And then there was Light Yagami, all drenched in the rain himself because L had beckoned him to come out. He was clearly agitated and had something very haunting on his mind. L concluded this because Light had gone out of his way to find L. Neither admitted it, but they had adjusted to each other's presence so that it had become almost habitual. It had become... no, not calming, but perhaps reassuring to stand by the other, maybe the only other one in the world with such a similar aura.

But there wasn't anything reassuring now, really. Actually, it felt confusing as they stared at each other. Light's face was contorted into forced indifference when he was clearly torn, and L felt as though he had lost control of his own logical thoughts.

"You know, you're just like me," L said. He didn't usually say things without a purpose, but the words were in his lungs and he wanted to exhale them. "You've never told the truth in your life."

Light looked surprised, and his eyes were frustrated because he simply refused to believe he was any other thing. "It's true that I've lied in my life, there isn't a human who hasn't. But I would never lie to the people that I care about..."

And that was also a lie. L thought, people like us lie especially to those that we care about. And because you and I both really do care about the whole world - and I know we do because we wouldn't work as the hand of justice for the salvation of humanity if we did not - there isn't any room for truth at all.

What if one day there was room for truth...? What would we say?

"Attention, please! We have now arrived at Moscow, Russia. The local time is now 6:28 AM. We hope you have enjoyed riding on Aeroflot Russian Airlines..."

L heard the voice over the intercom of the Boeing 763 airplane. It was a muddled sound and he rather wished it would shut the hell up and let him sleep. It was loud and irritating, and damn it, did his head ever hurt. Now that he was at least somewhat conscious again he was all too aware of this fact. And he had been sleeping so nicely... it felt like forever since he had been so asleep. He had been dreaming about... what had he been dreaming about? Maybe he hadn't been dreaming about anything. That was probably the nicest part of that particular dormant period.

"Come on, Ryuuzaki, we have to get off the plane now," a young voice cut sharply into his ear. "Wake up."

"Mmph," L answered, which in his own mind translated to please shut up and leave me alone. .

"Are you listening to me?" the voice asked curtly. "It's time to leave. And since when do you sleep so heavily? Well, whatever, Ryuuzaki. Just let go of my arm so I can go, and how about you stay here then? I'm seriously beyond caring."

There was a tugging at the thing that must have been wrapped in his spindly fingers, and he definitely noticed this movement. That added to his list of annoyances, so he held on even more tightly to the point of digging his short, bitten fingernails into it. The reaction to this movement was a yelp from the boy next to him.

"God damn it, Ryuuzaki! Let go or I'll hit you!"

Finally, L opened his eyes very slightly. The angry image of Light Yagami, his almond brown eyes narrowed in frustration that filled the entirety of his young face greeted his new eyesight. Light's eyes were rather bloodshot and dark circles encompassed his eyes - peculiar, he must not have slept at all during the long flight. Long flight? L frowned as the memories came back to him. "Oh, yeah," he said, letting go of Light's hand which for some reason had apparently belonged to him during his slumber. Oh, yeah. Shinigami, Death Note, Kira, Watari, Russia. Oh, yeah. When the teenager didn't stop glaring at him, L raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing." Light immediately stood up then, snatching his gym bag from below the seat. He turned to the center aisle where people were crowding in a line to get out.

L shrugged and stood up behind his companion. And ugh, standing up was not a pleasant process. His skin felt as though it were chilly and warm at the same time, but he was definitely cold. Light had let him borrow that white sweatshirt for a blanket, and L assumed the deal was still standing so it slipped the cotton clothing over his head. The fabric was uncomfortable against his skin which did not want any contact whatsoever, but at least it kept the heat in. Also, his head hurt. Damn.

Light wormed his way into the aisle, and in order to not lose him in the river of people, L grabbed at the hem of Light's own black sweater in front of him. The younger boy must have been too annoyed to even acknowledge this movement, and L was only too happy to keep hold of it as they fought through the crowd through the plane and then the tunnel leading them back to the airport.

When they were again out in the lobby, Light spun around so quickly that L was forced to let go. "Okay, now can you act normal? Or is your conspicuous behavior intentional?"

"It doesn't matter how strangely I act," a now fully awake detective responded with a wily smile. "But perhaps you would prefer if I acted inconspicuously. That would be logical, I suppose, if you were Kira."

Light's pupils minimized slightly in his brown irises, and they darted away from L's face and to the people around them. Angrily he turned around again, and L could see that he was clenching his fists. L then counted the milliseconds to his response - the longer it took, the more likely he was to be Kira. Unfortunately the answer was speedy enough. "Look, I don't care if you say those things between us. But in an airport, with all the security, and in a different country..."

"Ah, but Light-kun has never been in an airport nor a different country, how does he know?" But L really would refrain from more accusations in this area. If Light was arrested here for suspected terrorism, even for idle questioning, his travel partner would be taken in too. L didn't want his own face on surveillance either, even if he did have false identification (a lot of them). "Anyway, do you speak Russian? If you do, let's speak that instead right now."

Of course Light didn't speak Russian, and L knew very well from studying him so long that he had never once taken such a class in school. And Light knew that L knew. L felt Light get more disconcerted by the fact that he asked - which in a way was an insult to his intelligence. "No, I do not speak it," he answered with obviously forced calm.

"Too bad. Please speak English, then." They wandered further down the lobby. "We have to go through customs, and then I'm going to take out some rubles from my accounts. Oh, rubles are this nation's currency, by the way."

"I knew that," Light answered hotly in Japanese. He probably would have known that even if he had not taken Advanced Macroeconomics in senior high school (a second semester class, if L remembered right - which he, of course, always did).

"Please speak in English, Ray Misora."

Light didn't answer and did not speak again as they went through security and customs. But despite his very casual, slouched appearance, L was watching him like a hawk. He was nervous. Perspicuously, that didn't mean much. Light could be nervous about being in a new country for the first time, as well as using a fake identification. Especially about using a fake identification. It was true that L had considered purposefully slopping up the job of making the card so that security would detain Light. That would have been an extremely convenient way to get the boy off his back and have him arrested all the same. Once he was arrested for use of a false name, it would be clear that he was fleeing Japan and it would eventually be revealed that he was a Kira suspect. A Kira suspect on the run was Kira.

Light was lucky that L was holding off on such maneuvers until he found his heroic intentions. Damned lucky. In fact-

"Ah... achoo!" The sound burst out from L as he sneezed. He flushed. Now this was annoying, and potentially problematic. If he really did have a fever, that was definitely an unwanted X-factor.

Light noticed it. As they were in the exiting lobby of the airport, the eighteen-year-old shifted his eyes slightly toward L. It was a predatory glance, even more convincing because it was hasty. But Light cleared his throat and said very politely (and perhaps facetiously, too), "May I inquire as to where we are going now? Or would asking why exactly I'm in the middle of Russia increase the probability of me being Kira?"

"I'm not answering any questions in Japanese," L commented lightly in English. "I'm Dimitri Svetlov and I do not speak that language."

Light visibly rolled his eyes, and then tried again, "Okay, where are we going?"

L turned to stare inquisitively at Light. He widened his eyes to express solemnity. "There's no point in speaking English if you're going to retain that obvious Japanese accent."

"Then I'm speaking in Japanese," Light snapped, clearly not liking the criticism.

The detective knew that when he was nervous or stressed out, the usually placidly collected Light became hot-headed. This would be useful in manipulating him later on if he needed to. Especially with the X-factor, he might need to really do some manipulating. After all, he wanted to get to London alive and well, but he had to do so evasively to avoid the possibility of ever being traced back to Wammy's House. He knew better than to compromise that secrecy.

"We're staying in Moscow for tonight, Ray," L finally answered as they reached the doors of the airport. "At the Baltschug Kempinski Moscow hotel. We have another plane to catch at 5:30 in the morning tomorrow."

"What?" The sound came with obvious despondency. "That early? Ugh, and I didn't sleep on the plane at all last night. It's your fault, too. I don't ... oh no, it's snowing."

They stepped outside of the airport where thick white flakes of snow fell gently from gray clouds. L figured that the climate would be as such, but it didn't please him either as he clutched the white sweatshirt to his chest tightly. When he felt the ice crystals land on his head, soaking through his thick hair with their cold touch, he lifted the hood. "Aa... achoo!" he sneezed again. "Light-kun, I don't suppose you packed a scarf?"

"What?" Light glared venomously. "I'm Light again? But my name is Ray..."

"Ah, I just figured that if you did have a scarf, you would be more likely to give it to me if I called you by that name as opposed to Ray Misora." L put on a very serious expression as he nibbled on his thumbnail. "That name seems to agitate you, after all."

"It does not agitate me!" Light slipped. The excuse that he had not slept last night didn't matter, he definitely slipped as he practically yelled these words. It was sloppily done, and L knew that he had gotten to him. Though it wasn't enough to count as evidence that he murdered Ray Penbar and Naomi Misora, it was a positive thing. If L was able to get into Light's mind, he wouldn't have to fear anything unexpected. Theoretically, at least. A crimson color crept into Light's cheeks, partly from the cold air and probably also because he knew that he had stumbled his acting. "And no, I did not pack a scarf. I wasn't expecting to be following you so far up the northern hemisphere, I thought if anything we'd be wandering around Tokyo."

"Stop talking, unless it's in tolerable English, " L demanded in a murmur as a taxi cab pulled to the side of the busy street. "Taksi!" He lunged forward to the door and opened it before anyone else claimed it. "'Dobroye utro!" he greeted in Russian to the plump, bear-like man at the wheel.

"Zdravstvujte! Kak vy pozhivaete?" The Russian asked cordially.

"Horosho spasibo." L was smiling very amiably as he sat down comfortably in the back seat of the taxi, and a clearly glowering Light followed suit. "Otvezite menya v gostinicu. Votadres..." he uttered his destination to the cab driver. The man nodded and started the taxi toward the hotel.

Light scowled out the window. Like a child, he was very pointedly not looking at L in his own passive-aggressive revenge for speaking in a language that he couldn't understand.

"Don't be angry, Ray," L said very sweetly in English for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of the youth. "I'll teach you how to speak Russian when we get back to the hotel, so you don't feel so left out."

"Poshjol ty," Light muttered under his breath, then went back to ignoring him.

L was surprised. He had underestimated Light Yagami. No, when he thought about it, it wasn't so surprising at all that the boy at least knew Russian curse words. The pronunciation was pretty awful, though... He chose not to tell Light that.

"Good, there are two beds," Light murmured as he claimed the second.

"Good?" L inquired, wriggling under the sheets to find a comfortable position with his aching body. "You said earlier that I kept you awake on the plane. But you never had trouble sleeping when we were handcuffed."

"It's different," Light answered hastily. Even though he had been the one whining earlier about being tired, he was actually bothering to take off his dark sweater and khaki pants. "And the only reason that I didn't have trouble sleeping before was because you made us work such damned late hours. I stopped caring that you always took the blankets. And you're sick now, probably contagious, I don't really want to be near you."

L didn't want him nearby either, because he knew perfectly well that Light was here to pounce on any chance to kill him. But right now he was tired, so very tired, and he lacked the heroic intentions to give a damn. "Sweet dreams, Light-kun."

"Good-night," Light answered without sincerity.

"But Light-kun," L drawled, already halfway asleep and was hardly aware of what left his mouth. "It's seven in the morning, that doesn't constitute as 'night'..."

Apparently Light didn't even want to honor that with a proper response, because the boy turned his back to L and stubbornly closed his eyes.

Sometimes he cursed his keen detective's senses, because now that he was somewhat awake all he heard was the sounds that Light was making. His footsteps, the squeaking of water fossett, the hum of the showers - it made his head hurt all over again. His stomach was aching, and acids seemed to churn around inside with every passing second that the Kira suspect kept him awake.

When Light exited the bathroom, he turned on the lights of the room which made L groan out loud. He opened his eyes to see the teen in clean clothes with a towel around his shoulders, his chestnut hair that had been getting long fell on it haphazardly. Light stood by L's bed and said, "It's two o'clock in the afternoon, you know."

Tick, tick. How time flies. "Okay," L said, burying his face in the pillow to shelter himself from the offending lamp bulbs. "Time for Light-kun to go back to bed. He's a growing boy and he needs his sleep."

Light chuckled in such a way that made L shiver again. His mood had clearly improved with the good seven hours of sleep that he had acquired, and L feared that his cognitive ability had also improved. "I'm fearing the apocalypse, for why else would Ryuuzaki actually condone resting?"

"Mmph." Please shut up and leave me alone. "If you want to be useful, get me another blanket."

He laughed again, but obeyed by taking the comforter off of the bed he had been sleeping in and tossing it on top of the feverish detective. The added pressure of an additional blanket on L's trembling body felt good, but he was still cold. Light put a hand on L's sweaty forehead. "Wow, I think sleeping actually made your fever worse. Your body is obviously in shock from participating in such a foreign activity."

L gnashed his teeth together and flipped his head so that Light's cold hand was no longer touching it. "I'm sufficient enough, or I will be if you will just sit down quietly and stop making yourself a bother."

"Making myself a bother? I just got you that blanket!" But Light was grinning as widely as ever. He assumed that the youth was only too happy to see his enemy huddled defenselessly and essentially at his mercy. "You know what this means, right?"

"I don't know precisely what you're referring to."

"We're not going on that flight tomorrow morning," he stated with cat-like pleasure. "You need to stay here until you get better, because if you go you'll spread your sickness to everyone on the plane."

"Preposterous," the older youth muttered. "My germs aren't going to surpass a five foot radius, I'm a hundred percent certain. Ninety-three percent certain that they won't even pass a three foot radius."

"Yeah, and I have to sit within that three foot radius," he shrugged. "So we're staying here."

"Fine." L didn't really care in the first place. Actually, he the thought of traveling back to the airport and on the plane made his stomach want to retch. "That's fine. Now go play Solitaire or something. If you watch television, please mute it."

"Don't worry, Ryuuzaki, I have no intention of bothering you." Light walked over to the window on the wall, and peered through the shades which had been tightly closed. "I'm going to go tour Moscow. It didn't really hit me that I was here before, but now there are so many places that I want to go see."

"No." L's eyes narrowed, and he turned his head to the youth as he made his command. "Don't leave this hotel, Light-kun."

"Sorry, Ryuuzaki," he answered with an arrogant look of superiority. "I want to see the Kremlin first hand. I'll be back later."

"I said no," L said angrily, sitting up by propping himself on his elbows, and then regretting the pain in his head. "If you aren't going to listen to my direction, then I'm calling your father right now and putting you back into his care."

To his disappointment, Light laughed out loud at that bluff. "I'll do the same for you." And with that, he turned to leave, snatching a room key from the counter. Just before he exited into the hallway and closed the door behind him, he called in with a smirk, "And get some more sleep, why don't you. You look awful."

L was left fuming. His head forced him to lay down again miserably. He pulled the blankets over his head as he scowled. Damned Kira... Hopefully Light would have the sense to not talk as he wandered the streets, at risk of being an obvious tourist and get mugged, murdered or kidnapped. An obvious tourist, what the hell, he was clearly Asian and there was no way many people would think of him as a native Russian. And if Light did something too stupid, he might get himself arrested. He wouldn't feel any loyalty to L and would without a doubt drag his companion to the interrogation room, too. A classic prisoner's dilemma, a Nash equilibrium.

But more than that, L was certain that Light would be gathering an army of chess pieces. He wouldn't find much without any friends in this foreign country, but he might find a knife, a noose or poison. And with this damned fever, L would be unable to defend himself well if such a situation arose. Stupid X-factor. If only he had his strength, he could have kept the teen in this room by force, or tie him up if necessary (now would have been the ideal time to have that six foot long chain, as opposed to when Light had lost his memories of Kira). Any preventative measures, because he would hate to die before he found his true name. And even without his name, he sure as hell did not want to lose to Light Yagami. Putting the case on hold was one thing, but losing was one hundred percent different.

If only Light were the one sick and trapped in bed, not he.

L pondered this just a little longer, until without his consent, sleep took hold of his eyes and claimed him.

After that, the cold snow was far more tolerable, and he was filled with an almost giddy delight as he passed the Monument to Peter the Great and the Red Square. They were places he had read about in books, or heard about in school. History classes, geography classes, economy - he aced them all, he always did, and he did so on pure memorization skills. But being here was something completely new. As he stood before the grand Kremlin, a center symbol of Russia's government, it became clear that not all things in life could be purely understood from books alone.

It was an enticing feeling. It was fascination. His chest heaved in it and he raised his eyes upward, smiling. He would be particularly sure to keep an eye out for Moscow's criminal rate when he got back to Japan. This place was just too amazing to be dragged down by the wretches.

And there were wretches.

He was in Victory Park, a place of memorial that was almost serene under the soft tufts of falling snow. But two boys of unidentifiable ethnicity, perhaps his own age, squatted by an old fountain that looked antique in its own right. One of them had a small box knife in his hand, and he was carving a message in the fountain. A dumb tribute to graffiti that the fountain would have to pay for for eternity.

"Don't," Light said in English, approaching them. His arms were loose at his side, but because his stance was so casual he knew it was more threatening. "Don't deface the fountain."

The boys jumped at the unexpected tone, and turned serpentine eyes to the Japanese boy. They exchanged quick glances, and then one sneered in the same language, "Who are you, fucker?"

"I work here, that's who I am," Light answered in his best British accent (Ryuuzaki might have criticized). He didn't so much as flinch as the two boys stood up, and one of them was taller than he was, and still clutching his weapon. "Surrender the knife and leave now, or I'll call the police."

"Do you think we're scared of a dumbass like you?" one answered with tough defiance, running his finger along the tip of a blade. "No one else is here, we could slice your Asian throat and no one would know."

Light found himself laughing. Because he was Kira, and they were wretches, and he was a genius and they were morons, because he was righteous and they were offenders. And all it would take was a little lie, and he would win this game. "You're being recorded as we speak. There's a camera in that pole, there, behind us, and at the one in front of me, too. Everything stays on record for two weeks. And Russia doesn't like criminals... and neither does Kira."

The faces of the boys comically froze at such a threat, and the knife fell into the snow. At the very word 'Kira' they bolted into the streets, leaving nothing behind but footprints that the snow would cover up anyway.

And Light was happy as he knelt down and pocketed the knife. Not just because the knife had potential uses against his nemesis (buying one would have been an issue - he was using L's credit card and the detective would undoubtedly check records of every purchase), but the fact that Kira's name had frightened off offenders was proof. This world was turning to Justice as its god. Light had the holy task of protecting the beautiful things in the world by eliminating the ones who would destroy it. The goddess of victory was smiling at him. It was all going according to his calculations.

The only thing left was L. The one stubbornly refusing to believe that just maybe, Kira was making the world a better place.

Out of habit, he glanced at his watch as though he had the X-ray vision to see the piece of Death Note embedded under the bronze metal and glass. Tick, tick, the watch mused. Light saw that it was getting late, and he probably should get back before L disappeared or called the police on him, or something.

And for now, he had to lay low. He wouldn't even risk calling Misa yet, not today and not tomorrow. L was suspecting everything and was even more suspicious because he was ill and stuck in bed and had nothing better to do. Contacting her now would be pointless, anyway. But in a few days it might be vital. If the thirteen day theory really was tested (he would have to call his father and somehow worm the information out of him), Misa might again be apprehended and he didn't trust her to suitably hide the Death Note. For now all he wanted to do was to find perhaps a coffee shop with public internet access, should he ever have an emergency and need a computer. He sincerely doubted that L would let him hack the databases of police organizations on his laptop.

As he was going back to Baltschug Kempinski Moscow hotel, he stopped at a small store and bought some aspirin. It wasn't that he cared that the cursed detective had a fever, it was just that if he knew if he didn't show a good effort he would fail the Kira test. Besides, with L constantly at his throat he might have a need for aspirin himself.

He also bought chicken noodle soup. That's what his mother always made him when he was sick, anyway.

"Uh-huh," Light answered smugly with a wide grin. "Too bad the fact that I'm in Russia is entirely your fault in the first place, and there's not much that my father could do about this now anyway."

"I was also very close to calling President Vladamir Putin," L said more irritably, narrowing his eyes so that his vision wouldn't be so blurry on the teen's face. "Perhaps you've heard of him, the political leader of this country? I've met him personally."

Light made a face, seating himself on a wooden chair that was next to the desk at the wall. "I doubt that. You haven't met anyone personally."

"I've met you personally," L argued without much of a point in mind.

"No one famous."

"You're very humble for a world renowned mass murderer, Kira."

Light twisted his lips into a hard smile as his face battled between flushing and indifference. Finally he shrugged, and lifted a brown paper bag with items that he had apparently purchased. "Whatever. I bought you some aspirin, Ryuuzaki. And some chicken noodle soup, and a new coat. Now please tell me my Kira suspicion points have decreased."

"Gone up." L pushed himself weakly up by the elbows, wondering vaguely if edging on the boy was the best way to get the pain-killing pills. "Kira would surely suck up to me during such a critical situation."

Light was busying himself with styrofoam cups and bowls for water and soup respectively. There was a small microwave on the counter that he began heating up the soup in. He chuckled quietly in response to L. "Why are you so cranky, anyway? Is it because you're sick and can't tour Moscow?"

That statement hit a sensitive spot for L, and he could have growled. It was a snide reminder that he was in a vulnerable position and that he could not control Light like this. And under present circumstances, he had scant pawns that would follow his orders and aid him if he needed it. All he had was an extreme trump card - contacting big governments and international organizations, who surely would respect L's orders, but it was risky to his own personal security so he would only do it if need became dire. "Light-kun," he finally said firmly. "May I remind you that you are here under my guardianship, therefore you need to be following my orders. I have reasons for the things that I ask, so if you don't respect my requests again I'll have to assume that you really are Kira, and I will have you detained."

Light was hardly put down as he handed L a few of the colored aspirin pills and the cup of water. "Ryuuzaki, you think I'm Kira because I bought you chicken noodle soup. I think there's no helping it no matter what I do, and I wanted to see Moscow."

It's not that I think you're Kira. I know you're Kira, and I just want to find an explanation as to why. L glowered as he gulped down water and pills. It stung his throat as he swallowed, but he forced it down anyway. "Even so. Having a Kira suspect trailing me on my journey is difficult enough. If he's being uncooperative it is even worse."

Light took the warm soup out of the microwave, still smiling in a carefree manner that was not void of dark undertones. He seated himself on the bed at L's side almost mockingly, showcasing the fact that he had free movement and the detective who had chained him up for so long did not. "You should be worrying about yourself, not me," he said with that almost, just almost threatening curve of his lips that he would claim was sincerity. "My dad told me to follow you with the intention of ensuring your safety. If you stay sick I'd feel personally responsible."

It was a threat, definitely. L's eyes darted over to the can of chicken noodle soup. It was freshly opened. He didn't miss some movement of Light's to poison it somehow, right? No, he had been watching him like an owl. But his cognitive ability had significantly decreased due to this fever, as well as his visual abilities. There was no telling what he could have left unobserved. "You realize that I don't eat soup," he finally said lamely.

"Honestly, if you want to get better this will help." Light frowned as though he cared, and saw that L was glancing at the tin can that it had come in. "You know I didn't do anything to it... or are you worried about Russian food standards?"

"No, I don't like soup," L said stubbornly, feeling very childish but the food truly did not look appealing, throwing aside the fact that his natural paranoia suspected that it contained lethal chemicals. "Besides, I'm vegetarian."

"You're what?"

"I'm vegetarian. You got me chicken noodle soup, and I thank you for the kind gesture. But I don't eat meat, not even poultry."

Light looked genuinely frustrated, and he replied very snappily. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You are not vegetarian. That implies that your diet consists of mostly, or at least some vegetation. Have you heard of vegetables even? God. The fact that you only eat marshmallows and cookies does not qualify you as any such thing."

"The fact that you don't believe I can be vegetarian brands you as a narrow-minded extremist, just like a certain idealist who kills criminals with the intentions of purifying the world," L snapped right back, feeling none-too-patient and hot-headed himself. Literally hot-headed, too, why the hell did he have to be the one suffering this fever? Why was he the one out of control? No Watari, no home, no name, just a virus and an adversary to call his own.

"Just eat the damned soup!" Light shoved the warm bowl forward with red eyes that were furiously superior. Light may have been genuinely irritated, but he clearly knew that L's anger only meant that the detective felt intimidated. The ball would be in his court then.

L could not stand for that. And suddenly, he knew what he could do about that. In the recent epiphany, a plan formed itself in his conniving brain. He swiped his hand in the air, and with his palm he knocked the styrofoam sustenance clear across the room. There was a split second of pure silence as the bowl of soup hit the wall, and splattered yellow-orange liquid along the white wallpaper.

Light stared, with a look of I-can't-believe-you-just-did-that all over his face. And then he was snarling, leaning on top of L. He snatched him by his white shirt and pulled him up by the collar, hissing in his face. "You are the most inconsiderate, childish bastard I've ever met! Let me remind you that I paid you a favor by buying you that, while can hardly move!"

The detective was still as he caught Light's fiery gaze. He recognized this - it was the teen's aggression and would-be dominance. And if he remained sick, the seconds were numbered until Light's victory. That was simply not an option. The detective weakly placed his own hands on Light's curled fist, realizing this situation was all directly a result of the X-factor. It was an unfortunate coincidence (even if he had been the one out in the rain in the first place), but it could ruin everything. If he remained the vulnerable one, he laid in hopeless waiting for some trap to spring.

...But he had his own trap especially set for Light Yagami. And now that the brunette was close to him, he could set it in motion. The X-factor wasn't a permanent handicap to his game pieces, and more importantly it could be pegged on other pieces. L didn't claim to be a doctor, but he knew all about bacteria. If he coughed in Light's face, his tainted breath would be contagious and there would be a small percentage of a chance that Light would pick up the disease.

But the percentage significantly increased if the contact was more direct. He estimated that he could bring the chance up to a good sixty percent in fact, the longer he held his position.

So L, with all the strength he could muster, raised his head upward to where Light's own leering face was above him. The boy naturally tensed slightly as if expecting a blow, but L lifted his hands and wrapped them around the back of Light's neck to lower the chance of escape. Then he went in for the very calculated kill: he pressed his mouth against Light's partly opened lips and plunged his tongue into the warm vessel.

Light had completely frozen all over in surprise, which suited L all the more. L tightened his hands around the teen's neck to force him closer, and to extend his tongue even further inward. He explored the roof of Light's mouth, as well as his own limp tongue, and everywhere he went he left a trail of bacteria. He coated the mouth in it like a thin frosting, adventuring into every crevice and cranny of this particular cake. The other boy, an extraordinary genius and murderer of a thousand people, only stared in wide-eyed, flabbergast shock.

Because L, his greatest challenger and declarer of his execution, was kissing him.

Light wasn't moving, and L certainly wasn't going to be the first to back off. Every additional millisecond that he violated Light's health was an increase in the percentage that he could catch the sickness. Sixty two percent... sixty three percent... and he was enjoying this sweet victory. He was really enjoying it. It made his stomach lurch in excitement when he thought that soon Light would be the one at the mercy of the X-factor. (At least, that's why he assumed his stomach was lurching. It could have been the acids churning again.)

And finally, it happened. It could have been ten seconds, it could have been a minute, but Light finally recovered himself. His fist raised at it flew through the air, connecting with L's cheek as he pulled away. L had expected this and recoiled, falling back down into the bedsheets. Light's eyes were wild with dumbfound confusion, and he scrambled off the bed, staring at L. "What... what the hell?"

L contained his smirk as he pulled the blankets up to his shoulders (being out of them for even that brief period sent chills throughout his whole body). "I was imagining that if you were Kira, you would respond aggressively," he explained in an emotion-free monotonous voice (it was a lie, because Light Yagami was sometimes aggressive on his own when agitated, regardless of Kira).

Light's cheeks flushed pink. "Th-that's not fair," he stammered, backing up. Being in Russia certainly put him on edge, the youth was completely out of his element.

The detective studied the suspect meticulously, but he was inwardly laughing. Light Yagami, our game was never fair. Not in Tokyo, not in Moscow, not anywhere we ever go.

And as if reading his thoughts, Light turned around and exited the room, slamming the door behind him. But L relaxed, hugging a pillow against his chest. Light would come back. He didn't have a choice, because he would know that L wouldn't bluff about having him arrested. And once he did come back... L rather hoped that he was fully recovered by then, so he could be the one gloating.

To Be Continued...