And The Shadows Of Those Dreams
[I will smile with a hideous contentment, because I am an evil man,
and tonight I will do something evil in this city!] ~ Fairy Tale
L's demise has finally come, and the night is on fire, and Light thinks that it is as new and as thrilling an experience as eating glass, not only for the first time, but for the last time ever.
L isn't breathing, because L can't breath, because L is dead. His body is growing colder and colder as he is cradled in Light's arms, and they are Light's arms, and Light doesn't really know why that is so, so important, but it is, and Light has creeping suspicion that he is going to have a very, very hard time letting L go.
[There are a billion reasons to look down into a casket, but just one way to lie in it dead, which proves there isn't anything you can think of that isn't here for the living, who are each alive for a short time in a very different way.] ~ The World As Seen Through A Glass Of Ice Water
It is before the fact that Light's archenemy-best-friend-equal-hate-hate-hate-detectiveis honestly, truthfully dead even has the chance to sink in, Light can feel the life leave L's body, can sense the sudden lack of presence in the room that L once so manipulatively occupied.
(It is only now that Light realizes just how much space L actually once took up. His small, scrawny body: just another one of the man's great, masterful deceptions.)
[It's true that snow takes on gold from sunset and red from rearlights. But that's occasional. What is constant is white, or is that only sight, a reflection of eyewhites and light? Because snow reflects only itself, self upon self upon self, is a blanket used for smothering, for sleeping. For not seeing the naked, flawed body.] ~ Why Is The Colour Of Snow?
Rem's death note.
When Light sees inside for himself the word that killed L, it takes everything he has to retain his model-teen composure, because it is in that beautifully awful moment that Light discovers that L's most brilliant mask is not actually a mask at all, and Light isn't sure whether he wants to hit his head against a wall or burst into hysterical laughter.
(Yes, it is a word that killed L, not a name, because with all of L's different identities and aliases and personas and deceptions, Light knows that the detective has never, ever thought of himself as L, has never thought of himself as anything.)
Behind him, a Shinigami cackles loudly in Light's place, and the sound is both chilling and familiar.
That bastard, is all Light can think, leave it to L to hide behind his real name.
[Even this late the bones of the body shine and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.] ~ The Coming Of Light
Light knows that it will make him sound crazy, even to, especially to himself, but one night he swears he can see L lurking in the shadows of his bedroom, the one they used to share, once upon a time. Light will never say so out loud, but he can swear he hears L's breathing, which is ridiculous because corpses don't breathe.
(It is just like L to take advantage of a moonless night.)
It is so dark in the room, and that is why Light is not yet terrified, because it is one thing to have foolishly convinced his mind that there might possibly be something of which to be frightened, but it is another matter entirely to actually have indubitable proof that there is a deranged, walking corpse stalking about in Light's bedroom.
Light cannot seem to rid the image from his mind of L coming for him, L with his body composed of maggot-infested, decaying flesh with an open, gaping mouth that sucks in breath after icy breath, the type of thing that only the living should do.
The only thing Light knows right now is the quiet, rasping sound that may as well be as loud as a turbo jet, and the silently-shifting figure in the corner opposite the bed—only the slightest bit blacker than the black already surrounding them (him, not them—Light is the only one here)—that seems to vanish entirely from the room just before the sun has a chance to come up and prove to Light once and for all that he is being ridiculous, and that keeping himself awake all night just so that he can have a staring contest with a spot on the wall had been in itself entirely unnecessary.
[So we met up, the living and the dead.
Then, each went on his way.] ~ Meeting With My Father In The Orchard
In broad daylight, out of the corners of his eyes, Light constantly finds himself catching glimpses of what looks like L, couldn't be L, and it is sort of like seeing him reflected in glass objects and mirrors, only it's not, because those are the only places that Light doesn't see him.
(No, what's frightening is that something resembling L is being reflected on walls, and other things that can't physically reflect anything.)
Light never dares to bring up anything on the matter to the task force members, because he doesn't need to, because they are so predictably easy to read that he knows with a fair amount of certainty that none of them have seen, or even heard, anything at all.
It is on days like these that Light catches himself almost missing his late, unsettling detective.
[I just want to say yes
to you, yes and
watch this.] ~ Back In Seaside
Light comes to the only possible logical conclusion he can make one night, the conclusion that he is losing his mind, because L is in his bedroom now although Light cannot see him, and Light knows that he is there because L is whispering in his ear.
L whispers to him words that chill Light to the bone—the types of things to which he cannot seem to find a proper response, or even want there to be such a thing as a proper response to.
(Words not between Light and Ryuzaki, no, they are most certainly words between L and Kira, and Light wonders that if, because they are just that much alike, he wonders if maybe they have been damned to the same hell.)
Kira is not afraid, not of anyone, not of L.
(Especially not of L. After all, this enemy has already fallen once.)
And so when L whispers unspeakable things to an ear Light only wishes were deaf, Kira whispers right back at L with his own words of blasphemy, of course all the while mocking Light for him and his pathetic weaknesses.
It is Kira who is in charge, now. Kira finds that it would be best if he is simply in charge from now on, and Light is no longer loud enough to give any sort of effective protest.
[And when I shut my eyes now I am not like a blind person walking towards the lowering sun, the water loud at my right, but like a seeing person with her eyes shut.] ~ Sundown
Light gives in to Kira because he has always known he would eventually, because even though Light maybe isn't innocent, he still aims to make the world a better place and he still aims to make a positive difference in the lives of everyone on earth and he's still Light, but Light is not someone who can fearlessly challenge his worst enemy once more to a game of wits, because his worst enemy is some kind of decaying, incorporeal corpse. And it is not Kira but Light who recognizes that the only real thing decaying anywhere approaching their proximity is his own mental state, a truth that Kira is blind to because of his refusal to accept, or to even consider the possibility.
But no, Kira is perfect, because Kira is god.
[Was God sleeping when he knew nothing? As opposed to up all night (before there was night) or alert all day (before day)?] ~ What God Knew
Compared to Light's terrifying brilliance, the members of the task force are all really quite dull-minded. But Light can see that they all have come to a realization, and although they are still too dim to recognize the fact that Light and Kira are one and the same (might be, might be one and the same—), they must be able to smell his brain rotting from the inside-out, because certainly a condition so awfully, cripplingly tragic doesn't just happen quietly, without noticeable, physical changes.
Even though Light knows and they know that nobody really actually knows, they all pretend they do, because maybe they are just as scared as Light is to have confirmed their version of whatever they think the truth is, never even coming close to grasping the reality that Kira has taken control of Light's will, and that Light is powerless to stop him.
[Writing makes a mirror between the two children who perceive each other. In a physical world, the mirror is a slice of dark space. How do you break a space? No. Tell me a story set in a different time, in a different place. Because I'm scared. I'm scared of the child I'm making.] ~ Humanimal [I Want To Make A Dark Mirror Out Of Writing]
When Light is not looking, Kira climbs into his hollow, hollow bones and offers to pleasure Light in all the ways he is able, because Kira really is skilled at manipulation through seduction, but it isn't going to work on Light because he has been Kira, so he knows.
(Besides, human bones are not meant to be so hollow.)
"You are not who I ever wanted to become," Light snarls, one day when he is sick of not showing any resistance. Something in the very deep corners of Light's mind, he understands that he is trying to engage in an argument with, quite literally, himself, and maybe that's like running after something that is physically impossible to ever, ever catch, but at least he's doing something because Kira is going to take over the world with all of the wrong ideals.
Light hopes that he looks more determined not to back down than he actually feels, because the truth is, Kira is always so tempting, because Kira is just so right and so capable and he's god, and Light does his best not to look too concerned about the fact that by standing up to Kira he might be throwing away his entire dream, but Kira sees through it all and laughs right in his face.
(And in an instant, Light wonders when he has become such a poor actor, and somewhere inside his head, a voice that is not quite loud enough for him to hear tells Light that the reason Kira can see through everything he does is because he and Kira are the same goddamn person.)
[Here among bones and bleached arroyos the sun leans through my window at dawn to let me know I'm not going anywhere. There's no more anywhere to go.] ~ Road Trip
Somewhere, everywhere, logic is scattered about the ground and lives in the dust that has been left behind, and it doesn't even matter anymore, because L's rain (yes, it is L's rain, now) has washed away all the colour from the world, leaving in its wake the all-too familiar world of monochrome that Light has always known, has always lived in—and Kira, too, because Light realizes that this Kira isn't a god, and he does have weakness.
The weakness is himself, Light has come to accept, because Light knows that if he dies, there will be nothing left of the so-called god living inside him, either.
(Strike while the head still wears the crown, right?)
Right. After all, what is a moment worth?
And that's what Light tells himself as he plunges the knife deep within his chest, deep deep deep deep—the ultimate self-sacrifice to prevent Kira from gaining international dictatorship over the world.
For a moment, the only thought, the only single thought Light's ruined, imperfect brain manages to formulate is "Oh my fucking god it hurts."
(And then the instant is over, and the instant passes by as though it bumps into blown-up chunks of Light's mind on its way out, and these bumps seem to jump-start his brain, and suddenly Light is hit with a whole, deafening cacophony of fragmented thoughts that he can't seem to control or stop or even comprehend, because he is dying just as L did before him, only this time there is no one to hold him or be held onto as the world dies with him.
[I would like to be beautiful when written.] ~ The Luxury Of Hesitation [excerpt from The Proof From Motion]
I'm not sure whether to consider Light's spur-of-the-moment actions to be absolutely, fucking insane, or ...noble? Personally, I'd say that he probably just went really fucking insane and decided to go all martyr on us, because that's just how much he had already lost his mind at that point.
This isn't one of my best fics, but that might have something to do with the fact that I am writing this not having slept in two days, so oh well.
In case you missed it in the summary, this is sort of a sequel to my other fic, Where Dreams Come To Dance. If you haven't read it, you should check it out. I view it maybe as one of my finer stories.
I hope you enjoyed, and I also hope that this made at least some sense, but be sure to let me know in the form of a review? Thank you all very much!
~Ratt Kazamata, 7/18/2012