A/N: I know, I know. I suck balls.

Short, but it's better than nothing. Two updates (one for AoD) in one day. Imagine that. I think I got my mojo back. So expect updates to come quicker.

Special thanks to Tarshil, who pointed out something that I didn't catch and still makes me laugh whenever I think about it. To quote Tarshil, "The Sound of Silence by Quiet...hahaha. You got style." Thanks, man.

The Sound of Silence

Stolen

"And no one dare

Disturb the sound of silence."

- Simon and Garfunkel "The Sound of Silence"

If Sayu knew that Light was home and sick, then logically, it wouldn't be very long until his mother knew he was home and sick.

The nightmare and the resulting breakdown weighed heavily on his mind, and he found that numbing himself to the pain was better than thinking about it, at the very least. He was trying to do just that when the door opened, slowly, as if the person didn't want to wake him if he had been asleep. His mother, then.

"Light?" she called softly, peaking her head around the door.

"Hey, Mom," he murmured, eyes half lidded.

"Oh, Light. Why didn't you tell me you were here? Or sick?" asked Sachiko, closing the door behind her. She sat on his bed. "Come here, baby," she whispered, pulling Light up and to her into a warm embrace.

The last time he'd been hugged like this by his mother, Light mused silently as he begged the feeling of revulsion to go away, had been years ago – at least as long as the last time he'd been majorly sick, and he never got sick often. Just another reason for his god delusions to have had such a stronghold, he supposed.

Revulsion warred with pleasure, but Light was stubborn, and he brought his arms up, wrapping them around his mother, clinging to her, his head on her shoulder. She rubbed soothing circles into his back, much like Sayu had earlier, but it wasn't so bad this time. Just as long as Light kept focusing on her.

He felt a sudden and overwhelming swell of love for this woman, his own mother, and wondered how he could have ever considered sacrificing his family to Kira. The thought made him sick.

"Light? Are you crying?" asked his mother, surprise in her voice.

"N-no," whispered Light, squeezing his eyes against the tears, his hand curling on the fabric of her blouse.

"You're a horrible liar," said his mother. Light shuddered. No, he really wasn't. That had been part of the problem.

She pulled back gently, and Light literally had to make himself let go of her. She searched his face, obviously upset by what she saw. She layed a cool hand against his head, then both cheeks.

"I don't remember the last time you were so sick," she said, her voice soothing. "What time did Sayu give you the Tylenol?"

Light shrugged minutely. "I don't really remember."

"I'll ask her, and then I'll bring you something. Here, lay down. If you get any worse, I'll have to call the doctors office and make you an appointment," she warned, tucking the blanket in around him.

Light grimaced. He would make himself get better before he went to a doctor's. Doctors were trained to see what was wrong with people. One look at Light, and the doctor would know. That was something Light wouldn't – couldn't – stand for.

"Don't give me that look. You're sick Light, and I can't believe you've been holed up in your room all this time as bad as you look. You'll go to he doctors if there isn't any improvement by tomorrow," she warned, her hand coming up to her hips.

Light nodded, but inwardly he was shaking his head.. "Okay, Mom."

She smiled softly, her hands falling from her hips. "Are you hungry?"

Light winced.

"No, then. You need to keep hydrated, even if you can't stomach anything," his mother informed him. "I'll be right back with some water, and I think we might even have some Sprite if your sister hasn't drunken it all."

"I did okay with the crackers," offered Light, more than a little hesistant. True, he had done okay with the one cracker he had managed to choke down. The other three were hiding from Sayu in his bedside table, lest she see and try to make him eat them when he really had no desire to.

But now he was trying to convince his mother that he was getting better so that she wouldn't manhandle him to the doctors. Voluntarily eating, even if it was just a few crackers under her hawk-like gaze, was much more preferable than being paraded through the doctor's office like some sort of freak show exhibit.

His mother smiled brightly, "The saltines?"

Light nodded.

"I'll be right back," she said, shutting the door behind her.

Light let a sigh of relief escape him before gingerly settling himself back into the covers. That had been exhausting. His emotions had gone haywire, and he was especially surprised at how strongly he had felt towards his mother just then.

He frowned. It figured that a traumatic expirience would not only shock him out of his delusions of godhood, but turn him into a needy child desperate for his mother's comfort.

Light snorted, pulling the covers up over his head. He wasn't a needy child. He wasn't a child either. Hadn't been for a very long time. But he couldn't deny the feeling of safety that his mother gave him. It was only natural, he supposed.

After all, the woman was his mother, and if there was such a person who it was in their very nature to care for him and keep him safe, then it was his own mother. On some deep, instinctual level, Light realized this, and sought out her comfort.

And on another level entirely, he wanted to refuse her comfort. Her touched burned, and her presence left him guilty and unsettled – disgusted with himself for being used and soiled. Disgusted with himself for ever having entertained the thought of her death. Light closed his eyes. His warring emotions were what was making him sick, and all he wanted to do was find a way off that particular roller coster from hell.

It was close to an hour after his mother had brought him a few crackers and another round of Tylenol that his father slammed into his room.

Light jumped, his mind flashing once to a dark alley before focusing on the his quick breathed father. Did he run up the stairs?

"This is where you've been?" demanded Soichirou.

Light opened his mouth, at a loss for words. He hadn't seen his father this angry in a long time. What had he done? "Umm . . ."

"You've been here, in bed, for the past three days?" asked his father again. His mother came up behind him, grabbing his arm.

"Soichirou, he's sick. Let's leave his alo -" Soichirou shook off his wife's touch, stalking into the room.

"You couldn't have picked up the goddamn phone and called me? Do you know what your disappearence has done? Do you have any idea what the taskforce thinks?" demanded Soichirou once again.

Light blinked. Well he had sent a text . . . before his phone died. And, honestly, he hadn't given much thought to what everyone back at headquarters would think about his disappearence. He'd been trying not to think much at all for the past few days.

He shook his head. "I sent you a tex –"

"The notebook is gone, Light! It's gone! It disappeared the same time you did! Put two and two together!" yelled his father, clenching his fists.

Light felt his mouth go slack in his shock. The Death Note was gone? Disappeared at the same time he did? Shit. It didn't take a genius to figure out how that must have looked to everyone back at headquarters, as his father so kindly pointed out with his harsh manner.

The realization of the gravity of the situation must have shown in his face, if his father's next words were anything to go by. "Exactly, Light! Exactly! They think you stole it!"

Light glared, in the most honest indignation he had ever felt. "I didn't steal it! Why the hell would I want a killer notebook! Ryuuzaki was supposed to have it under lock and key! What? Did he leave it lying around somewhere? Coffee stained and sitting in a pile of sugar cubes?"

"I don't want to believe it! How could I want my own son to be a murderer!? But the situation isn't in your favor, Light, especially when Ryuuzaki was planning on testing the thirteen day rule," said his father, voice lowering at the end in pain.

Light started. The thirteen day rule? Of course, how could he have forgotten? The fake rule served a double purpose, as Light had intended it do so. Misa was supposed to have traded for the eyes after Light had her dig up the notebook, but incase she couldn't get access to Ryuuzaki, the thirteen day rule would set things in motion.

He knew Ryuuzaki would want to test it. He knew the detective would suspect it was fake, and proving the thirteen day rule was a fake would have brought the suspicion back on to Light and Misa, which in turn would have forced Rem to take action against the detective because of her feelings for Misa. Of course, Light would have expected Ryuuzaki to test the notebook after Misa had restarted the killings. He had no idea it was already planned.

"But I didn't do anything," said Light, feeling a ferocious ball of anxiety deep within his stomach. He didnt, not this time, and all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Well that's not what it looks like!" yelled his father.

Light scowled. "I don't have the notebook, and I sure as hell didn't steal it. Don't you think you'd be seeing the shinigami if I did have it stashed underneath my pillow?"

It was at that moment that something brushed the back of his hand.

"Hey, Light – o."

"GAH!" yelled Light, falling over the side of his bed and landing with a painful hiss.

"Light!" called his mother in concern, pushing past his father.

"Soichirou! You've got him scared half to death! He's sick, and I don't know what's going on. I don't like the sound of it either way, but can't you just let him alone for the night?" yelled his mother, who was gently helping Light back into bed.

His father sighed explosively. "Fine. I'm going back to work."

Soichirou left, slamming the door in his wake. His mother turned a tearful eye to him, settling the covers around him once more.

"I know you didn't steal whatever your father was going on about. I think I'd know my own son better than that by now," assured his mother, kissing him lightly on the head.

Light nodded, his heart racing, too freaked out to even feel slightly guilty at her words.

She stood up, patting him on the arm. "You get some rest, okay? I'll check in on you in the morning."

Light nodded again, attempting to breath normally for his mother's sake. Hopefully she'd just pin it down as being upset from his father's, and not because yellow, slitted eyes were smiling at him gleefully just behind her shoulder.

His mother closed the door behind her, and Light gave it a few seconds until her footsteps carried her down the stairs.

"Ryuk," he said, glaring up at the shinigami.

Ryuk cackled. "Light – o! I've never seen you sick before. Interesting."

Light's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Ryuk held up the notebook. "I got tired of waiting for your girlfriend."

"Were you the one that stole Rem's notebook?" demanded Light.

"Hyuk hyuk hyuk, no. It wasn't me."

"Rem?"

More laughter. "Not even her, but she's after the one that did it."

"So another shinigami stole the notebook?" asked Light, incredulous. That was more than what he had expected.

"Maybe. Do you have an apple?" asked Ryuk, grinning, his sharpened teeth gleaming.

Light growled. "No, I'm sick, remember? I can't get you one right now. If you leave me to rest and come back tomorrow, I'll get you a damned apple, but only if you leave. I'll get extra if you tell me who the shinigami was that stole the notebook, and why they did it in the first place."

"Hmm," said Ryuk, all the while his body seemed to be twisting into itself by its own accord, probably at the promise of apples.

"Deal." The shinigami took off through the roof.

. . . dropping the Death Note as he left.

L blinked as Yagami finished his recounting of the night's events, slumping his shoulders in what could have only been physical and emotional exhaustion.

"Light-kun has been at home this whole time? Ill?" asked L, and he couldn't help but be suspicious. It was too convenient. Too planned.

Soichirou nodded his head. "He's been vomiting, has a fever – he even looks sick."

L quirked his head in thought. What was the percentage that Light really had been home ill? It hovered between 35 to 40%. Fairly decent, all things considered, but that was only because of the reported symptoms. L had a feeling that something more was going on within the Yagami household, and L had learned to trust his intuition over the years.

"He must be brought in. Immediately."

Soichirou sighed. "Ryuuzaki, Light's sick and in bed, do we really have to do this tonight?"

"The sooner the better Yagami-san," replied L, his fingers rolling around a sugar cube as he stared expressionless at his computer screen.

"What will I tell his mother?" asked Soichirou, his voice bordering on desperate.

L shrugged minutely. "That is not my concern, Yagami-san."

A/N: Okay, okay. Short, but at least we got another aspect of the plot rolling.

So, yeaaah, reviews are appreciated! Thank you SO MUCH, everyone that's reviewed! I can't tell you how happy your opinions make me feel, but I'm sure some of you have an idea.