Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine. It's fiction.

Note: This is Alternate Universe. If you see that some things are off, it's because AU offers the ability to change everything, even the setting, which I will not. This is another life, in which Light keeps relating to his past life, which was his life as Kira.

- Also, I was skeptical about posting. I don't know if it's good... I'm always my worst critic.

- I tend to slip out of past tense and present tense. This is done KNOWINGLY throughout the story.

To dream that you die may represent involvement in deeply painful relationships or unhealthy, destructive behaviors. You may feeling depressed or feel strangled by a situation or person in your waking life. Perhaps your mind is preoccupied with someone who is terminally ill or dying. Alternatively, you may be trying to get out of some obligation, responsibility or other situation.

Broken Sparrow

by Miss Odzy

01: Confirmed Dream

'Do you miss me now that you can kiss the clouds?'

There is a dream that I continuously keep having. In the end, he dies, and in the end, I die. I don't know him and I'd remember him from anywhere. The man I seek in my dreams had dark soul-less eyes, raven black hair, and a face of indifference. His skin is pale, as if he were a ghost, his lips tainted with only the smallest of smiles. In this particular dream, I had an unquenchable thirst, one consisting of blood. I wanted him dead.

But I am no killer.

Yagami Light is not one who wishes death so easily when he is too busy defending the rights of those who die. I believe in justice, ever since I was little, watching my father come home and place his badge on the table has inspired me beyond inspiration. I would become what he is now someday, chief of police sounded exactly perfect. Though, sometimes, more often than not, I become skeptical of what it is that I want.

Did I really want to become a cop or is... this my excuse, my excused dream.

Everyone needs one.

Everyone needs an adventure in life.

No one goes on without a goal to pursue.

Tomorrow would be the start of my freshmen year of college. How would I present a productive summer at home, studying and watching the news? Or would Light Yagami, the precious A - Average Student, pull through on the popularity poll again. Was I too cool to be a nerd? My looks are what save me from verbal bashing, and that's what kills me the most. How judgmental people are, so accusatory, and so shallow. Who are they to make such a statement:

Certainly not justice…

And once, in another dream, while I, was fighting with this unknown stranger. I had a feeling that I was doing wrong and right. I felt like a God, going up against another God. He called me Kira and I defiantly, with much hatred laced - called him L, or did I simply not know his real name? I thought about my dreams way too much, more than I liked to, but when they plague me every night, it's hard to ignore thinking about the reoccurrences.

It's always - usually the same. Standing on top of a building - feeling him there, staring through me and it was unrealistic, entirely impossible. He also stood on top of a building, miles away it seemed, but I could still see him, even with the high buildings of Japan in the way. I could feel him. We had one thing in common, which was to destroy each other, and to do it out of the act of justice. But kill me, why? I implored the various reasons. Perhaps it simply indicated that one God was getting angry with the other, or maybe it was the simple fact that only one God should exist.

In any case, I knew of this God's characteristics, but could not remember his face when I woke up. It frustrates me to no end. Throw me a math equation, a folder full of unsolved murders, or a mission to discover the newest antidote curing Massive Headache-Parthia, but ask me to remember the face of a man who has been reappearing in my dreams continually and you'll be disappointed. But the childish me, the less reasonable me, yearned for that resolve.

Sleep is only mere relief from reality. You no longer have to think or live, just remain succumbed to a much wanted darkness. Sometimes you'll dream, but what will you dream of, will you dream at all, will it turn out to be dreamt of, but soon forgotten? Or perhaps, it will be a nightmare: An inescapable fixture, resulting in the death of someone close to you, or maybe even your own? One thing was for certain, mine would never change and mine would never be a deep-dreaming.

But this was a dream.

It's raining and the wind is strong enough to blow away anyone who interfered, not that anyone ever did. It's desolate, no cars at the bottom, or none that I can see from the top of this narrow building. It wasn't as high as the sky, the building did not reach, but again, there is nothing beneath me. There is only straight ahead to look at, and the sooner I felt the familiar emotions, and the sooner I went through with this dream, the sooner it would be over, and morning would be here.

My eyes are kept closed. I know what's coming. I felt it, as a tremor, going up and down my spine. Like one solitary droplet of rain suddenly struck my feverish skin. The hatred, I could barely muster. His presence provoked the most uncomfortable feelings, my rival or my friend? Could two Gods become friends, could this possibly pacify Greek Mythology?

'Now, now, Kira, you're thinking too much about nonsense.' His voice is cool, but precise and calculated always knowing what it is that he wants to say, and how.

He called me Kira, which originated from the Japanese word 'Killer'. But before I can control my thoughts, control my body, my lips and tongue. I am bantering his wits, his cleverness not faltering, his walls not penetrated. We could tease each other, while knowing the deepest secrets bound to each other's beings. But when I tried to pull something, a heartstring, yes, there is nothing to pull.

For this God has no heart and I don't know enough…

'Kira,' he called, calling over and over again until my eyes open. He remained as patient as a saint. And he is standing there, yet far away on top of his own building, standing awkwardly. 'If you think us to be Gods, you're wrong, Kira…This is the heaven-less and hell-less world you now exist in.'

'The only regret I have is not being the one to write your name.' His lips turn up into a smile, amused by my words. Why had I said them, saying such a thing felt incredibly cruel and wrong, but good in some sick manner.

'Kira, how do you like your new world?'

And the floor beneath me crumbles, but I'm moving slowly, as time suddenly decreases. My new world, as it crumbles. L is his name, L… I think, or maybe it only starts with an L. He's the truth of my failings. I had failed to do something, hadn't I? I could feel it within the most cherished resentment, that there was failure somewhere. It explains why I'm falling and why I'm the one beneath him, his eyes haunting and dark, lifeless as they stare down at me, watching me, and damning me within an instant.

Even when his lips aren't moving, I could hear him, his voice ringing strongly in my ears, 'See how it suits you…'

When I reach the bottom, a new nightmare lies in my awake. It feels real, my body hurts – my arm is burning. My ears numb with the sounds of gunfire. My real death wasn't the fall, but it's right here. At least, that's what I thought. I never truly found out, it's usually when the loud gunshot sounds off that I wake up. Any moment now, once the pain has made its way throughout my body. The few moments of complete agony felt like hours to me.

Had I been killed or had I done the killing? Or was it both...

College wasn't a big deal. Then again, everything came easy for me. Law was a subject for me, as English was to an author. It was almost too easy. I closed my book, and leaned forward, my chin on top of my folded hands. Please, Professor, indulge me in what I already know, while I busy myself with thoughts, observing – training, if you will. But first, to my left was a coffee I brought with me to stay awake. Crazy dreams provoke one to never want to fall asleep.

Observing turned into thinking.

If I were in my own personal Hell, then why would I live in the next life? Those who go to Hell do not get second chances. I didn't feel like an exception to Hell's rules, so maybe my dreams didn't mean anything at all. I'd see a doctor soon, someone who can regulate the dreams I've been having, to not having them at all. I couldn't live like this, confused and consumed by the hatred and mixed feelings towards another person, someone who didn't even exist.

A gentle breeze blew past me, my bangs shifting – caressing the sides of my face. My body tensed suddenly, as if remembering something. Someone had walked in, but the teacher in the front continued on with lecturing. I wasn't alright, not even safe, as my nails dug into the table in front of me. That undisputable hatred was back, but this time, I was actually feeling it – experiencing it. That eerie wind that blew past me, it was drenched in that feeling of absolute-

'Ryuuzaki,' was all he said, and I dared not to turn around. He was introducing himself to the person next to him, and his voice, it sounded familiar. I knew it. It was him, my mind was shouting at me. Turn and look at him. But I sat there, dissatisfied and stubborn. I wouldn't.

If I did, then I'd only torture myself, or wind up glaring daggers at him.

This feeling was fiction.

It was all fiction and he didn't exist.

It was all just a dream.


-End of Chapter-