A/N: It has been a long, long time since I promised a final Noelverse installment, but here it finally is. I hope it proves worth the wait!

I was hoping to work the 2020 Death Note oneshot manga into this fic somehow, but it was impossible to reconcile it with the plot of Resurrection. Minoru fans, I sincerely apologize.

Light Yagami was bored.

He was accustomed to that, of course. It wasn't the hauty, teenage ennui of his pre-Kira days, nor the grim, terrifying monotony of his early confinement. No. Today, Light's boredom was a far more ordinary sort: nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one but himself to entertain him.

For the time being, at least.

I take Julia her dinner at six, and Near promised me a Go game at eight. I can stand a few more hours on my own.

He turned another page of his borrowed book, straining and failing to focus on the words. Annoyed, he tossed the book aside and stood, looking up at the ring of sketches that lined his living room wall. Though far from expert, they were recognizable, each one displaying a familiar scene or person from his past. I haven't had much interest in drawing lately, but I seem to have free time. Maybe I should work on—

"Light? Are you occupied?"

Near. Even through the metal door of Light's enclosure, his visitor's voice was unmistakable. "Not at all. Hold on."

Unable to suppress a smile, Light walked out into the entryway, raising his hands to prove he was unarmed. The heavy door swung open with a click, and he lowered his hands at once.

"It's three o'clock, Nate," he said. "You're five hours early."

"I'm not here for Go. I'm here to take you outside."

"It's not my exercise day, either."

The pale detective shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, looking up at Light through a tattered curtain of white hair. Since Libra's death, for reasons he refused to explain, the detective had stopped cutting his hair entirely, and the unruly cascade now reached the small of his back. Light had offered to tie it back for him more than once, but Near insisted he preferred to leave it loose. I don't understand how he can stand it, but somehow, it suits him. I'll give him that.

"Is something wrong?" Light asked. "I've never known you to volunteer to—"

"Lidner and Gevanni are away on an assignment, and Rester's running errands. I could use some company. That's all " Near toyed with a long lock of hair, his shoulders hunched. "I thought you might want to go for a walk."

That wasn't a no. Wispy hairs rose on Light's neck and arms, but he hid his concern behind a smile. "You make it sound like you brought a leash."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I'd hope not. If you ever try to put me in a collar again, I'll destroy every stick of furniture I can reach."

Near huffed. "This is what I get for wanting your company. Are you coming or not?"

"Of course I am. I'll grab my jacket. Wait right there."

I hate this goddamn staircase.

Light's scarred lungs strained as he climbed to the roof, as if his ribs were a steel trap inside his chest. Self-conscious, he pushed himself forward anyway, only pausing to wheeze once he reached the top.

"My offer to build an elevator stands," said Near.

Light shook his head. "It's usually fine."

"You pretend it's fine. There's nothing shameful in admitting your limits. The more you push—"

"One flight of stairs isn't going to kill me, and you're the one who wanted me to get exercise. When I hit my limits, I'll tell you."

Near's mouth twitched. "Being hard to kill doesn't require you to make your life more difficult, Light."

Ryuk would say I'm no harder to kill than anyone else, Light thought, but he doubted that would put Near's mind at ease. Straightening up, he smiled and gestured toward the rooftop greenhouse. "Men in glass houses—"

"It's your glass house, not mine—and last I checked, we were still outside it. Are you done?"

"I'm fine."

"Then after you."

The rooftop greenhouse—a gift for Light's thirtieth birthday, three years before—was as warm and welcoming as ever, an oasis of Japanese greenery atop Light's expatriate abode. Today, Light took up a position beside the lily pond, resisting the urge to crouch down and trail his fingers in the water. Near slouched after him like a shadow, his face half-hidden behind his waterfall of hair. For a moment, both men were silent, watching the water lap and trickle over the rocks.

"If you were hoping for conversation, you'll have to start it," Light prompted. "I haven't done anything interesting lately to talk about."

"I'm sure we can come up with something. What are you reading these days?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in. Nothing I'm interested in, either, to be honest."

"That bad, hm?"

"Let me put it this way: the next time the protagonist has an intelligent thought, it'll be her first. Judging by the cliché, poorly-paced mess this book considers a plot, that's true of the author, too."

Near's tense expression softened. "What a ringing endorsement."

"It's the truth. I'm a tough critic, but an honest one."

"Why are you still reading it, then?"

"Julia recommended it. She wants to hear my thoughts when I'm done."

"Did you warn her that you're a tough critic?"

"I'll be a lot less honest when I talk to her. We've been getting along well since the murder attempt, and I'd hate to ruin that now. I've got few enough friends as it is."

"Mm." Near's voice is oddly distant. "How is she?"

"She's doing all right. Why? Haven't you been meeting her for blitz chess?"

"Not lately. I've been too busy."

Light raised an eyebrow. "Not too busy to play me in Go."

"That's a tradition. That's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"I'm flattered." Light grinned. "Be honest. You still haven't won a single game against her, have you?"

Near scowled. "That's not why I stopped playing."

That means yes. "It's all right, you know. A little humility's good for the soul."

"Says Kira."

"Says a man with experience."

"Not enough experience not to sound smug."

"A little humility, I said. I never claimed to have a lot."

Near studied him with suspicion, as if trying to spot how he was being mocked. "I see."

"If it's any consolation, she still thinks you're intimidating."

"Not intimidating enough to let me win." Near paused. "Not that I want her to let me win."

"Of course not."

"I don't. I only meant that she lets you win."

"Bullshit. I won those games on talent, fair and square."

"You won those games because she's fond of you and wants to stroke your ego. That's not the same thing."

"Charisma is a talent."

"One I'd prefer you avoid relying on, given your history, or at least let me buy you protection first. It's one thing to keep a pair of mass-murderers, and quite another to breed them."

Heat rushed to Light's face. "That's not—she's a friend. Nothing more. I have no intention of—"

"Breeding?"

"Yes. That. Even if I had any interest in that—which I don't—I still wouldn't. Not with her. Imprisoned or not, I've learned my lesson about mass-murderers who admire me. Much later than I should have, but I have."

Near's smug expression faded. "I'm sorry. That joke was in poor taste."

"Don't worry about it. I know you're fond of me, too." Light arched a mischievous eyebrow. "It's only natural you'd feel jealous."

This time, it was Near's turn to sputter. "I feel no such emotion."

"Are you sure? If your claims can be believed, you let me win at Go much more often than Julia does at chess. Have you been lying about the reason for your losses, or is there something you want to tell me?"

"I'm beginning to remember why I hated you," Near muttered.

"I find it hard to believe you ever forgot."

"I sometimes do. Fortunately, it never takes you long to remind me."

"I'm on your team. Reminding you about things is part of my job."

"I don't pay you to annoy me."

"Of course you don't. You don't pay me at all." For a moment, Light studied the pond in silence. "So, are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?

"What you really brought me up here to talk about. I can tell when something's bothering you, Nate. You might as well just tell me what it is."

Near's shoulders, already tense, hunched further. "Am I that easy to read?"

"I wouldn't say that. I just pride myself on being literate, I guess." Though your anxiety tells are easier to spot than the rest. "If you need to work up to it, I won't push."

"No, you're right. Better to get it over with. You have a right to know." Near took a breath, meeting Light's eyes with reluctance. "I took a new case."

"Please tell me there's not another Death Note."

"No, nothing like that. The daughter of the Japanese prime minister was kidnapped two days ago on American soil. Normally, I would have looped you in sooner, but the situation is rather—well, delicate."

I can imagine. "How old is she?"

"Twelve. Her kidnappers issued demands they want met within ten days, or they'll murder the girl. Formal hostage negotiations are underway, but the kidnappers have yet to budge on their demands or give enough away to track them down, so—"

"So the Japanese government asked L to step in."

"Both governments. I haven't spoken to the president directly since your arrest, but he called Rester hours after the news broke. I spent most of yesterday on a call with the ICPO."

Unbidden, Light's mind leapt to Sayu, dead-eyed and catatonic on her return to Japan. Being held hostage at twenty was hard enough for her. Being held hostage at twelve… "How feasible are their demands?"

"Impossible. The kidnappers want full transparency and public release of all documents concerning the Kira and Libra cases, including proof of how the murders were committed, proof of death for the killers—and the public disclosure of their identities."

Ah. Light pinches his lip between his teeth. "And?"

"And what?"

"What does the government have to say about it?"

"The president wants the situation resolved peacefully, but is adamant—for now—that we not give the kidnappers anything. He says it'll just encourage more kidnappings in the future."

"Smart of him. Under the circumstances, I may be biased, but—"

"May be?"

"Fine. I'm biased. He's still right. Only an idiot would reward violent criminals unless his goal were to incentivize crime."

"I agree. Japan, unfortunately, feels otherwise. Your father's replacement at the ICPO meetings has been arguing that we should safeguard any details about the notebook but release Kira and Libra's identities as a show of good faith, to help buy the negotiators more time. He's been arguing to anyone who will listen that withholding that information is tantamount to killing a helpless girl to protect a gang of murderers. He's not alone in that view, it seems."

Light's breath whistled out through his teeth. "Does Julia know?"

"Julia's in no danger. As far as the ICPO knows, Nick Wolff acted alone. The only names they could possibly release would be Wolff, Amane, Mikami…and you." Near makes a sour face. "I did point out that with everyone on that list dead, the only people releasing that information would punish are your innocent families, many of whom are Japanese citizens. He backed down at that, grudgingly, but if this case comes down to the deadline without us finding the girl—"

"He'll probably get more insistent." Understanding washed over Light like cold water, and he struggled to keep his face composed. The Japanese see Near as aligned with American interests, and they're still annoyed he went over their heads to bring me down. If they decide leaking my name is in their best interest, they'll do it whether Near agrees or not. "What do you plan to do?"

"Find the girl quickly. Obviously. We have several promising leads already, which I've asked the team to follow up on. I wasn't sure if you would want to be involved, considering—"

"You know I'm not asking about the girl."

"Mikami had no family, and Amane's sister died a few years ago. I've apprised Senator Wolff of the situation and moved him and his family somewhere safe for the time being. Naturally, I'm doing the same for yours, but—they know you're Kira now, Light. We kept the details as minimal as we could, but there was no way to explain the danger without telling them that."

Fuck.

Shaken, Light wet his lips. "Do they know I'm alive?"

"Yes. I saw no reason not to tell them, once they knew the rest."

"You saw no reason? You could have asked, damn it! You could have talked to me!"

Near fidgeted. "I wasn't the one who talked to them."

"Don't be a pedant. You should have talked to me first before anyone talked to my family. Why didn't you?"

"Because I prioritized their immediate safety over your feelings. I assumed you were man enough to do the same. Was I wrong?"

"No, but—"

"Then what's the problem?"

From any other man, the question would have been rhetorical. Coming from Near, it was impossible to tell. So much for being literate. With a muffled groan, Light dragged his hands down his face. "I'm beginning to remember why I hated you, too."

"If it helps any, we didn't make this decision lightly—or by choice. If there had been any other way—"

"I know. I know." Light's stomach roiled with anxiety, but he forced his bile down. "What did they say?"

"They wanted to see you. As soon as possible."

Of course. A gaping, gnawing hole opened inside Light's chest, and he looked down at his hands in dismay. Beside him, Near made a soft, unhappy noise. "It was bound to happen eventually, Light."

"I know."

"Too many people close to them knew already. It was irrational to expect it to stay a secret for—"

"I said, I know." Light's voice came out too fast, too sharp, and he saw Near flinch. "It's fine. You did what you had to. It's just—I need some time."

"You've had nine years. How much more time do you need?"

All of it. As much as I can get. His right hand curled up at him like an accusation, the nerves still damaged by Matsuda's gunshot nine years before. The last time Light had seen his family, he had been all of twenty-three, a successful, fresh-faced agent with a fitted suit and an air of destined greatness. Now he was thirty-two, visibly scarred and short of breath, with bars on his windows and no pockets in his monochrome, faded scrubs. I don't want my family to see me like this—a prisoner, a failure, a burden. I didn't want them to know. He knew his pride was irrational, a childish flaw he should have outgrown. Even so, it cast long shadows on his mind, eclipsing his thoughts with a pall of dread.

I want to see them.

I can't let them see me.

They deserve to come.

I don't want them here.

Pasting on a smile, Light looked over at Near. "I guess it would be cruel to them to keep them waiting. Just make the arrangements. However long that gives me should be enough."

"Are you sure about that?"

No. "I'm sure."

"Good." Near's relief was obvious. "I know this isn't what you wanted, and I take full responsibility for that. You're excused from this case unless you say otherwise, and Rester says he'd be happy to take over Julia's care for the time being. If there's anything else I can do to make this easier on you, all you need to do is ask."

Light shook his head. "I don't need accommodations. I'd rather he work on the case."

"And you?"

"If you'll let me, I'll work on it, too."

Near frowned slightly. "I assumed you would want to spend that time with your family."

"I can do both. I've got plenty of free time. But if you expect Mom and Sayu to spend the next week or so cooped up with me in my rooms, they'll resent me even more than they already do."

"They don't resent you."

You don't know that. Agitated, Light looked down at the little pond, struggling to organize his thoughts. For fifteen years, they've loved a Light who wasn't me and hated a Kira who was. Now they know it. You don't know what they think. Nine years later, his father's dying words still haunted him: Light, you're not Kira. I'm so glad. Light suspected—no, he knew—they always would.

Would he have come to see me now if he were still alive? Would he have brought his pistol with him if he had?

A hesitant, pale hand reached up to touch Light's shoulder. "Are you all right?" Near asked.

"I'm fine." Forcing a smile, he patted Near's hand once and plucked it off his arm. "We should go inside."

"You don't have to rush."

"You still haven't fully debriefed me on the kidnapping, and I've got a lot of cleaning to do. My mother's got enough reasons to lecture me without seeing the state of my rooms."

"Your rooms look tidy to me."

"Tidy and vacuumed are two different things, and I'd like to take some pictures down before they come. I didn't decorate with visitors in mind."

With a reticent hum, Near unlocked the stairwell door. "Trying to impress people who already know you seems like a waste of effort."

"It probably is, but I'm still going to do it. At least you warned me before bringing guests to see me this time. I might as well use that time to be a decent host."

"I warned you this time. Yes." Faint color crept into Near's face, and his hand yanked nervously at his hair. "You've been warned."

A thin sliver of dread pricked Light's mind. "Nate," he said, gritting his teeth, "tell me you didn't."

Near sighed. "Well—"

"They're already here?"

"Here in the city, yes. Lidner and Gevanni went to get them from the airport, but I have no idea if they've made it back to—"

No.

Frantic, his heart pounding, Light bolted past Near and down the stairs. A sharp gasp greeted him at the bottom, and his own breath snagged in horror.

From the common area of Near's headquarters, Sayu stared at him open-mouthed, holding a watchful baby against her chest.

Beside her, smiling nervously, stood Light's mother.