This is my writing process nowadays: plot bunny - deny plot bunny - lose against plot bunny - post.

And this time, the plot bunny comes from a completely new fandom so here goes nothing.

Pairing: Mello/Near. Ish. Kind of. I have actually always been fascinated by the dynamics of that relationship. If you want AU-ish fluff, this is not the story for you. If you want a calm, deep examination of how they were, and what they could have been, realistically...read on.

And if the ending dissatisfies you, and you really wanna know Mello's perspective...just wait. I may or may not have a companion piece in mind. [shifty eyes]

Ruled by Impossibility

Strictly speaking, Mello couldn't have hated Near, because it's not possible to hate someone so viciously when the only thing you have against them is a number. Number one doesn't even belong to Near. That's L's territory.

Strictly speaking, Near couldn't have felt anything for Mello at all, because he reached absolute self-awareness a long time ago, meaning that the tremulous grip of emotion is just as easy to shake off as the twitching in his fingers. And Near has impossibly steady hands.

But the problem, if you subscribe to the notion that life or death rivalries are a problem, is that neither of them care to follow what is strictly possible.

Mello hates Near.

Near kind of likes Mello.

Both are still true, even though Mello isn't there anymore.

Once, during the Kira case, Mello sent Near a package. Near hesitates to call it a gift, because he knows that Mello wouldn't have seen it that way, and he likes Mello enough to indulge the other boy's beliefs. Nevertheless, it was a package, and it was not meant to harm him, which does not mean that it was supposed to help him either, but...

It's a gun purchased under the name Nate River. It comes in as normal mail, which is an impossible feat all by itself. The SPK headquarters doesn't have a mailing address.

Notice of the dropoff takes no time at all to cross the globe, gracing the desks of everyone who has prematurely dedicated the rest of their lives to the Kira case. This is because it comes by Near through a well-known channel of Mello's mafia, and everyone is nervous about the viciously intelligent boy-man who just so happens to control a Death Note.

And, naturally, if you knew the right people, it would have been possible at that point to track Nate River down, look him in the eye, and write his fate on a damn near omnipotent piece of paper. And Kira certainly would have, could have, if he had known who Nate River was.

It's surreal that dozens of people know Near's real name - courtesy of Mello's ambiguous indiscretion - and know N by voice, while lacking the context to put the two together. Near actually doesn't mind. As long as the connection between who he is and what his parents called him never comes to light, this is no more dangerous to him than a couple of lucky guesses putting Nate and River together. It's not like they're extraordinarily unusual names.

He barely even thinks of himself as Nate River, and it almost amuses him that the Note treats such an arbitrary label as something important enough to decide death. Near is the name he gave himself, and the one he will use for the rest of his life.

Mello doesn't write his name or anything on the package, but Near doesn't need it. He peels off the stamp carefully and smells chocolate.

There are, of course, so many things that the gun could mean, but Near knows which interpretations are important and which ones aren't.

It's a threat, because Mello is telling him that he knows Near's real name, and with the Death Notes floating around, that is more dangerous than it's ever been for any generation of L successors. Still, it's a threat that carries little weight. Mello would think of it as cheating if he became L's successor by killing Near directly. This is one of the few morals that he retains around the boy who he hates so much.

It's a test, because Mello knows that there is only one reason Near would use it on himself. He wants to confirm, in his own brutal, straightforward way, that Kira doesn't know the connection between N and "Nate River." Near receives the package soon after Mello kills off most of the SPK. It would be a simple thing for Kira to imply that Near shoots himself out of guilt. Perhaps nobody would even suspect otherwise, because Halle was already sending him worried looks when he opened the package and smiled. The point is, if Kira uses the situation to his advantage, it means that he already knows Near's real name, so the chances that Mello himself has been similarly compromised are dangerously high.

It's a test, because Near could have used the gun on himself even without Kira's interference. Maybe.

It's wishful thinking, because Mello desperately wants to outlive him.

Nobody seems to understand that when Near mourns Mello, he is not mourning the person. Mello may have a body and a grave, but even those two things put together can't assure death.

He should know. He's L.

It's not even possible for Mello to die until Near receives a thick package of papers stuffed to the brim with the blonde boy's personality. He takes his time reading, even though he feels the undeniable urge to tear through them like he would a particularly fascinating case (which, in effect, is exactly what the papers are). These are Mello's last words, and everyone knows that last words precede death.

And as far as last words go, Mello's are perfectly suitable - by which Near means impossible, and incorrigible, and overly dramatic. Just like how Mello always was.

Near still has one page left unread, and he has folded it over and hidden it in the middle of his playroom, protected by a wall of cards. That's how much he wants Mello's story to be unfinished.

So, you see, there is no reason to mourn Mello-the-person.

What Near - or rather, L - mourns is the fact that what was once merely untouchable has now become remote to his other four senses as well.

He finds it a strange irony that the one person who would have understood this - no, perhaps the two people who would have understood - had to die before he could start feeling this way.

It is impossible to empathize with loneliness, because once there is empathy, there is no longer loneliness.

Mello is not the only person whose wishful thinking reflects in the "gift" that he sent Near.

The truth is that Near doesn't know for sure why Mello sent him a gun. Anything he has to say about the matter is merely a hypothesis. But he does know that if Mello intended the gun to be a test for Kira, he should have done more than just send it to Near.

He should have made sure that only Yagami Light hears about the gun, because that would have killed two birds with one stone: Near gone, Light incriminated.

He shouldn't have assumed that Near would realize that it came from him. The Death Note changes far too much of a person's free will for them to safely assume anything anymore.

And he really should have timed the dropoff so that nobody else is around to witness Near receiving the package, because the SPK is made up of people who are used to regular assassination attempts. A suspicious package would have alarmed them - and it does, even Halle, who finds it hard to separate Mello's destructive tendencies from his brilliance. She knows nothing about him that he does not willingly tell her.

Finally, and most importantly, he wouldn't have left Near with a full magazine of bullets. Near has steady hands. One would have been enough.

All of which brings into question some of Near's conclusions about just what Mello was planning. But the dirt on Mello's grave is still fresh, so Near doesn't trust himself to differentiate between a mistake and a purposeful action when it comes to the little things that still connect them.

There are precious few certainties about Mello's false gift, but this is one of them:

The gun was chosen specifically for Near.

The handle is white.

Wammy's House has not changed since his stay there. Near has never referred to that period of his life as childhood. He was always more of a guest than an occupant.

Like the previous L, he sees no reason to interact with the next generation. The thin network that connects these children will one day bring them all back to Wammy's as funeral attendants when they reach that point in their lives - when Near reaches that point - but no one pretends to have a sibling-esque relationship with their housemates.

He only knows this by listening to Roger, though. He hasn't gone back except once - to see Mello's body lowered.

The children all admire him. That, and nothing more. Near understandably approves that none of them go so far as to hero worship him, the way Mello did with their L.

Nowadays, he also accepts that there is no need for the children at Wammy's House to realize that L is a human being. Once, Near had borne a mild grudge against the man for cultivating an entire school of brilliant, gifted children to aspire to his name and nothing else, but after Matt's death he had to accept that this was never the case. Of the children at the House, only he and Mello ever truly considered becoming - or being - L.

Which means the competition had been limited to two participants from the beginning. It was - is - only Mello that challenges him. It has always been only Mello.

Near doesn't know how much of his bias reflects in the shiny metal surface of the gun. It's probably a little too much, especially for someone who favors logic as much as he does.

But it is comforting to know that he's not wrong about the importance of the gun being fully loaded. Even if he's not altogether right.

It was a strange whim that commanded him to send the gun to the lab for analysis. He thought they would find something more concrete than the semi-hopeful imaginings of a genius boy.

They do.

"There were fingerprints on all of the bullets," Rester informs him, holding onto the forensics report with a slightly uncomfortable hand. "No matches found."

Both parts of the report give him pause.

"Did the autopsy take Mello's fingerprints?"

At Rester's short nod, Near leans back pensively. No matches. It appears that Mello still has the capacity to surprise him.

"Does the report say where the fingerprints were found?"

Rester clears his throat. "Yes sir. Most were on the backs of the bullets."

Near thinks about everything he knows about guns - not a terrible lot, but certainly more than people would expect of him. He glances back at Rester, who has the knowledge but none of the creativity needed to decipher Mello's actions. He decides that it's still worth a shot. "And this is important, you think," he prompts.

"Sir," Rester replies, with just a hint of exasperation, "I'm not sure what to think. If this is really Mello's doing..."

Near shrugs, as if to say that he expected as much. "Your input is still appreciated," he notes, making the would-be compliment sound rather lifeless.

"Yes sir. Typically, you would only touch the backs of the bullets to remove them from the magazine." His voice is strong and would have sounded confident if he hadn't been so confused.

Near nods, his suspicions confirmed. So someone else - who? - started emptying out the bullets, but it was probably Mello who ordered it in the first place. Mello, who has always known about the steadiness of Near's hands...

Hands...

And then he realizes.

"L," Roger says to him with a very gentle sigh, "This is a very unusual request, as I'm sure you know."

"I do."

"L." A pause, even deeper than the last. "Near."

"You will do it."

"Yes," Roger replies, looking rather weary. "Indeed. I imagine you have a good reason for exhuming his body."

"Fingerprints," Near replies, which is not much of an explanation unless you know his mind as well as Roger does. Or Mello.

Roger peers at him sharply. Near can almost see the thoughts flowing in that razor-sharp mind, left intact even in his old age. "This is a personal matter," he apparently concludes, without looking for confirmation. "I will leave you to it, then."

The next day, preparations are made for the exhumation of one Mail Jeevas from the Wammy cemetery.

Near has no superstitions about the posthumous treatment of bodies, but after the fingerprints are obtained, he gives strict instructions for everything to be put back exactly as it was. This is for Matt, who wouldn't have liked to be bothered, and for Mello, who prayed for his soul.

His instincts are right, of course.

It was Matt who must have removed the bullets, probably rolling his eyes at Mello the entire time.

Near will probably never know how they all ended up in the magazine again. He doubts that it was Matt. The third in line was only third because of his lack of initiative.

Which means that Mello...considered the possibility of Near's suicide as more than a possibility. But then he decided against it. He wouldn't have wasted the other bullets on Near otherwise.

Near will never find out what possessed Mello to change his mind.

He will never find out how much of Mello he could have had.

He will never find out how much he actually did have.

But he does try.

Bee Lorry is the name of the man who sold the gun, and Near goes to see him in person on the anniversary of Mello's half-death.

He doesn't like being out in the world, it's far too open and noisy, but today's mission is something that he can't possibly delegate to his subordinates. He has to be present for this to work. Gevanni and Halle are monitoring him from the crowd, though. They'd do it even if he didn't ask.

Bee Lorry doesn't have a criminal background, but he deals with people who do, and that's where he makes most of his money.

The only difference between how Near dresses normally and how he appears to Lorry is the fact that he's wearing shoes today. The man eyes him suspiciously, probably expecting him to be underage. "You want somethin', kid?" he drawls.

"If I wanted to buy a gun, what type of gun would you sell to me?" he asks, clearly unimpressed by the display in front of him. Mello would have been even more disappointed, he thinks. He suspects that this man keeps the better part of his merchandise on special reserve.

As expected, Lorry laughs derisively and leans forward, bulky arms blocking Near's gaze from the guns under the countertop. "Woah, kid, maybe you oughta grow some hair on your balls first," and then he chuckled, wiping his mouth, like he had said something really clever.

Near doesn't even blink. "Would it look like this?" he asks, pulling out the smooth ivory-handled gun and laying it on the counter.

The man stops laughing. "Well, I'll be damned."

The visit turns out to be mostly a waste of time. Mostly.

Near hears nothing that he didn't already expect from the half-disbelieving dialogue (almost monologue) that follows. Lorry didn't know Mello "that well." Which basically means that he didn't know Mello at all, because Mello doesn't do things halfway.

But there is something about the way Lorry looks at Near, even though nothing interesting turns up in the actual conversation. Something odd, and strange, and irksome. Like he couldn't believe in Near's existence, much less in his participation in this conversation.

When Lorry moves to pick the gun up, Near stops him, snatching it back in a flash. "What are you doing?" he asks, coldly.

The man raises his hands in a gesture of embarrassed surprise. It's impressive how much different his attitude is now that Near's made it clear that he's connected to Mello. "Just pickin' it up, kid."

"Well, don't."

"Sure," he shrugs. "Guess you liked it after all," he adds, as Near turns to go.

"Pardon?" he doesn't even turn around.

"The, uh, gun."

Near is staring at the door with a penetrating set of dark gray eyes. Waiting.

"Blondie said you'd never use it."

His fingers shake when he pulls the trigger at age thirty, after he chooses a successor named Origin whose rank he doesn't know, but he suspects number one. He makes sure to fulfill that duty, at least. He is perfectly aware of what might happen if he doesn't.

In fact, there is nothing special about the fact that his fingers shake. They haven't stopped since Mello left him behind, though no one notices except Near and his tarot card palaces.

The fact that he no longer has steady hands doesn't bother him, even if it means that one bullet no longer means certainty. He supposes that some part of him would be satisfied if the first bullet fails. If he ends up getting killed by number two.

The last sheet of paper from Los Angeles BB murder case is still buried, unread.

He is glad that Mello will outlive him.

[End]