Okay so this is the Mello and Near chapter! Praying it works, it's always hard working out how to write characters for the first time...

I finished university today! Woooop, getting mightily drunk with friends, but remembered it's about time to post this chapter, so here you go = ] have splendid days x

"L."

L looked up from the water. He'd been standing on the little bridge that crossed the tinkling stream near the bottom of the Wammy Estate for what felt like years. He saw Roger approach, the man who managed Wammy House for Wammy, his face haggard with sorrow behind his round glasses.

"So was he killed? Did you find anything? What happened?"

Roger shook his head. "We found nothing, it doesn't look like he was killed."

L brooded silently.

Roger shrugged, sadly, as if L's silence had constituted a reply. "He was old, L. He just passed away gently in his sleep. It'll happen to all of us if we live long enough to see it."

L nodded. He knew this of course. He understood with perfect lucidity that everyone would die. But knowing this logically was entirely different to actually witnessing it. Especially Wammy. There's something about parental figures, L mused. Why do we always act as if they're immortal, why do we live life assuming they'll always be there to pick us up when we fall?

"So when's the funeral?"

"Two days time."

"Good. Because the day after that, I need you to do me a favour."

"What's that?"

"I need you to pretend to be Wammy, and go to the Interpol meeting about a case they're calling 'Kira'."

Roger raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you going to rest a while? You can pick up the case later, surely."

"What would be the point in that?" L genuinely couldn't see it. "I am going to miss him more than anyone else in the world, but that doesn't give me a reason to sit about doing nothing, wallowing in emotion. That would drive me mad. Anyway, whilst sitting about being self-absorbed in my own negative feelings, criminals around the world would continue to wreak havoc. No. I need to carry on. The world needs to me carry on. Wammy would expect no less of me."

L meant every word that he said. He'd carefully taken his grief, labelled it 'Grief For Wammy', and stored it in a perfectly sealed container somewhere deep inside him. It was lined up next to a few others containers he'd not got round to reopening yet. If circumstances every allowed, he could come back to it and open it up, but now wasn't that time.

Roger looked at the young man, his eyes more sunken and shadowed than usual, the grim determination of his jaw. He knew nothing he could say would change L's mind – it had never done before. Wammy had been the only one who could ever influence L's decisions.

"Are you going to want me to take over his duties permanently?"

"Not if I can help it. I think it's important for the kids to have SOME kind of continuity in their support, don't you think? With Wammy gone, they'll need you more than ever."

"Then what are you going to do? You can't do it alone."

"No," L admitted reluctantly. "I need someone to go to the police, take people to interrogation, handle technical issues, discuss problems with me, and a million other things." He sighed. "Wammy did so much." He turned to Roger questioningly. "What of my successors? Would any be capable of joining me?"

"I don't think I could answer that question. You'd have to find out yourself."

L nodded. "Who's at the top?"

"Two boys are neck and neck. Mello and Near."

"How old are they now?"

"18 and 17 respectively. They're some of the oldest ones."

...Left, L thought grimly. You mean they're some of the oldest ones that aren't dead, mad, or in prison. "Yes, I remember them. I haven't seen them in a few years. I'm going to have to speak to them."

"Sure. Would you like me to send them up to your apartment later?"

Thank you Roger, that would be perfect."

A few hours passed, and L heard the knock on his door. "Come in."

He stood up awkwardly, trying to straighten his hunched shoulders, and watched the two teenagers approach. He felt naked in front of their curious eyes. What do they think of me? Do they resent me like A and B did?

The three stood there for a while, hungrily analysing each other. L saw that both had grown up considerably since he'd last seen them. Mello's previously skinny arms were now undulating with sculpted muscles, and his ginger-blonde hair had grown past his shoulders. The girlish fringe remained, though. Near's white hair was now shorter, and his face had lost some of the childish roundness. His grey eyes were still child's eyes though, babies eyes, disconcertingly wide, that stared at you from the wordless depths of the universe as only babies could do.

As the silence dragged on, L realised he should probably initiate something.

"Urr, would anyone like some cake?" L offered.

"Got any chocolate?" Asked the older boy, Mello.

"I've got chocolate sauce that you could put on the cake."

"That'll do." Mello flashed a grin.

"Near?"

"No, thank you." The younger boy's voice was still incredibly soft, but several tones deeper than before.

"Please, take a seat." L fetched the cake from his desk, watching the boys out of the corner of his eye. There were of course two armchairs and one sofa. One armchair, occupied my L's laptop, was clearly not for taking. He watched as Mello bee-lined toward the other armchair, only to be beaten to it by Near swinging himself over the arm and into the seat just as Mello turned to sit down. Mello growled at him angrily and resigned himself to the sofa, at which the white-chaired cherub-teen smirked. So they have THAT sort of relationship, do they?

"Cake." L said unnecessarily, plonking a plate bearing a generous slice of coffee and walnut dripping in chocolate sauce onto the low table between the chairs. It felt weird dishing out sweet things. This is Wammy's role.

"So I assume you can work out why you're here."

"Wammy's dead, you need a replacement," Mello mumbled through his mouthful of pudding.

"That is correct. So let's talk through a few things."

(gap)

L knocked his head gently on the apartment door he'd just swung shut. That went terribly.

Actually, the first stage had gone well. Having posed to them several hypothetical scenarios and asked what they would have done or been able to deduce, he could not deny that both teens were impressively clever. They even thought of one or two possibilities that he hadn't anticipated. But it wasn't their intelligence that had been the problem, it was their characters.

I should've known, he thought. Obviously anyone being trained to be me is likely to be as emotionally and socially stunted as I am. Should've seen that coming.

Admittedly, Mello's emotional and social problems greatly differed from his own. It had been about twenty minutes into their conversation when his jaw first set, and his eyes flashed.

"So let me get this straight. We've been trained all our lives to take over if you die, if we're good enough. And Near and I ARE good enough, I know it. And now you say, 'oh actually, I need you to come with me now and be my technical support, my errand runner, my second in command'?"

"I suppose, that is strictly true," L said mildly. He had of course been planning to operate on a more even basis with the 'new Wammy', but this reaction of Mello's clearly needed testing.

Mello's face darkened, and he stood up, his lithe body tensed in anger. "Well then all I can really say is fuck you! We never see you, we're made to feel like if we're good enough then WE will be the next greatest detective in the world, and then you think you can just swoop back in and ask us to be your bitch?"

"You can be whoever's bitch you want you," L provoked calmly.

"Oh jesus, why do you just sit there and answer things quietly and calmly as if everything's below you? You're just like Near." Mello gave daggers to the other boy. "Hell I'm not even sure why I used to look up to you so much, L. You're kind of pathetic, you know that? Can't even work on your own," he sneered, "you can't survive without Wammy waiting on you all day! Fuck this. Count me out. When I start proper detective work, it's going to be on my own terms, not yours." Mello strode towards the door. It slammed shut behind him.

So one possibility had been crossed off the list.

"Sorry about him. I think he may possess an unusually large share of testosterone," Near commented quietly, playing with a pair of dice in his hand. "It obscures his judgment, I think that he probably didn't notice you were testing his reactions."

L raised his eyebrows. "Very good. And what about you, what do you think of the whole situation?"

Near sat quietly for a minute, and started pulling dice out of his pocket, and balancing one on top of the other on the coffee table between sofa and armchair. It made L feel a little queasy, as if watching himself. If they'd just been sugar cubes...

"I think..." he said slowly, "that whilst my temperament would suit you better, I am ill equipped to do what you ask of me."

"Oh?"

"Watari needs to go to police stations, he needs to interact with people, he needs to be able to buy things and book things and organise things in a normal and natural way." Those orb-like baby eyes looked up at him from the dice pile that was now mesmerizingly tall. "Whilst I could help you in your investigations, I can't do any of these things. I can't even bear to go out in public on my own, and sounding normal is as hard for me as is it for you." Near laughed – the sound was gentle and melodic. He clearly didn't resent himself his failings, it was just the way things were.

L nodded. "I understand. If that is truly the case, and I do not doubt your ability to self-analyse, then you cannot help me."

The white-haired boy stared up at the ceiling, twirling a strand of the silvery locks between his fingers thoughtfully. "Don't you think it's funny that we train people to be L here, but no one is trained to be Watari?"

"It's an excellent point. Perhaps you should bring it up with Roger."

"Perhaps I will." Near smiled, and one by one took each dice off the tower and put in his pocket. "Well then, I'll be going now. I'm sorry you couldn't find what you're looking for."

"That's okay. Thank you for your time."

As the teen shuffled off, L couldn't resist asking him the question burning in his mind.

"Near, do all the kids hate and resent me as much as Mello does?"

Near laughed that melodic laugh once more. "Mello doesn't hate you, you're his idol. Just like he doesn't really hate me – I'm sort of his best friend, actually, after Matt. And the kids... they don't hate you. But they do resent you. You know they'd definitely resent you less if you went and visited them a bit more. Most of them haven't even met you these days."

"Hmm, that's probably true, but I can't do that. The more I interact with people, the more they are in danger. Besides, I'm going away to Japan in a couple of days. It may be a long case."

"Of course. Well, see you."

"Bye, Near."

And so the second possibility had been crossed off the list. L hadn't entirely expected asking his successors to join him to work, but he'd done it out of necessity. Truth was, there wasn't really anyone else he COULD ask. He needed someone he could trust with his life, someone with impeccable social skills, impressive organisational and technical skills, and a willingness to be around him every day. Virtually impossible. What a nightmare. He added a few logs to the fire, and crouched in front of it, allowing himself to be hypnotised by the flames for a few minutes. Flames were marvellous. Carbon dioxide, water vapour, nitrogen and oxygen, emitting energy as heat and light in the chemical process of combustion. And yet it looks so otherworldly, as if the tree spirits are being released from their wooden confinement.

It was almost half an hour before he stood up, and began going over the evidence for the Kira case. There was something about the whole case that made his hair stand on end. Updates online confirmed that more had died that day, in the same mysterious manner.

It was then that L noticed it. The date that didn't fit. It was like the cocaine-banana-boat all over again. The very first death, Ryota Nakamura, had happened at around 1am the night before his conviction had been reported! This can only mean that Kira has access to police records. He might even BE in the NPA. Why would he mess up his very first killing? Perhaps he did something that he didn't expect to work.

L brought up a document profiling everyone that worked at the NPA – there were 141. Even if it turned out to be a hack or a leak to an external Kira, it wouldn't harm to look. He may as well start remembering names and faces if one of them was going to turn out to be his suspect. Scrolling through it slowly, L's photographic mind stored an image of each profile for future reference. 46, 47 48... 49.

L yelped, and fell out of his chair. Righting himself, he blinked in amazement at the screen. Number 49 stared coolly down at him, with a half-smile curving across her face.

It was Rose.

What dya reckon, did I do the characters justice? Obviously they had to be a bit one-sided since they're only here for one chapter, can't do that much character development in that space... maybe they'll come back in a later chapter if it works.

Please review to tell me you thoughts = ] thanks for reading, peace x