Title: Scattering Ashes
Chapter Title: Last Will and Testament
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: More real names revealed. See A/N at the bottom of the chapter for further explanation.
Alternate Warnings: Rating M is for violence, swearing and adult sexual situations (which will occur later in the fic, please be patient) 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: Originally, I had planned for far more dialogue and a slightly more reclusive and unresponsive Matt. However, after some heartbreaking editing, I decided that keeping Near as in-character as possible was more important and that much of the dialogue originally planned could be pushed back to later chapters. Well and so, I hope you enjoy the update and thank you very much for reading.

Yours,
Gloria

Scattering Ashes

Chapter Two


Last Will and Testament

“Shape without form, shade without colour...
...Paralyzed force, gesture without motion...

...Those who have crossed...
...With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom...
...Remember us – if at all – not as lost...
...Violent souls, but only...
...As the hollow men...
...The stuffed men.”

~Second half of The Hollow Men, Part I by T.S. Eliot

June 5th, 2013
~*~

“I think you’d like it here.”

“Do you?”

Mello smiled, his cat-shaped eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well, I’d say it was sort of boring, but nothingness can’t be boring. Nothingness can’t be anything.”

“You seem happy.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose.” Mello tilted his head, causing yellow-blond strands of hair to fall in random patterns across his face and neck. “I think you miss me sometimes.”

“Sometimes, I think I do too.”

Mello looked at his hands, scraping at some invisible blemish on his wrist with a sharp fingernail. “I’ve left something for you.”

“For me?”

“For safekeeping.” Mello looked up then, his eyes seeming more green than usual. “You will keep it safe, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Mello looked over his shoulder, as if his eyes were drawn away by a sudden noise. When he looked back he seemed agitated. “Benjamin.”

“Benjamin?”

“Yes, Benjamin.”

“Who is Benjamin?”

But Mello only smiled again, the darkness closing in around the edges. “Benjamin,” he said.

Abruptly, a searing pain lanced through his skull and Near sat up with a jolt, clutching his head with both hands. Near gasped as the pain throbbed, shuddering dizziness through him in surging waves.

“Easy, Near.” The mattress dipped as a second body applied its weight and gentle fingers pried his hands away. “Easy. Let me have a look.” Near opened his eyes, registering the odor of cigarette smoke. The man calling himself Matt was bent over him, his hands in Near’s hair as cornflower blue eyes searched the bruising around his right temple.

“You have a slight concussion,” Matt informed him. “Worried me at first, but then you woke up about four hours after the accident. Do you remember?”

“No. Unhand me.”

Immediately, Matt withdrew his hands, keeping them palm outward as he stood and backed away from the bed. He was dressed in a tight-fitting black turtleneck and jeans, despite the summer heat. “Alright, killer. You want some aspirin?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Matt crossed the room, kicking at piles of clothes and bandage rolls littering the floor as he went, and retrieved a beer from the small fridge in the corner by the door. Near noticed he was limping, but did not comment on it.

Keeping the other man in his peripheral, Near took in his surroundings. It was a small apartment of some kind, with a tiny, rusting kitchenette, an unused metal rail screwed into one wall for hanging clothes, a barred window with the blinds drawn shut, a toilet and a desk with no less then four laptops and a myriad of interconnecting wires strewn on and around it. A bed also, from which Near currently sat. He grimaced as the thought of whether or not the sheets twisted around his legs were clean crossed his mind and he pushed them back, kicking himself clear of the musty bedclothes. Curling in on himself and resting his chin on one knee, he shot a dark glare in his companion’s direction.

Matt, who was watching him with one dark brow arching in barely veiled amusement, shrugged and reached into his pocket, producing a pack of smokes. He grabbed one by its filter using his teeth, pocketed the pack and then lit his cigarette, all with the ease of long habit. “You should have put on your seatbelt.”

“Are you going to ransom me? Where am I?”

Matt frowned, exhaling smoke from one corner of his mouth. “Berlin. And I wouldn’t need to abduct you to take your money, Near.”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Matt’s expression shifted to one of slight concern. “What’s the last thing you remember? Jesus, I didn’t think you hit your head that hard.”

“I know who you’re claiming to be, but it is impossible.” Near’s fingers twitched for something to play with. His mind always worked better when his hands were occupied. “Matt is dead. I sent one of my bodyguards to personally view the body. She’s confirmed it. He is dead.”

Matt took a sip of his beer, gazing at the detective who glared suspiciously back up at him. Finally, after a full minute, Matt grunted and crossed the room to sit, facing outward, in the chair by the desk. He slouched in the chair, sprawling out his legs and resting his beer on the jut of his abdomen. “While I can appreciate your hesitation to believe me,” Matt began in a diplomatic yet thoroughly sarcastic tone. “I’m not interested in wasting my time trying to prove to you who I am. Frankly, it’s a teensy bit fucking insulting, since we grew up together and everything. But hell, whatever. There’s the fucking door,” he said pointing with two fingers, his lit cigarette clenched between them. “You’re not my prisoner.”

Near stared at him, every inch of his body willing him to get up and go, but his mind paralyzed with the thought it might be a trap. Matt raised his brows expectantly and gestured in a sweeping motion towards the door with both hands. Abruptly, Near stood and stepped off the mattress. With nothing to do with his hands but stuff them in his pockets, he shuffled quickly towards the door. Matt didn’t stir as Near turned the door knob, opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

The hall opened up to a stairwell with paint peeling back from the walls in splashes of polluted yellow and base green, and the rails were red with rust. Keeping his hands deep in his pockets lest he accidentally touch anything, Near began his decent. When he reached the third floor, a jonsing bum reached out for him, mumbling in German from where he crouched in one corner. Near almost missed a step in his attempt to twist away from the grimy hand. The was a small child holding a ball on the second floor, who stared at Near with wide brown eyes and a trembling lower lip. The first floor was the worst.

Near felt panic bubbling in his chest before he had even reached the front door. The noise of the traffic outside was overwhelming; bumper to bumper cars lined the street with driver’s shouting at one another angrily, catcalls screeched at him from the left and the right, the heat was unbearable, there was dirt everywhere—even the air was oppressive, thick and heavy with humidity and smog...

~*~

Matt didn’t look up from his hand held game when Near re-entered the studio apartment, all but collapsing against the door as he closed it behind him. His thumbs flew over small buttons furiously as he kept his head bent over the game, a cigarette dangling precariously from his partially open mouth. “Welcome back,” Matt muttered as Near slid down to seated position and curled his knees up to his chest.

Near waited for Matt to finish his game from where he sat on the floor, his breath coming in short gasps and his heart hammering in his chest. He never registered when Matt put down his hand held or stood, but suddenly there was a glass of water shoved under his nose, followed by a palm holding two aspirin. Near took both, gulping down the water greedily, causing small rivers of water to stream down his chin and soak his collar. Matt took the glass away before he was finished. “Not too fast,” he said, “or you’ll make yourself sick.”

Near nodded and accepted the glass a second time, drinking in steadier sips this time. When he was finished, he handed the glass back to Matt, who took it and set it on a short counter in the kitchenette.

Near pressed his forehead against his knee, sucking air into his lungs with deep breaths in an attempt to slow his rapid heart beat. Matt sat cross-legged on the floor next to him, murmuring words he couldn’t comprehend in a low voice and rubbing circles into his back with one hand. Finally, Near began to calm and he lifted his head just enough to look over at Matt.

Matt lifted a brow, causing it to disappear under his unruly hair. “You ready to talk now?”

Near nodded mutely and Matt withdrew his arm from around his shoulders, allowing it to rest instead on one knee. “I swear to you I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important,” Matt began, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. “I’m quite comfortable with everyone thinking I’m dead, believe me.” Matt lit his cigarette. “But I promised Mello once I would carry out his last wishes should anything go bad. He made me promise, when the whole shindig with Kira was getting hectic. But when...” Matt hesitated, staring at the lit smoke in his fingers. “But when he thought I died, he left the package to you. I’ve tried to open it, dozens of times. But there’s only one back door and the password is something apparently only you know.”

Near frowned. “Package?”

Matt looked over at him, his expression strained. “His last will and testament.”

Near reached up and twined a lock of his hair around his pointer finger. “I don’t know of any backdoor.”

Matt rose and resumed his seat behind the desk. He turned to one of the laptops and, despite the screen remaining black, began typing rapidly on the keyboard. From an unseen speaker, short clicking noises began filling the room, mixed with strange, short thudding sounds and sporadic shrill whines. Matt seemed to ignore it and continued to type, his dark auburn hair falling into his eyes as he hunched over the keys. Near stood up and shuffled over to the desk, standing over him and watching as Matt continued to type for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, his fingers paused over the keys and the strange mix of sounds halted. “It says something about a name only you know,” Matt said glancing up at the detective.

Near’s dark eyes searched the blank screen. “I don’t understand. There’s nothing there.”

Matt bit his lip, seeming for a moment to be caught in indecision before raising one hand to turn the screen on. Slowly, the screen woke up and Near could see a matrix of code constantly moving in several directions, the letters green, white and blue against a grayish black background. “You can read that?”

“Yeah.” Matt reached around one of the other laptops and crushed out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “Hurts my eyes after a while though, so I listen to the code mostly instead.”

“You listen to the code?” That’s like saying his mind literally works like a computer. If this really was Matt, it might even be true.

Matt lit another cigarette and waved his hands impatiently. “The name, Near. What’s this name he’s talking about? I’ve tried Nate River. I’ve tried Mihael and Mail, but those names were known by more than just you. I tried Quillish Wammy and—“

“Lawliet.”

“Yeah, I tried that too. Didn’t work. Tried Light Yagami, but his name was known to dozens of people. It was a reach, I know. I didn’t know your parents’ names but—“

“I don’t know them either.”

“Well, shit.” Matt rested the back of his against his chair, sighing heavily and swiveling his eyes over to where Near stood, hovering over him. Near continued twirling his hair around his finger, over and over, his dark eyes roaming the screen as he thought, every name he had ever heard or read coming to the forefront of his mind and being discarded one by one.

“Benjamin,” Near breathed, his dark eyes going wide.

“Who the hell is Benjamin?”

“Never mind that. Type it in.”

Matt did. Near didn’t understand the message in the sounds beeping from the computer, nor could he read the moving coded matrix, but he understood Matt’s exasperated sigh well enough. Near tugged painfully at the lock of white hair entwined in his fingers, willing his mind to think. Suddenly, he let his hair go and dropped his hand to his side. “Benjamin L. Lawliet.”[1]

Matt’s cornflower blues eyes widened under his messy bangs. “No way.”

Near gestured to the keyboard and Matt typed it in. The screen blinked once, twice and then flickered to white, showing multiple icons. One was labeled “L”, another was labeled “Kira”, and further down the list was “Will”. Matt flexed his fingers over the keyboard a few times before sighing softly and curling his fingers inward to form fists. Matt stood and gestured for Near to take his place in front of the keyboard.

Near looked at him oddly and Matt shrugged. “The file was left to you,” Matt said, not quite meeting Near’s eyes. “I shouldn’t...I—it wouldn’t be right. I’m going out.” Matt suddenly turned on his heel, grabbed a set of keys, and left the studio.

Near stared at the door for many minutes after Matt had shut it, and then he shook his head and approached the desk. He curled onto the chair and reached for the mouse.

~*~

Matt did not return until well after midnight, some eleven hours later. Near was perched in the far corner on the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest. In his hand, he held a sheet of paper.

Matt walked in and dropped his keys onto the desk, a cigarette clenched between his teeth but unlit. He swayed slightly on his feet as he stood in the middle of the room and gazed down at Near with unfocused eyes.

“You’re inebriated.” Near's voice was monotone and level, having regained some of his composure during Matt’s absence. It had taken an incredible amount of effort, but after the shock of it all had dissipated, his mind was there ready to work. And it had, quite furiously indeed.

“Yes.” Matt did not try to deny it, nor did he gloat—which Near found very interesting. Near wasn’t sure if it was grief or anger that followed Matt around like a ghost, clinging to the shadows in his face and making him seem older than he really was. Whatever it was, it looked heavy on him. Near couldn’t decide if he cared or not.

It wasn’t like him to care...but this was Matt. Or might be.

“Mello left me a few short stories L relayed to him shortly before his departure to Japan for the Kira case,” Near said, his expression hidden in the darkness of the room. “He also left an extensive map of the underground to which Mello had associated himself. I will be sure to put it to good use when I return to Wammy’s.” Near relaxed one leg and twisted it behind him, placing the sheet of paper on the bed in front of him. Matt glanced at it but made no move to retrieve it.

There were other things, too. Things that only the real Matt would know. “There were also quite a few details about the Kira case itself. Mello was very clever...but he gave much of the credit to you.”

Matt clenched his fists tightly, keeping his eyes trained on the slip of paper Near taunted him with.

“Its time for you to square with me, Matt.”

Matt closed his eyes, removing the cigarette from his mouth. “Mello guessed Takada’s relationship to Kira. All I did was ascertain she had a Death Note. She gave it to someone else, I never knew who. But we knew you were about to move...and that Kira would kill you if we didn’t somehow relay the information.”

“So Takada’s abduction, that whole thing, was intentional? You were trying to send me a message?”

“Yes. Mello hated you, but he never wanted you dead.”

“And you?”

Matt didn’t answer.

“Matt.”

Suddenly, Matt shouted and threw a punch at the nearest wall. When he whirled back, his eyes were blazing. “I told him to check her! I told him. He never fucking listened to me. People don’t fucking listen! I told him she would hide it on her. He’s dead because he didn’t—because he had that stupid moral code, that idiotic no-fly zone. I tried to switch with him, but he had to be the star! It had to be the ‘Mello Show’. I told him, Near! I swear to God I did!”

“I believe you. How did you survive?” His voice was unsympathetic, a single monotone note.

Matt abruptly shut his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line and looking away. He turned and wrapped his arms around himself. “I owe it to him to make sure his final wishes are carried out,” came Matt’s voice, low and cracking. “What did he want?”

“He wanted his body cremated and his ashes scattered.”

Matt turned again and stalked towards the bed, his features angry and menacing in the darkness. “What is that, irony? Are you trying to be funny, Near?”

“I am not aware of having a sense of humor,” Near responded, inflectionless. “He left a list of places he wanted his ashes scattered. Apparently, they were places he wanted to see and never was able to. Things he wanted to do; I don’t know.” Near took up the sheet of paper and handed it to Matt. “I wrote them down.”

Matt took it and read the list over, choking on a bitter laugh. Matt shook his head desperately, seeming to fight some emotion boiling just beneath the surface. “That church, it’s been a ruin for over three years...”

“There should be enough ashes left to fill an urn.”

Matt shook his head again. “Don’t play with me; you’d never do it.”

“I beg your pardon?” That caught Near by surprise.

“You’d never do it,” Matt repeated, glancing over it him. “Or would you? Would you?” Abruptly, Matt seemed younger as hope softened the lines around his nose and mouth, lightened the shadow in his eyes.

“I don’t understand. Mello couldn’t expect me to—“

“That last I heard on the subject, Mello wanted to be buried next to L,” Matt argued. “He must have changed it after he thought I died and revised it for you.”

“You’re jesting.”

“It was left for you, coded for you—had information only you would make use of.”

Near frowned. “Fine. I’ll have Halle and Rester—“

“No! This is none of their goddamned business.”

Matt’s sudden vehemence made Near pause. “I am not...I am not equipped to handle this sort of thing...socially or—“

“I can help. I won’t coddle you, but I’ll help. I’ll get you through it; I’ll help you see it done.”

Near stared at Matt’s face. It was brighter now, more like he remembered it when they were young. His resolve was slipping. “And then you’ll take me back?”

Matt looked confused. “Back where?”

“Wammy’s.”

“Ah.” Matt chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Only if you call your dogs off.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, fuck. Do you promise?”

Do you promise?

Near blinked. “Yes.”

To be continued...


***

[1] I have absolutely no idea where wikipedia.org got this information, but I swear to you, it’s there. Says “Benjamin” Lawliet is L’s real name. I double checked Another Note and How to Read, but no mention of a “Benjamin” did I find—whiiiiich means that it’s completely, utterly, and knowingly not canon. HOWEVER, I decided that it was interesting so I threw it in there. It got a rather strong reaction from another reader, so I may, in later chapters, explain that it was L’s father’s name. I’d like your opinion on this, if I may ask, because while I hardly think its controversial, if it upsets too many people, I may need to shift it to mean something else—and I made that element of this chapter ambiguous enough that it would work if that was the case. If no one cares, then I’ll leave it as is. All in all, its not incredibly important to the plot either way.

Mary Magdalena: First of all, what a neat name. Right on. Second, thank you for your review! It made me very happy. I’m glad you’re looking forward to the supernatural aspects of this fic, even if the romance isn’t kicking into high gear just yet. Who this man claiming to be Matt is will be a common thread o’ mystery, and so will the ghost of Mello and the themes of EVP and unfinished business and all that jazz. I did, however, want to focus more on how Near would react to being forced into the “real world” as it were, and also coming to terms with his own sense of moral duty, emotions, and the building dependency he encounters when concerning “Matt”, whom he barely trusts yet really, really wants to believe is the Matt he grew up with. But! More of that to come. So, before I can give my whole friggin’ story away, let me say thank you again and I hope you enjoyed the update!