TheBlackArtist: Hmm, I was originally going to do that for the last one too... Maybeee... Ahhh... Gah, thank you for your input!

B: I guess Light is a pretty weird name, but you know, weird names are okay. Yeah. At least he wasn't named Lamp.
Sometimes I go back to the anime and have a bit of a confused moment myself. It's weird, man.
Really now, wasn't Light pretty good last chapter? I can't seem to remember, whoops.
(Ahh, a lot of them have nice voices, don't they?)

Ahh, yesterday was the date of the fateful meeting at the Yellow Box warehouse. *holds hand over heart*

...Anyhow.

Here's the final chapter! (Well, the epilogue is coming out next week, but whatever.)

I told someone that BB had come in for the last time in this story. I was wrong. ^^; So there's a little bit of him here~

I hope you enjoy~

I've got it. B stopped. All was written; all was configured; he was done. I'm ready. He felt himself trembling slightly. I can give in to any phase now. He stood slowly and headed to the bathroom. He needed to check on his wounds. It had been nearly two weeks since Annalisa had stabbed him, and just a bit less than three weeks since he'd gouged marks into his own chest. Those wounds were fading now, but the stab wound was still unhealed considering the number of times he had reopened it in his Full Moon phases. He just needed to check on it every so often, and now seemed the time to do it. Before the Full Moon came. Or the Fog. Well, the Fog would still work, just….

He caught himself in the mirror and whipped his head around to stare. Suddenly it was the mirror of his now-burned home, and he knew how this would play out – just like it always did; he would laugh and Mommy would rush in to see if he was alright…. "You know there's something wrong when you catch yourself in the mirror and are afraid of the look in your eyes," he uttered to himself. His mouth twitched.

Too late. The Full Moon was here.

He tried to hold it back as he thought of his oblivious mother. The way her head was smashed in. His father, who tried to get it but just didn't. The red in the alley. His brother, who somehow knew his own death. The way his chest had heaved. He thought of the things lost; of innocence and of family and of life and of Sophia—

He released a cry as he flung his fist to the mirror. He didn't want to see it; he didn't want to be reminded of things that he was simply done with. He didn't want to see that look in his eyes that had scared him when he was so young. He didn't want to….

Beyond stared blankly at the broken mirror; at the fractured reflection staring back at him. He slowly removed his arm from the empty cabinet behind the reflective surface and removed his gaze from the reflection. His gaze instead rested on the blood seeping from his arm in a pulsating flow, running down and dripping into the sink. I hit a vein, he thought idly; almost thoughtfully. Blankly. Absently.

He stepped back from the mirror, stumbling before he hit the wall and leaned on its surface. Staring at nothing now as he slid to the ground, where he sat and continued staring nowhere, his blood flowing from his arm and falling in large drops to the ground. A bright red that contrasted with the white tiles. He did nothing to fix the injury in the moment; only gazed emptily at the shards of the broken mirror on the floor.

B knew of cultures… had heard stories of mirrors and how they were cloaked in black whenever someone died. Covered somehow because the world within the mirror was where souls lived… and a soul of the dead might try to enter a mirror and be stuck in this world if one weren't to cover it. The idea of souls living in the mirror was where the whole 'breaking a mirror is bad luck' thing came about. And now, as he stared at the mirror he had broken, he thought to himself that maybe whatever soul he had was broken by now anyhow. It no longer mattered if it were to be to pieces; for all he knew, it already had been.

As the night passed on, the Fog ghosted over his senses and blotted all else out. Eventually, he would tend to his wound, but for now he would be lost in nowhere, his hand on his arm in the subconscious knowledge that he couldn't let himself bleed out. Yes, for now he'd only sit here. Sit here and think and mull over nothing and grow more and more lost in nowhere as the Fog stifled his sense of direction….

Thus the time would pass, but he was done with his work now. Once this phase had waned into Nothing, he would act.

L watched Sam leave the hotel room early the next morning to visit me. "A Kira is ill with a heart attack; how ironic," L had said. "Heart problems for the giver of death by cardiac arrest. Perhaps it's karma." And he'd sipped at his sugary tea and allowed a darker look enter his eyes. "I wonder how this has affected the physicality and mentality of the main Kira, Light Yagami."

Sam had sighed heavily, knowing his thoughts. He thought that Light, by this point, couldn't learn to love another; not unless all of what he'd done had been erased and he had begun judging as Kira anew. And from what they knew, that hadn't happened.

From what they knew.

L returned his gaze to the screens before him, fingering a panda cookie idly. Authorities had determined the suicide of Beyond Birthday to not be a suicide; that the charred body was another victim of his. But L knew it wasn't… it had to have been a suicide. That's what his pattern had implied…. In any case, B was dead now, and if B was dead, L couldn't catch him.

'Tell me you'll beat them for me, Son.'

He continued staring at the screen. On it was the picture of the written form given to Roger, explaining that the NPA no longer wanted L's help on the case. The case had been taken to court, and the judge decided L was done and Beyond Birthday simply was not the killer. There was no record of his escape from Atascadero, and there was no proof his final kill had been a suicide. 'The man who is dead now is not the killer.' Supposedly, L didn't help much at all, and the case would be left to the NPA. But L knew how this would go. The NPA would either catch the wrong man, or after a few months of no results the case would go stale and would be put away. The Sinful Murder Cases would slowly become a cold case. Unsolved.

'L is the greatest detective in the world; the one that never leaves a case unsolved.'

Well, there was a first for everything. But L was childish. He hated to lose. It was bad enough knowing he would have lost to Kira if it hadn't been for the very being that was Kira in the present. That in itself was a blow to his large but fragile pride. But now B had beaten him. He couldn't beat him this time, and he didn't know why; how he had slipped.

'Tell me you'll beat them for me, Son.'

Some of his father's last words. L bit a little harder at the tip of his thumb as he sat on the floor, his shoulders tensing.

'I promise! I promise, Daddy, just don't—don't leave….'

He didn't necessarily keep his promise, did he? He still had some of his demons; he never did defeat all of them. He was still a liar, no matter how much he despised lies and liars: no more than monsters disguised as humans. And it upset him that he was, then, one of these monsters. Sure, sometimes lying was necessary in his profession, but he would lie about little things, too, just in order to remain withdrawn and hidden. It humored him that Samantha had a problem with liars too, and sometimes wondered whether that was a part of the reason they were Bonded, but….

He'd also withdrawn, hadn't he? He remained within himself even after his father had worked to reveal him again…. And he almost had, but then he'd died…. Even though it wasn't prevalent in his thoughts, he still had a bit of hatred. He didn't hate himself anymore at least… that was something he learned to accept rather quickly, actually.

But he hadn't beaten his demons, and he hadn't beaten B. B, of all criminals. Sure, Kira he could accept… he was intelligent; a pure challenge with excellent power and wit and skill to match his. But L had beaten B before. And now justice… justice, the thing he so loved to keep… justice was lost for this case.

'Tell me you'll beat them for me, Son.'

"I'm sorry…," he spoke in a low voice. Almost rough. Like it had been the night of the moonlight; the night he'd cried for the first time in twenty-two years. "…I'm sorry… Daddy."

"…What'd I miss?" asked Ryuk upon floating down into my hospital room. He was staring at me blankly with those bulging yellow eyes. "A lot, huh?" Light tilted his head to look at him, shifting his arm from his eyes.

"She nearly died, Ryuk." He pulled his arm from his face completely and sat up, gazing at the shinigami with hard eyes. "That may or may not constitute as 'a lot' to a shinigami. You tell me, Ryuk."

"Hey, hey, don't get irritated with me; I was just asking," he said, holding up his hands in a peace-like gesture.

Light eyed my form, now leaning forward with his elbow on his leg. His hand was cradling his head. As if shinigami are a species of peace. Hah. He looked back at Ryuk. "In any case, you missed quite a bit."

"…So what'd I miss?" he asked.

It was then I stirred, and Light's attention was immediately redirected. Light's mouth twitched into a smile when Ryuk pressed Light to answer his question, complaining that he wanted to know. His expression was all seriousness again when my eyes blearily opened at last, though. "How do you feel?" he asked me, and I blinked at him. As the doctors had given me aspirin and morphine late the night before, it would take a moment for the Bond to reconnect.

In fact, I was still very confused. "Tired, but good," I answered after thinking about it a second. "How about you?"

"Well, I'm fine."

"Seriously; what'd I miss, guys?" Ryuk asked again.

"You even have a special guest," Light said flatly, his mouth twitching in irritation.

"Yeah…. Hi, Ryuk," I greeted half-heartedly with a little wave of my hand. Things were starting to make sense again. My own memories were coming back, and Light's were connecting in my head as well as my mind woke up. I found myself smiling slightly.

Light smiled back. I realized his hand was on mine.

There was a knocking on the door, and Ryuk seemed to perk up. "Eh? Who is it?" he asked as the door opened and Sam entered.

Light stood. "Here," he said. "Sit down, if you want. Get comfortable."

Sam shook her head. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I nearly died," I chirped brightly.

She looked at me for a second. "I don't like death…," she said. "…Or hospitals."

"I know," I smiled. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry for being sick," Light told me, and Sam frowned at him.

"I was about to say that," she informed him.

"My apologies."

"Okay, now, don't apologize for speaking your opinion," I said.

"Of course," Light responded as he and Sam gazed at one another.

Ryuk looked from one to the other. "Uhh…." He looked at me. "Wait, you nearly died?" He seemed to look up to my lifespan.

Gotta remember I can die at any time, huh? I thought, and the corner of my mouth twitched upward. You may not be able to kill me, but it's impossible to know when I'll actually die…. You could be stuck with us for a long, long while… or only a few more weeks. It could very well be a sort of torture for you, huh, Ryuk? I do hope we're at least easing your boredom.

Over all, though, I had to admit… I never thought I'd actually die. Dying in the In-Between had certainly changed our perception…. But then, we hadn't had our memories at the time. It was different. But now, here I was… in the hospital. Death was closer than we'd like to believe, and we had to remember that.

Sam and Light would have their banter, and Ryuk would watch, still trying to pick up on what he'd missed. After all, he often stayed with Sierra or Mikami because he thought they were more amusing. Well, it only made sense that something 'interesting' would happen our front while he wasn't here, huh? The doctors would eventually come in and check on me, and Doctor Matsushita would shoo Sam and Light out of the room so I could get my rest.

Sam and Light would then go out instead. They would wander the sidewalks and eat lunch before Light decided that he should probably go to NPA headquarters. It was Monday, and although Aizawa knew the situation, he wanted to go to work anyhow. The two would part, both walking the sidewalk to go to their own destinations…. Walking the sidewalks of the city….

…Just as Sierra was walking the sidewalk alongside Matt and Mello. A smile was plastered on her face. Matt seemed rather content, and Mello's expression was dark. "Ya think we'll run across those guys again, Sierra?" Matt asked playfully.

"I hope not," Sierra replied, her tone giddy. "Mello might snap their necks."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Right…." He looked from one to the other. "I don't get it. You're at the final step of this thing, right? Why aren't you in the same mood?"

"Oh, we are," Sierra replied.

"She's just always had a mask," Mello explained flatly, and snapped a piece of chocolate off of his chocolate bar.

"Ah." There was a pause as they walked the streets. They were searching for an alternate hideout they could use, in case the old headquarters they inhabited now could no longer be used. Mello was already considering leaving the place due to the fact that phoenix bastard had found them there. They would have done their work in the night, but for now they would casually walk the streets in search of any possibilities. The best of them would be investigated under cover of darkness. They would stay at the old headquarters as a main base, but they would have backups now. Just in case.

And a plan would have to be carried out. Light had likely been in Near's custody while they had me in their grasp, so Light would have been seen dying, just like I had died in the basement on their surveillance screen. Therefore, Near would likely know that Mello had the Note. Near would then most probably inform the NPA task force, who would thus work even harder to find Mello. Kira was in the clear now; I had been set free and most likely so had Light. Mikami would obviously still be wanted, but that wouldn't matter so much now that Light and I were free.

Mello would have to come up with a new plan. One that involved the notebook. And he would implement it as soon as possible.

Just as Near would have to come up with a new plan. Currently sitting in the center of a huge structure made out of dice, he was thinking again. Sorry, Anna, but you've got some waiting to do, just as he's got some thinking to do. Light was no longer under his watch. Near still had the wiretaps throughout Light's house, but that surely wasn't enough…. He could set up cameras; Light likely already knew the wiretaps were there, so adding the cameras would be a surprise…. Yet… Near had a horrible want to best him in a way that was more… face-to-face. Like at the warehouse, if L hadn't intervened.

And if Light Yagami hadn't been faking, which he might have done…, Near added in his head, frowning as he placed the next die on his structure.

And of course L would come back into the picture soon enough. In fact, even as he exited out of the screen showing the letter from the NPA, he stood, his fists clenched. He looked out the window to the city below, able to see a vague, translucent outline of his figure. He looked past that, however, to the bright outside. A world where Kira was beginning to reign. But I will beat Kira, thought L. I will beat you, Light… Natalie… Mikami…. I will beat all of you. You won't be becoming god anytime soon. Not while I'm after you.

And however our battle would play out, L; whoever would win this time… I supposed it was meant to be. Just as the Bonds were meant to be, and just as each and every lifespan was meant to be. Perhaps Fate had simply decided to make things happen like this. The way I had nearly died… the way it had brought on more than one kind of revelation. The reason L had lost for once; lost to B. How Mikami had been taken in by the Shizu family just before his hideout was found by the police. How Mello had caught me, but then had lost me. How Near had had a plan, but then it had dissolved. How B had lost Sophia and begun to finally break… but also how he did not commit suicide, and was now striving towards his next goal. Every little thing that happened, every little detail and situation….

I was being checked by the doctors.

Light was being given his sympathies by Aizawa.

Sam was walking back to the hospital to meet me again.

L was looking forward, determined to catch Kira this time; no breaks.

Sierra was wearing her mask, just as ever.

Mello and Matt were with her, each with their contrasting auras and expressions.

Anna was just arriving at SPK headquarters.

Near was greeting her distractedly.

B was looking over the hand-made stitches on his arm as he waited at the subway station for his ride.

Mikami was trying to ignore Sara's little brother as he ate the lunch presented to him.

Each side would plot their plans, and make their moves, and live out their own lives. And each piece of the whole was set to be by Fate. And why? Because, simply, it is written. Even each past, horrible or clean, was written. Meant to be. Alois was meant to pass from Mello's life soon after his promise of escape, each life in B's past was meant to be extinguished, and Uncle was meant to have traumatized L, just as Lester was meant to die so soon after it seemed everything would be alright. Fate can be both kind and cruel, but it is what it is, and after all, it is written.

And Fate still had more in store for all of us…. Surely, the story that's been laid out has yet to be finished.

But for now, I will end this memoir to be continued.

...Next week.

Fun Fact: There was almost going to be a slight pairing with BB. ovo But then the idea was scrapped.

Sooo epilogue and first chapter of the next and last story of the series will be up next week! :D

Review? For fate?