Author's Note: I in no way are a part of the creation of Death Note in any of it's entirety. I am merely a fan of the work and have written something in honor of it.

Thanks for reading, I'd like to know if I should continue. ^^

The bus taking me all the way to London finally arrives, and I get on without making too much eye contact with the driver. He probably doesn't see too many fourteen year old travelers going around this time of night. Well, maybe he does. You never know with Kira watching.

I pay my fee and sit in the most secluded section of the bus, pulling my schoolbag into my lap protectively. I try not to guess what the other passengers might think of me; a kid with a backpack full of clothes, messy hair, bandaged knuckles from when I punched the wall, and a bruise on my cheek-a soccer casualty. I look like a runaway, but I'm a heck of a lot smarter than one. Runaways aren't equipped with the intellect to battle the greatest murderer in all of history. I say 'great' in a sense of quantity, not in admiration.

The lady three seats away keeps looking at me. There, that's the seventh time she's done it. Now I'm seriously getting pissed. What, is there no such thing as manners after eight o'clock? Oh, and last I checked peripheral vision wasn't uncommon for the human ocular structure. Eight times. Calm down Mello. It's not worth it. You just need to survive the next hour, get through the night, and activate your account so Roger can transfer the money. Then you can take the money out, cancel the account, and finally shake Wammy's filthy house of horrors.

I look around the bus, scanning up and down the aisles, trying to find something to concentrate on. There's nothing though. A bus driver, the nosy lady, some college kids, and a skeezy guy sleeping in the back with a desperate need for a shave. One of the lights flickers for a moment. Someone left a worn out Spanish to English dictionary on one of the racks above me, and I take it. I'd like something to flip through other than the small Bible in my bag. Before I know it, my eyes get cloudy, and I think of everything that's happened since this morning.

It just doesn't feel fair. I don't care if it is. Put it down on a paper and write the pros and cons. It's still not fair.

I work so hard for this? My entire life. Dedicated. This is how they repay me? Working with him? This is how L wanted things to turn out? No, fuck you Roger. He didn't want this. He just didn't have the time to officially choose me...

L can't be that cruel. He would have said something.

When I got the news, I was so...so angry. I was so angry I tore my rosary off. I didn't even care when the beads fell to the floor, rolling down the hallway. I've always had that rosary, and I've never taken it off before then. I don't know why I liked it so much, maybe my mother gave it to me? It's been about twelve hours since then, and I've only calmed down a little bit, but I want it back. I miss my rosary. I miss Matt. I miss L and B and A and not feeling so alone.

Pulling my knees against my chest, I bury my face into my bag and wait.

"Well did he say when he was coming back?" Matt outright shouts.

I shift my position on the floor slightly, turning even further away from him. "I believe he said he was officially leaving."

Third steps in front of me again, "But he didn't even say goodbye! Why did he leave by himself Near? Why didn't he ask me to go with?"

I switch which arm I twirl my hair with, my left having grown tired. "It is my assumption that Mello did not give any student or staff member a proper goodbye. He may have made some arrangements with Roger however."

One could almost see the gears in the boy's head turning. I watch him carefully to interrupt before he speaks again. "If you could not yell this time, I would appreciate it. I have a migraine."

Matt's cheeks slightly flush when I say this, and his mouth twists until it settles into a hard-set grimace. "I'll go talk to Roger then," he finishes and steps out of the room.

Finally alone, I look back to my toys. I wonder if this will be the last time I play with them. L had the strength of mind and concentration to work as well as entertain himself with sweets. Will I be good enough? Am I capable enough to not deteriorate from the stress? I may have been first, but L never officially chose me. He wanted Mello and I to work together. If this is the case, then by working alone, are we just setting ourselves up for failure?

I close my eyes, trying to block out the pressure building on my forehead and temples. I don't want to concentrate right now, but there's so much for me to do. There is so much to get done, and I haven't even started yet. I find myself faintly hoping that Mello will come back, so we can do this the right way. The other part of me...the admittedly more smug side is only laughing at Mello's foolishness. He thinks he can beat me? With all those destructive emotions? He's only going to find himself hurt, dead even.

The migraine proving to be too much, I tuck my head and arms into my body on the ground and pray it will alleviate the tension.