Disclaimer: I do not own, I am making no money, please do not sue. There is religious content. I am not trying to be blasphemous, so please do not take it that way. I was just wondering what would cause Mello doubts in his religion and how he dealt. It could be better, but I had not internet, and I needed something to do…so don't complain.
Summary: Mello questions why he follows his religion because of something Near said. What does he think? How does he deal? How does he put the fears at rest? Read and find out!
LOVE FROM FEAR!
Is it better to be loved or feared?
The topic of that day's Wammy discussion was the simple statement that was Machiavelli's best known statement. As usual, Near was sitting in the corner, a statement passed his lips every few seconds, but other then the occasional "that would make sense" or "rationally, that would not work in today's society" he was silent. Matt was in his normal third row seat, and the DS was humming a gentle tune as he played Pokemon: Diamond. He was oblivious to the conversation. The last was Mello, and he was so adamant in his avocation that fear was the most necessary of the two, that it appeared he had won the debate.
However, his stride was broke when Near said so flippantly, "Is that why Christianity is so successful among people even in today's world, because it rules them with fear?"
Mello was silent. He couldn't think of something to say. It followed that Near won the discussion, as per usual. The normal hatred he felt at the stolen victory was unusually absent. Instead, it was replaced with a cavernous hole left by the doubt this argument.
"Is it really fear that binds mankind to Christ? Without the threat of hell, would we still flock to our Lord and Sheppard?"
It hurt, the thought that maybe people did not love the Lord, but instead feared Him. Mello was always raised to believe the Lord himself was loving, and thereby deserved love, but now he wondered if that was only because his followers did not want to admit their fear.
He wandered the halls of the Wammy house, no destination in mind, pondering the idea of God's one-sided love for mankind. "It has to be painful" he thought, "loving people who might not care for you."
His mind was reeled back to when he was a child. How, in the dead of night he would crawl into his mother's bed only to be shoved out and pushed away. He hated that, the feeling that not even his own mother wanted him around. Being told it was so much worse, when his mom would return home with a gentlemen caller. Mello, not knowing what that was, would wander out, inevitably destroying the mood and causing the man to leave. He hated to see the look of malice in his mama's eyes. He hated the fit of anger that followed. He knew what it was like to never be loved by the people he loved. He knew that pain all too well.
Mello found himself in the Wammy house cathedral. The Giant crucifix was hanging on the wall, portraying the foundation of the faith in one image.
Mello laughed, at Wammy it was almost a sacrilege to be cliché, but he couldn't help but think the statement, "A picture is worth a thousand words". But, why this picture?
Mello shook off that train of thought, knowing the canned reason so many would give him if that question was ever asked aloud. He got on his knees, the carpet was thin, and the underlying concrete started to make the knees ache if the person kneeling remained too long. It was odd that this was so worn, few ever prayed at Wammy. They relied on rationality, and religion is not rational. Roger blamed the wear on Mello alone.
He began to recite is rosary in the silence of that hall. The words were slow, pronunciated, and done in such a fashion that Mello did not hear the oak double doors open. He didn't hear the soft, bare feet pad down the isles, and he didn't notice the intruder take a seat right next to him on the floor in front of the monument.
Mello continues the recitation, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with the. Blessed art though amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen," It was on the Amen that the sound of "It's clobbering time" echoed through the chapel.
Mello stopped. He sighed. Then, without warning, he pounced at the intruder. He twisted his fist in the collar of the white shirt, and he began to scream. What he was saying could only be described as every doubt or fear he had concerning his religion. He screamed and screamed, everything he screamed he blamed on Near because of what he had said earlier. As he shouted his soul out to his rival, his eyes began to leak. The tiny droplets of moisture fell onto the face of Mello's enemy. And, as Near realized what they were, he felt two arms wrap around his neck.
For the first time since his mother was murdered, Mello was crying. Near did not know what to do. He just sat there as Mello poured out ever drop of his pain on Near's shoulder.
"Mello" Near began, when the sniffling stopped, "forgive me."
Mello looked up. He stared into the eyes of his competition. They held so much sincerity. Today was definitely a day for first. The first time Mello had ever doubted his faith, the first time in a long time Mello had cried, and now, the first time Near had apologized to Mello.
Mello gave him a look of confusion, but Near did not elaborate. He simply got up and walked away from the blonde boy. He did not stop until he reached the door. It was then he turned back, and said one of his simplistic Near-y statements.
"Some of the greatest achievements of man began with fear, whether it was overcoming or evolving, fear had a part in its creation. Just because fear has a hand in it does not make it any less valuable or important."
It was with this that Near exited the church and the doubts went with him. Mello went back to his rosary, pondering God's blessings, and ignoring the world. . . . . especially Near.