A/N: Hola! So I've made quite a few changes to this chapter. The biggest and most noticable change is that Mello is no longer in the story at this point. Near is now 5 with a much more traumatic past. Matt is 8, just to clarify since I never really say. L is a little older than he was originally and while I have done a little to fix the age gap, it still isn't quite as much as in the series. If there are any noticable errors in my editing, please let me know. Thanks!

Thank you to Esoteric Memories, summer-loven-2, Rinna-kun, and twinkley-toes for reviewing! I've been giving it some thought, and I think I can work in a MelloxNear paring.

There was blood in his eyes, obstructing his vision as the knife plunged toward his small body. In fear he screamed for his parents, but they could no longer help him. His father and mother lay a few feet away, both dead. Finally the knife buried itself in his shoulder and with an inhuman shriek of pain the boy fell to his knees. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was his mother's dead eyes staring out at him from her bloodied face.

L sat bolt-upright, a thin, cold sweat covering his entire body. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps and his hands shook as he wiped the moisture from his pale brow. Looking around the dark room he tried to shake off the dream. But it had been so vivid. L shook his dark-haired head as though in disappointment. It troubled him that he should still have these nightmares. His parents were dead; he knew that, he accepted that, and he was too old for these foolish nightmares.

His footfalls were soft on the carpeted floor as he made his way to the window. The stars were dim and a thin halo encircled the moon; it would rain tomorrow. Pausing, he turned back to look at the other small boys, both asleep. Near's shock of white hair was all that showed of him over the sheets as he clung to one of the three pillow with which he shared the bed. All of them were the same size as he was. Near was already five, but he could have passed for two. Matt lay sprawled across his bed, goggles and gloves discarded to the nightstand. One hand dangled over the edge of the bed, clutching a video game controller. His red hair was dishevelled and he had fallen asleep in his clothes again. He was even sloppy when he was asleep.

L smiled as he watched the two sleeping peacefully. Padding back to his bed, he picked up a book of short stories in his native German. L's father had been German and his mother Japanese. He had grown up in Germany learning to read and speak both languages. Now, however, he lived in England at the Wammy's House for Gifted Orphans. Even though he had spoken no English when he had arrived six years earlier, he now spoke more fluently than some of his instructors. He plopped down onto the bed, deciding on a different book. This one was a crime novel in Russian. Although he was only ten years old, L could already read and speak eight languages fluently or nearly fluently.

Skimming the pages with incredible ease, he mused to himself as he read. Four years ago, when his parents had been murdered and he had been brought here, his past and his identity had been erased. When he had come here, frightened and alone, they had called him lucky. Lucky because the blade that had pierced his shoulder had missed the vital organs and arteries by a mere fraction of a centimetre. Lucky because he was still relatively sane, they had ventured so far as stable, even after seeing his parents brutally murdered and then being viciously attacked himself. Lucky. He was the only one who didn't find it fitting.

What he did find fitting was that he was being groomed to become a detective. He had been selected by the head of the house himself. Watari had hand-picked him for this training. It had started when he first arrived. They had begun with puzzles and games, giving him riddles to solve. When he was only five he could already solve puzzles even his testers struggled with. Recently they had begun giving him puzzles involving crimes. They told him they were fake, but he knew otherwise.

L looked over his book at Near and Matt. Watching them dream peacefully made him slightly more okay with his situation. It was one of the things that kept him from falling apart, his companionship with these two. Many years ago he had stopped believing in God, but for a brief moment it seemed as though perhaps fate had put him in this place.

These boys were much like him. They were the best and brightest at the home and they were being trained in the same way he was. As a result L felt that he could relate to them to some extent. Of course, all of them had lost their families, but the manner in which their loved ones died was widely varied.

Matt was a mystery. He could barely have been three years old when he was brought in and had been found wandering the streets in Italy. No one knew who he really was or where he had come from, or even how he had survived on his own. When he arrived he hadn't matched any missing persons reports from anywhere. In addition he refused to speak of anything that had happened to him. Matt's past was permanently hidden. L studied the scarred little hand holding the black plastic controller. The scars were another part of the mystery. When he had come in his hands and wrists already bore the distinct marks of old injuries in addition to the hideous open wounds that had covered them, looking for all the world as though he had been repeatedly subjected to severe burnings. The wounds had since healed, but none of the marks had ever faded. As a result Matt always wore thin black gloves during the day. The strange boy was also extremely light-sensitive and wore tinted goggles to protect his eyes. Looking at the small gloves and dark goggles on the table beside the bed L knew it would be pointless to ask questions; he had tried several times before.

Near had arrived barely four months earlier, but had spent two in the hospital before that. His history was less mysterious, but no more pleasant. The small boy came from a modest Scottish family. He had been the victim of frequent beatings from the time he was old enough to walk and speak. And of course that hadn't been very old at all. His mother had died in childbirth, leaving Near, his sister, and their older brother to be raised by their father. His siblings were kind to him, he said. They protected him whenever and however they could. His father, however, was unspeakably cruel to his children. He blamed Near for his wife's death, and he made sure the boy knew exactly how he felt about it. The man was often drunk and always angry. He was also a heavy smoker, which would prove fatal for him and two of the children. He had passed out one night, a lit cigarette in his hand. By the time the children woke, the house was already engulfed in flame. Near's brother had tossed him from a second floor window and gone back for their sister. Neither made it out. The tiny boy survived, but his right leg was broken in several places, not all of them from the fall. In the end, his leg never healed correctly and the trauma that had been his life left him with some very odd habits. As a result of his injury Near preferred to stay inside with Matt, whose light sensitivity kept him indoors, rather than venturing outside with the other children. He had developed a certain fondness for Matt, who he claimed resembled his brother. Even so, the two hardly interacted and Near preferred to spend his time on jigsaw puzzles while Matt played video games.

One particularly interesting for L was that Near was said to be exceptionally intelligent, even among Wammy's House children. In fact, he was said to be second only to L himself. Not that Matt was too far behind.

It was funny, the bond the three had. When Matt had first arrived he would speak only to the second newest resident, L. Of course, L had not spoken Italian and Matt knew neither Japanese nor German, but somehow they still managed to communicate. It was not surprising, therefore, that aside from English Italian had been L's first new language and Matt, in exchange, had picked up German. The red head had yet to master Japanese. When Near had arrived, trembling, frail, and mute, he had clung to Matt like a lost puppy. For the week he had refused to let anyone else near him. A week later, with Matt's urging, Roger and L were able to get close to him, but he flinched at any sort of physical contact from anyone besides Matt. By two months Matt and L were still the only ones who had heard him speak. As far as Roger and the others knew he remained completely mute even now.

L sighed as he set his book down. Sleep was gnawing at the edges of his mind. He was almost afraid to fall asleep again, but he knew he could not let the nightmares defeat him. He watched the two boys sleeping peacefully for a few moments more before lying down and instantly falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.