Light is giving up.

The thought beat a frantic rhythm in Near's skull, a second heartbeat he couldn't ignore. It echoed in his head—giving up, giving up—all the way from the conference room back to his suite.

He wants to leave. He's giving up. He wants to go.

Near's door drew close on his left, but he ignored it and walked on. Approaching the door to one of the guest suites, he raised his hand to knock.

I have to fix this. I have to try.

His heart thumped harder than the wood as his fist struck the door again. Sayu Fukui opened it, her face slackening in surprise. "L. Is something wrong?"

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

Frowning, she stepped back to admit him. Near scurried inside like a rodent, his shoulders hunched. "Where's the baby?" he asked.

"Mom took him to give me a break. He was half-asleep when I left, so with any luck…" She trailed off, eying Near warily. "She didn't send you here, did she?"

"No one sent me. I just thought we should talk." Ill at ease, Near plucked at his sleeve. "We've spoken once before, actually. In Los Angeles."

"No, we didn't. You talked to my father, not me."

"I was going by N back then. The L you remember was a different man."

Mrs. Fukui made a face. "Kira killed him, didn't he?"

Not yet. "Not quite. He killed one of my predecessors, yes. The one you heard that day is retired, but he's still alive."

"So this whole time, L was—what? A title? A team?"

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you any more than that."

"Of course you can't." Her voice was flat, impossible for Near to read. "So what did you come in here to tell me?"

"You talked to Light."

"I did."

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing about the case, if that's what you're worried about. He asked about my family, gave some vague, defensive apologies, and told me he missed me. When I told him it wasn't good enough, he left." She pressed her lips together, giving Near a worried look. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Near lied. "I keep tabs on his interactions. That's all."

"As his warden. Right. I understand."

As his warden. Yes. "Did he tell you anything about his life here? About me?"

"Only in passing. He said you used to be less lenient, and that you offered to let him go to Tokyo to be closer to us. I told him not to bother, basically. He's enough of a burden on Mom where he is."

Near's stomach clenched like a fist. "Come with me."

"Why?"

"It won't take long. There's something I think you should see."

The empty cell beneath Near's headquarters loomed as grim as ever, the drab, gray walls nearly colorless in the harsh fluorescent light. Mrs. Fukui shaded her eyes as they entered, her gaze sweeping over the tiny space. "What is this place?"

"Your brother's home. For nearly two years after his arrest, he never once left this cell. I didn't intend for him to ever leave it again."

"You weren't taking any risks."

"I couldn't afford to. When I arrested him, he nearly killed me. One of your father's teammates had to shoot him down to save my life." Near's eyes flicked down to the floor tiles, full of guilty distaste. "It was a near thing just to keep him alive."

"Why did you bother?"

I don't know. "Executing murderers without trial or oversight was Kira's crime. Doing the same to him, adopting his approach to justice, felt like letting him win."

"You could have turned him in."

"Not easily. Japan and the United States had official policies deferring to Kira, and taking him somewhere else to turn in without any official authority would have caused an international incident. And after everything your father sacrificed, I felt—and my team agreed—that it would be wrong to put your family through the exposure that would come with a public arrest."

A joyless smile bent Mrs. Fukui's lips. "And now it's happening anyway."

"Not if I can help it."

"I know. It's not your fault, anyway. Just his." Her fingers touched the bars, lingering like a caress. Then, abruptly, she pulled her hand away. "Dad wanted Kira executed, you know. He made his wishes clear about that."

Near's chest tightened. "Do you?"

"Maybe. I don't know. If Kira was anyone else, I would want it. I know that. It's not fair for me to judge him any differently." She let out a breath, quiet but audible. "But it doesn't feel the same."

That's a start. "That's understandable. It's human nature to make exceptions for people you know personally."

"Is that why you made an exception for Light?"

"Not at first. His arrest was the first time I ever saw him in person, and once he was here, I left him alone. I made sure he was taken care of by my team, obviously. But I had no interest in him beyond that."

"That must have been an adjustment for him. He's always been the center of attention whether he tried to be or not."

"He's brilliant," Near said simply.

"Don't I know it. Dad loved me—I've never questioned that—but he was proud of Light. We all were. It never even occurred to me to resent him for it. He was so good at everything, so lovable, so perfect—and worse, he made it look easy. He never acted spoiled, never let it go to his head. I'd play up how bad I was at math and try to trick him into doing my homework for me, and he never once lost patience. Of course he was the favorite; he was my favorite, too. He loved me. Why wouldn't he be?"

Loved. Past tense. He loved. "He still does."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Your kidnapping told me that. I suspected Kira himself had killed the NPA director Mello took hostage before you, but he didn't harm you. Giving the Mafia more power to kill was the last thing your brother wanted, and he had no qualms about killing an innocent man to prevent it. He knew sparing you could point to him as a suspect. But even at his worst, when you were threatened, Light valued your life over his own safety. If that isn't proof of his feelings, I don't know what is."

Mrs. Fukui's eyes closed, and for a moment, Near feared she would start crying. Instead, she said only, "I see."

"I thought that would be a comfort."

"It is, I guess. A little. But if I'm supposed to be grateful that he didn't kill me—well, that's not even supposed to be an option you consider, is it? Not murdering your family is supposed to be easy. It's not protecting if the danger is you."

"Supposed to be," Near echoed. "Yes."

"When Dad came and got me from Los Angeles, he told L he had failed in his duty as an officer. That because he didn't leave me to die, he wasn't fit to be a cop. And Light just let him think that—let me think that—rather than giving us the truth. Lying to us wasn't protecting me; it was just him protecting himself. I spent years thinking I was a failure, that if I'd just run faster or paid more attention to my surroundings, all those horrible things Mello did wouldn't have happened. That if not for me, maybe Dad and Light would still be around. Do you have any idea what that feels like? What it does to you?"

A holly crown. A panicked call. A sinking car.

That was a near thing…

Slowly, reluctantly, Near nodded. "I do."

"Light is the reason I was kidnapped. Light is the reason Dad is dead. He left me to feel guilty all these years, and the minute I called him out on it, he walked away. He didn't fight me or apologize or cry. He left. He just gave up and left." Her voice poured out like vinegar, caustic and tart. "I spent my whole life thinking I was lucky just to stand in his shadow, but now he's lucky just to be alive at all. If I'd murdered someone, my family would disown me—Light included—but when Light's murder spree upends our lives, all Mom can talk about is how anxious she is to see him again. Because he's some brilliant, irreplaceable genius, and all I was born with was a soul. I'm nothing special, but he's a murderer, and I'm still treated like second best. It's not fair, all right? It's not fair."

You sound like Mello, Near thought, his guts twisting, but even he wasn't tactless enough to say it aloud. "No," he agreed quietly. "No, it's not."

She stared at him, frowning, as if trying to decide whether Near was mocking her. Her face looks nothing like her brother's, but that expression is the same. Her body language lacked the exact, familiar nuances of Light's, but Near was grateful for what resemblance there was. For all his study of human behavior, his reading of gestures and expressions was barely literate at best. She's hurt, but she doesn't hate him. I'm sure of that much. If I can make her see that, he will, too. With effort, he met her eyes through his curtain of hair.

"There was a case," he began. "In London. Your brother was with me—not exactly by choice—along with a mentor of mine to help supervise. My mistakes got Roger killed, and the killer nearly murdered me as well. Light could have let her do it and escaped on his own, but he didn't. He went back to this cell in a cast and bandages, knowing what it would cost him, so I could walk out of that room alive."

"He mentioned that," said Mrs. Fukui.

"He did?"

"Sort of. I asked about his scar, and he said some killer abducted you both. He didn't give me any details beyond that. Just that it was 'unpleasant.' " With a quiet scoff, she shook her head. "I may not be as smart as he is, but I could have figured that out on my own."

Near's fingers tensed into claws. "He wasn't insulting your intelligence."

"Well, if he was looking for my sympathy—"

"If Light were looking for your sympathy, he would have told you more detail, not less. I was in the room with him while he was tortured—unconscious for most of it, but there. Mello wasn't cruel enough to hurt you, but you know what being helpless feels like. Whatever else he's done, you of all people shouldn't sneer at him for that."

" 'Whatever else he's done?' " Her voice rose in pitch, incredulous, and a dark, livid color flushed her cheeks. "He killed thousands of people!"

"Tens of thousands, if you include his co-conspirators. I'm well aware."

"Oh, good. Because I feel like I'm the only one who remembers that. He destroyed my family and tens of thousands of lives, but I'm being ganged up on for not giving him enough sympathy?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry that happened to you. Truly, I am. But if you ask me, compared to what could have happened, he's gotten away with a slap on the wrist."

"Light sitting in this cell didn't bring back any of his victims," said Near. "Light helping me work is saving lives. I understand that you're angry, but you're being irrational. He's been punished. He's being punished. He doesn't need you punishing him, too."

Mrs. Fukui recoiled as if he had slapped her, her mouth agape in shock. Then she turned away, folding her arms across her chest. "Let me out of here."

"Be reasonable. I only meant that—"

"I need to check on Asa. Let me out."

This is a disaster. Part of Near wanted to refuse, to go on talking until she saw sense, but the look in Mrs. Fukui's eye was murderous. Stiffly, he walked over to the biometric lock and opened up the door. "Fine. I'll escort you up to—"

"No, thank you. I can find it on my own."

She walked through the metal door without hesitation, stopping at the second door with folded arms. Near unlocked that one for her, too, and she stormed past him to the stairs without a word. I made things worse, Near thought, despairing. Every time I talk to anyone, I make things worse. Interpol, Light's mother, Light's sister, Light…

And Light is giving up.

Alone in the pallid basement, Near grabbed his hair in both hands. Tugging at it in frustration, he let out a piping squeal.

Lidner sat at the kitchen table, her chair pushed back and a mug of tea clasped in her hands. She set it down as Near tried to slip past her, her eyes digging into him like nails. "I've been looking for you."

"Not very hard, by the look of things. Where is Light?"

"Rester talked to him after you left. He's working in his room now, I think."

"Good. I should talk to him, too."

"I wouldn't advise that. From the look I saw on Mrs. Fukui's face, you've done enough talking for today."

Near's lips pursed into a tight, sour bud. "I was trying to help."

"I know. But trying and succeeding are two different things." Lidner folded her hands in her lap. "What did you say to her?"

"I showed her Light's old cell and told her why I gave him another chance. She was the one who got angry. I don't think I said anything wrong."

"I think I see the problem. When you see somebody have emotions that inconvenience you, you decide that the problem is them showing emotions, not whatever those emotions are reacting to. Every single time."

"I wasn't trying to fix her emotions. Merely to correct her impression of Light."

"Mhm." To his annoyance, Lidner looked almost amused. "What was incorrect about it?"

"For one thing, it's nine years out of date. If she'd just heard me out—"

"If you described what life at Wammy's House was like to me and I contradicted you, whose viewpoint would you agree with? Mine or yours?"

"Mine, of course. I spent six years living there. As far as I know, you never have."

"I've been reading Donna's reports for seven years, and I've visited far more recently than you. You haven't been back there since Roger's funeral, and it had been seven years since your last stay before that. Don't you think your opinions might be a little out of date?"

Glowering, Near twined his fingers through his hair. "You've read reports. I see Light every day. The comparison doesn't work."

"The principle is still the same. She knew him well for twenty years; you've only been his warden for nine. Almost two of which, if I recall, you never spoke to him. Why on earth would she treat you as an expert on who her brother is if you refused to show the same respect to her?"

"She didn't notice that he was Kira. I wouldn't call that knowing him well."

Lidner's sculpted, blonde eyebrow rose in silence.

"What?" he asked. "It's the truth."

"I know. But considering she still knew him for fourteen years before that, but the only time she's ever seen you and Light interact was when he ran into the bathroom, you'd be better off building up your own 'knowing Light' credentials than disparaging hers."

Oh.

Something in Lidner's demeanor—the curve of her lip, the smug twinkle in her voice—reminded Near eerily of Light. Near said nothing, hiding his chagrin behind his pale curtain of hair.

"You already know what I'm going to say to you next, right?" she asked.

"You'll say I should have warned Light sooner, I suppose."

"Well, that too. But what I planned to say is that for a detective, you're doing a terrible job of reading the room."

"Knowing that doesn't help me fix it."

"You fix it by recognizing you're the wrong person for the job. Listen to what both Yagamis have been telling you. This is Light's problem to fix, not yours."

"He should be fixing it, yes. He hasn't."

"Then that's his mistake to make. Just because you're clever enough to see a problem exists doesn't make you the solution, especially when it's a problem between people who aren't you. You've got a lot of talents, Near, but interpersonal mediation isn't one of them. If her own brother couldn't win Mrs. Fukui over, an autistic stranger isn't going to succeed where he failed."

Clearly not. Near drooped in resentful defeat, mulling over the logic of her words. "What should I do, then?"

"About Light and his family? Nothing. If you really believe his sister is wrong about him, prove it by trusting him. Unless he comes to you for advice, let him handle them on his own."

"I can't."

"Trust him?"

"Do nothing."

Lidner sighed as she watched him, smoothing her hands down her lap. "He's really scaring you, isn't he?"

Reluctantly, Near nodded.

"Have you told him that?"

"Of course not."

"That's the first problem you should work on, then. Try giving him whatever praise you told his sister, and tell him you'll listen if that's what he needs. For all his bluster, he does care about your support."

"That's not what he tells me."

"Of course he doesn't. Just like you acted like you were angry at him, not afraid. Watching you two try to communicate emotion is painful sometimes. It's like watching a low speed car crash, I swear."

What a flattering image. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good," said Lidner. "In the meantime, you should go talk to Rester. He's drafting up our plan of attack."

"I didn't ask him to do that," Near muttered.

"No, but you pay him to be helpful. And since you weren't available…" She trailed off, her head tilting meaningfully. "Saying yes to the rest of Light's plan might help smooth things over, you know. It's as good a place to start as we can hope for, and the Japanese delegation may get less antsy if we give them something concrete to do. And giving Light some sense of control might just make him less antsy, too."

I hope so. "Thank you, Halle."

"Of course. You pay me to be helpful, too."

Helpful. The word followed Near like a poltergeist as he walked away, the sound low and mocking in his ears. Despite Lidner's advice, he had no better idea of what to do than when he came upstairs. Talking to Light about his feelings held as much appeal as walking across his entire dice collection barefoot. Doing nothing, on the other hand, was worse. I'll just focus on the case for now until I can figure something out. It's the same thing Light is doing, anyway.

But Light is giving up.

Gripping his hair like a mother's hand, Near shoved that thought away.