The Art of Subconscious Illusion: Rewritten (Death NotexHouse, MD crossover)

Chapter IV

Full Summary: The rewritten version of the original well-loved fic, this portrays the story of the fight between House the diagnostician and the mental patient who calls himself Kira. One week is all that is allotted for him and his team to save Kira from the world and himself…and House's neck is on the line.

A/N: Hello, and welcome back. It was only thanks to a visit to the local PC World that I managed to write this chapter once upon a time, although, thanks to a few questioning stares at my outfit, it took a little longer than expected (if there are some things that shouldn’t be worn in hot weather, then jeans and boots are definitely some of them (and I suppose the skirt meant nothing, then?))  

Well, now that this is done, I am now free to think further on the changes, which may be drastic. 

 So, please read, review and enjoy after this long wait.

Chapter IV

The world anyone him swirled pitch-black, flashes of vibrant colours occasionally swimming through his peripheral vision. Like sharp katanas, their ripples of coloured light sliced through his mind’s eye, showing images of human corruption and suffering through the slit-like wounds, clear light shimmering along the edges. It wouldn’t let him turn away; never let him forget the reasons the he could never give up, the reasons he carried on with this futile crusade. He had to be, no, he was Kira, and couldn’t be anyone else: Not the Successful Student to his teachers; the Insightful Amateur Detective to the NPA; not even the Perfect, Golden Son to his parents.

That charade had broken down many moons ago, each mask having slipped away, but not before it had the chance to dupe everyone he met. Had he not been such a good actor, so good at manipulating his peers and lying to feed and polish each of his many facades, the blow generated by the seemingly sudden onset of his illness would have been much less, and much easier to take, and his parents would have understood. They would have been able to see the dead look in his eyes caused by his downward spiral, no longer masked by that emptiness that had always lingered for as far as his parents could remember. They knew no different. There was nothing to compare it to.

But because he was such a good actor, and because he could hide such inner turmoil so well, they’d burst into tears from the shock, never knowing, never for once believing that their perfect, beautiful, intelligent son had the capability – no, the mental corruption – to commit such a deed, make such threats, and instil such fear into anyone, never mind greater men, and make them fear for their lives.

For them…Mom…Dad…Sayu…it must’ve been like a kick in the teeth…he could feel the thought cross across his conscious, for all of 17 years they never really knew the real me…and the minute they do, they lose complete faith…just like I have.

With a slow and mournful speed, Light awoke from the compulsory slumber, a sharp pain at his right temple jolting alive as he frowned away the tiredness that still shrouded his mind. That tiredness at always seemed to be there, but now he could feel it more than ever, the memories and visions of his slumber slipping into the background like water through roots, allowing him to forget until the time when he’d next fall victim to sleep – that is, if he did.

What happened? Why does my head hurt? I was in that wheelchair until a moment ago, right? Did I just fall out of it, like at the last institution?

The lesion on his face itched wickedly after a near hour of being ignored, now intent on punishing the teen for sleeping through the worst of the pain, and so Light made to lift a hand to scratch it – a foolish practise, he knew, considering the good it would do him – yet he couldn’t: It was stuck in place, as though strapped into position, on the opposite flank. Looking down, Light sighed and shook his head in annoyance. “Should have known.” He wheezed, finally using his voice properly after what felt like centuries of abusive conduct on his part, “I must’ve really done something bad this time to deserve this…or maybe they’ve just accounted for the behaviour at the last institution?”