RETREATING INEVITABILITY

"Hey, Ryuuzaki?" Light's child-like brown eyes flickered over to the detective. They glowed with sincere determination as they made their request. "Can I look through those notes when you're done? Or can you just e-mail it to me? The FBI must have a more thorough report than anyone, and I want to find a pattern in the times of death and the crime itself."

"No, the FBI backed out. At least, that's the official stance." L said this matter-of-factly, but the truth was that he was still bitter about that little detail. It had annoyed the hell out of him at the time, especially when they decided to publicly pin the deaths of the twelve agents on him. And just because the thought had put him in a foul mood, he decided to toy with his companion. "And no, you can't see it, Light-kun. It's a very confidential document, entrusted to the eyes of the greatest detective L only. Clearly I cannot show such delicate information to unauthorized persons."

Light stared, a mock look of disbelief played across his fair features. He knew that L was just teasing him, but he must have wanted to break the monotony of paperwork because he played along. "I know I'm just a lowly suspect, but-"

"No, Light-kun, that would be irresponsible of me to allow." L smiled and dangled the packet in his fingers, wiggling it slightly as though it were the tempting forbidden fruit as told in mythology. A sugary forbidden fruit, perhaps dipped in chocolate like fondue. "Why not take a nap and stay out of my business for awhile?"

Light laughed good-naturedly, and turned back to his busy computer screen. There was a moment of quiet when neither of them spoke, a sort of eye-before-the-storm feeling. And then Light made his move - he sprung to his feet and leaped at L, long fingers snatching at the document. The force of Light's body knocked back the swivel chair that L had been sitting on, and suddenly they were on the tile floor, intertwined by the limbs, each shoving the other down as well as trying to get the packet-

And then it ripped. The hasty pile of staples that L had shoved in the corner after he printed it off were forced to deformation and pulled out, making their purpose useless.

Light beamed victoriously as he stood up with his half-a-document and sat back down lazily on his chair. His nose was raised arrogantly as he mockingly dangled the paper with his thumb and middle finger, like L had been doing earlier. "I win."

"That was- ow!" L rubbed his head with exaggerated annoyance at the spot where it had slammed against the floor. "That was half a win!" But he was grinning too, and not just because he hadn't cared about the papers in the first place (Light had ended up with the half that he had already read, anyhow.) For all the times that he had lied to Light (he had lost count), and known that Light was lying to him (approximately three hundred and twelve probable lies, and countless unconfirmed), he still felt genuinely happy sitting next to the strong-willed boy he dared to call 'friend'. It took him a minute to once again make sense of the dull symbols on the paper that must have been his job.

The two youths whose brilliance were to inevitably be their downfall sat without looking at each other, surrounded by paperwork and computer monitors. The room was completely dark and lit only by the screens of those computers (which truthfully did light up the room sufficiently), and that brightly-dim mechanical moonlight showed a messy headquarters room with papers, books, and technological equipment. Yes, they had been in this position a hundred times in consecutive, long nights. But this time there was no handcuff to chain them together, and that must have made all the difference.

"Ryuuzaki?" Light tried to begin another awkward conversation with the unusually quiet detective, mainly because the silence was more offensive to his ears than L's snippy Kira accusations. Because it was midnight, the other cops had gone home for the night, leaving the young geniuses completely alone in the large building doing what Light knew more than anyone was blind, pointless research. Maybe L knew it too, in fact, probably, but no alternatives had been suggested as of yet. "You don't look like you have a lot of energy right now, would you like me to make you some coffee? Or else we can call it a day and go to bed."

L didn't answer. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at his own monitor and his face was grim. It was an unusual expression from the normally detached-yet-polite Ryuuzaki. Not that Light had ever found his courtesy sincere; on the contrary, it made him want to punch the bastard - and he had, on multiple occasions. But now there was a haunting aura. What was the most haunting of all was the untouched sweets that surrounded him. That day, Matsuda had brought him three slices of cheesecake, a freshly baked platter of chocolate chip cookies (it was store bought cookie dough, but L had never complained before), and a container of strawberry pocky. Nothing had so much as a finger print on it, let alone teeth marks.

"Ah, silly me," Light laughed delicately, looking away and concealing his clenched fists. "It is only midnight. The night is still young."

"You go to bed," L answered finally, but his lifeless ebony, black-rimmed eyes never left his computer's screen. "At your house. You don't have any reason to be here any longer."

It was a snappish thing for even L to say, because although he often said cold things they were usually masked with politeness. But Light shrugged. "I've already decided to dedicate myself to this case, in order to prove my innocence and catch the criminal who put me through so much trouble. I'd rather stay here and do what I can. I want to help you, Ryuuzaki..."

L was back to ignoring him, but that was answer enough. You are Kira, and it is you that we'll catch. Light tightened his lips and fumbled aimlessly around with documents and profiles of people he knew he had killed, or had told Misa to kill. The truth was that he wouldn't have minded going home right then, and visit with his mother and Sayu. Mostly just to get away from L, who should have been a corpse right then. The more he thought about it - and it was hard not to think about it - the angrier he became. L was more than just a thorn in his side. Light felt like a wild animal whose foot was stuck in a steel trap in the middle of the woods, and he could only stand there and wait until some hunter found and shot him.

But don't get me wrong, L. You're still going to die. I'll still be the one who wins... somehow.

"Well then... I'm going to go take a shower." Light stood up, and to his further frustration, L again offered no response. Not even a twitch of his eyes. "Everything that's happened has really been weighing down my mind, so I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything right now anyhow. I guess I'm not as disciplined as you." Still, nothing. He wished that he could tear his fingernails into L's throat and end it all right there, and because he suddenly wished this, he said one more thing. "I wonder if Rem saw all of those names when she tried to-"

"Leave." The command was in L's quiet voice, it was small and but forceful.

Light realized that he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled sharply. "Goodnight, Ryuuzaki."

But with an intensity of an owl, L had been watching the younger boy. Not with his eyes, but he had been watching anyway. It was annoying that Light was insisting on staying at the headquarters, and L knew the real reason why he was choosing to. But in the end it didn't matter too much. No one monitored the greatest detective of all time. Light would soon find out that his efforts would be in vain. Too bad.

L strained his ears to hear the sound of water running in the bathroom across the hall. Without a second thought and especially not a feeling of any sort - for there was no mercy, there never had been - L reached for his phone. He clicked on the voice-masking mechanism, and he dialed the personal number of Howard Dressler, a long array of international buttons that he had memorized.

Though it was a late hour by the reckoning that Dressler would perceive, the phone only rang twice before it was hastily answered, an elder man's voice in English. "L! God, L, we've been trying to contact you since we heard about Watari! What the hell is going on? Did Kira kill him? Are you safe? If you like, we can provide you a new assistant, too."

L's expression suited his tone - empty. "Mr. Dressler," he said, matching the man's native language. "Watari last spoke to you about the experiment that I would like to conduct."

"Yes, but the details were unfortunately never elaborated upon. He told me to find two criminals on death-row whose names were never publicly released, something about testing if they die or not..."

Thirteen days, L thought mechanically, as robbed of emotion as he might have been dead. And then, Light...

Then L was overcome by an ocean of unwanted, incomprehensible thoughts. Data too corrupted and complex for a computer to handle... and it took a minute before he realized that he was ignoring the President of Interpol.

Interpol still took an official stance against Kira. Of course they did, L thought wryly, they took a stance against anyone and anything that possibly challenged the order and organization of world society. The organization was big enough to not be scared off easily, too. Certainly by the book they followed a constitution of guidelines: the criminals they pursue must be affecting multiple countries, the crimes must violate human rights, and so forth. The Kira case was guilty of these for sure. Ironically enough, the world on its own wasn't so organized in the first place, as Kira himself seemed to have noticed, but no one could say that the ICPO didn't try. Or perhaps people did say that, because they didn't know about all of the strictly top-secret investigations and arrests that they engaged in. L didn't care what they did - they were funding his crusade against Kira. Not that Wammy wasn't already more than a little well off, but the ICPO's resources had been useful in more than one situation.

L had ignored Soichiro's pleas and chose to sit on the black leather couch as opposed to attending Wammy's funeral. He simply told them to enjoy themselves (later he wondered if perhaps that was an inappropriate remark, suggesting that one might enjoy oneself at a funeral), and left them, mentally at least, in favor of his own thoughts. The police force and Light all dressed in black suits and carried black umbrellas to match, but the detective knew that there was only a seven percent chance of rain anyhow. He didn't bother telling them this, because Soichiro was already sighing and shaking his head, mumbling something about Ryuuzaki needing time to rest. L had such an unnaturally burning headache that he was almost inclined to agree.

Mogi must not have left with the others though, because he was in the kitchen area, heating up a kettle of tea on the stove. L looked toward him and blinked, asking him if he could add some honey please when he was finished, if he was willing to share the tea. The question received an affirmative grunt and nod of the head, and L went back to his own scattered thoughts. Everything seemed awfully far away though and the back of his mind wondered if maybe he really did die when Rem wrote all of those names in her Death Note.

Tick, tick, tick, the clock on the wall said. It was stupid that there was a large analog clock there, for heaven's sake every one of the thirty-two computers in this area of the building had a digital time-telling system. Tick, tick, thirteen days.

L had already ripped out a piece of the Death Note and mailed it, yes, mailed it so it wouldn't look suspicious if the wrong eyes laid upon it. The packaged would arrive at Interpol Japan, where it would be sent onward to Europe or America, most likely, until it reached Dressler himself. The President had insisted on setting up the experiment directly, working through various committees to find suitable criminals. The most important part was that their names were secret, so that the real Kira wouldn't possibly get to them first. If Light found out what L had planned, he would certainly make that effort.

"Are you hungry, Ryuuzaki?" Mogi asked.

"No." The real Kira would soon enough call a high security prison cell his home, if Interpol let him last that long. With this evidence, L could put Light under surveillance again, and with the Death Note, he could close in for the kill. It would be done mechanically and without fail, and then the golden boy of Justice would be submitted to the law. Then it would be said and done, and then, and then...

Tick, tick, tick, went the time-telling machine. Such a good thing that L could not die by his name, such a terrible and a good thing. Tick, tick, tick. Ticking the seconds to victory.

But this didn't feel much like a victory. Quillsh Wammy was dead, and it wasn't raining, and he wasn't hungry, and Light would be condemned, and his head really hurt. It might have been okay if L could only recall that his actions were righteous, but what might have been that feeling was interrupted every second by the ceaseless ticking of the damned analog clock.

It seemed like the Shinigami still haunted him. Ryuk's face grinning at the things that his favorite human did not know, they made Light shudder. Even if Ryuk was there, everything felt haunting. No one who uses a Death Note can go to either.

When you die...

Watari's casket was a tribute to money. The white wood and gold lining all looked like a king's bed. Watari himself was dressed in a black, English style suit so as he lay in such a thing, he looked like a noble-blooded aristocrat. Light wondered with mild curiosity if Ryuuzaki had ordered the casket himself. Though certainly the detective seemed like an atheist who didn't believe that there would be any Watari left to care about where his body lay, he also had a childish way of thinking sometimes.

...your soul isn't allowed...

Light concluded that dead bodies made him anxious. Even though every time he held his pen to compose a ballad of names into the Death Note he had a morbid fascination and a systematic method, he... never really thought about the funerals that followed.

"Light, are you okay?" Soichiro asked.

Light realized that he had been staring at Watari's peaceful, yet clearly dead face in the open casket. He glanced toward his father and answered with honesty, "I was just thinking about what kind of person he was. Would it be dishonorable to look him up sometime, with his real name?"

"If it's okay with Ryuuzaki." Soichiro stood by his son, also watching Watari. A moment passed. "I wonder myself if he had any family that would like to hear about his passing. Surely Ryuuzaki would have contacted them though?"

"You can't be sure with him," Light answered with a little smile. I was sure that he would be in a casket lying next to the old man right now. I can't afford to make that mistake again. Well, he had to stop looking at the situation so negatively. At least Watari was out of the way. This had clearly affected L's way of thinking, and that was a good thing. If L was cornered into making some rash move... well, what then? If L didn't have a name, that was still a problem. The only thing to do would be to silence him with his bare hands. He had to get over the fact that L was immune to the Death Note. If he continued to let that bother him, his way of thinking became narrow.

He was Kira, for God's sake. He was more creative than this. If L was the only thing standing between Light and the salvation of humanity, L would for sure be silenced.

"Yagami-san! Light-kun!" Matsuda called from across the lobby. The young man carried a ironic contrast to his black suit - a bouquet of colorful flowers. Red, yellow, blue, pink, all tied together with a yellow string at their long spring green stems. The cop reached them, panting, and then set the flowers by the casket. He looked up at Soichiro and Light with a very pleased expression.

"Matsuda-san, I thought you'd be crying," Soichiro noted with a fond smile.

"I might have been crying," the young cop acknowledged with a benevolent laugh. "But that would be embarrassing with all of these higher-ups here."

"Higher-ups?" Light inquired, shifting his eyes to the dark-suited people that he hadn't recognized from the Tokyo Japanese law enforcement. He hadn't asked earlier, but now for some reason it made him feel a little on edge. It was an ominous presence, but who was he kidding? Funerals were supposed to be ominous. "Who are they?"

"Representatives coming to pay their regards, or actually confirm that the great Watari is dead." Soichiro lowered his heavy voice. "Curiosity as to what he really looked like, perhaps? People from United Nations, European Union, FBI, CIA, ICPO, National Criminal Intelligence Service of the UK, Ministry of Justice, and so on. I know that Watari did quite a lot when it came to international peace-keeping organizations."

Matsuda nodded forebodingly. "We all knew it, but it's still seems hard to fully grasp that Watari, who was such a nice old guy, was an important political figure in his own right. He was always serving us ice cream and smiling. I can see why L would be so devastated that he lost him."

"L, you said?" A tall man, though seemingly of Japanese descent but obviously not part of the police force asked. He was thin-lipped and with dominating cheekbones, as well as heavy set - that made his accusing cinder eyes more intimidating. He bowed with a little bob of his head in minimal greeting. "A pleasure to meet you, I'm Seijuro Tetsuya, representative of the ICPO. I've worked with both Watari and L on multiple occasions."

Matsuda gave Light a questioning glance, obviously wondering if he should use his real name or not. Light decided to find out by simply asking, "Are you sure that you should be telling us your name, sir? Kira can kill with just a name and a face."

"Are you supposing that Kira is here to listen, or is watching the video cameras?" Tetsuya asked, curving his lips in a way probably intended as a polite smile. "Interpol sponsors this funeral, we've taken all the appropriate security measures. We've dealt with more than one terrorist in our time. L already contacted us about Kira needing a name and a face to kill, so rest assured the name that I gave you could be false. Either way, you are the Kira Investigation unit, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's us, how could you tell?" Matsuda asked.

"Matsuda-san, I knew your name already. I saw you and Soichiro Yagami at the Interpol meeting a year ago, when we were initially discussing the Kira threat. Watari came and presented L's voice, do you recall?"

"Oh, right! I'm sorry, I didn't remember you!" Matsuda nodded and bowed a proper greeting. "Since you know me already, I don't need to introduce myself, but this is Light."

Tetsuya's hard gaze turned to the youth in such a way that made Light had to consciously keep his own eyes from narrowing. "You seem a little young to be working on the Kira case."

"Oh no, not at all," Matsuda insisted. Light refrained himself from cursing - letting Matsuda do the talking was never a good idea. Soichiro was also glaring at the cop, but the man was completely oblivious. "He's a genius. He goes to Todo university, you know, and he's the Chief's own son! He's helped the police force out twice before this in cracking mysteries!"

"Is he?" Tetsuya gave a wolfish grin. "How nice then that he joins us in the effort to capture Kira. And we will capture him, whoever the hell he is, and when we do he'll wish he never played God in the first place."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tetsuya-san." Light bowed, and wished that Tetsuya was his real name. That would be a sloppy move of course, if a representative died at Watari's funeral, security would have a list of suspects on camera. Interpol didn't seem to have plans to submit to Kira anytime soon, even if some of the smaller organizations that participated in it had backed away shyly. This was the institution that L would submit Light to, if he ever caught him.

The police should have been allies in Kira's crusade to making this world a place of justice. It was... unfortunate.

"It was nice to meet you, Tetsuya-san, but unfortunately we will have to take our leave here. We mourn Watari's death but we still have an investigation to run." Soichiro said this with courtesy, but his tightened features suggested otherwise. His face was grim, obviously not liking that such a man would associate his son with Watari, and potentially ask questions. The fact that he was the eighteen-year-old son of the Tokyo police chief was hardly an excuse to know such a recondite, enigmatic figure. At the time, Light hadn't given the matter much thought, because he was far more concerned with plotting L's defeat.

Later it would come back to haunt him.

But the jelly bread lay there, too. If he tried to grab out at the sticky strawberry, everything went to pieces. Flashes of-

"L, you'll have to be strong," the elderly man said in his natural British accent, smiling under the light in his wrinkled eyes. He put a gnarled old hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "It's not going to be easy, but I believe in the end that you will be just fine..."

-and then it was gone, and then there again, and then gone. To be even more evasive, L's wringing ears had trouble remembering what name exactly Wammy had called him then, because he had many names that began with 'L'. Or did he call him 'L'? Something was wrong, there was some miscalculation, some error under the strawberry jam...

Of course, L had thought of the sandwich analogy himself. It was easier to think about when he tried to group and graph his emotions. He was stalling as he struggled to reach for both slices.

"The weather is clearing up," Mogi said, sitting on the couch near the detective with his tea, looking out the window.

What name did Wammy call him? Right then, it was a question that stumped L more than any case that he recalled. If only it wasn't today that he should be dead, if only he wasn't being buried, he could ask... Ahh, what useless thoughts. But even so... That was a man who knew a lot of things, and it was the only man who knew much at all about L. That was a man who would have known what L's real name was.

"You aren't eating your marshmellows..." Mogi noted with concern.

But L was already eating his thumb; he gnawed at it with vicious conviction. That was a man who would have known L's real name. Of course, why hadn't he thought of it before? Clearly he had been distracted, but this was just too perfect. Yes, yes, Watari was dead, yes, he understood. But when men keep their thoughts on elaborate, computer databases, you can speak with ghosts if you like. So what if it was all a mistake? What if?

It had been an error. This was what L had deduced. The answer was his for the taking, he just had to move definitely and without wavering.

"We're back," Soichiro called from across the room. L could hear four sets of footsteps - the heavy one belonged to Yagami-san, the steady one to Ide, the quick one to Aizawa, and the clumsy one to Matsuda. And where was Light? Oh, there he was, stepping delicately like he usually did. "Mogi-san, is Ryuuzaki okay?"

"He's been quiet."

L might have been irritated that Soichiro chose to ask someone else about his health when he was sitting right there, and truthfully if he had asked then L might have requested some aspirin because damn, did his head ever hurt, but he found himself not caring enough. The conclusion of what he was going to do was beginning to form in his aching mind. It might have been distorted, but to him it made perfect sense. The tactically superior move - or, no, that was wrong. It was a tactically-lacking move, but it was the only thing he truly, truly wanted now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Light standing next to him. The boy stood awkwardly with his hands jammed into the pockets of his dark pants. Brown irises regarded him with a hard scrutiny and yet they were weary. His lips were pressed tightly, as if he was fighting to keep them still. Wracked with guilt, drenched with disappointment. "Ryuuzaki, I just... wanted to say that I'm sorry for your loss."

L looked up at him and stared a relentless, unblinking gaze. Light, the handsome, perfect, straight-A idealist thought that he was Justice. L believed that he was wrong and had been previously unsympathetic to those brown eyes shaped like almonds that radiated with such passion and cunning. It was those eyes that branded him as Kira, most definitely, in the first place. But Light Yagami was purely mislead. This is what the detective had always believed. I am Justice.

Justice was a man-made ideal. Now that was all he could think about. A man without a name was no man at all, so where was the concept? More bluntly, if he couldn't even detect his own identity then who was he to fight for such a thing?

When he had called Dressler he had done so without the same feeling or passion that Light must have felt when he nearly killed him. So L's eyes softened as he stared up at the brunette, and then he blurted out, "I reached for the jelly."

"...What?"

Deftly, the detective jumped off of the couch and onto his pale, nimble feet. All eyes were on him again, as if he were a ticking time bomb. Tick, tick, tick, and everyone was watching him. L stopped, and looked around, catching each gaze at least once. Then he said, "For the time being, I am forfeiting the Kira case to all of you. I don't really feel anything anymore."

...Tick, tick, tick.

When no one said anything, L gave a nod of his head. "Alright then, I'm going to pack my things. This building is still reserved in my name and paid under one of my accounts, so you can still use it. Good luck everyone."

Matsuda was the first to speak, raising his voice gingerly like a confused puppy. "Er, Ryuuzaki, I don't understand this test."

"Oh, no test," he answered patiently, realizing that of course it took these cops a little while to comprehend even the most basic statements. "It was just unexpected, and through this understandably impulsive decision I have somewhat of a destination in mind. I've set it all up. This investigation team will work directly with Interpol, and the President himself will be in contact with you. Though they don't know I'm going, because actually they never knew that I came here personally in the first place, so I told him to refer his calls to me to Chief Yagami, is that okay, Yagami-san? He can speak Japanese."

"I don't understand either," Soichiro said, disbelief etching wrinkles in his grim face. His brow was furrowed and his lips were tight. "Are you going somewhere else to investigate? What could you possibly do elsewhere that can't be accomplished here? You said so yourself, Kira is in Japan.."

"I'm forfeiting the case," L repeated, feeling strangely dull. Honestly, Japanese wasn't even his first language, why did he feel like he was the only one fluent? "This means that under current circumstances, I can no longer take part in it."

Tick, tick, tick.

"Why is that?" Light asked. L turned toward him, but the younger boy was looking out the dark window. As if not daring to betray the secrets that might have been bleeding in his eyes, Kira stole no gazes and hid behind his back.

L gave him a peculiar look that Light wouldn't see but was sure to feel. "I can't win against Kira. I could have him arrested and executed, but it's no victory of mine unless I am justice. I told you that I am childish, and I take my cases with heroic intentions. But I don't feel anything now. The only answer for me is to find those heroic intentions again."

Light's head snapped back and his narrowed eyes studied the detective meticulously. "You're going to try to find your name, aren't you."

Tick, tick, tick. L didn't know what to say, so he just stood slouched dumbly, staring at Light.

But the police force had recovered from their previous state of disbelief. Soichiro's face looked somewhere between chillingly frustrated and lividly hot. "This is ridiculous! Ryuuzaki, is that what you're so concerned about? I would think that you should be grateful that there was some kink in the logic of the Death Note and you still have your life!"

"You bastard, you can't just abandon us like this!" Aizawa raged. He seemed the most truly furious out of all of them. L recalled the time that the man had left the case - it must have been a blow to his pride to find out that now his employer was leaving it. He would have to learn how to distance himself from personal pride, like L knew how to do. "I don't like to admit it, but without your help we aren't going to get anywhere!"

"People are dying still!" Matsuda offered his own yelp of disapproval.

Next, Soichiro was talking again. Everything felt a little foggy to L because there was so much sudden commotion, and though he didn't know how, suddenly Soichiro was standing in front of him. His two heavy hands were on L's shoulders, clutching them, and he towered over him. "Listen, Ryuuzaki, I think you do need a break. But you're not in the right mind, and I can't just let you leave. I'll bring you to my own house. We'll tell everyone that you're of some distant relation to my family, and you can stay there and live a normal life until you're ready to come back. I'll call my wife right now."

"Uh.." Awkwardly, L shifted away from Soichiro's hands. If the situation hadn't been so grim, and if there hadn't been so many angry eyes piercing his body, he might have smirked. A direct invitation to stay at Kira's house, how unfortunate that now that was the last thing that he wanted. "No thank you. I'm planning on leaving Japan."

"No. I can't let you go anywhere like this!"

And then L was truly feeling something, something that was like fury. He felt his cheeks flush in this sudden rage, and perhaps there was more than one thing wrong with him because he never let anger get the better of him. But he found himself snarling anyway. "Yagami-san! I am not just a computer, and it is extremely rude for you to yell at me like one! Nor are you my Chief, because I do not work for the Japanese police, so you won't be giving me orders! Furthermore, I am an adult and if I want to leave, then that is what I'll do! Don't insinuate as to stopping me, that is something that I will not allow."

With that, the youth turned and left down the hallway. He ignored the yelling that he heard from inside the main room, ignored that some of it was directed at him, and what wasn't was about him still. He still had that damned fiery headache, but mercifully this helped his brain shut down. Without thinking anymore he found himself a backpack, stuffed it with papers, a laptop, and other various items that he hardly remembered putting in there. To avoid another confrontation with Soichiro, he continued up the stairs until he was on the roof outside.

It wasn't raining any longer, but he could still hear the faint sound of the bells. For a moment he lingered there under the sky. It was a quiet, but it was there. It had to be there, ringing under the ticking of the clock. That was the direction that he would go. He slung the backpack on his back and climbed down the long, emergency fire escape stairs that wound along the outside of the building.

This is what was again ringing through Light's head as he desperately ran down the street to Shinjuku subway station. It was agonizingly infuriating that a stupid, impulsive decision made by his mortal enemy had lead to a stupid, impulsive decision of his own. It was enraging that in these most dangerous, ludicrous circumstances he would have to act audaciously, no, downright recklessly because he was not ready to die yet. And that was the only ending he could see when he had worked out what L's absence meant.

So the truth was that neither of them was moving stupidly even if it was still impulsive. In a way it was brilliantly planned out for L, and he hadn't even made an offensive move yet. Light was filled with a panic when he tried to work out what it meant, and what the call from Interpol that they received not long after L's departure meant when they said that they were going to test the 'thirteen days' as were L's instructions, and-

Fucking hell! Where the fuck was he supposed to go now?

Was he trying to find L? Or was he running away? The anger that surged within him was reminiscent of the time that L had first introduced himself to L. Oh, how he remembered that goddamn day when they have given the freshmen address at the university together, how he remembered those vacant black eyes on his back, just waiting to see his reactions. How he despised him. Despised him for everything. For humiliating him, imprisoning him, handcuffing him, making him believe that his father was going to shoot him, always watching and waiting for him to mess up, and now he dared to leave...

Light clutched the strap of his navy gym bag, filled with what was a hopeful match of anything L had brought. He stood in a ferocious storm of moving people as they went to and from every subway train. The people were moving, so Light was moving too, because he didn't know what else to do. He had told the task force that he would find L, and approach him as a friend instead of as a co-worker, and convince him to return to the Kira case because of course only L could capture Kira, and oh God what if Interpol figured him out, too? How much did L tell them about the Death Note and its primary suspects? Where was L going now? How long before Light sat handcuffed on death row?

"Ryuuzaki!" he shouted out, hoping beyond hope that the detective just-so-happened to be within the perhaps seven foot circle around him, before the sound drowned out into the competition of the crowd.

Of course, he hadn't been completely unprepared. In the rush of trepidation and frenzy, Light found it in his mind to project logical thoughts. He had immediately contacted Aiber the con-artist, a man who had assisted L and the investigation force in the capture of Higuchi, the third Kira (ultimately a failed effort, because Light had written down the corporate demon's name immediately after). Aiber had willingly enough traced a number of L's credit cards (and there were a lot of them) and connected the results Shinjuku station. L had used the card to buy a ticket.

L had to die. Somehow, L had to die. Because if he did not die, then Light was sure that he would die, and oh, oh god how he did not want to die. This whole thing was stupid, impulsive, uncalculated, unrefined, and the only way to keep track of-

"Ryuuzaki!" Light yelled desperately in the area where Aiber had assured him that the detective had bought, or at least ordered online, a ticket. Of course that was awhile ago now, and L might surely be long gone. No, that was impossible. The train that L had purchased a ticket for, Aiber assured him, didn't leave for another six minutes. Would L do this to throw him off? If L was worried that Light might indeed follow him, because he was going off to investigate somewhere more private than he certainly would. Was the whole thing a false trail?

L had taught Light one very valuable thing in the days they had spent together: keep your enemies close to you, if necessary use a chain. If you've lost sight of your enemies then inevitably you've lost your life. Was this the end?

"Ryuuzaki!" Light shouted fruitlessly at the top of his lungs across an area filled with noisy human life. Shinjuku station was a labyrinth in its own right, and Light felt like has trying to find the Minotaur. He jogged down stairs where another platform was waiting for its train to arrive. "Ryuuzaki!" he tried again, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He turned the corner to make a left, and-

Crash. An unexpected obstacle stood in the way of his destination, and it was a human being. Light lost his balance and tripped over his own feet, and he cursed himself as he knew he was about to fall - but the fall never came. The person, who must have braced himself for such a force because he didn't stumble at all, held him up by one of his arms. Light looked upward to mumble an apology and a thank-you when he saw who it was who had caught him.

Wide dark rimmed eyes enclosed ebony pupils, and pale eyelids flickered in a confused blink. L stared at him, still holding onto his arm as if there was still a chance of his falling. Or perhaps, Light thought with a surge of paranoia, L was apprehending him now, and the police agents from all over the world were hiding, and he would be caught, and-

"You look lost, Light-kun," L murmured, letting go of Light's arm and concealing his hands in his jean pockets.

"No, I was looking for you." Stomping down his anxious thoughts, he forced himself to catch his breath and say his piece. "I'm here as your friend, Ryuuzaki, and I just wanted to talk-"

"My train is leaving." The detective, or maybe he was not a detective right then because Light just didn't understand, turned toward the platform. Without a second glance, he had boarded the subway and was disappearing within the thick crowd. It no longer mattered that he stuck out like a sore thumb with his bad posture and clueless expression, there were people everywhere, and he was going somewhere and he must have had a plan to defeat Light and the Death Note wasn't going to work...

Desperately, Light recovered his composure and ran after. He found L sitting on a booth, hugging his upright knees with slim arms. Adverted eyes that did not acknowledge his would-be once and perhaps still would be murderer's presence. The subway car was full of all of those wretched people, but Light shoved passed them and seated himself directly across from his nemesis.

No words passed through the barrier of closed lips from either boy.

Their eyes flickered toward everything except the opposition sitting across from them. They fastidiously studied the walls, the floors, the strangers and perhaps nothing at all, too. The subway rumbled, and then they were off, in a clouded, overwhelming ocean of silence. Light had no idea what he was getting into, but it was reassuring that at least L was here and not somewhere else.

To Be Continued...