As summer sunshine gave way to autumn breezes, Bean settled nicely into his father's secluded little world. Life was now a routine of sorts, and things that had seemed so terrifying to L at first weren't so much anymore.

Bean, quite understandably, still cried sometimes missing his mama. L just held him and let the tears fall, wishing he could make the hurt go away; but even he knew that there was a place in the little boy's heart that would always ache for his mother. It helped to let him look at Anya's pictures. He loved pointing at Anya's belly in the photo where she was pregnant and saying "There I am!" L figured Anya must have pointed to the photo at one point or another and said "There you are!" because Bean did it every single time he saw the photo.

Watari worried about L too, and how all of this was affecting him. He asked about it one evening as L stepped out of Bean's bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. He was holding the envelope of Anya's photos in one hand.

"How are you doing, L?" Watari asked in a fatherly tone.

"He's sleeping now," L responded simply.

Watari nodded. "Yes, but... how are you?"

"Oh." L briefly looked surprised, then shrugged. "I'm fine. It's a lot to get used to," he answered honestly.

Watari sighed. He was unsure how to present his next concern. He went on, carefully choosing his words. "I imagine this is difficult for you," he said slowly. "If you'd ever like to talk, you know I'm here. About Bean, or... or about her."

L looked down at the envelope in his hand and then up at Watari. The old man stood with a sincere expression and his hands folded in front of him.

"Thank you, Watari," L said quietly. And, saying nothing more, he moved to the desk to continue with his detective work.

Stepping up into the swivel chair, L carefully returned the envelope to the desk drawer. He knew he couldn't keep Bennett from remembering his mother, even if it did cause a painful ache to settle deep within his chest. In truth, it was difficult for him. Remembering her. But his logic far outweighed his emotions, and the fact remained that the little boy that he had come to love more than anything was their son. Bean, and therefore Anya, would now always be a part of his life.

One particular night, when L was putting Bean in bed, the small boy asked innocently, "Papa, did you know Mama?"

L stared at the child. "Bean, you know that I'm your..."

Bean just looked at him, sitting up with his hands folded on top of the comforter and his head tipped questioningly.

L sighed. "Yes, I knew her."

Bean reached out and tugged at L's white shirt sleeve, wanting him to sit down on the bed. "Will you tell me a story about her?" he asked hopefully.

L had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. "A story about your Mama..." he said slowly. He climbed up and sat crouched on the bed facing the headboard. He rested his hands on his knees and looked down at his small son.

Bean shimmed down under the covers and pulled them up under his arms.

"Well," L began thoughtfully. "One time, she and I were arguing over something..."

"Why were you arguing?"

L lifted bony shoulders in a shrug. "I don't remember. I only recall her being very insistent that she was right." He lifted his thumb to his teeth and looked down at the mattress before him. "She was very stubborn," he said quietly, and something like a smile played with the edges of his mouth.

"Da, she was," Bean said, nodding his pajama-hooded head up and down against the pillow. He often mixed his English with Russian.

L looked at him again. "Oh? Why do you think so?"

"She told me," Bean said simply.

"Hmmh." It was something like a chuckle, but not really. "Yes, well..." L continued the story, speaking in a plain and low tone. "I had a plate of strawberry cake in my hands, and I must have said something she didn't like because she leaned over and bit the strawberry right off the top."

Bean brought his childish hands up to his mouth and giggled gleefully.

L smiled around the thumb in his mouth. Something happened to him whenever Bean laughed. Like a piece of him deep down was getting a warm hug.

Bedtime was somewhat of a gamble with Bean. Sometimes he behaved, and other times he put up a fight. L and Watari had a long talk one evening and decided that there was no harm in letting the little boy sleep on the couch if he wanted to. It seemed as though all he wanted was to be close to his Papa. They decided to try it out and, after that, Bean went to sleep each night without a problem.

Currently, the trio was living in a large apartment just outside of London.

It was the morning of September 28th- Bean's 4th birthday- and Watari was in the kitchen making a cake. He had asked Bean what kind of birthday treat he wanted, and all the child had said was "Sprinkles!" And so, sprinkles it was-- in the batter, in the frosting, and all over the outside.

As the large grandfather clock in the living room chimed eight o'clock, L swiveled and stepped out of his computer chair. He trodded over to the couch where the small birthday boy slept soundly, wrapped in a knit throw blanket. With one hand pocketed, L bent to gently ruffle Bennett's hair.

"Hey. Time to wake up," he said, smiling a little.

Birthdays had never been a big deal to L Lawliet. Watari had always made sure to make something of the occasion for him, but it simply wasn't something that L really cared about.

That is, until today.

Bean began to stir, and a bright shade of blue flashed from beneath fluttering eyelashes. He lifted long, slender fingers to rub his sleepy eyes and yawned. Then, blinking, he sat up, and looked up at L, his jet-black bedhead flip-flopping every which way.

L crouched down and folded his arms atop the couch cushion.

"Good morning," he greeted.

Bean leaned forward and wrapped his arms around L's neck. "Hi, Papa," he said sleepily.

L returned the hug with one arm, then pulled back to look at his son. "Do you know what today is?" he asked.

Bean grinned. "My birthday!" he said brightly.

"That's right," L said, nodding.

"I'm four!" Bean enthused, tucking his thumb into his palm and holding up four long, little fingers. Then suddenly, his face scrunched as though something had occurred to him. He looked down and studied both of his hands, moving his fingers, bending and straightening them like he was forming numbers. "Papa?" his small voice asked.

"Yes, what is it?"

Bean held up four fingers the same as he had before. "Is this many..." He pulled his hand back and adjusted his fingers so that two were up on each hand, then held them out again. "...the same as this many?"

L was impressed. "Yes, it is," he said proudly. Then he reached out and lowered one of Bean's fingers on one hand and raised one on the other, making a one and a three. "It's also the same as this many."

Bean looked back and forth from one hand to the other. Beginning with the hand holding up three fingers, he counted aloud, "One, two, three..." Then he thrust the remaining one finger outward toward L, causing him to lean back a bit. "Four!"

L chuckled. "Go brush your teeth," he said, ruffling Bean's hair again as he stood.

Bean shimmied off the couch, bringing a hoodie string to his mouth as he did so. "How many are you, Papa?" he asked curiously as he chewed on the drawstring.

With his hands in his jeans pockets, L looked down at the inquisitive child's upturned face. "Twenty-two," he answered.

Bean looked down at his hands and wrinkled his little nose. He looked back up at L. "That's too many," he said decidedly.

"Too many to count on your fingers, yes. Now go brush your teeth."

"How many is Watari?"

"A lot."

"But how many?"

Watari's voice came from the kitchen doorway. "Do as your father says, Bean. There are birthday surprises waiting for you."

At the mention of surprises, Bean scurried to do as he was told. L sighed with slumped shoulders and Watari chuckled. The quiet detective was still not accustomed to a small child who fired questions at him like an artillery. But the boy simply loved to learn.

Bean's fourth birthday was a good day. It started with his favorite breakfast- Pop Tarts- and it was spent largely at the London Zoo. Bean stayed very close to L, either holding his hand or onto the denim fabric of his blue jeans, looking at everything and pointing childishly at anything he found interesting.

The petting zoo area was by far the highlight of the day for the small Bean. The fuzzy duckling feathers and the soft sheep wool and the course goat hair were fascinating to his sensitive little fingers. L stood leaning forward on the metal fence with a multicolor-swirled lollipop pinched between his fingertips and watching his sensory-keen little boy gently pet a pink-nosed lamb.

"Oh my, just look at him!" a female voice said.

L looked to his right to see a woman with a ponytail and a stroller smiling at him. She gestured toward Bean. "It looks like they've bonded already."

L looked back at Bean. His navy blue hood was up, and naturally, the drawstrings were in his mouth. One hand was pocketed in his hoodie and the other was lifted to the baby sheep's wooly neck. He appeared to be talking to it; in Russian, from what L could hear, though he couldn't quite catch the words.

When L didn't answer, the woman spoke again. "I'm sorry, he looks so much like you, I assumed he was yours."

L looked over at the woman again through dark-rimmed eyes. The top of the large, flat lollipop rested against his bottom lip. "He is," he said simply.

The woman smiled again. "You'll want to get a picture of that," she said, and then pushed the stroller on ahead.

L blinked. That thought had never occurred to him. Looking around, he realized that nearly every other parent had a camera or a cell phone out, taking pictures of their children with the little farm animals. Then, he thought of Anya and all the pictures she had taken. He looked at Bean again and slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. In the window of the camera app, he saw Bennett and the fluffy, white lamb. A smile lifted one corner of L's mouth as he pressed the button, capturing the moment forever. Then he shut the phone and returned it to his pocket.

That evening, Bean blew out four candles on a very colorful sprinkle cake. L sat as he normally did in a chair at the table beside him, a cone-shaped party hat resting lopsided in his messy hair. Watari also wore a hat, and Bean wore two, claiming he was the pointy-eared lynx they'd seen at the zoo earlier that day.

As the cake was being distributed, L reached down to the floor beside him and picked up a small, white box. He held it out to Bean.

"This is for you," he said.

Bean grinned and accepted the gift. He was sitting up on his knees in the chair. Placing the small box on the table, he lifted the lid. Inside was a small, red, rectangular device. Bean gingerly took it out of the box and studied it closely.

"What is it?" his small voice asked, intrigued.

"It plays music," L said.

Bean's slender, blue eyes widened. He held the cherry-colored iPod in both hands, turning it over carefully in his long fingers.

"I love music," he said softly.

L nodded. "I know you do," he said. "And here... you'll need these."

Bean looked up and saw that L was holding out another present. This one was in a gift bag and the handle was hooked over his Papa's upturned index finger. Bean set the iPod down on the table and took the new present. He reached inside and pulled out a white headset that was just the right size for him. The cord was red, as was the padding on the earphones.

"Woahh," he breathed.

L helped him take off the packaging and showed him how to plug it in. Then he placed the headphones on Bean's head and adjusted them over his ears under his hood.

"Now press play," L instructed.

Bean's little thumb moved to the button with the triangle and pressed it.

L watched as a smile formed on the little boy's face. Bean closed his eyes and sat there for a moment, holding the iPod in both of his small hands. Then, he opened his eyes and turned on his knees to climb down from the chair. He moved over to L, who lowered one foot to the ground and lifted Bean to sit on his lap.

Bennett rested his head against L's chest and closed his eyes again, listening to the music. The contented smile on his face didn't leave.

"Thank you, Papa," he said sleepily.

L bent to kiss the top of Bean's head.

"Happy Birthday, son."