Title: Out of the Fire
Author: Blossoming Sin
Fandom: Death Note
Pairings: L/Light, Matt/Mello
Rated: M
Warnings: Eventual Slash – if you don't like it, grow up and get over your silly prejudices – and possibly triggering topics, this story is about fire-related deaths and other disturbing themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or its characters nor do I make a profit from the use of them in this fic.

Summary: AU; When a tragic death occurs in the Yagami family, they decide to leave their ruined home in Japan and move to Wammy's; a retreat for the families of victims of fire-related deaths. This is where Light meets L; a mysterious man who has been shaped by fire and fate much as he has. As Light spends more time at the retreat and with L, he begins to feel that his life and family will really be okay…that is until the truth of the accident comes out.

Out of the Fire

Chapter One - Silence

They rode down the road in silence, the mood in the car was somber; the only sounds were of soft breathing and the rumble of the new tires on gravel roads.

A boy with eyes the colour of burnt-honey and brown hair sat in the back of the car watching the scenery pass by; all strange and foreign like this new country he and his family had moved to. He was attempting to think of nothing; attempting being the key word, as he was failing miserably. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to stop remembering what a lack of silence used to be like. He doesn't forget his past hatred of the non-stop chattering, obnoxious pop music and nauseating smell of cherry bubble gum, but he does regret those feelings now.

Sighing off memories, Light Yagami looked up in time to catch his father's cold and tired eyes watching him, before they flickered back to the road. Light's mother was resting peacefully in the passenger seat; the drugs she had taken before the trip the only reason for the crippled peace.

The seat beside him was empty.

The emptiness was the reason for the chocking silence, for his mother's self-induced coma-like sleep, his father's coldness and Light's attempt to stop remembering the world of yesterday. The seat is empty, god damn empty, and the person who used to fill it, she—

Racing thoughts stop suddenly as a cold drop lands on his clenched fists, looking down he stared at his once flawless hands, now littered with tiny burns; some like specks of dust, others the size of blotchy tear-drops and some that are larger still and slowly fading from red to white.

He figured that most of the scars would fade away and eventually they'd be barely noticed on his lightly-tanned hands. But in the back of his mind, Light knew that these scars would always be blaringly obvious to his own eyes. Besides, he figured his body could do with a few more flaws here and there...and these burns, they were his history.

History that had been seared into his very flesh, memories burned into his soul.

Real tear drops continued to fall on his hands, and his eyes stung, but he let them fall as he continued to gaze out the window, watching the world pass by in a terrible silence...a black-hole tragedy that had swallowed up all of the noise, all of the music, the happiness and even the smell of cherry gum that used to surround them all.

"Light, we're here…Raito, wake up," a harsh voice jerked him from peaceful sleep; a large hand shook his shoulder roughly even as another gently wiped the remaining tears off of Light's cold face. The hands pulled back suddenly and the person they belonged to left the back-passenger door wide open.

"Mother?" Light called out sleepily, opening his eyes to see that both his mother and father seemed to be leaving the car, himself—and apparently the luggage—behind. He brought a hand up to cautiously touch his own cheek, remembered the dreamlike feeling of a rough hand on his face, and stared at his father's turned back. A moment later and he shook off the notion with a sharp shake of his head; he knew now that some relationships can never heal, no matter how much he wished they could. His body was tired and aching, but he didn't want to be left behind, so he warily climbed out of the car; sleep making him stumble.

"Where are we?" His parents could apparently still hear him, Light discovered, as his father glared at the question. It takes another sleepy moment before his memories returned and he recalled the move. The biggest change that had followed the greatest loss he had ever felt in his short life.

The answer to his question stood before him; an impressive—but surprisingly not imposing—mansion that was rooted and half-built into a great rocky hill. There were obviously hundreds of rooms and the brochure had listed among them; two expansive libraries, four swimming pools, several exercise rooms, a spa and many classrooms, along with personal and familial residence areas all to be found within Wammy's walls.

'Wammy's, a haven, of sorts,' Raito thinks bitterly to himself, at least for victims like his mother.

"Oh, right." Light finally responded to his father's icy silence, wishing for a break from this new harshness that he was constantly forced to live with now. He flinched when his father moved back towards him and the car—although he did not really fear the older man—Light was still sickened by the shame he had brought to his family, to his childhood hero.

"Grab your bags, we'll meet you inside," Light nodded and slowly removed his luggage from the small pile in the trunk—most of their things had been sent ahead—but stopped when a small pink suitcase revealed itself, making his heart stutter and ache in his chest. Light's grip was lost on one of his bags, and suddenly the contents were spilt out onto the dusty, paved ground.

Raito doesn't quite notice, he was too busy focusing on the neatly packed suitcase that had belonged to—

'Why? Why is that here?' The teen looked up, confused. He could see his mother and father through a window; the frail woman who had raised him up leaning upon the hard man who had—once-upon-a-time—looked at Light with shining pride.

More tears fell as he reached out a hand and picked up a small teddy bear poking out of the front flap of the pink bag; a small red ribbon attached to its chest proclaimed: 'Second Place, Well Done!'

His mother must have packed this up—had she forgotten or—was it the drugs again, playing with her broken mind and heart?

The bear watched him with cold brown-black eyes, the near-malice in its stare made the small stitch smile on its light brown face appear as real as his own. Reality came crashing down once again when a hand landed gently on his still healing shoulder. An unknown voice shocked him further causing him to drop the bear, which crashed down on the dusty ground alongside now-dirty clothes from his earlier mishap.

"Ow! Wha-what?" he turned quickly, and found a strange man with endless black eyes studying him closely—too closely to maintain his usual levels of personal space.

"I said, 'Would you like some help with your baggage?' and my apologies, I did not mean to startle or injure you," Light waved the man off absentmindedly—then lifted his fingers to gently probe his injured shoulder—all the while watching the stranger squat down to pick up Raito's fallen items. Spidery fingers make quick work of the mess until all that was left was the teddy-bear, which sat on the ground patiently until it was picked up with hesitant fingertips.

"It is special to you," a monotone voice confirmed rather than asked, and the young man studied the bear in his slim hands as intently as he had just studied Light. The bear was dusted liberally with black and gray patches; sooty, singed and ragged. Raito nodded again, hands reached out to pet the bear's head, a small smile played on his lips as he remembered the day he bought it for—

Light felt another bout of tears coming, and a sudden need to talk, to tell this story—their story—to this stranger, welled up inside of him.

"Sa—She always used to tell me that it was my tie to her; when she was little and scared...all she had to do was hug the bear and feel my presence, and then-s-she wouldn't be scared anymore," Light's voice was choked; strained emotions made his throat close up. The dark haired man nods and pressed the bear back into Light's shaking grasp, a small smile rested on the stranger's slightly-chapped lips.

"I'm sure that she's grateful that you're taking care of her bear." Light shook his head slightly and wiped away fallen tears before he let a heavy sigh. He pushed away his own embarrassment and instead focused on the small stuffy in his hands.

An expensive looking handkerchief was near his face suddenly, wiping away tears before Light could pull away. When it is finally pushed into his hands, Light studied it; clean, bright white cloth with an archaic black 'L' embroidered on the corner in a great flourish.

"L?" Light asked as he wiped away the remaining tears from his pale face, and the man nodded for a moment before he spoke again.

"That's what my mot—what I was called," Raito stared into L's dark eyes for a long moment, reading the pain and past in those endless eyes before he passed back the cloth, which L accepted with a nod before he placed it back into a pocket in his faded blue jeans.

Light gave the guy a once-over now that he was mostly composed; Light's eyes began at the top of L's head where unruly black hair fought valiantly against gravity, in a way that suited the hunched figure. Followed by a lithe body encased by a loose white shirt and baggy blue jeans, Light sees a strength in the slight limbs that were hidden away. He was—worryingly—pleasantly surprised that the man was not wearing shoes on his feet, and Light smiled and cringed at the same time as he stared at the bare toes, his reaction brought a glint of amusement to L's eyes.

"What should I call you?" Light asked, watching in bemused silence—as a thumb rose up to the smiling pink lips, black eyes lost in thought for a moment—before L replied.

"You may call me…Ryuzaki," Light held out his right hand to finish the introduction but paused when Ryuzaki pulled back and instead bowed to him. "What should I call you?" L asked in perfect Japanese, making Light stop and blink at the sudden switch over to his native language.

"Yagami Raito, or Light. Where did you learn to speak Japanese?" Light asked, both curious and impressed at the hidden skill of the strange man before him.

"Raito-kun then, or shall it be Light-kun? I taught myself a few years ago, just in case. Your English is impressive, but I enjoy speaking Japanese now and then. I do not wish to become rusty." Ryuzaki—somehow—bent his already hunched back over to pick up one of the long forgotten bags from the trunk and then another off of the ground, he paused and waited for Light to do the same.

"I see, that is very interesting, do you speak any other languages?" Light froze again at the pink suitcase that still sat in the trunk; and L—sensing his apprehension—pushed Raito's hand off of the handle so he could pick up the third bag. The pink bag was managed easily in the man's spidery digits, but the colour was too bold against the rest of the luggage and the washed-out colours of L's clothes and skin.

'Bold, just like she would've wanted...'

"Ahh, let me see. There is English, Japanese, French, Spanish, German, Russian, Chinese—those I speak fluently, but there are a few others that I am still mastering. What about you, Raito-kun?" Light stopped and stared; impressed by the expansive list that rivaled his.

"Chinese, German, French, Russian, Korean, and of course English and Japanese, although I have been meaning to perfect my Spanish, perhaps you would be willing to practice with me?" Ryuzaki nodded and then turned to lead the way toward the building Light's parents had entered earlier on.

"Why are you here?" Light blurted out as L led him to an elevator. The panda-like man faltered at the question for a second before continuing on. Another moment passed before Ryuzaki turned to look at Light, though his eyes appeared to be somewhere else. He too switched over to English again; a natural transition.

"My Grandfather is the founder of this facility, I live here with him and…my younger brother...you'll meet them at dinner. For now, let me show you to your room. We're neighbours, so if you need anything, just ask." Light nodded, unsure of what to say now and so he simply enjoyed the first comfortable silence he had been around since before the—

Bing, bing!

"We are on the fourth floor, Raito-kun. I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow morning, but for now I'll just introduce you to some of the others at dinner, there are quite a few residents currently living here...but only a handful or so are around your age-range." L made another flawless transition back to Japanese, obscuring the hint of an English accent.

"My age, wait, how old does that make you?"

"Light-kun, you should know that asking such a question is very impolite. But I am twenty-four and you are only seventeen. Although I trust that you are old enough to know to respect your elders." Light's face went red at being addressed so rudely, but he bit his tongue and decided to not have any fights—at least—not today.

"I wouldn't have guessed you were any older than I am, I mean—you just act so...youthful," Ryuzaki smirked at Raito's not-so-subtle jab and Light let out a happy bark of laughter at the banter between them. Well, not any out-and-open fist fights, but a bit of verbal jousting never hurt anyone.

'Who would've guessed there would be someone worth talking to in a place like this?' A smile appeared on Light's face—bypassing the dark bags around his eyes, the way his skin looks just this side of unhealthy—brighter than it had been seen since before the tragic death of—

"Oh! You have Sayu's bag, Raito-kun! Good! She's been looking for it all over and I was afraid we had left it on the curb at home…" Light's mother appeared out of nowhere; her usually warm face looking tired and stressed from so many sleepless nights.

"Y-Yes, mother, I have Sa-her bag...did you want it?" His mother shook her head, her eyes shone with un-shed tears, her face almost glowing. She looked somewhat like her old self in that moment, save for the startled look of bemusement and the doubt hidden within her eyes.

"You're such a good brother, Light. Sayu couldn't have asked for a better one, now be a darling and take it to her room." His mother prattled on, reaching out to touch her only son's cheek and the hallway suddenly felt smaller, oxygen scarce.

"Yes, mother. I'll take it right away," Light's soft voice took on a note of defeat, there was no changing his mother's broken mind, in it...Sayu had never left.

"Mrs. Yagami, I presume?" L's voice interrupted softly, holding out one hand in greeting and another to help turn Light's mother back the way she had come from, the contact making the older woman startle. Her confusion grew and a hazy expression began to quietly devour the happiness that had reigned only seconds ago.

"Where am I, dear?" The woman asked the two boys before her, one looked awfully familiar, the other...a complete stranger? "I seem to have lost my way; I'm looking for…I'm looking for…" She doesn't seem concerned that she's unable to remember what it was she was looking for, but Light couldn't find it in himself to be thankful, he was still frozen solid to the spot, grateful that L was here to take control of the situation.

"You are safe, Mrs. Yagami...you were just checking up on your son and he is quite well, I'll make sure of that. Now let's get back to your room so you can unpack your bags, alright?" Ryuzaki took the woman's shoulder lightly with spidery fingers, guided her gently in the direction of her room, and shot Light a look that let him know he'd be back...and then they were both gone.

"Oh Kami-Sama," Raito breathed out as he stood in the empty hallway that was once again filled with the oppressive silence he had come to hate, that he had nearly drowned in on their journey over to this place. The calming effect L had made on him was long gone; it had left with his mother's haunting visit and chilling words.

''Such a good brother' if she only knew if she only remembered the truth of the matter...Oh God, Sayu.' Collapsing to the ground, Light buried his face in his younger sister's old teddy and let the smell of smoke and death choke his lungs up as the tears once again fell freely down his face.

Doing a rewrite, and going to post my second chapter up as well…Already have about five done, hoping to actually finish this fic this summer or so. Apologies to everyone and thank you all for your kind reviews.

Cheers.
-Sinner