[Mello has been nothing short of overwhelmed with faces and information since arriving here and being one to immediately kick himself into action, he hasn't had much in the way of downtime.]
[Not that he ever has, but that's beside the point. It's an uneventful afternoon when he decides to stop into the nearby tea house and grab himself a quick cuppa. Perhaps sit for a spell and ruminate over everything he's learned and experienced since involuntarily relocating to this new place which is nothing like any location he's experienced before.]
[He's always been an adaptable thing but right now: the blonde needs to breathe, even if it's only for twenty minutes or so.]
[He doesn't bother removing his shades when he enters — the sun is so bright for his pale eyes — and immediately approaches the counter to peruse what the non-British would pass off as tea when he sees — ]
[Dark hair out of the corner of his eye, and oh shit. Dream or no, Mello knows it was an exchanged that did occur. But he's never been one to hide. Isn't in his nature.]
[He turns his face towards Linden, lips drawn into a tight attempt to keep his mouth shut, but he's never been much good at that either, has he?]
Didn't think I'd see you here, [he announces loud enough to gain L's attention. Was hoping to avoid running into his 'predecessor' anywhere, really. He's already got too much on his plate.]
[DiplomaTea is run by a second degree of familiarity to L; that is, while he is not close or even truly acquainted with Everett, he is Bonded to Myr, who trusts him. L finds it difficult to trust, so much that paradoxically, he tends to place a ridiculous amount of trust in one person to compensate for a normal amount he obstinately will not give others. For good or ill, Myr is rather the receptacle for what passes for faith, from one of their ilk.
Therefore, simply, DiplomaTea is perhaps the only establishment of its sort that L will actually stay for awhile, rest his limbs, enjoy his drink instead of hurrying off toward his next destination. Now that he's consistently a busy man, there's always somewhere to be, something to look into, the occasional gentle volunteer hour, and of course the three Bonded between whom he divides his time and energy.
He's stopped off at a station for honey and cream. The hand drizzling the former into his waiting cup hovers and halts, and he glances sideways at the tense, familiar voice. He does not turn fully to face Mello; he's not sure whether he will not, or cannot.]
I live in the Haven, and I drink tea. Considering that I don't hide my face, here... my presence shouldn't be shocking.
[Mello was breaking the ice; what else is there to say? This is the first time they're meeting in Aefenglom in the flesh; the dream both counts, and does not.
In person, L might seem shabbier, paler, older. A dark, indented scar rings the base of each finger. In spite of the brittle way he has about him, he's dressed better than he was in the dream, better than one who knows him might expect. A meticulous hand has fastened his tie, double-checked that his buttons are in an even line, pressed his jacket (in flattering charcoal houndstooth) free of wrinkles.]
When a world is this small... coincidences are common.
[His tone implies unfortunately. The word goes unspoken, though, so who could say?]
[Never one to mince words; Mello hasn't let go of that exchange since the moment it occurred. Confusing and painful — aggravating — he would prefer to avoid hostility. He's not Beyond. Never will be. He would have gladly worked beneath L (and isn't that a fucking like) had the detective avoided sacrificing himself for a case.]
[Then again, didn't Mello do the same?]
[He'll step away from the counter first, though, tea in hand. He'd prefer to sit. M doesn't expect this to be a short conversation. Quite the opposite.]
[And God, he might be dying. But he won't show it. Weakness is unacceptable. Especially after everything he's learned.]
[That exchange has likewise been gnawing at the back of L's mind since the night of that ominous, shared dream. It's a lot to process for both men involved, for vastly different reasons. The knowledge isn't evenly shared, and the emotions aren't purely fair.
L knows as much better than Mello, perhaps.]
Do we?
[He sounds hunted, exasperated, as he sets aside the honey dipper. He'd also wanted to avoid this, although Mello's words indicate that he's not being entirely truthful.]
I frequent this place. I'd rather there wasn't a scene.
[A neutral enough statement. He didn't directly accuse Mello of wanting to start something, after all.]
[Do they? Really? If there's one thing (among many) that Mello absolutely abhors: it's being dismissed. Because he's made quite the name for himself, whether or not L was alive to see it — and no one dismisses someone like him.]
[Just breathe.]
Yea.
[He'll appear completely unaffected if that's what needs to happen.]
I've no intention of causing a scene, so we're on even ground where that's concerned.
[And if L just walks away from him? While infuriating, M will let it go. As much as it would inevitably tear him up for eons. He nods towards a nearby cafe' table, small enough to seat only two. Near a corner so their conversation (if there is to be one) doesn't occur in the middle of other patrons.]
[Dismissing Mello does feel cruel, but it also feels necessary. L can't chum the waters for a repeat of last time; it would almost be better if they were enemies, because he is assured of his own strength and his own ruthlessness. Near cares for Mello, in his way, but L believes he'd be understanding if L needed to assert dominance, put the other in his place, teach a lesson of pain in order to once and for all to demand the deference of the younger man.
Because, while Mello has claimed to revere and respect L, his actions have told the opposite story. Merely by nature of being a human being, with more than the typical flaws and frailties plaguing him, L has caught Mello's building frustration and contempt before.]
There's one regard in which we are not on even ground.
[More than that, certainly, but L chooses to focus on the one that is relevant.]
I've had this conversation before. Knowing you, already, as well as that conversation's outcome... potential for change is uncertain.
[There have been changes, of course. Near's age and perspective; Light Yagami's presence and status as L's Bonded. The fact that no matter the degree of Mello's determination or desire, L can't take on more Bonds, and is unwilling to relinquish any of his current ones.]
[L is so cold, but should Mello expect anything else? His brows furrow above his shades while he considers an appropriate response that wouldn't cause a scene. This is a man who has brought criminals to their knees. This is a man who now holds contempt for him, and regardless of how frail he appears, M has always thought of his predecessor of someone who simply shouldn't be fucked with.]
[He half-nods, because what else can he do? This can either be ugly or amicable. He would prefer the latter, even if the other did nothing short of threaten him during their previous encounter.]
[L is a stronger Witch than Mello is. (For now.) Pissing him off at the moment just isn't in the cards. But it shouldn't be this way. L should mentor him, as far as his former potential is concerned.]
Then you need to tell me who you think I am.
[He moves towards the table. L owes him that much since he up and died on them, doesn't he?]
You're expecting me to accept a truth of which I don't know the details.
[L should walk; he should go, and leave, and retain a balanced status quo no matter how frustrating it is for Mello. The boy needs to learn, doesn't he, that he can't have what he wants when he wants it, that sometimes life says no, or God, if he likes to think of it in those terms?
Mello's face, blotched by those burn scars, demonstrates well enough that he knows already. L exhales softly, in a measured way; he might be counting as he breathes.
He doesn't have to sit across from the other witch. His legs might as well be chained and dragged, though, drawn helplessly toward the frustrating, irritating incomplete picture that Mello has been faced with since arriving.
He sits.]
You're a Christian. Catholic, if I recall.
[How on earth could he forget?]
At some point, you were taught that some things shouldn't be questioned. That some things are beyond comprehension, and your life and questions are threads in a grander design according to some higher judgment.
[Mello's a bad Catholic, though.]
I suppose you wouldn't have been a successor candidate, had you actually believed those things.
[And this is so different from their previous encounter, isn't it?]
[Fire and threats, and Mello only understood a fraction of it from a man whom he would've fallen to a knee in front of. L is afraid and tentative. L seems to hate him and no one can tell the blonde the exact reason why.]
There is no God.
[His arrival here has proven as much, even if certain aspects are ingrained into his psyche. He wraps his hands around the cup — nothing scalding can burn him now with his limited power, and sets his eyes on the liquid.]
I've realized that a short time ago. Unless this is my punishment — [Which he deserves, honestly.] — which I would have deserved...
[It makes no sense. A shake of a pale head.]
It doesn't make sense.
[He's more quiet now, more serene. Mello just wants answers, and he can't get them out of anyone. He shifts in the chair. Inhales his resolve.]
I want to know specifically what I did to hurt you. [L is no coward. Cold. To the point. Mello has learned this in this life and the last.]
[L's answer is, at least initially, silence. There is no God; this is a conclusion he's reached as well, long before this point, finding it difficult (if not impossible) to entertain the notion in their own world, let alone Aefenglom.]
It's not a punishment. Our lot here has nothing to do with what we left and had, or did before.
[He can say as much with some confidence. He wasn't good, after all, not by any but the most reductive standards. As for what Mello's asking him for, though... he swallows, and meets the other's eyes with a flinty and unblinking stare.]
If you don't believe the outline of the matter, you certainly won't believe the details. I gave you the gist and you dismissed it out of hand... yet you don't consider for even one moment that perhaps I find this difficult and unpleasant to revisit.
[He benefits from the sanitized version, too. It was a fight, like young men get into, sometimes. Injuries without implications or baggage, just torn and bruised flesh that could have come from any stray fist or offensive spell. Mello wanted it more; Mello took it.]
You also don't consider the insult of throwing the clean slate I've offered back in my face. I want you to thrive here.
[L's tone is enough to make Mello flinch with his tea half-raised to his lips. He doesn't know if more severity to the man's voice would make things better or worse. Regardless of what the blonde has done — in L's name... no. In his own name. L was always an excuse wasn't he? — he fears he will be an eternal child before his ex-mentor who wants nothing to do with him at all.]
Doesn't seem like you want me to thrive.
[Because Mello can be a cold thing, too.]
Seems like you'd rather me disappear so you can carry on with Kira without judgment, yea. [After all, isn't this what it all comes down to?]
[T'ch.]
I'll leave it alone.
[No, he won't. L isn't the only detective at the table.]
On one condition. [Might as well take it where he can get it.] At least tell me why you didn't choose. [Finally, he takes a sip. The liquid is warm and acceptable; it's definitely leagues away from proper British tea.] You knew that case could've killed you. [And it did. Fuck, it did.] You had two successors lined up.
[Since they're being bold, and all.]
You left fucking kids to pick up the pieces. Destroyed all evidence. I almost murdered N because of you.
[No, he won't refer to Near as "Eli" while speaking in this context. The connection could be made by anyone with an open ear.]
[If Mello can be a cold thing, perhaps L would welcome a reprieve from the scorching, unrelenting heat. That's what he'd had, when Mello wasn't here, and so... there might be some bleak truth to what the younger man accuses him of. If he disappeared, it would certainly be simpler; if he vanished, the status quo L's come to covet could continue unimpeded and unquestioned.
It's an evil thing to wish for. L doesn't, actively; he doesn't believe he could, even now, even when Mello makes a point of mentioning what L hasn't.
So, he's offended. Predictably. It'll only be leverage if L allows it to be, and he does have no small measure of power here. He's reminded of it starkly as Mello names his terms, sets them between them on the table like the two cups of tea.]
You... want to know why I didn't choose.
[As if that could possibly ever be it. Mello, freshly arrived, would want to know, wouldn't he?]
Two reasons. The first was that I wasn't planning to die, the second was that the two of you weren't ready.
[Yes, he said "the two of you."]
The fact that you "almost murdered N" rather confirms that you remained unready for years to come.
[He shakes his head. To all of it. fucking liar is on the tip of his tongue, but Mello silences it with another sip of mediocre tea. Any case could be their last — they learned that from an age when it might have been too early for the reality to set in. Crime scene photos of mutilated bodies and blood spattered over walls as part of the curriculum; (never allow yourself to become directly involved in a case. Don't give them your name; don't show them your face.) Crimes that children their age wouldn't have otherwise thought were possible spoken of matter-of-factly as though they were learning maths or fucking Shakespeare — ]
[L broke every damn rule in the book.]
Planning and taking the possibility into account are two different things.
[Short. Accusatory.]
Once you showed your face, all bets were off. You should have chosen then. Should've made sure we were ready.
[But L didn't, and it wasn't due to pomposity, was it? No. It was pure, unbridled selfishness. Leave them in the hands of The House and its staff while he runs off and abandons them, leaves them to die afterwards.]
I never hated you, you know. [As he stares down into the liquid.] Because part of me always believed that you gave a shit, and he just bested you before you were ready.
L's dark eyes narrow. His tea sits untouched in front of him as he holds himself stiff and still.]
If it would have changed the outcome, and allowed you to survive by cooperating amicably with someone else? Yes, you should have. I wouldn't have cared; I died.
[He shakes his shaggy head, bitter, dismissive.]
Is that why you wanted to talk, truly? To hold me accountable for every life wasted in connection to my legacy? If so, you should know that my count could rival Kira's.
[L has a point: how many lives were sacrificed for Mello's 'cause'? (Whatever it might have been.) and how many more got caught in the crossfire without him even knowing they existed? He wanted to think they were more when it came to L, because Mello had always wanted to believe that L was better than him — One can't equate themselves with something Holy — and if he admits that L is just a man, well.]
[A measured exhale. No, that's not why he wanted to speak. He wanted to speak because he walked in here for fucking tea and one negative encounter and an accusation of something Mello doesn't even know the details of isn't enough to wipe something away that's carved into his bones. He'll have to scrub them clean, himself.]
[But this isn't the way.]
Mmno. [He admits, and L might notice his shoulders slacken a bit. Linden's response was nothing short of a reprimand, wasn't it? Mello: the eternal child — he doesn't want to believe that he will always back down before L, but.]
[That's exactly what he's doing, isn't it? He can't pretend to be ignorant towards where they — all of them — stood in L's peripheral. See that flick of his eyes towards the counter, the way his fingers grip the cup so tightly? That's the outward expression of Faith being crushed underfoot.]
[Of course, he isn't going to say all of that. No point to it.]
I just didn't want to leave things the way they were after that — [He hesitates.] — dream.
[The last time Mello was here, it had become a desperate mission for L to pull himself down from the pedestal the younger man worshiped at. The effigy wasn't flesh, and couldn't be, and the finicky and flawed detective in particular is not up to the task of maintaining that backbreaking illusion, in person, with regular and scrutinizing interaction.
This time, a different tack is required. One that's even colder and more distant. Mello will not be L's friend or Bonded; Mello will also not question that this is L, and actually listen to what the man tells him to do even if he hates it. As dubious as the reasons are, that's an outcome he desires.]
What do you want, Malakai.
[L sounds irritated, tired.]
Is it that you want to leave things differently, or that you don't want to leave...?
[Something twists in Mello's stomach so hard that he almost retches his tea. If he can read people, L's a goddamn psychic (and maybe he is.) Mello doesn't know the extent of his power. He'd been warned by his ex-idol that he is, indeed, a powerful witch.]
[But that tone. Oh, it's enough to crumble anyone, even someone as strong as the blonde who sits across from him. Mello feels too seen, and it's too much. There's no veil to hide behind, no other way for L to phrase what he just threw in his face.]
[The answer lies somewhere in-between.]
I don't want you to be a ghost to me.
[As honest as he can be. Mello doesn't think he can handle knowing that L is alive and well, and M won't be able to see him. What the fuck kind of shit is that? It's not like he's working a case worlds away. They're so close that they just happened to run into each other in the very same tea shop.]
[There might be a bit of accusation to his next question. Just a little.]
If I see you, am I supposed to just pretend otherwise?
[Please don't say yes. After all, L didn't throw Near away, did he? No. Quite the opposite.]
[L doesn't get any kind of kick out of being cruel this way. It doesn't make him happy and it doesn't give him satisfaction. But Mello's reaction really drives home the sobering fact that this is the approach needed. The mistake of vulnerability won't be repeated; becoming human in the other's eyes means becoming accessible, exploitable, and attackable, and at least this way, he commands his former successor's respect, or something like it.
It's a start.]
My life here is very different. If you think of me as the person I am now, and not the person I was, it's unlikely our paths would ever cross in a meaningful way, and unlikely that I would ever merit your attention.
[Mello, in the previous iteration, had once even stooped to calling him unattractive, to remind him of how unextraordinary he was without the grace afforded him by his title and their history.
He's learned, the hard way, that when he allows Mello to humanize him, dehumanization soon follows.]
[Mello takes in the other's words like rough waters running over high, thick rocks. He has his answer, as much as it insults and tears at him. The flat stare L receives in return should reveal as much, but the blonde is at a loss. What is he supposed to do? He's always been a dog at L's feet, and if his idol tells him to "stay," he's been trained to do just that.]
[Even if it goes against everything that Mello is.]
[But he does tip his head, throw an inquisitive look in L's direction.]
[You merit my attention, now.]
[But Mello won't say it, only curl gloved fingers against the edge of the table. L is tossing him and there isn't a fucking logical thing he can do about it without looking like an absolute head case. So he only gives a slow blink, purses his lips so hard that his teeth nearly hurt beneath.]
Whatever happened. [That he has no recollection of.]
I'm assuming "sorry" wouldn't make the grade, yea.
[L feels regret that throwing Mello away is the result of this, the natural conclusion and follow-through. As much as the younger man might hate it, it's necessary, bitter medicine. It'll be hard to swallow; it'll also go toward mending and healing a gaping, painful chasm.
He sighs shallowly at the question. Mello is offering an apology for something he doesn't remember; such an apology can't be worth much, but it's his own decision to sit on this information. It's his own desperate call to clutch control over something about this whole difficult situation.]
Does "sorry" ever make the grade? No, this...
[You carved that chasm, stroke by stroke. I enabled it, but you took, and took beyond what I could give, and--
He realizes that his hands are tight in his lap. His feet are on the floor and his shoulders curled forward; he tries, consciously, to unwind and untense.]
It'll take time. Time, and a trial period. Given evidence that things can be different this time, perhaps they can be.
[You fucking left us, I've no reason to redeem — ]
[But Mello stills, wraps his hands firmly around his cup even though on top of his own, the heat is nearly unbearable. L is giving him an out here, isn't he? In two ways: he can either assuage something he doesn't even remember, or throw the whole thing away. Let go of a past life. Move on. He knows in his soul that the other man would prefer the latter, but Mello's always been a selfish thing.]
It isn't my intention to hurt you.
[Not really.]
When I was a kid, yea —
[Pause. Blink. He's not a kid anymore. But he'll continue anyway.]
I thought you were immortal. [Never thought L would die so soon, at least. After all, L was only a few years older than Mello is, now.]
Thought I could be good enough to work beside you. I never wanted to go off on my own.
[An absolute lie, but it feels like truth as they sit across from each other with cups of tea being inevitable timers upon which this encounter will end. And after that? Who knows when or if they'll ever see each other again?]
[It's difficult to look directly at Mello, both for the fractured serrated memories that L can't blot out and the clear anguish the other man is in. L manages it, anyway, though he blinks more frequently, as if the shutter is closing before the camera refocuses on a difficult subject.
He nods. He knows; when Mello was a kid, he thought a lot of things. He believed in justice; it's closer and clearer in his past than some point when a younger version of L also believed.]
You're not on your own here. You have Eli, who grieved you when you left before, and needs you, now.
[He cups thin hands around his tea cup.]
He's your match; I'm just a man, and proof of that will only mount, the more time you spend with me.
[It'll make him either contemptible, or accessible. Both are the first step in a long and messy trainwreck; it's better to make it sound undesirable from the start.]
[And Mello... actually laughs. How rich. Both the idea of Near needing him and them being a 'match' are absurd. What they've agreed to is purely logical; the blonde doesn't expect it to go very well in the grand scheme of things.]
That right? [To everything, really. Mello stretches his neck, his legs, before going on.]
And exactly why do you think he "needs" me?
[Sip, stare. Near can handle himself; Mello knows that much. But for L to suggest such a thing.]
Is it because you bonding with Kira might've fucked with him as much as it has me?
[Just a thought. L doesn't need to worry; his ex-protege will be taking his leave, soon. He just needs to take his jabs where he can.]
[L expects any number of reactions; laughter, unfortunately, is one of the possible ones, even as it's not exactly desirable. He's dealt with mockery by either not caring or shutting it down swiftly; are either of those things appropriate in this situation, in the face of these questions and accusations?]
I don't have to defend my decisions to you.
[A simple statement, no inherent apology.]
I also don't have to defend them to Eli, although... if any aspect offends or disturbs him, I wouldn't be acutely aware. He doesn't wear such things on his sleeve.
[So L is suggesting that Mello is transparent. The off-handed accusation doesn't sit well, but M maintains his composure. Sips his tea. Attempts to ignore the hostility from one he would have once regarded as God, himself.]
[It's tearing up his stomach, really. But the blonde won't reveal that. L already holds a pre-conceived contempt — that much is clear — but it needs to be said — ]
I've already bonded with Eli. [Another sip. Could almost be taken as nervous.] And I have another potential Monster bond. [As his eyes narrow slightly.] Three monsters would weaken me beyond what I'd consider acceptable.
[A half-grin, almost teasing.] I need a Witch.
Suppose you're off the table?
[Definitely. Maybe not. Mello is attractive after all; he knows that much. But he already knows the answer. Besides, he doesn't think he could possibly deal with this level of animosity from a man he worshiped for most of his life. It stings too much.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[Action] — (3/18)
[Not that he ever has, but that's beside the point. It's an uneventful afternoon when he decides to stop into the nearby tea house and grab himself a quick cuppa. Perhaps sit for a spell and ruminate over everything he's learned and experienced since involuntarily relocating to this new place which is nothing like any location he's experienced before.]
[He's always been an adaptable thing but right now: the blonde needs to breathe, even if it's only for twenty minutes or so.]
[He doesn't bother removing his shades when he enters — the sun is so bright for his pale eyes — and immediately approaches the counter to peruse what the non-British would pass off as tea when he sees — ]
[Dark hair out of the corner of his eye, and oh shit. Dream or no, Mello knows it was an exchanged that did occur. But he's never been one to hide. Isn't in his nature.]
[He turns his face towards Linden, lips drawn into a tight attempt to keep his mouth shut, but he's never been much good at that either, has he?]
Didn't think I'd see you here, [he announces loud enough to gain L's attention. Was hoping to avoid running into his 'predecessor' anywhere, really. He's already got too much on his plate.]
no subject
Therefore, simply, DiplomaTea is perhaps the only establishment of its sort that L will actually stay for awhile, rest his limbs, enjoy his drink instead of hurrying off toward his next destination. Now that he's consistently a busy man, there's always somewhere to be, something to look into, the occasional gentle volunteer hour, and of course the three Bonded between whom he divides his time and energy.
He's stopped off at a station for honey and cream. The hand drizzling the former into his waiting cup hovers and halts, and he glances sideways at the tense, familiar voice. He does not turn fully to face Mello; he's not sure whether he will not, or cannot.]
I live in the Haven, and I drink tea. Considering that I don't hide my face, here... my presence shouldn't be shocking.
[Mello was breaking the ice; what else is there to say? This is the first time they're meeting in Aefenglom in the flesh; the dream both counts, and does not.
In person, L might seem shabbier, paler, older. A dark, indented scar rings the base of each finger. In spite of the brittle way he has about him, he's dressed better than he was in the dream, better than one who knows him might expect. A meticulous hand has fastened his tie, double-checked that his buttons are in an even line, pressed his jacket (in flattering charcoal houndstooth) free of wrinkles.]
When a world is this small... coincidences are common.
[His tone implies unfortunately. The word goes unspoken, though, so who could say?]
no subject
[Never one to mince words; Mello hasn't let go of that exchange since the moment it occurred. Confusing and painful — aggravating — he would prefer to avoid hostility. He's not Beyond. Never will be. He would have gladly worked beneath L (and isn't that a fucking like) had the detective avoided sacrificing himself for a case.]
[Then again, didn't Mello do the same?]
[He'll step away from the counter first, though, tea in hand. He'd prefer to sit. M doesn't expect this to be a short conversation. Quite the opposite.]
[And God, he might be dying. But he won't show it. Weakness is unacceptable. Especially after everything he's learned.]
no subject
L knows as much better than Mello, perhaps.]
Do we?
[He sounds hunted, exasperated, as he sets aside the honey dipper. He'd also wanted to avoid this, although Mello's words indicate that he's not being entirely truthful.]
I frequent this place. I'd rather there wasn't a scene.
[A neutral enough statement. He didn't directly accuse Mello of wanting to start something, after all.]
no subject
[Just breathe.]
Yea.
[He'll appear completely unaffected if that's what needs to happen.]
I've no intention of causing a scene, so we're on even ground where that's concerned.
[And if L just walks away from him? While infuriating, M will let it go. As much as it would inevitably tear him up for eons. He nods towards a nearby cafe' table, small enough to seat only two. Near a corner so their conversation (if there is to be one) doesn't occur in the middle of other patrons.]
no subject
Because, while Mello has claimed to revere and respect L, his actions have told the opposite story. Merely by nature of being a human being, with more than the typical flaws and frailties plaguing him, L has caught Mello's building frustration and contempt before.]
There's one regard in which we are not on even ground.
[More than that, certainly, but L chooses to focus on the one that is relevant.]
I've had this conversation before. Knowing you, already, as well as that conversation's outcome... potential for change is uncertain.
[There have been changes, of course. Near's age and perspective; Light Yagami's presence and status as L's Bonded. The fact that no matter the degree of Mello's determination or desire, L can't take on more Bonds, and is unwilling to relinquish any of his current ones.]
no subject
[He half-nods, because what else can he do? This can either be ugly or amicable. He would prefer the latter, even if the other did nothing short of threaten him during their previous encounter.]
[L is a stronger Witch than Mello is. (For now.) Pissing him off at the moment just isn't in the cards. But it shouldn't be this way. L should mentor him, as far as his former potential is concerned.]
Then you need to tell me who you think I am.
[He moves towards the table. L owes him that much since he up and died on them, doesn't he?]
You're expecting me to accept a truth of which I don't know the details.
[He glances back.]
I can't do that.
no subject
Mello's face, blotched by those burn scars, demonstrates well enough that he knows already. L exhales softly, in a measured way; he might be counting as he breathes.
He doesn't have to sit across from the other witch. His legs might as well be chained and dragged, though, drawn helplessly toward the frustrating, irritating incomplete picture that Mello has been faced with since arriving.
He sits.]
You're a Christian. Catholic, if I recall.
[How on earth could he forget?]
At some point, you were taught that some things shouldn't be questioned. That some things are beyond comprehension, and your life and questions are threads in a grander design according to some higher judgment.
[Mello's a bad Catholic, though.]
I suppose you wouldn't have been a successor candidate, had you actually believed those things.
no subject
[Fire and threats, and Mello only understood a fraction of it from a man whom he would've fallen to a knee in front of. L is afraid and tentative. L seems to hate him and no one can tell the blonde the exact reason why.]
There is no God.
[His arrival here has proven as much, even if certain aspects are ingrained into his psyche. He wraps his hands around the cup — nothing scalding can burn him now with his limited power, and sets his eyes on the liquid.]
I've realized that a short time ago. Unless this is my punishment — [Which he deserves, honestly.] — which I would have deserved...
[It makes no sense. A shake of a pale head.]
It doesn't make sense.
[He's more quiet now, more serene. Mello just wants answers, and he can't get them out of anyone. He shifts in the chair. Inhales his resolve.]
I want to know specifically what I did to hurt you. [L is no coward. Cold. To the point. Mello has learned this in this life and the last.]
But you won't tell me outright.
no subject
It's not a punishment. Our lot here has nothing to do with what we left and had, or did before.
[He can say as much with some confidence. He wasn't good, after all, not by any but the most reductive standards. As for what Mello's asking him for, though... he swallows, and meets the other's eyes with a flinty and unblinking stare.]
If you don't believe the outline of the matter, you certainly won't believe the details. I gave you the gist and you dismissed it out of hand... yet you don't consider for even one moment that perhaps I find this difficult and unpleasant to revisit.
[He benefits from the sanitized version, too. It was a fight, like young men get into, sometimes. Injuries without implications or baggage, just torn and bruised flesh that could have come from any stray fist or offensive spell. Mello wanted it more; Mello took it.]
You also don't consider the insult of throwing the clean slate I've offered back in my face. I want you to thrive here.
no subject
Doesn't seem like you want me to thrive.
[Because Mello can be a cold thing, too.]
Seems like you'd rather me disappear so you can carry on with Kira without judgment, yea. [After all, isn't this what it all comes down to?]
[T'ch.]
I'll leave it alone.
[No, he won't. L isn't the only detective at the table.]
On one condition. [Might as well take it where he can get it.] At least tell me why you didn't choose. [Finally, he takes a sip. The liquid is warm and acceptable; it's definitely leagues away from proper British tea.] You knew that case could've killed you. [And it did. Fuck, it did.] You had two successors lined up.
[Since they're being bold, and all.]
You left fucking kids to pick up the pieces. Destroyed all evidence. I almost murdered N because of you.
[No, he won't refer to Near as "Eli" while speaking in this context. The connection could be made by anyone with an open ear.]
no subject
It's an evil thing to wish for. L doesn't, actively; he doesn't believe he could, even now, even when Mello makes a point of mentioning what L hasn't.
So, he's offended. Predictably. It'll only be leverage if L allows it to be, and he does have no small measure of power here. He's reminded of it starkly as Mello names his terms, sets them between them on the table like the two cups of tea.]
You... want to know why I didn't choose.
[As if that could possibly ever be it. Mello, freshly arrived, would want to know, wouldn't he?]
Two reasons. The first was that I wasn't planning to die, the second was that the two of you weren't ready.
[Yes, he said "the two of you."]
The fact that you "almost murdered N" rather confirms that you remained unready for years to come.
no subject
[L broke every damn rule in the book.]
Planning and taking the possibility into account are two different things.
[Short. Accusatory.]
Once you showed your face, all bets were off. You should have chosen then. Should've made sure we were ready.
[But L didn't, and it wasn't due to pomposity, was it? No. It was pure, unbridled selfishness. Leave them in the hands of The House and its staff while he runs off and abandons them, leaves them to die afterwards.]
I never hated you, you know. [As he stares down into the liquid.] Because part of me always believed that you gave a shit, and he just bested you before you were ready.
[Now, Mello looks up, his expression grim.]
But I should have.
no subject
L's dark eyes narrow. His tea sits untouched in front of him as he holds himself stiff and still.]
If it would have changed the outcome, and allowed you to survive by cooperating amicably with someone else? Yes, you should have. I wouldn't have cared; I died.
[He shakes his shaggy head, bitter, dismissive.]
Is that why you wanted to talk, truly? To hold me accountable for every life wasted in connection to my legacy? If so, you should know that my count could rival Kira's.
no subject
[L has a point: how many lives were sacrificed for Mello's 'cause'? (Whatever it might have been.) and how many more got caught in the crossfire without him even knowing they existed? He wanted to think they were more when it came to L, because Mello had always wanted to believe that L was better than him — One can't equate themselves with something Holy — and if he admits that L is just a man, well.]
[A measured exhale. No, that's not why he wanted to speak. He wanted to speak because he walked in here for fucking tea and one negative encounter and an accusation of something Mello doesn't even know the details of isn't enough to wipe something away that's carved into his bones. He'll have to scrub them clean, himself.]
[But this isn't the way.]
Mmno. [He admits, and L might notice his shoulders slacken a bit. Linden's response was nothing short of a reprimand, wasn't it? Mello: the eternal child — he doesn't want to believe that he will always back down before L, but.]
[That's exactly what he's doing, isn't it? He can't pretend to be ignorant towards where they — all of them — stood in L's peripheral. See that flick of his eyes towards the counter, the way his fingers grip the cup so tightly? That's the outward expression of Faith being crushed underfoot.]
[Of course, he isn't going to say all of that. No point to it.]
I just didn't want to leave things the way they were after that — [He hesitates.] — dream.
no subject
This time, a different tack is required. One that's even colder and more distant. Mello will not be L's friend or Bonded; Mello will also not question that this is L, and actually listen to what the man tells him to do even if he hates it. As dubious as the reasons are, that's an outcome he desires.]
What do you want, Malakai.
[L sounds irritated, tired.]
Is it that you want to leave things differently, or that you don't want to leave...?
no subject
[But that tone. Oh, it's enough to crumble anyone, even someone as strong as the blonde who sits across from him. Mello feels too seen, and it's too much. There's no veil to hide behind, no other way for L to phrase what he just threw in his face.]
[The answer lies somewhere in-between.]
I don't want you to be a ghost to me.
[As honest as he can be. Mello doesn't think he can handle knowing that L is alive and well, and M won't be able to see him. What the fuck kind of shit is that? It's not like he's working a case worlds away. They're so close that they just happened to run into each other in the very same tea shop.]
[There might be a bit of accusation to his next question. Just a little.]
If I see you, am I supposed to just pretend otherwise?
[Please don't say yes. After all, L didn't throw Near away, did he? No. Quite the opposite.]
no subject
It's a start.]
My life here is very different. If you think of me as the person I am now, and not the person I was, it's unlikely our paths would ever cross in a meaningful way, and unlikely that I would ever merit your attention.
[Mello, in the previous iteration, had once even stooped to calling him unattractive, to remind him of how unextraordinary he was without the grace afforded him by his title and their history.
He's learned, the hard way, that when he allows Mello to humanize him, dehumanization soon follows.]
no subject
[Even if it goes against everything that Mello is.]
[But he does tip his head, throw an inquisitive look in L's direction.]
[You merit my attention, now.]
[But Mello won't say it, only curl gloved fingers against the edge of the table. L is tossing him and there isn't a fucking logical thing he can do about it without looking like an absolute head case. So he only gives a slow blink, purses his lips so hard that his teeth nearly hurt beneath.]
Whatever happened. [That he has no recollection of.]
I'm assuming "sorry" wouldn't make the grade, yea.
[Oh, he already knows the answer.]
no subject
He sighs shallowly at the question. Mello is offering an apology for something he doesn't remember; such an apology can't be worth much, but it's his own decision to sit on this information. It's his own desperate call to clutch control over something about this whole difficult situation.]
Does "sorry" ever make the grade? No, this...
[You carved that chasm, stroke by stroke. I enabled it, but you took, and took beyond what I could give, and--
He realizes that his hands are tight in his lap. His feet are on the floor and his shoulders curled forward; he tries, consciously, to unwind and untense.]
It'll take time. Time, and a trial period. Given evidence that things can be different this time, perhaps they can be.
no subject
[But Mello stills, wraps his hands firmly around his cup even though on top of his own, the heat is nearly unbearable. L is giving him an out here, isn't he? In two ways: he can either assuage something he doesn't even remember, or throw the whole thing away. Let go of a past life. Move on. He knows in his soul that the other man would prefer the latter, but Mello's always been a selfish thing.]
It isn't my intention to hurt you.
[Not really.]
When I was a kid, yea —
[Pause. Blink. He's not a kid anymore. But he'll continue anyway.]
I thought you were immortal. [Never thought L would die so soon, at least. After all, L was only a few years older than Mello is, now.]
Thought I could be good enough to work beside you. I never wanted to go off on my own.
[An absolute lie, but it feels like truth as they sit across from each other with cups of tea being inevitable timers upon which this encounter will end. And after that? Who knows when or if they'll ever see each other again?]
no subject
He nods. He knows; when Mello was a kid, he thought a lot of things. He believed in justice; it's closer and clearer in his past than some point when a younger version of L also believed.]
You're not on your own here. You have Eli, who grieved you when you left before, and needs you, now.
[He cups thin hands around his tea cup.]
He's your match; I'm just a man, and proof of that will only mount, the more time you spend with me.
[It'll make him either contemptible, or accessible. Both are the first step in a long and messy trainwreck; it's better to make it sound undesirable from the start.]
no subject
That right? [To everything, really. Mello stretches his neck, his legs, before going on.]
And exactly why do you think he "needs" me?
[Sip, stare. Near can handle himself; Mello knows that much. But for L to suggest such a thing.]
Is it because you bonding with Kira might've fucked with him as much as it has me?
[Just a thought. L doesn't need to worry; his ex-protege will be taking his leave, soon. He just needs to take his jabs where he can.]
no subject
I don't have to defend my decisions to you.
[A simple statement, no inherent apology.]
I also don't have to defend them to Eli, although... if any aspect offends or disturbs him, I wouldn't be acutely aware. He doesn't wear such things on his sleeve.
no subject
[It's tearing up his stomach, really. But the blonde won't reveal that. L already holds a pre-conceived contempt — that much is clear — but it needs to be said — ]
I've already bonded with Eli. [Another sip. Could almost be taken as nervous.] And I have another potential Monster bond. [As his eyes narrow slightly.] Three monsters would weaken me beyond what I'd consider acceptable.
[A half-grin, almost teasing.] I need a Witch.
Suppose you're off the table?
[Definitely. Maybe not. Mello is attractive after all; he knows that much. But he already knows the answer. Besides, he doesn't think he could possibly deal with this level of animosity from a man he worshiped for most of his life. It stings too much.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)