Title: "Hitori De"
Author: Shaitanah
Rating: PG
Summary[Mello/Near… kind of "I'm learning," Near replied, "to rebuild what I've lost." (Spoilers for the end of Death Note and Death Note Special One-Shot) Please R&R!
Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi.
A/N: I promised myself not to write fics that imply that Mello might be alive. Yeah, well, so much for the promises)))) The title means "alone", "by [himself".
HITORI DE
…The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.
Pablo Neruda. 'Sonnet LXXXI'
He placed the final card atop the Tarot tower and slowly turned around to cast a sliding glance at the result of his work. Rows and rows of cards, rises and depressions, multiple floors – a simple architectectural miracle of beauty and logic. A construction like that should stand forever.
Near rose slowly, knowing that any rapid movement of air could disturb the cards, and looked around. Metres of flawless white cardboard spread far and wide around him in a complex maze. Towers he had to use stairs to gain access to the top. Bastions, hallways, windows – everything connected and ready to collapse any time.
Satisfied, Near moved smoothly towards the door. His gait had acquired somewhat strange, awkward grace in years. He walked noiselessly towards a small opening in the card wall. He designed it in farther from the door to prevent anyone from gaining access to him while he was working. Any visitors including Watari had to deal with him from the doorstep. As a man who valued peace and loneliness, Near simply had no other option.
He left the room and shut the door gently. It was quiet in the hall. As quiet as Near's life had been for the past weeks. Basically he had nothing to do but build his towers. Even Watari was still in the HQ, having a small break from touring the world on L's errands.
Near passed Watari by as the old man was fumbling with the headphones at his laptop. It seemed Watari paid him no heed; Near knew it wasn't true and smiled on the inside. Roger Ruvie could not be changed even if he had been torn apart from the orphanage. He had always treated the Wammy's House residents as kids. Even the way he pronounced that word, with the slightly lingering hiss at the last two consonants so it was hard to tell if the sounds were voiced or voiceless, always highlighted the affection that he still harboured for his former wards.
Near halted. It was warm in the room, and the soft buzzing of the monitors sounded like a monotonous alien song.
"Do you like my tower, Roger?" Near asked. His shoulders hunched habitually, soft cotton shirt flowing freely around his torso, he thought he must have looked like a ghost.
He didn't know why he asked the question. He certainly never needed anyone's opinion or approval.
"I beg your pardon?" Watari uttered in reserved surprise.
Near raised his hand as if reluctantly and pointed at the door, his eyes still downcast. "My tower."
Watari put the broken headphones off, opened the door and peeked inside carefully. "Oh. Yes, I do, L."
Near hunched a little more as if the very letter weighed down on him heavily and made for the stairway. He ascended higher and higher, up to the roof of the skyscraper, until cold air finally welcomed him on top of the building. Near looked up. Storm clouds were gathering, painting the sky in damp, leaden grey. The colour of late autumn, wet asphalt and ruthless sorrow.
Near took a deep breath and strolled forward as the rain began pouring down. It showered him in cascades of chilly water that smelt of the city, and gas, and earth, and foliage; all those smells equally foreign to the youth who'd spent most part of his life willingly shut in the four walls. Near let the water slip beneath his shirt and stream all over his body. His clothes heavy, his hair sticking to his forehead in damp streaks, he squinted at the sky and opened his mouth, swallowing heavy droplets. He swept his fingers over his face and breathed, breathed deeply, trying to take all of the air in, as much as he could, suck the air out of this city of walls and asphalt roads, and the screeching of tires, and high-tech offices, and so many people (insufferable jerks)…
The sky exhausted its resources of rain and splashed Near with a bleak sunbeam that had broken through the clouds. It grew the shade of gentle watercolour blue. Near shook his head and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. It was the only moment of weakness he could allow himself, the moment of bare agony under the rain.
He returned to the room and stared blankly at the card towers. He entered the maze and wandered cautiously inside the circle. Cards towered over him like buildings of some futuristic city. Near stood in the middle of the labyrinth, a little dizzy from all the air and the rain, and looked upon his work with vague inexplicable curiosity.
"Aiming for Guinness World Records?"
Near's back went rigid at the sound of that voice. He hadn't heard it in over three years. He had always assumed the man could have been alive. Watari informed him about the trace that presumably led to him about a year ago. Near didn't pursue the matter.
He released a small breath of relief. "No," he replied calmly. "I'm learning."
"Learning?" The air behind him drifted. "Learning what?"
Near smiled and made a decision. The towers were going down. He strode forth, having cast all care aside, cards collapsing on each side of him, toppling over, flitting in the air. Near span about and hit the towers with his fists, threw his leg up and crushed the unstable construction. Soon everything lay in ruins, piles of cards scattered all over the floor, and Near turned around to face Mello.
He hadn't changed much. His hair was longer (but then again, so was Near's), partially tied in a knot at the back of his head, the rest sweeping wildly over his shoulders. Blazing aquamarine eyes looked at Near with mingled suspicion and animosity.
Near twined the silken white lock of his hair around his finger absent-mindedly and said: "To rebuild what I've lost."
Mello snorted and turned to leave the room. Near made no attempts to stop him. He had a dozen questions: how did he survive? where had he been? why did he come to see him? why now? He supposed they'd better be left unanswered, investigated later when his heart stopped acting so out of character, pounding in his ears. He wanted to touch Mello, to make sure it was Mello, not some kind of a phantom torn out of his fickle memory.
He didn't dare come closer. Instead, he sank on his knees and proceeded to build another card house.
Mello glanced at him briefly before walking out the door. "Hey, how many pieces were there?"
"I forgot. But I'll count again."
Mello came back roughly three month later. He lowered himself on the floor beside Near and watched him complete a giant (over 4 square metres) jigsaw puzzle. Both of them kept quiet. Near knew from the moment he saw him by the card towers that Mello would come back in the end. He did nothing to speed the meeting up. Waiting patiently, he continued browsing through the cases in the post-Kira world, building new towers and nibbling on a bar of chocolate unwittingly.
The waiting paid off.
Near reached for another pack of cards, and his elbow brushed Mello's knees. He leaned a bit closer, inhaled the warm scent of chocolate that came off his skin and froze in that uncomfortable position, feeling this new level of intimacy was the only one possible between them.
Mello moved his hand as if accidentally, and the pads of his fingers touched Near's hand. Near always had a good sense of time, and he knew that it was something next to impossible for Mello to sit still for almost four minutes in a row. And four minutes next to him made Near seriously concerned for Mello's common sense.
The monitors flickered, an intricate gothic 'W' splashed over the white background, and Watari's voice greeted him.
"There is an incoming call for L."
Near raised his head and looked at Mello. The blonde was grinning with his typical venturesome, nasty grin.
"So," he said quietly. "What are we working on?"
Near didn't smile. Didn't relax his shoulders in relief. Didn't even move. He simply looked away because his eyes suddenly sparkled, and said:
"L's here."
February 11, 2008