A/N: Happy weekend, guys! Hope you're enjoying the summer! Thanks to Sam Brody or Moon Princess, Sarahfreak, Japanimaniac13, seasnake.756, Lady Eivel, Shadow-L-Chan, judikickshiney, Xhadow Kiss, WithABunny, Akito-Aya, and TheRecorder for reviews! Thanks also to everyone who has faved this story or put it on alert. You guys rock.

Speaking of rocking, Akito-Aya wins the Psychic Award for successfully predicting the…well, you'll see. Nice job. :D

All you fans of Mikami also rock. Sexy and insane is a dangerous combination. So, if that was him (which you'll find out this chapter), he has a lot of potential in a story like this to wreak some havoc. Oh my.

So our cast expands…and keeps expanding. Wonder who will show up next?

Happy reading,

D


"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

- Proverb

3 - Heirs

L remained silent for the ride back to Headquarters, but his mind was always working.

He consciously counted the buildings, iridescent against the night sky, as they rushed passed his window, blurred, hoping that they might distract him. A few times, he caught his reflection in the window, ghostly pale, and turned away. As he nibbled his thumbnail absentmindedly, he thought on what Light had said. It was something he hadn't inclined to believe, not at first, partially because of its inherent implausibility, and partially because of its implications for the world if it were true. Another Kira…who would pose as the original would make Kira seem even more godlike, having escaped imprisonment by the authorities. No, L knew too well that Kira himself was a man, Kira was Light, and whoever had stolen the Death Notes this time was just as human.

But whoever he was, this new Kira, he wasn't acting selfishly; he was doing exactly what Light said he would. The new owner of the Notes was killing the criminals, and L had lied to Light again to see his reaction, to see if he knew anything about it. It could have been that Light had set this up, that it was all part of a grander scheme…

No, no, he couldn't let Light get to him, not Light, who was obviously so desperate that he was clinging to any consolation that he could in thinking that the new owner of the Note would emulate him. In a way, he was almost sorry, not for Light, who was guilty of the deaths of thousands, but for what the world was losing from Light being Kira, what Light was losing. He might have been a great detective. The loss of an intelligent mind was sad, dark, unfathomable, and Light had had so much potential. A pity he had not agreed to assist L in the investigation, although not unexpected by any means; the odds of him acquiescing were slim to none to begin with.

Well, there were others. No use dwelling on Light for too long, now.

When L returned to headquarters, Chief Yagami was standing by the doorway, waiting for him. As soon as Watari opened the door for L, he approached the car, grimmer and more haggard than ever. Well, L supposed that that was only natural; his perfect son was Kira.

"Ryuzaki…" He began, sounding more tired and hopeless than L had ever heard him sound. "Did…"

L shook his head. "I'm sorry, Yagami-san."

A shudder passed through the Chief's frame as he sighed. "No, no, it's for the best. If I saw him again I'd hate to think what I'd do. My son…he's dead. That's how it is."

Studying Chief Yagami with wide eyes, L tried to find a lie, some small words of comfort, but came up with nothing. He wasn't adept at handling this sort of situation, so he said simply, "I would stay longer, Yagami-san, but I have some calls to make," and proceeded inside the building.

It was strange. He thought he would have already sold the twenty-three story building he had built specifically for his headquarters in Japan. After all, the case was over, and some company or hotel would be sure to want a location in the heart of Tokyo. And yet, it seemed that Fate had intervened to keep him in Japan. If Fate existed. Of course, Shinigami existed, so why not Fate? It wasn't too terribly much of a mental leap. Well, if Fate did exist, she had a wicked sense of timing.

But that was all beside the point. After passing through the obligitory security checks, he proceeded to the main room, which had once been the center of a busy investigation. It was now deserted. For the time being only, L was sure. He settled into one of the chairs and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket by its antenna, opened it up, and found, folded inside of it, a scrap of paper. Now, this was the trick. His fingers hovered over the keys for a few seconds before he made the decision and dialed one of two phone numbers written on the paper.

The phone rang once, twice, thrice, and L's toes curled and flexed over the edge of the seat with impatience. When the phone clicked over to a generic answering machine message, he hung up and redialed. Well, it might take more than one call. After all, night in Japan was early morning in Los Angeles, California.

On the third try, someone did pick up. "Matt," said a man. He sounded groggy and agitated, and he spoke with a very slight accent. British. "If you're going to storm off who-the-hell knows where and stay out all night doing who-the-hell knows what, wait until it's actually fucking light outside before you call me, asshole!" The person on the other end slammed the phone into the cradle, and the line went dead.

Well. That was interesting. L, who was not used to having someone hang up on him, and so forcefully, too, blinked at the phone quizzically, and then pressed redial with a somewhat mischievous intent.

The same person picked up the phone, now sounding doubly annoyed. "Dammit, Matt! You just don't know when to stop calling!" L heard a sigh from the other end. "Well, I'm awake now, so what the hell do you want? Where are you?"

"I presume I am speaking to Mello?" L said, utterly expressionless.

"Shit," Mello said, and then L heard a clattering which he could only assume was Mello dropping the phone in anger or surprise or some combination of the two. He waited a minute for Mello's voice to return, and, soon enough, he heard, "Yes, hello, are you still there?"

"Yes."

A pause, and then, "Is this L?"

"Yes."

"Shit," Mello said again, then, apparently, realizing the sort of language he was using, and to whom he was using it, amended, "Oh no, oh fuck, I mean—"

"Is this a bad time?" L asked, slightly bemused.

"Well, I, no, I mean, I was asleep, but…" Mello stopped, as if to collect his thoughts. "Do you know what time it is here?"

"According to my phone, it is 8:37 pm here in Japan, which means that it is 4:37 am in Los Angeles, California, where you are now."

"Er, right." Mello sighed. "I'm so sorry, L. I thought you were Matt, and I can't think straight right now because of this…splitting headache…"

A hangover. Even L, who had never been intoxicated and had no wish to ever find himself in that condition, could tell that much. Inexperienced, but not naïve. Well, that almost made sense: if Mello were upset about something Matt had done, he might find that rather inefficient way to take his mind off of it. But the concept of Mello getting drunk was not altogether unimaginable but somewhat alien – after all, Mello had been fourteen the last time L had seen him. Now he was twenty, and different person. No, not a different person. People don't change. They never do. L tilted his head to the side and said, "I assume Matt is not with you. I'm calling for him as well."

"No." Mello sounded annoyed again, but not at L. "Haven't seen him since this morning."

"You two have had a falling out?"

"Yeah. I guess. Sort of. You could say that." Mello paused again, and L could almost feel his self-awareness in the faint crackle of static. "He'll be back, though. L, look, I—"

"You're probably wondering why I am still on the phone with you after I was dismissed and repeatedly insulted," L interjected casually. "Actually, you probably expect me to have a rather low opinion of you already, and are wondering why I bothered calling at all, after you ran away from the orphanage five years ago. If you're thinking that you've lost your chance to redeem yourself—"

"I'm not," Mello interrupted. "I figured it was urgent."

L nodded, something Mello obviously could not see. Now the boy was beginning to get with the program. "The Kira case," L said. "Someone new is killing criminals. This has not yet been reported by the media, but it is only a matter of time until they notice."

"So…so you want Matt and me to come to Japan to help you catch him?" Mello sounded suspicious. "I thought you operated alone."

"Usually. I have a team of investigators helping me in Japan, but they aren't like you two. I'm desperate, Mello, you may never hear me say that again, but if Kira returns now then I'll look like a fool. I've already reserved your plane tickets; the registration confirmation and all the information on the case so far was sent to you in an email from just a few minutes ago by Wata—excuse me, by Mr. Wammy. After you receive the information I'll have to ask that you destroy your computer."

Mello was silent for a minute. "What makes you so sure that I'll just do what you say?"

"I know you, Mello," L said, confident. "I know you ran away five years ago not because you were giving up, but because you wanted attention, and you wanted it on your terms. I know you are looking for that chance to prove yourself. And you do want to redeem yourself, even if you won't admit it."

A pause. Then, "Will Near be there?"

"I don't know," said L. "I called you first."

"Hmph," Mello said, but he sounded satisfied. Of course, he wouldn't have otherwise come. A door slammed over the phone, and L heard an indistinct voice saying something, and then a crash as the owner of the voice bumped into something. "Shit, Matt's back. Look, I'll—"

"See you in Japan," L said, and, without another word, he hung up.


Somewhere in Tokyo, the man who had visited Misa Amane unlocked his apartment door.

There was nothing unusual about that. Certainly, thousands of people unlocked their apartment doors every day and went inside without attracting the slightest bit of attention. But this man was different. He looked first to the left, moving his head only the slightest bit, then to the right, to make sure no one had followed him, or was watching him. When he opened the door, the little piece of paper he has stuck between the door and the frame fluttered to the ground. No one had come in. It was safe. He picked up the paper, pocketed it, and went inside.

Possession of the Death Notes merited some paranoia, after all.

He set down his briefcase and made his way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and various cabinets to see what he could prepare for a late dinner. Deciding at last that he wasn't hungry, he returned to the main hall, retrieved his briefcase, and went into the room he had set up as an office.

A small TV was nestled in the bookshelf, a desk stood in the corner, and, on top, a computer sat attentive, waiting, with an electronic hum. A pen lay next to the keyboard. As simple as that. All of the ingredients for murder, lacking only one. Who knew it could be so easy? But it wasn't time for that yet. First he had something to say.

He opened his briefcase and withdrew the Death Note. He always kept one with him, just in case. The other ones were hidden safely in a secret compartment in his bookshelf. Paranoid, perhaps. Practical…he would rather not have the Note found on his person, but without it he would feel naked. Vulnerable. There might be a better way…

Not now. Now was time to pray, not think. He grasped the Death Note with both hands and closed his eyes.

"Forgive me, Kira," he said. "I have killed your servant. But I didn't have a choice, Kira, and I think you would understand. I was kind to her. Forgive me."

He turned to the page of the note he had written in the previous day and held it up before him, reading it again and again: Misa Amane, December 30th, 2009, 8:30 pm. Shares her knowledge of the Death Note and anything related with a man she believes to be her lawyer. Upon returning to her cell, she immediately lies down to rest and, some hours later, dies peacefully in her sleep.

"I think you would understand," he repeated. Then Teru Mikami set the Death Note on his desk, turned on his television, and did God's work.


It was almost one in the afternoon in Winchester. Gray, cloudy. Of course, one couldn't expect much else in the middle of winter. And yet the children at the orphanage still played outside, all bundled up in little hats and scarves, kicking a football or climbing on the play set or doing whatever else children did to amuse themselves.

Near had decided long ago that he didn't particularly like children. When he was little, they always came up to him unbidden and wanted to watch him do his puzzle or ask him to play, when all he wanted to do was sit alone and just think. Near knew from an early age that he was better at thinking than all of the other children, because he noticed things that they didn't seem to notice, and looked harder than they ever bothered looking. And all of the others would laugh and play and miss all of the things that he saw, and somehow both fear and admire him for it.

It occurred to Near that it might be odd, him having not yet left Wammy's House, the orphanage for gifted children where he had grown up, but the time never seemed quite right for leaving. Near figured he would know somehow when it was his turn to leave. Mello had left, foolishly, at fifteen, when he had finally become fed up with being second to Near in all of the ways that mattered, and Matt, Mello's best friend, had left at eighteen to find him. Near always had to shake his head at the thought of Matt and Mello. Near and Mello had been L's possible successors, with Matt a distant third, but after Mello had left it was clear what his path would be, and what Near's would be. Mello was too rash, too impulsive. Maybe it was best that he had left, and that Near remained to take L's place, but it was futile to speculate.

Near sighed and slid another puzzle piece across the floor, locking it in with the rest. Perhaps this was why he stayed at the orphanage: for the almost limitless access to toys and information. His toys had, or course, grown more sophisticated as he had grown older and progressed to mystery jigsaws with thousands of pieces or incredible towers of tarot cards. Roger provided him with anything that might help him work.

As for information, Roger provided him with that, too. Roger, who oversaw Wammy's House in the founder's absence, acted as his Watari, his Quillish Wammy, just as Watari acted as L's representative, his eyes and ears, his informant. Ever since Near had become L's clear-cut successor, just after Mello ran away, he had been taking some of the more minor cases which L would take interest in, assuming some of L's lesser-known aliases. It was a win-win situation, as it allowed L to devote more of his time and energy to the Kira case, and gave Near a chance to gain some experience, and to make his inevitable transition smoother.

Unbeknownst to Roger, Near had been developing his own personas, his own aliases, on the side. Taking his own cases, those which would not benefit L, gave Near something more to work for, something to separate him from L, somehow. He was sure that, were L in his situation, he would do the same, just for the challenge. Just for the hell of it. Near was pretty sure that L knew what he was up to, in any case, but didn't give a damn either way.

Near played with his hair thoughtfully before moving another puzzle piece, clicking it into place. L didn't have much time to worry about what his successor was up to, and Near wasn't going to flatter himself by pretending otherwise. L would now be focused on this interesting new development in the Kira case—a case which should have been closed when the perpetrator was captured.

Apparently, it never ends.

Near shook his head and was about to continue with his puzzle when the screen on his laptop went white. Near knew what that meant. He always kept his laptop near for occasions like these. An instant later, the letter R appeared in the middle of the screen in a bold, gothic font. Roger.

"Near," Roger said through the computer, "I have an urgent message for you from L."

L? That was interesting. It wasn't often that he communicated directly with his…mentor, of sorts. "Patch him through," Near said, and repositioned himself between his laptop and his puzzle, so he could effectively deal with them both.

After exactly 6.4 seconds (Near had an excellent sense of time) the R changed to an L, and Near heard an electronic voice say, "Near. It has been awhile."

Near, knowing that both he and L would want to get down to business as soon as possible, acknowledged, "It has. Is this about the Kira case?"

It was difficult to tell through the computer, and the electronic filtration of L's voice, but Near thought L sounded as if he has expected Near to have already known. "Yes. I take it that you, also, have noticed the spike in criminal deaths over the past twelve hours."

"I have." Near fiddled with his hair again. "So someone has now obtained a new Death Note? Another rogue Shinigami? Or has Kira escaped, against all odds?" The last possibility was added almost as a joke.

"The Death Notes were stolen. Whoever now possesses them has no obvious connection to any Kira, alive or dead. After speaking with the original Kira, I have concluded that there is only a three percent chance that there is any kind of arrangement between the old set and the new."

Stolen. It would have been much more likely, Near supposed, that another bored Shinigami had dropped a Note, and, given all that they now knew about the Notes, that may have even made it easier. Still, if they were stolen, then he and L might have a lead. "Would you like my opinion?" Near asked. "Or, given the importance of this case, would you like me to work with you more directly?"

"Which do you think?"

It was a challenge, a test, and not a particularly subtle one. Perhaps L didn't have time for subtleties now. Very well. Near considered for a moment. "L works alone," he said finally, "But the Kira case dragged on much longer than it should have. And while it ended in Kira's capture and arrest, he gained a significant global following. If it appears that Kira has managed to evade L again, 'against all odds,' as it would seem, it would be the ultimate humiliation for L." Near paused. "You want my help. Ninety-nine percent."

"Correct." Again, L was not surprised. "It is a rather delicate matter, as you have said. I would like you to join me in Japan."

"You have already booked the flight, I assume."

"Yes. I sent Roger the logistics. I also sent you the information we have so far via email." L paused. "Tell me what you think of it when you arrive, but do not contact me sooner. I have a high opinion of your skills, Near, especially after your involvement in the Washington D.C. Embezzlement Cases."

The Embezzlement Cases had been one of the ones Near had taken on his own account. So L had been following his actions, however remotely. And if L had been monitoring him, it was only logical to conclude that… "Understood. Will you be involving Mello as well?"

"I have already contacted Mello. He and Matt are flying in from LA." L paused. "Like I said, I want to get this solved, and solved quickly."

"Yes," Near said. "Evidently. It will be a pleasure to work with you."

He disconnected and returned to his puzzle. Now, it seemed, was the time for him to leave the orphanage, whether he wanted to or not. Soon he would have to prepare for Japan. But not quite yet. He had one thing left to do before he could pack.

Picking up his last puzzle piece, he slowly but surely pressed it into place. A completed puzzle was a beautiful thing. This one was entirely blank, but for the corner. A single letter, in gothic font. L. "That fits," Near murmured, then went back to his laptop, to brief himself on the case, and to tell Roger that he was finally going.