To SadNerd707: Thank you again for sharing your thoughts, it's always very nice to hear from you! Yes, I admit I have given in to some cuteness between Near and Mello. I'm glad you're happy with how the plot turned out and I congratulate you for having guessed about Esmeralda, I have left some clues of course, but it was far from obvious. Anyway, thank you for all your compliments, and I hope you will like that chapter!
To LottieRaven: First, I wanted to say I waited until you read the last chapter on purpose before answering you because I guessed you hadn't read it yet, considering your last review. But yes, now you understand. And of course, the brand was a message to L, but yes it was more like a taunt actually.
Indeed, now you can easily understand Elena's hatred towards L. L was very cruel to her, but I must say, like always, for if we think about it, L never really cared about the victims, all he cared about was the challenge a case provided him. At least, that's how I lectured his character.
I also really appreciate your reasoning skills, you always come up with very interesting theories, but I must object on this one: Elena didn't exactly accept L's offer, it's more complicated than that. Don't worry, this chapter will answer your questions, you'll see.
Once again, you're absolutely right: Elena is not a good person and I never planned to make her "good". She is selfish and proud, but she feels remorse. Maybe this case and Lidner will succeed in appeasing her mind after all.
I am also happy you like Mello and Near scenes because it's the most difficult to write honestly, but also the most satisfying. You analyzed Mello's character very well, he often doesn't show it, but he cares. Near does to, and the main issue of the next chapters will be how to get Near to express his feelings. I also agree with your theory about Near's past, though I won't elaborate it in this story because I feel like it's a mystery that must remain unsolved. Nonetheless, everyone is free to think whatever they want of course!
I remember you saying something about me being a genius, I must say you really caught me off guard with this one, but it really pleases me that you might think that. Even though I must tell you I was never diagnosed as a genius, to my great regret!
P.S. To answer your question, the Bells Ringer is complete fiction. I invented it myself, and I admit I never really searched if such a case had already occurred somewhere. But being french myself, I assure you I never heard of such a case in France before! But unfortunately there are psychopaths everywhere, so who knows?
Again, I thank you for all your support and compliments because they really make my day every time I read from you, I swear to you.
Now here we are, I hope you'll like that chapter and I'll be honored to read more of your comments!
New York City M.N. Murder Case
Chapter 26: Monster
A tough, impenetrable silence fell over the SPM Headquarters as soon as the three cursed words escaped the french woman's mouth. Blue eyes widened in pure shock searched for dark, steel orbs.
"That— That's not possible. You... You're lying!" Mello hissed, leaning over Near's motionless form to speak into the microphone.
"I wish I were," said the quiet, cold voice of Elena Cabestan.
"No, no, no." The blonde shook his head, still refusing to believe his ears. "It can't be true. You must be joking, it's not—"
"Do you really think I have such a poor humor?" She cut him off, as sharp as a knife. "You're insulting me, Mello."
"B-But... It's doesn't work! You were studying at the University of Law Paris-Sorbonne, right?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, well, something's wrong, then! The clues don't match." He shot a glance at the other boy next to him whose gaze was stubbornly glued to the ground. "We talked to the Dean, she didn't report any absence of female students from eighteen to twenty years old during December 1997! If you were kidnapped for one entire week and then vanished into thin air, then the University'd have—"
"But Miss Cabestan did leave after her first year at Pantheon-Sorbonne University of Law, didn't she?" An emotionless voice interrupted him, causing Mello to frown at the white silhouette before him.
"Yeah, but she passed her exams on January and the finals on May, so she didn't disappear after the kidnapping obviously—"
"Fair enough." The snow-haired boy replied evenly as he stretched a hand to twirl silver locks around his finger. "However, I suppose midterms period must last— what? One week, at most. As a consequence, Miss Cabestan could perfectly well leave the country for the whole semester, and come back only one week in January and one week in May to pass her examination. Am I correct, Miss Cabestan?"
"Yes, L." A sigh slipped through the loudspeakers.
"But I reckon if we were to ask Miss Emilie Lacombe about your presence in class and lesson during the second semester of the school year 1997/1998, she would tell us the University's attendance registers did not mention your name once, would she not, Miss Cabestan?"
"Indeed, she would."
"All right." Mello spat through clenched teeth, then turning towards the world's greatest detective. "But you forget one thing, Near. The Dean said there was no absence reported in December 1997..."
"...Among the students aged from eighteen to twenty years-old, yes." Near supplied the end of the sentence.
"What do you mean?" A blonde brow quirked up on a marble forehead.
"It is you now who is forgetting one very important detail, Mello. I recall you saying you investigated Miss Cabestan's past very thoroughly, did you not?"
"Yeah, but—"
"So you must know Miss Cabestan did not enter University at the age of eighteen years-old, like any average student." The new L stated neutrally as he extended a hand to grab the small red figurine. "Actually, Miss Elena Cabestan had always been a genius— a status we can very much relate to, I must add— but instead of being raised at an orphanage for gifted children, she lead a normal childhood and attended ordinary school, much like her dear friend Kira, if we think about it."
The blonde glared at him impatiently, urging him to get to the point silently.
"Perhaps it is the very reason of their everlasting feeling of boredom, but that is not a matter we ought to dwell on for now." The younger boy raised the doll to his eyes level, tilting his head to the side. "Anyway, Miss Cabestan took the baccalaureate at the stunning young age of fifteen, which then opened her the gates to University while she was only sixteen years old. Thus, when she was kidnapped by the Bells Ringer, she was the exact same age as the gypsy Esmeralda in Victor Hugo's masterpiece. Interesting coincidence, isn't it?"
Mello frowned deeply, a lean hand resting under his chin as he followed Near's fingers hovering around the tiny dolls. "I see. So we got it wrong since the beginning when we searched for an eighteen-year-old student... That's why Lacombe kept her mouth shut. It was our mistake, then. But— Wait!" His head jerked up as he pointed an accusing finger at Near, nudging on his forearm roughly. "I forgot about that, but you knew! So why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you ask for any female student regardless of their age, instead of narrowing our researches to eighteen to twenty-year-old girls! If you've just said that, Lacombe would've told us and now we'd already know!"
"That is right." Came Near's dull answer. "Although I did not want to know about all the students yet. To be quite frank, I let you ask her that question on purpose. I was merely testing her."
"Testing her? While we could've learnt who was the last victim and get done with it? Why? Why test Lacombe? Why'd you care, anyway?"
"Well, it had been quite some time since all the clues lead me to one single conclusion: the last victim had studied at Paris I Pantheon-Sorbonne University of Law. Firstly because, if you remember well, all the other schools and universities were out of the question since you did not bother mention the age criteria. Secondly because it is the most close University situated on the path from Notre Dame to the 4th arrondissement, the location of the last victim's home. And thirdly because, well..."
A tiny smirk graced the bloodless lips of the young man as he looked up at his co-worker, whirling white hair frantically. "Who, better than a lawyer, could escape the judicial system? After all, we must remember the last victim managed to disappear in the eyes of the Administration without any trace, no travel ticket, no identity papers, nothing at all. Also, she succeeded in avoiding to testify at the trial during all those years. Who, indeed, could master such a trick without any legal knowledge?"
"Okay." Mello nodded almost reluctantly, eyes still narrowed at his rival. "But that doesn't tell me why you wanted to test Lacombe."
"Ah, Miss Emilie Lacombe, yes." The smile tugging at Near's lips broadened. "My intentions towards her were very clear. There were two possible outcomes of that interrogation. Whether she answered our question truthfully, saying that there were no female student from eighteen to twenty years old reported absent in December 1997, and then, adding that nonetheless, one student was indeed absent for one entire week, but that one was of the age of sixteen. Or she took advantage of the loophole we offered her and lied to us, affirming there were no female student from eighteen to twenty years old reported absent in December 1997, without bothering to give us the full truth." He paused, arranging the small figurines in ranks at his feet.
"As we could all see, she chose the second option and lied by omission. Of course, like every self-respecting lawyer, she deciphered the flaw in our question and stepped in to better manipulate us. Doesn't it remind you of a certain someone, Mello?"
"Yeah, sure it does." The latter growled spitefully. "Fucking lawyers."
"I can hear you, you know." Elena interfered, her voice completely detached and indifferent.
"Whatever." The former mafioso mumbled, then daring a glance at his partner, "but what's with the test, anyway? Why did you give her the opportunity to cheat when you could've forced her to say the truth?"
"Why, because I wanted to measure the attachment that dear respectable Dean still holds towards Miss Cabestan, of course."
"Uh... yeah, right," Mello arched a quizzical eyebrow, "and what does that matter, again?"
"It matters, Mello, because then I would be able to know how far that woman was ready to go in order to keep her protégée out of harm's way." Near said in a deadpan tone, similar to the one a teacher would use to scold their recalcitrant pupil. "And judging by the fact that she was ready to lie to us— L, the greatest detective— then committing an obstruction of justice, I deduce Emilie Lacombe cares deeply for Miss Cabestan. Besides, knowing her affinity towards Miss Cabestan allowed me to exploit that weakness in order to trap her at her own game."
"Asshole." The word was spat through the speaker and hit the two geniuses' ears full force even though the receiver of such a venomous name did not even flinch.
"Watch your mouth, Cabestan! Don't you dare insulting him!" Mello had stood up in haste, as if ready to jump at the throat of the bold woman, fists fisted in balls and nails digging into his palm.
"Defending your lover, now, aren't we?" Cabestan snapped back. "Pity you didn't think about that before faking your death and killing innocent children."
"Shut up, you bitch! You're pissed because he figured it out! You're just annoyed that all your dream plans fell apart!" He shouted, his eyes glaring daggers at the dark ceiling, as if the criminologist was looming over their head.
"Mello." A light tug at his leggings leg brought back the flustered man to earth. He looked down at the white-haired boy who had curled his fingers into the leather fabric. "Calm down. I suppose I deserve the way Miss Cabestan addressed me, and I confess it does not bother me in the slightest. So please, sit back down and let us have a peaceful discussion, will you?"
The blonde stared at the younger detective in silence, before he complied, not without a throaty growl, and settled back on the ground next to Near. "So, what do we do now?" He asked quietly, as if his voice couldn't muster the strength to speak louder.
"Now, I suggest we make a polite phone call to the Dean of the University of Law Paris-Sorbonne and ask her about the students who were under the age of eighteen in December 1997. I am sure she will feel obliged to disclose the whole truth this time."
Mello sighed, putting his head down, blonde bangs swinging in front of his forehead. "All right. I'll call Lacombe." He said wearily as he rose from the floor and walked towards the computer. He dialed a number quickly, and a slow, hypnotizing ring made itself heard.
Soon enough, a soft, groggy voice echoed in the speaker.
"Allô?" A yawn.
"Emilie Lacombe." Mello said cooly. "This is L. I'm calling you to seek for the answers you didn't give me the last time we talked."
Silence was all he was greeted with, then a low groan. "Me faire parler en anglais à six heures du matin, non mais franchement..."
A light chuckle came from another dark device next to the white-dressed boy, the one connected with the criminologist's bedroom microphones.
To make me speak in English at 6am, seriously... Mello barely scoffed as his brain translated the Dean's sentence almost automatically.
Mello's brows furrowed as he stole a glance at Near, who nodded promptly.
"Are you ready to answer all my questions truthfully, Miss Lacombe?" Mello asked, turning his head towards the computer screen.
"Yes, yes." The drowsy voice replied. "What do you want to know?"
"Last time we talked, you told me there was no female student aged from eighteen years old to twenty who had been reported absent in December 1997..."
"Yes, and it was true. So?"
"...But you didn't tell me about female students who were under the age of eighteen." Mello finished, the corner of his thin lips twisting upwards.
The Dean marked a pause, and the two detectives swore they heard a shaky breath on the other side of the line as they shared a meaningful look.
"You didn't ask." Emilie's voice was slightly hoarse, as if every word she pronounced was painful.
"Well," Mello's smile widened, "now I'm asking you. Was there any female student underage who was absent in December 1997?"
"...Yes."
"How many?"
"One."
"What was her name?"
Another pause, and a trembling sigh.
"Elena Cabestan."
The blonde rotated on his heels so he could offer his former nemesis a satisfied grin. Near arched an eyebrow in response.
"How old was this Elena Cabestan girl?"
"Sixteen."
"When was she reported absent?"
"On December 1st."
"How long did it last?"
"One week. After that, it was holiday time."
"Hm..." Mello scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Did she come back to pass her exams?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"On the week of January 10th of 1998."
"And did she come back to class after that?"
"No." Her voice was sour and weak.
"Did she ever come back to University?" Mello inquired, feigning amazement.
"Yes, during one week in May, to pass her final exams."
"Hm..." He mused, then shooting a mischievous glance at Near, he went on, "you have a great memory, Emilie Lacombe."
"What?"
"Well," he restrained a laugh, "last time I asked you about students' absence in 1997, you spent several minutes searching into the University's records... This time, you gave me the name of the student, the dates and time of her absence without a single hesitation. Strange, if you ask me."
"Like you said, I just have a great memory." Lacombe retorted dryly.
"Right. A good memory." He scoffed. "But yet, a very selective one..."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that your remembrance of all these details concerning Cabestan's case is a bit too much suspicious, Miss Lacombe." He said very slowly, his voice sweet and honeyed. "Do you know why she left so suddenly, from this fateful day of December 1st? Why she never came back to class? Why she disappeared until she presented her doctoral thesis in 2001?"
"I..." The Dean stuttered miserably. "No, I— I don't know."
"Oh, really?" The mafioso sneered. "No need to lie anymore, Lacombe. We know—" He interrupted himself as he heard a clicking of a tongue. Whirling around, he noticed Near's white locks rocking from left to right as the boy shook his head slowly. He blinked at him, before he turned back towards the blinding screens.
"Never mind. That was just a test." He said, his voice steady and calm. "I believe you."
"Thank you." She whispered, and she sounded drained of all living essence. "You know, I..." She sighed deeply. "At that time, we had an affair, I mean, we were together. She really, uh... She meant a lot to me. And one day, she just disappeared. But I saw her again at the end of the exam, so I asked her how it went. Since she didn't even acknowledge my question, I asked where she had been all this time and why she stopped talking to me. She just..." The french professor took in a deep, wavering breath. "She smiled at me, but it looked as happy as the undertaker's smile, you see, and she said "Pardonnez Elena Cabestan, elle est morte." Which means—"
"Forgive Elena Cabestan, she is dead." Mello cut in impatiently, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know. And then?"
"Uh, then... Then she left. I thought she had left Paris, or at least the University because she never showed up at my lessons, nor in any of her classes. But I saw her again at the final exams in May. What struck me was... She was so pale, and so skinny. I almost didn't recognize her. I guessed she wouldn't talk to me, so I asked her in front of everyone to wait until the end of the test, I waited for all the students to leave, and then I asked her what was wrong. I knew her, she wasn't the kind of student to vanish and miss class without reason. But still she was the major of the promotion in the first semester."
"What did she say when you asked what was wrong?" Mello asked, this time his eyebrows furrowed in real curiosity.
"Well, she said the most awful things I ever heard in my life." The woman laughed darkly. "She said "Ne me parlez plus, je suis morte. Faites votre deuil et oubliez-moi. Ça ne sert à rien de s'accrocher à des fantômes. Tournez-vous vers les vivants, eux vous rendront peut-être heureuse." I guess I don't need to translate?"
"Yeah." Mello nodded as he stared at the white-haired boy on the floor. "Don't talk to me, I'm dead. Mourn me and forget me. It's useless to cling to ghosts. Turn to the living, maybe they'll make you happy." He let himself fall into a black wheel chair, spinning it around to face Near. "Kinda gloomy, indeed. Did you ever see her again?"
"No." Came the immediate answer. "I don't know where she studied from 1998 until 2001. I just heard she had presented her thesis at Paris-Sorbonne, but it was none of my concern. It was not my subject. I'm a Civil Law teacher, and she had chosen Penal Law. After that exam at the end of her first year, I never saw her again. I never listened to her either."
"What do you mean?"
"I never could forget her."
Mello shut his eyes, exhaling softly, then his eyelids fluttered open. "All right. I think I have all the informations I need. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Lacombe."
"It's nothing." She said, her voice extinguished, empty. "Goodbye, L. And good luck with chasing the dead." She added, her voice filled with regret and melancholy.
"Yes..."
Without further ado, he pressed the red knob and the line cut off. He raised a hand to rub at his temples, as if this conversation had tired him to no end. He was pulled out of his torpor by a smooth, yet monotone voice.
"It would seem your dear professor does not hold you to her heart any more, Miss Cabestan." Mello looked down at his partner in time to see the little smile that graced his pale lips.
"Yes, just like I'd planned." Elena replied neutrally.
"You pushed her away to avoid telling her about what happened to you, to protect her from both the Bells Ringer and L, right?" Mello said more matter-of-factly than questioningly.
"Yes. That's why I never told her about the kidnapping, nor the investigation. I was preparing my escape and I couldn't let L use her to find me."
"Of course. Still, there is something bothering me, Miss Cabestan." Near's fingers closed around the red doll. "You speak as if L knew you were the last victim. Did he?"
A bitter chuckle slipped through the loudspeaker. "Of course he did. He knew even before I was kidnapped. Actually, when he came to ask for my cooperation, saying I could serve as a bait to lure the criminal because I matched his criteria, he lied to me. In fact, he already knew I was going to be the next victim, no matter what he did. Despite that, when I refused to help him, he let the Bells Ringer kidnap me. To punish me, I guess." She spat.
"But I thought L didn't know in which church you were held prisoner?" Mello almost yelled in bewilderment. "And the killer chose his victims depending on the closest church to their home, so that doesn't make any sense! If L knew it was gonna be you, then he must have found the church closest to your house, Notre Dame de Paris!"
"Ah, but you see he did know I was going to be brought to Notre Dame, because that's where he and I met for the first time. He was looking for the last victim, before I was even kidnapped. He saw me on a bench, reading, and he instantly knew it was going to be me. So of course, when my parents declared me missing, he searched Notre Dame thoroughly... but I was not there." She paused, as if reveling in the effect of her speech.
"Actually, that night, on the first of January, I had planned to meet Emilie at her place. So I had told my parents I was spending the night at a friend's. It would seem my lie turned against me." She laughed mirthlessly.
"My parents were not worried not to see me coming home after college, but they started feeling concerned when I didn't come home the next day evening. That's when they started looking for me, they asked my friend's parents who, of course, told them I never showed up. And they went to the police. But then..."
"It was already too late." Near's emotionless voice filled in the blanks.
"Indeed. I spent the first night at Notre Dame de Paris, but... I survived. And the next morning, we were gone, after he'd left a message for L to read on the biggest bell... with my blood."
"You spent a whole week under the claws of your tormentor, Miss Cabestan." Said the new L, as if he was merely discussing the weather. "Did you spend every night in a different church, to cover the criminal's tracks?"
"No. After the first night, he brought me to the catacombs of Paris. That's why L never found me. The Bells Ringer completely changed his modus operandi upon the first night I spent with him. Even the greatest detective couldn't have predicted this move."
"I see. By any means, did the Bells Ringer tell you why he brought you to the catacombs of Paris ?"
"Of course not." She snorted. "He didn't need to. I already knew the answer. It seems you forgot your lesson about Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris, didn't you?" Near didn't bother to acknowledge her sarcasm as he knew she was not waiting for an answer. "In the book, which was faithful to the reality for that, the Gypsy population had settled in the catacombs of Paris, their Headquarters was called "La Cour des Miracles"— it can't really be translated into English, but if I were to translate it, it would be called "the Courtyard of Miracles." He brought me there, saying I was safe there, with my people, that Frollo wouldn't hurt me and..." Her voice seemed to die in her throat.
"And?" The young boy tilted his head to the side in expectation.
"And L would never find me."
"Obviously." He stated blankly. "Now, Miss Cabestan, would you please enlighten me as to why the Bells Ringer chose to disregard his modus operandi in the last few minutes?"
"He... He said that..." For the first time, her tone was mild, hesitant. "I was the one. He said he'd spent the last few months looking for me, and now that he'd finally found me, he... he would never let me go. He said he was sure I was Esmeralda because... because..." Her voice was but a faint murmur, yet she swallowed and continued anyway.
"Because I was the only one to have fought until the end."
"Fought until the end?" The white-dressed man repeated plainly, a pale brow quirking upwards as he met Mello's dark look.
"Yes." Elena's voice was as composed as ever. "He said all the others had stopped struggling and trashing after the eleven first times... I didn't."
"Struggling and trash—"
"For Heaven's sake, L! Don't make her say it aloud." A sharp voice replaced that of the French woman, howling stiffly at the detective. "Do you not feel any ounce of pity, or compassion towards the victims you are supposed to protect? Surely you must have learnt that brutalize victims of rape by ripping the truth out of their mouth is not the best way of dealing with them in that oh so notable orphanage of yours."
"Lidner. I am glad to know you are still with us." Near replied in a false cheerful tone, sipping with irony. "Though I do remember telling you not to raise your voice against me ever again. It would seem you forgot your place once more."
"And it seems you forget you have a heart, again."
"Oh, I did not forget, believe me." The young detective retorted bluntly, and he knocked the last victim doll down with a flick of his finger. "However, I fail to see how the organ that is charged to pump the blood inside my body has anything to do with our predicament, which is, in case it escaped your notice, Miss Cabestan's ordeal. So if you would please let me question her as a detective ought to do, I would be very grateful."
"Don't play fool, L." Hal snapped. "You know exactly what I mean, and still you don't care. All that matters to you is solve the Bells Ringer case, doesn't it? No matter if you have to break her down for it. Perhaps it's time for you to learn tact and diplomacy, don't you think?"
"Don't waste your saliva on such a hopeless cause, Halle."
The two men raised their head at the same time at the calling of the agent's real name. Mello's inquiring gaze slid towards Near who could do nothing but stare at the computer screen dumbly.
"Elena, you're—"
"No." Cabestan shut her up unceremoniously. "He's just like the former L. Compassion and pity are foreign words to them, even the most detailed, intelligible dictionary couldn't make those notions any clearer to them. I don't care. I'm used to dealing with monsters." Her voice was grim, mechanical, inhuman.
"Go ahead, L. Ask me whatever you want."
As the albino's livid lips parted, ready to utter irreversible words, Mello didn't think twice and rose from his chair, his brain rolling like a storm, his blood freezing in his veins, and in a blink of an eye, he was sitting by Near's side, a hand firmly pressed to the younger's thin lips.
"Mmm." The words never got out of that cruel mouth. Instead, Near widened his eyes at the feeling of warm, tough fingers smashing his lower face. "Mmm-mmm."
"Uh... Near, I know I said I'm ready to answer anything, but if you speak in koala's language, I'm afraid I can't—"
"Cabestan." Mello said harshly. "Stop your rubbish. I just shut Near's mouth. Felt as though he was only gonna dig the knife further into the wound, so I'll be the one to interrogate you."
"Oh, well. Fine, as you wish."
"Yeah, so... First of all, I'd like to— Er..." He sensed cool fingers curling around his wrist, looking down he noticed Near's hand pulling on his. Realization struck him as he remembered he was covering the boy's nose as well, probably keeping air from entering his lungs. He slid his hand down slightly so it rested only on the soft lips.
"Right, so... I'd like to apologize in advance for what I'm about to say. I'm only asking you that because I need to know what exactly happened to you. So don't you hold it against me, right? I'm only doing my job."
"Yes, of course. Thank you, Mello."
"No problem." He nodded as if she was able to see him. "So... I guess what Near was about to ask was, do you mean the Bells Ringer kept you because you resisted him until the end?"
"Yes. He used to rape his victims twelfth times. While he penetrated me for the eleventh time, I was still fidgeting, trying to hit him with my fists and feet, scratching at every bit of flesh I could reach. And, then... For the first time, he smiled down at him, and he stopped. I didn't. I continued my striking until I managed to reverse our positions— he was not opposing any force— I pinned him to the ground and I landed on top of him. Still smiling, he stroke my cheek and said, "Esmeralda, c'est toi." He said I was Esmeralda, then he told me I was the only one to have fought him on the eleventh time. He said all the others had stopped after the tenth. Some fell unconscious, some just lost hope and gave up."
Mello frowned slightly as he felt the grip of Near's hand tightening around his wrist, reminding him that his rival had not let go of him yet. As if on instinct, he wrapped his free arm around Near's waist, pushing the frail white shape back against his chest, thinking that gesture might steady him in some way, or at least helping himself go through this dark, sorrowful speech.
"But I didn't." The lawyer's emotionless voice rang into both of their ears. "After he told me that, I slapped him hard on the face and I ran. As fast as I could. But he caught me. He was crying and laughing at the same time. I was yelling and struggling, even if I knew I didn't stand a chance. Soon, I was back on the floor, with him straddling me. But somehow, I knew I had won. I understood him. I was desperate to survive and I knew how to do just that. So I gave him what he wanted."
Suddenly, her tone was determined, as strong as steel. "I never gave up. Never."
Mello lowered his gaze to the ground, above Near's shoulder.
"I see." He said absently. "Then the next morning—"
"No."
"What, no?"
"No, I'm not finished." The criminologist answered sternly. "After that, he used a red-hot iron which, for some reason, was customized with L's logo. He applied the iron on my back and branded L's name on my skin. And then, indeed, we left for the catacombs."
He let his head fall forward and sink into Near's shoulder. "Okay." He whispered, and his breath tickled the other man's neck, causing him to shiver under him. But Mello was certainly not in the mood to rejoice in Near's reaction to his touch.
"And what... what happened on the six next days? What did you do once in the catacombs?"
At the general surprise, Elena Cabestan burst into laughter.
"What do you think we did? He didn't kidnap me to play video games, Mello." Her voice raised threateningly, though it stilled only a half-second later. "He did the only thing he had ever done. He talked to me. And he raped me. All days were the same. From the second to the last."
Mello's mouth gaped, but no sound came out of it. Near's slim frame hardened up against his chest, his short nails biting into the fair skin of his wrist.
"Did... did you sleep?" The blonde uttered huskily.
"Of course I slept." The woman scoffed as if he had asked the most stupid question. "A body can't survive without sleep for more than three days. If I didn't sleep, I would be dead. I slept an average number of three hours a night. But what's strange is that, as days went by, I slept more and more each night. On the first night, I must have had something like one hour and a half of sleep, and the last night... I think I slept almost eight hours."
Mello did not find the courage in him to answer, the almost joyful tone of the woman as she was talking about the darkest times of her life was eating right at his soul. Soon enough, she went on, unperturbed by the silence.
"I suppose I had learnt to trust him in the end." She said quietly, as if for herself.
"Elena." For the first time in forever, he felt the desire— no, the necessity to call her by her first name. "How many times did he rape you?"
"Twelve times a night." She replied, her words as many blades digging into his flesh. "You do the math."
A thick silence settled, and it felt as if it was stretching the distance between all the protagonists.
"Oh God."
Without a second thought, Mello let his head drop, burying his face into the back of Near's neck, as if this story would appear any more bearable if he was hiding into silver locks of hair, shut from the whole world, retired into that intoxicating smell of freshness.
To his greatest amazement, he felt a silky caress on the base of his wrist, then hovering on his hand, and he realized he was still pressing his fingers on Near's mouth, and the latter was currently holding his hand tightly. Suppressing a smile, the blonde finally withdrew his hand from Near's face, his fingers lingering on the thin pale lips before slipping down on Near's knee.
The other genius let out a trembling intake of breath as his mouth was freed from his rival's grasp. Mello wrapped his now free arm around Near's waist, clinging to the lean, white silhouette like a lifeline.
"Eighty-four."
The cool, bland voice of the world's current greatest detective echoed throughout the working room, dying into the darkness, and there was a respectful smoothness touch to it.
"What're you saying, Near?" Mello muttered into his neck, and he felt a light shudder cross the younger's body.
"Miss Cabestan has been raped a total of eighty-four times. Am I correct, Miss Cabestan?" Near demanded casually.
"Yes."
"Oh God." The blonde fisted his hands into Near's white shirt. He raised his head ever so slowly, waiting with dread for the moment his former nemesis would order him to let him go and pull away.
"Miss Cabestan, I apologize for handing over my job of interviewing you to Mello. I want you to know it was not my intention at all. I was..." He reached up, twirling a strand of hair around his index finger, "momentarily rendered incapable of speaking."
"It's okay."
"Very well, then." He shifted slightly on his knees, careful not to dislodge the quiet blonde man who was stil leaning against his back. "After the seventh night, how did you manage to escape the Bells Ringer?"
"I didn't escape him." Elena said dryly. "He let me go."
"What?!" Mello seemed to regain his senses as he almost shouted, but the fragile body against him did not even stumble.
"On the morning of the eighth day, I was asleep. Yes, that was the night I slept the most. When he woke me up, he said we needed to go. I thought he was going to bring me to another church or another catacomb or whatever... Actually, I didn't really give a damn at the moment. He helped me on my feet, but obviously, I couldn't walk." She snorted disdainfully, and for once her spite did not seem directed to anyone but herself.
"I thought he was gonna drag me by force or something... but he didn't." She stopped, as if astonished by her own words. "He took me in his arms. And he brought me to the nearest hospital. He told the doctors he'd found me in a gutter. They let him talk to me for a few minutes. We were alone in the room, he was sitting at my bedside, and... it's strange, really." Her voice was suddenly dreamy, as if her mind had drifted off far far away. "In the white light of that hospital room... he almost looked beautiful."
Mello widened his eyes in awe, and Near only kept whirling his hair around his fingers.
"He smiled at me, and his teeth didn't look as damaged as before. He took my hand and squeezed it so strongly, and his touch was not that rough." She said idly. "Then, he gave me a choice. "Choisis: moi, ou les flames de l'Enfer." He said. "Choose: me, or the burning fires of Hell." I knew what I had to say, I didn't hesitate. So I told him what I must, "Je préfère encore mourir plutôt que vous appartenir." I knew it wasn't Esmeralda's exact words in the book, but the main idea was there. "I would rather die than belong to you." That's what he wanted to hear. He smiled again and he leant down on me, whispering in my ear, "Adieu, Esmeralda. Tentatrice et tenté, nous nous reverrons en Enfer." In English, "Farewell, Esmeralda. Temptress and tempted, we will meet again in Hell." And he left. I never saw him again."
"I see." Near replied evenly. "The Bells Ringer, impersonating both Quasimodo and Claude Frollo, was torn between two opposite pulsions. Make you his and protect you. On the other hand, you, Miss Elena Cabestan, had to play your role until the end, for if he thought he had been wrong in choosing you as Esmeralda, he would have killed you like the first eleven women before you. As we all know, the Gypsy Esmeralda is known for having resisted the archdeacon Claude Frollo until the very end, even choosing death over him. He was yet the only person able to save her from death, but she declined his offer. She was hung on the public place for denying Frollo's advances." He marked a pause, then lifting his head, a small smile dancing across his livid lips.
"I must admit you played your role to perfection, Miss Cabestan. Anyone in your place would have given in to the criminal if it could prevent them from suffering, but you did not. During that week you spent with your tormentor, you learnt to understand him— at your own expense, I daresay— and you deciphered his deepest desires. You quickly understood his wish was not to find a woman who would forfeit, but rather a woman who would never, ever stop fighting. It would seem your talents in the area of emotions had been first revealed very soon, to assure your surviving. That is indeed quite an achievement for a sixteen-year-old girl kidnapped and tortured for a whole week."
"Yes, well..." Elena answered indifferently, and he could almost see her shrug her shoulders.
"I understand now." Another feminine, more caustic and distant voice intervened. "When you said you had once broken your soul to understand a criminal, we all thought you were talking about Light Yagami..." Hal Lidner trailed off, probably to turn towards the lawyer. "But we were wrong. You were talking about the Bells Ringer. You kept fighting, again and again, choosing to suffer instead of giving up to the prospect of a much appeasing death. Your soul and body were shattered into pieces, but even so, you never stopped fighting. And your survived."
"Hm. I'm impressed, Halle." Came Cabestan's mocking voice. "You really sorted it out. Yes, you're right. When I met Light Yagami, I was not afraid in the slightest, because my soul was already broken to no repair. So what more could have happened to me?"
"You could have died." Hal retorted severely.
"Oh yes, right!" This time, the criminologist laughed wholeheartedly. "And then what? I had lived more than enough."
"Elena, you can't say th—"
"Ladies, please." Near's emotionless voice cut in, bringing the two woman back to reality.
"Sorry, L." Lidner said, sounding really apologetic.
"Yes, sorry, L." Elena repeated sarcastically, sounding anything but apologetic. "So, any more questions?"
"Er, I have one." Another masculine voice added to the conversation, more hesitant and raspy than his partner's.
"Yes. What do you want to know, Mello?"
"How many time did you stay at the hospital? And... I mean, all the injuries and bruises you got... Did they heal eventually?"
"Ah, I must say I wasn't expecting that question. Well, the doctors kept me under observation for three weeks. During the first, they made several analysis, for they had learnt I was the missing girl kidnapped by the Bells Ringer. They made many tests like the AIDS test, and so on. Fortunately, the eleven first victims were all virgins and not seropositive, just like my—" She interrupted herself all of a sudden, before she continued, as if nothing happened, "just like the criminal, it would seem. So I didn't contract the AIDS virus. Of course I had many injuries like cuts, scratches, and of course, the beautiful, wonderful," her voice grew more and more vicious as she spoke, "brand on my back. They were all taken care of, disinfected and covered in bandage. After fifteen days, though, I was still too weak to walk and go back home, so they kept me at me hospital. I had a strict diet to follow, and I'll pass you the details. Anyway, after three weeks of rest and rehabilitation, I was released."
"But I presume you did not go back to your parents' house, now did you, Miss Cabestan?" Near inquired in a clinical voice.
"Indeed, I didn't. I emptied my personal bank account— which was, thanks to generous parents and grand-parents, quite full— and I stayed in different inns in Paris, changing approximately every two weeks, until I had passed all my exams. After that, I took a plane for London Heathrow. I passed my bachelor and master degrees in the University of Cambridge." As she heard a surprised gasp next to her, she explained. "My grades gave me the access, and it would seem I had a little help from the inside, though I never knew where it came from. Anyway, I came back to present my doctoral thesis at the University Paris-Sorbonne, and then, as you all know, I became a Penal Law professor, specialized in Criminal Science."
"Right, but wait a minute!" Mello said fiercely, his brows joining into a confused expression. "How come L never found you?"
"Ah, I knew you were going to ask that." Cabestan answered pleasantly. "Well, when I left my home, I simply wrote a letter to my parents, asking them to understand my will to leave for a while. I didn't care what would happen to L, the police, the case, or even the Bells Ringer. But when I came back, I was quite surprised that I managed to escape L. In fact, I learnt the chief investigator— Bonnard, is that it?"
"Paul Bonnard, yes." Near nodded.
"Well, I learnt he had convinced the public prosecutor to apply a protection order. Normally it's used to protect women suffering from domestic violence against their husband, preventing them from being found by their tormentor. I don't know how he managed to get that, but I suppose he used the doctors reports. Thanks to the protection order, Bonnard could ask for my name and personal data to remain secret, and to never be revealed to the public, a decision supported by the Prefect of Police of Paris himself and many victims' associations. Of course," she chuckled darkly, "you can guess L tried to counter that barrier, but without the police assistance and against the public opinion, it was a lost war. He knew the last victim, he knew the identity of the killer, but he couldn't do anything without proof. And the proof, I was the one detaining it. So he searched for the ultimate proof that I was the missing girl who could bring down the Bells Ringer. He searched for the girl who had his name carved into her skin. But the world is vast and the thought of searching his own country occurred to him very late."
"Of course," she continued neutrally, as if she was merely presenting the news on a worldwide news channel, "he followed my tracks to Cambridge. I knew this day would eventually come, but I wasn't worried. Anyway, he was just a detective and I had the police and the public on my side. The judicial cooperation between European countries wasn't very efficient, back then. So what could he do? I was living in the campus and he could only meet me inside the University."
"And... did he?" Asked Mello expectantly.
"Oh yes!" She laughed. "One day, he just entered the cafeteria and sat in front of me. We talked for two, three, four hours... I don't remember. He asked me to speak in my native language, rather than in English. I refused. He asked me to come with him to talk in a more private place. I refused. He offered me to stop hiding and come back to France with him. I refused. I asked me how was my back. I said it was fine. He asked me why I wouldn't tell the truth and testify."
"And what did you say?"
"I said the truth." She said coldly. "I said that I would rather die than help him. No criminal deserved to be caught by such a selfish, insensible man. Especially not the Bells Ringer. He told me he understood my feelings, considering that I had been abused by a 'monster', but I had to trust Justice and not let that monster win. I asked him, "Are you talking about yourself?" And finally, he shut his mouth." Her voice was triumphant, and the two geniuses could almost hear the smile in her tone.
"Then, I told him that if he was Justice, the world would be better off without Justice. If he was Justice, I'd rather let all the worst criminals escape. I was not letting the true monster win." She spat the words as if it were garbage. "He told me I was wrong, that I was mistaking one monster for another, and that he was here to help me. That made me laugh, very much." She sneered. "I asked him what he was doing to help when I was raped twelfth times in a row, do you know what he answered?"
"No?" Mello tilted his head to the side, blonde bangs intertwining with snow curls.
"He said, "I was waiting for your kidnapping to become official. I was not obliged to take actions until your missing was reported publicly. Even though I knew very well that you were being kept in Notre Dame de Paris' bells tower, I could not interfere until I was one hundred percent sure the criminal had indeed kidnapped you." And that was enough for me. I asked if he had anything else to tell me, and when he looked at me with those fucking, disgusting empty eyes and said "No. If you refuse to give in to Justice, what can I possibly say?" I knew it was hopeless. I was waiting for a real explanation, perhaps even en excuse that could justify everything I've been through because of him... but nothing came. So I did the only thing that came to my mind; I threw the book I had on the table at him and I left." She paused, as if to try and conceal her anger.
"Notre Dame de Paris. That was the book." She said quietly. "I left him with the damned object that started it all. If I hadn't been reading this book after college in the park right next to Notre Dame every evening on November 1997, the Bells Ringer would never have spotted me. L would never have seen me as a tool. And Esmeralda would be dead hung in the public place in 1482, like she was always meant to be."
"Miss Cabestan." Near's icy voice broke the silence. His index finger was spinning a soft strand of hair even more frenetically. Before the woman could answer, a tiny cough came from behind Near's back and reverberated through the white-haired boy's spine. Blank brows arched in wonder.
"Er, Near... It's my hair you're playing with."
"Oh." The small detective's dark orbs widened in puzzlement as he slowly turned his head sideways, then seeing a yellow blonde lock wrapped around his finger, he blinked, his finger frozen in mid air. "Oh. Yes, it seems it is. I apologize, Mello."
"It's okay." Mello mumbled awkwardly. "You can continue if you want, it doesn't bother me."
"Really?" The young detective questioned flatly. He was going from surprise to surprise.
"If I tell you so."
"All right." The albino then focused his gaze on the dolls still scattered on the floor before him as his fingers had resumed tangling into hair, except that, this time, the hair was Mello's. "So I was meaning to say, Miss Cabestan, do y—"
He stopped all of a sudden as he felt snake-like arms, which was previously tightly encircling his waist from behind, push on his hips, causing his whole body to rotate on his behind and soon enough, he found himself sitting on the ground, facing a smirking blonde who did not waste time to place a lean finger under his chin.
The only trace of discomfort or dismay was the two black eyes as big as saucers in the middle of Near's stony face.
"Mello. May I ask what you are doing?"
"Just checking something." Mello answered thoughtfully, frowning slightly. "I have spent my whole life staring at your back, so..."
"What does Mello mean?"
Mello traced his fingertips on Near's cheek, his touch as light as a feather. He looked deeply concentrated just like the painter who is trying to carve the features of his model into his mind. Then, a discrete, genuine smile plated itself on his thin lips as he slid one hand into the silver hair.
"I just wanted to check if you're as beautiful as your back. And..." Deadly slowly, as if giving him a chance to react, Mello leant in closer, bringing his face a mere inches away from Near's, whose dark eyes were still staring back at him blankly. A slim hand stroke the pale cheek, and a hot breath brushed pallid lips, leaving a whisper on its trail.
"I'm not disappointed."
Author's Note:
In case you were wondering if I am really stopping here: Yes, I am a bitch.
So that chapter was mostly about explanations and precisions, with a bit of Mello and Near interaction during that rather painful moment.
I hope you liked it anyway!
Next chapter, you will finally know who the Bells Ringer is.
I believe there will be probably two more chapters or so to this fan fiction. Yes, it will soon come to an end.
All my exams will be done on Monday, so after that I'll be able to update soon. Be patient until then.
Please review and share your thoughts and theories, your feedbacks are always welcome, it means a lot to me!
Bye bye, humans!
C.