Disclaimer: The Maiden of Autumn owns nothing.

Full Summary:

In the midst of World War 1, Light Yagami, a second-generation Japanese immigrant, signs up to be shipped off to England to for his country in his best friend's place and to help pay for his ailing mother's medical bills. The moment sets foot in war-ravaged France, though, he's faced with the horrific truth that war is not glorious and honorable as the government makes it out to be. Death, illness, and disease run rampant even among the better-supplied American troops, and he's faced with watching friend after friend, comrade after comrade be killed in the most horrific way imaginable, and it's even worse as he realizes that's the norm for trench warfare.

Throughout his time in the middle of the Great War, he's forced to face the question of his purpose in life, face the horrors and realities of war, and even his own sexuality as he meets and befriends L, a war doctor who switches between saving lives in the hospital and venturing out into the trenches themselves to save lives. LightxL.


On June 28, 1914, Austria-Hungary's beloved Archduke Ferdinand and his reputedly pregnant wife were assassinated by a radical from Serbia, part of a group known only as the Black Hand.

Austria-Hungary demanded that Serbia pay-

But Serbia, backed by Russia, refused, plunging all of Europe into a destructive, consuming war not long after.

For three years, this war waged on, the horrors of trench warfare and the total destruction wreaked upon the French countryside reaching shocked American ears.

The President wanted to stay out of the war and declared neutrality- until the Germans sank the Lusitania, killing all American passengers aboard, and later sent the Zimmerman telegram, promising Mexico the territory of the American states of New Mexico, Texas, and California if they would invade the U.S. from the south.

The telegram was intercepted, and the nation plunged into war.

Over a million US soldiers would eventually be shipped to England to fight in what would become the Great War, or the first World War.

In the first wave, 300,000 men were sent to fight for America in this tragedy.

Eventually, the cost of human life recorded would total 20 million people- soldiers and civilians, from both sides.

This is the reality of the war that encompassed the whole world.


Light Yagami's mother had always been rather sickly- she was not the most well of persons, and more often than not, was sick in bed recovering rather than working. But it was alright- Light's father had been a rather wealthy Japanese merchant in their home country, and had decided to migrate to America, drawn by the tales of the opportunities merchants had, what with the Americans scrambling for anything foreign.

He had sold his shop to another merchant for good money, packed up the tools of his trade, and had traveled with his young wife of five years to America, riding comfortably in first class due to their well-off state.

When he arrived, his father had quickly went about making arrangements for living, striking a deal with a landowner and buying a small house in one of the more-run down parts of the city, but better than the slums so many were forced to inhabit.

Then, Soichiro Yagami had snatched up a building that rested on one of America's busiest streets- just a block or so from Wall Street. He converted it into a shop, where he sold his goods- traditional, authentic Japanese cuisine that came in easy-to-eat containers. Businessmen could come and buy it, and then eat it easily while heading back to their workplace. Or, in the morning when they were rushing to work, they could stop by and have a hot breakfast ready for them in no time at all. He also sold Japanese desserts- pastries and the such that were a huge hit with commuters.

Light's father made good money, and eventually, he and his wife were able to fix up their house, and when Light was born a few years afterwards, Soichiro was able to put his son through school, insisting that Light not be illiterate in the English language like Sachiko Yagami was, or speak with a "funny" accent, like Soichiro himself did.

Light was an intelligent boy, able to speak Japanese and English fluently. He planned on going to college- his father had been saving for years in order for Light to be able to go to a good college. He planned on perhaps becoming a detective, or maybe a math teacher- Light so loved numbers and calculations, and mathematics came easy to him.

He was 16 years old when the first rumors of war reached American ears in 1914, and when America joined the war in 1917, after the sinking of the Lusitania and the interception of the Zimmerman telegram, he was 19 and in his first year of college.


"Light!"

Light Yagami turned to see his friend, Jonathan Anson running towards him, tails of his coat fluttering out behind him with his jerky movements. Jonathan was a bit awkward, in all respects of the word; a bit on the smaller side, shorter than most and weaker as well, with glasses, a bit of a stutter, and unruly, curly brown hair, he was the very epitome of nondescript.

Yet, he was quite brilliant, and that was mainly why Light liked him so much; he was able to keep up with Light when others were not.

There was a tense, worried look on Jonathan's face, a rumpled, harried aura surrounding him that immediately had Light worried. Jonathan was usually the very picture of dressed perfection; he hated things- especially his own clothes and supplies- being out of order, and for him to not care if his jacket was buttoned wrong or his clothes wrinkled and not quite situated right was troublingly out of character for Jonathan.

He skidded to a halt in front of the patiently-waiting, slightly worried Light, adjusting his skewed glasses with his free hand- the other had nothing but ta single piece of paper clutched in it, something else that was disturbingly odd to Light.

Jonathan never went anywhere without his satchel of textbooks, or some sort of notebook or reading material clutched in his hand.

Something was very, very wrong, and this was only proven by the sheen suspiciously present in Jonathan's blue eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" Light asked tentatively, scanning his friend's form once more carefully, noting any discrepancies in his attire and behavior.

Jonathan nodded, practically shoving the piece of paper into Light's face. "Look, Light!" he said tremulously.

Light shook his head, blinking as his eyes tried to focus on the piece of paper. His eyes narrowed as he read the header on the paper, and then opened wide as he snatched the piece of paper from Jonathan, turning away slightly as he lowered it to a better reading height and scanned over it. "This… why, Jonathan? You can't… you're not…" Light trailed off, unable to find the right words that would communicate what he was trying to get at without offending Jonathan.

"Because I just barely meet the requirements, Light. Just barely. My eyesight is poor, yes, but only when I'm reading. I can see perfectly fine- I just have trouble reading words. I'm small, yes, but I'm an inch over the minimal requirement, and just barely meet the weight requirement. I'm undesirable for this, Light," Jonathan finished, Light looking up to stare at him incredulously, "but I'll work, and I can't get out of it."

"That's not right," Light whispered, looking down to stare at the paper once more.

On the front of the tightly-clutched paper, in capitalized, bold black letters, the words, "DRAFT NOTICE" were printed.


"Light."

Light looked over to his friend as he took another bite of his apple. He knew the draft notice, though it wasn't currently out in the open, hidden away in Jonathan's coat pocket, still weighed heavily on his friend's mind.

And though he knew it was selfish, he was secretly glad it wasn't him that had gotten that slip of paper in the mail. He knew that it wasn't bad to think that- anyone would have the same thoughts.

Swallowing his bite of food, Light nodded to show his friend that he had heard him. "Yes, Jonathan?" he murmured, somewhat reluctant to hear what Jonathan would have to say.

"I have to… I have to tell my parents," Jonathan said quietly, his lunch uneaten in front of him. He stared at it unseeingly, raising a fork to poke at the salad every now and then. His lower lip trembled slightly, his eyebrows drawn in as he struggled to force the words out. "They'll have to know- I leave for training in Europe in two days. They should know, so that father can start… training someone else to take over in case…" Jonathan trailed off, before he swallowed harshly and flicked his eyes up to regard Light's impassive face with a look of deep resignation.

Light said nothing, his lovely amber eyes assessing Jonathan, before he finally, quietly said, "In case of what?"

"Well, you know war," Jonathan laughed bitterly, stabbing his salad viciously, almost tipping over the brown bowl.

In case I die.

The thought went unspoken, but it hung in the air, a tangible, bitter weight between them.

Light's brows furrowed and he placed a hand on Jonathan's small wrist, stopping him from attacking his salad. The gentle touch from the warm hand made his friend look up. Light's face was controlled as always, but Jonathan could see that the news that had affected him so harshly had also had an effect on Light as well.

"Don't say things like that," Light told him. "You have to believe in the best, or the worst will happen."

"Don't say that, Light!" Jonathan snapped, jerking his wrist away. "You've heard the rumors and tales drifting from over there- I know you have. I'm not as strong or as fast as others, Light. I can barely keep up with the others in Physical class, Light, not to mention you, because you're one of the fastest men here. And you're not the one with a draft notice sitting their goddamn pocket and about to be shipped out to fight!"

Jonathan leaned back, panting heavily, rubbing his tearing eyes underneath his glasses. "My life just got screwed up, Light, and there's no way I can go back."

Jonathan was right. Light had no idea how he'd react f faced with the situation Jonathan was in- and frankly, he really didn't' want to find out. Still… "I'm sorry, Jonathan." Light apologized quietly, retracting his hand. His words caused Jonathan to look up, staring at Light. "I'm just… I'm sorry for everything that's happened."

Sighing, Jonathan dropped his hand, giving Light a shaky, tremulous smile. "It's fine, Light."

"I'll come with you," Light said suddenly, out of the blue.

"What?" Jonathan asked, taken aback at Light's words. He turned to face his friend, whose face was impassive, yet there were definite lines of determination set within his handsome face.

Light stared down at his apple core, clenching it between his fingers as he continued. "To Europe. I'll go with you. I'll go sign up at the recruitment office later today, and-"

"No, Light," Jonathan interrupted, his eyes flashing almost angrily as he met Light's eyes. "Don't you dare do that. I'd never forgive you if you did," he said, making Light blink, taken aback at the words that were spoken with almost vicious force. Jonathan pushed his salad bowl away, raising his head to stare at Light fixedly. "You have a chance to go on and finish school. Why would you throw that away?" Jonathan asked, shaking his head at Light's seeming foolishness. Which it was. It was simply a rash action, an effect of Jonathan's own situation.

Domino effect- one after the other falling, falling, falling only to collapse. Law of physics, Joanthan was pretty sure.

"Because someone has to look after your ass while you're over there," Light told him, attempting a smile as he did so. It failed miserably, though, as Jonathan still could catch sight of the dismalness darkening Light's usually bright eyes.

"Yeah… but what if we get split up or something?" Jonathan sighed, dismissing Light's attempts at teasing. "No. You just stay here and finish up school. Become a doctor or something, or go teach numbers to other students who can't grasp what the hell the professor is saying. Because God knows, some of the students here look so confused after the math prof's done with his lecture for the day."

Light recognized the small jibe for what it was- a desperate, pathetic attempt to change the subject from Jonathan's draft notice. Glad that Jonathan was willing to change the subject to a different one than the draft notice looming over their heads like a black cloud, Light forced a laugh and tossed his apple core away. He leaned back against the wooden table, his elbows propped behind him on the tabletop. "Yeah… poor guys. Though I don't think I'd do a much better job than the professor… I often explain things to fast or in terms others can't understand."

"Hm," Jonathan hummed, following Light's example and leaning back, a silence settling between them, the same thing weighing heavily on both their minds.

Light allowed his mind to wander as he watched the breeze blow some dead leaves through the air and across the sidewalk, watching people pass by, thinking about how weird it was that though this draft notice had changed Jonathan's life- and his, in a small way- things kept going on. No matter what happened, life would go on, and for some reason, Light felt a wave of sadness at that.

Even if Jonathan died in the war he was about to be shipped out to… Everything would go on. Perhaps not the same as it would have been if this hadn't happened, but it would go on, nonetheless. His friend's parents would continue to run their company, sadden by Jonathan's loss but able to find a replacement for the heir to their company. Even Light would go on mostly the same- mourning for his friend but going on to finish college and marry Misa, whom he cared for very deeply.

Life would go on, no matter what.

But Jonathan wouldn't.

"You have to tell your parents," Light suddenly said, the thought hitting him and he sat up, turning to face Jonathan, who was staring out at the city like Light had just been doing. "Your parents have to know."

"Yes," Jonathan nodded. "I was planning on telling them tonight. But I was wondering…" Jonathan trailed off, and Light raised a brow at him, silently urging him to continue.

After a moment of silent deliberation, Jonathan picked up once more, nervously telling Light, "I was hoping that you'd come with me, tonight. My parents like you, and you're very level-headed and charming. My parents won't react well to this- I'll probably be able to handle mother quite well, but father… I'm not so sure," Jonathon rushed out, gazing up hopefully at Light. "I know you dislike the formal dinners my parents have, but will you suffer it and help a friend out?"

Light paused, eyebrows raising, before he smiled a bit and nodded. "Of course," he told Jonathan. "I'll come."

After all…

It might be the last thing I ever do for you.


After school, he waved a goodbye to Jonathan, knowing he'd be seeing him again later that night.

He turned away and headed down the street, taking his usual route back home, not really thinking about anything as he walked, occasionally dodging a person or vehicle as he made his way back home.

He smiled as he turned the corner to their house, walking down the sidewalk and pulling the door open, announcing his presence as he hung his satchel up, toeing off his shoes as he did so. Though he knew that he'd have to go and get changed right away in order to get ready for dinner at Jonathan's house- God, he was so not looking forwards to that- it was nice to be able to relax for a few moments.

However, the absence of his sister running out to greet him or his mother's welcoming smile made him frown. He paused in the doorway, in the middle of picking up his shoes to rearrange them neatly, thinking.

Is there something going on I'm not aware of? No… something's off…

Slowly, he finished setting his shoes aside, tentatively stepping into their small, yet cozy and welcoming house. Brows furrowing, Light repeated his call of being home and walked further into the room. Upon finding no one in the kitchen or dining room, he wandered into the hall leading to their living room, pausing to see if he could hear something.

A small, relieved smile broke over his face as he listened. He heard murmurings of voices- except that oddly, it was a deeper voice, almost like that of his father. His smile faded a bit as that sense of something being wrong pervaded him once more.

What was his father doing home? He should have been running the family's store…

Unable to shake that feeling of something being undeniably wrong, Light made his way into their family's living room, quietly sliding the door open and stepping through, closing it after himself. Inside, he saw his mother seated on the couch, Sayu next to her, and his father kneeling on floor in front of her, a distraught expression on his face.

The three collectively turned to Light as he stepped through, and this time, the feeling changed to a pure surety. Something was horribly wrong, and Light's heart clenched in worry.

"Light," his mother choked out, holding out her hand- it was trembling slightly, he noticed- and beckoning him closer. "There's something you need to know…"

Pancreatic cancer.

His mother… she had pancreatic cancer.

Apparently, his mother and father had known for several months now, but it was in its early stages, the chances of treating it looking positive. Sachiko and Soichiro hadn't told their children, not wanting to worry Sayu or Light. They had thought that Sachiko would get over it before long, and so there had been no reason to worry them needlessly.

But then, it had taken a turn for the worse, and the treatments became harsher and more taxing, even more costly as more radical methods were needed to combat the illness raging through Sachiko's body, consuming it.

Soichiro had been working longer hours and more days to come up with the money for Sachiko's treatments, and both parents had somehow kept this all under wraps and out of the knowledge of Light and Sayu.

But now, the money was running out, and they had to delve into Light's college fund to come up with the money to keep Sachiko alive. That money was almost used up, though, and through tears, Sachiko explained that Light wouldn't be able to stay in college- he would need to get a job, Soichiro explained, his demeanor stiff as he tried to come to terms with the life that was crumbling around them.

This war had taken a large toll on their family's food business- people, fearing the worst, were saving and hoarding their money, and the more patriotic people refused to buy any sort of food, preferring to grow it themselves and buy as little as possible.

It wouldn't have been so bad if this hadn't happened- the business would still be doing well and they would be making enough to keep paying for both Sachiko's treatments and Light's schooling.

But now…

Light understood, of course; how could he not? It was his mother's life on the line, and Light was more than willing to do what he had to do to keep her alive, even if it meant sacrificing his own tuition and future.

And then, when all was settled- Light would send in his withdrawment notice to the school tomorrow, and the day after that, they would go about finding him a job- he told his parents that he had to go and get dressed for a dinner at Jonathan's, smiling at his father, giving Sachiko a gentle hug, (because she was fragile now, so fragile because of the cancer) and patted Sayu on the head, much to her annoyance.

But she didn't protest too much. She needed the familiar action as much as Light did. That small action was somewhat grounding, and understanding ran mutually between them.

And then, he went up to his room and quietly closed the door before falling to his knees and staring at the floor blindly, feeling his life crumble to pieces around him.


Dinner at Jonathan's was never something to look forwards to, although Light, when the occasional rose, dealt with it because Jonathan was his friend, and how could he turn his friend's invitation down?

At 6 o'clock that evening, Light was knocking at Jonathan's door, hair neatly combed and freshly washed, dressed in a formal suit and standing patiently on the doorstep.

A minute later, there were footsteps and Jonathan's butler opened the door, greeting the familiar face of Light with a polite smile ushering him inside and taking his coat. They were somewhat old-fashioned people, and still maintained the strict social codes and niceties of those of the wealthier upper class.

He was shown to the dining room, where Jonathan and his family were just settling down into their seats. It was happy here, a warm setting even thought it was so very formal. Jonathan's parents obviously doted on their son, mother and father smiling as Jonathan regaled them with a humorous story of something that had happened in their Physics lecture earlier that day.

Throughout the course of dinner, it seemed as if Light was the only one who could sense the tenseness that was slowly building in the atmosphere. Maybe Jonathan could feel it as well, for as time passed, through course after course of delicious food, the student grew quieter and quieter.

Light wondered if that draft notice was the thing weighing Jonathan's shoulders down. They had become more hunched, as if the smaller student was trying to draw into himself.

And then, when the table cleared, the wine poured and a feeling of calmness settling comfortably over the room, that Jonathan chose to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Jonathan spoke, his voice miraculously steady and unwavering.

"Mother. Father. I have news. I'm… I've received a draft notice. I'm going to war."


Light watched, as if from a distance, as Jonathan's mother's face trembled, before slowly dissolving into an expression of hopelessness, of wretched distraught as she realized her son was going off to the war in Europe. It was the very war that everyone talked of in hushed whispered, rumors of its deadliness trembling on every person's lips.

Then, he saw Jonathan's father stiffen, his hands gripping tightly around the stem of his wine glass, threatening to snap the fragile, crystalline glass. They were shaking, Light observed. He would not want to break down in front of his family and son, Light knew. As the pillar, the head of their small family, he would have to stay strong.

But even Light could tell that he was going to snap before the glass stem did. And when he did, what he said, hurtful accusations and blind rantings might hurt Jonathan more than a bullet could.

It was time to intervene. It was the reason Jonathan had wanted him here, after all.

Light glanced over to Jonathan, catching his eye as his friend got up to comfort his mother. He nodded slightly, indicating that Light should go and try to talk some sense into his father before something happened.

Getting up, Light walked calmly around the table to the man's side, watching for any signs that he was about to snap horribly somehow.

As the stem of the delicate wineglass seemed about to snap.

Deciding to save the lovely glass and use it as an excuse to request an audience with his friend's father, Light slid his chair backwards quietly. He got up quietly and made his way discreetly over to the solid man who was breathing heavily at the head of the table, waving away the butler that came to see what was wrong.

He reached Jonathan's father and leaned down, inclining his head while simultaneously wrapping his fingers gently around the top of the abused glass.

As he took the wine glass from Jonathan's father, the delicate crystal caught the light, calling attention to its fine quality. Through it, though distorted, Light could see Jonathan and his mother, the boy desperately trying to comfort and reassure the distraught woman.

For a brief moment, Light imagined what it would be like if he were to be replaced with Jonathan, and he almost stopped short as he saw with crystal-clear clarity, another option open to them. It was so simple, so clear, and yet so mercenary that Light wanted to cringe at the thought. But it would cut less than the glass that would break in his friend's father's hands if Light simply allowed events to play out as they were on the course to.

Swallowing, Light leaned down to speak in Jonathan's father's ear. His own hands were trembling now, as the idea cut through his brain, sinking insidiously in and forcing the flow of words that were on the brink of Light's lips to change course and flow in a different direction. "Sir," he whispered. "I'd like to talk to you privately in the drawing room, if that would be possible."

The burly man froze, and then his pale blue eyes flicked up to Light's. They searched his own for a brief second, no doubt noting the utter seriousness and resignation Light was sure was present in them. Light could see the own turbulent emotions roiling within the stately man's eyes- despair, grief, anger, resignation, and unsurprisingly, curiosity, no doubt at Light's request and what he saw in the student's own amber depths.

He looked as if he were about to protest for a moment, but then he paused, curiosity obviously winning out over his desire to remain in the dining room. He took the out that Light was giving him, the chance to compose himself and get a handle on his emotions before he said or did something in rash anger that he might regret. It would also allow him to satisfy his curiosity over what Light had to say.

Nodding tightly, the man relinquished his grip on the glass, which Light smoothly and unobtrusively set aside as he stepped out of the way. Pushing his chair back, Jonathan's father stood up and started out of the room, not excusing his leave or calling attention to his departure at all. Light followed silently after him, throwing a glance over his shoulder to see Jonathan cradling his sobbing mother in his arms.

Will that be me? Light wondered, turning away and closing his eyes at the utterly heartbreaking look on Jonathan's face.

He would die in the war; they all knew it.

Light knew it.

It was the horrible fact that he had desperately trying to ignore, ever since he saw the words "draft notice" printed on that damning slip of paper. But now, with his plan churning, cutting through his mind and rearranging it, he could not deny that. He had to accept it, in order to put his own offer on the table and have it accepted.

Jonathan was not strong enough to survive in a place where nothing but strength of the mind, of the body and the will mattered.

Once Jonathan left, there would be no return for him, and that knowledge was what made the revelation so distressing and hopeless.

He sincerely hoped that would not be the case once he had to break the news to Sachiko.

He turned his attention back to the man in front of him walk-in stiffly down the plushly carpeted halls of Jonathan's home. He eventually stopped in front of a dark, wooden, polished door, opening it and allowing Light inside.

The clicking of the door handle after him as Light's father followed him in and closed the door felt almost like a death sentence- and in a way, Light supposed it was, now.

There was no going back from this. Once he put his offer on the table- and his friend's father would take it, of that he was certain- it was done. His fate, for the better or worse, was sealed.

"Sir," Light started without any preamble, turning to face Jonathan's father. "Jonathan had asked me to take you somewhere to talk sense into you after he broke the news to you tonight. It was the exact reason he asked me to dinner tonight. As his friend, I couldn't not say yes. But I have no interest in calming you- instead, I have an offer to make."

Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as Jonathan's father ground out, "What is this offer?"

Light said nothing for a moment, simply walking silently over to the ebony desk and running a hand over one of the smooth handles of the chairs next to it. His mind churned, and he felt a sort of tight tension within his stomach as he thought about the best way to voice the offer that would damn himself. "…Jonathan will die if he goes to war," Light finally murmured, closing his eyes as he felt the knot grow tighter, threatening to make him retch.

It took all he had to not turn around, look the man in the eye, and say that he had changed his mind- it was a stupid idea, nevermind. Would you like me to call for some brandy while you compose yourself?

But, Light was not so weak-willed. Instead, he forced himself to get a grip on himself, clutching at the armrest of the chair as he gritted out the words that he needed to say. In hindsight, he would be proud of the absolute composure he had, of the level tone of voice that his words were spoken with, but this was not the time for appreciation. He saw it only as the words that would sign his life away, allowing Jonathan to continue while his own life was thrown to hell.

"It's obvious that he lacks the strength to survive in such harsh, demanding conditions," Light explained slowly. Worried that if he were to clench the armrests of the chair any more tightly they would have gouges ripped into them, he forcibly removed them and instead clasped his hands behind his back. With feigned calmness, his eyes rose to meet the man's blue eyes.

Something within them must have stopped Jonathan's father's suspicion short, for he stood silently taking in Light for a moment. And then, as if sensing the utter seriousness of the situation, he simply asked, "What sort of offer is this?"

"Hold on," Light said calmly, though there was a pleading note to his voice that made him curse himself. It would not do to show any sort of weakness- he had to be resolute, or he wouldn't be able to go through with this. He could feel the cracks already, the nearly overwhelming urge to take all of his words back, reverse time to the moment he had first uttered those words and just not speak them. "Just let me explain. Jonathan is my friend- it breaks my heart as well to see this happen."

…Father had wanted me to get a job, hadn't he? Well, this could constitute as one…

Jonathan's father remained silent, wordlessly urging Light to go on.

"I'm offering…" Light paused- No, no, no please stop me please don't let me say this oh God no no no- took a breath to steady himself, then just tried to rush out what he wanted to say, not really having the right words to say it with. "My mother is very sick, and we've run out of money to pay for her treatments. I'll… I'll go to war in your son's place, take his draft notice and go to war for him if you anonymously pay for my mother's treatments and family's welfare," Light blurted out, wanting to get his offer out there and unable to take back before he could rethink it and back out.

That's not what I wanted to say I didn't mean it no please don't take it seriously-

Jonathan's father blinked, taken aback. Then, he recovered himself and leaned forward, an intense, hopeful look on his face. "You'd be willing to do this? Go to war- with a very good possibility of not making it back- in Jonathan's pace if I take care of your mother's treatments and your family?"

No no no I didn't- No I don't-

"Yes, sir." Light nodded, feeling a mixture of relief for having gotten his offer in the air, yet horror at what, exactly, he was offering to do. "That's exactly what I'm offering. But it's not just for my mother- I have a better chance of coming back from this than Jonathan does, and I think we both know that. But, I don't want my parents to know- I saw how your wife reacted to the news, and I refuse to do that to my own mother in the condition she's in right now. He leaves in two days, correct? I'll leave a note saying that I wished to join the war effort and left to sign up and get shipped out."

Jonathan's father relaxed back, and Light knew, with a feeling of sinking, utter despair that he had decided to take Light's offer. But it was what he had wanted, right?

No pleased I'm begging you take it back I can't do this-

"What of Jonathan? There is no way that he'll accept this."

Light nodded thoughtfully, congratulating himself for being able to pull this off so well. No cracks in his façade, it would seem.

Only inside, where he was screaming in denial.

"No, you're right. Don't tell him- lock him in his room tomorrow night, so he can't leave the morning before. I'll stop by and get the draft notice then. It will work out for everyone- you and your wife get your son, Jonathan gets his life, my mother gets to live, and my family gets my mother."

"Everyone but you. You could die, Light. That's not a happy ending for you."

Light just shrugged at that.

No, no, no! What the hell are you doing?! TakeitbackTakeitback!-

At the moment, he couldn't care less. He knew his mind was screaming denials at him, knew Jonathan's father was looking at him as if he were crazy, but Light felt nothing.

He had just signed his soul away, and at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. A numbness was settling over him, and he was oblivious to everything but the man in front of him. He felt… if he were to think of anything else, of his family or his friend or his life that had just shattered into a million sharp pieces, each shard reflecting what could have been and cutting him with things that would never be, he would crumble.

And where would the world be if Light crumbled? It would be rather dark, wouldn't it?

Though Light's mind was screaming at him not to do this, because he didn't want to go and fight in Europe, not for anyone or anything, he simply said, "If I die, then it is what it is, sir. Do we have a deal?"

This was no time for second thoughts- he wished that Jonathan's father wouldn't protest, wouldn't allow Light an out, because at this moment, he would take it, cling to it like a lifeline, and if things were to be alright for Jonathan and his family, he had to let go. He had to take the plunge, and if someone threw him a lifesaver, he'd take it without second thought, rather than rejecting it as he needed to.

He had to go through with this, before he tried to back out of it like his sense of self-preservation and mind was screaming at him for to do.

If he went to Europe, there was a good chance that he'd never come back.

Pleasedon't nonono I don't want to do this-!

A relieved smile settled over the man's face and he held out a large hand, proffering it to Light. "Yes. We've a deal. Shall we shake on it?" Without waiting for Light to move, Jonathan's father simply grasped Light's hand and shook it gladly, utter relief settling over his face at the thought that his son would be spared.

Light only blinked as he felt his hand being shaken by Jonathan's father, the whole situation seeing a bit surreal, as if he wasn't really here.

He was going off to war.

I guess… in the end, I do get to know what Jonathan was feeling when he got his draft notice.

Funny how things work out, isn't it?

This blind panic, this feeling of surrealness…

Was this what he felt?

…Oh, God.

What have I done?