(Untitled)

[firm_detective]

L is browsing the stacks in the eighth-floor library. Row after row of books on ornate, dark wood shelving -- How long have they been here? -- surrounds him, but he can still see the far-away main entrance to the library from where he stands. He wrinkles his nose at the faint musty scent of the crumbling volumes.

[Thread is private to firm_detective and refractings.]

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[refractings]

[There are only so many angles Light can consider, only so many possibilities to worry over. He's stared at his notes and his diagrams for a few days now without progress.

Even Light has his limits, and what he desperately wants right now is not terrified, fevered analysis, but distraction. He has climbed the stairs to the eighth floor, thankfully seeing no one on his way, and when he glances down the hall, it also appears clear. He heads to the library door, not being particularly loud but not bothering to hide his presence either.

It doesn't occur to him to check the library itself. He closes the door behind him and sighs, running a hand over his face.]

[firm_detective]

*When L sees who has entered the vast room, he is a little put out. Unless he has missed a new arrival during his week of intentional leisure, it is one of Light's analogues who, although in the throes of selective amnesia, has nonetheless managed to be tediously argumentative.*

*He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then exhales, which comes out as a soft, exasperated sigh. He doubts it can be heard from more than a few yards away, and Light must be -- at least twenty yards away, possibly more.*

*Turning the majority of his attention back to the shelf, he moves down the row, but remains cognizant of Light's location, attuned to any changes in the energy he projects.*

[refractings]

[Light isn't exactly at his most observant, so it's not until L moves that he realizes that there's anyone else in the room at all. Startled, he flinches violently, and it's obvious that his nerves are all but shot. Only after collecting himself does he look back at the room's other occupant.

It's L, the one that reminds Light of the L from his own universe. Upon realizing this, he blinks, and frowns, indecisive. He has been meaning to find this L and speak with him, but he hadn't thought it would happen now.

His own internal monologue irks him. There's no real reason why he can't approach L, after all. Walking quietly but briskly, he covers about half the distance between the two of them before he speaks, pitching his voice so that it will reach the detective.]

Ryuuzaki? Do you have a moment?

[firm_detective]

*L gauges Light's approach as it occurs. There seems to be no anger or urgency in it, so his response is calm, mild.*

*He turns his face to look at Light. He is, himself, all wide dark eyes and a mess of black hair, but his skin is not as pallid as usual: it has been warmed by his recent days at the beach.*

A moment? Yes, Light -- *a falling note; he is tolerating this* -- I suppose I have a moment.

*His voice lacks even the most minute hint of enthusiasm.*

Why?

[refractings]

[Light steels himself, and so when L turns to him he shows no reaction. L's eyes are huge and black in the dim lighting, but Light returns the gaze, refusing to let it discomfit him.]

I've been meaning to talk with you. It's, er, probably not urgent, but it's fairly important.

--could we sit down? [He glances around (and no, he is not stalling, thank you). His previous trips to the library have been quick and efficient, in and straight back out. He's not even sure if the room has seating.]

[firm_detective]

*L's expression doesn't waver in its blandness, but he inclines his head half an inch.*

I suppose so. I will follow you.

Go back the way you came, then turn to the left, pass three more aisles, then take another left. You will see several tables, with chairs.

*The tables and chairs in question are heavy, in solid mahogany, and not easily thrown.*

[refractings]

[Light follows L's directions. The back of his neck tingles with awareness of the man behind him, but he has more important things to think about.

The furniture is set up as L described. Light sinks into the nearest chair and props his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his folded hands. His body remains still, but his eyes follow L.

He's not sure how to phrase his question. He's not really even sure that L will help him.]

Thank you for this. [His voice is quiet.] I hope I'm not inconveniencing you.

[firm_detective]

*He follows Light to the tables -- he could have led the way, but prefers to keep Light where he can be seen. When they arrive, he walks around the table to take a seat diagonal to the one Light has chosen. He pulls it back, hops up into it, then settles in on his haunches, supported by the edge of the table.*

*There is no response to Light's attempts at politeness; instead, he replies in a cool, businesslike tone,*

What did you want, Light?

[refractings]

[Light is almost offended, but he is the supplicant here: His lips thin, but he doesn't otherwise acknowledge L's brusqueness. In any case, there are more important issues at hand. He straightens his back and regards L, his expression pensive.

When he speaks, it is after a long pause.] I need information. I was... referred to you, I suppose, by my double. The one with the sketchbook? [He gives a small shrug.] I won't be making a habit of taking his advice, but it seemed sound enough in this case. I--

[He cuts himself off with a sigh, glancing down at the table with a frown. He's getting ahead of himself.] First, I need to know if I'm likely to retain my memories of the Mansion, if and when I return to my own universe. If not, this whole line of questioning will be pointless. [He doesn't have any reason to assume L would know, beyond that his nature might bring him to seek out the information, but he may as well ask.] Do you happen to know what happens to people who are taken back?

[firm_detective]

*As L listens, his eyebrows go up, hidden by his hair, causing his cold, dark eyes to widen. The wideness intesifies just once, a flicker at the mention of the double who suggested speaking to him.*

*When Light has finished talking, L begins to think over the question. His eyes narrow as he considers his answer; his tone, when he speaks, is aloof.*

You should understand that I am wary of giving anyone information that I think is likely to get back to him. Do you know better than to let him use you?

*For the moment, he disregards Light's question; how he answers it will depend on the response he is given.*

[refractings]

[Light looks flatly at L.] If I intended to bring information back to him, I wouldn't have mentioned him to you.

[He doesn't want to be open with L. He isn't particularly inclined to share more than the most essential facts. But he needs this knowledge, needs it badly, and there's not much he wouldn't sacrifice in order to attain it. He grits his teeth and forces himself to speak.] At the time that my double mentioned speaking with you, we were in the room that issued cards with unhelpful commands for self-improvement. I'm suspicious of the things he says, just on principle, but that room seemed to minimize his ability to be misleading.

Would I let him use me? I can't say "no, absolutely not," since I don't know the future. But I don't think so. He's... Kira. [Light flashes a quick, bitter smile at this.] A self-aware Kira, that is, and I'm trying to prevent something like him -- [like us, he thinks] -- from happening to my universe. His goals and mine are pretty much in opposition to each other. I prefer not to speak

[firm_detective]

*The gaze he returns to Light is just as flat

[refractings]

[Light sighs.] No. He didn't seem interested at all.

You know, it almost sounds like you're trying to act in accordance with his wishes. [He looks away, staring over L's shoulder. It's only been five minutes and already he's tired.] I don't really care what you think, Ryuuzaki, as long as I can avoid recovering my memories. It seems like that would be possible even without knowing how to capture whomever is acting as Kira now.

But-- anyway. [Light makes a quick, dismissive gesture, and turns back to L.] The people who are sent back?

[firm_detective]

The people who are sent back, *he echoes,* seem to retain their memories of this place. At the very least, I did, and Misa did. If I had not, it is possible that I would not be alive now -- though I will admit that the circumstances are special.

*He is more thoughtful, now, and begins to touch his chin with his fingertips; he tugs at his lower lip with his index finger.*

I can think of at least two ways to avoid recovering your memories, but you would have to do both, and even then, I cannot be sure that they will work.

[refractings]

[L's words -- if I had not, it is possible that I would not be alive now -- spark a quick flash of fear that Light refuses to examine. Instead he refocuses on the first thing that presents itself, which is, logically enough, the end of L's last sentence.

He's not going to allow himself to appear angry, not now, but that doesn't mean he can't speak.] Ryuuzaki, I'm sure you can think of more than two things. Your paranoia is just keeping you from sharing most of them. [He sounds resigned, more than anything else.]

[firm_detective]

No. It is that two things are the most important, and the easiest ways to keep you from regaining your memory.

*Though it will not matter -- if he finds that you are guilty, then regardless of how much of it you remember, he is likely to pursue the rest of the case. Then -- Rem will still kill him, won't she? A faint vertical line appears between his eyebrows*

To begin with, take no active part in the investigation. In particular, if you are able to catch the person currently working as Kira, they will have a black notebook in their possession. You can never touch that notebook. If you do, your memories -- and the personality associated with them, like that of your double -- will return.

*His voice, still subdued, now has a hint of command in it. If I did not tell him, he would be likely to put his hands on it without knowing -- now, at least, he knows.*