Love On A Tombstone- Sequel to The Last Name

by A. David

"I know this is hard for you. I know this isn't what we imagined, but-" "I'm not supposed to be here, Light."

2. Unsteady

*Light's POV*

I returned the glass of water onto the desktop before me and rested back in my chair. Therapy had been more of an idea to make L relax. I didn't really want to go and the first few sessions had been like pulling teeth. But things had slowly gotten easier. It was nice to have someone other than L to talk to every now and then. Someone who just listened rather than tried to solve everything for me in twenty different ways.

L would always and forever be the first person I would come to with my issues, but sometimes an outside opinion was just what was needed. It was the same thing with a case. Sometimes you needed a new pair of eyes to see if you had missed anything.

"So, how is school going?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.

The doctor had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do, as if her smile ran out faster than her morning coffee. I had never been able to relax around such expressions. I needed a genuine face, preferably a smile, but if not I'd really rather they didn't fake it; but it had become different with her. There was some personality behind the professionalism.

Her eyes were devoid of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Not that she needed the makeup to begin with. Her clothes were perfectly set without so much as a wrinkle. I wasn't sure how much ironing she did to make her clothes look fresh from the package.

She always had her legs crossed under her desk and was leaned back uncomfortably in her chair. She also had a pen or pencil that she kept in hand to make notes in her file, but its home was between her lipstick free lips, where she would chew on the ends of whatever she was using that day.

Her room at first had the same antibacterial feel that a hospital did, but I was able to catch her small ticks. She had a form of OCD. She didn't mind if things were out of place and she didn't click the light switch several times before exiting or entering a room, she was a clean freak. Everything had to be spotless.

The first time I had noticed it was our first meeting. She had poured me a cup of water and when she placed the pitcher back down, no more than a drop had splashed onto the desk top. I didn't even notice until she pulled out a roll of paper towels from her desk and cleaned more than half of the surface of her desk with cleaner before she was satisfied.

Maybe that was why she was so highly recommended. She had something that made her just as messed up as her patients. I wasn't sure she could match me, but she had her flaws.

"Fine," I replied with a shrug. Her eyes didn't leave my face, but her eyebrows rose indicating that she wanted me to elaborate. "I'm just getting ready for my finals."

"Do you think you're going to pass?" Every time she spoke the pen would leave her lips by a hair and then be returned in place.

"I am the top of the class. I am still number one in Japan."

"That's not what I asked, Light," she pressed, her voice somehow kind behind her unchanging eyes.

"Of course I'll pass," I answered. How could I not pass? The test was so easy. No test had ever been terribly difficult to me. I had mostly just used the excuse of studying to stay away from my family.

"You don't seem to be suffering from any anxiety."

"I don't normally get anxious. I've had my fair share of situations that were a lot more uncomfortable than a test."

"And what would those be?"

I've just killed hundreds of people, reduced the worlds crime rate, hid it all from the world famous detective L, got stabbed, watched him die, brought him back to life and told him everything. I can handle a few finals.

"I've been.." I paused, searching for the right words. "Mugged before and injured. I believe I should be able to handle exams."

"Mugged?" she repeated, dropping her pen to her desk to write. I glanced down, but she wrote far too small for me to read it. "Was that traumatizing for you?"

I thought over the event. How the rain was a sheet of water that made it nearly impossible to see through. The searing pain that I didn't notice at first until warmth had soaked my shirt. The coldness of L's hands on me.

"It has its place, but it's not the worse."

She hummed thoughtfully and again lowered the pen to write something down. "Your English is getting better. I can tell you're more confident."

I gave a nod. She said the same thing every session. I wasn't sure why. I guess my English had gotten better, but I didn't think it was worth noting. A short silence followed while she waited for my answer, but I didn't give it to her.

She cleared her throat and waited a bit more, but at my continued silence, she moved on. "You feel closed off today. Did anything happen?"

My eyebrows furrowed at the question. "No. Nothing has happened. It's been very quiet in my life at the moment." I licked my lips and reached for the glass of water at the sudden dryness in my mouth.

Her eyes sharpened as they looked over me. "Are you still having nightmares?"

I finished off the glass of water and caught some shock in her eyes. The glass was returned to the desk and I met her eyes for a moment. I gave a nod. "They've never really stopped."

"And you still won't tell me what they're about?"

"I don't believe that we have reached that point in our..." I paused for a moment, searching for the words. "Relationship."

"Light, I think that these nightmares are a part of your withdrawals that can be stopped, but I need you to trust me enough to tell me." She moved from her position to lean over her desk, covering my file up with her arms. The movement was odd. She never moved from that uncomfortable lean unless it was to shake my hand before or after the session. "You won't even tell me what you're addicted to. I have no proper way to help you."

This was the most emotion I had heard in her voice before. She sounded truly frustrated and caring. Like she actually wanted to help me. But who could help me? Not even L could help me. I had done this to myself and I had to get myself out of it. And no one but Ryuk would understand, but I hadn't seen him for months.

"Can you give me anything?" she tried again. "Anything at all to go on. Something to help you."

What could I say to her that wouldn't make me sound insane? What could I say to her that wouldn't get me put away for the rest of my life. What I had was good. This time in my life had been the best that it had been for a long while. L was alive and I was with him. That was the best part. School was a good distraction and L's cases were always interesting to work on. Watari was going to come out and visit soon. My parents would be here for my graduation. Everything was coming up roses.

"Please, Light."

I licked my lips, carefully picking the next words that could possibly change my life. "I... I am addicted to..." What the hell could I say? "Taking advantage and hurting other people." I closed my eyes tight. That came out way worse than I had meant it to. But it was better than the alternative murderer status.

"Oh." Dr. Sutcliffe's voice was soft. My eyes opened at the scratching of a pen on paper. She was writing as if she were running out of time. Before my eyes tiny scribbles filled the page. I desperately wanted to know what she was writing. What was she thinking? What was so important that she had to write a novel. "So," she said as she finally sat back in her chair in her normal position, the pen returning to her lips. She tapped the pen against her lips a few times before she spoke again, breaking the tense silence between us.

"You have a God Complex, is what you're telling me."

I gave a confused look. I had never really put it in such a way. And thinking about actually putting a phrase to what I had made my head hurt. Or maybe I was getting a migraine. I had been getting those recently. Probably from my lack of sleep and how much studying I was doing.

"I suppose so."

"And how does that affect your home life?"

"How do you mean?" I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The lights were beginning to become a little too bright for my liking.

"How's your relationship if your roommate?"

"It's fine." I shifted again, pressing several fingers to my temple that was beginning to pound.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice still the same. The concern was no longer present.

"Fine, fine. I've been getting headaches. Not enough sleep."

"When did those start?" The sound of the pen was somehow magnified and echoed around my head.

"A few weeks ago."

"Are you not sleeping because of your nightmares?"

"Yes." I waved away the questions with my other hand and tried to sit back up right.

"Can I know more about your roommate, Light?"

"What do you want to know?"

This one was worse than some of the other ones that I had had. Noises caged me in pain. The lights blinded me and the room was spinning in such a way that it made me feel sick. It would pass though. It always did.

"What is he like? How old is he? Is he in school with you?"

"He's..." I inhaled deeply through my teeth as my head gave another pound. "Umm..." It took a moment for me to gather my thoughts. "He's odd in ways that are very difficult to understand."

"Does that bother you?"

"No," I replied, opening my eyes to meet hers. "Not anymore. It did when we first met."

"Odd how? Can you explain?" she pushed, her voice lowering in level.

"Antisocial, extremely smart, has the largest sweet tooth I have ever seen."

"And how old is he, Light?"

"He's 27." I squeezed my eyes shut again. I just wanted the room to be dark. Or to have a pair of sunglasses. Something, anything to make the lights stop shining.

"And is he in school with you?"

"No." I slouched back in my chair and pressed my palms into my eyes until I saw dancing reds, blues, and silvers in geometric shapes. But that only made my stomach lurch even more.

"Can I get you anything Light?"

"No. Medicine doesn't work." It did in the beginning, but I must have become immune in some way. I just ended up taking more to make the pain pass and one day L caught me and took away the pills. The amount I was taking was going to kill me. He hadn't let me touch the medicine since. He would always give me the correct amount when I needed any, but it was never enough to even take the edge off. I would just have to suffer through. "Would you mind just turning off the lights?"

From behind my palms I could hear Dr. Sutcliffe get from her chair and there was a small click. I lowered my hands from my face and slowly opened my adjusting eyes. That was better. So much better. Now I didn't feel like I had steak knives being drilled into my head. There was more scratching as she wrote in my file.

"Does he work then?"

"Yes. He's a detective." Why was I being so honest with her? I would end up getting L in trouble. I would end up messing something up. I always did.

"So he's in the same line of work as you."

"Yes," I nodded, but winced. I should have just kept my head as still as possible.

"And how did you two meet?"

Before I even had a chance to put together a lie, her watch beeped several times, signaling the end of our session. I raised hastily from my chair and rushed for the exist. "I'll see you next week," I called over my shoulder as I left, not even hearing her response before the door closed behind me.

The sunlight was blinding as I stumbled to the car that was waiting to take me home. As soon as I was in the back seat, I pulled suit coat off and rested across the seat, placing my jacket over my face to block out as much light as I possibly could. This trip was going to be hell. I just had to focus on keeping the contents of my stomach within my stomach. I could do that. Mind over body.

The drive back home was long and painful. Even with pushing on pressure points that L could always find to help me, nothing did help. All it really did was make my hand fall asleep.

This couldn't have come at a worse time. L had mentioned a case. He would want my help as soon as I got home. He would want me to deal with people. And I still had to study. There were some things that I still didn't remember. I could see the page in my head and could see the paragraph the answer was in, but the words that I wanted were blurred.

Maybe it was the pain, but the ride home was far shorter than I remembered it ever being. But soon I was climbing from the car in the afternoon light and heading to the door to the house that sat still among the open fields.

I entered as quietly as I could, making sure the door didn't slam behind me. The house was dark though and I was able to straighten up a bit before heading through the house to find L.

I stopped in the doorway at the sight of him. He looked like he had back in Japan. He sat on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, typing away on his laptop. Around him were stacks upon stacks of papers and folders and in between that was an assortment of candy. I had learned that the more sugar he ate, the harder the case was. This one must have been difficult by the looks of it.

"I do need your help, Light," he spoke out, his back to me. I winced at the noise, but slowly stepped forward, a hand holding up my head as I went. I picked up a rather daunting stack of paper and rested it on the other couch cousin so I could sit. L's eyes never left his computer as he continued to type. "How was your session?"

"Fine," I replied. I heard his fingers stop and knew I had done a horrible job hiding the pain in my voice. He looked over at me, tilting his head to the side.

"Another migraine?" he questioned, his thumb going to his lips.

"Yeah." One word answers. That's all I could get out. Otherwise my ears would ring.

"Lay down, Light. I'll get you some stuff."

I did as he said, moving papers out of the way and into neat stacks on the floor, doing my best not to mess anything up. Once I could lay down, I closed my eyes, rubbing the part of my head that was caving in.

I felt so helpless when I had migraines. I was its prisoner, caged in an eternity of pain. I was blinded with flashing colorful spots and craved darkness, quiet and stillness. Often the nausea would overwhelm me and I would vomit. Pain would throb so violently around my skull that I often wondered why it didn't just crack open. But today was different. Today was somehow worse. I hadn't gotten sick yet, so that was nice, but my stomach twisted and turned violently within me.

L's footsteps returned to the room and I could hear him moving about. He closed the curtains, then I could make out the click of his laptop. I couldn't help but jump as his fingers came in contact with my cheek. The coolness of them was soothing.

"Please take these," he whispered to me. I opened my eyes and was greeted with more darkness. He helped me up and forced a cup and pills into my hands. I took them, though I knew they would do nothing. L took the cup from me and set it somewhere on the floor, then sat on the couch. I rested down on his lap and closed my eyes again. "What do you need?" he asked me softly as his fingers worked on taking off my tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons.

I held out my arm to him and he took it in his grasp, his thumb pressing down on my forearm. I wanted to cry. It was a second of clarity. A moment of absolute freedom. It wouldn't last long. Eventually the migraine would win out against the pressure point, but at the moment I had never been so grateful for the freedom of this pain.

I exhaled deeply, relaxing into the groves of his lap. I could feel the pulsing echo of the pounding headache that was being held at bay, but that didn't matter. My mind was open.

"Tell me before it comes back," I mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his cold fingers rubbing against my left temple.

"Shh," he hushed. "You don't need to worry over a case right now."

"Please L," I pushed.

He sighed deeply in the same way he did when he was trying to find the answer to a difficult question. After a few minutes of complete silence he told me about the two he was currently stuck on. I thought over them for a bit, the edges of pain beginning to come back. He was right. I would have to call people to get the information that he wanted.

Though that suicide didn't sound like a suicide. There was no way the man could have done that on his own, if he had been in an airplane of some sort. Unless he did jump from a building and someone found his body and somehow moved it without leaving any trace in the field, then he had to have help. Or someone murdered him.

And the missing brother was another case entirely. I couldn't exactly understand the leap that L had made between the brother being sick and that was why he disappeared. To me, until we saw the footage of both the airport and the hotel, that the sister had killed her brother, though I wasn't sure on what her motive would be.

My eyes glanced around the room at all of the files everywhere. Why did he always like to work in the music room? I guess he did enjoy playing while he worked on hard cases. But it made the room feel less calming and more hectic. I guess he didn't have the same amount of computers here as he did in Japan and had to make up for the lack of technology in some way, but the sight of the room was making me feel claustrophobic.

I stopped on one stack that was very near the computer. The sight of it made me sit up. A hand went to my head as the room spinned, L's fingers leaving my wrist and returning me to my previous pain. His hands tried to take my shoulders to force me back down, but I stood, using my free hand to push his away.

I stepped through the maze and to the picture that stood atop several manilla folders. It was a body on an autopsy table. He had a blue fabric covering his middle, his arms and legs left exposed. On one arm were scratches from fingernails. I knew whose nails.

I bent over and snatched up the picture, my head swimming. Through a watering gaze I could read what was written on the back in L's rushed hand that alternated in lower and upper case.

Name: GreGorY MILLer

cause oF DeaTH: HearT aTTacK

QueSTIon: HoW Did THis OCCur?

AnsWer: THe DeaTH noTe

QueSTion: WHaT IS a DeaTH noTe?

AnsWer: A SHInIFamI's TooL

QueSTion: WHat Does IT Do?

AnsWer: KILL

QueSTion: How Does IT KILL?

AnSWer: UnKnoWn

I sighed and glanced back at L, who was quietly sitting on the couch with his knees to his chest. "You need to forget this," I said in a soft voice so that it wouldn't hurt my head. "It's time to move on."

"Move on," L repeated, though he didn't sound like he thought much about the words. There was a silence between us, his eyes blank as he stared back at me. He slowly rose to his feet and slid his hands into his pockets. "I can't do that Light," he said without hesitation. "None of what happened was natural. I need to understand."

"What is there to understand?" I asked, my mind working hard to understand why he would care about any of this. It was in the past. It was behind us. It didn't affect us anymore.

What a lie. So effortless to think, smooth and easy like butter running down toast. But there was no way this was easy. This was complicated. This was why were in another country, speaking another language, and living as far off the grid as someone can without being completely isolated.

"I need to-"

"Need to what?" I demanded, my anger a little on the short side.

"I have to know Light," L replied, his voice very gentle. I wasn't sure if it was for my migraine's sake, but it just pissed me off a little bit more. "I was dead."

"Your point?"

"My heart stopped Light! People just don't come back!" His voice had rose now and I winced.

"Yes, they do."

"Not after months of being buried!"

"Do we need to have this conversation now?" I asked, glancing back down at the picture in my hand.

"We can't keep putting this off." There were delicate footsteps as L wandered over to me through all the paperwork. "We need to talk about it. I need more than this eraser brought you back."

He came to stand in front of me, his hair covering part of his face, his eyes shining through the dimness of the room. He was slouched to my height, keeping himself close to me.

I couldn't help but reach out with my hand and rest it against his cheek. His eyes slid closed as he rested into my touch. It had been a while since we had been this close. We slept beside each other and cuddled on the couch playing late night chess, but this connection was different. This connection didn't need words, just the touch. Just the feel. The closeness.

"Lawliet," I whispered, the photograph falling from my hand so that I could take his other cheek in my now free hand. I pulled him closer so that I could rest my pounding forehead against his.

I didn't use his name often. His name was not meant to be an everyday occurrence. His name was for moments like this.

My words choked in the back of my throat as tears filled my eyes. I quickly closed my eyes as if I could somehow capture the tears and hold them there.

"I know this is hard for you," I got out, my fingers tangling into his hair. "I know this isn't what we imagined, but-"

"I'm not supposed to be here, Light," L pushed, his frigid fingertips taking mine and holding them tightly. "You know that."

I shook my head, feeling my knees go weak from the dizziness the movement created. "Don't say that." It was hard to speak through the dryness that was clogging my throat and filling my mouth. "Don't say that."

"Light, this is wrong," L continued on, stepping so close to me that I could feel his toes resting on the tips of my shoes. I shook my head against his again, moaning lightly at the rolling pain in my skull.

"No," I argued. "You belong here. The world needs you. I..." I trailed off, breathing hard. "I need you. I wasn't about to lose you."

"Light, what happened?"

"I told you." My words were no louder than a whisper. "I erased your name from the death note and you came back. What else would you like me to say?"

"Light," L sighed, trying to pull away, but one of my hands swiftly took to the small of his back and held him in place.

I needed him. He couldn't leave me. I was so unsteady. L kept me sane. L kept me safe. L was my everything. I had to have him. I couldn't live without him and I wasn't about to try.

"Don't go." They were broken, pathetic words. But they were the only ones I could manage.

L's fingers brushed over my skin, trembling. His body shook as it fell against mine, exhausted. Before I could open my eyes, his lips were pressed against mine.

I stood still without the strength to move. My shaky fingers finally came to a stop after relentlessly combing through L's hair. This was not going to help. This was not going to change anything. How do you make something not a big deal when it is one? We had both been acting like everything was alright, when we both knew it wasn't. It was as if we were stuck in a nightmare that someone else imagined.

With the small amount of strength I could manage, I swept L's feet from the floor and carried him through the music room and up the stairs. That was enough for tonight. We could have this conversation another night. Like always. Another night, just somewhere down the road.

We would eventually reach it, but it would take a long time if I could help it. I didn't know how these things worked, so how was I supposed to explain it to L? I couldn't even tell him the price to bring him back. He would hate that.

And if this continued kiss said anything, anything at all, it was that L didn't want this yet. It was to stop us both before we hurt each other. Before we destroyed the little pieces of normal that we had somehow collected.

I pushed open the door to our room with my foot, making my way to the bed. I rested L down onto the white bed spread, looking down at his flushed face.

His sleepless eyes stared back at me, keeping me in place. They held something in them that I couldn't exactly describe. But they had a touch of sadness to them.

This wasn't the life he had wanted. This wasn't the right choice. I had made a mistake. He had wanted to stay dead. I could feel it in the way he lived. I should never have brought him back. But I couldn't stand the thought of living without him.

L forgave me though. Or, at least I thought I felt like he did. Maybe he didn't. Maybe I was thinking far too much over this. Maybe...

I leaned forward and captured his lips again, climbing over him. He didn't seem to mind.