Chapter XXI: Reprisal

I awoke to screaming. It wasn't mine. It was a familar voice screaming next to me, right next to me, in bed. I sat up and looked at Mihael. My eyes went wide with shock. I bit my lip nervously; his face was pale and sweaty. His blonde hair was damp and stuck to his cheeks. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was screaming. I nervously touched the back of my hand to his face, and the screaming stopped. He shot up in bed, panting, his eyes now open and vivid.

"Are you okay?" I tried nervously.

He kept looking straight ahead into darkness, as his breathing evened out.

"Mihael?" I asked.

He looked at me, now taking heaving breaths.

"I don't want you to do it," he said.

"Do what?" I asked. I had a feeling about what he meant.

"What you said to the shinigami. About going to face Yagami," he said. "I can't let you do it."

"He can't kill me," I said. "I have the heart."

"There are other things he could do," he said. He turned and grabbed my shoulders.

"Don't you remember the hotel?" he said.

"Of course I do," I said.

His hands fell from my shoulders, onto the matress.

"How can live?" he said, tensed. "How can you just go each day with that part of you?"

I knew at that moment, that he knew what I had felt. He knew somehow, and I had a terrible feeling why.

"Did something happen to you?" I asked nervously.

"It doesn't matter," he said.

"Of course it matters," I said. "I love you."

"It was years ago," he said. "In..one of my foster homes."

"What happened?" I asked. I petted his shoulder lightly, hoping my touch would comfort him enough to get him to confide in me.

"The father there," he continued. "He had his poker buddies over. They made me take off my clothes...fuck. I can't tell you this."

"Please," I begged. "I want to help you."

"You can't," he growled. "Don't you understand? The only way you could help me is to kill them. Fucking kill them."

I tried to wrap my arms around him, but he pushed me back. It wasn't violent, but still aggressive. He got up out of bed, and started walking away.

"Mihael," I started.

"I need some air," he said.

I wanted to chase after him, but I decided against it. I decided to give him some space for a while. I rolled over onto my back, staring into the darkness.

Slowly that darkness grew brighter with yellow light filtering in through the window. I could hear the songs of birds, and the lapping of waves. I climbed out of bed, and put on a huge sweater and my maternity jeans on. I stepped out into the living room, and I saw him. He was sitting on the couch, staring at the beams of sunlight that criss-crossed the floor and illuminated his bare shoulders.

"I was ten years old," he said. He seemed to have sensed my prescence. "Every Friday, they would have poker night. The foster 'father' and his friends would sit aorund drinking, and they would sometimes mess with the little girls. Touch them. Of course I wanted to help them. But I always too afraid. But one night, they were going to rape my foster sister...her name was Caroline. She was twelve. She was basically my best friend before I met Matt. I walked into the kitchen when I heard her screaming. One of the guys was on top of her, some of the others were holding her down, trying to rip her clothes off. I wouldn't let them do it. I ran in there screaming, punching them. I didn't do much damage, but it bought Caroline enough time to get away."

I sat down next to him, watching his face. His eyes were red, swollen, and wet.

"She did get away," he continued. "But they were pissed off. They started hitting me and kicking me. And then they told me to get up, and they told me to take my clothes off. They all started taking their pants off, and then they took turns raping me."

I could barely breathe. Being a rape victim without knowing another one was lonely. I had never considered once what he had been through. I had complained about my neglectful mother, or my father who never seemed to care. But he had had no one. Everyone who was supposed to care about him and take care of him betrayed him. I felt selfish. Somehow, that list could also include me. I had been unfaithful and untruthful to him.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. My voice trembled.

"It's not your fault," he said.

"I've been such a selfish bitch," I said. "I was the only person you had, and I betrayed you by cheating with Near."

"Morgan," he said. He turned towards me, and looked me in the eye. There was no anger.

"You're still here," he said. "You always come back." I slowly wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace.

"I love you," I said. "So much."

"I love you too," he said, returning the embrace. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I'm not good enough for you," I said.

"You're perfect to me," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I said. "I've fucked up so much. I'm far from perfect."

"But you care," he said. "And like I said before, you're still here. All of that is what makes you perfect to me."

I flinched slightly as I felt a squirming sensation in my lower abdomen. I released my grip on him, and touched my stomach.

"I think he moved," I smiled.

"You think it's a boy?" he asked.

"If I'm only four months along, and already this fat," I said. "It's a boy."

I was suddenly startled by the blaring ringing of my cell phone. I got up and stepped towards the kitchen, and picked my phone. A restricted number; I already knew who it was, and I was dreading it.

"Hello?" I said slowly.

"Morgan," came that singsong voice. What timing. Fun time with Near.

"Oh," I said hesitantly.

"Lidner saw the most interesting thing last week," he said. "She saw you, in London, in a maternity store of all places."

"Don't play games," I said.

"How far along are you? It was really polite of you to run away and get knocked up after I saved your life," he said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't want to respond to his biting remark with any sort of kindness, but I knew I did owe him an apology for ditching him.

"Which man do you run off to now?" he said meanly. "Who's the new crutch?"

"The baby is Mello's," I said.

"Oh, I see," he said, practically laughing. "He took you back. I guess you ran out of canidates."

"Shut up," I said. My sympathy was running short at this point.

"I'll give Mello credit though," he said. "He should see pretty soon what a mistake he's made. He'll see what an incredible bitch and whore he's chosen for a wife."

A cold feeling rushed through my stomach. I'd never heard him call me names like that. It actually hurt.

"Actually," he continued. "I don't think you've slept with any of the Japanese taskforce yet. Just do me a favour, and fuck Matsuda first, he really needs to get laid."

I hung up.

I stared at the phone. I couldn't believe the lashing I had just gotten. I had half expected Near to just keep trying to get me to be with him. And then my phone rang again.

"Hello?" I said nervously.

"Is this Morgan?" a male voice asked. He had a slight Asian accent.

"Yes," I said. "May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Matsuda, from the Japanese taskforce. I worked on the Kira case," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"All the evidence from the Kira case has been processed. It's my understanding that you lived with L?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Well, the rest of the taskforce and I are going to be closing up the property this afternoon," he said. "I thought you might like to keep some things."

"I would," I said. "Thank you."

"Okay," he said. "Well, I suppose I will see you later, then."

"Yeah," I said.

I hung up the phone. The timing was rather ironic, and Near probably engineered that way. But my mind was also pressed with the impending task of facing something that had been living within me for so long.

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I trodded up the stairs to the apartment, with Mihael close behind me. He was concerned, especially at my lack of talking the whole two-hour trip. The door to my old home was already open, the lights were on. I stepped inside. The place was how I had left it before leaving for Japan; dishes still in the sink, untidy magazines lying around, and the phone off the hook, sitting on the coffee table, where I would wait whole nights just for a two minute phone call from L. Even though I knew his full name, I had always called him L, because when I was in college and had just begun dating him, I had borrowed his laptop without asking first. He got pretty flustered when I mentioned the "L" screensaver. It was one of the first clues to his secret life.

It was strange. At this point, I was unsure why I had fallen in love with him. I was unsure why I had chosen to come. Perhaps it was an inner desire to be reminded. I stepped into the place, turned the corner, and stepped towards the bedroom. I didn't look in any of the other rooms; the only one that interested me was the one where I had shared precious few intimate moments. The bed made my heart jump, because it was how I had left it. The blankets were askew, pillows wrinkled and ruffled. I looked behind me; Mihael had neglected to follow me. I appreciated the fact that he respected my silent request for privacy.

I laid down on the matress. The cool sheets raised goosebumps on my arms. I inhaled the scent on the pillows; his side sitll smelled like him. It smelled sweet, like sugar. I touched it desperately. I wanted him to just walk in the room. For a fleeting moment, I wished that everything was like it was before, but it was safe. It wasn't different. I just wished, that one more time, he would walk in, impromptu from one of his 'business trips', and just look at me for a moment, slouched and tired looking, and I would run up to him and smother him with everything I had.

I blinked back tears. I knew what it was that made me love L Lawliet so much. Despite his seemingly indifferent attitude towards me, I lived for those rare gestures of affection. I lived for a fleeting touch of my hair, I lived for those long goodbye embraces, I lived for the kisses that I didn't intiate. I finally understood why he hadn't said that he loved me when he left for Japan; he wanted me to hate him. to think he couldn't care less, so that if he died, I wouldn't hold on. But I couldn't let go. Even when I got together with Mihael, or had that brief affair with Near, I never let go.

I reached for the drawer on my end table. I opened it slowly, and withdrew the several dozen sheets of paper and spilled them into my lap. Notes and letters, from when he was away. Most of them were nondescript and uninspiring at first glance. But I found the one. The one that led me to Japan, that started the irreversible chain of events.

Morgan,

I miss you. Things are not going well, but I may come by to visit if I can. I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you. I never say this enough, but I do love you, and my bed is so much emptier without you in it. Sorry, I'm not very skilled in emoting.

Stay safe.

Yours,

L. Lawliet

I could barely breathe rereading this note. I remember I had read it once, dropped it, and started throwing clothes into my suitcase. But this time I savoured it. I savoured every special line, every tiny blot of ink on the page. The old feeling of pain swelled up and manifested itself into tears, and into sobs. There would be no more notes, no phone calls. No more goodbye embraces, no more kisses. Everything I had lived for was gone, its fate had been written in the pages of the deathnote.

I knew what I had to do. There was only one way to remove or at least quiet this piece of me. There was only one way I could let go. Previously, I had thought it a bad idea, but perhaps it was neccesary. I thumbed my silver locket thoughtfully. I floated off the bed, and shut and locked the door. I had to get L Lawliet out of me.