[The Faun himself would be quick to demur from the charge of altruism, even if an outsider to their Bond would observe little in it for him but pain. (There wasn't--it was far from being suffering only, though he had not words to frame every moment of surpassing awe or quiet contentment or simple bone-deep satisfaction it brought him to be Bonded to L. As now, when his Witch finally consents to lean against him after weeks apart and he feels like he can breathe properly again, like everything trouble heaped up before them is just a little more surmountable.)]
I am choosing, [he continues, quiet,] because you would not ask.
[Because that is one of the sparks of goodness that he hoards up like fireflies, one of the proofs that L is on the path--however long, however dark--to his own best self.
A path that--despite L's own near-conviction on the matter--they are not due to step off any time soon. Myr tightens his arm around the detective's waist in mute comfort as L makes plain just which agony he thought to spare Myr from; mute, because there's a lump of sorrow in his throat at his Bonded's adamant willingness to protect him from pain. It's moments before he can swallow it down and shake his head where he's leaned it against L's shoulder.]
You needn't, amatus. As I said: I wouldn't have you face the dark alone.
[Then, with less iron surety:] He has told me he doesn't intend to kill you.
[Which could have all been an elaborate, months-long lie to keep Myr off his guard; it could have been part of an attempted false bargain to get his collusion against Mello and leave L the more vulnerable. But--somehow--he doesn't believe Niles would lie to him in this, whatever else the Chimera might have deceived him about.]
I think he believes he can be safe while leaving you alive, and not be hunted and hung for a murderer. [He doesn't understand.
And oh, how it writhes in Myr that he'd tried to warn Niles off the whole enterprise in terms that would make L's death seem the better option.]
no subject
[The Faun himself would be quick to demur from the charge of altruism, even if an outsider to their Bond would observe little in it for him but pain. (There wasn't--it was far from being suffering only, though he had not words to frame every moment of surpassing awe or quiet contentment or simple bone-deep satisfaction it brought him to be Bonded to L. As now, when his Witch finally consents to lean against him after weeks apart and he feels like he can breathe properly again, like everything trouble heaped up before them is just a little more surmountable.)]
I am choosing, [he continues, quiet,] because you would not ask.
[Because that is one of the sparks of goodness that he hoards up like fireflies, one of the proofs that L is on the path--however long, however dark--to his own best self.
A path that--despite L's own near-conviction on the matter--they are not due to step off any time soon. Myr tightens his arm around the detective's waist in mute comfort as L makes plain just which agony he thought to spare Myr from; mute, because there's a lump of sorrow in his throat at his Bonded's adamant willingness to protect him from pain. It's moments before he can swallow it down and shake his head where he's leaned it against L's shoulder.]
You needn't, amatus. As I said: I wouldn't have you face the dark alone.
[Then, with less iron surety:] He has told me he doesn't intend to kill you.
[Which could have all been an elaborate, months-long lie to keep Myr off his guard; it could have been part of an attempted false bargain to get his collusion against Mello and leave L the more vulnerable. But--somehow--he doesn't believe Niles would lie to him in this, whatever else the Chimera might have deceived him about.]
I think he believes he can be safe while leaving you alive, and not be hunted and hung for a murderer. [He doesn't understand.
And oh, how it writhes in Myr that he'd tried to warn Niles off the whole enterprise in terms that would make L's death seem the better option.]