Fandom: Death Note
Pairing/Characters: Light Yagami, BB
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, or any of the characters depicted within this fic unless stated otherwise. I own the plot except where it is canonical - to make it simple, I own everything you don't recognise.
Warnings: a murder scene
Notes: Written for 50prompts, prompt table #4. Crossposted to fanfiction.net. AU so no spoilers.
1. Blood, Sweat & Tears
It always disappointing to find that one's effort's had been in vain at the endpoint, and Yagami Raito found bitterness mixed in with the stench of ash, blood and bodily fluids. Behind him was the sound of retching, but to him it was no more than a mark of the scene's appeal. And the flaws of men whose hearts should have already hardened in the face of such failures.
Matsuda Touta, face tinged with a sallow green, stood near his shoulder, encapsulated by the shadow cast back by their car-lights. Raito was the only one of the Task Force spared from that – Raito, and the man from forensics making initial notes on the body.
Or corpse – they may as well call it a corpse, for that was what it was. A dead thing, stricken from the record of the living. Another failure to write in their records: another life only the naïve had thought they would save.
Raito sighed through his nose before nodding at the man from forensics, returning to the cars for his camera. Matsuda stepped back, backing awkwardly into the door before shuffling sideways. Aizawa, pausing in meaningless reassurances, frowned at him. Matsuda wringed his hands in response, feeling useless in the clogged air.
'So…what now?' he asked.
Aizawa's frown became more pronounced, but he simply looked towards Raito and said nothing. There was nothing he could say, after all, except soft words to wipe away the embarrassed tears of their newest members, or light scolds to reprimand the foolish quirks of a slightly older one.
Raito caught the look and responded. 'We tell the Chief…and then we turn to a new case.'
The words weren't met with surprise, except an embarrassed hiccup from the latest recruit, coaxed back by soothing rubbing motions on his back. Matsuda found himself a little saddened; as close as he had gotten, he saw a ring on the once beautiful woman wrangled beyond repair; he would probably be the one sent to tell her husband, or fiancé, of their failure.
Raito looked at the scene one more time before the artificial flash of the camera lit it up; the frown became hard on his face and his jaw set as he turned back to the rest of the team. 'We're done here,' he snapped. And they were done; they'd done nothing, accomplished nothing. They were done. 'We're heading back; Matsuda, pick up some coffee, won't you?'
Matsuda thought he needed something stronger himself. The inherent scent of his bachelor pad would make his stomach roll after the echo of such a scene, and he didn't fancy the clean-up one bit.