Welcome to chapter fifteen! I got some pretty awesome reviews on that last chapter, so thanks a lot if you left one! And don't worry, I could never lay a hand on Matt…at least, not right now. Anyways, this chapter's a bit short, as are the next two or three. I've done my best to extend them to a decent length, but you should still expect a slight decrease in word count for a few chapters. Sorry!
Chapter 15: Moonrise
At last, after what felt like decades of waiting… it was all over.
Beyond could barely contain his joy as he gazed upon his prize, the person he had worked so hard for. Kira was sprawled out over bloodstained sheets, hair falling back against the pillows like an amber halo, muscles rippling beneath golden skin as he tensed in his sleep. Those long, supple limbs were brutally marred with countless teeth marks and purple bruises, and blood still dribbled from half-crescent wounds littered across his shoulders. Due to still-healing wounds, Beyond hadn't been able to take his nails—or knife, for that matter—to Kira's chest, but the wounds there had been torn open due to vigorous movement, and had dripped steady rivers of blood down to stain the previously white sheets. The same thing had happened to the teen's back—where Beyond had carved his own initials, the skin had split back open—and to his delight, when Kira rolled over, he saw that his blood had painted out a sloppy imitation of the two letters. Other than that, Kira had gotten off relatively easy—there were bruising handprints and nail marks covering his hips, deep bites littering his neck and shoulders, and the flesh of his lips had been split open painfully by slashing teeth.
Of course, Beyond reflected, Kira wasn't the only one to come away from their little power play with marred flesh—he himself had some rather deep slashes running down his back due to Kira's unusually sharp nails. And the bruising marks around his waist were certainly not to be overlooked, nor were the littering of bite marks scattered across all parts of his body. Kira, the little minx, had very sharp teeth—and he seemed more than eager to apply them anywhere he could reach. As a result, it didn't take long for the bed sheets to turn red with blood.
Kira shifted suddenly, rolling onto his side and facing the murderer sharing his bed. It was late, Beyond reflected—or rather, at this point it should probably be called early—it was, after all, five in the morning. Beyond had always had a sort of insomnia, much like L, and therefore was unable to rest, even after the rather exhausting activities of a mere four or five hours ago. But Kira seemed completely unaffected by sleeplessness. The instant the last few moans faded from the air and their last few kisses were exchanged, the scarlet-eyed teen had faded away without so much as a whispered good night. But Beyond, on the other hand, was left to lean back against the cheap, flimsy headboard and wait for sleep that never came. But he was okay with that so long as he got to sit back and admire the teen that had so willingly returned to him. He had to admit, he'd been quite surprised to see Light Yagami standing outside the Strawberry Inn, staring up at it with glittering eyes that seemed far more scarlet than those of a normal human. He'd been watching from the window of his room, which just so happened to be conveniently located with its front facing the road. He'd considered rushing out into the street and slitting the teen's throat then and there—and he'd deserve it too, after his refusal to help him kill L. He'd been so disappointed when his plan had failed. He'd believed so wholeheartedly that he could turn Light to his side that he hadn't even considered the possibility that he'd refuse him. And after hearing the teen's brutal words of rejection, he'd almost felt sad—and then he'd hated himself for feeling that way, and that hatred screamed for Light's head on a silver platter, and so he obeyed. Or at least, he would have obeyed had Lawli not come bursting in with a gun aimed for his head. He'd wanted so badly to rake the blade of his knife through Light's neck, to spill his innards and splatter his blood all over the detective who so desperately loved him—but alas, Lawli had dared to shoot him, and it was all over. Beyond was forced to flee that damned warehouse with his tail between his legs, struggling to contain the rivers of blood that flowed from his tattered hand. In all honesty, he'd barely escaped with his life. The task force, as incompetent as they were, took their jobs quite seriously, and it was actually rather difficult to find a way out that wasn't being watched. Of course, it would have just taken just a few swipes of his knife to dispel even the most resilient of the task force members, but he didn't trust himself to take on any of the fools so long as his head was spinning dangerously from blood loss. After he'd hauled himself out one of the windows, he'd barely managed to make it to the Strawberry Inn. And when he was finally hidden away in one of the dingy rooms, he'd gotten the opportunity to really examine what Lawli had done to his hand, and he'd nearly passed out then and there—he'd always admired a bit of blood, but even he was slightly disgusted by the remaining tatters of his appendage.
Frowning, Beyond held up his right hand, eyes raking over the bandages and hints of bloodied skin. It was still healing and badly mangled, but he'd dealt with worse wounds before—all it took was a bit of bloody, painful, self-administered surgery, and he knew it would soon be as good as new. Well, actually, that was a bit of a lie. He'd done the best he could with the remnants of his poor, tattered hand, but he very much doubted he would ever regain full control of it. Even as Beyond reached out, tracing his fingers over Kira's cheek, he had to force his hand to move the way he wished. But no matter—he'd had to deal with worse handicaps before. If all he had to do was learn to use his knife with the opposite hand, then it had been well worth it to spend the time he did with Light.
But he'd gotten sidetracked—he'd been reminiscing about his meeting with Light—for he had thought he was dealing with Light at the time. Beyond had seen that filthy rapist approach the teen, had watched with vague curiosity as the man pinned him against the wall and very nearly kissed him. And for just a moment, Beyond had almost been inclined to let the rapist have his way, if not just to punish the teen for rejecting him back in that warehouse. But watching that man, that vile creature, lay a hand on his Light… it stirred up faint feelings of protectiveness, feelings that he was all too eager to shove down. But the instant he'd repressed that protectiveness, he'd felt anger, anger so strong that it had almost knocked him flat on his back, and that was an emotion that he was more than willing to indulge. And so he'd snatched up his gun, made sure it was loaded, and stormed outside to rescue the teen that had caused him so much trouble. That repulsive man had just been about to kiss Light when he shot him in the back. To be perfectly honest, he hadn't been sure that the bullet wouldn't just pass right through the man and kill Light too—but he'd been so furious, blinded by that scarlet fury, that he hadn't seemed to care. The man fell to the ground, convulsing weakly, and his blood sprayed up beautifully over Light's shadowed features. But, Beyond noted with interest, the teen had already been covered in blood before that moment. Had he killed someone? Without the Death Note? At that point Beyond had remained cloaked in shadow, not yet ready to approach his tormentor. And then Light had raised his head and called out, and Beyond knew immediately that he wasn't the same person he'd been during those twelve days he'd held him captive. Those eyes were too red, the look on his face too malicious. This…this was not Light. Of that he had been certain. And but a few moments later his certainty was just reinforced as Light purred his intentions into Beyond's ears using that honeyed voice, lips brushing over too-pale flesh. And then, between breathy moans and drags of nails over splitting flesh, Light had told him all too clearly who he was and what had happened.
He was Kira. He was the one Beyond had worked so hard to obtain.
And what was more, he seemed almost eager to work with Beyond to kill L. Not only that—he'd fallen into bed with the dark-haired murderer with ease, and was every inch the masochistic succubus that Beyond had hoped him to be. Although, the murderer recalled with amusement, he hadn't exactly made things easy for him. He idolized Kira, admired him for all his malicious tendencies—but admiration would only go so far, and he was not willing to simply roll over and spread his legs, even for the god of the new world.
Drawn back to the present by a soft sigh from his lover—and Beyond reveled in the ability to call him that—the murderer reached out and traced pale fingers over bruised lips. The teen was deceptively serene in sleep. It was just another part of his mask, Beyond knew. A carefully composed, smooth, scarlet mask—one, he thought, that had been all-too-quick to fall away beneath his bruising fingers and skilled tongue. Trailing his fingertips over Kira's scarlet-crusted flesh, Beyond couldn't contain a smile as he saw just how badly he'd hurt the teen. He'd be hurting for weeks due to the events of just a few short hours. And if Beyond had his way, he'd get to add even more of those deep, bloody wounds to his lover soon enough. But not now, he knew—for once Kira awoke, they would have no time for such things. The whole of their time would be consumed in the creation of Kira's new world—and, of course, in the destruction of Lawli and the successors. Beyond, of course, had no interest in such a perfect world—in fact, he wasn't sure that a perfect world could possibly come into existence, even through Kira's best efforts. But to stay beside the one he was so infatuated with, to be allowed to touch him without restraint, and most importantly, to murder L, the conniving little wretch—Beyond would gladly play along with his lover's little game. He had Lawli's name, those two deadly words that existed in the heads of only three people on the entire planet—Beyond, Watari, and L himself. All it would take would be a few touches of pen to paper, and the detective would die. He wondered with a smirk if Kira would really kill him in that way, or if he, like Beyond, would wish to play their game out to its conclusion before halting the detective's fluttering heart.
A soft noise drew Beyond's attention to the scarlet-eyed teen. He shifted slightly, muscles tensing beneath marred skin. And then, a moment later, those formerly sepia eyes flickered open. For a single, almost terrifying moment, Kira's eyes danced with a conflicted sort of fiery amber. But then the amber was swallowed by scarlet, as it should be, and he smirked.
"Kira," Beyond growled out, tugging on amber locks. "Are you in control?"
Kira stared at the ceiling for a few long moments before slowly rolling his eyes to stare at Beyond. He didn't respond as he slowly stretched his muscles, testing them to make sure nothing was wrong. His eyes raked down his body as he sat, leaning against the headboard and tracing his fingertips over sluggishly bleeding wounds. He stared at his red-stained fingers with slight irritation, wiping them off on the ever-darkening sheets as his gaze returned to the dark-haired murderer watching him carefully. "Beyond Birthday," he said at last, and that slight rasp in his voice sent shivers down Beyond's spine.
"Yes?" he responded eagerly. "Are you well?"
"Yes, I am quite fine. You don't have to worry about Light; he won't regain control." The glazed look left Kira's gaze as he observed Beyond with narrowed eyes. "You've hurt me quite terribly, Beyond."
The murderer smirked, reaching out and digging his nails into one of the deep slits crossing Kira's chest, tearing the flesh open and reveling in the low growl the pain drew from his lover's throat. "Don't pretend you didn't love every minute of it, Kira."
The teen smirked, one hand rising to brush through Beyond's hair with mock endearment. "You're going to pay for it either way. It's not in my nature to let criminals go unpunished, after all."
Oh… those words shouldn't have been as arousing as they were. "You can try to punish me if you wish, but you'll have to fight for it, little god."
Kira's eyes narrowed. "Don't test me," he growled, but it was all too clear to see that he wasn't serious in his anger. "Or the next time I fall into bed with you, you'll be the one begging for mercy."
Beyond sighed almost dreamily, eyes clouding as his thoughts flickered to their little escapade. "Oh, are you sure about that? Are you sure you won't let me lay you out on your back so easily once again? I must admit, Kira, I thought that you'd put up more of a fight…who could have known that the god of the new world is so submissive in bed? Oh, pardon me…I'm sure L knows as much." In reality, Kira had been all-too-close to beating Beyond down—but the murderer had a few tricks up his sleeve, and he'd had to use just one of them to reduce his lover to a shaking, whimpering mess.
A flash of raw fury tore through Kira's eyes, and he snarled out, "You think me weak, Beyond?"
The murderer smirked languidly, fingers drawing fresh blood from one of the slashes on Kira's chest. "Of course not, dear Kira, you are not weak." He paused, admiring the utter rage flickering through those crimson eyes. "I could never call you weak, my dear. After all, I can be quite persuasive, so I can't hold you at fault for letting me mount you like a common whore…"
A heartbeat later there was a flurry of movement, and Beyond felt fire spread across his cheek in the shape of a handprint. He smirked, even as the flesh split beneath the force of the blow, dripping blood down his face. He flicked his tongue out to taste the sanguine liquid, reveling in the disgusted look in his lover's eyes. "You bastard!" Kira spat out, drawing back his hand and striking him again. Beyond made no move to stop him.
"Relax," Beyond purred, dabbing his fingers at the coppery liquid. "I'm only joking, dearest." His hand shot out to grip Kira by the hair, dragging him up for a kiss that he swiftly lost control of. The little minx…the things he could do with that mouth of his were unreal. And it seemed that Kira knew it just as well as he did, for a moment later he was using that advantage to flip their positions, and it took less than a heartbeat for those blood-soaked fingers to curl around his wrists, holding him down firmly.
Kira drew back, settling over Beyond's hips and snarling, "I don't believe you, Beyond. I can see it in your eyes—you believe that I am far inferior to yourself. Well, if you think I'm so weak, then I'll just have to prove you wrong."
Beyond thought that sounded like an excellent idea—the way Kira had seated himself so intentionally over his hips was infuriatingly suggestive, and he would have liked nothing more than to take the teen up on his offer—but just as he was about to begin his grapple for the upper hand, a new voice completely threw him off.
"You two aren't done yet? Geez, I never realized how much you humans get up to these kinds of things."
Kira's eyes widened, some of that raw fury leaking back into the scarlet irises. With a single hand he pushed himself away from Beyond, returning to his side of the bed, and the murder realized sulkily that what he'd had in mind would have to wait. "Ryuk," Beyond snapped, "what are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to get out?"
The shinigami shrugged carelessly. "It's been hours! I'm bored!"
Beyond's attention was drawn momentarily to Kira, who had risen and picked his clothing up off the ground, slipping back into it and covering up all those pretty marks. Sighing, Beyond followed suit, mind still filled with all of the things he wanted to do to his lover. "You're unbelievable," the murderer growled. "Did you do as I asked?"
Ryuk rolled his eyes, responding, "Yeah, yeah, I did it!"
"Then where is she?" Beyond demanded.
"Calm down!" the shinigami said lazily. "She's in the other room." He floated over to the wall and stuck his head through, his muffled voice calling out, "Hey! Get in here already!" Ryuk drew back, making way for the female shinigami that emerged from the wall a heartbeat later. Said shinigami glared down at Kira and Beyond through one narrowed eye, the other shrouded by bandages.
Kira raised a brow, stepping forward slightly to face the newcomer. Beyond noted with amazement that in just a few moments he'd managed to compose himself and hide almost all of his bruises and cuts—though there was one vicious bite on his neck that he couldn't conceal, even with the collar of his shirt. He looked every inch the perfect teen he was supposed to be—and if Beyond himself hadn't been the one to cover every inch of him with those marks, then he would never have guessed they existed. Those scarlet eyes locked onto Beyond's, and Kira asked, "You called her here?"
Beyond nodded wordlessly.
Slowly, a smirk spread across Kira's face. "You did well, Beyond. You're every bit as clever as I hoped you'd be. We'll work amazingly together, don't you think?" Without waiting for a response, he went on, "Rem, I'm glad you're here."
The shinigami's expression twisted into one of disgust as she said flatly, "Kira. I see you finally have what you want."
"Why, it seems that I do!" he chuckled. "Fancy that. There's only one thing left, Rem. One thing left until I achieve my ultimate victory. You know what I mean, don't you? I have to kill those miserable pests on the task force, and then everyone that knows my face—save for my dear Beyond, of course."
The shinigami snarled, lurching closer with her notebook held firmly in one hand, the other clutching a pen. Her teeth were bared in a furious leer. "If you are thinking of killing Misa, you can forget it! I will kill you myself if you dare raise a pen against her!"
Kira looked unaffected, much to Beyond's surprise. To be threatened by a shinigami was no small thing.
"I will not kill Misa," Kira assured her. "I will not go near her for the time being, nor will I converse with her through text or email in any way. I will not bring harm to her."
Rem's eyes narrowed, seeing the deceit so carefully concealed behind Kira's mask. He very much intended to kill Misa, and she knew it. "I will kill you," she repeated harshly. "I will not hesitate to end my own life if it means saving Misa's."
"I know. I told you, I will not harm her. I swear it."
Beyond caught what Rem did not. He saw the slight turn of the head, the subtle inclination of the neck in his direction, and it made him grin. So, then, he would be the one to kill Misa Amane. After all, Kira had only stated that he would not harm Misa. That left her wide open to murder at Beyond's hands. He could have cackled at the shinigami's idiocy.
Rem went on, "You must forgive me for being suspicious, but I have seen firsthand what value your promises hold. I will ask that you allow me to return to Misa and watch over her, just to ensure that you do not target her. After all, there are other methods of killing other than the Death Note, and I will not stand to see you send some sort of assassin after her." Her eyes flickered to Beyond as she spoke. He frowned. Perhaps the shinigami wasn't as foolish as he thought. "Give me permission to go to Misa once more and stay there, unless summoned by you."
Kira hesitated, a bitter expression on his face. It was obvious that he was calculating all the possible issues that Rem's request could create. "I called you here so that I could have you aid me in the destruction of L. I will not have you gallivanting off to Misa's apartment."
If Rem's visible eye narrowed any further, Beyond thought that it might disappear entirely. Clearly enraged, she bit out, "Even if you wish to keep me here, I will not help you. Surely you know this already."
Kira glared fiercely at the shinigami, snapping back, "In either case, I will not allow you to leave."
"If you do not let me to go Misa, then I will not cooperate with you. I know a great many things that could lead to your capture, after all, and I know that L would be more than willing to listen."
"You wouldn't dare!" Kira spat.
"I advise you not to test me, human."
Kira's lips curled in a nasty snarl that made Beyond want to take him then and there—but he restrained himself, knowing that the teen would no doubt punish him for it later, as he'd so eloquently put it. Beyond's gaze stayed locked on Kira as he raised a hand, sweeping it through auburn strands. He didn't have much of a choice, Beyond noticed with amusement. He'd no doubt be forced to allow Rem to go to Misa.
Kira seemed to realize it as well. "Very well," he spat. "Take special care to watch Misa's email. I will send her a message when I want to contact you. Or if not that, then Ryuk will come to retrieve you."
Rem didn't respond. She just glared at Kira, turned, and floated away through a wall.
"You need to leave too," Kira ordered Ryuk in a chillingly malicious tone.
"Huh? You want me gone again? What am I supposed to do?"
Beyond broke in, snapping, "There's a supermarket down the street. It's old and decrepit, but there should be some apples there. Feel free to take as many as you like."
That seemed to please the shinigami. He grinned toothily, responding eagerly, "Perfect! Light, why didn't you ever let me steal apples?"
"It's Kira," the teen corrected irritably. "And I didn't let you steal because it would have looked a bit obvious if apples just started floating off the stands, you moron!"
Ryuk cackled. "Aww, you're no fun!"
"Ryuk," Beyond interrupted, flickers of anger building in the pit of his stomach. "Leave."
"Fine, fine…" Rolling his eyes, the shinigami drifted forwards and slipped from the room through one of the walls.
The instant the two shinigami were gone, Beyond looked back to Kira. The teen wasted no time in falling back onto the bed, back propped up against the headboard, legs slightly parted. He tossed the Death Note he held onto the desk beside the bed. "Now," he purred, eyes half-lidded. "We need a plan, do we not? Come, Beyond, converse with me."
The murderer was all-too-quick to slip into bed beside the teen, smirking as he pulled Beyond down so his head rested in his lap. He didn't miss the authority Kira was attempting to hold over him, but he had no desire to deprive him of his fun—not now, at least. "What is there to discuss?" he questioned, hiding a smirk.
"We need to decide how we're going to win this little game."
"Ah, of course…" Beyond's gaze flickered to the desk, where Kira's Death Note lay with the pages carelessly thrown open due to its little fall from Kira's fingers. His own notebook was tucked away in the desk drawer on the other side of the room. It wasn't exactly hidden, but it would do for now. Beyond gazed up at his lover, purring, "I have his name, Kira. I have L's real name."
The teen offered him a satisfied smirk. "I'm sure that you do. But you of all people should understand why I will not use it…though I will request that you tell me what it is all the same. I must take certain precautions, you understand…"
"Do you want to know now?" Beyond asked softly, those two precious words filling his whole mind. He suddenly longed to lean in and whisper them to his little god. "I'll tell you."
Kira hummed, one finger pressing to his lips in a way that much resembled L. "…No," he decided. "Not now. I will have his name, but I do not want it just yet."
Beyond felt his lips quirk upwards in a smile. "If you will not kill him with the Death Note, then what will we do?" He was very much convinced that he knew exactly what Kira's plan was—but he wanted to hear those venomous words fall from bruised lips, wanted to hear how they broke on the stagnant air.
"I thought that much would be obvious, dear Beyond. We're going to play this game, and we're going to win. I will slaughter L, with my bare hands if I have to—but not until I've seen him thoroughly beaten and laid at my feet. Not until I hear his pleas for death. Not until he knows that he has lost, and knows that I was the one who brought him to his knees."
Beyond shuddered pleasantly at the thought. Kira…he was so much like him. It was chilling. "What would you have me do?" he asked eagerly, not caring that he was making himself sound utterly submissive.
Kira's eyes rolled to one side, falling upon his companion with a languid smirk. "L will try to track me down with everything he has. We'll need a deterrent, something to stop him in his tracks. You're going to be that deterrent, Beyond. As soon as you can be bothered to remove yourself from this bed, you're going to pick up your notebook and start writing names."
"You just want me to write names?" Beyond questioned, brow raised. "You'll have me stick to criminals, I expect?"
"Hmm…" Kira trailed off, fingers tugging on obsidian locks. "…No. I want you to kill anyone and everyone you want."
"Ooh, Kira!" Beyond chuckled. "How… bad of you. What happened to your devotion to justice that I loved so much?"
Kira snorted, turning his head away. "Nothing has happened. I am simply trying to meet my goal of creating a new and perfect world, and this is the only way to do that."
Beyond shook his head with a nasty grin, bringing one hand up and turning Kira's face towards his own, forcing their eyes to meet. "Oh no, Kira. Even you can't delude yourself into believing that the murder of innocent people is a step on the path of justice." He pulled the teen towards him slowly, and Kira was so entranced by those yellowish orange eyes that he didn't seem to notice the decreasing space between them. "I can see it in your eyes, Kira…you're lusting for blood. For Lawli's blood. You can pretend that you're working for justice all you want, but I can see you for who you really are—a monster. A monster who wants to kill all the other monsters, but a monster just the same. And I'm going to force you to face yourself, Kira. I'm going to strip you down and shove your true nature down your pretty little throat. And then, after you realize what you really are, we can really have some fun."
The teen snarled, wrenching himself away from his partner. But to Beyond's satisfaction, he didn't attempt to deny it.
"I have a suspicion, dearest Kira," the murderer purred. "A suspicion that when you crushed Light beneath your boot, you crushed the last scraps of your so-called justice along with him. And no matter how much you want to deny it, you yourself know that it's true. You can feel it, can't you? Deep in your heart, you're not the same person you once were." Oh, the way those crimson eyes narrowed, filling with unrestrained fury…it was the most attractive thing Beyond had ever seen. "You want so desperately to create a world free from evil, isn't that right? But you don't care how you do it anymore. You're well beyond the point of caring about a few hundred innocent lives. Having me slaughter all those people…so long as it leads to a world without crime, you have no issue with becoming a criminal. You're a living, breathing contradiction, you know that?"
Growling furiously, Kira leaned forward suddenly and practically attacked Beyond's lips with his own. So it was to be another power play, yes? That was fine. He could deal with anything the little minx threw at him. He leaned forward, feeling his jeans beginning to grow tighter, and welcomed Kira to do what he would. But a moment later, when he felt no additional contact, the murderer opened his eyes with a frown. "What's wrong?" he spat out. "Losing your nerve, Kira?"
The scarlet-eyed teen smirked, drawing back and practically leaping out of bed. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He stalked over to the desk and seated himself, pulling out Beyond's Death Note and plucking a pen from the drawer. He glanced back, and when he saw Beyond's disbelieving stare, his smirk only broadened. "What's wrong? Did you want something?"
Ooh, that little temptress is going to get it… "Nothing at all," Beyond sneered, silently promising Kira that the instant his guard was down, he would claim him without mercy. "The sooner we get started, the sooner Lawli dies, right? Then let's get going."
Kira turned back to his notebook, pen already scratching away at the paper, one hand shooting out to turn on the TV. Holding back an amused chuckle, Beyond reached for the Death Note on the table beside him and opened it, taking his time in turning to the nearest blank page.
This…was going to be a lot of fun.
†††
L felt as if the world had ended around him. Because once again, the one thing he valued most had been taken away from him by Beyond Birthday, and once again he was left all alone.
He hated it.
He hated Kira. He hated Beyond. And most of all, he hated himself.
Because, after all… this was his fault.
As L knelt on the glass-covered ground, back hunched, head bent forward, he found himself overcome with a rage more potent than any he had ever experienced. He glared unseeingly at the ground, feeling a scream building in his throat. How…how had he let this happen? How had he been so blind? If he'd just come to his senses sooner, if he'd seen Kira for what he was…this all could have been avoided. Aizawa wouldn't be dead. A mass murderer wouldn't be running free in Light's body.
Dimly, L thought he heard Watari's voice, thought he heard chains falling to the floor with loud, clanging noises. The members of the task force were picking themselves up, dusting themselves off and straightening their clothing. They moved in slow motion towards Aizawa's body, and it wasn't long before they were crouching around him, wearing identical expressions of shock and horror. Soichiro in particular looked as if he were about to pass out. It was perfectly understandable, seeing as he'd just witnessed his son—or rather, his son's possessor—murder a member of the task force in cold blood. The poor man had no idea what was going on, and he was too shell-shocked to ask for an explanation.
L heard a sudden exclamation of stunned relief, and his eyes were draw in in the opposite direction as Mello darted across the room and crushed Matt to him in a desperate embrace. Even in his stunned state, L recognized how rare it was to see the blonde successor acting this way. His cheeks shone with what could only be tears, and his expression was twisted painfully. It took only a single instant for the teen to run his hands up and down the body of his lover, no doubt reassuring himself that Matt was here, that he was still alive. And Matt seemed to be in a similar state, his breathing short and ragged as he clutched at the other successor.
L looked away the instant the two leaned in for a kiss. He felt as if he were about to scream. The noise was building higher and higher in his throat, bubbling towards the surface and pushing at the backs of his teeth. The only thing that stopped him from releasing that ball of pent-up frustration and fury was the small hand that came to rest on his shoulder. L turned his head and saw Near standing at his side, his normally white clothing dirtied by dust and small fragments of glass. A small cut just under his eye was spilling blood in a steady leak, dripping down his face in an odd imitation of scarlet tears. Numbly, L felt another hand brush through his hair, and his eyes darted to his left to see Mello gazing down at him, seemingly having paused his little reunion long enough to comfort his mentor. And finally, a dull thud drew his attention to the space directly in front of him, where Matt had brushed away the glass with his foot and knelt before him.
Matt's face twisted into an expression of agony. "Oh god, L…" He lurched forward and threw his arms around the older man, crushing him in a hug. L felt the rage within him quell slightly as he stared down blankly at the teen. He…he'd put Matt in danger too, he knew. He could easily have been killed. It was all his fault…all his fault.
Two more thumps, and two more sets of arms joined Matt's.
"Hey…" Mello offered. "There's still a chance…"
L had no doubt that the successor didn't believe his own words. He choked. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he blinked them back with some of that repressed fury. There was still a chance… still a chance that what? That Light was still Light? That Kira hadn't just wrested control? That he hadn't just murdered Aizawa and attempted to do the same to Matt? Or perhaps there was still a chance that Light could fight his way back to consciousness and come back to him? He laughed brokenly. It was a flat, humorless sound. No… it was all over now. Perhaps it had all been over from the moment L had dared to lean forward and seal his lips to Light's for the first time, all those weeks ago. Because he knew that even if Light somehow managed to overpower Kira, it would be pointless. Kira would always be in the back of Light's mind, and he would always have that terrible power to overpower Light and kill anyone he wished. No one would ever be safe around Light again.
No… L reminded himself bitterly. That's nothing new. All of these things were already set in stone the instant Kira was reintroduced. I've just been forcing myself to remain blind to them, hiding the truth and hoping that maybe, just maybe, reality would cease to exist if I wished hard enough for it to vanish.
Through his painful realization, L glanced up to his successors. Near locked eyes with him immediately, and it struck L that he was the only one who hadn't said anything yet. As if following L's train of thought, Near leaned in and whispered in a voice so quiet that the other successors were deaf to it, "I'm sorry, L. But you know what comes next."
L cursed the brutality of his first ranked successor. Cursed his intelligence. Because while the others offered comfort, Near offered logical solutions to the problem. And in this case, the only logical solution was…
…No.
"Don't make me think of such things," L rasped, arms hanging limply at his sides as Near rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Don't. Not yet." And then he found himself repeating Mello's words, the ones that he had already deemed ridiculous. "There's still a chance…"
There was pity in Near's eyes. He slowly drew back, getting to his feet, and then there were suddenly real tears slipping from his eyes, mixing with the blood running from the cut just below his eye. Despite the emotional storm raging within him, L still found the mental strength to be stunned. He had never seen Near cry before. Even his tears seemed emotionless—his expression barely strayed from its normal, calculating look.
"L," Matt said softly, drawing his attention away from Near. "Your knees are bleeding."
L looked down with dim surprise. Ah, yes… the glass from the shattered computer screen had sliced into his knees when he fell. Blood was slowly forming a small pool around him, staining the clothing of the successors, who knelt close to him. There were small red patches on Near's white pants at the knees, and some of the scarlet liquid was drying on his bare feet.
Matt and Mello exchanged glances, then both rose slowly, pulling L to his feet with them. "Come on," Matt said softly. "Near's right, we need to get you patched up."
A few minutes later L found himself sitting on the seat of the toilet in the bathroom with absolutely no memory of having walked there. His three successors were gathered around him. Near was gently pushing his jeans up past his knees to get at the slices caused by the shattered glass. Matt riffled through the cabinet above the sink, searching for bandages and rubbing alcohol. Mello, never much for playing doctor, was leaning against the door with a smoldering cigarette between his lips. Normally this would have been the point when either L or Near would snap at Mello about his nasty habit, tell him to stop. But Near was too focused on the cuts at L's knees, and the detective's mind was far, far away—too far for him to care that with every passing moment, smoke was thickening in the air. Matt handed the rubbing alcohol to Near, who used a swab of cotton to soak up a bit of the liquid. He dabbed at L's knees, mopping up the blood that still leaked steadily from the slices. Tiny fragments of glass were gently removed as they snagged in L's skin. Satisfied, Near took the roll of bandages from Matt and began wrapping them around one of L's tattered knees. It was dead silent in the bathroom, save for the slight rustle of cloth.
"L," Matt spoke at last. He opened his mouth to speak further, but then cut himself off, seemingly at a loss for words. As he should be—what was there that anyone could say? So instead he moved to the sink and wet a washcloth, returning to wipe L's tear-streaked face. It was like taking care of a child, and L was dimly aware that he should pull it together in front of his successors. Once he was alone… he could make no guarantees as to how he would act. Matt threw the dirtied washcloth to the floor then stood stalk still, seemingly uncertain of what to do next.
"Matt, Mello," Near said softly, "I think it would be best if you move two more beds into your room. L and I will be joining you in your living quarters."
Mello's head snapped up immediately. "Hey, what? Why do we have to share our room with—?"
"Mello." Near's voice shook. He glanced meaningfully at L, who was still slumped over on the lid of the toilet. "Please, do not argue. Just this once, do not protest."
Mello nearly snapped back some witty retort, but his voice died in his throat when he followed Near's line of vision. He looked away swiftly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'll go." His voice was strained, much like Near's. "Matt, come on." The brunette nodded shortly and followed Mello out of the bathroom, shooting a mournful glance at the broken detective. The door clicked shut softly behind the two, leaving Near and L alone.
Almost immediately the tension in the room multiplied tenfold. But, L recognized, it wasn't anything like the tension that he so enjoyed whenever Light was near. No… this was more a of a depressing tension, the sort that was almost awkward, but not quite, when both parties knew that they must exchange words but neither wished to break the silence.
Finally, Near fastened the clasps on the bandage around L's right knee and moved to the left. It took just a few moments for that knee to be bandaged as well, and Near stood slowly, eyes never leaving the detective's face. L leaned forward slightly. Then he suddenly lurched and crashed forward, and he would have struck the ground quite harshly if Near had not lunged to catch him.
"L!" Near hissed, supporting him, though he clearly had no care for keeping himself upright. He'd gone almost completely limp, head lolling about on his shoulders. "Please, L, you must try to calm yourself!"
Of course. Leave it to Near to figure out that L was not simply grieving—he was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. And indeed, the detective could feel panic beginning to bubble up in his throat at the prospect of being all alone in headquarters. Of course, logically, L knew that he wouldn't be alone—he would have Near, and Mello, and Matt, and everyone else on the task force. But thinking about Light, scared and alone, pushed to the very furthest corner of his mind by Kira… and thinking of never seeing him again… it was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He blinked them back furiously. He'd been allowing himself to break down too often lately. With that in mind, he forced his muscles to respond. He straightened as much as he could, held his head still, and commanded himself to meet Near's eyes. That particular bit didn't last long—Near's eyes were just too searching, too cold and calculating.
"Get on with it," L rasped. He felt his body begin to cave in on itself again, and used all of his remaining willpower to straighten himself.
"Get on with what?"
L found himself disgusted with Near's monotone. Would it kill him to put some emotion into what he was saying? Then he realized just how hypocritical he was being, and mentally slapped himself—which just reminded him of how Light would be saying the exact same thing about inflection if he were still with him. And that just led him right back to square one—fighting back tears. "You know," he said dully, "I know you're just waiting to talk about our plan, what we should do next. So lay it on me. Get on with it. Talk me off the metaphorical ledge."
"I was not aware that you were on the ledge to begin with. Are you, perhaps, experiencing suicidal thoughts?"
L snorted. "You could say that." He looked up at Near through the shaggy curtain of hair that hung across his face. "Do you understand what has just happened to me?"
"You lost someone very close to you," Near responded flatly. "He was mentally overwhelmed by the mass murderer that you have been hunting down for upwards of a year."
"I lost a friend," L said immediately, not caring to listen to Near's response. "I lost the first person outside of Wammy's House that didn't look at me in confusion or disgust, but rather, with interest and compassion. I lost the first person that ever showed genuine interest in me, and in whom I was genuinely interested. I lost someone that I stayed beside for months, aiding him throughout every headache, every bought of panic. And I lost the person that I watched hover inches from death, then pull himself back miraculously and against all odds. I lost my… my lover."
Near closed his eyes momentarily, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Yes, I am aware of all that. Just as I am aware of the fact that Light is now Kira."
L didn't have a response to that. He simply shook his head miserably.
"And Kira must be brought to justice."
"Near—" L hissed.
"No, L," Near chastised. "You need to hear this." He clasped both hands to L's shoulders and forced the detective to look into his eyes. "I know that you felt strongly for Light. But he is gone, L, and you know he is. Even if Light fought his way back, Kira would be a constant presence in his mind, always pressuring him. Most likely he would live the rest of his days in agony, or succumb to Kira yet again. Either way, the only way out is to kill him. L, no— look at me!" Near shook him lightly, drawing the detective's gaze back to him. "I didn't order Mello and Matt out of the room because I wanted to ask you about what we should do next. I did it so that I could tell you what we will do. I recognize that this is harsh, L. I recognize that this will destroy you. But it must be said, and it must be done." Near leaned in until his eyes were inches from L's. "Tomorrow we are going to walk into the investigation room, and we are going to keep working on the Kira case. We are going to search for every clue, and follow every lead—and we are going to catch Kira and Beyond."
L's eyes widened. "But—!"
The white-haired boy nodded. "I know. If we catch him, Kira will be killed."
"Light will be killed!" L burst out.
"Yes."
That was it. No sugar coating, no sweetener. It was a bitter sort of medicine, forced straight down L's throat. Light was going to die. And he was going to be the one to catch him, to hand him over to the authorities. Or perhaps Light Yagami was already dead, and L was just destroying a corpse and the demon that inhabited it.
"Near, I don't know if I can do it!" The panic was back.
"You are L. You can do anything."
L could have laughed, if he didn't feel like crying. He'd said the same thing, both to his companions and to himself, and had had the same thing said to him many times by the students at Wammy's House. It had always been a good enough motivator, even at the worst of times. The logic behind the statement was solid—he was L, and therefore he could do anything. But now it seemed hollow. Pointless. But despite the deep, painful hole developing in his chest, he nodded at Near and said, "I am L. I can do anything." But it didn't hold the same gravity as before.
His acting wasn't exactly on par with his—with Light's—but it must have been good enough for Near, for he offered L a small smile. "Good. Now, let's get you to bed. Even a sleepless mind like yours needs rest every once and a while, and in this situation I think it will do you good."
"Why did you move our beds into Matt and Mello's room?"
"Because I don't trust what you'll do if we leave you alone." Near gently pulled L to his feet, hooking an arm around his waist to support the weakened detective. It was more than awkward, with Near being nearly a foot shorter than L, but he still managed it well enough. Near supported him almost entirely with every step, as with every step the effort the detective was forced to exert increased. All L could bring himself to think about was that if Light were here, he would just scoop L up and cradle him to his chest, effortlessly toting him around like an adorable, huggable stuffed animal. Light would carry him wherever he wanted, even feed him if he was sick or exhausted by the grief. But Light wasn't here, Near was—and he was hardly about to carry L to bed.
Near reached out and opened the door to the bedroom, hauling L inside. Instantly Matt was at L's other side, helping Near sit the detective down on one of the beds that had been moved into the room. L blearily looked around, taking in the new state of the room. Matt and Mello had pushed their beds together in the far left corner, Near's bed had been pushed into the far right corner, and the bed L was seated on was a few feet away, pushed against the center of the back wall. Numbly, L felt a set of hands gripping his legs, and another set on his shoulders. He felt himself being turned, stretched out on his back on the bed. Hands were tugging his shirt and jeans off, and heartbeats later those same hands were pulling silken pajamas over his head and onto his limp legs. The successors treated him like a doll, dressing him up in the proper clothing and moving his arms and legs until they were satisfied with how he looked, lying there on the bed that he and Light had shared every night for the past several months. It was the same bed that Light had curled up in when Kira was tormenting him, the same bed in which L had laid Light's head in his lap, carding through his hair in the midst of the worst headaches and bouts of terror. It was the same bed in which L had claimed Light, and in which Light had offered himself fully to the detective he loved.
L felt the bed sink slightly as his successors seated themselves on it.
"Hey, L," Matt said softly. "Just get some rest… worry about the investigation tomorrow."
"You'll have to face them tomorrow." That was from Mello. He had always disliked Light. No doubt he lacked the ability to be sympathetic over the loss of someone he very much despised.
"Mello!" Matt hissed, slapping his arm lightly. "Don't say that!"
"No, it's true…" L murmured flatly. "I will have to wake up tomorrow and enter that investigation room as if nothing has occurred. I will have to return to my calm, collected self, and I will have to explain to the task force what has happened. Because, after all, they have no idea as to the nature of my relationship with Light Yagami." He rolled onto his side and curled up in a sideways version of his normal crouch. His thumb rose to his lips and was taken between sharp teeth, the already short nail being worn down even further. He didn't even take the digit away from his mouth to speak, resulting in his words being slurred and muffled. "I recognize that I will have to face the metaphorical music tomorrow. But tonight I will lay here and mourn the loss of someone very dear to me."
After that he was silent, and nothing the successors did could draw another word from his lips.
†††
The instant Rem entered Misa's apartment, she knew that something was wrong. And unfortunately, she knew exactly what that something was. She could sense it in the air, smell it with every breath that entered her body. She knew without a doubt who was in this apartment. Drifting further into the building, Rem's eyes darted this way and that, searching for the being that she knew to be present. As she searched, she saw no sign of Misa; she must have been asleep in her room. It was rather late, after all.
"I was wondering when you would show up," a familiar voice sounded, and a heartbeat later Rem located the source of that voice, lounging back on Misa's couch lazily. One leg was thrown over the armrest of the couch, the other hanging off and just barely scraping the floor.
"You," Rem bit out, uncharacteristic anger flowing through her. "What are you doing here?"
The being on the couch shrugged. He raised a hand, brushing dark locks from his yellowish orange eyes, not even bothering to turn and face the shinigami hovering so close to him.
Rem's one visible eye narrowed as she drifted closer, staring down at the being. He had no shoes, and was wearing a blood-red t-shirt and denim shorts. "Tell me what you are doing here," she ordered again.
The being lolled his head over to stare at her, eyes lazily searching up and down her form. "Rem…" he drawled. "I am not here to harm your human. You have nothing to fear."
"Is that so?" the shinigami responded coolly. "Then please enlighten me; what are you here to do? You are aware, of course, that your little game has spun out of control?"
The being shrugged again. "I am here because I wanted to speak to you, and I assumed that you'd end up here sooner or later. As for my game…it's not as uncontrollable as you think."
"Light Yagami has fallen to Kira."
"Yes, he has. Exactly as I knew he would."
Rem bared her teeth, grinding out, "You knew and you did nothing to stop it? Light told me that you were romping around inside his head, so why did you not put an end to Kira's rampage? We both know that you have the power to do anything you wish."
The being reached his hand up, staring at his splayed fingers thoughtlessly. "It is not our business to meddle in such affairs."
"If you really believed that then you would not have saved the boy while he lay dying in the hospital. It was his time to die, and yet you saved him."
"I saved him because that was the way things were meant to be," the being murmured. You could never understand why I have done the things I have, even if I explained it to you in great detail."
"You are a fool."
"No, I am merely helping this world take shape. I knew that Light Yagami was supposed to live past that terrible illness, and so I helped him to do so. I knew that he was supposed to fall to Kira, so I did not purge the murderer from his mind. I know a great deal about what is meant to be, Rem. And I intend to make sure that this world lives up to its potential."
"You are meddling, shinigami. It is the one thing you have accused me of doing, and yet here you lay, defending the rules you have broken."
"I made the rules," the being responded lazily. "I can break them as I please, especially with the goal of helping this world meet with its destiny."
Rem shook her head. "You think that just because you have power, you should use it. You cannot see the obvious—that what you are doing will only end in disaster."
"Oh…" the being trailed off, eyes still locked on the ceiling. "I have no doubt of that."
Rem's eye narrowed, and she spat out, "If you are so determined to meddle, then what will you do next?"
Yet another shrug, and the being murmured, "I will do what is necessary." Slowly, hesitantly, he pushed himself to his feet, stretching his arms above his head momentarily. "You do not understand, Rem. You are like the observer of a parade, watching on the sidelines as the floats pass you by. But I…I am like the observer from above. I look down on the parade, and I see every which way it might turn. And if I reach down and close of a street here, a street there…then I can control that parade, and dictate where it will end up stopping."
She sneered, "You are a wretched creature."
The being let out a deep sigh. "Rem…I know that you believe I am evil. You even went so far as to warn Light about me. You told him to stay away, that I would use him and kill him. I admit, that hurts."
"You are evil," Rem responded scathingly. "Every human you've ever involved yourself with ends up dead. Forgive me if I thought it necessary to issue a warning to your current victim. It would be quite bad for me if he were to die, you see—for he is the one that Misa loves."
"Ah, yes, the female…" the being threw a glance in the direction of the bedroom, expression one of boredom. "She has her part to play in all of this too, you know."
Rem advanced upon the other shinigami threateningly, looming over him with a snarl. "You will not involve Misa in this. If you do, then I will destroy you."
The being laughed. "As if you could destroy me. You know how powerful I am, Rem. All it would take would be a snap of my fingers, and you'd never be opening your mouth again."
Rem's eye narrowed dangerously, but she knew when she was beaten. This being…this child…she knew how dangerous he was. How evil he was. Changing the subject, she demanded, "Why are you still disguising yourself as a human child? There is no point; I am the only one present."
"Oh, this old thing?" The child plucked at the collar of his shirt, gesturing to his entire being. "I adopted it so I wouldn't scare Light when I approached him, but I suppose it's a bit of a habit now. Funny, how that happens." The being strolled past Rem, heading for the door.
"Wait!" the shinigami called out. "You said you wanted to talk to me, didn't you? What did you want to say?"
The child paused, hand on the doorknob that he didn't really need to use. "I forgot."
Rem nearly snarled at the infuriating response—he was mocking her.
"No, that's not true…" the child trailed off, shooting a dark look over his shoulder. For just a heartbeat his true form was reflected in his shadow alone, and Rem was reminded with startling clarity just how monstrous the child really was. "I did want to tell you something." He turned to face Rem again, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Someone is coming to visit you soon, Rem. Someone is going to walk in here and start asking questions—and when he does, you're going to tell him everything he wants to know. Even if he asks about me."
Raising a brow, Rem responded, "Who is this person to whom you would offer up your identity? You know as well as I do that we are forbidden to speak of you, let alone give away who you really are."
"Oh…you'll see." The child shinigami turned back to the door, wrenching it open rather than floating through it. "Oh, and Rem?"
"What is it?"
The child's eyes darkened suddenly, his expression shadowed with an ominous warning. "You will not kill Kira."
Rem raised her chin defiantly. "If he threatens Misa, he will die."
"No, Rem. This is an order. You will not lay a hand on Kira, no matter what may unfold. If you do, then I will personally see to Miss Amane's death. And I can promise you, it won't be pretty. And what's more, once you've told your little visitor everything he wants to know, you're going to stay out of this. I don't want you interfering, do you understand?"
Rem dipped her head, frustration evident in the way she held herself. "It appears that you've left me no choice. Very well, I will not lay a hand on Kira. But be warned, shinigami—should Misa become involved in this, then so shall I. I will not promise you that I will stand on the sidelines while she is killed."
The child shook his head, but seemed entirely unsurprised. "I knew that would be your answer—that is what you were fated to say, after all. You may not know it yet, but your future has already been decided, as have the futures of everyone involved in this little game. You've seen it, haven't you Rem? Misa's lifespan…it's different now. I wonder what it means, don't you?"
Rem immediately turned towards the bedroom. She…she hadn't seen Misa's lifespan, not for several days. She took a step towards where the blonde model would no doubt be sleeping, but then paused. She looked back to the child shinigami to order him to explain what was happening, what he was going to do—but by the time she whirled her head back in his direction, the door was slamming closed, and the shinigami was nowhere to be found.
Rem turned back to the door of the bedroom, which had been carefully closed and locked. But no matter—she drifted through the door, eyes locking on the face of Misa Amane, sleeping comfortably in her large, black-sheeted bed. The shinigami's eyes found those floating kanji above the head of the model, and a heavy feeling settled in the pit of Rem's stomach—at least, it would have, had she still possessed such a thing as a stomach.
"Misa…" she murmured, and though she knew that the model couldn't hear, she still tossed in her sleep, shivering slightly. Soundlessly, wordlessly, Rem moved to the side of the bed, looming over the human female she cared for so much. "Do not worry," she assured the sleeping girl. "I swore that I would protect you. This does not change that."
Misa turned again in her sleep. And as she did, those accusatory numbers floated above her head, twisting, turning, and speaking of things to come.
I dropped a pretty big hint as to the identity of the child shinigami in this chapter. I wonder if anyone figured it out…
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and be sure to drop me a review if you did!