L x Light

What to do. How to find it.

His long fingers trail absently along the hairless skin of his flat
stomach as he thinks, tracing the bony edge of the iliac crest and the
tight aponeurosis at the abdominal sheath.

And what is to be done with Light?

He will keep him close for the time being. Light, himself, prefers this.

He can’t risk taking too long to find the third notebook; depending
on where it is, it might fall into someone else’s hands. Perhaps it has
already.  While the notion of death Gods is, to say the least, disturbing
to L, he is nevertheless undeniably curious as to how the notebooks work.
He has decided, however, with absolute certainty, that they are far too
dangerous to keep for observation and definitely too dangerous to test.

Yes: destroying them was the right choice.

His breath comes quiet and moist against the fabric beneath, coyly muffled
with so much more consideration than Light has shown him in the torment
of frustration.

Bitterly smiling and bitterly ending,

Bitterly rising and bitter descending,

If I had the doorway, if I had a shot,

How tightly I’d tie your whole world in a knot;

Delicate lips parted, he exhales with careful silence against the slender
length of his forearm. He is almost too tired for it, wading between sleep
and dim alertness, wrist moving softly, long lashes batting over closed
eyes and quiet, quiet, quiet;

It’s poison, it’s death in a box, it’s disaster,

How fast can you take it, as I can go faster;

Inaudible inspiration and rigid hold of breath and expiration, and inspiration,
and quiet, quiet;

And inaudible inspiration at last to the silent scream gaping tight
and helpless before, exhausted, he exhales in melancholy relief, spent
and nearly unconscious.

And what is to be done with Light?

 

*  *  *

Light awakens the next morning to find a partly-collapsed pillow barrier
dividing the mattress between his side and L’s, which topples further when
a slight tug at the chain loosens the foundation.

“You were kicking me,” L mumbles when Light inquires about it, half
asleep and mostly unconscious, “a lot.”

“Oh,” comes the response, simple and innocent.

“Who or what is Rem?” L asks suddenly, face still turned to the wall,
“do you remember anything about that?”

It has occurred to L that when he and the death Goddess spoke in Light’s
cell, at one point he woke up and called out that single syllable, as if
in question.

“Pardon?”

“Rem. Does that word mean anything to you?”

Silence.

L turns to face Light, who is staring back absently and then shakes
his head.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I see.”

Even though L was entirely terrified at the time, he can still remember
that Light called out the word as if calling a person. Rem must be someone,
not just something. And the fact that Light cannot remember a name he once
knew must mean it is somehow associated with the notebooks L destroyed.

Misa became a shinigami after she died.

Then if Light were to die—

“Ryuuzaki,” comes a soft voice from across the pillow barrier,

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to use the restroom.”

“Let’s go, then.”

 

*   *   *

“Other arm, please,” L says quietly, reaching for the limb as Light
allows it. He holds it under the biceps and bats water from his eyelashes
as he runs a sponge over the wet skin, the chain clinking against the tile
floor.

“We’re gonna have to cut your hair soon,” he remarks absently as he
brushes the dripping strands away to reach the scapulae.

No reply from Light, who remains quiet and passively allows L to wash
his shoulders and back, and when the bony wrists reach for his hands, they
stop suddenly.

Before L can gasp at the conclusion he’s reached, he finds himself whipped
around with a resonant chime of the metal bind and pressed hard against
the wall.

“Not Rem,” comes Light’s voice against the curve of his ear, “Ryuk.”

The powder under Light’s nails is still there.

It isn’t an explosive.

L kicks Light away and instantly has him with his hands behind his back.

This is becoming dangerous.

Water still running, L leads Light out of the shower and back into the
room, where he holds him down and binds him immediately.

He returns with a thin wooden pick and a sterile bag and climbs over
the struggling form, bending across the wet abdomen to reach for the left
hand.

“Please stop moving so much,” he says uselessly as he forces the digits
pronate and proceeds to sweep under the nails with the pick, “you’ll make
it hurt more.”

“I’ll kill you, Ryuuzaki,”

It comes pure and simple, and L continues undistracted,

“You can’t, Light-kun.”

Light grits his teeth. His chest is still soapy and the mattress is
entirely damp beneath him, and L thinks he’ll catch a cold if this goes
on, so when he finishes collecting the caked powder, he returns with a
towel to dry him off.

This is good, he thinks as he runs the cloth over Light’s abdomen
and waist, Light may know where the third notebook is.

Better still, if the powder really is part of the third book, then L
might be able to use it, himself, without questioning Light at all. This,
of course, is far preferable, because L understands that Light would love
nothing more than to get his hands on the book before L does.

At least part of Light does.

Find it before I do.

The duality is almost heartbreaking, L thinks as he dabs at Light’s
hair and forehead, Lord only knows what a chaotic mess the boy has become.

*   *   *

“L got Kira. He must have.”

Somewhere in England, two teenage boys lean over a thick volume dimly
lit by the iridescent glow of a halogen desk lamp.

“Try to focus on the project. It’s due in two days.”

“D…don’t talk down to me…!”

They’ve each figured out—individually—that L had assigned them this
project.

And even though he’s away in Japan working on the Kira case, he’s undoubtedly
going to review their work—

Because it’s important.

Because this is important.

Because this is happening at a crucial time.

And that’s why—

And that’s why they absolutely have to show nothing less than the superior
standard of which they are each capable, and why they must, for once, put
aside the competition that has dictated their lives to date.

 

To be continued…

 

 
** Idea for Mello and Near working on a project from L inspired by Akane's awesome Death Note game, Poisoned