despair

'It must be difficult,' said Lawliet, after an eternity of walking, 'to reconcile your memories.' Light looked at him, and two black voids stared back. 'You must hate yourself.'

'What makes you say that?' asked Light, turning his gaze back to the pathless, mist-shrouded ground ahead of them.

'When you didn't remember being Kira, you must have hated Kira for getting you into those situations; but as Kira, you must have hated your ignorant self for being a fool,' said Lawliet, slouching along next to him, dragging bare feet in the ash. 'And now you have to reconcile both those sentiments.'

'If that's the case, L,' said Light, fingers curling and relaxing in the pockets of black pants, 'then you must hate yourself, as well.'

Lawliet tilted his head. 'And from what do you draw that conclusion, Kira?'

'Everything is clearer in hindsight,' said Light, looking up at the gray mist that obscured the view of whatever was above them. 'You must look back at the case and realize that you could have figured it out sooner, and that if you had, less people would be dead.'

'I could not have done anything else, Kira,' said Lawliet, his voice too soft.

Light glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 'You let your emotions get in the way.'

The black voids bored into him. 'I was not the only one.'

'No, you're right,' conceded Light, looking down so that his hair obscured his eyes, a small smile just barely visible on his lips. 'But you considered Light your friend, and Kira your enemy. That can't be an easy thing to reconcile.'

'I always knew you were Kira,' said Lawliet.

'At one point, you doubted.'

'No, I never doubted,' said Lawliet, a thumb just barely touching his lips. 'I only ever lacked evidence, and became frustrated.'

Light looked up again, and when the hair fell away from his face, his eyes were carefully blank. 'Do you want to know why I can reconcile my memories, L?'

'Do enlighten me.'

'We've been talking about Kira and Light like they're two different people,' said Light, 'but they're not. They never were. Kira and Light are the same person, just in different circumstances.' Fingers rested, spider-like, at the black button holding together the left cuff of his shirt. 'If you stopped trying to keep Ryuzaki, L, and Lawliet as separate identities, you might hate yourself less.'

'Kira has made two incorrect assumptions,' remarked Lawliet, and watched the fingers skitter away and return to the dark pockets from whence they'd come. 'One: I never said that I hated myself. And two: it was never I who thought of them as separate identities.'

Light looked at him, and smiled. 'We're both pathological liars, L.'

'Not much point in lying when we're dead,' pointed out Lawliet.

'There's not much point in telling the truth, either,' pointed out Light. 'Besides, nothing about the word 'pathologic' suggests that there's a sane reason.'

'Sanity is relative,' said Lawliet.

Light's lips remained curved upwards. 'So is justice.'

'Yes,' agreed Lawliet, 'but I had the law on my side.'

'The law is a failure,' said Light.

'But it's better than having no law,' pointed out Lawliet.

Light grinned, wry. 'This conversation is going nowhere.'

'Neither are we, Kira,' pointed out Lawliet.

Light laughed, mirthless, and the sound seemed to continue on even after he'd gone silent.