Past in Present

New semester, ahoy! Life’s been insane with school and real life issues and all the standard excuses. You all aren’t interested in that, you’re interested in the story. I get it. 3

THANK YOU so much for those of you who have read and reviewed! You all make me feel warm and fuzzy. This fic was never meant to be the monster that it’s become, but it has a special place in my heart – and I’m glad to see in some of yours, as well! 3

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It was hours later when L finally stumbled back into the apartment, feeling shaken to his core, though he’d spent quite some time pulling himself together.

It wasn’t the sex. That had been a touch strange and honestly L felt like he’d almost pushed Johan into it, although the German had gone through the motions like L imagined he did everything – gracefully and calmly. What really threw L was the conversations. Johan had a way with words, wrapping them around L in logical traps before he left him on the rooftop, half-naked and shivering.

Now L’s head was spinning with too many contradictions, too many of those pieces of himself that he hated. He could see how easy it would have been for Detective Braun to throw himself off a rooftop. How easy it would be for some to follow Johan.

“What did you find out?” Kira’s voice was coldly amused, his back turned to L as he worked on a laptop. The detective let out a slow breath, locking the door behind himself.

“One-hundred-percent.” He knew his voice was uncharacteristically soft, and he swallowed against that.

Kira turned the chair around, looking at him for a long moment before standing. “I didn’t give you permission to go, you know.”

“You didn’t send the police after me, either.” He slipped into the small kitchenette of their suite, heating up water for tea.

“I tracked you the whole time.”

“Why didn’t you send someone to catch Johan, then?”

Light was behind him, hands on his hips. “Who says I didn’t?” He murmured into L’s hair, right behind his ear. L shivered a little, letting out a soft breath.

They wouldn’t catch him, of course. Johan had been long gone before L had picked himself up off the roof. L couldn’t decide at that moment whether that was a relief or not.

“Good.” He looked down at the kettle on the stove, feeling the warmth of the flame on his face.

----

Something was wrong with L. Light could tell in the line of his shoulders, the way he shuffled out of the room quicker than normal. He didn’t engage in the same sort of banter. Hardly met Light’s eyes.

He didn’t think, just followed L, sliding up behind him like a lover, nuzzling behind his ear as he spoke to him. The shiver was gratifying… but still something was wrong. He drew away just a little, looking at him thoughtfully.

Oh.

Light’s hand shot up, startling L as he caught L’s jaw in a bruising grip and tugged his head to the side to survey his neck. His other hand pulled at the scarf the other had carelessly wrapped around his throat, tossing it aside.

There was a mark there. Unmistakable and certainly not one that he left.

He breathed in and out slowly, reigning in his temper, his sense of possession. He didn’t love L, didn’t even like him, but he also didn’t like sharing. Even less did he like the idea that his prisoner would be so… defiant. He was in no position to be taking lovers, especially not ones like Johan.

“Every detail.” He gritted it out slowly, keeping hold of L, even though he was tense to the point that he seemed about to struggle.

“Every detail?” L was baiting him and Light had to keep from snarling softly. Shoving the detective away, feeling a certain sort of satisfaction when he hissed softly in pain. He must have grazed the teapot.

“What exactly happened to make you think it would be a good idea to fuck Johan?”

“You don’t have any proof that I fucked him.”

Light reached for the waistband of his jeans, grabbing it and hauling him back into him, growling into his ear dangerously. “Should I go looking for proof, then?”

L let out a breath. “Not necessary. I did.”

Light growled, a hand dropping to L’s waist, gripping it hard. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

L looked away, down. He couldn’t help but feel the slight thrill of dominating him, frightening him, even though he knew it was likely not the case. L was playing him, of course, like always.

“It’s complicated.”

“I can handle complicated.”

L grimaced a little. “Let me go.”

Light held onto him for another moment, looking directly at L until the detective nodded a little. Slowly, Light relaxed his grip, letting him go.

L collapsed onto the couch, sprawling out on his stomach, dark hair wild and unkempt and falling into his eyes and over his face. “You’ve read the existentialists, of course.”

Light folded his arms, just giving him a flat, disinterested look. “If you think you’re going to distract me by discussing philosophy….”

The detective’s lips quirked a touch. “Perhaps it is not something you can truly understand. You’re not European.”

Light seethed, not seeing what that had to do with anything. “So you’re admitting you are?”

L stared at him from under his hair, implacably. “’Existence,’ from the Latin, ‘existere.’” It was a prompt, almost, and Light narrowed his eyes a little, not in the mood for games, but with L there was always some type of game.

“To stand out.” He defined it flatly, swearing internally that if there was not a point to this, he would absolutely murder L.

L nodded. “To stand out of the world, while remaining inside of it. The world itself is without meaning, and we project meaning onto it.”

“What is your point, L?”

“You’ll see. This meaning is, of course, fragile – it is only in our own head. So what breaks down this meaning?”

Light groaned a little. Philosophy was so… flighty and inconsequential. Perhaps in that, it suited L perfectly but he still hated to be taken on these tangents. “It can break down for any reason.”

“Precisely. One of the most common reasons for this is loss of purpose.” L flicked at the carpet lightly, studying it with too much care.

Light’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you fucked Johan because you’re going through an existential crisis?” Light couldn’t tell if he was furious, bemused, or amused at this point. Leave it to L to come up with the most ridiculous reason for infidelity, ever.

“Of sorts.” L’s fingers pinched at the carpet, rolling it a little. “It seems to be Johan’s talent – engendering these sorts of things.”

That brought Light up short, had him frowning and sitting down in the desk chair. “You mean to say that he controls people by breaking down their sense of self, and then giving them himself to live for?”

“Precisely.” And L smiled up at him, an almost sweet little smile. “Even your Tenma Kenzou has fallen into this trap of his, in a way.”

Light contemplated that for a moment, nodding. It was true, he supposed, though he wondered if it was at all intentional on Johan’s part. “What possible use could he have for Tenma trying to kill him?”

L shrugged slowly, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. “Fun, maybe.” He chewed on a fingernail and he didn’t sound like he really believed that. Also, the idea was preposterous.

“Fun?” Light snorted a little.

“You had fun when I was hunting you, didn’t you?”

Light paused, contemplating for a moment, and then nodding to concede the point. “He may also just want a convenient suspect.”

“I don’t think so.” L drummed fingers on his knee lightly. “But I really can’t say right now.”

Light frowned, watching L. He seemed off, now that he really looked at him. “Is this existential crisis of yours something I will have to worry about in the future?” Not that he cared, but L was one of his tools, for the time being.

“Don’t be silly. When have you ever worried about me, Light?” L asked him rhetorically, in a soft little sing-song.

Somehow L’s light tone left a sour taste in his mouth. “Go clean yourself up.” He let steel back into his voice, making it a clear order.

L’s eyes raised back up to him, slightly glassy. They stared each other down for several moments before L slid off the couch, padding into the bathroom.

God damn him. Just… damn him for being so weird. Light turned back to the computer, angrily, calling up the case files to start filing away notes on Johan.

----

Despair.

Perhaps that word was too much, but it was the word that existentialists used in situations such as this so L let himself think it with a wry quirk of his lips. He ducked his head under the hot water of the shower, hissing under his breath as it hit his skin, scalding.

Despair was defined, in the philosophy Kira found so useless, as the breakdown in one of the pillars of identity. Perhaps L was finally experiencing that… though he admitted it was a long time coming. Since Kira won, and if he really was honest, perhaps even longer.

Johan had been right – he was no longer a detective, not really. He likely would never be one again, and he… didn’t know what he was, other than that. Kira’s toy was an unattractive option.

Even this was unlike him – primping in some useless way. What did showering every day and keeping his hair combed and his clothes neat (and lord, almost wrinkle-free, thanks to Kira’s obsession with drycleaning), mean?

What real use did L, the best detective in the world, have? And if he was no longer a detective, what was he?

He couldn’t tell anymore if the questions he asked himself were rhetorical – were they there simply because he needed to experience Johan’s manipulations firsthand, or because he really was breaking down? He had never had a breakdown before, not even when Kira won and he was first imprisoned. He didn’t know what one felt like.

They had to solve this case. L rested his forehead against the still-cold tile of the wall, pressed his body against it. He had to prove himself again, if only to himself.

If they could put Johan in jail, it would be worth it. If they could win.

He would prefer to do it alone, to cut Light out of the equation entirely. But the fact of the matter was that he had to rely on Light for the most basic of things – for police backup, for the room and the laptops and the camera access. There was only so much that he could do on his own.

It was so damn frustrating to hide behind the name of Kira. He could do so much more than this. There was a time when he would have already had Johan in a high-security prison awaiting trial before the span of a week was up.

But now he worked for Kira, and every move was scrutinized, every thought monitored, every motive questioned.

It was enough for him to contemplate insanity. A career change – was a villain in this day and age a true villain or a bit of a revolutionary, a hero?

He twisted off the shower and stood there, dripping wet, chewing his thumb as he stared at the white walls.

Nothing had changed, not really. The objective was still the same. He had a job to do. And to do that job, he had to play Kira’s games.

But that, he promised himself, would not last.