The operation was set up. The plan was in place. Now, all of the NPA, The Japanese Task Force, and the public were collectively holding their breaths to see what would happen next. The members of the Japanese Task Force, Light included, sat in various concealed positions near the warehouse. The hum of tension in the air was almost audible, and was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Light was tensed behind a barrel on a loading dock, having the most direct and shortest route to the door. He'd asked his father to be at the front of the line, so that after Misa's kidnapper was arrested, he could get to her quickly. His father, of course, complied.
Now, crouched down, he was coiled to spring at a moment's notice. His ears strained to hear the sound of gravel crunching under tires, the sound of a car approaching, the sound of footsteps- anything to tell him that this interminable period of waiting was nearly over. All he could think about was getting Misa back in his arms and never letting her go again. He could see their reunion in his mind's eye- her standing there, calling his name, him seeing her, running to her, and holding her in his arms while she cried. He'd comfort her, assure her it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't have known, and then they would go see the paramedics, whom they had yet to call because the sirens would have given their position away.
He wanted to fidget with his hands, but he didn't dare. Even the slightest wrong move could foil his carefully thought out plan, and that was dangerous for Misa and the baby. He wouldn't do anything to put her in more danger than she already was in now. So he waited in a stillness so complete it made his joints hurt. He waited, feeling nervous, scared, but hopeful, that Misa and their child would be home tonight.
The part of him that was Kira was raging for justice against what had happened to Misa and his child. He felt the anger and hatred with such force it took all his might not to shake with it. He wanted the man who did this dead. The thought that he would punish them later with the death note did not pacify him as it typically would have. Ordinarily, he would have simply written the name and let it go, but this was different. This was personal. This was his future wife and child being endangered and what he really wanted to do was give this guy a punch in the face before he bloodied him up until he died at Light's own hand. As it was, he was going to have to settle for giving this man the most violent, gruesome, tormenting, agonizing accidental death he could think of.
Challenge accepted.
His mind was still running through gruesome fantasies when something else captured his attention.
The sound of a car approaching, of tires crunching on gravel. He sucked in a breath. This was it.
He didn't dare look from his position, or risk being spotted. So he closed his eyes and listened, imagining everything as it happened in his mind.
The sound of a door opening, a man stepping out onto the wharf, gravel under his shoes. He steps backwards a few steps, opening a new door. A soft grunting noise. He was picking up something. Light's heart skipped a beat when he thought about what that something was. More footsteps. Then, the grating noise of an old door, rusted with age, being opened. Footsteps, fading from where they had once been, but not inaudible either.
Then, chaos.
"Police!" Came the shout. A pounding of footsteps from every direction, shouting, general pandemonium.
Finally, he moved from his position and got a look.
The man had short black hair, coiffed to one side with what looked to be a ludicrous amount of pomade. He wore a black shirt, pressed black pants, black leather gloves, and looked to be insane. Now that the man's face was firmly imprinted in his mind, and he was detained by the police, it was his time to go.
He was running, his feet cycling one after the other, pounding the pavement with such harshness it should have hurt his legs. But it didn't, because he couldn't feel anything with the massive amount of hope violently exploding in his chest. The nightmare was nearly over. In just a minute, he would have his dream world back. The darkness of this day would never touch him again. After the man was dead, life would go back to normal. Their lives would be happy, surrounded by the magic of her pregnancy and their shared ideals of justice. The darkness would never touch them again because they had one another. They were the light in one another's lives, strong enough to chase away any dark that dared to try and move in.
The warehouse doors were coming up rapidly, and he'd never been so thankful for a door in his life. He ran toward the darkness of the warehouse, and as his eyes focused, he saw a shape lying on the ground.
"Misa!" He called out her name, but she did not move. As he got closer, he saw that she was tied up, with tape over her mouth. But the closer he got, the more he saw something terrifying. A bit of blood on her temple, and her eyes were shut. He grabbed a small pocket knife from out of his back pocket and got it out, cutting the zip ties from her wrists and ankles before removing the tape from her strawberry colored lips. He heard no air coming through her mouth or nose. Terror, pure and undiluted, ripped through him, and he put his head on her chest where he knew he would hear the sound of the heart that beat only for him.
Instead, there was silence.