Me & Her

Me

The second she gives back control, my world crumbles.

What has she done?

She's left me with no sense of time, no sense of anything.

Dr. Light... Oh God, Light!

There's no weapon in our hands, no sign of what she's done. But what if she's killed him? What if he's dead and the last thing he saw was my face?

When my legs start to cave, I grip the banister. On the stairs. She's left us here, on the stairs. My breath catches in my throat, as if my lungs have been hooked together. Please, let him be alive.

Instantly, I leap down the steps, darting from one possibility to another. I can't speak, can't even call out for him. The living room door is ajar, prompting me to rush in. All the oxygen deserts me. He's sitting on one of the chairs, rigid as ever in his clean-cut suit.

"Light!"

He looks up, startled.

"What's"—

I don't wait for him to finish.

I throw myself across the room, wrapping my arms around him as if he'll vanish if I let go. A yelp of surprise escapes him, but he doesn't push me away. He's here. He's not dead. He's okay.

"You're okay," I say, more for my own comfort. His perplexed expression tells me I should have kept my mouth shut. He puts his hands on my shoulders, tentatively trying to pry me off his suit.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason. Just a worry". I hastily retract my arms from around his shoulders and step back. Step back some more.

"Why were you worried?" he asks, that frown still creasing his face. There's no way I'm going to tell him, so instead I do what I do best. Smile my naïve smile and lie.

'You're welcome, by the way,' she huffs inside my head.

The relief is so strong I almost explode into laughter.

Dr. Light shoots me another worried glance, his suit pressed inwards by my touch. I suppose that wasn't one of my greater ideas – to careen into him like a child at a fairground. But I had to make sure she hadn't... I had to make sure he was okay. I'm not sure why I would crack if he died, or if he left me and my Mum, but I would. The knowledge in itself is enough to make me shiver.

How, after everything, do I feel I can afford to let him in? He's one of the them, one of the Foundation. Maybe he doesn't know what they're doing, perhaps he's clueless.

'I only agree with that last bit. Of course, he knows everything. He tried to pry inside our head, in case you forgot,' she adds. I had forgot. Only because he's stopped prying.

'He's trying to force you to lower your guard'. Perhaps she is right. She's been right about everything so far. But I have a hunch that I'm right about something too.

'So why didn't you kill him?' I ask. Immediately, her voice falls silent, as if the words have cut it from our mind. Why didn't she kill him? She had her mind – our mind – set on it last time I checked. So, what changed?

'It doesn't matter,' she says after a while, but I can tell neither of us are satisfied with the answer.

Dr. Light almost jumps as Mum enters the living room, her mobile swinging in her hand.

"I was thinking of ordering a Chinese takeaway, since today has been such a success. If that's alright with you Doctor," she adds, but winks at me. I giggle.

'You're so easily amused,' my other self interrupts. If we weren't sharing this body, I swear she just rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Certainly. I'll pay if you want," Light stutters – actually stutters. Mum shoots me a grin and presses her ear to the phone to make the order. She doesn't stay to ask us what we want, she just runs off to the kitchen.

"Do you even like Chinese?" I ask Light. He nods absently.

'Here I thought this guy only survived on nutrients from the air,' she says, and I have to fight the flutter of a laugh in my stomach. Now that I know she's here again, with me, everything doesn't feel so bad. I don't feel so alone.

"It's been a long time since I've been so comfortable at work," Light continues, causing our eyes to finally meet. Although a few weeks have passed since our argument in the therapy room, I haven't managed to eradicate that look from my mind. That look of understanding, of pain. When I'm about to ask him something else, Mum bursts in, the phone dangling like a broken ballerina from her hand.

"We've an hour to wait, so why don't you put on the TV," she suggests.

After disappearing again to select an alarming array of plates, I seat myself on the couch. Dr. Light hands me the remote, but sits much farther away, practically plasters himself to the window.

An unsettling darkness reigns over me until I hear her voice.

'Don't worry about him. You've got me,' she says, so quietly that I'm sure I imagined it.

In that same quiet voice, I want to tell her that she'll always have me too.

We'll always have each other, no matter how bad things get.

An hour later, the takeaway arrives, and we sit balancing plates on our knees, watching murder mystery re-runs on the television.

It might be the best night of my life.