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Entry tags:
FIC: Prayers of Confession
Title: Prayers of Confession
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: L/Light (implied)
Prompt: 234 0 mea culpa at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse; also written for 17. Eto...; Hmmmm... (~engulf by darkness) at 30_angsts;
Warnings: None.
Rating: Gen.
Summary:
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I'm not that smart.
A/N: Unbetaed.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Confíteor Deo omnipoténti et vobis, fratres, quia peccávi nimis cogitatióne, verbo, ópere et omissióne: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa. Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper Vírginem, omnes Angelos et Sanctos, et vos, fratres, oráre pro me ad Dóminum Deum nostrum.
L hadn’t been in a church in years. Sitting straight, for once, he looked around the tiny Japanese church and listened to the litany that was familiar, despite being nearly forgotten. His mind translated the words, even as his lips whispered the Latin. There was something to be said about keeping the services in Latin, L thought idly, knowing that the Priest would switch to Japanese in a moment.
Staring at the crucifix mounted over the head of the Priest, L locked his eyes on the wooden ones of the man nailed to the cross and wondered if Jesus truly forgave the ones responsible for killing him. The carving looked blankly at the nearly empty seats and L stifled a sigh.
He had never really believed, which is why being in a church at all was startling in many ways. To his left, Whammy shifted slightly, pointedly not looking anywhere but ahead. Other than the two of them, there were only half a dozen people in the room. An elderly couple sat in the front row, their gray heads bent together as they prayed. A middle aged woman sat with two children midway down the aisle on the right. The children shifted and moved constantly, unable to sit still on the hard seats. They whispered together, their voices muted enough that L couldn’t hear the words. He watched as their mother reached over the head of the little girl to tap the boy on the shoulder, her expression stern.
The Priest, standing at the front of the room, turned and offered a bow to the altar, cueing the worshipers to rise to their feet. L stood with them, politely following the liturgy he did not take solace in and wondering what the gathered would say if he told them he were in Japan to capture Kira.
The moment the Kira case had broken, L had followed it with an obsession that worried him to some degree. Most of the time, capturing criminals was a game and L was good at games. This case offered him something else; his prey wasn’t a man or a woman, despite the fact that L knew the perpetrator to be human. Try as he might, L could not pinpoint the source of his desire to know Kira, other than a jaded amazement that anyone in this world would use power as Kira did; even if L did believe that Kira’s targeting of criminals and lowlifes was a misguided attempt at self-aggrandizing, rather than any real desire to make the world a better place, as Kira’s followers already claimed.
In a way, given power by the whispered words of praise on the lips of humanity that saw Kira as a savior, L faced a deity. That thought drew L’s eyes back to the crucifix again. When he won – and L had no doubt that he would win – would people be grateful? Or would they blame him for the death of another god, as guilty as those who so many years ago drove stakes through the wrists and feet of an innocent man?
Abruptly, L decided to leave the service. He picked up his jacket and eased into the aisle. Whammy, as always, followed without a word. Never again, would L give Kira more power than he deserved. Kira was human. Kira was a coward. Kira was a murderer.
And, on the day of judgment, if L had to face the world and explain why he had taken yet another savior from them, he would bow his head and whisper, “Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.”
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: L/Light (implied)
Prompt: 234 0 mea culpa at
tamingthemuse; also written for 17. Eto...; Hmmmm... (~engulf by darkness) at 30_angsts; Warnings: None.
Rating: Gen.
Summary:
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I'm not that smart.
A/N: Unbetaed.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Confíteor Deo omnipoténti et vobis, fratres, quia peccávi nimis cogitatióne, verbo, ópere et omissióne: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa. Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper Vírginem, omnes Angelos et Sanctos, et vos, fratres, oráre pro me ad Dóminum Deum nostrum.
L hadn’t been in a church in years. Sitting straight, for once, he looked around the tiny Japanese church and listened to the litany that was familiar, despite being nearly forgotten. His mind translated the words, even as his lips whispered the Latin. There was something to be said about keeping the services in Latin, L thought idly, knowing that the Priest would switch to Japanese in a moment.
Staring at the crucifix mounted over the head of the Priest, L locked his eyes on the wooden ones of the man nailed to the cross and wondered if Jesus truly forgave the ones responsible for killing him. The carving looked blankly at the nearly empty seats and L stifled a sigh.
He had never really believed, which is why being in a church at all was startling in many ways. To his left, Whammy shifted slightly, pointedly not looking anywhere but ahead. Other than the two of them, there were only half a dozen people in the room. An elderly couple sat in the front row, their gray heads bent together as they prayed. A middle aged woman sat with two children midway down the aisle on the right. The children shifted and moved constantly, unable to sit still on the hard seats. They whispered together, their voices muted enough that L couldn’t hear the words. He watched as their mother reached over the head of the little girl to tap the boy on the shoulder, her expression stern.
The Priest, standing at the front of the room, turned and offered a bow to the altar, cueing the worshipers to rise to their feet. L stood with them, politely following the liturgy he did not take solace in and wondering what the gathered would say if he told them he were in Japan to capture Kira.
The moment the Kira case had broken, L had followed it with an obsession that worried him to some degree. Most of the time, capturing criminals was a game and L was good at games. This case offered him something else; his prey wasn’t a man or a woman, despite the fact that L knew the perpetrator to be human. Try as he might, L could not pinpoint the source of his desire to know Kira, other than a jaded amazement that anyone in this world would use power as Kira did; even if L did believe that Kira’s targeting of criminals and lowlifes was a misguided attempt at self-aggrandizing, rather than any real desire to make the world a better place, as Kira’s followers already claimed.
In a way, given power by the whispered words of praise on the lips of humanity that saw Kira as a savior, L faced a deity. That thought drew L’s eyes back to the crucifix again. When he won – and L had no doubt that he would win – would people be grateful? Or would they blame him for the death of another god, as guilty as those who so many years ago drove stakes through the wrists and feet of an innocent man?
Abruptly, L decided to leave the service. He picked up his jacket and eased into the aisle. Whammy, as always, followed without a word. Never again, would L give Kira more power than he deserved. Kira was human. Kira was a coward. Kira was a murderer.
And, on the day of judgment, if L had to face the world and explain why he had taken yet another savior from them, he would bow his head and whisper, “Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.”