Title: Scattering Ashes
Chapter Title: Wanted
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: With the aid of a reviewer, I was able to return to the first episode we see Near and Mello in and understand it from a new perspective. You'll understand this once you've read it.

Alternate Warnings: Rating MA is for violence, swearing and adult sexual situations, 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: I apologize, sincerely, for the very long wait. Life can be unexpectedly, um, terrible. But everything is fine now and I'm feeling more and more inspired lately. That being said, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews!

Ichimaru-taicho did a marvelous fanart that inspired all the references to the color blue in this here chapter. Link as follows: ichimaru-taichou[dot]deviantart[dot]com/art/Scattering-Ashes-115691430 Cu-kid also did another fanart--and this one with an inspirational belt-buckle--and you can find her new art here: cu-kid[DOT]deviantart{DOT}com/art/Three-Two-116837455 Go and tell them how awesome they are! Mello my Dear, hopefully I answer your question here! Very clever of you to find that inconsistency! Near kept his reservations on the truth of the matter because he did not think it worth seeming like he was derailing Matt's obviously skewed memory of Mello. Thank you so much for your review!

Special thanks to Doumi for her beta of this chapter, comments made laugh so hard I cried! You're the best!

Enjoy, loves. This one was somewhat difficult to write, but once I got the gist of it down, I became very excited about it!

Yours,

Gloria

Scattering Ashes

Chapter Sixteen

Wanted

"Who then devised the torment? Love.

Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove

The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove.

We only live, only suspire

Consumed by either fire or fire."

~From The Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot

July 25th, 2013

He had never before been visited by the intense urge to lock his arms around another person and never let go, the visceral, powerful instinct to protect, to ward away demons, to sacrifice everything and anything for another person's happiness. Logically, Near understood why. He knew to feel that strongly about anyone would be ultimately futile. And the only thing worse than being compelled to throw your mind, body and soul out into the wild, into the unknown, in a desperate attempt to ward another from harm--the only thing worse is the sinking, horrible knowledge that it isn't enough. Matt's pain shuddered through Near in great, terrible waves. Even now, as Matt's sobs quieted and he drifted further into unconsciousness, Near could feel the agony rippling through his chest, slashing at his heart, because he knew, he knew, nothing he could ever do or say, not even his bargain with the dead, could take away the pain Matt was suffering.

Near had always known, since the moment Matt walked back into his life, that there was this well of grief just about to break the surface--and that when it did break, Near had known he would be too bewildered and out of his league to know what to do. And truly, he didn't.

The hours slipped by, as Matt's breathing deepened and evened out. Near continued to hold him as tightly as he could, his limbs screaming their protest, the tile hard and cold against his kneecaps. The cheese and butter strewn about the kitchen was beginning to smell, left where Matt had thrown it all during his breakdown. Matt's clothes were still damp from the river, but mostly only along the edges of his seams, and the thicker areas of his heavy pants. Matt's body shivered from time to time, the cool air of the safe house chilly because of the wet. Near wanted to run his fingers through Matt's hair, to stir up the scent carried with them of the Azusa Mountains, of sage and dust and buckwheat, but didn't find the motion worth unlocking his grip on Matt's sleeping form.

Near had lost track of time when Matt stirred. Instinctually, Near thought it might be sometime in the early morning. Matt brought his knees up to his chest, still asleep, unconsciously attempting to curl in on himself, a ball of limbs pressing into the heat of Near's body. It took a great internal struggle, but Near finally decided to get Matt to bed, the threat of catching cold a real thing now as Matt continued to shiver and Near was beginning to lose his own body heat.

With soft, coaxing, mindless words, Near prompted Matt to stand up. The hacker, his W, his trained bodyguard, seemed a delicate creature now. Matt's hands came up to lock around Near's neck and his head fell against Near's shoulder as he allowed himself to be lifted, his legs uncoiling and wobbling as they straightened. Once both pairs of feet were firmly pressed against the floor, Near walked Matt to the closest of the two bedrooms, murmuring in his ear and unsurprised when Matt's only response was to turn his face into the curve of Near's throat and shoulder. When they reached the bed, Matt seemed reluctant to sit, even as Near bent low at the waist to help him do it. Eventually, Matt lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his eyes distant and bloodshot, his eyelids drooping, still half-asleep as he was.

Matt was compliant and quiet as Near hooked his fingers into the upper-seam of his arm-sleeve and pulled it down and over his hand. He contemplated it for a brief moment, idly turning the black fabric over in his hands. It was not, in all honesty, how Near had thought he would be undressing Matt tonight. Near tossed the arm-sleeve to the side and went back to remove the other one. The shirt came next, Matt's arms coming up without Near having to ask, the hacker's face turned away as Near slipped the tank top over his head and discarded it to the side where a pile was forming.

Near placed a palm in the center of Matt's naked chest and pressed, as his other hand pulled back the duvet. Obedient, Matt laid back, his hand coming up to cover the one touching him. There was a moment, a quick, silent one, fleeting, as things happen, when their eyes met. Matt came back to the present, the here and now, a quiet glance of gratitude in his cornflower blue eyes, acknowledging Near in the only way he could. His eyes slid to the side, the moment gone, and he disappeared back into whatever empty place in his mind he needed to escape to. His hand lowered, his fingers curled, and his face turned to press his cheek into the nearest pillow.

Near breathed in deeply, steadying himself, feeling like a floundering idiot, and exhaled slowly. He crossed the room and opened the chest of drawers, retrieving a white tee shirt and a pair of soft sweatpants. He placed both items at the foot of the bed and bent over Matt to work the buckle of his jeans. The belt slid through the loops without much fuss, for which Near was grateful because he did not think he could bear the embarrassment of needing to ask Matt for help. Matt lifted his hips when coaxed and Near pulled down the damp, heavy jeans, adding them to the heap of clothing on the floor. Re-dressing Matt was easier than Near had feared, even though he felt a strange sense of loss and detachment as he covered Matt's limbs with fabric. He kept his touches infrequent and appropriate, careful not to linger around the dented scars of his arms and legs, or the jagged pink one still healing along Matt's ribcage. Near covered Matt with the blanket when he was finished, tucking it under his chin and watching as Matt's eyes closed, asleep again within seconds. Near brushed his knuckles once against the curve of Matt's exposed cheek, and then retreated, closing the door behind him.

Near cleaned up the kitchen, throwing away the spoiled food and washing the dishes tossed to the floor. Then he went and sat next to his Jack of Hearts castle. His fingers floated near and around the small wooden figurines with painted faces, icons of the characters playing parts in his own personal mystery. The mystery began to unravel in his mind as he touched the figure 'K', set close to the five BlueShip representatives. With a sigh, Near reached for a half-carved piece of wood and a knife, and set to work to finish what he started.

Near's knees were drawn up to his chest, wood chips and curling tendrils falling about him in a circle as the shape became more apparent. He left room above the eyes for goggles, a bulk of wood about the torso for that clever vest, and took special care to try and recreate the exact texture and fall of hair. Soon, it was apparent who the figure stood for, even without paint. He placed it between K and Danny-boy and buried his face in his hands, the urge to cry more powerful than it ever had been his entire life. Near did not weep, however, for he seemed to have forgotten how.

~*~

Three days came and went.

Near watched Matt sink further into depression, alternating between sitting in a corner of the safe house and drinking himself into a stupor, and retreating to the back room to play video games. Near watched him warily, but did not intervene. It was he who had taken Mello away from him, first with his deal with Mello's ghost, and then by stupidly throwing Mello's urn into a riverbank warded by a cougar protecting her litter--even though that had been, thoroughly, accidental. He had no right to attempt to make Matt happy, and wouldn't know how even if he tried.

Three days of utter silence. Three days of directionless musing. Three days of frustration that turned ultimately into anger.

Near was furious with Mello. That damned ghost hadn't appeared at all since their deal. Mello told him he would speak to him, tell him how to handle this. Mello had predicted his absence would destroy Matt, and instructed Near to listen to his coaching regarding the matter. However, none, it seemed, was forthcoming.

Near found himself in the bathroom with the door shut. He stood in the center of the room, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. His hands clutched something, the ridges biting into the flesh of his hand. Near was in white today, having reverted back to his usual style of dress, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the red, yellow and white beaded arm braces, his bare toes curling on the cold tile of the floor.

Near did not remember coming into the bathroom, or why he was there. Near blinked slowly, squinting against the sense of vertigo that swirled in his brain, the tingle that crept up the base of his spine. His eyes darted as the tingle became a sensation like ice being pelted at him. He saw it before it vanished, the twitching figure in the corner, the creature with the bent head and mangled limbs. It was gone though, before even a second passed. The light flickered above Near's head. The reek of sulfur and gasoline and burned rubber invaded his nostrils. Feeling something like real fear, Near closed his eyes and battled paranoia with the stronger weapon of logic.

Nothing there. Phantoms exist only in one's mind. Near humored Mello's ghost because it was the only phantom he shared with Matt--and that had to be worth something. Near took the burden, shouldered Matt's weight as well. Perhaps one day Matt would shake himself of this depression and become himself again: Happy, clever, witty. A man who did not care much about the world, but enjoyed every minute he was in it. Worth it, Near thought, to forget why he stood wherever he might stand. Worth it, Near thought, to see twitching ghouls in the corner of his eye. Worth it to be haunted, if Matt could have a chance at normal.

It was not so unlikely, that Wammy's would breed more than strong minds. Reasonable, that sanity would be the first sacrifice for knowledge. Near remembered when his first began to slip. He remembered he was only eight when he began to lose his conscience, his need to feel. It was a conscious decision, for Near, to let it go. He'd seen the madness of Beyond Birthday, the day they sent him away from Wammy's. He'd seen the manic glint in Mello's eyes that heightened his sense of urgency, his fervor to be the best. Better for Near to acknowledge the inevitability of it and to just...let it go.

Matt's was taken from him. Near was trying to give it back. He didn't know what else to do.

The cold was back. Near wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, feeling his jaw tremble as he began to shiver. The item he held was solid and sharp-edged. There will be marks in his palm from gripping it. The sound of the faucet turning, stream of water, hiss of steam. Near told himself not to, but he opened his eyes anyway.

Scalding water poured from the faucet, misting the gilded mirror above it. The fear became a sharp tremor in his gut. Near glanced around the bathroom, knowing he would find no one, but hoping he was wrong. This was worse than phantoms. This was a physical hallucination, a delusion. Now, Near was seeing things move. He was still freezing cold, even though the humidity from the water quickly spread throughout the bathroom. Near shivered again, imagining the putrid smell of rot and water from his prison in Abu Ghraib. A trick. A trick.

"Mello," Near hissed. "Show yourself. Enough." Near despised himself for how his voice quaked.

A long, slow, grinding squeak. Near whirled around, attempting to locate the sound. No one, nothing. No Mello. No twitching ghoul. The light flickered again, but this time it did not right itself into normal brightness. It continued to blink, frantically, like a strobe. The floor beneath him trembled. He turned again, hearing the squeak behind him. He saw it then, the letters on the mirror, formed by manipulated moisture. An invisible finger slashed the lines through the fog, angry now, quick and startling. Near read the words.

YOU ARE

LOSING

HIM.

"Mello?" Near whispered. "Why are you doing this? Show yourself."

Again:

YOU ARE

LOSING

HIM!

"I know," Near said softly, between quivering lips. The cold was unbearable, chilling him to the bone. "I'm sorry, Mello. I don't know how to fix him."

YOU

PROMISED

TO KEEP

HIM SAFE.

The cold intensified, the twitching ghoul was back and gone again before Near could round on it. There was a splintering sound and the mirror cracked, as if punched in the center, the shards spreading out in jagged, rippling circles. The mirror exploded.

Near inhaled sharply, throwing his arms up to protect his head. The impact never came. A heavy silence blanketed him, broken only by Near's ragged gasps. Near straightened, blinking rapidly, his heart racing. The temperature was normal, the mirror was whole, the faucet turned off. As if it never happened.

Near unclenched his fingers and regarded the half-carved block of wood. He wasn't sure who it was supposed to be. Near let it roll along his finger pads and topple to floor.

I've left something for you.

For safekeeping.

You will keep it safe, won't you?

Won't you?

Do you promise?

Near leaned heavily against the door, his brow pressed against the cool enameled frame. He took in a long breath and let it out slowly. Of course. It was never about the urn. Near opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Near took his promises very seriously.

Matt sat behind his computer table, the monitors black and the speakers turned off. His booted feet were propped up on the edge, his wheeled leather chair teetering dangerously to the side as he leant back and stared at the ceiling. A smoking cigarette dangled lazily from between two gloved fingers. The other hand held a chilled glass of clear liquor, ice chips and flakes of gold sifting around each other respectively as Matt brought the snifter to his lips and took a swallow. The heavy scent of cinnamon and alcohol wafted over to Near as he approached. Matt did not so much as glance his way.

Matt still had that placid, shadowy look in his eyes, as if he wasn't really in the room at all, stuck somewhere between grief and resignation. His auburn hair fell in strange patterns about his face and between the goggles perched atop his brow. The jagged scar sweeping past his temple and disappearing into his hair was shinier than the rest of his skin, noticeable in the dim light of the safe house. The rest of his scars were hidden under layers of clothing. Near knew how Matt felt about them, and today wasn't really the right time to try and change that.

Near hovered in the middle of the room uncertainly, watching Matt ignore him. Finally, Near caught his nerve and held it fast. "Matt, we need to talk."

Slowly, deliberately, Matt put down his snifter and replaced it with a game controller. He switched on a single screen and hit a few buttons on his keyboard. Within seconds, Matt had immersed himself in a video game, his fingers flying over the controller, his eyes trained on the screen in front of him.

Near breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to will away the flare of temper that sparked at that. Near could handle being ignored. Really, that had never been a problem for him. Near understood that, to the naked eye, he was as uninteresting as they came; and usually he did enough of the ignoring to train the people most often around him. He was comfortable with silence. But this...this was--this was impolite.

"Matt." Near breathed in again, exhaled, and uncurled his fingers as he continued to play his game. "Matt."

The hacker stared intently at the simulation, a sniper program, where it was Matt's responsibility to pick off enemy targets during a battle from secluded spots amidst the mayhem. Near did not doubt Matt could physically handle the same scenario in real life, knowing that Watari had been an excellent shot himself. This could hardly be considered practice for a W.

There it was, the slow burn of irritation creeping up on Near, a sharp tang in his belly, sliding along his skin. The slow breathing was no longer helping.

Near crossed the room, wrenched the controller from Matt's grasp, yanked the chord from the computer, and hurled it against the nearest wall, where it shattered and fell into bits across the deep, blue carpet. Matt was in his face in an instant.

"What the hell is your problem?" Matt demanded, furious, his eyes blazing.

Near lifted his chin. "We need to talk."

"Right," Matt sneered. "Talk. Listen, Near, they stopped calling it talking about a century ago. You want me to suck you off again, just say so."

For a moment, Near literally swayed on his feet, dazed as the meaning of his verbal assault sunk in. Near's arm lifted, the mild irritation bursting suddenly into anger, and he backhanded Matt across the face. Matt's head whipped to the side under the impact, and he left it there as Near took several steps back, simultaneously shocked with himself, and indignant about what the conversation had deteriorated to under the span of so many seconds.

"You are not my whore," Near hissed, rubbing at the knuckles of the hand he'd struck Matt with. "I have never, and will never, proposition you for sex. I am not frivolous with my affection, W, so be sure to understand I will not abide you referring to intimate moments between us so callously in the future. You will differ respectfully or, so help me, not at all. Do I make myself clear?"

Matt finally straightened, oddly seeming like a soldier as his shoulders squared and he raised his eyes to gaze at something right above Near's head. "Transparently. I understand. L."

Near shook his head. "Don't do that. I was merely making a point. Something we hadn't discussed before, and maybe we should have--"

"Forget it," Matt said quietly, his eyes still distant, his hands locked at the wrist behind his back. "I deserved the repercussion. I was out of line. I apologize."

"Don't do that," Near repeated, an edge of desperation in his voice. "Matt, don't do that; please."

"Do what?" Matt's eyes were cold as they flickered down to meet his. "Apologize? Be what I am?"

Near's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know what you're doing. Enough with these games. You need to come back." Near couldn't allow Matt to continue this, drowning in his misery, sarcastic and bitter. He needed to be mentally fit for General Whitman for the year that he was away. And then...well.

"I'm right here."

"No, you're not. I gave you three days--"

"Yeah, after you threw the urn into a lion's den," Matt muttered, turning away.

Near inhaled sharply. Matt might as well have slapped him in the face too. "That was an accident, Matt. I never meant for it to happen."

"Listen to you," Matt overrode him again, turning to face him. "The closest person in the world to me is dead and you think three days is enough to just--"

"You've had three years to grieve," Near snapped, cringing internally as the words slipped from his mouth. No, no, no! But...maybe angering him was the only way to get his attention.

"Fuck you," Matt exploded. "Fuck you, because you have no idea what you're talking about. Three years, three days, it doesn't fucking matter. I'm not me anymore, Near, goddamn it. I'm not--"

"Not supposed to be alive," Near finished for him, just barely stopping himself before rolling his eyes. "Yes, yes, we've gone over that one before. Does it ever become tiresome, this whole martyr business?" It was working. The hacker's expression flared, his eyes flashed, his mouth became a thin line.

Matt went on the offensive, the shift as startling as the dangerous look in his cornflower blue eyes, the quiet of his voice. "Odd that you can't relate, Near, for damning yourself to a lifetime of impersonating someone else ought to be rather demeaning."

Near crossed the room quickly. He was many things, but a coward was not one of them. He grabbed a handful of Matt's shirt and shook him as much as the other man would budge. "You think I don't know what I signed up for? Yes, Matt, I'm basically a copy of something great. Almost, but not quite what Watari always wanted. Nearly L. You don't think I don't know that?! The only difference between you and me is that it doesn't scare me, Matt. I'm not terrified of my duty, the responsibility of what I was chosen for--even if you know more about what that entails than I do."

Matt frowned, but glanced to the side and became quiet. Near saw it and knew he had to play an ace. For a wild moment, he thought he could actually win. He could actually bring him back.

"You do, don't you?" Near pressed, releasing his hold on Matt's shirt. "You know the original operation. You know that I'm more or less an imposter because I've been working Wammy's in the dark for the better part of a decade. Is it funny to you? Is it comical to watch me flounder, grasping at straws that you dangle just out of reach because you're too much of a coward to be human again?" Near curled his fingers into fists, a show of desperately trying to rein in his temper. "You're not afraid of being my W. L's don't have W's, do they? W's have L's. A delicate difference, but a definitive one. Were you never going to tell me? Matt! What am I supposed to do?"

"I've told you before," Matt said quietly, staring at something apparently quite fascinating on his shoe. "You're doing fine. I disapprove of how little attention you give the orphans, but other than that, you've done remarkably well."

"Forgive me if I'm not flattered," Near ground out. "I'll be sure to send you monthly reports, now that I know I have someone I need to answer to."

"Not like that; not really." Matt looked at him then, an unfathomable expression on his face. "We were meant to be a team."

"Correction," Near said flatly, a shiver of real emotion, real resentment crawling up his spine. "You and Mello were supposed to be a team. That's why you signed on." Near closed his eyes, breathing against the old feelings, buried desperation and hurt. Never let them see that it meant anything. Never let them see. "I can handle being the unwanted anomaly. I won't apologize for it, for the fact that I stayed when he left. He could have fought for it, I offered a truce. I did. You weren't there, but I did. He couldn't stand the thought of me having equal rights to him."

Near opened his eyes; Matt was staring at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I didn't take anything from him," Near said. Bets were off. It was getting personal now. Near figured it was only fair. "He left. He was too proud, too angry. I'm sorry he died. I could have protected him, protected you, but no one wanted anything to do with me. If there's anything I regret..." Near paused, his monotone voice cracking, bitterness making it rougher than usual. "It would be that. That I was so-so deplorable to be around that absolutely no one wanted to work with me. Not even you. Still."

Matt's expression changed, darkened, became even more immobile. Finally, he spoke. "Mello made it seem like you were actually chosen over him."

Near met his eyes then, sighed, and looked away. He felt spent, tired, hollow even. What else was there to say? Even so, they still had not spoken about what Near had come in the room for. Too many things to say. He'd brought Matt back, spoken the truth about a thing he would have rather left buried in old history, just to see the hacker aware of his surroundings again, returned from his stupor. Things always seem to get worse, before they got better. "I'm not Mello. I'm not Lawliet. I'm Nate. I can't be anything else. Wouldn't know how if I tried." Near looked back at Matt. "I just need to know you're not going to hang yourself when we finally call this what it is and I return to headquarters. I need to go back to work without worrying over you."

"You think I'm suicidal?" Matt asked with a ghost of a smile.

"I do," Near answered severely. "I need you to promise me you'll be safe."

Matt stiffened, though Near couldn't fathom what he'd said to cause that reaction. The shadows deepened in his face, his eyes became hard like glittering glass. "I won't promise that. I won't. I fucking refuse." Matt made to turn away, but Near grabbed his arm.

"What did I say?" Near demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me," he hissed, jerking his arm. When Near held fast, Matt twisted and shoved him in his injured shoulder. Near's face contorted in pain and he dropped Matt's arm, but then his palm flew out from nowhere and slammed into the center of Matt's chest, forcing him backwards several steps and crashing into the computer table.

Matt looked back at Near in shock. Near, gritting his teeth against the pain, glared back expectantly. Near was beyond furious, he was hurt. Near had always considered Matt dangerous, but he never thought Matt would actually strike him. Not especially after...after all that. After everything.

"I am not Mello," Near said in a low voice between his teeth. "This, too, I will not tolerate."

Matt blinked slowly, shaking his head slightly as if getting his bearings. His mouth parted, realization dawning on his handsome face. He sucked in a breath and held it, seeming undecided on his next course of action. Then, swiftly, he was back across the room, gently reaching past Near's flinch to curl his fingers around the throbbing injury. Near swallowed as Matt applied pressure to separate places on his neck and shoulder, pulling his arm back slightly and then moving it forward again. Without warning, Matt dug two fingers into a spot in his shoulder blade and all the pain disappeared immediately, followed by a strange, tingling warmth.

"Better?" Matt moved back slightly to look at his face.

Near glanced at him but did not answer. At this point he couldn't trust himself to say anything that wouldn't endanger this. Matt was back. W was back. Near was determined to develop a filter.

"I'm-I'm sorry. I thought you were--it doesn't matter, I shouldn't have hit you." Matt paused, and let his arms fall to the side. "You're not deplorable," he added as an afterthought. "It's not that. It's this, it's me. I'm not safe to be around."

Near smiled ruefully at that, a wry twist of his lips, and almost sighed with relief. "Ah, well." Near met his eyes, noting the hesitance in Matt's expression, the awareness of his blue gaze. "I have made a dedicated investigation of your quality, and I find you worth the risk."

Matt was staring at him again, like he'd never seen him before. He looked startled, one hand hovering in the air, its directive forgotten. Near realized, belatedly, that he just said something decidedly sappy. He opened his mouth to rectify that with something rude, for both their sakes, but Matt was already moving.

It was strange to be kissed by Matt after something like that. His lips were soft against Near's, the taste of cinnamon and smoke lingering even though Matt's tongue never left his mouth. Matt's hands were tender, gentle as one arm moved around Near's shoulders to pull him closer, the other cupping his face and tilting his head back. The leather of his gloves were cool against Near's skin, his mouth was hot and wet against his lips.

Near allowed it. His eyes remained open and wary, afraid that a twitching ghoul would jump out from the shadows, or an angry Mello apparition would freeze the room and wreak vengeance. Where did Near stand with this now? Was it right for him, to have this with Matt? Would it be taking advantage? If he closed his eyes and gave himself over to it, would Mello watch and seethe from beyond the veil? Would Near care if he did?

Near was beginning to understand the full torment of being haunted by a malevolent spirit.

Near broke away with another sudden thought. Was it like this for him? And yet Matt, who was currently staring at him with a wounded expression, had kissed Near anyway, wanted him anyway, pursued him anyway. Tricky thing, misery business. Near had a newfound appreciation for the torture Matt endured just being honest about his attraction. Or...whatever it was they shared. He was glad too, for relieving him of it.

Near reached up and tangled his fingers in Matt's hair, bringing his head down so he could kiss him with new fervor, fresh urgency. After all, one year, Near knew, could seem like forever when one was waiting for something wonderful.

Near had the feeling that he had grown somewhat in doing this, kissing, touching; certainly better than that first frozen, bewildered moment at the Starks. Even so, Matt still had the ability to surprise him, introduce him to something new. Matt answered the charged kiss with a rush of his own, small, quick kisses with as much teeth as lips. Near's blood heated, flushing his entire body with a pleasant, tantalizing warmth. Matt ran his hands down his back, clever fingers slipping beneath the hem of Near's shirt and crawling up his spine. Simple, titillating touches that made Near gasp against Matt's mouth and move in closer, drawn in and drugged.

Matt murmured something against Near's lips and dipped his head to the side, scaling more biting, wet kisses down Near's throat. Near's fingers knotted in Matt's hair, sense struggling with the lust in his brain. "I don't want you to think--"

Matt lifted his head. "I don't. I really don't. I was just being cruel. I don't think that at all."

Near met his eyes, chewing on his kiss-swollen bottom lip. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Matt's hands beneath his shirt flattened against the planes of Near's back, pulling him closer, flush against him, so Near could feel the bulge between his legs. "Jesus, Near, I'm so sure."

Heat erupted into fire. Matt's tongue swept into his mouth, invading his senses with the taste of smoke and cinnamon, the scent of leather and soap. Near's fingers dug into Matt's shoulders, his head swimming as he tried to keep up, hazily content to merely be swept along if he couldn't. Near didn't know if Matt would ever come back to Wammy's. He knew Matt considered Danny-boy too dangerous to break his word to. Near would know Matt was safe for an entire year, but after that...after that he had no idea. Maybe Near would never see him again. It would be fair, all things considered, for all that he'd put Matt through. But if he had to dwindle this down to a mere memory, Near wanted it to be the best memory possible.

Matt held him close as Near began to move, began to answer, taking initiative. He broke the kiss only long enough to grab Matt's hand and remove his glove with his teeth. Something wild and uncontrollable sparked in Matt's heated gaze at that, and Near found himself being pushed backwards, lips sucking at his throat, fingers fisting in his hair, until his back was pressed against the shelves. Blocks of un-carved wood shook and toppled over as Matt rolled his hips against Near's, fingers moving quickly to unbutton his shirt. Sandalwood, redwood, sage-scented birch and maple wafted around them, smells disturbed and shaken free. Near snaked his hand down to the third shelf, an interesting idea half-formed in his lust-drugged mind. Matt's mouth abruptly left Near's throat as the detective pushed against him, arms-length and just barely. There was a hiss, the sound of shredding fabric, a clean cut down the middle. Near smiled.

Matt's striped shirt hung from his shoulders, his chest and stomach bared and glistening with the beginning shimmer of sweat. Matt gaped at him stupidly for a moment, hand shooting out to grab Near's wrist and jerking the carving knife from his hand. But Near used the motion to pull him close again, using his free hand to push the shirt off one shoulder, sliding it down one bullet-scarred arm and snagging against the leather glove still adorning Matt's right hand. Near pressed a quick kiss to the side of Matt's jaw, hearing the deep chuckle before using the twisted fabric as leverage and turning Matt around. Matt gave up the struggle with a quiet moan, allowing Near to undress him from behind, his head falling back to Near's shoulder. Once the shirt and glove were off, however, Matt wove one arm around Near's waist and turned around, pressing him back against the shelves.

"Sneaky bastard," Matt whispered breathlessly in his hair as he removed Near's shirt and tossed it to the side. Near merely smiled again, curving his lips against Matt's next kiss, tipping his head back to allow the kiss to deepen.

Near smoothed his hands over Matt's shoulders, slowly touching every scar, dipping his fingertips into the tiny dents. Matt became still above him. Near wondered if anyone aside from a doctor had ever touched them before. He wondered, briefly, what it felt like, or if the scar tissue no longer had nerve endings. He moved lower, one hand caressing the mark along his ribcage, knowing its location by memory. Matt shivered, his face disappearing somewhere in Near's neck. Near touched the knife scar again and, without knowing why, turned his head and sank his teeth into the curve between Matt's neck and shoulder. Matt moaned, tightening his hold on Near, his fingers active again as they worked on the tie of Near's pants.

Matt lowered himself to slide the clothing over Near's hips, spreading small kisses wherever his mouth could possibly reach Near's skin. Near trembled as Matt's fingers traced lazy patterns on his heated flesh, the insides of his thighs, his straining phallus. Matt kissed one side of the swollen organ, the head, the juncture between hip and thigh. Near was squirming by the time Matt finally swallowed him, desperate and mind numb for the heat, the wet. Near's fingers scrambled for Matt's shoulder, clutching and drawing him up.

"S-Stop."

Matt lifted his head, and was on his feet in an instant. He cupped Near's face, pulling him close as Near panted, trying to get a hold of himself as he trembled and the pleasure raced through his veins like acid. "I want..."

"What do you want?" Matt whispered, his lips brushing against Near's ear.

Near didn't know how to ask, only knew how to yearn, to want. "Everything. Matt, God, please don't make me beg for it."

Matt answered him by kissing him, a deep, harsh kiss that was equal parts savage and passionate. Near tasted blood by the time they inched their way into the closest bedroom, but couldn't figure out if it was his or Matt's. His hands were everywhere, touching every part of Matt he could. He fumbled with Matt's belt as the backs of his knees nudged against the mattress of the bed. His heart was racing, almost like when he was panicking, but more adrenaline than fear. His hands shook, making the task more difficult than it had been three days ago. Matt helped him in the end, pushing Near back against the sheets so Near could watch.

Matt's smile was small, almost coy, but definitely dark as he made slow work of undoing his belt and pulling it through the belt loops. Near found himself biting back a groan through clenched teeth as long, slender fingers undid one button and slid down the zipper, exposing the head of his phallus. Near reached up and grabbed his arm, pulling him down and using his feet to push Matt's pants to the floor. Matt moaned and bit down on Near's collarbone as he settled between Near's legs. Their need brushed against the other, igniting waves of lust through both of them. Matt's mouth attacked one nipple, unsatisfied until Near was writhing beneath him. Then he moved over just slightly to torment the other one. Near was making a habit of tearing at Matt's hair, overwhelmed with the heat, the pleasure, the continued want that pulsed through him.

Near hooked one leg around Matt's, twisting them over until he was on top, effectively straddling him. Matt's hands slid up Near's chest, causing him to flush, nervous at how Matt's heated gaze seemed almost black as it wandered over him, hungrily soaking in every plane of flesh his fingers touched. His hands slipped back down and settled on Near's hips. A slight pressure from those hands and Near found himself grinding against him, head thrown back, electricity shooting up his spine. Matt shifted underneath him, upwards, until his generous mouth covered Near's again. They rolled and Matt surged against him. Near could swear he forgot his own name as his body arched, sweat-slick and yearning.

"Turn over." Simple demand, quiet, but more of a question than anything. Near wondered why Matt was still asking for permission.

Near obliged, kneeling and upright, his back pressed against Matt's torso. Matt kept one arm wrapped snugly around Near's chest as he bent to do something. There was a rustling, the sound of a cap clicking, and then Matt's lips pressed against Near's throat. A quick graze of teeth to get his attention, followed by a swipe of his tongue to soothe over the sting. "Near. This will be uncomfortable at first."

Near could only nod. Undoubtedly, he was no coward--but he'd never done...this before. None of it. Near had never really thought he would. It still surprised him that someone like Matt could want someone like him in this way. A single lubricated finger traced the length of his spine, teasing yet gentle, leaving a trail of cool wetness on his back. Near arched because of the sensation and Matt rewarded him with another kiss to the back of his neck. The finger slid between Near's buttocks and probed. Near was distracted as Matt's other hand lowered from the front of his chest and ghosted over his member, only half-hard now from the apprehension. Matt stroked it with nimble fingers, pulling until he was straining again, flushed with pleasure and bucking into Matt's hand. He gasped when Matt's finger slid inside of him, torn between the pleasure of Matt's hand around his phallus, and the intrusion. It did not hurt, not really, but it was certainly uncomfortable. Matt continued to divert him, reaching lower to squeeze the base of his phallus, twisting his wrist so the grip on him made Near cry out. Near was being stretched. He realized this when he registered a second, then a third finger, lubricated and infinitely gentle, even though the third digit did sting.

The fingers inside of him plunged deeper, quicker, and the hand on his phallus pulled faster and faster. Near's head rolled on Matt's shoulder, his bones like liquid as the sensations overwhelmed him. Abruptly, there was shock like electricity and Near went rigid, straightening on his knees again and falling forward. He braced himself with one hand on the headboard as Matt adjusted behind him and plunged his fingers in again, aiming for something specific. Near's eyes watered, his breath coming in short gasps as the jolt jerked through him again and again. Matt's brow pressed against the small of his back, murmuring something against his skin, coaxing, encouraging. Near closed his eyes and saw white, shuddering as Matt's hand slipped free and replaced them with his phallus, entering in one swift thrust. Matt buried himself deep and held him close as Near came, shivering and jerking with the force of his orgasm, wondering wildly if it would ever stop.

The quiet seemed loud suddenly, broken and rattled by Near's panting and Matt's heavy breathing. Matt was very still behind him, waiting for Near to come down, to adjust, to move. When Near finally did, Matt sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Near bucked again, pushing against the headboard with his hand. Matt gripped Near's shoulder tightly, retreated until only the tip of his organ remained inside, and then thrust in again. The blinding white returned, creeping into the edges of Near's vision, the jolt of electricity even more piercing, more demanding post-orgasm. He could feel himself becoming hard again. Matt moved inside of him, long, slow strokes, whispering indiscernible words against his skin, his hair, anything he could reach. Near pushed himself away from the headboard, until he was flush against Matt, who wrapped his arm back around Near's chest and held him there, moving inside of him like the surf breaking against the shore.

Near felt like his heart was going to break. He knew it was Matt behind him, knew this closeness was for them only, but he had absolutely no idea if Matt was seeing him right now or...or Mello. "I need to look at you."

Matt slipped out of him and Near immediately turned, straddling him and lowering himself back on his phallus. It was easier this time, but Near felt like it was deeper, closer, just on the edge of pain--but then there was that titillating jolt. All worth it. All worth it. Matt kissed him hard, crushing their lips together, bruising and biting until they were both in a frenzy. "I see you, Near," Matt said between kisses. "I see you."

Ebb and flow, almost torture, mostly pleasure. Near took the initiative and drove Matt wild with his fingers and tongue, touching and licking every inch he could reach. Sweat-salty skin and cinnamon flavored tongue. Matt pounded into him harder, faster, until the friction between them was so piercing, they could no longer tell where the one ended and the other began. Near was lowered onto his back, Matt moving above him, gazing down with intense, heavy-lidded eyes, so spectacularly sapphire blue that Near had to look away, utterly naked beneath them. Above, the light flickered. "Near," Matt whispered, chanted, moaned. "Jesus, fuck; Near." Above them, harshly like a strobe, a seizure of light and shadow and back again. Their bodies were too hot to feel the cold, but Near knew it was there. He told himself not to look, but he did it anyway. A strange spasm of motion, the twitching ghoul there and gone again, angry and watching. The shadows flickered and moved, dancing with the light and the sudden, jerking absence of it, shapes of wings and talons, death gods mocking, ghosts seething. Near held onto Matt, clinging tightly, surging back against him, racing for the finish, knowing that if he could have this, he could keep his soul, and to hell with the rest of it.

Near buried his face into Matt's shoulder, moaning as the jolt became rhythmic, Matt hitting it with every stroke, every push, straining higher and higher, ready and needing the plunge. Near ignored the demons, the dark promise of revenge, the horrible thought of losing his sanity for this one special moment with Matt; held on and rode with it. Matt's arms were tight around him, his gasps ragged in Near's ear. His name was a holy chant on Matt's lips, sacrilegious and beautiful.

Near came like an explosion of pleasure and fire, thoughts slipping away into the void as he lost himself in it. Matt did not last much longer, holding him so closely as he shuddered inside of him, it was a wonder Near could still breathe. Small, tender kisses dropped on his face were what brought Near back to the present, to solidity. He answered them with a smile, tracing his fingers along Matt's eyelashes, the curve of his cheek, the angle of his jaw. Matt gazed at him with wonder, sleepy and almost child-like. He rolled to his side, slipping out of Near, and grabbed his torn shirt. Matt used it to towel both of them off and then tossed it back to the floor. Near pulled up the duvet to cover them as they settled back into the pillows, askew after their lovemaking, but still soft and welcoming. Matt kept looking at him, seeming to want to say something, but loosing his nerve in the process.

"It's okay," Near murmured. "I know. It's okay."

"That was amazing," he managed finally.

Playing curious, Near lifted a brow. "Oh, was it?"

"I thought you were a virgin."

Near frowned, confused again but also distracted by the glow on Matt's face. "I...Well, I was."

A slow smile spread across Matt's lips, his expression battling between smug and surprised. "Hm," he murmured noncommittally, pulling Near closer until his head rested on Matt's shoulder. He pulled his fingers gently through Near's damp hair, speaking as if from far away. "I'm glad that...that I came back for you, got to know you. You're a surprising person, Near."

Near felt warm at that, smiling only because he couldn't help it. "You are too."

Too many things left unsaid, unspoken thoughts vanishing into the shadows of their dark room. It would have to be enough, for now. It would have to be, because they would not have another chance for a long, long time.

~*~

He waited until he was certain Matt was asleep. The new flickering began an hour ago, give or take a few minutes. Insistently from the other room, where the computer station was, and ceaseless. Matt murmured something in his sleep and turned over. Near touched his cheek briefly, brushing tousled hair away from his closed eyes. Everything has an end, he supposed. Prolonging the inevitable was only good as long as it was good. Near wanted it to end like this, peacefully and with no regrets.

Quietly, Near slipped out of bed and put on his clothes. He padded barefoot from the room, closing the door silently behind him. He expected the cold, but his body must not have, for his limbs shivered involuntarily. The light seemed to be coming from the computer screens, but when he rounded on them Near stopped short. Near wasn't sure what he expected, but he was certain it wasn't this.

The screens weren't on at all, black as night as they had been for days--unless Matt had the notion to play a game on one of them. But the reflection of light seemed to be coming from them anyway, bouncing off his figure, information skittering in flashes across his large, glassy eyes.

L Lawliet stood in front of the computer table, hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. His bored gaze fixated on the screens in front of him, his entire body shimmering like he was some sort of hologram.

Near's lips parted in surprise and he glanced around the room. Seeing nothing else out of sorts, he returned his eyes to the figure in front of him, his dead predecessor, and wondered if this would be like the jet into Israel.

You are not paying attention.

Movement. L lifted one hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumb. He spoke around it, a single monotone note, muffled by the finger pressed against his lips. "I assume you enjoyed yourself."

Not a question. L wouldn't really ask questions, would he? Near felt himself straighten, unnerved but respectful. He did not respond, odd question that it was. Well, not really a question.

"One of the better parts of being alive," L said, his tone only mildly wistful. L's gaze slid away from the screens to regard Near with owl-like eyes. Twin abysms set in a too-pale face, inky black hair framing it in organized madness. "Copulation," L clarified without provocation. He looked back at the screens.

"Light-kun wishes to be a Shinigami," he said after a pause. "They have their own hierarchy, did you know? A king, politics, rather boorish in my opinion. I can understand why Ryuk wished for entertainment." The thumb lowered, the hand returned to its pocket. L tilted his head to the side as if regarding something particularly interesting. The invisible light and information emanating from the black screens darted across L's retinas. "But one cannot become Shinigami until they have forgotten their lifetime among humans," L said in a weirdly flat sing-song voice. He smiled thinly, turning to Near again. "I have made it my eternal obligation to remind him of everything."

Near's brows arched slightly, but that was his only response.

"You understand that you must leave him," L said, switching topics so abruptly it made Near blink. Again, not a question.

Slowly, Near nodded.

"Good." L turned back to the computer system.

Finally, Near spoke. "Mello sent you."

Irritation flittered across L's expression, gone as quickly as it came. "Yes," he answered simply. "He can be...somewhat persuasive."

"Or fatally obnoxious," Near supplied.

L smiled again, a creepy curve of his porcelain white lips. "Indeed."

"Why can he not be here himself?"

L glanced at him. Near felt his eyes on him like a blow. "Come now, Near. You already know."

Near breathed in deeply. "After our deal, after losing the urn, he lost all his attachments to the physical realm."

L was gazing at him intently now. "Go on."

"He needs a conduit."

L nodded his approval. "Here, he is merely a shapeless mist. It aggravates him, but he has planned ahead. It is only a matter of time."

Near's shoulders sagged minutely. "So I am not completely rid of him."

"You already know the answer to that one as well, Near."

"I do."

"You do." L dragged his eyes away and searched the blank screens. "Ah," he said. "There it is." He blinked and a screen turned on, minimizing and focusing on a single strand of numbers. "Memorize that."

Near glanced at it, obedient. The screen went black again.

"Time is against you," L said, turning completely to face him. The flickering ceased. "You must leave immediately. K is already on her way."

"How close?"

"Sub-stratosphere."

Near forced himself to breath normally, despite the sudden slash of fear in his belly. "If I leave him now, he will think--"

"That you left him?" L's smile was cruel and glinting. L shrugged after a moment, his eyes drifting behind him to the room where Matt slept. "Mail Jeevas is intelligent. He will understand. Eventually."

Near closed his eyes. "Can I at least say goodbye?"

"Inadvisable."

Near sighed. "Alright. I understand."

L pointed to Matt's wallet, left on the table. "Use the red card for purchasing. It's traceable, but you'll be home before anyone thinks to do so."

"She will be coming here."

"Yes."

"I will rendezvous with her at Rancho Cucamonga."

"Very good, Near."

"She will be swayed if she sees me?"

L did not answer for a long time. "The future is subjective, Near. And there are rules."

"Yes. Mello spoke of rules."

"I am glad you are paying attention, Near. Do you know how to drive?"

Near buttoned up his shirt after locating and slipping on his shoes. "Pardon?"

"Do you have the basic knowledge of how to operate a vehicle?"

Near stared at him for a moment, fumbling with the loose strings of his arm bracelets. "I am sure that I do."

"Terrific," L said blandly. "Behind you, that wall opens up to a garage. We have an excellent selection here. Or had, as tense dictates."

It was too abrupt, Near thought suddenly. Too urgent. Matt would hate him in the morning. The thought made him sick. Near had been a fool not to see it sooner, to discern the deeper mystery. He untied one of the arm bracelets and laid it atop Matt's wallet, where he was sure to find it, praying he would understand. Hoping he had enough sense in him to realize he was doing this to save Matt's life.

L was gazing at him with a tolerant expression. Whatever this apparition of L thought he understood, the real L would understand more. How on earth does one justly say goodbye?

For people like them, it was a trick question. There was no right answer.

But Near had promises to keep. And so he would.

To be continued...