Scattering Ashes

Title: Scattering Ashes
Chapter Title: Soldier
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: Prepare for many. Especially concerning Matt. And some for Mello.
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 readers! I’ve planned a few gifts for you in this chapter! You’ve all been so, so patient. However, my present comes with a price, and yet another surprise. I hope you enjoy it! Full beta credit goes to the lovely Doumi! Thanks again, for staying up late to read over this chapter and give insightful comments. Seriously, sometimes I don’t know what I would do without you. And thank you, to all my readers, so much for sticking with this story!

Yours,
Gloria

P.S. Further notes are at the bottom.

P.P.S. Mello makes only one, very brief cameo in this chapter. I will give you cookies if you can spot him.



Scattering Ashes

Chapter Nine

Soldier

“After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and Palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience...”

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

July 1st, 2013

The language of guilt is an interesting one. It has three sisters; the first sister is merely the acknowledgement of wrong-doing. Shame and regret often accompany this awareness. The second sister is the confession. And the third is taking responsibility. While Near had absolutely no intention in humoring the second and third sister, the first sister had him in a stranglehold.

Before, Near’s compliance was drawn from his confusion about his predicament and his desire to know who it was that had abducted him from Wammy’s. Now...Now it was the first sister of guilt that made him amiable and committed to see this thing done. It troubled him greatly that Matt had been injured during their escapade through Israel, and that Matt had recklessly torn through Abu Ghraib to rescue him. He did not like that he was troubled by it, but had given up his apathy with a frustrated sigh as he had watched Matt recuperate on the Wasp. There was no question now, this man was indeed Matt.

And Near remembered now with obnoxious regularity that it had been Matt who had stepped between him and Mello’s wrath. For whatever secret reason, Matt had been there during their childhood, casually preventing Mello from acting on his murderous rage. And now, so many years later, it seemed Matt had decided to take up the mantle again, acting as a guard between Near and Mello’s undead scheming.

Near cursed his stupidity now. He had deduced immediately that General Whitman was Danny-boy-- it wasn't hard, as the lieutenant sent to retrieve him from the hospital wing a mere twenty-four hours after his arrival on the Wasp had addressed Near as "L". He understood now why the hallucination of the prior L had been chastising him for not paying attention, a ghost in his subconscious that Near allowed for purposes he still had not quite ascertained. Abandoned military airstrips, a loaned jet with its own pilot, Matt’s guarded and dangerous demeanor when speaking to and about his “friends”...they were military. Not all, of course. Akhish had not been a soldier--at least not one belonging to the U.S. No, Near surmised that Matt’s network was expansive and that if it was thoroughly known by any one party except for the hacker who controlled it, it would prove quite destructive indeed.

Matt, himself, was Near’s biggest clue. Near knew Matt’s abilities. And when Near had come to fully believe that Matt was indeed who he said he was, the pieces had fallen quite abruptly into place. Matt’s skills, if known about, would obviously be sought after. And while Matt insisted that he did not sell his services loosely to the highest bidder, he did, quite shamelessly, allot certain services to individuals the hacker deemed could be most profitable to him in the future. I give a little, I take a little, Matt had told him. It’s perfectly fair.

Near should have known that. He should have figured it out. L would have known. L would not have let his feelings cloud his judgment. However, in this sense, Near was beginning to feel weaker than his predecessor. He had wanted so badly for it to be really Matt...And by the flip side, he sorely wished that it wasn’t. Because Near did not want to suspect Matt for any crime, least of all a multi-homicide of Japanese police officers. But it was Matt. It was. It is. Matt is alive.

And this Matt had grown up.

He was wiser, faster, more physical and aggressive, as well as the most brilliant hacker in the world; the most dangerous national security threat of this age, and--by Danny-boy’s reasoning--the most powerful weapon of this age too. He was street smart and savvy, hiding the wealth of his knowledge and the power of his network behind goggles, messy hair, and an easy smile. It was absurd, Near thought now, how much he had underestimated the man who had abducted him from Wammy’s and convinced him to scatter Mello’s ashes. I wouldn’t need to abduct you to take your money Near, Matt had said. Near smiled at that conversation now, realizing how ridiculous it must have been for Matt when he had sat on that dirty mattress and treated the hacker like a common criminal.

No, he was no common criminal. Indeed, he may yet prove to be a criminal. But common? No. Never. This was another thing that bothered Near relentlessly. Would he have the heart to arrest Matt, should he prove to be the culprit of a crime Near was investigating? Would he even have the ability to? Would Near now suspect Matt for every complicated crime he stumbled upon because he knew the hacker’s abilities?

And Near was suddenly struck with the thought that it had taken an immense amount of courage for him to come to the detective, to reveal that he was alive. Perhaps that was why he had lived out the past three years allowing everyone to think he was dead and gone. Maybe Matt didn’t have the heart to be hunted by Near, didn’t want either of them to be put in that situation. But then what was his purpose? Why did he construct a network so massive and complicated? What was his goal?

Despite the long hours in General Whitman’s company before Matt had recuperated, neither he nor the general could extricate much information from the other. Initially, the general had greeted Near in his office as L and Near had answered that he knew he was Danny-boy. After that, they spoke random, ambiguous questions at one another every few hours, like a game of chess, trying to get a feel for how much they were willing to reveal. For Near’s part, he was willing to reveal absolutely nothing aside from the fact that he knew the general was DB. He would not even confirm that he was L. General Whitman proved immediately to be the sort of man to only give what was offered. And as Near wouldn’t budge, neither had he. So, until Matt had woken, a week later, Near found himself curled in a chair in the general’s office sitting quietly and left alone with his thoughts. They both agreed that while the hacker was unconscious, it would be best to keep Near away from the eyes and ears of the crew. The fewer people who saw him, the better. When the hacker did finally come to, Near found himself more than a little relieved.

Matt continued to insist, during their time aboard the Wasp, that Near’s injuries outweighed his minor...impalement. Indeed, Near still suffered from an incredible amount of soreness from the dozens of bruises that speckled his body, where his captors had beaten him. His shoulder continued to ache with a fierceness that rivaled any discomfort Near had ever suffered in his short life, but his hypothermia had been treated long before Matt had even awoke from the hospital wing and Near had suffered no broken bones to speak of. So when Matt had attempted to mother him, Near had snapped at him waspishly to leave be until the hacker had relented. Despite Near’s aversion to Matt’s half-hearted pestering, their remaining time aboard the Wasp had been...rather pleasant--even if Near’s troubled thoughts made him disgruntled and grouchy. For his part, Matt had spent a good deal of his time quietly liquidating the machinery he’d brought on board, and spending long hours in secret meetings with the general; from which he would emerge in a sour, dark mood, muttering profanities under his breath. Near had deduced, by the time they took to port in Northern Virginia, that Matt quite hated General Whitman, even though he continued to refer to him as his friend, “Danny-boy”. Near understood that Matt’s use of the term ‘friend’ was more of a code than anything literal. Near wondered if he considered anyone a literal friend, or if they were all merely contacts to be used later. Near wondered if Matt was really just as lonely as he had been.

Even now, as Near stood observing the hacker speak to Crew Chief Denvers on the foremost deck of the Wasp, Matt seemed only concerned with expanding his network.

“Thank you, again, Chief Denvers,” Matt was saying to the elder man. “In the future, I would be happy to consider you a friend.”

Denvers raised one salt-and-pepper brow. “Well, if you’d go to bat for all your friends like you did with that one--“ Denvers lifted his chin in Near’s direction. “--Then I would be more than happy to be on that list.”

Matt smiled benignly and patted the Chief on his shoulder. The general, who had been speaking to another ranking official on the other side of the deck, approached the hacker with sure strides. Near watched Matt’s entire demeanor stiffen, and his face morphed from benevolent to a contemptuous, dark glower. General Whitman dismissed the Crew Chief, who saluted and left, and leaned in to whisper something to Matt. The hacker’s mouth thinned and he closed his eyes briefly before retorting something back to him. General Whitman laughed and turned to approach Near. He proffered his hand, but then dropped it when he realized Near had no intention of shaking it.

“Hm.” General Whitman straightened and tugged on the bottom hem of his uniform, decorated brightly over his right breast with numerous bars and stripes. His smile never faltered. Near decided he didn’t much like this man either. “Well, it was a pleasure having you aboard, sir.”

“I do not rank above you,” Near stated plainly, raising one hand to twirl his hair around a finger and carrying Mello’s urn with the other. General Whitman watched the movement with intelligent hazel eyes.

“Well, that’s a matter for some debate, as far as I’m concerned,” the general replied pleasantly.

“I do not react to flattery.” Near stared into the general’s face, seeing Matt cover his mouth to hide a smile out of the corner of his eye.

The smile tightened a bit on General Whitman’s face. “Indeed. Either way, rest assured that should you need anything further--“

“I no longer require your services, General.”

The smile was definitely forced now. “Well. Happy traveling, then.” With that, General Whitman glanced once at Matt--who wouldn’t meet his eyes for fear of laughing outright--and then walked past them both, his stance a good deal more rigid than before.

“That was brilliant,” Matt said, coming forward and nudging Near lightly with one shoulder.

“Thank you,” Near said simply. He released the lock of hair twined around his index finger and lightly touched Matt’s hair with his fingertip. The hacker had trimmed his hair and his face was smooth and clean-shaven. Near liked that he could see his eyes. He looked more like he used to, back when they were children. “Better.”

Matt’s head ducked slightly as he tried to hide his shy grin. “Thanks,” he said, grasping the large goggles dangling from about his neck and situating them over his nose. Then he reached out and drew Near’s military cap lower over his face. “Let’s go.”

~*~

They had driven well into Maryland before Matt pulled the rental that had been supplied to them into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and turned off the ignition. Across the street was a car dealership. Matt instructed for Near to wait in the car while he purchased a new vehicle. They had decided that the car the general had given them would most likely be bugged and had driven thus far in complete silence. Within the hour, they were eating greasy hamburgers and continuing up the 5 in a brand new Mercedes.

“You hate the general.” They were well into Pennsylvania before Near decided to break their companionable silence.

Matt glanced askance at him, exhaling a lungful of smoke out the window. “Yeah. I sure do.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s evil, Near. He’s a war-monger and smart enough to do whatever he wants.”

“Like Kira?”

Matt nodded, taking another drag off his cigarette. Near noticed his left hand was shaking. “Just without a Death Note. And God save us if he ever got his hands on one.”

“Then why do you associate with him?”

Matt frowned, his right hand tightening on the wheel. “I don’t make a regular thing of it, Near. Danny-boy is reserved for emergencies only. Your well-being turned into an emergency situation--or had that somehow slipped past you?”

Near felt the guilt burn in his chest again, and he looked away. When he didn’t seem about to say anything else, Matt turned on the radio. They were on the Massachusetts border before Near spoke again.

“Where are we going?”

Matt coughed and lit another cigarette. “Boston.”

“Those things will most assuredly kill you.”

Matt sent a wry glance Near’s direction. “Not before you do.”

Near pursed his lips and crossed his arms indignantly. “Why Boston?” he muttered, looking for the entire world like a sullen child. Matt grinned a little and then returned his eyes to the road.

“I need to visit a friend.”

“Another friend.”

“Mmhhmm.”

“And then we go to Panama?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

“They are perfectly relevant.”

Matt sighed, exhaling smoke as he did so. “Well...we could take a boat. Probably a lot safer than an airport, seeing as how you freaked out the last time.”

“A boat.” Near brought his knee up and rested his chin on it, silently appreciating that Matt was now including him on their travel plans. “Private.”

Matt glanced at him side-long. “How about a cruise? You ever been on a cruise before?”

Near looked back at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. “No.”

“They’re spectacular,” Matt said with another grin, a flash of white teeth. “All you do is eat and sleep.”

“Sounds relaxing.” Near shifted in his seat, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder.

“Very.”

Near nodded and closed his eyes. “Sounds wonderful.”

Beside him, Matt’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Near?”

“Hm?”

“Is there...is there anything I need to know about Abu Ghraib?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Near concentrated on his breathing, keeping it slow and even. He heard words shouted in Lebanese, the rank of his freezing cell invaded his nostrils, and the ghost of pain caused shivers to run the length of his spine, ending in an acute burn around his right shoulder blade. Near swallowed audibly and curled even tighter in on himself, turning to face the window. “No.”

Matt read the detective’s body language, heartbreakingly aware of the signs of trauma, and decided not to pry.

Near woke with a start, feeling the car jostle as it bumped over the gravel driveway. He blinked rapidly, wondering when he had managed to fall asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he barely had time to straighten and take in the charming two story, egg shell blue house on an expansive three acre lot before Matt parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Stay here,” he ordered in a low voice and left the car.

Near bolted upright at Matt’s tone. He recognized it. He’d heard it before, in Berlin, in Japan, in Garden Tomb when they were being attacked by Hezbollah. Low and dangerous--Matt was angry.

There was a man approaching the car with a welcoming smile--and a not-so-welcoming crow bar dangling from his right hand.

“Matty,” the man greeted. Near thought he looked familiar. He was older, perhaps closing in on forty, but younger than the general. Mustache, brown hair and eyes, athletic build, walked like a soldier...

As Matt closed in on him, he spread his hands as if to embrace the man. “Hi Joe,” he said pleasantly. “How are you?”

Joe slowed, gazing at Matt’s face suspiciously. They were familiar enough to read each other’s expressions. Suddenly, faster than Near was able to follow, Matt had sent Joe reeling backwards, the crow bar now in his possession, and followed him down. Near struggled with his seat belt, trying to unbuckle it as Matt brought the crow bar up to Joe’s face, straddling the man and looking like he was bred to kill.

“Who did you tell?!” Matt shouted at Joe, their noses a mere inch apart.

Joe’s brows disappeared on his forehead, and his eyes darted towards Near as he emerged from the car. When Joe brought his eyes back to Matt’s face, they were equally as furious. “Why did you bring him here, Matty?!”

“Who did you tell? ” Matt all but screamed, shaking Joe roughly.

“Matt! Enough!”

They both paused, glancing over at Near again as he walked with sure strides up to the two of them tumbled on the ground.

“The Hezbollah did not think I was L. They were not looking for an albino.”

Matt released Joe immediately, who scrambled back and jumped to his feet, shooting daggers with his eyes at Matt as he did so. Matt, however, had eyes only for Near, and he was staring at the detective with an unreadable expression. “You should have told me that.”

Near waved his hand dismissively, eyeing the house where he saw a figure peek through an upstairs window and then disappear. “I was unaware that I had been seen by another party.” Near turned again and regarded “Joe”, who stood some distance away from Matt and looked rather comically confused. Abruptly, Matt turned to Joe and Joe turned to Near. Then Joe said: “How’s your head? There was a nasty bump there the last time I saw you.”

“Berlin,” Near said, realizing this man must have aided Matt’s escape from England with his unconscious self in tow. Joe nodded, and then winced when a shriek tore through the air.

“Matty! ”

A girl, not quite a teenager, not quite a child, burst from the house and ran at breakneck speed towards Matt, who caught her laughing. “Alexa, princess, how are you?”

Joe was still staring at Near while the detective stared in fascinated horror at Matt twirling the girl-child around. Another side of Matt the detective had not seen in a long, long time.

Another female emerged from the house, wiping her hands on a towel. She had a strong jaw, a wealth of black hair, streaked becomingly with gray, and intelligent blue eyes. The wife, Near presumed.

“Oh, hello, Matty,” the woman called from the porch. She opened the door wider with her foot, and beckoned at them with a tilt of her head. “Joe said you were in Berlin. We didn’t expect you back for some time.”

“Hi Sarah,” Matt said, lifting the girl in arms and settling the bundle of blonde hair and ridiculous pink ribbons on his hip. “We were in town. Sorry for not calling first.”

“Well, come in,” she ordered in a mock-impatient voice. “I’m letting all the cool air out. Hustle!”

The girl-child, Alexa, chatted animatedly to Matt as they made there way into the house. As they passed Sarah, Matt regarded her with large, dewy eyes. In answer, Sarah swatted him with her towel. “Of course I’ll feed you! Get in the damn house!”

~*~

Captain Joe Starks and his family were authentically pleasant, which was a surprise to Near, who did not often have the company of such unassuming people. Despite her incessant chatter, even the girl-child, Alexa, was unabashedly sweet. At some point, Matt had whispered in her ear that “Mr. N”--as they had dubbed Near--enjoyed playing with toys, and she had brought out an entire bin of blocks into the living room. His hands twitching at the sight of them, Near had curled up next to the girl-child and helped her assemble a large castle of blocks while Matt conversed with her parents in the kitchen. They spoke in tones too low to hear, but Near didn’t mind. He considered this small kindness a great reprieve from what had proved to be an arduous and stressful journey thus far--even if his girl-child companion talked as if she had never heard of the concept of silence.

“You look funny,” she was saying now. “I like your hair though. It’s so white!”

Near sighed, biting back the urge to tell her how ridiculous it was for a nine-year old to wear costume jewelry. He fixed a column of blocks she had assembled, making them aligned and straighter. “Technically,” he said, “It is an optical illusion that you can see my hair at all.” He glanced at her with solemn eyes, noticing that she had become very quiet when Near had decided to speak for the first time in some four hours. “Like polar bears, my hair has no pigment. However, because of its texture, it appears white.”

Her big brown eyes somehow became even larger. “You have hair like polar bears?” she breathed.

Near hesitated. “Only in that it has no pigment--“

“I bet it’s just as soft as a polar bear’s,” she overrode him, curling her knees under her and consequently causing a large ruffle of her dress to topple over the column Near had just repaired. “Can I touch it?”

Near watched the blocks fall and scatter over the rug, sighing resignedly. “If you must.”

Surprisingly gentle, Alexa ran her fingers through a few tendrils, cooing as she did so. “It is soft! Like my bunny!” Alexa sat back on her heels and Near bent over to recover the fallen blocks. “My bunny’s name is Sam. Would you like to meet him?”

“No,” he answered, and instantly regretted it at the crestfallen expression Alexa currently wore. “Perhaps later,” Near amended.

The girl-child brightened. “Sam likes Matty. Matty’s hair is soft too. He’s my bestest friend.” She smiled and said a bit wistfully: “We’re going to get married. Matty said so, when I’m old enough. He said we’ll go on the Disney cruise for our honeymoon.”

Rich laughter sounded behind them and Alexa straightened, beaming at the figure that stood behind them. Near twisted to see Matt gazing at him with hot eyes, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Isn’t that right, Matty?” Alexa pressed.

Matt’s cornflower blue eyes flickered over to her and he smiled warmly. “Of course, princess. Unless Prince Charming happens to get to you first.”

Alexa giggled absurdly and Near sent Matt a pained look.

Matt laughed again. “Your mother says to wash up for dinner.”

It startled Near how quickly the girl-child disappeared, jumping to her feet and dashing down the hall. “Sarah also says to have this mess cleaned up before coming to dinner,” Matt said quietly, kneeling beside Near and pulling the bin closer.

“But,” Near started to protest, feeling abruptly depressed at the notion of having to put the blocks away. Matt only grinned, turning his warm gaze back to Near’s face. “Trust me; you don’t want to get into it with Sarah. She says to clean up the mess, and so then we must.”

Near felt the absurd urge to pout, but resisted it, compliantly helping Matt with the blocks. “How long were you standing there?”

Matt’s back was turned when he answered, bending low to scoop up an armful of blocks. “Long enough to remember that you’re human.”

“Hardly the compliment I think you intended it to be,” Near retorted, retrieving the lid to the bin and handing it to Matt.

Matt looked at him again, an expression on his face that made Near pause. He liked the warm sensation that spread through his body when Matt looked at him that way. “You’re a lot better with kids than you give yourself credit for, Near.”

Near reached up and curled a white tendril of hair around his finger. “Do you think it’s wise to lead her on like that? About marrying her?”

Matt closed the bin and lifted it, that hot look creeping into his eyes again. “Are you jealous, Near?”

“Supper’s ready!” Sarah called from the kitchen, interrupting whatever response Near might have had. The detective was grateful for it too, because he did not think there was anything he could have said that would not have been infantile or foolish. Or downright damning.

Dinner with the Starks was eventful and amusing. While Sarah and Joe chatted and shot strange looks in Near’s direction, Alexa batted her eyes at Matt--who ate the spaghetti and meatballs like he was starving. Near spent his time pushing his food around the plate and trying not to smile. Eventually, a very irritated Sarah Starks barked at Near to eat his supper or no more blocks--at which point, Matt and Joe burst out laughing, and Alexa giggled until she fell out of her chair. Oddly, Near felt like the joke was more on Sarah than him, but he ate his food anyway.

Afterwards, Sarah took Alexa by the hand and disappeared into the back of the house, leaving Matt, Joe and Near at the dining room table. Matt stood and began clearing the table, shaking his head at Near when the detective rose to help. When he sat back down, Joe leaned forward.

“I’d appreciate it,” Joe said, “If you made sure any of your trouble doesn’t follow you here.”

“Joe,” Matt said from the kitchen, turning at the sink where he was currently rinsing dishes.

“No, he needs to hear this.” Joe placed his hands flat on the table, his demeanor relaxed despite the shrewd look that had taken over his gentle brown eyes. “I let Matt around my family because I trust him. He seems to trust you; otherwise he would not have brought you here. But I am not so easily won over. His last guest--“

“Joe,” Matt warned, returning to the dining room.

Joe pursed his lips and sat back.

“Last guest..?” Near prodded, but to no avail. Matt had the man gridlocked with a very strange, pained look. That cloak of grief Near had seen Matt wear in Japan seemed to cover him again, to fill up the space between him and Joe. Near understood, then. It had been Mello. Matt had brought Mello here...to this safe house where Near assumed Matt felt normal.

“Joe,” Near said, causing both their heads to snap up. Both men looked at him. Near addressed only Captain Starks, careful to avoid Matt’s gaze. “I have a very different temperament, Captain, I assure you. Whatever means I have at my disposal, they are yours also--should your requirement of them remain within legal bounds.”

“What does that mean?” Joe asked sideways at Matt.

“He’s saying that as long as you do not break the law, you have his protection,” Matt translated, a look of great affection lighting up his cornflower blue eyes.

Joe eyed the detective suspiciously. “Is he always so nice?”

To that, Matt smiled. “No.”

Later, Matt showed Near his--their--room. Near realized, upon seeing it, that Matt had stayed here often. It was simple, and barely decorated, but warm and masculine in its few appointments. Of course, there was a large television mounted on the far wall, connected to various different gaming systems. Next to it was a hacker’s dream computer system. Multiple flat screens mounted in sequence, multiple modems neatly stacked to one side, four keyboards...and, of course, an ashtray.

On the other side, under the window, was a bed. A single bed. Near sent Matt a questioning look. Matt shrugged and walked over to the closet, grabbing a handful of clothes. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, tossing the clothes to Near and pointing behind him. “There’s the bathroom.”

Near turned and obediently went where directed, feeling Matt’s eyes burning holes into him as he shut the door behind him.

~*~

Near emerged from the bathroom an hour later, freshly showered and wearing Matt’s clothes. Matt fought the urge to gape at him. The detective looked downright sexy, his skin gleaming from the recent shower, the moisture causing Matt’s AC/DC shirt to cling nicely against his torso.

It was frustrating and appealing in the same breath that Near had no idea how good he looked. Matt was almost grateful for their misadventure in Israel, because it had served to preoccupy thoughts that had become increasingly troubled at his close proximity with the detective. It had been difficult for him, in Berlin, and later in Japan, to keep his distance, to stay carefully guarded.

Matt wasn’t sure if it was because he had been so damnably lonely before deciding to get Near. He hadn’t touched anyone since Mello, and that had been over three years ago. And frankly, no one was quite interesting enough to capture his attention. However, Near was plenty interesting, even if a bit insufferable, and...Well, Near had that ability to make Matt remember everything. To remember what it was like when Matt was kind and gentle, when he actually cared about other people, despite how ironic that seemed. Near made him remember Wammy’s. And while he loathed that place because of what it had done to Mello, he missed the person he used to be. He was so tired; tired of being hard and mean, tired of being cautious and scheming. Tired of being a soldier. Watari warned him against this, when he chose in. Watari had warned him that it would feel like losing his soul. But he chose in anyway. At that time, so many, many years ago, he had cared that much. He’d forgotten why he cared, over the years, and had settled in to hate Near for what he had become. However, when he was with Near, it was so easy to remember why he had cared enough to chose a lifetime of hard decisions, of half-truths and constant danger. Of cat and mouse and the race for control.

And Near didn’t want to control him. Matt knew Near. Matt knew that all he wanted was to understand him. And that, Matt thought, was what finally broke him; what finally let him feel for him. Even if the detective was aggravatingly oblivious to it--to everything.

But then, that was sort of part of his charm, Matt supposed. For all his intelligence, Near was adorably naive.

Matt cleared his throat and looked away, busying his restless hands with lighting a cigarette.

“I’m surprised Sarah allows you to smoke in her home,” Near stated, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Matt laughed a little, pocketing his lighter and taking a deep, steadying drag. “I’m her favorite.” Matt glanced side-long at the detective, watching a drop of water fall from a strand of wet, white hair and roll down Near’s throat. “Even so, I’m only allowed to in this room.” Matt dragged his eyes away and kicked at the bin by his feet. “Speaking of Sarah, she said you could, you know...”

“That’s very kind of her,” Near said, finally approaching Matt. He knelt down by Matt’s feet and removed the lid. Matt bit his lip briefly, reigning in every ounce of self-control, and retreated a step before seating himself on the floor as well. Matt watched, a small smile curving his mouth, as the detective rummaged through the bin for blocks, weighing each in his hand before selecting two and placing them carefully on the floor.

“Have the Starks adopted you?” Near inquired abruptly. He remained bent over his project, nimble, careful fingers selecting each block and assembling them meticulously.

Matt liked the way the wet strands of Near’s hair fell in his face, and the way the detective tossed his head from time to time to remove the locks from his eyes. “I suppose you could say that,” Matt answered after a time, crushing out his cigarette into a nearby ashtray.

“What would you say?” Near asked, glancing up at Matt with dark eyes.

Matt peered at him through the shadows, just barely able to make out the light blue iris lining the large pupils of Near’s eyes. “I would say they are very good friends.”

Near tucked an errant lock behind his ear, but the slippery tendril escaped immediately. Near watched Matt’s eyes follow the movement. “Are they friends like Akhish...or friends like me?”

The comparison startled Matt, and he sat back blinking. “Friends like you, definitely.”

Near’s face became immobile, unreadable, his eyes even darker. “Do you leave the Starks for years at a time?”

There was an incredible weight to that question, and they both knew it. Despite Near’s inflectionless tone, Matt heard the pain and loneliness in the words. The regret. The bitterness. A grieving that Matt hadn’t known Near had experienced--didn’t know he cared enough to experience it. Without an explanation, Matt had walked away from Wammy’s and Near never saw him again...until he had forced himself to watch Matt die on a security camera feed. They had not been friends, not really. So, in all fairness, Matt owed Near nothing. But they could have been friends. If Matt had tried. If Near had tried. If Mello had been able to stand the notion of it.

If L hadn’t made it a goddamn competition.

“Near.” Matt reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. He met Near’s unreadable stare and tried not to wince at the accusation there, the vulnerability too. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? ” Near’s face seemed rigid now, as if fighting the urge to look away. “Why did you do it?”

Why? Another loaded question. Why did Matt leave? Why did he walk away without saying goodbye? Why did he tell no one where he was going? Mello had asked him the very same things, wanted the very same answers.

Matt’s voice broke. “Please. Please don’t ask me questions I’m not ready to answer.” Because it would change everything. It would mean giving everything up to you.

Near did look away then, resigning himself to the fact that Matt still had secrets that he wouldn’t share. Secrets that he could share, but refused. Near tried to pull his hand away but Matt tightened his fingers. Funny how situations turn in on themselves, how déjà vu can punch you in the gut and walk away laughing.

“Please, Near.” Matt’s eyes were haunted, pained. He felt desperate, feeling Near slip away from him again. It’s so difficult to read him sometimes. “Please.” Matt didn’t know if he was welcome, or if it would mean the end of this fragile thing they had started, but he took the plunge anyway. Matt used his grip on Near’s hand to pull him forward, and he kissed him.

Matt was slow and gentle, feeling Near tense up and wondering if he would cry. Matt hadn’t cried in a long time, but he felt the familiar ache in his chest when Near didn’t respond, the detective’s mouth immobile and cold beneath his lips. Matt pulled away and averted his eyes. He released Near’s hand. He muttered an apology, not quite sure later the exact phrasing of the words.

Matt made to stand up when Near’s hand caught his sleeve and pulled him back. Near’s eyes were wider than usual when Matt looked at him, and Matt could not possibly ascertain the detective’s rapid thoughts. But Near’s hand moved from his sleeve, to the fabric just over Matt’s heart, and then up to rest on the side of Matt’s throat. Matt was convinced Near could feel the hammer of his heart beat, the jump in his pulse. Then there was a shift, a slight pressure in Near’s fingertips on Matt’s throat, and the hacker lowered his head again.

This time Near responded, pressing back, mimicking Matt’s movements with his lips. Matt did not need to prod to gain access to Near’s mouth, he opened it on instinct and met the hacker’s tongue experimentally. Near pressed closer, and closer, until Matt groaned, dug his fingers into the wet wealth of Near’s hair and tugged it back, allowing him to kiss the detective deeper, faster, more urgently.

And then it shattered. It was like someone threw a crystal vase at the wall by their heads. Near jerked away, breathing an astonished: “You were lovers! ”

Matt felt stunned, and his response came out like a laugh that cracked and ultimately failed. “What?”

“You were lovers,” Near repeated, his revelation causing him to tremble. “You and Mello. Is that why you did it? Is that why you faked your death? Were you trying to leave him?”

“What the fuck, Near!” Exasperated, Matt got his feet under him and stood. “That’s the kind of shit you keep to yourself, you know that? You don’t just blurt out--when--“

“Is it true?” Near pressed.

“No. Yes! Fuck you, Near, no!” Matt growled and shoved his hands roughly through his hair, frustrated within an inch of his sanity. “Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, we were lovers. No, I did not fake my death so I could leave him. That’s fucking ridiculous and, frankly, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

Near raised his knee and hugged it close to his chest. Matt was not fooled by the childish display. He knew that the detective was only readying himself for an onslaught. “Did you murder those police officers in Japan?” Near asked coldly.

“What? No! I’ve never killed anyone in Japan. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Did K do it?” Near charged on ruthlessly. “Did you ask her to?”

Matt felt something cold sink to the pit of his belly. “Why are you asking me about K?” Matt demanded in a dangerous tone. He was not supposed to know about K.

“Did K do it?” Near repeated.

“Near, why are you asking me about K?” Matt balled his hands into fists, trying to steady himself against the rage that boiled just beneath the surface. “You’re not supposed to know about K. How do you know, Near?”

Near paused, his eyes flickering as he battled some internal struggle. Finally, he said: “I spoke with Halle. She had had the body reexamined. I know that K helped you fake your death, Matt.”

Red was beginning to creep into the edges of his vision. Matt did not really want to know the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it anyway. “When did you speak to Halle?”

Another pause, but to his credit, Near’s gaze never wavered. The detective was many things, but a coward was not one of them. “At Yisheth’s home, in Jerusalem.”

The rage that slammed against him turned abruptly into another emotion. Matt had never felt this one before, and couldn’t quite name it. He sank to his knees as he felt that ache in his chest again, the sting behind his eyes. He grasped Near by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Near,” he breathed, his voice ragged as he bit back a sob. “Do you understand what you did? That’s how the Hezbollah found you.”

Near’s expression never changed. He did not even blink. Matt searched his eyes anxiously even as his heart sank and the rage returned. Near did not waiver. “You did it on purpose,” Matt murmured, anguish enunciating every word. Matt’s shoulders sagged and he sat back on his heels, releasing Near and feeling dejected and completely lost. “You did it to force my hand. To force me to reveal who Danny-boy was, didn’t you? How could you do that?”

“I had to know.”

Matt tried to breathe against the anger that consumed him, the hurt, the betrayal. “You had to know.” Matt closed his eyes, trying, but failing, to calm himself. “You had to know.”

“I did not think you would come yourself.”

“Do you think that makes it okay?” Matt exploded, slamming his fist onto the floor. “I sent an entire battalion of soldiers and millions of dollars in weaponry into Iraq to save you, Near! Those people could’ve died. You could have died. For what? One of your little mind games? What’s wrong with you? ”

“I had to know.”

“They tortured you, Near!” Matt shouted.

“All knowledge is worth having,” Near said in a dead, hollow voice, as if he was quoting some dusty, old book.

Matt bit back a scream and swept his arm out, knocking his fist into Near’s castle of blocks and consequently scattering the blocks all over the room. “I sold Danny-boy an entire year of my life to get you out!”

“I didn’t know.” A pause. “Are you going to hit me?”

“As much as I’d like to, no.” Matt took in a shaky breath and stood, glaring at the detective for all he was worth.

“Why not?” Near murmured. “Mello would have.”

That’s when Matt lost it. “No, fuck you; you don’t get to talk to me about Mello! How dare you? Yeah, the secret’s out, I like you. Big fucking deal. I like you, but I loved Mello. And you don’t hold a fucking candle to Mello. So don’t talk about him like you knew him. You don’t know anything about Mello. You were always too busy thinking up ways to fuck people over.” With that, Matt left the room, slamming the door behind him.

~*~


Near had no filter. There was this film thoughts needed to process through before the human mind selected which ones to voice, and which ones to keep to itself. Near didn’t have one of those; and he cursed himself for it.

His timing was deplorable, and frankly Near was psychologically ill-equipped to deal with what Matt had just...

Near had no predisposition for sexual orientation. He barely had enough social skills to manage the remaining members of the SPK into doing his bidding. He had no special gift for dealing with other people, so bothering himself with thoughts of who and what kind of person he could be attracted to seemed a moot point at best.

So, of course...

Of course he was going to blurt out the first rational thought that sprung to his mind...and every single one after that.

When Matt slammed the door behind him, Near knew he’d made a mistake. He’d handled it badly. True, he knew that that particular conversation wasn’t going to go very well, but Near didn’t have to bring it up after...after...

Near sprang to his feet and followed Matt out into the hall. However, what greeted him when he stepped from the room was not the furious hacker; it was Sarah wagging a finger at him with a peculiar expression on her face as she peered down the hall. They both jumped a little when the front door slammed. Shortly after, the door opened, Joe’s voice floated up to them, calling Matt’s name, and then closed again behind the captain. Within seconds, sounds of crying emerged from the opposite end of the dark hall. Sarah looked exasperated, and sent Near a dark look.

“I’m coming sweetheart,” she called to Alexa, who had apparently been awoken from the noise.

Near made to step around her, but she grasped him by his sleeve and roughly tugged him in front of her. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said. “You’re coming with me.” She even went so far as to slap him lightly on the back of the head as he led the way to Alexa’s room. He cast a glare over his shoulder at her, but she only frowned and swatted him again. Near decided to suffer it silently.

He stood in the doorway of Alexa’s room, leaning against the frame and twirling his hair furiously as Sarah tucked her daughter back into bed, gave her a glass of water, and sweet-talked her back to sleep. Once Alexa drifted off, Sarah rose and grasped Near by the elbow, walking him downstairs and forcing him to take a seat at the kitchen table. After making sure Near wouldn’t move, Sarah busied herself in the kitchen making tea. Near wasn’t sure how she knew he liked Earl Grey with honey instead of lemon, but wasn’t in the mood to ask. He mumbled a quick thanks and turned his ear back to the ruckus outside.

They could hear Joe and Matt speaking rapidly to each other, and the crunch of gravel beneath their feet suggested they were pacing--or more accurately, Matt was pacing and Joe was following him. Though they made an exceptional amount of noise, it was difficult to discern their words and after ten minutes or so, Near gave up and turned his attention to Sarah.

She was gazing at him patiently, warming her hands with her own mug of tea. When he looked at her, Sarah began to speak. “I have a gift too,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. “Not quite as brilliant to get into where you two were raised, but a gift nonetheless.”

Near did not like her allusion to knowing about Wammy’s, but only raised a brow at her and nodded for her to continue.

“I can remember exact dates, of special occurrences concerning my family, myself, and those I care about,” she said, the twinkle in her dark blue eyes saying much about how she knew that it wouldn’t impress him. Then her eyes shifted, becoming even darker, more solemn. “On September fifth, nineteen ninety-six, my husband returned home from an overseas mission. At the time, he was already a renowned fighter pilot, a prodigy fresh out of aviation school. I remember him being upset. He didn’t want to tell me, because he wasn’t supposed to. You know how those military codes go, secrecy and what not...” Sarah took a sip of tea, her eyes staring off into the memory. “Of course, eventually, he told me that his plane was acting strange over Afghani aerospace, that the coordinates had gotten jumbled and he accidentally managed to get himself into enemy territory. A land-missile was launched against his jet, but he couldn’t maneuver away from it. There was some problem--he said his plane simply would not respond. Then he tells me that the mother board flashed really bright and started to blink and make noises at him. The jet was flying on its own. It was like someone else was flying it for him.”

Sarah glanced at Near briefly. “Anyway, the jet managed to cause the missile to fly straight into some mountain and then flew all the way back to base on its own. Naturally, when Joe explained that it wasn’t him, a full scale investigation was launched. We were harassed for weeks on end by the CIA, the FBI, hounded relentlessly. On April fourteenth, the following year, there was a blackout at Langley. We were told later that a phrase appeared on every screen saying ‘i did it ~m’ in all lower case. The investigation was redirected and we were left alone.”

Near blinked slowly, his mind working quickly. That was around the time he had arrived at Wammy’s. Matt had only been six years old.

Sarah took another sip of her tea and continued. “You can imagine how strained Joe and I were. We decided to move off base and purchase a house in my mother’s name. We were thinking about kids at the time, and didn’t want the government in our business. It was barely after we got this house that we began getting strange emails from a person claiming to be ‘m’, asking us if we were okay, and sorry for scaring us, and promises to keep us safe. Whoever this little ‘m’ was, he certainly felt sorry for his little game--even though Joe maintains that the interference happened after his jet had begun acting up. He insists that ‘m’ saved his life.

“In either case, Joe and ‘m’ became sort of like friends, conversing through emails. Joe believed that ‘m’ was a child because he couldn’t spell for shit, even though I didn’t agree at first.” Sarah smiled to herself. “Until I saw the emails myself. He really was a terrible speller. The child told us he was in a genius breeding camp, and that he was in line to become the smartest man in the world, but that he said it was a silly thing to aspire to, and that he didn’t want it. When a third child showed up, he told us that he began training for something else. He said that he didn’t want to be enemies with his best friend, and that this was a better way to help out. This, I believe, was...ah, yes. January twenty-first, nineteen ninety-eight.”

Near nodded to himself. This was indeed around the time Matt had begun to disappear for private lessons.

Sarah was staring off into the distance again. “In two thousand and four, the emails became less frequent, and then stopped altogether. On New Years Eve, a fifteen year old boy knocks on our door and asks if he could stay for a while. He said he was ‘m’. Found out the next day that I was pregnant with Alexa.” She smiled wistfully at Near. “We let him stay of course, and gave him his own room. We would have adopted him, but he refused. He said it would have been an insult to his real mother. Which stung, of course, but when he told me how she died, I understood.”

Sarah put down her mug and reached for a napkin and a black marker. “It took him forever to trust us enough to give a name. Seeing Alexa for the first time was what really did him in. He was afraid she wouldn’t know him if he didn’t have a name. He called himself ‘Matt’ and Alexa’s first word was ‘Matty’.” Sarah glowed at the memory, twirling the black marker in her fingers. “They were inseparable--until Matt started leaving for months a time. His only explanation was that he had responsibilities and that he needed to train. In the spring of two thousand and eight, he become exceptionally irritable, locking himself in his room for weeks at a time and muttering to himself about how people would never listen to him, and that it would be so much easier to team up. And that Mello was a fool.”

Near thought of the incident with Mello and the Mafia, knowing all too well what Matt had been agitated about.

“It was when he disappeared that summer,” Sarah said, remembering, “and returned in August with a nineteen year old with his face half melted off that I began to suspect that Matty was in the fight against Kira. It just suddenly came together for me. When I mentioned it to Joe, I realized he had already known, and that they had not told me to protect me.” Sarah’s mouth twisted again, something dangerous glittering in her eyes. “Of course, I had it out with the two of them. They haven’t kept me in the dark since.”

Sarah uncapped the marker and began drawing on the napkin, slowly and deliberately. “Matty pleaded with us to let the other boy stay. He said he was his best friend, and that Kira would kill him if he went to the hospital. I can never really say no to Matty.” She stopped speaking suddenly, her fingers stilling over the napkin and her eyes becoming hard as glass. “I wish I hadn’t let that boy in my house. He had a filthy mouth, and constantly suckered Matty into screaming matches. Sometimes, it made Alexa afraid of Matty, because he seems so dangerous when he’s upset.” Sarah shook her head. “Children don’t understand things the way adults do, they see things simply. Anger is anger, danger is danger. She didn’t know none of it was directed at her. It got so bad that I forced both of them to sleep in the shed.” Sarah looked utterly unapologetic as she returned to drawing on the napkin.

“Four days later, he was gone and Matty was broken-hearted,” Sarah continued. “He moped for weeks, crying at night and beating the bag outside until it poured out sand during the day. He wouldn’t eat, barely slept. Finally I pulled him aside and told him to go after him, or that I would kill him before he could do it to himself.” Sarah mouth thinned for a brief moment. “He left the next day. I didn’t see him again until September twenty-seventh, two thousand-eleven.” Sarah looked suddenly on the verge of tears. “He looked like he had been the target at a shooting range.” She swallowed, calming herself and continued to draw. “He said that the worst was over, that everyone was dead. Everyone except the third, and that he had to get back to work. He posed as a military vet so he could get the physical therapy treatment he needed, and before I knew it, he was disappearing on us again, over and over...And then he sits Joe and I down and says that he found something, that he can’t open it, that its personal and he can’t give details. He tells us that he has to go back and get the third child. That he needed Joe to help him. And that afterwards he would be away and didn’t know when he’d be back, or if he would ever come back at all.”

Sarah took a deep shuddering breath and pushed the napkin over to Near. He glanced once at it, seeing it to be a calligraphic “M”.

Sarah took her tea, now cold, and drank it down in one gulp. “I assume you know what an ambigram is,” she said, watching him carefully. “Generally, it’s meant for an entire word, but you get the idea...”

Near took the napkin and turned it around. His heart stopped beating, his breath caught in his throat. ‘W’, it read.

“I hope you understand, now, that Matty is utterly devoted and loyal to you,” Sarah murmured. “Has been, for a very long time. And it is a mother’s duty to make sure he isn’t taken for granted. Do I make myself clear?”

Near raised hollow eyes up to meet hers. He felt bone-weary, ashamed, and very, very tired.

I am no one’s Watari, Matt had said.

No, but you trained to be my W, Near thought. Why?

Why?

To be continued...




A/N: I know that Near’s decision to provoke his abduction by the Hezbollah might hit some of you as...asshole-ish? Effing crazy? Totally nuts and uncalled for? Yes, and no. I felt that based on Near’s behavior with Kira during the series makes this decision in-character, despite the heavy consequences. Allow me to explain:

My initial reasoning for Near’s behavior in the recent chapters was based off of his unusual decision to face off with Kira before having all of his facts straight. He knew there was another Note, he had considered it, but he did not know where it was, or who had it. He did not feel that it was enough of a reason not to have his stand-off with Kira. He did not put enough stock in his own life to make him hesitate. He went for it, and won out only because Mello and Matt were able to reveal that there was another Note through their actions with Takada. Whether or not Mello and Matt did the things they did because they were trying to warn Near is a matter for some debate, but I feel that Mello insinuates this with his comment when he first kidnaps Takada.

After further note-sharing with Doumi, the wonderful and ever-magnanimous beta for this chapter, we agreed on more things that would justify Near’s actions here, for better or for worse. We feel that Near enjoyed baiting Kira, one-upping him with use-less information that Light would be able to do nothing with, just to gauge a reaction, to try and comprehend him. So, in this since, when challenged, Near takes the challenge to a new level.

We’ve seen, in two large instances with Near in the canon, where Near is more than willing to put himself at risk for the sake of the mission, and by extension, does not value his own life above the search for knowledge.

While I agree with Doumi that it is unlikely Near would put himself at risk without some sort of back-up, I can argue two points. One, that Near very much thought he had back up--and that back-up was Matt himself. He understood, to some extent, that Matt would at least try and retrieve him. Though, I do not believe Near ever calculated that they would take him to Abu Ghraib and torture him for information. I believe that Near more likely thought he was going to be taken for ransom, that what little time he had would be in transit before being shoved in front of a camera. Two, Near is not used to the real world. And what he would logically dissemble in a safe room surrounded by bodyguards may not be as clear as what he would be thinking during his mad dash through Israel, especially after being attacked in a war zone and his companion being injured. I like to think that Near sort of panicked. That his drive to know what the hell was going on overrode his desire to stay safe and to think logically.

I think we can all agree that Near understands that he messed up, that when he pushed this time, everything toppled on top of him. It’s nice to be able to write characters making mistakes, no matter how intelligent they are. All you have to do is take them out of what they know. And for both Matt and Near, they are in that place right now.

I hope you enjoyed the smooch scene, and the little surprises that came after. I’m already thinking about what to write for the next chapter, so rl-willing I should have another update posted shortly.

Yours,
Gloria

Doumi: Thanks so much for another incredible review! You rock my socks off, rice, rice, baby. Ha ha, I’m glad you can spot my humor. I laugh at myself when I write some of this stuff, trying to keep it subtle but really wanting someone to catch how humorous these characters can be without dumbing down the fic. And seriously, Matt would totally put a homing device on Near. It’s Matt.

With the first Mello scene, I wanted to draw attention to the fact that this wasn’t what Mello had planned, and that for the first time since haunting Near, he does not like that he has so little control over the real world, without actually making Mello seem real. I’ glad that you caught that little nuance with Mello’s scars in comparison to the wounds Near was receiving. They came to an understanding, then, and I think that was a moment where they felt a lot alike. They both, in their arrogance let a situation spin out of control and were scarred for it.

Yay for impressing Doumi! *does happy dance*

DB is incredibly savvy, and sneak too. Matt’s learned a lot from him about flipping situations into his favor, and then being able to deliver. When Near ignored both Mello and the guerillas interrogating him was a scene that enjoyed immensely myself. It was very fun to write. Lol, and Near’s scene with the hammer being epic is a tremendous compliment, thank you. I wanted Near to have to sprout suddenly and have to take matters in his own hands. It was very compelling to write an especially gory and disturbing scene for Near, as when he shot the attacker to save Matt didn’t seem to have the effect I was looking for. This did. I wanted it to stand out, to show that Near was beginning to understand that if he was going to play in the real world, he had to be willing to get his hands dirty.

I know...poor Denvers, huh? Oh, and Near being in soldier clothes was so tempting...and it was fun to write it like Near was thoroughly unhappy about the situation. He probably felt utterly ridiculous in camo.

Hmmm, and Matt reasons for helping Mello before his death, and then faking his own, will become clearer and clearer as we continue with the story. Thanks again for your review! I adore them!

inuyashalove04: Hey there! Thanks for your review! And no worries, any review at all is cherished; I’m not picky when, exactly, they come. Writing Near in Abu Ghraib was exceptionally difficult for me. I had more scenes planned for it, but found that I wanted to just get that part over and done with. It was emotionally taxing, and it was a great opportunity to show a more compassionate side of Mello’s ghost, whether he’s real or just a phantom in Near’s subconscious notwithstanding. I do usually spend a few hours per chapter just researching facts and things, though this chapter here proved to be rather easy. Another one of those, just roll with it, organic kind of chapters. I hope you enjoyed the change in pace! And thanks again for sticking with this story!

lyshitski: Aw, well thanks for reviewing! I really appreciate them. And thank you for considering this epic. *laughs nervously* I was trying for something...that could flow with the general idea of the original canon, just without death gods.

Actually, since you mentioned it, the very hardest thing for me to think up was the war in Israel. Why? How? What purpose? And try to describe it without bogging the flow of the story down. It was really difficult, but once I had it figured out, it was sort of easy just to reference back to it. Thank you for the compliments! They mean a lot!

Ha ha, well, dammit, Matt is cool. He’s from downtown Coolsville, population of one. Nothing against couch gurus, but I did want to expand on Matt a little. The cool thing about Matt is that we know so little about him, he’s like a big empty book with all blank pages. You can literally do almost anything with him. It’s a beautiful thing.

*blinks* Oh wow. Thank you. Well, if you really want to read a fantastic Near, check out Doumi’s version of him in “Thanks for the Memories”. She’ll be posting a new chapter shortly. I’ve been allowed to sneak a peek at it, and I don’t hold a candle to her Near. But thank you, so much, for your compliments, and your wonderful review! And thanks for reading!