"Light Yagami, open this door!"

Sayu Fukui's fist thundered against the wooden door, and Near winced. Sachiko Yagami winced as well, rocking the baby on her shoulder with a worried look.

"Sayu, dear," she said, hesitant, "perhaps you should give him some time to—"

"More time to what, Mom? Avoid us? He's had nine years!" Light's sister gave the door another vicious rap. "We've been stuck on a plane for thirteen hours, Light! With an infant! We came all this way for you, and you can't even look at us? Open this door!"

She rattled the handle in rage, but the door still didn't budge. Stern-faced, Lidner turned to Near with folded arms. "What a heartwarming reunion."

"That isn't my fault."

"You told us you would break the news to him in advance."

"I did."

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"Near—"

"I said I would warn him. I did. Light Yagami is a grown man, as he's fond of reminding us, and supposedly he loves them. How was I supposed to know he'd react like a—?"

"Near."

Lidner's eyes narrowed further, full of judgment. Uneasy, Near plucked at his shirt. "We can talk about this later. For now, please stop Ms. Fukui from breaking down the bathroom door."

"I'll do my best. But you should go over and talk to poor Mrs. Yagami. You're the host here, God help us all."

She's right. Reluctantly, Near slunk over to Light's mother, offering her a respectful bow.

"I apologize for the commotion," he said. "I imagine this is hard for all of you."

"He looks so different," Mrs. Yagami said softly, still rocking her grandchild. "I knew he would, but all the same…"

She trailed off, clearly at a loss. Near shifted on his feet. Damn it, Lidner. I'm no good at this. "It's been almost a decade since you last saw him. It would be stranger if he hadn't changed at all."

"I know, I know, but—he's so thin. And that scar across his face…how did he even—?"

Near's stomach gave a guilty squeeze. "I think he'd prefer to tell you that story himself."

Nearby, Ms. Fukui continued battering the door, ignoring Lidner's attempts to calm her down. Light's mother shook her head. "Perhaps this was a mistake."

"He's fine, Mrs. Yagami. Just overwhelmed. I'm sure he'll be happy to talk once things quiet d—"

As if on cue, the baby in Mrs. Yagami's arms began to wail. With a squeak of distress, Near clamped his hands over his ears, fighting the urge to rock in place. This is a disaster. Lidner's right. This is my fault. Ms. Fukui spun to face them at the noise, mercifully abandoning her assault on Light's bathroom hideout.

"Now look what you've done," she spat, disgusted. "You've upset the baby. Your nephew, Light. You won't even come out to meet him? What a jerk you are."

"It's been almost three hours since his last feeding," said Mrs. Yagami. "Is there somewhere private here they could go?"

Unfortunately, the bathroom's occupied. Near gritted his teeth, trying to block out the hungry screeching that still stabbed his sensitive ears. "Gevanni, go show Ms. Fukui where she and the baby willl be staying."

"Me?" asked Gevanni.

"Now, please."

"Uh, yes. Ms. Fukui, if you and your son would…follow me…"

Her eyes flashed at the pointed suggestion, but she scooped up her squalling son without complaint. As the cacophony died off down the hallway, Near uncovered his ears and approached the battered door.

"Your sister is occupied elsewhere, Light. It's safe to come out."

No response.

"Light. Say something."

Through the door, Near could hear Light gasp, a muffled, plaintive wheeze that set Near's hair on end. He sounded like that in London—the night that Roger died. Either he's crying, or he can't breathe. Possibly both.

Alarmed, Near knocked on the door again. "Open the door, Light. That's an order."

Something thumped against the wood—not his head, I hope—and Near took a step back in dismay. "Should I break it down?" Rester asked.

"I don't think there's another choice."

"There is," said Mrs. Yagami. "Let me try."

"It's a matter of safety, Mrs. Yagami. Someone needs to check that he's—"

"It's all right. Please. Let me try."

Despite the obvious difference in timbre, there was something of Light in her voice—more amiable, but commanding all the same. Reluctantly, Near backed away to let her pass, tugging at his hair hard enough to hurt. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, dear." With an anxious, hopeful smile, she pressed her hand against the door. "Hello, Light. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Light's only answer was a choking cough. Mrs. Yagami ran her hand up and down the wood, as if she might find some secret button there to open it, then turned to look at Near instead. "He used to play hide and seek, you know. Years ago. Once he hid, he wouldn't come out for anything. Not until he was sure the game was over and he'd won. Has he ever told you about that?"

Near glanced at the door, half-expecting Light to interject. "No."

"I'm not surprised. It was so long ago now. Goodness, he can't have been more than nine or ten." Mrs. Yagami shook her head, cracking a smile at the memory. "Sayu would get so upset about it, of course. The fact he could always find her, but she could never beat him. I tried telling her that he was older, that she would do better to play something else, but she never listened. If Light was doing it, she wanted to, too."

"No child ever wants to hear that they're too young for things," Lidner said. "I certainly didn't."

Mrs. Yagami nodded. "I thought Light would get sick of her crying at him eventually, but he didn't. One day when their cousins were visiting, I found them both buried in the laundry hamper downstairs. Light had suggested they team up and hide together, but she'd fallen asleep on him while they waited. All their cousins had given up looking, but until I found them, Light never said a word. He didn't want to lose the game for her—and he didn't want to wake her up."

Rester smiled. "That's a sweet story."

"He was a sweet boy. A good boy. He always was." Mrs. Yagami ran her hand up the door again, her eyes wistful. "I can't tell you how much I've missed him."

Your good boy murdered thousands of people. Near toyed with the cuff of his pajamas, grateful for the thick scrim of hair obscuring his face. Mrs. Yagami's warmth toward her prodigal son cost Near nothing. If anything, it should have relieved him. Against all logic, however, it bothered him, unearthing bones of resentment and jealousy Near had forgotten he ever interred. It's normal that she would love him. He deserves it, I think. But my mother would never say that about me.

Slowly, quietly, the door inched open.

Despite the scars and baggy scrubs of his long imprisonment, Light Yagami still looked surprisingly good. Faint creases marked the corners of his hangdog smile, but the youthful contours of his face remained. Looking at him, Near was struck again by his easy magnetism, the way he could exude a police agent's presence even in faded prison grays. Only the puffy, red rims of Light's eyes betrayed him, belying the feigned cheerfulness of his smile. He didn't bother trying to hide that he's been crying. Either that, or he gave up. Near's conscience smarted at the realization, and he pretended not to see.

"Sorry for the wait." Light spoke in a husky whisper, a breath away from tears. "Hello, Mom."

"I don't mind. Come, let me have a look at you."

Obediently, Light stepped forward, shutting the bathroom door in his wake. Mrs. Yagami touched her fingers to her lips, studying her son with wide, brown eyes. "You look older."

"I am older."

"You've grown up. Have they been taking good care of you? Feeding you properly?"

Light glanced at Near, sheepish. "I don't think—I can't complain."

"You can if you want to," said Near. "I won't punish you for honesty."

"I can't complain," Light repeated, more firmly. "I'm fine, Mom. Really."

Mrs. Yagami's hands reached for him, but she quickly snatched them back. Chewing her lip, she turned to Near. "May I—?"

"Ask your son. You don't need my permission."

"No need," Light said quickly. "I don't mind."

She burst forward like water through a open dam, sweeping Light up in the torrent of her arms. His composure crumbled in his mother's grip, and he hastily squeezed his eyes shut. As Near watched, the years fell away from Light's face, leaving a tearful child in place of the man he knew.

He doesn't want me to see this.

I don't want to see this.

Averting his eyes politely, Near walked over to Rester and Lidner. "I should get some work done. You two have this under control, I hope?"

"I think so," said Rester.

"Good. If he gets overwhelmed again, find some pretext to get him out of there. Preferably before his sister comes back. Understood?"

"I'll follow his lead on that, Near. Not yours." Lidner gave Near a hard look, her judgment obvious even to him. "We need to talk."

"We'll debrief tonight after dinner. You can give me your lecture then." Near threw one last glance at the Yagamis—still embracing—then looked away. "If he needs me, I'll be nearby."

Lidner opened her mouth to say more, but Near didn't wait to hear what it was. Turning his back on the family reunion, he trudged quietly away.

"You goddamn coward."

Light Yagami's voice sparked and crackled with rage, all the more dangerous for being calm. Near added another matchstick to the growing tower on his desk before reluctantly looking up. "You're supposed to be supervised."

"I am. You're here."

"I'm working. If you're done with your mother, you should be—"

"You can kennel me after we're finished. Right now, we need to talk."

So people keep telling me. Though the puffiness had left Light's eyes, his face was a violent shade of cerise. Near wilted under his glare, but he refused to look away. "I think that went well."

"Did it?"

"No one choked you this time."

Light's jaw twitched. "You made me look like an idiot."

"I didn't lock you in the bathroom, Light. You did that all on your own."

"You didn't leave me much of a choice. You never do. You just throw me into things, and then—"

"You have more choices than anyone in your situation has a right to expect. I value your input, and I value your comfort, but there are limits. There have to be."

"Reasonable limits, sure. Expecting a simple notice of what you decide on my behalf isn't unreasonable."

"I warned you they were coming."

"Yeah, you did. Two minutes before they arrived. Stop blaming this all on me, damn it. If I did the same to you, you'd react much worse."

Yes, I would. "If you brought my mother here, I'd have a better reason to be alarmed. Several reasons."

"Other family, then. Your old friends. That's not the point. You're not an idiot, and you knew my feelings about this. What was your plan here, Nate? Just to push off telling me until you couldn't anymore?"

"I knew you would be upset." Chagrined, Near pulled his hair over his face. "I didn't want you to be upset."

"Well, congratulations. Now I am. Upset and pissed off. This is the second time you've done this to me, for fuck's sake. I forgave you for the last one, but why the hell would you do it again?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit. Bullshit, Near. You got bad news, and you were too much of a coward to tell me. That's what happened, isn't it?"

Yes. Near's stomach twisted at the question, but his face revealed none of his fear. I offered to let you go home, but you stayed here to prevent them from knowing. You have no reason to stay with me anymore. An old, familiar pain—rejection, abandonment—loomed like a guillotine over Near's neck. One wrong move from him, one right move from Light's family, and the blade would fall.

I don't want you to leave.

The admission weighed on Near's tongue like a boulder, far too heavy for him to push out. Grimacing, he said the next best thing. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"The fact you're upset."

Light groaned. "Nate…"

"I don't regret bringing them here. They deserve that. They've deserved the truth for a long time. But I should have talked to you before I did it, yes. For whatever additional distress that failure caused you, I apologize."

" 'That failure?' "

"My failure. Yes. That much, I admit to."

Light stared at him for a moment, his arms folded. Then his posture relaxed, and he sighed. "Well, then. That's a start."

"If we're going to start grading each other's apologies, Kira, neither of us will come out with high marks."

"Ha. You have me there." Light sagged into a chair, slumping forward. "What the hell am I supposed to say to them, Nate?"

"You could start with the truth. See where that gets you."

"They know the truth. That's the problem."

"Not the whole truth. They know who you were nine years ago. If they wanted to reject you for that, they could have done it much more easily over the phone. I'm not an expert on familial bonds, but when people act, they have a reason. The only reason I can think of for them to make this trip is to find out who you are now."

"I know."

"Then start by answering their questions, and see where that leads you. You convinced Aizawa to trust you, and he had far less reason to forgive. Given your family's natural bias, I'd say you have nothing to worry about."

"I convinced you, too. Doesn't mean I'm eager to put myself through that again."

Oh. Near looked up from his matchstick tower sharply. "If you believe your only redemptive quality is your martyr complex, you are far less intelligent than I've given you credit for."

"I don't have a martyr complex."

"Prove it, then. You're a clever man. I'm sure you can convince your family you've changed without throwing yourself on any grenades."

"And if they decide I've changed for the worse?"

"If they decide that, I'll have to wonder how you inherited your brains. The silver lining of being a mass-murderer is that you have nowhere to go but up. Anything else you do is bound to be—"

"Inadequate."

"I was going to say 'an improvement.' "

"Same thing. You don't have to lie to me, Nate. If my name gets released tomorrow, they'll be burning my effigy in the streets. There's not a person on Earth who's going to care whether I improved."

"I care."

"Only to a point. I've got as much liberty as you'll ever give me, and anyone objective would say I deserve far less. At best, my mother walks out of here grateful that I've been locked up for the rest of my life. At worst…" Light trailed off, his expression clouded. "There's no future in which my family is proud of me, and you know it. Not now. Call it my own fault if you have to, but stop pretending it isn't true."

Near's prisoner watched him with dull, armored eyes, as if expecting Near to laugh at him. Near didn't. Light coming to him for help was rare enough. Light coming to him for comfort—for reassurance—was entirely new. He'd be better off going to Rester. I'm not the right person for this. Disconcerted, Near looked away, stacking another matchstick as he weighed his response.

"They weren't proud of you before," he said at last. "Not really. The man they were proud of didn't exist."

"But he could have."

"But he doesn't. If you'd never found the Death Note, yes, you might be a better man. If I hadn't taken it away from you, you'd be worse. Only a fool wallows in what could have happened. It didn't. Move on." Near spun his chair to face Light fully, steepling his fingers the way that Roger used to do. "If they'd stayed ignorant, respecting that man who isn't you, you would never have heard from them again. If they disown you, the same holds true. No one here will think any less of you. Your situation won't objectively change. The only thing you stand to lose here is your pride—and if that could survive your trouncing in the warehouse, I'm fairly certain it's bulletproof. Figuratively and otherwise."

Light shook his head. "Telling me being disowned hurts less than being shot is an interesting tactic for cheering me up."

"It does. I haven't seen any of my family since I was five, and I'm still standing. As one of my predecessors told me, a little humility can be good for the soul."

"He sounds pretentious."

"He is. Fortunately, he has many good qualities as well. Whether he chooses to see them or not."

To Near's relief, the corners of Light's mouth rose. "High praise."

"Objective fact. Don't let it go to your head." Satisfied, Near spun back toward his desk. "If your family asks me about you, I'll tell them the same. Where are they now, anyway?"

"Mom went to check on Sayu. And—my younger nephew, I suppose. How much more do you think she'll scream at me if I admit I don't know her children's names?"

You of all people should know how to lie to them, Kira. "I'll have Rester look them up for you."

"No. He should focus on the case. This visit's been enough of a distraction as it is." Light rubbed his face wearily. "Are you still planning to bring me up to speed?"

"There will be a team debriefing after dinner. Once Lidner and Rester finish lecturing me for not talking to you sooner, I'll have one of them bring you to join us."

"Why wait? I'd like to see that part, too."

"Your presence would only inhibit them, I think. I'm sure Lidner would be happy to give you the highlights afterwards." The thought of it gave Near no pleasure, but he could set a good example, at least. I can't ask him to take his lumps and refuse to take my own. A little humility is good for the soul, after all. "I meant what I said earlier, by the way. If there's anything that would make this easier—"

"As long as they're here, no one comes into my room without my permission. That's all I ask."

"I understand."

"Including you."

Oh.

Near wrapped a lock of hair around his fingers, fighting the urge to echo Light's words. Including you. Light's shrewd eyes bored into him—reading him, no doubt—waiting on Near for a response.

"I'm not saying I won't let you in," he said. "Just give me the option, for once. Or is privacy beyond your limits, too?"

"The option," Near repeated. "No, it isn't."

"So you agree to—?"

"Yes." Including you. "Yes, that's fine."

"Good. Then that's all I had to say." Light sighed. "Do I have to wait for Rester, or will you come lock me in?"

"If you want. If you'd prefer to stay here—"

"I don't." His voice stung like a lash, sharp and final. "I'm tired, Nate. Right now, I'd rather have some time alone."

I'm sorry, Near wanted to say, but his mouth refused to form the words. With a silent nod, he climbed off his chair to lead his prisoner out.