Jubilee slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning and wavering between wakefulness and wistful dreams. She dreamt of her parents swinging her around as a little girl, of Alyssa laughing and resplendent in a wedding dress, of a little boy with wild black hair and wide gray eyes standing before a set of gates, listening to church bells ring. Her consciousness floated between different moments in space and time, and during the frequent but brief moments that she woke during the night, her mind felt confused and disoriented between what was memory and what was fantasy. At one point she fell into one particularly clear, vivid dream…

The pale, black-haired young man sat crouched before his computer. Watari stood beside him, speaking. On the other side of him laid his suspect, sprawled out on the desk, asleep.

A hundred thoughts simultaneously processed themselves through his head in the space of a second; one being deferential acknowledgment of how patiently Light Yagami took to not having a bed for the last few weeks, another being recognition of what Watari was saying to him, and about seventy being directly related to the Kira case.

Something that Watari said pricked his attention, drawing up caution.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Watari," he said smoothly, his voice betraying no emotion. "I view Miss Amachi with the utmost respect."

"But does she know that?" insisted the old man.

"If she does not then the fault is hers, not mine, for I have made every effort to be courteous, professional and even considerate of her wellbeing."

"That isn't behavior to be applauded, my boy, it's the very basics of humanity."

"With all due respect, why are we discussing this subject?"

Watari sighed. "I don't know what is going on between the two of you, but—"

"There is nothing 'going on' between the two us other than a respectful and professional working relationship." A pause. "Ask her yourself."

"She hasn't been the same since you spoke alone with her today. What on earth did you do to the poor girl?"

If Watari could have seen under the camouflage of dark hair hiding L's face, he might have detected the slightest wince crease the detective's brow at this accusation. As it was, however, the young man's voice remained impassive. "I did nothing. Simply spoke about a topic regarding the case that required some discretion."

The old man's voice took on a fatherly, instructive tone. "Well, did you remember to communicate with consideration of the other person's feelings and with some measure of social tact, as we've discussed?"

L lowered his head and his hair fell over his face even more. "I tried my best, Watari," he said softly. "I tried my best."

Jubilee tossed irritably in her sleep, her consciousness meandering towards wakefulness before she managed to find a more comfortable position and plunge back into deep, blessed slumber. Her mind drifted for some moments in dreamless sleep, before plunging into yet another clear dream…

An hour had passed. Light was awake now and back at work in front of his computer, even though it was still the dead of night. He had only managed to sleep for a few hours, his mind still caught up with all the events of the day, including the fight and what L had revealed about Kira. Tapping busily at his computer mouse, his fingers drummed against the top of the desk as he surveyed the most recent kill statistics onscreen. Beside him L sat brooding silently. Watari had retired for the night.

Suddenly he sat up. "Ryuzaki," he began, a subdued excitement in his voice. "I know you may not be feeling up to it, but…take a look at this. It can't be coincidence."

L looked up warily. "What is it?"

Light pointed onscreen at a list he had just highlighted. It contained names of the recently deceased. "All of them were prominent Japanese businessmen," he explained. "CEOs whose companies are leaders in their respective industries. In just over a month, they all died of heart attacks."

L had wheeled his chair closer. He stared at Light's computer screen.

"As expected," Light continued, "There's been a general downturn in the market. But," And here he made some rapid clicks and pulled up a chart, "There's been one company that has been the exception. Yotsuba." The chart was a stock market graph, detailing the recent rise in profits for the company called the Yotsuba Group. "In other words," Light went on, "These deaths have all worked in Yotsuba's favor. Looking back, there've been thirteen similar deaths in the past three months. Thoughts?" He looked pointedly at L and, before the detective could speak, added, "Based on this, I can only conclude that Kira is supporting Yotsuba."

"Yes," said L slowly, thumbing the side of his mouth in thought as he continued to stare at the graph. "But…if what you're saying is true, we must assume that punishing criminals is not this Kira's intent."

"Right. It's just a diversion from the fact that he's actually killing people for the benefit of this company." Light turned to L then, and a small grin came upon his face when he saw the intense look that was on L's. "So…are you feeling a bit more motivated now?"

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Jubilee stumbled into the main room the next morning, groggy and disgruntled from a night of restless sleep and fitful dreams that she couldn't quite remember. Stepping out of the elevator with her were Chief Yagami and Officer Mogi, who had been stern and silent during the entire ride down. As the elevator doors closed behind them, they were met with an ecstatic greeting from Matsuda.

"Hey—Chief!" cried the younger officer as he bounded over. "Oh, you too, Mogi and Miss Julie. I've got some great news." He thrust bundles of documents into their hands. "This is amazing!" he continued to babble. "I'm not even sure how he figured it out, but Light has the theory that Kira is somehow involved with the Yotsuba group." He gestured at the evidence on the print outs that they were holding, then grinned at them. "Can you believe it?"

The three newcomers looked stunned. "Yotsuba?" echoed the Chief.

Jubilee stared at the charts and lists of names in her hands as she processed this information, a strange sense of déjà vu coming over her. This all looked familiar somehow.

"I see," she heard the Chief muttering. "It all makes sense." He strode forward, raising his voice to make his next words heard to everybody. "I just spoke with the director of NPA." Heads turned in his direction at this announcement. "It seems," he continued, "That Kira has offered to bribe a number of politicians. As long as the NPA agrees not to pursue him anymore, he promises not to lay a hand on any of them. And…" He paused briefly, then declared more quietly, "And they accepted. The police have caved in to him."

General alarm swept through the room. There was a dark anxiety that crept in alongside it which made Jubilee feel uneasy.

Chief Yagami went on. "Mogi and I have already made up our minds on this matter. Aizawa, Matsuda." He turned to the two other officers. "If you wish to continue working on this case…you will have to hand in your letter of resignation to the NPA. Just as Mogi and I are going to do."

The two other officers gaped at the Chief. He gave them a look tinged with sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But, like it or not…you cannot pursue Kira as a member of the police force anymore."

Jubilee stared along with the others, but for more reasons than just the shock of this statement. All around her, the colors and lights hovering over people sputtered and shook. Aizawa, in particular, had a cloud of both light and dark mist rise up from his shoulders that started to crumble slowly while ripping itself in half, as though from invisible seams. The entire display effectively made the man look like he—or his world—was shattering.

"Wha—wait," he stuttered. "Ho—hold on a second, Chief—"

"They made it quite clear." Soichiro Yagami's voice was firm. "If you continue to work with L, you will be fired. That's all there is to it."

Matsuda's eyes were round. "So then, Chief, you—you're gonna..."

"Yes." Soichiro's expression was grave but determined. "In a few hours, I will no longer be your chief." This proclamation was met with grim silence, before Soichiro added in a softer tone, "We all have our own lives, however. So think it over carefully."

"That's true, Chief!" cried Matsuda. "Especially if you've got a family to support!"

Beside him, the mist around Aizawa took on a dark, dismal tinge of red. "Yes," he whispered. Only Jubilee heard him. She felt like she should say something, do something, to comfort the man falling apart beside her. But she had no idea what, and could only stand there stupidly, feeling useless.

L's voice suddenly cut through the bleak mood of the room. "If you want my opinion," he said calmly, "You'd be better off as police officers."

This statement was met with shocked and indignant silence.

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"I was alone when I started this case," L went on, not turning around to face them from where he sat crouched in his office chair. "And although I am grateful to all of you for staying with me as long as you have, I know that I can complete the job alone."

"Ryuzaki," Light interrupted. He glowed a bright yellow. "As long as I'm alive, you won't be working alone." He raised his handcuffed arm, as though in evidence of this statement, but then added, "You have my word on that."

"Hm. True," stated L impassively. "Since Light is working with me under house arrest until I catch Kira, I suppose I won't be alone after all. But, as I said." He flicked his head towards the remaining task force members, while still keeping his back on them. "I think the rest of you should remain police officers."

Jubilee saw a line form over L's head and snap in two. She narrowed her eyes. What was the man plotting now? She opened her mouth to say something but Soichiro beat her to it.

"When you first contacted us, you said that you would need the help of the police in order to solve this case," he protested.

"With all due respect," replied L, "There is a big difference between the help of the police as an organization, and that of two or three civilians." His tone held no accusation, but no sympathy either. "As you said, the police have made their position clear—they don't want to catch Kira. So let's just leave it that."

"It's true that we may not be of much use to you," Soichiro acquiesced. "But we are all personally involved in this. All of us have risked our lives to catch Kira." He took a step towards L. "Doesn't that give us the right to decide whether we stay here or return to the police force?"

Jubilee was unable to contain herself anymore. "Yes, or are you just going to make the choice for them, like you did for me?" she asked acidly. Bitterly she remembered how he had manipulated her into being on the case—and thereby into becoming attracted to him—against her will.

"Hmm," L intoned from his chair. "Fair point." He didn't clarify whether he was speaking to the chief or to Jubilee. "Then, by all means…" He turned slightly so that only the profile of his chin was visible to them beneath his hair. "Make your decision."

"But Chief—wait!" Aizawa's voice cried out. "If you quit your job with the police force, you would be unemployed." His eyes were wild with anxious indecision. "Even if we do catch Kira…what will you do after that?"

"After that?" Soichiro thought to himself for a moment. "I suppose…that I would have to dust off my resume, and find a new job."

There was a beat as Aizawa and Matsuda both stared wide-eyed at him; whether in admiration or disbelief or both, it was hard for Jubilee to say. For her part, she stared at him because of the gust of soft blue that had puffed out from him at his words. It made him look surreally…noble, somehow.

Matsuda, suddenly inspired, cried, "Count me in! I'm going to quit the police and chase Kira too, Chief! I do still have my undercover job as Misa-Misa's manager after all…" He stuck a finger in the air like a light bulb had gone off in his head, and declared cheerfully, "That can become my real job once we solve this case! Besides…if I stayed on as a police officer, I would feel like a total traitor."

The mist around Aizawa took on an even darker tinge. Jubilee shot Matsuda a reproachful look.

Soichiro snapped, "Think before you open your mouth, Matsuda."

Matsuda looked immediately chagrinned, casting a nervous glance Aizawa's way. The other police officer was staring at the ground.

"Is there—" Aizawa took a deep breath, and continued, eyes still downcast, "Is there any way I could…keep my job, and still help you in my spare time?

"There isn't." L's reply was short and immediate. He had turned his back to them again and was nonchalantly eating out of a bowl of cherries on his desk. "If you remain a police officer, then please do not return here."

Aizawa whipped his head up, aghast. "But you know that I wouldn't leak any information!"

"Yes. Because I certainly won't be sharing any of it." L spit out a cherry pit before gulping down two more and continuing in an emotionless voice, "You are free to pursue Kira on your own if you wish to. But—" He waved a hand dismissively in their direction, his back still to them. "I don't see how it's fair to your family, to burden them by giving up your livelihood in order to continue this."

"Yes," said Soichiro. He turned to Aizawa. "No one here would blame you for quitting."

"Right!" agreed Matsuda, eager to make up for his earlier tactless blunder. "We all understand why you've got to do this."

Jubilee tried to give Aizawa a look of understanding, but he didn't see it. Instead he burst out, red-faced, "But Chief has a family, too!"

Soichiro put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Our situations are completely different, Aizawa."

Aizawa looked to the ceiling and cursed, clenching his fists. "To leave now…after all we've been through," he whispered, then raised his voice, "I said that I was prepared to die if that's what it took to catch Kira and I meant it! What kind of friend would I be to Ukita if I quit now?"

Jubilee stepped forward hesitantly, putting a tentative hand on his other shoulder and wishing she could do something more for him, but feeling helpless to do so. What good was this sight of hers, when she could see the pain of all the people around her, but didn't know what to do or how to fix it? This wasn't like Wakahisa, where she could pat a child on the head and give him or her a cookie. This was the real, grown-up world, with real, grown-up problems that were too big for her to solve. Distantly she realized that she had not seen Hellenos during this entire conversation.

Aizawa ignored both her and the chief at his side, too engrossed in his turmoil. She thought back to his earlier words and briefly wondered to herself who Ukita was. Suddenly, images of a young and clean-cut looking Japanese policeman, working alongside Aizawa, entered Jubilee's brain. A vision of the man falling to the ground outside a set of glass doors, his last breath rattling out as a sudden heart attack took hold of him, left her eyes stinging with unexpected tears. She stared at the emotions that were visibly erupting from Aizawa before her very eyes, and suddenly she understood. This man had lost his best friend to Kira.

"I—I'm so sorry, Aizawa," she whispered, not knowing what else she could say. The words felt useless and inadequate coming from her lips. Why couldn't she be more like her old friend Christine? "It'll be…I'm sure it will all…" She faltered, struggling to find a comforting statement she could say that she actually believed in. There was none.

Watari's voice suddenly sounded across the overhead speakers, saving her from the attempt.

"Ryuzaki," said the old man's voice. It sounded stern. "Earlier on in the investigation, you specifically instructed me that if any task force member were to lose their job under any circumstances, that I should make preparations to ensure that their families' financial future was secure. If you recall, our trust was set aside for that very purpose." His tone took on a distinct tinge of reproof as he continued, with feigned casualness, "I'm a little curious as to why you are withholding this information."

Everyone turned to gawk at L. Jubilee wanted to slap herself as a sudden, stupid wave of affection for the detective hit her. So he did care, the jerk. She shoved the feeling down violently. But he was horrendous at executing it, and still an enormous jerk. And why did he have to put poor Aizawa through such pain? she thought to herself angrily as waves of resentment overtook her.

"This is not the time or place, Watari," said L, his own voice equally disapproving as his mentor's.

"Ah. I'm sorry, sir." Watari didn't sound sorry.

"No way!" Matsuda cried. "So all this time we had nothing to worry about?" He turned to Aizawa, looking gleeful. "There you go, Aizawa. Isn't that great news?" The happy grin dissolved off his face when he caught the other officer's expression.

The mist around Aizawa had turned entirely red and was pulsing violently. The energy emanating off of it hit Jubilee like a tidal wave, making her feel suddenly woozy and lose her footing. She staggered forward slightly as though struck. Nobody noticed.

"Ryuzaki," began the man in a low, deceptively calm voice. "I assume that this was some kind of test to determine how committed I was to the task force."

"It's not like that, Aizawa," the former chief placated the other man quickly. "Ryuzaki is simply not the type to say things directly, I'm sure."

"Yeah," interjected Matsuda, as eager as his superior to diffuse his colleague's rapidly escalating anger. "That's right. He didn't mean it like that."

"No." L's voice interrupted both of the men who had sprung to his defense. "I was testing you. I wanted to see which one you would choose."

The others turned to gape at the detective. Jubilee, still feeling dizzy, just glared. The line over his head remained intact this time. Why am I not surprised? she thought bitterly to herself.

"Ryuzaki—" began Soichiro.

"Fine then." Aizawa's voice had resolve in it now and was harder than steel. "If I wasn't sure before, I am now." He turned to his colleagues, a scowl on his face. "Let's face it. I wasn't able to decide right away like you guys. I was even leaning towards going back to the police."

"Come on, Aizawa—" Matsuda began nervously.

"No!" shouted Aizawa. "I quit! Now I know for sure. I've always hated Ryuzaki. I've always hated his way of doing things. I—"

"That's too bad," L's voice interrupted calmly. "Because I've always liked you, Aizawa."

Aizawa practically shook with fury. The red around him became fringed with black. Jubilee's own vision blackened for a split second and she thought that she might pass out. She grasped at a wall for support.

"I also hate," Aizawa fumed, "That you always have to have the last word." He turned and strode swiftly to the exit. "That's it. I'm out of here."

"Thank you for everything." L's words followed the man out the door.

The doors closed with a bang. A long, somber silence ensued.

Jubilee took long, deep breaths and tried to recover from the waves of Aizawa's anger and everyone else's shock. Slowly she begun to take wobbly steps towards L, though she wasn't sure why or what she would say. Hellenos was still nowhere in sight. Dimly she was aware that the red and black cloud surrounding Aizawa had stayed behind, and was now stealthily latching itself onto her. But she ignored it, coming to a stop beside L's chair. The man seemed to stiffen for a second at her presence, before slowly inclining his head a scant centimeter in her direction. His eyes, though, remained focused on the screen of his computer. The sight of this made something tip the scales inside of her and snap.

"Do you—ever care—about anyone besides yourself?" she seethed, suddenly overcome by a wellspring of rage that wasn't entirely her own. The overwhelming feeling flooded her senses and became mingled with her own personal resentment towards the man sitting in front of her. "Or are you just completely incapable of even trying to take others into consideration?" she continued, voice rising. Vaguely she realized that this allegation was completely untrue and that she knew it, given what Watari had just revealed about the trust L had set aside, and given a different sort of knowing from somewhere deep in her spirit, which she couldn't explain. At the moment however, she felt powerless to stop the tide of incoherent rage sweeping over her.

She turned on her heel and stalked off towards the elevators. Matsuda called after her.

"Miss Julie!" he cried frantically. "Are you—you're not going to leave the case too, are you?"

"She can't," L's voice calmly answered before Jubilee could turn around. "She isn't a police officer, and she doesn't have the choice to."

Jubilee whirled back on him. "Oh, I don't, do I?" She was seeing red in all senses of the phrase and it literally blinded her. Unable to see L clearly through the haze, she did her best to shoot a withering glare at where she thought he was sitting. "Let me make something very clear," she continued, pointing a finger in his general direction. "I do choose to stay on the case. But it certainly isn't for you, and it isn't because you say so. I'm simply going to go and work in the same room as someone who actually cares about how people feel. If you need me, call Watari." She turned and stomped off.

A wave of sudden regret hit her almost as soon as she had left the room. By the time she was in the elevator and more than halfway up to the top floor, the cloud of red and black had abruptly dissipated, to be replaced by a haze of bleak blues and dull, guilt-ridden grays. She put her head in her hands, thinking back to her last words—and how they had been so much more applicable to her past self than to L. Dimly, vaguely, the sudden remembrance of a dream from the night before cut through her thoughts.

I tried my best, Watari, L had said, with a genuine remorse that could not be hidden from her sight no matter how much she wanted it to be. I tried my best.

"But I didn't," she whispered, and suddenly wanted to cry.