Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note in any way shape or form.

Full Summery: The last thought the runs through Light's mind before he is completly consumed by Kira is the aching desire to have a second chance; to save L. Light gets his wish, but it's nothing like he expected. Instead of reliving the past few months, Light is sent years back into the past and comes face to face with a seven year old L who is in desperate need of a guardian angel.

Led on by an angelic looking woman who calls herself a "God of Life", he is told that this is his one and only chance to save the eclectic detective. Yet things aren't nearly that simple, for as Light is quick to realize, he's caught between the doors of life and death; heaven and hell, this tricky position rendering him something akin to a mere ghost in L's world.

Unsure if he can even save his own soul, Light sets out to do the impossible task of rewriting history and saving the man he is destined to one day murder.

Part two of a three part saga in which L and Light struggle against all odds to see the world from the same side of the battlefield and unlock the icy bindings the hold tightly to their frozen hearts. Can they save each other in every meaning of the word or will the ground run red with the blood of the looser in this deadly game.

AN: If you can't guess it from the title or the above summery, this is the second story in a series. I highly recomend that you read Part One: An Ending first. It's only two chapters so it won't kill you, you'll understand what's going on here better, and, above all, you'll enjoy it.

Rated M for language, sexual themes, and dark qualities.

My Fallen Angel

Part II: Ghosts of a Detective's Past

Introduction

I wasn't sure how long I stood rigidly there, staring at the small child in front of me. None of this made any sense! Just moments ago I had been holding the cold stiff body of of the World's Greatest Detective in my shaking arms, and now I was standing in the middle of some strange street that I'd never laid eyes on before, gazing at what was undeniably a much younger version of the man I had just murdered. What the hell is going on?

As if the young boy had heard my panicked thoughts or felt my eyes boring into him (the second one being highly more likely), he suddenly jerked his messy haired head up and focused those oh so familiar gray eyes on mine.

As our gazes melded, I felt an almost unbearable electric current of guilt shoot through my body forcing me to let out in a gasp the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. His eyes were not the same shielded closed off barriers that the detective usually wore. They were open, revealing sorrow, pain, and fear. The same as the dying eyes I had looked into last night, though not nearly as intensely so—which was a good thing, I don't think I could have remained standing if I had to look at those pleading terrified eyes again.

It was all I could do to just remain there, motionless and numb, my vision fixated on the child before me. It seemed that my situation was mirrored by the "mini" L and if he was anything like the L I knew, he was also trying to get his "brilliant" mind to make some logical sense of this insane situation.

No such luck on my side I'm afraid.

I nearly jumped when the large wooden front door opened again and a young woman looking to be in her early twenties emerged. She was tall, almost unhealthily slender, and very pale with dark circles under her tired distant looking eyes. Her dark messy hair was pulled back into a hastily done waist length braid. I realized with a jolt that she looked uncannily like L. A sister or maybe... his mother? Somehow imaging L with a family, besides his caretaker Watari was hard if not impossible, yet here was the irrefutable proof.

...it's amazing how my mind will cling to logic even in situations where all forms of that vital concept have vanished.

Once the small boy had been made aware of the woman's presence he turned quickly to her and began tugging at her skirt, glancing fearfully in my direction. From my position across the street I could just make out his quiet worried words of, "Mother, what is that?"

"That?" I thought, more confused than I was before—and believe me that's a hard level of befuddlement to achieve.

The puzzled looking woman directed her gaze in my general direction, but her dark eyes never focused on me. After a moment of looking for something she could not locate, she turned her attention back to whom I could barely force myself to believe was her son who still clung to the hem of her black miniskirt. "L there's nothing there."

Another sentence I couldn't wrap my mind around. I was standing right here in plain sight. How could she not notice me?

The apparently blind woman pushed her son forward gently so he was forced to release her skirt, the soft shove causing the scraggly looking boy to stumble, caught off guard because his gray eyes were still glued to my stiff form. The boy didn't seem to get the hint, staying rooted to their front porch.

The tired looking girl sighed. "L, you are going to be late for the bus again. Your father's not going to be happy if he finds out I had to drive you again..."

Her simple words snapped his beautiful gray eyes away from our staring contest and, as if his mother had threatened to punish him severely, caused him to rocket towards the corner of the block where apparently the large yellow vehicle would be picking up its young cargo.

At this point, nothing in this Godforsaken universe made one iota of sense to me. L should be dead, I should be dead for killing him. At the very least I should be in the heart of the cold metal building serving as the Task Force Headquarters for the Kira investigation, located in the middle of a harshly storming Japan. But here I was, standing cluelessly in a paved sunny street in the center of a quaint neighborhood that looked like something out of an English fairy tale complete with red and golden autumn leaves swirling illogically around me.

If you haven't already guessed it, let me spell it out for you: I Hate feeling lost and as I saw a much younger version of the man's whose shaking naked body I'd held in my arms and splashed with my hot tears only minutes ago, running farther away from me, well, I might as well have been the picture under the definition of that hopeless state of being in the dictionary, or at the very least, a star on the very popular yet ludicrous T.V. series.

I wanted to scream but I didn't have the time. I was desperately trying to cling to something, anything familiar in this chaotic storm of strangers, and although he wasn't anything like I remembered him to be, that running messy haired boy looking worriedly back over his shoulders at me was the last remnant of familiarness I had left.

I sprinted across the street after him.

As it turns out, being thrust into a universe constructed around the concept of illogical reasoning does a number on one's own sense of logic—who would have guessed it? Even I was no exception, this rathAer unpleasant fact removing from my brain one of the first important lessons that is drilled into every child at a very young age.

I, the "brilliant" Light Yagami raced across the street without looking.

I felt I was on a level somewhere near Matsuda's as I heard the suddenly overpowering sound of the roaring engine belonging to the school bus. A huge yellow bus! You'd think I could have at least noticed that!

I barely had time to wonder why the vehicle hadn't honked, swerved, or made any other noticeable attempt to avoid the reckless teen who had just run directly before its path before it slammed into me—correction, through me.

I was left standing in the middle of the asphalt eyes glued shut, hands held stupidly in front of me in a feeble attempt to protect my completely unscathed body as the bus continued unperturbed to the stop. The only other person who seemed even slightly as stupefied as I was, was the already wide eyed young L.

Still in utter shock, I looked down at my right hand. Beams of pale sun light and dappled shade could be seen filtering through its shadowy transparent form, rivets of dark blood flowing down the stained palm and dripping from the twisted claws that adorned each of my fingertips to the ground below.

I think I did start screaming at that point.

~My Fallen Angel~

AN: Hope you enjoyed. If you want more faster then you've got to review. I've go two other stories going right now and I'm updating depending on amout and quality of reviews.

Thanks for reading,

-Asiera