#75 Forgive
Kira's world. Kira's damned world.
A world where Wammy's house was decimated. A world where Watari's death had been slow and painful, just because Kira wanted to see his adversaries weep for their fallen benefactor.
A world where Mikami, Takada and Damegawa were given the three wammy boys as pets and slaves, purely because Kira wanted to see their faces as their idol stood helplessly by, unable to aid them.
And a world where L, the greatest detective of his times, possibly the smartest human being on earth, was a plaything.
It sickened L to his very core to see himself. What was he now? Kira's pet on a string. Naught but an object. Kira made him wear the L symbol on a collar. It hurt to see himself like that, see his empty eyes reflected in his silver symbol as yet another day was spent pleasuring the new god.
L had forced his own consciousness into the back of his mind. He forced himself to forget any life before Kira's reign. It made it somehow easier on the slow march to oblivion.
He barely reacted at all when the god mockingly showed him a tape of Near, molested and miserable, crying for his mother.
He didn't look up when another tape revealed Mello whispering that the only god in the world was Kira.
No tears were shed when Kira told him Matt had been hospitalised, apparently driven insane by Mikami.
And then something had changed.
It was so clear and focused in L's mind. How, so suddenly, Light had come back.
He always thought of them as separate now, Kira and Light. Light had been his friend, his comrade. He'd enjoyed their friendly rivalry. Kira was a sadist who enslaved him and his heirs. Light had died the moment Kira took over.
But then, somehow, he'd come back.
He'd come back and helped L to his feet, bathed his sore wounds and gave him warm clothes. Told him it would all be ok from now on.
When Light came back, so did L.
And L was angry.
But L was also a fine actor. He allowed Light to tenderly take care of him. He played the faithful pet as well as Light played the loving god. He made plans, and gained his trust. He learned that only Light knew where the death note was hidden, that his servants had the eyes but nothing else. He observed the boy.
Light began to let his guard down. He took L to his bed, first in chains, then free. Sometime during his reign, he'd forgotten L's hatred of losing, and of his ability to bear a grudge. Or perhaps he just convinced himself that if he was kind enough, L would forgive everything that had been done to him.
And that had led to this. Light, sleeping peacefully in a bed fit for a god, a light smile on his beautiful features.
And L, sitting monkey-like next to him, glaring down at him and thinking. Thinking of all the boy had put him through, of the trickery and lies, the horrible things he had been made to do, his poor heirs. And of Watari.
And that thought made L angrier than anything else did.
He knew, he really did, that on some level, Light and Kira were entirely different men, within the same body. He knew in his heart, Light would never do the atrocities that Kira had performed.
L reached out one bony hand and stroked it through the boy who was a god's auburn hair. The slight smile increased.
L flexed his fingers and reached over the boy to the bedside lamp, it had a heavy metal base and his weak arms struggled with it at first.
He shifted, slowly, oh, so slowly, over the god, straddling his body in case he awoke.
His fingers tightened around the icy iron lamp in anticipation.
Here it was. Here was the moment when it all shattered, here was when he freed the world and did the only thing he could to try and save his boys. His last-ditch effort to liberate the world for generations to come. There would be backlash, he was certain, but god willing, he wasn't already too late.
The slamming noise it made on first impact was delicious. L felt a manic grin break across his face and didn't try to stop it as he brought the weapon down again. Blood splattered up and against his face, he laughed and hit harder.
Weather or not Light woke up wouldn't be an issue anymore, L kept hammering the object against the god's head, until that pretty face was little more than bone and blood and the fleshy pulp of what was once skin.
L didn't stop until his weak arms were simply too tired to lift anymore. He dropped the lamp and heard it smash on the floor as he rolled over, ignoring the faint squelch of the blood-soaked mattress.
He looked back at what was left of Kira and grinned once more.
"I'm sorry Light-kun," he purred, "But some things you can't forgive."