A/N: Written for a writing challenge community 500themes on Livejournal for the prompt 107. Think of me.

Disclaimer: Ooba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi and all associated companies are the owners of Death Note. No copyright infringement intended and no money is being made from this. Please support the mangaka by buying the original work!

Warnings: some slightly disturbing imagery.

What the eye can't see

There were invisible eyes in the darkness, watching him. There were invisible eyes staring at him from the shadows, following his every move, scrutinising his every gesture and analysing his every expression. Black, black eyes, rimmed with dead darkness, and they bore into his closed eyelids at night, weighing him down with the stares. Accusing. Analysing. Apathetic. Attentive. And all directed at him. The eyes stared through the darkness, emotionless. Sometimes they leered. Glared. Hid behind heavy eyelids so that only a narrow slit was left open to peer through. They weren't real. They were real. They were invisible.

How many times Light jerked himself awake in the dead of the night, his body clammy with cold sweat, the sheets tangled around his torso oddly, and his muscles drawn tense and tight so that he was unable to move for several seconds after waking, still trapped in that overwhelming dread from his nightmarish dreams. There were eyes, eyes everywhere. Invisible eyes observing him closely, studying him as though he were a lab rat. Light slowly relaxed his muscles and turned in his bed to chase away the last remnants of the fear and dread and the sheets easily untangled themselves from his body. He glanced around the room to ascertain himself that the nightmare wasn't following him into reality. Or maybe – to make sure that the reality wasn't breaking into his dreams. The room was almost dark, but there was no one there. No eyes – physical or metaphorical – floating around the room or hidden away in the furniture because he had seen to it that all of the hidden cameras had been removed from the entire house and no new ones would be installed. There was nothing, nothing at all. Even Ryuuk was gone.

Still the invisible eyes had followed him into the waking world. Or rather - they had never left it. They were right there – prying, imploring. Mocking. Light clenched his fists in helpless fury. How much longer? How much longer until the dead settled down and left him alone? Forty days, they said. Forty days after death the deceased were free to roam this world before disappearing forever. Forty days of madness and invisible eyes following him, taking notice of his every step, knowing

"L," Light muttered. Hatefully. He had laughed at his funeral. He had rejoiced on his grave. Triumphed in the rays of a setting sun. And then he had played the role of a heartbroken detective who had just lost his best friend and an invaluable partner to a loathsome and lowly serial killer. "L," Light snarled low again. "Why don't you stay dead?"

Black, black eyes stared at Light from the darkness. Knowing. Invisible. Unyielding. The first forty days were only the beginning. Restless ghosts were never good companions. Restless ghosts weren't.