A/N: I'm in an amazing mood, because for breakfast, I had a slice of carrot cake, half a pint of cake batter flavored ice cream, a bag of chocolate truffles, brownies, and an apple. Because an apple a day keeps the doctor away. ;) So I thought, hey, I have way too many stories that I'm trying to keep up with. I know! I'll write another one!

It had started when he was in elementary school. Someone looked down at Nate River where he had been pushed, bruised and bleeding onto the floor and commanded him to

"Cry." He had looked up, with one black eye, and the other eyelid scratched, so it looked like he had obeyed the command and cried blood. He looked up through his injuries at his tormenter standing over him and asked,

"Why?" His attacker had actually stopped then, mid-kick, to stare at Nate in disbelief.

"Are you even fucking human?" Nate stopped himself from correcting the use of profanities since it was what had gotten him in the situation in the first place, and breathed a sigh of relief when the bully left.

All around the school the next day, he had heard whispers and giggles when he passed. The most frequent thing he heard was

"Near." Near. Short for Nearly human. As an albino, Nate had always faced prejudice born from ignorance, but he suspected the skepticism regarding his humanity was actually borne from his emotionless attitude, more than his perfectly white appearance.

It didn't bother him, really. Deep in his mind, something niggled about a rose by any other name, and how identity defined titles, not the other way around, but really, he truly didn't care. If there was any part of it he cared about, it was the intent behind the christening, and the worry that his fellow classmates would believe they had won.

Nate did not like to lose.

So he retaliated. That very day, there was a substitute teacher and when she reached his name

"Nate River," He raised his hand, looked her in the eye and said,

"I prefer to be called Near." And she had raised a manicured hand up to pastel lipsticked lips and said,

"Oh. Okay, alright." And written a note on the attendance sheet.

Claiming the name had two benefits. A rumor went around the school that Near actually wasn't human. When he heard this, Near touched his lips and wondered if there was a limit to human stupidity and if it was a topic worth investigating at all. Still, some slight notoriety came with the possibility of being supernatural, and the taunting lessened, though there was a deeply frustrating week during which the concept that Near could not touch color was introduced, and everyone seemed to want to try and touch him with brightly colored pocket handkerchiefs.

This too, passed, as did every other rumor and theory passed from childish lips to childish ears, and Near found that even as he left that stage of his life behind, to lose the name would be to admit to never having wanted it, and so he chose to take it with him.

Middle school passed much the same way.

And high school began similarly.

Sometime along the way, he was labeled "gifted", to which he responded,

"Assuming a student is unintelligent because he is quiet is foolish, and my silence clearly stems from my classmates' constant abuse. Please try and be less incompetent in the future." It seemed the counselor got over her shock enough to take action, because, suddenly, Near was being propelled through coursework, tests, and books and realizing, for the first time, that learning at an appropriate level was, not only something he loved, but something he was good at. Still, the public school system was absolute rubbish, and with his new hunger for knowledge, he needed to do more.

He started picking up textbooks from the library, but the one time he lost a book, they informed him he could check no more out until he payed his fines.

With what money? He almost asked, but admitting his orphan status was rarely something that brought anything more productive than pity.

For a time, he traded in old books for store credit at a local used bookstore and taught himself through Latin, French, Calculus, and Thermodynamics. Still, donated books always got slightly less than they were worth, and purchased books slightly more, so he quickly ran out of both credit and books.

Looking around at the other fifteen year olds in his school who were, though admittedly more concerned with buying dates, clothes and music than books, privileged by a steady income, either through parents or through work, Near decided he needed to get a job. He spent a few weeks in the library, before he was fired for being antisocial, and hiding himself away with books, and a few months in a record store, where he was constantly praised for his ability to memorize the placement of every single thing, and eccentricity was expected.

"How'd you know that was there?"

"I put it there."

"That was months ago, man."

"Yes."

"…alright, dude, you're a lifesaver. Heh heh. I can never find anything."

"I am glad I was able to be of assistance."

Despite his talent at the record store, the loud music was a constant strain on Near's psyche, and with his first paycheck, he bought a stack of books on business management, financial planning and microeconomic history.

He carefully invested the rest of his first paycheck, and all of his second, and was pleased to find a small financial yield. As soon as the third month passed the same way, Near quit his job with Nick's Records and focused completely on his self-education and his expanding investments.

By sixteen and two months, Near made his first million and used it as proof that he could support himself in his case to get legally emancipated from the orphanage. The institution agreed that he was both self-supporting and responsible, and it was an easy, and uniquely tearless move from the orphanage into his own small apartment.

Near was quickly learning that with money came the ability to make even more money.

At early seventeen, Near was a senior in high school and the owner of Near Industries. For him, naming the company was a victory over those who had given him the insulting name in the first place. He hired someone else to appear at events, and many people wondered about who the mysterious owner of the corporation really was.

The day Near reached his first billion, he was pushed into a fountain while walking to school, and had to endure partially see-through clothes for the entirety of his trip back home and his late return to school. He honestly didn't know why he continued to go to school in the first place. It wasn't because he needed to go, or even because- god forbid- he enjoyed the experience. No, if anything, Near continued to go to school because he knew without school he would sit in his apartment, quietly amassing billions, and since that's what he would do when he graduated anyways, why not finish senior year?

In the mid-year senior rush to find a good college, Near discovered that he had essentially taught himself the entire courses for most of the majors his fellow classmates were considering. Any job would be a waste of time.

At some point around this time, Near bought and moved into a small house, because his neighbors were loud, and he needed more space for his books.

Near turned briefly to fiction, but found that his flawless memory was not conducive to the overlooking of plot holes, and he was not willing to succumb to the willing suspension of disbelief. So Near read books in which the challenge was to find those holes. Mystery novels entertained Near for almost a whole four days, until he grasped the patterns and began to solve them within the first few chapters. It irritated Near when the investigators overlooked some area until the last scene when the novel was set up to find the vital clue.

Near began to watch the news and race the police to catch criminals. This was somewhat more of a challenge, but he still struggled with the idiotically slow methods the law enforcement seemed to use. He made a sizable anonymous donation to the police station so they could afford more investigators. Instead, every office computer in the division was upgraded.

Next, Near learned how to hack. He read every book the bookstore had to offer on the subject and practiced on multiple systems before he chanced hacking into the police servers. Suddenly, solving the cases became much, much easier. Being on an equal playing ground with law enforcement only served to show Near that he wasn't on an equal playing ground, he was much, much, better.

Near began to leave anonymous tips. Taking a tip from his favorite crime mystery writer "L", Near took the pseudonym "N".

By mid second semester, N was a well known name in law enforcement. Near started only stepping in for impossible cases. An interview was published in which the Chief Constable announced that if N were to reveal himself, he would be offered a job with law enforcement, and could save many more lives.

Near hacked into the site and changed the article, so that it looked as if he had been interviewed as well, and answered,

"I am grateful that the Chief Constable regards me so highly, however, I am not in need of any money at this time, nor am I particularly concerned with saving lives. I will continue to step in on the cases that interest me."

Near suffered from a brief spell of bad publicity following this declaration, however, when he solved a high profile case involving a school full of children being taken hostage, he once more became the mysterious and well-loved detective.

When he was tormented at school, he started smirking at his attackers, knowing how many of them looked up to him, not knowing who he was. The response unnerved them, and bullying was at an all time low.

He wasn't happy, exactly, but he was entertained, and not unhappy, which was a first for Near.

One day, while getting his morning Danish and coffee from Lola's- one thing Near had never mastered was cooking- a blonde woman pushed in front of him, wearing a soft black sweater, and black slacks.

"Hey, can I have that?" Oh. It was a man. He pointed to the last Danish. Near was already mourning the disruption of his routine and deciding on where to buy another Danish when Lola shook her head at the blonde and said,

"Sorry, sir. The boy in front of you in line was going to get that." She wrapped it up and handed it to Near, who payed. He hadn't taken two steps away when the blonde appeared in front of Near and said,

"Since you took my Danish, you owe me, right?"

"Technically,-" Near began, but was interrupted when the blonde leaned over and took a bite out of the top of the Danish in Near's hand. Near stared at the stranger. He cheerfully waved at Near, ignoring the shocked expression, and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Near called. He stopped, waiting. "You can have the rest of the Danish. I will not be eating it."

"Don't be such a germophobe. I brush three times a day." Was the stranger's reply, and he left. Near was deeply disturbed by this encounter, and stared at his Danish for a long, long time, before taking a tiny bite out of the bottom, on the opposite side from the stranger's bite, and throwing it away. He went to school hungry.

Two days later, Near found himself once again facing the weekly dilemma of free time. Saturdays and Sundays were always a struggle. Just outside his door, by the newspaper, was a flyer for a new exhibit at the museum, dealing with optical illusions and the manipulation of reality called "Keeping It Real". Near rolled his eyes at the name, but it seemed interesting enough, so he dressed in a fresh pair of white pajamas and left.

Near was glad he'd gone. It was rare he found something he took pleasure in, anymore, and art allowed him to observe not only the work of the artists, but the reactions of the people around him. Socializing was never something Near excelled at, or even understood, and in a gallery, he was permitted to stare as long as he wanted.

Three rooms in, he was assaulted by a blur of black and blonde.

"You came!" Near extricated himself from the unwanted contact as quickly as possible, and asked

"Was I expected to?"

"Well, I did leave the flyer by your door, but I didn't know if this was your kind of thing."

"How did you know where I live?"

"I followed you from the café." Near was prepared to make accusations about stalking; he hadn't expected a confession.

"Oh. I have to go, now." As he turned to leave, the blonde grabbed his wrist. He turned back, with more fear in his eyes then he had meant for there to be. The blonde immediately softened his grip, and said,

"Just so you know, my name is Mello."

"I am Near." Near said, instinctively, and then inwardly winced. That was encouraging behavior. "Please do not continue to stalk me." He yanked his arm free, and escaped as quickly as he could without running. To his house. The house Mello knew the address of.

Near locked every window and door, and turned on the burglar alarm before he went to sleep.

When he woke up, there were cookies on his kitchen counter, and written in flour, the word "cute" with part of his dismantled alarm system next to it.

Near briefly considered calling the police, but he happened to know exactly how incompetent they were, and decided not to waste his time. He picked up a cookie, and bit into it. Immediately, he regretted the action. They could have been poisoned, or drugged. But no, they were just crispy and a little bit warm. Three cookies through the plate, Near's phone rang, for maybe the fifth time since he'd gotten it.

"Hello?" He answered, cautiously.

"Hey! Didja get my gift?"

"I did. Breaking and entering is a crime, punishable by up to-"

"I didn't break anything."

"Except my security system." This time, Mello had the grace to sound ashamed.

"Yeah, but I bought you a new one. Check your porch." Near peeked out his window, and saw a gift wrapped box sitting on his porch. "It's better, so you can feel safe." Mello said, sounding smug.

"Using that would defeat the purpose of keeping you out."

"Well, no, it can't do that, but not much can. Anyways, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come hang out with me?"

"What would that entail?"

"I dunno. I'll buy you lunch?"

"No thank you. I can feed myself."

"C'mon! It'll be fun."

"If I agree to 'hang out' with you, will you agree to stop coming to my house?"

"I-"

"TOLD YA YOU WERE BEING CREEPY!" shouted a voice from the background.

"Shut up, Matty! Yeah, if it bothers you, you only have to ask."

"Then will you please stop contacting me at all?" The background voice- Matty- started cackling.

"That's not fair. You haven't even given me a chance. Lemme buy you one lunch, and then you can decide if you want me to go away forever." The phone was quiet for a while, while Near considered.

"Very well. One time."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll pick you up at twelve thirty?"

"No. I will meet you at Nonna's Bistro at one. Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, see you there!"

"Good bye."

At twelve fifty sharp, Near showed up at Nonna's bistro, and ordered his food, paying in advance so he could leave if he needed to.

Mello showed up at 1:02 wearing…leather. Lots of it. Near, in his white pajamas, felt he had no right to judge, but the waitress certainly didn't restrain herself. She spent a good deal of time staring at the two of them before Mello tapped the table to get her attention, and she hastily took his order.

Near resolved to eat his meal in silence and then leave. He was used to ignoring people. Mello, however, was not used to being ignored. Halfway through his plate, he snapped.

"You gonna say something? That's the point of this whole thing, you know. Getting to know one another."

"I have no wish to know anything about you."

"Allllright. Well, I want to know all about you."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"I find you fascinating. And I'm bored."

"You have decided to stalk me because you are bored?"

"I wish you would stop throwing that word around. I've decided you're worth investigating because you're interesting. Anyways, you should know all about being bored, N."

With one syllable, Mello accomplished something almost no one ever had before. He shocked Near speechless. Mello leaned back, apparently satisfied to have left Near gaping, until Near managed the word,

"H-How?"

"You're a good hacker, man, but you left little signatures. Traced it back to your house, where, obviously, you live."

"Thank you. I am done eating. Please do not contact me again."

"Or what?"

"Or I will call the police." Mello was already shaking his head.

"People like you and me are above and beneath the law. You break the law every time you hack into the police network, but it's alright, because you're better than them."

"And what illegal activities do you partake in?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'people like you and me'. What do you do?" Mello grinned.

"Whatever I want."

Near absorbed the loss of his secret identity with cool acceptance after the initial shock, and when Mello left, after a frantic phone call with an unknown ("How the fuck did you set the couch on fire?"), Near accepted his apologies, and stared at the few bills he had left behind, and was secretly pleased that although Near had been exposed, Nate River was still his very own.

After a while, Near also got up and left. And when he went home, he installed the security system Mello had left. There was a pre-set code. Near had known there would be. And if Mello was as good as he said he was- which Near had no reason to doubt - he could probably get in regardless.

Monday came, and with it, the end to the most eventful weekend of Near's life. He endured the torment of his peers, and the dull monotones of his teachers' lectures with his usual blank countenance, while inside, he sighed in relief that at least to these people, he was only another boy in school. He had to defend himself against no more attention than usual, and for that, he was grateful.

In sixth period, while reading a collection of essays on the structure of biological materials- Near's teachers had long since given up on teaching him, and mostly allowed him to read through their classes- Near happened to overhear a debate on the merits of dying one's hair with Kool-Aid evolve into a debate on whether or not pouring Kool-Aid on Near would be enough to turn him blue.

Near sincerely hoped it wouldn't be. When a girl produced two packets of Kool-aid, and the boys started making plans to mix it in water bottles, Near started to seriously worry about his trip home. At best, his clothes would be sticky, at worst, he actually would come to school blue.

When school ended, Near walked to the gate, wondering if he could sprint home without tripping himself on the long hem of his pants. It seemed unlikely. When he looked up, Mello was leaning against the gate, like a knight in shining- er, leather, and dangling a pair of keys from his fingers. As he saw Near, he straightened up and said,

"Hi! I was wondering if you wanted a ride home?"

"Yes!" Near answered, a little too quickly, and nearly did trip himself running up to Mello. Mello raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. Near hummed to himself, something nearly tuneless, in celebration at having dodged the proverbial bullet when…he saw Mello's mode of transportation.

"You drove that?" He asked, just to be sure.

"Yeah."

"And you want me…to ride in it also?"

"That was the general idea."

"Is it safe?"

"Yeah? I mean, as long as you don't jump out or anything." Near looked at the shiny black motorcycle and took a few steps back, towards the courtyard. Then he saw a small group of boys huddled around a girl with suspiciously blue stained fingers, and a water bottle.

He looked at the motorcycle.

He looked at the group of students.

He looked at the mud-splattered wheels.

He looked at the blue stained fingers.

He looked at Mello's too-excited grin.

He looked at the sadistic grins of the students.

"Hey, Near, what's wrong? You look like a frightened deer, like you're about to-" Near bolted.

Near was not athletic in any sense of the word, and made it only about ten feet before Mello caught him, and easily dragged him back to the motorcycle.

"Calm down, it won't be that bad." Near muttered something disjointedly that sounded like

"I don't want to be blue…" and Mello nodded reassuringly as he set him up on the seat, and replied

"You don't have to." Even as he inconspicuously checked Near's pupils for drug-induced dilation.

Near clung to Mello's back and buried his face into the leather as much as he could while wearing the helmet Mello had given up for him. When his fingers began to grow cold, he locked them together firmly in front of Mello's chest so numbness would not interfere with his continued existence. His house wasn't that far away, but when he got there, he had never been so grateful to be home.

"Calm down, it wasn't that bad." Near looked up from his almost reverent unlocking of his front door.

"Yes, it was."

"What was bad about it? You lived, didn't you?" To which Near's calm response was,

"I am pleasantly surprised to have survived the trip and I will ride a donkey to school before I lay a single finger on that death trap again."

"I see. You gonna invite me in?"

"No." Mello pouted.

"But all I've ever seen of your house is the hall and the kitchen, and it was dark then."

"Perhaps if you do not trespass in the future, people will be more open to allowing you into their homes."

"I wanted to leave you something."

"Leave me alone!"

"You don't mean that."

"I assure you, I do."

"But our lunch date was cut short."

"What do you want from me? You know-…" Near beckoned Mello closer "You know I am N. What do you hope will come from this? What do you want from N?" Mello laughed.

"Nothing sinister, don't make that face. I just want to be entertained."

"How do you expect I will be able to do that?"

"I dunno. It's working so far, though. And I haven't even seen you do anything as N. You, Near, are very entertaining, all by yourself." Mello reached out and poked the tip of Near's nose. Near immediately froze, fighting his natural reaction to flinch with his intense desire to prove Mello wrong and not be…entertaining. Mello, of course, circumvented this approach by laughing again and retreating back to his motorcycle.

"Plus, you're cute! Next time, I'll bring the car. And next time, you'll invite me in. Deal?" Near sniffed at Mello in neither agreement nor disagreement and went inside. Mello laughed as he drove away.

Near managed to avoid being dyed any unnatural colors by eating lunch in a small corner of the library, and allowing Mello to drive him home. He heaved a sigh at Mello's constant chatter, but at least he had brought a real car this time.

As Near had both dreaded and expected, when the time came for him to continue his solitary life, and recover from the shock of Mello's driving- which had been almost as terrifying as the motorcycle ride- Mello stuck his foot in the door before it could close.

"I get to come in this time."

"I agreed to no such thing." Said Near, but Mello was already giving himself a tour and gawking at Near's things.

"Jesus Christ, Near. You could make a fortune letting people borrow these. Seriously, it's like a library in here." It was. Both guest rooms were filled with rows and rows of shelves, and every spare wall in all the other rooms was also filled.

"I would rather have the books to myself than have a fortune."

"Have you read all of these?"

"Yes."

"Even…" Mello selected a particularly dry looking book, "Organic Chemistry: A Study of Research Development Through the Ages?"

"Yes."

"Damn." Near felt a small burst of pride at the sentiment. After all, he'd never had anyone to share his considerable accomplishments with, and although it was a little concerning that he was doing so with his stalker, he couldn't help but feel a certain self-importance.

"So, uh, where d'you do your N stuff?"

Near silently led him to the office, where, in between a somewhat less orderly stack of books, sat a computer, three laptops and several rows of hard drives. Mello seemed disappointed.

"This is it? No bat-cave?"

"What?"

You know, you pull a certain book out of one of those many shelves and the wall opens, revealing a secret passage way to your secret work station?" Near looked at him oddly.

"Wouldn't that be more suspicious than having the computers here?"

"You're hopeless, and now I've lost ten dollars."

"How do the two relate?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, I just bet someone that you would have a bat cave. N has style like that, ya know?"

"I do not do anything with unnecessary flair. Who else have you told about my identity?"

"Call it what you want, but that interview thing was fuckin' great."

"How many people have you told?" Near demanded again, then realized how loud he was getting and took a deep breath.

"My friend, Matt. Well, technically he found you in the first place. I can't hack worth shit."

"If I had-"

"Holy…speaking of Matty, he was begging me for that hard drive last week."

"And?" Near prompted, slightly miffed at being interrupted.

"Double-Take Recover Now? Why do you have two of those?"

"To recover my files if they are lost, obviously."

"Yeah, but those are like…thirteen hundred dollars a pop."

"Yes." Mello gesticulated madly in an attempt to convey his amazement at the technology.

"Plus the computers, you have enough tech here to buy a small house."

"Why would I purchase a small house when I own one?"

"You own this place?"

"Obviously. I live in it."

"You're seventeen."

"Yes."

"I've followed you for a while. You don't have a job. That means-" Mello gasped. "I figured it out!" Near waited to see what it was exactly that Mello thought he'd figured out. "All that preaching you do about the law, and you steal your money. You must! So what is it? D'you hack banks, or actually take it from the police. Oooh, you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but-"

"Mello is incorrect!" Near announced.

"What?"

"I do have a job, and I do not steal." Mello's eyes glazed over as he viewed some inner picture, and he asked,

"Are you a waitress? Do you have a uniform?"

"…no."

"Do you have a uniform at all, waitress or otherwise?"

"I do not see how that matters." Mello snapped himself back into reality.

"It doesn't. So what's your job?" It suddenly hit Near that, despite the comfort involved with speaking to someone who knew his secrets, it probably wasn't the best idea to give the man more ammunition to use against him.

"I…uh, work for a company."

"Yeah, right. Which company? What do you do? Do you have a-"

"I do not have a uniform!" Near snapped and then sighed. It didn't really matter, since Mello could already destroy him with what he knew.

"Near Industries."

"You work for Near Industries?" Mello asked. Near waited for the obvious to sink in. When it did, Mello's eyes grew impossibly wide. "Oooooohhhh." Suddenly, he started looking at things with a much more critical eye.

"You own Near Industries, and you're living here?"

"You just complimented my house."

"Yeah, it's nice for a normal person, but you could afford another thirty rooms or so. With a view. And a tower. And a pool. And a goddamn batcave."

"Then more people would wonder how I afforded those things. Regardless, you can't be much older than me. Where do you get your money from?"

"Here and there." Mello answered vaguely. "Mostly there. I don't have nearly as much as you, though. Chocolate?" Near declined, and watched in amazement as Mello apparently used some sort of hyper dimensional storage space, since it was impossible that he'd pulled the chocolate bar from his barely-there leather pockets. "mmmm. Actually, if you must know, I steal." There was no shame in the statement. If anything, he seemed proud.

"Oh?"

"From people like you. Of course, you have an awesome security system…now I see why. You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Snowflake."

"Please do not call me that."

"Well, I've gotta go. This has been an eye-opening experience. We'll have to do it again, sometime. I'll buy you coffee, tomorrow?"

"No, thank you."

"Fine, you can buy me coffee. You know, since you can afford it, and all." Mello practically skipped out the door, and Near stared after him for a moment, before shaking his head and returning to relative sanity.