Welcome to Chapter 13. In honor of L's return, and the fact that I've successfully posted 3 consecutive chapters in less than a month (which is pretty much a record for me), plus the famous number 13, This chapter has a word count of 4, 774 words, not including the pre-note and afternote. That pretty much means that this is the longest chapter of this story I've ever posted.

Once again, this chapter is dedicated to Chana-san, because she's stuck with me for so long, and been a great source of inspiration and motivation. In fact, she inspired a scene from the following chapter, which I will name at the end to avoid spoilers. I hope this pleases everyone, but especially her!

Disclaimer: Seriously people, I don't own it. You can try to sue me, but you won't get much, I can promise you that.

If I had been kidnapped and held against my will, I would have metaphorically rang out "Hallelujah!" at the fact that the police were so close. But that wasn't the case. Technically I'd been willing to go everywhere my cohorts had dragged me along to, and I was being targeted by a crime syndicate. I could tell them that, but then I would be forced to explain the entire reason why, which was not something I wanted to do. The original circumstance aside, it was twice as humiliating to try and explain that I had grown fond of my "captors".

Sure, there had been cases like that in the past. I had worked on enough of them to know. There would often be kidnapping cases where the victim began to trust and rely on their kidnapper, sometimes even to the point where the victim would become violently defensive of the criminal. But that made it all the worse. It wasn't like Mello and/or Matt ever actually treated me like a victim. Mello always managed to at least partially convey that technically I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I didn't mind, you know, dying. When he warned me about the threat, he wasn't the one threatening me. He was letting me know that there was very real danger awaiting me if I didn't follow his rules.

Either way, my choices were as follows: I could either A) Make the police think that I was with Mello and them, and hope I didn't get thrown into prison, or B) Attempt to explain the humiliating course of events leading up to this soon-to-be arrest.

Now, imagine me weighing metaphorical weights in either hand like a scale. Up down, up down. I was moving as I considered, throwing my dice into the pack that I kept loaded at all times, just waiting to have to run. Matt was already pressing buttons on his game, and before I could ask what he was doing, he held the device up to his ear like a phone, and began talking into it.

"Mello, we've got cops." That was all that was needed, apparently, because I heard the pounding of Mello's boots against the stairs not a second later, and Matt was back on his device, probably trying to scramble their communications.

The three of us practically flew down the stairs, despite the fact that I had no idea what our plan was. If there even was one, that is.

Either way, we were too late. Everyone was scrambling to hide their drugs and not-so-concealed weapons (which were probably illegal anyways), which only made it harder to get out of the house. By the time we made it to a door, it was being barreled into by police officers.

"POLICE! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" I'm sure you can imagine how things went in the next few minutes.

Suffice it to say that when all was said and done, Mello, Matt and I were all stuffed into the back of a police cruiser with our hands cuffed behind our backs.

I can't describe very accurately how I felt, sitting there like a criminal. It was an overall humiliating experience, considering my background, but I also felt adrenalin rushing through my veins as a rogue part of my mind continued to try and formulate some kind of escape. The part of my mind that I actually had control of, though, was settling for wallowing in the huge embarrassment.

But I recognized that no matter how awful I felt, Mello was probably worse off. He'd been leading this life for how many years? Seven? And judging from the aura of absolute shame and defeat that was radiating off of him like heat off the sun, I'd say that this must've been the first time he'd ever actually been arrested. It didn't help that he couldn't even curl up and wish for death, the way he seemed to want to. There'd been a good amount of people in the house, so the few squad cars that were there had to be used to their full extent. And let me tell you something. Police cars are not meant to hold three people in the backseat the way we were canned in. Even with all of us being skinny.

But Mello was sulking, and I'd never actually seen him do that before. Sure, I'd seen him brooding, or acting generally pissed off, but never sulking like this. Am I supposed to do something? I wondered. Why couldn't Matt be next to him instead? Rather, I had been sandwiched in between the two older boys.

But seriously—was I supposed to console the seething blond? I had no clue! After all, I was miserable too, though admittedly not as harshly…

So…I eventually decided to awkwardly pat his arm from the funny angle I was able to reach him at. In return, he let his hand flop forward onto the gate that separated us from the officer, moving his hand to pat my leg, just above the knee. I felt strange on the inside as his hand met the fabric of my clothes, but I dismissed it as extra nerves from this damn situation. After all, things right now were hard enough without trying to think about that on top of everything.

"What now?" I said casually, addressing no one in particular.

Okay, so maybe someone. What I mean is that I was really only intending to talk to Matt and Mello. But the female officer sitting up from in the passenger's seat took it upon herself to explain things to me. Oh, how I despise being thirteen. Almost as much as I despise looking like I'm only ten.

"Well, first, you're gonna go to the station, where you'll be detained until we can track down your guardian, and then—," I cut her off.

"Yes, I know full well how the justice system works, ma'am. Unfortunately, I wasn't actually talking to you." She shut up, but gave me a dirty look, one that said "Well fuck you too, you little white bastard…"

As you can see, I've been subjected to that look many times over the years. You learn to know it by heart, after a while.

Despite undoubtedly understanding that my statement had been intended for them, Matt and Mello both chose not to answer me. I couldn't really blame them.

Well this sucks.

It was only a few minutes to the station, but it felt like an eternity, what with the way the metal handcuffs dug into my wrists. I had never actually worn any before, and so I always assumed that suspects were always exaggerating or trying to pull guilt when they complained about the strain of the cuffs on the wrists.

Never again would I underestimate their complaints.

As the officer explained to me exactly what I was being charged with (possession of illegal weapons and pyrotechnics, as well as suspicion of my being part of an illegal drug ring), I was required to empty my pockets. It was a good thing all I had was a small box of dice.

There were so many people there that we were all shuffled along in relative order, and eventually I found myself in front of a stocky man who asked for my name as he looked to a report. Glancing around, I noticed Mello standing only a few feet away.

"Name?" My officer asked. I attempted to reach up and twirl a piece of my hair, only to realize that I couldn't while my hands were bound together. So I gave a bitter scowl at nothing.

"It's Nate River," I mumbled, just loud enough to hear it. I noticed Mello paying more attention to me than his own officer, and frowned, feeling my face heat up. This was just adding insult to injury. I never went by my real name, and the backstory behind why, was not something I liked to think about, or explain to others like I would definitely have to now.

I spoke my typical cold monotone through the rest of the report and eventually found myself being ushered into a holding cell with a few other guys, including Matt, while Mello followed not far behind.

As soon as I was in, I found the clearest spot of ground and plopped myself right down, making sure I wasn't in the way of treading feet. Mello found his way over to me, just as I was wishing for some stacking materials to distract myself with, and before I knew it. Luckily, conversation with him would do just fine, if not better. I opened my mouth to make a comment, but he beat me to it.

"They took my rosary." He had his right arm propped up on his knee, his left leg extended in front of him as his arm was slack at his side. His hair partially covered his face, but I could still see the traces of distress in his features. "And my chocolate." I blinked.

"They took my dice," I contributed absently. "That was my favorite set." We sat in silence for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say to avoid listening to the hum of background noise that reminded us of where we were.

"So…Nate?" I mentally cringed, but I was careful to keep my face guarded. This place had so many…people.

"Please don't call me that," I requested. "I prefer Near."

"Why?" This time, I made a very slight grimace.

"Are you sure you want to know, right now? This hardly seems like a very good story-telling environment."

Mello nodded. I glanced around, making sure no one was close enough that they'd be able to listen in if I spoke quietly.

"You remember what I told you back at Mortar's house?" I asked. "I told you about my background." Mello nodded again, prompting me to continue. "Well after my parents' deaths, I didn't go immediately into Elliot's care. I was first placed in an institution for the gifted known as 'Wammy's House'. That was where I had my first encounter with my cousin, who lived there as well."

"You're a Wammy's kid?" My blood ran cold. Did that mean-?

"I take it you are, also?" I backtracked, thinking about his life as he'd described it. After his parents were killed, he'd joined his syndicate, correct? I didn't see where Wammy's House fit into that equation anywhere.

"I did my time in that hole, yeah." I didn't even have to see his face to know that he was scowling at the very mention of the place. "My parents died when I was 11, and I was in the system for two years before I got sick of it all. I got sick of that…place." He said 'place' as if he was talking about some horrible, disgusting thing that didn't deserve to have its noun pass his lips. I didn't fully disagree with him.

"Well, I guess that explains your addiction to chocolate and your need for your rosary." He rounded on me immediately.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his eyes wider than normal. I glanced around and saw some more eyes on us, but I ignored them. They'd get bored with our quiet conversation eventually.

"Well I've noticed something about kids who come from Wammy's House, even after a short amount of time," I began. "We tend to find things to cling to. I haven't had access to the records of the other Wammy's residents, so I can't prove this theory, but I believe that because of the trauma that people like you and I experienced at such a young age, coupled with our mental capacity creates a sense of imbalance. It makes us expect instability. But our minds need to find ways to balance out that instability, by giving us something to attach ourselves to. A…habit, if you will. For you, it'd be eating chocolate, and having your rosary with you constantly, perhaps to hold or even just touch. Both provide you with comfort in your life, because they are familiar objects that are always there. They are constants in an equation otherwise filled with variables. For me, I cling to my toys."

I actually looked over at him to find him frozen as he listened to me, like he was trying to absorb every word I spoke. "Have you ever noticed, Mello, that I usually only play with toys that have no need for electricity? That's because they are a constant. No matter what the circumstances, I can always rely on having a box of dice in my pocket." I sighed.

"I feel like my point in having this entire spiel was to illustrate the fact that I sympathize with your displeasure."

Mello said nothing for quite a while, and I had begun to wonder if he was planning to continue talking to me at all. I would be disappointed, were that the case. Without his conversation, I was left to fidget with my own empty hands, perhaps imagining that there was a tower of small, white cubes in front of me.

"Well, damn, Near." I looked back up at the blond. He had a worn smirk on his face, like he had lost at some kind of game that he'd been playing for a long while. "I've considered things like that millions of times, but I never thought I'd be backed by another Wammy's kid. Thanks for that." I made a "hn" noise of acknowledgement before we lapsed into another round of silence.

And then it was broken, just like the last two times. "So why are you called Near?"

I looked at him, my eyes meeting his. "Why are you called Mello?"

…

"…Matt's one, too, you know." I cocked my head to the side. "A Wammy's kid, I mean." I nodded.

"I figured. The man is a genius with that device of his. I've seen it, you know." Mello looked up at the ceiling.

"I feel bad for him. That's his anchor." I nodded, and yawned as the silence began to reassert itself. But I couldn't just fall asleep. Not only was that like begging to be beat up by all the random gang-thugs who were giving me dirty looks, despite the fact that Mello was right there, but I still had a phone call to make. They were calling names, now, but there didn't seem to be an order, so I had to be alert.

I was extremely tired. Let it never be said, though, that I didn't try my hardest to stay awake and attentive, but after a while, simply fell back against the wall, mustering up all my will to keep my eyes open.

"You know, you can fall asleep, Near." Mello assured from his place next to me. I shook my head violently, trying to both reject his offer and keep myself awake.

"No, I can't." I could hear the smile in Mello's voice, and feel it in the way he patted my knee.

"Yeah, you can. I'll let you know when they call your name to make your call." I frowned, and wanted to protest, but I was tired. I guess utter humiliation and giving long speeches about minor dependent tendencies can do that to a guy. Oh yeah, and then the fact that we were actually arrested. That might've had something to do with it.

So, I let my head slide sideways, landing on Mello's shoulder. He stiffened, however briefly, but relaxed after a moment.

I think he said something to me before I passed out, but I didn't hear it. I was too tired.

I was shaken awake around fifteen or twenty minutes later. I almost took a few moments, but as I realized that I was sitting on hard concrete, I jolted up.

"Hey, calm down, Near," came Mello's voice from beside me. He clutched my shoulders and stood me up, patting my shoulder with his hand as he began to direct me towards the door to the cell, where an officer was waiting. I gave a nod, but my stomach was tight.

It hadn't really sunk in before, but I was feeling the full effect now, even if I didn't show it. I was going to have to talk to L. My cousin, L. The world's greatest detective. I was going to have to explain to him how I was arrested. I told him I was okay, I told him that I was with friends, and now…this.

I let out a sigh, expressing only about 1 one-hundredth of the nerves I was feeling. Only when I was actually standing in front of the phone, my left hand held out to press the buttons on the number pad as my right hand held the phone in my hand did I actually hesitate.

Oh well, I thought. He's going to have to find out sooner or later. May as well be sooner.

So I dialed.

"Hello?"

"Elliot?" I said, just barely keeping my voice from trembling. "It's Near. I need you to send someone to come and get me. I've…I've been arrested."

There was silence on the other end, and I gathered that he was probably tracing the location of the call.

"Near, what's going on?" he sounded stunned. "How have you managed to get yourself arrested?" Under the astonishment, I could tell he was disappointed.

But he asked me a question, and I found myself explaining everything since we arrived in San Francisco, like the words were pouring out of my mouth of their own volition. I was kind of glad that my logic had decided to take over, because there was no way that I'd be able to function under this new stress. As it was, I was already losing control.

My emotions should have shut down, locked in a black box and stowed away in the recesses of my mind, to lay dormant until my mind decided I could handle them again. But this time, it was different. It was like all the horrible, sick feelings of shame and guilt were in a clear Plexiglas box that was clasped shut, and all of them were whirling around like a tornado trying to escape. And the box was sitting right at the forefront of my mind, making it hard to think.

"…and now we're at the police station. Could you please send someone for us?" Yes, us. I had gotten into this mess with Mello, Matt, and Sawyer, and I was going to get out of it with them.

L seemed to consider my words before finally sighing, having reached a decision.

"Very well. How many are there?" That came as a little bit of a relief, but not much. I was still in a world of trouble, because, come on, this was L for god's sake.

We ended the phone call shortly after, and I was escorted back to the holding cell. I moved pretty much on autopilot, and I had a pain in my jaw that I always associated with the urge to cry. Swallowing, I forced back any tears that might have had the nerve to try to well up in my eyes.

Matt had joined Mello on the floor, and I walked over to them sullenly, crouching down next to Mello, my hair flopped down to cover my eyes.

"Hey Near, you okay?" Matt questioned. I made no move to respond. I was too busy trying to keep that damned box closed.

It was practically taunting me. Come on, Nate. It jeered. Break down. Shatter into a thousand pieces in front of all these people. Show them what you've got going on inside. Cry! Cry! Cry!

No. I won't. I was shaking now with the effort. I felt my face burning, and I realized that my breath was getting shorter. I gritted my teeth, blinking furiously. I felt a hand brush my hair away from my face, and I jerked away. "…Near…?" That was Mello.

"I called him," I said. "He's going to send someone for us. He…" I cut myself off, feeling my throat closing painfully. A squeezed my eyes shut, and put my hands over my head, closing my fists around my hair. I'm not gonna do it…stay in control, Near, stay in control! Stay. In. Control, DAMMIT!

A hand was put on my wrist, and I twisted my arm to get away, reversing our positions so that I was the one gripping the arm of whoever was trying to touch me. I squeezed it, hard.

"Near!" Mello's voice was soft, yet urgent, and I realized that I had a hold on his arm so tightly that my knuckles were turning white. Despite my very obvious lack of physical strength, I would bet that it probably still hurt. I didn't want to let go, though. I had no toys at the moment. I had to cling to something. Mello was the closest thing, both in physical reach and in my mind. Mello had been my constant for the last few weeks. I would wake up and he would be there. I would go to sleep knowing that he was there. And no matter where I was at any moment during the day, he was there, or at least close by enough that I knew he was still there.

Mello was my new…addiction. He would do just as well as any dice or cards, or other toys. Maybe even better.

I felt another hand placed on my back, and I didn't fight away from the touch like I probably would have for anyone else. In fact, I actually kind of leaned into the touch.

And you know what?

I didn't cry.

I had had an ample amount of time to collect my bearings and get my emotions back under control before we were called on to be released. But even after I had calmed down, I hadn't let go of Mello's wrist. Why? See above. Just before the linebreak.

When our names were called, I realized that Mello and Matt had recorded themselves as each other, adding the last name "Ruvie", a name I recognized from Wammy's house. The caretaker's name was Roger Ruvie. I smirked a little bit upon remembering that, but quickly regained my façade of indifference.

As we neared the front of the station where we would be released, I felt my mask begin to slip yet again at the thought of seeing someone who knew that I was associated with L being escorted in handcuffs out of jail.

Oh god, I thought, the knot in my stomach twisting violently. Please let it not be Watari. I would absolutely die if it was Watari. He was among the two people I respected most in the entire world, and I didn't think I could bear to see his face, looking at me with disappointment as I was led around in chains. I would rather be shot in the face.

I set my jaw as we got closer and closer to the door that separated the front desk from the holding cells.

But as soon as I saw who was waiting for us standing out in front of the main desk, signing papers and whatnot, I froze, wishing now more than ever that the ground would just swallow me up. Because L hadn't sent Watari.

L had come to get me himself.

I was stuck in a state of shock for the rest of the time however short, that we were inside the police station. My face was fully red, and I was sure I was trembling. It was the scene from the cell all over again, only this time it was about a thousand times worse, because L was sitting right there, glancing at me every now and again with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Every time he looked at me, I felt another part of my soul get torn off and shrivel up.

Mello, Matt, Sawyer, and I were all seated on plastic chairs just a few feet away from the main desk, where L was still sitting. All of us had been un-handcuffed, and our possessions returned to us. They didn't give back the pack I'd been carrying though, doubtlessly because it contained an illegal firearm and, you know, dynamite. But they had returned my dice to me. So there I sat, shaking them around in my hand as I tried my best to avoid looking at my cousin. Mello sat next to me, shoving chocolate into his mouth like a dying man, and Matt was next to him, playing his game yet again. Unsurprisingly, the police had failed to find anything suspicious about the PSP, despite the fact that he probably had a "Blow Up the World" application hidden away somewhere on there.

Sawyer simply sat silently next to Matt, occasionally muttering about how he was so screwed and couldn't afford to be in the system.

I didn't know what the rest of them were thinking about, but I found myself trapped in a jumble of questions and thoughts that were practically smothering me. What if L hated me for this? What if he sent me back to Wammy's? Worse, what if he put me back in the system, but didn't let me return to Wammy's, and I was forced into a regular orphanage? Even worse than that, what if he decided that I wasn't worth it and just put me out on the street?

The logical side of my brain was trying to reason out the fact that he would never just turn me out on the street, as well as the fact that him completely disowning me wasn't very likely at all. And once I explained, he'd understand that I'd just been caught up in all of this…chaos.

But then, what if he sent Mello and Matt to prison? What if he absolutely forbade me from seeing them again? What if he managed to come up with false evidence that framed them for murder and had them executed?

Okay, so that was a little farfetched. But the possibilities were endless! And I was too put out to even consider each of them, like I normally would.

"You alright, Near?" Mello piped up from next to me. After a moment of hesitation, I shook my head.

"Actually, no," I responded verbally. "I'm not." My voice quieted to just barely above a whisper, so low that only he and I could hear it. "What if he hates me for this?"

Mello didn't answer immediately. I'd begun to wonder if he'd answer at all, when he picked up my hand and set it gently on his own wrist, seemingly having read my thoughts. I squeezed his arm half-heartedly, taking that gesture as my answer. Mello seemed to have guessed the conclusion I'd reached earlier, because that one act of kindness translated to: "It won't matter, because I'm your constant."

I felt my heart slow, even if only by half a beat.

"Near." I stiffened, looking up to the voice of my cousin. He simply looked at me, and I stood up to follow him without a word. He, in return, said nothing to me as well.

L led us to a car, which I recognized as a rented SUV from a dealer not too far from our apartment. When I saw Watari, Quillish Wammy, standing by the door, waiting to drive the car, I felt the knife that was lodged in my chest turn around 360 degrees. He was expressionless, but his indifferent vibe told me all I needed to know.

I didn't stop, even when I heard Mello and Matt's footsteps cease behind me. They'd probably caught sight of the familiar face of the founder of Wammy's house, and were now incredibly confused. Both seemed to realize, though, that we were also in the presence of an outsider, Sawyer, so they kept their mouths shut and continued walking after only missing a couple of beats.

The car had three rows, so Mello and Co. were seated in the back, while L and I were in the middle, separated by the center seat. Watari was alone in the front while he drove in silence. The air between us all was so heavy for a while that I could practically feel it on my skin.

It was both surprising and unsurprising when L was the first to break the silence.

"So, Near," he said at last. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?"

So...? What'd everyone think? Please review and let me know!

The section that was inspired by Chana-san was the part where they talk about how the Wammy's kids all find a "constant" to cling to. It comes from her story "Field of White", a fantastic MelloNear story that can be found in my favorites list, as can Chana (Shayla080310), under my favorite Authors. I really recommend it, along with her other works!

Personally, this was my favorite chapter of this story, because I had to force myself to feel the emotions that I wanted Near to feel, and I had to try and describe exactly what it was. Not only that, but there was some relationship development between he and Mello, and L returned!

Anyways, drop me a line and let me know what you think! Bye for now!