Title: the barely-there moments

Summary: Times where Linda decides to speak to Near. The one time Near decides to return the favour. Near, Linda, and a time of strange feelings, spilled paint and a lovely dose of Matt.

Sometimes, when he's alone and playing with his toys strategically with the skilled mind of a genius, he thinks of her.

It's slight, fleeting and it passes.

But it's there.

To other Wammy Children, she is a success, a blurred image of childhood influenced by pastels and paints brought and accepted into the 'normal world'. She is smiles and her drawings are placed in museums for all to see. She is happy.

And looking at her profile now, she is beautiful.

Near stares at her photograph a few moments longer than he should, before letting it rest against the cold floor and resuming his half-made building.

"Do you think about the colour?"

Near doesn't turn his head. "The colour is irrelevant."

Linda sighs in exasperation, and with the way her fingers begin twirling with a lock of her hair, he half-wonders if she's mocking him.

"But it won't look like an actual building if all the lego pieces are randomly coloured. It just looks... like a lego building made by a child."

He doesn't miss a beat. "This is a lego building. I am a child."

"Well, yeah, but you're... more mature than most, you know?" When he doesn't answer, she huffs. "What kind of building are you making?"

"I fail to see why you need to know."

"'tis a mysterious thing called curiousity."

This time he does look at her, taking in her smirk and proudly defiant expression. He doesn't reply, and she sighs again.

"For someone who rarely talks, you're very fascinating."

Near wonders if that's a compliment or not as she strides away.

"You'd be very interesting to paint."

The only sound he makes is the click into place where one blank puzzle piece fits with the other.

"You're very... white. But your eyes draw attention. They're extremely captivating. So... if I used a really dark blue and mixed it up with... but then I'd have to draw you up close."

He feels her stare, and finally she looks away.

"You... and Mello. You both. Fire and ice. But that idea's been overdone, hasn't it?" Near finds it a little amusing, the way she starts out talking to him and is now talking to herself.

She twists her face up in annoyance. "Plus, trying to keep Mello in one spot is like trying to convince Matt to give up video games for a day."

Linda says nothing for a short while. "I still want to paint you, though." She says it louder, clearer, and in a hopeful tone.

"It's not necessary."

She snorts. "If we all went by things that were only necessary, the world would be all sorts of boring."

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, but doesn't turn his head. She simply grins at him shamelessly.

"So will you let me paint you?"

"...no."

Linda pouts, but doesn't argue. "Alright then, spoilsport. I'll get you next time, though." As some sort of weird, goodbye sentiment she flicks his temple in a way that is not at all gentle.

Near frowns ever-so-slightly and rubs the temple she flicked, and by the time he looks up she's leaving the room.

Even with her gone, he still finds himself staring at the doorway.

"It's funny," Linda says one day. "How you both are so different yet have so similar interests."

It doesn't take him half a second to figure out she's talking about Mello. Mello is bright and radiant; catching everyone's attention and blinding them in the eye when they stare too long. He's a combination of fire and persistence, determined to find his name on the top of a ranking sheet.

He storms down the hall, grabbing Linda's attention as he yells out a few names and calls them to play soccer with him; of course, they agree eagerly. Linda's arm twitches, as if itching to go with him.

Near considers telling her that she can go out to play with Mello if she wishes, but quickly dismisses the notion. Linda knows what she can and cannot do. Near goes on to building his lego, kneeling upwards to play one small lego piece on the top. He feels Linda's stare, but does nothing.

"Your eyes are always blank," she comments, still staring at him. "But when you locked that lego piece down there was like… a gleam. A flash. Life. Don't you think that's interesting?"

"No."

She doesn't sigh or pout or argue. Simply… stares. "I'm drawing you," she announces suddenly, standing up with that spark of stubbornness. "I don't care what you say. You can train an elephant to crush me, bend a spoon to thwack me, and I swear I'll still be here with my sketchbook and pencil to the end." She nods to herself, satisfied, and rushes out of the room in an overly dramatic fashion (which includes lots of hair-swishing, hmphing, hands on hips and footsteps that can be heard from the other side of the building). "Prepare yourself!" she calls over her shoulder, as if rallying for an army.

Although Near doesn't so much as react, he does wonder.

"I should have done this earlier," Linda says. "It's not like you move much. Which reminds me – how come I never see you in the cafeteria? Do you eat? Like, ever?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then how come you're never in the cafeteria? Or are you just a loner, that way?" she pokes him in the shoulder, provoking him to look up at blink at her.

"The latter." He continues with his puzzle piece.

"Oh. Right. Okay."

Near has always known that he's different from other children, but for some reason it especially dawns on him at that moment. It's… disconcerting, to feel so out of place. Still, he ignores the feeling.

"Hey," she says, as if sensing his predicament. He looks up at her, and she smiles soothingly…

…before pinching his cheeks.

Hard.

He jerks away, but she keeps hold, enjoying the way his cheeks are becoming red from the pressure. "Aww! You look so cute! Like a… cute… sheep… loner-person!"

All he can do is stare and hope that she gets the message that touching is not allowed.

Finally, she releases the hold, and one of his hands tentatively rubs his cheek.

"Please refrain yourself," he says, not enjoying the way he sounds so helpless even when completely deadpan.

"Sorry," she says, though he doubts she's sincere about it, the way she's grinning. "Well, see you tomorrow, Near."

"Good night."

Linda suddenly stops and smiles, this little secret smile that makes her look absolutely radiant.

As she leaves, something stirs in his stomach.

"Don't you think it's interesting, the way the world is?"

"It is what it is."

"Exactly, but who decides it? Who decides everything? You think it might be Fate?"

"It would be unlikely that an other-worldly force is taking so much time simply to control every occasion in every life of every individual."

"So you don't believe in Fate? Or any spiritual things?"

"It would be ridiculous to dismiss any idea that has any form of likelihood."

"Well, I suppose so, to be a detective you have to consider all the options…" Linda suddenly goes quiet, and it almost prompts Near to turn around and look at her, just to see if she's still there. It's silly, of course, because if she leaves he'll hear her footsteps… but still. The thought crawls in. It's… a little unsettling. "Do you really want to do that, Near? Solve cases? Or is that just something you were… brought up, to do? What would you do if you had a different life? If your parents hadn't died?"

He contemplates her question for a few, long moments. "My life would be different, yes. Vastly. My goals, however, would be similar. I don't have any other… particular interests."

"Are you sad about your parents?"

Her voice adopts a sympathetic tone; she wants him to open up to her, he realizes. To take a part of him no one else knows, to form a bond, a connection. He's never had the need for one, and that hasn't changed.

"No," he replies bluntly, ignoring her disappointed expression. They leave it at that.

In the middle of class, Linda gets called in by Roger.

Later on, she appears a bit less bright than usual, but doesn't say anything about it.

"You know, your neck is really elegant," she remarks. "Like a swan's. I wish I had your neck. Mine's all short and stubby."

"Your neck is fine."

She beams for the rest of the afternoon.

"Oh, shoot. I forgot. Test tomorrow. Aren't you going to study?"

"Yes."

"Right – help me?"

He stares at her, at her pleading eyes and clasped fingers. Near imagines the scenarios – him teaching her to memorise this and that, them, in the library, researching and reading…

Honestly, it seems tedious, if anything.

"No," he answers.

Her face falls. "Why not?"

"We aren't the same level."

"Level?" she repeats incredulously. "Wait – are you blowing me off because of my rank?"

He gives her a look that says that's exactly why. "I prefer studying on my own," Near says, curling a lock of his hair around one finger and averting his gaze. When she simply continues to stare at him, he says, in an effort to calm whatever raging storm is going through her head, "Thank you for your offer."

However, it barely helps, seeing as it sounds bland and empty.

"You know, I try as hard as anyone," Linda says. "Maybe not as much as Mello. But I do try hard. It's not like all we'll be doing is flunking the whole thing. I do genuinely want to learn and…" for once, she sounds shy. "… I do genuinely want to get to know you, Near."

Unsure how to reply, he doesn't.

"Do you remember the first time you met me?" she says quietly, very rare for how loud she's been. "I… maybe not, but I do. Roger brought me in and I'd just come from the street, and I remember thanking God because Roger only found me by a really slim chance. And… you were one of the first ones that I noticed, because you were white all over. I remember thinking, 'Maybe this is heaven, and that's an angel' which was silly, but that was what I was thinking."

Linda waits for a response, but when it doesn't come, she sighs.

"Oh well. I tried. Thanks anyway, Near."

She leaves tiredly, and he doesn't see her for the next week.

It's… bothersome.

When it comes one week and three days, he does an unthinkable thing.

He makes a mistake in a math equation. While he has breezed through calculus and the like effortlessly, it is that one time he makes one mistake.

"Of course, there's nothing wrong with making a mistake. But it's a little unusual for you, Near. Is there… something wrong?"

Near, in Roger's office, is curled up on one of the chairs as he stares at the ground silently, still trying to solve the conundrum himself.

"I… was distracted," he admits.

"About what? You can tell me, Near. Everything you say will be confidential."

For a moment, Near considers telling him about – about what? That's the problem.

"I…" Near finds himself frowning a little. "I… I'm not sure, Roger."

The elderly man nods in understanding. "Is it related to Mello? Because if Mello is bullying you, I can –"

"He is not," Near interjects quietly.

After facing another Linda-less night in the common room, Near is almost certain what is.

He does see her. But she's speaking to another person; smiling brightly and with her hair in a ponytail, this time.

After a while, he realizes he's staring. Linda's friend nudges Linda and inclines her head towards Near. Linda looks over and smiles, but doesn't do anything else to indicate acknowledgement.

Near migrates to an abandoned classroom after that. All he can say about it is that he needs to concentrate, and that Linda is a very, very strange girl who inspires very, very strange feelings.

And, for Near, who's always been percentages and accuracy, monotone and calculations, that's never a good thing.

For whatever reason, Matt drops by. With an apple in one hand, a Game Boy in the other, he walks over in his stripes-and-goggles glory, munching loudly. "Hey."

Near blinks up at him. "Good evening."

"You're never in the common room anymore. What's up with that?"

The casualness that Matt is addressing him with is unusual, but not unsurprising. It's Mello, Near thinks, trying to pry out secrets from him.

"I preferred this room. It's quieter."

"The rabble never bothered you before," Matt argues, taking another bite into his apple.

Near doesn't reply.

For a while, the silence and the clicking of puzzle pieces is the only thing hanging in the air, and finally Matt says, "It's Linnie, isn't it?"

Assuming 'Linnie' is Linda, Near says, "No."

That doesn't faze Matt. "It is. I thought so. Mello thinks so, too, but he still thinks you lack the ability to emote, so…" he whistles. "Wow. Near has a crush."

"I haven't said anything to ever imply that I have romantic feelings towards Linda," Near says, but Matt just laughs.

"Are you kidding? That just says it all. Hey, don't worry about it, Mello's had some too. Well, okay, only one. And it never worked out. She thought he was an obsessive freak, so he vandalized her socks. Under all of it, he was crushed. Poor guy. But yeah – love's a bitch." He shrugs, and takes out a cigarette. "Hey, there isn't a smoke system here or anything, right?"

When Near shakes his head, Matt grins, goes 'awesome' and lights one up.

"So – yeah. What'd you do to make her pissed at you?"

"I never intentionally angered her."

"Yeah – key word there: intentionally." He breathes out, smoke wisping from his mouth and fogging up his goggles slightly. "If you really like the girl, you gotta fight for her, you know? Plus, she's leaving this or next month, isn't she?"

Near freezes, but only for a second.

Matt exhales. "Yeah. Something about art college. She was always good with that."

The white-haired boy nods. "She was."

A few nights later, someone knocks on his door.

At three AM.

Slowly rising from bed, Near opens the door, finding a smiling Linda there in a violet knitted hoodie and jeans.

"Hey, sheep-boy," she stage whispers. "Miss me? I never see you around anymore."

Hypocritical, a part of Near thinks, but he pushes the thought away.

"Anyway, come with me," she says.

He tilts his head curiously.

"To the roof. To watch the stars. It's freezing out, so you might want to put on a jacket or something."

After a few seconds of contemplation, Near says, "I am fine."

Linda shrugs. "Whatever floats your boat."

So he follows her, although it's much, much wiser to stay inside (especially with the way the iciness of the wind is biting at his exposed skin) he finds himself not wanting to return to the warmth of his bed, despite all the alarms going off in his mind that following Linda to the roof probably constitutes as a very bad idea.

Climbing up the ladder leading to the roof, she grins down at him. "See? Fun!"

Near simply shoots her a deadpan look before hesitantly taking her hand. Linda heaves Near onto the roof with her, looking the icon of happiness as she giggles into the wind.

"See? They're really prominent, here. I heard there was going to be a bunch of comets, so I figured I'd take out you to see them. And – oh my God, look!"

The stars, shimmering like a handful of sugar thrown at the sky, are briefly ignored as shooting stars begin to fall.

"Great, isn't it?" Linda says, and Near can only stare. But not at the sky.

"Astronomer," Near blurts out, and he feels infinitely foolish. What is he doing? "If I didn't become the next L, then I'd want to become an astronomer."

Linda, hardly registering the statement herself, gapes. "…you know, I can actually imagine you looking through a telescope."

Near doesn't say anything for the first few moments, but finds himself saying in a soft, quiet voice, "My grandfather was one."

It's silent. Linda nods. "He died?"

"Yes. Stroke."

"I see."

Something warm and solid covers his hand, and he realises its Linda's hand. He considers shrugging it off or telling her that he doesn't like physical contact, but then he glances at the hand, then at her peaceful expression, and thinks better of it.

Linda grins again, squeezing his hand. "Hey, if you're the white sheep, then that means I'm the big bad wolf. Or is that Mello? Probably, right?"

When Near doesn't say anything, she frowns. "What's wrong? This is happy moments. For happy people. No serious business!"

"I am fine."

Linda frowns. "You know, I asked you out to play once, and that's what you replied. 'I am fine'. That's when I figured that I should get to know you. I bet you're an onion. With layers and layers."

The silence stretches out again, but she simply sighs and takes pleasure in the comfortable atomsphere. Then she looks over and gestures towards their hands. "Is this okay?"

"…"

"I mean, is it enjoyable?"

"It is too confusing to be enjoyable."

"Too confusing? Why is it confusing?"

"It is confusing for me."

Linda blinks, but then a smile plasters its way onto her face, which absolutely glows. "You like me. Like-like me."

He says nothing, but turns his palm around tentatively so that it faces Linda's palm. Grinning at the gesture, she interlinks their fingers.

"It's okay, Near. I like-like you too."

It goes back to normal. Near moves back into the common room. For a while, things are good.

But Matt is right. She is moving.

"I can always visit," she says, but Near doubts she will. "I mean, it's not like it's a jail, or whatever. It's just that – you know –I always… I'm wasting my time here. I like sketching hands, brick walls with graffiti, people – I don't belong here, and this might be my one chance."

"You don't need to explain or justify yourself. I am fine."

Momentarily, she looks hurt, but it passes, leaving a sad smile on her face. Linda leans in, and Near stiffens as her gaze flickers over to his mouth. Her lips touch his, and the kiss is a little awkward, gentle and… lingering. He knows that if he's thinking straight, he should be pushing away – which obviously leads to the conclusion that Linda does more than inspire strange feelings; she wrecks his train of thought entirely. His eyes are open the whole time; by the time he has some sense to get over the tingles and electricity shots spreading all over his body and close his eyes, she pulls away.

"Don't get yourself killed."

She leaves him in the common room with a half-formed excuse about packing.

In the mornings, Near stares at his reflection.

Three more days until Linda moves.

Of course, it isn't unexpected. They would have to part ways, some day or another; he has to enter into a life of secrecy, of deductions and crime. She has no such motive.

So perhaps better now than later.

Still…

He presses his hand to his lips, a little dazed.

To his dismay, his face turns a slight shade of pink from the memory.

Confusing.

"Hey, your girlfriend's leaving."

Near tosses another completed rubix cube into a basket, not even looking at Matt. "She is not my girlfriend."

"Whatever. You aren't going to say goodbye, or anything?"

He silently begins another with six cubes running up and down, as opposed to the usual three-cubed rubix cube. "That is none of your business."

"Uh huh. Right. But as her boyfriend, maybe you should be saying goodbye. I don't know, just a thought."

"I am not her boyfriend."

"Really?" a melody extrudes from Matt – well, his Game Boy. "So… then I guess you won't mind if I –"

"If this is an attempt to provoke a jealous reaction, it is not working."

Matt snorts. "You sounded really defensive. And edgy."

"I sounded like neither of those things."

"Mello was really psyched when he found out about you and Linda. Not in a good way, that is. Probably scared the shit out of her. Poor girl."

"…what do you mean?"

"Oh, just typical Mello stuff. Dead frogs in her locker. Stolen paints. That sorta stuff." Matt shrugs.

Although a part of Near is horrified at the idea of Linda, starting out a day happily only to find the corpse of a frog in her locker, the other part…

"She likes you a lot."

Near finishes his six-cubed rubix cube, unpertubed. But when Matt leaves the room, a small, hesitant v-shaped smile spreads on his face.

He knows.

Near watches her leave with tears in her eyes as she waves at her friends. He's by the window on the third floor, peering through the velvet curtain that conceals the interior.

This is unnecessary.

She takes one long look at him – no, not at him. She can't see him from here. But...

Unnecessary.

Twenty minutes after her car has driven off, he is still watching.

With the Kira case, there is no time for daydreaming about a famous artist he might have known. Linda represents an opportunity, nothing more. She's irrelevant. Useless.

Thoughts come up when he sees the portraits of him and Mello. Memories of loud entrances and discussions of fate and otherwise flood his mind, but there's no time for that.

Although, that doesn't really explain why he's at her doorstep now, not quite sure what he wants and why.

Linda's cheery when she calls for him to wait; she's smiling when she goes to open the door.

She falters when she sees him.

"Near," she breathes. Then she wrinkles her nose, looking down at his feet. "Your socks are all dirty."

"So. It's over."

"Yes."

Linda clamps her lips together, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. It's pretty and it compliments her form.

She smiles weakly. "Do you want something to drink? Juice? Alcohol? Granted, I only have this bottle that I got from a friend a while ago…"

"I am fine."

Her mouth forms into a narrow line. "What did I tell you about saying that? You haven't changed at all."

Near responds with silence as he stares down at the kitchen counter.

"…do you want chocolate, Near?"

Tears roll down his cheek, and he doesn't realize they're there until he sees the stains of them on his sleeve. He quickly wipes them away..

"It's okay to show weakness once in a while, you know. Just because you're the next L doesn't mean you can't show emotion once in a while." She lowers her voice into a soothing tone. "You can trust me. I won't mock you."

After a few agonizingly long minutes, he clasps one hand on her sleeve, staring blankly at her lap.

He doesn't bawl or anything like that. But she takes his hand and links one pinky around his, waiting patiently for him to open his mouth and tell the tale.

It's a little funny, Near.

What is?

Well, I was always the one coming to you – but what sealed the deal was you, coming to me.

It's a kind of relationship – sometimes he comes to her house to think, and at times, not to think at all.

Linda often laughs about it.

An artist and an anonymous detective? Well, there have been stranger things.

Don't worry, Near. You'll always be my cute-sheep-loner person!

...Please don't call me that.

A/N: ...it's a curious thing - why is it that the most socially handicapped Wammy boy gets the happy ending?

Oh well. Read and review! I hope you enjoyed it :)