"Tell me everything," Near said. "Now."

A short distance away, Rester went on drilling, the sound cutting like sawblades into Near's ears. Wincing, he tried to ignore it, fixing his eyes on Gevanni instead.

"According to Mrs. Yagami, Rester let the two of them go up on the roof to talk alone. Light seemed perfectly happy, she said, and they were having a decent reunion. Then Light asked her to go ask for his oxygen and shut the door behind her."

"Shut and blocked," said Lidner. "Rester's working on it, but—"

"She didn't give any reason Light might be upset?"

"No," said Gevanni. "She's as confused as everyone else."

Damn it, Light. "She should never have left him alone."

"Don't you dare say that in front of her," said Lidner. "If he's done what we're all thinking—"

"The greenhouse glass is shatterproof, and he can't get over the security fencing," said Gevanni. "Unless someone forgot to lock up the gardening tools, he should be safe enough."

"No one locked up the wisteria," Lidner said flatly. "We assumed that when he went up there, he would always be under one of our supervision. Which he should have been."

"Mrs. Yagami was with him, and it's never been an issue before. It's not Rester's fault that he—"

"Enough." Near jerked his hair sharply, but his voice was deadly calm. "How long has he been out there?"

"Half an hour," said Gevanni. "Maybe a little less."

"Then this argument is pointless. If Light Yagami intended to harm himself, he found a way at least twenty minutes ago."

"And if he hasn't?" Lidner asked.

"Then he never intended to. If that's true, he won't change his mind now."

"I could understand a mental break," said Gevanni. "We've all known it was coming for years. But this is the third time he's shut us out in a week, Near. He's escalating. We can't keep letting it slide."

"I have to agree," said Lidner reluctantly. "Even if it's a break, his rooms are too risky. He needs to go under proper suicide watch."

Near stared at Rester's back, his fingers clenching. "You want me to send him downstairs."

"Do you see another choice?"

No. "Let's wait and see."

Gevanni took a deep breath. "Near—"

"We will wait, and we will see. Only an idiot would decide how to handle a situation before knowing what the situation is."

Gevanni and Lidner exchanged a look. Near pretended not to see it, his eyes riveted to Rester instead. Schrödinger's prisoner, he thought with a pang. He could be Kira. He could be a corpse. Until we open that door, there's no way to know. His helplessness galled him, like a half-healed wound torn open anew. I don't know which option to hope for. I don't know which option is worse.

With a grunt, Rester tossed his tools aside and shoved the door ajar. "Gevanni, with me. We'll scope out the situation, then—"

"No," said Near. "I'll do it."

"Only you?" Lidner asked.

"Until I call for backup, yes. Gevanni, go check on our guests. The rest of you, wait here."

The sun straddled the horizon as Near stepped onto the roof, blinking like an owl in the harsh, orange glare. "Light?"

No answer.

"Light Yagami, respond."

A church bell tolled in the distance, and Near startled at the sound. Reluctantly, he searched the rooftop, expecting—dreading—what he might see.

If I were Light, where would I go?

Near traced the greenhouse perimeter like a bloodhound, his eyes scanning the rooftop for clues. Behind the conservatory, beside the locked, black cabinet of gardening supplies, his quarry sat with his head in his hands, watching the pink light of sunset through the steel gray slats of the security cage. He looks like a child, Near realized. Like a child whose mother is gone. Briefly, he felt hands on his shoulders, a silver shock blanket around his back. He had only been a boy then, five years old, while Light was a man of thirty-three. But as Light huddled against the greenhouse, red-eyed and slumping, part of Near wondered if he himself had looked so small.

That was a near thing.

Near's eyes wandered the nearby rooftop, unsure of what to do. Taking a worn garden blanket from atop the cabinet, he walked over to drape it around Light's shoulders. Light jumped like a frightened deer, looking up at Near with wide, startled eyes.

"Don't get up," said Near. "It's just me."

"Nate." Light pulled the blanket around himself, relieved. "Took you long enough."

"That was your own fault. You blocked the door."

"So I did."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Yes, you do. The lie was obvious, unconvincing—and completely unlike Light. He lies better than that without trying. What the hell is he playing at now? "Your mother said something you didn't like, I take it?"

"Something like that."

"Light. Talk to me."

"I am."

"Some of the team want you back downstairs, Light. If I'm going to convince them otherwise—"

"I said, I'm talking. I don't know what more you want."

Gevanni was right. Irritation prickled beneath Near's skin, enough to drive out most of his concern. This isn't a snap, it's a tantrum. He made me worry just to show he could. Even as Near thought it, though, he knew it wasn't right. Not entirely, anyway. He wanted something. He still does. If I were him, doing what he did, what reaction would I have expected to get?

"Do you want to go back downstairs?" Near asked.

"Not particularly."

"Then tell me what's going on."

"I tricked Mom into leaving and locked her out. I thought that was obvious."

"Why?"

"Just take me downstairs."

"I'd be happy to. But first, we need to talk."

Light bristled. "I'm taking responsibility for my actions. I assumed you'd be in favor of that."

"No, you aren't. You want me to punish you. Worse, you were obvious about it. Don't insult my intelligence twice by pretending you weren't."

For a long moment, Light said nothing, staring bleakly through the fence. Then he exhaled. "That wasn't my intention."

"Insulting my intelligence?"

"The other part. And that, I guess. I didn't have some grand, calculated plan. I just wanted to be alone."

"You could have just asked. I'd have given you all the space and time you needed."

"Unsupervised? Like hell you would. The last time I got to feel anything without having to worry if anybody was watching me was the twenty minutes you left me chained to Janus's radiator. I've been living in a damn panopticon since I was seventeen, and I don't—I know I put myself here. I know it's less than I deserve. But for once—just once—I needed a minute alone. I'm not going to apologize for that."

You rarely do. "You scared me."

"That wasn't my intention."

"I don't care. Your needs, I can sympathize with. But the way you pursued them was cruel, and you know it." Near bent forward, seething, his expression hard as glass. "You scared me, Light."

He stared at Light, unblinking—and for once, Kira looked away first. "Fair enough," he said quietly. "Scared me, too."

Ah.

Near shifted from foot to foot, his hair curtain swaying around him as he moved. Something like amusement flickered across Light's face, and he shifted over to make room.

"If you're going to hover, you might as well sit."

"I wasn't hovering." Near sat anyway, pushing his hair back behind his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to say. Ryuk told me he'd see me again, and he's not here. I might be cruel, but I've never been stupid."

No, you haven't. Light's voice was a sea becalmed, its flatness belying the depths below. Disturbed, Near looked at Light's hand on the blanket, half-tempted to cover it with his own. "Thankfully not."

"Thankfully," Light echoed, amused. "There was a time you would have been disappointed."

"No. I've never enjoyed spending my money to patch your wounds, whether I liked you as a person or not." Near exhaled. "But I've never regretted it, either."

"Careful, Nate. Keep saying things like that, and people might get the wrong idea."

Like my mother, Light didn't say, but Near recognized the invitation all the same. He's working his way around to it. I can tell. The worst thing I can do is push. "Some people already are."

"She told me she thought she'd offended you. I reassured her you didn't mind." Light wet his lip. "She thinks you saved me."

"Didn't I?"

"Not the way she thinks. Her son would never hurt anyone, you see. And if he did, well, he must not have been in control of it. Her son must have been possessed."

Near hummed thoughtfully. "It's not a wholly illogical conclusion to reach, considering how little she knows."

"She knows more than you think. She's known I was Kira the whole damn time. She watched me lie all those years, knowing what I really was—and when she told me, she asked me to forgive her. What the hell am I supposed to say to that, Nate? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Light's voice cracked like the teenager he once had been, raw and deeply uncertain. It wasn't me he was being cruel to; it was her. He was trying to prove that he could. However much Light hated being seen as a villain, being seen as helpless scared him far more. Near had known that from the day Light had sprawled across the warehouse floor and screamed. He needs her to believe he's not a victim, but she won't. She can't. For all her good intentions, she'll drown him just the same.

"She didn't reject you," Near said quietly. "That's a start."

"All this time, I thought I was giving them something. That if they didn't know the truth about me, at least, they'd have peace of mind. But they didn't. Sayu blamed herself for me and Dad's death, and Mom knew what the truth was all along. All those stupid games I played with you and L, and I never even considered that my mother might know. I'm alive because she pitied me. And there's not a damn thing I can do to pay her back." Light raised a dramatic hand, grinning like a shinigami. "All hail Japan's best and brightest; the god of the new world!"

An empathetic ache gripped Near by the ribs, and he dug his fingers into his palms. "L never considered that possibility either. If it helps."

"It doesn't."

"I know."

A brisk wind blew over the rooftop, and Near shivered despite himself. Light watched him a moment, then glanced away, extending one blanketed arm like a wing over Near's shoulders. "Here."

"I'm fine."

"You're cold. Take the blanket."

Begrudgingly, Near did. Side by side, they huddled beneath the itchy fabric, watching the sunset through the slats of the fence. "This is a terrible view."

"Better than the one I'll get downstairs."

"You're not going downstairs. I told you. The fact I sympathize with your situation doesn't mean I'll give you what you want."

"You really think I want that?"

"Not consciously, perhaps. But you've always preferred to make self-sabotaging choices than make none."

"Please. Now you sound like Roger."

"Roger?"

"Rester, I mean. After you stormed out the other day, he tried to psychoanalyze me."

I can't imagine why. "What a wretched task that would be."

"Ha." To Near's relief, Light sounded amused. "Yet here you are."

"Perhaps we have self-sabotage in common. What was Rester's diagnosis?"

"That I secretly enjoy punishment as an outlet for my guilt."

"I wouldn't call it particularly secret."

"I don't."

"Of course not. I'm sure you waited to see whether Ryuk or I got to you first for perfectly normal, healthy reasons. You've outgrown your mother's conviction that you can do nothing wrong. It's time you outgrow your father's belief that taking responsibility for failure means self-destruction, too."

Light's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed to dangerous slits. "Careful, Nate. That's a low fucking blow."

"It's a wake up call. You need it. Acting once without thinking is one thing, but you're too clever not to see the pattern here. If you need space, I can accommodate. But if you think you can keep lashing out at yourself and others just to exert some control over—"

I know what it is he needs.

A circuit snapped into place in Near's mind, and he let his sentence die. Light gave him a quizzical look. "What now?"

"I've made a decision. I'm withdrawing from the Tsukikawa case."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. If we abandon that case, the Japanese will expose my identity within the hour."

"I'm withdrawing, I said. Not us. I'll tell the rest of the team not to let you leave the building or retrieve the notebook, but beyond that, they'll answer to you. This is your investigation, Second L. You can run it as you see fit."

Light frowned. "You really mean it."

"I do."

"Why?"

For you. "It's your family and identity at stake here, not mine, and you're more than equal to the task. You wanted to find some way to support them, Light. This is one thing you can do for them."

"Bullshit. You don't do charity. You're afraid of what I'll do if our first plan fails, so you'll put me in charge as long as I promise I won't turn myself in. Isn't that right?"

"No. No conditions. You won't find any closure in a formal sentencing, and I know you won't get a fair one, but morally and legally, you have the right. However this case ends, if that's what you really want, I won't stand in your way." Near took a deep breath. "But I will come with you."

Light's head rose sharply. "The hell you will."

"Your best chance of survival is for me to testify on your behalf, and the best way to keep suspicion off the others is for me to take the full blame for your imprisonment. If you follow through on your prisoner exchange plan, I'll arrange to send Julia to Wammy's House and turn myself in to the American police." Near plucked at the fabric of his shirt, watching Light's reaction closely. "You know my weaknesses as well as anyone. Practically speaking, considering my needs, I would adapt to prison far more easily than a life spent on the run."

"Volunteering for life imprisonment because you don't like moving isn't practical. It's insane."

"Look who's talking. I may not match your rap sheet, but I've never pretended my hands were clean. It would be a stain on L's legacy if Kira took accountability, but I ran away to escape the law."

"L's legacy," Light scoffed. "Your life's worth a whole lot more than just that letter, you know."

"And yours is worth far more than the name sone malcontents on the internet gave you. I conspired to commit a murder with the notebook, too, and my treatment of you would constitute kidnapping at best. You'll find no consistent argument that you deserve jail time and I don't."

"I don't give a shit about consistency. I'm looking out for you. You won't find protective solitary any less hellish than I did, and I don't need anyone testifying on my behalf. Between the other inmates and the hassle my trial would cause the U.S. government, I doubt I'll live long enough to enter a plea."

"Maybe not. But if that day comes, you deserve better company than your murderers and Ryuk."

For a moment, Light looked determined to argue. Then he shook his head. "That's one way to equalize the circumstances of our relationship, I guess."

Near's cheeks heated. "That's not the point."

"There is no damn point. Whatever L connections you think you have, you've hidden me from the authorities for almost a decade. The Americans would have to be idiots to put us both in the same prison, let alone the same cell."

"So you admit there's a chance."

The ghost of a smile haunted the corners of Light's lips. "Fine," he conceded. "There's a chance. You're still insane."

Probably, yes. "You still remember Darkness at Noon, correct?"

"Prisoners communicating with a Polybius cipher? Of course I do."

"There you have it. If ordinary prisonerls can communicate without being detected, I have no doubt you and I can find a way. If we have to be long-distance equals, so be it."

" 'Long-distance equals,' " Light echoed, shaking his head. "Thank God my mother's not here."

"Would you prefer a different term?"

"For us? I don't think there is one." His eyes flicked to Near. "Do you?"

Detectives, Near thought. Criminals. Geniuses. A disastrous, matching set. "Partners."

"I can think of a few different ways to interpret that, Nate."

"I know."

"All right." Light turned back to the fence. "As long as you know."

The last rays of sunset pierced the fence, but neither Light nor Near looked away. Side by side beneath their stiff, shared blanket, they watched the night descend.

Mrs. Fukui's door was slow to open, as if dreading what she might find outside. At the sight of Near, her face soured. "What do you want?"

"Light Yagami came inside a few minutes ago, safe and sound. I thought you would want to know."

Something flickered in Sayu Fukui's eyes, but it passed too fast to read. "Have you told Mom?"

"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first." Near wet his lip. "I believe I owe you an apology."

"It's fine," she said stiffly. "Is that all?"

"No. I also apologize for the fact you were lied to and excluded from the truth of the Kira case for so long. Leaving aside your father and brother's contributions to the case, you met Mello yourself. You knew about the notebook. You weren't just a bystander, and you deserved answers. For that, I'm sorry."

"It's a little late to worry about that, don't you think?"

"Not quite. The Kira case is still ongoing, and it's still your family on the line. A few days from now, if all goes well, we'll confront the kidnappers who stole the Prime Minister's daughter. I wanted to tell you that you're welcome to come watch us when we do."

Mrs. Fukui frowned. "Wouldn't I be in your way?"

"No. I won't tell the team you're watching; I can set it up so you won't be seen. You wouldn't be able to bring the baby, but—"

"I'll think about it."

"Fair enough. I thought I should offer. Whether you take it is up to you." Near bowed his head. "Just let me know."

She shut the door without an answer, but it lifted a weight from him all the same. Turning away from Sayu's door, Near set off to find the rest of his team.

It's up to you.