(A/N: this chapter contains (non-graphic) mention of various suicide methods.)

Matsuda can't remember getting back downstairs. He's sitting by Raito, and then, and then he's standing in the TV station foyer. Mogi's there, too, Misa-Misa holding his hand, looking like she's in shock, and Matsuda thinks oh god, Misa, someone will have to tell her, someone will have to tell her and he's trying to explain to Mogi, trying to say what's happened without Misa hearing. It doesn't work too well and he ends up just saying I'm sorry, tell her I'm sorry -

He doesn't remember getting to the hospital either, but he must have done because now he's in a white room and someone is talking to him, saying to him, can you tell me what happened to your fingers? A pause, and then he sees what the answer should be, and he says, someone cut them off. Then he thinks maybe that sounds like he's being sarcastic and so he adds, with those things you trim roses with. The doctor just nods and then starts asking him things like can he move the fingers that are left, can he feel this or that, and Matsuda can answer all of the questions if he's given time to think about it but he feels like he keeps slipping backwards, like he's finding himself in a cell again, or on the stairs, or in front of the cameras.

He's lying still and his arm and hand are numb. No, that's - his arm and hand aren't, like, they just aren't, if he keeps his head turned away from them (which he is, because he doesn't want to see what the doctor's doing to the wounds) it's like they're not there at all. Raito says to him while you're waiting, it really hurts and then they only shoot you full of painkillers after you've got to the hospital and Matsuda wants to tell them to stop fixing him up, like he doesn't need help, like he's fine, but he can't make himself do it and so he just keeps his head turned away and looks up at the ceiling. He counts the rows of tiles. Well, he tries to; he keeps losing count, which is a bit embarrassing, but he's not doing it out loud.

They're asking him other things, but he can't work out what. He's trying to explain that he doesn't understand; that he's not stupid, it's just that the words don't line up in his head, but just like before all he can say is I'm sorry, I'm sorry. They talk gently to him and say it's all right but they'll lose their tempers at any minute, they'll think he's still trying to weasel his way out of everything and he's not, he gets it, he's turned himself in, he just can't think -

And then his dad is there.

He says to the doctor I'm his father and then he answers the questions calmly and sensibly and for a few moments Matsuda's just thanking his lucky stars someone has taken the heat off him but the next moment he's furious with himself instead. Dad is going to have enough reasons to be ashamed of his younger son, why has Matsuda just given him another one?

He would speak up now and try and explain, acknowledge that he's being stupid, but he knows that admitting it won't actually help, people will just want to know why if he knows he isn't doing anything. And so he sits and waits and then his father says to him, "Come on. They say you can go," and he scrambles to his feet and they're almost at the main entrance of the hospital before he realises he has no idea where he's going to. Is he even allowed to just walk out like this? A few hours ago everyone in the country wanted him dead - and he killed someone, he shot Raito and he said he wouldn't run away from things this time -

Dad looks at him, like, he's clueless as usual, and says, "You'll stay with me for tonight. You're clearly not fit to be on your own, not to mention there might still be some lunatics around who..." He doesn't finish that sentence, just carries on: "Come on. My car's just over there."

All the way home he seems angry - quietly so, like the way when you've done something wrong and both of you know it but you're trying to bluff it out. Matsuda used to try and short-circuit the process by making a joke out of it, like, so, I guess you saw my report card, huh? I mean I didn't think it was that bad, I was pretty impressed with myself and then that would give his father an opening to read the riot act: you didn't think it was that bad, did you? Evidently not, considering you've clearly put no work in since the last one... and if it wasn't fun then at least it wasn't the silence and the waiting. This time, though, Matsuda doesn't think - no, he knows he doesn't dare start off by being flippant. So, I guess you heard about the whole murder thing? I mean if you want my opinion I was totally provoked... Oh, god, if this was a TV show then that line would actually be funny. It would actually be funny, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself laughing, he's shaking with the laughter and then somewhere along the line it turns into other things and when they finally park he feels like he's just going to explode from feeling too much and trying to act like an adult on top of it all.

It's ages since he last visited his dad's apartment. Dad hasn't ever been the type to spend much time at home, and since the divorce he seems to have decided family celebrations are something that can happen to other people. And Matsuda's been way too busy the past few years to spend time in his own apartment, let alone other people's. Still, he kind of prefers it being an almost-unfamiliar place. Better than an abandoned warehouse, he tells himself, better than jail and then he wishes he hadn't thought that and grits his teeth and makes himself think only about what he can see. Files and folders in neat piles on the floor and the table. A laptop in its case near the door. One red bowl and one pair of chopsticks drying on the draining board. Only it's not helping, it's making him think of the task force headquarters, and how Raito managed to keep surfaces tidy even when they were covered with papers while he himself seemed to be working on top of a layer of chaos all the time -

"Touta," Dad is saying. "Touta. Listen to me."

But then he doesn't start getting mad. He just starts explaining all the things Matsuda assumes the doctors were trying to tell him earlier. That he's sustained a couple of broken ribs; that it will hurt but he has been given painkillers and should be fine as long as he doesn't develop any further symptoms. That he's got to try and keep the wounds on his right hand dry. That the SPK, and the rest of the task force - the others involved in your TV appearance, Dad says, like Matsuda just got put on Candid Camera or something - are all still alive; that Aizawa and Ide are critical but stable. Matsuda tries to look like he's listening, tries to have reactions like a normal person, but he has this awful feeling like somewhere along the line he made way too much fuss and now Dad thinks he's really badly hurt when people like Aizawa and Ide could actually be dying. He doesn't know how to go about trying to fix this. And he knows it's not like the hospital decided to treat him and ignore the people with actual gunshot wounds but he still feels like they did, like he complained and said he hadn't done anything wrong and they believed him.

Dad sighs, and says, "Well, you're clearly not in much of a state to take anything in at the moment. I'll make us something to eat. You go and get cleaned up and for god's sake, change out of those clothes. I'll lend you something of mine."

Oh god. Oh god, he is still wearing the prisoner's uniform. He'd forgotten about that in all the stuff that happened but - all that time in the hospital - everyone had seen -

"Why were you the only one dressed like that, anyway?" Dad says.

Matsuda tries to answer. On the third attempt he actually manages to get some words out. "There... there wasn't anything else. My clothes got all - I mean, they were all messy and - there wasn't anything else. He -" No, he doesn't want to mention Raito, he doesn't even want to think about him - "They couldn't have put me on live TV all... you know, all covered in blood."

His father swallows. His face is very still and Matsuda doesn't think he's seen the last time Dad's been angry enough he's actually had to hide it.

"I see," he says at last. "The blood was from when you lost your fingers?"

"Yeah."

"You told the doctors that someone cut them off."

Matsuda knows that they're having a conversation, that normal people speak when they're spoken to, but if he says anything, if he even opens his mouth, he thinks he'll just - he will just lose it completely and that's - that's not going to happen. So he keeps his mouth shut. He thinks at Dad I don't care, I don't care, you can say what you want, I don't care and for once, he actually wins the battle of wills because Dad just sighs and says, "Go and have a shower."

It seems like ages since he's got to shower, even though it can't have been more than a few days. Yeah, he took a bath at Mariko Sato's house, didn't he? One of those bathrooms that's clearly just been done up, and she'd filled the place with lots of different soaps and stuff. That would've been in the morning.

It's like he realises afresh then that same day I shot her husband and I'm supposed to be admitting that, I'm supposed to be facing up to it and he breathes in and breathes out and it's all shaky and can't go to pieces. Can't, not here, Dad already thinks I'm not even trying to hold it together and he clenches his fist, his damaged hand, only the missing fingers won't move properly and the frustration of that helps, drives the other stuff back for now.

Dad, of course, just has some cheap shampoo that barely even has a scent, and the water takes ages to warm up. Matsuda can feel his mind trying to think about the Satos again, trying to remember the actual event now, the shot, the gun clammy under his hands, the silence, it was all so silent, but thank god the struggle to get clean without exposing his right hand too much to the water takes up most of his thinking. In fact, just taking a shower at all does that, he keeps finding himself locking solid, forgetting what the hell he's meant to be doing - but eventually he's clean and dressed. He leaves the other clothes on the floor, not wanting to touch them. While he was showering it occurred to him that some of the marks on them must be Raito's bloodstains and that was another line of thought he didn't want to follow so he decided he'd just pretend the clothes weren't there any more. Dad won't be impressed but Matsuda needs to get used to giving up on impressing people by now, really. And it's not like he wants to keep them. He can just put them in a bag and throw them out. Yeah, try and kid yourself that's it, it's over, and now you'll never have to wear clothes like that again. Sure.

Back in the main room the air smells of onions and spices and suddenly his stomach is kicking his insides and he remembers he hasn't eaten yet today. To be honest he's not at all sure he wants to, but he sits down anyway. The food is just a bunch of random vegetables stir-fried with some slightly burnt pieces of chicken and enough spices that you can't really taste the original flavour of the food. Dad's never been much of a cook, but then he's never been the type to care about food at all. It wasn't like he used to get mad with Mum if her cooking wasn't up to scratch.

They sit down and Matsuda can feel Dad just watching him. Luckily, he's realised by that point that holding a pair of chopsticks in his right hand is going to be a problem from now on. He's able to get his left hand to hold them but then the angle isn't quite right and it takes a couple of attempts to pick anything up with them. Which is embarrassing, but it's almost familiar. The idiot son who can't even use chopsticks properly. At least he can pretend his attention's all on that and it isn't he's deliberately avoiding conversation.

But even though he doesn't look up, he hears Dad take a breath - a now we're going to talk about the things that need to be discussed breath - and then he says, "Of course your mother and brother are both very concerned. They both offered to give you a place to stay, but she's further away and he's got his family to consider. I thought it was best that you stay here."

Of course that's true, that Mum is another hour's drive away and Takuya's probably not going to want to have someone who was nearly killed by a mob near his wife and small children, but Matsuda has a horrible feeling it's more because Dad wants to know exactly what went on, exactly what his younger son has actually done. He knows he should nod and say he understands, maybe, you know, actually thank his father for putting him up like this, but he's frozen. You knew this was coming. And it won't just be your dad who asks questions - you knew this was coming -

"Are you able to explain what happened?" Dad says. "Since you called me, that is?" A pause, and then, like he's giving Matsuda a clue: "You told me that you and your colleagues had got hold of the weapon Kira uses to kill with."

Matsuda nods and then he tells himself just one more mouthful of food and then I'll start, I'll explain, but his hand is shaking so much that he actually can't pick up anything to eat and in the end he just gives up, puts the chopsticks down and says, "We were trying to... to arrest him. Kira." He can see Mikami cowering in front of them, and Mello smiling that thin smile, and the trees black against the sky - and Ide yelling how could you be so stupid -

"It went wrong," he says at last.

"And he captured you and learnt the location of the weapon."

Matsuda keeps his gaze on the table and his food and all at once they blur. It's not fair, he doesn't want to talk about this, he wants to forget it ever happened, it's not anyone else's business -

"It was you he targeted, wasn't it?" Dad says, briskly. "That's what happened to your hand."

Matsuda wants to lose his temper, shout stop thinking you know anything about it or that's ridiculous or - or - but even as he tries to get angry he can just feel the shame rising up over him instead and all at once he knows he is going to start crying and he can't even see why, just perhaps that he's too tired to stop himself. He tries, though. He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches and presses his fist to his mouth and thinks get a grip - just get a grip -

"And then he found the thing again and planned to use it on you live on NHN," Dad says. "But - what? Something went wrong with it? Kiyomi Takada died instead?"

Okay. Okay, Matsuda can explain this bit. "He..." God, his voice is so hoarse, it's obvious to anyone how upset he is. He swallows, tries to steady it. "Someone stopped him. This guy who... who used to be on his side, he... changed his mind. He got... he got killed, but we managed to... to get away."

"And then Soichiro Yagami's kid seemed to have decided... well, I don't know what he decided. That he was an agent of Kira's will or something. Or..." Matsuda can hear the question, but he's not going to answer it, and Dad seems unsurprised by that because after a few seconds he carries on, "He found you and your colleague? Was he the one who was armed?"

Matsuda nods, and then, too late, realises he's left himself open -

"How did you get hold of the gun?"

Matsuda opens his mouth to say something, anything, make up a story, but what comes out is just, "I can't."

"I'm not the only one who'll be asking questions, you know."

And suddenly the anger's there like he's touched a live wire full of it and he hears himself yell, "Yeah, you're all so keen to be asking questions now! When it's over and - you'll ask and then think you know everything that happened and, and - you wouldn't have done any better if it had been you, and I -" The gun in his hand and Ide shouting at him and Raito smiling and the smell of smoke and blood and - "I tried and I know I messed it all up but I didn't know what to do -"

He's sitting there and part of him is just watching and thinking god, you sound like an idiot but that part is so closed off from anything real that he hardly notices it. He certainly doesn't bother trying not to sound like an idiot.

Dad is looking at him but he actually doesn't seem like he's about to lose his temper. He's just looking like he's waiting for Matsuda to stop going to pieces and eventually he says, a little bit irritated but nothing like as angry as he could be, "I'm not asking because I want to criticise your decisions. I'm asking because I need to know what happened to you."

"You don't," Matsuda hears himself say, sounding about ten years old. "You don't, you - I've been to hospital, they've fixed me up, it's not like I've got some wound I didn't tell you about -"

Only of course Dad doesn't mean how badly hurt you are. He means I need to know what you did. I need to know whether I'm technically sheltering a fugitive.

The anger is gone again, suddenly, and Matsuda just feels really stupid. If you're going to turn yourself in you have to actually admit to your crimes. That's the point.

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and then he stares down at his plate and he makes himself say, "Shooting Raito, it - it was an accident. He... he gave me the gun. He shot Ide and he wanted me to kill myself. He figured I didn't have anything left to live for because..." Okay, it's just words, it's not a big deal, and he's got clean and got changed and had something to eat and really things could be a whole lot worse so he should stop being such a coward - "Because of that guy who got killed. Hirota Sato."

It seems like everything goes quiet for ages before Dad says, very businesslike now - more determinedly rational than he's been with his family for ages - "So someone was killed. I wondered if it were a publicity stunt."

Matsuda tries to remember if they actually spelt out on the news that it was him who did it. It probably doesn't matter, though. Why else would it make him want to kill himself? And Dad must be realising, now, the other reason behind his change of clothes.

"Why did you do it?" Dad asks. He doesn't sound angry. He just sounds tired.

This is it, the part Matsuda was dreading. For a few moments he actually can't talk, like he's trying to get out of it that way, before someone jeers at him this is what you call facing up to what you did, is it?, Raito, too much of a coward to do the right thing and he closes his eyes and just says:

"It was an accident. He worked out who we were and I was trying to get him to back down. To not - not call NHN."

Silence. His breaths feel too deep, they hurt his throat, but just do it - just get it over with -

"I panicked and - I shot at him. I hit him in the shoulder and he bled to death."

Oh god. Oh god. His hands are shaking and he has to open his eyes because he has this awful feeling everything's falling away from him. He opens his eyes but he doesn't look at Dad, he stares at the table instead. It happens now, he feels himself thinking, it all starts happening now, and he deserves it, he knows he does, but he wishes he could be less frightened -

Dad says, "Right," and then he's getting up, carrying his empty plate over to the sink. Clatter. Clink of cups - he's making tea. Matsuda wants to yell at him to say something, go on, get mad at me, I don't care, I deserve it, just don't make me wait around, just get it over with - but he makes himself keep quiet, he doesn't get to ask for anything after a confession like that. His breathing is still too heavy, like he's struggling to get the air out from deep down inside his chest. For a few moments he can kid himself he's just focusing on that but then the reality of the situation floods back. He's just admitted to murder and now he's just sitting here like he expects to be offered some tea and embroiled in a discussion about how his niece and nephew are doing at school or something.

Maybe Dad thinks he's being asked to hide his son from the law. After all, Matsuda kept his mouth shut at the hospital - let himself be sent home, playing the victim, kept saying he was sorry -

"I didn't... I know I should have admitted it," he says. "I know, I... it wasn't that I was trying to hide, it... I just wasn't thinking, I know I wasn't, but I'm not... I'm going to... I'm not running away, I... and I'm not asking you to... I should've said at the hospital but I... I just forgot, I guess -"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Dad carries the tea back over to the table and sits down. He looks - numbed, tired, as if he's just been woken up at three a.m. or something. But he sounds more or less normal. Assured and a little impatient that this is something else Matsuda doesn't get.

Matsuda badly wants to believe Dad is saying don't be silly, you don't have to turn yourself in, I don't want that, but he's not that naive. He's obviously said something else dumb without realising and that's what Dad is talking about.

"You were barely coherent at the hospital," Dad says. "You were barely conscious at times. No one would have believed you or even understood you if you'd tried to discuss this at that point."

The familiar mix of embarrassment and slight resentment makes Matsuda hunch his shoulders, say, "Yeah, well, I... I was just saying. I wasn't trying to... to hide anything."

"I don't think you realise," Dad says, "exactly how bizarre all of this seems to onlookers. The facts of the matter are that Kiyomi Takada told the country that you and your colleagues were on Kira's hitlist, you were evil incarnate, but she never really explained why. Then she has you all lined up to die on TV, and she collapses from a heart attack instead, while all of you remain alive. Raito Yagami then takes over, covered in blood, talking as if he has a direct line to Kira, and when the chaos ends he's found dead too, also from a heart attack. And meanwhile, none of the seven of you have died. People are going to be extremely cautious of you now. I can assure you that no one is going to be doing anything about you for the next few days. They're just going to be watching to see if Kira kills anyone else."

He sighs, rubs a hand over his face like he's tired.

"Besides," he carries on, "the NPA have some questions to answer, too. Releasing photographs... and for your information, I didn't know that that was going to happen until it did. Of course they kept me in the dark and then they told me that I couldn't be involved, that I was obviously too close to the situation. It - if I'd known, I..."

Matsuda wonders if Dad had wanted to be awesome too, to single-handedly stop the situation, show his idiot son what an idiot he was and sort everything out. Or perhaps that's just what Matsuda himself wanted.

"But the point is," Dad says, "there's a lot of ways blame could be apportioned. It's not straightforward."

"Yeah," Matsuda hears himself say, from far away, the words not really meaning much, "Yeah, but... but I'm not - I mean, I'm not going to - I said -" Coward, Raito says, and then you can't say it, can you, you can't actually promise you'll go to them and say that you killed him -

"What you're going to do at the moment," says Dad, "is rest, recuperate, and see what happens. You're clearly not thinking straight right now - so for one thing, you're in no state to answer any questions. I can assure you I'm not going to..."

He stops, then, like there's things he isn't quite sure he can say either.

"There is no point in coming up with any plans at the moment," he says. "You'll stay here and rest up. When you're less exhausted, we'll review the situation again. Do you understand?"

Matsuda isn't sure he does, but he nods anyway. Dad sips his tea, and Matsuda does too, even though his hands are still shaking and remembering how to swallow takes effort. He's nearly finished the cup when Dad says, abruptly, "Thank you for explaining things to me."

Like Matsuda's the smart one, like he's explaining to his confused father how to use email or something. The confusion must show on his face, because Dad says, impatiently, "I think you have been honest with me, and I appreciate that."

Matsuda sort of smiles, because he doesn't know what else to say. There's a hell of a lot he hasn't admitted, so much stuff he's too ashamed to confess or even think about, but he knows that that's how things are going to stay.

"I'll tidy up," Dad says. "You get some rest."

ooo

Misa isn't sure what she expected to find outside the cupboard. Like, she wasn't silly enough to think Raito would be there, waiting for her, telling her what to do next and how proud he was. But she could hear the sirens all around, and lots of authoritative voices shouting stuff and none of them were Raito's, and it sounded all really organised, nothing like all the screaming and yelling before, nothing like Raito's wide, glittering eyes.

She knew Mochi was mad with her but when she said, it sounds like things are okay out there he just said yes and then they were both scrambling to their feet and she found herself clutching his hand as if she had as much to be scared of as he did. He didn't seem to mind. But then, Mochi hardly ever shows he minds anything. That's what makes it difficult - Misa always feels a bit stupid when she shouts at him or blames him for something because part of her can't believe that anything could be his fault. He's so sensible. Kind of like how she finds it hard to believe anything could be Raito's fault because he's so smart.

But anyway. They stand up and he helps her past the piles of chairs and then she hears him take a deep breath and push open the door. And they walk out of the room and down the corridor and everything is different. The building is full of police and ambulance people, and everyone is still, no more running about, everyone is sitting huddled against the wall or standing there taking statements or talking to people with blood oozing down their faces. Misa looks around and looks and she thinks that she knows it already, even though she can't admit it, because she is thinking where is he, where is he and she should know that he could be anywhere, he doesn't have to be waiting for her, but she's got this awful feeling if she doesn't see him soon then she's going to start screaming. In a stupid way it reminds her of when she was a little kid, let go of her mother's hand in a busy department store and then wandered around the shelves with this slow dawning that Mummy had gone and something really bad had happened and somehow it was all Misa's fault -

Mochi has led her over to one of the ambulance people, is explaining about the concussion. Misa answers the questions he puts to her and lets him look in her eyes but it's really hard to do that and manage the not-screaming thing as well. She has to wait. She has to wait - Raito could be anywhere - hey, maybe Mochi is actually right and Raito has got in trouble, is with the police - that reminds her, crumpled into a sweaty handful in her skirt pocket is the tiny scrap of paper, bloodstained and ink-stained and she'd run out of room on it. Had Raito told her to do something else with it? She's too hot, there's singing in her ears and her fingers against Mochi's are sticky. The ambulance guy has finished talking to her, he says to go home, go home and rest, and Mochi is trying to lead her away and she has to ask about Raito, she has to - and do it without screaming -

It'll be fine, and it'll be better once you know - even if he is in jail they'll let you see him - he'll tell you what to do - he might be sorry, he might be glad to see you -

She wants Mogi to ask for her, but he doesn't.

"My fiancee. He was here too. I need to know what's happened -" Her voice trembles a little and she's cross with herself, nothing's happened, nothing (except that she knows, by now, that it has, why else would she be so scared?) "I need to know if he's all right -

"His name is Raito Yagami," she is saying. "He was - he spoke on air quickly -" And then she's stopping, frightened that she wasn't supposed to say that, but it doesn't matter, because the man's expression is changing, he looks sorry for her -

Everything is very quiet.

She is standing in her apartment. Hers, not Takada's, not a hotel room, hers and Raito's and - yes, she's gone to hang her coat up, and already on the peg is a scarf that she bought Raito for Christmas. She never saw him wear it. It's a burnt orange-brown colour, she thought it would match his hair and eyes. Her eyes are puffy and sore, and she rubs at the crustiness of dried mascara on her cheek. She needs to hang up her coat but she can't remember how. It's like being scared after a horror movie, you know there's not going to be anything waiting outside the door but you're still too scared to go out of the bathroom. She knows she needs to hang up her coat but there is that scarf and he never wore it, that's the awful thing, he never wore it and she bought it thinking he'd like it and he never -

She can't breathe - it's like she's standing in a hail of broken glass and if she takes a breath she'll cut her insides to ribbons - while she stands still and doesn't breathe, everything else is still as well.

Mogi is gently taking her coat from her, hanging it up - it covers the scarf but that doesn't make much difference, Misa realises now it wasn't the scarf at all that was the problem. She wants to be feeling all better but she's not, she's just not. She's trying to stay still and everything else will stay still but she can hear her breath forcing itself in and out, little squashed gasps for air and each one is like a no, no, no -

"I'm sorry," Mogi is saying to her, and he puts his hand on her arm, he's trying to get her to move, to sit down, and he's here and Raito is not here and it can't be, it can't, not this, please, anything but not this -

- and Mogi says something else to her and the gasps get louder and suddenly she is screaming them. "No! No, no -" and as she does that it hits her like a bomb going off at her feet. Raito is dead. He has been dead for several hours by now. He ran off and collapsed and died in some corridor and she hid in a cupboard and she didn't help him and all her plans, all her hopes and all her efforts to make him love her and all her dreams that she had someone, all of them, they are all gone because he is dead.

Mogi is holding her and she clings onto his shirt and she wants to pretend hugging someone will fix all this but she feels how stupid that idea is, how stupid and horrible it is to think that anything will fix this, and she screams and screams because if she doesn't she thinks the hurt might just crack her in two. He doesn't say anything, doesn't try and get her to calm down like he usually does, just stands there and she feels his breathing quick and scared next to hers and he said Raito didn't love her and had she believed it? Was that it, that someone decided she clearly didn't deserve Raito and had taken him away? She had wanted things to be different, she had -

She can't think about it and so instead she screams "I hate you" and she shoves Mogi away from her. Then she wishes she hadn't because now she's alone and there's no one to hurt but herself. She wants to rip up everything and then maybe she'll be able to start again. But she doesn't know how - she doesn't know where to start, she could claw at her face and hair, kick and scream and trash the room, and she knows, she knows she would just find herself sitting among the chaos, in the same place, and nothing would have changed.

"Misa..."

She looks up at Mogi and they stare at each other. He's gone white; he looks more scared even than he did back in the TV studios. Misa wants him to be hurt, she wants him to be scared, she feels like it will bleed off some of the misery she's feeling. And yet she has a horrible feeling that won't be enough either.

"Why..." Her throat is dry - it actually hurts to talk. "Why are you still here?"

"You shouldn't be on your own."

Tears are welling up in her sore eyes again. And then, yes, rising up after them, Raito's dead, not just angry with her, not locked up or gone away or even left her and gone to Takada or someone. The one thing you can't take back.

"You know what?" she says, and it is really hard to form a sentence, to focus on something that's not screaming why or no or just screaming over and over - "You know what, Mochi... Misa is really tired of you telling her what she shouldn't be doing. Telling her she's only going to get hurt. Misa thinks you should go away -" She's trying to make her voice sharp, trying to hurt him even a little bit as much as she hurts, but it's not working, her voice is trembling and the tears are sliding down her face, she tastes them - "You should go away and leave her alone..."

Mogi stares at her and he swallows but eventually he just says again, "You shouldn't be on your own."

And the terrible thing is Misa partly doesn't want him to go. She's kidding herself that when she's on her own she will be able to stop pretending, that she will be herself as opposed to this ugly, blotchy girl who keeps shrieking and saying, doing all the wrong things - but she knows that really, when she's on her own she will look round the empty apartment and she will realise that nothing has changed, that Mogi isn't the problem either. And then she will be crying and crying and she won't be able to stop.

"I don't know who else I can ask to be with you right now," Mogi carries on. He sounds halting, tired. "Raito's mother has Sayu to look after. If you have any friends nearby, then I'm happy to -"

Misa imagines it, calling Nori or someone else she hasn't seen in months, explaining my fiancee dropped dead, I need...

They would say Misa, I'm so sorry.

It's not going to be like that. It's not. Raito may have left but - but he would want Misa to - to think, to be clever, to have a plan. (She grabs onto this thought like the first rung of a ladder.) A plan and... it was because of the task force he died, right? Because of the task force and because of Mochi. So she'll be smart. She'll fake cute, just like she did before, and he will fall for it again, think that she's going to be all right, that he doesn't have to watch her and then she will -

The thought of it makes her shivery and sick but that's better than screaming and so she manages a smile, says, "No. No, it's okay. Mochi can stay." And he sighs and she sees the relief in his face and she feels even better.

The feeling-better carries her through the rest of the night; it's a bit like being drunk, she floats on a cloud of satisfaction, imagines how pleased Raito will be with her. Mochi cooks for them, of course - Misa feels really horrible enjoying it, can only swallow it by reminding herself of how it's all going to end, how she's only treating herself in order to make him not suspicious. She slips up a few times even so, in her mask, that is. She says to him at one point won't Monchichi be angry that he hasn't got Mochi with him? Aren't you supposed to be working? and it's meant to be cute and funny but it sounds mean, really mean, like she's actually said does he know you decided to follow me around again instead of help them? Mogi only looks sadly at her and says that Aizawa and Ide are both in the ICU being treated for gunshot wounds and he thought he was of more use here than back at the hospital. Like he's making everything so much better. Misa has said, before she can stop herself, you mean you thought you might get to fuck me again if you follow me home. Now my boyfriend is dead it's the perfect opportunity, right? Mogi goes dead white at that and he stares at her like she's hit him, and she wants to keep staring back and prompt a huge row between them, goad him into actually talking, yelling at her, destroy everything that way, but then she starts jittering in her head no, stop, you've got a plan, remember, you don't need to - got a plan -

Sorry, she says, biting her lip, and turns her gaze down to her food. Misa knows you wouldn't... take advantage. I'm just... Her voice is going flat and it doesn't sound like her any more, funny how different it sounds when you strip out all the inflection, all the acting. I'm just tired.

Mogi says I understand and then he gets up and starts clearing the plates. He does all the washing up and everything. After that it's late enough she can start talking about going to bed, bustle around looking for a sheet and blanket so he can sleep on the sofa. She almost says how it'll be uncomfortable because he's so tall, she almost teases him about it, and she can kid himself it's part of her plan but she knows it's not, it was just how she would act with him. Anyway, she gets him bedding and it's all horribly silent by now so she says she'll see him in the morning and then scurries away into the bedroom.

It's not as bad coming in here as she expected. Partly because Raito hadn't slept here for weeks; he'd been at the other task force headquarters, or with Takada. Actually Misa hasn't slept here for a while either, what with everything that happened since Christmas. Still, she doesn't go over to the bed even so. She sits down cross-legged on the floor and waits until she can be sure Mogi's asleep.

(She should prepare for it; write a note; put on a pretty dress, paint on a pretty face.)

The light is off and after a bit, the light under the door, in the main room, goes off too.

(This is important. This is her atonement, her reunion with Raito. But... but she's too churned up to plan. She is a bit scared that if she did, if she started playing dress-up, she'd lose her nerve. Because she's so tired and... it would feel like she's playing a game. She's just waiting for Mochi to fall asleep and then she is leaving all of this. She's just waiting. If she started preparing herself, she'd only be putting it off.)

(She doesn't want to scream out loud any more, at the moment, but she thinks, she knows that behind the initial silence and numbness there is the real understanding of what's happened, there's having to think about it, there's having to live in this apartment and - and pack up Raito's clothes and - she can't - there's no point in waiting -)

When it feels like it's been long enough - Mochi nearly got killed today, he must be sleepy - she scrambles to her feet, and, gently, she eases the door open. She had time to think about how she would do it. A kitchen knife wouldn't be sharp enough. Hanging herself would be too difficult, in the dark when she has to hide her actions from someone else, and she isn't sure there's anything strong enough to tie a scarf to anyway. There might be razor blades in the bathroom, but she can't swear to it, Raito not having been home in so long. So she figures painkillers. There's a box in the bedside table, but it only has three or four in, that won't be enough. So she crosses the main room, light footsteps, Mogi's slow breathing all around her, and creeps into the bathroom. It's full of washed-out light, moonlight or streetlight, and it makes her think of getting sick or getting her period at three a.m. when you're too tired to think straight or work out what's really happening. She feels like she's not thinking straight. She feels like she should be making more of an effort with this. She hasn't even had a shower. She hasn't even washed her face.

She's fumbling around in the tiny bathroom cabinet but even as she looks and looks she's not seeing what she wants. She keeps searching, telling herself she's just tired, but there are only two shelves and they're hardly filled, she already knows that there's nothing there. She puts the light on, belatedly (she's allowed to go to the bathroom, he can't suspect anything) but then she can see there really aren't any painkillers, there's a box of plasters and some anti-indigestion tablets and spare soap and toothpaste and that's it. The panic is rising in her now, making her set her teeth against it, and - so, so she has to change the plan, she - but she was right, there aren't any razor blades either and if she smashes the mirror then Mogi will hear. She tries to tell herself it's okay, it doesn't have to be done now but it does, that's the only reason she let him stay, stop all this before it begins -

Her fiancee is dead and he hasn't even been dead twenty-four hours and she has her bit on the side back to the apartment. She can talk like she was going to kill herself but look, how stupid, oh, I didn't go to the store, so I guess I can't do it, huh, what a shame! She is a liar, a faker, she -

Wait. The paper. The piece of paper. She could write down her own name, couldn't she? She thought she'd run out of room but - but surely if she tries - she's careful, she's delicate -

She fumbles with the paper, takes it out of her pocket, smooths it out against the bathroom mirror. It's creased enough that she's scared it will disintegrate under her fingers, but it just about holds together and she squints at the mess of blood and ink covering it. Will it still work if she writes her own name over others? Like, does the paper have to be able to read it, or is just the action of you tracing out a name with a pen touching it enough? It's worth trying, at least. She needs to get back to the main room, find a pen without waking Mogi up - or she could use her blood, maybe, but she's not at all sure she'd be able to trace out the characters properly, not on such a tiny piece -

There's a cautious knock on the door.

"Misa? Are... are you all right?"

Misa wants to scream but underneath that she's so tired she almost doesn't care any more. Of course she is going to get caught. Of course.

"Misa... Misa is fine," she says, but her voice is hoarse and shaky. Well, so what? So what, she's entitled to have a good cry in the bathroom, what, does Mochi expect her to be some kind of, of porcelain doll or something?

She waits to hear his footsteps moving away, but there's nothing.

"Is Mochi peering through the keyhole?" she snaps at last. "I'm not taking a shower, not at this time of night."

"No," he says, not even sounding offended at the suggestion, just blank, tired. "I'm... I was worried about you."

"Why would you be? Misa-Misa is..."

Well, she can't say fine, can she. As she's struggling to think what she can say, she hears Mogi draw a breath, and then he says, "I know... I know that you're angry with me."

She bites down on her lip because she so wants to say that's for sure.

"I know that I lied to you and I know that... you feel I took you away from him when it mattered."

Misa wants to snarl at him you did, but funnily enough it's not actually true. It wasn't like... it wasn't like he grabbed her and forced her into the cupboard with him. She talked like she was going to go back out and look for Raito, but then she didn't. Because she was scared? Or because...

Really, she's angry with Mochi because she wants to make someone else feel as miserable as she does.

"You couldn't have done anything to help him," Mogi carries on. "The - the shinigami - the thing which gave him the notebook, you must have seen it - the shinigami killed him because he was going to go to prison. It... it thought... it thought that would be boring. Misa, once he got to NHN that was it. There was no way he could have survived this."

Misa has wrenched the door open before she can think.

"You knew?" she hears herself say, and she's very cold and it hurts to talk. "You knew about the shinigami? And the - the paper and everything?"

Mogi nods.

Misa doesn't want to say the next bit, but she can't, she can't not - and besides, she needs to know, there's no point in getting all upset if something's going to kill her anyway - and Raito would like that, they would be the same. Or perhaps she would be the one who'd like it. She can't tell. She takes a deep breath, and, keeping her eyes on Mogi, she says, "Does that happen to... to anyone who's been Kira? Will it happen to me?"

There's a long silence. A car goes past outside. Mogi stares at her but he isn't looking horrified, he isn't yelling at her how could you or what do you mean.

"I don't... I don't think so," he says at last. "If it was, it would have already happened by now."

He looks tired, that's it. Like he was expecting all this. So maybe he did know all along. If she'd asked him earlier, would he have admitted it? Would he have told her he could love her anyway? No, that's stupid, that's romance. He's too good to say something like that. Or, at any rate, he's never going to say it.

Her palms are damp; the paper is fraying between her fingers. She wonders if he's noticed it. "Why are you still here, then?"

"I said, someone -"

"You know what I mean."

Does she want him to say because I love you? She thinks that she doesn't care; that Raito is still dead and it still hurts so much. But part of her wants to hear it anyway, as a silly, cheering-up joke. If she had told him, instead of saying to Raito where they were, would things have been different? Raito might have had to look for them for longer. He wouldn't have gone to the TV station, not today, anyway. She should be devastated at that thought, that she is to blame for all of this, but she's just - angry. If Raito hadn't talked her into telling, he might still be alive. He should've figured it out. He was smart enough, wasn't he?

Even in this, he didn't think about how it would hurt her.

"Letting you hurt yourself wouldn't do me any good," Mogi says at last. "Sometimes you have to compromise on - on things you believe."

Well. Misa knows that, at least.

Staring him in the face, she holds out the crumpled scrap of paper to him. And, after a moment, he takes it.

ooo

Aizawa remembers running. He remembers not noticing anything except the shouts of the mob behind him and his mind carefully, methodically, calculating how far behind him they must be, where might he have a chance to throw them off. It's actually quite peaceful, not having to worry about anything else.

That carries him along for a bit, actually, when he turns a corner and runs into another group of Kira supporters.

Wait, Raito is saying. Wait - and then, Aizawa... be reasonable about this. What have you got to gain from being stubborn?

My life? The analysis is still coursing through his brain, he's still kidding himself he can get out of this. But under all of that he can feel his gasps for breath, his aching legs; he can hear the breaths of the people surrounding him, and the wail of sirens outside.

No, Raito says, no, you've lost that whatever happens, don't be stupid. But your family - they can be safe - assured of Kira's protection for life - think what that means - after all, they'll need it - losing a husband and father -

No one to fight their corner otherwise, he says, and linked to a man who actively tried to destroy the new world...

Aizawa doesn't remember exactly what happens after that. He loses his temper, of course he does - the sick, hopeless rage that Raito will be able to do anything he wants to Eriko and the girls, that Aizawa can beg and plead and offer anything and Raito will probably screw him over just for the fun of it -

On the floor, being kicked, curling up, running footsteps and more sirens, it'll end soon, it's got to end, why the hell isn't someone stopping this? Hands scrabbling in his pockets. Raito leaning over him - the sling he was wearing has come untied, blood oozes down his fingers -

We need to go, there are police outside -

Give me the paper! Raito snarls and his face is close to Aizawa's, his eyes wide, his skin spattered with blood, and Aizawa wonders again how they never noticed this man was completely insane, how they spent five years working under him and never picked up on it -

Time is slowing down. He is thinking, carefully, picking his way across the words, that as soon as he explains to Raito that he doesn't have the paper, that both pages were left with the SPK, then Raito will kill him. And under that thought is the line that it wasn't meant to be like this, that I got lucky and then I just threw it away -

That's about all, for a long time.

Until he's opening his eyes and thinking that god his throat feels like someone's been at it with sandpaper.

He blinks - his eyes are dry and itchy too - and he looks at the ceiling, and, and he's not -

(You bastard, Raito screams at him, and then I warned you, I warned you, I gave you every chance -)

He is half-convinced, for some reason, that he's back in the bedroom of the apartment he and Eriko lived in right after they were married, and he's worried because if that's the case then there's no way in hell he can stop Kira, he doesn't even know what the murder notebook is at this point. And in addition to that, and his aching throat, his chest hurts like someone's sitting on it, and he's got to do something, he can't just lie around complaining he feels ill. Someone is talking to him, but he can't understand what they're saying and he tries to snap at them slow down, start again, but he can't get the words out.

Like when you doze off in the middle of a movie and when you wake up you have no clue what's on screen, he finds himself awake again. Except that this time he knows he doesn't know where he is. And then he hears Eriko's voice, saying his name.

He looks over and thank god, she's there, she's alive - and the girls too, Yumi perched next to her, Youko sitting on her lap. He finds himself smiling and then he remembers when he last saw them, in that damn prison visiting room, what he was facing then, what they were facing, and he hears Raito say again no one to fight their corner...

They all look very tired, but they're wearing different clothes from before, clean clothes, and Youko is clutching a teddy bear and Yumi and Eriko both have purses slung over their shoulders. He swallows - he has to say something, he can't just keep staring - but his mouth is still dry. Yumi, her hand shaking a little, reaches over her mother to the bedside table, and then she's handing him a cup of water.

"I... I guess you're allowed to drink stuff?" she says. "They wouldn't have left it here otherwise, right?"

Aizawa sips at the water and thanks her and she gives him a relieved, nervous smile back, the cool-teenager-poise completely absent from her face.

"Well," Eriko says, and then stops, and then carries on, "This is the longest you've been awake for three days. Welcome back to the real world." There's a sarcastic edge to her voice.

"Are you..." Takada died, yes, he remembers that bit - and people were getting scared, questioning their loyalties - "Have you been able to - to go back home?"

"We've been staying in a hotel," Eriko says. "Of our own choosing, this time. Mogi-san thought it might be best. Things seem to be quietening down, though, so I'm hoping we'll be able to go back home soon."

"And back to school," Yumi mumbles. She tries to roll her eyes, pull an exasperated face, but it doesn't really convince. Aizawa wonders what people are going to say to her. I saw your mum and dad on TV. I saw them both almost die on TV -

"When do I get to leave here?" he says, trying not to follow that thought any further. "What happened, anyway?"

Eriko gives Yumi a look and the girl seems to have been prepared for this, because she scrambles off the chair and takes her sister's hand: "Hey, Youko, let's go and see if we can get some chocolate for you and Daddy, okay?" Aizawa's surprised - but relieved - to see that his younger daughter doesn't seem to mind this, trudges off with her sister, although she does still glance back at them, fingers in her mouth, as they walk away.

"She's a bit better than she was," Eriko says. "If she's distracted, she's happy to stay just with Yumi. But I'm not sure how kindergarten is going to work, at least not right now."

"Don't worry about that -" Aizawa is beginning, and he means we'll sort it out, we'll come through it, now we've survived this we can do anything but Eriko snaps at him, "No, I'm afraid I have to worry about that, Shuichi, I'm sorry. In case you didn't know, it doesn't all stop after you narrowly survive a gunshot wound to the chest. People are still - the nurses were giving me funny looks even when I came in here today, for god's sake -"

"Stop it. Stop it, I didn't mean it like that -"

"Mogi told me you turned round and ran straight back towards the mob."

"I wasn't trying to get myself killed!" There's a curtain round the bed, but Aizawa keeps his voice low anyway. "They'd caught up with the three Americans. They were in no state to run and I was. Would you rather I hid and listened to them getting beaten to death?"

"If it had meant you not nearly dying, then yes," she snaps. "Yes, I would."

They stare at each other for a few seconds. She's very pale; she presses her lips together, blinks hard.

"You got hit in the chest," she says. "Your lung partially collapsed. They think you'll be able to go home in a few days." She sounds mulish, now, like a child still sulking.

"Just... just the chest?"

"Would you have preferred something else?"

"No, I just..."

He can't be sure, but he has a memory that someone had a gun - that one of the people chasing him had a gun, and so when they caught up with him and Raito realised he was useless, they should have emptied it into him. With Raito's attention to detail it seems bizarre that he didn't shoot Aizawa in the head to make sure.

For that matter - "Did Mogi tell you what happened to the others?" he says. "The Americans? Matsuda and - and Ide? Or Raito Yagami, did he mention him? The guy who was on NHN after Takada died, telling everyone to come and kill us?"

"The other people you were on the run with are all alive," she says. "Ide's still in here - someone shot him too. But he's doing well. He'll be out soon. Yagami... he was found dead when it was all over. They're saying it was a heart attack."

"Seriously?" So maybe the SPK had managed to - or someone else, had someone written down his name earlier, set it for that time? Oh, what the hell, it doesn't matter any more, what matters is that Kira's dead. Aizawa wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned elation, joy in revenge. But there isn't anything. Just faint bafflement and under that, wistfulness for god's sake, like there could have been another outcome...

"So... no one's been giving you a hard time?" he says. Focus on the here and now. The people who matter. "They let you go? Or..."

Eriko just looks at him for a few seconds, like it was a really stupid question, but then she says, slowly, "It was me watching, with two of those security men. I... Youko was with me, of course, but she didn't really know what was going on. Yumi had shut herself in the bathroom. I said I'd... I'd tell her when it was..." She swallows. "I didn't know what they'd do. I didn't know if..."

"I - sure."

"Takada died and... they weren't expecting that. Those men. They didn't say anything to me but they were looking at each other, I could see they were nervous. I could see you, I could see you were still alive." She wraps her arms around herself, like she wants to clutch at him and isn't letting herself. "Then they took you offstage and I... I didn't know what to think. I was hoping maybe Kira had decided to... well. You have no idea how angry I was that I was feeling grateful to him for it." A wry smile. "Then Yagami came on and made his request and... I was terrified, Shuichi. I thought, well, clearly everything's completely out of control down there, that you had to still be under guard somewhere... I thought I'd see you being dragged out and shot and... then I thought what if he came here - Yagami, I mean - I knew he'd been giving orders to those men before - I thought what if he decided we should die as well, or..."

He is expecting her to be crying by now, but she's not, even though the words tumble out like she hasn't enough breath for them.

"I could see that the men were scared too," she carries on. "That didn't help; I wondered if they'd kill us in order to, I don't know, cover their tracks or something. The broadcast stopped soon after that... I mean, the test card went up. The men were calling their colleagues, trying to find out what was going on, and I think someone told them to let us go. Said that Kira would kill them or something. I mean they just left us. Threw the room key on the table and walked out. I packed up the stuff we had and - the news was saying the riot was under control. I packed up and then I got a taxi to the studio and I met Mogi there. That Misa-Misa girl was there, too." Another smile, but this one is shakier, and her voice sways a little like she's not thinking about what she's saying. "I don't think Yumi was in the mood for star-spotting, though and... Misa-Misa didn't look well either, she looked like she'd seen a ghost. I thought how odd it was, she looked just as scared as me."

She takes a breath, and looks back at him. "I waited with Mogi until... well, until we found out what had happened to you. Then we followed you over to the hospital and to be honest it doesn't feel like we've been anywhere else much since."

Aizawa partly wants to snap at her that he's so sorry he managed to collapse a lung, it wasn't like he did it on purpose, but really he's too tired to pick a fight. Or rather, he can understand why Eriko is cross with him. There's definitely a way of looking at this that makes him look like some kind of... show-off with something to prove. And it does seem to have turned out more or less all right - far less worse than it could have done - but that isn't due more to him than to anyone else.

"You said... you said Ide got hurt too?" he says at last.

She nods. "Matsuda-san was with him at the time, but he - Mogi spoke to him, but didn't manage to get much idea of what had happened."

"Right." Aizawa remembers - he can feel his mind making the effort to pull the recollections together - that he spent much of that day shouting at Ide for various things. He can remember why - putting them all in danger by shielding Matsuda, and of course actually using those damn pages (but if he hadn't, then - we were all trapped in that room, the mob would've got to us and -)

He was furious before, and he isn't, now, not so much. It... Ide was so clearly doing whatever he needed to in order to keep himself alive, and Aizawa couldn't, and... he was so tired of being terrified that he was going to screw up and someone was going to die...

"Mogi mentioned that the two of you had argued," Eriko says, softly.

"Did he say what it was about?"

"He said you were both tired and worried about the situation and argued about how best to deal with it. Which sounds very like both of you." There isn't an obvious reproof in her voice, but he finds himself turning his face away from her anyway.

"Oh, god." Eriko's voice sinks a little; he looks round to see her resting her head in her hands. "I didn't... I didn't want to come in here and shout at you. I'm not - I know this isn't all your fault. I just don't... I'm just..."

"Really pissed off with me?"

He manages to get a slight smile out of her, and she reaches over, takes his hand, strokes her thumb along his knuckles.

"Not just you," she says. "I just didn't need you telling me there's nothing to worry about. I mean - some of the things people have been saying about Kira - about all of this - and you just kept blindly on with it, all the time. I know it was the right thing to do or whatever but - and I'd decided I wasn't going to nag you about the long hours or - and then all of this, how do you think it felt for me? I kept thinking I could have talked you out of it, or - or perhaps I couldn't, perhaps you wouldn't give a damn what I thought. Perhaps you were happier working insane hours and putting your life on the line than you were being with me and the girls, perhaps I'd just been deluding myself. And then I hear you give a bunch of vigilantes something to target -"

"No. No, no, that's -" Aizawa is struggling to get the words out and the lack of breath seems even worse now. "That is not - don't be ridiculous, I - I never wanted all of this. Okay? I was happy having a life outside work. And if you knew how mad I am that -" He nearly says that the bastard was under my nose the whole time and making us put the hours in for nothing, but just in time he catches himself. "And I wasn't looking to be a hero, either, I just... god, if there'd been another way, if we'd been able to stop it before it went this far, you don't think I would've taken it? And do you think - when she - Takada, when she let me see you that last time I kept thinking -" He's running out of breath again, but he's not sure it's just that; there's a lump in his throat.

Eriko squeezes his hand, and when he looks at her he can see that she's blinking back tears too. He's going to say more, he's going to explain everything, he's going to promise that this is never, ever going to happen again, but just at the moment Yumi and Youko slide back through the curtains, chatting excitedly about how they saw a tiny baby downstairs being taken out of the hospital. Well, Yumi's chatting, with quick little glances at her sister, hope that she'll buy into the excitement. Youko is looking tremulous, but as they all talk to her, all making it sound like things really are as all right as they can be, she manages a smile.

ooo

"I really wish you would think about it, Hideki."

Ide keeps his eyes on the clock over the ward door. Ten-twenty-five. Mogi said he'd be here for quarter to. And it's okay, he's always punctual, but Ide could really do with him being early this time.

His mother sighs, opens and closes her handbag, makes a show of looking for some tissues or a purse or something. Ide doesn't remember her doing that when he was a kid and they disagreed, presumably because she had the power of veto over him. It's something she seems to have started since he left home. She says I really don't think that's a good idea and then she waits, fumbles with whatever she happens to be holding, and then he usually snaps at her and she can then look hurt and say she's only worried about him. Funny how stuff like this doesn't suddenly become bearable and endearing after you've nearly died. In fact the ache in his stomach where they closed the wound and the heavy, itchy plaster on his leg and the bright lights and the constant noise and the inane chatter from the next bed has eaten up so much of his patience he's surprised he hasn't completely lost it, kicked something over and yelled that for god's sake, he has been through hell in the last few days and can she not, not for one second -

He takes a deep breath and manages to say more-or-less calmly, "I'll be fine. It's not like my place is so big it'll be a problem getting around it. And there isn't room for someone else anyway."

"I just think it would make things easier for you if I were close by -"

"No," Ide says. He sounds too pissed off and he hastily tries to soothe it with, "It would put you out too much. And it would be too much hassle. I... just need to rest, now, okay? I can't do that if I'm worrying about putting someone else up."

She sighs again, glances pointedly away, at the empty bedside table, the whiteboard above the bed. Ide looks at the clock again. Ten-twenty-seven.

He knows he's being harsh here. It can't exactly be fun to watch one of your children get hunted through the country and then almost killed right in front of you on TV. He thought she'd be worse, to be honest; would lecture him about how he needs to be taking better care of himself, or how he should have picked a more appropriate career, or... or... actually, perhaps that's why she isn't saying anything. You can't trace any of it obviously back to his actions unless you start asking questions about Kira, and he can see she's far too scared to do that. He doesn't like seeing her scared. Oh, she acts worried all the time, and often she goes on about if the worst happened, but he can't remember ever seeing her honest-to-god terrified.

(There were lots of people round him, but he couldn't see Matsuda - and he kept trying to ask what had happened, was the guy okay, but people didn't listen, or they did but they didn't understand and they just said it's all right and he wanted to tell them not to patronise him but he kept not being able to put the words together, or falling asleep, or hurting. And then as time went on he remembered about Satake and he should explain, he should confess, he's lying here playing the victim when he's no better than Raito or Mello or Higuchi, killing for gain, and he wants to explain but he's too scared.

And then there aren't so many people, and he feels like he's got away with something and it tastes sickly and he wonders if that's it, if he traded his own freedom for Matsuda's life somehow and that's why no one will tell him the guy is dead and he does say, he does actually say out loud I tried to stop him dying - I opened the door and I knew that bastard was going to kill me but I'd left him before and - I tried to stop it, doesn't that count?

He can't tell if his mother hears that or if she's there later. But she's there, and she's holding his hand and she's saying to him it's all right, it's going to be all right, I promise like he's a child again but she's crying as she says it and it hits him, that she must know about all of it - the secrets and the notebook pages and Ikuya Satake's name scribbled down and leaving Matsuda to die and - he feels like shit and he wants it to make him say sorry and mean it, but it doesn't; he just says something awful like I didn't deserve any of this.)

Of course reality sorted itself out after a while. They told him Matsuda was alive - they told him more than once, in fact, because he kept suspecting he'd dreamed it - and no one asked him about Satake's death, or about mysterious pieces of paper, and his mother reverted to her usual controlled guilt-tripping of I was so worried (Ide wondered if she thought it had been fun for him, if he would never have let it happen if he'd realised how much it upset his family) and then his brother and sister showed up and took the opportunity to press books on him that they'd always wanted him to read. But the sickliness of getting away with so much didn't go away. Of course he's not going to admit any of it now, and especially not to his family. Telling them anything about Kira or the notebook will only cause trouble for them, and it isn't like he wants to pretend he killed someone in a normal way. The whole point was that it was too easy just to write down a name. If he'd been holding a gun instead, he wouldn't have done it. Perhaps.

Perhaps that's why he's getting so irritated by his mother's attempts to stick around. He finds it hard enough to keep up the act that he isn't finding her irritating and that he is doing all the things she wants him to and he is completely aware that at some point he's going to have to get married. Adding to that list that he isn't responsible for anyone's death and didn't betray anyone or lie to them or - god, or kiss them -

Ten-twenty-nine. Okay, soon Mogi will show up, and Mogi projects responsibility and good sense, and hopefully he'll manage to convince Ide's mother that he's safe enough to drive her son home from the hospital. And then Ide will be back in his own apartment and he'll be able to sleep with the lights off and eat what he wants to and shower and shave and read books and just be grateful that no one is trying to kill him any more. And then he'll go back to work and he'll have more than five other people sharing the workload with him and murderers will leave normal clues again, like traces of DNA and CCTV footage. This is all what he wanted, and the only reason he's still feeling grumpy right now is because he's tired and still kind of sore and stuck here waiting.

The door opens, and he glances up.

Matsuda is standing in the doorway.

Ide's stomach lurches like he's just been shoved off the bed. Which is stupid, he has no reason to be uneasy about seeing Matsuda, but - the man is practically the embodiment of everything Ide's trying to keep secret, it's like everything will be guessed just by looking at him.

He is yelling at himself that that doesn't matter, it's all over now, that he doesn't have to think about it, but at the same time he is looking at Matsuda numbly and realising he has absolutely no clue what he's supposed to say to him.

Matsuda is looking back at him guiltily like he assumes Ide is appalled to see him, but he creeps over to them and launches into something about how Mogi's really sorry but something happened to Misa-Misa and he couldn't leave her, and Aizawa's still pretty ill himself, and Matsuda figured Ide would rather have someone collect him than not -

At that, of course, his mother starts going on about how they wouldn't want to put anyone to any trouble and she would be happy to deal with things herself, it's just that her son - That shakes Ide out of the cluelessness about what to say and he mutters introductions. He doesn't bother to say Matsuda is someone I work with or one of the others who nearly died a week ago; his mother is already nodding, saying that she recognises his face, that she hopes he's quite recovered now. Matsuda is fidgeting, one hand plucking at the other, and their gazes follow the movement and Ide hears his mother stumble on her words as she sees the missing fingers. Matsuda hastily pulls his arm back, tucks the damaged hand into his pocket.

"We should... we should probably go," he says at last, and goes off on another rambling sentence about hospital parking fees. There are a number of reasons Ide could wish Mogi had managed to make it here, but as he struggles to his feet, reaching for the crutches they gave him, and his mother frets around him like he's been unable to walk for months, his chief concern is that she'll look at Matsuda, conclude he isn't capable of taking care of a goldfish, and simply insist on staying in Tokyo with Ide until his leg's mended. And spend the entire time chatting away about how she was so worried.

But she doesn't. In the lift down she actually stays silent, glancing over at him and Matsuda, and, when they get to the main entrance and Matsuda starts asking are you - do you need a lift, or will you - I mean - she says that no, she'll go back to her hotel for now, "I think Hideki's a little sick of the sight of me!" She says it lightly, but there's a sharpness under her words and Ide finds himself scowling at the floor. He thinks of himself asking people again and again are you sure Matsuda's all right, are you sure?

"Come round this evening," he says. "Let me get settled in first, then you can reassure yourself I'll be able to cope." He sounds grudging, but she touches his arm gently and she says that that would be lovely.

"She seems nice," Matsuda says, once she's left them. He sounds absent, like he's just saying stock phrases because he knows he should. Still, Ide can deal with that. Stock phrases are a lot easier than some of the other conversations they could be having. What sort of conversations would they have, anyway? Matsuda doesn't seem angry with him, or seeking any kind of explanation for anything, and it isn't like there's even much to explain.

He shrugs. "I suppose she is. If she's not your mother."

"Hey, my mum's been going on at me too," Matsuda says. "She keeps calling and pretending she has a reason to talk to me when she just... you know, wants to check I'm still alive." He is walking on ahead, past the rows of parked cars, and every so often remembering Ide can't keep up with him and stopping. The annoyance of that, and of the rain in the air, and the smell of car fumes, is helping Ide a bit to calm down, get his head together. Real life is just as it always was. Things are back to normal, more or less. There's no need to start blurting out every thought in your head.

"Sorry I didn't come and visit," Matsuda says suddenly. "I wanted to, I was going to, but... I've been staying with my dad... I mean, I still am, and he... he said I had to rest up. I mean, I know I didn't... but..." A pause, and then he says, "I think he wanted me to keep a low profile, to be honest."

Ide goes cold all over and hears himself snap, "I thought everything had calmed down - Mogi said -" God, they're just out here in the open, anyone could -

"No, no, it has!" Matsuda has turned away again; his voice is painfully cheerful. "No one's trying to... it's just that people keep giving me funny looks. You must've noticed, even in there... right?"

Ide wants to say that that had better be all it is, that he doesn't need anyone keeping back unpleasant truths, but he reminds himself that if things had been worse than he'd thought, there's no way his mother wouldn't have insisted on accompanying him home and probably staying up all night to guard the front door.

"I suppose," he says. He still sounds grudging, and so, after a moment, he carries on, ""The guy in the room next to mine - he had a bunch of relatives visiting him every day and I swear if they could've got away with it they would've been taking pictures of me on their phones." Offering up an anecdote. Matsuda likes anecdotes.

Matsuda still isn't looking at him, but the cheerfulness sounds perhaps a little less fake. "Yeah. Well. Exactly. And you know what my dad's like. He doesn't like his family attracting attention. Not this kind, anyway. I used to joke sometimes I'd go on one of those game shows, you know, with the obstacle courses or whatever, and he always acted like I said I was going to start dealing drugs. So... so it's not surprising that... anyway, that's why I didn't... that's why I didn't show up. And I'm sorry."

"It - it doesn't matter. I was out of it for most of the time. I probably would've thought I was dreaming." And that gives him far too many openings to start saying I kept asking about you, I kept thinking you must be dead - so he says instead, "So you haven't seen Aizawa, either?"

"He's okay," Matsuda says. "I mean, he wasn't well for a bit, but he's recovered fine now." He hasn't answered the question, but then Ide doesn't particularly want to start speculating on how Aizawa probably doesn't want to see either of them right now, or perhaps ever.

"And his family are okay too," Matsuda carries on. "I mean, he's back home with them and Takada didn't..." He stops. All the stuff that could be said lies between them and Ide quickly answers, "That's a relief. Glad to hear it." He sounds unbearably formal, but Matsuda doesn't call him on it, doesn't even seem to notice.

The journey is silent. Ide rests his head against the car window, leg stretched out across the back seat. Even the short walk from the hospital to the car seems to have tired him out, but perhaps it's as much stress about Matsuda's presence as anything else. Or the thought of all the things he needs to find out about. How Raito died. Why Matsuda didn't. What he actually did, whether he acted on what Ide told him to do. Where the notebook is. Whether Matsuda's had any questions about Hirota Sato's death - hell, whether he's planning to go and confess to it tomorrow. Whether anyone has said anything about what happened to Satake...

The sick taste rises up in the back of his mouth again. For god's sake. Mogi knew exactly what happened there - if there was going to be trouble he would have said something - no one's going to say anything, they must see that if he hadn't done what he did they'd all be dead by now -

And that makes it okay, does it?

"Mello woke up a few days ago," says Matsuda.

"Seriously?"

"I know. That's, what, three near-death experiences he's come back from?" Matsuda's face isn't visible, but Ide thinks he can hear a note of bitterness in his voice. "The SPK, they got him out of hospital and now... now I guess they've gone back to wherever Near was hiding out."

"What about the notebook?"

"Gevanni-san and Rester-san promised Mogi they'd burn it."

"Do you believe them?"

A shrug. "It doesn't matter, does it? Mello's going to be the new L. Even if he did keep it, wouldn't it be in the safest place, with the greatest detective in the world?" Matsuda sighs. "Mogi doesn't seem... well, I don't know, you can't really tell, with him, but... he said Mello was still pretty weak after what happened. So maybe the SPK will be able to find the notebook and get rid of it before he can stop them."

It occurs to Ide that if Mello is going to take on L's role, then he'll have a hell of a lot of dirt on certain members of the Japanese police that could potentially come in handy for him. But there's not much they can do about that, either. Ide would personally have happily seen Mello die and the title of L lie abandoned, at least for a bit while they raised up another sociopathic genius, but he's not about to say that out loud. Even Matsuda will probably say oh, but we need an L, we couldn't have defeated Kira without him, without any of them...

Or perhaps he wouldn't say that, not now.

At last the car pulls up outside the apartment building. It's raining properly by now. Ide tries to focus on the needles of damp prickling his neck and shoulders rather than the warmth of Matsuda's hand under his arm as he's helped out of the car. This is ridiculous. People have been manhandling him for days to help him sit up or lie down or generally be a normal, presentable human being, why should this be any different? Just because he is choosing to view this in the context of all the other times Matsuda touched him, just because he is choosing to think about them at all...

He keeps his eyes on the damp ground, the spots of rain speckling his shoe, Matsuda's feet ahead of him. For the last time, things are back to normal now. What, does he want to prove everyone right in what they thought of him? Impulsive and arrogant and stubborn and unhealthily preoccupied with intimate relations with male colleagues? And it isn't as if what he did with Matsuda helped the situation at all. It was to all intents and purposes a disaster. Inside, the building foyer is stuffy, smells of wet feet and wet hair; the lights are on, one flickering slightly. It's been doing that for weeks; Ide knows because he remembers it from the last time he was back here and that was ages ago - before Christmas, maybe even. All at once he finds himself wishing he had somewhere else to go: some anonymous hotel, a friend's house. He doesn't particularly want to remember coming back here after a hard day of working with the sociopath who then tried to kill him on several occasions. It's got the same embarrassment at your naivety as, say, reading an old diary, or looking at clothes you used to wear as a teenager.

The lift is working, luckily; Ide really didn't want to have Matsuda watch him struggle with the stairs, or be marooned down here, or whatever you have to do when you've broken your leg. As they reach the apartment door he is telling himself that he will offer Matsuda some tea or something just to be polite, and then Matsuda will probably say no, and if he doesn't then it's no big deal, he's just being polite too - but then he actually looks over at the man and Matsuda is pale, arm held to his side, breath catching in his throat, and Ide has blurted out, "What's wrong with you?" instead.

"I... I broke a rib. I mean... at NHN." Matsuda mutters it to the floor, like he injured himself entirely through his own idiocy. "It's usually not so bad but I've got painkillers and I - because Mogi called and I wasn't expecting it and... so I forgot."

"You - what the hell do you think you're doing coming to ferry me home and letting me lean on you? You saw how keen my mother was to help - she'd have been happy to give me a lift -"

"I wanted to see you," Matsuda says, even more quietly. "I hadn't seen you since -"

"Yes, all right, but -"

"And you're much worse off than me." Now he looks up, voice determinedly flippant. "What was I supposed to do, start going on about how badly hurt I was? You'd be all hello, do you remember how many times I got shot, I think some of the bullets are still in there... Hey, are any of them still in there?"

They stare at each other and Ide wonders why he ever thought sticking to the rules of normal social interaction would work when it came to Matsuda.

"I'll have something you can take," he says. "So you'd better come in. And yes, I think one of them is." He fumbles for the newly-cut key in his coat pocket. Mogi had organised that, too. Ide wonders what he said to the building superintendent. They took his keys and wallet away from him the day before we appeared on live TV. None of us feel able to ask for them back. The locks have been changed, too.

The apartment is chilly and the light seems dimmer in here. Ide spots an open book on the table that he'd been trying to finish for weeks; crockery by the sink from the last meal he ate here. It doesn't feel like home, that's for sure.

"I still haven't been back to my place," Matsuda says from behind him. Silence for a second, as if he's considering the prospect of having to do that; then, "You should sit down. I'll make you some tea or something, if you tell me where all the stuff is."

"Go and fetch some painkillers first. There's a cabinet in the bathroom."

While Matsuda's out of the room he takes the opportunity to sink gracelessly onto the couch, close his eyes. He's still tired. It would be great to pretend none of this happened, that his life will go back to normal as quickly and cleanly as they stitched up his wounds, but he's starting to suspect that isn't going to be an option. And besides, even healing wounds still hurt, don't they?

He hears Matsuda comes back into the room and start clattering around in the kitchen. All right, he may as well get the unpleasant conversations over with. Perhaps it will be easier not doing it face-to-face.

"Matsuda," he says, "has anyone said anything about what they're doing about Sato's death?"

He half-expects the sound of breaking china, a comedy distraction, but there's just stillness and eventually Matsuda says, quietly, dully, "Yeah, they said stuff."

"And?"

"Told... I told my dad."

Ide opens his eyes again; Matsuda is standing with his back to him, staring at the kettle.

"How did he take it?" he says, for lack of anything more sensible.

"He said I should... we should think about it again when I'd rested and stuff. So... so I went with that."

"Right."

"What happened was... his wife called an ambulance, you know, but... after he - after he died, she talked just to Raito and Takada. I guess they didn't want her talking about Kira stuff to anyone else. And now - now they're dead..." He swallows. "And Raito... everyone saw him on TV and... so the police, they went back to her, asked her to give her statement again. And she... she said..."

Washed-out sunlight creeps through the window; Matsuda's wavering shadow sprawls across the floor.

"She said she'd got it wrong. She said it hadn't been me. That... that her husband had recognised us and... and said he was calling NHN so we... we ran away but... then someone else showed up. One of Takada's people, she thought. A guy in a black suit. He blamed them for letting us go and he shot Sato-san. And, you know, then they said it was me because it would make us look bad. She said she wouldn't recognise the guy again."

Ide sits there and waits for the sting in the tail. They can't - Matsuda can't have got that lucky.

"They're scared of us," Matsuda says. "People are scared of us. They think Kira's on our side. People keep being really polite to me if I have to talk to them. And she knows I killed her husband. She saw it, and she knows why, but she's too scared of Kira to admit it. They got - they showed her my picture and she looked at it and she said it wasn't me who did it -" His voice is shaking. "And I know, I know I'm... and I'm not going to say anything because I'm - but she knows it was me and she's scared of me, she must hate me -"

"Stop it," Ide hears himself say, his throat suddenly hurting. "Just stop it. You're being an idiot. You don't know what she thinks."

"Raito would think it was funny, me getting my life back because of Kira," Matsuda says. "He'd say if I really wanted to... to stick to my principles I'd..." He swallows, and, his voice dry, carries on, "I'd confess. Turn myself in, like I said I was going to."

Like I said. Ide says, very carefully, "Does your father know about all of this?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"We had a fight about it." Matsuda shifts; kicks against the kitchen cabinet. "He said there was no point in ruining my life to prove a point. And, you know, he believed me when he said it had been an accident and I was obviously really sorry and if I ever put a foot out of line again there wouldn't be a second chance. He said how he could see from all this that I... that I was more competent than he'd realised and could really make a contribution to society and it would be a shame to... it would be a waste."

"Well, he's right, isn't he."

"The Chief wouldn't think so," Matsuda says, very quietly.

Ide doesn't know what to say to that. It's true, after all, but what the hell is he supposed to say? We're just not as good as him? There's no way in hell he's going to start lecturing Matsuda. He tells himself it's because Matsuda doesn't deserve punishment, what happened was an accident, he was forced into a horrible situation by the real killer of the piece, but he knows perfectly well it's really because he can't talk Matsuda into taking the blame for Sato's death and then let himself get off scot free for Satake's.

"Are you going to make that tea or not?" he says instead.

Matsuda shakes himself out of his thoughts, whatever they were, and starts scrabbling around for cups. He doesn't chatter now, though. When he walks over, carrying first one cup of tea, then the other, he's got that distant look again, like he's not really focusing on where he is now. Then he slumps down onto the floor, sipping at his drink, like the only reason he was asked in here is to have another horrible conversation. Ide doesn't want to start this one. He wants to have Matsuda chatter away about how much TV they'll have missed, or whether there were any cute nurses at the hospital, or whatever else comes into his head. But what's the point of trying to get things back onto a casual level? Sooner or later they'll only have to come back down again.

"Okay," he says, keeping his eyes on the surface of the tea, trying to pretend these words are just like all the others that have been spoken. "No one's explained yet. What happened to Raito?"

There is a long silence. Just as Ide thinks he's going to have to argue the information out of him, Matsuda takes a deep breath, and says, flatly, "It wasn't me shooting him, if that's what you wanted to know."

"I want to know what happened. If you'd - done what he said, I'm sure he would've then shot me in the head to make sure. I'm curious to know why we're both still alive."

"He wouldn't," Matsuda says. "He didn't with Aizawa. I think he was thinking if he didn't do that, then... then it wasn't really killing."

"Oh, well, that's all right, then."

Matsuda shudders, and all at once he puts his tea down on the table and pulls his knees closer to his chest, rests his arms on them, like he's trying to shield himself from the conversation that's going to follow.

"I was..." He takes another breath, which trembles. "I was trying to... not let either of us die. I told him I was... I was arresting him. We'd go back and... turn ourselves in."

"You -"

"I was going to," Matsuda snaps. "All right? I was going to but when it was all over I couldn't - I couldn't think and then my dad showed up and he took me home and when I told him he said - he -"

"I wasn't saying anything!" And even if he had been, it wouldn't have started well, that plan didn't last long. More what the hell were you thinking, he'd have talked his way out of it and you'd have been left to face the music. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have woken up in hospital and been told that Matsuda was in jail awaiting trial for murder. To see him face that. When he himself had got away with - and what the hell would he do, there wouldn't be anything he could do -

He swallows, shoves the thought away. It didn't happen like that. They've both got away with - funny, he doesn't like thinking got away with it when it applies to him. Matsuda and Sato, yeah, sure. But with Satake? It makes it sound like there was a choice, like they could have got out of it some other way, and Ide is pretty sure they couldn't have.

"Doesn't matter, anyway." Matsuda shrugs. "He rushed at me, tried to get the gun. I don't know who... He got shot, in the chest, and he ran away. And Ryuk went after him. I followed but when I caught up with them, he... he was dead. Raito, I mean. Ryuk told me. He said he'd always told Raito that... that when he..."

His voice is still flat, but it shakes a bit.

"When he died, Ryuk would be the one writing his name down in his notebook."

Ide nearly drops the tea; he just manages to get a grip at the last second, puts the cup down on the table. His hands are trembling. That - some shinigami decided that actually, maybe it would be better if Raito died - after all that had happened - and what, would it have done it to one of them if things had been different? Did it just write down the names of people it met on a whim? He is trying to act like he's just interested, but he's suddenly horribly aware of the breath in his lungs and he's wishing, all at once he's really wishing he had never touched any of the pages from that notebook, and especially that he'd not used them...

"Why?" he hears himself say, sounding too loud. "Why the hell would it do something like that?"

Matsuda shrugs. "He said he'd told Raito that he... He said Raito had asked him to... to write down my name and... that was cheating."

"That's not an answer! You're telling me Raito never tried asking him to write down L's name, before? Or - or something like - why the hell would it have followed him around, always kept quiet about what it knew, done what he told it to and then suddenly this?"

"I don't know, okay? That's all he said!" Matsuda is pale; he grips his arms with his hands. "It makes me sick too - he was scared and Ryuk just - he didn't even care -"

Ide actually finds himself reaching down to grab Matsuda, shake him - it's a feeble gesture but at least it gives his words some strength as he says, "That's not the point, I don't care how scared the bastard was, what I care about is -" Is that I used the damn thing too - where does that leave me - am I just going to drop dead -

Matsuda is staring at him and Ide is dimly aware that he's stopped talking, that he was explaining why he was so angry, but all he can think of is how Matsuda was so ashamed of what he'd done, so guilty, he was going to give himself up, and he himself is only concerned about it because it might just have signed his own death warrant. He finds himself turning away, scowling at his hands, and he figures he could just stop talking; tell Matsuda he's tired and wants to be on his own, screw difficult conversations.

And if once he's alone he sees a shinigami walk through the wall?

He swallows. It isn't like Matsuda thought he was so special before. Not like he thought about Raito. Huh, it isn't like Matsuda doesn't have experience by now with learning people are fallible. But Ide quite liked feeling basically competent around him. The feeling that he was the sensible one. The one who could sort things out.

His throat aches suddenly and he swallows again and he has to snap the words out because otherwise he won't be able to say them.

"You didn't see. You were... I used those pages, there was a guy at NHN - he would've got us killed, and I..."

For god's sake, he's making far too much of this. It doesn't mean anything. He did what he had to. And he's never been the sort of person who dreams of being the hero, he's known that he's a realist, so why the hell this is even bothering him - just because he wants to be admired by someone, is that it -

"You... really?" Matsuda is quiet, confused-sounding. "You wrote... really?"

Ide's stomach lurches - it echoes, seems to prompt, the stab of rage juddering through him. When the hell did he ever pretend to be so perfect he wouldn't act in self-defense? Where is Matsuda getting this from? Except, of course, that, once, he'd said out loud - and believed it, he thought - that it was wrong to use the damn thing at all. Raito would be killing himself laughing if he were watching this.

"I wouldn't make something like this up, you know."

"I didn't mean..."

Matsuda is still quiet and sad and pitying, that's it, like this is such a bad thing, like he's got to be sympathetic, and Ide hates it, hates being talked to like he's - like he's screwed up just as much as Matsuda has -

"I didn't tell you because I want your forgiveness or something," he snarls. "I just thought you ought to know why I'm somewhat concerned about the method of Raito's death. You know, in case a shinigami decides I cheated, too. So you can... you can just..."

His throat closes up again, but in the silence he hears Matsuda shift closer, feels him lean against the couch, and, finally, start to speak again.

"I think it was because Ryuk was, like, Raito's shinigami," he says. "Ryuk followed Raito around all that time, so there was probably a deal on. Ryuk would follow him and let him have the notebook, but in return... People who just... who just use the notebook once, they don't have a shinigami follow them. I mean... we talked about the Chief maybe having to use it, and Ryuk didn't say anything then."

Ide has to work to make the words line up in a coherent sentence, and then struggle even more to take in the meaning, but slowly, slowly, it sinks into his thoughts and he feels the terror sitting on his chest lift, just slightly. "That... that makes sense. And... losing your memory, that must only happen if you own it... Raito didn't lose his when... when we burnt that one..."

"Yeah," Matsuda says. "It's not the same. So... so you'll be okay. I mean..."

"You mean get away with it," Ide says, and his voice dries up on the last word. God damn it -

"It... it was that guy who let us out of the studio, wasn't it?" Matsuda says, still quiet. "When we were in that room he showed up and... you were all yelling at him. And... then he was... he was gone and we were running away."

Ide makes himself nod.

"He was going to let them find us, right? He knew they wanted to kill us?"

"Of course he did." Look at it one way and it's completely understandable and he's beating himself up about it pointlessly. Look at it another way, and you've got the justification Raito had for killing the FBI agents and L. And the last thing Ide wants to consider right now is sympathy with Raito. This is so stupid. It isn't that he always used to believe himself a hero. It isn't that he's frightened that there'll be a reckoning somewhere down the line. It isn't even, really, that he's disturbed by the use of something from the shinigami world, or of the dangers of getting involved with those beings. It's just that - he can claim to himself all he wants that it was self-defense, that he had to do it, that he saved his own life and that of six other people, but there'll always be that doubt. That maybe he did just kill someone because it was easiest. And he's so tired of doubting. He wants things to be certain again.

"Ide -" Matsuda has clutched at his arm; he's pale but he says, determined, "Listen, I don't - I don't care, okay? I'm glad you did it."

It's horrible that Ide is actually grateful to hear that, actually feels relieved for a second. Oh, that makes it all right, then. "Matsuda -"

"No, listen. When we got split up..." Matsuda takes a deep, shaky breath. "A bunch of them caught up with me and I got it then. I mean, that they were just going to - to beat me to death, they were just going to keep hitting me with stuff until I stopped moving." His voice is still quiet but he's staring fiercely at the floor and his fingers are digging into Ide's wrist. "So... okay, if you hadn't done what you did they'd have found me earlier, before the police got there and scared them off. And..." His voice cracks a little. "You know, you think oh, well, I'd have blacked out really quickly, but you don't, not always. So I'm glad, okay? That guy was... was stupid. You can't just go along being stupid and expect people to give you a break."

They stare at each other, and Ide thinks that probably, everyone else is as shaken up as him. Everyone else - maybe even Aizawa - feels like suddenly there's nothing to hold on to. And that's that. They have to live with it.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says. "I just thought you should know, seeing as everyone else does."

Matsuda bites his lip, but he nods, and his grip on Ide's arm relaxes. It doesn't let go completely. And Ide notices that and at the same time he realises he's still holding the other man's shoulders, and the skin is warm under his palms. Oh, yes, he was going to try and go back to normal. He was going to put all of his behaviour this last week down to stress. Because he had convinced himself it might disprove all the things he's found out about himself.

God, like he thinks that the two of them should be involved because they're both murderers. What the hell is wrong with him"You don't -" he says, and moves his hands away and then feels stupid, like he's making a big deal of not touching Matsuda. "You don't have to -"

Matsuda doesn't say anything like well, who else would want either of us now or we have far too much in common or can't you ever be romantic. He just says, "It's... it's okay." As if this time, Ide's the one looking for comfort.

And he leans up and Ide finds himself lowering his head and the kiss just feels right, like, what else are they supposed to do. Perhaps it's just - still - two people seeking comfort against the knowledge that the world is uncertain and unpleasant, that there aren't many good men and there definitely aren't any heroes, but that doesn't matter. On the scale of things, it's a comparatively minor crime.?

ooo

Gevanni feels like he's done nothing but sleep since he left the hospital, but even so, he finds himself leaning against the train window and his eyes growing heavy. Still, he's got a lot of rest to catch up on. Even after the paramedics found him at NHN and to everyone's surprise he was still alive, he still felt like he was hyped up on caffeine and adrenaline, waiting for the next twist in the case. Even after they'd shot him full of painkillers, he still felt awake underneath.

And besides, there's something soporific about the way the outside world flows past when you're on a train, buildings and trees and raindrops and telephone wires blurring together into a soup. Odd how different it is from the road scrolling in front of you when you're driving. Not least because you can just shut your eyes and block it all out.

That leads on quite obviously to Mikami, to the memory of him saying you need to sleep, watching Gevanni warily as if he didn't want to be rude but he just didn't quite have faith in him not to kill them both. Gevanni has been letting these memories bob to the surface when they do show up. He hasn't got the strength to shove them down again, after all. And he's not sure he's really got the strength to get plunged into misery. In his mind he feels like you do when you've been having a shouting match with someone and now it's blown over, now you're coming to sit next to them on the couch and both of you are tired and red-eyed but there isn't any anger any more. Everything is quiet and still and, bizarrely, fresh and new, as if you had a layer of skin burnt off but what's underneath is soft and unmarked.

Which is similes within similes. And also isn't accurate, which he ought to know, considering that he's been sharing a building with Mello and his burn scars the past week. Mello seems similarly drained; quiet, sleepy, muffled by the dressings on his wounds. He spends a lot of time wandering round the rooms, or through the computer systems. Sometimes it's obvious he's learning how his rival organised things; other times - like the way he lines up things like an Action Man's helmet, a stray dart, two broken matches - Gevanni dares to wonder if it's his own way of mourning. Of course, he doesn't wonder this out loud.

You need to go to Kyoto, Mello said, abruptly, this morning. And then, when Gevanni didn't immediately grasp why: you need to search Mikami's apartment. They'll be clearing it out, and I don't want them finding more pages or something.

Gevanni blurted out why me? before he could think, and Mello swung round on the chair and gave him a hard, blank stare that was eerily similar to how Near looked. But all he said was, you knew him best. You'll know what to look for.

That's all anyone has said about Mikami and what happened to him. Gevanni finds himself looking back, sometimes, on the events - the call to Takada, the dash to Mikami's hotel room - with a completely detached perspective, like it was a weird dream, or a vivid movie. He was feeling things a lot, then. It was, presumably, the midst of the metaphorical shouting match.

It's raining in Kyoto, too, and Gevanni remembers following Mikami through the rain. A black-suited, umbrella'd figure in the midst of so many others. No relatives, Mello said. He didn't say, you really were his only friend after all. He didn't mention gods, either. This feels like - not coming home, perhaps, but coming back to, say, your old high school. A familiar place but not one where you ever felt comfortable. A familiar road, wet shiny paving slabs, a bridge in the far distance, the apartment block reflecting back the grey skies. Only this time Gevanni doesn't stop at the end of the street, watch a lone dark figure disappear into the glass-and-steel building. He goes on, and in, alone.

The foyer is still. Shiny grey-green floor; grey-green walls, too, everything washed-out in the rainy light from the door. It's very quiet. This obviously isn't the kind of apartment block where people leave bikes in the hallway or vomit on the stairs. Gevanni's been in nice buildings before - his place back home is hardly a rat hole, though it's not like he can remember it vividly at this point - but he still can't quite imagine living in a place like this. Not after all the property damage and jail cells and abandoned buildings of the past week. He thinks of Mikami begging to go home. It's hard to imagine the man standing in this foyer as Gevanni knew him. Blood-covered and zealous and - frightened, his mind fills in, lonely.

The apartment itself seems even quieter. Shiny walls, shiny floor, and no colour anywhere, everything black and white. Gevanni keeps seeing his faint reflection and looking round, trying to spot it moving without him. He'd been prepared to spend a long time here searching, but there's barely any evidence anyone lives - lived - here at all. There's nothing on any surface except, now, a thin layer of dust. There isn't even anything left by the sink from Mikami's last meal here - everything was dried and put away, and when Gevanni looks he can see that plates and saucepans and glasses are lined up exactly in the centre of each cupboard. There are still clothes in the wardrobe, of course, but only the minimal amount someone working a white-collar job would need. Even the bed doesn't show any sign of having been slept in; neatly made, the covers folded down, the pillow smooth and undented. The bedroom window stretches from floor to ceiling. Gevanni squints out between two of the slats of the blind, looks down at the traffic and pedestrians below. Everyone looks comfortingly far away. Far away and behind glass.

He starts to search, after that. For the most part, it's easy. He can look for small details, things that don't quite join up. He can focus on searching without leaving any marks, without making it obvious to the next person here that Mikami had something to hide. He only stumbles a bit with the clothes - checking the pockets and hems and linings - because clothes are different, you can smell that they've been worn and washed and worn again, and because all at once he remembers helping his mother pack up Louise's stuff after she was sentenced. Louise liked - had liked bright colours, unusual styles, had enjoyed collecting jewellery and shoes and scarves and of course Stephen recognised a bunch of the things because he'd given them to her or seen her receiving them from someone else. At first him and Mom had tried to fold things up, pack them neatly into trash bags, but by the end of it they were both just shoving stuff in, both trying not to give away how much they hated doing this. Louise had said to them not to bother keeping all the stuff. I have too many clothes anyway, she said, and she'd forced a smile for their benefit. It'll be good for me to have to start again. Mom kept saying to him pointedly, like Louise was there to listen, how sad it was that this or that lovely outfit was being ditched. This is practically vintage, she'll never get hold of it again. Or I remember when I bought this with her. We searched all afternoon, and she said she was so happy to have tracked down a top that matched the skirt. Considering Mom always used to tell Louise she had too many clothes, Stephen suspected what was really bothering her was the tacit acknowledgement that her daughter wouldn't be around to care about the loss of her possessions, not for a hell of a long time. Or perhaps it was just to underline the fact that she wasn't dead, that they were taking her stuff to the charity shop for a different reason.

It's important to remember that that reason was nothing to do with Kira.

Of course now, now the clear-out will be long over. Got out of that one, didn't you. Nice work. They'll have worked through the disposal of possessions, the informing of the relatives, the memorial service, the flowers, or not flowers but donations. And, what, you'll walk back in now they've tidied all of her away? Like you were waiting til all the difficult stuff was finished? Of course it will never be like that. With your family, every object links back to something, to someone.

But why is he caring about it? He's been pretending if he hides out in hotel rooms or buildings filled with computers and toys or apartments as empty of weakness as this one then it won't matter, that it won't hurt. He was thinking if he kept everything as neat and ordered as he could, that he could bypass all the messy stuff waiting for him back home. And so fate took both him and Mikami and flung them into chaos, just to make a point.

He finishes up in the bedroom and then he's opening another door into pitch darkness. A lightswitch at his hand and then, suddenly, bright white glow as halogen lights all round the room burst into life. They glare on glass and behind the glass he can just see rows and rows of books.

"Okay, so not such an easy job, then." His voice echoes a little as he walks down between the shelves. His shadow sprawls out around him, crisp and sharp. This room is as efficient as all the others, but... more brutally so. He tells himself not to be stupid. This is just Mikami's idea of luxury; space for loads of books, all protected from dust, and light bright enough you could always read or work by it. This is an indulgence, where others might have a seventy-two-inch TV or a pool table. His footsteps echo off the walls, as though someone behind the glass is walking in step with him. The light is brightest around the desk at the end. He stops, stands there, and looks up and sees his reflection in the glass in front of him. The colour's been sucked out of his face, he matches the scene behind him. He's going to start searching the desk and then (oh, god) all the books, in just a minute, but as he looks at himself he tries again to imagine the Mikami he knew living here. Oh, the man he followed, sure, it's easy to superimpose him onto this scene, but for the guy he talked to while they drove, the person he begged to help him? It all seems so reductive. Such a cliche, to put him in a place like this.

He takes one last look at his reflection. In the glass he looks normal; a little tired, maybe, a little thin, one leg slightly stiff as he walks, but still more or less the same guy he's been throughout all of this. But as he turns away - and later, when he's finally leaving the apartment, switching off the white lights and then relocking the door - he can't help feeling that, finally, he's leaving something behind amongst all the glass.

ooo

Even though it hasn't been their headquarters for weeks, Mogi still feels an unpleasant jolt of recognition every time he approaches Raito's apartment. He suggested, at one point, that Misa might like to find a place somewhere else, without all the memories, but she was in one of her frighteningly intense days and just stared at him, pale-faced, eyes glittering, and said, I'm not leaving, do you hear? Not now, not ever, as appalled as if he'd suggested abandoning a fiance who was still alive.

It's growing dark outside, but the air is almost warm and smells of damp earth. Mogi pulls his coat more closely round him anyway as he steps out of the darkness and into the same old hallway. He knows - he looked - that the mailslot and the doorbell for Misa's apartment still list Yagami. He hasn't even bothered suggesting to Misa that she get that altered. Sometimes she seems even to find it amusing - a special treat - when mail is delivered that's addressed to Raito. She piles up the letters as if at some point he'll be leafing through them. It's mainly just junk, she said, but I don't like throwing any of it out, what if it's important?

He should probably be calling her on remarks like that. Bringing her back to reality. But they're both so tired, and they both try so hard not to make the big mistakes that a few little ones are bound to slip through the net.

He was all set to let things be - to ensure that someone (who?) was taking care of her, helping her through her bereavement, and then carefully step out out of her life - until on the day he was meant to go and collect Ide from hospital he found her curled up on the floor crying and surrounded by empty packets of painkillers. She was sick as well, of course, but that distracted her enough that she didn't realise he was calling an ambulance until he'd done it. Then she screamed at him that how dare he, that she hated him for always trying to keep her from Raito, that he should get out of her life, and he - more frightened than anything else - came back at her with, I didn't keep you from Raito. He chose to stay away.

She yelled at him again and again to shut up, that Raito loved her, and he, appalled now at what he'd said to her while she was in the midst of a suicide attempt, kept quiet and waited for the ambulance. Once they were at hospital she cried again, but quietly, hopelessly - she was scared, she said, they would put a tube down her throat and it would hurt and she didn't mean to, she'd only wanted to say sorry - and she clutched at his hand like once again he was just her fake bodyguard. He found himself wondering if it was a conscious choice, an act to make him pity her, but then he realised he should know by now that she's capable of putting on an act and meaning it at the same time.

Since then, she's slipped in and out of different ways of mourning. Rituals with candles and clothes that make her look like a china doll. Little jokes about things like how frustrating it is that Raito still has half the wardrobe space when she has so many more clothes. Or letting her hair become lank and unwashed, dressing in grubby clothes or not getting out of her nightdress, and, on at least one occasion, nursing an entire bottle of wine and falling asleep on the floor. He's thought, at times, that he's only making things worse, or that she thinks he is only hanging around because he hopes to catch her on the rebound. He doesn't know how to tell her it's not like that. Surely even bringing it up will come across like a hint.

But he's here again tonight, waiting for her to open the door. Aizawa gave him a look of mingled disgust and bafflement when he found out where Mogi was going. She's always been obsessed with Raito. Don't tell me you think you're going to...

Of course I don't. But someone needs to look after her. Her sister...

Her sister was dead, had died in her sleep from a heart attack the night Misa must have reunited with Raito. Mogi can work out what must have happened. He actually thought, when he first heard, that Raito would never have seen Fuyumi's face, that someone else would have had to write down her name. Raito, of course, would have been convinced that she had heard too much, and had sheltered an enemy of Kira into the bargain, and didn't Misa always want what Raito did? But when he told her the news she turned white and then she curled up with her knees to her chest and he saw her crying silently when he got up to make some more tea. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, snapped that she didn't know why she was being so stupid. I hated her, remember?

And she could easily have shown a photograph to Raito during their life together.

She's got no family left, he said to Aizawa, and who else is going to? Sachiko Yagami is worried enough as it is. Sachiko has asked after Misa, but distractedly, clearly still devastated by her son's death and by the horrific circumstances of it. Mogi doesn't know whether she actually watched the entire broadcast. He really hopes that she didn't, and he has no idea what he would say if he found out she had.

Besides, he said, Misa went with Raito to NHN. His mother will ask about that sooner or later, and Misa's... not well enough to deal with it.

The truth of what happened has hurt Misa enough. Mogi has no intention of the hurt being passed on to Sachiko.

Aizawa scowled. I hope to god you know what you're getting into. And Mogi wanted to say that he wasn't sure he did, that this is by no means a happy-ever-after, that he's scared sometimes that she will self-destruct right in front of him and he'll only make things worse but he can't stop visiting her because he doesn't know what else a good person would do. He didn't say any of that, of course, and Aizawa demanded how can you even look her in the face after what she did? I bet she doesn't even think she's done anything wrong.

Mogi does think about that, sometimes, but then he usually tries not to, because there isn't any point. She is how she is. He could cut her out of his life and stop spending his time with someone who has killed at least eight people and is never going to understand why that was a bad thing. But like he said, hurting her to make himself feel morally superior won't get them anywhere.

He didn't say any of this either, but Aizawa determinedly changed the subject after that. He does that a lot, with all three of them, clearly making an effort to rein in any residual fury he might be feeling. As if he owes them loyalty after all that's happened, no matter how he actually feels about it.

But now the door has swung open, and Misa is standing there, managing a wan smile.

"How are you?" Mogi asks.

She shrugs, rolls her eyes a little as if to say you know how it is.

As they walk inside, she is glancing out of the window, commenting on how bright the moon is, how she always felt extra specially romantic when the moonlight was clear because of the characters Raito wrote his name with. Her voice is high and shaky and sounds terribly lost in the silent apartment. And even now, when Mogi walks in, part of him expects to see computer screens, the rest of the task force clustered round the coffee table, and Chief Yagami and Raito on the far side by the window. Misa doesn't put the light on right away; she's pushed the blind back, maybe perched on the windowsill to watch the night. But when Mogi goes to make her some tea, she asks him to switch on the lights, and he notices that the pile of letters for Raito has disappeared.

THE END

(A/N: Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are always appreciated if you feel able, but thank you for reading either way!)