soul_logs | Some Nights I Stay Up, Cashing in my Bad Luck, Some Nights I Call it a Draw [May 1]

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Some Nights I Stay Up, Cashing in my Bad Luck, Some Nights I Call it a Draw [May 1]

Characters: L Lawliet, Bakura Ryou
Location: Starting at the apartment, ending in Las Vegas, baby!
Rating: PG for showgirls, and for L treating Bakura like a servant (wait, no, valet.)
Time: May 1, 4:00 PM to around 10:00 PM
Description: L has figured out where Light is hiding out after the cruel and humiliating "dinner party" events. But traveling without backup is a bad idea, and there are a lot of ways for two game-loving young guys to kill time before unfortunate quarries return to their crappy motel rooms.

L had not traveled outside Death City since arriving except through Shibusen's mirror transportation for missions. That made this a somewhat special occasion, but that being said, he was traveling very lightly. He had one change of clothes, Light's toothbrush (despite the fact that Bakura had bought him a whole stack of new ones), and his communicator, and that was about it. They barely filled half of the blue backpack L had chosen to carry his personal belongings, and so he filled the rest with candy.

He sounded like a piñata when he walked, but it was worth it to know that he would have snacks on the bus.

He waited expectently for Bakura to show up; the bus would be arriving within ten minutes, and while L was aware that Bakura was typically punctual, he would leave without him if he was late even this once.

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Bakura was torn between being still furious at how L had set him up and then vanished the previous night, leaving him in a nightmare he had had a hard time escaping from and being worried sick and debating when he should be calling missing persons.

When he heard the click of the lock, it was a mix of relief and fresh irritation, both which died on sight of his friend.

To say that L looked like hell would be an understatement and Bakura couldn't help but stare as he got to his feet. "Ryuzaki-kun, what---"

L was honestly planning to be very sorry, just a little bit later, when he could sweep the larger mess under the rug.

"Nothing," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just taking a quick shower before checkout..."

He shut the door; it didn't lock. He stripped, nudging his filthy clothes against the gap and turning on the shower, trying to ignore the way his vision blotched and blurred sickly as the water swirled down the drain.

Even if Bakura weren't the type to worry and hadn't been worried for hours before, he wouldn't have been brushed off by that. His eyes stayed on the shower door a long moment as he bit his lip.

Something had happened... Ryuzaki hadn't looked that pale when they had parted ways. What could have...

There were a lot of possibilities that flooded his brain as he tried to guess what had gone wrong, all of them making him more worried.

He glanced over at his already packed and waiting suitcase before laying it flat and pulling out the first aid kit. What ever had happened...

Edited 2013-02-08 13:29 (UTC)

As the water ran and L's tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth, he mentally rehearsed what was going to happen. He would finish his shower, bag up his clothes, and ask Bakura for a spare set.

L had only brought one spare set, after all. And he had come in this morning wearing it. The clothes he had left wearing the night before were covered in blood, bagged up, and discarded in a dumpster. Probably still there, since trash wasn't collected on Sunday, but nothing L wanted to ever see again.

Really, L's plan ended there. There was only so much he could explain without it sounding absolutely ridiculous. Even the bare minimum ("need clothes, don't ask") was pushing it.

L's body would ultimately make the decision for him. As he stepped into the shower, a numbness crept into his face and shimmered over his vision, the floor tilted, and his legs gave out under him. Eyes staring and unseeing, his limbs jerked and spasmed involuntarily as the water poured down on his bloodless back.

Bakura froze at the sound. There was something horrible to it, heavy and thick that made it unmistakable. "Ryuzaki-kun...?" he called, fingers white around the first aid kit as he walked to the bathroom door.

No answer. Why was there-- Maybe he hadn't heard. The water was loud, the water was always loud. Maybe---

He pounded on the door, panic rising. "Ryuzaki-kun! Are you okay?! Answer me!"

L would definitely have answered, if he could hear anything at all. Later, the moments would feel like a story he was told about another person, or a picture of someone else, even though he knew it had to be him.

A small mercy was the fact that the tub had a drain that worked well, and there wasn't enough water on the shower's floor for an unconscious man to drown in.

Bakura only waited seconds more before trying the knob, all but throwing the door open. "Ryuzaki-kun, are--"

He froze, eyes wide as he spotted his friend, crumpled in an ungainly pile. Oh fu--

Adrenaline kicked in seconds later as everything turned into a blur of motion. The water was turned off as he grabbed towels, crouching down to carefully haul L to be sitting up, wrapping the towels around him.

He was cold. Why was he so cold! Was he breathing? Pulse, he needed to--

The motion froze again as Bakura stared at his friend's wrists. The bulky stitching, the screaming red lines, the ugly deep red and purple around them....

Ambulance. He needed to call an ambulance.

L was dimly aware at first of the fact that he was being propped up, melting limply out of the stiff hypotension-caused seizure as Bakura wrapped him in towels. The ringing in his ears returned, only to fade back so he could hear his friend's ragged breathing in painfully sharp focus.

So much for discretion... Too late to hide my injuries. Next, he'll think he has to call an ambulance, and that can't happen.

He seized Bakura's wrist; his own grip wasn't particularly firm, it couldn't be, with the mess things were under those stitches, but the message had to be clear.

Bakura had been about to get up but the cold fingers around his wrist stopped him and he turned. "Ryuzaki-kun..." There was a bit of relief in his voice. If he was moving, it meant he was closer to being alive...

"I'm going to call an ambulance, okay? Just hang on..."

L swallowed past his cotton-dry throat, not releasing his weak but desperate hold on Bakura's wrist.

"No. You can't..."

"You're going to die if you don't get treated!" Bakura protested, panic rising. "The first aid kit can't do anything against this! I don't--"

His breath caught a moment before the words could escape. He didn't know what else to do. His best friend was going to die and he couldn't--

Wait.

There was something he could do. That only he could do...

"Ryuzaki-kun, I need you to resonate with me. Enough so I can try healing you."

It was a long shot. He didn't know how well it would work, how well L could take resonating in the state he was in, how well anything would work, but he had to try. Every moment lost was one more moment that those ugly bruises were going to continue to grow and his friend's skin would grow colder until nothing could save him... Even if it was only a little... even if it was just enough...!

L's cold, damp hand was in Bakura's extremely quickly and readily.

...almost as if L had been counting on that offer, several days in advance, but hopefully Bakura wouldn't be thinking about his somewhat opportunistic inclusion in the trip until much later.

Because even if the veins could be closed and strengthened just a little, to keep him from bleeding out internally, it would make all the difference.

The only thought was relief that Ryuzaki wasn't going to argue.

Bakura's transformation was almost instantaneous, the small d10 landing in L's palm, thin red thread swiftly and firmly attaching.

'Roll!'

The connection was thin and shaky and Bakura didn't dare pull on L's reserves at all, wanting to leave his friend with every bit of energy he had, but with his own determination...

He wasn't going to lose any more friends. He wasn't.

L dropped the die on the floor of the shower, giving the untrue double-weapon resonance as much of his own energy as he could without his vision fading again.

He'd underestimated his own abilities, and though there had been jokes the night before about the card-counting being insurance against the house... the real insurance was Bakura, the friend who never failed his friends.

4.

Healing was Bakura's least practiced and least used of the abilities he knew of that he had and it was always a strange feeling, turning the energy that he normally directed outward to attack or protect inward to heal, and where normally the Meister would direct the outward shot, Bakura was doing the directing this time.

The soft white light that grew around the d10 as it returned to L's palm, reaching out to gently wrap around the detectives managed wrists, sinking into them with a cool, yet somehow warm sensation, much like a warm spring breeze.

Every last bit of energy he could spare, Bakura poured into trying to repair the horrible damage, coaxing ruptured skin to smooth over seal closed, locking in what blood was remaining, stimulating the regrowth of blood cells to replace the ones both lost and floating uselessly in the large ugly bruises.

It was exhausting, but Bakura kept pushing. Even if he burned all his MP, even if he had to convert his HP...

Finally, the glow faded, returning to the d10 for just an instant before Bakura reverted to his normal self, slumping back against the wall of the bathroom, chest heaving.

He was almost afraid to look over. Had it been enough....?

The angry, searing sting of the cuts was soothed by the healing spell, despite the fact that they were both weapons and could therefore not achieve anything close to the resonation that a weapon and a meister could. For a second, all the weakness and hurt was lifted, and the veins started to knit together again and the bruises began to fade.

When Bakura returned to his human form, exhausted and slumped against the shower wall, L glanced down at his hands. His grip was stronger, the wounds were firmly scabbed over (a process he'd been struggling with, on account of never having enough iron in his diet), and the ringing in his ears was completely gone. His vision was back to normal, too, meaning at least a few blood cells has been regenerated.

It wasn't a perfect job, and it in fact couldn't be. There was evidence of the slices, and there would be scars. But it was better than L had expected or hoped for.

"Are... you all right?" He stood cautiously, using the towel bar for support.

"I'll be fine..." Bakura assured, despite the exhaustion showing in his voice and that he still hadn't moved. "I still have at least one hit point... they regenerate when I rest..."

It wasn't like it had been Luonazun he had cast. That one would use all his HP... no, he could recover from this. Even if right at the moment he just needed to sit there a moment.

... his pants were getting wet, weren't they?

"Did it....?" he asked, finally opening his eyes to look up.

"At least one hit point" hardly sounded reassuring. L panicked when he was down to one sugar cube, after all. But there wasn't much time to rest, they still had to get down to the lobby, and they still had to deal with Light.

In answer, he held out the undersides of his arms. Both of the long, diagonal lines met at his wrists, forming a "V" shape when his arms were held together. It was ugly, but it was, for all intents and purposes, healed.

"Oh thank goodness...." Bakura exhaled, any last bit of tension bleeding out of him in utter relief. He had been so worried he hadn't been able to do enough, knowing that he wouldn't be able to try again...

Very awkwardly, he pushed up, legs a touch shaky under him as he leaned against the slippery wall.

L offered him an arm in support; somehow, it seemed wrong to speak immediately. Maybe the awkwardness of standing in a bathroom in Las Vegas, naked but for a towel with his best friend who had just saved his life, even affected the notoriously unflappable L.

Bakura shook his head, not wanting to lean on the friend he had just healed. "I'm fine... just... need a moment," he assured. Already he was recovering, feet a little more stable under him, breath slowing to more normal. [HP: 5; MP: 3. Do you want to rest/save?]

L shuffled out of the bathroom to glance at the time.

...were they really down to ten minutes before checkout? Light had better not have left.

He poked his head back into the bathroom.

"Sorry, but I need clothes... those aren't fit to wear, and the ones I had last night are long gone."

"My suitcase. Not the suit, the other set," Bakura instructed, carefully patting his jeans dryer with a towel. His dirty laundry was carefully folded up and placed in the laundry bag to keep it separate from the clean clothes.

Next time he'd bring L an extra set of clothes as well... but at least he had thought to pack extras for himself.

Edited 2013-02-08 16:47 (UTC)

L slunk towards the suitcase, fishing out the other set as instructed, for once having nothing to say about how ugly he thought Bakura's clothes were. He slipped on the jeans and striped t-shirt, and then debated between the sweater and the button-up shirt.

How can a person have this many kinds of clothes? Why?

He bit his tongue and settled on the sweater. The t-shirt would protect him from the scratchiness, to an extent, and the long sleeves would cover his still grisly-looking wrists.

Between wanting to be prepared for whatever the weather would be, not being sure what he would be facing in Vegas and being fond of layering, it was very logical, in Bakura's mind, to bring as many clothes as he had.

Finally emerging from the bathroom himself, Bakura blinked once at L in his clothes before giving a faint smile. Next time, he would bring L a set of his own clothes as well...

"I think check out is in a few minutes..." he covered a small yawn as he checked his watch.

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