The problem with people like Roger, was that they only saw the big picture. He thought the loss of their idol would shock Mello and Near into working together when fourteen years of bitterness and anger had kept them on two sides of a narrow—but extremely steep—divide. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Near hated Mello as much as Mello hated Near. The boy dressed in all white, the paragon on innocence. Apparently Roger forgot that the white part of a flame burned hottest...and the most silent.

In was in that heat and silence that the two met, hours before one would leave, to discuss the allocation of resources. It went without saying that if Mello left, he wouldn't have the backing of the Institution, but there were other resources within the Institution that people like Roger wouldn't give a second glance. Matt was one such resource. They had both used him in the past, for business and pleasure, but this would decide where the young man's loyalties would lie from that day onward.

The dull shifting of wood on the tiny tiled floor was the only sound that passed between them as Near took time setting the 'board' in front of them. They had played each other before, and every game had been a stalemate. As the miniature armies of light and darkness formed their quiet ranks, Mello said one thing before taking his first move.

"I'm not letting you win."

"By all means, why should you?" replied Near, moving out a knight in response. Mello, as always, had made the mistake of emotionally attaching himself to Matt when he knew full well that like everything at the Institution, he would loose him eventually.

"You don't deserve him." First blood. The white knight toppled and rolled in a futile arch towards Mello's side of the board. Mello knew better to call it a strong start, Near would go on the offensive soon, and when he did it would be devastating.

It was. Near took out two pawns and one of Mello's bishops in the subsequent turns. The bishop was a loss, but not an unexpected loss, and that was Near's weakness. Predicable loss was always preferred to unpredictable—risk was only worth it if the gain was glaringly obvious. And Mello was not an obvious person.

But Near knew that. And in knowing that, he watched the black army dance their way across the board, looking for a pattern in their advance and retreat, in small losses and Hail-Mary maneuvers. It was enough to make Near believe that Mello could have won the Battle of the Hot Gates—some Spartan soul ill-content with resting in the Elysian Fields leaned over his shoulder and smiled approvingly. The boy had the instincts of a natural born leader, and for the first time when it counted, Near could really appreciate it.

It was time to cut his losses. Near took a deep breath and went for broke.

"Checkmate."

"--Mate."

"What?!" Near's eyes took in the board in stunned disbelief. By moving his queen to mate Mello's king, he'd neglected a pawn. A single lowly little pawn had pinned his king down completely. Near looked up at Mello dispassionately, but he understood the superior gleam in Mello's eyes. That pawn was Matt. Mello hadn't cared about his king at all, it was the pawn that needed the way in.

"I never intended to win," Mello said casually, "I just needed you to see that. Now do you understand why you don't deserve him?"

Near nodded, "I just don't understand...how you can think so little of yourself..." He picked up the black king and held it reverently, rubbing a thumb over the worn little curves.

"Compared to Matt?..." Mello shrugged, standing and dusting off his knees. "If you had really wanted to win you'd understand. And that's the problem Near, you never wanted to win. If you did you would have. You always do."

"I did want to win...Matt didn't, though," Near said lowly, remaining in his hunched sit. He could feel Mello tense a few feet away in the gloom.

"Typical," Mello said, and barked a laugh. His voice was still a little hoarse from crying, and the sound choked almost as soon as he'd forced it out. "Throwing the game in his own favor." He was pulling on his pale denim jacket and adjusting the straps of his rucksack. A pale band of moonlight flashed across the delicate silver cross around his neck before vanishing under the folds of the jacket. Near didn't move until Mello was to the door of the common room.

"Mello,"

"Near,"

"Take care of him."

Mello creaked the door open just enough so that Near could see the serene smile playing across his lips.

"Don't I always?"