Disclaimer: Yup, don't own Death Note. SURPRISE!

Author's Notes: As I said, this fic contains spoilers up to chapter 108. Just another warning. There is also some very, very slight non-con, but hey, non-con and yaoi go together like peanut butter and jelly. I figure this couple needs some more love. :D Enjoy, and please review! I'd love it if you would!

Prison cell number three hundred and forty nine was to be my new home. I overheard one of the guards talking, saying that all of the "code five psychos" were to be kept in cells three hundred to three hundred and fifty. Since Kira was publicly disposed, many more occupants were rushing in. We needed to be watched at all times and herded together, like cattle, like lepers. We were society's forgotten ones.

"I was deceived! I was deceived by a man I thought to be God!" I shout needlessly as they throw me into a disgusting hole they call a cell. This sort of treatment and atmosphere must only feed to minds of the deranged.

I hear the man to my left slam his hands frantically on the bars to his own impersonal hell. "You spoke with God!" His words were so jumbled and rushed, but I heard them. A dialect for the insane.

"No," I hiss bitterly against the cold metal, "I spoke with the Devil."

His world was perfect. A world carved from justice and civil obedience. The plan was also perfect; more than perfect, it was his. Any falter, any imperfection... "Will not be tolerated." I breathe quickly and quietly into the filthy air, in that same mad dialect.

Rationalizing with myself I think, 'God wouldn't have accepted no less than victory. Therefore God isn't real. God isn't real,' I repeat it like a chant in my mind and occasionally aloud. Then the other miserable souls scream for me to stop, that God is all they have. God is all they have... They, at least, have that much.

During the day it is so easy to defy. I have strength. I am Mikami Teru, a lawyer and a person with a place in the world. I am completely sane. However, with the flickering and eventual loss of the clinically blinding lights, sleep avoids me and is replaced with something I'm unsure of.

"But I am real," his breath is so close. It's swelteringly humid across my neck as I squeeze my eyes shut, too afraid of what might happen if I open them. I can feel his presence like a body, solid and warm, his chest entirely too heavy on my back.

"I hate you. You ruined me," I curse as his cold fingertips touch my collarbone with unwanted intimacy. Of course he wouldn't be warm unlike when he was alive...

"Who ruined whom? You know the truth, Mikami. You're smarter than that." Shaking my head vigorously far from sufficed as an obedient reply and the sharp bite he gives my earlobe sends a jolt through me causing me to gasp. "You know how I feel about imperfections." His voice is harsh, but it does nothing to smother the familiar fire I apparently still felt for him as he dragged a hand of sharp fingernails down my back. My reply was a muffled cry into my starched, white pillow. "I didn't hear you, my disciple," he purrs, his tongue surprisingly warm against the burning cuts.

I despise myself for relinquishing a small whimper of, "God." It escapes my throat out of pure habit; at least I can tell myself that. Nevertheless, I can feel his grin widening with malicious intent. "Th- They will not be tolerated," I pant before swallowing thickly. His fingers are like ice as they trail up my abdomen and sternum, holding me possessively. It was an action I'd never minded before.

"Correct," he whispers. Whether I am coaxed to turn over or do it on my own, I don't know. It feels all too real, but my eyes are still closed tightly, not daring to look. "And what is this, Mikami?" He asks me with the same even tone with a ghost of fingers over my ribcage where a tiny, dark indention of skin lies pliantly.

"A birthmark."

"No."

"An imperfection."

"Yes, and this." He brushes past a scar on my protruding, thinning hipbone. His doing, one from before... Before...

"An imperfection." I can feel his cool breath fanning my face generously, his hand inching lower with all his calmness. The action makes me nearly sick with nostalgia, forcing another difficult knot to swallow, eyes pained from squinting so laboriously.

"And what does that make you?" His lips are brushing mine with every syllable. After a few moments of silence, save for my panting breath, he pulls my hair back roughly. A forced, wounded sound is pulled from my throat. "Answer me, Mikami," he hisses with all amusement lacking in his voice. Winding his fingers deeper into my scalp I feel him grip tighter, inevitably forcing the strands out.

Loathing myself enough already for revelling in this nightmare that couldn't possibly be there, the loathing doesn't cease as I accept his accusation. Maybe I do belong in here. I was a nuisance to his perfect plan... I was...

"An imperfection."

I wake up screaming like a man possessed as I always do from these realistic dreams. I scream for God, and beg him to kill me. "If I was no use to you- Just kill me now! Don't leave me in here to rot!" By this time, the other lepers are screaming with me. I am one of them until the guards come in, two to restrain me and one to jab a needle in my arm. As they too leave me to rot in my hell, I slink my way back into a useless rest. I can feel the scars, his scars, ache my back acutely.

'I deserve this. I deserve no better.'