A/N: Ah, yes, hello folks. It's a new story! I need another one of these just like I need another hole in the head, but since this is a very special date (LIGHT DIED TODAY IN CANNON!!!), and this has been sitting on my hard drive for awhile, I figured, oh, what the hell?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Death Note.

Special Note - I've got a beta! You can all thank the amazing lillyankh for taking my pitiful Charlie Brown Christmas tree of a chapter and turning it into something truly worth reading! She is an AMAZING writer, and I really do reccomend checking out her stories! They're the kind that really stick with you, and they are hauntingly beautiful!

And to AoD readers, not only will lillyankh be my beta on there too, but she offered to beta all of my previously written chapters. If you think the story's good now, just wait til she's through with it! Oh, and the next chapter should be there within the week or sooner!

The Ghost of Absolution

Cogito Ergo Sum

Time held no meaning in Mu, because time did not exist there.

Neither did light . . .

Nor sound . . .

Nor feeling . . .

Mu was Nothing, and it was absolute, all-encompassing, ever-lasting . . .

Until roughly five minutes ago.

There was . . . light. It was extraordinarily bright – nothing like the darkness. Where was the darkness? He missed it.

He?

He was confused, which in and of itself was confusing. He had never identified himself as an entity, never mind further categorizing himself by assuming a gender. And confusion . . . it was familiar and yet so foreign at the same time, a concept that had until this very moment been a meaningless word, an idiom shorn of its reference. Then he was lost, so confused, because he was as sure of his existence as he was of his inexistence.

But he must exist. He wouldn't be able to question his existence if he truly did not exist. Cogito ergo sum, he thought, the phrase arriving unbidden in his mind. I think, therefore I am. Even so, he somehow knew with certainty that this was new, that he had somehow been brought out of the eternal non-existence to which he had been condemned.

The light distracted him again, and he became aware that he perceived light through eyes, and when he realized that he had eyes, albeit closed ones, he found that he had a body, and then he discovered feeling. Not only could he perceive the light through his eyes, but he could feel the warmth on his skin. His attention once again flitted away to something new. There was an even pressure that ran the length of his body. What was that pressure? It was separate from his body, he was sure, and it wasn't uncomfortable. His brain supplied the answer. He was lying down.

Strange, but he was easily distracted from the phenomena when he realized that he was breathing, which was much stranger by far than anything yet. He could feel his chest rising, could feel his lungs inhaling and exhaling, so natural that it was subconscious.

And then he felt something else.

Was that—?

Yes, it was his heartbeat.

He frowned, and his first voluntary movement caused his skin to tingle, muscles contracting and shifting.

Pain.

His breath caught. It was a . . . memory. A phantom sensation, a psychosomatic recollection of a great physical trauma, but one that he could not consciously recall ever having. He only knew that there had been a great lancing pain in his heart, and then, simply, there was not. There was Nothing. Absolute nothing. But now? Now, there was everything and nothing, a delicious oxymoron of existence and non-existence.

Nothing, everything . . . something. Something was not right. Wrong. He tested this newly remembered concept in his mind. Wrong. This was wrong. He shouldn't have feelings, or eyes, or a heart. He shouldn't even exist. He was sure of that.

Yet here he was.

His chest tightened, not with the phantom memory of death, but with a cold, creeping apprehension as he finally opened his eyes.

. . . and then immediately shut them.

"Uuuggghhh," he groaned, long and drawn out. The sound erupted from his throat, and he vaguely realized that if he manipulated his tongue and lips, he could speak. He could communicate with other separate entities such as himself. Other . . . people. He was a person, a man. And he had a name. Didn't he?

"Light-kun?"

He jerked, his eyes wide in surprise at the sound, only to slam back shut again when the light sent stabs of pain directly into his optic nerves. Another entity. And it was close. He let the – word? He let the word tumble about in his brain, echoing around his cerebral cortex. Light. Not the kind that hurt his eyes. No, this word was different. The other entity-person-man had called him by a name. His name.

I am Light.

And then his head exploded with visions, sounds, half-remembered sensations from a time long since lost. He gasped, panicking under the onslaught of so much information. It didn't make any sense. It was just a jumbled mess of visions and muted emotions. What was—?

Suddenly, abruptly, it all slid into place. Everything clicked.

And Light remembered.

"Light-kun? Are you unwell?"

He remembered everything.

The restroom, a shower, a change of clothes . . . so normal. So mundane.

So utterly fascinating.

Light trailed behind the hunched figure of the dead man, looking thoughtfully at the circular bit of metal that enclosed his wrist, and the chain that connected the both of them.

"Light-kun has not said one word to me all morning. I find this unexpectedly frustrating," confessed the elder man monotonously, turning his head slightly to regard Light with his large, calculating eyes.

Light could only stare back, his face blank. He imagined that the dead man was confused. The detective wasn't throwing percentages at him, or informing him that his continued silence was clearly an acknowledgement of the accusations that he was Kira, or any of the multitude of other techniques he used to ignite some sort of response out of Light. He was simply glaring at him through dark, calculating eyes.

L's eyes were always calculating.

Light met his glare briefly before dropping his own expression back to blankness. His heart wasn't in it. He tried to conjure up the old feelings of hatred that he once harboured for this man, but to no avail. Light remembered how he had once felt, but it meant nothing to him now. When he looked at L, all he felt was indifference, tinged with only a hint of . . . guilt? Remorse?

Light blinked his eyes slowly as these feelings made themselves known. Guilt and remorse. Emotions he had never had use for, even before the Nothingness.

Guilt and remorse . . . how foreign. As foreign as the world he now found himself in.

Light realized that he had somehow come to be sitting at a computer desk, and he was amazed that his thoughts had consumed him so entirely that he had not even noticed he was in the investigation room. He and L were the only ones there, it seemed. It was still early.

"Despite the relatively recent advances in today's technology, the computer will not turn itself on, Light-kun," L muttered around a mouthful of chocolate muffin.

Light stared, taken aback not so much by L's words, but by the muffin. He suddenly missed eating. How long had it been since he had last eaten? There was no food in Mu. There was nothing in Mu. So it must have been before he died, and quite some time before that, too – one does not have much chance to grab a light snack during a showdown.

L frowned. "Light-kun is staring at my muffin."

L sounded possessive, almost, and Light felt faintly amused but said nothing. He swivelled back around to face the computer, only to come up short.

How did he turn it on again?

Oh, there was a button. Light pressed the button, and true to his conjecture, the button was the key to turning on the machine. The computer whirred gently as it came online, but the screen remained blank. Light frowned, staring at it.

"The monitor, Light-kun. Turn it on," said L slowly, cautiously, as if he was concerned. Light turned his head, curious, and was slightly taken aback to see that L was so close to him, leaning in and scrutinising him with those ever-widened eyes. It was not how the detective would usually stare at him.

"There is something wrong," muttered the man, a thumb coming up to his lips. Light stared as L took his thumb delicately between his teeth and gnawed slightly. What a strange habit.

"You are unwell," stated L with some finality, leaning back. He took out his cell phone, but Light's attention had already been captured by the window.

He stood up, unmindful of the way the chain pulled on his wrist. He wanted to see out of the window.

"Light-kun! Stop that – No, Watari, I believe he is ill, but – Light-kun!"

The chain finally gave way, and if Light had looked back, he would have seen L wobble precariously on his rolling chair before quickly grabbing the seat, steadying himself as his chair moved with Light.

The cell phone clattered to the floor.

L was saying something else. His voice wasn't its usual monotone, but Light couldn't place the new emotion that coloured it. He squinted against the light, unmindful of how it made his head throb. All he could do was stare out at the city that lay before him. The cars, the people, the buildings. All there. Right before him. And then there was the sky, the clouds, the trees that lined the street . . . it was amazing. It was real.

Life.

It was life.

And then a warm hand caught his shoulder, turning him away from the window. Light saw the dead man – his friend, his rival, his enemy, his victim – and realized that L was as dead as Light was.

But neither one of them seemed to be dead at all in this world so full of life.

He awoke to voices, half-listening to them as he regained consciousness. He was lying down again. He vaguely remembered L leading him back up to their room.

". . . grade fever. I'll be checking it periodically throughout the day. It isn't high enough to be cause for immediate concern, but it could get worse. You say he reacted strongly to light?"

To Light?

He felt better, more human. More like Light. The more time he spent here, in this new world, the more human he felt. The nothingness was bleeding away. He wasn't nothing anymore. He was an autonomous being, separate from everything else. He was Light.

"Yes. It seemed to cause him pain."

No, Light didn't cause him pain. But something else had, at one time. Something much darker.

"Then when he wakes up, make him take two of these. It should help with any pain he may be experiencing. Do you need anything before I go?"

"Tea would not be amiss."

"Of course, and I have already informed the task force not to expect either of you in today. And if he wakes up and is in pain in any area unrelated to his head, inform me at once."

"Yes, thank you, Watari."

He heard the door shut quietly and what could only be L's lightning fast fingers tap repeatedly on a laptop, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he mulled over the conversation.

Pain? Was he in any pain? No, not so much physical, but something nagged at him mentally. It was like there was something missing from him. There was a dark ragged hole in his mind where something had once been, a yawning, empty maw in his psyche, as if some integral part of self had been ripped from his head.

And then he remembered.

Kira.

Light was no longer Kira, and everything that Kira was – every goal, every murder, every bloodthirsty intention – had been torn away.

He was relieved. Light didn't think he had the energy to take up the Kira quest once again. Nor did he have the slightest bit of inclination. The whole idea of Kira seemed ridiculous now, since his unexpected return from damnation.

As far as he was concerned, Kira had been left in Mu. This time, there would be no Kira.

Light sat up abruptly, eyes wide with revelation.

The click clacking of fingers on keyboard stopped. "Light-kun?"

". . . a second chance?" whispered Light as he stared ahead, unseeing. Was this truly what it was? A second chance at life? A life without Kira?

"A second chance for what, Light-kun?" asked L.

Light turned slowly, staring at the detective that he had murdered so long ago. A sudden and powerful sense of relief washed over him at seeing L staring at him, breathing, alive. They were alive. By some crazy miracle, they were both alive.

Light smiled. "Life."

L turned his head, regarding Light with his patented blank expression.

"Light-kun has a fever. There is a possibility that it is progressing to the point where Light-kun has begun to experience delusions," L stated at length.

Light nodded, a serene smile gracing his lips. "Yes, but I'm not delirious anymore. Not this time around."

Silence followed Light's weighted announcement, and he was bemused by the strange look that L was giving him. It was odd how quickly Light could pick up on the underlying emotions of L's repertoire of blank masks, despite how out of practice he should have been. It had been an aeon since Light had last seen L.

"Headache?" asked L.

"It's refreshing," assured Light. A headache was much better than Mu, and Light revelled in the common, human ailment. It was refreshing to feel human.

"A headache is refresh—" L's statement was cut off by his cell phone.

"Yes, Watari? . . . What? Stopped? . . . Yes, very unexpected . . . No, I'm not sure. I'll be there in a moment. . . . I'm sure he'll be fine, Watari. . . No, of course you know I don't want that to— . . . I suppose I could tie his hands to the— . . . Alright, fine. You stay with him."

L flipped his phone shut. "The killings have stopped."

"Killings? They've stopped?" Light exclaimed in surprise. As far as he knew, Higuchi had written names down for every hour, and most likely written them a few days in advance. He must have, for criminals had continued to die hourly until the day after Light killed him. What could have caused Higuchi to stop?

"Yes. Kira has not killed since eight o'clock last night."

"What time is it now?" asked Light.

"Just past three," L replied.

"It's only been a few hours . . ." Light trailed off. Were things going to happen differently this time around? It certainly appeared so. He could not rely on his memories to tell him what was to happen if this was the case.

"Yes, but Kira has not broken his pattern for months. This calls for further scrutiny," continued L, but Light wasn't listening. His mind was whirling with possibilities and ideas.

Could it be?

The door to the bedroom opened and Watari entered. He sat a glass of water down on the side table, presumably for Light.

"Light-kun, Watari will stay with you while I join the taskforce downstairs," informed L, reaching into his pocket. Light saw him bring out a small, silver key, and quicker than Light could follow, L had wrapped the chain around the bed post a couple of times and snapped the hand cuff on Light's other hand.

He walked out without another word.

Watari settled himself into an armchair in the corner of the room with what looked to be a book of crossword puzzles. "If you need anything, Yagami-kun, please do not hesitate to call on my aid."

Light nodded, and settled himself back down under the covers. He stared at his wristwatch, knowing what lay inside, his mind awhirl.

Could it be?

It seemed fantastical, bordering on impossible, but it would make sense. It would make perfect sense. The time coincided well enough . . .

Well, there was only one way to find out for sure.

But his fingers hesitated over the watch face. It was a stupid idea, really. Light lifted his eyes to Watari. The man looked comfortable enough. His legs were crossed, the puzzle book resting on his knee. His glasses were perched precariously at the edge of this nose, and he rolled the pen over his moustache in thought.

Life.

Did Light really want to chance it?

He looked back down at the watch.

Could he afford not knowing for sure? The rules were already changing. He needed every advantage he could get. Knowing for sure . . . that would make everything so much easier.

Mu must have still been affecting him. Or perhaps the insanity of Kira wasn't completely gone. Maybe Light had an insanity that was all his own, but nevertheless, a part of him was unnerved by how easily he came to his decision. After all, who said any of this was real anyway? It could all be a dream, or a remnant of his consciousness having one last desperate struggle before Mu took him completely.

Either way, he made up his mind.

Light pulled the covers halfway over his head, making sure that his hands were out of sight. He fiddled with the watch until the small tray slid out. Just like he had done so long ago in the helicopter, Light pricked his finger and wrote a name.

If he was wrong, it should be interesting enough, but if he was right . . .

And he was right . . .

Light slid the tray back into the wristwatch and counted the seconds.

A/N: Well, there you have it! The fabulous lillyankh already has the second chapter, make sure to keep an eye out for that!

So, say something! Whaddya think?