Even after they had punched each other and wrestled off-balance, L shows no reluctance to speak bluntly again.

He never did. It was infuriating.

"Oh, you're Kira," he says, big eyes staring at Light casually, "I'm absolutely sure."

But, as always, it doesn't seem to move him emotionally. He continues staring ahead, entirely disinterested in how tired Light is of being accused.

He doesn't bother protesting; it's useless.

There's a metal chain connecting them by the wrist. It was Light's idea. Or rather, submitting himself to captivity and surveillance was his idea--apparently. Apparently, because he doesn't seem to remember exactly what had gone on prior to the surveillance that compelled him to suggest this. But one thing was for sure - he had been under a thorough enough inspection under L's big, scrutinizing eyes for everyone to understand how ridiculous it is to accuse him.

But it seemed something wasn't quite right. Someone was seeing something he didn't. Because they didn't merely take him into observation; they kept him there. For days. Weeks. Nearly a month had passed before they decided to let him out; he really didn't see this coming.

He had begged, he had tried so sincerely to reason with L, because it was ridiculous to assume that he, that Light, was Kira. Light would have remembered killing so many people! But no matter how much he pleaded and how many times he swore and promised that he was innocent, L was not convinced.

When he was finally released, it was not complete release; even though he was no longer held in captivity, he was still under perpetual surveillance by L. He was bound to him at all times--by a metal chain connecting them wrist to wrist.

It would not be so unbearable if not for the blatant distrust. Unsubstantiated distrust, no less. Really, Light didn't deserve this. He had never done anything wrong. He was a top student, intelligent and hard-working, and had even contributed his time and effort to help solve cases at the police station--while still a high school student. It was an insult to suggest that someone so passionately devoted to working hard for the benefit of his community would be responsible for the murdering hundreds.

But L didn't merely suggest it; he tormented him for it.

It wouldn't be so bad if those big eyes didn't stare at him like that--unblinking, accusing, and maddeningly silent. L could sit and stare at him for hours.

Light turns his head back, sighing to himself.

"How are you doing it," L murmurs, tilting his head toward Light, "people are dying again while you're here being watched."

Light groans. "It means I'm not doing it."

"No," L replies, "I'm almost completely sure you are."

He tilts Light's face toward his with an extended index finger, and now the big eyes are scanning Light's face in pretense of reading his mind.

"It must mean you must have done this ahead of time. You had details of these people before you were imprisoned and somehow planned their death earlier on."

Light gasps in surprise; he didn't expect to hear such a strange idea.

"But then," L continues, finger running down the side of Light's neck, seeming deep in thought, "why would you refrain from scheduling deaths for the first two weeks you were in captivity?"

"...because I'm not Kira..."

L shakes his head, "No. You must have wanted us to suspect you. But why? perhaps to take attention away from something else that was going on?"

Now his finger is brushing down the line of Light's collarbone, and L scrapes the pale digit back up, grasping Light's chin in his hand and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

"It's only a matter of time, Kira, before I find out how you're doing it."

His lips are moving, but the rest of his face isn't.

And then the long, slender digits are pushing past Light's mouth and in-between his lips, and all Light can do is watch them go in with the same exhaustion that he has watched L's distrustful gazes and listened to his threatening accusations for the past several weeks.

The fingers slide back out and run slowly against Light's chin, tugging downward at the edge of his lips in a wet trail, and L mumbles, "Say you got this information early somehow. About these people who died this week."

L's entire being is his eyes. They continue to stare, unblinking, as his white face moves closer, and bony limbs move with the quiet clink of a metal chain, "and before you submitted yourself to captivity, you wrote this information down someplace."

for some reason that Light, himself, does not understand, these words make his heart skip a beat. L is moving closer, crawling on the sofa with the chain dragging at his side, "if you wrote these things down, then it should be possible to find them."

He pauses as he reaches Light. Lost in introspection, L looks down at him--at his exhausted features, his intelligent eyes, the exposed sliver of skin where his neck meets his shoulder. L lowers his head and Light can feel the hot insistence of his tongue tracing a moist line against him.

"Does it please you?" He hears himself murmur, and L does not reply. Big, dark eyes stare down at the wet skin beneath for a long time, and then he continues.

"It couldn't be that far away from here," he says speculatively, "because if my logic is right, you would have decided to do this the same day you submitted to investigation."

L's gaze rises form Light's neck to meet his eyes. "Because you made your choice on the spur of the moment. Because of the second Kira."

He draws closer and his lips are sliding against Light's as he speaks, "But it wasn't so you could save her."

Light isn't sure he's listening anymore. None of this makes sense. It has not made sense ever since they locked him up. He feels the other boy's breath against him, the gentle friction of moving tissue as the lips mouth, "Kira would plan to kill her too."

And cold metal slides against Light's arm as L's hand rises to the side of his face. He accepts passively, parting his lips for him, because he had lost his autonomy and right to privacy long ago.

"There was some reason why Kira wanted her alive," the lips hover against the delicate folds of Lights' ear, and there are soft strands of hair brushing against his neck, "something that not only kept you from killing her," and now Light has stopped listening entirely, because he seems to have lost control over his senses and was completely at L's mercy, "but that made you desperate to find a way to free her from us."

Light has lost it.

His hands grasp hard at L's wrists and he pulls him in with one solid jerk, smashing his mouth against the other boy's. He nearly forces him. No, he does force him. With the loud clinking of the snaking chain, he pushes L backward on the sofa, tilting his head backward as to expose the white neck, and he has at him with a desperate, tormented hunger.

The soft hiss of L's breath issues forth strained and sharp, and long digits are clawing at Light's back, pressing him closer, and Light has wanted him for a very long time, yes, he remembers that now, with determination hat obsessed him day and night.

For the life of him, he cannot remember or understand why he wanted him or where it all began, but there was a deep, unmistakable drive to conquer.

To be continued…