Gun Control

Part One

Near disabled the alarm system when he saw Mello enter SPK headquarters, this time without Halle. Mello had the hood of his jacket up and his head bowed. Near assumed this self-conscious behavior was to avoid getting caught on film again; he must have learned that at least one of the Kiras only needed a face to kill. That was the only thing that made sense because Near remembered sharing a room with a boy that exuded brazen self-confidence, even when suffering from moments of deep insecurity.

Earlier that day when Mello appeared with Halle as his apparent hostage, Near hadn't been able to even turn around to look at him. Near had imagined their reunion so many times over the years, he wasn't sure he wanted the real thing to replace the fantasy he'd created for himself. L had taught Near long ago that even the mind of a genius needed rest and not just in the form of sleep. Some kind of mental break was necessary to stay fresh. Oftentimes walking away from work and returning could lead to new ideas and perspectives. So for one hour every week Near scheduled a break for himself, and he would sit and think about anything except work. He wouldn't even play with his toys as he had come to associate them with his deductive process.

His mind invariably wandered to Mello during these breaks. He'd cogitate on the possibility of them meeting up again; on the nature of their last farewell. Besides the Kira case, Near simply had nothing else to think about. For so much of his life he'd been Near, the bane of Mello's existence or Near, possible successor to L. Then suddenly he was L and Mello was gone.

It was years ago now, but the memory was fresh. After concluding his first meeting with Roger as 'L' Near returned to his room to find Mello packing quickly and silently, avoiding Near's penetrative gaze the whole while. Near sat on his bed, already formulating an action plan for his investigation when Mello approached him and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

"I won't let you defeat me," he growled into Near's face before smashing his lips against the smaller boy's.

Near froze in shock but his mouth fell open after a minute of Mello awkwardly kissing at the closed line of his lips. When their tongues met Near melted into the kiss. The sensation traveled from his tongue straight to his gut turning his insides to liquid. He reached up to pull Mello closer, reveling in the new sensation, not wanting it to stop.

So of course being the antagonistic person that he is, Mello pulled away. "This doesn't change anything." he said.

"Of course it doesn't."

Seemingly satisfied with Near's response, Mello grabbed his bag and left. Near shuffled over to the window to watch him leave. As Mello approached the gate Near thought he might turn and look toward their bedroom window. But Mello never looked back. His stride was steady and determined. The night they learned of L's murder was the last time Near had seen Mello. Until the tense confrontation earlier that day.

It was de ja vu for Near to watch him approach via the surveillance cameras. He had the same steady determined strut but this time coming instead of going. Entry hall, elevator, south corridor, east corridor and …

"Near."

His voice was gruff and deeper than it had been five years ago. Deeper and more satisfying to listen to than Near had ever imagined during his weekly fantasy meetings with Mello.

'What is it that you want, M? Lidner has gone home for the day."

"Did you send her to spy on me?"

"No. But it was obvious from your rapport earlier that she was not truly your hostage. You blew your own cover."

"She's a good woman. Very useful to me."

Near noticed the suggestive undertone of his statement and felt a mixture of several things all at once. It was unsettling, so he kept talking to distract himself from it.

"Mello, I find it strange that you want to beat me, yet you infiltrate my organization and attempt to leech off of my progress. Why?"

Near expected to hear the sound of Mello unlocking the safety on his pistol but there was no movement from behind him, just a quiet command …

"Look at me."

Near wasn't sure if he had heard correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Look at me, damn it, I'm talking to you!"

In his fantasies Mello was kind of a taller stretched out version of his childhood self. When Near turned around his eyes met the gaze of a stranger.

Where was the precocious, angry young man that had bravely kissed him goodbye five years before?

This Mello was rugged, scraggly, wiry. The softness of his cheeks had completely melted away leaving a strong jaw line in its wake; his lips were a luscious pout that softened his looks yet made him look dangerous at the same time. Near couldn't see much more than that because Mello had his hood up and head bowed.

"I'm looking at you, so if you may answer my question?"

"Near, you've always underestimated me and overestimated yourself. I know that you planted Halle to try and get information from me, so you can go fuck yourself."

"I'd rather not, but I appreciate the suggestion."

Mello snorted and pulled back his hood suddenly.

"So you aren't invincible after all." Near is stunned by the scar blazing across more than half of Mello's face, but covers his reaction flawlessly under a veneer stoicism.

"No."

Near unfolded himself from his usual half-crouched position on the floor and walked toward Mello. Mello was not very tall but he was taller than Near and his high-heeled boots only added to the difference. Near studied the scar openly. It was obvious the boy hadn't received real medical care for the injury. Near wondered where he had gone to recover; who, if anyone, had helped him through it.

"It suits you."

Mello considered that for a moment, his blue eyes rolling to the left and then back to Near's face. "If you say so," is all he said but something in him seemed to unwind.

"I could probably procure a plastic surgeon for you. I can contact Roger …"

Near trailed off already leaving the main room with the intent of heading to the floor designated for his personal use.

Mello followed him, his boots clicking on the linoleum floors and his gravelly voice complaining that he didn't need Near's help.

When they reached Near's living suite he was still talking. Was he always so loquacious? Near had to admit that he had been. But the SPK members, like his Whammy's school mates before them, seemed to find his silence unnerving and avoided interacting with him socially. Mello had never shied away from battering his ear drums with pointless conversation, whether Near participated or not. Near realized he'd missed Mello as more than a rival; he'd missed his companionship. But he really was going on and on …

"Shut-up Mello." The blonde fell silent, apparently stunned by the command.

Near walked up to him and pressed his lips against Mello's. Mello responded immediately. He grabbed Near's shoulders and pulled the boy close against him. Near wrapped his arms around the taller boy's narrow waist and enjoyed the feel of his taut build. The embrace was brief. Near pulled away first.

"You need to take a shower, you smell like the funk of forty thousand years."

"Did you just quote Thriller?" Mello's incredulity was palpable.

"That is irrelevant. Please feel free to use my facilities and get clean. Otherwise I will have to ask you to leave. I can't tolerate filth."

Mello chuckled and began to undress right there in the middle of the room. "Perfect, white, pristine Near. Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities."

While Mello showered Near curled up on his bed. He looked at the pile of filth ridden clothes festering in the middle of the room and gave in to his curiosity. He poked around in the clothes, turned out the pockets and felt around the seams. He found the pistol easily. The wallet held fake identification, cash, stolen credit cards, and a tiny scrap of paper tucked into a crevice. It was folded in and over itself several times. Near unraveled it slowly. It was a sketch of a topless woman. It was obviously Halle. Near indulged in a brief moment of fancy. He pictured the two blondes, Mello and Halle, languishing in post-orgasmic bliss. He imagined her chagrin--no--her bemusement as she watched Mello pull a sketch pad out from behind his pillow. The graphite lines that make up her form on paper are faint, soft, the product of careful strokes. Mello had captured her stern features in a state of contentment.

Near heard the shower water stop. Something came over him. Something wicked. Near picked up Mello's gun. He went into the bathroom. Mello had his back to him. He was dripping wet. He bent to pull on a pair of briefs. Surely he'd heard the bathroom door open; he was ignoring Near. On purpose. And then something inside Near, something always held tight within his core, snapped.

TBC