Phantom

What is this?

That was the first conscious and coherent thought to enter the detective's brilliant mind; every other thought was a jumbled mess of characters and syllables, like he had slammed his hand bluntly against a keyword and he was thinking of the words he got from the ridiculous attack on letters. His eyes remained closed but he had enough control of his body to bring his hand up to his head, assessing damage. He couldn't remember what the last thing to happen to him was before waking up like this. He could feel his knees pressed against his forehead, his neck completely limp and unable to hold itself up. His fingers limply carded through his hair, deftly searching out some kind of wound. He was disoriented, so he immediately assumed it was from some kind of head trauma.

Kira.

The thought alone made him instinctively gasp and straighten up to assess his surroundings, but he remembered exactly after banging his head back against a wall that wasn't soft and wasn't hard that he had yet to be able to open his eyes and that he wasn't in any position to be moving quickly.

His hands rested pliantly on top of his knees where his forehead had once been. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath before gaining the courage and strength to crack one eye open, quickly followed by the other. Large, stygian eyes took in the dark room that encased him. At first, the rectangular room was unfamiliar to him and he was quick to ponder the how and why of his placement here.

Then, everything began to tumble back into his mind through his fingertips like Near's dominoes. He had seen this room before… Light's room. He had constantly seen this room for a week when he began investigating Light on the notion that he was Kira.

I lost.

L clutched his head in both hands, the heels of his hands pressing against his temples like he was trying to prevent his head from exploding – probably because it felt as though it was going to at any moment with the flood of emotions and memories and the gaps between each and all driving him up the wall he was slumped against.

I lost. Kira won. Light caught me when I fell. He smirked in my face and watched the light leave my eyes. I was right. Light is Kira. I… I watched all of it, outside of my body. I watched the Task Force put me in a coffin. I watched two strangers dig my grave and bury me. I watched Light laugh and claw at my grave, monstrous and insane. I saw it all like a dream… I thought it was a dream. It's not a dream; I am L and I am dead.

His thoughts raced a mile a minute until he felt entirely caught up to the present moment. There was an annoying gap, like an itch he couldn't scratch, between losing consciousness while he watched Light and the Shinigami walk away from his grave and waking up here.

Why this room?

L looked around with irritation, wondering why of all places he would be damned here. Maybe this was his damnation, to be stuck in the personal space of his murderer. He almost smirked to himself, his mouth twitching at the corner. That was a ridiculous assumption and he knew it.

He could hear rain thrashing against the window of Light's bedroom, much like the rain that had soaked him to the bone the afternoon of his death. He tensed, listening intently for church bells. Luckily, the only thing he could hear was rain battering the suburban house and he relaxed again.

He moved to stand up, pressing his palm flat against the wall. He found the sensation strangely fuzzy, like he was entirely numb. His bare feet felt the same way against the floor once he put his weight on them. He paid it little heed; it was not the strangest thing to have happened yet.

The room was exactly the same as he had last seen in. The only thing different was the overflowing trashcan that was filled to the brim with… candy wrappers? L walked closer and squatted down, holding a wrapper up with his index finger and thumb. Yes, that was indeed a candy wrapper. The paper wrapping containing the labelling of the candy was still attached to the aluminum that had once held the candy. It was a chocolate bar. To be specific, it was a Topic bar. Those weren't sold in Japan. L remembered last eating one before going out onto the roof into the rain. It had been imported from Poland, as it was only sold there, Ireland, and in the United Kingdom. L squinted at it, dropping it back into the trashcan. What on Earth was it doing in Light's trashcan? It wasn't the one L had, because L always folded the paper and aluminum together as much as he could before throwing it away and this wrapper had no tell-tale signs of fold creases to indicate it had been L's previously, so that meant Light had gotten one on his own. What reasoning did he have for doing that? Light wasn't fond of sweets, and he even had an unambiguous dislike for chocolate and hazelnut, L remembered distinctly though it made him wince. Why would he go through the trouble to get foreign chocolate when he didn't even like it?

He stood once again, still unsteady at best. He shuffled over to Light's bed and collapsed on it, worn out though he had barely lifted a finger. His hand curled around the soft, cool sheets that also felt distant and disconnected like the wall and floor. The candy wrapper, however, had felt surprisingly real in his fingers. Everything else felt fuzzy and unreal, like he was feeling all of this behind a sheet of cellophane. The sheets felt especially disconnected. So much so that, when he looked to see if he was actually grasping the fabric, he was appalled to see that he was not. His hand was going right through the fabric and he was simply forming a fist. His skin, pale as he was, was actually translucent enough to show the folds of the sheet beneath his palm. It startled him enough to sit up right, and then he stood up entirely once he realized he was a bit too comfortable in the place his murderer was most human.

He was thankful to have retained his hunched posture even as a spirit.

Is that what I am? Am I a ghost of sorts?

He frowned minutely, overwhelmed, confused, and uncharacteristically lonely. Watari wasn't with him and that made him feel even lonelier. However, he supposed he was stuck here because – if it was true that he was a ghost – he had unfinished business with a certain honor-student-slash-serial-killer.

"Well, well, well. This is interesting." A sudden and unexpectedly rough voice commented from the other side of the room, standing right in the spot L had woken up in. L assessed the creature, which was no doubt a Shinigami. It was about as tall as Rem had been, with a seemingly ever-present smile, olive-like eyes, and bluish-black hair that stuck straight up. There was a distinct Death Note that made L's skin crawl cradled in some kind of holster attached to his belt. His laugh was airy and frightening, not that L's fear showed on his face. He simply narrowed his eyes on the creature.

"Who are you?" He demanded, but was immediately surprised by the fact he could not hear his own voice. The pressure in his throat where his vocal chords were told him he was speaking, but he couldn't hear himself. Not even the muffled tones he would here if he had cotton in his ears. However… he could hear the monster talk; this made absolutely no sense.

The creature walked over to Light's desk and scooped an apple from the bowl resting there, then proceeded to nearly swallow the thing whole. L tried to hide his grimace. "I am Ryuk the Shinigami. You are L, Light's deceased number one enemy. I am Light's Shinigami." Ryuk explained to the detective, his tone that of an adult speaking to a child. L supposed, as far as years went and his habits showed he probably was a child in the Shinigami's eye.

Shinigami Eyes… don't get yourself started, Lawliet.

L nodded, taking in the information in stride. "Did you do this to me?"

The ghastly creature laughed like L had told the best joke he had ever heard. "No, I didn't. I don't have that much power over the dead."

The ebony-haired man glared. "Oh? But your tone of voice and words imply that you know what I have become."

It snorted at him. "Isn't it obvious, L? You died, remember? You're now, what you humans call, a spirit. A special one at that too, but explaining anymore would take all the fun away." It laughed in the same obnoxious fashion before picking up another apple to devour.

His suspicions were confirmed, then… somewhat. "Do you know why I'm like this?" He asked hopefully.

The Shinigami gave a shake of its head, scarfing down another apple.

Very helpful, you are, L thought icily. "Well, why can't I hear myself speak?"

"You are a spirit." It said slowly, like that explained everything. L gave it a sharp look and it laughed airily. "Well, from what I know, things like you are stuck on Earth 'cause they have to complete some sort of purpose or mission. You earn back stuff like your voice and the ability to feel as you begin to complete whatever you're here for. That's all I know about your kind." L winced at the way it said "your kind" like he was of some species other than the human race. He was he knew that, he just didn't want to accept it – accept that he lost and was dead and no longer human.

His purpose… it must be to bring Kira to justice. That was the only thing he had left unfinished.

Suddenly, there was the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. L immediately froze, hoping against hope that it wasn't Light. The Shinigami laughed, rattling his nerves, but proceeded to soothe the anxiety it had caused in L. "Don't worry, kid. Light can't see you… yet." It cackled again. "And I won't tell him you're here… yet. That'd take all my fun away, too. I don't promise I won't talk to ya if Light gets boring, though. He's been kinda boring lately." It voiced unnecessarily, but the words piqued L's curiosity immediately. How could a crazed serial killer be boring? L wanted to ask what the Shinigami meant, but the door opened the same moment L thought to open his mouth and voice his voiceless thoughts.

Light came in looking as tired as he felt, his jacket already off and hanging off his forearm. His hair was even a bit damp and shiny, like the rain had actually managed to touch it… like he hadn't come prepared with an umbrella. L didn't really think about that. He thought about the fact that he was here, standing in front of his killer, his friend, and Light didn't even know. There was a plastic shopping bag hanging from his other hand.

"Is there a reason you were so eager to come up here?" Light asked the Shinigami gruffly. He pushed his wet bangs out of his face and glared above L's head at the Shinigami's face.

The monster made a point to take another apple from the small bowl on Light's desk and wolfed it down; the answer itself, plain and simple.

Light rolled his watery brown eyes. "Of course it's because of apples."

"Also," Ryuk said as he chewed. "I thought I saw something up here."

Light froze as he prepared to sit down in his desk chair, one hand braced against the desk and the other holding the chair open for himself. He turned back to Ryuk with a sharp whip of his head, his eyes narrowed nearly to slits. "Like what?"

If the Shinigami wasn't forced to smile all the time, L suspected it would be smirking from how cocky and amused it sounded. "Something entertaining."

Light frowned, his eyes softening with honest curiosity. His hand was no longer bracing the desk, and he fell back into the office chair like he was truly so very exhausted. His head was tilted back, chin pointed up to the ceiling. "Like what?" He repeated the question.

Ryuk ate his last apple slower than the rest, like he was savoring it. "A spirit or something."

Light raised his head, looking at Ryuk skeptically. "Do those actually exist?"

The Death God nodded, swallowing the core of the last apple. Light made a simple sound of acceptance and nodded. He sat up straight, putting the plastic shopping bag in his lap and digging through. He extracted a Topic bar, and L's mouth watered at the sight before he could consider why Light had another one of those.

"I don't understand why you keep buying that stuff." Ryuk said its voice indifferent and bleak. It wasn't all that interested; honestly, it was just prompting answers from Light to see what reaction it could get out of Ryuzaki. Ryuzaki was the real entertainment right now.

Light bit off a corner of the candy bar, the muscles of his face taut like he was fighting off a grimace. "I like them."

Ryuk simply shook its head. "No, L liked them. Wasn't he eating one of those before he went out to the roof?" Its voice was nearly accusatory, but amused all the same.

Light looked like some matured version of a child who got his hand caught in the cookie jar before dinner; in other words – guilty. "I don't know." He grumbled a bit too low and too fast. "Look, you were never interested in my dietary habits before. And since when did you become so observant?"

Ryuk gave a chilling laugh.

Light turned back towards his computer muttering, "Well great, it learns by mimicking."

Ryuk only laughed harder.

He's been trapped in here for over two hours now, if Light's clock is trustworthy. All he's done is watch Light stare at his Death Note with a pained expression. He's deduced that he is unable to leave Light's room, as well. He can pass through the bed, the desk, even Light, but he cannot leave the room. The not-hard-not-soft walls are barriers that prevent him from escaping – it only supports his assumption that his "purpose" involves Light somehow. He presses his hands flat against the wall – or rather, boundary. He felt like a bird in a cage, now. Trapped, in every sense of the word, with the last person he wanted to ever be trapped with.

Light is currently at dinner, leaving L alone with Ryuk.

"Is having the boundaries removed another thing I must earn?" L asked a bit hopelessly. His entire situation was bizarre and hopeless; he had always been a bit of a personal pessimist, though he preferred to refer to himself as a realist.

Ryuk just stared at him. "You're really screwed, you know that?"

L only glared in return. "As long as Light can't see, hear, or feel me, I'm in no danger."

The monster laughed, its head tipped back. "For your sake, I hope he's scared of lightning." It said, looking almost hopefully out towards Light's balcony, the storm outside seeming to grow angrier by the second.

"Oh? Why's that?"

It cracked up yet again. "Considering that little heir of yours with the Shinigami Eyes, I would figure that you would know a bit more about the supernatural."

L held his breath, suddenly furious. "How do you know about-?"

"Beyond Birthday?" The Shinigami finished. "Most every Shinigami knows about him. The only human to have our eyes… Huh. Interesting kid, he is."

L was going to reply with something about how those eyes have done nothing but driven his poor, young prodigy insane while inwardly mourning his brilliant-minded look-alike who was locked up in an asylum in Los Angeles, but his retort died in his mouth when the handle to Light's room turned and the young came in yawning, arms stretched above his head.

"Who are you talking to?" Light asked irritably, sitting down on his bed so close to L that he might have been able to feel the other's breath if he could feel.

"Myself. Duh."

Light rolled his eyes, flopping back on the bed. "Right."

"You know, I heard you say once that excess sleepiness is a sign of depression. You've been extra boring lately; are you sure you don't miss L a little?"

Light flinched, but just enough that L could see it and Ryuk could not. "Don't be ridiculous, Ryuk. He was the enemy. He had to die. Whether I liked him as a friend or not, he was against me and he chose his own fate." Justifying it – he was in denial.

"I'd just be careful with what you say from now on." Ryuk said, taking the apple from Light's outstretched hand that L had failed to notice, to focused on the younger's face.

Light raised an eyebrow, standing up and reaching into his school bag to extract the Death Note. He dropped it onto his desk and stared down at it for a moment before sitting in his desk chair and spinning to face Ryuk. "What do you mean?"

"Souls like L's are bound to turn into something over than dead."

L's wide, round eyes turned wider and rounder, staring at Ryuk in disbelief.

Light cocked his head to the side skeptically. "What like a ghost or something?"

Ryuk shrugged indifferently. "Something like that. People like him – dying with unfinished business – typically turn into spirits once they die and are bound to Earth until they finish their purpose. I'm kinda counting on him showing up. I'd bet apples on it."

Light's face twisted into something of pain and disbelief. "Spirits exist? You mean to say… there's a chance – small or large – that L might come back from the grave and haunt me, haunt Kira?"

Ryuk nodded, now munching on his apple. "Yup, that's what I said."

Light cursed under his breath, visibly wilting in his chair. He looked up at his Shinigami with dry humor. "And I suppose you aren't going to tell me if he shows up, are you? Am I not going to be able to see him? Is that why you're injecting this paranoia into my head?"

Ah. Now he understood. Ryuk was trying to make Light paranoid, and was apparently succeeding at said task. Light's knee was bouncing restlessly and his tongue periodically flicked out to wet his chapped lips.

Nervous at the prospect of once again being unable to watch me as I watch you?

The thought nearly brought a smirk to L's pale lips.

The creature tipped its head back, looking up as if it were consulting the ceiling. "I might. I might not. You just worry your pretty little head about Kira and whatever other little traps your boyfriend laid out for you." The smile, if possible, seemed to stretch out even wider on the creature's face.

Light stalled with his hand frozen mid-reach for a mechanical pencil. He blinked once, as if his brilliant mind needed seconds to process the Shinigami's words. They turned over and over in his head, until the youth turned to Ryuk with a near-lethal look of resentment and hatred. "What did you say?"

It only laughed. "Ha! You're getting so worked up over a little joke! You must really miss him." It stretched its arms over its head and walked towards the balcony. "I'm bored. I think I'm gonna go get some apples. See ya, Light." He walked through the closed door and spread its ungodly, mangled black wings before flying off and out of sight.

Light rolled his eyes, his legs crossed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "What a sorry excuse for a god." He muttered. "Annoying bastard." He grabbed the pencil he had been reaching for before and began looking over the names and faces on the list he had composed of new criminals that needed to die. However, he hadn't killed in over five days, now. Not since L died. Even his girlfriend was asking him for more criminals to kill; having already exhausted her own list and the one he had made for her. She was getting suspicious, asking him already twice this week if he was stalling because of L's passing. He denied it swiftly, of course, but he couldn't help but to question himself in the secrecy of his own brilliant mind.

This was… L had to die for justice. He had to, or Light's perfect world would never see the light of day. L's death was for this. He leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his neat, sepia-colored hair. He's been feeling increasingly tired as the days go on, like he's making up the insomniac's years without sleep because he never got to catch up.

Light scoffs at the thought and clicks off his desk light. He stands and begins to remove his clothing, until he was only in his boxers. L turned his back to the boy as he did so, feeling slightly awkward. He didn't want to gawk at the young boy anymore. He didn't want this to still be cat-and-mouse between them. He was tired of cat-and-mouse games with Kira. He lost. He could accept that. What he couldn't accept was what on Earth put him right back into the game after he already resigned?

Light walks right through L, only shivering lightly at the cold draft he feels. L, on the other hand, experiences a silencing pain that brings him to his knees and onto his side, ears ringing, phantom heart pounding, and he doesn't know if he's screaming or not because he can't hear himself.

He can't even feel. When the pain subsides, he rises to his feet and sees Light fast asleep in his bed. He sighs with relief and makes a strong mental note to himself to avoid letting people walk through him. Not knowing what else to do, and suddenly feeling very tired himself, he squats on the end of Light's bed, rests his forehead on his knees, and falls into a teetering sleep that is dreamless. L vaguely wonders if he'll have to earn back dreams as well.