You are all complete sweetie pies and I love you endlessly. C:
Time for the trigger warning. Guys, big trigger warning: suicide here. Literally this whole chapter could be triggering. If you think you might be triggered but you still want to know what happens, please please please take care of yourself and only read the summary in italics at the bottom. I did my very best to be comprehensive without being triggering. Feedback on how well I did this would be wonderful.
I don't own Death Note, Richard Corey, or Clair de Lune.
"This is how the dream goes. I am walking through the wrought iron gates of the crumbling English mansion in which I grew up, and it is raining. It is raining with thick brooding clouds that press into the ground and trap all the air under them, so that you have just enough space to breathe, but not enough to be wasteful with it. You feel every breath. By the end of the dream, I always wind up somewhere else, but this is where it starts.
"I know that Watari is waiting inside the mansion for me, because he is the one who invited me to visit, but I don't go in right away because I see the tree. There is a beautiful tree in the front yard, old and strong, with a thick and twisted trunk, with beautiful, full green leaves. It is the most beautiful thing in the yard, even though it is raining. There is laughter coming from the branches, and so I go towards the tree to see who is in it. It is A, and he is nine years, four months, and seventeen days old.
"I ask him how his studies are going, and he tells me all about them while he drapes himself over one of the branches and swings his limbs slowly back and forth. Everything is alright at first, but then things change. He tells me how he was assigned to memorize a poem for English class, and he asks whether I would like to hear it, and I tell him that of course I would. He recites this poem to me, in English, by Edwin Arlington Robinson:
"Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
"We people on the pavement looked at him:
"He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
"Clean favored, and imperially slim.
"And he was always quietly arrayed,
"And he was always human when he talked;
"But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.
"And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
"And admirably schooled in every grace:
"In fine, we thought that he was everything
"To make us wish that we were in his place.
"So on we worked, and waited for the light,
"And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
"And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
"Went home and put a bullet through his head.
"And A laughs so hard that he almost slips off of the branch, and suddenly I don't know whether he's laughing or crying, and then I realize that when I first heard him in the tree, he was definitely crying, but I don't know which one it is anymore. And I say to him, 'A, that is a very dark poem. Why did you choose that one?' And A replies, 'Roger said to pick one that resonated with us. He said he meant resonate in a figurative sense, not a literal sense. But this one resonated with me in a figurative sense and a literal sense. It shook me up real bad. I think it's because Richard Cory is me, and Richard Cory is you.' And I frown and I say to him, 'A, you shouldn't think like that. Do you understand that this poem is about suicide?' And A frowns back at me, and says, just like the nine-year-old boy that he is, 'Duh.' And I say, 'You don't mean that you're suicidal, do you? Because if you are, you should talk to Roger about it.' And he blows a raspberry at me and says, 'Roger doesn't know anything. He told me that it was good for me to feel like that, just so long as I didn't actually do anything about it, because it was good for me to feel the pressure, but they couldn't have me actually doing anything.' And I say, 'Well, pressure is good, but being suicidal… I don't want you to think too much of Roger's opinion. Maybe we could talk to—' And A cuts me off, laughing and crying, really doing both this time, and he says, 'Oh, I didn't. I didn't listen to Roger at all. I did something about it.'
"And that's when I realize that something is wrong. Because the beautiful tree is heavy with rain and dripping big, fat drops of water, and my clothes are soaked and sticking to me uncomfortably, and my bangs are plastered to my forehead and getting into my eyes, and yet A is completely dry. And then I see that he's slipped from where he was draped over the tree branch, and that he's now hanging from the tree, not by his arms which are by his side, but by his neck, because he has in fact hanged himself from the tree, and not only that, but he's slit his wrists in long, careful lines, cutting open the veins lengthwise, and there's so much blood, covering his body and covering the ground, and none of it is touched by the rain. And I'm so afraid, and I turn to run and find help, but I slip in the mud and fall to the ground, hard, and that's when A starts talking again.
"And at first I'm relieved, because I think it means that he's still alive, but it doesn't. He says to me, 'You know, I did this because I wanted to be you. I didn't want to just be like you. I wanted to be you. B just wanted to be like you, but I wanted to be you. I love you.'
"And that's when I realize that A's blood is spilling towards me. I scramble to get out of the way, because it's moving far too quickly, but I twisted my ankle when I fell, and I fall right back down, and by then it's too late, because the blood is soaking up into my clothes, in with the rain, and it's streaming up them, speeding all the way up my head, covering my eyes and making everything I see red, and I reach up to my face, trying to clear the blood away, and my hand skims past my right temple, where there is a hole. And without knowing what I'm doing, I reach into the hole, as far as my fingers can stretch, farther than the hole can withstand, and I scream and I scream and I scream, and then I catch it between my fingers and draw it out and it's the bullet that I've put into my head.
"And that's when I know that it's a dream. The things that are real are the mansion and the gates and the rain and the beautiful tree and A hanging and bleeding from its branches when I come to visit and the twisted ankle and the reason he is dead, but the bullet in my head is not real. So I struggle and struggle to get out of the dream, and I make it to being able feel my body around me, but it's a body that is lifeless and soft, one that I can feel like a useless prison around me, and I'm afraid so I automatically recoil away from it, making the same mistake again and again, because when I reject my useless body, I am flung back into the dream body that I hate even more.
"I am back in the rain, with the bullet hot and bloody in the palm of my hand, and B is there, and B is laughing. The tree is chopped down and grass is laid over it, so seamlessly that you can guess and guess but never be quite sure exactly where it was that A died. Younger kids say they know it, that they measured out the distance from the gate to the tree in their footsteps, but older kids have different measurements, so radically different that I wonder whether Roger made them say it, and so eventually the only thing the most superstitious kids can do is avoid the front yard altogether. But of course superstition makes a mockery out of any good detective, so B flagrantly walks through the front yard exactly as often as he walks through the back yard.
"But right now he's laughing, and his hands are red. All of the blood is gone, of course, except my own blood from the bullet in my hand, but the blood on B's hands isn't fresh anyways. It's deep under his skin—no, in his skin, like he tattooed it with thick lines into every crease and loop and whorl until the ink fell off the sheer sides of his hands. The image comes as a surprise every time, and for I second I forget that's all it is, an image, and I wonder with fear how B could possibly have found a tattoo artist willing to inject blood into a nine-year-old's hands.
"B laughs while scowling, which reminds me that I need to be more concerned about him than an imaginary tattoo parlor. He laughs and scoffs and coughs at me—no, not at me, because he is not staring at me. He is staring at the space right above my head, and I tense, because when he stares off into space like that, it means he's going to say my name.
"He says it in as normal a speaking voice as you could imagine, as if we were in the middle of a casual conversation. I force myself not to show any emotion in my face, and I am focusing so much energy in that direction that I forget to control my hands. The hand holding the bullet flinches, and B sees it out of the corner of his eye and he laughs.
"'Don't like that?' he asks me. 'Don't like that? Don't like that? Don't like that? Don't like that? Don't like that? Don't like that? Don't like that? Don't like that?' And he says it over and over again until I finally tell him, as calmly as I can, 'No, B, I don't like that.' But he jumps on that and says, 'B? B? Are we at nicknames then? Huh, Lawli-pop? Lawli-pop? Lawli-pop? Lawli-pop? Lawli—' And I interrupt him and tell him, 'B isn't your nickname, and L isn't my nickname. Those are our names now. That's the name you put on all your assignments, isn't it? Isn't that what your friends call you? Isn't that what Roger calls you?'
"And B absolutely screams, 'FUCK ROGER.'
"He turns around, curling in on himself, and I wait for him to calm down. When he faces me again, he is six years older. He is still curled in on himself, but now his hair is shaggy and greasy, and his eyes are blackened, some parts going purple and green as they heal. 'You're a fucking sell-out, you know,' he says, voice deeper and darker. 'If they would just give me the chance, I would be so much better than you. But they don't really care about me. You don't care about me. You all only care about yourselves.' And I start to tell him, uselessly, that we all care about him, but he says, 'I'm the best. But none of you want to admit it. Why won't you make me your successor? Why don't you believe me when I say I'm the best?' And I tell him, 'I understand that you want to be my successor, but just because you want to be like me doesn't mean—'
"And he screams, 'FUCK A. Did he tell you that? He was always going on about wanting to be you, not just like you. I don't want to be you. Why would I want to be you when I could be better than you? I am better than you. I'm already you and so much more. That's why you're all scared of me.'
"I tell him that we're not scared of him, and he staggers backwards and shakes his head. 'You're not? You're not scared of me? You're not?' And I tell him, 'No, I'm not.' And he screams at me, 'LIAR. BIG FAT LIAR. YOU'RE A LIAR. LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR—' and he disappears behind the tree that is no longer there, and when he reappears, he is on fire, and now he is screaming, 'FEAR ME FEAR ME FEAR ME FEAR ME FEAR ME FEAR—' and instead of running away, like I did when A was dead, I run towards B, and he runs towards me, and he engulfs me in the flames.
"But I pass right out the other side of the fire, and then I am in a prison cell, and it is cold and damp and dim. The bullet is still in my hand. Behind me, a piano is playing Debussy. I turn around, and I see B sitting at a grand piano. He isn't reading any music, because he cannot see. His posture is impeccable, his bare scalp is covered in scars, and his eyes are melted and shut. His fingers are ill-formed, and it looks painful to play with them. But he is a wonderful pianist. He hears my footsteps, and he shifts into improvisation, and, creakily, smiles.
"'What took you so long to visit?' he asks, voice rough and curved around the edges. 'Were you afraid?' I tell him no, that I've just been busy. He hums. I tell him that Roger sends his love. 'Do you send your love?' he asks me. I hesitate, and then I say, 'I suppose.' He tells me, 'I'm disappointed. Haven't you heard that it's better to be feared than loved?' And more quickly than I can even see properly, he grabs me, and I drop the bullet, and he stuffs me into the piano, slams the lid closed, and resumes playing.
"This is where I realize that it's just a dream again. Everything that has happened so far with B has been a jumble of memories, except that it wouldn't have been physically possible for B to stuff me into a piano alive, even a grand piano. I'm lying in the dream piano, and then I feel myself sink lower, through the strings, and back into my bed. But I don't realize it's my bed until it's too late. At first I just think that it's a deeper compartment of the dream piano, and I try to climb out, and it's only when I've fallen back onto the cell floor that I realize that I've trapped myself in the dream once again, for the final time, and for the worst time yet.
"Charles is sitting at a table, my bullet in his hands. He is sweating profusely, and the bullet is rolling in his palm, shining a dull red, stained with my blood and covered in his sweat. 'So, you're saying that if I don't confess, either they're going to kill me, or you're going to kill me.' And I say, surprised, 'I'm not going to kill you, Charles. Why would you say that?' And Charles says, 'Well, you killed A and B, didn't you? They told me. It's the only three person cell, you know. One bed and three people.' And I tell him, 'I didn't kill A or B. B isn't even dead yet. He hasn't even tried to kill himself yet.' Because A was first, and then Charles, and then B.
"But Charles doesn't care about chronology. He tells me, 'You will do it though. You're going to kill me. You're a detective. You kill me or you send me off to be killed.' And I say, 'I'm on your side, Charles. I want to prevent you from getting the death sentence. You just need to confess.' And he says, 'You mean, lie?' And I say, 'I mean, confess.' And he says, 'You're not always right, you know. B told me. He says he's right more than you are, and he says that I didn't do it.' And I tell him, 'B stuffed me in a piano. You shouldn't listen to him.' But as I say the words, I know they aren't true, because B did many things, but he did not stuff me in a piano. Why did I choose the one thing that wasn't true?
"Charles is back to talking now. He's saying, 'B told me all about the electric chair, just like you did. B also told me that you want me to get the electric chair, or you want to kill me yourself. But he says I shouldn't let you get your way. He says that A let you kill him, but that he didn't let you kill him. He knew you wanted to kill him, but he wanted to be the one to kill himself, and he wanted to do it better than you would have done it. He almost got away with it too. He says that I need to finish what he started. He says that I need to be the one to do it, so that you don't get your way. We hate you, you know.'
"And I am surprised, and I say, 'Really?' And Charles sinks a bit and says, 'Sort of. A says he loves you, and B just says he doesn't love you, but I hate you, and I know that deep down A and B hate you too.' And I say, 'Why? I don't understand.' And Charles says, 'Because you killed us. And you don't even feel bad about it.' And I tell him, 'I don't want you all to die.' And he says, 'Yes, you did. You were in favor of the death penalty, weren't you?' And I say, 'Well, I was, but not anymore.' And he says, 'Does that matter? Can you go back in time and change how many criminals you have handed over to be put to death?' And I say, 'I've gone back in time now, haven't I?' And Charles sighs, and he says, 'No.' And with one violent gesture of his arm, he slams the bullet into his temple and falls forward onto the desk, and all the blood that should be coming out of him is rushing from my head.
"I try to stop the bleeding with my hands, plugging up the hole with one of my fingers, but it's coming faster than I can handle, and I can feel every beat of my heart in my fingertip. I whirl around, looking for someone to help me, and I see Watari, looking at me sadly through the prison bars with his hands in his suit pockets.
"I come right up to the bars and I say to him, 'Please, help me. Please. I've hurt myself. Please. Can you give me a bandage? I'll sit still. You can use the hydrogen peroxide and I won't move. Please, help me. I'll finish my homework and go right to bed. I promise. Please. Please, help me.'
"And he looks right at me, wearily, in his crisp three-piece suit, and he says, 'L, what have I taught you about justice?' And, slowly, I pull my hands away from my head, and let the blood stream out. And I stay standing and he stays watching me until the blood stops because it is all gone. And as I fall to the ground, I can hear Watari's footsteps as he walks away.
"And then I wake up. And the dream is over, but the worst part is that all of it is true. My life is a waking nightmare, because awake or asleep, I can never get away from the guilt of what I've done. And Watari knows everything that I've done. He's never gotten angry at me because of A or B, I think because he feels partially responsible for having put them there in the first place, but he got terribly angry at me because of Charles. He called me a murderer, you know. And that was before we found out that Charles had been innocent. Murderer doesn't even begin to cover it now.
"I know that a suicide can never completely be someone else's fault, but this time it was almost completely my fault. If I hadn't suspected Charles, the police would never have seriously considered him as the killer. If I hadn't pushed him to evade the death sentence, his innocence would have been found out while he was still on death row. If I hadn't tried to frighten him into confessing, he wouldn't have resorted to suicide. He was a perfectly stable young man. He had no history of depression, he wasn't on any medication with powerful side effects, and he was in a flourishing stage of his life. He had a wife and two children with a third on the way. And because I was stubborn, deceitful, manipulative, and relentless, I pushed him to suicide. I was responsible for the death of an innocent man.
"And he can't have been the only one. I've told you that I no longer believe in the death penalty, but there was a time when I was a great advocate of it. The more definite the sentence, the more I was protecting society. What better protection than complete elimination of the criminal? But even I am wrong sometimes. I haven't heard of any other times that it happened, not on my cases at least, but other judicial systems are wrong at sickening rates. And I contributed to it. And, more than that, if I am a murderer as well, don't I deserve the same fate I handed down to them? But I can't convince myself that I want to die. So I can only turn my back on the logic that a death deserves a death.
"And that's just Charles, not even A or B. My involvement certainly wasn't quite as obvious in A's suicide or B's suicide attempt, but you heard what they were saying. A wanted to be me, and that's why he killed himself. Is that illogical? It wasn't illogical to him, and he was brilliant, as brilliant as we are. Was it too much pressure to be me? Did he think that I was suicidal as well? Was he trying to be Richard Corey? I don't know. All I know is that he died trying to be me, and if I hadn't been me, then he wouldn't be dead. And B wanted to be more than me, and that's why he killed himself. B too was brilliant, just like A and you and me. Was he trying to prove himself? Was he trying to make me afraid of him? Was he trying to make me afraid for him? I don't know. But he died trying to be more than me, and if I hadn't been me, then he wouldn't be dead. I know A and B weigh heavily on Watari's heart, and so at least I can share the guilt with him, but I can't share the guilt for Charles with anyone. I will never stop carrying this guilt.
"Yagami Light, please keep your promise to not say anything afterwards. Please. I don't want to hear your thoughts. I can assure you that I have thought them already. You said yourself that no one knew you better than me, and now I can say with certainty that no one knows me better than you. So, please, just go back to sleep. We can talk again in the morning. But not about this. Never about this. Will you promise me that?"
And Light took a deep breath, and said, "Please, let me say one thing."
And L was irritated and almost upset as he said, "Yagami Light, please—"
"You don't understand," Light interrupted. "This is something you have never thought before. You couldn't have thought it before, because I am one of the only people in the world who know this. I don't think it will change your mind on anything either. Please, just let me tell you. Afterwards, we don't ever have to talk about this again. I promise."
L sighed, and said, "Say what you like."
Kira was revolting in the pit of Light's stomach, tearing at the bars around him, spitting acid and throwing his claws, refusing to allow Light to spill these secrets, to compromise so much future strategy, but Light had Kira held back for now.
"When a shinigami kills a person by writing that person's name in their Death Note, the shinigami gets that person's remaining lifespan added to their own lifespan. Because of this, they have eyes that can see the name and lifespan of a person just by looking at them. There is a deal that can be made with a shinigami called the eye deal. In exchange for half of a person's remaining lifespan, a shinigami will give that person the ability to see the names and lifespans of the people around them. If I gave Rem half of my lifespan in exchange for these eyes, this ability, then the next time I saw you, I would see your name and lifespan hovering in the space right above your head."
"The space—?" L was breathless with surprise.
"L, I don't know how, but I think that B had a shinigami's eyes. That's how he knew your name. He saw it floating above your head. And every time he saw a person, he knew their name and he knew when they would die. I assume that he wouldn't have been able to see his own lifespan, or the lifespan of any Death Note owner, but those would be the only limitations. I don't know if he made the trade or if he was just born like that, but I can only think that he had a shinigami's eyes. I don't know if that played any role in his suicide, but I had to tell you about his eyes, because I'm the only one who might ever tell you. That's all. I'll go to sleep now if you'd like."
L was silent for several long seconds, and then he said, "Yagami Light, you have given me an incredible amount of knowledge about the Kira case."
"I know."
"Yagami Light, why would you do such a thing?"
"Because I love you."
The microphone static cut out, and Light's cell was silent for the rest of the night.
The following is L's recurring nightmare. When he goes to visit Wammy's House (implied, but not mentioned by name), he talks with A, who reveals his suicidal thoughts, and suddenly L realizes that A has committed suicide in front of him. After his death, A tells L that the cause of his suicide was that he wanted to be L, and that he loves L. L realizes that this is a dream and almost wakes up, but he is pulled into the dream again.
Back at Wammy's House, B laughs and mocks L. In the ensuing conversation, B becomes angry, and when he calms down, he has aged by six years and he is no longer L's successor. (It is suggested but not mentioned that this is about the time he left the orphanage, in canon.) B tells L that he is better than L, and he asks whether L is afraid of him. L tells him that he is not, and B accuses him of lying. He catches on fire (implied, but not mentioned, that this is his suicide attempt), and tells L to fear him. They are transported to a prison (implied, but not mentioned, that this is after B's suicide attempt and trial) where B is playing the piano. B asks if L took so long to visit him because he was afraid, and L says he was not. L says Roger sends his love, B asks whether L sends his love as well, and L is noncommittal. B says that it is better to be feared than loved. Again, L realizes that this is a dream, almost wakes up, and is pulled back into the dream.
Still in the prison, he is with Charles. L suspected Charles of murder, tried to get him to confess through fear, and Charles committed suicide. It was later revealed that Charles was innocent. In these dreams, Charles knows information about A and B that he could not possibly have known in real life. Charles accuses L of wanting to kill him and of killing A and B. Charles wants to kill himself so that L can't kill him. His motivation in the dream is spite, and he says that he, A, and B all hate L because he killed them without remorse. Charles condemns L for having supported the death penalty in the past, and L tries without success to separate himself from his past convictions. Abruptly, Charles kills himself.
L begins suffering the injury Charles dealt to himself, and as he looks around for help, he sees Watari through the prison bars. He pleads for help, childishly, but Watari simply replies, "L, what have I taught you about justice?" L gives up on his injury, and Watari watches as he dies. When L dies, he can hear Watari walking away. L finally wakes up.
Now L reflects on his dreams and their connection to real life. He feels guilty for the suicides, and he knows that Watari is aware of his involvement in the suicides. L recalls that, regarding Charles, Watari called L a murderer. L acknowledges that a suicide cannot have been his fault, but he concludes that he was the only driving force behind Charles' suicide. He reflects on the inaccuracy and injustice of the death penalty. He affirms that he does not want to die himself. He attributes A's suicide and B's suicide attempt in large part to himself, but he acknowledges Watari's involvement, and he is reassured that he does not have to carry their burden alone. But he feels that he must carry the guilt of Charles' suicide by himself.
L pleads that Light not say anything, saying that he has already thought everything Light is thinking, but Light pleads to say just one thing, saying that this is one thing L could not have already thought. L allows it. Fighting the part of him that is Kira, Light reveals a tremendous amount of information about shinigami, including the eye deal, and he proposes that B had a shinigami's eyes. L marvels that Light would reveal information that was so valuable to Kira, and he asks why Light would do such a thing. Light replies, "Because I love you," and the rest of their night is spent in silence.