A/N: Here's a new story idea I've been forming for a while now. It will focus on the characters of Mello, Matt and Near, and how being at Wammy's House has affected and changed them. It will start from the beginning, from the first moment they walk through those doors and onwards. I'll particularly focus on the relationship between the three of them; which brings me to one thing I haven't completely decided on yet: gay or not gay?

I'm thinking that it would be suitable for Mello to be gay (seriously, how could he not be? He wears tight revealing leather, has feminine looks, and doesn't bat an eyelid while threatening near-naked women! You do the math!). I'm also thinking about Near being gay too, since that would kind of fit. But then again; if Mello and Near are gay I'll definitely make Matt gay too (I don't want him to miss out! Besides, I don't want to write a MelloXNear story; MelloXMatt is more my piece of cake). So yes, I'm currently undecided on that.

But anyway, onto the story! I hope you enjoy it and I hope that I don't get bored with it. So here we go; I'm starting off with Mello (partly because he's my favourite character and partly because it seems right for him to go to Wammy's first). Happy reading!

The Closest Thing to Home

Chapter One: New Start

Mihael was always a quiet boy. He wasn't shy (he was far from that); he just preferred to stay apart from the other kids. Books were his companions, home and the library his regular hangouts. He found others his age to be far too stupid and immature for his liking.

He always knew he was different from them. When he first went to school at the age of five he was surprised when none of his classmates could even read a simple picture book, let alone the books he had been reading. School was always too easy for Mihael, and as he grew older he kept becoming more dissatisfied with going through work without even having to try, while watching others around him struggle. He had always wondered if he was a freak, or something abnormal. An older boy had called him a nerd once and Mihael had broken his nose. No-one tried to insult him after that.

There was only thing he enjoyed about school; and that was the R.E lessons. Religion and the whole concept of God fascinated Mihael, and he was always eager in this class, asking questions and more questions; which delighted his teacher. He'd always wonder whether God was watching him, and had given him his intelligence for a reason. Maybe he was special. Mihael liked to think of that. His mother had always called him her angel.

Overall Mihael was satisfied with his life. He didn't have anything to complain about or mope over. He was happy.

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"Mamma! Mamma, get up, it's morning," squealed Mihael, jumping on her bed excitedly. Kristina Keehl sighed in exhaustion, but nevertheless opened her eyes to address her extremely enthusiastic son. "I can see it is morning sweetie, but it's so early. Why don't you go back to sleep," she said groggily.

Mihael widened his eyes. "But it's Easter, and I can't wait any longer," he complained. He suspected that his mother had forgotten that important fact. Her soft brown eyes looked at him tiredly, but then her face lit up with a smile. "Is it really," she teased, as her son looked at her with puppy dog eyes. "Oh my goodness, I don't know if I bought any chocolate for you…"

"Mamma!"

"What was that Mihael? You so rudely woke me up, and now you're going to make me give you chocolate?"

"……" Mihael looked at her stubbornly, but Kristina only continued smiling. He grunted. "Fine then. Excuse me Mamma, sorry for waking you up, but it's Easter time and now we must celebrate with chocolate and more chocolate."

"Mihael."

"Please!!!"

"Well, since you put it that way…" She yawned and managed to heave herself out of the bed. "I suggest you go on outside. I have a feeling that the Easter bunny came and rewarded you for being such an angel."

"I'm not a baby. The Easter bunny doesn't exist," pouted Mihael. Kristina chuckled.

"You need to act more your age," she said, ruffling her son's hair. "No go on and go get your chocolate." Mihael didn't need to be told again, he bolted out the door with what his mother thought was an unnatural speed.

Kristina sat back on the edge of the bed, weary and worn out. She could hear Mihael's screeches of triumph and delight coming from outside while he was obviously following the Easter egg trail. She wiped an unshed tear from her eye. She was lucky indeed to have a son like Mihael. She didn't deserve him of course, but she was grateful anyway.

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"Wow, Mamma really decided to spoil me this time," announced Mihael to himself as he picked up another egg. The straw basket he had gotten from the kitchen was almost full of the little goodies now. Easter had to be his favourite holiday in the year, apart from his birthday of course. It didn't matter if he only had his mother to celebrate with; she was the most important person in the world.

After collecting the last hidden Easter egg, he made his way inside to sit in the kitchen with his mother. "Are we going to Church today," he asked her eagerly as he dumped the contents of his basket on the table.

"Do you want to," she asked, her voice seeming a bit less grounded than usual.

Mihael shrugged. "I dunno. It's supposed to be a really important day today, I think God would like it if we did go," he answered.

"Well I guess we should go then," she replied, but made no move to stand up. Mihael cocked his head.

"What's wrong Mamma," he asked, not disguising the worry in his voice. She shook her head. "Nothing Mihael," she said, putting a smile back on her face. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Oh… did I wake you up too early?"

"No angel, it's not your fault."

"You don't really look well Mamma, maybe we shouldn't go to Church." Mihael wondered if perhaps his mother was coming down with a cold or something. If so then it would be his turn to watch her while she slept, and feed her hot soup in bed, and read to her.

"No, no, I'm alright. I wouldn't want you to miss the Easter Mass," she replied, but Mihael could tell that the enthusiasm was an act. This confused him. What was happening?

"Are you getting sick or something Mamma," he asked. His mother gave a choked laugh. "No Mihael, I'm not getting sick. I'm perfectly fine."

"Go back to bed Mamma, you're tired."

"You're ordering me to go back to bed? This is an unusual switch."

"I'm sorry for waking you up. Please Mamma, go back to sleep."

"Mihael…"

"It's okay, you can take me to Church next week." He grabbed his mother's arm and pulled her along to the bedroom. "Goodnight, err, good morning Mamma," he said with a grin. She merely pat him on the head once and entered her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

That was Mihael's biggest mistake.

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"Please Lord, give me strength," she chanted, holding the crucifix to her chest. "I have a son, he needs me. I can't do this!"

A sob exited from Kristina's mouth the same time the tears started coming. "Please no, I couldn't do this to him! He doesn't even know. He looks up to me. Give me strength Lord!"

If God was listening he didn't give her any strength.

"I know I deserve nothing Lord, but I beg of you; help me just this once! Do it for Mihael, he truly believes in you!"

Her last acts of desperation weren't helping to alleviate the pain in her heart for one second. That knife was looking so tempting right now. "Oh my God, put me out of my misery!" She cried out again as she put the note in her hand down on the dresser, and grabbing the knife. "I've put up with enough Lord. I loved a man who couldn't love me in return, and when he raped me he left me broken and bleeding with a son on the way! I've tried, but I cannot do this any longer. Please, send me to a nicer place."

With nothing but a whirlwind of turmoil and confusion in her mind, Kristen let the knife slice down.

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It was almost dinnertime, and Mihael's mother still hadn't emerged from her room. He was getting a little impatient, but was reluctant to go get her. She wasn't that happy when he ate too much chocolate at once, and he'd almost eaten the whole basket. Yeah, she'd scold him for that.

After another three Easter eggs, he couldn't wait any longer. He stormed up to the room and opened the door. "Mamma, stop being so lazy and- ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!"

A shocking scene lay in wait for him. His mother was lying on the floor, clutching her rosary in one hand and a bloodstained knife in the other. Her own life's blood was pooled around her, soaking her clothes and the carpet. "MAMMA," Mihael screamed, running up to her motionless body.

"MAMMA, THIS ISN'T FUNNY! WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" He shook her, crying hysterically as his brain put together all the pieces. He ignored the blood on his hands. Why!? What was this!?

"Mamma," he sobbed, snuggling up close to her body. He didn't know how long he lay there before he caught sight of a piece of paper on the dresser. With a sniff, he stood up and grabbed it.

Angel,

If you are reading this then I must've succeeded and I am dead. I don't want to lie to you; I have indeed done this on purpose. I can't expect you to understand, you're only eleven years old, but you need to know that this wasn't your fault. I wasn't strong enough Mihael, although I tried all of these years. I was sad inside; I could no longer fight it. You were the only thing that kept me going on for so long. I don't know what will become of your future now, but I know that God loves you and will watch over you, just like I am now. You can do so much, I know you can. The police will send you somewhere nice, you will be okay. Mihael, I really am sorry. I know you must be sad now. Please do not blame yourself; I didn't deserve someone as perfect as you were.

I love you.

Mihael clenched his fist, letting a blood curdling scream fill the air. He dropped the note and knelt down shaking, his heart pounding the fastest it ever had.

Why? If his mother loved him, why would she be sad? Why would she kill herself? He was the only thing she had, what other reason could there be? She lied… it had to be him, she was just trying to spare him from the guilt. She felt sorry for his wretched soul, the soul that had made her commit suicide.

Mihael screamed again. No, his mother was wrong. He didn't feel guilty, did he!? He didn't know. He did know though that the feelings coursing through him now were more than sadness. He was angry. No… he was furious.

He picked up the lamp that was sitting on the bedside table and threw it across the room. It hit the window with a crash, glass shattering and a thud sounded as the lamp fell to the street outside. Mihael curled up into a ball, the sobs coming from his mouth no longer able to be recognised as human noises.

That was when it all started to fall apart.

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It didn't take long for police to show up at the house, after next door neighbours reported hearing screams and crashing noises coming from inside. They forced their way in and eventually made it to the bedroom.

It took them awhile to coax Mihael out of his position on the floor, and when they finally did he did nothing but stand there, eyes dead and dull. The boy didn't look eleven years old; that was for sure.

Mihael didn't pay much attention to what happened next. The police made phone calls, in the meantime trying to sooth him with kind words and gentle voices. He didn't need them to do that, he was too numb to feel anything. There was something inside him that seemed to be twisting, but nothing more.

Two of the police drove Mihael to the police station before his mother's body was even dealt with. They didn't want him to see it apparently. The rosary, her rosary, that was the only thing on her not drenched in blood, so they gave it to him. Perhaps they thought it could comfort him. Mihael put the rosary around his neck anyway; he'd always wanted one.

Why would God let her kill herself? Why am I the reason?

Those were the questions repeating themselves in Mihael's head over and over. But no matter how hard he pondered, for once he could not find an answer.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The orphanage they sent him to was small and held in a very uninviting looking building. The police left him as the owner came out to greet him. He was a middle aged man, dark hair starting to gray and dressed as if he were going to a funeral. He held out his hand to shake Mihael's, but the blonde only looked at him blankly. The man withdrew his hand.

"Hello Mihael," he said, teeth flashing through a smile that anyone could see was fake. "I'm Mr Ashby. I hope you can make yourself feel at home here."

"Cut the bullshit and take me to my room," ordered Mihael. "I haven't been able to sleep anywhere comfortable ever since I was taken out of the house."

The man looked surprised and quite taken aback by Mihael's tone, but the boy couldn't really care less. He needed to sleep.

"Err, um, very well then. Follow me and I'll take you to your room. I assume you would prefer a single room over rooming with another child?"

"I don't care," Mihael muttered, as Mr Ashby led the way up to the ramshackle building. This man is too submissive. Stupid.

As Mihael expected the inside of the orphanage was nothing special, merely plain white walls and empty halls.

His room was no better. The only things filling up the space was a single bed, a chest of drawers and a small dressing table complete with a vanity mirror. Still, it was a room, and Mihael had to be grateful for that.

"Thankyou; now will you get lost, I don't feel comfortable with you just standing there and watching me settle in," he said to Mr Ashby, who was standing at the door. The man quickly scurried off without a word. Forgive me my rudeness Lord. He kissed his rosary once before practically collapsing on the bed and falling asleep.

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"Why aren't you crying for me Mihael, why are you not sad," cried out Kristina hysterically. His skin felt like it was crawling with bugs as he looked at her.

"I'm too angry to be sad," he hissed, turning his back on his mother. "If you love me so much then why did you kill yourself!? Why the fuck would you run away from me like this! First it was Dad and now it's you! I hope you're rotting in hell you selfish bitch; I loved you and you betrayed me!"

He turned back to see Kristina's body enveloped in fire, her eyes turning red and demonic wings and horns sprouting from her body. "It is your entire fault Mihael," the creature that was and wasn't his mother said. "You're the one who pushed me off the edge. You brought out the worst of me. You are a demon hiding in the body of an angel. Resent yourself Mihael and resent me, just like I resent you! Pray that when death comes that God won't judge you too harshly. Pray for yourself you rotten child." Mihael covered his ears to block out the noises; of what was once his mother, of the evil cackling coming from beneath him, and most of all from the choking sobs he had started making.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mihael woke abruptly to find his pillow tearstained and himself twisted around in the covers of his bed. The nightmares were only getting worse every day. This was the first time his mother had turned into a demon.

He held a silent debate on whether to get out of bed or not. On one hand he was comfortable lying there, and it wasn't like there was anything better to do anyway, as this orphanage didn't cater for education. Then again Mihael never liked to stay still in one place for too long. He was restless.

He finally made up his mind to check out the building. Who knew, this orphanage may be a pleasant surprise for him. He didn't believe this for a second, but surely it was worth hoping for. Like it's worth hoping that I'll ever get a decent night's sleep.

Mihael quickly threw on the first clothes he could find and exited the room. He wandered up the hallway, which unlike last night had some people occupying it now. Mihael cocked his head as he saw their faces. The expressions were all the same, so pitifully hopeless and broken, sunk in despair and pain. I mustn't let myself turn into them.

"Hello," he attempted saying to the nearest child, a dark haired girl with startled eyes and a too thin figure. She immediately squealed in fright and ran off. Mihael blinked in confusion, and he saw the other kids shuffle away from him too. They looked at him with… resentment.

"Resent yourself Mihael and resent me, just like I resent you!"

He winced. It seemed he wasn't even good enough for fellow orphans now. Did they envy him because he still appeared to be whole? Mihael wondered how long it would take for this place to break him.

"Ah, Mihael, there you are," he heard a voice coming from behind him. Mihael turned to see Mr Ashby.

"A man has come here who wants to meet you. He says it is of the upmost importance," he explained.

Mihael frowned. "Who," he asked suspiciously.

"He says that his name is Quillsh Wammy. He owns an orphanage all the way over in England. He is really anxious to meet you."

"What kind of stupid name is Quillsh Wammy," Mihael muttered to himself, but he could still admit that his curiosity was aroused.

"Come Mihael," prompted Mr Ashby, holding onto his hand and beginning to walk. Mihael almost tried to shake him off but decided that he couldn't be bothered. The kids in the hallway had just continued to absently look upon this with their sad faces, and Mihael couldn't help but have a quick rush of pity go through him. He could be like them.

The man sitting in Mr Ashby's office was a kind looking old man with an impeccable suit and neatly slicked back white hair. He seemed kind enough, but Mihael was silently questioning his motives. Why would the owner of an English orphanage want to speak to him?

What really made Mihael confused though wasn't this man, but the other boy who was also in the office. He couldn't be long out of his teens, but he possessed a weirdly childlike sense about him. He was not sitting on his seat but instead seemed to be crouching, his dark alert eyes only standing out more because of his wild black hair. Mihael thought that he should be scared, or at least a little creeped out by this man, but for some reason he felt at ease.

"Hello Mihael," greeted the older man while Mihael sat down. "My name is Quillsh Wammy, although you may call me Watari if you wish, and this is L." He glanced at Mr Ashby. "I beg your pardon, but would it be alright if I spoke to Mihael alone for a moment?"

"Yes, of course," Mr Ashby replied quickly, moving out of the office and shutting the door.

Wammy smiled at Mihael while L merely stared at him piercingly. "Watari, I like him already," the strange youth said, as he started dropping sugar cubes in his tea.

"Umm, thankyou I guess," said Mihael nervously, unsure of how to react. "But what is it exactly you guys want?" He could've demanded some answers or tried to force it out of the two, but Mihael just got the feeling that these were men who needed to be respected.

"Well where do I begin," mused Wammy. "Basically, I have come to bring you an offer you cannot refuse."

"And what would this offer be," asked Mihael cautiously.

"I've come to offer you a place at my orphanage." This totally took Mihael by surprise. "What, just like that? You've just randomly chosen me to go to England?"

"More or less," smiled Wammy. "But first I want you to take a certain test."

"Test?"

"Yes, a test, if that is okay with you. I have it right here in fact; I would like you to do it now."

"Well… umm, okay, I guess." Wammy handed him a piece of paper and a pen. "Take as long as you need," the old man smiled. Mihael still held a little bit of uncertainty inside of him, but started working on the test.

It was different from the normal tests he had used to do at school. For one thing; he had to actually think about these questions. For once his mind was actually challenged. Still, he worked through them with a fair amount of confidence and handed the paper back to Wammy when he was done.

The old man studied the paper silently, and L had leaned over to take a peek as well. Mihael shifted nervously, wondering of he had completely stuffed it up. I bet I did horrible.

When Wammy looked up again he held a completely shocked expression. L was biting his finger thoughtfully. Great; it's worse than I thought.

"Mihael… let me ask you a question. How would you like to come to my orphanage right now?"

"Huh?" Now he really was confused. "How did I do on the test? Is your orphanage only for people who are dumb or something?"

Wammy laughed, nearly making Mihael jump out of his seat. "No, no, no; it is the opposite of that! My orphanage Wammy's House is designed to house only the smartest youths of your generation. It is a facility made to create the next generation of L's!"

"Next… generation of L's?"

"Yes, it is a place to nurture my possible successors," answered L himself this time. "You may not know this, but I am the greatest detective in the world. Watari built the orphanage so that if… when I die there will be someone to take my place. That way the name of L can live on forever."

Mihael blinked in confusion at the raven haired youth. "So I…?"

"To put it simply Mihael you are one of the smartest children in these times," continued Wammy. "This test clearly shows your superior intelligence."

"Superior intelligence?" Mihael shook his head side to side quickly. "There must be some sort of mistake!"

"I assure you Mihael; this is no mistake."

"You, you mean it? I'm… good enough?"

"Believe me, you are more than good enough. I have not seen such intelligence from a child your age in a long time. You have a chance of making something from yourself Mihael."

"Really…" What would his mother think of him now? If she knew he had this much potential would she still have killed herself? Or would it still have not been enough? Tears filled Mihael's eyes.

"Child, what is wrong," asked Wammy in a concerned voice, while L merely looked on with an expression of… understanding?

"I wish you could've come sooner," Mihael sniffed, his pride shattering. "If she had known… then maybe she would've been happier. Maybe she wouldn't have thought of me as a disappointment."

Wammy shifted uncomfortably, looking unsure of what to do about the crying boy in front of him. Mihael looked down as he sobbed to try to hold onto a shred of dignity.

Then warm arms enveloped him. Mihael's gaze shot upwards at the raven-haired L, who had quickly shot to him without a sound. There truly was understanding in those guarded, sleep deprived eyes. Mihael buried his head into the older youth's shirt to muffle his sobbing.

L gently patted him on the back, and Mihael barely heard his whispered words. "You could be the greatest person in the world Mihael, but not even that would've saved your mother. Depression is a horrible thing; and you cannot truly understand how it works if you do not have it. The life of a genius is hard; people expect so much of us, but we expect even more of ourselves. We even expect that we can stop death. But sometimes things happen that nobody can change. It is not good to dwell on the past."

"But it's so hard," whimpered Mihael.

"I know, I know. It will only get harder from here. But right now you have to make a decision. Do you want to push yourself and broaden your horizons? The path is hard, but once you get to the destination you can reap all the rewards. Are you prepared… to aim for being the best?"

Mihael looked up again and wiped his eyes. "Yes," he said softly. L released the boy from his embrace and turned back to Wammy.

"Watari, he's made his decision. You better tell the owner of this dump that we're taking one of their children with us," he said, speaking at an ordinary volume again.

Mihael looked up at L with awestruck eyes. If I try, I could be like him one day. If I could be the best, maybe I could be his equal. Mamma would be proud, God would be proud.

He fiddled with his rosary absentmindedly. If I was the best...

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"There's just one thing we need to go through before you relax Mihael," stated Watari as they settled on the plane (first class seats!). Mihael tore his fascinated eyes away from the window and looked at the old man. "Yeah?"

"You must come up with a new name."

"I have to rename myself?"

"Yes, you need an alias to go by. Every child at Wammy's House has one; it is for protection. Plus, once you are there your past needs to be forgotten, and your real name is only a constant reminder of it. It is for the best."

"Do I choose my own name?"

"If you wish to."

"Hmm…" As the plane took off Mihael tried to come up with a name that seemed suitable and not so corny. That was a lot easier said than done.

"What are the sorts of names other kids have come up with," he questioned. Wammy thought for a second.

"Well the majority pick common names that you wouldn't even recognise as an alias. Some of the more spirited kids picked the name of their favourite animal or item, and there was this one kid who decided to be particularly melodramatic and named themself Crimson. It can be anything you want really, the variety's there."

Mihael smiled to himself. He was always called melodramatic by the people around him, so perhaps it would be suitable to pick a name that was more 'out there'. Then suddenly the answer struck him.

"Mello," he decided finally.

"Mello," questioned Wammy with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's quite funny really. It combines the 'melo' in melodramatic with the actual mood mellow. The two words kind of contradict each other."

"So you yourself are a contradiction?"

"I guess so." He gazed back out of the window as the plane continued rising.

"Well then, Mello it is," chuckled Wammy. L merely smiled slightly as he was (not surprisingly) crouched in his seat eating cake.

Mello continued staring out of the window sleepily, and couldn't hold back a yawn. "Is there enough time to have a nap," he asked Wammy.

"Yes, there is more than enough time. You'll need all the rest you can get."

"Okay…" Mello yawned again and let himself get comfy in his seat. It wasn't long until he drifted off.

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"Stupid boy, why didn't you tell me you were so clever," his mother demanded. "I only killed myself because I thought you were a worthless imbecile! Stupid Mihael!"

Mihael shivered. "I'm not Mihael anymore, I am Mello! Why don't you just go away!?"

"You're the one who's keeping me chained here… you will never let me go!"

"No! I will be the best, and to do that I must get rid of you!"

His mother laughed, but it was more like a screech. "You will never be the best! You will never be good enough for anyone! And you will never get rid of me!" The flames were back now; the demonic horns and wings sprouting again. "Run and hide, Mihael, like the scared and weak little boy that you are," it boomed.

Mihael tried to hold back the tears. "No, I am strong," he whispered, his hands forming fists. "I told you; I'm not Mihael anymore. I am Mello, and Mello will be the best!" His tears were of fury now, and the demon felt it. "You are growing," it mused. "But you are still not good enough. You are weak." And the creature lunged at him, and Mihael screamed as he was burned by the fires of Hell itself.

"WEAKLING!"

"Mello!"

"YOU CAN NEVER GET RID OF ME!"

"Mello!"

"YOU ARE PATHETIC!"

"Mello, wake up now!"

Mello woke abruptly to find Wammy shaking his shoulder and L looking at him curiously. He felt himself sweating profusely, heard himself panting and could practically feel his heart pounding its way out of his chest.

"You were screaming in your sleep," explained Wammy in a gentle tone. Mello took a few deep breaths.

"Sorry, I was just having a bad dream," he muttered. "It won't happen again."

"Well I'd hope not, it really looked like you were petrified!" Mello just looked away from the older man and didn't focus on anything in particular.

I'm still not strong enough… I need to work harder. I need to become the best.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After the plane finally landed Wammy led the way to a sleek black limo. Mello had never seen anything so shiny in his life. "It is good to be back in England again," commented L as they started driving on the road.

Mello automatically had taken a liking to England. The streets were busy and filled with people going about their business; the houses they passed looked grand and majestic. It seemed quite nice… nice and ordinary.

Mello didn't know how much longer it was until the limo came to a stop. The building they were in front of now was even grander, and Mello felt tiny just looking at it.

He opened the limo door and stared at it transfixed. His eyes must've been bulging because Wammy laughed. "Here we are Mello," he gestured eloquently. "Welcome to Wammy's!"

A/N: So yeah, I hope you like it so far. Just to let you know every change from Mello's name to Mihael to Mello and to Mihael again is intentional, sort of like a split personality (well, not really, but whatever). Well, I guess I'll see you again in chapter two. Away!