Chapter 13

Author's Note: Hey there. Only one review this far, but I can't expect to have reviews every time, can I? Still, I'd like to know if you're reading this, so just type "good chap" or "bad chap" – and I'll be much more than satisfied.

Enjoy this chapter! I think, if my schedule isn't gonna slip, that after this chapter there'll only be one or two more left, maybe plus an Epilogue.

And many special thanks to falseMessiah for giving me some great ideas!

Disclaimer: I do not own "Death Note".

The minute she entered Light's office followed by two officers who quickly disappeared, Adéle Segan fell to her knees and started sobbing noisily. Her face was swollen, one could see that she had cried a lot, and now she continued. Light just turned around and looked at her, a mask of disappointment turning his eyebrows into a sad little triangle.

"Adéle… what have you done?"

"Light! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's all my fault! I made Hanson test the milk yesterday!"

"What do you mean? Who's Hanson?"

"Hanson is a doctor from Sweden… h-he started around a month ago, the day before the George Clemens-incident. And Light, I had him test the poison because I had to talk to you when mr. Mikami went to bed, I just did not have the time! He seemed so nice and loyal, I never thought he was a traitor. I was so stupid! Oh, Light, kill me, I don't deserve to live!" She hid her face in her hands and her sobbing became dramatically louder.

Light thought she acted like a soap opera actress, but nevertheless it seemed real enough. But was it? How could he know that this was not just an act? He could not. It was impossible for him to be sure. Should he just trust her and think that she actually told him the truth? No. Because Light did not trust anyone. He was not that stupid.

Oh, why did Mikami have to go and die now? Damn it! He needed more time to find the insider. And now he had to deal with tainted milk and crying women an terrorists all by himself! Damn that Mikami!

No… wait. Maybe this was not all bad. He could turn this to his own benefit. In fact it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened. A simple test, like he had planned, could tell him for sure if she was a traitor – he would have her kill Aballini, like he had thought about before. No mere human could kill someone they were close to without showing some sign.

Police report

Tuesday, May 24th, 2016

By Detective Chao-Xiang Chang

Lord Kira ordered a search of the apartment of doctor Ove Hanson, 35, Swedish, suspected culprit behind the poison murder of Master Teru Mikami. Found at the scene were a certain amount of Mercury and Chloride, equipment to fuse those two and make the highly toxic Mercury Chloride used to murder Master Mikami, rubber gloves to avoid putting fingerprints along with a hand drawn schedule of Master Mikami's doings during the day. Also, doctor Hanson's DNA matches an eyelash found on Master Mikami's glass of tainted milk the day of the murder.

Doctor Hanson denies his guilt and claims to be innocent. However, due to the large amount of evidence against him, Lord Kira has judged him guilty as charged and ordered his execution on Friday the 27th, 2016, along with his accomplish William Aballini, 23.

Will was not afraid of it. His body ached when he breathed. His eyes were burning and swollen, his throat sore and dry. Truth was he longed it. He could barely blink, his face was a mask of congealed blood, his hair sticky and dirty. He could hardly breath. He longed it. If nothing else he would just lie down and feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing.

He longed it. Death.

The masses were crying out like shrieking monkeys for Kira's judgement, they spat at Will and threw rocks and rotten vegetables at him. But he did not feel it. He had had his share of pain. He could not feel anymore. Could not loose any more blood. Could be hurt no deeper.

There was a man next to him at Kira's great place. They were both chained with cuffs on hands and feet, unable to move. The man was much older than Will. His hair was black and he wore glasses, and he too bore signs of being interrogated. He bore a white doctor's coat, once white, but now stained with red. His cheeks were red and swollen from tears, but now he was just staring emptily into the air. He looked mad to Will. Mad with sorrow. His lips were moving, but he did not say a thing.

Will did not know him. But he did not care. He supposed the man was some kind of traitor, who had defied Kira – but was it really important? They were both going to die. He did not care anymore.

Then Kira himself stepped onto his balcony. He greeted his people's cheers with an embracing gesture, his perfect face and brown hair and white tie looked bright and shining in the sunlight. It was late in May. Almost June.

Kira began speaking. Will could hear nothing but a swirling mass of foggy babble, his ears seemed to have stopped working. But he guessed it was probably the usual stuff about faith and loyalty and the consequences of treachery. It was always the same he talked about, but with different words every time. Just slightly different. The masses swallowed all his words raw. Or, that was, they used to. Because Will had noticed that fewer people had come to this execution, on bars in the dark parts of the city people talked about Kira's reign of terror and how they would soon not put up with it anymore. And Kira himself was just too stupid to realize that everyone were turning against him.

Will smiled dryly. Stupid Kira. He had no idea about how bad things were for him, no idea that he was going to loose… no idea about A. She was working against him, and eventually she would kill him like he had killed so many others. He smiled again, but this time form his very heart. A made all the pain and sadness vanish. Her smile lit up his world and warmed him.

Will looked up at Kira. That long, slim figure. That long, slim, harmless figure. Will knew that Kira did nothing himself, it was Mikami who carried out all the murders from behind. Well, he thought, at last. Bring it on, Kira. Let it come. At last – peace.

Next to him the man, who was probably a doctor, rattled and gasped, his hands pressed against his chest as if trying to remove something bog a painful. Then the doctor was dead.

Will longed death, he was jealous with the man because he had it quicker then himself, longed it's eternal rest and quiet. For he could not feel anymore. Not loose anymore blood. Be hurt no deeper.

Or so he thought.

It was not Mikami in the shadows just inside with the notebook in his hands. No one else would have noticed the silhouette just inside, if they had they would assume he was just a secretary, but Will could recognize that person anytime and anywhere. Mikami's hair was black, this hair was golden. Mikami wore glasses, this one just had incredible, stormy, gray eyes. Mikami was a man… this was a woman. Her pen wrote in the Death Note with such a noise he thought the whole world must hear it. He could hear what she wrote. William Aballini.

If he could he would have screamed. His jar dropped as he stared at the person with the notebook and the pen, he felt tears running down his chin even though he thought he could shed no more of them. His insides were ripped from his body, his heart torn apart by cruel, pale hands, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. He had never ever felt this way in his life. Why did he deserve this pain? Why?

Why, Adéle?

"Why… Adéle?" His voice was nothing but a whisper.

Then something large stood on his chest. It broke whatever was left in there, stepped on the last blood and skin and flesh and bone he had left, blocked his throat so he could not breath at all. It hurt so bad. So bad he wished he was dead already. But it was nothing at all compared to the pain A had caused him. For never in his life had someone hurt him so badly.

He rattled, clutched his chest, his eyes rolled over and he fell backwards, landing on the place. But his mind kept looking at her, looked into her eyes, her heart, it looked and looked even when he was already dead.

Why, Adéle?

All that was left of William Aballini was his corpse and his face of grief and despair so deep that no one could bare to look at it.

Author's Note: I hope, as always, that you liked this chapter. I actually had it finished five days or so ago, but falseMessiah (God bless him) made me realize that there was a great hole in the story about how Adéle was going to talk her way out of this. So I had to fix it. But now it's here.

Also, if you don't mind, I'd like you to correct my grammar or spelling if you spot any i mistakes in my text. Just so I'll learn it. Thanks!

And remember to review - please? :)