keelywolfe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keelywolfe) wrote2004-08-23 08:57 pm
keelywolfe) wrote2004-08-23 08:57 pm
FIClet: For What It's Worth (Death Note, Raito + L)
Title: For What It's Worth
Author: Keelywolfe
Series: Death Note
Pairing: Raito + L
Rating: PG
Spoilers: I don't think so, since this is rather AU and all.
Notes: A short Raito POV piece. Maybe I'm insane. *G*
And because I hate warnings but I know other people like them:
Deathfic
Death is a simple thing.
It isn't a gift or a punishment. It's held in the hands of every creature who ever existed, carried around like a parcel that could only be opened at the proper time, and we all carry the same package from the moment we are born.
Killing is nearly as simple, especially for me. Writing down a name is simplicity in itself. Quick and clean, nearly blameless, forgotten as easily as it takes to set down the pen. The death note makes it sterile, boils away the guilt and leaves nothing behind.
Which is why I couldn't do that to you.
I wish I could say I considered it for hours, that I studied it from every angle, that I made it worthy of something but no. I chose the knife with no consideration other than it was sharp, tested it on my own thumb so that the first blood it tasted was mine.
The second blood was yours. But you know that.
Your blood was on my hands like a study in crimson and the warmth of it, the smell, made nausea rise in my stomach.
You looked at me with wide eyes but there was no accusation in them, no surprise. I held you when you fell to the floor, I lifted your head to rest on my knee and when I kissed you and you tasted like blood. A baptism and a communion all in crimson and for a moment, I thought perhaps you kissed me back, the tip of your tongue carrying the taste of your death to me.
I could have left you then, dark pools of red already tacky and drying, and they would be black by the time you'd be found. Your eyes would be sunken, your skin cold and stiff. I waited until your lips were pale and still before I kissed them again and let you go.
The bathroom was painted in stark white and the towels matched it. I turned on the faucet and held my hands beneath the water until it ran clear. When I glanced at the mirror I saw there were two flecks of blood on my cheek, your blood, bright and blameless and I stared at them as though I could see the future in those two beads of color before I wiped them away and licked the smear from the tip of my finger. My last taste of you and it tasted like tears.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, you were still and cooling, one hand resting over the wound I had made and I knew I would never see your eyes again. Even then, I knew you never blamed me. I'd seen it in your eyes, just before they closed the last time
I knew you would understand. I always knew, the same way I knew I would always have my grief for you, another parcel for me to carry and I would never, never forget. Not the taste of you, the smell of your blood, the one press of your lips against mine and it was worth worlds, worth lives, worth an eternity to have it. It was worth so much more than a name in a book.
I had to kill you because I loved you. And I never wanted anything and never would, as much as I wanted you.
Such is the sacrifice that is made by a God.
But sometimes. Oh, sometimes.
I miss you so much.
-finis-
Author: Keelywolfe
Series: Death Note
Pairing: Raito + L
Rating: PG
Spoilers: I don't think so, since this is rather AU and all.
Notes: A short Raito POV piece. Maybe I'm insane. *G*
And because I hate warnings but I know other people like them:
Deathfic
Death is a simple thing.
It isn't a gift or a punishment. It's held in the hands of every creature who ever existed, carried around like a parcel that could only be opened at the proper time, and we all carry the same package from the moment we are born.
Killing is nearly as simple, especially for me. Writing down a name is simplicity in itself. Quick and clean, nearly blameless, forgotten as easily as it takes to set down the pen. The death note makes it sterile, boils away the guilt and leaves nothing behind.
Which is why I couldn't do that to you.
I wish I could say I considered it for hours, that I studied it from every angle, that I made it worthy of something but no. I chose the knife with no consideration other than it was sharp, tested it on my own thumb so that the first blood it tasted was mine.
The second blood was yours. But you know that.
Your blood was on my hands like a study in crimson and the warmth of it, the smell, made nausea rise in my stomach.
You looked at me with wide eyes but there was no accusation in them, no surprise. I held you when you fell to the floor, I lifted your head to rest on my knee and when I kissed you and you tasted like blood. A baptism and a communion all in crimson and for a moment, I thought perhaps you kissed me back, the tip of your tongue carrying the taste of your death to me.
I could have left you then, dark pools of red already tacky and drying, and they would be black by the time you'd be found. Your eyes would be sunken, your skin cold and stiff. I waited until your lips were pale and still before I kissed them again and let you go.
The bathroom was painted in stark white and the towels matched it. I turned on the faucet and held my hands beneath the water until it ran clear. When I glanced at the mirror I saw there were two flecks of blood on my cheek, your blood, bright and blameless and I stared at them as though I could see the future in those two beads of color before I wiped them away and licked the smear from the tip of my finger. My last taste of you and it tasted like tears.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, you were still and cooling, one hand resting over the wound I had made and I knew I would never see your eyes again. Even then, I knew you never blamed me. I'd seen it in your eyes, just before they closed the last time
I knew you would understand. I always knew, the same way I knew I would always have my grief for you, another parcel for me to carry and I would never, never forget. Not the taste of you, the smell of your blood, the one press of your lips against mine and it was worth worlds, worth lives, worth an eternity to have it. It was worth so much more than a name in a book.
I had to kill you because I loved you. And I never wanted anything and never would, as much as I wanted you.
Such is the sacrifice that is made by a God.
But sometimes. Oh, sometimes.
I miss you so much.
-finis-
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I so love it when you hurt me like this.
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I've always thought how it would be so easy to kill L if Raito really wanted to- the Death Note isn't the only way to kill someone, after all. X3
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I watch Forensic Files way too often. *G* I'm not sure how great an idea that show is, I could probably use that information for Evil! ;)
Anyway, before I start rambling on, thank you so much! Raito is really a wonderful sociopath and the inner workings of his mind are fascinating to explore. Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to see what L is thinking. *G*
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THIS is my fave, though. I could see this happening quite well.
It matches the picture I made from my icon too, sort of! T_T -hugs it-
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Lovely.
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Ah thx btw for the link with the full sized pic bearzukamori. ^_^
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phew..!
Re: phew..!
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So beautiful and aching. And I love that it's only sometimes that Raito misses L. Like a part of him that is now gone, but he no longer has any use for. Like the itch of an amputated arm. The memory is there, but only sometimes.
The preservation of his love for L...so haunting.
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Aww, thank you! :)
The preservation of his love for L...so haunting.
Raito and L are such an interesting pair to write. It's almost worse than if they were actual, face to face enemies.
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I really like the details here. How he picks the knife with no sentimentality, only the need for it to be sharp. How he couldn't kill L with the Death Note because it's too sterile.
Man, Light's a bundle of psychoses, and you got him down. I adore your Death Note fic, I really do.