“Perfection does not exist. To understand it is the triumph of human intelligence; to desire to possess it is the most dangerous kind of madness.” -De Musset

"L," the macabre voice creaked, as harsh as a whisper though its master's vocal chords rumbled. There was a pause for waiting, and then the sound softened while rising into a whine. "L, let's play draughts."

L had a mild distaste for the attention that the younger orphan gave him. He did not particularly enjoy anyone hanging around him like an incessant magnet, never did, and as such he had not taken much of a liking to the boy. B was first brought here by Quillsh Wammy when he was ten from a place that no one mentioned and for reasons that no one spoke of, though this policy was certainly not unheard of around the orphanage. Many of the residents here were victims of neglect, abuse, traumatic stress which lead to an array of psychological issues, but L had little sympathy for the young adolescent who had made it his personal mission to mime and copy everything the top student did. L did not try very hard to conceal his irritation, though Wammy had said that he should be pleased that the child was so fond of him.

The thing was, he didn't think that B was fond of him. No, the attachment was different - it was parasitic.

"Hey, L. I'm challenging you to play draughts."

This was ignored, and though L was reading his book diligently, he sensed the heads of younger orphans who were playing hide-and-seek in the church pews turn to the scene. Yes, B was second in line to L for winning the title of 'greatest detective', the crown that would control all the world's policing forces. Yes, B was exceptionally intelligent, a child prodigy, a genius. However, the fact remained that he was second best. He was without question not as good as L, and to those not as good, a challenge is empty words. As weightless as a waste of time.

"You know, L," B continued without a care at being disregarded. "You're always studying in the chapel. Do you believe in gods?"

L didn't look up. "The reason is that generally it's quiet in here."

Giving in and speaking was probably counterproductive in shaking off the bothersome youth, but L was aware that when it came to B, the probably of positive results was low no matter what course of action was taken. He could drop hints in swarms, or even outright announce that he was too busy for conversation, but that seemed to amuse B even more. Keeping silence excited him less, but B also was gifted in the exquisite strength of determination, and, like his victim, always preferred to win.

"It wouldn't be quiet if you were listening for gods," B mentioned, springing forward an additional awkward step in an effort to reanimate L's own quirky mannerisms. "Because you're in a church, where the gods are. But you don't believe in gods."

L focused his attention on Japanese verb conjugation.

"Me, too."

Causative -ru ending, irregulars する and 来る, explicit actors in a statement and honorific commands, the kanji is much easier, just details when one understands the mathematical system of the language. It's a problem with a logical solution, language is, like everything else when analyzed properly. Japanese wasn't particularly similar to any other language that L had learned, but he was sixteen years old and this would be his seventh.

"Sometimes I'm very sure that this orphanage is haunted."

"Why is that, B?" L finally humored him, looking up from his textbook. He wanted to be fluent by the end of the year, but B had a nasty habit of looming around until he got some form of recognition, so they might as well get this over with. "Haunted, is that so?"

The smallest of feral smiles twisted across the youth's pale face. Assuming that he was invited to freely converse with the studying older boy, he hopped onto the couch next to him and perched in a way that not only mimicked L's favorite seated position but exaggerated it, squatting down into a position that looked nothing short of ridiculous.

"Because I'm here," he announced, leaning forward and smirking in L's face.

L didn't want to encourage this behavior with a facial expression, so he simply said, "I don't think you're a ghost."

"Are you sure?"

"Fairly."

"L Lawliet," B giggled, jumping off of the couch, landing deftly on the carpet and resting both elbows on the coffee table.

That again annoyed L. How did the child know his full name, anyway? Part of Roger's headmaster philosophy was that all the children here were starting new lives, and their old identities were only for them to know. Of course, personal files and records were kept locked in the basement, for the sake of legality. Perhaps B had been snooping around there, the notion wouldn't have surprised him. "You aren't dead enough to be a ghost," L stated sullenly.

"But I know what happens when the number hits 'zero'."

"A cryptic statement."

"I know what happens. 'A' killed herself." B stuck a thumb into his mouth, but instead of gnawing it passively like L had a tendency to do, he bit into his own skin with a vigor that could have drawn blood. "A rope around her neck, and it snapped. Do you wonder what that feels like?"

L sighed. "I do not wonder, Ryuuzaki."

"Then neither do I," B copied. He raised a pale hand and picked up a white chip on the game board. "Now let's play draughts."

L had the ability to explore multiple strings of thought simultaneously. This skill had been trained and perfected as he practiced it incessantly through his work, expanding ideas into hypotheses and to theories and to possible conclusions, as broad and complex as a computer program. What did not come as easy for him was the capability to banish unwanted thoughts. His mind ran mechanically, running regardless of whether or not he offered permission.

Frowning, he stood up, stretching his back until he heard a thread of satisfying pops as his vertebrae cracked. He needed sugar and coffee – these things always aided in steering his thoughts in the directions he wanted, a surge of sustenance that kept him at the level of control that he wanted to be.

Though he was, admittedly, brooding a bit as he walked down the hallway, he looked up when he heard the soft ringing music of a piano in the distance. Something traditional English, some ballad – Greensleeves, L recognized. The pianist played no chords throughout the verses, instead his fingers danced up and down across the black and white keys into something in minor key, ringing hauntingly as it vibrated across the walls of the hallway. No one was singing, because Watari was too stiff to try and L certainly wasn't going to, but the poetry of the distraught romantic in love with the prostitute 'Lady Greensleeves' whispered through his head nonetheless.

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.

L's thoughts brought him back to the orphanage in Winchester. When he had stayed there, he heard the song frequently enough. Orphans were always trying their hands at music, as it was supposed to harness multiple areas of the brain and therefore could be considered exercise for intelligence ability. Quillsh Wammy had books upon books of English sheet music that he played on the grand piano back there, and because of his fondness and general talent and the instrument, he had brought them to various locations that the pair operated in. L had never paid much attention to it before, but there it was, the culprit. No wonder he was being plagued with thoughts of B again, because if nothing else, music had the uncanny ability to reanimate memories.

“Watari,” the detective announced as he turned into the richly furnished living room. The old man was sitting erect on the bench in proper playing posture, his withered hands proving their youth as they controlled the black and white ivory on the French baby grand piano. “I don't like that song, so don't play it.”

“You may wear earmuffs.” It was annoying when the old man treated L like the same child that he had brought to Winchester all of those years ago, but it had to be remembered that Quillsh Wammy was a well-bred, well-studied multi-billionaire inventor and detective, and subsequently, would never be any man's servant.

If you intend thus to disdain,
It does the more enrapture me,
And even so, I still remain
A lover in captivity.

“But if I do that, my reasoning ability will decrease by... 15 percent.”

“You may go downstairs.”

“Watari!” L was certain that he never whined except around his often prickly older partner. But the problem remained, and that was aggravating. Now that he had taken notice of the music and the useless memories, he couldn't ignore them. He glared. “I need to speak with you about something immediately.”

The music dwindled down in the heavy-chorded chorus. Watari's exasperated sigh was heard over the quieting piano, until eventually he turned around, adjusting his spectacles and looking down upon his prodigy. “By God, I do believe you weren't spanked enough as a child.”

There he was, acting like a mentor again. L continued, undaunted. “Did Beyond exhibit any psychological disorders prior to his stay at the orphanage?”

“Beyond Birthday?” Watari asked unnecessarily, brows raising in surprise. “...How does this relate to any current case?”

“I don't have to explain.”

Again the old gentleman sighed, looking as though he had been hit with a fierce migraine and would require aspirin shortly. “The boy was born prematurely when his mother suddenly died, but he miraculously made what seemed to be normal development. He was raised by an abusive uncle, and at ten years of age, Beyond ran away. Ironically, three days later, his uncle was killed in a car accident.”

“So his status changed from runaway to orphaned,” L concluded indifferently. “And not long thereafter, you found him.”

“Yes. He had a history already of violence toward other children recorded in the previous orphanage, but when he had underwent psychoanalysis test before coming to Wammy's House, there was nothing to be found. Of course, that was in the '80s, and that kind of evaluation has evolved since then.”

L bit at his thumbnail, until spotting a tray of fresh grapes, in which he exchanged nail for fruit. At the risk of sounding childish, he spoke what was on his mind for the chance that some connection might be uncovered. “He used to tell me that he was a ghost, and that he knew when people were going to die.”

“My own opinion of his psyche is that Beyond was very immature.”

L took one last grape and allowed himself a moment to chew. Nothing, then. Well, the matter was rather obsolete anyhow, since B was a closed storybook. It was true that the best way to diminish distractions was to go ahead and take care of them, but there was nothing here to finish. There was something stimulating these recollections, and certainly it wasn't piano music. Watari played all the time, wherever they were. The New York City location was in no way associated with B either. The stimulus might have been the presence of Light Yagami, for often enough L would be assailed with images of his orphaned challenger while thinking of the teenager, yet this had never occurred during Kira investigation. Perhaps anyway, the notion of Light being here was enough to kick him off track from his normal frame of thinking. Either way, deliberating over it further didn't seem to be improving the situation at all, so the temporary course of action would be peppermint coffee and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and he intended to go execute said action immediately.

“Why did you ask?” Watari inquired as he bounded away.

He stopped in his footsteps back toward the hallway and frowned without turning his head. Contemplating this seriously, he spoke his answer. “I don't know.”

“Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.” -John Fitzgerald Kennedy

"These are the video files from the Miami airport on the 20th, which is the last recording of George Fletcher," Watari announced as he entered the room with a bundle of object in his arms. Even though his hands were full, he lingered at the door long enough to close it securely before stepping in to properly enter. "The footage from the parking lot is low quality due to rainstorm."

"Thanks," Light said briskly as the DVDs were set on the desk next to the portable DVD player.

Watari continued stoically. "The labeled disk has witness interrogation that the Miami police force compiled. The file that I'm giving you has additional photos and stats of the suspects, and typed alibis."

Light nodded and shifted his gaze away from the old man and to the papers neatly arranged like the tiles of a chess board on the surface of his desk. He opened the manila envelope, which was heavy from reports, graphs, pictures and theories. He had requested specific data from Watari, and for whatever reason, the American police force had handed over information that was probably very classified. The reason was unknown to Light, for though he was certain that his work here wouldn't be attributed to L, Erald Coil or Danuve - Ryuuzaki's top detective aliases, he must have been given a name credible enough to be allowed to work on cases.

The arrangement was admittedly inconvenient, but through the course of a few weeks they had established some semblance of balance and compromise. Given extreme security restrictions, it was impossible for Light to truly take on a case by himself, though he was charged with fulfilling as much investigation as possible until Watari or the police would complete the rest. The elite detective also only assigned him the kind of cases that he himself wouldn't accept - single or double body murders, relatively minor theft or a kidnapping. Watari acted as a bridge between Light and the outside world, since L himself wasn't about to take the time out of his busy schedule to accommodate his prisoner.

Despite being confined mostly to a few rooms, the situation wasn't exactly boring, but it was incredibly awkward. Light was by no means opposed to the work he was doing in the sense that he was punishing criminals, but there was an underlying hollow feeling. Months ago, this process had been as easy as glancing at a photo and scribing a name. A hundred criminals could be extinguished in a night with a Death Note, but the conventional method called for entire days of research even for the most simple cases, especially since the court could not convict a lawbreaker unless sufficient evidence was offered. Quite frankly put it was... inefficient.

And then there was L.

Even today, when there was nothing left for his adversary to be suspicious of with all charges admitted, L had apparently made a irreversible habit of boldly staring at him, every twitch of a movement he made and with the sharp intensity of attempted telepathy. It bothered Light, in fact, he loathed being around L. Of course, he loathed being anywhere else in the stupid building too, but if he had ever hated the feeling of L's cool eyes prickling his skin before, that was scrap in comparison to how it felt now.

He wanted to kill him.

...But L knew that.

The security was incredibly heavy in this building, as Watari has mentioned that they had designed it themselves, just like the building back in Tokyo. Light was in an elaborate prison cell, and he accepted that - as much as it frustrated him, he accepted that he was here. All that there was to do was to bite his tongue and attempt to act as professionally as possible. L had not passed up any opportunity to taunt him, and as tempting as it was to fall for the bait, that would be counterproductive as far as maintaining dignity went. There was no point in engaging in a crude scuffle with him, the result would inevitably be some immature reminder that Kira was the defeated, that Kira had...

Now the date was January 24th of the year 2005. It had been almost three months since he had been caught, three months and counting without an end in sight. But thinking about it like that made Light feel as though he was losing his mind in a routine that was always subject to L's intervention. And then he would fall into habits: wake up, take a shower, eat, abandon his wandering thoughts completely in the mathematical comfort of the cases, occasionally consult with L or Watari, sleep again, the same. If he left the bedroom he would be handcuffed, and adjusting to this, he found himself calmly offering his wrists to be shackled. Acceptance, more acceptance, and it made Light want to punch something (or someone) but ultimately, his passion powering the frustrations of his helplessness... it was completely useless.

(And he would dream about drowning again, about giving in to the tides of the ocean and admitting his own mortality, admitting that there were forces out of his control, admitting that he might die here and what was the point of treading water if it only exhausted him further?)

Light closed his eyes, resting his head for a moment in his hands as he sat at the desk. "Damn it," he murmured under his breath.

He couldn't function like that, he couldn't keep staring at the inevitability below him. Instead he had to keep his gaze upward, up to the things he believed in, up to what was righteous and up to the only things that would keep him from losing himself in addition to his freedom. The only lifeboat here was the sky, which, to gods, was good enough.

“The privilege of absurdity; to which no living creature is subject but man only.” -Thomas Hobbes

“Good afternoon, Kira,” L greeted.

Light didn't bat an eye at the continued use of addressing him as 'Kira'. It was a mockery, like anything else, a declaration of what L so immaturely claimed as his trophy. If the bastard was going to act like he was six, that was his business, and Light didn't feel like rising to the bait. “Why the interruption? I was working.”

“You constructed a deck of cards out of the paper I gave you,” L said curiously, waggling his silver spoon. “You were playing Solitaire.”

“I was busy waiting patiently for you to get back to me with the information that I need,” Light halfheartedly argued. “Don't reprimand me for getting bored when I have nothing to do.”

“Play with cards is a healthier pastime than some of the other things you've done when bored, so I'm not reprimanding you. Instead I invited you out here to play draughts with me, since I am also waiting for an important e-mail." When there the response wasn't anything more than a cool glare, L unmindfully added a wide-eyed, "It's more fun playing games with two people, you know."

The board was an international set with the black and white pieces. That was annoying. If L was from England, than the draughts board should have been red and white. If they were in America, which he was almost certain was the case, then it would be called 'checkers' with red and black. Except Light knew that they were in America, and L knew that he knew so the reason L was using an international set was undoubtedly so that they could use their respective usual colors of black and white. He sincerely doubted this was L at his most sensitive, but instead an unspoken challenge. Regardlessly, Light obediently sat down on the white side.

“I'm not forcing you,” L remarked, his mouth full of a spoon bearing a generous burden of mint chocolate chip ice cream. “You don't have to scowl.”

Light looked at him fixedly, with his hands firmly clasped in his lap. “I want to make a wager.”

The detective's face easily contorted into a childish pout. “Yagami-kun won't play merely for fun?”

There weren't any words in Japanese or English either that could briefly account for what an answer to that rhetorical question was, so the adolescent pursed his lips and simply continued to settle his gaze on the gangly man.

“What are your stakes?”

“All actions are judged by the motive prompting them.” -Prophet Muhammad

Ryuk had never quite realized the full extent of what stroke of luck it must've took for someone like Light Yagami to pick up his Death Note. Of course, he knew that he was in for a good time when he first met the human and already a hundred names had been etched in. And then, even better, the boy was smart, and bored, just like Ryuk was. But it wasn't like dropping notes in the human world was common practice, so he rather assumed that all humans would use the thing for world domination and shit. They all had their crazy little dreams, and adding the power to kill to the equation should make for an obvious result... right?

But when he set the Death Note down on the sidewalk one night, in hopes of another Light Yagami, all he caught was a wretched creature called a 'dog'. It took the notebook in its jaws, shaking its mangy head from side to side, and then began to run away. Ryuk yelped in surprise and caught up with the beast, glaring down at it. He wasn't exactly sure if animals even needed to touch a notebook to see the Shinigami, but the dog apologetically dropped the thing before running off with a whimper.

At least someone showed Ryuk a bit of respect.

So then, Ryuk decided to scout out a candidate on his own. Katsumi Yoshida was a sixteen year old adolescent girl that had gone to Light's high school, Daikoku Private Academy. She seemed pretty interested in the supernatural, and she dressed all in black and claimed that she could cast spells on her classmates. Ryuk kind of liked her fashion sense, it made her look sort of like a Shinigami.

Which was kind of interesting.

"S-so let me get this straight," Katsumi mumbled, staring at Ryuk with comically large eyes that were surrounded by heavy black makeup. "I can write anyone's name in this notebook, and then they die?"

"Yep, it's pretty straight forward," Ryuk responded. "There are a few rules but why don't you figure it out as you go?"

"And are you going to take my soul away when I'm done?" the girl whispered.

There they went again with the 'soul taking' thing. Humans were so full of themselves, and the only thing Ryuk wanted to take from her was the apples in the kitchen. But at the same time, the joke hadn't grown old just yet, so Ryuk said the same thing that he did to Light. "Hyuk, hyuk! I won't do a thing to you, Katsumi Yoshida. But when you die, your soul won't be allowed into heaven or hell."

Suddenly, the girl's face got really stiff. Her lips, which had been painted black and pierced with rings twice, parted to reveal white teeth, and she looked quite mournful. "That's okay," she said very seriously. "My soul was already rejected by the the gods, and they have already damned me to live and die in misery and suffering. I've been doomed to hide in the shadows ever since the day I acquired my psychic powers..."

"Eh? You have psychic powers?"

"But of course," she continued dramatically. "I've always been able to communicate with spirits. That's why I can see you now."

This was really weird, but even so, Ryuk laughed as pleasantly as a Shinigami could. Such a morbid girl would surely use the Death Note in excess, and since Light had been personally acquainted with her he could probably track her down somehow. And then Ryuk would kill Katsumi and latch back on to Light, keeping an eye on the bastard until it was time to write his name in the notebook, too. Shit, the little bastard owed him apple pie and hours of Mario Golf playtime for all of these hints he was giving.

That night, Katsumi sat in her dark bedroom and lit some candles. Ryuk watched her sit in almost a meditative state as he munched casually on the fruit he had already stolen. Not fresh. Living at the Yagami household was better, since Sachiko bought new groceries every week.

"Kaede Sato..." Katsumi whispered out loud, clutching a red pen in her hand. "This is for all the suffering you've inflicted upon me! You humiliated me, you stole my only love, and you turned my friends against me. I hate you, you bitch! You deserve to die!"

"Hyuk, hyuk!" Ryuk cackled as Katsumi furiously scribbled the kanji that made up the name 'Kaede Sato'. This was really entertaining. He supposed it was quite the contrast from the collected and righteous Light Yagami, but to Ryuk, 'justice' was measured on a scale of amusement, and he relaxed, ready to sit back for the ride.

"That felt really good," Katsumi announced, closing the notebook. "I think I could get used to this. I'm glad she's dead now."

Ryuk was satisfied with that, and he finished off his apple.

...But the next day, things were suddenly very different.

"Sh-she's dead," the girl choked out with tears running down her face, smearing her mascara. "Kaede died of a heart attack... she really died! She's dead!"

"Yay?" Ryuk offered excitement helpfully.

"No, no!" Katsumi screamed, throwing the Death Note at Ryuk. "I killed her! She was my best friend, make her come back! Make her come back!"

Well, what crap was this? "Once a human's name is in the notebook, it can't be erased. Resurrecting the dead is impossible, so how about you be a little more careful about who you kill next time?"

"There won't be a next time!" Katsumi sobbed. "I hate you! Leave me alone!"

How pathetic. Ryuk was annoyed. With a swish of his clawed hand, he wiped Katsumi's memory empty of all recollections of the Death Note, and thought about killing her too but her lifespan was only at about 97 human days anyway. The girl couldn't see him anymore, and she just sat in a slump on her bed, still grieving the dead Kaede.

Stupid humans. They were so unpredictably confusing. When it came to bright ideas, Ryuk had enough of a time with playing basic gambling games back with the Shinigami in his world. He may not be quite as dumb as he liked to act around the humans but this abstract thinking shit wasn't his cup of apple cider. Where the hell was Light? Finding him again would require a little more thought than he had imagined.

“My work is a game, a very serious game.” -Maurits Corneille Escher

"You can't bet a million dollars," L stated decidedly. "You don't have a million dollars."

"It doesn't matter if I have it or not," Light answered cheekily, "-since I intend to win."

"Then where is my incentive to play?"

"You only wanted to play for fun anyhow."

"I have decided that it would be more fun to beat you and also cause you to lose a gamble."

"Then I bet my watch."

"Hm?"

"The watch my father gave me. You stole it from me, but I'm still the rightful owner, so I'll give it to you if you win."

"That watch isn't worth nearly a million dollars."

"It has sentimental value to me."

"Yes, I am sure, since Light-kun entrusted a piece of his Death Note in it."

"Do you want it or not?"

"I do. And it's mine already."

"You're a thief."

"You're a criminal and that watch with the piece of paper has your fingerprints, and that is all the evidence I need."

"...Really?"

"You appear as though you're scheming. Let's gamble something else."

Betting money would have been a waste of breath since one of the gamblers was a multi-billionaire (at least) and the other was completely penniless due to obvious circumstance. Betting property was equally pointless since one gambler owned whatever he wanted to and the other owned absolutely nothing. Betting favors also seemed borderline ridiculous since neither man was prone to keeping his promises and even if they were, considering the situation of warden and prisoner, favors would be difficult to promise. Anyway, there was a mutual distrust between the pair that in a way could characterize their peculiar relationship. They did have one thing in common: when it came down to it, they placed little value in superficial things, being geniuses who once played chess with the entirety of the Earth.

As geniuses, the stakes to their game ended up being something that they each did value to the point of going out of their way to obtain: knowledge.

“The case I assigned to you is in your scope of understanding?” L inquired nonchalantly, lifting his black piece delicately with a thumb and forefinger, raising it higher than necessary into the air before plopping it onto one of the checkered spaces.

“Don't ask about my scope of understanding, instead direct your attention to the insufficient resources you are providing me with,” Light answered sullenly, tapping his white piece with a long finger and sliding it forward to a position that he had already calculated would be beneficial for jumping L's approaching units within a couple of turns. “You give me police reports and crime photos and it's inefficient. If I had what I needed at my disposal I could complete cases in half the time.”

“I never said that I wouldn't give you more if you ask.” L frowned at the game board, and raised a black piece high into the air. He brought it toward his eyes, inspecting it suspiciously. “Ah, I think the paint is chipping.”

“Put it back where it was,” Light warned, as he distinctly remembered from their handcuffed-days that L had the nasty tendency to cheat shamelessly at strategy games when he thought that it might go unnoticed. “And if what you say is true, then I want Internet access.”

“I don't remember where the checker goes,” the detective lied mournfully.

“Right there.”

“No, I don't think so.”

Light growled. “Yes, it did, and if you want to check the video cameras right now-”

“I was referring to your request,” L said sourly as he returned the checker to its proper battle position. “I remembered about the checker.”

The adolescent sighed – it was going to be a long life of captivity if he let everything that Ryuuzaki said to him get under his skin. Hotheadedness had lead him to more than one rash decision that lead to actions he later regretted, and when his life was on the line that was a poor gamble. “I'm no good to you if you don't give me a way to acquire the information necessary to make any progress at all.”

“I never said I wasn't planning on making this work as efficiently as possible.” L took his turn without even looking at the game board, his hands moved like machines. “After all, I went through the trouble of proposing this system between us in the first place when I caught you.”

Light he tightened his lips moodily.

Obliviously, L continued. “Watari is able to get you everything you need, so simply ask. I chose this case for you because it looked like a relatively normal murder and robbery.”

The case was the slaughter but single body crime against Miami police chief George Fletcher that took place on January 21st. The man had just returned from a criminal justice meeting in New York City and had driven from the airport back into his house at about two AM. Apparently, the man drank a beer and went straight to his bedroom, likely exhausted from his journey. Here he had met with an unknown assailant, and the body was found by a housekeeper the next morning. Fletcher carried a number of bruises and broken bones that suggested he had been beaten, and then rope burn around his neck that implied death by strangling.

“So you're going to toss me the trivial ones, huh?” Light queried dryly. He picked up a white checker to jump one of L's stragglers. “Even without proper research it seems pretty clear that the murderer was some angry scumbag with criminal history who jumped at the chance to bash the law enforcement late at night. Fletcher was in charge of putting many people behind bars, and so I already have a lead in a Florida gang. The murder crudely done, so I'm sure forensic evidence won't be a problem.”

“Wow, Light-kun is for sure amazing,” L proclaimed, wide-eyed as he stared at Light while countering the move by jumping Light's white piece, getting dangerously close to the end of the board where his checker would be Kinged. “You deduce things that no eighteen year old boy should be able to deduce. How scary!”

“I've helped my father with cases like this before.”

“That's true, isn't it. It's your move, Light-kun.”

Light took a moment to study the board again. He currently had the advantage in pawns, and he intended to keep it. Plotting a few moves and possible combinations in advance, he took his turn. "You know, I can't imagine what difference it makes to you."

The detective cocked his head to the side and chewed on the tip of his thumbnail, still preferring to stare at Light than glance at the checkerboard. "What's that?"

"The cases you're giving me. Compared to the ones you take on, they're nothing but trifles."

L tilted his head. "I don't think you're experienced enough to take on investigations of the same caliber that I do."

"That's not what I'm insinuating. What I mean is, you don't care about them. I know you don't, this much is obvious."

From that point Light had expected a loud denial of such a thing, to which Light had intended to respond with something about how if he actually cared about petty murderers and kidnappings then he wouldn't have opposed Kira. He had been itching for awhile to get on L's case and knock him a bit off of his high horse. But, of course, L had a way of messing up everything that he was planning.

"No, not really." Before Light could respond, L continued. "I admit this freely. I don't care about simple, single-body cases unless they are relevant to bigger cases."

"Do you have any idea how hypocritical that is?" Light felt something build up inside of him as he spoke. "It's incredibly unfair, it's elitist and you're not making a difference anywhere - you're just being ostentatious."

L looked Light squarely in the eye, not altering his gaze in the slightest as his fingers chose a black checker and advanced it, jumping a white. "We all do what he can," he said plainly, and then, "I have something to tell you, Yagami-kun. The dining service is bringing up apple pie, if that's still your favorite I will share with you."

When L said weird things, Light was always torn between wanting to ignore him or kick him, or one and then the other. But as he had come to know the detective better he had realized that most of the words that were uttered from his pallid lips were spoken to get some kind of reaction: in this case, L was, clearly or not, making a reference to the time the teenager had made a prisoner write about apples in his own blood before his judgment. In this very roundabout way, L likely intended to point out that Kira was just as flashy as he himself was. Light chose to pretend he didn't understand. "Why are you changing the subject? So you've acknowledged that your justice is selective as it pertains to your amusement?"

But the detective eyelids fell, narrowing his sharp glare. "I don't like repeating myself, but I did say that we all do what we can. I'm too intelligent to bother with menial cases, because there are other qualified detectives who can handle them. The ones who can do what I can are harder to find, so I claim those and let the police handle what they can."

Light had to pause momentarily, before he finally said, "That attitude is so completely arrogant-"

"I am not being arrogant. I'm accurately assessing my abilities." L tucked his hands back into his pockets. "I'm the top three detectives in the world and I see no point in wasting time with humility."

"Even so, there's no way you could tell me that you're constantly working on these cases. I know, I heard you talking, you sit here bored half the time, and you can't pick yourself up and give help where it's needed."

L looked even less amused. "I have faith in the world policing agents. I do not need to micromanage the judicial system when they are capable of their designated operation on their own." L sighed loudly as he jumped another white unit. "Please interrupt your whining briefly to play, Yagami-kun."

The adolescent scowled fiercely, but proceeded to take his turn. "Call opposition whatever you want."

"Opposition? Is that what you are?" L sharpened his tone.

"No," Light said tersely. "I don't oppose what you do, I just think you're ingenuine in your convictions and I was pointing that out."

"That's fine," the detective dismissed, his owl eyes rolling down from Light's face and on to the draughts board, where there was only a brief scatter of black and white pieces left. L's pale mouth crept into something that Light recognized as his dark smile.

Realizing that during his little tirade he hadn't been paying as much attention to the game at hand, Light quickly cast his eyes upon it. Four white pieces to six black. One white was too far ahead, toward the middle of the board – a move he had made to double jump. There was no salvaging it, L would off that piece by next turn. Which left three white to six black. One of the white was Kinged, which gave it the ability to move freely, but two of L's black had the same privileges. Only one of Light's white was protecting the back row, which gave L plenty of space to King his pieces and corner what was left of Light's units. All the possible courses of action whirred through his head, every change in tactics and deviating strategy – and they all lead to one inevitable destination: L's smirking face.

In short... he had lost.

He felt his cheeks flush as he came to the same conclusion that L had come to. The last thing he wanted was to lose to L at a stupid, one-dimensional child's game like draughts. Not like it mattered, anyway, the results were completely useless, it wasn't as though winning would have gained him anything besides an answer from L, but the humiliation of getting too caught up in his argument and subsequently making the most idiotic moves made him want to smack his forehead against the wall, or kill L, or both.

“There is no error so monstrous that it fails to find defenders among the ablest men.” -John Dalberg, Lord Acton

“Mr. Watari, there are numerous requests that L appear personally to the Interpol meeting in Berlin next week.”

These kinds of 'invitations' had been the irritation of Watari for years, and he had long since grew out of his more hot-headed young age. Deputy Attorney General Thomas Maddison articulated what the old detective was already well aware would be the general consensus among world leaders. These politicians and policing agents had never been too thrilled about the influence L had over them, however it was accepted fact that they needed him. If they had ever had doubts about how useful he was, certainly they had dissipated after the downfall of the biggest threat to democracy in the last century, Kira.

Watari smiled into the computer monitor, and responded politely, “Attorney General, this is not possible. L will not risk having his identity uncovered.”

Maddison's lips tightened. “And may I ask why it matters? L himself claims that Kira is no longer a threat.”

“If the reasons for his security are unapparent to you, Attorney General, then neither L nor I feel the need to explain.”

The man glared, but after a few seconds it subsided and gave way to a huff of a sigh. A pair of burly hands massaged his temple, as though he had come down with terrible headache. “Your security is important to everyone, Mr. Watari. You know we value L's services.”

“Indeed.”

“Which is why when you come to Berlin, I'd like to take you into protection. Things are... dangerous, to say the least.”

“I thank you for the kind gesture, but I must decline,” Watari said. “My work becomes more difficult if I appear to favor any particular organization over another.” Especially yours, he thought but did not say.

“I'm not asking for favor,” Maddison insisted. “I'm telling you it's dangerous. Interpol is planting as many security measures as they possibly can, but that doesn't change the facts. We've got a dangerous enemy out there, and you can bet your pocket change that they hate you.”

“Could you be more specific?” Watari requested mildly.

“Specific?” he groused through the computer screen. “Kira's not dead.”

The old man was quiet for a moment, waiting for the Attorney General to elaborate, but apparently his silence was taken as processing this, so he responded. “If you haven't executed the criminal yet, that's your business and not L's. However, I can assure you that the heart attack rate is back to normalcy, we have been monitoring this very closely and there have been absolutely no significant fluctuations.”

Maddison growled, now appearing perplexed. “You know as well as I do that to the people of the world, Kira is a symbol, not a human. The fact of the matter is that there are pro-Kira rallies, independent vigilantes publicly condemning those they deem criminals and even churches that worship Kira. And this is happening worldwide, not just in America! Because of all of these damn angry mobs, harassing anyone associated with anti-Kira movements, we've kept the Interpol meeting strictly confidential, I'm just saying if you aren't careful, Berlin can be dangerous.”

“You can't repress their freedom of speech or belief,” Watari said, though he also found the matter annoying. “Again, L and I will have nothing to do with how much you declassify about these issues. However, I would suppose that these activities will die down in time, when people move on and find something else of interest.”

“Not these righteous bastards. If Kira becomes a fucking religion, they won't give a damn about what we say.”

Watari cleared his throat. “If you please, Attorney General, if mass crime ensues then perhaps L and I will get involved, but these social issues are far out of our jurisdiction. And if that is all, then I shall see you in Berlin next week.”

“If you don't want our protection, then suit yourself. I just thought I'd warn you, since there is only so much we can do against these lunatics.” Maddison paused. “And as far as they are concerned, L is the reason that criminals aren't disappearing anymore.”

“They are absolutely correct,” Watari said firmly, and exited communication.

“But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.” -Omar Khayyam

“Yagami-kun, it was a good game,” the detective said cordially, scratching the back of his messy raven head. “However, it was my victory...”

“Yeah,” Light snapped. “What? What do you want to know?”

“Hmm...” L inclined his face upward to the ceiling with an appearance of finding answers there. Then his eyes went comically large and he smiled. “Where did you find the Death Note?”

“At school,” came the crisp answer.

That had not been the answer that L was expecting. The wide eyes blinked. “School?”

“Yes, school.”

L puzzled over this with displeasure. His first thought was that Light was merely being hostile and was lying because he hated so much to lose. Yet at the same time, nothing in his tone sounded dishonest, and surely the youth would value telling the truth in hopes that L would give him the same treatment. He had specifically asked a question that he knew wouldn't be too controversial in an effort to keep the peace, or at least, he had assumed as much. “At Daikoku Private Academy? Or Gamou Prep cram school?”

“The first one.”

“But where?”

“Buried twenty feet underground in the courtyard. I found it by using a pirated treasure map.”

“...Really?”

“No, not really, don't be stupid, L. It was on the ground. Anyone could have picked it up but I discovered it first. I didn't...” Light paused, his eyes leaving the detective's face and pulled toward the window as he remembered. “...even think it was real. I thought it was just some joke that the younger students made up, since so many of them just seem to want attention.”

L took this in after a moment of unpleasant thought. He mumbled to himself, though the words were audible and meant to be. “This location bothers me. I cannot think of a worse place for such a murder weapon to be placed than at a high school of ambitious teenagers.”

“I can,” came the fast reply. “Anywhere else.”

Light's eyes were lit up with a dangerous bright gold, and L's eyes roamed darkly across his cheeks. But with the intention of avoiding conflict, L continued on without debating that statement. “So you found it. Why was it there? Does it also belong to a Shinigami?”

“No.”

“No, it doesn't belong to a Shinigami?”

“No, I'm not telling you.” He looked at his adversary evenly. “You asked where I found it, I told you. One answer was all I wagered.”

L was far from pleased at this attitude. It wasn't as though he needed to torture these answers out of the adolescent, it was only morbid – but very tangible – curiosity that drove this interrogation. Somewhat spitefully, L met Light's golden eyes and stated, “I did tell you that, considering circumstances, the process of me extracting information of you will be as easy as me inquiring and you providing the answers.”

Light leaned backwards against the front of the couch behind him, stretching his handcuffed arms. “Evidently it wasn't as easy as you pegged it.”

“Yagami-kun,” L warned. “Do not make me-”

“Whatever,” the teenager said flippantly, making a point of trying to hide a yawn. “Get over yourself and quit being so childish.”

The detective blinked, taken aback.

“Even though you act like a pathetic slob, you still obviously enjoy luxury with your fancy hotels, limousines and crème brûlée, and even when you work you only take fun cases. I would go as far to call you spoiled, always getting whatever it is that you want.”

“You're bringing the cases up again – I have reasons, and as for crème brûlée, I do not like it.”

“I've seen you eat it-”

“To raise my reasoning ability.”

Light's lips parted, eyes incredulous, then he shook his head. “Every word you say is nothing more than you bullshitting to get a reaction. You're unbelievable. You treat the world and everyone in it like some toy crafted exclusively for your own amusement. I'm not interested in playing games with you anymore, it's a waste of both our times.”

The youth began to rise above the passively-sitting detective, standing on his feet and turning around. In a split second, L was on his feet first, placing a hand on Light's shoulder. When the teenager tugged away, walking toward the hallway, L grabbed his arm tightly and shoved him against the wall.

“I am astounded by the one who is most like me out of any human.”

Light stood with his wrists pinned to his chest, undaunted and not struggling, but watching his enemy levelly.

“Lying in the darkness is not so different than lying in broad daylight. When everything you say is also to get specific reactions and amuse yourself, even if you stand on a pedestal among your peers you are also not genuine.”

“I only lie when I need to-”

“Don't tell me your line of thinking when I already understand it very well. You were never honest, even before you found your Death Note at school.”

“You do not know what you're talking about.”

“Everything that made up Light Yagami was a lie to fit in with a system and expectations that he saw as useless. He is nothing but a vigilante hiding in the skin of a prodigy. You also had everything you needed – intelligence, family, friends, charm and wit – but the primary reason that you chose to create your alter ego of Kira was only because you wanted something more that no test score could buy.”

“Justice.”

“Amusement.”

“You think I became Kira for fun? Risking not only my life, but everything I've worked for and accomplished, to try to shine some ideals upon the world is supposed to be games for me?”

“Like some adolescent drinking alcohol at a party.”

Light exhaled sharply in disapproval, and then chuckled softly as though what the man was saying was simply too ridiculous and wrong to possibly consider seriously. “Aren't you tired of psychoanalyzing me yet?”

“Why else do you think you're here?” L said with a joking smile. He leaned forward to peer better into Light's eyes, straightening his back so that he could meet them at the same height. By instinct, his fingertips dug into Light's warm palms, and at the slightest movement he could feel the twenty-seven thin bones that made up the human hand, eight in the wrist, five in the metacarpus, fourteen in the digits. Up on these fingers, fragile skeleton that L had broken months ago was completing its mending. His thumbs pressed into the vigilante's palms, sliding fair skin against flesh – brief movements as he pressed the wrists to Light's chest to demand his cooperation while L absorbed the irritation in Light's pupils. These, these were the self-proclaimed hands of justice.

The detective breathed heavily but without exerting a sound, watching silently. He had only meant to unnerve the pompous little bastard and remind him a little of his place, but then briefly he wondered if he was going so far as to lie to himself. Even in a world that functioned almost exclusively on the untruths that were the perceptions of humanity, certainly underneath it all, in the safety of the shadows that L was so accustomed to, certainly there was some notion of honesty. After all, no matter how beautifully an artist paints her lies, the laws of gravity still sent all angels crashing down to Earth, for no human – not even Light Yagami – could bear wings that might take burden the body mass of any homo sapien.

L felt as though the filter in his mind was being reduced to shambles as he found a flighty thought trickling through his brain: perhaps it takes a level of insanity to fully comprehend what truth actually is. L didn't think much of any kind of spirituality, but there might have been something to the idea that the mind and the body were separate, for how else could he explain why he had... adjusted to Light Yagami's presence, to the pulsing existence of his body near L's own. Even the heat of the sheets from when they had shared a bed during the investigation because L had refused to take off the chain, even the sting of Light's fist as it bruised into L's face.

Lying to himself was certainly not making him more confident in the choice to let Kira live, but unfortunately, L couldn't quite pick out which parts were real in this labyrinth of complex thoughts, until he was wondering if maybe the lies were also real, in which case he wasn't getting anywhere.

In which case, perhaps the reason he had brought Light here was for psychoanalysis, assuming that on some level he had known this all along (Lawliet, such a good liar that even he himself wasn't sure what to believe).

“Stop looking at me like that,” Light snapped. “It really makes me want to punch you.”

Immediately, L reverted back to reality. “You know, that's probably not in good social graces to admit out loud.”

“I thought you were just condemning me for being a liar.” Light shoved forward, knocking his hands free. “I'm going back to work now, and maybe you should be doing the same.”

A severe irritation submerged the entirety of his thoughts like a match flame, and the command for the younger male to return almost slipped off of L's tongue. But he didn't have any reason to detain Light any longer, and if he wanted to work then by all means, that's the reason he was alive. Anyway, L had only invited him out here to lessen the icy tension between them, as well as perhaps teach him a lesson in humility and graceful defeat. He had assumed that while playing a simple game like draughts, Light would get too caught up in his attempts to justify Kira nonsense and lose sight of the thing that was much lower on his list of priorities. Yes, L had come to know him quite well, the terrorist, idealist and adolescent all.

And maybe it was long since time to admit that he didn't want to lose Light to Interpol or death or even the isolation of his bedroom, for reasons which were obvious when he didn't stop to analyze them.

-To be continued...

1. A rough plot of this fic has been written since I started this, like half a year ago. A few things are altered when I'm actually writing, and thus BB will be playing a bigger role than I originally intended. For those who don't know, he is a character in the Death Note novel Another Note, the cause of the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases that Naomi Misora mentions in the series.

2. I used Japanese script in this, perhaps unnecessarily so as L is studying in his flashback. The words are 'suru' and 'kuru'. They were originally in this romanji, but I thought the hiragana/kanji was more appropriate since generally languages are studied in their own alphabets. If you don't have a Japanese language pack installed on your computer they will show up as boxes - I hope that doesn't distract anyone.

3. There have been some concerns about Light still having his memory. I've read the Death Note rules and I don't remember one specifically stating that if a DN is destroyed then the owner will lose his memories, but in this story, there is one piece of Death Note left, and that's the scrap that was in Light's watch, which is in L's possession. It's not been mentioned specifically in previous chapters due to total lack of pressing importance, but either way, that could also be attributed to Light retaining his Kira memory.

Thank you all for reading. I seriously, and I promise this time, hope to update soon. A double thanks to all of those who have been prodding me to update (you know who you are!) The encouragement was appreciated. XD