I love you all to pieces. Thank you so much for sticking with me to the end. :)

I don't own Death Note or the writing of Fernando Pessoa.

It was a whirlwind tour of Europe—a slow whirlwind. They drifted from city to city, booking hotel rooms as they went, never staying in any given place for longer than two nights. They went to tourist sites and museums and pools. L taught Light capoeira, and Light encouraged L to try something different at every meal. They had breakfast in bed, and they made love afterwards, after Light had taken his pills but before the side effects had really started to kick in. They usually finished up their nights watching a movie, so that Light could fall asleep early but without making L feel like he was being abandoned. Sometimes they listened to an audiotape of a book instead. Often this made L fall asleep early as well.

They went sightseeing during the afternoons, though twice Light had a seizure in the middle of the day, which put enough of a damper on things that both times they ended up spending the day sitting outside and reading instead, usually to themselves, though sometimes to each other. While they were out sightseeing, every single time they passed a church, L slowed down and looked longingly at it, without saying a word. Once Light asked, "Do you want to go in?" but L was shaking his head vigorously before Light could even finish the question. So he let it go.

Halfway through the trip, while Light was going through L's bag to borrow a shirt—he had spilled marinara sauce on his last one—he found a hotel King James Bible tucked away next to L's underwear.

On the second to last day of their honeymoon, Light finally brought it up. "Sooooo," he said, while L was contentedly engaged in enjoying their recent purchases from a chocolate shop, "what's up with the whole, you know, Christianity thing?"

L took his sweet time finishing the enormous bite he had taken. After swallowing, not without a touch of drama, he asked, wide-eyed, "What Christianity thing?"

"I mean, the Bible thing, and the church thing, and the wedding thing."

L's mouth pinched, embarrassed. "You figured out the wedding thing?"

"Um, I thought it was kind of obvious."

"Well, I didn't know you knew."

"How could you not have known? Did you just tune me out completely?"

There was a moment of silence, and then L said, "Wait, which wedding thing?"

"The wedding vows thing."

"Ohh. So you didn't figure it out."

"What else is there to figure out?" Then it hit Light, and his jaw dropped. "NO."

Light really had figured it out this time, and L, with chagrin, went back to his chocolate.

"The person giving you advice is God?!"

L reddened, for the second time that Light could remember. "It's not so unusual. They don't have the Bibles in the hotels for no reason."

"But I thought you didn't believe in God," Light protested. "Not the Christian God, at least. I thought you said that it was too optimistic and no one could possibly think God was good in the face of all the suffering in the world."

"Light-kun, you're misremembering again."

Light sighed, sharply. "Fine. What am I misremembering?"

"I didn't say that I didn't think God could be good in the face of all the suffering in the world. I do understand the implications of free will. I said that I didn't think the world could be good in the light of all the suffering in the world."

"What's the difference?"

"It is a logical fallacy to believe that God is not good because His creation has chosen to not be good. However, it is valid to say that the world is not good based on observations of the world."

"So, what's changed?"

"I misunderstood the Christian perspective. It was Watari who helped me understand, whether or not he knows how much he helped me. We were having a discussion about your cancer, late one night, and I was irritated, not with him, though I took it out on him. I made a snide remark about how his faith would probably lead him to say something cruel about how your brain cancer was actually a good thing, because it was the only thing that could possibly have ever made you stop being Kira. But he looked shocked, rather than embarrassed. He said that he would never say such a thing. First, he said that he hadn't even made the connection between you having brain cancer and you not being Kira anymore. Second, he said your brain cancer was a terrible, terrible thing, and it was only because of God's love for you and for the world that He had made something so very good come from something so very bad."

Light was reeling, not because of Watari's response, but because of the idea that the brain cancer ended up making him stop being Kira. L had said it so casually, but it wasn't something they had discussed before. Was that true? What role had the brain cancer really played?

It was L's bet that convinced him to give up the memories, which was what had to happen for him to stop being Kira. It was the fact that Light was dying that made him even consider L's bet. And, moreover, it was the seizure in the helicopter that had stopped Light from becoming Kira right then and there. It was only because Light hadn't become Kira in the helicopter that L ended up seeing the watch that implicated him. Without the brain cancer, he would have regained his memories, kept his identity a secret, and continued being Kira without threat of either death or capture in the way.

He was repulsed. The brain cancer as a good thing? What an utterly disgusting idea.

But no. L and Watari had said it wasn't a good thing. It was a terrible thing, but something good had come from it.

Was it really possible for anything good to come out of anything so sick?

Perhaps, if someone good was the one behind it all.

"Hm." Light scowled. "Hm."

"I don't expect you to agree with me," L said. "I just hope that you would understand."

Light sighed, shaking his head. And then he stuck his hand out for a piece of chocolate, an edible olive branch. L gave him a dark chocolate square and a tentative smile.

Light pocketed the chocolate in the corner of his mouth, and asked, kindly, "Is the criminal rehabilitation idea connected to this as well?"

L nodded.

"Do you want to say more about this?"

L slowly opened a new package of chocolates, formulating. Light finished his piece of chocolate, waiting. Finally, L said, sounding surprised at himself, "No, not right now, I don't think." He continued thinking, pulling at the label on the bag. "Can we go to the pool?"

"Of course."

They didn't mention it for the rest of the day.

On the last day of the honeymoon, they were back in England, though in London this time. They were wandering through the National Gallery, taking in the paintings quietly, holding hands and tugging gently at each other rather than speaking.

After an hour in the gallery, L tugged Light close to him and whispered in his ear, "Three young adults are following us." For a moment, Light was panicked, thinking that L meant perhaps that someone had found out his true identity and was trying to assassinate him, but then he forced himself to notice L's tone, which was simply one of curious amusement.

"Look," L said, and he tugged Light into the next room, rather quickly. They stood facing a painting near the entrance, so that Light could catch a glimpse of a little huddle of a girl and two boys, college age, whispering to one another nervously and glancing their way.

"What do you think they want?" Light murmured. L shrugged. "Should we try to lose them?"

L looked surprised. "Feeling anti-social?"

Now Light shrugged. "I usually dislike most people. I think it might be a problem."

"Hm, yes, I can't say that sounds too good," L said, but fondly, and he pressed a kiss to Light's cheek.

The conversation and the kiss apparently gave the huddle enough courage to actually approach. They edged over nervously, elbowing each other, until the girl spoke up.

"Hello how are you doing my friends and I have a question for you," she said in a rush, all with the same breath of air. She had a strong American accent, and Light wondered whether she was studying abroad.

"Sure, go ahead," L said, trying to smile welcomingly, but, if Light was being perfectly honest, mostly looking sort of creepy.

The girl did look more daunted after the smile. There was a moment of silence, and then the taller boy to her left picked up for her. "Ah, we're students at, ah, King's College, and we're, ah, well, we're Christians too actually."

L's eyes went wide. "Too?"

"Ah, yes, students and Christians too." Then it clicked. "Oh! So sorry, I didn't mean to imply that I thought you were Christians too. That is, you could be. I don't know anything about you. Well, we do. Really, he does…" He nodded towards the shorter boy, trailing off and going bright red in the ears.

"Yeah," the shorter boy said, with a lopsided smile and a deep voice. "See, we're charismatic Christians, which means that we believe that God does all sorts of miraculous stuff today, like talking to us and healing us and giving us visions and stuff. And I know this is going to sound crazy—"

"Weird," the girl hissed into his ear. "Not crazy. That's ableist."

"I know this is going to sound weird," he corrected, "but sometimes God talks to me and tells me stuff like that He wants me to talk to someone or do something. And about a month ago, God told me that He wanted to use me to heal someone of some stuff, and I've sort of been waiting around for the last month, looking around, waiting for Him to tell me who the person is." His smile got bigger, shyly. "I even started asking around, because I was getting impatient, but that didn't work obviously. And, like I said, this might sound crazy—or weird, but I think I finally found the person who God wants to heal."

L had gone very still. Light could hardly believe this was happening.

"He, ah, he means you, sir," the taller boy said, gesturing vaguely at Light and meeting his gaze. "Do you, ah— Is there anything you, ah, might need healing for?"

But before Light could say anything, the smile dropped off of the shorter boy's face, and he suddenly looked just as nervous as his friends. "Crap," he said, and the girl elbowed him. "You have brain cancer, don't you, mate?"

"Whoa," the girl gaped. "Do you really?"

L was frozen, despite the fact that he was the one who wanted to talk to these people in the first place, so Light dragged himself out of his sinkhole of disbelief and said, hoarsely, "Yes, I do."

The taller boy grinned hugely. "Wow! That's fantastic!" The shorter boy shot him a look, and the girl moved to elbow him, but he insisted, "No, it is! Not that you have brain cancer. That's pretty shit. I'm really sorry about that. But it's fantastic that God's gonna heal you today. Or, ah, tonight, I guess. That's usually what happens."

Light heard himself laugh, and realized how hard his heart was beating. "Usually?" he said. "You've done this before?"

"Well, we haven't," the girl said. "But our pastor has seen it happen. He says that with cancer, it usually is gone by the morning. Tumors sometimes shrink right away, but cancer is usually different."

"We've seen tumors shrink though," the taller boy said, as if to reassure them. "This girl in our church had the tumor in her shoulder shrink by eighty percent right away."

L stiffened even more, which Light hadn't realized was possible, and he knew what he was thinking. Even if Light's brain tumor shrank by eighty percent, it would still mean years of painful treatment and no certainty of survival and the continual chance of coming out of remission.

The shorter boy somehow must have noticed this slight movement, because he said, "But God is going to heal your cancer one hundred percent today, mate. I'm sure of it. I wouldn't say I was sure of it if I wasn't, because when it comes to this kind of stuff, I know what it's like to feel sure and I know what it's like to feel unsure, and I know that I feel sure right now."

"What if it gets worse?" L asked, unexpectedly coldly. "We're on our honeymoon. We don't have much time left anyways. Why should we trust you to not make it worse?"

Light couldn't believe L had mentioned the honeymoon to these Christians, and he couldn't believe L was suggesting that they not even try it. But they didn't so much as flinch, and Light found himself answering L's questions, "It's worth a shot," he said, in Japanese, because he was feeling self-conscious now. "I love you, and if I have a chance to maybe spend eighty more years with you, I'm going to take it. Besides, we wouldn't be trusting these kids, right? We'd be trusting their god."

L smirked. "Kids?" he echoed, of all things, still in Japanese.

"What?"

"You're eighteen. They're probably older than you."

"I'm almost nineteen."

"Almost." L turned to them and asked, in English, "How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Ah, twenty-one."

"Nineteen, mate."

L turned back to Light. "See?" he said, in Japanese again.

"Fine," Light said. "Maybe I'm a kid too." And he added, teasing, "But you're an old man."

L's eyes went wide.

"Twenty five," Light reminded, smirking. "Ancient."

"So, um," the girl interjected, "would it be alright if we prayed for you right now, um—? What's your name?"

"Light," L said, pronouncing it like the English word.

"That's your name?" she clarified.

Light nodded.

"Thanks, Light," the shorter boy said. "Usually when we pray for people to be healed, we put our hands on the part of the body that needs to be healed. So, for you, we would put our hands on your head. Would that be alright with you?"

Light nodded. They huddled around him, each person putting a hand on his head, just like they said they would. Even L reached up with the hand that wasn't holding Light's hand and joined in.

"Now we're all going to close our eyes," the shorter boy said, "and we're each going to pray out loud. You probably won't feel anything while we're praying, but tomorrow morning, your brain cancer should be gone. Alright?"

Light nodded, underneath all of their hands.

While they prayed, Light, rather than listening, was trying to figure out exactly how to be feeling about all of this. It was unbelievable that the shorter boy had known that he had brain cancer. Something bigger had to be going on. Unless they just went around asking everyone whether they had brain cancer and Light just happened to be someone who did. Or unless they were stalkers. Or unless he or L had happened to mention something about the brain cancer around them. Hm.

Well, Light doubted that anything bad could happen, like L had been worried about. After all, he only had a couple months left. At this point, it was basically all the same. And he highly doubted that something worse could happen, like demon possession or whatever. These kids—or whatever they were—seemed pretty normal and sincere. Realistically, the worst case scenario would be that nothing would happen and L would be crushed. Realistically, the best case scenario would be that the placebo effect would kick in and Light would have a little longer with L.

Ultimately, it was nothing to get too worked up about. But his heart was still pounding.

He forced his muscles to relax and his breathing to even. Everyone was so close to him that he was sure that they noticed him relaxing. He hoped none of them thought it meant that Light was feeling better. He didn't want to give them false hope. He had been a figure of false hope for quite enough time already.

"Amen," they chorused. Even L had said it, in a whisper. They pulled away.

"Do you feel any different?" L asked, in Japanese, probably because they had already said that Light wasn't supposed to feel any different.

"No."

"Excuse me." A nicely dressed older couple had stopped next to their group. "This is an art gallery," one of them whispered. "Please keep your voices down."

"Sorry," the girl whispered back, and the taller boy went red in the ears.

"Is there anything else we can pray for you guys about?" the shorter boy whispered.

"Not here, maybe," the girl said, "because—" She tipped her head towards the older couple.

"Right. But just anything we can pray for you about on our own time?"

"He's thinking about changing his job," Light volunteered, without quite knowing why he was bringing this up. L looked surprised, but not uncomfortable. "He's thinking of starting to help criminals with rehabilitation."

"I can pray for that one," the taller boy said.

"He has nightmares," L said, even more quietly than in a whisper.

"He does too," Light said.

"And what's your name?" the girl asked L.

Light expected L to use Ryuzaki or Ryuga Hideki or whatever the hotel thought his name was, but instead L pondered, and then leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She looked a bit confused, eyes narrowing, looking him up and down, but she nodded. Had L really given her his real name? Oh, God, what if she thought that he had said Elle?

"I can pray for you both," she said.

"And maybe one more thing that I can pray about?" the shorter boy said.

"My…father," L said. "His health and his faith."

He nodded. "Alright, I can do that. Can I ask his name?"

L shook his head, understandably. It wasn't his secret to tell.

"Ah, alright, no problem. I can do that. Well, thank you guys so much for talking with us. We'll let you enjoy the rest of your honeymoon and the rest of your very long lives." That lopsided grin came back, and he winked.

They walked off, perfectly normally, waving, and L and Light continued through the gallery, still holding hands, even more quietly than before.

Light continued taking prochlorperazine and levetiracetam for the rest of the day, as discreetly as possible. The prayer wasn't actually going to do anything, but he didn't have to rub it in L's face.

Instead of watching a movie, they put on their softest pajamas and piled the covers high around them and talked. Tomorrow was a big day. They were going back to Winchester, to Watari, to real life.

"Are you going to visit Roger?" Light asked. He was already feeling sleepy, but he was determined to stay awake as long as possible for L, who looked very much awake.

"I think I will. I don't know exactly what I'll say to him, but I think he'll be more amenable to me since I've been—" And L cut off, looking embarrassed. "Well."

"Hm?"

"I suppose I should tell you. I—well, I haven't been making this a completely work-free vacation."

"What?"

"Once you're asleep, I take out the laptop and work on a project for Roger. I wanted to be on his good side, and I couldn't very well spend all this time doing nothing. You understand that."

Instinctively, Light understood completely. He recalled, months ago, L standing behind him in the bathroom, telling him he was bored out of his mind before he had even realized it himself, easing his clenched hands out of his hair. And yet—

"But I haven't done any work, and I've been fine."

L looked embarrassed again, but in a different way. "Best not to question it," he said, entirely unconvincingly.

"Why have I been fine?"

L's silence revealed that he had the answer.

"L, just tell me."

L bit at the skin around his thumb, which had just been starting to heal, and said, carefully, "We knew from the beginning that the cancer would impact your cognitive faculties. Your mind and body don't have to look for extra challenges considering all that they have to face every day."

L was dancing around the real issue. "I'm getting slower. I'm losing my edge." Light had to listen to his own tone to figure out how he was feeling. Numb, he decided. It was hard to process that this was really happening. Everything was hard to process lately. "I've been slipping so much that I haven't even noticed it until now."

And, with that, it was like he couldn't notice anything other than how slowly he was noticing everything. It was like molasses was clinging to every thought, and there was so much going on in the room and in the situation, and he was actively focusing on elements rather than absorbing them all automatically. He would usually be analyzing and planning and dissecting at all times in the back of his head, just in case, ready to pull the operations to the forefront if more focused work was required. But none of that was happening now. His mind was a quiet hum.

Before, L would never have been able to hide his work all this time. Light would have noticed something different about the laptop use, whether it was the battery level or the search history or the ads being shown or a ding in the side. He would have realized that there was no way L could have gone from snatching a few hours of sleep to sleeping all the way through the night. He would have realized that when they were reading together, sometimes L would spend up to half an hour on the same page, absorbed in other thoughts.

One of the things L loved most about him was his intelligence, and now that was slipping away. He didn't think he had ever felt so insecure in his life.

But L was as bright as ever, and he figured out what was going on at once. "Yagami Light," he said firmly, taking a hold of his left hand. "What is this?"

"Our wedding rings," Light murmured.

"We are on our honeymoon," L said, almost angrily. "You are not going to doubt that I love you right now."

"But—"

L kissed him, urgently, but the tears had already started tickling at Light's throat, and they showed themselves before long.

"No tears," L pleaded. "This doesn't change anything. Nothing is different. You're the same, and we're the same, and the world is the same. Make yourself believe me. It doesn't matter if you don't believe it, but believe me when I say that I am telling you the truth."

"This is my identity," Light said, throat tight. "This is who I am. Without this, I have nothing."

"You are incorrect," L said, so matter-of-factly that Light actually cracked a smile. L kiss-kiss-kissed his smiling lips. "You may think that is your identity, but you are incorrect. Your identity is much bigger and more eternal than something as flimsy as the way in which your neurons happen to fire."

They clung and shivered and kissed, with as much energy as Light could muster, lightheaded and breathless and drowsy and dizzy.

"You're brilliant," L promised, "in every sense of the word, no matter what happens. You're brilliant, you're brilliant, you're brilliant."

Light was no stranger to strange dreams, but he had never experienced anything quite like this.

Light without shadow. Eternity without monotony. Closeness without fear. Peace without ennui. Joy without end.

And he wasn't even afraid to wake up.

In the murky twilight between waking and sleeping, Light was feeling mischievous. He was aware enough of his own breathing to know that he sounded like he was asleep, and he was aware enough of L's breathing to know that he was awake. The possibilities were endless. He could sneak a peek at what L was reading or writing or calculating. He could surprise L with a kiss. He could tickle L. He could hum a Chopin etude and wait for L to figure out where the noise was coming from—but could he hum and keep his breathing steady at the same time? He hadn't slipped up so far, but even he had limitations.

Ah, but L was shifting, carefully, getting out of bed. He had missed his chance. Oh well. He sat up, blinking to clear his eyes, and smiled.

"Shit," L hissed, flinching and falling the rest of the way out of bed.

Odd. L must have really been engrossed to have been so surprised just by Light waking up. Light peeked over at the laptop screen, but it was just a year summary of criminal activity in Brazil. Boring. Maybe related to a case though, which would be interesting. Maybe they would even need to do some undercover work there, which would be fun. Light would get to brush up on his Portuguese, which he hadn't gotten to use on this trip, because he had had a seizure the day they had been planning to go through Portugal. What was that quote he used to love? Ah— Repudiei sempre que me compreendessem. Ser compreendido é prostituir-se. Prefiro ser tomado a sério como o que não sou—

L was just standing up. What had taken him so long? Light was already planning their next reading project. L put a hand on his chest and smirked. It was that rare, natural smirk that didn't look creepy at all. In fact, it made Light want to pull him back into bed. "You startled me," L said. His fingertips were slowly brushing the covers as he deliberated whether to get back in bed or do whatever he had gotten up to do. Probably use the bathroom, because anything else could most likely wait or be done from the bed. "I haven't seen you wake up so easily in— Well, since I was illegally videotaping your home, I suppose." Amazing how he really said it with no regret. Light wondered how many times he had done it, and whether he had ever felt uneasy about it, even if just the first time. "No nightmare?"

Light shook his head. "Go use the bathroom," he said, "and then we'll cuddle. Also, can we read Fernando Pessoa together?"

L's fingertips jumped back. "How did you—?" His gaze darted to the bathroom, to the laptop screen, and back to Light. His fingertips trembled, along with the rest of him, and he went chalky pale. In a choked whisper, he managed, "It worked." Shakily, he climbed back onto the bed and held Light's face in his hands, looking from one eye to the other, as if able to see through them into his brain. "It worked."

With L this close, Light was very aware of how much sharper everything was and yet also softer, clearer but less demanding, more detailed but more easily processed. From L's eyelashes to the sliver of clouded sky past the curtains to the faint thud of something falling in the next room to the light ache in his hungry stomach, everything was being absorbed quietly into his head, where it was easily sorted and channeled into its respective place without fuss. It was true. He had just woken up, and already he was thinking better than he had in months. They weren't out of the woods quite yet, but something had definitely changed for the better.

Light grinned, his cheeks slightly smooshed by L's hands. "Yeah, I guess it did."

And then L was laughing, like he had laughed in the bathroom all that time ago, and he was embracing Light with every part of his body that could, his arms wrapping around Light's shoulders, his legs twining into Light's through the covers, his head tucking into the crook of Light's neck. And he was saying through the laughs, "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I love you so much."

For the rest of the day, L was all smiles and positivity and PDA. Light, with his newfound attention to detail, was acutely aware of the fact that L was glowing and charming and upbeat—only to him, because to everyone else, he was hunched and sloppy and clinging to Light too closely for their comfort—to everyone else, whose significant other was usually gossiping or yawning or preening or ogling someone else. Light held L closer, and remembered why it was that he hated people so much.

L, on the other hand, had never before expressed so much hope in humanity. He was an absolute chatterbox, and what he chattered about most was his plans for how to get started with criminal rehabilitation. That was what the Brazilian statistics had been for. He was trying to figure out which countries to work with first. He wasn't thinking of actually moving out of Japan, he assured Light, because he had a lot of research and thinking to do first, but he had to narrow down the focus of his investigation before he started working out any details. He was especially sympathetic to psychopaths, of all people, but he was concerned that he would have less success if he started with them. He was trying not to be too optimistic. If he helped even one person, he would be happy, he insisted. He wasn't trying to make up for Charles, he stressed, because there was nothing he could do to make up for his actions, but he certainly was trying to put his experience with criminals to good use.

He wanted to approach criminals with exactly the opposite mindset as Kira. He looked over at Light a bit nervously when he broached this topic, but Light smiled, softly, genuinely. It would do no good to ignore that he had been Kira, but he wasn't the same person as before, and it also would do no good to ignore that. L continued, that Kira saw two categories of people, the innocent and the guilty, the ones worthy of life and the ones worthy of death, but that he would see the two categories as the prisoners and the free, the ones apart from society and the ones a part of society. Kira wanted to separate the two groups of people, permanently, through death, but L would do his best to unite the two groups, bringing everyone into society together.

Then L shifted gears, focusing on Light's eyes directly. Light was very aware of the way that their palms fit together, the way that the wind was tugging at L's bangs, the way that their knees touched when the train bumped. "Do you still want to go to To-Oh University?"

Light hadn't had the chance to think about it, but he didn't have to think very hard before he said, "Yes."

"Do you still want to join the NPA?"

Surprisingly, this was even easier. "Yes."

The corner of L's mouth quirked up warmly. "Excellent. You'll take them off the streets, and I'll put them back on."

Light didn't take his medication all day. At lunch, neither of them even remembered to suggest it. Light hadn't felt healthier in over a year.

When they told Watari, he wept like a child. He hugged them both with surprisingly powerful arms, and wouldn't let go for fifteen minutes.

Light was excited to meet Roger, a figure who had been so important in L's childhood, but he was more than slightly less excited when he reached out his right hand for Roger to shake, but Roger was too distracted by the ring on Light's left hand to shake his right hand. L had been wearing his wedding ring all day, and while Roger was busy now staring at L's left hand, Light slowly dropped his right hand.

They sat, Roger on one side of his desk, L and Light on the other side, like they were in trouble.

L said, "We have some really good news for you, Roger. Three Christian students prayed for Light to be healed, and now his brain cancer is gone."

Roger said, "Should you really be using my name in front of him?"

L said, "I'm sorry."

Roger said, "Have you done tests yet?"

L said, "No, not yet."

Roger said, "Hm."

L said, "What did you think of my recommendations for my successor?"

Roger said, "Watari tells me that you are refusing to be L anymore."

L said, "I'm still L. My job will just be slightly different."

Roger said, "L is a detective. You are refusing to be a detective. You are refusing to be L."

L said, "My name isL, so whatever I do will be—"

Roger said, "Should you really be saying your name in front of him?"

L said, "We're married."

Roger said, "If you call that a marriage."

L said nothing.

Roger said, "This is bigger than you. You have to stop being so selfish. Think of what you're going to be doing to the name of L. What is the world going to do if it finds out that you're releasing criminals, practicing homosexuality, and sleeping with Kira?"

L stood.

Roger said, "You've done many disappointing things in your short life, young man, but this is by far the most disappointing."

L said, "I am and always will be L. I am twenty-five years old, and I will not be cowed by you. You may call my successors what you wish, so long as you do not call them L. I sincerely hope that you have not made it a habit of speaking to my successors in the way that you speak to me, for their sake and for Watari's sake. I do love you, Roger, but I'm going to make my own decisions now."

Roger said, "If you really loved me, you would do as I say."

L said, "If that is what you think love is, you have a lot to learn."

L held Light's hand on their way out.

The oncologist had never seen anything like it. The brain cancer was one hundred percent gone. It was like it had never even been there. She kept them there for two hours, demanding to know anything that could have caused it to disappear like that, asking what they had eaten, where they had gone, whether they had been near any radioactive materials or animals. They kept telling her that it was because of the prayer of the three students, but she wouldn't take that for an answer. She took three more CT scans, and then she sent them away.

Inexplicably, L started getting better too.

Light woke up one morning to breakfast in bed—which was to say, coffee and a piece of toast in bed—and a very snuggly L. Light didn't even have to ask before L was telling him the answer.

"My dream changed again," he said. "I don't want to be too optimistic, but I wouldn't be surprised if I never have the dream again."

Light's eyebrows rose. This was some serious news. "The last time your dream changed, you said that it continued. Watari was actually walking towards you, and putting his hand on your head, and saying that your answer was not right at all, and that if that was what he taught you about justice, then he was wrong."

L held him tighter. "Your didn't misremember."

"Finally I've done something right. So, what changed this time?"

"It continued again. When Watari put his hand on my head, I put my hand back to the bullet hole, but there was suddenly no blood coming out of my head at all. I thought perhaps this meant that all the blood had left my body, because there was warmth all underneath my body, warm blood, I assumed. But it wasn't blood at all. What I was lying on was uneven and soft, and I rolled off of it. It was a body. I was lying on someone's body, someone's dead body. He was very dead, and all the blood had actually come from him, from his head and back and wrists and side and feet. Somehow, the damage that B had meant for me with the piano and that Charles had meant for me with the gun had all hit him instead. Watari was still there, and he put his arm around me, and we wept. I didn't even know who the man was, but I was grieving. For a long time, it was just me and Watari, weeping, with the body in the prison cell.

"But then everything changed. I heard a voice say, 'Why are you crying?' Watari and I looked up, and there was the man, standing beside us. His clothes were white and clean, and his body was brown and clean, without a trace of blood anywhere. Watari moved towards him first, but I reached him first, taking his hand. He was very much alive and well, but there were still holes in his wrists. Watari took his other hand. Watari's suit had turned white, and my jeans had turned white and my shirt even whiter. He led us towards the prison doors, which crumbled to pieces the moment he touched them. We walked out of the prison into the light, and I woke up."

Light absorbed, and processed, and kissed L's forehead. "So, you think that's the end of the dreams."

"Mhm. Because I think the person who healed me was the same person who healed you."