Scattering Ashes

Title: Scattering Ashes
Chapter Title: Meaning
Summary: Three years after the fall of Kira, Near continues his role as the successor of L with dutiful indifference. Even so, he is haunted by ghosts of the past—indeed, one comes back from the dead hell-bent on teaching Near how to live.
Disclaimer: Death Note is the property of its creators. I do not own this franchise and no infringement is intended or profit gained by the writing of this fanfiction. I also do not own T.S. Eliot or his works; my quoting of his poems is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.
Pairing: MattxNear, past MelloxMatt
Spoiler Warning: References to characters hinted to in the LA BB Murder Cases; though I give A a feminine connotation instead of a masculine one. Also references to Aiber and Wedy from the canon, and also references to conversations and scenes from during and after the Yotsuba Arch. Also I use terms and names from L: Change the World, but often I apply these characters to different companies and/or reasons for doing what they do.
Alternate Warnings: Rating MA is for violence, swearing and adult sexual situations which include, but are not limited to, homosexuality. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

Author’s Note: Hi all! Happy Inauguration Day. *cue impish grin* Um. *coughs*

First and foremost, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to Cu-kid for her most fabulous fanart, which you can find here ‘cu-kid.deviantart.com/art/Scattering-Ashes-109655509’ . Thank you so much! It’s so awesome!

Also, to Doumi, for another quick, incredible beta! I adore you!

This chapter took me forever because of its length AND because of travelling across the damn country mid-week to take care of my sick, dumb boyfriend. No, no, no; he’s not twisted or stupid—he has bronchitis and he’s a pain when he’s sick. You know, the clingy sort. Ew.

So. Despite the late update, and the late hour, and this stupid migraine pounding in my head, I am very, very excited about this chapter. It’s not really explicit, as far as slash goes, but I quite enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it. Also, we get some tantalizing facts about K. Enjoy!

Yours,
Gloria



Scattering Ashes

Chapter Twelve

Meaning

“Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment’s surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms
DA...”

~From What the Thunder Said, “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot

July 16th, 2013

Near looked almost ethereal through the sheet of rain that separated them.

Matt stood by the exit door on the other side of the deck, his seemingly never-ending post while Near crouched on a lawn chair under an umbrella, staring out at the city skyline and the Bridge of the Americas. Near had kept this vigil for almost ten hours already, and still hadn’t moved. Matt knew the detective would address him when he was ready.

Yesterday, Near had been stiff, rigid in his overwhelming anger, as they made their way back through the city towards the cruise liner. On the other side of the detective, as they walked through the dock, Mello had appeared and also seemed curious about Near’s behavior, sending furtive glances toward him and remaining oddly silent.

Near had made a beeline for the shower once they were safely back inside their room, while Matt secured the cellular grid around a cell phone he’d pick-pocketed off of a stranger. By the time Near had finished his shower, and was dressed, Matt had Rester’s number dialing. He knew the number by heart. He knew every number by heart, when it concerned the new L. Near had accepted the cell without comment and turned away.

Matt could feel the chill of his haunt standing behind him, and they both watched Near as he paced.

“Rester,” Near had said into the phone. “Make the statement now.”

His entire body seemed to go tight and he paused mid-step, the snarl in his tone making Matt jump. “I know what I said--do it now!”

Near shifted again, and Matt could see his face. His mouth was twisted into a ferocious scowl. “I do not care if you’re airborne, I want the statement made immediately...Wait, I’ll negate that. Why are you in the air?” Near seemed abruptly incredulous, his shoulders moving forward slightly. “Matsuda has a theory?” Near swiveled his gaze towards the ceiling, giving testament to how ridiculous he felt the Japanese police officer was, not to mention the man’s theories. But then he straightened abruptly and sent the full power of his almost-black gaze towards Matt.

Matt had felt his blood run cold. This, among other very good reasons, was why he hadn’t wanted Near to communicate with his bodyguards while they were completing Mello’s will. Rester and Halle had impressive resumes and seemed incredibly loyal to Near, but Matt considered them stupid. They had Wammy’s resources at their disposal, but wouldn’t know how to properly handle them. They would bumble their way through half-sight and end up misdirecting Near. Which was a risk Matt hadn’t been willing to take until after Near’s incident with Abu Ghraib. Now it seemed like a necessary evil to keep Near out of trouble--but anything linking the Japanese police force, the former SPK, and Matt himself spelled trouble in large capital letters. Stupid people often came to the wrong conclusions, and Near already had an exceptionally difficult time trusting Matt.

“I see,” Near had been saying as Matt became suspicious. “Well, make sure Halle is on her best behavior. Matsuda just recently became Chief of Police.” A pause, Near rolled his eyes, and then turned away again. Near sighed. “Tell her that her insufferable maternal instincts are inappropriate and grounds for termination.” Another pause. “I don’t care Rester...Good. Within the hour, if you please. No. No, I will not. Four weeks, at the most. No. Rester, do not make me repeat myself. Goodbye.”

Near returned the phone to Matt, his gaze as well as his thoughts elsewhere. Matt had dismantled the cellular as Near stood in the center of the room, twining a white lock of his hair around one finger as he lost himself inside his head. Then Near crossed the room, donned his coat and slipped his shoes back on. He’d left and went above deck without saying a word.

The swiftness of his departure startled Matt. It seemed as if the tables had turned. Near needed time to sort out his thoughts--Matt knew that feeling and could relate. It wasn’t the first time that he had pondered the similarities in their temperaments.

“Was it K?” Matt had asked, knowing Mello was still close by. He could feel him in every cell in his body.

“You know I cannot answer that.”

It was insanely aggravating what little Matt could do with his network aboard this blasted ship. He had only the one laptop, and couldn’t bring himself to trust the internet connection the ship provided. He would not be able to find what was causing this rise in hate crimes against albinos until they were in California. Then he would hunt down the core of this problem and annihilate it. It was what he did for a living.

“Is there a warrant out for Near?”

“Matt...” Mello warned.

“Was it Danny-boy? Who is trying to kill Near?”

“Matt, I can’t--“

“You’re completely useless,” Matt grated, dropping his head in his hands. “I wish you would just go away. I can’t help him with you staring over my shoulder all the time.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Matt raised his head, feeling miserable. “No,” he amended. “I don’t.”

Behind him, Mello spoke again. “It wasn’t Danny-boy, and K isn’t trying to kill Near. I cannot tell you anything else.”

Matt let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. That was good news. K was one of Quillish Wammy’s oldest friends. If there was anyone Matt didn’t want for an enemy, it was her.

Anything else, Matt could handle. And they were safe on the ship, where they would be for the next six days.

Eventually, Matt had followed Near above deck, finding him close to the back of the ship and staring morosely out at Panama City. It had been dark by then, and the lights of the city and the famous bridge seemed ghostly against the water. It continued to rain.

Ten hours later, Near still had not shifted even minutely. He barely seemed human.

Matt watched him from across the deck, a strange ache forming where the hole was that Mello had created, and felt barely human.

The sun was coming up. Matt knew that not because he could see the sky, but because the storm clouds were beginning to seem a little greyer and a little less black. He felt sodden, even though the beams by the exit offered some protection against the rain. The humidity crept through the layers of leather and cotton of his jacket, and the moisture permeated along his skin. It reminded him of the few short months he’d spent in the Congo, renewing Watari’s connections there. The jungle had a similar sense of suffocating moisture in the atmosphere, like one was breathing in more water than air. The heat was similar too. Uncomfortable, sucking the life right out of you through your pores.

Odd that it did not seem to bother the detective.

Matt thought better of Near, he found, for seeming to be so affected by the death of that girl. Before, it had frustrated him that Near seemed so callous and uncaring about the welfare of common human beings. He was very similar to L in that regard, the seeming indifference bordering on heartlessness. Seeing a face against the statistic had jolted Near--Matt had watched the transformation. Matt did not think Near had ever seen first-hand how barbaric and cruel the world really could be. It saddened him that this was how Near would learn that. By watching Matt nearly die in Israel, by being tortured in Abu Ghraib, by watching helplessly as an innocent bled and died inside an abandoned warehouse...

It worried him that the detective was convinced he was responsible for it. Of course, it was certainly a possibility that the Hezbollah had somehow made the connection between their albino hostage, and the renowned detective, L, that they had undoubtedly been sent for. However, Near had only been with them for two days, and barely that.

And Matt had been explicitly clear with Danny-boy that nothing was to remain standing after the siege. Destroy everything. Danny-boy was many things, and one of his more outstanding qualities was thoroughness. Matt could not trust him completely, but he certainly could trust him for that. If the Hezbollah faction that had tortured Near made the conclusion that Near was L, and had sent that information to the third party that financed the excursion, then that would be a problem. A small one, as Matt would know where to begin his digital search and be able to find the financier to handle it.

It was, all things considered, absolutely nothing Near had to concern himself with.

Except that Matt, in his infinite carelessness, had brought him to the one city that had made that impossible.

Matt had thought Mello sent Near here because of his wish to see both oceans in one day. Now, he thought it had more to do with that alarming statistic. Thirty-fucking-percent of the world’s population of albinos...

Matt did not think it was a coincidence. Mello, of course, could be insufferably close-mouthed when it came to what he claimed to know that Matt should. Mello said that his purpose was to guide, and not to interfere--which Matt considered a big steaming pile of bullshit. Mello did nothing but interfere. It seemed almost impossible to be alone with Near without Mello’s glare at his back, or shoving him unwontedly into Near’s nightmares, or encouraging them to hold hands--as if that made up for everything. As if that made everything okay.

Matt thought often that he and Near might actually get along if Mello wasn’t driving him crazy. Near must think him bipolar, with how quickly his moods changed.

But perhaps...maybe it wasn’t a friendship Mello was trying to prevent. Maybe it was the thing drawing them closer together, Matt and Near, that strange curiosity, that attraction that brought them too close, too quickly.

It frightened Matt--because it was the one thing he hadn’t planned for. He knew he was lonely, but he’d been thinking lately that it had very little to do with why he was attracted to Near. Once his anger had diminished, once Mello seemed to back off, Matt could see that there were many other things that made him look twice at the detective.

For one, Near was startlingly perceptive and intuitively compassionate. Surely, he wasn’t the ‘Let’s talk about it’ type, but there were little things. Like holding Matt’s hand while they chose Mello’s urn. If Near hadn’t been the strong one then, Matt knew he would have crumbled. He’d been so distraught, haunted by the notion of having to face the place where Mello died--had died alone thinking he’d lost Matt.

And even yesterday, Near had seemed to sense that Matt needed to try...to try and touch it, the urn that held Mello’s ashes. It was weirdly calming that Near was his buffer between the grief at Mello’s death, and the knowledge that, really, he was gone--ghosts be damned. Mello was gone.

It was Near who had saved him at Garden Tomb, when that Lebanese guerrilla very nearly killed him. It was Near who dragged his body to safety and ensured that he was taken care of. Twice. Matt wouldn’t have thought Near capable of anything like that.

Strange things too, little things--authorizing the sedative, being unfazed by General Whitman, playing with Alexa...

Humoring the Kuna girl in the marketplace...

Distinctly human things, human decisions, motivated by emotion and not logic--Matt saw a glimpse of the hidden Near when he did these things, the one that the agoraphobia protected. A man who cared a lot more than he let on, a man that seemed a little wiser than his years, even if a little absurdly impulsive.

The fact that he was gorgeous was just...an asset impossible to ignore. Matt particularly liked him in burgundy. Made him look like he didn’t really belong on Earth, like he was something more.

Professional boundaries seem to blur whenever Near touched him, or looked at him dead on, his gaze penetrating and piercing. Mello didn’t help either--except when he was trying to. Mello had always existed on a plane of shifting rapidly from hot to cold and back again without blatant provocation. But whatever was drawing him closer to the detective was getting stronger, more dangerous, more potent.

Of course, Matt had no one to blame but himself. He’d started it.

It was eleven in the morning, by Matt’s internal clock, before Near moved. The cruise liner was finally moving away from the dock, beginning its chug up the Pacific Coast of North America. The boat had loosed a trumpeting sound, marking the beginning of their new journey. The sound seemed to startle Near, causing him to visibly jerk in his chair.

Near moved his head slightly, as the city shrank a little on the horizon, working out kinks in his neck. Matt could appreciate that; his body felt sore all over from standing in one place for so long. He was hungry too.

Near stretched his arms and stood, keeping his eyes on the mouth of the canal. He ventured away from the protection of the umbrella nailed into the deck, to stand by the rail. The rain was lighter now, but only slightly, and quickly soaked the detective. After placing his hands lightly on the rail, Near looked pointedly over his shoulder.

Matt understood and moved forward, stiff joints popping in protest as he did so. He maneuvered through the rain, the water warmer on his face than he’d thought it would be, and took a new post beside Near. The city looked even smaller now. The ship was gaining speed.

“It’s different seeing it, isn’t it?” Matt inquired, knowing the answer already.

“Yes.” Near’s voice seemed hoarse, probably from the long period of disuse. Near sighed minutely, the little sound pulling at Matt’s heart--until he reminded himself he didn’t have one anymore. “I’ve never had trouble, I don’t think, feeling like I am not enough. It is a disconcerting feeling.”

Weird that he was having this conversation with Near. It was something Mello had constantly struggled with. Matt had never felt the need to prove anything to anybody, so the notion was a little foreign to him. “Is that how you feel?” The question was cautiously asked.

“Lately, very much so. I don’t think I like it all.”

“There was nothing you could have done to save that girl, Near.”

A sigh. “I know that.”

Matt frowned, concerned again that Near was blaming himself. “Well, worrying about it isn’t going to make her any less dead.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Matt regretted them.

Surprisingly, Near didn’t take offense. “I know that.”

“Then why can’t you just let it go?”

Near turned to him then, and Matt was frozen by the scourging look in his eyes. “Why can’t you let Mello go?”

“Burn,” Mello whispered in his ear.

Matt stepped back, feeling like he’d been slapped in the face. It was a perfectly fair statement, but it was wounding--and Near seemed to know it too, because the heat disappeared from his gaze and he looked away.

“I apologize. That was cruel.”

“It was fair.”

“Yes,” Near said, his eyes on the shrinking city. “That is why I said it. But it was still cruel.”

Matt considered reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, the sudden need for one burning in his belly. However, he decided it was too wet to try and marked the idea as futile. Near wasn’t looking at him, so Matt decided to look away too. “It seems I’m not the best sort of person to help you feel better about this.” Damaged goods weren’t much help to anybody, Matt supposed.

“I told you not to bother.”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “But that’s kind of what friends do.”

“Friends.” Near was looking at him again. “Is that what we are?”

Matt met his gaze squarely, determined not to shrink back at the eyes that seemed to see everything. “Yes,” he answered simply.

Near dropped his gaze, and his eyes did this strange swiveling motion as if he was searching for something in his mind. Finally, he lifted them back to the horizon, a little half-smile curving his mouth. “Ah.” Near blinked, and the almost-smile vanished. “I’m finding it equally difficult to be comforting...” Near seemed to stumble over the word. “...concerning Mello.”

Near paused, a strange expression twisting his lips. He sighed again. “I never knew her. You knew Mello your entire life. Not precisely equivalent exchange, anyway. Hardly relevant, all things considered...” Near’s voice trailed off and he made a small movement with his hand. “Relevance seems to be the name of the game, lately.”

Matt watched the city become even smaller in the distance. “How do mean? Pain is pain, no matter which way you slice it.”

Near was quiet for some time, and when he finally spoke, he seemed to ignore the question altogether. “Why did you kiss me?”

~*~

Matsuda, the current Chief of Police in Tokyo, met them on the airstrip by a half a dozen unmarked black cars, and Aizawa trailing close behind. He seemed buoyant, his usual excited demeanor causing him to fidget with the lapels of his uniform and a grin working to split his face in two. His promotion was a recent thing, the station of Chief of Police changing hands nearly every year since Soichiro’s retirement as hardened officers buckled under the pressure. Matsuda seemed simultaneously eager and nervous with his current role in the police force, but Halle--who was somewhat fond of the ridiculous man--thought he might just be perfect for the job. Matsuda was nothing if not resilient. And as for Halle, she would be ever grateful to him for saving Near’s life during the confrontation with Yagami Light as Kira. Quicksilver instincts like that overrode ridiculous exuberance in her book. He would do just fine.

Rester exited the jet first, and then held out his hand to aid Halle as she descended the narrow metal stairs, ever the gentleman. It seemed she and Rester were becoming closer, as they worried together over Near’s secret absence, researching frantically every possible lead.

Wammy’s archives left a ghost trail when concerning the elusive K. They were able to uncover a small photo and a first year syllabus with similar marks for a calligraphic ‘K’. The photo was of a slender Asian child, four or five years in age, but no older then six. The girl stared at whoever took her picture in mild distaste, as if bored with the whole process. Even Mello had taken the moment to smile. The syllabus contained a schedule of classes with startlingly accelerated subjects--chemistry, biology, geometry and cellular anatomy. It seemed Wammy’s had at least began breeding her as a scientist. Whether they continued on that route with the orphan was still a mystery.

Rester had sent the photo to the lab to ascertain when it was taken, and it dated at least twelve years prior to the former L’s arrival at the orphanage. Rester and Halle had been confused when Near mentioned A’s generation, unsure of what that meant. Apparently, there had been a student at Whammy’s who was being trained as L before the Lawliet child, with another strange orphan called ‘B for Backup’. A, as things happen, cracked under the pressure, and ultimately killed herself. If she hadn’t, L might not have been L, and perhaps the renowned and feared letter would have been ‘A’. The former SPK agents weren’t sure what happened to B, as his trail disappeared just as thoroughly as K’s.

It left them wondering what Quillish Wammy’s original plan had been, during the first days of the operation. From what they understood, Watari had been fascinated by the Lawliet child and that was when Wammy’s morphed from the innocent orphanage to a genius breeding camp that had nurtured Near until the succession. If Watari had been priming other children before L, then there was a deeper game being played here.

Subsequently, when they’d turned to interrogate Roger on the matter, the old man became abruptly close-mouthed. He would not disclose any information his old friend had decided to destroy during the final moments of his life--believing that if Watari wished it not to be known to even the chosen heir, then Halle and Rester certainly had no business knowing either.

Rester and Halle were in Japan because Matsuda claimed to have a theory about the woman who posed as the mortician overseeing Matt’s body three years ago. Initially, Halle had been annoyed with Aizawa for telling anyone why she had been there, and what she’d discovered, at the Kameda Medical Center. But she understood. Matsuda was Chief of Police, and therefore it was Aizawa’s oath sworn duty to disclose any information concerning the Kira case that had rattled the very foundations of their beloved country to him. Also, if Matsuda was intuitive, eager, and ridiculous, he was also trustworthy. L Lawliet had trusted him. Near trusted him. Aizawa trusted him. So too would Halle and Rester--to a point, of course.

Matsuda and Aizawa bowed to them as they approached. When in Rome...Rester and Halle bowed lower, out of respect for Matsuda’s recent promotion. Matsuda beamed with pleasure.

“Congratulations,” Rester murmured formally in Japanese. “I’m certain Tokyo will thrive under your protection.”

Matsuda turned a little red then, the unexpected compliment from the usually silent man catching him off-guard. “Th-thank you! Oh! Welcome back to Japan! We’ve arranged everything for your stay...” Matsuda glanced between the agents, up to the plane, and then back at Aizawa. They shared a long look. When Matsuda turned back to them, his smile looked a little strained, an apprehensive expression sneaking into his wide brown eyes. “This way, this way...”

The ride to the police station was quiet, and a little awkward, as Matsuda forced inane conversation about the weather, current politics, his new wife’s marvelous capacity for cooking...

Something had made him uneasy, and Aizawa, seated beside the Chief, was impenetrably silent. Rester matched his silence while Halle was forced to politely entertain Matsuda’s attempt at conversation.

Once inside a secure room at the station, Matsuda immediately got down to business. The switch in his demeanor was a little shocking. He was nervous and fidgeting one moment, and then quite serious the next.

“Please sit,” he said, gesturing to a pair of chairs on the opposite side of a table. Matsuda sat on the other side, Aizawa stood behind him. It felt suddenly hostile, and though Halle complacently sat, Rester mirrored Aizawa’s protective stance standing. “I am concerned,” Matsuda began, folding his hands together, “that Near is not with you.”

“He’s decided not to come.”

Matsuda made a face. “I’m familiar with lies, Halle. Please do not risk our friendship with such trivialities.”

Even though it wasn’t technically a lie, Matsuda’s point rang clearly between them.

Aizawa spoke, his voice just as quiet as it usually was. “It is interesting that Near would make a statement declaring war on the perpetrators for albino hate crimes.”

Rester winced. That might have been over the top. He expected he might be fired the next time Near saw fit to call them.

“It is odd that he would care,” Aizawa continued. “And we have not heard an update concerning the dead police officers here in Tokyo.”

Matsuda’s face tightened. He must be taking that exceptionally hard, as it was his men dead. “It is also strange that both of you would be here, but not Near. Before, one of you would always remain with him if he was not interested in traveling.”

Halle tore her gaze away from Aizawa, whom she’d been glaring at and considered mutinous after their seeming camaraderie a few weeks ago, and looked up at Rester. They’d been caught.

Aizawa’s quiet voice floated over to them once again. “Is he with the ghost?”

Halle looked back at Aizawa, remembering what she had told him about ‘ghosts chasing Near’. She sighed, and then gambled. “Yes,” she said.

It seemed it was Aizawa’s turn to seem apprehensive, his blank stare turning stricken, and Matsuda’s turn to look thoughtful. The expression looked almost comical on Matsuda’s face.

“Is he alive?” Aizawa breathed.

“Yes,” Rester answered. “We spoke to him this morning. Apparently, something transpired between them and now Matt is allowing him to contact us via phone whenever he wishes.”

“But not at first?” Aizawa pressed.

“No, not for weeks,” Rester answered. “And then the first call....well, he sounded like he was sneaking it.”

“Of course he would find a way,” Aizawa said dismissively. “Does this mean he went unwillingly?”

Rester nodded. “The hacker broke into our HQ and walked right up to the office, he bested Halle and I, and then Near went with him to avoid anymore violence.”

“And you couldn’t catch him?”

“No, he has military assistance. We saw him take Near away in a helicopter--but we don’t have enough evidence to accuse the U.S. of aiding and abetting a kidnapping, and it wouldn’t be wise anyway to reveal that he is missing.”

“Yes,” Aizawa said, nodding a little. “I can see your predicament. Does he not tell you where he is? Is this ‘Matt’ monitoring his calls?”

Rester and Halle exchanged a painful glance. “We have reason to believe Near...doesn’t wish to be found.”

Matsuda looked up then, his wide brown eyes slightly disbelieving at that statement. “Is he defecting?”

“No,” Halle answered quickly. “Rather, he will come home when he’s ready. He says he has something personal to do, something about a promise. It seems this Matt is actually helping him do it.”

“Helping him...what? Travel?” That was Aizawa again.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Rester answered, and then shared another look with Halle. “We believe.”

Matsuda had gone back to his musings, and now spoke around the hand propping his chin up. “How did he survive?”

“Who? Matt?” Halle let a little of her frustration rise to the surface. “We don’t know.”

“Near said he faked it purposely, that he’d been wearing a vest,” Rester said.

“During the shooting?” Matsuda clarified, rolling his eyes toward him.

“Yes, according to a brief conclusion spoken by Near over the phone.”

“I’ve seen the tape,” Matsuda murmured. “He still would have had substantial injuries.” Matsuda twisted in his seat to look up at Aizawa. “The way this Matt abducted Near seems similar to the way the killer entered the precincts...”

Aizawa nodded and Matsuda settled back in his seat, a perplexed look twisting his mouth. He motioned to Aizawa with a wiggle of his fingers. “Show them the file.”

Aizawa produced a thick manila folder from the folds of his black suit jacket. He dropped it onto the table in front of Halle, where it landed with a dull thud. Halle reached forward and flipped it open.

Its contents catalogued an investigation for the death of a mortician some three years ago. Comparing the name against her own records, the dead doctor was the one that had been scheduled to perform the actual autopsy on Matt. The investigation had nearly been lost during the panic of the last days of Kira’s reign, but very recently it was picked up again. Aizawa must have found the link after Halle had left those weeks ago.

The dead doctor had died of hypoxia, traces of ethylene in her bloodstream. She had been suffocated by the gas that was only toxic in very strong doses. Odd. Further into the file, Halle read that the chemical compound was traced back to--

“MCC?” Rester, who had been reading over her shoulder, looked up in shock. “K traces back to The Triad?”

Matsuda nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. Aizawa spoke instead. “Dr. Kimiko Kujo was employed as a scientist at Mitsubishi Chemical Corporation until the final days of Kira, when she disappeared. She was involved with a company called BlueShip, a financier of MCC. They dropped off the stock market around the same time. That’s where the trail ends.”

Matsuda scratched at the top of his head and squirmed a little in his seat. “Do you think she used the ethylene as a sedative?” he asked to no one in particular.

“The doctor was killed by the amount of ethylene in her oxygen,” Halle disagreed, eyes skimming the file. “It doesn’t say anything about her digesting it. To be used as a sedative, ethylene has to be dissolved in water--“

“No, no, no,” Matsuda said, waving his hand. His eyes seemed more alert now, as if he were finally paying attention to those in the room with him. “I mean the other one. The one with Near, the one who wanted to die.”

“Matt,” Halle said, just as Rester corrected: “Faked his death.”

Matsuda scrunched up his brows. “You said ‘wanted to die’.”

“I apologize,” Rester said, a grim smile curving his lips. “My Japanese is a little rusty.”

“Oh!” Matsuda suddenly straightened. “Well that makes a lot more sense.”

Halle leaned forward. “How do you mean?”

“Well, obviously, the woman, Kujo, was in on it,” Matsuda said, gesturing to the file. “Perhaps she helped him get better also.”

~*~

“Why did you kiss me?”

Matt’s answer was effortless and immediate, so Near knew he wasn’t lying. “Because I wanted to.”

“Is it so simple?”

Matt glanced sidelong at him. “Simple might not be the word I would use. Selfish might be better.”

“Selfish,” Near echoed.

“Yeah.”

“Was I so terrible?”

Matt looked startled, turning fully to gaze at him. “No! Actually, you were pretty good.”

“But nothing compared to Mello.”

Matt looked a little like a fish out of water, the way his mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out. “I didn’t mean--“

“Don’t say you didn’t mean it!” Near suddenly snarled. He felt the anger boil up inside of him again. The frustration, the hurt. “It was first a thought, and then it processed through your brain, and came out of your mouth. Humans mean everything they say.”

“Okay, yeah,” Matt said, rising to the challenge of Near’s anger. “I meant it, and I meant it to hurt. I’d take it back now if I could, because it was horrible and I didn’t think it would linger with you this long--but in my defense, you had put me in an impossible situation. You--“

“Tit for tat,” Near dismissed, turning away again and glaring into the horizon. “You abduct me from my home, you harm my bodyguards, you force me to leave important cases unhandled, you withhold things from me, you use me against myself, you place me in the line of fire, you get yourself hurt, and then you leave me alone to figure out a way through the mess that you put me in. In my defense, at least I only put myself in danger to glimpse a little of the truth.”

Matt was stunned into silence, before he abruptly hissed through his teeth and glared to the side. It was a strange reaction, but not one Near hadn’t seen him make before. It was as if Matt was reacting to a particularly disturbing thought.

Or perhaps someone Near couldn’t see.

He’d pondered that, during his vigil above-deck, while he wrestled with the torment he felt when he thought of that girl mangled and beaten to death because of the color of Near’s skin--or lack thereof as the case may be. While he pondered the mystery of Matt and everything that he brought with him, the tension, the desire, the protection of W...the danger too. While he pondered the Jack of Hearts, while he hypothesized about K, while he mused the origins of Wammy’s Orphanage and the man called Quillish Wammy. It all, apparently, began and ended with him. Matt was his only heir.

Was Near an imposter at Wammy’s if he did not have Matt? The notion disturbed him, because he did not think Matt wanted to ever come back. He never exactly reported in for duty. And Near did not want to be anywhere he did not really belong.

Except in one place--but that was in Matt’s hands now. Near had resigned himself, in the past fifteen hours or so, to the inevitability of lust and curiosity; questions that might be answered if Matt would let his guard down, if Matt might see past Mello’s memory and see him. Near would not beg for it. As much as maybe he’d like to.

Mello.

Near thought before he was just a phantom in his conscious, like L sometimes was. But L never conversed with him, L never touched him, L never worked to save his life or have him ponder mysteries of the world. L only urged him to pay attention. Mello began as a dream, and then started to visit him while he was awake in Israel. More frequently now, Near found himself drawn away from moments of solitude and quiet to debate logic and phenomenon with a man that died over three years ago.

If this thing was indeed some sort of material ghost, it might be more logical to assume that he was not the only one haunted. Surely, Mello would have more reason to be drawn to Matt. And Near had not envisioned Mello until Matt forcefully walked back into his life.

Of course, nothing would anger Near more than if Mello’s shade played both sides of the field, and that everything was just some sick, morbid joke. Mello would not have the last laugh. Near was determined; if Mello was simply jerking them around needlessly, cruelly, then he would find some way to enact revenge.

...He wasn’t sure exactly how he would do that—as Mello was dead--but Near considered himself clever. He would think of something.

“Alright.” Matt took a deep breath. “That’s fair. Alright. Tit for tat.”

“This is a dangerous game you and I play.”

“It is,” Matt agreed. “No more games.”

It was interesting how yesterday Near was so resolved to wait--to wait and see how things might play out with him and Matt. Yesterday, his pride made him balk at the idea of giving in to the tension between them, because he did not want to be a substitute for someone Matt thought was better.

“What’s it like?” Near asked, his voice not quite flat.

“What’s what like?”

“Intercourse. I know the technicalities of such behavior, but the experience is foreign to me.”

Matt turned an interesting shade of red, his eyes going a little round. “Near, are you sure want to have this conversa--“

“Yes.”

The rain was lightening, a mere drizzle now. Panama City had all but disappeared on the horizon, nothing but a speck in the distance.

“I--it’s...well...” Matt struggled, his hands clenching the rail just as tightly as Near’s. “Shit. Um, well, it’s a little like dying.”

Near laughed a little, barely a stirring of the air around his mouth. “Shakespeare called it the ‘Little Death’.”

Matt seemed lost in thought for a moment, his eyes averted, his face still a little flushed. “It’s a little like hyperventilating, a little like panicking...your heart’s racing, you’re sweaty, it’s unbearably hot...”

Near knew his face had softened, because Matt was staring at it now. He quickly focused on smoothing his expression. He met Matt’s gaze; Matt looked away.

“And then?” Near pressed.

Matt bit his lip and shrugged a little. “And then you die.”

“There must be something to it,” Near said, somewhat irritated. “I’ve experienced panic on more than one occasion, and I don’t find it pleasant at all. I was under the impression that it was addicting--“

Matt laughed bitterly. “Dying is easy. Living is harder.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Experience isn’t something you can read in a book, Near.”

Near felt the anger stir again. He gave Matt a pointed look.

Something shifted in Matt’s demeanor. His eyes became lighter, the lines around his mouth disappeared, his shoulders relaxed. He seemed to understand something better now. “It can be painful, between men.” Simple words, but they seemed to mean a great deal to the hacker.

“It was painful between you and Mello,” Near clarified, curious at the sad expression in Matt’s eyes.

“Sometimes.” Matt scratched at some invisible blemish on the back of his wrist, his eyes going distant. “Mello was not only violent with you.”

Mild irritation blossomed into wrath, twisting like a snake in Near’s chest. The first thing he thought was, That is why. Matt was used to submitting to the whims of a barely stable sadist. But then it made less sense, because Matt was very fond of Mello. Matt loved Mello. Could violence really create that? Near didn’t understand that at all.

But he thought maybe that was why Matt hesitated with him. Near could become angry; indeed, that was one language he understood quite well. Even now, he felt at the end of his wits, a little desperate for something to release it all into. The helplessness, the frustration, the burning anger that boiled inside of him. Near could be angry, but violence was somewhat foreign. That wasn’t something he needed to reign in. Only when he’d been pushed to the very limit of his sense of self-preservation has he been violent, and even fatally brutal. But only then.

If that was what Matt was used to, which was a little frightening to Near, then could he summon that part of him at will?

But Matt didn’t even seem the submissive type. He was angry all the time himself, a little wild, a soldier. It was difficult for Near to imagine, but then he remembered how utterly crazy Mello had been in life, and he thought maybe he could. Maybe Mello loosed his sadism on Matt because he knew the hacker could stand up to it, could handle it, could fight back. Maybe he wasn’t submissive at all. Maybe it was equivalent exchange.

And then it hit him.

Equivalence.

Exchange.

Release.

Logic had nothing to do with it, not really. He knew that as he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Matt’s shirt. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be rationalized. It wasn’t rational the way Near pulled Matt against him, with how hard their chests slammed together it was painful. It wasn’t about being smart or safe. Surely there was nothing careful about the way Near jerked at the back of Matt’s neck and pulled his head down. Maybe it could be methodical or thoughtful, but not this time. Not this time. Near pressed his mouth against Matt’s, feeling teeth smash against his lips and cut into the soft flesh there.

It was about equivalence. It was about an exchange. An exchange of energy, hurt and passion. It was a release.

Dying was a release, too.

Matt’s mouth was hot and wet. Generous. Perfect. His mouth made up for everything Near wasn’t sure how to do. Matt’s arms were around his waist, his thighs moving against his, backing him up until his back was pressed against the rail. Close, warm, wet. The sodden clothes they wore were a little uncomfortable between them, but Near’s mind was fuzzy and could not formulate a plan to rectify the situation.

Matt sucked Near’s lower lip into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth a little before sweeping his tongue inside. Gliding, slick, wet. Near felt a heat churn in his belly, felt the organ between his legs stir and begin to swell. Matt pressed him closer, fitting against him limb for limb, becoming a part of him, an extension of him, and his mouth kept moving over his. Not quite slow, not quite rushed. Near felt Matt’s hands creep into his hair and tug. His head gave with a groan, exposing his throat, pressing him almost backwards; Near wasn’t sure which tongue in his mouth was his anymore.

And then another tug on his hair, this one painful, this one final. Matt tore himself away, a horrified expression wracking his gaze, his hand covering his mouth. He stepped away several paces. “Not like this,” he whispered behind his hand.

Near’s mind was still somewhat blank and it took a moment to register the absence, the cold, the reason why he was leaning forward and his heart clenched with the sense of loss. “I don’t understand.”

“Not like this!” Matt hissed, his hand coming away from his mouth, his lips a little fuller than usual, the color a little darker. His eyes blazed with some unfathomable emotion.

Even as the hurt settled in, Near saw the tousled array of his auburn hair, the bright look in his eyes, the fullness of his lower lip, and thought he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

It only made the hurt cut deeper. “I’m sorry,” Near whispered. “I’m sorry I’m so repulsive to you. I’m sorry I cannot be Mello for you.” I’m sorry I misunderstood.

“Near, no, wait!” Matt moved towards him, but Near could be swift when he wanted to be. He maneuvered around him quickly, and was through the exit door before Matt could say anything else to him. He was still speaking as the door swung closed behind him and Near began to descend the stairwell, but it did not sound like he was addressing Near anymore.

“You fucking asshole, how dare you? I don’t owe you a goddamn...”

Near closed his eyes briefly as the door swung shut with a dull slam, muting the rest of the hacker’s rant. He paused mid-step and turned, peering through the Plexiglas. Matt waved his hands animatedly, cursing at someone who was not there.

Near felt a fresh wave of hate move through him. Mello.

Somehow, all along, Near had known. He knew that because it did not surprise him. Cruel, Mello. Even for you, this is cruel.

~*~

“Perhaps she helped him get better also.”

“Well,” Halle said slowly, working to keep her tone polite. “We’d…already thought of that.”

“Oh, well, good.” Matsuda smiled brightly at her. “We’re on the same page then.”

Aizawa shifted minutely. Rester’s heavy brows scrunched together. Halle cleared her throat. “Perhaps,” she allowed. “Respectfully—and just for clarification’s sake—did you have anything further to add? You did say you had a theory.”

Matsuda looked at her like she’d grown an extra head, confused that she was confused. “Well, obviously, your Matt character didn’t kill my officers.”

Halle blinked. “Pardon?”

Matsuda frowned and glanced again at Rester. “You did say ‘faked’ his death, yes?”

Rester nodded slowly.

Matsuda looked between Rester and Halle and back again. “Why would this Matt seek revenge on people whom he orchestrated into shooting him? That makes no sense.”

Halle sat back in her chair, lifting her eyes to Aizawa’s face. He was looking at his Chief.

“Dr. Kujo would know him enough to mimic him, if she knew him well enough to help him…three…years…ago,” Matsuda continued, his words slowing as doubt crept into his voice. He opened his mouth to finish, but then closed it, the excited spark dimming in his big brown eyes.

Rester abruptly inhaled. “K was trying to warn Near!”

Matsuda brightened again, lifting his hand in Rester’s direction and nodding.

Halle straightened. “That’s why she chose those victims! Because it would tie Matt to her warning, and she knew this case would get Near’s attention—“

“—But the warning came too late—“

“—How did she know Matt would be coming for Near?”

“Well, surely she had him followed. K’s been doing this as long as Watari and Roger. She’s a pro at this game--”

“—But what game?”

“That’s what scares me, Halle. There’s still a lot we don’t know. What would scare K enough to kill all those people just to warn Near?”

“Why didn’t she just call him? Why on earth would she go to such extremes to get his attention?”

“Maybe it has something to do with your network,” Aizawa offered.

Halle and Rester fell silent, having forgotten they had an audience. Matsuda was grinning ear to ear.

“What?” Halle demanded, eyeing Matsuda’s grin.

“You keep calling Dr. Kujo ‘K’,” Matsuda said, squirming in his seat. “Does this mean she’s from…from where L originated?”

Halle groaned and kicked Rester under the table. They had to be more careful about what they said in front of these two.

“You said something about a ‘network’,” Rester said, directing his attention to Aizawa.

“Hey,” Matsuda protested.

“What did you mean?” Rester pressed, pointedly ignoring Matsuda.

“Well,” Aizawa said, sending an apologetic look Matsuda’s direction. “When L needed extra assistance, he brought in a pair of specialists—“

“Aiber and Wedy,” Matsuda interjected.

“Yes, and L had said they’d been useful to them before.”

“’Them’ as in L and Watari?” Halle asked.

Aizawa glanced down at Matsuda, who looked distracted again but was aware enough to meet his eyes. “That was the impression I was under,” Aizawa said.

Halle looked at Matsuda. “And you?”

Matsuda shrugged. “Watari…we always knew less about him than we did L. He was like his shadow…Kindly sort of fellow—“

“Hell of a shot though,” Aizawa remarked, remembering when he had returned to the investigation team in time to help take down the Yotsuba Kira. The look he and Matsuda shared was longer this time. “And resourceful,” Aizawa added like an afterthought.

“So, just to be clear, you think K was part of L’s network like-like…”

“Aiber and Wedy,” Matsuda repeated, still sharing a silent conversation with Aizawa. Matsuda tore his eyes away and smiled wistfully at Halle. “Wedy was very beautiful.”

“I’m sure she was,” Halle said. “What did they do?”

“They were criminals, actually.” Matsuda grinned again. He seemed to enjoy remembering his time with the investigation team. It was a tad unsettling. “Wedy, L said, was a thief and Aiber…Aizawa, what did Aiber do?”

“He was a con man.”

“Ah, well, there you have it. Thank you, Aizawa-san.”

Rester spoke an aside to Halle. “Having a homicidal bio-chemical scientist as well wouldn’t seem too far-fetched, considering.”

“Hm,” Halle grunted back. “If K did not have the usual means for contacting Near, what would that mean?”

“Probably that the network communications were destroyed by Watari too as he was dying,” Rester answered. It had been very difficult for Near and Roger to recover enough files to pick up the case for Kira again after L and Watari’s death. Near never complained about it, but he had once flippantly remarked that this was why it had taken him years and not weeks to take down Kira. Watari had destroyed everything.

“Rester,” Halle said, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I think you had it right when you said K was scared, when she was trying to warn Near.”

Matsuda nodded in agreement, his expression suddenly grave. “Murdering my policemen as a warning to the current L about the existence of a man assumed dead is extreme. What would make her so desperate? Exactly how dangerous is this Matt individual?”

~*~

“You fucking asshole, how dare you? I don’t owe you a goddamn thing!”

Matt had whirled on Mello the second Near swept into the stairwell, an awful despondent look in his eyes. Matt hated that look. It made him so angry he could scream. It was worse that he had put that look there because he’d pulled away. Matt hadn’t wanted to, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to make out with Near with Mello whispering in his ear about betrayal.

That would be way too fucking weird.

Mello was smirking at him, the prick. “Its ‘cause he’s L, isn’t it? Gets you off.”

“Oh, please; you were the one panting after L, you deranged piece of shit!” Matt snarled. “’L this, L that’, for years, Mello. You’d get hard just thinking about him!”

Mello’s brilliant green eyes flared. “So this is revenge?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Mello! Jesus!” Matt threw his hands up, exasperated. “And it has nothing to do with letters!”

“Then what?” Mello demanded. “Why him?”

“Don’t you fucking throw that into my face either, goddammit,” Matt grated, jabbing his finger in the direction of his haunt. “You sent me to him—“

Mello scoffed. “You still don’t fucking get it. What part of ‘coded for Near’ don’t you understand? You were never meant to receive that stupid will. You were supposed to be dead.”

That knocked the wind right out of him. The hole in his chest opened up, sizzling around the edges. Matt’s shoulders slumped, his body’s attempt to curl in on the pain. “How was I supposed to tell you, Mello?” Matt whispered. “I could never be W for you. You weren’t stable. You…you turned into a monster.”

Mello’s scowl lightened to a frown. “I could’ve changed. I was trying—“

Matt shook his head minutely, cutting him off. “People don’t listen. People don’t care. People don’t change. Remember who taught me that.”

Mello had. Mello glanced away.

“After everything,” Matt murmured, working to keep his voice level above the roar of pain in his chest. “After everything you put me through, I can’t believe you would deny me this one thing. He makes me feel human again. Like I have a reason for not being as dead as you. Because you are, Mello. I’m fucking sorry for it, but you’re dead Mello. You’re fucking dead.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And I…” Matt swallowed. The agony ripping through him was unbearable. He fought with himself to look up at Mello. Finally, after a full minute of struggling with his shame, his guilt, his grief, he did. Mello’s face was unreadable. His eyes were burning. “I want him,” Matt whispered.

Mello was quiet for a long time. His burning eyes began to dim, and then darken. They were a sad jade color when he spoke again. “I would have given you anything.”

Matt had to fight to not be a coward. He had to fight to not look away. “That’s all I want.”

“He’ll hurt you. He won’t know what to do to keep you.”

Matt laughed softly, sadly. “Mello, it would be impossible for him to hurt me any more than you have.”

Mello nodded, knowing it was true. He sighed. “I knew this would happen. I saw it. I didn’t think it would hurt. I didn’t think I could hurt anymore.”

The ripping pain in his chest heightened to a new level. “Mello…”

“I think I miss you more, now, than you miss me.”

“Never,” Matt breathed, taking a step forward. “Whatever happens, that will not ever be true. Ever. God, Mello—you should have listened to me…”

“Yeah, I know. People don’t listen.” Mello looked away for a moment, and then back again. He seemed about to say something, but then decided not to. He waved a little and then faded.

Matt watched him go, wondering at how the pain ebbed as he went.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and then bolted to the door and flung himself down the stairs. He raced through the ship, praying that there was still time to convince Near not to hate him. To explain…

The thought brought him up short in front of the door to their room. Explain? Explain what? That he was insane and had conversations with his delusions?

Matt gulped down a lungful of air and swiped the keycard, urgency overriding his trepidation.

Near sat on floor in one corner of the room, shuffling a deck of cards. He was curled in on himself, one knee propped under his chin. His head was bent over his task until Matt burst into the room. He had changed his clothes, wearing now a pair of loose sweats and a white cotton shirt. His curling white hair fell precariously into his dark, guarded eyes and all around his face. His face gave nothing away.

Matt could feel his eyes on him as he shut the door and shrugged out of his jacket, but Near looked away when he turned back. For a long moment, the only sound inside the room was the cards shuffling between Near’s slender fingers and the quiet groan of the ship as it churned up the coast.

“Near.” Matt winced at the sound of his voice. It sounded like breaking glass. Near didn’t look at him. “Near, I’m…there’s…there’s something wrong with me. I have-I have visions. I see…”

The shuffling paused. Near became very still.

Matt took a step forward, his anxiety making him tremble. Near was going to think he was crazy and demand to be taken home. The thought made him ill; but it was better that than Near thinking Matt didn’t want him. He had to know. “I see Mello. I…He says things to me, I can drown him out sometimes but…”

Near was looking at him now. Then he did something very strange. His dark eyes skittered around the room, narrowing at certain shadowy places, and then returning to Matt’s face. “Is he here now?”

Matt was taken aback. The response made him think about a conversation he once had with Mello when he was still alive. Mello had told him of when he shared information with Near about the existence of death gods. Mello said Near hadn’t batted an eyelash. “No,” he answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “No; I…I sent him away.”

Near straightened the deck of cards and pushed it away, keeping his eyes trained on Matt’s face. Matt felt every insecurity he’d ever had rise to the surface and become exposed at the beckoning of those eyes. The twin abysms, the dead sun-stars in the great void. God, they saw everything, didn’t they?

“Why would you do that?” Near’s voice was flat, inflectionless.

Matt forced himself to breath. If he didn’t concentrate on it, he thought he might forget. “Because I’m selfish. I don’t want an audience. I’m not a spectacle, and neither are you.”

Near continued to stare.

Matt took another hesitant step forward. “Because there isn’t room for three. Because I don’t want him in my head when I’m with you.”

That seemed to have an effect on the detective. He blinked once, and then stood. “He must consider it a betrayal,” Near said, his monotone voice moving smoothly through the still air.

Matt hesitated. He wasn’t sure if Near was just humoring him to keep him calm or if he was actually taking him seriously. With anyone else, Matt would think standing was going on the defense. But this was Near, and Near was very similar to L. When danger was present or they felt threatened, they curled in on themselves. Standing was exposing himself. “I told you before I don’t have a grounded sense of right and wrong,” Matt murmured. “It might be wrong to want you—you of all people—but I don’t care, not really.”

Near tilted his head to one side, regarding him solemnly. “You want me.”

Matt nodded, feeling a little fevered. He took another careful step forward. Near was within arm’s reach now. “I don’t want you to ever think you repulse me. I…” Matt laughed a little, but bit it off quickly, feeling the wave of hysteria wash through him. It was such a ridiculous notion. “I don’t want you to be Mello. I don’t want you to be anything.”

Matt reached out and ran his fingertips over the smooth angle of Near’s cheekbone. Near allowed it, his lids flickering somewhat, like he was fighting to keep his eyes open. Matt moved in a little closer, sliding his hand until his palm was flat against Near’s cheek, curved to fit his face. His fingers twined into Near’s soft hair. “Do you believe me?” Matt whispered. “This will never work if you don’t believe even that.”

Near’s eyes fluttered closed and Matt could feel the pressure of his eyes leave him, there was such a weight to them. Near’s face turned into Matt’s hand. His eyes opened and Matt was staggered by the clear, pale blue color of them. The pupil had retracted, leaving the striking color behind, like a clear winter sky just after a fresh snow.

“I believe you,” Near murmured.

Matt felt the tension leave him in a sigh of relief. He felt himself uncoiling as he pressed his brow against Near’s, moving his hand against his cheek, memorizing the contours of his face and throat with his fingertips.

Matt felt Near’s hand settle on his hip and then move up under the hem of his shirt; hesitant, slow, just as careful. The warmth of his palm against his skin made Matt light-headed. Near’s other hand pressed against his chest, his fingers splayed and barely moving.

Matt lifted his head to press a kiss against Near’s brow, and then the tip of his nose, and then side of his throat. He inhaled, memorizing his scent. He lifted his free hand to cradle Near’s head as he dipped lower and pressed a kiss just under his ear. He molded his mouth around the lobe and Near hummed a little in his throat. Matt moved closer as the hand on his chest moved up to his throat.

Matt remembered this. He waited for Near’s fingers to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He waited for the slight pressure of Near’s fingertips. He lifted his head and pressed his lips against Near’s hot mouth.

Careful, gentle, Matt’s kiss was so careful. Near’s lips moved under his, setting the pace. Near’s mouth opened, his tongue hesitant and darting. Matt’s tongue rose up to meet his, expertly tangling with his, swirling, dancing. Near sighed into the kiss and Matt lost himself in the taste of their commingled breathing, the scent invading his nostrils, the burning heat coiling in his stomach. His phallus twitched, impatient and cramped in the tight confines of his jeans. Matt ignored it.

Infinitely patient, infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing…

Matt knew better than most that the pain of an injury can more often pale in comparison to the pain of what it takes to heal. He recognized it now at how the beating thing in his chest swelled as if it would burst, hammering against his ribs so hard it was sure to break them. He felt desire race through his blood like acid, burning his veins and swirling around the scars of his legs and arms. He felt the ache in his side protest, stretching across his ribs. He felt the hole in his chest recede in a dull throb, washing in and out like the ebb and flow of the surf.

Near’s hand moved further up his shirt, his fingertips dipping in and out of the angles of Matt’s abdominal muscles, causing them to quiver and strain. Matt groaned into the kiss, his fingers curling more tightly into Near’s feather-soft hair. He sucked Near’s lower lip into his mouth, trapping it between his teeth, relishing at how warm Near’s gasp was against his face. Matt released it with a small kiss, and Near pressed closer, tightening his grip on the back of the hacker’s neck so he could plunge in for another deep kiss.

It came as a sudden shock to Matt when he realized Near was straining to be just as careful with him. Near trembled with restraint, but kept his grip firm on his neck, as if he were afraid Matt would slip through his fingers. Matt groaned at the abrupt onslaught of aggressive lust that surged through him.

Near seemed like a fragile thing, slender and pale and always curled in on himself. But he wasn’t. Matt knew no fragile thing could pick up a pistol and kill someone. No delicate creature could wrench a hammer away from his attacker and smash his face in, and then rip another’s throat out in the same swing. No weak person could kiss him as fiercely as he had above-deck, as forcefully, as possessively.

Matt had turned Near and slammed him against the closest wall before the thought fully registered. Near panted against his mouth as Matt lowered his hand and snaked it around the detective’s thigh, using his grip to hoist him up. He wrapped Near’s leg around his waist and surged his hips forward, his swollen phallus straining against his jeans and pressing against the detective’s own hardened length, more pronounced in his sweats. Near gasped, the hand beneath his shirt disappearing to clutch at Matt’s shoulder. Near’s grip against Matt’s neck was like iron. Matt pressed his hips forward again, burying his face into Near’s neck and moaning when Near lifted away from the wall to meet him. Matt pressed in again, and Near’s hips push against him. Matt kissed his throat, running his tongue along the vein, tasting the salty sweat on his skin, feeling his pulse jump. He pressed in, rotating his hips. Near moaned, and pushed back.

Near abandoned his grip on Matt’s neck, sliding his hand up Matt’s arm, where it braced them against the wall. Their fingers entwined, sweat-slick and gliding. Matt lifted his head, surging his hips forward, and swept his tongue into Near’s mouth, having opened mid-gasp. Heat sure to catch them afire built between them, meeting over and over again as they pressed and pushed and surged, building, cresting, and unbearably hot. Matt’s kisses were all over Near’s face as the detective’s movements became erratic.

“I can’t…Matt, I can’t…” Near was trying to say.

“It’s alright, Near,” Matt whispered, panting into his ear. “Let it. Don’t think, just feel. Let it.”

Near jerked beneath him, and Matt lifted his head to watch his face as the little death claimed him. Startled wonder made his wintry blue eyes go wide, his mouth open but no sound coming out. His body tensed into a spasm and jerked twice more before it melted bonelessly against Matt. The look on Near’s face was enough for Matt, he surged his hips into Near’s a final time, burying his face into the detective’s shoulder and shuddering as he came. Their entwined fingers tightened briefly, and then relaxed altogether. With a collective sigh, they slid, still wrapped around each other, down to the floor.

A half hour later found Matt’s head cradled in Near’s lap and the detective running his fingers aimlessly through the hacker’s damp hair. It was very quiet and Matt felt drowsy, his limbs heavy and the fingers in his hair lulling.

It wasn’t long before he slept. For once, he did not dream.

To be continued…



A/N: The Triad is actually a term referring to the three more powerful bio-chemical corporations in the world. Europe is the largest, the U.S. comes in second, and Japan is third. These monster corporations make The Triad. MCC is the largest in Japan, and has a headquarters in Tokyo—however; they have plants and offices all over the world as well. Currently, and this something I found interesting, an MCC plant in Japan had to shut down because of a scare with their ethylene production. (As a side note, the largest producer of ethylene in the world is Iran.) I’m super tired, so I won’t break it all down for you here, but the gist of it is these chemical plants are trying to create energy—and other things—from ethylene by super-cooling it and super-heating and then super-cooling it again. However, when ethylene is too hot, it becomes rather combustible. So when I read that ethylene was at the core of why MCC was having some trouble with their plants, naturally, I became inspired.

In ‘L, Change the World’, K is actually a scientist working in an ‘Infectious Disease Center’. If it weren’t for the yummy abundance of L-candy, I would have despaired at how horrible that movie was. So when I wanted to expand K’s character, which was another element of the movie I did approve of, I began researching The Triad —which I find to be much cooler. *cue impish grin*

Ethylene, also, is a cameo to Shakespeare’s ‘Little Death’, an obvious theme of this chapter. When the gas is inhaled, euphoria occurs with other pleasurable sensations. If inhaled within ninety-four percent oxygen, ethylene is fatally toxic. When I discovered that, my twisted mind instantly thought ‘Erotic Asphyxiation’.

BlueShip, in the L movie, is an environmental group. *cue knee-jerk* Again, I decided to expand the idea of the private organization ‘BlueShip’ to an MCC financier. Irony.

Cu-kid: THANK YOU FOR THAT MOST AWESOME FANART! You rock my socks off! I’ve stared at for some twenty minutes at least per day since you posted it on deviantart! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

It is the most rad feeling to inspire art in someone!

*wags finger* No more procrastinating! Get-a-writing! Of course, don’t if it’s not fun. It must always be fun. Writing should never stress you. I believe.

Poignancy is right, Matt being Near’s W. It’s a very bittersweet thing, and the notion isn’t lost on Near at all.

I’m so happy you enjoyed the foundation scene! It’s the simpler things that more often catch us off guard, I think, when minds begin to wander and senses take over. And I’m glad you enjoyed Panama! I suggest it as a place of travel to pretty much everyone. I’d like to retire there someday, even if they’re not particularly welcoming of Americans, lol.

Thanks for your review! And know that your art inspired much of this chapter! Staring at that and listening to ‘Diary of Jane’ by Breaking Benjamin on repeat gave me enough juice to finish this monster before the end of the month!

Doumi (Chapter Nine): Yeah, I am a dork. I try not to let it bleed over too much in the story, but sometimes I can’t help myself when I respond to reviews. I just get so giddy with excitement that people are actually reading my shit!

I think Soldier is the most painfully endearing chapter so far. I think I accomplished a little ‘heart’ in it. Considering the nature of the story overall, it’s almost fluffy. But not really. Just hits a little closer to home for us as readers than usual, as these guys exist in a place a little above all our heads. Polar bears, blocks and spaghetti, ‘smoking kills’ conversations…these things sort of remind me that they’re human too. Maybe that’s why this one turned out so sweet, with the bitter end, because everything comes with a price.

(Chapter Ten): The room shaking thing was actually inspired by how Light’s memories of being Kira returning to him was portrayed in the anime. Everything spinning and shaking, an onslaught so extreme it appeared painful.

Oh, definitely Near is beginning to resign to the inevitability of it while Matt is still resisting. Interesting how the tables turn.

Lol, thanks for your comments on Near’s awkward bonding with Matt. I’m glad it came across that he was floundering and annoyed with himself for it. Oh, and yes, definitely, Mello was apologizing. Ha ha. Silly Mello.

(Chapter Eleven): Oh, geez, Tulpa is a fascinating subject. First read about it in Mothman Prophecies ages ago, and it’s haunted me ever since. I play with it more in my H/D fanfic Never A Memory.

*laughs* Yes, he sure was chatting with Mello fresh out of a shower. I loved your ‘Why am I always in a towel’ Near-sketch. He’s too damn cute. The lunar mapping thing actually came to me mid-conversation with my younger brother Doug about the movie StarGate. I remembered suddenly when Daniel explained ‘point of origin’ and ‘the cube’ as a means to explain the circle thing as an actual gate through space, and I did this weird spastic number before bolting to my computer. I dunno if it’s so much that I’m smart, as it is that I remember what other smart people have thought up. *cue impish grin*

Ha ha, wouldn’t the sloth thing make you smile? That actually happened to me when I was living in Panama. It’s one of my favorite memories.

The closure of this chapter was hard for me, but I thought it was high-time to melt the ice on Near—and for Matt to see it. Matt is able to confirm his suspicions now: Near is human and he cares a great deal more than he lets on.

Thanks so much for all your reviews! I adore them!

Kermitfries: Thank you! Weeeeell, as for faking, I try not to fake anything, at least with this. That’s not to say, of course, that from time to time I don’t stretch the truth with creative license. But even creative license has its limits, and I think these characters and the universe Ohba and Obata created deserves at least a little bit of effort. Funny thing is, I don’t even mind the research. I’m like a sponge when it comes to random knowledge and quirky facts. I’m one of those weirdoes that will go look up a word in the dictionary and get so distracted reading the next word, and then the next word, that when I finally put the damn thing down, three hours have gone by and I’ve totally forgotten why I picked it up in the first place. *laughs* I’m glad that Mello has a solid presence for you. I was definitely aiming for that. It’s a delicate little managé toi, and hopefully I can tie all the ends together within the next few chapters. Sad thing about orgies is that someone always ends up crying. I’ll try to keep the tears down to a minimum though, promise. Thanks again for your review, and I hope you enjoy the update!

Inuyashalove04: Oh God, writing the scene with Hani was so hard! I hated it. Hated, hated, hated it. But it worked, so I kept it. Near melted, he got angry about it and it gave him a personal sense of purpose. Matt and Mello…*sigh* Fangirl squeal is right. I know I gave Mello a rough time in this chapter, but I’m going to try something new in the next one, to try and make him seem just a little less like an asshole. Its fun with Mello, exploring all the depths of his personality. He sure is complicated though, and even sometimes gives me a headache. But! I hope you enjoyed the little bits of information in this chapter! I drop more clues and hints and things. Thanks again for your review, and thanks so much for reading!

St. Sentiment: Aw, deary, you just worry about getting yourself better! Don’t worry about it. I write for you, hon, not the other way around. Read when your well enough to, and focus on getting healthy.