Author's Note- Ok- I know I haven't updated in a while and everything. So here's yet another chapter of my Death Note story. Just to let you know- I will soon be starting a Phoenix Wright FanFic with only one main OC, but the original characters are going to be there mostly I think. I haven't decided. There WILL be pairings with the orginal characters. So if you're interested- look out for it and review please :) I do take requests, but I intend these requests in being one-shots or two-shots unless I REALLY like the idea. Impress me guys :D

OH and before I forget, I have recently checked my Trick Or Treat Poll. The one with the most votes has now been selected. But will the consequences in the story be good or bad for our little OCs :P I'll let you find out.

Once you're done reading this chapter, why don't you give me a nice, honest review? :) I REALLY want to improve my writing ability. Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter Eight- The Eyes of Misfortune

Shadow's P.O.V

"…Well, this is convenient. Heh." A bitter voice echoed through the empty atmosphere that I had been emerged in. Sensing the invisible monster stare down at me mischievously, an anxious fluttery feeling filled me.

"Who is that?" I asked, not feeling my lips part as I spoke. A patch of eerie darkness had grabbed me. I squirmed uncomfortably, but drastically failed. I could not move. I could not speak. My limbs were completely paralysed.

Or rather missing.

"Doesn't matter. Anyway, I got a gift for you. I need to ditch these eyes fast before the King sees me…"

"Eyes?"

"Yeah- Shinigami eyes, you know."

"What!"

"Anyway, take them, and you get to live. What d'ya say?"

"Um, alright?" I agreed, resigning, and enforcing a deal with the demon. A feeling of intense trepidation clouded my mind as the creature snickered impishly. For when thee devil torments thee, 'ere thee come to hell. A good deed is always committed through selfishness. A gruff laugh escaped his mouth shortly, but developed into a slightly more serious tone.

"Right, we'll be seeing each other soon then do discuss your new responsibilities…"

Responsibilities.

"Wait, what? For how long are you leaving me?"

"Until the time's right. Bye, human!"

"…"

I shivered feeling a cold metal sensation pressing against my back as I landed softly on my back. My neck cracked as I stretched my aching joints, and a sore, stiff sensation ran down both of my lengthily arms. Rolling my shoulders back bravely, I winced, feeling each minor joint in each of my arms click loudly. I brought my hands to my face, rubbing my heavy, closed eyes. I ran my fingers over the top of my eyelids, tracing the round shape of each eye. There not mine… I cupped my face. They're someone else's. Eyes of the dead. I shook again, hovering my hands over into my dry brittle hair. Whimpering softly, I unscrewed my eyelids, forcing my watery eyes to fix open.

I was trapped in a dark, metal container, and covered in a thin blanket material. It was exceedingly cramped, and carried a putrid odour in the stuffy air, but I could just about make out a little door with a glimpse of light shining through it. I shuffled forward painfully, aligning my small legs with the metal door, slamming the soles of my bare feet into the back of it. Clenching the soft blanket over my naked body, I planted my hand onto the side of the box, pushing myself out on a had metal tray I so happened to be laying on.

Sitting forward, the muscles running down my back strained. I actually died. I pulled a face. But how am I here now? Mini electric shocks ran up and down my arm as I touched my skin gently with my hand. My skin was chilled, but melting back into it's original temperature, and my skin was pearly white, compared to my usual pallid tone.

A strong, ghastly odour of festering organs filled the room, gagging me of breath. On the table in opposite me lay a man. No taller than the average man, but remained nothing but a grey statue on the table . A lifeless object. Small Quiffs of grey hair fell into the bloody mess that lay beneath it, and a large slice massacred his aged face. The wound was black, and infested with larvae of different insects and spiders. The cut starting from above his right eyebrow, passing straight through his colourless eyes and to the bottom of his chin. Not pretty. Not at all attractive.

Drifting down his body, I came to his feet. A small rectangular tag was tied loosely to his big toe. I wandered over, picking the tag up. "Nathaniel Grey," I said. "Shame." I caught sight of his face once again, frowning lightly. Why can't I see when he died? Perhaps it only works on the living?

"Can I prevent this?"

I leaned forward over the metal bench that the mangled corpse had been spread across, tearing apart each cut from incision. My shoulders drooped, and squared, as I examined the 'Y' shaped stitching on the dead man's chest. "I'm going to prevent this," I assured. "I'm going to save lives… Promote justice in a corrupt world."

I'm going to rid criminals from this world.

Using the cloth I was clutching softly, I covered the man's corpse, throwing the cover into the air and letting it float lightly onto his hard, bruised skin. I drifted into the next room calmly, allowing a draft to send small chills down my spine. In the next room stood tall, metallic lockers that shone in the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. The rest of the room was a simplicity, light blue walls and polished laminate flooring and long, wooden benches ran in between each column of lockers. I caressed the metal handle of one of the lockers, heaving it back slowly until the catch within the door snapped out of its hold. The door, naturally, creaked open.

Inside, to my fortune, lay several pairs of clean, turquoise scrubs on the middle shelf of the locker. Aside it was a pair of tightly packed latex gloves and a surgical mask. I gathered them all into a bundle and turned to face the benches behind. "…!" I gaped for air, dropping the bundle loosely to the floor.

I touched my chest gently, tracing it down to my left side. Along my left side, scar tissue had already formed, sealing the marks there. I reached out, grabbing at the reflective inside of the locker door, creating a fist of air, and thrusting my arm into the door. Keeping my forearm in touch with the door, I drummed out a fast beat, until my arm throbbed gently. I slid down the cold metal, weeping softly into my arms.

Beauty was skin deep, and all that remained on my skin was the marks of my recent past.

I squeezed my knees to my chest, clutching desperately for the scrubs beside me. "I'd rather be dead…" I whimpered. "I want to die. It's not fair…"

"Well aren't we happy, heh."

"!"

"Woah- you're naked. Heheheh."

I pressed my hands to my mouth, concealing my cries for help. He drifted closer, his arms dragging heavily behind his skeletal body. Black, jagged wings of feathers spread out wide behind his back. He grinned a toothy Cheshire cat smile and cackled over me. "Scared?" A pair of piercing red eyes bored into the back of my petrified skull. "Gonna put some clothes on, sugar? You could catch death in this cold… Heh."

"It's not cold." I managed, forcing my arms through the hole of the shirt, and pressed myself warily against the lockers. "What do you want?" He cocked his head and laughed, "Well?"

"I told you I was comin' back." he said. "We're going to spending quite a lot of time together, human."

"Fine," I sighed, slipping the pants on over my bare legs. "Can we walk and talk?"

"Hmph- fine." His voice sounded hoarse.

I grabbed the surgical mask from the waxed floor, loosely tying a knot behind my head and running my hands through my hair. "Take your time… But I wouldn't take to long, heh heh."

"Who's in there?" I gasped, hearing a soft voice from outside the door. Pulling themselves in through the doorway, a young man with damp, unkempt hair and a pair of identical scrubs to mine walked in. He looked bewilderedly down at me. "Erm…" An uncomfortable look set on me.

"Ah!" I squeaked, jumping up suddenly, but failed, banging my head into the corner of the metal locker door. "Oww." I clenched my head helplessly.

"Are you ok?" he frowned, grabbing my small tender hands and lifting me onto my feet. I sheepishly smiled through my mask, looking away at the wall.

"I'm terribly sorry!" I blushed, batting my eyes sweetly and pulling down my mask. "I'm new… And I-I've sort of had the day from hell." He laughed gently, beaming widely in my direction.

"Hey- I'm an intern too! No worries!" he smiled. "You look young for an intern though- how old are you?"

"18... I finished earlier than everyone else- hehe." He chuckled, hanging an arm loosely round his neck. "Could you help me? Erm… Someone's stolen my clothes again…"

"Again?"

"The guys in the morgue are always playing jokes on me." I moaned. "They're horrible to me."

"Ah…" He sympathetically patted me on the back. The creature snickered, hanging in almost a lifeless fashion in the air.

"Quite the actress… heh heh heh."

"I'll tell you what- here's $200!" he stuffed the stack of notes into my face excitedly. "Here just take it!"

"W-What!" I said, truly dumbfounded. "Surely you can't be serious!"

"Awww- cute accent! What are you- Australian?" his eyes had a childish glow to them. "It's fine! Just take it!"

"O-ok…" I grabbed the green notes from his large open hand, and returned a small smile. Thank you, doctor. You have no idea how much this has helped."

"Ahhh call me Derek! Doctor is too formal!" he adjusted his glasses, smiling. "You got a name?"

Yeah… Grey." I held tightly to the wad of money in my hand.

"Nice name! It suits you!" he continued. "I hope I get to see you again soon! Hey- maybe next time we meet I'll be a successful doctor!"

"With that attitude, you can be what ever you want to be."

"Thanks, haha! I'll be seeing you soon then!" He waved, leaving the room with a slight spring to his step.

"Bye Dr. Stiles!" I waved him away. As soon as he left, my arms swung loosely back to my side sorrowfully.

"Heh… I'd be careful- he didn't give you a last name." the alien-like being mumbled.

"I know." I spoke, looking down at my bare remorsefully. I sighed, and began strolling further into the hospital. "Let's go."

"Already? Awww- I'm beginning to like it here." he stared, scraping his claws on his chin. Ignorantly, I left through the open door. "Hey- I was only messing with you!"

"…" I strode down the sickened corridors of the hospital, marching straight to the reception.

"Not talking now?"

"…" The nurse behind the desk watched me over her big framed glasses, smiling pleasantly at me.

"What can I do for you doctor?"

"A list of the burn victims recently submitted to the hospital, please. It's slightly urgent." I tapped my fingernails anxiously on the marble surface. Slowly, the nurse opened up a document onto the screen.

"If you're looking for that killer guy- he's on the second floor." she yawned.

"Huh? Killer guy? What're you up to?"

"Thank you, Nina." I smiled, my eyes drifting slightly above her head. "…Got a husband Nina?"

"What?" she laughed. "What's it to ya?"

"I…." I paused, flattening my palms onto the desk and sliding them towards me. "Just make sure you ring him this evening, ok?" I stared plainly at her face, grabbing the chart off the side and pushing away from the desk. I fast-walked to the elevator and slipped inside quickly. It was deserted, and quite basic compared to the rest of the hospital I had yet to see. Suddenly, the inside of the elevator had distorted, wobbling the air all around me. Alas, the creature had formed once again, his face stuck in the same grin. He moved his arms in front of him like a puppet, and groaned loudly.

"Stop ignoring me." he sulked, looking emotionless at me. "Where are you going?"

"We can talk after this… But first, I need to visit a loved one…" I grumbled, looking down at the charts for a 'Rue Ryuzaki'. "Then, we can do whatever."

[Present Day- Task Force Headquarters]

Hope's P.O.V

"Hope…!" I heard a soft voice yell out in panic as I drooped forward weakly, unable to take in any air. "Somebody help! Roger! Hope stay awake!" My eyes rolled back slowly, my vision blurring, merging into different colours as I tried to focus on the person. My frail arms dropped to the floor almost lifeless, and my head wilted to the side, deprived from oxygen.

"…Wake up… Wake… up!"

"Wake up, Hope."

"N-Near?"

"Hell no!" a boy snapped in an aggressively. I opened my eyes, looking around lost. Focusing and fixing them onto the shiny silver foil of a luxurious bar of dark chocolate. Mello snorted, snapping the corner sharply off with his milky teeth.

"Hey," I grabbed the metal bars on either side of the bed, lifting myself up into an upright position.

"Hey." Mello lazily placed the back of his new leather boots onto the foot of the bed.

"Where's Near?"

"At Wammy's," He folded his arms. "He didn't want to come."

"Oh," I frowned. Near's voice had fused itself onto my memory. Near's cries for help filling the air. Such emotion he had poured out through his voice, but, in Wammy's house, a sound could not be heard. And to awake without him by my side felt strangely out of place.

Mello shuffled, leaning forward and reaching into his boots, pulling out a blackberry phone. "What are you doing?"

"Calling Matt, he's had to go somewhere." he mumbled quietly in a much softer tone. The phone rang continuously, until Mello became irritated and hung up the phone, tossing it on the bed. "He's bringing your cat."

"Ok." As silence filled the room, my eyes searched the plain room. It had became apparent that I was in a hospital. Every wall was doused in a placid green paint that looked almost freshly painted on. The furniture was quite simplistic for a hospital, putting aside the large monitor attached to my left arm. The chairs were a clean white, and the small table at the bedside was a smooth sycamore where an apple green iPod covered by an Ed Hardy design was tangled in the wires of the headphones had been thrown. In the far left corner, a primitive make of a Samsung TV flickered. The channel in question was the news- Kira had spread all over the main headlines.

"Imbeciles!" Mello raged, "I hate the fucking news- they spit a load of false hopes into their audience about Kira being gone, and all that shit. Hell- they even encourage the beliefs of this so called 'God'. Are they seriously submitting to such a petty criminal!"

"I wouldn't say his acts would match the ones of a petty criminal, however, I do see what you are trying to say." My hand grabbed the player on the bedside table, shuffling through the different artists excitedly. "Is this yours, Mello?" I smiled.

"Yes. What are you doing with-" he hesitated, looking away to the TV again and fidgeting uncomfortably. "Why?"

"I was going to ask if I could listen to it, but never mind."

"Just put it on. I don't mind." he sounded tired, and his eyes glimmered with what looked to be annoyance. I popped the buds into my ears, and nuzzled back into the big fluffed up pillow, drowning out the sound of the news in the background.

"I've always liked your music taste, Mello." A small glimpse of a smile twitched violently on his stone face.

"I'm back," a voice beckoned over the fierce guitar solo. I flicked the music off, glancing up at the intruder. Matt stood grinning ear to ear, and a beige pet carrier in his hand. "Ah- Hope!" he chuckled, setting the carrier to the side of the bed. "What's up?"

"Oh nothing much. I'm just sat in a hospital bed… Wondering how I got here… you?" He laughed, taking liberty in sitting on my bed, on top of my legs. But I shrugged off the pain quite quickly. With no hesitation, a gameboy was pulled out of his front pocket, immediately alighting his face in multiple colours. "Matt," I called him.

No answer.

"Matt," I stressed his name.

"Yeah?" he slurred, eyes narrowing dangerously as he attached himself to the screen.

"Gonna tell me why I'm in here, Matt?"

"Nah, the doctor will do it."

"Matt."

"Sup?"

"Can I at least pet Van Gogh?" He nodded in trance, reaching down and beginning his expedition for the cat carrier. He plonked it sluggishly onto my lap, turning the twisty-knobs and opening the latch. "Vanny!" I rubbed my fingers together calling his name softly. "C'mon out!"

"I'd rather you kept it in there, miss!" The doctor towered over my bed, looking expectantly down out me. He had a thin, plucked moustache set above his thin lips, which contrasted his mildly bald head. He clicked his pen irritably, before placing it in the pocket of his white shirt. "No animals."

"Oh fine then." I grunted, pushing Van Gogh's little paws back inside his cage. "So, what's up with me then?"

"We've run some scans, and it seems you had some quite severe lesions on your lungs." His voice was annoying, to put it bluntly. "I would ask for family history, but the man your with wont even tell me your name." He stared at me, his body arching over my bed. "Why is that?"

"Because I don't know it, dip-shit." I said with venom, resisting the urge to assault him became harder to fight. Mello's jaw dropped the slightest, before regaining his cool ego again. "I can't remember anything dating back from when I was a small child."

"Interesting." He removed his pen, clicking the top and began to take notes.

"So, I suspect I have tumours. Benign ones at that." I quickly concluded. "I have had no other symptoms, other than the wrenching pain I've had in my chest recently. And by recently, I mean a few hours before I lost consciousness." I glanced down, admiring the neat bandages rapped tightly around my bust. "And it seems you've already taken care of them. Nice job."

"Yes… I'm going to assume the boys told you."

"Ok. Can I leave now?"

"I'm afraid you can't yet, miss."

"Eh? Why?" I moaned. Matt cocked his head up. Listening.

"Because there is a specialist coming to question you about your identity." he grinned, looking almost amused. "I'm not one on detail, but apparently your medical records are similar to the ones of another girl… Around bout your age as well I say."

"What's your point?" Mello intercepted the conversation. "There are a lot of girls with medical problems. And I wouldn't be surprised if a few shared a birthday with her, for fuck's sake."

"Oh- I assure you it's more complicated than that." He clipped a piece of paper to the board in his hand and wrote some more. "But, if I were you, I wouldn't go with a poor excuse like 'long-term amnesia'. That won't settle well on your record, and makes a poor alibi."

"Alibi?" Matt joined in. "Why what's happened?"

"Don't worry though, your carer has been informed-"

"Answer the fucking question!" Mello stood high with his fist hovering dangerously close to the doctor's face.

"M-Mello no violence! Please…?" I pleaded.

"It's ok- he'll be going to prison with you if he lay a finger on me."

"Prison!" I mimicked. He nodded, maintaining the smug look he had not let down since he first entered the room.

"I think I shall take my leave now. Good luck, criminal scum." He left promptly, leaving me unnerved. Mello, Matt, and I had been sentenced to silence. Matt sadly looked at me, his game hung loosely from his hand. Mello sat back down, holding the wig of blonde hair in his hands that were resting lightly on his lap. He sighed, turning his head angrily to the side, gritting his milky teeth, and piercing into my skull with his ice blue eyes.

"Hope, what the fuck have you done?" he said in nearly a whisper. A feeling of dread clenched firmly onto my chest, and my eyes shook as warm salty tears built within them.

"I can't remember." I sobbed.

Uh oh- what's Hope got herself into? :P And I wonder what Shadow is up to at the Task Force... Stay tuned to find out!

Reviews please :) Keep me motivated!