look on her face, offering to bring a wheelchair so he didn't have to stand for more time than was necessary. L had refused politely (at least, he thought he did) before forcing himself to stand and follow the path down which they had taken Light. It… it hadn't sounded good, he knew. The fever had been too high for too long, and it already wasn't looking good…

No!

L gritted his teeth, shaking his head violently. He couldn't let himself think like that, not now! He had to keep a level head, for Light's sake. What would he say if he learned the great detective was losing his head because he had fallen ill? He would be furious! What the hell are you thinking? he'd say. Do you want Kira to win? Are you just going to sit there and mope around, waiting for me to die? Go back to work, you moron! L almost smiled at that—it was exactly like what Light would say, were he conscious.

But he wasn't.

Because of L.

… There was that guilt again. Logically L knew he wasn't at fault for Light's fever. It had been a bodily response to being pushed to hard so soon after being released for confinement—

L winced. That made it his fault, then. He blinked, looking once again at his surroundings. Oh… when had he arrived in a hospital room? Or more appropriately, outside one. He was slouched over in a chair, not bothering to assume his signature crouch. He assumed that the nurse had seated him here before running in to work on Light. From inside the room he could hear distant beeps and clicks, and perhaps the muted voices of doctors and nurses. He couldn't be sure though, for he was aware of the state he was in mentally. He was frankly surprised that he had even been allowed in the building without being sent to some sort of psychiatric evaluation. If the blank stares hadn't done it, surely the lack of response would have.

But no, here he was, just as useless as he'd been since Light fell ill. He wanted to curl up at the thought, whither away. It wouldn't be the worst fate, he reasoned.

†††

Hours passed. Was it days now? No, it hadn't been days. He would have had to eat or drink if it had been days. Someone would have said something. So hours it was, then. He thought that Soichiro and the rest of the task force appeared at one point.

"Ryuzaki," Soichiro gasped, clasping onto his shoulders and shaking him lightly. "What's going on? What have they said?"

L stared blankly, before finally registering his question. "They… they said that it's bad."

Soichiro's expression softened. "Ryuzaki… I'm sorry about this. I know how hard you tried to keep it from coming to this."

L just rubbed the area at his wrist where the handcuffs should have been. They were gone now, of course. He couldn't quite remember where they had gone, or even when they had been removed. Everything in the past 24 hours seemed to be blurring together into one giant swirl of color and emotion. "Bad," he repeated, as if Soichiro hadn't heard him the first time. "The fever was too high for a long period of time. I'm sure you know the implications of such a thing…" His voice cracked. He nearly choked trying to control it. Damn! He thought desperately. Why am I letting this effect me in such a way? I shouldn't care this much, he probably hates me for this! The thought was depressing. Even more depressing was the thought that Light might not ever get to tell him how upset he was. After all, the fever had just been so high, and severe damage to the brain wasn't something his logical mind could just rule out.

"It's okay, Ryuzaki," Mogi said softly, expression one of pity. "We know you did everything you could. Sometimes it just isn't enough."

"Just isn't… enough?" It didn't sound right to the addled mind of the detective. How could it not have been enough? He had done everything, everything right, only to end up with… this. With a suspect that would most likely not make it through the night.

It was at that moment that the head doctor chose to emerge. L turned his head away. He didn't want to hear what he already knew, that the outlook was not at all positive. Sill, he heard it.

"What's the news?" Soichiro asked calmly.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably, no doubt unnerved by the group of people watching him so closely. "You are the patient's father, correct?"

Soichiro nodded shortly.

"Well, first off, I can tell you that it's not looking too good. His fever was unnaturally high, and it took a heavy toll on your son's body. Not only have his internal organs suffered from the illness, but the possibility of damage to the brain is high. Even if he recovers physically, he most likely won't be able to function as he did. He may simply fall into a coma and never awaken."

L sucked in a pained breath. No… he refused to believe it. Not Light!

"But that's assuming he makes it that long," the doctor went on. "As it is, the fever is being stubborn. Nothing we've tried is affecting it. At this rate, he won't live through the night."

It was too much. L could feel a wet heat building behind his eyes. I refuse to cry! L does not cry! Clearly his body wasn't listening to his frantic pleas for it to just stop.

"I… I understand." Soichiro's voice was shaking. "Thank you, doctor. Can we… stay here? Just for tonight."

The doctor nodded. "That would be best. If he has any other family, it would be best to call them before…"

"Yes, of course." Soichiro brushed past the doctor thoughtlessly and entered the room where his doomed son was lying. The rest of the task force followed. This left L alone to his thoughts. He refused to believe that it had come to this. That his lapse in judgment had led to what was most likely going to be Light's death. One silly little mistake… getting Light back on his feet and to work before he'd had a chance to build up his strength again…

L pushed himself to his feet and walked into Light's room. There he stood, behind Soichiro and the others, watching silently. Light was just as pale as he'd been when he'd collapsed. Too-white skin gleamed with sweat, eyes were squeezed closed, fists clenched. He was still struggling against dreams… though L was certain his movements had grown weaker considerably.

"Light…" Soichiro whispered, clutching his son's hand. Tears were rolling down his cheeks in a terrible display of affection.

"Chief Yagami," L said at last. "I don't want to bring this up now, but Sayu and your wife—"

He straightened jerkily. "Yes. I will call them now."

Then he was gone, and it was the task force and L staring down the youngest member of the team. Matsuda was in tears, the idiot, blubbering endlessly. Mogi and Aizawa looked saddened, but resolute. L noticed that Mogi was wearing his manager outfit—he must have just changed to head out on a job for Misa.

Misa… she should be told that her boyfriend was near death. L sneered at the thought—it was obvious to all that she loved Light, but he clearly showed no love for the teen model. She didn't deserve Light, didn't deserve his love. And I do? L questioned himself endlessly. He noticed Mogi and Aizawa leave the room. They cared, yes, but they most likely couldn't stomach the thought of being present at the moment of death. Could… could L watch Light Yagami die? Could he sit here in silence while his first and only friend breathed his last?

He… he didn't know. L reached out and took Light's hand. It was hot—far too hot. He closed his eyes, bringing his forehead to rest on his palm. He imagined Light's caramel eyes—so filled with life and mystery. He imagined the way Light had looked at him after they'd played tennis, or after they'd eaten together in that little café. Then he looked at the pale skin of the boy lying before him, and imagined never seeing those brown orbs again. He imagined never hearing his voice again, his little insights and quirky little tidbits on hygiene and food, and whatever else caught his fancy. He imagined waking up in the morning with Light's half of the bed cold, the handcuffs lying abandoned in the bottom of a drawer in his desk.

L ran his fingers up and down Light's wrist as he considered the thought of losing him to this illness. His only equal, dead. He shuddered and thought about when he was older, nearing the end of his life, looking back and remembering Light, still caring for him even though he was eternally 17. He imagined sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of the orphanage in England and telling the kids at Wammy's House all about little Light Yagami and his arrogant tone, his swaggering walk. They would be in awe of his description, of course. But Light Yagami would be fictional to them. They would never have seen his face, heard his voice. They would never know what he looked like when he was upset, or happy, or sleeping. Never.

Light's breath hitched in his sleep.

L held his hand harder. "You can do this…" he said shakily. "You can survive." But it was becoming harder and harder to make himself believe it.

†††

Sachiko and Sayu arrived later that day, both teary eyed and red in the face. They were a complete mess, L realized. But then again, he was as well. He was just better at hiding it. They stood over Light for hours. Just watching.

"You have to remember that this isn't certain," Soichiro offered his sobbing family. "The doctors said that it's possible he'll live."

That hadn't seemed to sway their tears. At some point they left to sleep in the next room over after saying their goodbyes. L couldn't understand why they had left. They were his family, shouldn't they want to be there until the end? Actually, they probably didn't. L certainly didn't want to watch Light die. But he couldn't quite bring himself to leave. His eyes raked over the heart monitor. The beeps had been growing slower for the past few hours, ever since midnight struck. The doctors couldn't do anything else, he'd been told. So he just had to sit and watch as the beeps grew further and far between.

It was around three in the morning when L realized that Light was going to die. He knew it, watching him in his sleep. He hadn't moved for hours. L bowed his head, refusing to look. But somehow his eyes just locked back onto his rival's face. Rival… was Light his rival? He didn't feel like it, not anymore. He supposed that a near-death experience would shake anyone of their ideas. No—he reminded himself, this was not a near-death experience. He was going to die. Now.

L did the only thing he could. He leaned forwards, sealing his lips to Light's forehead, then sat back, hand in hand, to wait out the rest of existence.

†††

Beyond sucked the remnants of jam off his fingers, eyes glued to the screen. Light's hospital room was dark at this point, but it was still light enough for him to see L's affectionate but devastated kiss bestowed upon the dying boy. Truly, this was causing him a delicious amount of pain. Beyond offered the darkness of his room a toothy grin, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Just what are you laughing about?" Ryuk inquired. The shinigami had been rather quiet ever since he'd gotten his hands on the crates of apples—quiet, that is, other than the disgusting crunching sounds that had been emanating from the back of the room for quite some time now. Beyond had begun to wonder if the shinigami even knew what it meant to chew with your mouth closed. "You can see his lifespan, can't you?"

"I can." Beyond's eyes locked on the monitor thoughtfully. "It's a shame, isn't it? I wanted to see what color a god's blood was…"

The shinigami finally ceased chewing just long enough to ask, "You're not upset?"

"Of course I'm upset!" the murderer snapped furiously, his mood swinging from calm to enraged in a mere second. "I'm furious, you imbecile! This ruins everything! All that planning… and for what?" His hands darted out to grip the monitor, the material creaking in protest. He stayed frozen that way for a moment, then seemed to gain control of himself, exhaling deeply and leaning back in his chair once more. The gears of his mind were turning full speed, struggling to deliver unto him a solution to this rather large hitch in his plan. "Ryuk," he said at last. "Just how much can shinigami manipulate a human's lifespan?"

The shinigami cackled, "What, you want me to save Light? Sorry, can't be done. Even if I wanted to, I can't just snap my fingers and bring his lifespan back up. Looks like you're just out of luck on this one!"

"Answer the question," Beyond said softly. "How much control do you have?"

"If you're looking for a loophole, you're not going to find one," Ryuk responded carelessly. "But if you really want to know, then I guess we don't have much control at all. We can shorten humans' lives by killing them, cut their lifespans in half with the eye deal, or lengthen their lifespans at the cost of our own lives. But that last one only works if the person's in a situation where using the Death Note will save them. Face it, there's no way around this." The shinigami popped another apple into his mouth.

"I'm not convinced you're telling me the truth," Beyond growled dangerously. "There must be something. And if any shinigami was going to figure out a loophole, it would be you."

"What, am I that bad?" Ryuk protested. "Come on, cut me some slack here!"

Beyond slammed his fist down on the desk, effectively silencing the shinigami. His eyes darted to the monitor once more. The numbers were going down, and down, and down… "We don't have time for this! If there is a way to save him, then do it! Or would you rather him die? You do understand that if he dies now, you'll be breaking a rule, right? You have to kill him with your Death Note! If you don't, then you'll have broken one of the vital rules! So save him and stop that from happening!"

Ryuk tilted his head to one side. Beyond shuddered at the sight—the shinigami's head was tilted just a bit too far, making it look as if his neck had been broken. "Oh yeah, I hadn't thought of that! Well, I guess I'd better kill him."

"What?"

Ryuk produced his notebook and flipped to a half-filled page. "Well, there's no way to save him. Let's see here…"

"You moron!" Beyond hissed. "Stop that at once!"

"It's nothing personal," the shinigami responded. "I'm just looking out for myself here. You said it yourself, I'd be breaking a rule if I didn't kill him."

"That wasn't—" Beyond stopped suddenly, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. That wasn't supposed to make you want to kill him! Maybe saying that was a bad idea… He glanced up subtly at Ryuk, who was seemingly picking out the perfect space to write Light's name. Fine, then. If he won't stop this willingly, then…

Ryuk pressed his pen to paper.

…Then I'll just have to stop him myself.

Beyond lurched upwards suddenly and sprang for Ryuk's notebook.

"Hey!" Ryuk helped, his voice sounding much higher than Beyond had ever heard it before. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He flew upwards, but the shallow roof of the apartment didn't offer much protection from the raging murderer below. "You can't just—!"

Beyond made another attempt for the notebook, not caring how ridiculous he looked as he went after the stunned shinigami.

"Are you trying to fight a god of death?" Ryuk cackled, seemingly over the shock of being suddenly attacked by a human. "Are you insane?"

"Give me your notebook!" Beyond spat, reaching for it. "You won't kill him!"

"Geez, give it a rest!" Ryuk held the notebook up out of Beyond's reach. "He's going to die anyways, so what's the point?"

"How do I know that his lifespan being so short isn't a reflection of your desire to kill him?"

The shinigami laughed. "Lifespans don't work that way, kid! They're not fluid, they're concrete! Light's going to die either way, so—hey, let go of me!" The shinigami turned intangible; Beyond's hand flew through where Ryuk had been moments ago. "Come on, get off!" Ryuk dodged Beyond's mindless lunge. And as Beyond hit the ground clumsily, having lost his balance in the midst of his attempt at the notebook, his eyes locked on the monitor once more. He froze. His eyes raked the screen, struggling to confirm what he was seeing.

"Now," Ryuk announced, returning his attention to the notebook. "Now that that's over, let's get this over with."

"Wait."

The shinigami let out an exasperated noise, saying, "Why won't you accept—"

Beyond raised a finger and pointed to the monitor. "It's frozen."

"What? What do you mean it's frozen?" Ryuk momentarily lowered the notebook as he floated over to the monitor. "The monitor's not frozen, it's working fine! See, look! All the equipment's still flashing."

"It's frozen," Beyond repeated dumbly, his eyes wide.

Ryuk leaned in to the monitor once more, seeking out the cause of Beyond's confusion. His eyes narrowed as he squinted at the floating numbers above Light's head. They were nearly about to hit zero, he realized. Was this what Beyond was frozen up over? But then—

"Hmm?" The shinigami looked again just to be sure, but his eyes hadn't deceived him. "Looks like you're right. His lifespan is frozen."

"Is… that supposed to happen?" For the first time a look of uncertainty was flitting across the murderer's face. "Time's still moving, so why isn't his lifespan decreasing?"

Ryuk shrugged. "Hell if I know."

Beyond righted himself and went over to the monitor, seating himself. He flicked the screen, before realizing a heartbeat later that the action would amount to absolutely nothing. "Why is it doing that?" he muttered to himself. As he watched, Light's lifespan floated in the air, stubbornly frozen on one number: sixty seconds. The numbers flickered and moved oddly, deviating from their normal behavior. As he watched, Beyond almost could have described them as being affected by static. The numbers shook one more time, then were still. And then, very slowly…

Sixty-one. Sixty-two. Sixty-three.

Beyond turned on Ryuk immediately. "You said there was no way that could happen! Are you really so useless that you don't even know your own rules?"

But Ryuk wasn't paying attention. His eyes were still locked on Light's lifespan, which was rising steadily. He remained that way for a few more moments—then a grin spread across his face, and he said, "Well, what do you know?"

"What? What is it?" Beyond demanded furiously.

"I only know one shinigami who could pull off something like that. And if he's taken an interest in Light enough to break the rules, then there's going to be trouble."

"Who is it?"

Ryuk shrugged. "Oh, you know…"

"I do not know."

"Then sorry, can't tell you. We're not supposed to give away trade secrets, you know?"

Beyond stared, slack-jawed. "But—but you shared your so-called "trade secrets" when you wrote the rules in the notebook!"

"Huh? Did I? Are those trade secrets?" The shinigami floated back over to his crate of apples, picking another one out. The horridly loud chewing began again.

"You… you are a complete airhead!" Beyond spat.

Ryuk didn't respond.

Hissing under his breath, Beyond turned his eyes on Light's lifespan. He leaned in close, his fingertips brushing the screen. The numbers had stopped rising, and were beginning to tick back down again—but slowly, this time. He would survive the night, that was for sure. Beyond's eyes raked the slowly decreasing numbers. "Hmm," he muttered softly. "So that's when you'll die? Interesting…" He reached for his abandoned jam jar and swirled two fingers around in the substance. "Ryuk, I require your assistance. I want to pay our fever patient a little visit." His eyes never left the monitor as he spoke, watching carefully. "Hmm?" he murmured suddenly. "What was that?"

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and for just a brief moment Beyond thought that a shadow had moved, very quickly, and exited through the obviously closed window.

But it was gone so quickly that he couldn't be sure.

†††

A few hours later, when Light still hadn't died, L finally looked at him again. He'd kept his eyes trained on his friend's hand, refusing to lay eyes on his face, not wanting to see the moment of death. He'd felt his friend's fingers cooling slowly, as if he were already dead. They'd grown paler and cooler in a continuous loop, until it just… stopped. Now, L looked back up at Light's face—and what he saw stunned him.

There was color in his cheeks again! Mere hours ago he had been pale as death… but he seemed to be regaining color! Exhaling harshly, L got to his feet and pressed a hand to Light's forehead. The fever was… breaking? His flesh didn't feel as warm as it had. One glance at the monitor confirmed his suspicions—he was still running a temperature, but it had dipped into the lower decimals of 102 and was falling quickly. Another check of the monitor confirmed that his heartbeat was growing stronger once again. Could it be that he was actually beginning to recover?

That was impossible! L shook his head, thinking that perhaps he was dreaming. He had been certain Light's death was imminent. And yet here he was. The teen shifted suddenly, groaning. And then, something impossible happened.

He opened his eyes.

"Mm…" he groaned, eyes rolling about in an effort to figure out where he was. "L…?"

L gasped, hardly daring to believe it. "Light, don't speak! Just lay back, relax!"

"Don' feel good," he slurred.

"I know, I know! Just… sleep! Go back to sleep, Light. Things will be better the next time you wake up." And with a jolt, L realized that there was going to be a next time. It wasn't medically possible, but… he appeared to be slowly beginning to come down from his fever-induced high.

Light seemed to have listened, because his eyes were closed the next moment.

L hardly dared to breathe as he watched the teen sleep. He couldn't make himself believe that Light was okay, that he hadn't died, because it was completely illogical that he hadn't already passed on. He closed his eyes, his whole body shaking.

For the first time in his life, he didn't want to know why something had happened. He just wanted to accept it and be happy.

†††

The next few days were a blur for everyone involved. Sachiko, Soichiro, and Sayu had awoken the next morning in tears, and had walked in to see what they assumed was going to be their dead family member. But they were greeted with large, hopeful owl eyes and a finger jabbed towards the heart monitor. There had been tears all around (if L cried, nobody said anything) and an army of confused doctors, who explained that by all stretches of the imagination, Light should be dead. It simply wasn't possible for him to have lived. But he had, and now here they all were. The IV remained in, he remained under constant watch, but his fever was all but nonexistent. The doctors wanted to keep Light with them for another two days at least, releasing him after he could keep himself awake.

L was fine with that. Now that it looked like Light was going to live, he wanted to return to the case as soon as possible. He worried about such a sentiment seeming somewhat cold, but that was just the way he functioned. However… the doctors' concerns about brain damage hadn't gone away just yet. They took the fact that he'd recognized L as a good sign, saying that damage may be minimal. That day had passed swiftly, especially after the task force had returned and offered their relief that their youngest member was going to come back to them. Matsuda, the idiot, had cried more than Light's own family. And then, the next day had come the nightmare—one blonde model that found out about her boyfriend's condition through Matsuda. L cursed him for that.

Misa Amane had come tearing into the room like a demented bull, her too-high voice screeching about her "precious Light" as she'd thrown herself across him desperately. She'd even accidentally unhooked the IV in her panicked display (or maybe L had just slipped it out as an excuse to have her removed). Either way, it worked, and Misa was dragged kicking and screaming from the room by Watari, complaining about how "that pervert" got to stay with Light, but his own "girlfriend" was kicked out. L sneered at the thought of that dim mind being so fully devoted to Light, the brightest person he knew—well, other than himself. The mere thought of her being in the same room as Light made him sick.

…Which made him realize just how far his feelings for Light Yagami had managed to develop without his knowledge. He had gone from irritating, if somewhat interesting college student to caring, clever friend in a matter of days. And he hadn't recognized it until it was far too late to stop it. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to stop it.

In any case, it was too late now. All he could do was sit and wait for Light to wake up, and confront his ever growing, terrifying emotions once everything had returned to normal.

†††

The first thing I heard was an incessant beeping. It was unending, irritating, boring into my aching head and ripping it apart from the inside out. For a long while that was all I could think about, that agonizing rhythm the beeping was setting. My world consisted of two things—darkness, and that noise.

The second thing to find me was the pain. It hurt. My whole body seemed to have been put through a meat tenderizer, if the aches had anything to say about it. My head was pounding, chest aching, muscles stiff. Some ungodly force had made my throat dry—and thus the third thing, thirst, was brought to my attention. I was incredibly thirsty. I tried to move my fingers. They didn't budge, to my horror. Where the hell was I, and what was going on? Had L finally just decided to lock me up for being Kira? Was that why I was immobile? The beeping increased as panic flooded my senses. That was when sound fully returned to me.

"—ght? Light!"

I managed a small groan.

A relieved sigh met my ears. "Thank goodness…" Cool fingers trailed across my cheek. I shifted uncomfortably. Was that…L? Touching my face? "I was wondering when you would wake up."

What? Had it been that serious? I pried my eyes open determinedly. The sight that awaited me stunned me beyond words. L… his eyes were red, as if he'd been crying. The bags under his eyes were larger, his face was gaunt, and what I could see of his body was skinnier than I'd ever seen it. What the hell had happened when I'd been out? And where was I?"

"L," I tried out my voice. It cracked embarrassingly. My throat was dry.

L noiselessly reached for a cup of water and held it to my lips. Too thirsty to care that L was treating me like a child, I gulped down as much as I could. "Where…?" I tried again, relieved to find that my voice was somewhat ready to obey me.

"You're in the hospital," L said, his voice wavering. "What do you remember?"

I thought hard. "Sick," I murmured. "You said… Beyond called."

He nodded. "Yes, well… after that, your illness became very severe. I attempted to keep you at headquarters and treat you myself, but after you collapsed I had no choice but to take you here."

"How long?" I was regaining some strength now. Although I couldn't shake the fog that was settled over my mind.

"You fell ill about seven days ago. You were kept in headquarters for nearly four days, and you've been here for three. You've been unconscious nearly the whole time."

If I had the strength, I would have gasped. I'd been out for seven days?

L lowered his head, and when he next spoke his voice was shaking uncharacteristically. "You… you were really ill, Light. They said that you were probably going to—" He broke off then, and I was stunned at just how weak he sounded. When he regained his composure he met my gaze, slightly hazy. "Excuse me for that—but what I mean to say is that they told us that it wasn't very likely that you would survive."

My senses numbed. They'd thought I was going to die? But… it had only been a fever! My mind raced back to when I'd first fallen ill. Then I remembered snippets—drinking something, a strong wave of nausea, feeling like I was going to burn away—and L pulling me close. No, I hadn't imagined that… his arms tugging me close in an attempt to ease the pain.

"They told us to prepare for the worst, and then suddenly your fever began to decline. It was a miracle… you shouldn't have survived your temperature being that high for so long. But your fever just dropped like someone had flicked a lever." He twisted his fingers into the blankets of my bed. "I mourned you, Light."

"Well," I rasped, reaching out a hand to rest on his shoulder. He stiffened, looking up at me as if I was insane. "I lived. I feel better."

L shook his head. He reached up and grabbed my hand from his shoulder. I expected him to lay the appendage back down beside me, but instead he laid my hand in his lap, stroking over the skin.

I must have gotten pretty bad to invoke this kind of response in him, I thought. The L I know would never cry, or show any emotion.

"The doctors will want to see you," he said after a moment. "I haven't told them you've awoken yet." He reluctantly released my hand. "I will see you as soon as I can, Light. Just… don't go back to sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

And then he was gone, shooting me one last glance. The instant he was out of sight, I leaned back against the bed. My chest tightened as I thought of what this had put L through—and not just him. I was sure that my family and the rest of the task force had been just as stunned. I couldn't imagine what mom and Sayu must have thought, being told that their son, or brother, was going to die. I heard a brief commotion outside. It sounded like the doctors were coming in. Sure enough, the door was thrown open, and a swarm of nurses slipped inside. Immediately I was accosted with questions and tests. Sighing, I tried to answer every question to the best of my ability. Dimly I felt my body urging me to rest again. My eyelids felt like lead, and I was moments from drifting away—but then I heard L telling me, whatever you do, don't go back to sleep! And something about the way he'd said that, looking straight through my eyes, made me stay conscious.

It wasn't long after that that I found myself laying, head cocked to one side to observe L as he crouched in his chair beside me. "Thank you," he said. "For not letting it pull you back under."

I nodded. True, I was exhausted, but L meant more to me in that moment than even sleep. "I feel better now, I really do."

"That's good. They want to release you in a few days if everything goes smoothly and you don't relapse." He shuddered visibly at the thought. "Please, Light, don't relapse."

"Don't worry, I won't." I promised. "Really, I feel much better now. But… how has the task force and my family been doing with this?"

He lowered his gaze. "They are frustrated with me for staying here."

"Staying here?"

"Yes. I stayed the entire time you've been here. I've refused any mention of the case."

"Why?"

He blushed. The detective L blushed. "I held your health in higher regard," he responded. "As I was saying, the task force was frustrated with me for remaining here. But they are concerned for you, even now. They stopped by a few times. Matsuda especially seemed to have a hard time with it."

I grinned. The softhearted idiot probably wept he was so distraught.

"As for your family… well, what can I say? How were they supposed to take the news that doctors were predicting your death?"

I winced. "Do they know that I'll be okay?"

"Yes, they were informed that things were looking up the morning after your fever broke. The hospital staff is now refusing to let anyone in to see you, however, with the exception of myself. They will see you when you are released."

A soft smile found my lips. He really had sacrificed a lot to stay here… the case wouldn't have moved anywhere without his help. Frowning, I began to raise a hand to his face, then stopped myself. It wasn't easy though. The bags under his eyes were practically begging to be touched, wiped away as if they were painted on. "Hey, L?"

"Yes, Light?"

"Will you sleep tonight, please?"

He blinked. "That's an odd request, don't you think? Why?"

"Your eyes have bigger bags under them than normal… it doesn't suit you."

That drew a rare smile from him. "I will not leave this room. But if you want me to sleep, then I will do so." The detective uncurled himself from his crouch and settled in the chair. "This will do."

I bit the inside of my cheek nervously. "Ah… L, you don't have to—" How was I going to say this without sounding weird? "You can sleep with—" No! That sounded bad!

L regarded me with amused eyes. "If that is what you wish, then I will sleep beside you. But please… tell me if you feel the beginnings of fever or pain. I will retrieve the hospital staff at once."

I cursed internally at his ability to always know the right words. Inching over, I made space for him on the large bed. The detective slipped beneath the covers beside me. For a moment we stared at each other, eyes locked in an awkward stare, before L murmured,

"Roll over."

I complied, slightly confused until I felt one of his arms wrap around my waist and pull me to his chest. I nearly gasped at the sudden warmth of his body pressed against the length of mine. "L—"

"Relax," he whispered. I felt his lips brush my ear as he spoke. "I won't hurt you, Light."

I held out for a moment longer. Then I finally released all tension from my body, melting back into him, pressing against him like he was my personal heater. And in that one moment, when I should have pushed him away, declared that I still hated him for locking me away and cuffing me to him, I was content to lay in his arms. For I could tell myself I hated him all I wanted. I could fight and kick and tear at the impulses and emotions flooding my sickened body, convince myself that he was the one person in the world that I wanted to destroy.

But for all my determination, I couldn't make myself believe it.

Well, that's that. Although lets be honest here, I don't think anyone thought that I was going to kill Light. I played with the rules a little in regards to Light's lifespan, as you read. You may find it unbelievable now, but once you see who the shinigami is, you'll understand. Also, I realize that Light is a little OOC (or a lot) but I've always loved stories that portray a more sweet, innocent Light. Especially when he's without his memories. I'll be back on Thursday, and I hope you enjoyed :)