#ftm l

CHAPTER 1

Light got next to no work done the first day he and L were handcuffed together. He went through the motions of checking through reams of data - largely the same stuff they’d all looked at dozens of times already - aware that nothing was sinking in. It galled him. He was fresh out of captivity (fresh out of leaving a car on wobbly legs, drenched in sweat, his dad’s apologies sounding very far away), and the cuff on his wrist tethering him to L was the least intrusive security measure taken against him in the last fifty days. He had never been so determined to catch Kira, and take revenge for what he and his father had been put through. He should be a hyper-efficient machine right now, single-handedly making connections that had eluded the task force thus far, impressing even L with his brilliance.

And yet, nothing was being accomplished. His will was strong but his brain, for the first time in his life, wasn’t up to the challenge.

It was easy, and tempting, to blame L. Light’s only comfort was that L was being even less productive than he was. L had spent most of the day sitting backwards in his swivel chair, gnawing his thumb and staring into space. Watari had come by several times to fill L’s plate with stacks of sugary foods, which L had eaten all of without seeming to enjoy. He frowned while he licked the frosting off the doughnuts, got powdered sugar all over his shirt, cleaned the remnants off his plate with a spitty index finger. Light tried not to look too revolted. Working with L was a dream come true, regardless of the circumstances that had got him here, and he wanted L’s respect and maybe even friendship in time. That was unlikely to happen if he dry-heaved every time he watched L eat.

Now L was using one bare toe to push himself back and forth in his chair. The rocking caused the chain to sway against Light’s arm and clack against the side of the desk.

Light put up with this for ten entire minutes, for which he thought he deserved a medal. Finally he stood up and announced to the room, “I think we need a break.”

Matsuda and Aizawa slumped with relief. Even Mogi looked less tense as he sat back in his chair. Dad wasn’t there - he was at home, explaining his and Light’s long absence. Light wondered for the first time who was in charge of the team without Dad. Technically it was L, but L had obviously checked out for the day.

“I’m going to order takeout,” Matsuda said, patting his pocket. His face fell. “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting you confiscate our phones…”

Light let the others handle the job of explaining to Matsuda why it was a security breach to order takeout to their brand new secret headquarters. He got to his feet and stretched. It felt good, even with the cuff falling down his arm.

Light decided at that moment what to do. “Ryuzaki, I need the bathroom,” he said calmly.

It was going to happen some time before the end of the day. L would expect him to be uncomfortable. If he took the lead and suggested it first, he would gain the upper hand. Light didn’t want to think of this as a literal pissing contest - he wasn’t that childish - but L was the one who said he who strikes first wins.

He liked to think there was a moment of hesitation on L’s face, but he was probably imagining it.

“Certainly. Right this way, Light.” L got to his feet and sloped to the door to the elevator.

It seemed unnecessary to go all the way up to their room just to use a bathroom, but Light was curious what his new quarters looked like, so he didn’t point this out. It could have annoyed him that L had total control over their sleeping space, but Light couldn’t work up the desire to be bothered. It just felt like being assigned a room at a hotel.

This comparison turned out to be entirely apt. The room he and L would be sharing was monochrome, functional and devoid of personality. There were two beds, Light was relieved to note. He had expected a bank of computer screens on the wall, but all he could spot were a couple of laptops on his and L’s bedside tables.

L was already pushing open the door to the bathroom. Light followed, taking care to betray no awkwardness.

He saw straight away how things were going to work. The bathroom was mirrored, with two of each facility. The bathtub was twice the usual size, with a showerhead at each end, and an extra dividing rail in the middle. The sinks had different selections of toiletries on the side - Light recognised his products from home. L’s sink only had hand soap and a toothbrush. Two toilets stood side by side, with a partition separating them from the waist downwards. That was more considerate than Light had expected. He had been half-braced to have L crouched, unblinking, by the seat while he took a leak.

L was walking around the partition. Light heard a zip. Oh. He supposed L had been drinking endless cups of coffee all day.

“This is a strange question, Light, but I might as well ask now. Do you want to use the same facility each time, or does it not bother you?”

Light froze with his zipper half-undone. L. Was asking him. If he wanted. A designated toilet.

“...I don’t really care, Ryuzaki,” he said after only a brief pause.

“That’s fine.” L bent at the waist, his shaggy dark head dipping as he pushed his jeans down. “Although I am of course assessing you for the likelihood of you being Kira, I will not be using questions about personal hygiene to make this determination. So please feel free to give honest answers.”

That decided it. This was the most bizarre conversation Light had ever had.

“...That’s good to know, I guess. Although I don’t know how you would even use this information to decide whether I’m Kira.” Light gave it a quick thought. “OK, I suppose Kira’s a control freak, so if I wanted to use the same side of the bathroom each time, it would increase my percentage?”

L’s dark eyes flicked over the partition. Light resisted the urge to cover up.

“It’s an interesting thought. But most people develop habits and preferences, even over things that don’t matter. Developing an attachment to one side over another is pretty normal. In fact, since Kira likely has some sociopathic tendencies, his inability to develop normal human attachments might lead him not to care which side of the bathroom he uses.”

Light felt as though he’d been having a friendly kick-around in the park, only to have his opponent take his legs out with a judo sweep.

“That’s - you said you wouldn’t be using this as an opportunity to profile me. I can’t believe you just turned a conversation about having a piss into some trick to get me to sound like Kira.”

“I didn’t mean to, Light. And I assure you, I view your answer as totally innocuous. However, we now should draw this conversation to a close, because I really have to relieve myself.”

Light’s mouth snapped shut. He’d had a really cutting comeback, too. Damn L. Damn L… who was… turning around and sitting down.

Oh Christ. Light wasn’t prepared for this. It was supposed to be urination only! L had upped the stakes. Was he doing it on purpose? That bastard!

Light was so frozen in horror he couldn’t even pee. This was just unfair. Should he put his hands over his ears? No, L would feel the chain being tugged and think he was showing weakness. And he’d probably come out with some theory that Kira was anal retentive and this had upped Light’s probability to 61%.

Light held in a flinch as a sound hit his ears. The sound of… piss. L was having a piss! Thank God. Light felt lightheaded with relief. All he had to worry about was being chained to a grown man who still sat down to pee. He could handle that. He already knew L was childish.

“...Light? Are you having difficulty?”

Right, Light had been the one to suggest they came in here in the first place.

“Sorry, this is just a little weird,” he said. “Would you mind covering your ears?”

“I can run the tap too if that will help.”

“No, that’s fine,” Light said firmly.

“As you wish.”

Light quite enjoyed the ensuing twenty seconds of privacy. Then he realised he had just thought of ‘privacy’ as being handcuffed to another man while they used matching toilets. It was possible he was cracking up.

L waited until Light was done to shuffle to his feet. Maybe he thought any movement would spook Light mid-flow. Maybe both of them would be doomed to overthink the other’s bathroom habits until they’d gone totally mad. That probably wouldn’t take long.

L didn’t speak again until they were back in the elevator. “Light?”

“...Yes?” This had better not be remotely scatological.

L hesitated, which was rare enough that Light stared at the pale, blank face, trying to discern the cause.

“I knew when I came up with this compromise to your confinement that it was a risk. I have never interacted so closely with the lead suspect of a case before. When I took this case, I decided I was willing to die for it. Kira is a scourge, and he has already changed the world for the worse in many ways. That said, I will not be cavalier with my life. My intention is not to go out in a blaze of glory. That behaviour is for heroes, and it would be pretentious to think of myself as a hero.”

Liar. I’m sure you do. Aloud, Light said nothing. This was obviously going somewhere. The elevator reached the ground floor, but L pushed the button to keep the door closed. His opaque black eyes were trained on the floor, as if he were ashamed, but his voice remained deep and steady.

“You are, in a way, uniquely privileged in your current position, Light. I have also never shared a living space with anyone to the extent that I will be sharing it with you.”

Light scoffed and rolled his eyes. If L really thought Light privileged to be chained to him, then his ego must know no bounds. Before he could say so, L lifted his huge eyes and turned them on Light like floodlights. Light held his breath. Finally, L had to be coming to the point.

“You are going to gain some information about me, over the course of this investigation, that nobody else besides Watari has access to. I want to be very clear, before we begin. This information will not help you figure out my identity. It will not lead you to my name, my background, or even my country of origin. I am still loathe to reveal it to you, but it is necessary if I am to keep you under constant observation.”

Light’s head spun. L stepped away and pressed the button for the door. He looked over his shoulder as he exited the elevator.

“That said, I look forward to enjoying a professional relationship with you.”

He vanished, leaving Light behind. Seconds later, a yank at his wrist propelled Light into the corridor after him.

Light didn’t know what the hell that was about, but for the moment he was more intrigued by it than by the Kira case. Then he caught himself and scowled. What a stupid thing to think. Kira was a mass murderer, and catching him would save thousands of lives; L was a git, albeit an impressive git, and figuring out his secrets would do nothing besides satisfy Light’s curiosity. It was terrible, how poorly he was focussing on the task at hand. He’d ask Watari for a pot of coffee once he was back at his desk, and he wouldn’t let L steal any of it.

---

In the end, L stole half. Light thought he’d defended himself pretty well.

To show dedication, he stayed at his desk, reviewing figures and barely letting himself slump, while the rest of the task force yawned and Matsuda pillowed his head on his arms. Eventually Mogi and Aizawa headed off home, and Matsuda started to snore. Light took that as the cue to close his laptop and turn to L.

L had been making a fort out of creamer packets for the last ten minutes. Light had to clear his throat twice to get a, “I heard you, Light, I just didn’t look up. I take it everyone’s done for the day?”

“Yes. They said goodbye when they left.”

“Really? I must not have heard them.”

“What a shame.” Light stood up and yawned pointedly. “Ready for bed?”

“No,” L murmured. He pushed one wall of the fort over.

Light waited. L stared at the remnants of his fort for several seconds. Then he sighed and unfolded from the chair like a child getting down from a high-seat.

“I suppose it would be unkind to keep you up. I will continue working once you’re asleep.”

I bet you’ll do some wonderful work on a pudding cup castle, or possibly a sugar-cube pyramid. Light avoided saying this with some effort. It was their first day. He wanted L to consider them on good terms.

---

The main advantage of going to bed was demonstrated when L held down a switch on his side of the cuffs and said, “L.”

L’s cuff sprang open. Of course, nothing so conventional as a key would do. Admittedly, Light would have little difficulty finding a key and escaping. Presumably the handcuffs were programmed only to recognise L’s voice.

L repeated the process on Light’s cuff, and Light nearly cheered when the thing fell away. He rubbed his wrist vigorously. It didn’t hurt, but he wanted to make a point.

“You can change your shirt and then it’ll go back on. I will also change now, so I don’t wake you up later.”

Light hadn’t dared to hope the things would stay off all night. L turned his back and begun to pull his shirt over his head. Light followed his lead. A pair of his pyjamas from home were under his pillow. He wondered if his father had collected his things before taking him from his cell into the car and pretending to shoot him.

Light finished changing and flopped facedown on the bed without a word. Normally he would fold his clothes, but it was late and he was exhausted and today he had survived a fake execution and ten hours chained to L. He was going to take the opportunity to rest before the handcuffs went back on.

L was being surprisingly slow. Light cracked one eye open and looked up through his hair. He knew it was impolite, but it was easy to quash any guilt, given L’s inconsiderate nature. Not to mention all the illegal surveillance.

L had lost his baggy shirt. He was peeling what looked like a very tight tank top over his head. Light could only see L’s back, which was surprisingly muscled and pale as a ghost. His slim shoulders twisted with a weird graceful awkwardness. Finally he managed to get the tank top off, messing up his hair even worse than usual, and tossed it on the floor. Light rolled his eyes. At least he’d dumped his clothes on a chair.

L looked smaller with no shirt on. He was hunched over even worse than usual, arms wrapped around his chest. He hunkered down below the level of the bed, and emerged once again wearing his long-sleeved white shirt.

Light couldn’t help feeling this was weird behaviour. Was L extremely body-conscious? Or perhaps he had an identifying mark on his chest he didn’t want Light to see? He couldn’t picture L with a tattoo... a birthmark, maybe? Scars?

L sat on the edge of his bed, still with his back to Light, and shuffled backwards until there was enough room to pull his legs up against his chest. Then he kept shuffling, despite the impractical position, until he reached the headboard and arranged himself on top of the pillows in his usual position, squatting on his heels.

“Light, are you awake?”

Light closed his eyes and pretended to have been dozing. He gave a convincing grunt.

There was a rattle from L’s bed.

“Hold out your arm, Light.”

Lazy bastard. Why not come to him with the handcuffs? Their beds weren’t that far apart. Groaning, Light pushed himself into a sitting position and held out his left arm.

L attached one cuff to himself first, then held out the other end from his perch by the headboard. His arm didn’t reach.

Both of them sat in silence, one arm extended, in a silent but vicious staring contest.

Light was the one to crack. He needed the sleep more. There was no shame in that. He rose with a long-suffering air and approached L. L accepted his outstretched hand, and snapped the cuff back on. Light rotated his wrist a few times, as if checking the craftsmanship. He gave L a cold nod and retreated.

The chain was just long enough for them both to lie in bed without disturbing the other. Unless L had some really obnoxious sleeping habits (possible) or wanted to get up for a snack in the night, Light thought he should have little trouble getting his eight hours.

He soon dropped off to the glow of L’s laptop screen, L’s ghostly face shining blue in the dark.

---

He was back in the car.

They drove through a grey landscape, through fog. Light had no sense that the car was touching the road, but he knew they must be moving. Light and Misa sat straight in identical poses, strapped in neatly, ready for take-off. Misa was silent, her face painted black and white, her outfit elaborately gothic. Light was back in his clothes from the cell, his hair grown long and shaggy over his ears. He felt his hands pinned and cuffed behind his back, but he could see them folded in his lap.

Dad was driving, and they had to be moving, even though the view through the windows never changed. Light could see, in silhouette, the back of his dad’s head, his ears, his starched white collar. Light knew that if Dad were to turn his head, in any direction, the only parts of him that would show would be the back of his head, his ears, his collar. Dad wouldn’t show his face until they arrived.

Sweat dripped down Light’s neck. He didn’t wipe it away. Misa didn’t wipe the sooty tears that were running through her makeup. Her expression was blank. She was like a religious idol that wept real tears, through some cheap trick, to impress the tourists.

Light didn’t want to sit a moment longer in this eerily gliding car. He wanted the journey to end, but he was more afraid than ever of what was waiting for him at the finish line. He cringed away from some imaginary noise, or maybe the anticipation of a noise, a terrible echoing. The seat was beginning to vibrate. It was shaking him back and forth. Light was starting to pant from the effort of staying upright, and then

A hand grabbed his shoulder

He jerked and went blind.

At once he was lying somewhere soft and dark, tangled in coverings. He gasped in a lungful of air, and it hurt on the way down, like swallowing a balloon. The hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, and Light felt his fear in the same drugged, distant sense as his dream. He thrashed and tried to swat the other person away with limp, useless arms.

The other body moved away. A button clicked, and L’s soft voice said, “Watari, I am sorry to wake you. Please can we have a pot of tea?”

Shuffling static over the comms. Watari’s voice, cracked from sleep. “On my way, Ryuzaki.” L released the button, surveyed Light. Light felt himself whimper. It shamed him so much that he rose immediately out of the vestiges of the nightmare. He was at task force HQ, he was in bed, it was god-knows-what o’clock and L was staring down at him through midnight-black eyes.

Light sat up and rubbed both hands over his face, blocking out L’s mute silhouette. Fear was draining from his body, leaving common embarrassment to fill its place. He couldn’t even make it one day without making a fool of himself in front of L. No - this was L’s fault in the first place. Him and his horrorshow tests.

“I don’t want tea,” he said from behind his hands.

“Very well. I will have yours.”

L didn’t move or avert his eyes. Light could feel it without looking, that twin-void stare. Light reached out a shaking hand and flicked on the bedside lamp. Even knowing it would hurt his eyes, he wanted to strip L of the shadows he was cloaked in.

It hurt like hell. L’s paper-white face appeared like a winter moon in the split-second before Light screwed up his eyes, turning L into a chalky blur.

Neither of them spoke or moved until there was a knock at the door, and L padded away to answer it. He made it a few steps before the handcuff chain went taut and Light’s arm was tugged away from the protective curl of his body. Light made a mutinous noise and yanked it back. L’s cuff gave a satisfying rattle as it jerked his bony wrist.

L sighed, clicked the switch on his cuff and said, “L.”

The chain went slack. L dropped his end of the handcuffs on the floor and crossed the room to let Watari in.

Light didn’t want to face another person. He burrowed back under the sheets and pulled them over his head. Watari and L’s conversation was muffled through the blankets as they approached. There was a noise of a teatray being put down on Light’s bedside table, and a trickling pour into a cup. Light wanted L to instruct Watari not to bother, but L clearly had no intention of stopping a tea party no matter how unhelpful it was. He’d probably get Watari to bring up some cake next.

Light’s blanket-cocoon was uncomfortably hot now, but he stayed in it until Watari had served the tea. Watari and L had another murmured conversation, and at long last Watari’s footsteps departed from the room. Light heard the chain clink, and a snap as L reattached his cuff.

Light was determined not to acknowledge the tea, or L, for the rest of the night. He lay still, breathing in sparse, over-warm air. Sweat was beginning to prickle on his face. Shit. He could do with an air corridor, but L would notice if he tried to move the sheets -

L poked him.

Light jumped a foot into the air. He tugged the sheets off, unable to suppress relief at the rush of oxygen, and gave L his haughtiest glare.

For a moment, he thought his brain had glitched.

The glare slid off his face. His muscles twitched, unbidden, into a new pattern, forcing a look on him that he had not consciously chosen and that was doubtless inappropriate. Light squeezed his eyes closed, and blinked several times upon reopening them. He had wondered if his vision was still blurred from sleep, or if the lamplight was playing tricks on him, or even if his nightmare had caused after-the-fact hallucinations. The image before him remained unchanged. L’s mop of hair, rumpled into an impressive bedhead; L’s stark face and the livid bruises of his eyes; L’s hunched shoulders and the unhealthy curve of his body; and there, under his shirt -

“My face is up here, Light. Are you sure you don’t want tea?”

Light begged his brain to reboot.

Breasts, his brain helpfully supplied instead.

L’s fingers plucked at the handle of the teapot. He poured himself a cup, and dropped in two handfuls of sugarcubes. No, she dropped in two handfuls of sugarcubes…

L is a woman. It was ridiculous, impossible. No woman had a voice that deep. And L’s body was masculine, if scrawny. Light had played tennis with him, and he moved like a man. And there was the rather decisive evidence of his Adam’s apple. Unless that was a prosthetic. No, that was insane.

L slunk backwards with his teacup and lowered himself, herself, himself onto his own bed. He drew his knees up into his usual crouch, and sipped his horrible sugary tea. The position hid his chest from view. Light continued to stare at the place L’s breasts were covered, as if he might develop x-ray vision.

“Yours is on the tray if you want it. I would recommend drinking it. It will settle your nerves.”

“I don’t drink caffeine at night unless I’m studying for something,” Light said automatically.

“Suit yourself.” L took another sip. He was a noisy drinker. He had always been a noisy drinker. He had always been a he. What the hell is going on?

This was clearly what L had been talking about in the elevator. The purpose of that constricting, tank top-like garment and the baggy tops was to keep the breasts tamped down and hidden behind folds of clothing. L’s posture must help with that, too. So… the great detective L was a woman. She used prosthetics and costuming tricks to appear male… to hide her identity? To command more respect? Perhaps both. It was certainly a useful extra layer of security in the Kira case. It was amazing that she’d kept it up, so convincingly, for so long…

Light grew surer of this theory by the minute. Just as he upgraded its status to ‘near certainty’, L raised her eyes over the rim of her teacup and said, “Since you’re probably wondering if I have been concealing my gender from the task force all along with an elaborate disguise, I would like to confirm that I am male. I was considered female at birth, but I disagreed with this assessment. I will not reveal to you at which point in my life I begun to transition to male, since you are a Kira suspect and I have no intention of giving you unnecessary information. I have not undergone gender reassignment surgery, but I take testosterone injections once every three months. That will be coming up next week, in case you want to prepare yourself. Gird your loins, so to speak.” L took another loud sip.

Light opened his mouth, unsure what would come out of it. L wasn’t done speaking yet, however.

“As I told you earlier, you will not be able to use this information to track me down. I have no records, medical or otherwise. Watari administers my injections, and I have never used a hospital as part of my transition, even under a fake name. Also, if you attempt to do any research on me using these details, your computer records will be available for me to view, and I will consider it evidence that you are Kira.”

“That isn’t fair.” The words spilled out of Light’s mouth. He felt an overwhelming need to grab back the reins of this conversation. “I wouldn’t have to be Kira to want to research you. What you’ve just told me is… really surprising. I’m finding it a lot to take in.”

“Then don’t take it in. Ignore it. I don’t especially care what you do in the privacy of your head.” L’s voice had sharpened a little. It made Light want to squirm. “You are here first to be observed as a suspect, and second to assist with the case. That is the extent of the multitasking required of you. If you find yourself having questions about my body or my medical needs, I suspect you will decide, upon consideration, to keep them to yourself. If, in the fullness of time, you are cleared of being Kira and allowed to leave this building, I’m sure Wikipedia can enlighten you.”

Light stared. He picked up the cup of tea Watari had poured him, and downed it in two gulps.

“That’s good.” L’s voice had returned to its soft monotone. He seemed placated by Light drinking the tea. “Do you feel any better?”

Mostly, Light felt unmoored and startled. A dollop of embarrassment, and a childish resentment over having his manners critiqued by L of all people, was also in the mix. However, he realised he was no longer trembling or sweating. Thinking about the nightmare brought waves of cold lapping at his brain, but it was a controllable sensation, not a blind terror.

He nodded. L looked satisfied.

“Finish the pot if you like. I am going to stay up, so let me know if you want to go back to bed. In future, Watari can procure some sleeping tablets for you. I believe varieties exist that promise a dreamless sleep.”

Dreamless sleep sounded wonderful. The adrenaline spike from the nightmare had faded, and Light’s body was wrung out with exhaustion.

A thought sparked, somewhere, that L was responsible for his bad dreams, and that Light could remind him of this fact. If nothing else, it would get them back on familiar ground of L as tormentor and Light as victim. But Light wasn’t foolish enough to expect an actual apology. This was as close as L came to making amends: blunt almost-sympathy and feeding him tea. It occurred to him that L letting him notice his… anatomy was a concession of a kind. If he’d wanted to, L could have kept that hidden for longer.

“I’m going to try to sleep again,” Light said. He was beginning to slur his words. “Thanks for -” not being a total dick over a situation you created - “helping.”

“It was no trouble. Would you like me to wake you if you have another nightmare?”

“Yes please. ‘Night, Ryuzaki.”

“Good night.”