Ryuzaki will never get what he is looking for: this confirmation of your guilt he's so sure of. And, as though affronted by the lack of his plan's dramatic conclusion, he progresses to a sulk, ignoring you with prickly determination. The watch, the desk—he'll never get anything from them. What did he think you'd do? Break down in tears? Fall at his feet in gratitude or terror? Please.

No, all he got was a lie, and you might feel bad about it if it weren't for the precariousness of your position. You have to lie to him: although you are innocent.

And that's something Ryuzaki must know.

You could take advantage of it, maybe; play up the trauma he ought to expect, gain others' sympathy and perhaps slip under the guard of his suspicion, but you can't bring yourself to: it seems too dangerous; the potential for such a play backfiring too great. This stalemate is an uneasy place to rest, but it is one nonetheless…

So you don't complain when Ryuzaki spends the rest of the day holed up on your floor instead of letting you go down to the main computers. And you don't complain when you go to bed, and the bed is in a room as wide as an ocean. The walls are too far apart; and there's only two pillows, not enough to make a barrier, to have something at your back. You feel like you're floating away, like you might actually disintegrate if you stop paying attention to your unfamiliar surroundings for even an instant.

It doesn't help you sleep that night. Nor does it help that Ryuzaki's insomnia is worse than usual, and he stays up the entire night typing away at his computer. You know, because you are very aware of how, at first, you'd seen the blue glow as pale as moonlight over the bedspread, though the blackout curtains are shut… and then, how as it gets closer to morning, the faintest essence of daylight plays out in a line under the curtains, even as you're still encased in artificial night… and all the time, as you slip in and out of a doze and a hyperaware vigilance, you can hear Ryuzaki typing away, and see his hunched-over form. And you think rudely that he looks like some sort of horrible underground creature, like a worm.

If only you could be really, truly terrified of him you could play yourself as a victim. You have enough right to, anyway! But it would be pointless. You wouldn't be able to keep it up, and he would see right through it. Instead you have to be friendly.

You used to be so effortlessly good at that. Everyone was happy with you. Everyone would do what you wanted, just because you were that good. But then Kira came along and ruined it all…

You hate Kira as much as you hate L. But it's easier to hate Kira, because he is a faceless, bodiless force; a cruel murderer whose every action screams "I am better than you; I am above law and order and mortal men." Because Kira saw everything you were and took it for his own.

You are lying on your side and pressing your fingers against the cuff around your left wrist. You're afraid it's becoming some sort of tell, or a nervous habit. There's just something about feeling the cool metal pressing against you that feels familiar. Like it can keep you from falling apart in this too-big room.

You hate it.

You hate feeling weak, not in control, dependent… on something like a handcuff, no less. You try to stop yourself, force your right hand into a fist on the other side of your body, but that just makes you notice the room all the more, and you can feel your heartrate going up, your breathing grow ragged… you feel dangerously close to an edge, though you're not sure the edge of what. So you give up. You reach over, push the handcuff against your skin again, and focus on how it's keeping you here, keeping you from spinning away. It's not the worst thing that could happen. Plenty of people have nervous habits. L has too many to even count. It doesn't mean anything.

It doesn't mean anything.

(And even if it does, in the morning, no one will know.)

/

In the morning, you're more irritable than ever. Most of this is because you didn't sleep last night; you're already yawning even when you wake up, and when you go to take a shower even the hot water barely does anything for you. You have a feeling you'll be drinking a lot of coffee today.

(That, too, is a habit you never used to have. You'd enjoyed the drink sometimes when you went out, but that's all. Ryuzaki drinks it so much that it's always around the task force headquarters, and after you came out of confinement you had been so tired and unfocused—you'd had a cup here, and another one there, and it's been less than a week and a half but you're already up to drinking three cups a day, and you have to stop. You will, as soon as everything else stops being so difficult.)

It's while you're poking around in the kitchen for something to eat after your first cup of coffee that the phone rings. You're just trying to figure out whether you have the energy to do anything but eat a cold cup of rice noodles when Ryuzaki makes a beeline toward where the phone hangs from its hook on the wall, dragging you away from the fridge which swings closed behind you.

You're stuck holding your container of noodles and glaring at Ryuzaki, hoping this isn't a long conversation, because you don't have any chopsticks or even a spoon.

You peer down at the container, and pick up a noodle between your fingers, then drop it into your mouth.

"That's a great idea, Misa-san," Ryuzaki says cheerfully.

You choke.

Ryuzaki looks over at you in obvious indifference while you try to convey through frantic waving alone how much whatever Misa said isn't a great idea. It doesn't matter what the idea is. It's Misa. That should be enough! If you'd been able to get a single word out between coughs it may have been more effective.

Or not.

This is Ryuzaki, after all.

He puts the phone back onto the hook. "Light-kun, you shouldn't try to speak when you're choking," he says, like this is all your fault. You try, with commendable (though ineffective) effort to murder him with your eyes, while your knuckles whiten around the container you're holding.

"Whatever it is," you finally manage to gasp, "tell her we've changed our mind. The answer is no."

"It's just a date," Ryuzaki says flippantly. "We'll go up to her floor, sit around for a while, then leave. What's the big deal?"

A date? This is worse than you'd thought.

"I told you, I'm not dating Misa. She's a stalker," you remind him.

"She's still an important part of this investigation," Ryuzaki says casually. "And anyway, we have to keep her occupied somehow."

"Not like this!"

"There will be cake," Ryuzaki continues, like that clinches it. He's already halfway out the door. And for a moment you really consider hurling the noodles straight at his head but what are you, five?

You quickly bend over to put it on the floor in an out-of-the-way-ish spot and try not to trip as Ryuzaki's momentum tugs impatiently at the chain. You run to catch up with him, because you abtolutely hate when he drags you around.

"Ryuzaki," you say, grabbing your shoes at the door as you pass, and he leaves your private quarters and presses the elevator button in the hall, "we just got here. There's so much data we could gather on these new machines, and you want to go on a date?" You put your shoes on the ground and shove your socked feet into them.

"Why not?" Ryuzaki says tactlessly. "Misa-san is very beautiful after all."

"She's not going on a date with you," you shoot back irritably.

"True, but I will be there," Ryuzaki says.

"I don't believe you," you say, as the elevator dings and the doors open, and you get inside.

"I'm afraid you'll have to," Ryuzaki says, swinging the chain between you pointedly.

"I don't mean that. I mean I don't believe you're going to her floor just so you can stare at her," you say. "I'd believe you were just there for the cake more than I believe that, and for the record, I don't buy that one either."

"Then perhaps," Ryuzaki says thoughtfully, "you'll have to figure out why I'm going."

"To irritate me."

Ryuzaki gives you an unimpressed look. "Oh, we're here," he says. He scoots into the hall and is soon barging into Misa's floor.

"Are you guys here already?" Misa shouts, running into the open front hall as you take off your shoes by the door. She's put off, glaring with her hands on her hips. "Ryuzaki, I haven't even finished getting ready!"

"You look fine to me," Ryuzaki says, barely sparing her a glance.

"Yeah, of course you'd think that. You're supposed to set a time, not just appear."

"Well… we can go if you want," Ryuzaki says.

Misa blanches, and then backpeddles with a coquettish smile. "No! No, it's fine. Listen, how about you both, er… sit down." She gestures vaguely to her main living area just ahead. Unlike your floor plan, Misa's is mostly open, with a kitchen area, complete with island, off to one side, a sitting area on the other. There are cameras hidden in the two pillars between them, as well as in the photographs, in the molding, and even built into the walls and ceilings itself.

Ryuzaki walks over to the living room, and you follow him. Misa walks next to you, still looking a little unhappy. Her frown deepens when you and Ryuzaki take one loveseat, leaving the other for her. What did she expect? you think, ungratefully. It's not like you could sit across from Ryuzaki, considering the chain.

And if she really wanted to sit next to you, she could always squeeze between the two of you. It would probably involve her getting whacked in the head by the chain, but, well, you don't actually see a downside to that.

Still, you're relieved you don't have to have her pressing that close, maybe trying to get intimate or something.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, in which Ryuzaki stares into space and Misa stares angrily somewhere in the direction of her hands, the door buzzer goes off. It's designed to make a sound every time the door opens so Misa knows if anyone's coming in, since she can't exactly do anything to stop it.

She jumps up. "That must be the food," she says.

"Yes," Ryuzaki agrees. "Watari is very efficient."

She runs over to the front hall space and you can hear her saying a cheerful "thank you!" before Watari walks in, wheeling a tray.

You've definitely seen his face by now. Though, you suppose it's been proved to L's satisfaction that you don't have killing powers at your disposal, and you're in a completely secure building.

He's an old man, dressed as a butler, with a smiling face that would probably be best-described as "kindly" or "twinkling." You don't trust that façade for a second. This is L's right-hand man after all, and you know from personal experience how much appearances can be deceiving.

"Cake and tea, as requested," Watari says easily, putting a tall, silver teapot on the low table, along with silverware and three plated pieces of cake.

"Cake and tea," Ryuzaki says. "Is that strawberry shortcake?"

"It is," Watari says, standing back proudly. Ryuzaki leans forward with an expression of interest on his face that is far-removed from his apathetic manner on the date so far; Watari bows slightly and wheels the tray away, and a moment later the buzzer signals that the exit is shut.

Ryuzaki grabs his cake and takes a bite, humming with enjoyment.

You're pretty hungry, so you actually take a bite or two of your own cake, before giving it up as too sweet for first thing in the morning. You miss your noodles, sitting abandoned in the kitchen a floor below. You should've just brought them up with you.

It's not coffee, but a strong black tea is still caffeine, so you progress to sipping from your cup instead.

Nobody's talking.

What would you even say, after all?

Misa tries to catch your eye, but you pointedly ignore her, no matter what flirty looks she tries, and she eventually progresses to a stubborn kind of glare at her general surroundings.

You finish your tea. Beside you, Ryuzaki is smacking his lips. He licks his fork, and peers down at his plate, which is already half-finished. He's not even moving through it particularly quickly, preferring, as usual, to eat with the manners of a bird: a peck here, a hop back to observe before diving in again for the smallest possible bite.

(It's always either that or the manners of a snake, swallowing something whole.)

Misa sighs loudly.

You finish your tea and pour yourself another cup, and then remember that you're trying not to over-caffeinate.

You rest your cup on the table and lean against the back of the loveseat, putting your hands behind your head and crossing your legs. You stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Misa, hoping vaguely to see an interesting looking cloud. Weirdly enough, even confinement had been more bearable than this, on occasion. You're tired, and you're still angry, and a bit hungry, and you've had too much caffeine, and you're bored. You're absolutely, excruciatingly bored.

With your hands behind your head, nobody will notice if your handcuff presses against your wrist enough to create a dull, throbbing pain. It will seem as if you're just relaxing.

…You are just relaxing. That's all. You're not hiding anything. That would be stupid.

"Man," Misa says pointedly, "this has gotta be the lamest date I've ever been on."

"Nonono, please, just pretend I'm not even here, okay?" Ryuzaki says through a mouthful of cake. "...By the way, are you gonna eat that piece of cake?"

"Cake makes you fat," Misa says dismissively. "I'm not gonna eat any."

"Actually, I've found that if you don't gain any weight as long as you burn calories by using your brain," Ryuzaki says blandly.

In actuality, though Ryuzaki can usually be found snacking on something sweet, he also frequently forgets to eat anything at all, and you've never once seen him eat a proper sit-down dinner, (or breakfast, or lunch for that matter, except that one time you went out) which probably explains more about his skinniness than any connection to brainpower.

You don't bother to explain this.

"Hm! So now you're calling me stupid?" Misa retorts. "Fine then, I'll give you the cake, as long as you agree to leave me and Light alone."

"Even if I leave you two alone, I'm still gonna be watching on surveillance cameras," Ryuzaki says around his fork. "So it wouldn't make any difference."

"You pervert!" Misa exclaims, leaning forward. "Could you stop it with your creepy hobbies?"

You don't want to pay any attention to her, but—at least in the privacy of your own thoughts—you congratulate her for mentioning it.

"...You can call me whatever you like. Last chance for cake!" Ryuzaki says brightly, standing up and stepping onto the side of the coffee table with one foot so he can lean down and grab Misa's cake.

"Fine then," Misa says with an edge to her voice, "when Light and I are alone, we'll just close the curtains and turn off the lights."

"There are infrared cameras too," Ryuzaki reminds her, settling himself back down beside you.

"Then we'll just get under the covers, right, Light?" Misa says, leaning toward you and giving you a flirtatious little grin.

"Whatever," you say. You don't want to give her anything to latch on to. To be honest, since she can't kill you if you say no, there's no reason to even consider it, since sex with her would probably be as boring as anything else with Misa. You turn toward Ryuzaki instead, tuning out whatever expression of anguish Misa's shrieking at your lack of enthusiasm. "We have this great facility now, yet you don't seem very into it, Ryuzaki," you say.

Which is an understatement.

"...Into it?" Ryuzaki muses. He's silent for a moment, staring vaguely ahead of him, and under the bright natural light you realize he looks like even more of a wreck than usual. "Not really. Actually, I'm depressed," he says flatly.

"Depressed? What for?" you ask. Is he ready to actually admit it—? You know there's a reason Ryuzaki gathered the two of you here together. And you're sure it's not just so he can eat cake. …Pretty sure.

"Well," Ryuzaki muses. He takes a bite of Misa's cake aimlessly and continues to speak. "For the longest time, I thought you were Kira, and my entire case hinged on that fact. —Well, I still suspect you," he adds, "thus the handcuffs," he raises his right arm and jingles the chain demonstratively, "but Kira could control people's actions," he says, and dangles his fork from two fingers. A shower of crumbs leaves his mouth and ends up on his shirt. "Meaning…" Ryuzaki continues, "Kira controlled you to make me think that you were Kira… 'Light-kun and Misa-san were both controlled by Kira'—everything fits in my mind if I assume that to be the fact…" he puts down his fork and hugs his knees to his chest. "The only thing I don't understand is why the two of you weren't killed," he adds.

It makes a lot of sense, hearing his thought process. Except that you're convinced you weren't controlled by Kira. Which leaves… well, nothing good, honestly.

"If you were being controlled, and killed people without being conscious of it," Ryuzaki continues darkly, "then you are nothing more than a victim…" he sounds offended at the very suggestion. "I have to start the investigation from scratch… we're back to the beginning," he finishes. "If Kira took an interest in you because of your police connections and then controlled you to make you a suspect in my eyes… that's a pretty big shock. Very frustrating."

"Ryuzaki," you point out, before he can say it himself and make the idea sound even worse, "with that line of thinking, it means that while we were controlled, Misa and I were both kiras…"

"Yes," Ryuzaki says. "I don't think there can be any mistake. You and Misa were both kiras. The way I see it," he adds, turning toward you slightly, "when you went into confinement, you were Kira. And then the killings stopped…"

It's true that the killings stopped. Not that you bothered to mention it to us…

"Up until then," Ryuzaki continues, "it makes sense to assume you were Kira. But after two weeks, the killings resumed… based on that, my thinking is that…" he pauses, then says, "Kira's power passes from person to person." Ryuzaki is more animated now, staring intensely ahead as he lays out his latest theory, and you feel a familiar rush of anger at how well he's lined up every bit of this chain of events to trap you. You cross your arms and try not to scowl at him.

"The Second Kira's video even mentioned that the power could be shared…" Ryuzaki adds.

Which is. A good point. A terrible point, since it implicates you, but a good one. You've always kind of wondered what that was all about.

"That's an interesting theory," you say, leaning forward as Ryuzaki is doing, and putting your elbows on your knees. Interesting is certainly the right word for it—and you're not going to give it more than that, "but if that's the case, then catching Kira will be difficult."

"Yes," Ryuzaki agrees. "That's why I'm depressed…" He reaches forward and grabs the teapot, pouring himself another cup of tea and then staring down at the widening ripples as the liquid settles. "You control someone and use them to kill criminals, then when that person is caught, you transfer the power to someone else, and the first person loses all their memories… this would make capture impossible…" he concludes.

"But that's not definite yet," you insist. "There are too many things that we don't understand about Kira right now. Come on," you say, reaching purposefully to rest a gentle hand on Ryuzaki's shoulder, and giving him a wide-eyed, upbeat look. "Show some energy."

"...Energy?" Like the word is foreign to him. "I'm just not feeling it," Ryuzaki concludes, pulling at his lip with one finger. "Why even bother? Trying to go after him just puts us in danger… don't you agree? I've thought I was gonna die so many times already," he adds offhandedly, reaching to grab his cup.

But you're standing up. "Ryuzaki," you say, and he looks toward you with a question. You've had more than enough of this whiny, self-pitying complaint and no one else is going to call Ryuzaki on it.

So you punch him right in the face.

You're flying forward, pulled by the chain that connects you, and Ryuzaki is slamming into the potted miniature palm against the wall, finally sitting up to face you with a dazed expression.

"Ouch," he says, like an afterthought.

"Don't be ridiculous!" you shout, and your pent-up anger is being let out, like a static cloud finally striking earth: you're not thinking. Not calculating. Not fearing for your life or your sanity, and most of all you aren't bored.

Not in the least.

"Just because your genius deduction was wrong, and I'm not Kira… you want to give up? You're going to sulk like a child?" You'll take just about anything from Ryuzaki. Torture, suspicion… but giving up? No.

He wipes his wrist across his mouth, and you notice with satisfaction the bloom of red across his cheek from where your hit had landed. He looks better like that, you think vindictively. Bruised and roughed up, he doesn't seem so much above you. He doesn't remind you so much of an undead creature, waxen in its cold perfection.

"Fine," he admits. "Perhaps I phrased it the wrong way. It would be pointless for us to make a move, so we shouldn't even bother."

"If we don't go after Kira, he'll never be caught. Is that what you want?" you demand. You're up and stepping forward… "Who's the one who swore to send Kira to his execution? If you were just gonna give up, then why did you involve all those innocent people?" You grab onto his shirt, running through the list of everything he's done before you even realize you'd had a list, that it had been waiting inside you all this time, twisted into bitterness… "The police, those FBI agents, TV announcers… they've all been victimized… you're the one who put Misa and me into confinement!"

You don't realize you're shouting until you hear the words landing in the air, like they take up space. You don't realize, until you've shouted it, just how good it would make you feel to actually say that. You've been so careful to portray only Yagami Light, Ryuzaki's friend in front of him and the task force since you got out, knowing full well that doing so was in your best interest and anything else ran the risk of making you look traumatized at best and suspicious at worst. But if he's going to openly suspect you anyway…

No, that's just rationalization after the fact.

You've been angry at him for weeks, months… longer than that, maybe…

"I understand that," Ryuzaki admits quietly. "But, whatever the reason…" He's already kicking out as he continues, "an eye for an eye, my friend."

And you're crashing through the air to land on the couch, dragging Ryuzaki back with you like a counterweight, and with a deafening crash the couch falls onto its back, taking the two of you down with it.

"It's not just that my deduction was wrong," Ryuzaki says tetchily, getting into a crouch to face you as you do the same, facing him. "The fact is, I can say 'Yagami Light is Kira, and Amane Misa is the Second Kira' and it won't be enough to solve the case. So I'm a little depressed. I'm human. Is that so unreasonable?"

"Yes it is," you say. He has no right to complain! Not when he has the least to complain about of any of us! "Besides, you should hear yourself. It's like you won't be satisfied unless I am Kira!"

"...Not satisfied unless you're Kira?" Ryuzaki asks. "Well, there may be some truth to that," he says darkly. "In fact, now that you mention it… you're right. I think I wanted you to be Kira."

You are infuriated by him. You're infuriated by his matter-of-fact obsession with the idea of you being a criminal; you're infuriated by that obstinate look on his face and with the reflection of yourself in his night-dark pupil, framed, by his unassailable logic, as a madman. It is as pitiless and cold as void, and you're infuriated by the way it pulls you forward, inexorable, so… you punch him.

And you hear the slam of your knuckles against his skin as the reverberation of it shakes its way through your fist and up your arm, and he is nothing—

He's just a guy. A horrible, morally-absent investigator with too many annoying habits, a man who watched you suffer for months inside a dingy cell without even any human interaction. He's just Ryuzaki, but he's L too, and you hate both of them with an intensity that leaves you reeling.

"As I said before, an eye for an eye," Ryuzaki explains. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, you know." He turns on one leg and kicks back with the other one, hitting you squarely so you stumble, tears of pain coming to your eyes. But you don't fall. Not this time. You swing your left hand around, using the momentum of the chain in your favor, and when Ryuzaki stumbles forward, dragged by the weight of it, you're grabbing for his shirt again—and he's doing the same. As though you're both part of the same system, you're facing each other, keeping each other within reach and readying for a punch with the other hand that will send you both staggering, when the phone rings.

For some reason, it's ended up on the floor.

Ryuzaki crouches down with one leg still outstretched to the side, and picks up the phone between two fingers. He listens for a moment. "Ohh, I see," he says, in that overly-interested tone of voice he uses when he's trying to come across as if he actually gives a shit. His other hand is still positioned on the floor, giving the impression that if necessary, Ryuzaki could jump up at any moment and resume the fight.

Which is probably an accurate impression, all things considered.

Then he lets the phone clatter back onto its hook.

"What was that about?" you ask. Your fists are still clenched, but the blinding rage has passed, leaving you clear-headed. You feel present, like you and your body exist together in synchronicity, everything from your pounding heart to the sweat on your skin, and it doesn't matter that the sky is at your back, and it doesn't matter that Ryuzaki could still see you dead.

All the clutter, all the things that had tormented you during the night… they can't touch you here, where your ragged gasps still push through your diaphragm like you're letting go of stale, poisoned air.

Ryuzaki's hand hovers where he'd dropped the phone as you speak, before finally pulling it back toward him. "Matsuda's acting stupid again," he says tiredly.

"Well," you agree, "that is his specialty."

.

.

.