A/N: First Death Note fanfic. I finished reading the series today, a bit late on the update, I know. And it was...amazing. Turned me into a total fangirl.
Grey Perch
She sees nothing from where she is, resting and reclining and rejecting whatever truths she happens to glimpse. There is a curtain covering her eyes (blonde and light—feathery) and it hides her face. It distorts the world so she can't tell.
discern
for what is lost, for what is to come
and for all that she could have done yet—
was always too shy, too hesitant (twice bitten) to do
She dies a death dies another. Dies again and again without remorse (on neither one's part). Time is running out.
Halle sighs and gathers his broken self into her arms and pretends (for the thousandth time, stupid) that maybe—just maybe—she is motherly. And carefully, Halle applies the bandages. And when he wakes up, screaming and howling in pain, she wants to hug him and say sorry.
Sorry, so, so sorry.
It burns, and Mello suddenly narrows his eyes and smirks. And knows: she doesn't have the guts.
"You can't kill me now." Not that you ever could.
"I could if I wanted to." And we both know that's a lie.
-
And all the king's men, and all the king's horses.
The scale tips, leans over to his side just a bit. But that bit is enough, to change the game. And Halle finds herself stranded and ravenous.
And all the king's pawns, and all the king's gems.
Too bad no one can figure out just who is the king.
-
the sky is clear and bright
luminous it stands
it hits
and when the impact makes contact
it's like
she
had known
all along
Mello sleeps and Halle stares (blankly) at the sunset. What happens when there is no warmth left? What happens when you die? What happens when—if—
(the words trail off: she's too scared to discover, dive for them).
In a world where Kira is king, God, then there is no God. And if there is no God, then Mello (and Near and herself) will die.
"I told you that a long time ago."
Mello. "I know. And maybe I've just been too dumb to figure it out sooner."
"Or too stubborn."
He cracks apart the chocolate bar, bites into it greedily. (From theories dating back to ages of avarice, of a long, long time ago, there's a price to pay.) Mello grins and dips a finger into her collar, anticipating her reaction.
"Now things are getting interesting."
-
She hadn't expected to see him so soon, not after the last time when he practically stormed out in a tantrum. Some days, it is like babysitting a two-year-old. Only Halle is smart enough not to say it (aloud).
"I know what you're thinking," he says.
Oh really? "Are you omniscient now?"
"Yes. I've always been. It's a specialty that even L couldn't acquire."
"And what might I be thinking?"
"That I look damn sexy in this."
She laughs.
And some days, it's like babysitting a little-old man. And those days always turn out to be the worst.
-
Near suspects, she knows. But Near never comments or questions her (because that would be useless because they both know she doesn't care, won't reply).
And so, Near pretends to be ignorant and lets her slip through the noose.
(She always thanks him quietly and brings him extra difficult puzzles to solve. He likes that.)
-
Gradually, it's like she's losing herself: fading and vaporizing in a vast cauldron of grey and dimming lights and angles. She thinks she's going crazy or that Kira's controlling her actions and thoughts.
She trips and crashes into the linoleum. Rester rushes to catch her (too late) and watches as she scrapes and bruises herself.
"I'm okay."
He looks at her worriedly (and knowingly, and is just a bit wary).
"I said I'm fine."
It's not Kira. It's not Kira. It can't be Kira.
He lets go of her arm and nods at Near. They exchange a silent intent and lift her from the barren floors. Half-carrying, half-supporting, they take her into the adjacent room and sterilize the cuts.
Halle clenches her fists tightly against her thighs.
-
"I saw what happened today."
Mello sinks down next to her on the couch and like a feline, licks his lips.
"How?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Still a smart-mouth."
"Of course."
-
the end justifies the means
that's what she used to think
before
—before everyone died—
(or only he did)
Halle thinks that she should be crying or at least mournfully taking it. He is—was—one of them, so to speak. But all she feels is nothing. And thinks nothing. And knows nothing.
Nothing becomes her and her fragmented soul.
And right now, Halle just wants to ask Kira something face-to-face. Direct and detached.
The world dissolves into grey, and she throws herself off a perch. Plunge and jump (that's what he once told her: when she could still feel).