The first tear caught her by surprise.
She never realized she could cry, or perhaps it was just because she had no reason to do so. Death was something as natural as breathing was to humans; mourning was meaningless for most shinigami.
The second tear was a realization.
This was it. The end. All those thousands of years that seemed to drag on and on, here it finally stopped. All because of one, insignificant human.
The third tear was for this insignificant human.
Misa's remaining lifespan was short; no different to any other human, nothing that made her stand out. But Remu had made a mistake by giving the Death Note Jierasu left behind to Misa, and found herself feeling like a mother towards the girl.
The fourth tear was realizing she had never been, or ever would be, a mother.
Shinigami didn't talk about children. There were shinigami, there always had been shinigami, and there always would be shinigami. But she supposed, after watching human mothers holding their babies close to them, content faces, that it might be rather nice to be a mother. Once or twice she had killed babies in their cribs out of jealousy, only to find no satisfaction in the mothers distraught faces, and found herself as miserable as before.
The fifth tear was another realization.
Misa wouldn't miss her. Misa didn't think of her as a mother. To Misa, she was just that shinigami that followed her around, warning her against her one true love, Kira. But that was what mothers did, wasn't it? Tell their daughters to stay away from the bad boys? And that was what daughters did, wasn't it? Pay no attention at all? Of course, Misa didn't fear Remu like normal girls. Because she didn't care.
The sixth tear was for L.
L, the only one to suspect Yagami Raito as Kira. Now she had killed him, Raito was free. Free to carry out his judgement on the world. Free to make his new world. Free to kill Misa. And L, odd as he was, would never solve another case again.
The seventh tear was for Ryuuku.
She had enjoyed Ryuuku's company in the human world, and the apples he had (grudgingly) spared for her, even if they were a bit yellower than his. Still, his odd sense of humour and fascination with Raito had stopped her from writing Raito's name down in her Death Note several times. She wanted him caught, but Ryuuku wanted entertainment. Four thousand years in the shinigami world taught her what entertainment you found, you savour.
The eighth tear, smaller than the rest, was for Raito.
She had cleared his path for him, she had been a sacrifice for him, all while she thought she was helping Misa. Perhaps there was some small comfort in the growing insanity in his mind. The echoing thoughts, this was HIS world, this was HIS justice. Genius or lunatic, Remu never decided.
The final tear was for herself.
With a sob, she stared down at her hands, decaying into silver, powdery dust. What could have been…what had been….what never would be…She could remember it clearly now, the beginning of the shinigami realm, the decay, the boredom, what had been her life.
One final sigh, and all that was left was dust.
-------------
Disclaimer: I don't own the story or the characters.
I wrote this when I was feeling kind of blue, but man, you have no idea how tempting it was to write "The final tear was for the fangirls, who would never get to see L again." XD