TheBlackArtist: This is the last chapter of L's past, don't you worry. ^^; Yeahhh...It's pretty terrible. Aha...

B: Ah! Merry Christmas to you too!

Ahh, a merry Christmahannakwaanzanewyear's, everyone!

Sorry I forgot to update on Thursday...and then yesterday I forgot my USB at my mother's... ^^; Whoops. So here's the last chapter of L's past!

I'm actually pretty surprised I remembered today, either, because...well...it's my birthday... Ehehe...

But yosh, I'm sorry I've been so busy lately; I hope to be able to reply to everyone after the holidays, maybe!

Enjoy the final chapter~

In the near-black, there was the echoing of a slam, and shouting. Things were duller, then all dark. There was the feeling of the hands being ripped from his throat, the feeling of falling, and then the feeling of collapse as he took gasping breaths of air without thinking. He felt the blood rushing back into his head almost painfully, and the relief it brought. It was like life flooding into his skull. He saw the black slowly fading, and he found his eyes were still wide open. He was lying limply on the ground, leaning against the wall, and there were people everywhere. Four people, including Uncle. Two of the men were over by Uncle. He heard one of them say, "You are under arrest for being a suspect for the murder of your wife, as well as for attacking that child." Uncle's hands were behind his back. The third officer was at L's side, asking him if he was alright.

Slowly, L's thought processes returned to him, and he could carefully look at the policewoman at his side. It hurt to move his head. There was actually a moment that he thought it was Mommy there, but then his eyes made sense of things and it was just a policewoman with brown, medium-length hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Hey, kid, are you alright? Can you speak?"

He tried to speak as she asked, but only a dry, choked sound came out, and he ended up just coughing.

"Do you want some water? Just nod if you want it."

L hesitated, then nodded. She gave him a water bottle, and he was soon taken to the hospital. Uncle was taken somewhere else. After he was checked, he sat quietly in a chair beneath the artificial lights as someone called Daddy. He was asked questions by the police officers, and he answered all he could. L was asked about Uncle; asked if he had hurt him often. L opened his mouth to speak. Hesitated. Closed his mouth again, but nodded, staring at the ground.

Daddy came only half an hour later, and upon seeing his son immediately strode over to him and pulled him into his embrace. "Oh God," were his first words, and he held his son there in his arms for awhile and wouldn't let go. L hugged him back, and in Daddy's warm embrace, all seemed better. They stayed like that for a bit, and then Daddy's voice came low and soft and raspy by L's ear. "What happened?" And he released his son and looked at him. Looked at the dark blue and purple marks on his neck. "Can you… tell me what happened?"

L looked away and shrugged. "Uncle got mad," was his explanation.

"Son, did—?" Daddy broke off, then tried again. "…Has he always been hurting you?"

L, still not looking at him, nodded slightly. Less hesitation this time around.

"All of the cuts… all of the bruises… the broken rib?"

L nodded again, and there was silence. He eventually looked up at his father. He was crying. "Oh God, why… why didn't you tell me? I could have…. Oh God…." And the tears spilled and ran down his cheeks. L watched them without any tears of his own, but stepped forward and put his arms around Daddy's shoulders.

They eventually went home, and as day passed into night and L was put to bed, Daddy asked him, "Why do you have nightmares?"

L looked at him. "Uncle, mostly," he answered simply, and Daddy bowed his head. Nodded. Tucked in his son, telling him it was alright now, telling him it was over and Daddy would protect him, that Daddy was here now and he wasn't leaving, that Daddy wouldn't leave him in a place like that ever again…. He tried to hide the tear that ran down his cheek, but L saw it anyway. And L fell asleep that night in his small bedroom, with Daddy beside him, holding his hand all through the night. And for the first time in years, L slept peacefully.

When L awoke, he saw that Daddy was still there, and he was comforted. He was lying with his torso on the mattress as he still sat on a small chair beside the bed. L smiled ever so slightly, and contemplated things. Was it really over? Could it really be that his times with Uncle were over? Could things be finally happy? He tried not to hope, but….

Auntie's funeral was that day. Auntie seemed finally at peace when L saw her body. And at the funeral itself, the bells were ringing, ringing as the casket was placed above the grave and the priest gave his final words. L realized truly that this was the woman that had saved his life. And for that, he was grateful. So grateful. But he didn't cry. He could see Uncle standing off to the side with his hands behind him, bound in handcuffs. There was a police officer at either side of him. L supposed he was permitted to come to Auntie's funeral. Uncle looked up from the casket and caught L's eye. His eyes showed such utter loathing; such intense hatred and anger that L could only stare back, subconsciously gripping at Daddy's long black coat he always wore. Daddy looked down at him, then looked to Uncle. Uncle looked at him, and Daddy glared daggers at the man who had hurt his son countless times. There was a wordless exchange between the two, and both of them looked away. Uncle was the first to do so, and that made L smile slightly. Because in a sense, Daddy had won that wordless battle.

That night, L walked up to his father later in the night, greeting him with a small, "Daddy?"

Daddy looked at him, then crouched down to be closer to his height. "Yes?"

L gazed down at him. "Can… can I tell you?"

"Tell me what, Son?"

He didn't like having Daddy shorter than him. He liked being the short one, because that way he felt more hidden. Less exposed. "Tell you… what happened. Tell you the things that happened that I haven't been able to say. I…." He wrung his wrists. "I read that it helps to tell."

His eyes were sad as they looked up at L. "Of course. Would you like to sit on the couch with me?"

They headed to the couch, and L began to slowly and haltingly explain the things that had gone on, unknown by Daddy. Of having to do the dishes and the laundry the first day of his second week there. Of how Uncle had been upset because he did the laundry wrong. Of how he'd been hurt because he'd spilt his milk. Of the whipping with the belt the next week because Uncle was convinced L was trying to steal Auntie. Of the winter where Uncle had left him in the cold and Auntie had saved him. Of the night he'd walked in to Uncle and Auntie having sex and of the day Auntie had tried to fight back. Of the night Uncle had acted nice until nighttime, where he'd utterly terrified L. Of the time when Uncle had broken his rib. Of the most recent instance where Uncle had tried to strangle him. L did not get into detail on how it felt, or what it had done to his spirit and mind, or anything incredibly personal, because he didn't think he was quite ready for that yet. (And he never would be, no, not until the Bond with Sam.) But he did tell Daddy about exactly what Uncle had done physically, and Daddy would hug his son and say 'I'm sorry,' over and over once he was done, rocking back and forth like he sometimes did when he hugged him. "Oh God, Son, what did I put you through?" Daddy murmured, holding L close. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry…."

"It wasn't your fault," L said quietly, and things were silent. They shared the silence together, and eventually Daddy tucked him in and stayed with him all night again. It was nice.

Time passed. L was slowly coming to grasp that it really was over at last. Uncle was determined to be the murderer of Alice, and was sentenced to a lifetime in prison for that reason. L couldn't help but feel a measure of satisfaction in knowing he'd be put to justice after all. He was also charged for child abuse, which L also agreed was just. It felt good to have justice back. As the September passed on, the weather grew colder and eventually the Blackberry Festival came on Saturday the twenty-sixth. Daddy was holding his hand rather than carrying him, but it was still a wonderful time watching the floats, wearing his large scarf that covered the bruises on his neck.

"Things were bad, weren't they?" asked Daddy, with his hand around L's.

L looked at him. He wasn't looking down at his son. "Yeah," he said, looking back out to the floats. To all the smiling people. "I guess so."

"Son, tell me…. Will you defeat them? Your demons?"

"My demons?" L repeated.

"The things that Uncle no doubt planted in you. Hatred. Self-loathing, maybe. The inability to trust. Maybe a habit of lying…."

L looked up at him again. "…I'll try," he said eventually. For you, Daddy, he added in his mind.

"And know I believe you can keep going. You really are a little genius, you know. How far are you in your studies, Son?"

"I'm at… tenth grade…."

Daddy looked down at him for a moment. "Wow. And you're only seven. Just…." He shook his head. "That's amazing. But that's exactly my point. I believe in you, and don't you let anyone think lowly of you anymore. First, defeat the demons in you. Then defeat the non-believers. Prove them wrong…. Prove Uncle Jack wrong for me, okay? I have the feeling you will go on to save many people when you're older…." He squeezed L's hand, and L squeezed back, gazing up at him even though Daddy wasn't looking back anymore. "Those who are doomed… the beaten… the broken…. You're going to grow up to be an influential man, and I know it. You'll be the savior of those people…. And I'm not leaving you anymore, okay? I won't leave your side."

L looked back out to the parade. "Don't lie," he said softly. "Anything could happen. I could lose you too."

Daddy pulled his lips into a thin line. "…You know, Son…. You're right." He chuckled slightly. "You're thinking more realistically than me, at this point…." He paused. "You're right. One day, I'll have to leave you. But when that day comes, whenever it may arrive, I'll watch over you and guide you just like your mother is undoubtedly doing at this very moment." L thought of the moment he'd seen Mommy when he had been coughing up blood. He thought of how he had heard the bells…. But he didn't mention it. "I'll have to leave you one day… and I'll only be a ghost of a shadow, but I will somehow take care of you." He smiled down at L. "But let's just hope that that day won't come any time soon, alright?"

L forced a smile. "Yeah. But then… life can do terrible things, right?"

Daddy's eyes grew sad. "Yeah…. Life can do terrible things."

After the parade, they had their strawberry cake and Daddy told L stories of Mommy and even of Auntie, but mostly of Mommy. And after everything seemed to wind down and the memories had caught up to the present, things were silent. L stared at his hands as he sat beside his father on the couch. There was only the sound of their breathing, and things were good. But something was nagging at L.

"…Uncle didn't do it," he said through the silence, and Daddy looked up.

"What?"

"Uncle didn't do it. Uncle didn't kill Auntie."

Daddy blinked, and there was more silence. "Well… what makes you think that?"

"It's just… the way things work. The fact that all the evidence points to Uncle doesn't necessarily mean it has to be him…. I think it was someone else. Things just don't quite fit. Sure, there is no evidence of the house being broken into, but it couldn't have been Uncle. Uncle may have been a very bad person, but I think that he wouldn't kill Auntie, no matter how mad he got. He may have been mean, but he isn't an idiot…. He needed Auntie. She was the money, she was the cook, she was thing keeping him with a home and on his feet. Plus, I think that, in some twisted way, he still loved her…. He wouldn't kill her."

Daddy thought on this. "Well… Son… sometimes, when people get really angry, they can't control themselves anymore. Especially when they have alcohol…. I'm sure that Uncle didn't mean to kill her, sure, but…. Things happen."

L shook his head. "It wasn't him. It was someone else. I know it. Uncle…." He stared at his hands hard. "Uncle doesn't deserve the sentencing he has right now." He clenched his small hands into fists. "As much as I don't like him… I can't deny justice like he did."

Daddy gazed at him. "You're convinced," he remarked. "But really… evidence is something to rely on, you know. And the police have got the evidence. Uncle was a heavy drinker, so that explains that part, right? And he was violent. He's hurt Auntie more than once before, and there's proof of that…."

"But there's a problem," L said. "Even when Uncle was drinking a lot from his flask, he still had some logic. Kinda like how he only did the worst of things to me when I had to sleep over."

Daddy swallowed and looked away with what seemed to be guilt.

"Like… he wouldn't have gone so far as to break my rib and all that if I weren't sleeping over those next two nights. I think he knew that if he'd done it a different time, then he would be questioned by you and he'd be caught…."

Daddy looked at him. "You know, you're starting to convince me. Keep going."

"Well, there's also that he left me in the cold that day, but he only did it because he knew I was sleeping over that night. Both times I nearly died, I'm pretty sure… but he knew Auntie could help me, and he knew I would have the time to get better enough for him to not be questioned. It was only that day that he didn't care anymore. Because… it was because Auntie was dead, and… I think after she died he just got so angry he snapped. See? And with him having logic even when he drinks and when he's angry, then of course he's not going to kill Auntie. No matter how much he wins over her, he does need her. He did need her."

"I… get it," said Daddy, gazing at L. "You know, you really are a smart kid."

L smiled slightly.

"Now tell me, Son, if it wasn't Uncle Jack, then who was it and how do we catch them? That, Son; that is the main question here."

"You're right, but…. I'm going to figure it out." Because no matter how much L disliked Uncle, there was a sense of justice here. And as much as L didn't want to save him; as much as he wanted to see Uncle rot in jail for all his life now that he had finally been defeated…. It wasn't right. He couldn't help but remind himself of his belief in justice, and of how Uncle had acted unjust to him. Sure, maybe one day if Uncle – or anyone – were to confront him and attack him physically, maybe he would be able to make everything an eye for an eye, and things would be fair. But Uncle was charged with murder, and he didn't kill Auntie. He didn't deserve his sentence. He deserved the sentence of child abuse and perhaps of domestic violence. Not of murder.

L began to work on who it could be over the next few weeks, and he found that Daddy was staying home every day. "I quit my job," Daddy explained proudly when L had asked, and L had smiled up at him slightly. And he had wondered about the money, but Daddy had laughed at his maturity and explained to him that he could figure it out in time. They had enough to sustain them for a while before that, so they were fine.

L began putting the pieces together, eventually asking Daddy to take him to Uncle's abandoned home to look at something. Something rattled inside the door as they entered, and L marked that off in his head in case. He couldn't help but freeze when he tried to enter the home. It seemed like he was walking into another day at Uncle's, filled with pain. But he pushed on anyway and tried to concentrate. Made notes of little things. "I don't have Luminol," he realized blankly, standing in the kitchen, then thought to himself, Most of the blood is probably mine anyway. "Mmm," he hummed with a frown, staring at the ceiling. If ever I become a detective, I'm not going to be the one at the crime scene. I'm used to having the things found for me when it comes to evidence. I mean… I could do it if I didn't have good enough people. Hm.

But he searched the house and found nothing unusual. As L walked out of the hallway, he saw his father standing in the living room staring out the window and thought it was Uncle. He stopped short and paled before remembering that it wasn't Uncle; it couldn't be Uncle. Daddy turned to him and smiled, and L forced a smile back before he asked politely if they could please go home now (because he really, really didn't like this place).

Things slowly came together as October began to move onward. The rattling in the doorway became more than just a small detail, and L found himself back at Uncle's one day with Daddy and a screwdriver. He asked Daddy to unscrew the metal part on the door with the door handle and lock on it, and Daddy obeyed easily and pulled it out. Something fell out, and L grabbed it off of the ground.

Daddy looked at it oddly. "What is that?"

L only stared at it between his thumb and forefinger. (He didn't quite understand why, but he just didn't like touching things anymore.)

"Wait…," said Daddy. "I think it might be a part of a bobby pin."

L smiled slightly, gazing at it. Someone had broken into the house. They headed back home, and L would work on fitting the pieces together while Daddy worked around the house. Sometimes he would check on his son and just watch him work in interest, likely amazed that his seven-year-old son was solving a real murder case. His traumatized, brilliant seven-year-old son. Once, Daddy asked him, "Why do you sit like that?"

L looked up at him. "I just… do."

"Does it help you think?"

L looked up to the ceiling. When he didn't sit like this, he would feel exposed. Feeling exposed made him worry about being hurt or chastised, which thus distracted him…. He simply couldn't think as well while not in the position. "I guess so… yeah."

Daddy chuckled. "You know, you really are a little genius. I'm coming to expect you to talk to me in terms even I don't know just to confuse me. In all honesty, I though you were going to say something like, 'Well, Father, if I don't sit like this, my deductive reasoning drops by forty percent!'" And Daddy laughed. "Sometimes it's like you aren't an almost-eight-year-old…."

L had smiled at him, and then he continued to piece things together again. The perpetrator was a male, and according to Auntie's past he was likely a man she'd dated for awhile in a time when she had tried to get away from Uncle. (But of course Uncle had gotten her back, because Uncle had always won until the day the handcuffs were put around his wrists.) The man, named Joshua Patel, once had a wife (one with hair held out of her face with bobby pins), but she had disappeared mysteriously a few months ago. It was him that killed Auntie, not Uncle. L had learned his type of person. Jealous. And one who wanted to express his anger. He was probably irritated that Uncle had been accused rather than him, and for that L knew that the man was going to kill again. He had killed his wife, most likely, and then he had killed Auntie. The next person… was….

But the case didn't take up all of his time. He did rather like the idea of Uncle being stuck in jail forever and ever, or at least until he died. No, most of his time was spent with Daddy. Daddy taught him to dance again, tried his best to make the sweet things a child loves like Mommy used to do, and all around created good memories with his son. And even though Mommy was gone, it was likely L's happiest memories.

There came a time when the clouds came in and it began to rain. It was a cold October, though, and so the rain was freezing. L didn't care. It was the last week of October when the rain began; the week of L's birthday. And he found himself on the roof often despite the cold. (And besides, it could never be as cold as it had been that February when he was four.) The sky was dark as the rain poured, icy cold against his skin. But he only gazed up at the grey sky and thought of everything. Whenever he came back in through the window, Daddy would always be waiting with a towel and a smile.

On October twenty-eighth, the rain turned to snow early in the morning. L awoke just in time to hear the morning bells tolling. Daddy was sitting in the chair by his bed, awaiting his wake-up. "Good morning," L greeted, and got up. The sky was dark even after the sun had risen and was set high in the sky. L made his final calculations that day. It wasn't just his wife and Auntie that Joshua Patel had killed. He'd killed others; all of them with their cases not closed yet. All of them women. And there was a pattern, too….

He went to Daddy and announced his presence by tugging lightly at his shirt. He had been putting dishes away. "Hm?" he asked wordlessly, and looked down at L.

"He's going to kill that policewoman," he said softly. "He's going to kill the nice lady that gave me water right after Uncle hurt me that day it ended. She was so nice, Daddy. I don't want her to die… or anyone…."

"What woman?" Daddy asked, surprised. "You mean Mrs. Cox? The brown-haired lady whose sister we used to see in church? Her sister; you know. Miss Perdue."

L thought on this, and nodded. "Yeah… her. And he's going to kill her today, Daddy."

Daddy stared at him. Set down his dishes, and walked back out to the living room. L followed him and watched as Daddy began putting on his black coat. "Daddy," L said worriedly, "what are you doing?"

"Well, I'm going out to warn her. She's a cop, so she can take care of herself, but it's always better to know what's coming, right? I've gotta let her know…. I can't just let her get killed."

L gazed, wide-eyed, at his father and clutched at his long coat to stop him. "But I dunno when he'll do it. I dunno when he'll do it, Daddy; what if he tries while you're there? I don't want you to… to die…." He shook his head, then tried to add logic. "I mean, Daddy, if you go now, when we know that the killer is out there, you could—you could be throwing your life away."

But Daddy only chuckled and ruffled his son's hair. "Come now, I'm not throwing it away. We don't know for sure, and there's still a chance to help her. I'm risking my life. Risking your life and doing something that could easily rob you of your life are exact opposites." He crouched down to be at L's level and gave him a closed-eye smile. "Besides, don't you think your own father can take care of himself? Here, I'm not going to stay with her and try to be her bodyguard or anything, alright?"

L was still staring at him, horrified at the mere idea of this one man's death. The only support he had left. Daddy looked at him for a second. "C'mere," he said, and pulled him into a hug. L accepted his warm embrace gladly. "Mrs. Cox is going to be walking around Axbridge on her daily patrol. I think that around noon, she's at the town square. It's almost noon, so I'll head to the town square and tell her what she needs to know. Then I'll come right back. Okay? You stay here."

L burrowed his face into Daddy's chest, clutching at his coat. "Okay…," he mumbled, his voice muffled.

All too soon, the hug ended and Daddy left out the door into the snow under the dark grey sky. L sat himself on the couch, fighting to sit normally as he did so. Sometimes he could, while Daddy was around. But now he was alone, and it made him edgy. "Killers usually strike at night," he assured himself. "Not midday…. And besides, he's only killed girls." There was a pause, then he gave up the fight and got into his position instead. It made him feel more protected. Calm. He bit his thumbnail. But we live in a small town with barely any traffic. Timing doesn't matter, and if anyone is in his way, he's going to kill them too…. He shook his head. He was just worrying. It was irrational. Daddy would be fine. Of course he'd be fine.

Nonetheless, L found himself getting to his feet and heading over to the door to grab his coat and scarf. His coat was only half-on when he was out the door, and once he had his coat buttoned he hastily wrapped his scarf around his neck. The bruises were fading, now, sure, but it was a brittle cold. Maybe I should have brought my mittens, he thought, and shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he burrowed the bottom half of his face into his scarf. The snow was blanketing the ground, and he could hear it beneath his boots as he walked hurriedly to the town square. He only had to cross one street and round two corners before he was there. And he did so quickly, following in the footsteps his father had left that now were being filled in by the falling snow.

He crossed the street, and he rounded the first corner. He only passed one person on the way. He paused at the final corner, then peered cautiously into the town square. At first glance, there was no one there. Then L could plainly see the shattered door windows of one of the shops, and the group of three that seemed to be into a fight of sorts. L watched, transfixed. Mrs. Cox was bleeding from the head – perhaps her had had been slammed against the door with the shattered windows. She was on the ground in the snow, leaning against the wall of the shop. Stunned, maybe. Daddy was gripping the collar of a man with brown hair that was swept back on his head. Joshua Patel.

L stood there, perfectly still, unable to move even as Daddy noticed him standing there. And he saw Daddy look at him and smile as if to say, 'It's okay; I've got this,' just before Joshua flipped out a switchblade and plunged it beneath Daddy's ribcage. Daddy curled forward, and Joshua shoved him down and kneeled before him so he was practically atop him. Suddenly L's mouth worked again. "Daddy!" L screamed as he watched him grip Joshua's wrist in an attempt to stop him from stabbing him. The moment the blade entered his father's chest for the first time (not counting the stab beneath the ribcage), L unfroze and ran for them, stumbling in the progress and faceplanting into the snow. He had never been a very active child, and was thus not a very good runner. The snow was cold on his face, but he simply scrambled to his feet and continued forward.

There was a horrifying moment where Daddy's hand slipped and Joshua's knife went into Daddy's chest again, and L watched as he grimaced at the pain before he went back to fighting, gripping at Joshua's wrist so he couldn't even pull up again. But the killer twisted the knife instead, and Daddy cried out and let go, allowing Joshua Patel to stab thrice more before there was a gunshot. From Mrs. Cox. Her gun was raised, and the murderer had been shot in the chest. Not a killing wound, but it would keep him down long enough for the forces to arrive.

L realized he was frozen just before the scene, and slowly, ever so slowly, stepped forward, ensuring he could move. Out of his peripheral vision, Mrs. Cox held a communication device to her ear and murmured something before her eyes rolled in her head and she passed out. But once L knew he could move, he ran to Daddy's side and threw himself onto the ground, on his knees beside his father.

"Daddy," L said in a choked voice, "tell me you're alright. Tell me you're alright, Daddy." There was blood soaking through his father's shirt beneath the long dark coat he so loved to wear. The red was seeping into the snow, staining that red too. And ohh, how L hated the red. A horribly bitter taste filled his mouth.

Daddy was smiling at him. He reached up, and put his hand on L's head. L stopped breathing for a moment. There was a weak ruffling of his hair before his hand fell to his cheek, which he stroked as a loving parent would. "Tell me you'll beat them for me, Son," he said in a voice that was weak, so weak. A voice that was soft and not easily heard. One that had pain in each syllable.

L remembered the last Blackberry Festival and the things Daddy had said, the things they had discussed, and the bitter taste got worse. "I promise! I promise, Daddy, just don't—don't leave…."

Daddy's hand lowered and gripped L's hand. "Think of it this way, my little genius…. If I am to go, then at least… at least I'll be with Mommy again." And he smiled at him. "Think of us fondly and know we are together. Always watching."

"Daddy, no…." L felt an odd sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. He was going to cry. "Daddy, you can't die!" No, he was the only one he had left; he was the one who was giving him the gift of healing after four years with Uncle; he was—he was his daddy; he couldn't go now….

Daddy smiled at him as he squeezed his hand one last time. The noon bells began to ring. "Life can do terrible things," he whispered, and stopped squeezing. The bells continued to toll as the light in his eyes began to fade. And, for the first time in forever, L cried, the tears hot as they ran down his face and he screamed over the bells for Daddy to come back, that he needed him, that he couldn't die; he couldn't; but Daddy would not respond. He only lay there, still smiling, gazing at nothing as his hand grew cold even in L's grasp, even as L broke down into sobs and lay on his father's torso that no longer moved as he breathed because he didn't breathe anymore….

And as he closed his eyes and cried there was red, and there were the bells, ever ringing…. The scene would melt away before him and he would wish for the sweet to mask the bitter, but never would he look back… Life could do terrible, terrible things, Son, but it was time to move on….

Time to wake up.

So, there we are. I'll do my best to update next week - I don't know for sure which day it'll happen. Maybe Thursday. Ah, or maybe I'll take a week off, who knows?

Now...did you catch the references to things L said in the manga and anime in this chapter? Cookies for those who caught them~

Also, if you know the song Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance, you might have caught references to that too... ^^; aha...

Fun Fact: I actually started crying when I wrote L's father's death scene. It was the first time I'd made myself actually cry because of writing. It's happened since, but...there we are, eh?

Review? For L's dad?