New AU-ish fic bunny, will try to keep it a baby bunny.
Probable pairings: Light/L, Light/Tenma
Warnings: none yet, but probably a touch of lime in future chapters.
Spoilers: Probably for both.

A/N: Playing fast and loose with the canon for Death Note – L is imprisoned after Kira's victory. It's been five years since, L is bored, and Kira wants a second opinion.

L looked at the files spread out in front of him. Paper rather than the laptops he once had been accustomed to working on. He wouldn't be allowed that kind of concession, even though he posed no threat. Kira had seen to that, in the last five years.

It seemed that not all was well in his utopia, though. L chewed the edge of his thumb as he surveyed the case files that had been delivered that morning with his food.

It had been years since he had done this. Years of the simple but comfortable apartment Kira had sealed him into (another dig, a way to show L that Kira was better than him – showing 'mercy' to his enemies), years of not seeing anyone, not even the people who delivered his food. Years of week-old-newspapers and books and no contact with the outside world. He was dead, a ghost. Though in a way, he had always been. He just had never been this bored before.

But the case… oh the case. He turned over a page with two fingers, tilting his head as he read newspaper clippings and police reports. It all seemed so cut-and-dried and gloriously simple – but, but there was some wrongness that screamed along his nerves. They had gotten it wrong. It was a wondering thrill to know that, to see it so clearly. If he had been in charge, the doctor would never have been a suspect.

Kira must have felt it too, he assumed, or the case would never have been delivered to him. Tenma Kenzou would have died and that would be that.

He poured over the accounts they had gotten from the doctor. Snippets here and there. Mention of a name – Johan – the very Europeanness of it all bringing back a stab of memory that he had quite forgotten.

L engrossed himself, so much so that he didn't hear the door opening, or the quiet breathing behind him. Not until the handcuffs landed on the file he was reading with a thud, causing him to start up and whirl around did he realize that Yagami Light – Kira was watching him.

"Put them on." His voice was a slow drawl and L raised an eyebrow slowly. He picked them up with one finger, letting them dangle.

"It's been what, five years now, Light?" He called the other by his old name, not his true name. Keeping up the false niceties between them, though they both knew it was a ploy. His voice was soft as he looked at the cuffs, hating them and everything they represented. "I think you've proven that I'm no threat."

"Put them on, L." Unlike L, Kira never played name games. L was L – he was never Ryuzaki or Ryuga anymore. He wondered if Kira meant it to be an insult, in a way – calling him by his detective's code. He would never be "L" again, Light wouldn't allow it. To call him "L" might be Kira's way of rubbing that in his face.

He hesitated for another moment before snapping them onto his wrists, binding them in front of himself. He could have challenged Kira. He could have flown at him, probably have taken him down. But how far away could he get in Kira's new world?

Besides, the case was calling him, whispering in the parts of his brain that he had almost forgotten he had. Perhaps he could be "L" again, if only for a moment.

"You're here about the case. Tell me about it." He didn't mean for his voice to be commanding, but he recognized the tone he used, he had used it often in the past.

Light smirked, unfazed by that. He had right to be, L supposed – after all, he had brought L down and been a functional god for years now. "I thought that might pique your interest."

"A rubix cube would have piqued my interest. I've been bored." He admitted, taking his seat again, turning another page with his cuffed hands. "Why haven't you murdered the primary suspect yet?"

"Judged." Kira's voice reproached L mildly – only mild because he had won and they both knew it and he could afford to be mild with his enemy now.

"Killed." Idly filling in another synonym, this one less overtly judgmental, but his tone was still laced with subtle contempt and accusation. "Why haven't you? All the evidence points to him."

"It does." The other man's footsteps were soft on the floor, L focusing on them as Kira slowly came around him, inspecting the neat, small apartment. "Do you agree that Tenma Kenzou should die?"

L frowned. Mindgames again, as always. Agree with Kira's methods. Become as jaded as him. Work for him. Build his utopia with him. Submit to being wrong. L hated the idea, wanted to outright refuse to talk to him… but his eyes drifted back down to the file. Kira had caught his interest, and he was too tired of being bored to deny it. "He isn't the culprit."

"How can you be so sure?" Kira asked with a smile, picking up a plate full of brownies, looking at them appraisingly. That was amusing… the devil, playing devil's advocate. L pressed his thumb to his lips, feeling almost like smiling.

"An instinct. You are looking for this Johan, instead."

Kira picked up a small brownie, biting into it. L suppressed a stab of irritation – that was his sugar, damnit. "Johan does not exist."

"Neither do I." L pressed on, logically. "Or have you concealed finding my birth certificate?" It was their last real game. No matter how much power Kira had over his life and death, he had been stubbornly locked out of L's past.

The only response he got was a half-twist to Kira's mouth. He couldn't tell if it was bitterness or amusement or approval.

"Johan Liebert would have been ten when the murders Tenma-sensei is accused of started."

"Children are vicious, Light. I suppose you haven't had to deal with them much, have you?"

"They are easily frightened by Kira." Definite disapproval there, thick in the air. Kira didn't like to be reminded that it was human nature to be cruel, and he was giving him a look that again made L want to grin. He pressed his fingers against his mouth harder to prevent it, then took a deep breath.

"I can't do much here, bound." L raised his hands, shaking the cuffs a bit.

Kira's lips quirked again and the tension in the room dropped back to natural levels. "You expect me to let you free?"

"You took the trouble to come here. I assume you want me to help with the case. Or am I being presumptuous?"

Kira smiled finally, silky-smooth and dangerous as ever. L wondered how he could have ever mistaken that look for anything other than what it was – the smile of a killer. "The cuffs stay on."

It was as much of a compromise as they would ever reach, he realized. He needed this case, needed to feel alive again. He nodded simply. "Let's get to work, then."

"I have a plane waiting." L's eyes widened. Not only were they leaving his cells.. but they were going to Germany? He took a breath, feeling a lightness in his chest that he hadn't felt in forever.

---

It was almost like old times when L forgot that it wasn't Kira he was cuffed to, but himself. He had a laptop again, they were ensconced in a hotel suite with a case, and there was always cake and sugared tea and something to watch and think about.

Kira's hand was on his arm but he was ignoring it, knees pulled to his chest, arms draped about them loosely, absorbing everything on the screen before him. Jagged pieces of a serial killer's life coming into sharper focus as he read about the orphanage.

Kinderheim 511. A horrible place by all accounts – an orphanage where children were abused and programmed, molded into perfect killers and spies. It was the first place they'd found, when looking into Johan Liebert's past.

He couldn't have been there terribly long. A riot shut it down – or rather killed everyone in it, except for Johan.

It made something twist deep inside of him that he was afraid to look at too closely. Child experimentation, orphanages. The subtle parallels with Wammy's that he didn't bring up with Kira in the room. Near and Matt and Mello had all been eliminated, of course – but there was more to Wammy's, and he didn't want Kira knowing the extent of it, if he didn't already. There was a chance that one of them, someday, would succeed where he had failed. Besides, the comparison wasn't useful in any way, it just nagged at him silently, bringing up the ragged moral issues of his so-called childhood.

"L." Kira called his name, his hand tightening a little on L's arm. L missed before – even when Kira had been cuffed to him, he still knew when to leave L alone to think about something. He sighed a little, looking up with irritation.

"Yes?"

"I didn't bring you here so that you could not tell me what you're thinking." Kira's voice was firm and commanding and annoying. L nipped at his own thumb a little viciously.

"How can I tell you when I'm not sure myself, yet?"

Kira ignored him. He hated that, hated that Kira didn't let him work at his own pace. "Do you think the orphanage was the root of it?"

"No." He answered only after some hesitation, turning back to the monitor, intending on blocking Kira out again, wanting to concentrate, to turn the problem over and study it from another angle. They were missing so much information it was positively infuriating.

Kira reached for the chain of the cuffs, jerking them hard and forcing L to turn to him. His eyes hard and hot and L sucked in his breath, forgetting in that moment to wince at the metal biting into his wrists. Kira shouldn't be able to look like that at him. Shouldn't be able to send L's heart into an uneven tattoo and make him focus on keeping his breath even.

He'd been locked up too long, he realized. Too long without people around to desensitize him, and everything just felt too raw and real.

"You're going to talk to me, L. Don't force me to kill Tenma-sensei and close this case without exploring the options." Kira's voice was a low, menacing growl, but it didn't intimidate him. The other's stare was what was making him uncomfortable.

L's eyes dropped to the chain around Kira's hand and he sighed softly. "You know there isn't much to go on here. But presupposing that Johan is our culprit – no, I don't think the orphanage was what created Johan."

Kira relaxed marginally. L marveled at how much sharper his anger issues had gotten in the time he hadn't seen him. "Then what?"

"Something before, I'd imagine."

"Why not after?"

"The riot." L knew his voice was both dark and thoughtful, but he couldn't help it. He remembered too much of too many criminals. And one from Wammy's. Ruthlessly, he shut that line of thought down. Irrelevant. Kira did not need to know any of this.

"You think he had something to do with it."

"I think it is not implausible. Students attacking teachers would fall into the normal scenario. Teachers attacking each other…" He mused, raising his eyes back to Kira's.

"Odd." Kira echoed his thoughts.

L nodded slowly. "Very."

Kira's grip on the handcuffs eased and L let out a soft breath of relief. "Official records have long since vanished." The self-styled god looked irritated at that. "We have very little to go on besides this orphanage."

"The doctor… Tenma." L rubbed his wrists a little, thinking. "He was at the orphanage. He's doing the same thing we are."

There was a moment of startled silence, then a jagged bark of laughter that made L almost wince. "You mean to use him."

"I think it may be our only option."

----

Light watched him working, the half-incomprehensible monologue rushing over him. He'd finally convinced L to verbalize his thoughts, though it was coming out in a steady stream of mumbles that slipped easily from Japanese to German to English and back again. Occasionally he would catch snippets of other languages – French here, something else European there.

He knew that L was multilingual, of course. He had never really witnessed his degree of fluency before, though, not like this. L thought in several languages, processed things multilingually, found different layers of meaning in each of them. He was impressed, in spite of himself, though he wouldn't tell the detective that.

He also needed a shower, Light realized distantly. L always did – excepting the time that he and Light had spent chained together and Light had dragged him into the bathroom once a day. He had to be bullied into one by Watari, otherwise. Light suppressed a groan.

He'd forgotten how much babysitting L required. He grimaced behind the detective's back and patiently waited for a pause in the monologue before he grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around in the chair.

"You need a shower."

L blinked up at him owlishly. It didn't have the same effect as it once did – the detective had been getting more sleep, the dark rings around his eyes had shrunk considerably, leaving him with a pale, too-innocent face. "I'm working, Light."

"You stink." Light said firmly.

L looked almost like he was going to pout for a moment, then lifted his cuffed hands, his baggy sleeves falling down his arms. There were thin red strips around his wrist where the metal had been rubbing him raw.

Light nodded, taking his hand, unlocking the cuffs and slipping them back into his pocket. L moved to step around him, but he kept a hand on his shoulder, following him. L looked back, curiously.

"You're coming with me?"

"Obviously."

"You don't need to babysit me." He yanked his shirt up over his head, exposing his slim, pale chest. The years had filled him out a little – Light couldn't count his ribs anymore. He still was breakably thin, and perhaps even paler than he was before. Except for the red stripes around his wrists. Light would have to do something about that, he supposed.

"I know you better than that, L." L messily tossed his shirt into the corner. Light suppressed the urge to pick it up and fold it properly… but he wasn't L's nursemaid and he refused to act like it.

"I'm not going to run away. It's not like I'd get far – you still have my name and face."

"I'm more worried about you skipping shampoo." Light retorted as jeans and boxers followed the shirt, creating a small mountain of baggy clothes.

L laughed at that, softly, and shook his head a little, conceding the point. He hissed as he stepped into the hot water and tugged the clear glass shut between them. Light wondered if it was the water on raw skin, or if he just hated showering that much. He couldn't remember if L always acted that way in the shower or not – truthfully he tried not to pay attention.

Light crossed his arms, watching him. L was fast in the shower, like usual. He scrubbed at his hair, his body efficiently and without any real grace.

Still, there was something attractive in that spareness. Nothing with L was wasted, everything he was poured into his work.

Light hated himself still, occasionally, for not killing him. He knew it would have been kinder. Still… he had always known L would be useful, if he could break him down.

The detective stepped out of the shower, sopping wet and dripping all over the floor. Light groaned and threw a towel at him, into his face. "Dry off first, you slob."

L did, feet to hair, leaving it frizzy and sticking out in all different directions He reached for his dirty clothes. Light grimaced again, irritated at himself for getting distracted. "Wait."

He stepped out, only for a moment, grabbing some of his own clothes. Boxers, loose jeans (though tighter than L usually wore), white button-up shirt. Shoving them into L's arms. "Clean clothes."

L blinked a little, then pulled them on. Starting to do the buttons up wrong, then correcting himself while Light kept a rein on his impatience. Finally holding his hands back up in a silent query.

The handcuffs. Light slid them out of his pocket, closing them around each wrist with a metallic snap that echoed in the bathroom.

"Back to work?" L's voice was quiet and his eyes were – as always – completely unreadable.

"Your hair."

"It'll dry, Light." L shrugged a little, unconcerned.

"It's a mess." He held up a brush, expecting L to take it from him.

L ignored the brush entirely. "I don't care. I'm not here to impress anyone, and we have more interesting things to argue about."

And that was the truth, so Light let it go, for now, even though his fingers ached to grab L and hold him down and drag the brush through his hair to rip the knots out of it. He let the brush slip through his hands to hit the counter with a clatter.

"So we do."

----

They settled into a routine. Hotel to hotel, city to city, country to country. Following a trail of deaths and clues that didn't quite go together. In doing so, they fell back into banter, into challenging each other mentally. Light had taken the cuffs off after a week, replacing them instead with a tracker that he slipped around L's skinny ankle and tightened down mercilessly. It still was a kindness, as the detective's wrists had started to bleed.

Months slipped by in that slow pace that was so familiar and yet so different than the Kira case. L went silent sometimes, and Light had to threaten to send him away before he'd come back.

Orphans and orphanages. They hinted at L's past in the way that he avoided the topic or spoke of it in carefully neutral tones. Light tried to draw more out of him but every time he did, L brushed his queries off in a way that left him unable to follow them up. It was maddening.

Light always took the bedroom of their suites, an action that was as much practicality as it was a subtle power play. L slept on the couch, when he slept at all. The dark rings hadn't fully returned but they were inexorably widening.

He wondered how many of L's cases had been like this, this quiet and slow cat-and-mouse game. It was impossible for there have been many, given the volume of cases he had solved. Still, he was excellent as ever at the waiting game. Perhaps he usually worked on multiple cases at once.

"Light…" L looked up suddenly, breaking into Light's reverie. "They caught him in Prague."

"Johan?" He couldn't help the stab of disbelief and almost… disappointment.

"Kenzou Tenma."