July 30, 2007

It had been three days since the incident. True to his word, Light had mentioned nothing of what L told him to his father, nor did Soichiro ask about what they'd discussed. The entire Task Force had been informed C wouldn't be available for a while because of something that had triggered her in the hospital, resulting in Chief Yagami and Inspector Aizawa needing to collect her and Light, yet nobody questioned L any further. They just rolled with it, since C's ability to interact with earthbound spirits wasn't exactly normal either. But Light had no intention of simply letting the matter rest. And after three days, it was high time to set part one of his plan in motion.

"I need to use the restroom," he said, turning in his chair to face L.

"You already went this morning," rebuffed the detective without taking his eyes off the computer screen in front of him.

Light stared blankly at him. Was L really going to make him explain basic human anatomy and that what goes in must eventually come out? He'd made it a point to drink a lot - or he pretended he had thanks to his matted black water bottle - so his excuse would be valid.
Noting Light's insistent glare, L sighed and climbed out of his chair. Light followed in tow, once again cursing the damn chain and cuffs connecting him to the super-sleuth. Thank God he was no longer bound to L 24/7. Having to be in the same room to work mattered little to Light, but he drew the line at sharing a bathroom with a stranger. Even if he was a suspect in a case, he was entitled to privacy, and it had taken a lot to convince L in those first days to at least wait outside, with the chain scuffling underneath the bathroom door to keep them connected. Seriously, what did L think he was going to do from the shower? Kill a criminal halfway round the world by throwing his loofah against the wall? Though his father insisted on keeping the cuffs on as they slept, he at least allowed Light his basic human right to good hygiene.

"I'll wait here in the corridor," said L, as they neared the restroom. "You have -"

"Three minutes," finished Light. "Yes, I know. Thank you."

L leaned back against the wall, looking as if he were waiting for the next bus downtown instead of escorting his murder suspect. Light didn't pay any further attention to him and closed the door after sliding the infernal chain through the small gap beneath. Quietly, he knocked on both stalls, hoping his accomplice had read the entire note he'd convinced his dad to let him slip under her apartment door that morning.
As soon as the stall on the left opened, Light clasped his hand over Misa's mouth to keep her from exclaiming his name. He pushed her back inside, closed the door, and then ticked his wrist. She nodded and gave him her phone, on which she'd prepared a timer of two minutes and thirty seconds.

"I'm going to let you go now," whispered Light, "and you're going to keep your voice as low as possible."

Another nod. He let go, instantly regretting it as Misa's arms wrapped around his waist.

"Light, my precious darling," she said, "it's been so long since it's just been the two of us. Not sure how much we can do in two minutes, though."

"Do?" Light furrowed his brow at the blonde clinging to him like a baby koala. "What are you talking about? Can you let go of me, please?"

"You wanted to meet me here for a quickie, right?"

"Um, no, not really."

Misa huffed and sat down on the shut toilet lid. Her lips pouted and her eyes were big and pleading. "Are you sure? Not even a BJ?"

"A... huh? No, Misa, I need your help."

"You do? Oh, Light! It means so much to me you would trust me to help you!"

"Ssh!"

The perky blonde slapped her hand over her mouth. Light rolled his eyes at her, painfully aware the clock was ticking mercilessly.

"Listen," he said, "I need you to befriend Cassia. Make her trust you, so she tells you personal things."

"Why are you so interested in Cassia?" asked Misa, jealousy lacing her voice like venom.

"It's nothing like that, I swear. I wouldn't ask if this wasn't important, Misa. I'm trying to protect everyone here. To protect you."

The emphasis he put on that last world made Misa's hazel eyes sparkle with glee. Light forced himself to appear concerned for her wellbeing. He was concerned. Just not in the way she believed he was. Misa didn't notice, though.

"Oh, Light, sweetie," her brow knitted together in thought, "I don't know. She's the only other girl here, and if you're really not interested in her romantically, I wouldn't wanna do anything that'll make her dislike me."

"You won't. I have faith in you. Just do this for me, Misa, please."

"Well... all right."

"Thank you," said Light, relieved his ploy had worked.

"There's actually something I can already tell you," Misa said then. "When we went shopping together, I asked her how she ended up working with L, or Ryuzaki, or whatever the heck his name is, and she told me they met five years ago in London."

"London, huh? Okay, that's a good start, but I really need more details."

"Don't you worry, Light, darling. I'll get her to talk. Girls always tell each other everything."

She gave him a flirtatious wink. He did his best not to cringe and just smiled. Noting the timer on Misa's phone was almost at zero, he hit the flush behind her and said, "Restart the timer on five minutes, and don't come out before."

Light opened the stall before Misa could ensnare him in another unwanted koala-hug, shut the door in her face, and ran the water in the sink for ten counts. Just as he crumpled a paper towel to throw in the bin, the door to the restroom opened. But the person in the opening cuffed on the other side of his chain wasn't the raven-haired detective with deplorable posture.

"Dad?" Light furrowed his brow. "Where's Ryuzaki?"

"Miss C came down just after you two left," said his father. "She had an alert from the morgue that a possible Kira-victim had been brought in. Ryuzaki went with her to check it out."

"Did Watari go as well?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

Light nodded and followed his dad back to the main office, pondering on this sudden turn of events and what Misa told him about Cassia.

With L gone, I have more freedom to research cases in London from five years ago and start my own investigation on Cassia. A general location and time-frame aren't much to go on, but I may get lucky with facial recognition if I can alter the algorithm to work on descriptions alone. I'll need to be careful with Watari, though. He checks every trace on the computers here, so I'll have to encrypt some personal files first under the same name. Four of five should do it. I'll update all regularly, but only one will be about Cassia. If I'm discovered, I can say they're personal notes I keep on the Kira-case. Even if they read through them, they'll only pay attention to the first one and merely scan the others under the assumption it's a continuation. Yes, that's perfect. And who knows, with a little luck, the morgue indeed got another victim, and C can talk to the spirit. L's with her now, so what could go wrong?

📓💀📓

From the moment L set foot through the hospital doors, he was hit by nausea. He'd already been queasy in the car, but getting closer to their destination was making it worse. It wasn't the hospital itself that was a problem. Far from it, even. Normally, the white walls, equipment, and even that typical sterile scent made L feel calm. He had no problem visiting people - not that he did - nor seeing a doctor - Watari insisted on annual check-ups - and he didn't regard himself as a germaphobe, per se. No, his problem was with death, which was ironic, considering his chosen profession.
The detective could see pictures of bodies while sipping tea, review autopsy reports while eating cake, read or watch crime and horror stories in his free time, and it wouldn't bother him one bit. Yet without the security of a screen or a page, the memories of having to confront this invisible, powerful force of nature were too much for him. Death had taken from him, showing him the cruelty of human existence and that nobody was spared when he was only eight years old. And even though he eventually came to accept death was simply a part of life, and indeed what made life worth living, L abhorred this most elusive foe.

When they crossed the gangway on the third floor, C's grip on his arm tightened. He looked down at her, but the black sunglasses prevented him from reading her expression properly. Was she wary of the ghosts only she could see? Did she need grounding to prevent losing control again? Or was it possible she sensed his own apprehension?
L reached for her hand, locking their fingers together. The warmth of the redhead's palm against felt soothing as the elevator carried them into the cold underbelly of the hospital. He tried to convince himself he was merely taking C by the hand so she'd know he was there in case something happened, but the truth was, L was the one in need of her. Of Cassandra. Aside from Watari, she was the only one who knew about his childhood. She alone had been worthy of his trust. And because of that, Cassandra had confided L with her own traumas as well.

The ding of the elevator echoed like a gong in an empty temple as the doors opened into a dimly lit corridor. A long stretch of gray walls to the two double doors gave access to the coroner's domain. What little light was on flickered overhead. Most people attributed such a thing to faulty electrics. A loose lamp. Bad wiring. But thanks to C, L knew at least ninety-five percent of the time it was nothing of the sort.
Holding on to his partner, the detective ventured out of the elevator. With every step, L's heart thumped uncontrollably. It was getting harder to breathe, harder to focus on such a common act as walking. When his knees buckled, a pair of firm hands suddenly guided him aside. The lighting changed, and he was pushed against something hard and metallic.

"Breathe."

That voice...

"Just breathe."

So calm. So strong.

"L, look at me."

The haze that stripped him of his vision cleared as he met two distinct eyes. One blue, one hazel, yet equally entrancing and beautiful.

"That's it," said the delicate female voice. "Easy now."

L reached out, desperately seeking support. His fingers dug into the young woman's upper arms. She didn't utter the slightest protest and held onto him herself, one hand cupping his face, the other resting against his chest. The minor rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath she took became L's lifeline. He willed himself to mimic her, inhaling deeply and then exhaling slowly, but the scenes playing in a loop in his mind weren't helping.
There was so much screaming. Angry screams. Terrified screams. Something popped, like the cork of a champagne bottle. The harrowing cries resonated louder. Another powerful pop. Red. Everything turned red. Silence. Why was it so quiet? Why were they just sleeping on the ground after that man ran away?

"Wake up," he murmured. "Please... wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake -"

The words were broken off abruptly by the firm pressing of another's lips against L's. His eyes widened, then fluttered shut. No longer did he see two corpses lying in growing pools of blood. No longer did he feel the unusual bitter cold of that November night, a mere week after he'd celebrated his birthday. All he knew was warmth. Comfort. Life.
Yet something was different. This kiss wasn't like any of the others he and Cassandra had shared before. It didn't start tentatively, nor delicate, nor did it grow with a burning passion. Though he detected a certain lustful urge, whispering with enticement underneath, the kiss lacked all emotion. It lacked... heart.
L nudged C back. He pinched his lips into a thin line, hoping the lingering sensation of her mouth on his might go away. One deep breath, and he opened his eyes again to meet C's slight head tilt.

"Better?" she asked.

He nodded and let go of her. His gray-blue eyes searched his surroundings, finding they were in a supply room. There must've been another door in the corridor he hadn't spotted. Apart from a few shelves with chemicals, cleaning tools, and the filing cabinet labeled 'supply orders' he was leaning against, the room was empty.
L ran a hand through his unruly hair. When his palm briefly grazed his forehead, he realized he was sweating. It'd been years since he had such a big panic attack, and he didn't care for it one bit. Nor did he particularly care for the manner in which C had jolted him out of it.

"I'm grateful for your help," he started, "but please refrain from kissing me again. We agreed to keep things professional between us."

"Afraid you might fall for me as well? Cassandra and I share a body, so technically, that wouldn't be cheating."

"Perhaps, but you're not the one I'm in a relationship with."

"Relationship?" C snorted and crossed her arms. "Yeah, some relationship. After all this time, you still haven't slept together."

"You know as well as Cassandra does I have insomnia," rebuffed L. "We shared a bed for three hours a few nights ago."

"Slept together as in have sex, you dolt."

"I'm not comfortable with long physical contact, which you're also both aware of."

"That's not the point! God, do you have any idea how much it hurts Cassandra to know you don't want to be with her or even care enough about her?"

"Why would she think that?"

C shot him a hard glare. "You're kidding me, right? L, you're gone for weeks, if not months on end. You work from behind a screen most of the time, so there's no reason for you not to do that at home."

"I have to travel for -"

"Don't interrupt me. And stand up straight, dammit!"

The rising anger in C's voice prompted L to do as he was told for once. He'd experienced first-hand how fierce she got when being Cassandra's advocate, and though they were in a hospital, he didn't want to risk physical injury.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Please continue."

"All Cassandra's known since her parents' death is me and Mercy. She made peace with being in the Glass House for the rest of her life to keep as many people safe from harm. But then you showed up. You were interested in her, you sought her, you engaged with her. She knew what your goal was but still went along with it because someone was finally paying some goddamn attention to her."

L's insides clenched at the recollection of those first few months he spent in the Glass House. He'd admitted to both Watari and himself he'd indulged Cassandra far too much during that time. But to this day, he didn't regret it. Because he was genuinely interested in her as a person. Not everyone saw it that way, though. Especially not after the truth came to light.

"You may have gotten us out of that place," C went on, "but we're still in a cage. You make us sleep in cuffs when you're not home. Only Near and Mello are allowed to interact with us, and only because you want your successors to know how to handle us in came something happens to you. Cassandra barely goes outside unless you're with her, and I can't even walk the grounds without having every single camera recording my every move. I dare venture out in the town to do some shopping or sit in a café for ten minutes, and everywhere I look, I see Wammy caretakers. And I get why that is, I do. But you still chose to be more with Cassandra. She accepted all your conditions after you swore you wanted to be with her, so be with her, dammit!"

The anger had gone from C's expression and tone. She showed frustration. Resentment. But most of all, disappointment. The same bitter disappointment L caught from Cassandra whenever he left her embrace or stopped kissing her. The same his own aching heart continued to feel after every patch his mind stubbornly continued to place over the bleeding wound, layer after layer.
L reverted to his usual slumped posture and walked past his partner in crime-solving. He kept his gaze down to avoid hers. Yet at the door, he halted. Though he didn't believe he had to defend himself, part of him wanted to do so.

"Cassandra and I can't be more than what we are," he said. "And I can't change who either of us is. All I can do is assure you I will always protect her. And no matter where I go or how long I'm gone, I will always return."

"That means nothing if it's for the wrong reasons, L," said C, heaving a weary sigh.

"I promise it's not."

"So you care for her?"

"Yes, I do."

"But you don't love her?"

"..."

"L?"

He felt C's eyes drilling into his back. Yet silence was golden. L couldn't reveal what he actually longed to say. The danger was too great. He couldn't afford another massacre by letting his guard down and letting sentiments get in the way.

"We should meet with the coroner and see if you can find any of Kira's victims yet lingering here," he said. "The sooner we solve the case, the sooner we can return to England."

"Fine," hissed C. "But this isn't over, L. Make out what kind of 'relationship' you really want with Cassandra, and be clear about it with her. Else you'll lose her forever."