Author's Note: I feel like such a traitor right now. -sweatdrop- I was supposed to finish my multi-chaptered fics ages ago, but I haven't even touched them for months. I'm convinced that I'm pretty much the flakiest person alive, so I've decided to stick with one-shots for a while.

Now, I shall completely contradict myself and say that this is not necessarily a one-shot. If you, darling readers, like this and tell me so in reviews, I might continue it. In fact, I might write more chapters in the next couple of days, but I won't post them unless people want me to. Not that I'm holding my own fic hostage, or anything, but I just don't see the point of posting things that people don't enjoy.

For a little bit of background on this fic…we're in the process of moving across the country, and we basically drove from coast to coast. During the time in the car, I watched the entire Death Note series and was inspired to write something along the lines of this fic. I've read the manga, but there was something very different about watching the anime. Then, a couple of days later, I got my hands on CexCells, Blaqk Audio's new CD, and I was doubly inspired to write this. It is the most inspiring album in existence. Seriously. You all should go out and buy it. Like, now.

But, anyways, I hope that you enjoy this. Again, if you do enjoy it, please let me know! I would love to write a couple more chapters. But I'm not committing to a long-running multi-chaptered story, because I know that I'll flake out and leave readers disappointed. So, basically, just tell me what you want to see, and I'll see if I can deliver.

Also, I'm currently searching for a role-playing partner. E-mail me if you're at all interested.

—

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. I wish that I did. That would be the most awesome thing ever.

I would also really like to own Between Breaths and Wake Up, Open the Door, and Escape to the Sea. Actually, I'd like to own all of Blaqk Audio. Davey is sexy.

But I don't. And that's the bottom line.

—

Please catch me now—I'm lying. You taught me how it can feel like love.
Just catch your breath. We'll dive in and our descent will somehow feel like life.
Oh, my, my, you're oh-so sly. Let's leave unsaid what's left unspoken.
Please hold me now—I'm freezing. God, tell me how we ever got this cold.
Oh, my, my, you're oh-so sly. Let's leave unsaid what's left unspoken.
And, oh, my boy, you're oh-so coy. Let's just pretend that nothing's broken.
We'll censor the ending for me…for you.

—

It was a particularly dark night in Japan. The clouds were so thick that the moon was nearly invisible. People were still coming and going in the streets, but there was a certain aura of silence that settled over every person. It was an odd feeling; but, then again, nothing had been normal for quite some time.

Everyone was thinking about Kira. Some feared him, while others cheered him on. Regardless of opinion or stance, however, everyone new that nothing would ever be the same again. Had divine judgment finally descended on criminals, or was it just that a psychotic serial killer was on the loose? Everyone had opinions, but no one really knew for sure. It was enough to drive a person mad.

Letting out a sigh, Halle ran her fingers through her damp hair, staring listlessly out of the window of her apartment. She felt uneasy, and had felt that way for quite some time. After all, she was a member of the SPK. How else was she supposed to feel? She trusted Near completely, but she had also trusted L completely, and Kira had managed to get the better of him. What kind of hope did that leave for the rest of them? What kind of hope did that leave for the world?

As she tugged her towel tighter around her otherwise bare figure, she sighed once more. Everything was going all wrong, and she felt helpless. The SPK was the only place that she belonged, so she knew that she would stick with it until the end. Even the United States had given into Kira's bullying, meaning that there was no place for her back at the CIA. She had no family and few friends. Her job as a CIA agent had been her life. The fact that she had been forced out of it by the spinelessness of a useless president made her practically glow with anger. But it was bound to happen, wasn't it?

There was more to live for than just capturing Kira, and she knew it. She wanted to be able to have a future. She wanted them to be able to have a future. Maybe that was what made her so angry. She hated Kira for threatening the little bit of joy that she possessed. That was why she wanted to catch him. That was why she wanted to make him pay.

A gasp suddenly escaped her lips and her body stiffened in surprise as two thin, yet muscular, arms snaked their way around her shoulders.

"Aya, so tense tonight," an amused voice breathed into her ear. She couldn't help but relax and chuckle a bit, settling back into the sturdy body behind her.

"What do you expect? I'm a straight-laced CIA agent at heart."

There was a snort, followed by a half-muttered exclamation of "could've fooled me." Halle laughed aloud and turned around in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a brief kiss to his lips, grinning slyly as she pulled back.

"You just bring out the wild in me."

The man snickered lightly, moving a hand to pluck at the top fringe of her towel—a mischievous gleam apparent in his gaze. "Yes, I tend to have that effect on people. I can't help it if everyone finds me sexy."

Entangling one of her hands in his thick hair, Halle pressed her body fully against his and brought her lips about an inch away from his. Her voice lowered to a slightly husky whisper, but she didn't bother trying to mask her amusement. She knew what kind of effect she had on him, just as he knew what kind of effect he had on her.

"It's the leather pants. They're a major turn-on."

After the briefest of pauses, he grasped her shoulders, and, in one smooth movement, spun her around and pushed her back onto her bed, hovering just a few inches above her. A self-satisfied smirk played on his lips. "Whatever works."

Leaning down, he firmly pressed his lips to hers, and she immediately responded, attempting to press herself as close to him as she could. For a short while, they were both satisfied with exploring each other's mouths for the millionth time, but then his hand managed to work its way up to the top of her towel and began to unfasten it. A bit put off by his sudden action, Halle pushed his shoulders up, breaking the kiss. He didn't resist; he moved off of her and sat on the edge of the bed, never taking his scrutinizing gaze off of her.

Sitting up, Hal frowned at her lover, but they both knew that she wasn't really upset with him. "Oi, haven't you had enough for tonight? I'm tired, you know."

A loud laugh burst forth from the man, and he flopped onto his back—his hands folded behind his head, his gaze never switching from the platinum-blonde woman. "Sorry." His voice had a teasing tone and was laced with sarcasm. "Sometimes I forget that you're old."

"I am not old!" Her voice had a screeching quality as she flipped over, grabbed his arms, and pinned him beneath her on the bed. A smirk flickered at the corners of her lips. "You're such a smart-aleck. You only have so much energy because chocolate is all that you eat."

There was an amused chuckle. "Keep telling yourself that. When are you turning thirty, again?"

Halle huffed in indignation, giving his golden hair a good yank. "That's not funny, and you know it."

When she moved to pull his hair, she freed one of his hands, and he reached said hand up to trail through her soft, mostly dry hair. Slowly, he pulled her face closer to his, smirking when he realized that she wasn't resisting. Instead of kissing her again, however, he brought a few strands of her hair close and examined them with a somewhat idle air. Then, when he spoke up, his voice was incredibly nonchalant.

"I think that you're going grey."

Precisely according to his plan, she squeaked in fury, then pulled back and slapped him across the face—but it was only a half-hearted slap. She didn't really want to hurt him. …well, not much, anyways.

"Mello!"

The blonde teen burst into laughter, forcing her head back down so that he could press a quick, teasing kiss to her forehead—an action that only served to infuriate her further. "Ay, ay, lighten up. The only one who has a problem with your age is you."

It was true. Halle had always thought that she was a proverbial "spring chicken." She had always been incredibly smart for her age and had been very young when she had joined the CIA. Everyone had always admired—or envied—her beauty, and she had always had several men chasing after her. There was no real reason for her to feel old. No reason but Mello.

Scowling deeply, she wrestled free from his grip and stood, pulling her towel tight around her once more. "I'm going to go put on robe and get us some drinks." Her voice was bitter, but Mello could tell that it was a forced bitterness. They both were well aware of the fact that she didn't possess the ability to stay angry with him for long.

As she walked out of the room, she could feel his laughing gaze boring into her back. He really was an infuriating child, and he always had been. She wondered every now and then if Near knew of the connection between her and Mello. He must have known. Why else did he pick her specifically to be part of the SPK? While it was true that she had known Near for quite some time, as well, there were other CIA or FBI agents that he also had close contact with. She was forced to conclude that Near was using both her and Mello, but it didn't really matter. In the end, there was no getting out of the situation. Even if she pulled out, she knew that Mello wouldn't. He couldn't allow himself to do such a thing.

She quickly picked up the desired items and returned to her bedroom, flipping on the light and seating herself once more on the edge of the bed. She had a glass of vodka for herself, a beer for Mello, and, of course, a chocolate bar. Snapping off a few squares for herself, she tossed the rest to Mello, who took it with a grin. There was almost always something sinister in his expression, but Hal had learned to overlook it. After all, he probably couldn't help it.

"You certainly know the way to my heart, woman."

Hal snorted, taking a sip of vodka before turning to glance at him, eyebrow quirked. "I had better, after all of these years. I doubt that I'd be able to keep you coming back otherwise."

Mello chuckled deeply, biting off a piece of the chocolate bar. "Well, the sex isn't so bad, either."

All that she could do was roll her eyes at him. He had a strange quality about him that made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. In all actuality, there was nothing about him that would usually appeal to her. Perhaps that was why she was so attracted to him. He was an international criminal, a mafia member, a murderer, a kidnapper, and so many other things that she was supposed to detest. He had the foulest attitude of anyone that she had ever known, and had a penchant for throwing himself into stupid, dangerous situations. He had no real sense of justice and really only cared about his little competition with Near. He wasn't the type of guy that would bring her flowers or remember anniversaries. Hell, he was over ten years younger than her, to boot.

And she loved him.

She didn't really know why, and she had never really told him, but she did. He probably knew it, damned genius that he was. And, even though he never spoke of his own feelings and would never act sentimentally, she knew that he was at least fond of her. They had been through too much together for him to have no emotional attachment to her.

For several moments, they merely sat in heavy silence. It wasn't they didn't know what to say; in fact, they were silent because there was too much to say. After a little while, however, Hal managed to speak up.

"Are you afraid?"

Mello blinked, apparently taken aback by her sudden question. "Of what?"

She chuckled, brushing her bangs out of her face. Her solemn gaze settled on the nearly-empty glass that she held on her lap. "Of anything."

There was a moment of silence, then a grunt. "Don't be stupid."

Halle fought the urge to wince. She should have known better than to ask something like that. Just as she opened her mouth to mumble an apology, he added on to his sharp reprimand.

"Of course I am."

Completely taken by surprise, she glanced up at him, her eyes widening a bit. Mello was human, that much was obvious, but she had a hard time remembering that sometimes. He seemed like a fearless person—a rock, a statue, an unfeeling, unblinking mountain. She knew that it wasn't the truth, but he certainly wasn't normal. But he was practically still a boy, wasn't he?

His head was lowered, and the bar of chocolate rested, relatively untouched, on his lap, between his folded arms. There was an aura of depression surrounding him; he hadn't really been himself for quite some time. Every since the explosion in the warehouse, actually.

Reaching over, she placed a hand on his cheek—turning his head so that she could trail her fingers down the scar on the side of his face. He didn't resist, letting her do whatever she wanted. Sadness shone clearly in her eyes, causing Mello to smirk half-heartedly.

"Did you really think that I would die that easily?"

Halle sighed, letting her hand fall onto his shoulder. "I didn't know. I didn't want to believe it. But you disappeared. You didn't contact me. The entire warehouse exploded." Another sigh escaped her lips, and her grip on his shoulder tightened—her fingernails beginning to dig into his shoulder. "And then, when you finally did show up, you put a gun to my head." Something flickered through her eyes, but it was hard to tell if it was anger, sorrow, or something else entirely.

"Feh." Mello rolled his eyes lazily and swept his hair out of his face. "You know that I just did that as a precaution, in case this place was bugged." His voice had an edge of reproof, but was softer than usual. "You're such a paranoid woman."

A coy smile twitched on her lips, her gaze falling from his. "That's true."

After a slight hesitation, Mello grazed her lower lip with his thumb, grasping her chin and raising her head up so that he could look her in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was rough, but was lacking in its usual mocking tone.

"Are you afraid, Hal?"

She blinked slowly, then responded, forcing amusement into her voice, even though she didn't bother to smile.

"Of what?"

"Of losing me."

The brash frankness of his tone caused Hal to blink rapidly; for a few moments, all that she could do was stare at him. Even though his question was a valid one, she couldn't believe that he had actually asked it. They were obviously in a very close relationship, but they had never really been romantic. They didn't really discuss their feelings—they just displayed them physically as well as they could. The fact that Mello was bringing the subject up so suddenly made her blood run cold; it meant that he was worried, and she had never seen him worried before.

Biting her bottom lip, she turned her head to the side—breaking his grip on her chin and averting her gaze. "Don't be stupid." Her tone of voice sounded strangely similar to his. "Of course I am."

In a completely unexpected motion, Mello suddenly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Halle's shoulders, roughly pulling her close to him. Her eyes widened and she froze, dropping her glass of vodka to the floor, again completely taken by surprise. Every passing second frightened her more and more. It felt like a goodbye. She couldn't bear to say goodbye. He was the only thing that she had left. Regardless of who won the war against Kira, the world was going to be changed forever, and she didn't want to face a new world without him. Everyone else was dead or had lost their honor. What was she supposed to do?

"…Mello?"

"You really are a stupid woman." He sighed in attempted disappointment, but, for once, she could actually detect affection in his voice. "I told you that I won't let myself be killed that easily."

He was lying. He was lying, and she could tell. But, at that exact moment, it didn't really matter. Squeezing her eyes shut, Hal wrapped her arms around his waist, returning the embrace. It was a rare moment, and she wasn't about to let it go to waste. After all, it was incredibly likely that they would both be dead before long. That fact put more desperation into their actions.

Even though she knew that he would be put off by it, she had to ask the question that was burning a hole in the back of her mind.

"What if you're wrong?"

The pause seemed to last for an eternity. Her fingernails began to dig into the bare skin of his back, and his grip on her even tightened a bit. He finally broke the silence with a strong, fervent whisper.

"I'm never wrong."

He was lying. But Halle couldn't ask for anything more.