Gloria Victis

A/N:

Anyone who can catch the reference in the title of this chapter gets a cookie.

THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING Evermist AND Sabaku_lotus
I promise you, B’s moment is coming…but not quite yet…sorry Mello


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CHAPTER 3
JUST OUTSIDE OF BARSTOW


It had been almost a week, before Mello was fed for the first time. Beyond came in, all smiles, a tray full of breakfast in his hands. The blond would have laughed at the sight, if they'd been home. He would have laughed, if he hadn't just watched the brunette dip a finger into a jar of jam, sucking on it, eyes closing like it was something richer, a delicacy, not the simple store bought sticky mess that had smeared onto the side of his mouth. "Come on, now, give us a kiss. Just a little peck, and I'll have a treat for you."

The boy squeezed his eyes shut as the older man crawled into the bed, sitting by his side, leaning down for his payment. Mello wanted to refuse, hungry and tired as he was, but something smelled so wonderful, so warm. What was the point of fighting anyway? He kissed B, letting his kidnapper stick his tongue in his mouth, responding just enough so that he wouldn't cause the man to become angry again.

Chocolate, warm melt in your mouth double chocolate pancakes, dripping with chocolate syrup. A mug of warm cocoa to go along with it. It was laid on his lap, taunting him while B slowly undid his restraints. The teen's arms were stiff, his hands numb. There were bruises and cuts on his wrists that ached and stung when he moved his hands. He was so weak, starved and dehydrated, that he could barely pick up the fork and knife. It was only a small defeat, but enough to leave stinging tears in his eyes again, when the rapist took the utensils, cutting and spearing a large bite and putting it against his lips. He swallowed it nearly whole, almost choking on it. His throat was raw from screaming, his mouth was dry. Another bite was offered, then another. The plate was quickly finished off, then he felt his stomach jerk. It wasn't used to being fed, couldn't handle something so rich.

The brunette was staring intently, waiting for the teen to become sick, like he knew he would. The boy barely managed to lean over the side of the bed before he emptied what little had been in his stomach onto the floor. His hair was held back, while he dry heaved for what felt like an eternity. The older man grabbed him from behind, pressing Mello's back to his chest. He rubbed the teen's stomach, kissed his shoulder.

"Mello should take better care of himself. Have we not already discussed this? Of course Mello is ill." The blond sat very still, just listening to the psychopath scold him like L so often did. "I admit it might be partially my fault. I was so busy wanting to make love to my beautiful angel that I did not notice the signs. Poor dear. It will be all right. There is more where that came from. Please, drink, love, you'll feel much better." The teen held the mug in his hands, not caring that it was hot enough to burn his skin, to burn his tongue when he took the first gulp. He willed his stomach to settle, then finished the rest of the drink. "Good boy. Now, what do we say?"

"Thank you." The boy was pulled into B's lap, trapped in his arms. It felt almost safe, secure. At least he wasn't alone, chained to the bed. At least the man was feeding him, and hadn't yelled when he'd gotten sick on the floor. No. What was he thinking? This wasn't safe. This was just another form of torture. Though this time it was psychological. He would beat him, rage at him, then he would hold him and pet him and tell him he loved him.

"That's better. Now, how are you feeling love? You look better." He was turned around in the older man's lap, his chin held up, face inches from the other. "Yes, I can see the color returning to your cheeks even now. Such wonderful skin, such a pretty golden, sunny color. Mello is the light to my dark. I can almost taste the sun on his lips." To prove this, B licked the teen's bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth with his teeth, gently sucking on it before releasing it again. He was so like L, even in the way he kissed. The blond knew that the two were not related, that it was mere accident that they were so similar. But it was eerie the way Beyond could move and speak exactly like their mentor, how he could kiss and it felt like kissing the detective. If he just closed his eyes, he could make this room go away, he could be lying in L's bed, cuddled on his lap, held in his arms exactly like this. They'd been this way so often, all the blond had to do was think hard enough and it would be real. There was no Beyond Birthday; no bare bedroom in god knows where, just the two of them, together. Always, just like they'd promised.

The boy had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard B's voice calling for him, had forgotten that the man was even there until he was shaking him, his voice raising slightly. Fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving more marks on his wounded body. When their eyes finally met, crimson daring blue, the blond knew what was coming, feared the question and what he could possibly give for an answer. "Where was Mello? What was he thinking about?"

"N-nothing." The blond bowed his head, resting it against B's shoulder in mock affection. He prayed that the madman would just forget, would become distracted by the gesture. His hopes were dashed, B violently shaking him, screaming at him.

"What was it?! What could be so important that Mello would ignore me, when he swears that I am all he desires, what consumes his mind so? What is it? Who is it?" The older man seemed to realize that he had lost focus himself, that he wasn't carefully playing his part. He had slipped back into unpredictable Beyond Birthday, to the angry psychopath, ranting and raving and set off by the slightest word or gesture. His voice lowered, affected that normal bored tone once again. "Mello offends me greatly. I do not want him merely for his body; I desire to possess his soul as well. To have each and every part of his being as my own. To be ignored in such a way is devastating to myself. What is it that distracts Mello so?"

The words came before he could stop them; as usual the blond was opening his mouth without thinking of the consequences. He sniffled, the sound muffled from where he was held against B's chest. "I miss L. I miss him so much." Mello waited for the pain, waited to be strangled, to be hit, to be thrown across the room. Instead, his captor only sighed heavily, laying the boy on his back on the bed.

Beyond stood, kissed Mello's forehead. "My love is delirious. My apologies, my outburst was uncalled for. I should have remembered how fragile my love's mind has been. Mello has not been himself for days. I have seen the signs, but obviously have not done enough to help. The psychosis is becoming worse I'm afraid. But do not worry love; I will not let you slip away from me. Never, ever again." The brunette fastened a cuff around one of Mello's wrists again, attaching it to the headboard, before leaving the room.

When he returned, there was a syringe in his hand. There was clear fluid inside, and the blond watched the familiar practice of tapping and squirting out the air bubbles. It had been awhile since he'd been awake for it, but he knew from the marks on his arms and the constant haze clouding his mind that he was still being drugged regularly. He was always so tired, always waking up in a fog. He must have been sleeping nearly half the days away in a drug-induced stupor.

There was no point in struggling, but the boy did his best regardless. He wished he could have a clear head, just for a few hours, but there was no chance in that. Maybe if he could think clearly, he could get out of this. If he could use his mind to it's full potential, then he could come up with a plan, or at least not feel so lost and hopeless.

When Beyond saw that the teen was indeed going to make an effort to keep away, he climbed into the bed, sitting on the teen's hips to hold him down. The blond was pulling at his restraint, rubbing the raw skin, his other arm weakly slapping at the man. "Mello, shh, baby. Calm down. This is for your own good. I promise you." B held the blonde's wrist, stretching his arm out, the needle poised at the inside of the elbow. It was no concern to the kidnapper if Mello were to knock the syringe from his hand, there was more where that came from. "Sweetheart, you need to take your medicine now. I know how frightening this is for Mello, but I swear it will all be better soon. The medicine will see to that. Mello is very sick right now, but I have the cure. Just be still." The needle was plunged into the crook of Mello's elbow, the plunger depressed and the poison released before he could do anything to stop it. B carefully, lovingly pulled it back out, setting it aside while he restrained the other arm.

Mello's legs had been left unrestrained, though B still used his own weight to hold the boy where he lay. Minutes passed by, and then the effects began to make themselves known. This time was different than the others. The calming effect came first, followed by a wave of confusion, the teen's vision becoming slightly blurry, his eyelids getting heavy. B shook him. "Hmm?"

"Don't fall asleep. Stay with me. Come on love. You will feel so much better soon. Just let it in. Enjoy the peace." Beyond smiled, stroking Mello's cheek with just his fingertips. It was comforting, soothing. It felt so right. Everything would be all right now. There was no more fear. The blond felt like he could lie there forever, the tension oozing out, melting away like it had been only a dream. Everything felt so dream-like, surreal. His mind tried to grasp the situation, to come up with a word for what was coursing through his veins. It was not the usual sedative, the stuff they'd give in a hospital, in a mental institution possibly. That had just put him out, given him dreamless sleep. This was new, something he'd never experienced but should recognize from his lessons. Street drug. That was it. Heroin? Yes.

Briefly, Mello panicked. This stuff could be laced with anything. Could be deadly with just one use. Of course, any drug might be, if in the wrong hands. But there were procedures to follow, regulations. The other drugs he'd been given were safer. This came from foreign countries, sent to basements and warehouses to be cut with any number of poisons. The thought left as quickly as it came, and he couldn't help but give in to the sensations again. Peace. That was what it offered. Just like B had said. Or was that L? Smiling down at him, lovingly petting his hair and whispering softly. Yes, only L could touch him this way, make him feel so secure. He could trust L. Could trust him to administer the medicine that must really be needed. Was he losing his mind? Had he imagined it all? The rape, the torture, the pain. Yes. It was only he and L.

"Mello trusts me. I can see it in his eyes. He knows that this is necessary for his health. I love you, my angel." A kiss, gentle at first, then intense, passionate. The cuffs were undone, and Mello was wrapping his arms around a familiar neck, hand going to play with mussed black hair, tugging on a handful. It was softer than it looked, silky, like his own. Despite the appearance, the fact that a brush never so much as came within ten feet of the mess, it wasn't knotted in the least. He could run his fingers through it, could twirl it around them. L was making little pleased noises into his mouth, and Mello tugged harder. Yes, the detective always loved when he did that. He could feel just how much he loved it, as the older man lay between his naked thighs. "I love you so much."

"I love you too L."


Flashes, brief glimpses into what had happened after the first dose. Mello could see two
pairs of eyes, blue superimposed over crimson, both images wavering, blurry. There was something wrong with L's face, the smile twisted, wrong. There was something wrong with the way he held Mello, the way he wrapped his arms around the teen while they made love. L was always so gentle, so loving. The look on his lover's face was nothing but possession, a master to his slave.

Mello must have passed out sometime during the act, as B was encouraging him to come, first again. Mello always came first, in everything, before the detective. He was important, precious. The most treasured belonging. No, not belonging. But hadn't he said it himself? Mello is mine. Yes, he was. He belonged to L.

Now the teen was waking up, and this time he was not alone. The arm around his waist was deceptively strong for how thin and fragile it looked. It could hit hard, it could restrain him, as it was doing now. This was not a man holding his teenage lover, to sleep curled up together, to be close just for the sake of being close. Of course, the man lying behind him wasn't sleeping anyway. His breathing was irregular, and when the boy shifted in the bed, trying to stretch out the limbs that had gone numb from laying for so long, he was pulled closer, the back of his neck kissed, not in affection, but in warning. B was aware that he was trying to move, and wanted him to know that it wasn't appreciated.

He was being restrained, though the handcuffs were dangling off the bed without his wrists locked inside for once. It had been so long since he'd had more than a few moments of freedom, that he felt some part of himself missing it. Some deep, dark recess of his mind was begging for the comfort of the restraints again. They kept him grounded; the pain of the metal rubbing against the raw, bleeding skin of his wrists reminded him that he was alive.

"Good morning, love. I had not expected you to wake so soon. I thought I had thoroughly worn you out." The man giggled. "That was, ah, intense does not quite convey how wonderful it felt." The blond was turned around, made to face the older man. "I must say, though, that the best part was listening to Mello's dreams. He spoke of me. I am quite flattered that I consume his thoughts so." The brunette shifted again, laying on top of the teen, kissing first his lips, then his neck, down to his chest. He tilted his head up when the boy moaned as he sucked on a nipple, bit at the dark pink flesh. Mello's body overrode his thoughts, hips bucking up. "So pretty, Mello. So sugary sweet."

"L? Is that you?" Their eyes had met, and the blond panicked again. Red eyes. The words kidnapper, torturer, rapist, shook away the hazy after-effects of too much sleep, and, oh, the drugs. Those were not L's eyes. This was not his lover. It spoke to him like it was, it used all the right words, it kissed and licked and bit at all the rights spots. "What's happening?" The older man didn't answer at first, distracting him by moving to kiss at the inside of his thighs, rubbing his cheek against them.

Beyond watched the confusion surface in those blue eyes, the beginnings of fear. "Oh, Mello, I have been so terribly selfish again. I want only to touch my love, but he is not in the right state of mind for my attentions. That can easily be cured, though. The brunette sat up, reaching into his pocket. He produced a small tin, opening the lid to reveal a single white pill inside. He placed it in his palm, holding it out to the boy. A gothic styled 'L' was etched into one side. "Open up, love, take your medicine. That's a good boy."

Mello did as he was told, the pill placed on the tip of his tongue, B's hand going over his mouth, forcing him to swallow it dry. The blond didn't struggle once he'd seen the world famous symbol; this came from a source that he could trust with his very life. If L thought that he needed it, then he would have to take it. He was sick, and his lover was only trying to help. "Thank you."

"Mello is getting better already. You are quite welcome my love." The kidnapper continued his attentions then, carefully going over all the secret spots that only the detective should know about. Minutes flew by like seconds, the boy shutting his eyes against the sensations that overwhelmed his body. It felt so good, so right. This was where he was meant to be.

"Open your eyes. I need to see how much I please my love." The blond did as he was told. The room was spinning, the white walls were suddenly so bright, the brunette's skin seemed to glow above him. He could see the older man's chest expand and contract with each breath, could count each rib, sharp as blades, as he removed his plain white shirt. Mello's hips were rising up, grinding against the other's. Never had such a simple action caused so much pleasure, it felt like every nerve ending was hypersensitive, every time B touched anywhere, it felt like his fingertips were sinking inside him, stroking him from inside out. "You're being such a good boy. Would you like to touch me too?"

Mello nodded enthusiastically, moaning loudly when the brunette reached to undo a single cuff. His other arm was still connected to the bed, and when Beyond reached to undo that one, he jerked away, moaning again at the friction of metal against skin. His free hand went to B's chest, carefully, tentatively, tracing each rib, expecting to slice his fingers on the bones. When it was apparent that this wouldn't happen, his hand drifted to the single button of the jeans hanging loosely on his captor's hips. The metal was so cold compared to the warm skin of the older man's stomach. The zipper slid down easily, the blond already pulling the fabric down, freeing B's aching erection. That skin was warmer still, soft and silky. Mello moaned again, feeling like his lover might as well be stroking him when his hand wrapped around the hardness.

"Hold on, love. Believe me, I am as impatient as you, but we must wait. Just a moment. I'll be right there." When his captor stood, the blonde's hand drifted to his own erection, it felt almost too good to touch, was almost painful. The room still spun, and it took him several moments to be able to concentrate on the warning expression that was shot in his direction. "No. Bad boy. Does Mello wish to be punished?" The blond shook his head. He was sorry, so sorry. He hadn't meant to be bad. He didn't want L to leave, not now. "That's what I thought. Patience. If I can't trust Mello, then he will have to be properly restrained again."

The blonde's eyes lost focus again, staring first at the cross that still decorated the wall, the image of his god bleeding for his sins. The blood was actually running down his wrists and feet, dripping from the gaping wound in his stomach, droplets landing on the hard wood floors. It was so red, there was so much. His hand went to his chest, feeling the beat underneath, pulsing faster than it ever had, threatening to burst out of his ribcage.

He was so lost in trying to find a point to focus on that he didn't see the laptop set out on a nearby table, a camera feed being connected, blinking red light. The image of the bed was mirrored on the screen, his own writhing body and captured in full color. The flush that spread from head to toe, his leanly muscled body writhing on top of the white sheets. It felt so good, like nothing he'd ever experience before. It couldn't compare to the last dose of his medicine, though the peace that it had given him for those few moments felt wonderful, this was infinitely better. Never had he felt so secure in himself, so happy. Euphoria. Pleasure, limitless pleasure. Mello couldn't wait for L to come back to the bed; he knew that he could make love all night if he was allowed.

"Please L."

Across the room, Beyond watched the blond pant and squirm on the bed. This particular drug could be unpredictable, sometimes causing no effect at all, but it seemed to do wonders on the teen. He was an absolute mess, begging with eyes wide as saucers, pleading with that skinny form, already hard as the brunette. Finally, the recording was set, ready to capture the intimate act, to prove that Mello was indeed his and his alone. More than the hair, the clothing, the record of breaking cases, what defined the world's greatest detective was his most lovely possession, the blond teen handcuffed to the bed. If Mello was his, then he was L.

"Of course, my love." Beyond made his way back to the bed, stopping again to reach for something else in the pocket of his discarded jeans. Mello instantly recognized the tube of lubricant as L's preferred brand, because it was flavored like strawberries. He'd always questioned the detective whether it was the taste of himself, or sweets, that he enjoyed more. L was unable to give an answer. "Mello has been such a good boy."

"Thank you, L." Mello spread his legs without being asked, watching the older man coat his fingers with the flavored lube. The blond lifted his hips, B's hand sliding between his legs, his fingers pushing into him, making him pant and squirm. "L. Please. Please." The teen had forgotten about his recent injuries, the torn flesh, even as they were irritated again with the intrusion of those fingers. However, it didn't hurt at all, and he pushed against the digits, impaling himself while he chewed on the tips of his own fingers.

"Is Mello prepared?" The blond nodded, though he whined when B's fingers were removed, clawing at his shoulder and wrapping a leg around his waist. He reached between them, taking hold of the older man's hard dick, forgetting that there had hardly been enough preparation. L would never have allowed this normally, and it should have made him scream in pain when the whole length of it was shoved into him. But Mello was already coming hard, both legs wrapping around the brunette's waist as he withdrew nearly all the way, before shoving himself back in.

Beyond bit at Mello's neck, the sharp points of his canines still clamped down even as the blood began to flow. The blond was clawing at his back, the older man could already feel the teen hardening again between them as he pushed the boy towards the head of the bed, going to his knees, pulling the boy into his lap, the arm still cuffed to the bed twisted painfully behind him.

"Such a good boy. There's my beautiful angel. That's right, baby, come on, fuck yourself." Hands went around the slim waist, forcing the boy to move faster. "You can do better than that, can't you?" The blond moaned, licked a wet line along B's throat, bit, sucked. The older man did his best not to react, to make the teen do the work, but he couldn't help but continue moving his own hips up with the boy's. He looked towards the camera at the other end of the room, smiling wickedly as Mello begged him to come inside of him. "Mine," he stated, speaking more to the man who would soon be receiving the transmission than the pretty teenager. The brunette reached between them, stroking Mello's erection, bringing him to yet another orgasm as he whispered what a good boy he was, how much he loved him, how good it felt to have his cock inside of him.

The camera would still be left on when Beyond lifted the teen out of his lap, laying the boy's back to the camera, the blood between his thighs vivid red so like the kidnapper's eyes. Mello was still thanking L as the brunette left the room to shower and dress. It would be left on long enough to capture the older man returning, Mello reminding him that he had not restrained his other hand, he missed the cuff already.

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Interpol had been calling for two weeks straight, desperately trying to contact the detective anyway they could. Watari had so far been intercepting these calls, trying to keep the peace even after L had been less than gentlemanly in his method of refusal. So, when the message alert sounded, L sitting right in front of his laptop but making no move to reply, the old man got up from his seat and pressed the key. They were both surprised when L's own symbol appeared, though the colors had been inverted like a photonegative. Watari was confused, but the detective immediately knew the significance.

"Beyond Birthday." There was no reply, and L pounded his fist into the desk, screaming into the microphone. "Answer me, you bastard!" Still no response, but the background was now fading out, and a new picture was taking its place. Again, L tried to communicate with the kidnapper, but soon realized it was a recording, seeing the time stamp at the bottom of the screen. It had only been last night.

There was Mello, breathing, alive. That was the most important thing. But then L watched in horror as he realized that his lover was completely nude, and had multiple wounds decorating his body. He was also thinner than before, and looked as if he hadn't had a shower since he'd last been seen, his hair was a wreck, matted with blood and sweat and dirt.

Watari looked away from the screen to watch his charge's reaction, and partially because he was having trouble with the events unfolding before his eyes. The old man had been the one to walk in on the couple the first time, to discover them in bed together, but this was different. He had dealt with his fair share of traumatized children before, knew the horrible things that kidnappers and rapists might put their victim through, had had such things described in detail by children younger than Mello's age, but he had never had to witness such an event with his own eyes.

It was obvious already that the child had been drugged, his pupils were dilated, he was displaying other classic signs of one under the influence of a date rape drug, ecstasy perhaps. He was also chained to a bed, held captive by a man who was no doubt criminally insane. Yet the scene was somehow that more upsetting when the blond seemed to be enjoying the act, was in fact asking the older man to...well, have intercourse with him.

A hand was laid on L's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but it was flung away. "Get the fuck out. Now!" L was shaking, arms wrapped around his knees, hair shagging over his eyes, though the tears had already fallen down his cheeks. "I said get out!"

"I do not think you should watch this alone." The old man did not trust his charge not to harm himself at this point, and he himself could not bear to leave the room. If Mello had to experience this, if L had to experience this, then he had to stay as well. It was his duty as their parent. He wrapped his arms around L's thin shoulders, not releasing him even as the detective struggled and yelled and swore at him. Finally the detective slumped against him, when it was over, when the kidnapper had left the room.

"Oh, god, Mello. He hurt my baby. Watari, look at him. Oh god." Another buzz sounded, the tone signifying that L had an e-mail alert, though the detective made now move to close the video. Watari did it for him, silently reading the message. The caretaker had been to many an execution, but never had he so wished for the death of another.

/My friend, as you have seen, I am taking excellent care of our Mello. He is very happy with me, and does not wish to return home. Do not waste energy looking for us, we cannot be found. This signal will be untraceable, and I personally owe you the thanks for educating me in this area, though I admit great pride in my own skills. Even if you were to discover our little love nest, my angel would not return to you. Mello is mine. He takes great pleasure in this fact, as you yourself have witnessed.

I bid you farewell on both of our behalves.

L./

Watari switched the computer off, fighting with L when the detective tried to replay the video. "There are no clues to be found there. You will only be punishing yourself by watching again." He knew that that was what L intended to do, putting himself through the torment of watching the video over and over, not for the purpose of finding clues, but just because he felt that he deserved to be in pain if Mello had to as well.

L let himself be held, let himself cry on Watari's shoulder again. "He asked him to do it. He begged for it. I'll have that monster's head. I'll bathe in his fucking blood, I swear on my own life I will." Watari only pulled him closer, petting his hair, whispering empty words of encouragement. B had been chosen because he was the best and brightest at the time, even if it was already obvious that there was something not right about him. There was still the question of whether or not A's suicide had been assisted, after all. But they had ignored all the signs, because his mind nearly matched that of L's. In fact, if it hadn't been for the signs of antisocial behavior, he would have been chosen as the first successor, there wouldn't have been the next round of children considered after him. Watari feared that the e-mail may very well have been the truth, they might never be able to find him if he did not wish to be found. And if the video were any indication, then how would Mello be even if he were returned safely. Would his mind be intact?

No, there was no need for such negative thinking. They would get Mello back, they had to. Because if they didn't, it would destroy L. "I swear, when that day comes, I will be there to help. I will serve you his head on a platter."

"Promise me. Promise me we'll get him back." L looked five years old again, riding away from the orphanage, crying for his mother and father; sucking on the lollipop Watari had given him in-between the sniffles and sobs.

"I promise." There was work to be done, people to call, but they sat there for hours, L sobbing loudly like the five year old Watari remembered, the old man wiping away his own silent tears when he thought his charge wasn't looking.