Disclaimer: I do not own or make money from the anime Death Note

AN: So the original document for this fic was started October 31st, 2011. Completed sometime in early 2014, and is just now seeing posting XD. Yeah...

No Light

Part 1

Section 1

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Mihael walked slowly out of the schools gates and to the left. His house was hardly a block away and mama trusted him enough to get home quick on the days she couldn't pick him up. He was hurrying a little more than usual as he wanted to show her the grade he had gotten on his test. It was one of the best in class, he was certain. Mihael paused for a second, long enough to adjust the strap of his bag to fit a little more comfortably.

He turned his head―as a shape appeared in the corner of his eye―but he did not have much time to process the image. There was a sharp pain in his arm, like that of a pin prick, and his vision grew blurry and dark.

He slumped into the arms of a man and his unconscious body was carefully placed inside an awaiting vehicle. The passenger closed the door and the car rolled away slowly and inconspicuously.

.

Eyes cracked open sluggishly, the lids seemingly stuck together with cement. His eyes felt too big, painful, like if he opened them more than just slits they would pop out of his skull. As he became more aware he began to panic. The feeling deep in his body, that anxious and antsy feeling that clawed at your insides. It made him nauseous... or had he already been? It was hard to tell.

He tried to move, to sit up, to look at his surroundings. But he could only scream. His body was on fire. His very veins drying up and igniting inside him. Pain. Pain. Pain-

"Mr. Wammy!" Someone was yelling beside him; more voices. He couldn't breathe. It hurt so much. He felt bile rise in his throat before his eye fluttered closed and he was out again.

.

He kept his eyes closed this time. His entire body ached, though thankfully not as bad as the pain that came before. He was starving yet nauseous; his stomach growled but rolled at the thought of actually eating. He was shivering. It felt too warm. His body was confused.

Was he sick?

Where was mama?

He licked his lips, trying to wet them to call for her.

Nothing came forth. His eyes were unfocused and hurting from the simple act of prying them open. He could just make out the shape of a window along with curtains. They were drawn tight and the room was grey and shadowed.

He was startled as a shape peered over him, eyes burning brightly in the half darkness. They was otherwise faceless but the voice was calm and soothing. It told him that the worst would be over soon, that his body was reacting marvelously―the best ever seen.

Mihael had no idea what that meant, could not get his mind working to even attempt it.

Something bright and sharp was pulled into view and inserted into an IV. It was connected to him. He hardly had time to open his mouth again to ask "what?" before he had slid back into unconsciousness.

.

Many times after that he woke, though never for very long. If he wasn't in pain then he was too tired and delirious to keep his eyes open. If something wasn't being put into his arm, or the IV then he was passing out.

It seemed like one long torturous nightmare that was stuck on repeat and he could not escape it.

.

He focused on the clothes he wore; it kept his mind grounded and away from the fog that still threatened him. He had been placed in a gray long sleeved shirt, thin black gloves, slacks and socks. The only thing of him that wasn't covered was from his neck up. It made him a little too warm. He went to peal the gloves off when a voice startled him, "I would not advise that, you will have to be strapped down if you remove them."

Mihael looked up and stared at the old man before him. He could not seem to find his voice but the man understood his question anyway.

"You have been here seven months. In that time you have gone through a rigorous treatment process that has made you immune to a few select poisons. I will get more into that later," the man seated himself at the edge of the bed before continuing. "For now just know that you are secreting poison through your pores so it is imperative you keep yourself covered at all times and do not touch anyone when you are not. Understand?"

Mihael could only nod. Was this really happening? Was he dreaming all this? He just didn't understand.

"I know it is a lot to process. I have faith that you will adjust in time." The man patted his leg like his mama used to when he wasn't feeling well, and it was a small comfort. He sank back in the bed and watched the man leave. Mama must know where he was, right? If he were being taken care of.

However, that was the only comfort he would receive in his stay. What he learned both frightened and angered him. What the man, Mr. Wammy, had told him was the truth. All the documents, recording of the process, had been freely given to him. Though he was not alone as he looked everything over. It was hard to understand at points, and notes had been made in the margin to bring it down to his level. He had never covered such things in class.

The 'treatment' process that had been spoken of was only phase one―and he already had twice the amount of toxins running through his system than most snake handlers might have in a lifetime. He was apparently a unique specimen in that his body worked to integrate the toxins, rather than fight them. It learned to tolerate the harmful aspects of them and instead turn it outward, secreting poison through the glands and pours of his skin.

The treatments would never stop until his tolerance was reached or he was dead. And all because they needed someone of his apparent genius to be useful as a human weapon.

It was a difficult idea to wrap his mind around. To him, only minutes ago he had been heading home to his mama and baby sister, and now he was being held captive and experimented on. It did not make sense. It shouldn't have been real.

Looking down at his hands and fixating on the gloves, he knew it was. He felt so helpless. Mihael just wanted to go home. And maybe he could. Everyone always said he was smart―he knew he was―so he could find a way out.

"Do think about your situation before you try anything brash," Mr. Wammy said as he began to gather the documents littering the bed. Something must have shown on his face. Had he gotten too excited?

"You family believes you are dead. So on the unlikely chance you do escape you have nowhere to return to should you make it farther than the gates. Which I expect you wont." He gathered his cane under him and stood tall with the now neat folder stuffed under arm.

"You will get the best education here. The one your family longed for you and could never have due to your rather poor financial standings. You have the choice of free roam of the school―Wammys House for gifted orphans―or you can be restrained until the treatment is complete and forced using some rather unorthodox methods to do as we require. It is your choice how this all goes. Choose wisely," he said with a kind smile and headed for the door.

Mihael sat stunned, unable to process what he was hearing. It was absurd, surely a work of fiction―there was no way his family believed he was dead! His mama would never give up on him.

"And Mello," Mr. Wammy looked back at him, "that is your new name now. Do try to remember that. Good-day."

Mihael stared at door, the only exit, as it was closed. This was wrong. He was having a nightmare and would wake up being held in his mama's safe arms and―the sound of the door being locked echoed through the room and drove into his core.

"Mama," he whispered softly, lips trembling. Fat tears spilled uncontrollably from his eyes until he could no longer see anything through them. He was truly stuck here.

Alone.

He had no one to comfort him, to tell him it was OK. Mihael curled up on his side under the blankets, never knowing that he was being watched from the tiny camera embedded in the wall.

.

End Part 1