-:- My Autistic Brother -:-

Author: deunan4eva

Summary: At his young age, Nate River was mis-diagnosed. Bored, Mihael Keehl wants nothing to do with the boy who screams and bangs his head on the wall. But slowly, through a poetry journal Roger forces him to keep, Mello begins to see that Near may need more help then he lets on…

BeforeNote:

Well. I never thought I'd say this, but this, my friends, is the end. I am proud to present to you the very final chapter of My Autistic Brother – it's been a while coming now, but as I look back at it, I started this story about 17 months ago now. 42 chapters, 5 journal months (and a good several years – OOPS! Final chapter spoiler ;D), 512 reviews and 113 separate (and faithful) reviewers later, My Autistic Brother is finally drawn to a close – and I've got to hand it to you guys, you've all made this journey worthwhile. Haha – this also means several of my other fics will be wanting more attention than ever, and so with this project that started out as a short story to fill in as a time-waster during maths class and grew into the story you've all been reading and telling me to get off my lazy butt to type more, I thank you all. And yes, at the VERY end of this chapter, I'm calling you all out to say thank you. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT. So here we go…

- Mercy

PS – The list of names used on the gravestones at the end of this chapter were all chosen at random (apart from Ada, Beyond and Celicia, Matt and Mello) from a dictionary of first names. This is because I'm no good at naming characters that are supposed to have normal names. A dreaded downfall of mine.

PPS – Also, if anyone's still interested in the Questions and Answers of My Autistic Brother, please don't think you can't still ask! Either PM me or you can always leave a review! X,D *hint, hint!*

My Autistic Brother: Eulogy

31st of January, 2010

He closed the book. It was dusty and his fingers left trails through the grime. Turning it back onto its cover, he looked at the words written on the cover, three simple words written in whiteout on the black surface. My Autistic Brother.

Why had Mello done it? Near wondered. He had spent a whole year of his life for Near, and how had Near repaid him? He had always been better than Mello. Mello was reckless, emotional, and the sad thing was, Mello had known it. Near felt a tear threaten to prick his eye as he realized that without Mello, his autism would never have been truly discovered, he wouldn't have gotten the right help, and most likely, without Mello, Near would be dead.

Near wanted to cry. So hard, but he bit into his lip and hung on – it felt better, but only a little. Mello had gone to the ends of the earth for him, and all Near had done in return was turn his back on him when he needed him the most. The Kira case was over – thousands dead but the world was finally rid of the holy terror that held it hostage. Light Yagami, Near believed, had killed Mello. Through Takada, as Kira, it didn't matter. Yagami had been responsible for Mello's death. But Near told himself, he wasn't allowed to cry. What would L say?

Realization hit – his family was dead. Mello, L, and Watari...he was alone in the world.

'Near? Are you almost ready?'

...But not quite alone, he reminded himself as Roger stepped into the doorway, straightening his bow tie. Roger was dressed in black, but Near was still in his usual white shirt and cargos. He hadn't bothered to change – besides, Mello had said in the journal "Near wouldn't seem right if he wasn't wearing his usual white clothes. It just wasn't him", and Near hung on to those words. They hurt – Mello had once considered him a brother, and then a rival, and Near had never had a chance to truly repay him for that year when he'd been six, sick as hell, and the eight-year-old with a mop of blonde hair had sacrificed himself for him.

'Almost,' Near said softly, feeling a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. He wasn't going to dress in black, in mourning, for Mello's funeral. Mello wouldn't have wanted that.

'The car's coming in five minutes – what have you been doing all this time?' Roger asked, stepping into the old dorm. The yells of excited kids running passed the doorway echoed around the mahogany halls, but Near hardly heard them. For a while, he wondered how to answer Roger. Would Roger be mad about the fact he'd found Mello's old journal? Probably not. Near let the smile spread a little.

'He never handed this in, did he?' more of a rhetorical question, he held up the notebook. Roger frowned at it before coming closer, and then, he took it from Near to study it.

'Good God,' Roger breathed, and Near nodded to himself.

'I didn't think he did.'

Roger handed the book back to him, and Near hugged it to his chest, his last piece of Mello.

'Mello did everything he could to be number one,' Roger said softly. 'And when he saw how easily you did everything right, so perfectly…I think it was then he saw how imperfect you really were – he saw what no one else could.'

'And I repaid him by ignoring him and telling him to keep quiet during the Kira investigation,' Near said. 'I never once said thank you.'

'You never had to,' Roger's hand was on Near's back – Near was kneeling on the floor, in front of the box where he'd found the journal. The boxes of Mello's old stuff that one of the orphanage staff had found in the attic. 'He wouldn't want you to say it.'

Near nodded, but he knew in his heart that Mello would have gloated over the fact Near would be the one apologizing, but he also would have been humble about it. He wouldn't have rubbed it in beyond the first gloat.

Roger looked around, noticing Near's uncomfortable air. The room was old and musty – it hadn't been used in years since the extensions had been made to the Wammy House. Above them, in the ceiling, a manhole hung open and wind whistled quietly through it, a warm breeze drifting down around them, occasionally bringing bits of insulation fluff with it, twisting them and making them dance to the carpet, where they lay like abandoned toys. Near watched one of the pieces of insulation coming down, watched how it fell with such grace, some stray strands of fluff catching the light that streamed in from the open window and making the strands shine gold for a second, and then it continued spiralling down. He caught it in his hand, and then, he held his open palm up and blew gently. The fluff flew from his palm, a tickle across his skin before it danced it's way on the breeze and out the window. Roger sighed after a moment more of silence.

'Well, let's get a move on,' he said, and Near nodded again. He got slowly to his feet, and followed Roger out to the waiting car.

…

The funeral wasn't very crowded – some of the staff from the Wammy House had come, and Near saw a couple of young adults milling around. One pair stood out in particular – a young woman with her arm around a younger man, the young man, who couldn't have been much older than nineteen, was crying silently into the young woman's shoulder. She was pretty, Near saw, but he didn't have a chance to try to figure out where he recognized her from. He was swept away by Roger and Wendy, who had also come to join them.

The service consisted of a reverend, the casket bearers and the mourners. Looking around, Near saw so many people crying, and momentarily, he wanted to join them, but then reminded himself of a promise he'd made himself on the drive to the cemetery. That he wouldn't cry for Mello – Mello wouldn't want that.

Near's eye caught on a young woman – she had to be Halle's age, at least – about…thirty or so? She had long, dark red hair swept away from her face, flying free in the wind behind her. She held his gaze for a moment, and he knew her from somewhere, he was sure – but he couldn't place her. Sometime long ago, when he'd been much younger, she'd been a friend, he thought. Had she? She wore a dark leather jacket and black jeans, and an unlit cigarette was tucked between her teeth. An uncanny resemblance to Matt – Near realized, but no name came to match the face. She looked away, blended into the crowd, and then, she was gone from view. Near tried to shake himself from his reverie, tried to focus on what was being said.

'…May God recall our son and brother Mello back to his side, for all times,' the reverend said softly, a bible open in his hand, and Near wanted to correct him – Mello wasn't anywhere in Heaven, or even Hell. Users of the Death Note couldn't go to Heaven or Hell – only nothingness awaited them. But Near bit his lip and kept quiet. The Death Note's existence was to be kept secret – he had arranged to have it burnt with Mello during the cremation. Near touched the notebook of Mello's under his arm, just as the reverend asked if anyone would like to give a eulogy.

Roger stepped up, spoke for a while, but Near was hardly listening. Wendy, too – and the young woman he thought he'd recognized, too. As it turned out, it was Lily – and the young man with her was Andy. Near wanted to pinch himself for not recognizing them sooner. Lily was crying and unable to finish her words, and returned to her seat. The reverend asked if anyone else wanted to speak, and without really thinking, Near stood. Roger looked at him in surprise, but Near made his way up to the stand by the coffin that held his friends body. Looking around, he was suddenly struck that he had no clue what to say.

'Um…' he started, knowing what an idiot he must look like – a short albino kid with dark eyes, slumped in posture, barely out of his teens and nervously looking out to the people around the podium. Why was he so nervous? Bold moves and risks were no trouble during the Kira case, but now? All eyes were on him, waiting for him to make his move. Like always.

'Mello…Mello was a brother to me,' he managed, not quite sure how to go about all this wordy-sharing of feelings. 'But we were rivals. He hated me with a passion, but there was a time that he was the only one who seemed to care if I lived or died. And I only really found that out today.'

Everything was quiet, everyone was watching him, and Near tried to imagine he was in a completely white room, surrounded by nothing, no one, and just talking to himself. Out loud, though, so he could he his voice clearly in the nothingness. Briefly, he imagined he was with Mello again.

'There was one thing that Mello did for me, and that was never let me down. He was there to chase the nightmares away, he was there to stand up to all the bullies and he was there when I felt like I wanted to curl up and die. All he ever did – was be there for me. Even when we were rivals, fighting for the right to the L name, he kept me going, kept me wanting to better him, like he was daring me to. And I never, ever backed down from his challenges.

'But now he's gone, I realize that it was me that pushed him that far. I never meant to – I wanted him to back down, but neither of us were strong enough to admit it. And now Kira is gone too, but his twisted vision of peace cost me my only friend, the friend who held me through the nights of tears, head and heartaches, and wishes that it was anyone but me in my situation.'

Looking around, Near saw Lily wiping her eyes, obviously remembering the days Percy had beaten up the little kids, especially Andy. Andy was trying not to cry, his arms wrapped around Lily. Near couldn't think of how to finish, but he did his best. His thoughts were swimming and he was starting to get dizzy – it always happened when he stood for too long. Biting his lip and trying to stay balanced, he took a deep breath. His palms were sweating and the sun seemed too bright piercing his mind and confusing him, but he knew that wouldn't have stopped Mello. Near could imagine Mello tapping the back of his hand and saying to him "it'll be okay". Near swallowed hard.

'I don't have much left to say,' he said quietly. 'But goodbye, Mello. I never got to say it when you left the Wammy House, and I never got to say it before you died – but I'm saying it now.'

He stood over the coffin, saw Mello's scarred face, but instead of a frown, his face was peaceful, calm, like Near had never seen it. Oddly enough, the fire that Light had used to manipulate Takada's suicide had somehow left Mello's body in the drivers area of the truck mostly unscathed. For that, Near was glad. It was strange, but nonetheless, Near made himself lean over, and he lay the journal down on Mello's body. Picking up one smooth, pale hand, Near lay Mello's hand on top of the journal. Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Anthony Rester. With the eulogy over, people started to line up to say their final goodbyes.

'I didn't ask you to come,' he spoke softly, but Rester shook his head.

'That doesn't matter. You still need guarding – and I brought this,' Rester leant around Near and showed him the item in his hand – Sidoh's DeathNote.

'You brought it to the funeral? Why?' Near asked, and Rester shrugged.

'Take it – we wouldn't have a chance to put it in with the body before the cremation. This is your last chance to get rid of it,' he said softly, and Near sighed inwardly, but took the notebook and leant over Mello's body again.

'All right,' he whispered, tucking the DeathNote into the journal, so other mourners wouldn't see it when they came to pay their respect. 'I'll miss you, Mello. Forever.'

…

The sun winked in and out of sight as thick, heavy clouds promised a later storm. Near followed the precession of mourners carrying the now closed coffin to the long black car. He had offered to help, but Rester has said with Near's inadequate height and lack of strength, he wouldn't be of much help. So he couldn't do anything but follow the precession as they came to the car, loaded the coffin, and closed the doors. It was the last time Near would ever see Mello, the journal, or the DeathNote that had brought so much hell to the world.

Rester had left Near to watch the precession – and was heading back towards the car parked across the green on the side of the small tarmac lane that wound its way through the cemetery. Standing by the car were two other men – Aizawa and Matsuda, Near recognized as he saw the outlines of head and facial hair on them. Matsuda had an umbrella, which he offered to cover Rester when Rester got closer.

Rain began to lightly fall, and Near looked up, his shirt slowly soaking through, the ground around gathering the droplets of water and his hair slowly flattening to his head, and he wondered, briefly, if Mello really was nowhere, that neither God nor Satan had accepted him in an embrace of either love or terror, that he really had just…disappeared. Either way, as Near looked up to the clouds, he prayed. Prayed that wherever he was, Mello wasn't in pain.

That he wasn't fighting or hurting or angry. In that moment and for the first time in his life, Near prayed.

…

Winchester; three days later…

The Wammy House cemetery stood, as it always had, a couple of miles from the orphanage. Grave plots had been marked out, and a young woman with long, dark red hair stood by two graves. The body in the first grave had been buried without ordeal – ridden with bullet holes, Matt had died with a witty comeback at hand and a cigarette between his teeth. The second grave had gotten more attention – she'd even seen a few heavy-set African-American men come to pay their respects. Mafia, no doubt. The second grave held a small box instead of a body, a box of ashes. Something had been burned with Matt's best friend – she'd seen Near tuck two notebooks under Mello's hand at the funeral.

There was a slight breeze that ruffled her hair, the unlit cigarette still tucked between her teeth. She thought of Near, at the funeral, remembered the faint recognition on his face. She didn't expect him to remember her – it was well over ten years ago, and she honestly couldn't ask even a world genius like Near to remember her face from when he'd been six.

She looked at each of the tombstones, engraved with the names and dates of birth and death of her brother and his closest friend.

Mail "Matt" Jeevas
Beloved gift from God,
You were taken too soon.
2/1/1990 -:- 1/26/2010

Mihael "Mello" Keehl
Strong like the Lord,
A brother with wings of an angel.
12/13/1989 -:- 1/26/2010

She turned away from the graves, started walking back towards the top of the cemetery, where the gate stood, wrought iron and rusted after so many years, where the first of the graves stood. Most of them were occupied, and she found herself reading the names on each one as she passed.

Jackson, Iona, Hazel, Gideon, Ferdinand, Ellwyn, Dante, Celicia, Beyond and Ada...Matt had once told her about the famous "first" children of the Wammy House – some headstones had a few others lined up behind them, all the names behind a certain letter also began with that letter. "Ada" for example, had another headstone standing behind it, with the name "Anton" engraved upon it. "Beyond" had no graves behind it, but the grave marked "Celicia" had at least ten. She smiled – she remembered Ada and Beyond – Mello hadn't been too fond of them. They'd be only a couple of years younger than her, now, had they still been alive.

She never did know what happened to Celicia after that…incident at the boarding house…now, though; she was able to estimate a guess.

The heavy air that hung over the place seemed to bear down on her. It had rained for three days straight after the funeral, and the dark, coiling clouds threatened more chilling, soak-to-the-bone downpour. Pulling the cigarette lighter out of her pocket, Johanna lit up the cigarette and left the graveyard; the heavy, rusty iron gate closing after her.

The End.

AfterNote:

And that, mon ami, is that. Which leaves me, surprisingly, with nothing much to say at all. Sad, isn't it? Well – here we go, don't pack up and leave just yet, I've still got these thankyous to say. Ready? Good, because I'm not…

Kindacravingshortcake, COBRASTEVE, Fluff Ducklings, Quirkyotaku, Cherry's blood, kishimojin, igor, Evangeline Noel, Ayanami Kaori, Mizuki Mai, Nitrea, scrambled-eggs-at-midnight, XsereniteX, andysanime, Burning Moon of the Sky, Little Fan Girl, Melanie Swirls, MostlyxShortxStories, coloredsparks, leil, Lawliechan, TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Luma Shine, Eternally1Yours, MistressMurder93, deadpoolhulk, WarriorKitteh, Pink Star Art, Hunny Bunny Chan, SecretYaoiLoverInc, tealeyedmoon69, joy2theworlddannyphantom, Kayla-kun, AwkwardTurtle007, blackwingsgreeneyes, psyche-of-frogs, Fairylust, Misery Lives, theTIGEER, AristheUnique, Maara Annika, Square-haired genius, Volixia669, tHe-DeLuSiOnAl-RuStBuCkEt, SecretlyTwisted, NekoVampireNinja, SasukeTheUnicorn, Madigan Keen, deathcabforkira, Sen, writer-in-progress-94, Sense Marauder, maili-chan, Ebbie54, Kunai-sama, teamLNMM, natlikesNEAR, Tanglepelt, Negiocca, DLC-JeN, it'smenotyou, Tanya Rayne, DLC GIRL, wammy-boii-lover, mellolover, MAH-BLACKBERREH, colbub, 9shadowcat9, YumYumGirl, SimplyEcho, riddle101, LilyRosetheDreamer, altessara, XxSaphirezxX, nekojen9, LukeBenz, charmthedragonslayer, Pandaki KuroShiro (formerly CrimsonStarlight), Faye, Cherrypie timeXD, icywarm, Honeydew, 3 please write more, domino KEI, Bag o' Moon Frogs, lolzy33, NearInsanity96, Hannah, pandas'n'kisses, Hum-Burgler, Anon, Meefgal, andromeda0909, Kira Kiwaseki, Near0218, Raspberrih, SafetyPinStitches, Jay breeze158, Tetra Muffins, Evil of Mint, etowa-ru, SarySoda, and Uprising Devil Detective-L.

Of course, that's not all of you. Special thankyous go out to…

ITILY – you were there all the way and you never stopped encouraging me. This story wouldn't have been finished without you, your art, and your stories.

Zuza Chan – for kicking my butt back into writing gear when I've been a lazy so-and-so, you've read, reviewed, and been a pleasure to have met here. Here's to forever!

it'spronounced'lowlight' – you always had something shiny to dangle in front of my nose to get me writing again, and I'm still chasing whatever it was we first realized with so shiny.

oursolemnhour49 – from beginning to end, it's been great to meet you on this journey. May the future hold (and litter) your path with prizes and success.

MothMask – one of my most faithful readers, I've always looked forward to hearing what you have to say about my writing progress – thanks so much, hon. *hugs*

DarkAngelJudas - thank you for such a wonderful ride. your reviews, your point of views, your awesome input and one of the most awesome people i know here - never ever change.

Beckett Simpleton - you are, seriously and truly, one of a kind, m'dear. thank you ever so much for that beautiful poem you wrote in dedication to My Autistic Brother.

Doppelganger's Doll - you always have such a unique way of saying the most beautiful things. Thank you.

ilovezim123 - i only really met you towards the end, but thank you so, so, SO much for the things you've told me, and that idea will definitely go far!

And last, but most certainly not least,

hamaell – my wondrous friend, my darling Swedish angel – and my faithful muse. The ideas I bounced off you must have bruised something awful – we've got a long way to go but things will get better eventually. But nevertheless, I'm still waiting to win the lotto. You know what I mean, right? ;D

THANK YOU ONCE MORE TO EVERYONE.

YOU. ALL. ROCK.

– Mercy