Title: Scattering Ashes
Chapter Title: Corpse
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; not really.
Alternate Warnings: Rating T 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: Hi everyone. I apologize for the length between updates—RL slapped me in the face and I’ve been recovering. Also, this chapter and the next one are proving exceptionally difficult. I had to do quite a bit of research on many different things. I had to drill my dad for Intelligence info he was reluctant to give, I had to look up stuff on satellites and cell grids and ground control operations for Israel. I had to sit and ponder for hours possible scenarios for the Middle East and the world political stage five years in the future (given the reign of Kira existed)—and it was rather...hard. I’ll admit that there are parts of this chapter that stretched me thin. Things I had to cut for flow that sort of takes away from realism in the long run...but at the end of the day, I had to concede that this was a fanfic, and I had to be willing to laugh at myself and not take it so damn seriously. It’s just that...I’d like it to be as realistic as possible. So, I hope that what did make it into the final cut still gives it that effect for you, and I’ll certainly be willing to explain terms and the conclusions I’ve made for scenarios should you have any questions.

Also, the Kameda Medical Center in Kamogawa is actually factual. During my research, I discovered stuff about this facility and I thought it was compelling, as well as beautiful. Of course, I do not own anything correlated to KMC and no infringement is intended, nor profit gained by adding its reference into this chapter.

I hope you enjoy the update, and thank you very much for reading.

Yours,
Gloria

Scattering Ashes

Chapter Five

Corpse

“There came one who spoke of the shame of Jerusalem
And the holy places defiled;
Peter the Hermit, scourging with words.
And among his hearers were a few good men,
Many who were evil,
And most who were neither.

Like all men in all places...”

~From VIII of Choruses from “The Rock” by T.S. Eliot

June 9th, 2013

Matt was rigid and silent as he dropped Near off in their hotel room, walking him to the door and making sure he was settled out of self-styled duty, and not so much out of any real desire for Near’s company. Near sensed it in him, his need to leave, to be away, to drink or walk or disappear in some back alley—whatever it was that Matt did to handle his grief when it became too much to handle on his own. When he returned, a scant half hour later, he surprised Near by being sober. He seemed lighter, even if his demeanor was still as solemn as ever. A weight had lifted and it was visible in Matt’s face as he offered a short “Hi,” to Near, who eyed the bags he was carrying with obvious interest.

“I got you something.” Matt reached into one bag and produced a puzzle made of all white pieces. Near’s heart skipped a beat when he saw it, grabbing at the box and immediately tearing open one side. Matt smiled a little as Near spilled all one thousand small pieces on the floor and sat in front of the pile, picking up one piece and staring at it contemplatively.

“I got you a few something’s,” Matt amended, handing Near the bag, who took it distractedly and set it next to him. Matt turned and gathered a few electronic devices, a set of small tools, and some spare wire, and sat down on the floor as well, spilling the black and silver pieces in his lap. He pulled his goggles up from around his neck and adjusted them over his nose. “One something at a time, I guess.”

Near’s long, pale fingers sifted unhurriedly through the pile of puzzle pieces, feeling his thoughts sharpen as if some semblance of ‘normal’ had just been re-inserted into his life. He found one corner edge piece and set it by his bare foot. “What are you doing?” Inflectionless, per usual.

Matt selected a tiny tool and used it to pry open one of the devices. “Preparing.”

Near did not expect a direct answer, so he continued to work with his puzzle. He was nearly finished, some two hours later, when he brought his attention back to the man sitting across from him. Matt had created an entirely new device--that looked suspiciously like a small satellite—from the other small pieces, and was currently holding one of his many small speakers up to it and typing rapidly into a keyboard perched precariously in his lap. An unlit cigarette was clenched between his teeth and Matt had a look of immense concentration twisting his handsome features.

Near waited for Matt to pause his one-handed typing and set down the speaker before asking: “Preparing for our flight?”

Matt grunted, frowning severely at his new contraption. Near reached for the bag, finally curious as to what other gifts Matt had brought him, and found many boxes of identical, cube-shaped dice. Near smiled a little, taking one of the boxes and dumping its contents on top of the nearly completed puzzle. “Thank you,” Near murmured.

“Ah.” Matt scratched his neck and stretched his back, popping out stiff joints as he did so. “Dice first next time.”

“I appreciate the puzzle as well.”

Matt grunted again and yawned loudly. “In Berlin, I tapped into IAI,” he said. His voice was soft and low, but it felt abrupt in the near silence they had shared for so many hours. “When we got here, I was able to hack into the EROS, Amos and Ofeq series satellites. Also, I’ve manipulated IAI’s DBS and ECM systems, but that programming won’t kick in until we’re in-flight.” Matt yawned again, gesturing lazily to his project. “But all that is cake compared to cellular grids. Danny-boy’ll skin me alive if the Israelis confiscate his plane, so they can’t know we're in their aerospace.”

Understandable precautions, given the particular area they were flying into.

Jerusalem is, and has been, the capital for both Israel and the Palestinians. Iran and Pakistan have also long fought for the area known as eastern Jerusalem. The reign of Kira had weakened the world political stage and threatened to over-throw the Jewish-American vote on who owned what land, and endangered the NATO protection of their Israeli ally. After the fall of Kira, Iran—the largest standing army in the Middle East—made their move and invaded Israel, taking its capital hostage. During the scramble to assert order and control, Palestinian guerillas burrowed in as well, creating chaos with the invading army, the Jewish government, and severely angering Pakistan. All the while, American troops were forced to retreat as the assassination of the American President by Kira left a weakling in office more concerned about the home front then their foreign diplomacy. For two years, bloody Holy Wars were raged on Eastern Jerusalem on all sides until finally a new American President was elected and the NATO allies made their presence known in Israel again. The American President lifted the waiver delaying the move of the American Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem and now has a base there. This Embassy is not internationally recognized, nor is whose capital Jerusalem is, causing the weak stalemate to be tumultuous at best. Well and so, for all their efforts, Pakistan still threatens nuclear war, Palestinian guerillas continue to raise havoc in the streets at a moment’s whim, and Iran is claiming they will secede Israel if NATO recognizes their claim to the whole of Jerusalem, while American and English troops attempt to maintain a sense of order and protection for the Jewish and Palestinian citizens.

Near is not a politician. He is a detective. That being said, it is his job to know these things. He also knows that for someone to willingly give a jet and a pilot to a hacker who is supposed to be dead, is not only strange...it pointed at another conclusion. Matt obviously had a network of resources at his disposal. Near needed to find out what these resources were, and who made up his network. It unsettled him that he had no idea Matt was so thoroughly connected. Three years seems too short a time to have gathered so many...friends.

Near blinked slowly. “I understand.”

“Right. So.” Matt gestured again to his device, and Near looked at it this time. “This little baby will knock out the grid while we enter, land, and will give enough time for the pilot to take off again.”

“The plane will leave us.”

Matt nodded, pulling down his goggles and allowing them to hang around his neck. “We’ll have twenty-four hours to get into Jerusalem, do the thing, and get back to the pick-up zone; and then the whole thing happens again, only in reverse.”

“That will knock out ‘the grid’.” Near paused, setting one dice on top of another. “The cellular grid?”

“Yes.”

“Why the whole grid?”

Matt smiled self-deprecatingly. “Well, in a perfect world, I would just scramble the signal, or create a superficial module that doesn’t have us on the map. But...it’s impossible with the cell grid.”

“Impossible.”

“Well, okay, I’m sure there’s a way, but I have limited resources and, frankly, no one else has been able to do it and—“

“You do not have to justify to me.”

Matt’s lips twisted. It looked like a frown, but when Near looked up, Matt’s eyes were dancing with amusement. Near averted his gaze and continued to build his dice. “You are very capable.”

“I know.”

Near’s mouth curved, the corners lifting in his face. Matt tilted his head. Near could feel Matt's eyes burning into him.

"Competent, also," Near murmured, his voice so quiet it was barely heard.

Matt did not quip at that, sensing the serious pretense in Near's demeanor. Matt waited.

"When this is over, you should come back to Wammy's."

"Should?"

Near curved the rows of stacked dice, creating a rook. "Under my employ."

Matt laughed harshly. "Fuck no."

Near glanced up at him through his white hair, the black of his pupil wide and consuming. "Would it be so terrible, to work for me?" Before Matt could answer that, Near continued. "When you came for me, I remember a device in the glove box. It turned off the alarm. My security network never would have discovered you if you hadn't purposefully allowed it to."

Matt nodded, gazing over at the hunched detective with lidded cornflower blue eyes.

"You activated the alarm with the intention of forcing me to order the Code Nine defense." Near selected another set of dice, placing them strategically on his creation. "Your consideration for the faculty and the student body, plus your obvious competency and skill, would be a valuable asset and quite useful to--"

"I'm not interested in being used by anybody."

Near met his gaze unwavering. "You're letting yourself be used by Mello, and he's been dead for three years."

Matt's face went tight and shuttered, his eyes hard as glass. "I have a sense of moral obligation to an old friend," Matt bit out. "And fuck you."

Near seemed unfazed by Matt's obvious warning, and verbally charged on unblinking. "I admit I am somewhat morally obtuse when it comes to social matters. However, I find I would be much more comfortable regarding the safety of the student body of the orphanage if you updated the security measures."

Matt snorted. "You're not morally obtuse, you're selfish. There's a difference. And you wouldn't be able to tell me a single thing about a single child in Wammy's House."

Near blinked slowly. Then: "I do not grieve Mello the way you do; I never meant to negate that. I do miss him--or rather, I miss the challenge he represented. He was interesting. But I find you have taken his place as far as interesting challenges go. You abduct me to scatter ashes around the world, indifferent but well aware of the horrific results that could occur if anyone, any nation, any underground network, any politician with more than his worth of men instilled in his pocket, ever found out I was gone. And you thrust me into situations where I am forced to depend on you, to rely on you, to not seek escape and allow my mind to be muddled by confusion. It keeps me quiet, moveable, manipulated. It keeps me malleable to your 'moral obligation'--something I'm sure you're quite aware I would never have been interested in on my own." Near breathed in slowly, his fingers moving carefully over his dice castle. "It's...clever of you. I respect your mind, Matt. I can understand, now, why L considered you for his seat. You are as shrewd as your mind is brilliant."

Matt frowned at the puzzle and dice he had brought the detective, regretting suddenly he had thought to do so at all. Matt sighed. "I'm not flattered, if that's your intention."

"I do not intend to flatter you. You have refused my offer; what will cause you to reconsider?"

Matt leant his head back and stared at the ceiling. "I'll reconsider if you can tell me the first and last name of any child in the current generation at Wammy's."

Near frowned, his hands stilling over his dice. "That's not my area. Roger handles the children."

"It is you area," Matt all but spat at Near, his eyes suddenly blazing. "What the hell did you think you were inheriting? Just a fucking name? Being L is a responsibility, not just a power seat for the most brilliant bidder."

"The orphanage is just a cover."

"The orphanage is a facility that houses human lives, attempts to fake the nurturing of gifted children, orphaned by war, or chance, or politics--so you can sit in a room and think?" Matt stood abruptly, making a sound of disgust. "I gave you my terms and you gave your answer. This conversation is over. I am no one's Watari. And I'll be damned if I ever become part of what turned Mello into a monster."

And just to be sure Near understood that the conversation was, indeed, over, Matt plugged a set of large earphones into his computer and shut off his speakers. He put on the earphones and sat down in front of the desk, bending over his work and ultimately ignoring Near until the sun began to rise, some four hours later.

Near had to concede internally, after the first hour of being completely disregarded, that their conversation had not gone as well as he had hoped.

It was around six in the morning when Matt began destroying his computers and wiping down the hotel room, thorough as ever. However, he kept one laptop whole and placed it and his earphones, his latest creation, and a large bulky device that looked like a very old cellular phone into a black knapsack. Then he gathered their access clothes, the trash, and Near's newly acquired puzzles and dice and disappeared with them down the hall. He returned some forty minutes later and gestured to Near, who rose like a sullen child, deprived of a favorite toy. He collected Mello's urn and met Matt by the door.

Instead of wrapping his arm snugly around Near's shoulders this time, Matt merely placed a hand on the small of the detective's back, guiding gently as they maneuvered together through the hotel. Near felt more exposed this way, but he found it was certainly getting better, these panic attacks that shook him when going outside. Near listened with half an ear as Matt checked them out, smiling cheerily at the receptionist in that annoyingly fake way of his and chatting amiably with the receptionist in Japanese. Near was irritated, abruptly, by how easy it seemed for everyone else to speak to this man. Near wondered if he'd ever get it right.

Near was used to upsetting people. He'd been doing that intentionally or otherwise since before he could remember. Usually, however, it happened when he pointed out the fault lines in another person's train of logic, making it painfully clear how stupid he felt they were. And, quite frankly, it amused him to watch a stupid person become angry--because, in the end, it's never about the insult, or the lack of intelligence, it’s about the bruised ego and the damaged pride. It fascinates him to see how a person's fragile sense of self could inflate and deflate on a moment’s cruel whim.

But this man was not stupid—whether or not he was truly Matt notwithstanding--and he was also holding all of the cards. Upsetting Matt had never been Near's intention.

The car ride was relatively short, a mere hour northwest. By eight, they were driving passed 'Do Not Enter' signs and pulling onto an abandoned strip of cement and iron that used to be a bridge.

Near took his cue and exited the car as Matt did. It was quiet here, and they were alone, so the panic in his chest was a muted thing and Near breathed in deeply to smother it. He watched dispassionately as Matt wiped down the vehicle. After Matt was finished with that, he lit a cigarette and retrieved the large black device that looked like a very old cellular phone. He dialed a number and held it up above his head, his goggled eyes searching the early morning sky.

Within a few minutes, they heard the trumpeting whine of an approaching aircraft. Matt juggled the bulky phone and cigarette with one hand, and used the other to guide Near further out onto the abandoned bridge.

Near could admit to himself he was frightened as the small jet made its descent. Matt had to adjust Near’s position beside him twice as the aircraft landed. At first, Near was way too close. Then Matt laughed as the roaring jet skidded towards them on the bridge and Near attempted to back away. Apparently, Matt had their position down to a science, for Matt never moved, and the jet halted a safe distance away.

Whoever Danny-boy was, he was certainly a man that kept his word, and made sure his men did too. The pilot never left the cockpit.

Matt spent most of the flight in the cockpit with the mysterious Danny-boy’s pilot, leaving Near alone with his thoughts—thoughts that were taking a turn for the dangerous. The more Near contemplated, the faster his mind worked, the more his need to know who this man was, who he was connected to--and to what purpose--outweighed Near’s former desire to just get this thing done and over with.

The intensity with which Matt’s temper flared and diminished perturbed Near, making him believe that this man was unstable. And Near wasn’t sure if it was just grief.

However, Matt’s emotional state was the least of Near’s worries at this point.

Matt had arranged for a private jet to fly into a determined war zone.

Around and around his thoughts went in his mind, calculating, viewing plausible solutions and being discarded, one by one, over and over and over. Near was beginning to feel ill. His stomach churned and a burning chill stole over his chest. He forced himself to breathe slowly to temper it as his fingers twitched in idleness.

The plane began to shake with turbulence and a few minutes after the shaking started, Matt came out to check on him. Near did not look up as Matt took the seat next to him.

Cool fingers pushed Near’s platinum locks from his brow, and Matt replaced them with the back of one hand, frown at how warm Near’s skin was. “You have a temperature. Would you like some water?”

The plane dipped harshly, and then evened out. Near swallowed against a swell of nausea. “I’m fine.”

Matt sighed and removed his hand. “I’m not angry with you.”

“I would not care if you were,” Near replied, staring at the drops of condensation on the window by his seat.

Matt was silent for a time before speaking again. “When we land, the jet is going to need to refuel. I’ve arranged for us to land at an old airstrip. There will be two jeeps and four people. They will refuel the jet and then leave, taking only one jeep with them. I’ll track them until they’re at least ten miles away, and then we will disembark. We will not leave the plane until then, do you understand?”

You are not paying attention.

Near blinked slowly, turning his head to find the other voice in the cabin, gooseflesh breaking out over his heated skin.

When Near looked passed Matt, the hacker’s frown deepened. “Near?”

You are not paying attention.

Near saw him then, a blurred vision of L crouched in a seat on the other side of the cabin, indistinct smudges of black, blue and white. Near began to sway, his heart pounding in his chest. “L?”

L did not look at him, keeping his bottomless black eyes fixed straight ahead. His lips moved. You are not paying attention. Grieving disappointment made his breathy words heavy in the foggy air between them. Near began to feel dizzy.

Matt was on his feet and shaking the detective as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Near! Oh, fucking hell...”

~*~

“Thank you. For doing this.”

Shuichi Aizawa smiled a little and accepted Halle’s outstretched hand. He seemed a little uncomfortable with the western greeting, but he handled it with the gruff, quiet grace that had settled into his bones years ago. “It’s nothing,” Aizawa responded in halting English, dropping his hand to his side when she released him. Together, they boarded the train headed for Kamogawa.

The morgue Matt’s body had originally been reviewed in before his burial had declined to re-inspect the body, and the cemetery had reported a break in the day before and were adamantly refusing Halle in her attempts to have the grave excavated. After twelve hours of going in circles with the Japanese officials, she had called Aizawa, who used his position in the Japanese police force to pull some strings and have the body moved.

Aizawa understood their reluctance to re-open any file that had anything to do with the Kira case, something that had shaken the very foundations of political and cultural Japan—something that everyone was still trying to recover from. Capturing Kira seemed easy in comparison to re-taming the monsters that Kira had unleashed in the very hearts of people. It was no simple thing, going back to how it used to be, when the fundamental boundaries between right and wrong had been left to law and government, and then been torn asunder, twisted and scratched raw, until everyone had to come to terms with their own morality, their own judgments on good and evil, on who got to live or die.

Mostly, people wanted to forget. It was easier not to remember who supported Kira and who didn’t if no one talked about it. Now that law was back as the ruling government, and not the schemes of some self-styled utopian god, it saved lives to look the other way, to not ask questions, to try to return to some semblance of normal. Forgive and forget.

Nobody did. Not really. It had only been three years. But certainly, no one wanted any westerner digging up graves and second guessing facts people just wanted buried and gone.

Aizawa cleared his throat. “Why is...N...chasing ghosts?” He spoke in Japanese and Halle answered in kind.

“He’s not. They’re chasing him.”

Aizawa’s heavy brows drew together. “The boy? Mello’s friend?”

Halle met his gaze squarely. “That’s why I’m here. To be sure.”

Aizawa scratched his mustache, frowning in deep thought. “He was...one of the only ones not killed by the ‘note’.”

Halle blinked. That was true. They were silent for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. After about an hour, Halle asked: “Why Kamogawa?”

“The Kameda Medical Center is more of a spiritual establishment than a political one.” Aizawa smiled his small, quiet smile. “Fewer questions. More honest answers.”

“Do I need to pretend to be a grieving family member?”

The smile reached his dark eyes. “No. They are intelligent people; they will know you are being insincere.”

It was a breathtaking establishment. It represented the very core of how the Japanese honored antiquity and ancestry. Most of the staff was of generations that went back as far as three hundred and fifty years in the same community of doctors and chaplains and grief counselors, morticians and priests. The gorgeously appointed building overlooked the deep turquoise waters of the Pacific Ocean. The morgue had a fantastic view of the water, in fact, and was oddly located on the fourteenth floor in an area Aizawa called the Riean Shitsu, decorated in blue, white and gray-painted flowing architecture with tasteful silver trim.

The corpse clashed terribly.

The body had spent three years decomposing in the earth and was rotted and garish against the pristine slab it was laid upon. An older man entered the room shortly after they did and bowed in greeting. Aizawa bowed lower out of respect and Halle matched it.

“I am Dr. Hiroshi Mikitsu,” the anthropologist introduced himself, handing Aizawa a file which he in turn handed to Halle. Dr. Mikitsu looked from Aizawa to Halle with grave dark eyes as Halle tucked the file under her arm. When she nodded, he continued. “Because of the state of putrefaction, it took me some time to diagnose the cause of death, his age and blood type.” He then explained that the body was a young white male, age twenty-one at the time of death, blood type A, in relatively good health if not for the unfortunate aneurism...

“I’m sorry,” Halle interrupted, wincing as her voice came out higher than she thought it would. “Aneurism?”

“Yes,” Dr. Mikitsu answered, nodding severely. “The victim was shot multiple times after the burst blood vessel. There was no clotting, suggesting the victim had already been dead. I’ve estimated time of death to be some time during the end of December, 2009. The decomposition of the entry and exit wounds suggests that the victim was shot perhaps a week after he died.”

Halle drew in a sharp breath and opened the file. “You said the victim was blood type A.”

“Yes.”

Matt was...is...blood type O. “What about his lungs?”

“His lungs?” Dr. Mikitsu looked confused. “The tissue of his lungs is mostly putrefied.”

“I mean, can you tell if he was a cigarette smoker?”

“I found no evidence suggesting he inhaled cigarette smoke on a regular basis,” the anthropologist replied.

Aizawa and Halle exchanged a long look.

The corpse was a John Doe. The body was not Matt’s.

~*~

Captain Joe Starks was admitted into the RAF Commander’s own office where no one greeted him but a tall, un-uniformed man in a business suit. Because there was no commanding officer present to tell him to do otherwise, Captain Starks stood at attention.

The man got straight to the point. “You’re of the 70th Intelligence Wing, are you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why are you stationed in Menwith and not RAF Lakenheath?”

“I’ll be going on leave shortly, sir. I was debriefing with the commander.”

“And you are in command of the HH-60 Pave Hawk that went missing last week, are you not?”

“I am, sir.”

The man began to circle him. “What happened?”

“The matter is being investigated by the MPC.” Captain Starks paused. “Sir.”

The man paused in front of the USAF captain. “Do you know who I am?”

“No, sir.”

“You can call me Rester. I work for L.”

Captain Starks blinked slowly and then looked at Rester full in the face. “Why is a detective interested in my bird?” The captain’s demeanor had changed, become less rigid and more curious. A captain in the USAF 70th Intelligence Wing would certainly recognize the handle “L”, so his reaction did not perturb Rester. Instead, Rester changed his tactic.

“The chopper that went missing from this base was seen taking something related to a case L was working on,” Rester lied. It did not fool Captain Starks and they both knew it. However, they both also knew that even though Rester may not be enlisted, he still outranked Starks in intelligence, and therefore Rester had the upper hand. “I need to know everything you know.”

Captain Starks’ eyes bore into Rester’s. “Everything I know has been documented. L would have already read the file, I’m sure. I apologize for not being more helpful.”

Rester studied him for many minutes. At long last, he said: “I’m sure he will understand.”

He was hiding something. Intelligence officers were notorious for that. Rester should know, he used to be one.

“If L should have more questions, I’ll be happy to answer them,” Starks responded.

“You’re dismissed.”

Starks did not salute him; it would have been strange if he had. When he reached the door Rester said: “Enjoy your leave.”

Starks stiffened, a muscle worked in his jaw. One animal recognizes another; a man recognizes when he’s being threatened too. At least they should, in their line of work. “I plan on it.”

To be continued...

A/N:

Sabaku_lotus: Thank you for your review! Ha ha, yeah, I suppose it is a lot of info crammed into just a few short chapters. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them! Yeah, no, I have absolutely no idea how wiki came up with Benjamin! It was so profoundly odd, that I had to use it somehow. I think I may even have a better explanation for the name than just alluding. I’m planning to explore it further in the sequel. Oh, wow! I’m so flattered that you would put me up there with Doumi and Hellagoddess’ work! What an honor; thank you! I hope you enjoyed the update!

inuyashalove04: Ha ha, thank you for another review! They’re love in code, I swear. I’m glad you think so. And I agree! I felt, from the very beginning with these two, that it would take time and patience to even get them to start entertaining the idea of being lovers. But I also wanted to create a scenario where it could happen, and at least happen within a few short weeks. I also feel that, of all the character casts this canon offers, Near and Matt could be the most genuinely tender, once they start actually trusting each other. I’ve always felt that Matt had this nurturing side—or at least a saint-like patience, to be Mello’s stalwart friend. And he’s also intelligent enough for Near to respect him. And Doumi and I both agree that Near has a great capacity to feel, he just views it as a separate entity so he doesn’t let it run him and get him into trouble, like Mello did. So if I could just...get it just so, it might just work. *grins* Anyhoo, thank you again for your review and I hope you enjoy the update!

Duomi: Doumi! I adore you. Oh, I am swooning with your reviews (and also a generous amount of Mimosa). Thank you for your generous response(s)! I answered quite a bit of this to privately, so give me a sec...ah! The card. Yeah, the Jack of Hearts is sorta symbolic. I am glad you picked up on it. It’ll show up from time to time, symbolizing when Near is thinking about the Japanese cop murders.

Yeah, I would imagine Matt would be awkward with compliments, for the most part. Even though, in this chapter, I portray him being cheeky with Near when he compliments him again. I’m not a fan of being complimented in RL, it makes me all uncomfortable, and I tend to make jokes about it and try to change the subject. Because Matt wasn’t pressed to do something when Near complimented him here, I tried to show that other side of deflecting compliments. Thank you for your remarks on the imagery. I picture Matt in the dark during that chapter. Shadowy and gaunt, you know? Like he’s just a whisper of what he used to be, because half of him died when Mello did—or something angsty like that. He doesn’t really seem to have features in my mind until later chapters, as we begin to peel layers away from the mystery of who he is and all that jazz.

*nods* Yeah, okay, I’ll change necessitate to require. I’ve stumbled over that line, thank you for the advice. *laughs* I’m glad you caught that too! Immediately after Near catches himself staring, Matt turns around and does something similar—and they’re both oblivious to it! Ha ha. I’m very glad that you’re paying attention to minor details like how Matt’s hesitates or stumbles when the subject at hand strays too close to his supposed death, and the word choices, and the fact that he seems mortal because he bleeds. You are far too clever. And, yeah, I imagine Matt would be incredibly thorough—especially coming from a detective training camp like Wammy’s. He’d be a fool to leave any forensic evidence behind. And Mello chewing his rosary was such a clear, bizarre image in my mind I had to use it. I’m glad you enjoyed that too.

Hmmm. Dangerous-like, happy-phone-voice, no expression-thing...I’m trying to express that Matt is the sort of person that lets very, very few people in to what he truly feels, that his most inner self is protected by layers of false identities...and even though Near doesn’t know it yet, he is of the few people that get to see Matt for who he truly is, while Near is trying to figure him out, Matt is right there plain as day. However, because Near sees him act differently so often, he’s not sure what is true, and it makes it difficult for Near to ascertain what’s what where Matt is concerned. I love that response to the 'what was he like' question! – I sat at my computer desk for half an hour struggling with that question. I’m glad you liked it, because it was all I could come up with.

Well and so, thank again four you lovely responses and I hope you enjoyed the update!