Hi everyone! I know, this story should have been published in December, not in September, but... I had to help my brother with some English literature homework, and I found myself reading "Dubliners" by James Joyce for the second time and "A Christmas carol" by Dickens for the... uhm... 42nd time? (I've always liked that tale!) And I realized that I've written at least one "Christmas carol style" story every year, featuring my friends, teachers, family, Harry Potter characters... and now, I realized, it's high time I wrote a Death note's Christmas carol! ANd so, here it is... for the ones who had read the books (uhm, for the ones who virtually know them by heart, as I do), you'll found that there are, let's say heavy quotes from the originals, especially in the beginning and I guess at the end of the story. Ok, let's say I made "copy and paste" with one sentence or two I especially liked and rearranged them to suit my Death Note plot... so, uhm... on to the story!
Disclaimer: Most of this belongs to Charles Dickens, Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, God bless 'em all. Some inspiration coming from Joyce. Me own plot only!
... enjoy!
Chapter 1:
L was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by Light's father, Matsuda, Mogi, Aizawa... Light himself signed it. That was for sure: L was as dead as a door-nail.
(Oh, well, I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I, by myself, might have regarded... dunno, a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of Charles Dickens is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it)
You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that L was as dead as a door-nail.
Did Light know he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Light had been L's only friend, as L himself had told once. And L had been Light's only... well, his only lover. And even though you could think that Light should have been dreadfully cut up because of the demise of his lover, he wasn't indeed. He was responsible for that, actually.
Anyway, he had managed to restrain his satisfaction and hold his smirk back at L's funeral, looking in the eyes of everyone the perfect boy he had always been, mourning for his dear friend and co-worker L.
The mention of L's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that L was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come from the story I am going to tell.
You know, if we were not perfectly convinced that the creepy girl from The Ring died before the movie began, there would be nothing more remarkable in her calling people on the phone, than there would be in any other young girl cheerfully announcing you that you're going to die in seven days!
But to come back to our story: L was dead.
And even though he had been dead for three years by then, Light still used his gothic capital L as his symbol. He had started playing the role of the "new L" after L's death, leading the investigations on the Kira case. Sometimes people new to the investigation called Light "Light", and sometimes "L", but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him.
...
That night, Light was particularly tired. He massaged his temples with his forefingers, trying to soothe his throbbing headache. He looked up at the time on his laptop's screen: 11.30 pm.
He vaguely remembered that Misa was waiting for him to celebrate Christmas' Eve togheter. What Misa found in Christmas, Light did not know. But as many other Japanese, she liked to celebrate it. What people found in that useless festivity, Light still had to find out.
Anyway, he was the last member of the task force at work, it was late, he was dead tired, and he could afford to go home by now.
Truth to be told, he sometimes found himself wondering why did he put such an effort in the task of catching, uhm... himself.
It was just out of habit, he supposed. He had not been Kira for much longer than he had been trying to capture him, after all.
He put on his jacket and gloves and scarf, to protect himself from the biting wintry air, and got out.
Outside, the air was frosty and damp and forewarned snow. Light put his hood on and blew on his hands to warm them, but he found that external heat and cold had little influence on him. No warmth could warm, nor wintry weather could chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than him, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect: their coldness would have one day been lessened by the warm rays of sun, while Light's cold heart never will.
…
He walked hastily past a group of people advertising some Christmas special discounts in a mall.
"Bullshit" He thought.
He was glad he had stayed late at work, so that he had avoided Misa's usual stupid Christmas chick flick, with all that lovey dovey shit.
He caught a bus and sat in the last seats as he was used to, though it was empty. While the bus drove through the desert streets he glanced at the city's lights. They said New York was the city of blinding lights, but Tokyo was nothing less, he thought.
When he finally reached the apartment he was sharing with Misa, he pull off his jacket and tossed his gloves and scarf somewhere. He was usually very tidy, but now he was exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed.
He reached their bedroom and sat quitly on the edge of the bed, trying not to wake Misa up. Not out of kindness to be honest, but more out of the desire not to have to deal with her pointless complaints about he always coming home late.
He was about to take his socks off, when he heard a strange noise coming from the door. Just like... a knock. But who the hell could possibly be knocking at his bedroom door, that time in the night? Anyway, Light got up and walked closer to the half closed door.
He peaked through the small opening, and he saw it.
Or better yet, him.
He was standing there, just a few inches away from Light, and the younger boy's heart leapt and stopped beating for a second.
L's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the living room were, but had a dismal light around him, like a mirror in a dark room. He didn't look nor sad nor happy nor angry, but he just stared at Light as L used to stare: with his deep dark pupils widened, half covered by a few ebony locks. His hair looked even messier than Light could remember, and his eyes, though wide open, were perfectly motionless.
Light flinched and took a step back. To say that he was not stratled, or that his blood was not feeling like melted ice in his veins, would be untrue. Anyway, he reacted by instinct and shut the door closed, then locked it, and then locked it again, twice: and only when the door was secured, he started to breath again.
That's strange, how L always succeds in making me forget that I do need oxygen... one way or another. Light couldn't help thinking.
He took a deep breath and heard the sound of Misa shifting under the sheets. He didn't want her to wake up.
He swallowed and tried to calm himself down, then sat back on the edge of the bed.
I'm tired, dead tired, that's it. This is just a dirty trick from my stressed mind. He told himself.
He lay on the bed, and closed his eyes, trying to force himself into sleep.
Well, he found out that this was far easier said than done.
He eventually opened his eyes and started staring at the pictures on wall. It was dark in the room and he could not tell one face from the other, yet if he had had the power to shape some picture from the disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of L's staring face on each one.
"Bullshit", he told himself again, and turned himself on the other side.
He turned himself a few times, but he was still perfectly awake. Then he sat on the bed again, moving a lock of light brown hair away from his forehead. His glance happened to rest on a bright red apple he kept on the nightstand for Ryuk.
Once dead, humans can never come back to life. The god of death had once told him.
Suddenly, he heard a strange noise coming from the living room, as if a person was dragging a heavy chain on the floor; Light remebered that ghosts were often described in movies and books as dragging chains. Misa didn't seem to hear the noise. Light stared at the bedroom door, his mouth dry.
And then, he saw it: the door handle being pushed down, the door slowly opening. But he was sure... he had locked the door...
And he saw it, that face... that very same face... Light fought to keep breathing while clenching his hands on the sheets.
The ghost was standing right in front of him- because it was a ghost, what else could he be? He was even transparent... Light could see the door behind him...
Light froze and he felt like the temperature of the room had suddenly decreased, like those black, death-cold eyes were freezing the blood in his very veins, keeping his aching heart form working properly, for more than one reason.
- E-el...
He stammered.
- W-why are you... w-what do you...
He managed to articulate, but then the words died in his throat.
L didn't speak, just stared at Light without even blinking, his messy hair waved by a non existent breeze.
- ...w-what do you want f-from me?
Light finally managed to ask, his voice not much louder than a whisper.
- Much,
The ghost answered.
Light tried to fought his senses, but that was L's voice, indeed. He would have recognized it between thousands.
- I want much from you... my light.
Light's whole body started shaking at once, twitching from both the instinct to run away from that scary presence and to jump on him and shut that daring mouth of his with his own.
- What's up, Light-kun? You don't believe your senses?
The spirit mocked him.
- I-I...
To Light, speaking seemed an impossible hard task by now. L's ghostly voice disturbed the very marrow of his bones, his wide eyes seemed to see much more deep down that pretty face of his.
- Look at me, Light.
Light kept trembling, trying to avert his gaze from L's spectre. The sight was simply too much for him to take.
- Look at me.
- I-I am.
- You're not.
Light forced himself to lift his gaze and meet L's eyes. It had been years since they last locked their eyes like that, and it was like something inside Light broke when they did it.
- Do you believe in me?
The ghost asked.
- Yes... yes, I do.
It was not completely true, but there was something about the spirit that drove Light crazy, and made him feel like nothing else in the world mattered, but being close to him. And that was an effect only one persone had ever had on Light: L.
- You know, my light,
The ghost said, and Light started thinking that he was calling him that way on purpose, to tease him.
- The soul within a man's body is required to walk among his fellows while he's alive... to deal with them, to teach them and to learn from them. And if the soul goes not forth enough in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through this world, and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness...
Light didn't understand completely the meaning of L's words.
- You see, spirits are bound to wear the chain they had forged themselves in life, link by link, day by day.
The sound of drigging chains... But Light could see no chains around L.
- Of course you can't see it,
L said, as if he had read Light's mind.
- Neither you can see the chain you are making for yourself. It was already as long and heavy as mine, three years ago... guess what a ponderous chain is it, by now!
Light didn't answer, but kept trembling and trembling.
- Actually, I'm surpised that you can see me, now...
While saying this, the ghost lowered his voice and moved closer to Light, his deathly breath was now tickling Light's bare neck.
- You don't usually see me, but I often sit next to you...
His voice was nothing more than a whisper now, and it made Light shudder.
- But I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere.
L kept saying, now with the usual tone, suddely a few steps far from Light.
L's voice was drinving Light crazy.
- Why are you here L, why, what do you want from me?
Light found the presence of mind to ask, pain and fear and regret in his voice.
- I don't want anything from you, Light... nothing you could give me, at least.
- So leave me alone... leave me alone!
Light fought not to cry.
- Don't you understand that everytime you do like this, that you come to visit me in my dreams and then you vanish in the morning like a plume of smoke, you make it harder for me to forget and to keep on living my life and... I just can't go on like this, I can't...
- Shut up and listen to me Light... my time is nearly gone.
Light managed to calm down his nerves and listened.
- I'm here to help you. I don't know if you deserve help from anyone, but... this wasn't my decision. I'm only a spokesman.
Light was listening closely to the spirit.
- You've made a mistake, a big mistake in your life, and now, you'll be given a second chance... you see, Light, this is a thing that not every one has the luck to receive... now, why is this rare gift going to be bestowed upon you, it is far from my comprehension. Anyway, I've been sent here to tell you that you will receive the visit of three spirits. And you will listen closely to them, is that clear?
- Oh, so much as three ghosts, just for me, L? Couldn't I take 'em all in once and have it over quickly?
Light tried to joke, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but L remained expressionless.
- Expect them later, tonight.
And then L made to turn himself towards the door, but his eyes wandered over Light a few seconds more.
- If you do it right, Light, you could have the chance to save us... both.
He added.
And then, before Light could even pronounce the "No" in "No, please, wait!", he was gone.
Faded into the darkness of the room, gone somewhere Light was not supposed to know, every hint of his presence lingering to Light's mind as if he was trying to keep a small part of L in his own soul.
...