He kept asking questions.
"Hm. Interesting. The corner of this page of the notebook has been torn off. Can you kill someone just by writing their name on a piece?"
She lied to him with every answer, but he was persistent.
"Then let me ask you this. Do gods of death love apples?"
She did not know quite what to make of him. He did not seem unnerved by her appearance, and he questioned her freely, each time staring at her with those huge dark eyes of his, as though honestly expecting her to answer with the truth.
And every time she lied, his mouth would twitch, as though he knew.
She was not compelled to follow him; he did not possess a Death Note. But that night, when Light Yagami's scheming mind had finally relaxed itself in sleep, she sought him out.
He was crouched in the main room waiting for her.
"In what way are you linked to the owner of the Death Note?"
Again with the questions. Again with the lies.
"What is it like in the shinigami world?" he asked her suddenly.
She was startled by the question. And for once, she decided to answer him with the truth. "It is a dead world."
"How so?"
"Do you never tire of asking questions?" she demanded.
He did not seem perturbed. "I confess, I rarely tire." He favored her with a slight smile. "Least of all of asking questions." He sipped his tea. "Speaking of, you still have not answered mine."
She stared at him, and he stared back, unflinching. The black notebook lay on the table between them. Finally, she relented.
"The shinigami world does not change," she said. "The human world is much more varied."
"You wish to return." Not a question.
"Yes."
He paused, seeming to consider her answer. "Interesting."
"Can I ask you something?" she asked, when he did not seem inclined to speak further.
He looked at her questioningly and she took that as assent.
"Why do you want so badly to catch Kira?"
He raised an eyebrow, as though puzzled by the question. "I don't like being bored."
She watched him, watched him examine the Death Note thoroughly, watched him read the fake rules again and again. To her astonishment, she wanted him to figure it out. He fascinated her, the way no human being had ever fascinated her before.
As though hearing her thoughts, he raised his eyes to hers. "Shinigami, are any of these rules in this notebook fake?"
Light was staring at her, silently compelling her to lie again. If I'm caught, Misa will die… "No," she said. "All of the rules written in the notebook are real."
She watched him reread the rules again. "All of them?"
Damn you, Light Yagami. "Yes."
She watched him as he went back to staring at the notebook, dark eyes lost in thought.
He had not believed her; he was going to test the notebook. In thirteen days, he would have his answer, and her lies would be exposed. Misa would be arrested as the second Kira, and Light was sure to follow.
Light glanced at her, a mix of triumph and challenge on his face. What are you going to do now, Rem?
She cursed him; he knew as well as she did that she had no choice.
For Misa's sake, L Lawliet would have to die.
He crouched in his chair, staring blankly into space. For once, his hands were idle. A cup of tea lay on the table before him, but he had not touched it. Though he could not know it, it was his last night alive.
She regretted it, regretted that she would have to end his life. She did not love him like she did Misa, and so to protect her, he would have to die. Simple as that. But she did regret. He was so intriguing, so utterly unlike any human she had ever known.
But tonight was his last night alive…and therefore hers as well.
"Rem," he said abruptly, startling her out of her gloomy thoughts. "What happens after death?"
His voice was toneless as he asked it; he did not look at her. No…he did not know…he could not know…
"Nothing," she said finally. "There is nothing."
He nodded, still not looking at her. "I had expected as much." Reaching forward, he picked up his tea and sipped at it. There was no one else to see that his hands were trembling.
He said nothing more, and she said nothing in return. And so life's precious minutes slipped quietly past.
She watched the old man die impassively. He was nothing to her; she had never spoken to him. He was just a name in her notebook: Quillish Wammy.
He had called him Watari.
She could see him in the monitors, looking upward. She saw in his face that he understood. And once again, she felt regret.
L Lawliet.
She was dissolving.
Forty seconds.
He was dead by now, or dying.
But she had done her part. She had kept Misa safe. And she could not quite bring herself to curse the love that was finally killing her.
He must be dead by now.
The Death Note fell to the floor atop a pile of sand.