Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Death Note. If I did, L would not be dead, nor Mello and Matt.

Warnings: This contains self injury. It could be triggering, so read with caution.

EDIT: I'm such an anal freak. I caught minute errors in the timeline, so I had to fix them.

...

Chapter 1: Beginning

Click!

Black, slick metal: a gun. "Shut up!" A growl.

Eyes widen, taking in his father's face, warped into insanity. "Dad!"

"Light. Both of us are murderers. We'll meet in hell."

He hears Misa's screams dimly, as if underwater. His vision tunnels; he looks into the barrel of the gun. Time ticks backwards. He can't think. His heart rams against his chest.

His father's glare deepens, a tear wells in his eyes. His index finger hovers, trembling, on the trigger. Another click as his father puts more pressure on the trigger.

Light wakes with the sound a gun going off in his head. He lunges into a sitting position on the bed. His wrist chafes against metal.

"Three," Light glances to the other end of the bed where L sits in front of a laptop. L holds up three fingers. Light exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding. That's right: Ryuzaki, the fake execution, Kira and his imprisonment. Light swallows down bile, before trying to converse with the detective.

"What?" Light's eye twitches at the quiver in his voice.

L jumps from where he had been setting cross legged, twirling on one foot to land a few inches from Light in his usual kneeling stance. Almost nose to nose, L stares into Light's eyes. "Light-kun has woken up three times from nightmares over the past week."

Light ignores the heat rising in his cheeks. He scoffs, averting his gaze from L's. "I'm fine."

L's eyes bore into Light's. "I don't think so."

Light bites his lip. His arms itch, a strange sensation. As he tries to muddle his way through L's mind games, he scratches his arm. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you."

"Yes, I suppose you are."

Light digs his fingernail into his forearm under his night shirt. "What does that mean?" he grinds out between clenched teeth. His head aches and his arms itch.

L turns back to his laptop as Light's fingernail cuts into the skin beneath his shirt. The pain in his head lessons and the dream melts away like a chocolate candy left in direct sunlight.

...

Light wakes up to the sun shining the next morning, the beginning of his first full day at the new investigation headquarters. L stares into the laptop, still seated cross legged. Light wonders about the oddly normal sitting position. Before he can ask, L throws his head back looking at Light upside down.

"Good. You're up."

"Good morning Ryuzaki," Light says as L unclasps him from the chain. Light unbuttons his night shirt, as he crosses the room for a fresh shirt. As he tugs off his sleeve, the fabric catches and a pinprick of pain blossoms on his arm. A drop of blood stains his sleeve. Oh yeah… Light pauses to analyze the small indent on his arm.

"Are you okay?" L notices the small cut.

"I must've cut myself sometime," Light says in what he hopes is an unconcerned tone. He hastily pulls on a plain, dark, long sleeved tee shirt. His heart rate slows back to normal as L starts typing a message on the laptop.

...

Dressed, teeth and hair brushed, and face washed, Light walks into the main conference room with L just as Soichiro, Mogi, and Aizawa enter. One camera records Matsuda's hassle with the buildings security system. Another camera displays Misa sleeping peacefully in her quarters.

"Morning, Dad, Aizawa-san, Mogi-san" Light greets the three.

"Morning." L props himself into his chair where a steaming cup of coffee and an oversized bowl of sugar cubes is already laid out.

"Ryuzaki, Light," Soichiro says as he grabs a cup of black coffee for himself from the coffee machine. His voice softens as he utters Light's name, and his eyes lighten. "You're mother packed some clothes for you."

Light notices the suitcase in the corner. He nods. "What, what did you tell Mom and Sayu?" he asks tentatively.

"Your family is under the impression you're investigating the Kira case," L says. He drops a sugar cube into his coffee as he utters each word. Light cringes at the sludgy sucrose mass that used to be coffee. He fixes himself a cup of coffee with cream as L sips his. Light chooses to ignore the chewing sounds L makes as he attempts to drink his partially solid drink.

"About time!" Aizawa exclaims as Matsuda enters the investigation room with his pants draped on his arm. Light merely raises an eyebrow and L ignores the detective, as if it is perfectly normal for a man to wander the work area in just a shirt and underpants.

Matsuda rubs at his head and smiles. "I had some trouble," he says as he pulls on his pants.

...

By midmorning, L kneels in his chair, facing backwards away from the computer whilst Light tries to find a link between the newest Kira deaths, but his mind keeps spinning in circles. He peeks at his father from the corner of his eye. With each glance, the pressure in his chest tightens and he can't quite suck in a full breath. He drums his fingers on the table as he looks at the computer screen without absorbing any information.

"Light, are you alright?" Soichiro's voice breaks the near silence of mechanical murmurs. Light tenses.

"Um, yes. I think I need to take a break, is all." He stands up, throwing a glance at L in the process.

L stares back for a moment before also standing and leading Light out of the room. "Does Light-kun want to see Amane-san?"

Light shakes his head, his thoughts back with his father and the uncomfortable pressure in his chest. He wants to be alone. "I just need a toilet break, Ryuzaki." He does not, but it is one of the few activities L will grant him privacy for.

"Two minutes," L warns as Light closes the door, separating himself from the detectives peering gaze. Light sinks to the floor, his breath coming in silent gasps now. His mind screams; he can't go on like this. He feels moisture collect at his eyes.

"One minute," L's voice calls. Light stands quickly. He flushes the toilet to prove his innocence. In the process he bumps his arm against the edge of the sink. Pain. He blinks. He rolls up his sleeves with one hand then turns on the faucet to drown out sounds and to keep up with the pretext of using the toilet for its intended purpose. He scratches at his arm, harder and rougher—more desperate than last night. He keeps at it until L tells him he has ten seconds left. Light glances down at his arm, which is now covered in red scratches. He shuts off the water and lets his sleeve fall to his wrist and the doorknob clicks open.

Light turns to look at L. L cocks his head. Light holds out his arm, the one without the scratches, and L closes the handcuff over his wrist again. The two head back to the investigation room. Light smiles at his father's concerned look, a silent reassurance. And at that moment, with his arm burning under his sleeve, Light is okay.