Hello my loves! Let me know if you like this, kay? I love writing :) Especially for people to read! So let me know! It's going to be a love triangle, and will eventually be rated M. Leave me some feedback, mkay? I love you all!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, or this all would have happened in the anime, and therefore this story would be redundant.

Night fell across the small town, coating it in a thick blackness unlike any other. For once, the moon did not show, shielded behind clouds, thick and black, hiding it's light. Hiding the crime. Far below, past all the sleeping homes, one was lit. It's lighting glowed warmly to the street, a facade the father had always prided himself on, but within, the atmosphere was cold.

Deep within the house, a child cried, a perfectly normal reaction to something perfectly abnormal. His hands were thrust above his head tied together with a rough length of hemp rope. It's rough edged dug into his wrists, sticky liquid dripped down his arms. He was naked, the only thing covering his tiny were goosebumps, and he shivered against the violating cold. His hair was greasy, blonde and falling easily to his shoulders, his eyes were a brilliant blue, almost azure and piercing.

He was a beautiful child really. Blue eyes, blonde hair, tiny, almost feminine frame. He stood at a moderately short height, and when he smiled, the world stopped to stare. However, his father had ruined it, beating and raping him beyond recognition. He was never allowed to leave the house, not even for school. His teachers always worried, calling the house often, but to no avail.

The night crept through the windows, dousing the boy's room in sort of a clammy darkness. One he could feel rather then see. The blonde closed his eyes, fighting back another bout of tears. What had he ever done to deserve this? The truth was; nothing. He had never in his life defied his father, spoken harshly to his mother. He'd always been polite to everyone he'd met.

.

"Mihael." A loud voice radiated through the room. The small boy raised his head, slowly, the only indication that he was alive. His blue eyes were blank, dead, there was no more emotion flowing through them. Something was pushed into his mouth, nearly gagging him, the inability to speak scaring him.

"Tonight is inevitably your last." The man said again, crouching before his tiny son, he touched the boy's face. The boy didn't wince, didn't blink. The will to fight after so many years had vanished. He cried silently, the numb tears whispering down his cherub cheeks. The large hand, fell to his neck, playing with the soft, yet greasy hair that rested there. "And what a shame." The foul man added, his voice quiet.

Mihael shook his head quietly, pushing the gag from his mouth with an experienced tongue. "It's not a shame." His voice was even quieter, barely a whisper. And yet it echoed throughout the room with its meaning. He was asking to die, just as was expected from him. It was what his father liked, what his father thrived on. The large hand slid down his body, landing between his legs. The blonde boy winced, and double over, his breath coming in rough rasps.

This was the only way to make him react. Tears formed in the corners of his pretty blue eyes, leaving them in whispered sobs. "St-Stop." He said. He'd had enough Not only for tonight tonight but for the last thirteen years of his life, he couldn't take any more. Yet, there was no way for him to fight it.

"Stop!" He said, his voice became louder, stronger, he brought his knee up, connecting it with his father's chin. A loud crack sounded as his teeth connected. "Stop it! Stop hurting me!" Now that the blonde had started he couldn't stop. He was silenced immediately, however, with a smack to the jaw, it caused his head to thrust sideways and bounce off the wall. He let out a cry of pain. Tears streaking down his face. He whispered more unintelligible words. Both of their mouths were dribbling blood, and, at that moment they had never looked more like one another.

The man's hand flew at his son again, hitting him in the side of his head, a bruise already forming. Blood dripped from his ear. He rasped in another breath, blood leaking out of every facial orifice, save for his eyes, that were drenched with tears. He looked up at his father. "Stop. Please." He whispered, gasping for air.

The man grabbed him by his thin wrists, the large hand easily succumbing both of them, and threw the boy across the room, flinging him into the wall. The blonde heard something crack, something that probably shouldn't have.

And then pain. All he felt was white blinding pain, then numbing cold as he was pulled to his feet and thrown, naked and shivering out into the winter night. Somehow, he managed to pull himself up, stumbling in the general direction of town. He couldn't see where he was going, but he knew it was away.

A bullet whizzed past his head, nicking his ear, barely missing his head. He could feel more blood fall from the wound, and suddenly he was dizzy, all he could see was red. The boy stumbled around for a moment, before becoming vaguely away of falling, and then blackness. Nothing but black.

XxXxX

White.

What a beautiful difference from what he always knew. But it was bright. So bright. He closed his eyes against it. Was he dead? He couldn't be dead, it was such a tragic contradiction to the life he knew. He was suddenly aware of a beeping, and a deeply British voice beside him. Again, his eyes cracked open, and he turned his head.

"Ah, yes, see the boy's awake." An old man beside him said, resting a set of deeply wrinkled fingers on his forehead. It was supposed to be soothing, instinctively, though, the small boy pulled away. Wincing away from any form of touch, especially when it was this searing on his cold forehead.

Another voice responded. It was hesitant and feminine, obviously a decision was being made. A sound of agreement grumbled from deep within the old man. "Yes, that is understandable. However, since the boy has no surviving relatives, and going back to his home would be the worst scenario, I believe Whammy's is a wonderful option for Mihael and his...superior intelligence." The old man's voice responded.

As the boy's eyes became more adjusted, he allowed them to fall open, taking in the scene around him. Across the room, his sixth grade schoolteacher sat, looking uncomfortable in a plastic, blue chair. Her red hair was falling out of it's ponytail, dropping over one slender shoulder. She was wearing too much makeup, and yet, her tiredness showed through.

He let his head loll to the other side, his sapphire eyes taking in the unfamiliar old man sitting beside him. He had a full face of white hair, a mustache disguising fifty percent of his features, his eyes were obscured by a dark fedora, and yet Mihael could sense the kindness within him. He blinked slowly, and the man smiled down at him. The blonde attempted to smile back, but he was too drugged to be sure if it worked or not.

As soon as she noticed he was awake, the schoolteacher-Ms. Tooly-rushed to his side, resting her hands on his freezing arm. He pulled away from the burning touch, "Stop." He said quietly, she backed away, her hand held hesitantly above her arm. He narrowed his eyes, the catlike look that would become his signature already setting in. "What's going on?"

Ms. Tooly bit her lip, staring at the old man. She wanted him to tell the boy, it was hard to explain, and she was sure she'd forget something. His eyes contradicted her, though. His eyes told her Mihael needed to be told by someone he knew, someone he trusted. She sighed, trying to fix her hair, and turning back to face him with her large brown eyes.

"You're lucky to be alive." She said bluntly. It was the way Adrian Tooly had always taken things. "You were found outside your abandoned house lying in a ditch in the snow, beaten beyond recognition. You're injured, but alive, and we have to find out what to do with you. Mr. Watari and I-" she gestured to the old man, who Mihael nodded to in acknowledgment-"decided we won't try to track down your parents. You're going to be classified as an orphan and sent to an orphanage. Now, Mr. Watari is from a very special orphanage, you've heard of Whammy's House haven't you?"

The woman stopped, obviously waiting for the child's reaction. The blonde was looking across the sterile room, it reeked of death and alcohol. He nodded solemnly, staring first at the screaming steel bed barriers, and then Watari. "Yes. It-" his voice broke, halting his sentence. He swallowed and tried again. "It's an orphanage for kids of superior intelligence or superior skill of any type. Correct?"

Watari nodded. Ms. Tooly took a breath. "Good. You understand. Well, judging by the few assignments you've handed in, you're one of those with superior intelligence. I contacted the orphanage as soon as I was told of your current classification." She hesitated, Mihael looked at her, pulling his hair over his right shoulder and playing with the soft tips. "The orphanage checked your background. Apparently, they've been following you. You've been eligible for their orphanage for a long time, all they were waiting for was the right moment. There will be a written and physical test once you've recovered and then-if you pass-you'll be sent to Whammy's Home for the Gifted and Talented." The woman said, capitalizing the name with her tone.

Mihael took a breath, this was a lot to take in. He'd never thought of himself of a genius, it was a foreign fact to him. In fact, he had been told he was dumb since the day he could comprehend words. He glanced between the two adults. "For real? This isn't just a scam to send me to some factory, right?" He asked, he'd heard of children who'd been lied to. Watari let out a small chuckle, and even the strict, tired Ms. Tooly smiled.

"I'm being honest, I've read his identification card, and even typed the number into a search engine. Most of the children's information is confidential, but I was able to gather enough to be assured that this is all for real." She said, looking at Watari. There were some things he'd have to tell the blonde in private. She looked at Mihael. "All we need is your permission. Will you take these tests and allow them to send you to Whammy's?"

Again, Mihael hesitated. He'd never been talked to this way. Like he was an equal, someone who had rights, who could make his own decisions. He bit his lip, his mind working quickly over everything that was just explained to him. He nodded slowly. "I think that sounds okay." He said, his eyes touching Watari distrustfully, before turning back to Ms. Tooly. She'd have no reason to lie to him, to hurt him, would she? Had his father secretly hired her. No, she'd been the teacher of students before him, his father was too stupid to think that far ahead.

She stroked his hair back, away from his forehead. This time he didn't wince, allowing her to touch him. When she pulled away, she was smiling at him. He was able to return the smile, before she bustled from the room, leaving him alone with the old man. Cautiously, Mihael turned to look at him. Watari removed his hat, placing it on the steel tray beside the bed. His eyes were surprisingly blue, and filled with smiles. He looked like the generic grandfather.

Immediately, Mihael relaxed, physical appearances told a lot about people, and Watari looked like he couldn't hurt a fly. Although, if he really worked at Whammy's he could probably eat an elephant for breakfast. Watari offered the boy a smile.

"There's some rules at Whammy's. I'll go over them now, since I've no doubt you'll pass the test." Mihael nodded quietly, indicating that Watari could go on. The British man cleared his throat. "Right. So, first off, you will only take orders from Roger, L or I. That's probably the biggest rule. Every child gets one hour per week on the community computers, unless you possess your own computer. We do not use these computers to look up pornography, violent games, or anything else of that nature. If you have a research project, you may request a computer usage pass, and it will be granted. Thirdly, hand in all homework on time, because you don't want to fail and be removed from Whammy's. Am I making myself clear?"

The boy nodded, and Watari smiled. His commanding demeanor completely vanishing. He stood up, collecting his hat and coat. "Right. So, I'll see you next Wednesday for the test. Goodbye." He said, heading towards the door. Mihael, burrowed under his blankets, happy for the relief of being alone. He liked Watari, and he would go as far as to say he was in love with Ms. Tooly, but being alone was always a sweet gift. At the door, Watari stopped.

"Mello. That will be your alias. At Whammy's everyone has an alias, it's for security reasons. You'll be rooming with a boy named Matt. You'll stay in hallway LMNO. Now, to tell Matt he has to get along with a flesh-and-blood human." The man sighed, then left the room chuckling.

"Mello..." The blonde boy whispered, trying his name out. He liked it, the way it rolled off his tongue soothed him. In a way, he was getting rid of his past, getting rid of Mihael. He turned over, nuzzling the pillow, a few of his joints, and the one broken rib protesting this movement. He ignored it, though, closing his eyes. "Goodbye, old me. Nobody will remember Mihael. Everyone will know Mello...everyone will fear him." The blonde whispered, barely conscious before he fell into a deep slumber.

XxXxX

Days after the test, Mello found himself back at the hospital. For now, they had agreed to hold him, acting like he was a patient, feeding him, bathing him, assuring themselves he was cared for. Mello was afraid he'd failed, afraid that he'd never see Watari again, that he'd never meet his potential roommate. Everyday, he'd watch out the window hopefully, chin resting in his hands, watching for any sign of the sweet, old man.

Finally, he saw it.

It was an average Monday morning, the sun twinkling above the mountaintops, when Mello found himself being jolted awake. He sat up, glaring at the plump, sweet nurse. "What?" He said, his voice still groggy, filled with sleep. She smiled at him, touching his face endearingly.

"You're leaving here, today, sir." She said, smiling into his eyes. He felt excitement flutter into his heart, willing it to stay there. He didn't want it to travel to his face, he didn't want to show her his emotions, it was a step in his new direction. A step to save himself from further harm in his life. He straightened the black cotton shirt.

"Thank you." He said, feeling tears well up in his eyes. This nurse had been the closest thing to a mother that he'd ever had. He removed her hand from his face, squeezing it gently. "For being my mother this week." He laughed, and she joined him, but he could see the tears in her violet eyes. He wiped his face, and then hugged her tightly.

"Goodbye." He said, heading for the door. He could feel her smile penetrating his back as he walked out the door and down the stairs, climbing into the car, and leaving his old life behind him. It was time for a new beginning, a new image. He watched the small town whiz by as they drove, closing his eyes as they passed his old house, where a new family was already residing...