53 * 2 + 27 - 10 + 6 = 129 * 2 many

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103.

The number of links welded into the chain strung between him and L, counted and re-counted over many sleepless nights. It was easily done when L refused to turn the light off and Light turned to counting these instead of hypothetical sheep.

90-100.

Roughly the decibel range that L's screams could reach. Light was no audiophile to say for certain but they had made his ears ring, almost startling him out of the task at hand.

72.

The constant temperature of the building. If Light ever found an opportunity to adjust it, L discovered before long and changed it back. His sugar-fueled emaciated form demanded higher temperatures than Light could tolerate with blankets on, and he hated feeling exposed while he slept.

55.

The number of stories in the headquarters building. What they were for, Light had no idea. The team mostly worked on the bottom three, with the rest likely reserved for guest rooms, storage, cells, or server space. Light didn't know since he wasn't exactly allowed to explore the areas minus his ever-present escort.

53.

How many days Light spent in solitary confinement under suspicions of being Kira without any concrete evidence. It was also the numbers of days thus far that he had been chained to L with no end in sight. The break between the two captivities had lasted mere hours.

27.

The number of times L had dragged him out of bed and a sound sleep for varying reasons. Sometimes it was just for snacks, others it was to retrieve something he had supposedly left in the main room. Most of the time, Light suspected it was just to drive him mad.

16.

The overhead lights shining from the main room's high ceiling. It was never enough for the headquarters bore a queer resemblance to the laboratory of a mad scientist, lit more by the banks of computers and too many glaring screens than by the lamps.

10.

The number of black eyes either he or L had sported in front of the team. It was the best sight in the world to wake up to, seeing one of that smug bastard's eyes swollen shut and feeling the resultant pain in one set of his knuckles.

9.

The number of knives in the butcher block on the kitchen counter.

6.

The times Light had used his shins to find furniture in the dark while being dragged to the kitchen or bathroom, accompanied by no less than two obscenities at each opportunity.

5.

How many minutes Light had to himself in the bathroom before L either opened the door the rest of the way or demanded that he get out.

3.

The kinds of cheesecake in the refrigerator at any given time. Wammy had an uncanny knack for knowing when one was about to be exhausted and restocked before L was reduced to choosing between only two for his midnight snack. Heaven forbid Light not allow L to agonize over the decision either even as he put Light through 16 kinds of Hell while the refrigerator bled chill air all over his bare feet.

2.

The bones in L's right forearm underneath one end of the handcuffs. Also the number of teeth Light was now missing.

1.

The number of hands L had left to work with after Light repeatedly applied one of the aforementioned knives to L's frail-looking forearm.

0.

Exactly how many charges were leveled against Light even after such a vicious attack. After all, the world's greatest detective could not charge an innocent Japanese student after the kinds of human rights violations he had already committed against him, could he?

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A/N - Many thanks to recipe for insanity, the best beta money can't buy, who is probably sick to death of seeing various incarnations of this story in her inbox.

This was an attempt to produce something other than my long-winded prose; I was trying to break out of that habit. Of course, I immediately wrote a longer version in another style and will post that as "Fracture" within the next two days. Seeing the same basic plot through two different lenses might be more interesting than a single version.

Sorry for misleading story alerts - I changed the title and summary right after posting. That was the title/summary of the second "half", and it is also a testament to how badly I need sleep.