A/N: Thank you for the great response last time! I was tickled when people called B cute!
Disclaimer: This is just a fanfic.
Note: The first part of the chapter is Near's side of the phone call from the end of Chapter 53.
Chapter 55: Money, Money, Money
"Near?"
"Matt," Near greeted his friend. The SPK leader did not fail to notice the absence of background noise on Matt's end of the phone line. Matt was in a secure, or at least isolated, location. "You're at The House now, I presume... or perhaps, L's resting site?"
"Yeah, we're here."
Near gave a little hum of approval. "You're ahead of schedule. I'm glad everything is going smoothly for you. Now, it's vital that you don't let either of them out of the vicinity over the next few weeks. Understood?"
"Mmhmm, sure."
"Also, please inform Mr. Ruvie to expect several packages in a few days. I had Commander Rester mail them yesterday after Gevanni gave Allie the key. There are five of them in total."
"I'll pass that along."
"As for Mr. Mogi..." Near paused, puzzled by the cold sensation that had suddenly bubbled up inside his ribs. "He came through for you."
"Oh?"
"Mr. Mogi had Mr. Aizawa contact me when Light Yagami was drawn away from their Task Force headquarters. They were able to successfully retrieve L's name from the confiscated notebook. It turns out that L was more than just his alias."
There it was again. A strange, foreign swell of... something that was most definitely not pride and triumph, as L's rightful successor had expected to feel. Apprehension? Guilt?
"Oh really?"
"His birth name," Near declared, "was L Lawliet."
So that was it. It was finally out. There would be no taking it back.
He barely heard Matt's next words; they sounded like muffled static to his ears. Near was too focused on the draining lethargy that was threatening to lower his eyelids.
"It's all good. Oh, and Roger says hello."
"Wonderful," Near murmured. "Well, until next time. Good-bye, Mail." He terminated the link and lay back against the floor, switching his attention to the Lego pieces surrounding the base of the Christmas tree like a miniature ring of carolers.
Near sighed, the annoyed huff a mixture of the teenager's impatience and current physical fatigue. He was tired of waiting. He was tired of running around in circles. As soon as Gevanni could confirm the absence of Teru Mikami's Shinigami - assuming that the notebook he had pulled out on the train was indeed a fake - he could concentrate on frying bigger fish.
More specifically, Kiyomi Takada.
Since Light Yagami had purposely arranged for X-Kira to use the notebook in public, Light was most likely expecting and intending for Near to stay on Mikami's trail. Unless Light had enough hindsight to factor in the possibility that Near would catch on that Mikami's train incident had been staged, there was no harm in humoring Light by pretending to be ignorant, while secretly deepening Halle's investigation of Takada.
It was a classic example of a never-ending cycle of reverse psychology and what ifs.
One thing was certain: Mikami was Light's main decoy. For now, Near would have to operate under the presumption that Mikami's notebook would be the only one necessary to focus on in terms of the publicly announced judgments and killings, which were being precoordinated anyway.
And fake or not, Mikami's copy would be the easiest to get their hands on. Near would have Gevanni to deal with that later.
The SPK did not have enough manpower to deal with both Mikami and Takada. Even with Halle Lidner on the inside, it was already difficult - virtually impossible - to thoroughly pinpoint Takada of any suspicious behavior, much less incriminating action as a "Z" or "Y" Kira.
There was still time, though. Now that Mello was working alongside the SPK, Halle should be able to put her mind at ease and do what she did best - earn the trust of her enemies.
However, if she failed to uncover anything about Takada, well, then time for Plan B.
This was where his fellow successors would come in.
"Near?"
The Wammy prodigy raised his head off the floor to properly look at Rester. "What is it?"
His second-in-command anxiously tapped at his computer screen, which was currently displaying an offline spreadsheet listing all of the Special Provision's available assets.
"After the Demegawa incident, our airfares, the down payment on this building, Gevanni's car, our Christmas tree, your toys, and the Yamaha... our budget really took a hit."
"Money is not an object," Near stated. That had always been the Wammy mantra.
Commander Rester furrowed his brow, still concerned. "Are you sure that last purchase was wise? I don't understand what we would need it for."
"Let's just say," Near pronounced calmly, "that I was feeling a little festive."
"But now we only have eighty grand remaining of your inheritance..."
"And in due time, we shall use it all."
"L, can you hear me?"
I pressed my scarred cheek against the cold stone of my idol's coffin. Inside laid one of the greatest men to have ever existed on this current hellhole of a planet.
I had asked for a moment to be alone with L. Roger, Matt and Allie were now standing huddled in the far corner of the chamber, out of earshot.
"You're probably turning in your grave as we speak," I continued, inwardly acknowledging the fact that I was indeed conversing with a corpse. "But wasn't it you who had taught us that the ends always justified the means? You were the one who taught us that sacrifices were necessary to win the battles and end the war, remember?"
My question fell upon forever-closed ears. What exactly was I expecting? For L to suddenly pop out of the casket and tell me that everything was going to be okay? To congratulate me for putting both my body and soul on the line? A heaven-sent signal that I was pardoned by more than just my living friends?
"Did you ever have nightmares, L? Because I used to, before I taught myself how to lucid dream. They're sort of like second chances, you know?"
My throat went dry. Guilt and pride were definitely the two hardest things to swallow.
"He was right. I've been much too reckless, and... and I admit that I did lose my way for a while. There, happy now, brat?" That was directed at Near, but he, of course, was thousands of miles away.
I touched the tomb, stroking and tracing the Celtic carvings with my fingers. "L. L Lawliet... I would do anything for you, anything to make up for what I've done. I would literally get on my knees and beg for forgiveness, if you were still alive, and if you could read my mind or whatever you angels can do, you'll know that I mean every word that I'm saying with all my being." I knew that it was all nonsensical blabbing; I probably sounded half insane.
"I'm not exactly Hero of the Year, but I... I loved you, L. And so did Near. We still do. All of us."
Again, no answer. I licked my lips. For some reason, they tasted salty.
"Is that enough for you?"
Yes. I am so proud of you, Mihael.
I choked on my own breath. How I longed to hear those words for real; I would crawl over countless hot coals just for that, and burn a hundred limbs to match my face.
Kid, I am proud of you.
They were the very words my parents used to speak to me, precious words that had propelled me to become the best son they could ever have or wish for, someone that would never fail to please them, someone that would never disappoint them with less-than-stellar results. Their pride had been worth more to me than all the physical awards and prizes put together - gold medals, trophies, cash...
My victories were theirs. Their glowing pride was mine.
It had always been like that, back when I was Mihael Keehl, gifted boy and obedient child, and not Mello, second place and hellion.
"I'd like to think there really is a heaven, and not just a realm for the Shinigami," I quietly professed, "because then you could put in a good word for me. Do you think you could do that? Wait, you're L. Of course you could. You could do anything."
I could not defeat the one who put me here.
"Don't worry," I whispered, scowling. "Near promised you Kira's downfall... and I promised you his fucking head."
Language, Mello. Even the dead appreciate good manners.
"Whatever it takes," I muttered.
But what if we couldn't? What if we all failed and there was no one left to go on? Although they had not explicitly said so, Allie's family back in Los Angeles was probably counting on me and Matt to deliver their adoptive daughter home alive and in one piece. At least now that we were in England and out of the lion's den, we were relatively and temporarily safe. We could breathe a little easier.
My hand drifted down to my hip, where my trusty pistol was tucked away, weighing me down in more ways than one.
Well, no longer.
I placed the gun on the floor, at the base of L's marble sarcophagus.
"L?"
Yes, M?
I smiled through the stinging grey mist, imagining the familiar synthetic voice resonating from within the altar tomb. How could a single syllable, a lone letter – M – mean so much to me?
"I apologize. For everything."
It was only when I was suddenly seized by the shoulders that I became aware that I was howling at the top of my lungs without even realizing it.
My three companions were now standing beside me. From behind his goggles, Matt's eyes glistened with unshed tears. His lips, drawn in a tight line, were trembling. In contrast, Allie was massaging her temples, as though my shouts had given her a migraine. Roger merely looked disturbed by my violent outburst.
"Let's go," Allie said hollowly, putting her hand on my sleeve.
"Don't you want a turn?" I asked almost crossly. Even if she couldn't remember him, shouldn't she at least say something, no matter how small or insignificant?
To my utter astonishment, Allie shook her head. "No, Mello... I just can't deal right now," she mumbled, staring bleakly at the floor. "Maybe some other time."
Oh, that's right… I had almost forgotten that she had visited her parents just two hours ago.
Roger patted Allie's arm. "That's understandable, Alexandra. Let's head over to my office, shall we? There are more important matters to deal with."
Allie gawked at Roger. Matt inhaled sharply, scandalized.
"Excuse me?" I snarled.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any offense," the old caretaker amended, raising his arms as though shielding himself from an impending attack, "but I do have something imperative to show you, and it concerns the three of you. Four, including Near."
That certainly piqued my interest.
"What is it, Roger?"
"L's will."
It wasn't long before we had emerged from the mausoleum and were rumbling up the slush-soaked pathway snaking through Wammy's forest. Muted sunlight trickled through the surrounding trees until the day resembled high noon again, rather than dusk. Roger drove slowly, although Mello was breathing down his neck.
We had to circle around the perimeter of the property to reach the garage. It was a standalone the size of a barn; hands down, it was the biggest and most luxurious garage I had ever seen in my life. Coming from Los Angeles and having visited Beverly Hills before, that was saying something. The garage was large enough to house five cars – Roger's ancient Ben along with four others, which I assumed belonged to the other staff members at this genius-rearing institution.
As the four of us trudged back down the driveway with our luggage, Roger's groceries and the fruits of his laborious downtown Christmas shopping in our arms, a vast field filled with playing children in the snow came into view.
I nearly dropped my bags in shock. My chest had begun to tighten painfully at the otherwise innocent and lighthearted sight, and for an agonizing moment, I could feel resentment and grief claw through me like a flesh-eating disease.
Calm down, I berated myself. You can't possibly be jealous of a bunch of orphans…
But I was.
Why couldn't I remember anything about this orphanage? All of my recollections so far had featured my parents and Beyond Birthday – and most recently, both Quillsh Wammy and L himself.
Ghosts, a voice in the back of my mind whispered.
There were still three gaping holes where Mello, Matt and Near were supposed to be – four, if I counted Roger. Why was it that I couldn't recall a single thing about any of my living friends? Not that it really mattered though, in the long run. The important thing was that we were together again, right? I shouldn't be hung up about the fact that while I was emotionally happy, I was still mentally incomplete.
It's just not… it's just not fair.
"Allie, what's wrong?" Mello said gruffly, nudging me with an extended elbow.
"I'm trying to remember the things you told me about," I admitted. "But I can't."
"Funny," he muttered, tracking my gaze to the throng of children gallivanting across the playground. "I'm having trouble with the exact opposite."
The bitter longing etched into his scarred visage struck a nerve. I couldn't imagine why he would want to forget his childhood, which I was certain was more pleasant than our present situation.
"I don't understand."
"It hurts," Mello said thickly, "to think that everything could've turned out differently if I had stayed here… and… and cooperated with Near to build up a case against Kira. I've always struggled with whether or not I made the right choice in leaving Wammy's, trading my friends in for the Mafia, killing all those people…"
Mello had never delved into the specifics before. I was almost too afraid to ask, but with the way he was looking at me, it was as though he was expecting me to do so.
I obliged him. "How many were there?"
Mello's jaw clenched. "Too many. My henchmen did most of the dirty work, but technically…" Mello's eyes clouded over as his lips moved silently.
One, two, three… eight, nine… thirteen…
"And the SPK…"
Eighteen, nineteen…
"Stop!" I whispered. "I get the picture."
Matt appeared behind Mello's shoulder. "This guy's giving himself too much credit. Aside from the SPK, half of those victims were in rival clans, and it was Rod Ross who used the notebook, not Mello."
"There's no difference," Mello snapped. "I orchestrated their deaths, Matt – all for the sake of experimenting with the Death Note."
Matt shrugged. "All for the greater good," he offered. "If it weren't for you, no one would've figured out that the thirteen-day rule was a fake. No matter how much you're beating yourself up for it, that fact still remains. You did what no one else had the guts to do, mate."
"I tell myself that every day," Mello mumbled.
We were quiet for the rest of the walk. I managed to stop watching the children long enough to admire the looming building before us. Wammy's House. Cylindrical bell towers dotted the dark rooftop, though a solitary cross took the coveted position at the front.
According to Matt, who had gotten friendly with Roger during Mello's absence and was now scrupulously familiar with the orphanage's history, the structure was approximately six decades old and had been built from the ground up using Quillsh Wammy's architectural blueprints. Despite its old age, the doors and windows looked well-kept, unlike L's crypt back in the forest.
Roger was waiting for us at the entrance. There was a woman with him at the top of the doorsteps, and as we drew nearer, I caught the last strains of their conversation.
"…two-week warning?"
"Mister Ruvie, I am going out of my mind. These children are too much for me! They complain all the time!"
"I'm aware of that, but we need you!" Roger all but wailed. "Christmas is in three days!"
The woman's fleshy jowls wobbled as she defiantly lifted her chin. "Well, I needed a raise. And I did not get one, did I?" She floundered down the stairs, brushing past us without so much as an excuse me or good-bye.
Matt looked startled. "Roger, who was that?"
A/N: Any guesses, job-wise? Hint – her position can be easily filled by one of the three, for the time being. Hehe. Also, I have now put up a "relevant" poll on my profile. It's my first one, so feel free to check it out. Beware of possible spoilers, though.
Wishing an early Happy Thanksgiving to anybody who is celebrating it this week!
Shoutout: to TheCatchingLightAlchemist who was first to review the last chapter! Thanks so much! To anyone who likes character-study fics as much as I do, I'd recommend her fic "9 Masks" :)
Special thanks to the latest reviewers: akatsukifan, annee loves sasusaku, anon, Can'tContainIt, C. Holywell-Black, Dai Uzimaki, Echo1317, flygirl, Gir the Ultimate, I Love Bleach, Kira the Wolf, LilPadfootChicky, MasaJeevas, MaskedAngel18, Mello's Yellow Jello, moonfleur, OhMyGeePinkSucksAss, Ovalord of da Empia of cookies, -patterns-at-dusk-, Sailormercury117 (glad you're okayish now!), Saya Hikari Uchiha, ShadowedSerenity, shinigami777, TheCatchingLightAlchemist, Who's There and YuukikuranxD ~
Thanks so much for reading; reviews would be, of course, amazing!
