Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ A Balm for Social Failure ❯ And Then, There Were Two ( Chapter 29 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A Balm for Social Failure

(Chapter 29: And Then, There Were Two)
Light x L

L begins to suspect something is missing from his life. He believes the key to be in social interaction - his weak point. At the appearance of the enigma named Light Yagami, he is challenged to rise to the occasion.

Disclaimer: see ch. 1 for full disclaimer

A/N: Lots of things have been going on, the con being one of them. I will reply to everyones's comments shortly. ^^

Also, though I hate to admit this, I have been suffering from writer's block. It seems to be easing up, but if any future updates are late, this would be why. As you know, the next chapter is essentially written, it just needs polishing. I'll do my best to get out of this rut. Even so, I'll post PITCH, the new DN fic, and the Naruto fic (no name yet) this weekend, providing my beta has time for me. ;P

But for now, forget about that writer's block, downer sort of rubbish, and ENJOY.

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Chapter 29:

L stalked down the hallway, away from the room in which Light was being kept. What am I doing?

What am I doing?

Watari was waiting for him, standing dutifully, patiently, to intercept him. Usually, the older man would merely call him, or catch him in his typically frequented areas if there were something he wished to discuss... This was unsettling.

"What is it, Watari?" he asked curtly as they stepped onto the elevator.

"Sir... I am sure you are aware of the pressure being put on us by The Board?"

"I am." And he didn't like it. Wammy House had changed for the worse. That the original founder could be treated in such a manner was outrageous. If it were up to L, he would find a way to get rid of them all and start anew. But his mentor was a very patient man... he was probably still hoping things might turn around.

"Have you come to a decision?"

"They distrust me that much?" L intoned. "Even though it is obvious the case was justly resurrected because of an entirely different Kira than before?"

"Even so." Watari paused. "And I must confess my own doubts over similar matters remain ill at ease. I know this is not a simple situation for you to deal with, but-"

L leaned against the glass wall of the elevator and looked upon the sprawling expanse of the marble-floored lobby. It was a lavish setting - the gold accents of the grand staircase's railing and other fixtures caught the light and reflected it richly. The furniture, clustered in cozy semicircles and made of dark wood and plush fabric, in addition to the artfully designed scattering of large plants further enhanced the feel. The people down there milled about, as industrious as little ants and just as insignificant. "I have been distancing myself."

Watari looked vaguely embarrassed. "I know that the past several days you have hardly been in contact with him, as you have tasked me with bringing his meals; however, I thought you might just be engaged with the new developments of the current case..."

The ants were becoming bigger as the glass and mirror elevator sunk to the ground floor. L could now make out details of their hair, clothes, jewelry, and expressions. It made him want to put as much distance between himself and them as possible. They were foreign and so unlike himself. Even before they laid eyes on him, they were preprogrammed to dismiss him as an oddity... and to gawk at his unconventional appearance. People were instilled from birth to hate what they did not understand. He supposed he was no different - he did not fully understand them, and thus hated their presence en masse - but without their consistently bad reactions to him, he was certain he would have felt rather ambivalent instead.

But the causality was unimportant.

The outcome was what held weight in reality, and the thought of getting inside of their tiny minds and trying to understand them made his skin crawl. They didn't even seem real half the time. Just empty heads and judging eyes. He rubbed his arms, folding them across his body.

"Sir?"

"I gave him a deadline, a chance to save himself if he so chooses. The time is almost at an end." And the reality of that is that I still do not know what he will do. Light never ceases to surprise me. His stomach turned unpleasantly. But even should the unpredictable brunette comply and give up the Death Note... even then, there were things L could not overlook. "You'll have a resolution soon enough," he said with finality. He'd been brooding over this, and needed to be absolved from anyone else's interference.

"And if he meets your demand? What are you going to do with him? You cannot keep him locked away like this forever..."

"I am aware of that."

The elevator reached the lobby and issued a soft chime as the doors slid open. L shoved his hands into his pockets and strode pointedly away from the man. Watari, however, chose to ignore the hint. "Ryuuzaki, you cannot afford to merely brush this off."

L stopped, scowling at the floor in dismay. He made himself take a breath and let it out again slowly before replying. "I may have done that in the past... but I assure you, I am neglecting no part of this situation. I have put more than enough thought into this. I'll say nothing more on the matter, other than to request you to withold your doubts from me for the remainder. It only serves to distract me and make me wonder why we are even working together if your faith in me is so fragile."

L paused for a brief moment, allowing the words to settle. They bore more gravity than he'd intended, yet they remained stubbornly suspended in the air between them. It couldn't be helped; what was done, was done, and it had needed to be said. "I'm going for a walk. Please leave me to it."

Watari said nothing.

---

"Liiiiiight," Ryuuk complained, "I'm bored."

"So go somewhere else," Light mumbled, trying desperately to sleep. This day needed to be over. Or he needed to become extremely intoxicated so as to dull the memory of it. Alcohol was not an option as he had no access, and the damn Shinigami was tearing his imminent unconsciousness to shreds. The onset of a very unpleasant mood was brewing.

"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight."

"Ryuuk," he said through clenched teeth, "I know how dearly you love to annoy me, but today is not the day to persist in it." He rolled over on the couch abruptly, tucking the blanket tightly around him, praying to some higher power that he be left in peace.

The black-winged Shinigami, reclining in the air just over the couch, turned so he could hover nearly on top of the brunette. "Why not? As far as I can tell, this is a normal mood for you. If I waited for you to actually be happy, I'd be at the end of my collected years."

"Let. Me. Sleep!" Light growled. "And stop hovering over me, you damned vulture!" The Shinigami's closeness was always unnerving.

"Hey, Light, have you thought about my suggestion?"

The brunette made no reply other than to frown harder as he tried to will himself asleep, despite the distractions.

"Liiight," Ryuuk crooned annoyingly and poked him in the side.

"Touch me again," Light ground out, "and I swear I will become the most boring human you have ever known in your entire existence."

Ryuuk sagged. "I guess you are in a worse mood than usual..."

"Yes, I am. And you're making me rethink letting you attach yourself to L. Why should I let you get what you want while you are unrepentantly driving me up the wall and keeping me from what I want?"

"Err..." The Shinigami scratched his head. "So you're gonna do it?"

Light threw his arm over his head and groaned. Why me?

He was startled when the phone behind the couch suddenly began to ring.

Light lifted his head. It was a staggered, pulsing ring, annoying in its insistence, and habit had the phone in Light's hand and up to his ear before he realized what he was doing. Habit bade him issue an exhaustion-thickened query into the receiver before he had a chance to wonder why it would be ringing in the first place.

"Room Service," said a vaguely familiar, velvety voice.

Sleep fled Light in a vaulted rush.

Could it be...?

"I didn't order anything," he said cautiously. If it were that man... Light looked at the digital display and verified that the caller was registering as room service. Was he inside the hotel? Or had he found a way to trick the phone system?

"But you could," the voice suggested.

Light debated on what was safe to say, knowing the phone was tapped, and knowing that the longer this conversation was, the more suspect it became. He was also afraid the man who claimed to be a servant of Kira would not necessarily suspect the tap and would say something incriminating. "I don't usually take food in my room." Would the caller realize his unspoken message? Could he be counted on to grasp at the barely implied information?

However, that the man had called into this line meant he must have already discovered the room number and would likely count on the fact that Light would be receiving food and such necessities through a third party.

"I understand..." his servant replied in that voice. "It is rare for you to do so. But this is a courtesy call... We're here to serve your every need."

The words chased themselves down Light's spine. He wondered how anyone listening to the playback of this would interpret a hotel employee who spoke with such a silky and suggestive tone. "I'm afraid the situation hasn't changed much, and room service and cleaning will rarely be required." It hasn't changed much. But yes, my industrious follower, it has changed enough to bear mentioning.

"Towels?" the voice inquired.

Light smiled. Clever way to determine if he was essentially alone. "I would only need them for myself, but I will get them at my leisure, as usual."

"Ah, a bit of a shut-in, are you, sir?"

Light could almost hear the echoing smile in the caller's voice. "Perhaps," he said agreeably. Yes, this man was intelligent enough to be extremely useful. It had been all too easy to relay the specifics of his captivity: that he was confined to the room, was unable to admit anyone himself, and that he was provided for through someone else who - reasonably - also stayed at the hotel, as well as the fact that he was not currently under direct surveillance.

"Then, I will make a note of it so that future calls will not be necessary," the man said cordially.

Light wondered what the man had in mind - his tone implied future plans of action. Though he was pleased that his follower had managed to find a way to contact him, it was cripplingly limited. He wished that he could speak a little more freely, but wasn't surprised the man hadn't tried to nullify the tap. It would be too time-consuming to determine the type of tap L had used on this phone, and countermeasures were not assured of success. It was safer to play things this way.

"I appreciate you consulting me, but at the moment everything is as it should be. Continue as you were, and thank you. Your level of service is truly unparalleled." Continue killing criminals as the second Kira, but do not disrupt things in my arena, I have it under control. He didn't think it would hurt to offer praise as well - people reacted exceptionally well to that, and he needed this loose cannon under his thumb. It is rather remarkable, what you are capable of. Even L missed the transition from Misa to yourself.

"Thank you for your kind words, sir," the voice sounded slightly breathless. "Rest well."

The line soon went dead. Approximately one minute and thirty seconds. Not bad. It was short enough not to draw too much attention, and their conversation had been innocuous enough. Light hung up the phone and put his hands behind his head as he lay back down.

Everything might have played out differently had Misa never come into the picture, and this man had been the second Kira to start...

But still, no one was to be trusted.

Misa had been easy because Light had had her feelings to hold over her.

This man... he did not know what motive drove him. Therefore, there was no way to plan for or control his behavior to the extent he wished.

Light became aware that Ryuuk, who was perched on the other end of the couch, was staring at him.

"What is it, Ryuuk?" he asked distractedly, feeling in a much better mood since that call, although sleep would now be more elusive then ever. He could feel the half smile that had formed on his lips, evidence of his improved disposition.

"Nothing. Just that you have your plotting face on, so it looks like things are about to become fun again."

"Indeed," he said as he closed his eyes, a self-satisfied smirk turning up his mouth. "Indeed they might."

---

Teru hung up the phone with a shaking hand, excitement pouring through him. God had praised him!

Praised him with that rich, clever voice... That voice that shot straight through to the core of him, that made him wish it wasn't a phone that allowed God's speech so intimately close to his ear.

He sank into the deep leather executive chair in his office, heart pounding a little.

Not only that, God had recognized his voice immediately! His!

He'd had to try several rooms first as, ironically, there were several that matched the meals Misa had described being delivered directly to the room Yagami Light was in, as well as the approximate times. Those rooms also did not order things from room service very frequently.

He swiveled the chair and took in his darkened office. Most of the employees would have gone home by now. The hall was missing its standard glare and he was able to clearly see the night sky from the room's large windows.

This job had given him connections. Good connections. With a little bit of digging, he'd found people who knew people, and the age-old currency of 'favors' had been called in, giving him access to professionals who were able to electronically rifle through the hotel's room service records to find him what he'd needed, to phreakers whose knowledge and tools had allowed him to trick the hotel's phone system, and to mafia who had no qualms about 'mugging' and killing a young actress.

More cumbersome was determining the room in which Yagami Light's captors resided. It would be needed if he wanted to gain access to the room.

God had said to stay his hand... but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. The situation could change at any time.

Mikami took a sip of his drink, a now lukewarm espresso from the expensive machine on the counter behind him. Since acquiring the notebook, he'd done many things that he would have previously felt to be wrong. And yet - somehow it all felt justified, as long as he could assist Kira's righteousness.

Did that bleed over into killing young girls? Did that benefit his God in any way?

He mulled over it, dismissed it. It did not hamper Kira, so it was of no concern. He'd been... impatient in the days he'd awaited Misa's end. The hit men had marked her that day at the café, but he'd instructed them to wait a few more days before proceeding. By then, he would be assured to have any information she could offer, as well as enough time to make him less easily incriminated.

The white Shinigami did not seem to suspect.

Initially, she flew into a rage, grabbing him by the neck and bearing down on him with such ferocity that it was terrible to behold. 'Human!' she'd bellowed. 'Was it you?!' He'd shaken his head mutely, hoping the Shinigami would go check his Death Note before hastily ringing the life from him.

She'd staggered when she'd found Misa's name to be missing.

The white Shinigami leveled him a look that was beyond his comprehension, regarding him critically for moments that seemed to stretch out unendingly. Then, in a flap of powerful, bat-like wings, he was alone. He had not seen her since.

---

Headquarters was suffused with an odd air of concentration, shared by nearly all in the room.

Mogi, Ide, Aizawa, Matsuda, Watari, Yagami Senior. Everyone's eyes were on the carrot cake.

It was very large for the size typically sold in Japan, nearly dwarfing the white porcelain plate it was placed upon. L systematically cut it into even portions, each one bearing a frosted decoration of a carrot in bright orange and green, and offered them to no one.

They wondered if that was the reason for L's absence - a custom-ordered gargantuan cake. Covered in a decadent layer of thick, off-white frosting, the moist, variegated brown spiced layer cake looked to weigh at least 10 pounds.

The unspoken question hovering about the room was whether or not even L could battle such a thing and prevail. Surely even a sweet tooth such as his had limits? Surely he couldn't handle it all by himself? Surely he would bore of the taste and find it in himself to share?

Matsuda wiped at a bit of drool with the sleeve of his business suit.

L sat with the saccharine beast before him, and pulled out a section. The transfer to a second, smaller plate was precarious. The cake swayed both from the angle L's pale, angular hands held it at, as well as the springy nature of its construction. Several rich, dark crumbs toppled from it and bounced slightly as they hit the smaller plate.

"Watari?" L asked over his shoulder, causing everyone to jump. There was a moment of paper shuffling as everyone attempted to look busy at their stations.

"Yes, Sir?"

"A cup of Darjeeling tea, if you would."

"Of course, Sir," the older gentleman said with a respectful bow.

They watched him go, but their eyes inevitably strayed back to the cake. L was lifting his fork. His face looked mostly expressionless as the bite of cake disappeared into his mouth, though he briefly closed his eyes.

Given L's penchant for being as expressive as a stack of popsicle sticks, this subtle change might just have indicated that the taste of the cake was nearly euphoric.

The task force shared a glance.

Mogi, especially, was perplexed at his own fascination - he didn't even like sweets.

Not long after, Watari returned with the tea. It was probably very hot, but L took a long sip. Inexpressive or not, they could still detect an easing of some unknown tension in his visage.

The detective finished the first piece and moved on to the second. There was no reason to be so preoccupied with something as trivial as the detective consuming an overly large and decorous cake... but something was different. Something about the scene required they take notice.

Something about L was different.

Aizawa studied the younger man and thought that for the first time in a long while, L seemed like he had in the beginning. Cool. Aloof. Inwardly focused.

The police chief seemed to have noticed it, too, even through the veil of his prejudice against the detective. The hoarding of the cake was in line with his original tactless behaviors - the ones that generally dismissed the presence of all of the task force members when it was not singularly work-related.

L began work on a third piece as he requested another tea from Watari.

Something different... It wasn't so much a change in expression or even body language, but there was a sharpness to the detective. It was something as elusive as an aura perhaps, but it gave the impression that under that dull exterior, something quite exquisite was happening. That brain of his had caught on to something.

Aizawa would typically have no qualms about interrupting the detective's thoughts - he saw no need for courtesy when it was on his part alone - but it seemed, just now, to be taboo. So he watched. They all watched.

Blank, black eyes stared at the computer screen in front of them as piece by piece, the cake disappeared. L's other hand moved over the mouse from time to time, but he only paused from the methodical consumption of the dessert to take musing sips of tea, or to request another refill. It was hard to say how many of his thoughts were compiled of the data on the screen. He might have been committing it all to memory while pondering something else entirely.

Presently, Watari bent next to L's ear, murmuring something that could not be overheard. L shook his head.

Aizawa strained to make something out, or to determine something from non-verbal clues, but it was impossible.

---

Light found that he was getting bored.

It's L's fault... leaving me here to rot...

It was for this reason he found himself walking into the bedroom. He'd gone over thoughts of his betrayal so many times that they no longer held the punch that they once had, but instead had become a familiar weight. Without L's presence and haunted eyes to remind him, he was losing the feeling of guilt and felt strangely adrift. He stood in the doorway, feeling the acute pressure of memories swarming over him, but they were weaker now.

Disappointingly weaker.

The sharp stab of guilt was fading, and his remorse was slipping from him in greater degrees. He stood in the darkness, wondering if L was the extent of his humanity.

If he could see L, it all came flooding back... but without him, Light found he didn't care much about anything. Nothing was worth his time.

The only thing of merit was his ideal of a perfect world but, because of L, even that had paled in importance.

Light moved further into the room, savoring what discomfort he could yet wring from himself.

Deadened black eyes... covered so I could not be swayed by them...

Sharp black eyes... as your anger at my callousness eventually surfaced...

Oh, but your mouth beneath mine that night could still not reject me, even in your despair.

And your mouth on mine not long ago... is it truly to torment me, as I first thought? Or is it that you can't help but do these things, just as I cannot help the things that I do to you?

Light laid down upon the bed they'd shared. There was no scent to catch upon the white pillows. They were barren and lifeless, having been changed by room service already. If Watari did not watch over him as the hotel employees were let in to do their work, he might have told them it wasn't necessary. But he was never left alone with them. His keepers were careful in that way. It wouldn't do to have Kira escape merely because the bedding needed changed. Towels were one thing, but it would seem too odd if they tried to change all the bedding themselves as well. It was once every five days or so, although this time it had been sooner. Light buried his face in the pillows. L had chosen to erase what had happened. Proof of it now existed only in their minds.

If I died, would L be able to forget it?

Would he be able to erase me from his mind as well?

That thought was sharp, like a blade slicing into him with visceral force. He pushed it from him, not wanting that sort of emotion. Guilt was fine, even if L kept him at it forever... but to be forsaken was something else entirely.

Thinking on that encouraged the headaches. It was similar to the jealousy that had brought out the Kira aspect in him - the very thing he could thank for his current situation. The thing that had pushed L from his grasp. The thing that had gotten him imprisoned here in the first place.

The very thing that had allowed him to meet L in the first place.

"Ryuuzaki..." he murmured. "Why must it be so difficult between us?"

The air was cold on his bare torso as he lay there in the empty bed, a physical discomfort that was more to his preference. He shivered and curled into the pillow, deciding that he would sleep there tonight.

---

Light slept fitfully for a time... he couldn't say just how long, only that he had woken suddenly, and not without reason. He'd heard a noise from the common area. Checking his watch that he habitually wore, even though time was no longer of any consequence, he saw it was much earlier than he had thought. The blue indiglo light of its face, as he pushed the button for night viewing, showed the hands marking the time at half past nine.

It wouldn't be entirely unusual that Watari or L would be leaving food for him at this time...

But something felt different. The entry was too quiet.

He sat up and strained his ears. He half wished and half dreaded that it might be L. He hadn't forgotten the helplessness he'd felt when he realized how easily L had been able to knock him unconscious with the taser and had drugged him to keep him that way while his body was carted around like a downed beast.

The chances of it happening again were not insignificant.

Would he wake up in the cold shackles of prison, then? Or would he be caged and awaiting his execution?

Would L be able to bear witness to such a thing? If it ever happened, Light wanted him to watch. He wanted to see the expression the detective make as his life was stolen from him. And he hoped that it would hurt L dreadfully.

But it was not L's silhouette that passed into view of the doorway.

Light frowned.

It was hard to tell in the near darkness, but the person appeared to be wearing the uniform of a bellhop. He could make out the straight lines of the stiff, rimless, flat-topped hat, and the wrinkle-less contour of the hotel's signature blazers. The intruder moved into the room quickly, and Light rolled off the bed in anticipation of the approach. He was still groggy from awakening so fast, but being on his feet afforded him more options. There was no reason for a bellhop to be in here, let alone the implausibility of someone accidentally gaining entry.

"What are you doing in here?"

The bellhop said nothing, but as he came closer, Light was able to make out his face. He was able to see a dark, fixed expression, the smugness of a blooming smile, and eyes that he could somehow recognize without ever having seen them before. They knew him. They worshiped him.

Light backed up. "You?" he said in a startled hiss. What was the man thinking to come here?!

The man shook his head, indicating he would not speak. Light cataloged his appearance as he tried to figure out what he could possibly do to save himself from the impending disaster this man presented. If L was watching this right now... he would probably determine that this was the second Kira.

He was broader shouldered than Light and more solidly built, as if he worked out. He seemed as if he might be an inch or two shorter, though the hat made it difficult to ascertain. Long, dark bangs framed his face and shorter ones fell into his eyes, the rest was caught in a low ponytail.

This was his 'servant'.

This man must be mad if he believed his presence here was somehow beneficial.

The bellhop held out his hand.

And there it was. His servant aptly displayed his lunacy in that he expected Light to go with him. He was offering escape.

Light was unsure how this had all been managed, but freedom was being offered to him on a silver platter.

It was madness.

He shook his head slowly, eyes keen upon the man's face. He watched the smile falter. If he were to escape now, nothing would keep L from killing him outright as soon as he was found. Nothing. As long as he stayed, there was a chance L would come around. If he took flight, it was only a matter of time before L tracked him down and had him sentenced. If he were L, he would not forgive such an action. It was too blatant a rebuke of all that L had done to keep him alive, and the trust he had probably fought so hard to maintain even in light of Light's most unsavory actions against him.

Light narrowed his eyes in displeasure, You have gone against my wishes.

His servant kept out his proffered hand, gaze intensifying.

Stubborn, Light thought. He shook his head again sharply, holding the hooded brown eyes with his until they abruptly dropped in defeat. You were a fool to go against me. What sort of God am I to you if you feel your judgment supersedes my own?

Before Light could register the movement, the man lunged at him, hooking an arm around his neck and pressing something over his mouth and nose. He tasted an intense, burning sweetness on his tongue, having inadvertently breathed in as his mouth and nose were covered. His eyes widened as he realized what it was. Shit! Light clawed at the man's forearm, trying to break his hold before the chloroform-laden cloth he held in his gloved hand robbed him of consciousness.

They may well have been made of steel for all the immovability of those strong arms.

Damn it!

Light flailed, and his servant suppressed the movements with ease, containing his attempts to break free as the chloroform invaded his now gasping lungs. He could feel the effects of it pervading his chest... it spread, seeping into his legs, buckling them...

And then everything went black.

---

Mikami carefully removed the cloth from Light's face and stared at him a moment, taking in the utter beauty of his visage.

He lingered upon the quality of his perfect, smooth skin... the soft bangs that scattered artfully across his closed eyes... amber eyes that had flashed so sharply, now veiled in the illusion of sleep. Teru regretted resorting to such measures, but he had suspected his God would not be willing to fully trust a lesser being, and he'd had no way to assure the younger boy that he had everything planned out.

The unconscious weight of God in his arms was almost more than he could bear - the sight and feel of his bare skin was even more so. His heart was fluttering and constricting in turns.

God was more beautiful in the flesh than he ever could have dreamed.

Mikami scooped up his limp, unresisting body and carried him out of the room bridal-style, careful not to let the boy's head loll from its resting place against his chest or to knock any part of him against the door frame as he passed through. He was mindful not to let himself become too distracted by the intoxicating scent of silky hair, nor the blasphemous thrill he got at having such a powerful being so helpless and at his mercy. More important than anything else was executing this operation perfectly and liberating his God from his persecutors.

Once in the common area of the suite, he laid the brunette down on the carpeted floor and reached for the soft-sided suitcase he'd brought with him. Within it, he found the assorted clothing he would use to disguise Light and himself. For now, he pulled out only a shirt, with which he could cover the boy's skin, and a few other items. He worked quickly, knowing they were under surveillance.

He'd chosen a simple t-shirt, for the sake of expedience, although the garment was obviously not of a quality suited to his charge's countenance. It bothered him, but frivolities would just have to wait. He lifted Light into a slightly elevated position, slipping the shirt over his head, and manipulated his pliant limbs though the sleeves. To that, he added a casual blazer that reeked of alcohol, and a beret style newsboy cap that could be pulled down to shadow the brunette's face. The pants he already wore were sufficient.

He picked Light up again, this time looping his graceful arm around his own neck, and wrapping an arm around the boy's slim waist. It was difficult to balance as he leaned down for the suitcase's handle, but he managed. He used the old man's keycard to let them out of the room - it had been altered to remain unopenable from the inside without it - and then made his way down the hall.

First to the elevator, then to the second floor restroom on the south side. It was the least trafficked one, as his observation over the last few days had shown him and, therefore, the most convenient for what he needed to do. He had almost reached it when a voice called out at him.

"You there! What are you doing?"

Mikami turned enough to face the person while keeping Light's face hidden; the garments were such that Light could appear to be anywhere from 25-40 as long as he did that.

It turned out to be a hotel supervisor that had stopped him. Effectively, his boss, as he was currently dressed as an employee. Mikami smiled at the man as if with embarrassment, and explained the drunken state of the 'hotel guest' under his arm.

The supervisor seemed less keen on disrupting his activities after smelling the alcohol on his charge's clothes.

"He said he felt really sick and wanted to be helped to the bathroom before going on to his room," Teru explained in an uncomfortable and apologetic voice, playing his part. "I thought it might minimize the mess, in case he was sick on the way... his room is on the seventh floor." He added a bit of hopefulness to his act, as if he wished to be relieved of his burden. "But if you would rather take things from here..?"

The supervisor blanched at the thought of vomit, and waved him on impatiently, obviously wanting no part in his subordinate's task.

Teru gave him a long-suffering look, before turning to continue his journey, and the supervisor sneered at him, telling him to hurry along. He did as he was bid, staunching the smile that rose to his lips. As you wish.

Once they reached the seclusion of the bathroom, Mikami felt his heart skip a little. This was both the easy part and the hard part.

He maneuvered Light into a stall, propping him in a sitting position on the toilet seat while apologizing mentally for the necessity of doing something so unsanitary. Light's head lolled forward, but he was more or less secure. Mikami focused then on trading his bellhop uniform for the other set of clothes he had prepared. It was a sort of tracksuit, the kind that athletic types often felt appropriate when going out in public, and a pair of black sneakers. It was a nondescript dark blue with black sleeves and wide black stripes running down the sides of the pants. It should blend well with the darkness once they got outside.

Teru took the elastic tie off of his hair, losing the ponytail. Then he shook his hair out and used a pair of sunglasses to sweep it back off of his forehead. It should serve to make him look different enough. He had also forgone his usual glasses in favor of contacts. Colorless lenses, which were not an oversight - he had wanted to meet his God with his own true eyes. That carried more weight to him than the absolute perfection of his disguise.

Light was more difficult to dress, but eventually Mikami was able to get him into a similarly athletic grey and dark red outfit and a pair of grey shoes that, while too big, were serviceable. He removed the boy's watch and placed it in his pocket. It was possible that it would be recognized, especially since the zipper-fronted shirt was short-sleeved.

Finally, he pulled a shoulder-length, layered wig out of the bag and affixed it to Light's head, hiding his lustrous hair with the duller locks, and secured it further with a bandanna. Light's head was likely to tip forward, so the longer hair would assist in obscuring his face.

He pulled two athletic bags from the soft-sided suitcase. One was messenger style, which he filled with the clothes Light had just been wearing and a tennis racket, the handle of which protruded obviously, before sliding the strap over the brunette's head. This way, he didn't need to be conscious to hold onto it. The second bag was a duffel bag. Mikami crammed the rest of the clothing into it. He couldn't leave evidence, after all, and hair was likely to be caught on the clothes. The soft-sided suitcase, he crumpled up and put in there as well, then arranged the second racket so it could also be seen poking from the bag. They were just two tennis buddies that had stopped by the hotel for a drink after an evening match. One of them had, unfortunately, had more to drink than he could handle...

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes since he set foot outside the hotel room. Twenty-one minutes from the moment he had secured the card from the old man until now. So far, so good. All that was left was getting out of the hotel without being seen. The hard part.

Teru draped Light over him once more, holding fast to his arm and the curve of his hip as they exited the bathroom. His duffle bag was awkward, but he managed.

His heart pounded as they entered the hallway, and he had to remind himself constantly of the right sort of expression to wear for the people that saw them. Tennis... embarrassingly drunk friend... His breathing was becoming slightly stressed under the pressure. 120 feet. The journey to the elevator seemed ten times longer than he knew it was. 100 feet.

How quickly would they discover the absence of Yagami Light?

Had someone been watching the moment it happened?

Were they searching already?

50 feet.

He smiled sheepishly at a middle-aged couple that gave him the eye. The woman looked startled, then giggled and said something to her husband. The man laughed quietly and shot him a smile, and then that encounter was past. Cleared.

This would have been easier, of course, if Light had been conscious... Mikami was quite aware that the boy's feet dragged upon the ground, and even though the excuse of being exceedingly drunk was plausible, anyone that was this drunk would likely garner extra attention.

10 feet.

He navigated the growing mass of people without mishap and gained the elevator. It was a short trip to the lobby, but it was made longer by the chatty occupants and the excruciating backtracking the elevator did to the fourth floor to pick up three more passengers. All this time, Teru saw no one that looked like the young man Misa had met previously, though anyone with jet-black spiky hair was enough to make his heart pound in his throat.

He did not allow his thoughts to dwell on the body leaning against his...

It was too dangerous to be distracted.

He repeated their fake meeting in his head and their fake circumstances. Tennis friend. Match after work. Drinking.

The elevator chimed as it reached the lobby. He nodded a goodbye to the passengers, and tried not to struggle with his burden. Light was not heavy, nor was Mikami weak, but it was an awkward way to carry someone for any length of time. He headed for the restaurants.

It felt like everyone was staring at them.

They couldn't possibly be, but paranoia was nipping at his heels. They would be found out. Someone was watching them and closing in even now.

It will work out, he told himself determinedly. God is with you. Remember that and stay calm. Stay calm and they won't be able to find you in this crowd.

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief as he made it to the restaurant and found his man inside. It was one of the waiters. The two of them playacted a scene where a fuss was made over the impending sickness of his limp tennis buddy, and they were promptly rushed out the back door. The waiter then helped him get Light into the waiting vehicle. Teru got in beside him, closed the door, and then it was done.

The dark sedan would drive them close to Mikami's apartment, as arranged.

As the car eased into traffic, Teru relaxed into the plush leather seats and drew that long-awaited sigh of relief.

---

TBC

A/N: The Great Escape!

I can't help it. I love Mikami. Poor bastard.

At least the Mikami Sim I made is kicking it rather fantastically with the Light Sim I made. (I kept their astrological signs according to canon - I also made a ton of the other characters. Light hates Misa. But he loves dancing. And Matt loves laughing at him while he dances.) Mikami dreams of Light. Bwahaha! XD And the two of them find it is a rather fine idea to start snogging each other on the couch all on their own. (Mikami jumped into Light's lap even!). Ah........... I haven't played Sims2 in years.

This was a pointless author's note. But I thought it better than saying I have cosplay, con, and stuff pics on LJ - or rather, WILL have them, but do not at yet have them posted at this time. So..... Sims. fun-ness. Srsly. :x