deercountry | 15 . JOHNUARY

[Threats and respect aren't mutually exclusive according to L's personal set of rules. He's thought them through and tangled with the paradoxes, all without pausing to wonder if it's possible for a person who thinks that way to be anything but desperately lonely and sad during his extremely short life.

As long as it's not boring.

The threat and the respect, in any case, feel earned. They sustain him like food, comfort, and praise sustain some other people, somewhere, playing by a set of rules L doesn't quite grasp.

Rules like finishing, after revenge. His glance at Light is lingering, and though his expression betrays nothing, the length of the look alone should be more than enough to communicate the sentiment you can't be serious. There's no way in hell it's finished. Do you end the game of tennis when someone successfully returns a serve?]

Maybe it is.

[Most people, saying those words with that tone, would sound like they were lightly or pleasantly commenting to a child who has asked if the moon is made of cheese. Like most things, L wears it a bit differently. The effect is animated sarcasm.]

I was asking him.

[ Light knows L too well to have to even ask. They can talk later when the subject isn't immediately in front of them. There isn't a lot of optimism regarding his ability to change L's mind, but the odds are greater without John present. ]

I can ask more directly: how much further are you planning on pushing your 'punishment'.

[ Normally, Light isn't going to ask that question and expect a truthful reply. Even now, he'll be weary of the answer, but John doesn't seem to bother really hiding his murderous streak. If anything, he's more likely to use it as a chance to threaten L further. ]

[ He can see why Light is a detective's colleague: the guy has a harder edge than he'd expected, gone cool and thoughtful in the face of something that should probably be alarming. The Nine Houses doesn't have a very common baseline for alarming, John's aware. ]

For now.

[ He doesn't say it with relish, or with malice, or with anything but resignation: his gaze is on Lazarus again, a man sizing up an oncoming meteor. A problem he hasn't finished with, and won't be finished with until it's in pieces. ]

I do occasionally keep my covenants. [ His smile is humorless. They had a bargain, after July: John's loved one stays in her grave, so long as he doesn't put Lazarus's in theirs. ] If he doesn't sting me, I won't swat at him. We can all get along.

[ None of them puts a lot of faith in that if. ]

[When L behaves like a child and is summarily treated like one, it doesn't particularly surprise him. It still rankles him to have two of his enemies talking past him, as though he's a problem to be dealt with.

Maybe I am. They certainly are. Could I take them both? Alone? Working together?

He doesn't want to encourage an alliance, but it's a fascinating thing to consider. Because there's no one left he loves, at least no one that John doesn't also feel conflicted about harming. Their tangled, overlapping webs and Paul Atreides' own fierce competence compromises the old covenant.

They both know it. Light will probably pick up on it, if only because he does know L, and his sting, and his nature, and that he was like this even when death could (did) stop his heart permanently.

What could cause that to happen again? Taking down the Pthumerians, perhaps.

Those books.]

Good fences make good neighbors, but I'm thorough. I can't be held responsible for what I stumble into when a boundary hasn't been set.

[Where's your campsite, John?]

[ It would be easy to remind L that death is something to be avoided, not a goal to achieve.

Isn't twice enough?

Instead, Light knows that picking this battle here will prove to be fruitless. With John standing there, he's as likely to back down as he is to swear allegiance to Kira. While it's very likely true that he'll follow through with the cryptic promises he utters today, L also will want to make those promises.

So, at what point can John be useful? As friendly as they play, as openly as they challenge one another, Light knows L isn't going to pretend like he hadn't died at his hands, no matter if Kira also believes L doesn't remember the moment itself. When L bites, Light will need to find a defense. To do that with someone who considers the two of them as friends, he'll need an explanation, but that doesn't mean the seed can't be planted in advance.

It can't start here. It'll need careful steps, and L's watchful eye doesn't allow for too many things to stay hidden. ]

[It says something, truly, that one of L's greatest historical nemeses is fairly invested in helping to keep him alive.

They help each other, this way. Because L, also, wants to live as much as he wants to see his version of Justice prevail.

He has no problem setting the tone. Taking charge. Lighting a fire that sizzles his own belly and keeps the others on their toes. In fact, isn't this the very definition of being in his element?]

There are so many unguarded places to stumble. It'll be a pleasure in service of the truth, won't it, Light?

[He makes a point of grasping Light by the arm, to demonstrate that nothing he does will be accomplished alone, anytime soon.

Forced-teaming is such a unique joy.]

[ Heard loud and clear. John looks back at L with the same sense of exhausted acknowledgment, enemies eye-to-eye. They see each other clearly, and there's a certain gravity to that. He can think only of the dead woman he had tied to a chair, six months or a lifetime ago: some revenants are built different.

Still: he has a bit to play. John splays his hands wearily and looks to Light, as though to say: are you seeing this? And people call him the aggressor. As though he's not regularly forced to pry this guy out of his brain with a crowbar; as though anyone in his position wouldn't make it hurt. ]

And here I thought I might get to stop setting wards.

[ Lazarus will make him snap back every time, and take the flack that comes with it. He knows it. It's a maddeningly effective strategy if the goal is to wheedle John into cruelty, counting all his weak spots along the way. ]

[ L doesn't mind setting the tone; Light doesn't mind trying to take control over it. ]

Lazarus.

[ He won't necessarily allow it to be forced though he isn't going to completely 'betray' L, either. ]

The truth does cover both sides. You know I'll protect you if you're his target, but you should also know I'm not going to help you become his target.

[ Light's gaze returns to John, but his words are still to L. ]

You're right: I do want the truth. I can figure out my actions from there.

[Honor, betrayal, and competence all dance a fine line, as far as L and Light alike are concerned. At least, regarding one another; all bets are off, for everyone else, but Light is probably more concerned about where appearances and respectfulness feature, there.]

What a world it would be, with nothing to hide.

[It's a veiled concession. He's accepting, bit by bit, that he won't have a chance to steal what he wants anytime soon. By the time he does, it will likely be too late. John will have read what he has secured, and utilized the knowledge for better or, far more certainly, worse.

L's eyes burn, for a moment, the way he wants to set fire to John's campsite. With Light here, he won't try. Without Light, who could say what he's capable of?]

15 . JOHNUARY

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