Told upon the aftermath of Death Note's conclusion, this is a brief story following the life of Misa Amane. Concerning her reactions and reflections on all that has come to past, Misa, more then anyone else left behind had a lot to mourn.

After a few short moments the pain diminished and there was no more light in his eyes; hundreds of miles away, Misa could feel an inexplicable pang, an invisible knife that pierced her heart and told her it was over. Whatever it was.

To plunge 60 stories or set London on fire, Misa would have done anything to please him. But now it was too late. Her whole world came down in a shattering crash as the ivory child twisted a strand of hair around his finger and said, "Light Yagami, Kira, is dead."

No.

No. Her vision was spinning, and she grips the plastic chair with deep heavy breaths. Suddenly the world felt very, very, wrong. After everything had been explained to her, so that she knew what they knew, Misa was opening her mouth to speak but the words would not come.

Over and over she had burned away the death note memories, had her shinigami vision stolen so that all remained in the ashes of broken thoughts and incoherency was her love for him and him alone. But it didn't matter now.Words were churning in the air, biting at her skin. Murderer, terrorist. Death note. Death note. Shinigami.

She wasn't listening to him, to anyone. She didn't feel Mr. Matsuda's hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her trembling body.

The drum of blood was rushing to her ears, her heart was screaming in agony. Any moment now, would she die too?

But then Misa grew very still and thoughtful while the white-haired boy continued with a sense of haughty superiority, because he thought he knew her, knew this fragile woman so very well, "it was only natural for you to have affection for the man who killed your parents's murderer," to which at that point she raised her gaze and stared him straight in the eye. Something in the way he said it struck her to the very core, spurring her to react in a voice that wasn't her own.

She replied, "it was more than that for Misa! Much, much more than that!"

It was love. Unconditional love. Silence pitched the dark room into an uncomfortably bitter mood. Misa's eyes matched those of the child-genius with burning resentment, how long this contest would have gone on was never discovered.

"It doesn't matter what you say about him!" she yelled, standing inches from his impassive face, "Light-kun was everything to Misa. Light-kun was a good person!" She raised her hand to slap him, officers emerged from the shadows—she had not seen them before, they rushed forward to stop her. And then the tears bled freely because she felt desperate, powerless.

Of all the people standing there, it was Matsuda who realized as the frail woman collapsed into his arms that this had been a bittersweet victory over Kira. That it was more bitter than sweet----in fact it was terribly, terribly bitter. . .

Miss Amane, I hope you realize this is classified information. You may tell no one of what you heard here today. Can you fathom what would happen if others knew? If citizens knew that Kira had been killed. It would be chaos, don't you agree?

She wasn't listening. Something was muffling the voice; distantly she realized, it was the sound of her frantic wailing.

One of the officers stepped forward and whispered to the others and then Mr. Matsuda was gently lifting her, taking Misa away from the boy with his wicked words and poisoned lies. Lies. That's what it all was.

Lies.

She pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching the city streets blur by with a dull perception. It was late afternoon and she watched as students walked together in groups of two or three. They were laughing and she tried to guess their jokes. She wanted to be with them, laughing about something. anything. She wanted to replace this ache in her chest, throbbing.

"It will be alright, Misa Misa," the rookie cop said softly when they were finally at her apartment. He hands her his new meishi with a weary but reassuring smile and says to call him if she needs anything at all. Only the gesture is wasted on the ghost of a girl. She clutches the card in her hand, shutting the door when Mr. Matsuda leaves. On the wall, a clock is ticking. It reminds her of something people often say.

Time. Time will heal all wounds. All Misa needed was time.

Friends told her she was brave, and strong and many things, to be able to go on living without him; little did everybody know, Misa was counting down the days on her hello kitty calendar for the time to come when it would all simply end. Talk-shows always asked her about him, about her officer boyfriend shot down in the line of duty. That was the lie they had decided to tell the world. She had objected at first, but was too weak to fight him. That ivory-haired boy and his grown-up cronies. In the end it had been Mr. Matsuda who had convinced her to let it go. People need this lie, Misa-chan. It still made her sick though, and eventually it became too much and she told her agent to cancel all interviews. She didn't want to talk anymore. She didn't want to talk to anyone.

Misa reconnects with her past through photographs. Candid shots of him and her together. Their first 'real' date. Ones of him and her on the beach. She cradled a picture of him, his piercing stare boring into the camera. Smile for me, Light-kun. Please, won't you smile for your Misa? There was a tug at his lips, a suggestion of something. Light has not just one type of smirk but many, and Misa can recognize them all: one for when he knows he is right, one for when he's wrong; one for his inferiors and one, she's certain, he has reserved just for her.

She held one of the pictures tightly, hoping that if she willed herself she could be taken back to when it was first born. It was before Light had been promoted to one of the NPD's most highest positions. Before he became so busy.

"It's too late," Light shouted when Misa began to cry, and fiercely he added, "I'm not quitting, not until this is over," only little did they know the curtains were already drawing on the final act. Too late.

Light had begun to change more and more each day: first it was the little things until one morning she woke up and did not recognize the sleeping man beside her; only it was too late then to ask questions, to ask him what had happened to her knight-in-shining-armor. Misa has grown accustom to standing outside Light's office, listening to the rapid tapping of computer keys and the occasional muffled curse that penetrates the locked door between them.

With unrefined selfishness Misa thought, he had left her for a journey this time she couldn't follow. He had always done that in life. Leaving her for long nights away. She could always tell when he had been with that untalented bitch and it made her stomach churn; she could smell her stench on his jacket but when Misa asked where he had been, Light simply shrugged and replied, "nowhere."

It's a late Saturday morning when Misa wakes up. She drifts into the kitchen, turning on the t.v. A year has gone by since his death and still she mourns her Knight-in-Shining-Armor. Armed with a remote, Misa fends off the screech of children's anime as darts through the channels suddenly something catches her attention. A man stands next to a talk-show host: "We believe Lord Kira is giving us a chance to take matters into our own hands,"Misa pauses in her quest for entertainment, transfixed on the strange figure. "He made Hispresence known and now we, mankind, must make the right choices and abide by His glorious path."

If citizens knew that Kira had been killed. The words entered her thoughts, unbidden. She leans over the counter, staring closer at the television. She knows the truth, but Misa no longer finds comfort in truths. She envies this man's innocence, his ability to believe in something so very false. She prefers this to all the ivory boy's ugly words. This beautiful lie, because after all, if this stranger knew, if everyone knew. . .

It would be chaos, don't you agree?