Title: Scattering Ashes
Chapter Title: Disturbed
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: None for this chapter, I don’t think
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: Finally! The plot gets a’ rollin’. And we also get to crawl into Near’s head a little bit and get a sense of how he’s reacting to everything. As always, reviews are love in code.

Yours,
Gloria

Scattering Ashes

Chapter Three


Disturbed

“His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.

I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.”

~Part IV of Preludes by T.S. Eliot

June 6th, 2013
~*~

Near did not appreciate being abducted from his home. He did not appreciate being removed from his case files and the protection of his bodyguards, the ever faithful Rester and Halle among others. Furthermore, Near did not appreciate being lied to, manipulated, or having his genetic recessive traits used against him to force him to stay.

All these things this man, this “Matt”, did shamelessly under the guise of grief and pain.

What Near did not appreciate above all...was that it was working.

Near had never once claimed to be this unfeeling creature he was labeled, with only organs and tissue keeping his anatomical body alive so he could solve cases and play with puzzles with his methodical mind. Neither, however, had he ever felt the need to refute it. Near did, in fact, feel and had a great affinity for emotions. Yet, ever since he could remember, he has always habitually viewed them as a separate entity, carefully storing them away in a secret file to later review when his thoughts were most quiet.

It was not important to him to expose these emotions he kept locked up to others. Indeed, he learned very early the negative effect emotional exposure could have on one’s lifestyle. Mello had been a profound example for him. So too had A, and even Beyond Birthday, who had pushed the envelope of his internal frustrations to the very limit; all three, ultimately, allowed their feelings to cause their demise.

Matt, the Matt from his childhood and even this one, was somewhat of an enigma to him. While he seemed retrospective and reclusive, hiding behind his games and goggles, hesitant to go outside even at Mello’s behest, had behaved like a moth drawn to a great flame, trailing behind Mello during his antics, unassuming and amused. Near did not think that Matt dealt with his emotions like he did.

Well and so, as Near sat quietly in one corner of the dingy studio apartment and watched Matt prepare for their journey to Japan to collect ashes and fulfill the first obligation of Mello’s will, Near found that there were a great many similarities he shared with the man across the room. And despite his annoyance at his current predicament, he found that most of Matt’s observed qualities he admired, perhaps would even respect, given time.

For one, this man, a scarce year older than he, did not feel the need to mince words. He seemed comfortable with silence, only speaking when the occasion called for it and even then with some reluctance. And unless provoked, Matt kept his grief to himself. There were no attempts to seek solace from his dissatisfied and disgruntled companion, respecting the detective’s obvious desire for quiet and space.

Another thing he noticed as he listened to Matt’s rapid typing on multiple keyboards and the blipping sounds emanating from the speakers, the screens of the computer blank once more, was that the man actually seemed honest. It took an incredible amount of effort for Near to keep hold of his suspicion that this man was not Matt, that he was an imposter with some hidden agenda. Even if this man had not been able to recall things only Matt could know, facts that were nearly impossible for a stranger to guess, the man hunched over his computers had a surprising genuine quality about him. And while he did not parade his pain around for show, he wore it on his sleeve, open and raw and bleeding. He was self-aware, a grace in his movements that belied the awkward gruffness of his person, yet he was not cocky with it. In fact, Near would almost describe him as humble.

And the Matt from his childhood never flaunted his brilliance, seeming not to care whether or not he was even in the running to become L’s successor. As if it was some annoying accident that his mind worked faster than others, and that he was unable to hide it. And while Near did not actively pursue L’s seat as furiously as Mello did, it had been a clear goal in his mind, the ultimate next step in the bland sequence of his life. Near expected the succession, while Matt had always seemed irritated that he was even recognized as a potential heir.

And yesterday, when this Matt had confessed his ability to translate computer code like listening to a foreign language he was fluent in, he had been aggravated and impatient with the acknowledgement. One would think that surprising the greatest living detective in the world with a talent of the mind would come as a compliment. But Near had never been able to master the ability to compliment others.

Abruptly, Matt scooted back from the desk, crushing out a half-smoked cigarette and standing. He stretched his arms over his head and arched his back. Near wasn’t sure why his eyes focused immediately on the bared flesh of Matt’s muscled stomach as the raised fabric of his shirt exposed it, but suddenly, he felt mesmerized, his eyes following the thin, dark trail of hair that began at his bellybutton and disappeared into his jeans. But then tapering fingers pulled the hem back down and Near blinked, glancing away. Matt yawned and sauntered into the kitchen, mussing his hair with both hands and shaking his head. “You hungry?”

“Somewhat.”

“Grilled cheese is on the menu.”

Near sighed as Matt pulled out a skillet from a cupboard. “Alright.”

Matt made a face as he dropped some butter to melt on the saucepan. “Grilled cheese was on the menu last night too, and you didn’t have a problem with it.”

“I have not often been abducted, nearly train wrecked, and smuggled into a foreign country against my will,” Near responded dryly. “Forgive me if I seem unwarrantedly ungrateful.”

Matt surprised him by laughing. “Someone’s grumpy.”

“And you seem abruptly self-satisfied.”

Matt dropped two slices of bread into the skillet. “Our flight leaves tomorrow. Arrangements are finito.”

“I have no travel papers.”

Matt added cheese to the sizzling confection. “Taken care of.”

“What makes you think security won’t be looking for someone of your description? Halle and Rester have seen you.”

With one hand, Matt flipped the sandwich with a spatula, and with the other he held up two fingers and counted them off. “One: You and I both know your bodyguards wouldn’t be stupid enough to make it common knowledge that you’re missing. Two: Just in case they are, I programmed a virus to disable any memos to the airport security describing keywords like ‘albino’ and two males’ and so on. One can never be too careful.”

When Near didn’t respond, Matt glanced askance at him, adding: “You’ll be happy to know I reserved a hotel room. Much nicer than this. You’ll like it.”

Near accepted the grilled cheese sandwich when Matt handed it to him and took a tentative bite. It wasn’t Wammy’s gourmet, but truth be told, it wasn’t terrible either.

“We’ll land during the night in Japan, but we’ll have to leave for the airport tomorrow while the sun is still out,” Matt said, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching Near eat. “In a little bit, I’m going to go and get you some decent clothes, sunscreen and a hat. Maybe glasses too, to protect your eyes. You still have problems with sunlight?”

Near glanced up at him then, surprised by the consideration. His dark auburn hair fell messily into his un-masked eyes, the blue shining through in a splash of bright color. Near wondered, briefly, if Matt would trim it back if he asked him to. Near had liked the way it fell when he was a teenager, when Matt had relied on goggles and not hair to hide his face.

“Well?” Matt prompted.

“Protective eye-wear would be efficient.”

Matt’s eyes searched his for a moment. “Never knew your eyes were blue,” he commented.

Near wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he took another bite of his sandwich and chewed quietly until Matt dropped his gaze. Matt cleared his throat and stood.

“Do you necessitate sleep?”

“Huh?”

“You have not rested since we arrived here.”

Matt shrugged and reached for his keys. “I can sleep on the plane.”

Near nodded and took another bite, as Matt stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, shoving his hands into his pockets and struggling with some internal battle on whether to leave it, or say something else.

"They'll trace you and find me." Near was just provoking, at this point. Maybe it was out pity, a strange reaction for him, but Near found he didn't like how vulnerable Matt suddenly seemed.

It worked actually. Matt's back straightened and he grabbed a pair of goggles from the nearby desk and put them on. "No, they won't."

"I could trace you, and with my resources, so can Halle and Rester."

Matt smiled a little. He wasn't being cocky, but he certainly seemed amused. "Ah, no, you couldn't and no, they couldn't."

"Anyone can be traced."

"Yeah," Matt agreed with a nod, something solemn darkening the spark in his grin. "And I never said I was untraceable. I just said you wouldn't be able to, let alone your little minions." Blunt, to the point. Maybe someone would call it arrogance, but Near knew better. Matt was just being matter-of-fact. "I'll be back."

Near watched Matt’s receding back as he left the room and shut the door behind him. When the door clicked shut, Near rose and shuffled to the trash bin, discarding the remains of the sandwich with a flick of his wrist.

Near sighed heavily, reaching into his front shirt pocket and retrieved the folded slip of paper the held the list Mello's will declared were the places he wanted his ashes scattered. He read it again for the hundredth time.

1. L's Grave
2. Skull Rock
3. Panama Canal
4. Bridge to Nowhere
5. St. Josef in Mimmingen

Near understood Mello's desire for something of himself to be with L's final resting place; and as they were going to Japan to gather ashes anyway, it suited them just fine that the first location was somewhat close by. The rest of the list perturbed him. Near had wondered, briefly, if Mello had used these terms to symbolize something else, some other location that actually meant something to him. But Mello was nothing if not literal and forthright, and Near had to concede that Mello had meant what he said. Consequently, that meant he was somehow obligated to travel with his unlikely companion around the globe.

The only Skull Rock Near knew of was the area in Jerusalem where Yeshua ben Yosef[1] had been crucified centuries ago, a place where many Christians took pilgrimages to. It came as a startling revelation that Mello had been serious about his faith in the Christian god, and the rosary he had been seen with consistently since he was a child was not mere jewelry to the boy, but actual prayer beads. Mello had never struck Near as the religious sort, even though he certainly had shown an affinity for fanaticism when concerning all of his ambitions. Perhaps it served as an outlet for guilt, as confession and forgiveness was a common theme in Catholicism. When Near had questioned this to Matt, the other man had merely shrugged and remained quiet. Matt was also, Near had noticed during his close proximity with him, severely adverse to speaking about Mello. Near supposed that for him, the grief of Mello's death was still too near.

Near could not begin to guess the significance of the Panama Canal and he had absolutely no idea what the Bridge to Nowhere was. Matt had mumbled something about crossing it when they got there, that they'd take things one step at a time. Good logic, as far as Near was concerned. How they were going to get in and out of the Middle East without incident was still a mystery to both of them. Currently, Jerusalem and its bordering countries was considered hot zones by many national leaders, political unrest, insurgency and rebellion had been shaking the foundations of that whole area for years--even more so now that Kira was dead.

St. Josef of Mimmingen, Near deduced, was a church in Bavaria. According to the files at Wammy's, Mello originated from that area. He may have even been born there. Well and so, they had weeks of travel ahead of them and even though Matt was refusing to allow Near to contact Wammy's or his personal security until they were finished with Mello's will, he was committed to finding a way to communicate with Rester and Halle. When or how, was still technically a problem. Near had not been able to hack into Matt's computer systems during his absences, nor had he been able to find any sort of phone. Near was also unwilling to attempt going outside again. He knew it was illogical, but Near could not help the sudden overwhelming fear that shook him when faced with the outside world, that paralyzed him, shuddering every rational thought to an abrupt, immoveable halt.

If Near had a weakness, it was his inability to be independent. Matt knew this, which was why he had no problem leaving him on his own to run mysterious errands. And while Near resented being exploited, he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

Near re-folded the list and returned it to his shirt pocket, his fingers brushing over another occupant. Near retrieved the Jack of Hearts card he'd kept from his impromptu escape from Wammy's and regarded it solemnly. That, too, was a problem. Because if this man really was Matt, Near had no choice but to suspect him for the murders in Japan.

~*~

When Matt returned, his arms were laden with bags. He also, Near noticed, seemed fresh from a shower. Near considered snapping at the other man, if only because he felt forced to stay in this small room with no actual shower, only a small sink that Near considered a questionable, at best, source for cleanliness. But when Matt began emptying the contents of one of the bags, producing toiletries, shampoo, soap and a towel, the remark died in his mouth.

Matt set the items on a stool by the sink and handed Near a set of carefully folded clothes. There was a white collared shirt, made of expensive cotton that was incredibly soft to the touch, with full sleeves and smelled faintly of lavender. Pants, also, made of dark denim that was also strangely soft against his fingers when he touched it, and undergarments and shoes. When Near did not find any price tags, Matt murmured something about washing them after he purchased the items.

Near did not move and Matt turned and set the rest of his bags near the desk, retrieving a small tool set. Near watched him begin to disassemble his computer for a moment before rising to his feet and approaching the sink.

Near was hesitant, feeling strange in his own skin, as he mulled over the proposition of undressing in another man’s company, even if his attention was averted—an attempt for privacy on Matt’s part that was not lost on the detective. Much like his aversion to being outside, Near thought that this sudden awkwardness was irrational. It seemed they might be in multiple situations like this in the future, and he doubted Matt and Mello had ever felt discomfort in similar predicaments. Then again, Matt and Mello had always been friends, and Near had never had any of those. So he could not begin to fathom the rules of engagement for such...things. Eventually, stifling sigh, Near decided to bathe in parts, so he was never fully naked, and kept an eye on Matt as the other man bent over his computer system, dismantled every piece and set them quietly in separate piles.

The water went from hot to cold and back again sporadically, which only served to further irritate the detective. But the soap smelled fresh and piney, and did its part to wash the days-old grime off his skin. He was dressed in his new pants and stood shirtless in front of the sink when he abruptly encountered a new problem--his hair.

Behind him, sensing the pause, Matt lifted his head. “I’ll wash it for you, if you promise not to spazz.”

Near weighed his options for nearly a full minute before finally agreeing. Matt crossed the room wordlessly and pulled the stool in front of the sink, beckoning for Near to sit facing it. Matt placed another towel along the rim of the sink as Near settled and ran his fingers under the water. Frowning, he followed the pipes to where it went into the wall and gave a small kick. Near could not compute how that possibly changed the temperature of the water, but when he rested against the rim of the sink and let Matt guide his head under the spout, he found that it had, indeed, worked. Matt was gentle as he gathered Near’s platinum, unruly locks into the water, making sure every strand was thoroughly soaked. When Matt began working the shampoo into his hair, Near began to feel relaxed, allowing the fingers massaging his scalp to lull him into a strange, drowsy state. It felt...nice. It was over far too quickly.

Matt wrapped a second towel around Near’s head when he was finished and returned to his desk, as silent as ever. Near dried what he could of his thick hair and ran a brush through it when it was dry enough not to soak his new shirt. After completely dressing, he resumed his perch in the corner and settled in to watch Matt light a candle and begin the process of melting the hardware of every computer.

He was, apparently, not planning on taking any of his equipment with him.

~*~

“You were thorough with the sunscreen?” Matt clarified some hours later. He had finished destroying his computers and thoroughly wiping down the tiny apartment, and had just returned from throwing away any possible trace that they’d ever been there. Near stood in the kitchenette with his hands in his pockets, a dark, label-less baseball cap drawn low over his eyes and black sunglasses perched on his nose to add further protection to his retinas.

“Yes,” Near answered.

“Good.” Matt, dressed in a long-sleeved, close fitted shirt and worn jeans, slung a small pack over his shoulder, filled with traveling papers, false identification and cigarettes. “Alright, listen. The car’s around back, but the door leading out to the garage is swarming with uniforms. Some bum OD’d and they’re cleaning up the mess. So we’re going to go out through the front entrance and then circle around the block.” Matt waited for Near to nod before continuing. “The owner’s kinda high-strung ‘cause of the cops on his property. He’s been running some backdoor shit and this dead guy’s not good for his business. So I’m gonna need you to be cool, okay? Stay close, don’t look around, and keep moving. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Matt repeated and opened the door. “Let’s get going.”

Near followed Matt through the hall of peeling paint and down the flights of stairs with its rusted rails. The first floor was brightly lit in the daylight hours and Near blinked against the change light, already feeling the pressure against his eyes despite the sunglasses. The owner, a chubby man with greasy brown hair and nervous black eyes, stood buy the mailboxes, eyeing the police cars parked on his front curb through the glass of the front door. He glanced up at them briefly, but there were apparently more important things on his mind as he looked back at the door almost immediately. Matt walked steadily towards the front door, but as they closed in on it, that horrible cold feeling began forming in the pit of Near’s stomach.

Near’s pace slowed as the sounds of the world outside grew louder, irrational panic crawling up the back of his throat. His thoughts slowed, and so too, did his perception of things. Time seem to shudder to a halt as he finally balked, reversing his movement and backing up, his mouth twisting in fear. The owner was looking at him again.

Matt turned, glancing once at the owner’s suddenly suspicious gaze, before quickly closing the distance between him and Near. Matt grabbed the cuff of Near’s collar and dragged him behind the staircase and pressed him against the wall. Matt dug his fingers into the hair escaping the ball cap and buried his face into Near’s neck. “Near!” he whispered harshly, letting the flesh of Near’s throat muffle his words. Feeling the vibration and moist warmth against his skin, Near came back to himself in a jolt, a spasm shaking his limbs under Matt’s weight. “Are you with me?”

Near nodded, swallowing as tendrils of Matt’s hair tickled his nose and mouth.

Matt lifted his head to whisper directly into Near’s ear. His voice was not kind as he grated: “I will get you to the car safely; I swear it, Near. But I need you to keep moving.”

Near realized abruptly that to an outsider, they would appear to be embracing, and he stiffened, nodding jerkily. Matt retreated, grasping his wrist none too gently and roughly wrapping one arm around his shoulders. Matt kept his hold on Near firm, almost bruising, as he walked them to the door, kicking it open with one booted foot, and maneuvering onto the sidewalk. Near could feel the anger rolling off of Matt in waves even as the thunderous sounds of the busy street came crashing down on him. He felt like a helpless shaking thing as his heart hammered in his chest and his breathing became labored. Suddenly, Matt was shoving him into the passenger seat of a vehicle. Near did not notice until much later that it was an inconspicuous black Ford.

Near distantly registered the clacking sounds of Matt’s boots echoing in the garage as he walked around the car and entered the driver’s side. Matt slammed the door shut and tossed Near a bottle of aspirin and some water, kept cool in the center console. Near washed down two aspirin with the water and got his breathing under some semblance of control, all but melting boneless against his seat.

Matt did not start the car. Across from Near, Matt sat with his hands gripping the steering wheel, rigid as he glared straight ahead, his mouth a thin line in his handsome face.

“I apologize.”

Matt made a short movement with his head, as if biting back a sharp retort. He put the keys into the ignition but then pulled his hand away, slamming it against the wheel with his palm. “People don’t fucking listen,” he muttered darkly. Matt shot a glare in Near’s direction. “I don’t say shit to hear myself talk, Near. When I give a directive, it’s important. Don’t do that again.” That Mello hadn’t listened, and that it had gotten himself killed, went unsaid. Near supposed Matt did not feel it bore repeating.

Matt turned the ignition.

~*~

They entered the airport much the same way they left the apartment in the city, with Matt’s arm firmly around his shoulders, guiding him with his weight. Matt explained to the security they encountered that he was blind, and they allowed him to walk Near through the metal detectors without incident. Matt was his anchor as they maneuvered through the airport, and Near found himself clinging to Matt’s shirt like a lifeline as the thunderous noise bore down on him, scrambling his thoughts and muting his reason. On the airplane, once they were seated, it became easier. Near still felt it was incredibly loud, but once the engines started and offered a sort of blanket of continuity to the raucousness of the other occupants, he felt himself returning to some semblance of normal.

Within the first hour, he felt the past few days’ events begin to wear on him and he allowed himself to feel tired. Well into the second hour, Near had fallen asleep.

“He’s funny, you know.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah.” Mello looked different today, more like he looked during the final weeks of his life. Handsome, despite the scarring, and lanky, tight-fitting leather covering his long legs and a black vest barely covering his torso. He sat on a child’s swing, chewing thoughtfully on the cross-end of the rosary adorning his throat. “He’s wicked funny.”

“On purpose?”

“Nah.” Mello twined the beads around his fingers. “Well, sometimes. It’s the intensity, you know? It can be amusing if you look sideways at it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You usually don’t.” Mello glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of his old insanity sparking in the bright green of his iris and the crooked lilt in his grin. “But we were never supposed to know everything.”

“Do you know? Do you know everything now?”

Mello pursed his lips, tucking errant locks behind one pierced ear. “No. Not even now--I don’t know everything.”

“What do you know?”

To that, Mello’s grin became a deviant smile, white teeth flashing against the crucifix he gnawed on. “Everything.”

Near opened his eyes, sitting up when he registered the sound of crying. It was Matt, next to him, sobbing quietly in his sleep. Near touched his shoulder and immediately Matt woke, flinching away from him. They stared at one another for a long moment, and Near found a glimpse of the youthful face of the Matt he remembered from his childhood in the other man’s tear-swollen face. Suddenly, Matt unbuckled his seat belt and stood, dashing the back of his hand across his eyes. Near watched him disappear into the back of the plane. It was going to be a long flight.

To be continued...

[1] Aramaic for Jesus son of Joseph—I’m really just being obnoxious here. I first read that in Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Dart, and then later realized it was phonetic for the Aramaic name. I don’t know if Near would actually be that literal in his mind, but I thought it would be fun to throw in there in anyhow.

Lady Magdalena: Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoyed the update.