Light rapidly paced through the hallways of the grand hotel without a destination in mind further than 'away'. The hallways were a labyrinth and he made his turns without pattern or reason. Where was the Minotaur this time? Back in room 483, planning his next atrocity to capture the righteous god Kira. He might as well have been holding a handgun again with those offending black-as-coal vacant eyes. Leaving him to wonder if there were bullets in the fucking gun. That conniving little half-smile, the meticulous way he watched Light's every movement, the way he put himself right on the line and says "I am L..."

"God damn it!" Light found himself shouting in the empty hallway. He slammed a curled fist against the wall, buckling over. L had more than once rendered Light into a position of vulnerability and discomfort. He had more than once made the suspect's heart stop beating as he voiced out loud accusations and both metaphorically and literally tied his hands behind his back. But this. I've never been so humiliated in my life! That bastard, that fucking god damned bastard! His cheeks were flushed not pink but red, red as the blood that pooled in his head. He was shaking like a madman in his fury.

What the fucking hell had that been?!

Light tried to reason, but in his rage all he felt was the snarling humiliation. L wasn't afraid to cross the line. In all the time that he had known him, that had never been the case. L didn't fear disapproval of his rash actions. He wasn't even hesitant when it came to rendering everyone else speechless when he calmly and heartlessly gave his orders - plant illegal bugs in those houses, hire criminals to work right along side the law enforcement, kidnap and torture, mock execution to be performed by suspect's own father, violate every human right possible... evil. L was evil, and he had... he had kissed him in another twisted plot to destroy Justice.

But... why that?

The heat filled Light's cheeks all over again. He felt kicked off his own feet, just like he had on the airplane. And it was hot, everywhere was so damned hot even though there was no one in sight. He was alone in Russia without a friend at all, and his worst enemy was toying with him. Not even Ryuk was here to give him the company that didn't make him fear for his life.

It was deplorable. Rashly contemptible, and wholly unforgivable. That's all that Light could think. L had done this just to get a rise out of him, to see if he would slip up. And he was a little bit afraid to go back to the hotel room. The action had already been muddled, he had raised his hand and struck the man. Aggressive reactions, Light-kun, just like Kira. The detective would leer at him smugly as he threatened to have him detained, and those abhorrent eyes were as dark and inexpiable as the righteousness he thought he wielded-

..No.

A surge of laughter bubbled up from inside Light's throat. "Ha, ha!" he found himself letting it out. It was the best thing about putting a foot over the edge - the victims had a choice whether or not to play into the offender's hand or not. Light wouldn't be the one playing into L's hands, oh no, not ever. Because when one cooled his head and stripped away the intended malapropism, one realized that the tormenter's scheme was nothing more than a challenge.

It was just a kiss. Light had kissed a hundred girls and he had been the one in control. So why should this be any different, why should he let it bother him so? Granted, Ryuuzaki was hardly a giggling, half-brained female; oh God he was nothing like them. On the contrary he was a morbid bastard who wanted nothing more than to sentence his 'first ever friend' to death. But Light wasn't about to give the devious detective any more satisfaction. He refused to be the one to slip up. He would not be the the one to lose the staring contest, absolutely not the first one to look away.

Light did not back down from challenges. And Light had no intention of losing. "Very well, Ryuuzaki," he murmured. "I accept."

But the time would have to be right. L had scored a point by getting to Light once, so Light would destroy the evidence. If Light Yagami was Kira, Kira might be expected to be blatantly unforgiving. Kira might retrieve the knife in his coat pocket and end L for good for such an oppositional blow. An innocent Light Yagami, however, would have initially questioned Ryuuzaki about it before ever leaving the room. However, what was done was done, so the next thing that particular Light would logically do would be to act as though nothing had happened and bring it up another time. This would be fine. He took a breath and raised his head, and then wandered back to room 483.

Light blinked his eyes back into reality to find his companion's ashen face only a foot in front of his own. The eyes were wide and should have been unreadable, but with all the time that Light had spent with L this past week he had begun to be able to pin the stringent expressions (or lack thereof) down. Now that face was contorted, ever so minimally and the normal bystander would have missed it, into a look of concern. That didn't exactly mean that L was actually concerned, it just meant he was trying in his own way to express just that. Insincerity was one thing, but still making the choice to try counted, too. Anyway, Light did appreciate that, so he answered honestly. "I'm okay. I guess I'm just a little weary. Not tired, I mean, I can still work, but... weary."

"Really?" L stared, considering his companion again, and then retreated back to his swivel chair. He fumbled with his toes but he was still watching. "Do you want to call your family?"

It was commendable of the often insensitive detective to offer such a thing. And honestly, the idea sounded appealing. His father and the rest of the task force had gone home for the night already, surrendering the eighteen year old to be chained to L. It was an odd, if ironically lonely arrangement, and they were still trying to work out the kinks. Light couldn't say that he liked it, but it sure as hell beat having his arms cuffed behind his back and being left without human contact in a prison cell for fifty days. Most importantly, if this could prove his innocence, then Light was more than willing to let L do whatever he wanted.

"Well?" L was waiting for an answer, that relentless stare still on him.

"I don't," Light said finally, shaking his head. As his shook his head, his auburn hair which had grown long and unruly during his captivity brushed against his cheeks - another unhappy reminder of how life here was different than home.

"I just asked because you've lived with them all your life. I conjectured that perhaps the source of your weariness was the extreme change in pace that you've been subject to over the last fifty-six days. Are you certain that communicating with your mother wouldn't put you at ease? I don't mind, as long as you use my phone and allow me to record everything stated."

"It might help," Light admitted truthfully. "But I don't want to be reliant on them, either. Even if I'm innocent, I'm the primary suspect for the Kira case. I can't act like a child anymore. I have to be stronger than that."

"I'd rather that you act precisely how you normally act. It'll be much easier for me to determine if you are Kira that way." L said this very seriously, but Light could identify a moderate kindness in the tone.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and then they heard footsteps in the hall. Watari, who must have been listening from the video cameras, swung the door open. He was wearing a dark suit and he looked as much like an English gentleman at one in the morning as he did at noon. He smiled in a grandfatherly way at the boys as he carried a tray. "Ryuuzaki, Light, let's take a break now." He set the tray on the table, revealing a platter of chocolate chip cookies and three glasses of milk.

L immediately extended his legs to the ground to push his swivel chair over to the table, right next to Watari. He took one of the gooey desserts in his thumb and index finger, and took a bite shamelessly.

"You too, Light," Watari urged when the younger boy just watched. "I baked them myself, believe it or not! I do not claim to be the most exquisite of cooks, but my own mother taught me the necessities. Namely, cookies. Come, come, then, try one and tell me if they taste like a mother's."

"Light-kun prefers to watch," L commented offhandedly in between bites. "Consuming a cookie would make him feel like a child, and he is clearly too grown-up for such a juvenile tactic."

Light found himself grinning, and reluctantly he seated himself at the table, too. "Thank you, Watari. It's just that I'm not very hungry right now."

"Ah, my boy." There was a twinkle in the elderly man's eyes. "Since when do we, as the race of human beings, eat cookies because we are hungry?"

The brunette considered, and then he gave in. He took a glass of milk in addition to a cookie. He tore the dessert into two half-circles, and he took one of these pieces and dunked it in the milk. After it had soaked for a few seconds, he removed it and brought it to his lips. When he put it in his mouth, he let out a small sigh of approval. It was soft and warm, just the way he had always eaten them as a child. For the first time, he felt almost at ease around L and Watari.

"You dunk your cookies in milk?" L, who had melted chocolate on his lips, said with the closest thing to disbelief he had heard from the detective since the Second Kira's tape about Shinigami. "That really is a juvenile tactic."

He could always stab him. That vengeful thought was nice. The knife lay in waiting in the pocket of his coat. Just to imagine what that would be like - the fury all concentrated on that single blade, sliding like thunder into that bastard's chest. And then it would be over, all over, and Light would have freedom. Freedom to be Kira, and if L couldn't stop him then no one in existence could. But he knew, as he reached the door with the correct numbers on it, that this wasn't yet a possibility. What would he do with the body? The hotel would find that carcass at check-out time, and they already had his identification (even if it was fake, it was the only one he had) on record. No, killing L couldn't be a mere crime of passion. It, like everything else, had to be perfectly calculated.

Light was infinitely glad that he had never removed the room key from the pocket of his pants - even with his resolution it would have been indignant to have to knock on the door and have L let him in. As it was, he clicked open the lock and very casually strode in, fully intending to act as though nothing had happened. When he looked inside, he saw L sitting with his back propped up by pillows (half of those pillows had once belonged on Light's bed). A small bench-like table rested on the detective's knees, and on this table was a giant bowl of fruit - strawberries, grapes, and melon - which was doused thoroughly in sugar.

When L turned to see Light, he smiled and waved a hand. "Good news, Light-kun!" he declared.

"What's that?" Light asked, trying to determine what angle L would be playing at. He couldn't be startled, he refused, he would just have to figure out where the enemy would strike from.

"The aspirin decreased my headache by eighty-two percent! I felt so much better that I ordered room service." L was clearly brightened just by being able to say this, but then he frowned. "The cheesecake looked delectable on the menu, but I calculated that if I consumed that, there would be a sixty-four percent chance that I'd just throw it up, so I decided to eat something healthier. Thus the fruit."

Light shook his head disbelievingly as he crossed the room to his own bed, now very bare without blankets or pillows. "Sometimes I wonder if you don't just pull those percentages out of your ass," he remarked dryly as he sat down, resting weight on his hands as he leaned back.

"Hmm." L regarded him with what was either a smile or a frown as he sucked on the end of a sweetened strawberry. "Is Light-kun angry because I didn't order him anything? I'm sorry. I didn't even think of you."

Aha. That was it. L was also willing to act as though nothing had happened. He wasn't even playing off of Light's reactions, because he clearly made the first attempt at conversation, and rather immediately so. Light reached for the television remote that was on the nightstand. "No, I'm not hungry. If you can keep fruit down, if one can still call it fruit despite the fact that it probably has a higher concentration of sugar than it does natural fructose, then don't worry about me. You'll need the energy to recover."

"That's true, isn't it." L popped another strawberry in his mouth, putting on an entirely unreadable expression as he gazed at the brunette. "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Light asked mildly as he flipped through the channels. He didn't usually watch television except for the news - dramas and shows never really interested him. They were generally shallow, melodramatic and artificial, so he preferred the real world. However, it was a little bit more difficult to discern what particularly was an acted show and what was a factual program at the moment, because every channel spoke purely in Russian.

"Watching TV. You can't understand what they're saying, can you?" There it was. Suppressed amusement.

"It's easy enough to get the idea just by watching the pictures. You don't always need words to get an idea." Light spoke tentatively, half expecting this to be some kind of test. There were a number of factors to consider. He had landed on a channel with a reporter who was clearly, judging by video footage, discussing a murder case. Though there was a possibility that this was some sort of re-run or from a movie and not real at all. Would the fact that he was watching the news lead to the conclusion that he must be Kira, because Kira got all of his names and faces from the media? Or could Light Yagami innocently watch because as a bright student he preferred to learn everything the news offered?

"No, I suppose words don't always mean very much," L said thoughtfully. He was watching the screen now. "But I would've thought that you would find it frustrating. You always liked to know everything, even what was probably irrelevant."

"Why do you think that? I also like puzzles and intellectual engagement," Light countered. "If you know everything, puzzles lose their fundamental value."

"I think that because I would also find it frustrating, and you and I are alike."

Light's lips tightened, and he gave the news program his full attention again. There, damn it all, there was the mug shot of the murder suspect, with his name right there in Russian characters. His hand twitched, and he couldn't help but instinctively wish that he had the Death Note. This was a criminal who would escape through the net this time, because it was doubtful Misa would catch him. Another wretch to muck up the world. Light sighed, and then realized that L was still expecting some sort of answer. So he said, "I'm watching it to calm my nerves. I used to watch the news habitually when I lived at home."

"And Light-kun misses home," L mused. "Being away for so long unsettles him."

He could have denied it in a prideful attempt, but that really wouldn't accomplish anything. Contrarily, if he confirmed, it showed off a vulnerability that Kira theoretically wouldn't show. "I suppose it's true."

Either L decided that this was insincere, or he simply didn't care (probably both), because the next thing that the detective said was, "Do you suppose that Kira acquires most of his criminal information from television media?"

If only that bastard wasn't sick, then he might socially have the right to punch him, because he was making such an obvious snide parallel to Light and Kira. Of course, that might be the 'aggressive reaction' that L was looking for, and that needed to be avoided at all costs. He answered calmly. "It seems likely. Or more than that, the internet. If he used the internet he could learn about more criminals worldwide."

"That's true." L put a pink stained finger into his mouth, sucking off the berry juices as he thoughtfully watched the television.

Sourly, Light glanced his way. "You know, for someone who claimed that he was forfeiting the Kira case, you're awfully insincere."

"Light-kun brings out the best in me." He said this in a lazy drawl as he stared at Light as though he were looking through the scope of a rifle. The younger boy kept his eyes stubbornly on the Russian news reporter. After a moment, L continued. "It was because you were watching in a language that you didn't understand. If we can still assume that the original Kira is Japanese, if we throw away the theory that the power transfers from person to person, then we can conclude that he must speak Japanese. But how many more languages does he speak?"

"He could find translations online," Light offered carefully.

"Certainly he could, or he could watch the television like you are doing anyhow and write down the names as they appear. But a naive Kira might murder Aleksandr Pasternak, the man who's face just appeared on TV."

Light paused. "I didn't understand the language, but I'm under the impression that he murdered that family. Isn't that what they said, Ryuuzaki? And Kira judges criminals..."

"You're observant, as expected, Light-kun. The reporter claims that Aleksandr robbed his victim's house in the dead of the night, strangled the children, raped the wife and stabbed the husband thirteen times in the chest. After that, he set the entire house on fire, burning it to ashes, and then fled the city."

He hesitated again, and uncomfortably so, as he tried to figure out L's tone. "You say it as if that's okay."

"Not that. It wouldn't be okay at all, if it were true."

Silence. Light waited expectedly, but L wasn't saying anything, just chewing on his strawberries and watching the television with very casual disinterest. So finally, Light said, "And what led you to such a speculation?"

"Aleksandr Pasternak is just a poor idiot. It's his fault for publicly denouncing government policies here. And maybe it isn't even the government who framed him, but some rich, persuasive aristocrat who believed the man to be a thorn in his side. There's a large financial gap between the rich and the poor, and my intuition tells me that this is corruption at work. The news reporter chose to state that he was a protester in an effort to make them look bad, but in my acclaimed experience there is usually foul play afoot in cases like these."

Light felt something churn uncomfortably in his stomach, and for whatever reason, his heart thumped loudly. "Are you insinuating that Kira has judged innocents? Wouldn't he know better than that, considering all he stands for?"

"I'm simply playing off the hypothesis that Kira is a mere high school or college student, and there is a possibility that he doesn't fully comprehend how complicated the real world works. Most idealists do not. Light-kun, the world is even bigger than you think it is."

Always a bastard. Even sick in bed, a bastard.

"Ryuuzaki." Light stood up, fiercely looking straight into the charcoal eyes of the detective. "Couldn't you have detected that I was indeed watching the television to calm my nerves about being away from home? Your implications that I am Kira undo everything, and then some. I'm too tired to deal with this right now, so I'm going to go take a shower."

"I'm sorry, I never meant to imply any such thing." But the glint in L's eyes made it clear that he was still studying him. "And Light-kun has already showered once today. You are clean, you know."

"I feel dirty," he mumbled as he made his way toward the bathroom.

When he was finished, he found that the lights were off. L had set the table on the floor and was curled up in the blankets. He still had all of the pillows and covers, but Light was too tired to protest. So stripped down to his boxers and lay awkwardly under the sheets until sleep finally carried him to serenity.

He stood up in the darkness and stepped to where L's bed was. He stood looming over it, his jaw clenched as he considered yanking his blanket back. The detective was asleep. Sure, he would notice, but not until he woke up. And maybe he would have to face those snippy Kira accusations when the sun rose (he could hear them now: "Kira would certainly make an effort to prevent my recovery with such a tactic!"), but right now he just wasn't sure if he could deal with being cold.

His shaking hands slowly moved down to the blankets and gripped them. He held his breath, but just as he was about to pull-

"Don't touch my blankets," L's voice murmured. Still half asleep, but L was rarely in any state more extreme. It was as fierce as that monotonous tone could be.

"Ryuuzaki, you have two. I don't have any, and I'm really damned cold. This isn't fair."

"Nngh..." L made a sound as he curled his body, probably clutching the blankets with a vice grip from underneath. "It's not fair... that's how it is, Light-kun..."

"Ryuuzaki!" Light said more loudly, hoping that if the detective woke up a little he would be more reasonable. Well, it was a shot in the dark, anyway. "It's freezing!"

"And I'm sick." Even in that bored, low, tired voice he sounded smug. As if he were flaunting that fact even at a state of half-conscious. "... I'm not giving you any... if you want to be warm, just sleep with me."

"Huh?" The statement was innocent. Of course Light knew this. After all, they had slept in the same bed for months. So why did it make Light startled? Was it poorly worded that for some reason he thought of... that incident? No way, obviously he had adjusted to L's peculiar way of speaking by now. No, no, ah God, he was tired and cold and fucking hell he could not handle this right now. So maybe this was L's torture. The bastard probably had cameras set up all over the room already, just to test his reactions, to shake him up because Kira would do such a thing, and all of this bullshit and it was a goddamn icebox in stupid Russia and-

"Will you just do something? It's annoying that you're just standing there," L snapped, apparently more awake now, and cranky because of it.

Oddly enough, that cleared Light's head. What useless thoughts. But the last thing he now wanted to be thinking about was Ryuuzaki - he deserved an hour or two of freedom from that obsessive burden. And when Light was able to think straight, he was very resourceful. So he walked over to the chair where he had neatly laid his new coat, and he returned to his bed. It wasn't quite the length of his whole body, though it was long, but if he curled up a little it served its purpose as a make-shift blanket. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he still had that knife in the coat pocket, and he wondered about the best way to stab somebody.

This irritated the detective, who wished that he had packed along one of his tracking devices so he could determine where the troublesome brunette was. Well, fine. He swung his legs over to the side of the bed, finding with pleasure that he had the strength to stand up. He had to walk slowly, because his head was still a little muddled, but he made it to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he decided to be venturous and take a shower. He stripped and turned on the faucet, but when the water fell from overhead he decided that he felt too faint to stand that long. So he turned the lever to make it a bath instead.

He didn't know how long he laid in the hot, soapy water. Time felt a little out of control recently. Usually he mentally counted it, and precisely, too. Now such a concept was a beast running ahead, and L didn't know nor care how to tame it. He observed it run from an astronomical distance away, and he didn't count the seconds.

Time was relative, anyhow. Not that it wasn't going by, but...

L found that he was relaxing quite contently on his bed. It was peculiar, because there was nothing that should have been relaxing about the situation. Kira was on the loose, in fact, out of his sight right now planning who knew what. He was still ill, and if he chose to pick a fight then he calculated that the younger boy would certainly have the advantage. And in the past, he hated days where nothing happened. If he wasn't working, he felt dead and useless. It had always been his work that kept him alive... but now? He was in the blankets, sitting up slightly and enjoying a cup of steaming English tea.

He didn't know if the fact that he wasn't thinking about much at all was a good thing, or if it was simply the same dead feeling as before. Maybe it was a preventative measure, because he knew that if he started contemplating too thoroughly then he would remember Lawliet and he would feel like retching. Perhaps it was even a subconscious preventative measure - his ill health had lead his body to choose to blot out everything that could hinder the situation further, so the fact that he was searching for his name seemed like a distant memory. Either way... it was nice.

He wasn't in denial again, was he? Wammy is dead, and I have no name, and I'm in Moscow... The words made sense as he chanted them in his mind. What was it, then? Why wasn't it bothering him?

As if on cue, there was the sound of a key turning in a lock, and then the door opened. Light strode in with his hands in his coat pockets, not looking at L as if there was a chance that he might not be noticed. But L stared at him with a fiercely empty expression, and said, "Light-kun. I told you what I would do if you left the hotel without my permission."

"How do you know I left the hotel?" Light challenged, seating himself on his bed while clutching a new brown paper bag - he had apparently been shopping, using L's rubles and credit carts. L would be sure to research his credit history to confirm where the brunette had been.

"You have snow in your hair," L answered wryly. He was the world's greatest detective after all.

Light scowled, stubbornly looking away. "Well, you can't call the police on me anyway. You could tell them that I was Kira if you wanted, but the only way that they would believe me would be if you revealed your identity. You're trying to stay under the radar, too, aren't you? And if I were arrested, who would take care of you?"

"Ah, but good news." L smiled. "I'm recovering at a steady, constant rate. By tomorrow, I should be fine."

"Good." Light left it bitterly at that, and though he still wasn't looking at the detective, it was clear that he was waiting for more. Namely, an answer to the question, 'did you call the police?' But L did not provide any answer. He chose to let Light wonder instead. The boy was clearly squirming in a hardly contained anxiety as he pulled out the SuDoku book he had purchased and worked on the puzzles. They both knew that if he pressed the matter too far, it would be suspicious behavior.

L instead plugged in his laptop and went online to check his e-mail accounts as well as credit card history. As the machine booted up, he thought about how downright funny it was that they both knew, and they knew that the other one knew, too, but they were still pretending. It was a sonata, a sort of duet, but no one was singing.

He forced himself to his feet, but his legs were weak and wobbly. He clutched the protection of the coat to his skin, but he was still freezing. More than that, his skin was irritated by the touch and protested as though it was sandpaper scraping against it. Light stepped awkwardly over to L's bed, where the detective slept with a content smile on his face.

Again, Light put trembling hands on the top blanket, but as he gripped it he buckled forward. His knees hit carpeted floor and his upper body shook as it lay on the bed.

"..Stop it, Light-kun.." L mumbled.

Desperately, Light tried to find the motivation to pull himself to his feet, but he was so exhausted. It was cold, so damned cold. His fingers clutched that blanket still, and he pulled with his arms the the blanket just wouldn't budge. He buried his face in it.

"You can't have my blanket," L murmured, turning toward Light. He opened his eyes slightly, analyzing the younger male with an unknown level of consciousness. His eyelids opened further then, and he sat up. He leaned forward and wrapped slender fingers around Light's arms, and then with a surprising strength that the detective hadn't had yesterday, he pulled the brunette up onto the bed.

A gasp escaped from Light's mouth and he cringed at the touch against his sensitive skin. But he was on the bed now, and he quickly pulled the sheets and blankets over him. There was more warmth here, but it still didn't seem to be enough. It could be called fortunate that his brief movements had exhausted him, because he fell into an unpleasant sleep almost immediately.

He glanced around the room, which was filled with morning sunlight because the shades hadn't been closed last night. Light's bed was empty... no, Light was in his bed. L looked down thoughtfully at the figure which was buried under blankets right beside him. "Light-kun, good morning!" he said, because usually the other boy was not a heavy sleeper either.

Light didn't answer.

Not to be put down, L tried again. "Light-kun? Is it that you haven't adjusted yet from jet-lag? We've already been in Moscow for days."

Light groaned at that, and twisted his body slightly, but still didn't answer.

"It'll only get worse. I believe that I am fully recovered now, so I'm going to book us tickets to our next destination. It'll be multiple time zones away, too."

"You don't... ugh..." The words were muddled. Slowly, Light lowered the blankets that had been covering his face and he sat up, too. His face was surprisingly pale, and just the act of raising his upper body made his face distort in pain. "Are we going today?"

L nodded, hopping deftly off the bed. "Waiting another day would just be a waste of time. I can pull some strings to get us a flight by this afternoon, so we'll still have time to order breakfast here. We'll arrive in Paris... oh, ideally before 2200 hours, though really that variable is dependent upon the airline. I'll also reserve a hotel room. I haven't come to a decision yet, but we will stay there for one night, at least."

The brunette nodded without looking as though he had paid attention. His eyes, which did not look to L their usual hue of milk chocolate today, were downcast.

As a very disciplined detective, L disliked hasty conclusions based off of initial observations. But he also had extraordinary analytical skills, and... well, he didn't need to flatter himself, because it was quite obvious that there was something wrong with Light. L began to change into clean clothes, and Light who had slept in his boxers began to dress. He was fumbling with a white button-down dress shirt, which wasn't going well because his hands were shaking. The buttons seemed to slip out of his trembling fingers, and L stopped dressing altogether just to watch him. The most peculiar thing was that Light showed no reaction nor evidence of noticing that the detective was studying him - usually he would at least shoot him a nasty glare. But this morning, nothing.

L had just logged onto the internet to claim airline tickets when Light's face suddenly changed. Light put a hand to his mouth, his eyes widening with something akin to horror. He ran into the bathroom. Curious, L followed him and watched as he crumpled down by the toilet. And then he retched, throwing up a disgusting concoction of half-digested food.

L stared in fascination at the boy whose normally handsome features were distorted. He approached him from behind. Light flinched, still hugging at the toilet seat though he wasn't at the moment puking. L seized Light's head, using one hand to hold back the brunette's wild, sweaty bangs and the other one to feel his forehead. It was burning hot, leaking with beads of perspiration.

Mission successful.

"It's annoying," L commented as he helped Light back into the bed. "But if you consume enough aspirin, perhaps you'll make it through the flight without too much discomfort."

Light's voice wasn't much more than a ragged whisper, but if anyone could make such a thing sound malicious, he could. "I swear to God, Ryuuzaki. If you make me go anywhere right now I'll kill you, and I don't give a damn if that means I'm Kira."

"Is that a confession?" he teased. It could have been inappropriate, but L's lips curved into a genuine grin. Kissing Light Yagami had indubitably been a stroke of genius.

The death penalty had been scheduled for this man tomorrow. It was for no particular reason other than the wishes of all families involved that the atrocity was kept mostly hushed. Not that it was completely silenced, but it had never been internationally broadcast nor made particular news outside of Florida. This is why Anton Gates was selected to be the one to die by the Death Note without question, unless the supernatural factor of the issue was going to be questioned itself. Interpol told Mr. Gates that should he survive, he would immediately be released. (It wasn't true. They would still most certainly do away with him, but he might live a couple of days longer for experimental purposes.)

"It feels a little foolish even playing along with this," Diane Wittlinger, who had joined the ICPO through the CIA six years ago stated mildly. "No, okay, not a little foolish, but a lot foolish. Remind me again why the hell we're playing games with paper, pens and criminals?"

"I shouldn't have to remind you, Diane," Akiyama Takahashi, the Japanese representative of Interpol, remarked. "President Dressler agreed to this himself. This is L's deductions, not ours, and how many times has L saved our ass?"

"Honestly, how do we know that L is as rational as he seems?" she challenged mildly. "We don't know anything about him, and quite frankly that rubs me wrong. I think we should be researching who and what exactly he is, before we play his games. If he's as genius as he comes across, then I'm worried about our own security."

"I'm not disagreeing with you. But we can't afford to scare him off. The way I see it, if he's going to help us bag cases that our best detectives can't even begin to understand, then let him. Should we trust him? Hell, no, but he's never done us any harm in the past. And what difference does it make at this point anyway, if this 'Death Note' is crap? I'm under the impression that that's what L is trying to figure out himself. Say the supernatural thing fails, well, whatever, we haven't lost anything but a lead."

Diane shook her head incredulously, brown curls tossing. "I'm not a superstitious person, Mr. Takahashi. But suppose this Death Note thing really works, what then? He sent us a piece of paper from it, right? I don't believe it, but hypothetically speaking..."

"He gave us not much more than a slip," Akiyama shrugged. "There's hardly room to write a single name. L is also a control freak, I think, and he wouldn't appreciate the government being able to give all offenders heart attacks. That's also why he hasn't told us any of the guidelines that go along with the paper aside from the thirteen days."

"Ah, we wouldn't do that," Diane insisted, but her brow was furrowed. "Alright, I wouldn't do that. But again, hypothetically... think of all the terrorists and criminals that Kira hasn't gotten to that we could drop if we had that power."

"Diane," Akiyama smiled. "Are you condoning Kira?"

"Christ, no. We're going to capture that sonuvabitch, and let him know that if he wants to pass righteous judgments then he should do it legally, through Interpol."

He laughed at that. "Yeah, we'll definitely let him know that. And in exchange, we'll persuade him to let us know a few things in return. Like you, I am very curious as to how the Death Note works, how he does what he does. And you know something, Diane?"

"Hm?"

"L has a Death Note and this is the guideline that he's insisting on testing. Does this seem odd to you? I don't think he would risk testing it himself, when he knows that we'll comply. But why bother testing this rule? That makes me think he already has his own list of suspects that are only affected by the thirteen day rule. Which means Kira's capture might be just fourteen days away."

Diane's red lips curved into a smile. "I never thought about it that way. Maybe you're right, Akiyama. In which case, upon tomorrow..."

"Upon tomorrow, it'll begin. Better start running, Kira."

To Be Continued. . .