dissatisfaction

Light eventually closed his fingers around Lawliet's wrist, stilling the insidious discheveling of his hair.

Lawliet's wrist was cold and completely still, no pulse of blood beneath the skin.

'You have no heartbeat,' remarked Light.

'Well, I am dead, Kira,' pointed out Lawliet, slowly retracting his hand when it was released.

Light tilted his head up, closed his eyes, almost smiled. 'I don't have a heartbeat, either.'

'Need I remind you that you are also dead, Kira,' pointed out Lawliet.

'Well, you constantly feel the need to remind me that I'm Kira,' said Light, opening his eyes, 'so you might as well take it upon yourself to constantly remind me that I'm dead, as well. You never know, after all; I might forget again, and then you'd be alone.'

'I don't think that it is I who is afraid of being alone,' said Lawliet.

Light lowered his gaze to the ash, slightly closer to smiling, but not yet there. 'Solitary confinement may not have completely agreed with me.'

'I think that's putting it lightly,' remarked Lawliet.

Light's lips finally pulled into a grin. 'Well, I am Light, L.'

'Then I suppose I am glad you are here, as well,' said Lawliet, without intonation, 'for otherwise it would be quite dark.'

'Yes,' agreed Light, equally toneless, 'and without L the world would be just a word.'

Dark eyes watched him. 'That is either a terrible pun or very high praise.'

'Don't pin this one on me, L,' said Light. 'You started it.'

'You must be mistaken,' said Lawliet. 'I do believe this was your fault.'

'Or we could just blame Ryuk for setting all of this into motion,' offered Light. 'None of this would have happened if he hadn't dropped the Death Note.'

Lawliet raised a thumb to his lips, dark eyes unblinking. 'Does Kira regret finding the Death Note?'

'No, Kira does not,' said Light, and lay back on the ground, fingers clasped behind his head. 'Please remind Kira to send Ryuk a Thank You card as soon as he finds out where the Shinigami Realm is located.'

'Sounds like an ambitious venture,' remarked Lawliet.

'Of course,' said Light, watching the mist swirl above them in vacillating shades of gray. 'I will become god of that world, as well.'

Lawliet looked down at him. 'Kira is taking that joke too far, I think.'

Umber eyes flicked to meet his. 'And if it's not a joke?'

Lawliet did not blink. 'Then Kira is an idiot.'

Light's lips quirked, and he shifted his gaze back to the fog and the ash that was still inexplicably falling. 'And here I thought L already believed that.'

Lawliet was silent for several moments, hands moving from his knees to his ankles. 'There is a difference between idiocy and mistaken morality.'

'That sounded like a compliment,' remarked Light.

'It wasn't,' said Lawliet, and slowly stood up. 'While I do not believe that Kira is stupid, I do believe that Kira is delusional.'

'There was no delusion,' said Light, still looking upwards, hands behind his head. 'I could have done it.'

'Then why didn't you?' asked Lawliet, looking down at him, hands in his pockets.

Light's eyes flicked to his, then moved away, without urgency. 'I'd be entertained to hear you guess.'

Lawliet watched him, thumb raising to his lips. 'Kira was trying to create a kinder world. But even though there were fewer crimes and no wars, people were not kinder, were they? You wanted them to be happy and grateful, but all they were was scared.'

Light's eyes flicked back to his, devoid of emotion.

'Kira probably also got bored, and lost his edge,' noted Lawliet, and his eyes were dark abysses. 'How much of your motivation was to change the world, and how much was just to beat me?'

Eyes still blank, Light smiled at him. 'Foolish L. It was both.' His gaze slid away again, and so did the smile. The gray mist reflected on the surface of his eyes. 'Was it nature, or was it nurture? The answer is always both, and you cannot separate one from the other. There are no percentages.'

'How did it feel,' said Lawliet, quietly. 'To beat me.'

When Light looked over at him, Lawliet was looking down, and did not meet his eyes. His hands were in his pockets, thumb no longer at his lips. His back was slouched, shoulders hunched, wild dark hair obscuring his face.

'It felt great,' said Light, and stretched, before relaxing back against the ground. 'Up until it didn't.'

Lawliet did not look at him.

'How did it feel,' said Light, gazing upwards. 'To watch me lose my mind.'

'It felt terrible,' came Lawliet's voice, after a pause. 'Up until it didn't.'

'Then I guess we're even,' said Light, and stood, brushing the light gray ash from his dark clothes.

'Yes,' said Lawliet, fingers twisting slightly in his white shirt, stained dark gray with ash, 'I suppose you could say that.'