Compy: I just finished posting another fic, and was still in writing mode. So I typed this up.

Near had many toys. He had robots and finger puppets and racing ducks and puzzles and dice; he was constantly surrounded by symbols of childhood, something that he never really had because ever since he could remember it was Wammy's House and tests and L, M, N, L, M, N.

But there was one toy he didn't have.

A Jack in the Box.

Jack in the Boxes reminded Near of Mello.

Yes, Mello was like a Jack in the Box. You had to work to bring him out, you had to challenge him by turning the handle, round and round and round. If you did that, he would shoot out at you, bright and loud and in your face, grinning and never staying still. And then Near would push him firmly down, back into the small, dark box, and there Jack would wait, tightly coiled and ready for the next time, because there always was a next time. It was beyond Jack (beyond Mello) to think that there wasn't.

Until a spoiled little boy threw him down the stairs, and broke him.

So Near didn't have a Jack in the Box among the robots and finger puppets and racing ducks and puzzles and dice. He didn't have one because the only Jack that mattered was broken.

Compy: Hope you liked it. And yes, the spoiled little boy is Raito.