Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.
Summary: L knew there was a 2nd Death Note. Higuchi died & L set a plan in motion, watching Misa, finding a way to meet Ryuk, trying to defeat Kira. Slight AU/AR; rated T for language and nudity; peripheral pairings; spoilers through end of series.
#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#
Turn of the 8th Day
Chapter 26: Too Weak a Wash of Crimson
Duality of Matter
"I really don't see the point." The road rushed beneath their wheels as if in a hurry to be rid of them so that it might slumber again.
"Look, I can drop you off at home if you want – I just wish you'd said something earlier, since I'll have to double back now. But if you want me to, I will."
"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of keeping his majesty waiting."
"Ide, for the love of . . ." Aizawa rubbed his neck, keeping himself focused on the road. He knew he felt an urgency that Ide didn't share. Rester had let him have a copy of all the photos they'd taken of the scene where they'd found the remains, and he still had his copy of the NPA's security footage – it was all on his laptop, or more accurately, the laptop that Rester had given Aizawa. I'm lucky that hospital didn't tow Matsuda's car, Aizawa thought, and that Ryuzaki thought to have me bring it back, or I'd be looking at cab service instead of driving. I can't believe Matsuda still leaves his keys under the floormat. Aizawa shook his head, staring ahead, fighting drowsiness.
Puzzle pieces – it still felt like too many were missing, but Aizawa supposed that there might be more that the others had found while he and Ide were exploring a different aspect of the case. Whatever pieces might not yet be found, a picture was forming, and it wasn't pretty. We may not have been set up as a sham investigative team, but did we end up being one anyway? Aizawa wasn't sure.
The men kept their mouths tight-lipped, two dashes of Morse code across the front seat. Some other cars shared the road with them, a reminder that even at such an hour, people still found things to do. Aizawa wondered how much of it was important – if any of it was important after all.
Setting his jaw, Aizawa pressed the accelerator a little harder. I can't start thinking like that now, he thought; I promised myself I'd see this case through to the end, and I'm not backing down! Even if this evidence doesn't end up proving anything directly, it could still lead us to new conclusions, new theories to test. Whether it's important to anyone else or not, it's important to me, and that's enough to keep going.
The car turned a corner and swerved to miss a brown sedan careening in the opposite direction. Both men tensed, watching it continue on as it narrowly avoided a collision with a red sports car further down the road.
"Hell of a time to be learning how to drive." Ide shook his head, turning to face forward again.
"Yeah. Although 'learning' is putting it charitably."
Ide felt a smirk teasing his face. "True." He still wondered how much of what he 'knew' about the Kira case was actually true. Though Ide was convinced that the most sensible explanation was that L was Kira, he wanted to believe Aizawa – in part because it was scary to think of L being Kira, but mostly because Aizawa was a good friend and a good cop, both of which Ide found to be in short supply.
The car slowed to a stop at the curb, and as Ide turned, he saw Aizawa put the hazard lights on. Ide frowned.
"Sorry, buddy . . ."
"Are you kidding me? I didn't expect to meet L, but I can't even enter the building?" Ide felt his cheeks flush. "If I'd known that, I would have asked you to drop me home!"
"It's – you can enter the building, that's why I'm dropping you off here. Just go up those steps and press the buzzer. They'll let you into the lobby. I . . . have to enter another way."
At least he has the decency to look embarrassed, Ide thought. "Secret entrance, huh?"
"More like a garage with some serious security features."
Ide sighed. "Fine, whatever. Have fun in L's secret underground lair, just don't forget me when you leave – catching a cab at this hour would be a pain in the ass." Ide opened the car door and got out.
"Thanks, Ide. Hey, to make it up to you, I could send Matsuda your way with some coffee." Aizawa smiled through the open door.
"Ha – if you really want to make it up to me, you'll send that pretty nurse my way with some coffee! And maybe a massage." Ide grudgingly grinned back and shut the door on Aizawa's laugh.
Aizawa waved before pulling away and around the corner, and Ide turned to face the building. Climbing the steps, he remembered the building that used to be in the same spot. It had been older, shorter, and kind of ugly, and it had never really fit the neighborhood. Ide supposed that was why he'd liked it. He'd bought things in the mom & pop convenience store at one end of it, he'd had drinks at the dingy little bar next door, and he'd thumbed through paperbacks in the second-hand bookstore around the corner. The building had felt small in a city full of big, and he'd been comfortable there. And then some bigshot industrialist had torn it all down and put up a new tall building just like all the other buildings around it, like bringing a boulder of sand to a giant beach. Probably some jerk who's under L's thumb, Ide thought, mouth twisting. There's never any room for the little guy.
Ide reached for the square button next to the glass door and heard a low hum before his finger had made contact. Instinctively, he pulled on the door handle and found that it opened, and the humming stopped.
"Watching, eh?" Ide looked up and around as he entered, waving at whatever cameras there might be. Well, this'll be fun, he thought, grimacing at the absence of magazines or comfortable chairs.
#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#
Penny, Dropped
"That may have been the most sarcastic wave I have ever seen."
"Heh, well, that's Ide for you." Matsuda rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't hold it against him, though – he's a good guy."
"On the contrary – I find a dose of skepticism to be quite healthy, even necessary. I am glad that he has been working on this case. The more questioning eyes we can focus on a problem, the sooner it can be unraveled." L nibbled on strawberry pocky.
"Does that mean we can let him come upstairs?"
"Actually, I'm honoring his wishes by leaving him down there. He did not want to work with me directly, and whatever his reasons may have been, I must respect that. Also . . . it may be advantageous to maintain at least one person working outside the central group. Granted, I am used to that person being me, but –"
The men looked toward the strange noise and saw L's cellphone buzzing on the desk. It had only been a few minutes since he had finished tinkering with it and placed it, finally fixed, in its charger. They all watched as L lifted it to his ear and answered.
"Yes? I – what?" L raised his voice, seeming to listen intently. "Good. Yes. I'm at HQ. Should we – understood." L closed the phone and presented his profile to the room. "Watari will be arriving soon."
Soichiro wondered if Watari's return would improve matters or worsen them. He found Watari to be sensible and a calming influence on the others, but this was the same man who had locked down the entire building on what seemed like a whim and then left. Even if Light was guilty of colluding with Misa, it surely didn't warrant losing all of our research, he thought. Soichiro reminded himself that he didn't know Watari all that well and that the man seemed to be a bundle of contradictions – to be equally skilled at baking and torture techniques was bizarrely incongruous at the very least, and his being an adept diplomat and sniper only added to the strange mix. He wondered how Watari, at his age, was even awake enough to operate a helicopter on no more sleep than Soichiro himself had had.
Ignoring the protests of his back muscles, Soichiro stood and stretched. "I think it's my turn to make coffee." He started moving toward the hall leading to the kitchen.
"Huh? Oh, Chief, Mogi already made another pot. You can make the next one – if you can beat Watari to it, since he's on his way back." Matsuda smiled.
"I see. Thank you, Matsuda. And Mogi."
"Do you want me to bring you a cup, Chief?"
"That's alright – I need to stretch my legs anyway." Soichiro hoped as he walked away that a little more caffeine would help him clear the fog from his mind. As he entered the hallway, he cast a glance backward toward his son, who was sitting silently at his usual spot in front of the computer as though nothing had changed.
"Hey Light, do you want some coffee too?"
"No thanks, Matsuda, I think I'm good right now." Light didn't turn around and seemed focused on trying to recover data from the wiped hard drives, though he did not seem frustrated by his lack of success.
Watching from across the room, Mogi noticed that Light still had a very faint smile, reminding him of Light's loopy laughter. He realized that it might be too much to expect Light not to show some sign of strain following the events of that afternoon and evening, but it was the kind of response he had shown that Mogi found disquieting. If only I'd found another flashdrive, Mogi thought, or something else to show us what he really did.
The elevator's ding drew everyone's eye. Steel doors were still sliding aside when the chorus of greetings began.
"Aizawa! It's about time!" Matsuda was beaming, and moved to shake his hand.
"Good to see you, Aizawa." Mogi nodded, a smile warming his face.
"Welcome back." Light stood and bowed his head, remaining close to his work station.
"It is good to see that you survived your ordeal." L had spun his chair to face Aizawa and was now tilting his head slightly. Mogi couldn't tell if he was pleased, amused, or just curious.
"Thanks everyone. It's good to be back." Aizawa seemed tired as he looked around the room, nodding.
"I expect this may be a moot point, but just for our edification . . ." L reached for a stack of papers and lifted one with a man's name and face on it by its corner. "Do you recognize this man?"
Aizawa walked into the center of the room, and L rolled forward in his chair, meeting him halfway, handing him the page. "Huh. Yeah, actually. This is one of the three guys who took Ide and me, but . . . he went by the name 'John.'"
"An alias?"
"Yeah. It makes sense. Before they cleared us, they had a theory that Kira was a member of the Task Force."
"Whoa, what?" Matsuda seemed shocked. Mogi noticed that Light seemed like he was trying not to pay attention, though Light's jaw had clenched, but then wondered if he was reading too much into things.
"Hm, well, it is good to know that I am not the only one who has had that thought." L crunched a pink stick-like cookie and took the page back from Aizawa, rolling backward to the desk with the push of one foot.
"Well, since I was the one they suspected, I'm glad they changed their minds." Aizawa shook his head, stifling a yawn. "Things may have been a little bumpy at first, but . . . I can vouch for those guys." Aizawa looked squarely at L. "Their methods were a little unorthodox, but I guess I've gotten used to that."
A wisp of a smile touched L's lips. "I am glad to hear it."
Aizawa frowned, sweeping the room quickly with his eyes. "Wait, where's the Chief? And Matsuda, what the hell are you wearing?"
"Oh, the Chief's getting more coffee, and, um . . . well, these doctor's scrubs were the only thing there was to wear after the nurse undressed me, and when –"
"What?" Aizawa's mouth was open. Mogi wondered if Matsuda noticed that every eyebrow in the room was now raised. "You mean when Ide and I were being kidnapped, you were on some kinky date?"
"No! No, it wasn't like that at all!" Matsuda's face went beet red. "See, she maced me because she thought we were stalking her outside St. Luke's, but then she realized we were cops, and she said she was sorry, but my clothes were ruined, so she had to give me new ones, and then I just didn't have time to change, and these are more comfortable anyway . . ." Matsuda trailed off as he noticed that Aizawa had started to laugh.
"Matsuda . . . that could only happen to you." Aizawa clapped him on the shoulder.
Dipping his head for a moment as some of the color lifted from his cheeks, Matsuda then looked up with a half-grin. "Yeah, well, it was after you guys got kidnapped anyway – you were probably all best buddies by the time that happened."
"Hey, I said I could vouch for them, not that we were buddies. By the way," Aizawa raised an eyebrow, "the nurse who undressed you wouldn't happen to have been blonde, would she?"
"Wow, yeah, she was! Do you know her, Aizawa?"
Aizawa laughed. "Not exactly, but I can't wait for you to tell Ide this story!"
"Hey, it's all true – just ask the Chief!"
"Right, so where is –"
"I'm here, Aizawa." Holding a mug, Soichiro walked toward Aizawa and shook his hand warmly. "It's good to have you back."
"Thanks, Chief."
"I hope you've brought good news."
Mogi saw Aizawa's smile falter and knew. They really found something, Mogi thought, and if he's reacting this way to the Chief . . . odds are it implicates Light. Mogi suddenly wondered if he'd been spending too much time around L to be analyzing people's behavior to this extent. He then noticed that he wasn't the only one who seemed uncomfortable and decided that everyone must be having similar thoughts.
"I am curious to know where the lab that is processing the results you mentioned is located, but that can wait until after you brief us on your findings, Aizawa." L leaned toward him, hands placed loosely on knees.
Aizawa seemed to notice that all eyes in the room were on him, and straightened slightly. "Most of what we did all day was interview people, search some public areas, and look at video recordings."
"So they were investigating Kira too?" Light's voice seemed to surprise Aizawa.
"Well, no, not really." Aizawa seemed uneasy, but met Light's eye. "They were investigating the disappearance of Naomi Misora."
Light gave no outward appearance of surprise at this, seeming only to freeze for a moment, but Mogi thought it was odd not to react more considering that everyone else was reacting in surprise. He noticed L staring intently at Light and wondered if he saw anything Mogi was missing.
"Wow, I'd almost forgotten about her . . ." Matsuda looked sheepish. "Who did you talk to?"
Aizawa took a deep breath. "We talked to her parents first – good people, both of them. You'd expect any parents to not want to believe their child is dead, let alone dead by suicide, but . . . her father said he just wanted to know what happened to her. Even if suicide was the reason, he needed to make sense of it. They played us the phone messages Naomi had left for them, the ones they still had saved. The first one was cheerful, talking about wedding plans; the next one was short – she sounded raw, only telling them that her fiancé had died – but the last one . . . she sounded calm, determined. It seemed like she was trying to placate her parents, but one thing she said stood out to me: 'There's something I have to finish, for Raye's sake.' Her mother said she sounded angry on that message, but it was subtle enough that only a mother would be able to tell."
"Hmm . . . I still doubt that Misora would kill herself out of remorse or despair, but anger and determination would not rule out the possibility of suicide . . ." L mused.
"Yeah, that's what I thought at the time too. Then we went to the NPA. After talking to Nakahara and Tomonaga, who were working at the front desk during that period, we reviewed surveillance video taken on the day Misora disappeared." Aizawa looked directly at L. "It was when we met you for the first time, and no one was at Task Force headquarters."
Mogi saw L's expression darken, but no one spoke, waiting for Aizawa to continue.
"She was asking to speak directly to the Task Force, insisting she had important information on the Kira case that she needed to share, and then," Aizawa turned to Light, "the Chief's son walked up and started talking to her." All other eyes seemed to turn to Light as well.
"I remember that day," Light said, sounding almost too casual to be casual. "I was bringing Dad a change of clothes. It was before I joined the Task Force. She seemed nice enough, if a little flaky."
"Mm. Couldn't have been Misora then – she was the antithesis of flaky." L cracked a pocky in two, devouring it, eyelids drooping just a bit.
"Well, the death of her fiancé must have been affecting her – I just talked to her until she calmed down, and –"
"That's all very interesting, but I'd like to hear the rest of what Aizawa has to say first." L pointedly turned to Aizawa after interrupting Light, who turned slightly pink.
"Anyway," Aizawa returned his gaze to L, "the video recording was pretty clear, so it was definitely Misora and Light. They talked for awhile inside and then left the lobby together, still talking. There was no way of telling where they went or who else they might have encountered once they got out of range of the front door security cameras, but . . . Misora is seen almost an hour later walking alone past the front of the NPA building. It was uncanny – the first time she shows up at the NPA, she's determined to talk to the Task Force, almost yelling at the front desk guys, but the last time . . . she just walks by the entrance, like it's not even important to her anymore. Whatever else may have happened to change her mind," Aizawa glanced at Soichiro, "it looks like Light may have been the last person to speak to her before she died."
Fans whirring in computers seemed to be the only semblance of breathing in the room for a moment, and Mogi didn't dare look at Soichiro or Light.
"We don't have any proof that she died – I mean, it would be tragic if that were the case, but she may have –"
"We found remains." Aizawa interrupted Light. "That's what the lab is testing right now."
"Hmm . . ." L's eyes were on Light, who seemed to have paled slightly, but his mind seemed elsewhere. "If they do turn out to be Misora's remains, then at least her family will have closure. She was an impressive FBI agent. I do wish we knew what information she had wanted to share with us, however."
"Well yeah, but what does all this mean?" Matsuda rubbed his chin. "It's all so –"
"Light." Soichiro's voice was soft, but cut through every other sound in the room.
"Yes, Dad?"
"Misora's information was in our files for the Kira case, including her photo and the fact that she was missing. Why didn't you tell any of us that you met and spoke with this woman before now?"
Everyone turned slowly toward Light, who suddenly seemed at a loss for words.
#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#
Matryoshka
Tinny laughter erupted into the air as he exited the kitchen. Sighing, he reached for the off-switch, silencing the malevolent-looking pumpkin man on the hall table before lifting it by the head and continuing down the hallway. He'd spent much of the week taking down the myriad Halloween decorations, but a few items had escaped him only to re-emerge elsewhere, often underfoot but always in the way. It was tedious and annoying dealing with such pranks, but his efforts here were a labor of love, even if the object of his love was far away.
Dinner would be ending soon, and a joyful clinking of silver on porcelain still reached his ears as he walked. He idly hoped that all of the candy had been eaten as well, if only so that he would no longer need to hear all the arguing over stolen chocolate. Reaching his office door at last, he entered and shut it behind him, dropping the plastic pumpkin-headed figure into the wastebasket without a second glance. His feet carried him quite automatically to his desk, and he took his place behind it.
The package was where he'd left it, locked inside a drawer. Nearly the same thing as just leaving it out, he thought, which only guarantees that no one bothered to look at it. It had resembled any of the other packages he was always receiving when he ordered more books for the library or himself, though the return address had been smudged enough to become illegible. It had not, however, contained the updated astrophysics textbooks or the latest Terry Pratchett novel he'd ordered – the package had contained a package. Affixed on the outside of the interior package, a typed label read: "U.K. Government Property – Deliver Promptly to Inspector General Roger Ruvie." Is Quills having me on? he'd thought. Then he'd opened the interior package to behold . . . another package.
This time there was a note – handwritten, no less, but not in Wammy's hand. The sharp strokes of L's handwriting were unmistakable, as was its tone. "Roger: Please retain this central package in safekeeping without opening it. If the 21-day countdown begins, wait 7 days, then open it in private and follow the instructions therein. If the countdown reaches its full conclusion, you already know what to do. If the 21-day protocol does not go into effect at all, simply keep the package in the safe for my return. Regards, That Black-Haired Bastard."
Roger scowled. One off-color remark, made many years ago, and L still wouldn't let him live it down, no matter how much calmer and more deferential Roger had become around L and the others. I suppose this is as much of a sense of humor as he can muster, Roger ruminated, shaking his head. It was odd to have received this package just hours after the 21-day countdown began, but Roger found it even more puzzling now that the countdown had already stopped. Knowing that the protocol was not about to go into effect did nothing to soothe his nerves, however, considering the added instructions from L, both known and unknown. What the bloody hell are you two doing over there, Roger thought bitterly.
He knew he'd have to put the package in the safe quickly, before the children left the dining room – this was his first real opportunity since it had arrived, and he could not afford to spark their curiosity about it. The door to the basement, which led to the high security safe below, was just across the hall from his own. He stood and moved steadily to re-cross the room, the resealed box in a box in a box tucked casually under his arm.
His resentment of L and the changes he'd brought to their lives had dimmed over the years, but Roger still wished that L's activities and obligations didn't keep him separate from Wammy so much of the time. They were both getting on in years, and it had been some time since they had been intimate, though truth be told that wasn't what he missed most about the older man, not really. Roger missed the easy companionship, the conversation, and the simple comfort of spending time with someone who understood and accepted him completely – not to mention Wammy's uncanny knack for calming the children with only a word or a look.
Glancing left, Roger stepped from one threshold to the next, unlocking the basement door and moving through it, relocking it behind him as quickly as he could. He flicked the light switch automatically, though he'd gotten down these stairs by feel alone before. Bypassing crates and machinery and the small rack of wines he kept for special occasions, he walked straight for the floor-to-ceiling safe, every bit as big as a bank vault, but with ten times more security features. As the infrared camera scanned him, he stepped up to the vault door and placed his palm on the reader. After hearing a beep, he removed his glasses for the retinal scanner, going over the entry codes in his mind – one to enter, another to replace it upon exiting. At least it doesn't require me to dance a jig or spin gold from hay to open the damned thing, he thought, tapping in the first code. At last, the safe door unlatched with a sound like an arthritic robot trying to stand.
He walked in and placed the package, all of it, in one of the compartments within the safe and locked it inside, keying in "bastard" as its code. A pang of guilt hit Roger as he backed away, heading toward the still-open mouth of the safe, knowing what the implications of his receiving the package meant. If L is worried enough to suggest that the 21-day countdown might complete, putting the protocol into effect, he thought, they are in more danger than I'd feared, and here I am putting quips into keycodes. The safe door completed its slow swing and shut with a heavy thrum and crank. Roger entered an alphanumeric code based on the notes from part of a melody in "Budo" by Miles Davis and backed away from the safe, infrared camera still tracking him. Ignoring the stiffness in his knees, he began climbing the stairs, hand gripping the railing.
"He'll be the death of you, you know."
"Life will be the death of us all, Roger. I might as well live with a view toward enriching the world we share."
Their words, exchanged nearly a decade ago, rang in his head. Establishing this orphanage, and the others that followed, was supposed to have been their way of enriching the world while still settling down. When he'd met Quillish Wammy, the man had been a dashing war veteran and an innovative inventor, a strange embodiment of destruction and creation wrapped into one person. Almost a year after they'd become involved, Roger had discovered that his "Quills" had been conducting detective work on his own, trying to help the police solve crimes under the radar. Only a near-miss that had almost gotten him framed for murder had convinced Wammy to stop his vigilante investigations and start the orphanage with Roger. Until he'd brought L home. L, who solved cases far more quickly than Wammy, or anyone else, had before him. L, who obsessively sought out cases to solve with more zeal than Wammy ever had. It had changed everything, including the focus of the orphanages, and Roger still worried at how quickly the safe distraction of running an orphanage had become the thing enabling the obsession he'd tried to quell. Please be safe, Quills, Roger thought; I can't bear to do this alone.
The scent of roasted chicken and gravy still hung in the air as he re-emerged into the hallway. Breathing deeply, he closed and locked the door and turned back – to regard two small sentinels staring up at him, seemingly materialized out of thin air.
"So, what are you hiding from us now?"
Roger balefully assessed the defiant blond boy. "Mello, you know better than to ask me that. Halloween may be over, but Christmas is coming." He felt the boys' eyes on him as he stepped around them to re-enter his office.
"You've been edgy all afternoon, Roger – something's up. Don't treat us like we're little kids." Mello's rising voice carried well in the hallway.
"Perhaps I've been on edge," Roger turned to meet Mello's eye, "because someone has been strewing assorted toys and other noisemakers in my path for the past few days and I'm tired of it. Such behavior would be appropriate for 'little kids,' though I can hardly imagine who might be responsible." Glowering, Roger noted the blush on the boys' faces with some satisfaction and walked into his office without another look back. Eventually, he heard footsteps, moving away.
"Maybe it really was just Christmas stuff. I hope I get a new –"
"Shut up, Matt."
"Hey! Not everything's a fucking conspiracy, dumbass!"
"Shut the fuck up! The whole world can hear you!"
Roger's eyes were still closed, his hands clasped before him, as the voices moved out of range. He did not have the energy to follow and reprimand the two boys for their profanity, let alone stand firm against a renewed onslaught of unanswerable questions. Reaching over to the side table, he lifted the framed photo of Wammy, holding it in front of his face. It looked as though the man's eyes had been closed when the photo was taken, but Roger knew they were not. The slightest sliver of sight slipped in through lowered lids as though his eyelashes could filter the world, let Wammy see only what needed to be seen. Roger stared at his face, captured in time, and wondered what sights he was filtering now.
#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#
Author's Note: Sonar called it with the appearance of Ide and Aizawa on their drive back, but no luck with Ide meeting L – I couldn't see L letting him into HQ, in part because of what L said but also because L is a stubborn mofo. Heh, I guess Ide and Matsuda are going to have an interesting conversation about a nurse the next time they meet. Soichiro seems to be opening his eyes a bit more, but Light can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be . . .
And that's right, I paired Watari and Roger – ha! No sex scenes though, sorry. ^_^ The nickname "Quills" isn't just a play on the name Quillish, by the way; it's a porcupine reference (ironic, since Roger is the pricklier of the two of them). I wasn't even sure I'd be including Roger's section in this until I got to the signature of L's note to him and cracked up. Only a teeny glimpse of Mello and Matt in this – I'm considering writing something featuring them in another fic, we'll see. I imagine both Roger and Watari as being into jazz, but not the same kinds – Roger would be more into moody/experimental jazz and blues (Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Son Seals), while Watari would prefer cooler jazz (Chet Baker, Dave Brubeck, etc.). I may have put too much thought into this . . . It's possible that I'll add a list of songs as character themes at the end of this fic.
Two more chapters to go. I couldn't believe how long this was becoming when I started this, and now I can scarcely believe it's almost over. Thanks to everyone reading for hanging with me for so long.