Off in the distance, sirens wailed.

But she could no longer hear them. Though, even if she could…

…Would she have even cared?

Useless, no longer needed, without love, without reason to live, without reason to be.

She had waited, though patience was hardly a virtue that she was one to possess.

Had it all really been for nothing? No, that was never the case. Had never been the case.

At least, not for her...

The one, sole wish that echoed endlessly in her mind was to see him…See his smile, just once more. Desperately, she would try to recall it when the darkness swirled around her and threatened to swallow her whole. She could almost see it, just barely out of focus.

But it was still too far away.

She heaved a wretched sob. She just couldn't quite make it out. She wanted it, needed the comfort of it now more than ever. It didn't matter the smile had never been a real one in the first place, just another guise her dear love had been so adept at conjuring year after year after year to no possible end. All that mattered was that it came from him…And she needed this, even if it was such a small and pathetic piece of him. She needed at least the illusion of it with her now, to give her the courage she needed to go on.

She was a weak, tortured, nothing. She had always been nothing. A pretty face smiling into cameras, dressed like a doll…Because that was all she was, a doll. A little object groomed to others expectations and for what use they could make of her…But when her value finally diminished, which in the end, it had…What more was left to her?

...Nothing...

And they wondered why she had so desperately needed him, wanted him, and loved him. She with no purpose but to live for others, and he with no purpose but to live for himself-- it had been inevitable. By just letting her exist for him, he had made her something more than she had ever been before in the course of her short young life.

No one had understood her. Even those that had loved her never truly knew her. She was just a little doll behind a wall of polished glass. Most however never even tried, disgusted by the single-minded nature of her simple being. She was either hated for her ignorance, or adored for it. The utter lack of care she held for herself and others when it came to protecting the one that made her existence worthwhile was undeniably reckless, even if all that she lived for was nothing more than a farce. As long as he was there, none of it mattered. She cared nothing for the truth, and was most at peace when bundled in the thick, warm, comforting folds of one of his lies.

He always was wonderful at making her feel safe.

Then again, he was exceptionally talented at most things.

And when it came to lying, he was especially so.

She had only ever seen what she had wanted to see, nothing more, nothing less. When he lived, he was the celestial beam of light that was her guide in this world with no meaning. He was the sun she was so inexorably pulled to. He was the Judge, almighty and powerful. He was her God-- God of the new world…His new world, and hers. They say it is bad luck to fall in love with a god. It can only ever bring despair to fall in love with something, someone that was never truly real. But that didn't matter either. She was never concerned with her own fate.

It was never she that mattered, not once she met him.

She needed no heaven, no hell. There was no distinction between good and evil, fantasy and reality within her. She was devoid of every possible notion of the difference between any of them. She had one single purpose that consumed her every action, every breath, every thought, every single part of her being—to protect and be loved by him. If the latter was impossible and could only ever be true in a lie, what of it? She would only then devote herself entirely to the former, at any cost. It didn't matter to her whether he was right or wrong, honest or deceiving, because there was no wrong when it came to him. It was only he— nothing and no one else could ever be her right.

Why could no one see that?

Had anyone ever loved so completely, so foolishly, and so whole-heartedly as she? Perhaps one had...Then again, perhaps not. She had been doomed from the beginning. ...Destined for despair, pain, heartache and loss. But in those moments, those few, precious, gleaming moments when she was at his side…The right side of her love and God…There was nothing else and there never could be. And she would be damned sure to make certain there never would be either.

How could she be expected to suffer living after such a brilliant, terrible, beautiful star had crossed her sky? After having thrown everything into inexhaustible relief and clarity; and had then, after so much time—faltered in its flight, spiraled down to earth, and finally died?…Leaving her with empty space, null and void. Within herself and without herself— there was nothing left for her now.

Why?

She can't remember how long she cried…Even after her tears had run dry, streaking dark, black lines down her pale, painted cheeks—she hadn't bothered to wipe them away. Those days and nights, though she could never remember which was which, were forever etched into her memory as tainted and blurred by the watery outline of her tears.

These memories stayed with her, residing in her heart, if not her mind…Where they could never be erased. Logic dictated she should remember naught. But how could one not recall, at least in some form, though obscured from complete recollection as if by a veil, what one's entire existence had once been so completely bent upon?

...But what of the instigator of all this misery?

The source had been destroyed, therefore theoretically eliminating all of her once coveted memories until all that remained was now ashen. She could no longer summon his image as she had been so often wont to do in the past. And now, when she needed him most, he was no long there. All was emptiness. But all was not lost as she still compelled herself to hold on to what was left to her with a tenacity that could have shaken worlds over, if it had been let. The little book, deceiving in its extraordinary appearance of being ordinary, had been utterly obliterated by their foe, and all her precious memories along with it. Neither good nor evil was their adversary himself, and he had burned the book of death by way of fire, wresting from her what little hope she could have had to cling to in this darkest of hours.

As it seems is the way of most things not meant for this world, her god and his power had been completely and utterly silenced. Forever lost to this earth and its occupants. Never again was the seemingly insignificant note to be used for evil or for good; nor to ever meet the ends of another well-intentioned, moralistic adolescent.

At least, not that particular note, that is.

No one ever expected, least of all him, that the innocent little notebook would be the catalyst that would one day extinguish the real light and sully the true purity that had once been such a central part of his being. Was it this misguided, brilliant, and unfortunate boy the one she had so loved? Or was it the faithless, unrepentant, egomaniacal monster that he had later been so irreversibly twisted as to become?

Perhaps it was both.

She loved all of him, regardless of the consequences.

And there were, in fact, many consequences.

And how many, I wonder, can ever claim to be so utterly loved, or to have loved so selflessly? So mindlessly unaware of what might be, in favor of the object of their devotion? Was the boy blessed or was he cursed? The same could be asked of the girl. Some would say he condemned himself the moment he touched the little black notebook lying on the ground, and sealed his fate when he took up his pen and passed his "righteous" judgment for the very first time. A power reserved for gods, and only for gods. And that is as it should be…The human mind being far too frail, too idealistic, and too independent to be capable of shouldering such a burden without at some point being crushed under its massive weight. But, like it or not, he was not alone on his venture towards insanity. She wouldn't let him be, couldn't let him-- cursed or not.

She was doomed to love him, and blessed to live with him.

But how could she let herself forget? Logical or no? That had been one thing that she had never allowed to dictate her life, and this case was no different. Even when all that had once been distinct—faces, names, and events had long faded away into nothing…The feelings still remained; lingering on even after every remnant of the life with her god should have been nothing more than smoke to her.

Carved into her soul, forever, for better or for worse, she was only grateful she still had them to keep her company, now that she was so alone.

Even as the emotions threatened to tear her asunder, she was grateful. Even as they gnawed away at the last remaining threads of her sanity, and clawed mercilessly at her from the inside-- tearing her apart, making her hollow. She was only glad that she could at least still feel…That meant there had to have been something, at some point, at some time…

…Something that had once been worth living, feeling, and now dying for.

Just beyond her, birds were flying through the air, flitting in and out of her blurry vision. She could see them out the window, carelessly weaving, ducking and diving with all the grace in the world.

His grace.

The thought made her smile, but the expression was almost immediately soured as a coughing fit wracked her already weak and damaged body. Making an effort to look past the scarlet pool that surrounded her and past the lake of crimson in which she was so ungainly sprawled…She lifted her head once again to the enchanting, mesmerizing sight of the white birds, still contentedly engaged in their lofty dance above the city. They reminded her of something…Something bright, something achingly beautiful, and something somehow remote from the rest of the world for which her heart was desperately imploring her to recall.

And then finally, she knew. She remembered. She saw, in the utmost perfect clarity.

His smile…Shining out to her, calling her. Bathing her in its—no, his—lovely ethereal radiance…Completing her, making her whole, if not before then now and forever— here at the end of all things.

Her graying eyes and darkening vision brightened for an instant, as she basked in the euphoric glow of memory as the darkness beckoned her ever closer...

Just a little farther now...

The blissful waves of light frothed gently around her battered heart and soothed her broken mind into complacency. She was ready. It no longer mattered if anyone ever truly understood why or how…Only that she had dared to love as she had…

…Without limits, restraints, or bonds.

And so, there could be no regrets.

And that in itself, can it not at least be said, to be admirable?

She was coming. At long last, she was coming.

:Notes from the Authoress:

Thank you so much for reading! As you can see, this is my very first attempt at fanfiction, and I hope you enjoyed what you could of it. I am completely open to constructive criticism, and would be wonderfully pleased if you would do me the honor of leaving a review. ;3

WARNING: SOME SPOILERS MAY BE FOUND IN THE FOLLOWING PASSAGES.

If you have not finished the DeathNote series in its entirety, I strongly encourage you to do so before reading the following.

Now concerning the ficlet: I wanted this to revolve around Misa's loss of memory after Near (aka: the 3rd--yes, 3rd!--L) destroyed the last of the Deathnotes. She still remembered Light, naturally...But she would no longer have known that he had ever had any connection with Kira, much less that he in fact was Kira. In my opinion, her love/worship for Kira and love/worship of Light went hand in hand...So that any memory of either would still be blended with the other, regardless of the loss of her Kira-Light memories.

Now, I understand this means she would still remember Light, therefore making the center of this fic (Misa struggling to recall aspects of Light himself) a mute point. However, I made it so that in the end since all the Deathnotes including her own and Light's had been destroyed, it meant all of her knowledge of ever even having met him had been caused to dissolve almost completely...Though not quite.

Misa was always a very emotional person, probably the most emotional in the series with Matsuda being the only real exception (gotta love that guy ;P). She felt everything deeply, to the point that she would often let her feelings rule her and cause her to act recklessly on more than one occasion. I reasoned that considering these facts about her character, it would be extremely unlikely that she would forget the feelings she harbored for Kira. She already knew before even coming into contact with a Deathnote that she revered Kira as a god for killing the man that murdered her parents...So also would the unconscious knowledge remain that she had loved Kira...Leading as well to the conclusion that she had personally known him. All this could have been discerned by her remaining emotional memory alone.

I also took the liberty of reasoning (this is a fanfic, after all xP) that near death, more concrete memories -- even ones actually involving the notes -- would return, albeit slowly, as well. Hence the slow progression of events in this ficlet.

So basically, after all that verbosity: This fic deals with Misa coming to terms with these scraps of memory as she desperately tries to dredge up the one that mattered most to her-- concerning Light, of course. This occurs during the time when she is both on the brink of death and dancing along the edge of insanity in the event of her suicide one year after learning of Light's demise-- as is stated as her fate in "DeathNote: How to Read"; (she was informed of Light's death before the notes were destroyed, so don't get all confused on me here). So, during that year she was consumed by despair and depression without knowing some of the key causes of such emotions, which understandably led to her straying farther and farther away from the sanity track...Finally resulting in her suicide-- during which short period before her heart ceased its beating this fic takes place.

And so, if you are still utterly confused even after somehow unbelievably bothering to read this huge long train of an explanation:

Do PM/Review me with any kind of question you may have concerning all the above.

Thank you, and goodnight.

-- Miss Blackweather --