As always, morning came far too soon.

"It's me, Light," Matsuda said softly. "I've got your breakfast."

Light didn't answer. Wrapped tightly in his blankets, he did his best to feign sleep.

"I know you're awake, Light. I saw you move."

"Go away."

"I can't. Will you please just sit up?"

Reluctantly, Light complied. "What's in the bag?"

"Clothes, I think. And sheets. You know, clean ones." Matsuda cracked a nervous smile. "Laundry day, right?"

Oh. Light glanced over at the pile of dirty clothes beside the nightstand, wetting his lip. "I didn't think Near would send you for that."

"Well, to be honest, he didn't. Gevanni's doing that. I'm just taking you up to shower while he does. That'll be nice, won't it? Going upstairs?"

"No." Light scratched his cheek, his voice hardening. "I don't need a shower. I've been keeping myself clean just fine."

Matsuda's face fell. "I know that, but Near said—I don't think it's supposed to be optional, Light. I'm sorry."

Of course. Resigned, Light stooped to collect his breakfast, struggling as usual to grip the tray with his right hand. Matsuda's eyes followed him, soft and pitying, and the prisoner's jaw clenched. Raising his head, Light stared pointedly back, holding his gaze until Matsuda reddened and looked away. Don't look at me like that. Not here.

Not you.

"It's good food today," Matsuda said at last. "Oatmeal and muffins. I think Rester said they were pumpkin. The muffins, I mean. Not the oatmeal. Pumpkin oatmeal would be weird. Or would it? You probably know more about American food than I do, you've lived here for five years..."

Light sat on his bunk, resisting the urge to sigh. Though a loud, bitter part of him longed to throw Matsuda's overtures back in his face, his more rational, practical side held him back. I need to talk with someone, damn it, and he's the only volunteer. For all Near's assurances, Light had no confidence his stay in a cell would end anytime soon. The more he insisted on solitude in the meantime, the more his mind would slip—a fact Matsuda seemed to recognize as well.

He doesn't know it, but he's trying to be Roger. Is that why I resent him so much?

"I never really had American-style breakfasts before. Except in L.A., that one time, and I didn't really eat much besides eggs. But this-this is nice. Like a dessert. Maybe it gets old if you eat it too much, I guess, but I like it. I thought about making some monjayaki somehow, let you have a taste of home for once, but you know me. I'm not really a good cook..."

"It's fine," Light said, dipping his spoon into his oatmeal. "Near thinks tamago gohan is a health risk, but I get natto and miso soup on my birthday. It's not quite the way Mom would make it, but—"

"But it's something."

"Yes."

Matsuda smiled, inching closer to the bars. "Your birthday wasn't that long ago, was it?"

"End of February. I'm twenty-nine now." Light forced a smile in return. "I'm getting old."

"Seems pretty young to me. Still in your twenties."

"Not for long."

"Almost a year."

"As I said."

"A year is long."

Light shook his head. "I'm here for the rest of my life, assuming Libra doesn't kill us all first. Compared to that, a year is nothing."

"I suppose."

An awkward silence prevailed. Before his imprisonment, Light had prided himself on his conversational skills. Now, after years of near-solitude, even thinking up safe topics was a challenge. Most of our past interactions were lies, and I haven't done anything in prison he'd be interested in. Nothing I want to talk about, anyway. Embarassed, Light looked down at his food, shoveling oatmeal into his mouth as he tried to think up something to say.

"How are things at the NPA?" he said at last.

"Different. Really different. The Task Force disbanded after you died, obviously. L's called us together a few times since then, and we still talk, but for the most part—" Matsuda shrugged. "I don't know. I worked on regular cases before yours, and that's what I do now, too. What we all do. But after six years with L, and then you—it's normal now, but it doesn't feel right. Like an old pair of boxers. I got stretched out too much, and now I can't snap back to a normal size. Does that make any sense?"

Shockingly, yes. "I know the feeling."

"Yeah. Yeah, I figured you might." Another pause. "There's a guy on the force now, started a few months after the warehouse. Nice guy. I tried to mentor him a bit, show him the ropes, have somebody look up to me for once...anyway. He says he knows you."

"What's his name?"

"Yuto Yamamoto."

"Yamamoto?" Light looked up, legitimately surprised. "He's a cop?"

"Yeah. A pretty good one, too. He's worked with L and us a few times, you know, since you and the Chief were—"

"Unavailable," Light finished for him, his voice flat.

"Unavailable, yeah."

Well, how about that. "Does he know?"

"About you? No. As far as he knows, you died protecting us from Kira. We never told him the truth. The first case we worked on together, when he found out I'd been on your task force, he took me out drinking to swap stories. Raise a glass in your honor. He had no idea that you...that I'd...I told him a few stories about the good times. How you and L used to fight, how you saved me from the Yotsuba Kira, that sort of thing. Funny stories. He talked more than I did. I guess he had more good memories to tell."

"That must have been an interesting conversation."

Matsuda nodded glumly. "He admired you a lot. Says you're part of the reason he joined the force."

"Ironic. You're the reason I left it." The agent looked at him blankly, and Light sighed. "It's a joke. I'm glad he's doing well."

"Oh."

"It must be hard working with him. If you're still keeping him in the dark, I mean."

"No harder than working with anyone else. It was hard to lie to people at first, but now? It's a habit. I don't even have to think about it anymore. Listening to Yamamoto praise you, though, that first time—that was hard. I just kept thinking, I bet this is what Light felt like at L's funeral, listening to us."

I wish he'd stop making those comparisons. "I didn't mean that. I meant it must be hard to get anything done if he doesn't know what's going on."

"We've told him the important things. He knows about notebooks and shinigami, he just doesn't know about you. As far as he knows, Mikami and Misa were the Kiras." Matsuda hesitated. "You...heard about Misa, right?"

"I heard."

"It was awful. She'd been coming up to us after the warehouse, crying, wanting to know how you died. Mogi got the worst of it. We asked Near to do something, but he just cut her loose. He said in his mind, burning the notebooks was the end of it, and we could deal with her as we saw fit." He shrugged, looking ashamed. "We were going to arrest her, but she didn't remember anything, and when we went to look at the physical evidence L collected from those videos she sent...well..."

"It was gone. I know."

"You destroyed it, didn't you?"

Light shook his head. "I hid it."

"Where?"

"Does it matter? She's dead. I'm here." He scratched the back of his hand, careful not to let go of his spoon. "Case closed."

"I guess so. Still, the way it happened...it doesn't seem right."

No, it doesn't. He hadn't asked for Misa's devotion, but he had made use of it, persuading her to give up years of her life for his sake. Suicide or not, her death was as much his fault as Mikami's had been—and Takada's was worse. They thought I was a savior, and it killed them. I killed them. I'm the only one left.

Matsuda's eyes were on him. "Can I ask you a question?"

You just did. "Depends on the question."

"Did you hate us?"

"Before or after you shot me?"

"Before."

Light hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

"Then why—?"

"You were useful to me. Then you weren't. There wasn't any more feeling to it than that." Just like Takada. Just like Mikami. Just like Misa. "After L died, I thought if I just drew the investigation out long enough, the world would unite behind Kira enough that the Task Force would have to disband. That even if you didn't change your opinions, you'd accept the inevitable. Then Near turned up, and it all fell apart. I didn't want to kill any of you. I just didn't see much of a choice."

"We were in your way?"

"Basically."

"Oh." Matsuda wet his lips, looking unsatisfied. "I guess that hasn't changed much, huh?"

No, it hasn't. "You're not in the way, Matsuda."

"Aren't we? We got you locked up, we got you taken off the case—"

"I'm Kira. Near would have taken me off anyway." He made that clear enough. Light frowned at his food, casting around for a distraction. "Whatever happened to that girl you were dating? I never asked what you've been up to."

"We're still dating. Or still together, I guess I should say. I—she's my wife now."

"You got married?"

Matsuda nodded, beaming. "I proposed a few days after the warehouse. I needed something—I needed something to go right again. To feel right. I don't know what I would have done if she said no, but...well, our son just turned three, and we've got another one on the way. I didn't have to worry, I guess."

Light forced a smile. "Congratulations."

"Yeah. We found out right before I left. I thought she might go through the roof when I told her I had to come here and maybe miss the birth, but she didn't. I mean, she didn't like it, but she understands. A born detective's wife, my brother says. She's a lot like your mother that way."

I hope not. The well-wishes settled like burial ash on Light's tongue, a private funeral for what he had lost. Yamamoto spent years looking up to me, and now he's taken my place. Matsuda, too. The NPA, marriage, kids—that was supposed to be my life. He wanted to resent them for it, but all he felt was numb.

"I should congratulate you, too," Matsuda said hesitantly. "You—you know your sister's expecting, right?"

Light nodded. "Near told me. Mom must be thrilled."

"She is. She's moved in with them now, did you know that? Sayu and her husband." Matsuda wet his lip. "They miss you, Light."

I know. Deeply uncomfortable, the prisoner picked again at his food. "Not much I can do about that."

"I could talk to Near for you. He let you talk to us, I can see if he'd let you—"

"No point. He already offered."

"But—"

"I don't want to talk to them, Matsuda. Can we talk about something else?"

"You don't miss them at all, do you?"

Light looked up sharply, horrified. "Of course I do."

"Then why—?"

"It's none of your goddamn business. They've gone through enough without me disrupting their lives again."

"And this is better? They think you're dead."

"Good. I might as well be." Light jabbed his spoon down angrily, sending a lump of oatmeal flying from the bowl. "I can't do anything for them except be a burden, and the Light they wish were alive doesn't exist. I'm gone either way, damn it. Better a dead hero than a living felon."

"You're afraid they'll reject you, aren't you?"

Matsuda's voice was gentle, almost pitying, but Light bristled all the same. Chewing slowly to buy time, he avoided the agent's eyes. "I didn't say that."

"They won't be happy at what you've done. Of course they won't. But they love you, Light. Whatever you've done, they don't want you dead."

My father loved me, too. Light clenched his teeth, setting his half-finished tray aside. "I'm done."

"Are you sure? There's no rush, you can finish—"

"I'm done. Tell me what to do."

The agent's eyes lingered on Light's breakfast, but he didn't push the point. "Just take off your shirt, I guess, and I'll give you the handcuffs. We should be the only ones on the main floor right now, but still...no reason you should have to walk around naked, right?"

"Right." Part of him wondered whether the reprieve had been Matsuda's idea or Near's. The rest of him found it difficult to care. Whoever it was, they got it backwards. My legs aren't the part I'd rather hide. He turned away and wrestled his shirt over his head, bracing himself for Matsuda's reaction to his scars.

It didn't come.

Light turned around. The agent's back was to the bars, both the handcuffs and a towel extended in his hands behind him.

"You don't have to do that," said Light.

"I know. Let me know when you're ready, okay?"

Strangely gratified, Light draped the towel around his shoulders like a shawl, then fastened the handcuffs into place around his wrists. "I'm ready."

"Great." Matsuda opened the door. "Let's go."

Steam coiled upwards in wispy spirals as Light stepped into the tub, finally allowing himself to relax. True to Matsuda's word, there had been no one along their path to gawk at him, and Matsuda himself had insisted on waiting outside the bathroom to allow Light a semblance of privacy. It was meaningless, of course—like the rest of his apartment, his bathroom was monitored—but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Near was right, damn him. If it weren't for the handcuffs, I'd almost feel like a human being again.

Eyes closed, he ducked his head under the spray, letting the warm water cascade down his back.

"Hello, Light."

Startled, Light turned around. Two bulging, yellow eyes leered down at him from the shower wall.

"Eeyaaaaugh!"

His head hit the wall of the shower as he slipped backwards, and he groped for the bath rail with a curse. Chuckling, Ryuk emerged the rest of the way from the wall, his self-satisfaction obvious.

"Light?" The doorknob clicked as it opened, and Matsuda's voice grew clearer. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine." Damn it, Ryuk. Light poked his head out of the shower curtain, praying the shinigami would stay quiet. "I slipped, that's all. No harm done."

"Oh, I hate when that happens. Just be more careful, okay?"

"I'll try."

The door swung shut again, and Light rounded on Ryuk like a hissing cat. "What the hell was that for?"

"It was fun."

"Get out."

"Relax. Hyuk. There are cameras in your bathroom, but none over the shower, and the shower curtain should hide us both. And as long as the water is running and we keep our voices down, heh—"

Oh. "Matsuda can't hear us."

"I knew you were smart."

"That's rather clever."

"Knew you were a flatterer, too."

Light rolled his eyes and reached for the soap. "What do you want?"

"Been a while since we talked. Figured I should check in."

"You figured, or Libra sent you?"

"Bit of both, really. He's about to make a move, Light. A big one. Thought you should know."

A big move. Light's breakfast turned queasily in his stomach, but he tried not to show it. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what it is?"

"Wasn't planning to, no."

"So something's happening, but you can't tell me any practical information about it?"

"Hyuk. Never said I can't."

"Won't tell me, then, making the warning completely useless to me. Does that sum it up?"

"Yes."

"You sound like Near."

"He doesn't trust you either, heh? And here I thought you were such good friends."

You and me both. "Don't sound so shocked," he snapped, seething. "You're the one trying to turn him against me."

"Hey now. Libra's the one behind that. I'm just watching the results."

"And if Libra kills me next, will you just watch that too?"

"You already know I would."

Would. Not will. Light wasn't sure how much reassurance to draw from that. "I know. Stupid question."

"I don't mind. Heh. I came all the way out here to visit. Might as well answer a few questions while I'm here."

"Just not the important questions, right?"

"Hyuk. Right."

Pensive, Light dragged the washcloth over his scars. "Ryuk?"

"Hmm?"

"If Libra kills me, what happens to my Death Note? Does it go to whoever's holding it, or—?"

"If someone kills a Death Note user with a Death Note, the notebook belongs to them whether they're holding it at the time or not."

"So Libra would take ownership, but the notebook would stay here?"

"Until or unless he came to get it, yes. Those are the rules."

"Does Libra know that?"

"Yes."

"I see." If that's the case, Libra would lose more by killing me than he would gain. Without a Death Note owner here to haunt, Ryuk can't spy on Near. It was a comforting thought, though not entirely a relief. Ryuk wouldn't tell him that rule unless he asked, and he had no reason to ask unless he considered killing me. He's given me a reprieve, not a pardon. "Could he force me to escape and take the notebook with me, or would that be impossible?"

"No idea. You really don't trust this guy, do you?"

"Why should I? You told me he wasn't trustworthy right from the start."

"No. I just said he reminded me of you. Funny how you assumed the worst from that, heh?" Ryuk leaned in closer, leering. "What does that say about you, Light?"

"It doesn't say anything." Seething, Light turned away to reach for the shampoo. "If that's all you came to tell me—"

"I see the old crowd is on the case now. That must have been a fun reunion."

"Nobody died."

"Hyuk. Yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you're kicking me out, I've got to report back to Libra, now, don't I? If I tell him Near's got your old friends working for him now...might solve your little problem, wouldn't it?"

Careful.

"It might," Light said, trying to sound indifferent, "but it wouldn't be wise. Matsuda's my only source of case information at the moment, and as for Near—I can't say for sure how Near would react, which worries me. If Libra's about to make a move, he wants Near to be more predictable, not less."

"Meaning?"

"Don't tell him anything, Ryuk. Not a goddamn word."

"Heh. You sure it's Libra you're worried about?"

Light's good hand clenched. "As far as Near knows, you haven't been back here since the first time you showed up, and Libra has no other way to find out the Task Force is here. If he kills them, Near will know you visited and I didn't tell him. I'm already back in the basement, damn it. I really don't want to know what the next level of Near's distrust looks like."

"You think he'd go that far?"

It wouldn't be the first time. "I don't know."

"Fine, fine. Hyuk. I won't tell Libra anything."

"Anything, huh? That would be a little suspicious, don't you think?"

Ryuk cocked his head. "You've got something you want me to say?"

"Yes. Tell Libra—" Light wet his lip, choosing his words carefully. "Tell him I'm unable to help him in my present circumstances, but I'll be watching what he does in the future. All right? Use those exact words."

"Unable, heh? Not unwilling?"

"Unable to help him, yes. Let him read into that what he will."

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Wait and see."

"Hyuk. You know, you're starting to sound like your old self again, Light."

Do I? Light shrugged, his face a careful blank. "You should go."

"Before somebody notices, heh?"

"Something like that. Like I said, I'd rather not get in any more trouble on your account."

Ryuk chuckled. "Don't worry. I won't get caught."

"Good. Though actually, on second thought..."

"Hmm?"

"Stop by Near on your way out. Don't tell him you talked to me. Just mention that you were scouting the place and noticed a few old friends, but didn't want to interrupt them to say hello."

"That part of your plan?"

"No, but it might net you a few apples. I know him. Given the choice between raiding the fridge and risking their lives, he'll pay up whatever you ask."

Ryuk's grin widened. "You're that worried, heh? No need to bribe me, Light. I already told you I wouldn't."

"I know that. Near doesn't. Let them be the ones to sweat for a change." Light turned his back on the shingami, slicking back his wet hair with both hands. "Besides, you've got a ways to travel. I'd hate for you to start turning handstands halfway home."

"Hyuk. If you're looking for hints about where I travel, you'll have to do better than that."

"I had no such intentions," Light lied. "I'm just looking out for your health."

"Oh? That would be a first."

"I need to shower. Go bother Near."

"I will." Ryuk's voice oozed amusement. "Speaking of Near, you want to know something funny?"

"I have a feeling you'll tell me anyway."

"Aren't you smart. That question you asked me, about who owns the notebook if someone uses a notebook on them? Near asked me that first."

"What, today?"

"No. Right after the Task Force left the warehouse."

Light froze. "What are you implying?"

"Hyuk. See you later, Light."

"No. Answer me, damn it." He turned around. "What are you—?"

Ryuk was gone.

Light stared dumbly at the vacancy, blinking shower water from his eyes. It could have been a hypothetical question. L asked a bunch of questions when he first met a shinigami, too. Even as he thought it, though, he knew the comparison was wrong. L's questioning of Rem had been in a moment of calm, and even then the questions had focused on the problems at hand. When Near had questioned Ryuk, one Kira was en route to the hospital, and another was dead on the floor. Curiosity or no, Near wasn't one to waste time in a crisis. If he'd asked, he had a reason. No. Ryuk wants to mess with my head. It doesn't have to mean what I think it does. It doesn't have to mean...

"Light? Are you almost done?" Matsuda's voice called through the door. "I don't want to rush you, but—"

Unnerved, Light shut off the water. "I'm done."

"Oh. Dry off and get your pants on, then. I'll wait out here."

Pulling the towel off the rack, Light dried himself as best he could. Only when he reached for his clothing did he realize his hands were shaking.

It doesn't have to mean Mikami.