A/N: I apologize for the wait for this chapter. I got a little down about the story based on lack of responses to it, as I usually do unfortunately. But finally I sat down and forced myself to start writing this chapter. I actually had to write two drafts of it before I finally got it right. Ah well... I guess for a good product, it's worth doing another draft. Anyway, please enjoy this, and make sure to let me know what you think at the end. Also, I apologize profusely for the confusing last chapter. It was partly supposed to be that way, and partly just rushed. Please do forgive me and overlook that... This chapter, I feel, is much better. Give it a shot. Oh, and kudos to my beta for taking one step closer to being an actual writer. For the first time, she actually got to write a couple of the paragraphs for this story. I'm quite proud. ... Even if I did have to go back and edit some of em. Hehe... One step at a time!

Side note: There is a POLL on my profile about THE ENDING TO EROSION. If you would like to see this story finished, than please go to my profile and vote in your two cents about what you'd like to see!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters used in this story… except the doctor.

Chapter 14

Another day, and another test to be taken. Another challenge set before us to promote a one-sided competition. One more test completed with utter perfection. Another soul crushed. It was to be expected, though; that was just what our lives had become. In a way, it felt like that was the way it was supposed to be.

It didn't bother me in the least to live in a such a state. As the top standing student in Wammy's, I never dealt with the feeling of failure. I'd never lost this game and that was how I intended to keep it. Nothing would stop that as long as I had a say in it. Not even Mello and his ridiculous ideas of competition.

He didn't have a chance, and there was always a side of me that wondered if he knew that…

But at the same time, I always had to wonder about him. I wondered whether Mello's heart was really in the competition for L's title. I didn't think so. That being said, I knew mine wasn't, either. This was simply a challenge set before me that suited my abilities. I knew I didn't have the heart for it like L did, in which the idea of justice flowed through him smooth as blood.

Mello and myself… no, we were just in it for our own competition. I fully believed that if I was out of the competition, Mello would find no interest in being L. There would be no challenge in it anymore. There would be no one for him to play those mind games with.

I often find myself vain enough to call myself the only reason Mello even sticks around Wammy's.

But at the same time… maybe he was the only reason I was here, as well. Would my life be as interesting if I didn't always have him around to continuously challenge me? I suppose, if things were any other way, this competition would never be nearly as interesting.

Nonetheless, that never stopped things from being tense between us. In a way, we had a set rule that we did not speak to one another, we did not deal with each other. We would live in our own completely separate worlds, and allow them to be bridged only by the competition.

Walking carefully down the hall towards the common room, I looked up suddenly at the feeling of someone else entering the hall. Ironically, it was him. Though, somehow, I had to figure it was appropriate that he should appear the moment he enters my mind. As if I'm not allowed to have any break from him.

Unwilling to let his presence bother me, I continued on, and he did the same -obviously with the same mindset. It fascinated me the way we did that, sometimes -sharing the same thoughts and reactions. And yet both of us being unable to move past our pride enough to admit that we make the perfect team.

Crossing by each other, our eyes never once met and the tension between us was thick enough to cut through. There were so many things each of us wanted to say to the other, comments that needed to be made and walls that needed to be crossed. All of it hung in the air, but neither of us had the maturity to take the initiative and force the other to acknowledge it all.

We both stopped nearly simultaneously -our backs the only thing facing the other. He was the first to speak; he always did have more initiative than I have ever possessed. "What did you get on the last exam?" he asked.

A small smirk grew across my face. It was always the same games between us, and it all went back to being unable to take the initiative in order to move to the next level. A level we both needed to get to.

"You know exactly what I got, Mello," I told him seriously. "And you also know what you got, and that it was not good enough this time. Or any time, for that matter."

I could almost see his blue eyes narrowing on the nothingness in front of him. "I will beat you, Near…" He commented, and I could hear the wear and tear on that well-loved record. But whether or not it meant he was finally cracking and coming to realization…No. I didn't believe so. We were both too stubborn for that to ever happen.

And then there was me, unable to stop myself from pushing his obvious buttons to set him off. Those set offs were the reason he hadn't, and wouldn't, win in the end. I often wondered if he knew that… "If that is the case," I pointed out, "Then why have you failed to accomplish it?"

In my head, I could see his fists clenching, his jaw locking and see the restrain in his eyes that kept him from launching an all out attack at me. He'd tried that before, years ago before our worlds were so separate, and I think he finally realized that that wasn't doing him any good whatsoever.

I had to admit, despite the many mental prods I had put him through, he did have an incredible amount of self-restraint. Definitely something to be envied by many.

"You're not that good, Near." He said suddenly, the self-restraint evident in his every syllable. "How can you think yourself to be so much better than all of us and so much more deserving of the title of L? No hand of God touched you and promised you that title!"

My look faltered a moment and my features contorted into confusion at what I heard behind me. The resolve… it was breaking. Was Mello breaking? Was divine intervention the last thing he had to hold on to in order to help himself feel he stood a chance against me? Knowing Mello for as long as I had, I wouldn't put it past him.

Religion was like his security blanket he used to wrap himself in when he needed it, and something he threw away so no one would see when he didn't. For him to pull that out now, for me, his enemy, to see… he had to be desperate.

There was a small voice in the back of my head that told me to back off. It's often referred to as a conscience, but I more appropriately refer to it simply as Mello's voice of reason. Being my opposite, that little voice seemed to alert me to those social interactions and exchanges that I didn't quite understand. Things he understood and delved in constantly.

"You're correct." I told him, "but if I am not fated to have that title… then what makes you believe that you are?"

"I don't…" He replied simply and quietly, but with the same strain in his voice.

I shrugged simply, raising my hand to spin a lock of hair, "Well, in that case then… I suppose we will both continue on with this little game you call a competition. And if in the end I do not end up with L's title, then obviously that was not your God's so called 'plan'. But, if I do, then perhaps you were wrong and that so called God did 'bless' me with that 'plan'."

With that said, I continued on my way down the hall towards the common room, leaving Mello speechless and perhaps his resolve even more cracked than it was before. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in seeing what would happen if it did fully break, anyway. But, today would not be that day.

We would both go on to continue this little game, and leave those unsaid words hanging in the air. Maybe someday one of us would finally address those important statements…

"Near…?" I heard echoing suddenly in my mind. "Near? Near?" The resounding voice ripped me out of the thought -the memory- and pulled me back into whatever the current reality was. Or maybe it wasn't… I couldn't be sure anymore.

My eyes slipped open and I couldn't help but look around, unfamiliar with the new surroundings. This wasn't Wammy's, that much I was sure about.

The office reminded me of Roger's office, but it wasn't his. There were bookshelves lining the walls with books I couldn't read the spine's of, and two large windows. One situated behind the large dark-wood desk in front of me, another on the wall to my right. There was a tree outside the window to my right, and I took note to the lack of leaves on the branches, and the way it blew in a strong wind outside.

It was fall now… where had the seasons gone? I couldn't even remember the last time I felt the warmth of spring sunshine on my skin as it filtered in through the windows of Wammy's. How long had I been without my consciousness? How long had I been living in that memory?

The memory…

My eyes remained glued to the tree outside, but things blurred and I was no longer seeing any of it. My thoughts traveled back to my memories once more; to that long past day in Wammy's when Mello and I crossed paths and I saw his resolve crack for the first time. The only day he'd ever allowed himself to show his blind devotion to God.

My heart clenched in my chest as I remembered my words to him. 'Divine intervention…' I told myself. 'Divine punishment. This is a punishment only a god could administer.' But what for? For speaking against whatever was out there? For being so cruel to Mello as to force him to question his faith? Whatever it was… I wondered for a split second if there was any way I could repent and regain my mental health once more.

I didn't think so… even if by some miracle it could happen, I knew any god in their right mind would deny me, considering the unwavering doubt in my mind against the rationality of such a deity existing.

"Near?"

My eyes darted back to the wooden desk, where I for the first time recognized the existence of the other male in the room with me. Sitting behind the desk was a middle aged man with blonde hair and bright green eyes wearing black dress pants and a buttoned up white lab coat. He looked familiar… but I couldn't place how, or where I had seen him.

Those orbs watched me carefully, evaluating my every move. "Do you know where you are?" He asked carefully.

I felt my own look turn to confusion, and for a brief moment I wondered if he was, perhaps, reading my mind. Perhaps while I was unconscious they -whoever they consisted of- had conducted sick medical experiments on me and had found a way into my mind.

I instantly shook off the thought with all its absurdities, instead reaching up to spin a lock of hair as I tried to more rationally analyze the situation. I gave as my only response a curt shake of the head.

He folded his fingers together and rested his head on them, leaning back in the chair. "Do you know who I am?" He inquired.

Again I shook my head.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I thought back, into my cloudy memory and behind the ever present memory from years ago. "Trying to escape." I explained, letting my eyes slip closed as I tried to better envision what it was I remembered. "The world was closing in on me. I remember… trying to make it stop."

There was a moment of silence between us, broken only by the ticking of a clock from somewhere in the room I couldn't place. My eyes reopened, watching the man before me evaluate the situation; those green orbs darkening in a bit. I wondered what it meant… what was going on?

"You're in London, Near." He told me. "My name's Dr. Meloche. Do you remember that name? Do you remember who I am now?" He asked, and like a key to the door of my memories, suddenly another area of my past was unlocked and I was taken back, remembering what'd happened.

The train ride where the voices had nearly made me jump off. The brick houses I couldn't stand. Lots of talking that I couldn't comprehend, but jumpstarted the idea that I could rehabilitate myself to some degree anyway. That damned art museum where I'd freaked out…

I nodded, "I remember you," I told him. "Why am I… what am I doing here?"

"Mello found you unconscious in your room. There was an empty pill bottle beside you… it was believed you were attempting suicide and as such it was believed to be in your best interest if you were moved somewhere you can receive better help. As a result, you were committed here," he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Committed?"

"You're at a psychiatric ward in London, Near. You've been here for about four days now."

The words hit me like a brick wall. It was a new low I didn't think I'd ever allow myself to reach. I thought if I just tried hard enough, I could get over this, or learn to live with it and continue living my life in the constant battle for L's title! I never thought I could've… would've, allowed myself to sink to this. Where I had become so useless that even Wammy's didn't want me anymore.

I felt my heart fall from my chest and sink through the floor boards beneath the couch I was sitting on. The only place I'd ever known to be home to me had given up on me… they'd placed me somewhere else… perhaps somewhere they felt I could be with my own kind.

I suddenly felt very sick…

"I wasn't…" I tried to defend myself. "I didn't try that. I only took two. Just like I'm supposed to." It was the best I could do to plead my case in such a state.

"According to your records," Dr. Meloche started, flipping through an open file on his desk. "The medical examiner found anywhere from fifteen to twenty…"

"Impossible…"

Again a brief moment of silence overtook us, in which I attempted to let all of this sink into me. I'd been committed… cast away from everyone in a home just for people society deemed unfit to breath the same air as them, and thus put them here. Out of sight out of mind, I suppose. That always did seem to be the way humanity worked… deny something you don't like's presence for long enough, and perhaps then people will forget it exists.

Four days I'd been here, I thought to myself. And yet this was the first time I could remember ever being here. Where had my mind been those days? Perhaps locked in that memory… perhaps locked in many memories that I couldn't remember. Perhaps it was my mind's way of trying to protect me from the shock of reality…

I wasn't sure which I would prefer, living a lie in my memories, or facing the harsh reality.

"Am I going to get to go home?" I found myself asking, my eyes slowly trailing away from the doctor back to the window. Something in the pleasantries of watching time slip by me made me think this could be bearable… especially if it was only time I had to wait to catch up to before I would be allowed home.

From the corner of my eyes I saw him shrug. "It depends all on you." He stated. "You were placed here because it was determined that this was the best course of action to ensure your well-being while you're considered a threat to yourself. However, if you prove you're no longer a threat to yourself and that you can handle going back into that sort of living standard… then you will be let out."

"I told you I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"I understand that, Near. Believe me, I do. But it's not me you need to convince. It's everyone else, who doesn't understand what you're going through," he tried to assure me, but it was an empty attempt. Even in my insanity I could see right through it. Or perhaps that was my paranoia… I couldn't tell anymore, and frankly I was getting tired of trying to differentiate between it all.

"You don't believe me."

"Actually, I do." He retorted. "I've dealt with many people with Schizophrenia, Near. Many much worse than you. Based on what I've seen from them, I understand that it is not themselves driving them to these self-mutilations or suicides, but the world they're living in within their mind. I understand how hard it is for you, and others, to try to live in a world you're not sure actually exists anymore."

I could feel how dead my eyes were as I turned to watch him, and listen to everything he had to say. I actually wasn't quite sure what I thought of his statement… "You only understand based on your research. Not firsthand experience. There is a distinct difference," I exhaled, feeling calm, composed, and ready for a battle of wits. It was a refreshing feeling… one I wasn't sure I'd had since… I couldn't even remember.

For the first time I felt normal again… and without the desire to try and act or anything as I'd done the last time fate had granted me this little taste of my old life. Instead, I just wanted to stay in place and relish in the familiarity while I could, before it was stolen away from me again -like a cruel joke from life itself

He nodded. "You're correct. But with that research comes a lot of knowledge. There is a lot I could offer you, Near."

My look contorted into confusion. "What could you possibly offer me while I'm locked here? As long as I am here and out of the competition, there is nothing. My existence means nothing."

He gave a small smile. "You're doing well," he said, causing my expression to deepen. "Don't you feel better than you did at Wammy's? No one constantly watching you… no walls caving in on you? A better comprehension of the world around you, and the things I tell you?"

I remained quiet a moment, digesting what he was saying and trying to pin point exactly where he was going with this. My deductive skills were rusting as time moved on and I was beginning to stop using them. I hated it. "You're not going to manipulate me into wanting to stay here, doctor." I exclaimed.

He shook his head, "quite the opposite, actually. What I'm trying to do is show you the change. Before now, you were quite dead in action… your responses to anything anyone said to you were short, quiet, empty responses. I see now that, in light of the traumatic experience your mind sent you through, you regressed into it until now. I'm guessing till you thought it was safe again." He shrugged.

"What's your point with all of this?"

"My point is to show you that what you consider to be your 'old life', or rather the one at Wammy's in the competition, was the main source of all the stress and pressure put on you. Whereas, here, you are much more at ease. Much more connected to that 'old life'. There's nothing so much weighing you down and stressing you out to the point where your hallucinations take over. You're very close to what I'd assume would be normal for you."

I remained quiet, listening as the pieces fell into their proper place.

"When I first met you I did not quite understand the circumstances you faced, and thus thought that you were simply at a worse level of Schizophrenia than you are, and thus just prescribed you more anti-psychotic medications and figured stimulation of your thoughts would help rehabilitate you back into everyday life. However, in light of my recent understanding of all you're facing. I now understand why your Schizophrenia got as bad as it did."

He leaned forward on his hands, his eyes watching me. "The pressure of being the best out of everyone got to you, whether you felt it or not. And when that happened, your hallucinations ran rampant. I'm guessing that the moment you had a clear moment you overdid it trying to further live your old life, and when the pressure came back… every hallucination increased tenfold."

"So what do you suggest happen, then?" I asked, feeling my heart begin to race a hundred miles an hour at what he was saying. I hoped to anything out there that I wasn't hallucinating this. No, it felt much too real.

"What you need is just to learn how to control how you handle pressure and stress. You won't get complete release from the hallucinations, because that's just something that comes with Schizophrenia. But if we can control the environment around you that sets them off, then I have no reason to believe you couldn't begin competing for that title again."

I was silent, just watching him as if waiting for him to tell me it was too much to do, or it wouldn't be possible, or anything along those lines. But when nothing of the sort came, I breathed a heavy sigh, as if releasing all the pent up frustration I'd held all in one breath.

It felt as though I was pushing some invisible restart button. Or getting the chance to do things over. No, it was bigger than that. It felt like I was getting another shot at living a normal life, or as close to it as was possible for someone in my position.

Before the chaos of my illness had taken over, no, before my new life had started, I had always scorned the idea of a divine entity who could change the course of a human's life on a whim. I had always viewed it as a…weakness of sorts in Mello and other believers, as I had always viewed his blind devotion to an unseen power as foolish and hopelessly naive. Yet, in this moment….maybe it was because of the sudden change in my life's direction that made me feel as though Mello's belief in such a divine spirit might not be so wrong after all.

In a way, I could see doors down the hall of life's hallway of opportunities closing because of this condition. But at the same time, others were open, and for the first time, those became the center of my focus instead of hanging myself on all the possibilities I might be losing.

As I sat there on the couch, I bowed my head and began desperately thanking whatever may reside in the heavens above. I began praying to whatever entity that Mello believes in, this God, to forgive me…and to undo the erosion that left me in this state.

A/N: Well, what did you think? I think that's actually one of my favorite chapters so far. I mean, not a lot happened I know, but at the same time, quality wise... I think it's one of the best. I wrote this at one or two AM when I was suddenly struck by the idea of how I should do the scene. Sure, some of it had to be re-worked a bit, but at the same time, I think it came out pretty much exactly how I saw it. The only thing I didn't get to get in, because I couldn't find a place, was for Dr. Meloche to tell Near that he actually wasn't a doctor at the pysch ward, but they hired him on just to work with Near because of his familiarity with him. It's a minute thing, really, but it still bugs me a little bit. Oh well... Anyway, please let me know what you think of this chapter! Any response is better than leaving me in the dark.

Again, please make sure you vote in the poll on my profile!

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-Forbiddensoul562