A/N: Hey! So, this one took a while, I'll give you that. But, even though I doubt it's really as suspenseful as I imagined, I think this one was pretty good. Yeah, it lacks dialogue, and, yeah, it has some repetition, but I liked it. I hope it'll get your heart pumping like it did mine. Believe me; I had a good time writing this one, a better time than I have had with a lot of my previous chapters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one. It's getting so close to the end that it's racking my brain. : ) I just hope that I can satisfy all of you!

A/N2: No worries, you'll get the happy ending I promised. ; )

Chapter 15

Light gripped the butt of the small, sliver revolver tighter within the palm of his hand. He shoved it deeper into the woolen pocket of his tight, azure sweater and glanced cautiously around himself. The bight, yellow streetlights shone down like spotlights upon him, and the pale, blue light of the crescent moon glimmered silver against the metal pipes that led down the sides of the tall, brick buildings that he passed slowly. In his free hand, he held his closed cell phone, the screen blinking emerald green constantly, signaling of an incoming call.

Ignoring the constant blinking of the device in his hand, Light continued down the narrow sidewalk, stomping through deep puddles in the cracked cement and creating wet footprints as he continued slowly. He did not know to where he was headed, he had admitted to himself not long before, but there was something, something that he was unsure of himself, that had to be done. This feeling, this constant anxiety, had begun the moment the reality finally sunk through his harsh exterior. Kira had done this, he had decided long ago, and with that realization, an anxiety unlike any other had risen within his stomach.

Glancing from side to side warily, Light closed his eyes and gave an infuriated sigh. There was no one there; there had not been a single soul on the streets for hours. The anxiety was picking away at him. Maybe, he thought to himself, this was all because of Ryuuzaki. He shook his head. No, Ryuuzaki was the most important thing in the world to him, and now he was gone. They were separated, their spirits completely severed from one another.

"There's no way I'm letting this happen," Light whispered almost as if to convince himself that the situation would somehow be resolved. Light continued, taking in shallow breaths. He knew that the only way to resolve it would be by his own hand.

By now, he knew nothing of Ryuuzaki's condition. His father had attempted incessantly to call Light's cell phone; that was the reason for the constant blinking of the emerald light. However, Light was determined not to answer the phone. His father could not, and would not, find out about any of this. What he did from here on out would be his business, and his business only.

Light bit his lip sharply. He was wandering down the deserted streets completely aimless; there was no denying it. He still did not know what his destination was or for whom the revolver in his tightly clenched left hand was meant. Light felt shivers run down his spine. It was different holding a gun from a notebook. He had, actually, very rarely as much as touched a gun, so the feeling of the trigger against his index finger was extremely unfamiliar.

The stillness of the late night loomed over him, disturbed only by the dripping sound of stagnant raindrops falling from the tall, gloomy buildings that towered around him like shadowed beasts in the dead of night. He held his breath; the constantly flickering emerald light became accompanied by a series of short pings. His father had been calling consistently for the three hours that he had spent wandering the lonely streets of downtown Tokyo. Light closed his eyes, ceasing the steady tapping of his black, leather shoes against the concrete. His mother would be worried, but even that did not phase him. His only concern was getting rid of Kira once and for all.

He cringed. Kira had caused so much pain, so much grief. Kira had killed innocent people. Light lifted his hands; the illusion of crimson blood staining his skin covered his eyes. He gazed horrifyingly, reliving the year that he had spent attempting to claim a thrown that was far out of his reach. He saw before him, in the looming darkness, the faces of all those he had killed, all those whose deaths he had caused. The names echoed in his ears. He closed his eyes tightly, rolling his hands into fists; the pressure of killing a human being was terrible and relentless. It pressed against him with the weight of the universe, causing his breath to come short. The unchangeable past hung above him like a mobile, twirling in circles as the stories of the lives he had taken, the faces of those he had killed, and the names he had written into that one terrible notebook played before him.

The past was more haunting than the present, Light realized for the first time in his life. He had taken human life for granted. That had pushed away everyone he held dear; that had caused the death of his closest friend; and that had ruined his life and caused his world to crash to the ground. The name that he had made for himself was no more than the flickering flame of the smallest candle from a million miles away. It meant nothing to him now. But, who would believe that? "Kira can't change his mind about killing," they would say. "He's already started; he can't go back now."

Light clenched his teeth, the weight was unbearable. He had no one left. His family? No, they would hate him once they found out the truth. After all, they all hated Kira, and they were one of the many who believed that he could not change. Ryuuzaki? Absolutely not, Light knew now, to his utter dismay that he had pulled far too many of Ryuuzaki's strings. He had committed suicide in that respect, and there was no going back. His friends? Light scoffed at his own thought and shook his head slowly. He had learned at Hiroshi's funeral that the only friends he still had were slowly turning against him. Light nodded slowly, he knew now, there was no one left. He was alone, finally alone.

Turing on his heels suddenly, Light began in the direction from which he had come. His steps were slow and his breath came short. He knew now what he had to do. If this body was all that he had left, then he would use it, for once in his life, for the better of human kind. He had decided he would get rid of the Death Note and Kira. He would kill two birds with one stone. He could do it. After all, the Task Force would find Tsukiko and ultimately execute her on charges of being Kira. She would be caught for sure, so if Light was dead, what would they have to worry about? If both Kira and the Death Note were gone, then what could go wrong?

"Right," Light reassured himself as he continued down the street. After a matter of roughly twenty minutes, he had passed every tall sky scraper and was now entering into the suburban part of town. He passed by every home, staring into the blackened windows and lit porch lights. Every once in a while, he would catch a window, out of the many, that was still illuminated by a constantly blinking television screen or a small reading lamp. He wondered unconsciously if his parents were even home; if his sister was sound asleep in her bed, dreaming about whatever it was that girls her age dreamt about. Were they thinking about him, wondering where he was?

The flickering of the emerald light from his cell phone had ceased minutes before. Did that mean that his father had given upon him? He shook his head slowly as he came nearer to the curb around which stood his home. His heart sunk into his stomach as he continued, slowly making his way down the street until he reached the spot directly across from the walkway that led up to the front door of his small house. Just as he had expected, the windows were completely blackened. His fathers black van sat in the driveway and the porch light shone like a distant beacon offering warmth and shelter. Light turned away and continued down the street. There was no turning back now.

The dark night drug on; there was no sign of life around him as he continued into the part of the city that harbored the Task Force Office. His hand clutched the revolver still in his pocket, and the other held the cold cell phone tightly, as if attempting to evoke even the slightest sign that someone, anyone was looking for him. He took slow steps as he neared the tall, sleek building that he knew all too well. One lone light illuminated the long, glass windows of half of the second floor, but otherwise, the building looked to be nothing more than a part of the vast black sky.

Light circled the building unconsciously, pushing at every window; pulling every door; and inspecting every possible entrance. There was nothing, but it was of no surprise to him. At this hour, it was no wonder that the security had become much stricter; stricter, quite possibly, than that of a governmental facility. For, they had something that they wanted to keep away from the world. Light pushed at the last window and bit his lip; they had left one person out of the equation. He took the gun from his pocket, lifting his arm so that it formed a straight line, and placed his index finger upon the trigger. "Me," he whispered before pulling the trigger and causing a loud bang followed by the crashing of broken shards of glass.

Without a second glance back, he leapt through the entrance that he had created and scurried through the darkness of the room. He took no time to examine his surroundings. He swung the closed doors open and ran down the familiar hallways until he was able to find the towering stairs that led to the lit second floor. Soon, if they had not already, they would find him out. They would come rushing down the stairs like a stampede of angry buffalo wanting only to capture him, to capture the true Kira.

Shoving this thought from his mind, Light leapt up the stairs two by two and pressed his back against the door frame, shoving the gun back into the shelter of his sweater pocket. "It had to be a gun," he heard a deep voice echo through the stairwell; "there's nothing else that can make that sound." Light listened intently as the conversation continued, two sides of a quiet argument attempting to come to a compromise. Finally, after long moments, two men, one large, the other small, flashed past Light and down the stairs, not noticing his presence in the slightest.

Watching them only for a second, Light stepped into the doorway, this time slowly stepping through the lit hallways, glancing ever so often into one of the open rooms until he reached the one that he had searched for. Inside, sat two black notebooks along with various metal instruments, undeniably used to ensure that not everyone touched the notebook. Light walked into the room and up to the white counter upon which the notebooks sat. This was his chance, his final chance to make it right.

He took the revolver from his pocket and placed it upon the cold counter next to one of the horrible notebooks. After taking both of them into his arms he glanced around the room. A small lighter sat upon the counter across from him, causing his eyes to widen slightly as he reached desperately for it. Once he had taken it into his numbed fingers, he flipped through the pages of both notebooks. Inside, only the names that he, Misa, Higuchi, and Tsukiko had written were present. He smiled, he had half expected for his or Ryuuzaki's name to be written there.

He closed both notebooks slowly, placing a cold hand upon the black cover of one. He took his fingers from the hard cover and lit the lighter, slowly bringing it closer to the terrible weapons before him- the very things that had caused so much pain and shed so many tears. Soon, they would be gone. Without hesitation, he placed the flame above the top notebook, which immediately caught flames. Slowly, after seemingly endless moments, the two notebooks disintegrated, leaving behind a pile of ashes and a burnt black section of the pure, marble counter top.

Light sighed, overwhelmed with relief, and fell to his knees, releasing the lighter. He took the revolver into is left hand before allowing himself to fall back against the whitewashed wall behind him. It was over. The Death Notes were gone forever. He smiled. Finally, he had done something worth while. He glanced down at the gun in his lap and frowned slowly, closing his eyes tightly. Holding his breath, he wrapped his fingers around the butt and lifted the gun so that the cold, metal tip rested against his temple.

"This is the only way," he whispered as if to soothe his fiercely beating heart. "Without me, this world will be so much more peaceful." He shook his head and chuckled as if at his own stupidity, "I was wrong to think that Kira could bring anything but havoc and agony." His fingers quivered around the butt of the gun, his index finger locked against the trigger. "I'm better off dead."

He bit his tongue, inwardly apologizing for every mistake, every fault, every time that he had done anything but his best. And, as he reached for the trigger, a harsh blow to his right side knocked the gun from his hand to the opposite side of the room. He attempted to turn, to see who had ruined his plans, but the blows continued to come, accompanied by a harsh voice. "You selfish idiot," it spoke, "you don't deserve to die. You don't deserve the luxury of death." The words were repeated harshly as the blows became softer and slowly ceased.

Still shielding his face with his forearms, Light peered through his now blurred eyes. "Ryuuzaki," he gasped as he realized just who stood before him. He looked the boy over sorrowfully. Tears had stained his flushed cheeks, and his generally unkempt features were even more disorganized than usual. His body quivered as he gasped for shallow breaths. "What did you-?"

Ryuuzaki swung another kick at the boy's right arm and dropped to his knees. "Why would you even consider that?" His voice shook as if he were extremely close to tears, "You're so selfish." He lifted a pale hand to Light's left cheek and slapped him harshly, leaving a blazing red mark behind. "Why can't you think of someone else for once?" He lifted his hand once more, this time brushing over the welt that he had made with his thumb. "Selfish," he repeated, gazing into Light's distant eyes.

Light jerked out of the boy's grip, "It's over, you said so yourself, Ryuuzaki. It'll be better for you if I'm dead." He tripped over his own words as Ryuuzaki locked his arms around his neck.

"How come-," Ryuuzaki began, pulling closer to the boy who sat before him. "How come every time I feel like I'm ready to throw these feelings away, you do something that makes me realize how much I really-," he hesitated, "really-." His words were cut off as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Light's.

Closing his eyes slowly, following Ryuuzaki's example, Light felt the boy's heartbeat quicken. "Wait," he whispered lifting his hands to Ryuuzaki's shoulders, "are you positive," his voice hitched in his throat and quivered slightly as he forced the words through his lips, "that you want to spend the rest of your life with Kira, with a murderer?"

Ryuuzaki shook his head, drawing somewhat closer to the boy, "I won't be," he whispered, "you're not Kira any longer." The corners of his lips lifted slightly as he continued. "I watched you," he began, "burn the Death Notes." He shook his head as if reading Light's thoughts and smiled, "They were the real notebooks, don't worry. I never would have expected it from you." He leaned forward, pressing his sweat-soaked forehead against Light's, "But, I suppose, you wouldn't have done it if you were still Kira."

Ryuuzaki lifted a hand to the Light's heaving chest and smiled, pure warmth radiating from his face, "It's over, Light," he whispered, stroking his collar bone affectionately, "it's over. I'm here now, and I'll be here."

This is not the end... : )