"I was supposed to gain a good seventy years from you," the dark-haired shinigami continued, straightening up. "But instead, I lost seventy years because of you and that little stunt you pulled."
Jubilee stood rooted to the spot before the demon, her brain whirling. Images from the day of the accident came slamming back into her mind—the grogginess of the hangover, the yellow traffic light, the steel pole coming at her...the sound of sirens and the feeling of pain as she returned to consciousness. She remembered the shock of seeing new colors for the first time punctuated by the presence of otherworldly beings, some light and some dark, and one in particular emanating a shadow as black as the void she had escaped. The creature had been holding an open book in his hand with a pen poised above the page.
Everything clicked into place as she suddenly connected the dots. That book had been a Death Note, and the creature that had been holding it was the same one that stood before her now. Even as she made the realization, she could do nothing but stare up stupidly at him.
"You," she whispered, feeling faint. "That—that was you?"
The shinigami grinned. "The human finally remembers. Maybe that mush inside your skull isn't too far gone after all."
Jubilee backed up a step. "What—what are you doing in Japan?" she blurted.
At this the shinigami guffawed loud and long. "What am I doing a hop and a step away from that other land mass you came from? The sort of questions you creatures ask! This whole world is my playground, I'll have you know. What, did you think I was following you? Tch." He leaned forward again, his long torso bridging the gap between them, and smirked into her face. "You aren't that special. Coincidences do happen, you know, much as Someone somewhere would like to have you disagree. And speaking of coincidences...I thought it was rather poetic, really, that James Jenkins' daughter should die the same way that he did. Don't you think so?"
Jubilee went still at the sound of her father's name.
"It was like the perfect follow-up, if I do say so myself," the demon went on. "Then again, I could be biased, since—" His voice lowered, like he was savoring what he would say next. "I did pen the first death, after all."
Jubilee's breath caught in her throat. "You—you mean..."
"Yes." The demon's grin grew impossibly wider. "I wrote him into my Death Note, too."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She stumbled backwards in horror and tripped, falling to the ground.
"Gave me a good fifty years, that one did," the shinigami went on, tapping his chin in thought. "Which really isn't much in the grand scheme of things, but pickings are slim these days. You young folks are killing yourselves off faster than we shinigami can, what with the things you get yourselves into. Honestly," he scoffed. "Used to be that we were guaranteed almost a century whenever we wrote down a young one. These days you've knocked your own lifespans down to a few decades. You were supposed to have at least seventy-five years left on you, until you started keeping company with the crowd that you did. But, who am I to judge?"
Jubilee stared at the ground, silent at this new revelation. Her father could have lived for another fifty years? Slowly, a cold rage began to fill her. She had been blaming the wrong person all along. It was this shinigami who had tempted Light with power...who had caused the deaths of thousands...and who had killed her father.
As if sensing her thoughts, the shinigami smiled with satisfaction. "You're angry," he said. "That's good." He leaned down again, bending at an impossibly low angle from the waist to be eye level with her where she was sprawled on the ground. "What are you going to do about it?" he asked lowly. "Kill me?"
She lifted her eyes to him. "Did you kill my mother too?" she asked, voice trembling.
The shinigami chuckled. "Oh, please." He waved a dismissive hand. "Another shinigami got her, I'm sure. You talk like I have a personal vendetta against you, or something. Then again—" His expression became serious and he leaned closer. "I do, now."
Whatever anger Jubilee had been feeling seconds ago vanished in the wake of sudden terror as the demon began to advance on her. She scrambled backwards. A few feet behind the demon Light stood, watching her silently and with an emotionless expression, but she paid him no attention as she tried to get away.
"Seventy years may not be much in the light of eternity," the shinigami was saying, his voice a low growl as he took step after slow step towards her. "But I don't much appreciate anything being taken from me...especially not on account of a measly human such as yourself." He stopped and gave her a dry smile. "It's a bit of a low blow from the man upstairs. I'd very much like to see your time on on this planet come to a permanent end—even if you are bound for that place—just so you can tell Him, for me, that He doesn't play very fair."
"Get away from me," Jubilee whispered. She was vaguely aware that she was cowering and on the brink of tears.
"Well, that's not very convincing," scoffed the shinigami. "I don't know where you people get the idea that you can just tell me what to do. You humans have always been a ridiculously prideful yet pitiful bunch. Bossing each other around and playing god when you're practically nothing but ants." He stepped closer to her, and she felt the air grow even colder. "Even now, you see...you want to control Light and the circumstances of the world, just as much as he does. And you'd kill me in an instant, if you knew how to, because I stand in the way of what you want. So how are you any better than him?"
Jubilee felt the light and color around her snuff out as the demon crouched down to her level and continued, "You're not. You see, the problem is that all you creatures think of yourselves as victims, when in reality your situations are really your own faults. I think you know that deep down, don't you?"
Jubilee shook her head vigorously, as much to refute him as to clear the memories of Chicago night lights, colorful cocktails and strangers' beds that suddenly filled her mind.
The demon reached out a clawed hand for her. "Oh yes you do," he went on. "You might tell yourself otherwise—that me and the other powers that be are the cause of all your problems, but you know what? I only ever had access to you because you left yourself wide open to me. Let me help you remember." His hand closed over her eyes.
Instantly the world went dark. Then, a memory filled her head.
She was nineteen years old. Her father's body had just been buried, and she knelt before the fresh grave and her mother's, alone. Rain poured down on her from a bleak, gray sky. The minister had left hours ago. There had been no one else at the funeral. She had invited no one.
"Why?" she whispered to the ground.
Only the sound of the downpour answered her. The world was silent save for the dripping of rain—a heavy, sorrowful noise that seemed to match her grief.
Tilting her head back she suddenly screamed to the sky, a long, piercing wail that ripped her throat raw.
"Why?" she demanded the clouds above her. "Why did you take them from me?!"
Sobbing, she curled herself into a ball on the ground, and cried long and hard. The rain continued to pour down onto her, drenching her to the bone, as if the heavens were weeping along with her. But she felt no comfort from it, only coldness and a desperate sense of being utterly alone.
Finally, when she could cry no more, she rose shakily to her knees and crawled forward, to the sliver of space between both of her parents' graves. She lowered herself onto the cold, wet earth there, a gravestone on either side of her head. With her cheek against the muddy grass, she lifted her eyes to the sky once more, and the rain caressed her face as it washed her tears down into the ground.
"Just take me too," she whispered, and closed her eyes.
Several yards away stood a tall, shadowy figure with spiky black hair and pale yellow eyes, listening to her every word though she could neither see him nor hear him. He cackled lowly to himself.
"That can be arranged," he said with a satisfied smirk.
Jubilee gasped and broke away from the shinigami's claw. He was laughing at her as she leaned forward on the ground, struggling to catch her breath.
"So you see," he said, still leaning towards her. "I had legal access to you. Life and death are in the power of the tongue, yes? You mammals are too stupid to realize that, even though it's been written down for you. Oh, but how nicely you tend to use that power to our benefit most of the time."
Jubilee barely registered his words as her heart hammered. Her eyes burned where the shinigami had touched her, and it was like the air had grown even more dense. She struggled to draw breath into her lungs and her brain seemed to fog over. Her thoughts swam, and trying to make sense of them was like an arduous trek through thick mud. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed desperately to remember some sliver of truth that would help her to think clearly.
Life and death are in the power of the tongue. Jubilee opened her eyes in startled realization. This whole time the shinigami had been trying to make her feel powerless, to think that she had no control of the situation or authority over him. But he had just let slip that she did.
"The Lord rebuke you," she quoted without thinking. The words came out in barely a hoarse whisper, and for a second she thought the shinigami hadn't even heard her. He looked at her a moment, then got up and walked away from her, laughing all the way.
"Not very original, are you?" he said at last, leering at her from where he stood back beside Light. His voice sounded nonchalant, but Jubilee noted that his smile was tight.
She got slowly to her feet. "Don't come near me again," she said.
"Tch," said the demon. "Bossy, bossy." But he made no move in her direction.
"Julie—" began Light hesitantly, speaking up for the first time in five minutes.
"Shut up, Light," said Jubilee, taking deliberate steps towards him and the demon. "I mean, be quiet for a minute. I'm not finished here." Stopping before them, she looked straight up at the tall, otherworldly being. "Listen up, shinigami," she began. Her voice had lost its tremor. "I want you to take your notebooks and get out of here. I command you, to leave Light and this place, in the name—"
"You don't want to do that," interjected the demon, throwing up a hand. The abrupt movement in Jubilee's direction startled her just enough to make her hesitate a moment, and he continued quickly, "Even if I do leave, I can guarantee you that I will be back, with friends...and then there will be hell to pay."
Jubilee scowled, deciding that she had had enough. She opened her mouth to continue, but the shinigami cut her off again.
"Trust me," he went on, "That's what happened to poor Judas Iscariot. And we wouldn't want dear old Light to meet the same end, now would we?"
Jubilee stopped, her brow furrowing. Judas Iscariot?
"Oh yes, that one was my work too," said the shinigami, taking a sweeping bow. "Thank you, thank you...I get to go down in history as the one who took out that backstabbing sod. You'd think people would thank me more! And also that they'd write down the part I played in it all, but nooo..." He scratched his chin. "Perhaps it's because they didn't know how to spell 'Ryuk' in Greek?"
"You're lying," said Jubilee.
"That they didn't know how to spell my name in Greek? That was just a guess."
"About Judas Iscariot!" she snapped. "He killed himself because of his own remorse."
"Oh, yes." The demon, Ryuk, gave a smug smile. "Yes, he most certainly did. And who do you think was responsible for that feeling of overwhelmingly crushing, absolutely inescapable guilt and shame?" He pointed cheerfully at himself. "Moi. I told you, I always enjoyed writing in the little details. Go ahead, marked one...take a look at me and see if I'm lying."
Reluctantly Jubilee looked to the space above Ryuk's head. The line there was straight and unbreaking, much to her dismay. A familiar shadow of fear crept back into her. This shinigami had caused the death of Judas Iscariot?
"Him and the rest of those twelve imbeciles already had their personal demons cast out, you see?" continued Ryuk. "But Judas was a man who wanted more. Well, more he got! The shinigami king himself took up residence in him, and I got to be part of the entourage. What a party we had! The whole hanging himself bit was my brilliant idea though. Got myself a promotion with that one. What a way for him to go, eh?" He leaned forward ever so slightly at these last words, and she took an involuntary step back. Glancing quickly at the space over head, he looked back at her and smirked. "So, you see," he went on, "Even if you could get me to go—and we're talking a big if here—would you ever be able to forgive yourself when I inevitably return and wreak even more havoc than I would have before?"
Jubilee grit her teeth. The shinigami was trying to distract her by intimidating her and making her second guess herself, and it was working. Nevertheless she declared, bravely, "That won't happen."
"It won't," agreed Ryuk. "Unless, of course, I leave right now. You want to know why?" He gestured at Light. "Because this one here will want me back. And I promise you, marked one, that when he does, I will make sure that he never has another chance to change his mind. Do what you want, save the day in the end, even. But this one—" He pointed at Light once more. "Is mine, and he will go down with me." He gave her a toothy smile then. "So rebuke me all you want, human. You can't mess with another's free will. No one can." With a leer he added, "And the only One who can, won't."
Jubilee faltered then. She looked at Light, who was giving her a blank stare, then back at the demon. Was it true? If she managed to get Ryuk to leave, would that only make things worse for Light in the end? And if so, did that mean she should just give up on him? She glanced over at the boy once more. The black haze around him shifted uneasily, like he was uncertain about everything that was transpiring, but still he managed to keep a poker face that conveyed oblivious confusion. Her heart sank as she realized that this part of what the demon had said, at least, was true—Light would stop at nothing right now. Even if the case was solved and the day was saved, he wouldn't be. Unless she figured something out. And with a sudden painful acuity she realized that she still wanted to...but had no idea how to. Pressing her lips together, she hung her head in silent defeat.
"There," said Ryuk, relaxing. "You have some smarts, after all." Looking over her head again, he gave a smile of lazy satisfaction at whatever it was he saw. "Face it, marked one," he went on, spreading his hands. "At the end of the day, I have the upper hand and the whole host of hell to back me up. You, on the other hand, are all alone. Your co-workers don't believe in you, your friends have abandoned you, and your family is gone." He swept a long, clawed hand dramatically over his brow and put on an expression of mock sorrow as he continued, "It has always been the fate of a marked one to be isolated and deemed delusional by the rest of the world. Cruel, isn't it?" He wiped away a fake tear. "I always thought so. But—" He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "You don't have to accept that fate, human. You can walk away from all of this! Give up. Let whatever comes, come. You don't have to be a part of it anymore."
Tears streamed down Jubilee's face as she continued to hang her head, fists clenched. The shinigami was right. The whole task force thought she was crazy. Light was too far gone for her to reach. Misa wouldn't talk to her. Even L had lost hope in solving the case. And the very fact that Kira himself was standing there across from her with a demon at his side, while she stood before the two of them, small and alone, with no sight of Hellenos anywhere or sound of Dad's voice in her heart...showed that she truly was all by herself.
She looked up at the two of them. Light was still staring at her, and Ryuk still smirked at the spot above her head. No, not above—now he was looking towards her left. He glanced back at her once more, seeming satisfied to see her downcast expression, before returning his gaze to the space on her left with a smug grin. Jubilee looked to her left but saw nothing. A thought suddenly occurred to her. Look for patterns, L had once told her. That is how you do what I do. Her eyes narrowed. What was the shinigami looking at? It hadn't just been her that he had been looking at during this conversation. There had been something—or someone—else that had caught his attention.
All at once she realized something. Just because she didn't see anything, didn't mean that there was nothing there. And just because she felt alone, didn't mean that she actually was.
She wiped her eyes dry. "I am never alone," she said softly, and though she didn't quite believe the words yet, she felt her heart warm and her vision sharpen as she said them.
"Eh?" The demon cocked his head. "What was that, human?"
"I said—" She looked back up at him and repeated, this time with more conviction, "I am never alone."
At that, a shimmer materialized beside her, and then solidified into Hellenos.
Quite right, he agreed, giving Jubilee a big grin.