Light gasped as he lay on the stairs, blood soaking his once pristine suit, fear coursing through his veins with the force of a tidal wave. This was it. It was over. Everything—everything!—was meaningless. He was going to die here. His new world would never become a reality. He was alone, he was hated, he was betrayed, he was unwanted, and he was about to die.

"Light-kun… you don't look so well."

Hazel eyes snapped open. That voice. That dull, dry sarcasm—as if the speaker didn't really understand the concept of a joke but attempted to make one anyways. The endearing nickname.

Moaning, he cast his gaze around the room, light chestnut hues locking with a pair of all-too-familiar, sleep deprived, solid black optics.

"…ah… L…?"

Bare feet padded across the dirt floor, movements fluid as though he were floating. Like an angel. Maybe that's what he was—he was dead, after all.

"Light-kun… why?" The question bore no resemblance of hurt or lack of understanding whatsoever. It was simply curious. Beliwerdered. Perhaps bemused. "Did you really think this would work? Did you really think that you could create a new world through mass genocide?"

Light swallowed thickly, shaking his head in denial. "It… it could have worked…" He choked, agony searing through his entire body with every broken inhale. "I just… needed more time!"

A gentle, slow shake of the head. No verbal response was offered to him, but the deceased detective's face said it all.

"It… it could have! It could have! Everything would have been perfect!" He started to thrash, practically throwing a tantrum on the steps. "It's your fault! You, and Dad, and Misa, and Mikami, and Near, and Matsuda—everyone! You ruined it! You ruined it! I was going to be a god of the New World! There would have been peace—no war, no crime! It would have been perfect—you did this to me, L!"

"Did I?" A sultry, velvet voice floated through the air towards him, the words stabbing him right between the eyes. L was not shaken up or deterred in the slightest. He had died first—he had lost first—and yet he spoke to Light as though he was admonishing a mere child! And a stupid one, at that.

"You did!" A pathetic, half-hearted answer, but Light was unsure of himself. Sitting on the edge of death made him doubt everything he had poured his life into. Was it worth it? Naomi, L, Raye, the FBI agents, his father, countless others, and now… Light himself. Was it really, truly worth it? "You… you…"

Obsidian eyes stared him down. "I?"

"You… I…" Light began to shake, tears forming in his eyes. What was it all for? Why did he do all this? Was it really his job to change the world? He had been a mere high school student! Just a boy. Why, why, why did he have to pick up that stupid notebook? "I… I…"

L moved even closer, his knees folding as he assumed his usual crouch, black pools peering endlessly at Light. "You?"

Several moments passed in silence, and then…

A scream.

Light threw his head back and screamed with every ounce of energy he had left, frustration pouring out of him via vocal chords. All those years of lies and deceit, the constant pressure of being a self-proclaimed god, the aching loneliness—it call came out in an ear-splitting shriek that quickly boiled down to incoherent words and heart-wrenching sobs.

"I just—just wanted everything to—to be—better I thought—could do it but—but it was too hard—and and and everyone got n'my—way—"

L made no move to comfort him, watching on as the young man shattered into a million pieces right there on the stairs.

"And now… n-now s'too late…" light looked up suddenly, tears pouring from his eyes and rolling down his bloodstained cheeks. "L…"

Ebony brows quirked, a silent message to tell the other he was listening intently.

"I'm sorry…"

L blinked, and then a small smile pulled at his lips.

Light cried out again, falling forward into the arms of the man he had killed in cold blood years before. "I'm sorry, L…" Sobs racked his body, snot smearing over his lips as he blubbered out more apologies. "I'm sorry, L… I'm sorry, Mom… I'm sorry, Sayu…" He hicced, arms winding around the waist of the unresponsive detective. "I'm sorry, Dad! I'm sorry, Misa! I'm sorry Takada!" He gasped for air, shoulders heaving. "I'm sorry, Mikami! I'm sorry, Matsuda! I'm sorry, Raye! I'm sorry, Naomi!" Air was dragged down into his lungs. "I'M SORRY! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I… I'm so… so…"

He fell apart yet again, his cries quieting down to that of a pitiful child, his face hidden in L's shoulder. "I'm sorry…"

For several moments, they sat there, those two. Light's cries echoed through the warehouse, his pain increasing with every jerking movement.

Finally, L spoke. "There's nothing to be done about it now, Light." The affectionate honorific was dropped to show the seriousness of the situation and his words. "You cannot take back what you've done, and you cannot rewrite your fate. This is the way it is." Another tiny little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm glad you're sorry. Even if it's a bit too late."

Light nodded his head into L's shoulder, whimpering. "I know… I—" His voice screeched to a halt, eyes snapping wide open as a burning pain cut through his chest. "L—!"

"Did you not know it was coming?"

Light gripped the other's body, the intense shaking from before returning tenfold. "L…" he rasped, his vision blurring. "Hold me… I'm… I'm scared… I don't… want to die…"

L wrapped his arms around the other as requested, and he even rubbed a little with his right hand. "Go to sleep, Light-kun. We'll talk more when you wake."

Light whined and moaned, wanting to tell the other he wouldn't be waking up. How could L not know this was the end? Ryuk had said nothing came after death for those who used the Death Note! But there was nothing he could do. His eyes closed against his will, pain fading away to a light throb, and then complete numbness.

L…

He ran cold, gasping loudly at the sudden drop in temperature. He felt pressure under his arms, confusion blooming in the forefront of his mind. His legs wobbled unsteadily, but he soon found them beneath him, his feet on the ground and his head… still sort of hanging limply to the side.

"Wh-what's going on?"

"You are very quick at napping."

Light blinked, control of his body slowly returning to him. He righted his head and stood firm, looking down at himself with wide eyes, confusion written on his face. "I—" He gulped quietly, realizing he was able to see through himself. Turning, he saw his body lying prone on the stairs. "But…"

"After everything you went through, you trusted that shinigami to tell you the truth? Your fear was entertaining to him. He decided to create a wonderful finale for himself by telling you a lie about the fate of Death Note users." L turned away from Light and started to shuffle towards the exit. "If you don't mind… I'd like to return to my resting place… making myself tangible is very difficult and tiring."

Light was unable to speak—unable to respond in any way—his mind completely blown by the situation he was experiencing. So L really was a ghost? Or… or an angel? Then… what was Light? Were they both the same? What was Light supposed to do now? What was a resting place? Did Light even have one? What—

"Light-kun… what are you waiting for?" L looked over his shoulder, standing in the doorway to the warehouse. "You still have to make up for killing me. Seeing as we have eternity, I guess you could take your time, but…" He let his voice trail, watching the other.

Light blinked and swallowed thickly, taking a hesitant step towards the other. "Where… where are we going… L?"

"Don't worry about that… just follow me." And a smile that could really be called a smile. Not a smirk or a grin. A smile. A real, genuine smile. "And… call me, Lawliet."