Twenty minutes later, Matsuda still had not returned, and Jubilee and the other models were hard-pressed to keep the men from noticing that fact. For her part, all the men whom she had talked to so far were now giving her a wide berth. She used it to her advantage; coming near with a smile and a wave so that they stayed busy trying to get away from her. But one could only hold up such a ruse for so long.

How long does it take L to give Matsuda the plan over the phone? Jubilee thought anxiously, gritting her teeth. Maybe the other task force members weren't in position yet, and they were still waiting. Either way, she could see that some of the men were starting to get restless.

"Hey," said a man in glasses beside her, looking around with a frown. "Where is—"

The man was about to ask about Matsuda, she just knew it. In an act of sheer desperation, Jubilee turned and threw her arms around him, knocking his glasses askew. "Jesus loves you," she whispered into his ear.

The man looked bewildered. "Well, hello there," he said, awkwardly disentangling her from himself before slipping his glasses off his nose to clean them on his shirt. "Had one too many drinks, did we?"

"Just high on the Spirit," she said airily, feeling ridiculous. Where was Matsuda? It was time to end this absurd charade.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Is that a drink?"

She laughed weakly, then patted him on the shoulder. "No, no. Something much, much better."

He just gave her a confused but agreeable nod, and started to look away again, putting his glasses back on. Hurriedly she stuck out her hand. "I'm Julie."

He turned back to her. "Mido," he responded, shaking her hand. He seemed to really notice her then. "Ah, you're the foreigner. The others have been calling you 'the missionary model.'"

"Have they?" she asked. She didn't know what to do. This man didn't seem as put off by her act as the others had.

"Yes," he said. "I have been hoping for a chance to speak with you all night, so that I may ask…how does one who believes what you believe, do what you do?"

She felt herself go cold. "What do you mean?" she asked warily.

Mido raised his hands placatingly. "I mean no offense, Miss Julie. I simply ask because, lately, there have been things I've started to believe in as well—especially with all of the unfortunate Kira attacks. It has begun to make me question the things that I do. One must be ruthless to succeed in business; that is what we have always been taught. The same has been said for your industry, show business. But…what if that is not the way?"

She stared at Mido. Was this some kind of trick?

His eyes looked earnest. Above his head a thick, steady line appeared. She felt a strange but calming warmth suddenly whisper through her heart.

"That is not the way," she agreed quietly.

He gazed back at her, dozens of questions in his eyes. But he asked only one. "Then what is?"

Her mouth went dry. This she had not bargained for. Someone taking her seriously had not been part of the plan. In the man's eyes she could see all of his questions, doubts, and fears regarding Kira and the role that he himself had played in the murders so far. She saw all this not through her own eyes, but through the warmth that was still tickling at her heart. But she didn't quite know what to say to him.

"There—there is one Way, and it is Truth, and it is Life," she said haltingly.

"The way of God," suggested the man. It was a question.

She hesitated. "God…is love. And love is the only way. And love always gives life, never takes it. Whoever ruthlessly takes life, will ruthlessly lose it as well." She stopped then, realizing that she had spoken more bluntly than she intended to. Her statement was dangerously close to a Kira accusation. "That is," she amended hurriedly, "Metaphorically speaking as well as literally, because you know how they say businessmen are in the business of stealing souls…" This was not much better than the first statement. Clamping her mouth shut, she stared at him, chagrinned. "No offense," she added meekly.

To her surprise, Mido just chuckled. "Only as much as models are in the business of vanity," he said, then looked thoughtful. "I think I see what you are saying, Miss Julie. One can do seemingly wrong things for the right reasons, and seemingly right things for the wrong reasons. It all comes down to the motive, and the 'way' in which you do it, would you say so?"

Is that what she had been saying? Guiltily Jubilee thought of her own motives for putting on her pious act and starting this conversation. She slid her gaze over to where Hellenos was standing on her right. The angel simply smiled at her.

"Yes," she said, not knowing what else to say.

"Thank you, Miss Julie," said Mido. "I think I know what I must do now."

It was at that moment that Matsuda burst through the door.

"Wow! I am so drunk!" he declared happily, and made a beeline for the open balcony.

The men gaped as he swayed and staggered past them, and the models—who weren't in on the plan—gave authentic gasps of surprise.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for," continued Matsuda, swinging himself up precariously onto the railing. "The Taro Matsui show!"

"Hey, stop that!" cried one of the men. "You're drunk!"

Jubilee didn't wait to see the rest. She knew what was going to happen, and she was ready to get out of there. With everyone's attention fixed firmly on Matsuda, she quietly slipped out the door, then ran for the stairwell.

She'd have to beat the Yotsuba men to the bottom of the building.

----------------------------------------

Bursting out of the apartment complex's entrance, Jubilee rushed out onto the sidewalk just in time to hear Wedy's high-pitched shriek.

"Oh, no!" Wedy cried loudly and dramatically, running up to a body on the ground. "Someone, call an ambulance!" She gave Jubilee a sharp glance upon seeing her, and shooed her away with one hand.

There were little to no onlookers in the street as of yet. Jubilee looked around, and spied the ambulance waiting on the corner. She ran over to it, flung open a side door and climbed in.

"My dear," said Watari from the driver's seat. "This was not a part of the plan."

Jubilee shrugged, grabbing a sweater from her purse to wrap around her bare shoulders. The night had gotten cold. "It won't hurt it," she said dismissively.

"Says who?" said L's voice sharply from the back of the ambulance, making her jump nearly a foot in the air.

She whirled around, meeting the detective eye to eye. He was wearing paramedic gear and the closest thing to a scowl she had ever seen on him. Beside him stood Light in similar attire.

Trying to recover from her shock at his presence, she gestured wildly at L. "This isn't part of the plan either! You didn't say you would be here!"

"I didn't say I wouldn't." He glared at her, then reached over her to turn a knob on the dashboard. "No matter now," he said dismissively, underneath the roar of a siren that suddenly started to blare. "Time to drive to the scene, Watari. Miss Amachi, please keep your head down and stay out of sight."

Grumbling, Jubilee tugged the hood of her sweater over her head and slumped down low in her seat. If she had known she'd have to be cooped up with him for the entire ride back, she might have thought twice about leaving Misa's place prematurely.

Within minutes they had reached the spot where Wedy was and proceeded to load the body—which was Aiber, hanging limp and wearing a dark wig—onto a stretcher in the back of the ambulance. Shutting the doors to the vehicle behind themselves, L motioned for Watari to drive and they sped off, back to headquarters.

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Aiber sat up on the stretcher, pulled off the wig and shook out his blonde locks. "Well, that was a boring and crappy role to play," he remarked.

Light turned to L. "We're sure Matsuda's okay?"

"We didn't see another body on the ground, did we?" answered L. "I think it's safe to say that Mr. Yagami successfully caught him with a mattress on the floor directly beneath Misa's, as planned. They should be rendezvousing with us at headquarters shortly." He sat back, biting his thumb. "While I'm aware of the fact that we are short-handed, I'm not very pleased that I had to go out and do this sort of thing myself. Matsuda has a lot to answer for."

Jubilee glanced back at L. The man looked like a ghost, his pale skin blending in with the white of the paramedic uniform. Why had he come and done this himself? He clearly wasn't comfortable being out in society. He could have just as easily sent Mogi. We are, unfortunately, short-staffed, he had told her earlier, and she had resented him for that fact because she had to suffer for it and he didn't—or so she thought. Yet here he was.

"And you, Miss Amachi," the detective continued. Jubilee's head snapped up. "What you chose to do just now was reckless. Fortunately there were virtually no other civilians on the street at this hour, but you ran at least a five percent chance of raising suspicion. Add to that the possibility that any of those men might have noticed your disappearance, despite the ensuing chaos, and that raises the percentage to fifteen. While that may sound low to you, again, as I emphasized earlier, there are lives at stake here."

Any charitable thoughts she had started formulating toward him a second ago instantly dissipated in the wake of his criticism. She knew that he was probably right, but it didn't make her feel any better.

She crossed her arms and grumbled, "I just had to get out of there, alright?" She didn't elaborate more. The discomfort of being thrown into a scenario that echoed her past, combined with the awkward experience of preaching about love when she didn't even practice it herself, had been too much guilt for her to bear, putting her into fight or flight mode. And she had chosen to flee, out of fear of that guilt.

L said nothing for a moment, then replied, "Alright." A tense pause passed. "By the way," he said, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it over without looking at her. "Mail for you."

Jubilee stared at what he had placed in her hands. It was a postcard. "Mail?" she echoed. "Since when did I get mail?"

"You didn't, until recently," replied L. "We always had a post office box for any of your incoming mail to be forwarded to from your former residence at the Wakahisa Home. But it wasn't until today that you received anything. We picked it up on our way here."

"You picked up my mail for me on your way over to an undercover rescue mission in an ambulance," she said incredulously.

"Yes," said L, failing to see anything strange about the scenario. "It was on the way, and thus an efficient use of time."

Shaking her head, Jubilee turned back to the postcard. It was written in neat and feminine handwriting. Scanning down to the bottom, she saw that it was addressed from her old friend Christine. Surprised, she began to read.

Dear Julie,

You have been in my thoughts and my prayers. I have often wondered how you and the kids are doing. Haru and I send our best. (We were married in December!) The other day, I was thinking of you when I happened across a page in our wedding album. There were two verses on that page. You know the first one because it's one of my favorites and I used to share it with the kids all the time: "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things…Love never fails." And the second one was: "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out all fear" (1 John 4:18).

It occurred to me that you always perfectly embodied that second verse, without even knowing it. Even when you felt the most freaked out about what could go wrong at Wakahisa, you still forged ahead and came out of it all with great success. I always admired you for that. The kids do too, and the reason they love you so much is because you've always ended up choosing love for them over your own fears. And since you've got that Love in you, you can never fail…no matter how things may look. I just thought that you should know that. Hope all is well and that everyday is still an adventure!

All my love,

Christine

Jubilee lowered the card to her lap, her hand trembling with emotion. Guiltily she wondered if Christine would still think all those things about her if she knew how ungraciously she had been handling all her newfound feelings for a certain enigmatic detective.

Love never fails…

The words repeated themselves in her head, over and over, until she heard them loud and clear and realized that Hellenos was speaking to her. She looked up at him. He smiled down at her, perched between her and Watari.

Love never fails, he repeated. But, it is still a choice. What will you choose…fear, or love?

Fear or love? She looked away, staring out the window into the dark streets that were zooming past. This whole time she had been suffocated by her fears—fear of her feelings, fear of getting hurt, fear of her own guilt and unworthiness. It was driving her crazy. But she didn't see a way out of it.

She had feelings for someone whom she neither wanted to have feelings for, nor whom returned those feelings—and what could that mean for her besides embarrassment and humiliation, pain and rejection? Furthermore, one day this case would be over and she would be free to leave, and L would go back to whatever hole or lair he had come from, and where would that leave her? How was she to recover from this mad case of Stockholm Syndrome, should she ever accept her feelings? On top of it all, she was a former criminal with a shameful past. And on top of that, she sucked at saying sorry and was, in general, rather mean-spirited towards him and most people on the whole. Even if things were different, even if he was somehow capable of—of what? Of feeling?—then how could she ever reconcile with him and with herself who she had been…and who she still, so often, was? He was, after all, the supposed epitome of justice.

What will you choose?

She looked down at the postcard in her hands again. There is no fear in love, said one line. The words suddenly glowed before her vision, highlighted like bright stars in a dark night. Could it be possible that, by finally making a choice between the two—fear or love—one would truly cast out the other?

It suddenly occurred to her that all of her fear had been, quite successfully, casting out all of her love. And she had let it, because she hadn't wanted to feel that love. Because she had been afraid of it.

But…Love never fails. She paused as that notion struck her afresh. Do I really believe that?

She suddenly remembered all of the children at Wakahisa. She remembered Meirin. She remembered the sensation that swelled in her heart when she watched the little girl sleep, along with all the other little ones. It was the same sensation she had felt blooming in her heart as she listened to Watari tell stories of a lonely little boy with wild black hair and big gray eyes. It was the same sensation she felt when she saw that boy, now a man, for who he truly was, in spirit and in truth. It was love.

Would she choose it?

A clear image of that little boy suddenly formed in her mind's eye now. His skin was even paler, his black hair as unkempt as it would become in adulthood, and his gray eyes were the same—deep, intense, and wise…but hollow, somehow. Like he was missing something. Like he had lost something.

It was the same look in the eyes of every child at Wakahisa.

But the gray haze around him was thinner than she had ever seen it to be. It looked like a distant storm cloud that had only just begun to form…and the colors that spilled from him were more dazzling than lightning. Even amidst the storm of pain and loss that he had weathered, his spirit shone forth like a star.

And in that moment she suddenly knew, without a doubt, and with unwavering conviction, that she fully, wholeheartedly loved him…and that she did not regret it.

"Well done, Wedy," she suddenly heard L's voice say behind her. He was on the phone. "Your successful infiltration of the Yotsuba Group will help us narrow down who Miss Amachi should be monitoring, and make things much easier for her. I thank you for that." A pause. "Yes. See you back at headquarters."

He ended the call and glanced up. Jubilee had turned in her seat and was looking at him. "That was Wedy, as you may have heard," he began. "Surveying footage should be less of a headache for you now, since your main focus will only need to be on the room with the eight—" He stopped and gave her a strange look. "Are you alright, Miss Amachi?"

Jubilee suddenly realized that she was staring at him and grinning like an idiot. From beyond L's gray haze, she could see streams of golden light flecked with rainbow hues flow out of him, lightening the shadows on his face and brightening his eyes. He looked beautiful. And for once, she didn't feel bad about herself for being able to see that. In fact, she didn't feel bad about anything at all. It made her positively giddy.

"Yes," she said, still smiling. "Yes, I am."

L looked doubtful but said, "…Alright then."

His skepticism did nothing to dispel her mood. In fact, every fear of what he might be thinking of her—and what others thought of her, and what she thought of herself—fell away completely in that moment.

There is no fear in love.

"Thank you, by the way," she added.

He gave her another look, this time like she had put her shoes on her hands instead of her feet. But she didn't care. "You're welcome," he said in a measured tone.

She turned away then to face the windshield, still grinning. The street in front of them suddenly opened up before her vision with columns of benevolent light and swirls of gentle color. Billowing softly around her was the pink mist, now tinged with gold; and somewhere in the recesses of her mind she heard a sweetly melodic, high tone. Beside her, Hellenos was shining.

You can see, he remarked with a grin.

Around her she felt the light of every soul, both those riding in the vehicle with her and, more distantly, those inside the passing buildings on the street. Each glowed like an ember, luminous and bright. She felt the fatherly warmth emanating from Watari beside her, the affectionate sentiment of brotherhood for Light in the back, and the tender feeling of pure love for L sitting beside him. Even Misa and Matsuda—that blessed idiot!—came to mind, and she could feel nothing but the fondest of friendship for each of them.

It was an astounding sensation. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry from the sudden sense of joy and complete freedom that she felt.

I can see, she agreed happily. She turned to gaze out the window, on a world that was suddenly shining with wonder and beauty. She thought she saw some of the columns of light wave cheerfully at her as she zoomed by in the ambulance. Her smile widened. I can finally see.

Somewhere within her mind's eye, a gentle and familiar face resurfaced from beneath old, stale memories, and became alive once more. It smiled at her with a look of utmost love. It was the face of the one she had once called her home—and in its expression she found herself completely safe, utterly secure, and fully understood. She gazed upon the face with a sense of awe and sudden realization.

Perfect Love casts out all fear, she thought wonderingly. And then, meekly, Hello again…Dad.

The smile broadened. Beneath it, arms widened. Welcome home, Daughter.