A/N: Well, here we are at part four. When this insanity started, it was meant to be a 3 page long, 1,500 – 2,000 word writing exercise never to be seen by another living soul. We're up to 36 pages now, and more than 22,000 words, (author's notes not included). This is the end, technically, and it's going to be a kind of test to the folks who have liked it up till now.

I'm expecting some anger at the end, but save the flames until after you read the second author's note! It's not as bad as it looks, I swear!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, I'm just playing with it. I'll put it back where I found it when I'm done.

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In the Library

Part Four, "You"

Raven Ehtar

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Winter had officially come to Winchester. Outside the fields were concealed under a thick blanket of snow, and skeletal trees were dressed in alabaster shrouds. In town the buildings were all hung around with icicles. The older places in particular were so heavily draped they appeared to have frozen waterfalls spilling from their roofs. Every child in the area took the glistening landscape as their cue to really get to work on Christmas lists. Even if the day was a little more than a month away.

Mello couldn't have cared less about the upcoming holiday. There was more than the prospect of gifts on his mind, now. Munching halfheartedly on a chocolate bar, (he was down to half a bar a day), he looked out at the pristine snow from his second story bedroom window. He tried to think, to make it all make sense somehow, but he'd done almost nothing but think since Matt's little drop, and his brain refused to do it anymore. Besides, no amount of thinking could change one little fact:

He was in love with Near. Or at least liked him a great deal… more than he should like his rival. He shouldn't like Near at all.

But he did. It was so glaringly obvious once he came to think about it, he wondered how he could have been so clueless. In a way, he wished he never had come to realize his feelings. It had been so much easier just to hate the little albino for his perfection, his superiority, his effortlessness… now Mello found himself liking Near for almost exactly the same reasons. All the things that Mello strove for were wrapped up in the little package that was Near, so it made sense why Mello would come to like him.

But the hate was still there, too. Not as intense, but those feelings of jealousy and resentment were there, right along with the newer ones of affection.

God, oh God, oh God, why why why did it have to be Near?

If it had been anyone else, even another boy, Mello could have dealt with, but Near? The boy who constantly beat him at every endeavor, whose self-confidence and arrogance grated on Mello's nerves constantly. The boy who was all but L's guaranteed successor in everyone's mind… The only one, besides Matt, who really understood him. Someone who never hated Mello back, for all of the bitterness and cruelty he had poured into him over the years… who never seemed to be hurt, no matter how many times Mello lashed out.

Mello stared at his hand. He had struck Near in the past many times. Given him black eyes and bloody noses and more because it was the only way he could feel superior to a boy who beat him on every test. It was his one and only advantage over Near, and he'd exploited it to salvage his dignity and pride. And every time, Near had only stared at him. Stared with those eyes like marbles of agate, showing no pain, no fear, no anger, no sorrow. He only watched to see what the blonde would do next. To see if Mello would continue to vent his frustrations on Near's frail body, or if he would walk away.

Mello clenched his hand into a fist until knuckles cracked. He had been a little ashamed those times, under those eyes that were both witness and victim, and he was ashamed now. At first he had thought that hurting Near was a kind of supremacy he could hold over the younger boy, but it was just pettiness. It was just a way to make himself feel better for his failures, like any common bully. Near had seen it for what it was from the beginning, and had allowed it. That's what those eyes had been saying to him as he rained down blows.

How could anything positive spring from a history like that? Even if Near didn't hate him, if he understood the whys of Mello's past behavior and could forgive, could Near love? Never mind if he could love Mello, could he love at all?

The strongest emotion he had ever seen Near display had been only a few days ago, outside the pale boy's bedroom, and that had been a far cry from love. Indignation and frustration did not a good relationship make. Any other odd conduct that Near had been evidencing over the weeks he wrote off as the albino picking up on Mello's new feelings before he had himself. If anything was likely to shake Near up and make him act strange, it would be becoming the object of infatuation.

Nothing was more likely to scare him away, either.

He'd thought for just a moment after the exams that there might be reason to hope, to think that maybe there was a chance of Near regarding him with more than indifference. On the board showing the exam scores, Near had come out with a 98%, the same score as Mello. They had tied before for scores, but this was the first time Near had failed to receive a perfect 100%.

Mello's stomach had lurched at the sight of those two little numbers. If Near's scores were falling, did that mean his concentration was off? Was there a chance of returned feeling?

But Mello was disappointed for any further clue. When Near had gone up to look at the board, he hadn't reacted at all. He had just taken a couple of seconds to study the scores and then returned to his seat. Not a glance or word to Mello, no sign on his face or posture that his less than perfect marks had affected him at all.

The flutter in Mello's gut had sunk down sickeningly. The old story of Pandora's Box originally had hope as one of the worst evils to be released into the world, and now he knew why.

Why was he reacting this much? Why was he feeling so deeply when he had only realized all of this a few days ago? Just how long had he felt this way? Memories of the years he had spent at Wammy House unrolled in his mind, all the way back to his first weeks, when he had still been having the nightmares. To the first time he had seen, and then met the pale boy in white pajamas. Had he fallen for him then, during those first days, or had it crept up on him slowly? Mello didn't know. There was no way to tell for certain. All he could be certain of was that this feeling had been with him for a long while. If that meant years or only months, again, there was no way he could tell.

For the last few days, since the beginning of their winter break, this was all he had been able to think about. The whys, how's, and when's of it all. It had gotten him nowhere except frustrated and exhausted. Now it was almost impossible to think about it with any kind of realistic logic.

If Near did feel the same way, for example, then it should be no problem if Mello were to approach him and broach the subject. They were both highly intelligent and could reason their way through anything, right?

No. First, Near wouldn't even believe him if he declared his feelings. He would probably think – and with good reason – that Mello was trying to trick him for amusement's sake. Second was the reaction Near was likely to give if he did believe Mello was being genuine. If Mello was honest with himself, he knew that Near's response would be far from jubilant. There would be confusion, denial, and rejection. And that was all assuming that the albino somehow did feel at least kindly towards the boy that had been tormenting him for years, had declared to hate him, and had made him bleed for nothing more than being who he was.

Well, if Near didn't love him already, then Mello would just have to prove himself. Make Near love him back.

Again, no. Force, in this case, was not the way to go. Even Mello, who opted for the direct approach more than any other, could admit that. To force love would only make it come out twisted and tainted.

Mello pressed his forehead against the chill glass of the window. The snow was so white and perfect, like Near. No tracks marred its surface, no trace of the muddy landscape beneath it showed through; it was like the world had been reset and made innocent like it had been in the beginning. In the beginning, before the introduction of sin. A hand came up to the rosary that always hung at his neck, tucked safely underneath his black shirt.

If Near was purity and innocence, did that make him sin?

The hand not fingering the smooth beads around his throat clenched into another fist. Violence to passivity, aggression to tolerance, black to white, dark to light. The moon couldn't show both faces at once. Shadow and light couldn't maintain to same house.

It would never work. If for no other reason then because Mello couldn't rid himself of those lingering, nagging moments of hate and envy. Those may never leave, and they would poison any relationship Mello and Near might create.

Mello stepped away from the window. He was going outside alone, cold or not, rules or not. The house suddenly felt stuffy and close, suffocating him. He'd go out into the snow, and see if the world could survive his stigma.

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In the kitchen, sitting at the large table used for setting out prepared dishes, Near was stacking dice. Technically he wasn't allowed to be in the kitchen by himself, nor was any other child, but no one ever minded Near in the kitchen. He always cleaned up his own mess, and ate so little that he wasn't considered a risk for snacking in-between meal times. The only occasion he had ever gotten into trouble for being in the kitchen unattended had been when he had decided flour and water would make good building mortar. He'd been five at the time.

Now he was attempting to create a medieval concentric castle with round towers. He'd finished the inner wall, all sixes showing for the walls and all twos for the towers, with the occasional five representing the windows. Now it was on to the outer wall, everything built the same, only slightly shorter and wider.

Things still hadn't improved on the Mello situation. In fact, the tension only seemed to be increasing. Since the day Near had found him coming out of his room, he had caught Mello staring at him a few times. Just staring. Near wasn't sure whether to take that as a positive sign or not. He had decided to leave Mello completely alone, but not avoid him like he had been, to see if things would finally return to normal.

So far that plan had been a failure. While Near was doing his best to adhere to his old routines, Mello was not. The blonde, far from being his usual energetic self, was acting withdrawn. He would sit off by himself, keeping silent and staring into space. If he noticed that Near was in the same room, he would either stare at the younger boy until he left, or carefully avoid looking at him at all.

Near paused in the middle of building the outer gate.

All of this was beginning to frustrate Near intolerably. So he felt affection for Mello, fine. Did that mean the rest of the world had to stop, that everything else had to be put on hold in the face of this… feeling? He had seen others fall prey to this affliction, and it did seem as though nothing else mattered to them while caught in its throes, but Near was logical. He had lived almost his whole life in the practice of stifling and smothering emotion; this should have been a simple matter to take care of. Why it wasn't was a mystery to him. And Mello was refusing to act normally. If the older boy could have just been his regular rude and explosive self, Near might have just been able to ignore it all until it was forgotten.

Not that there wasn't anything to be appreciative for. It had been over a month since the last time Mello had picked a fight with him, bawled him out, or ruined any of his projects. It was small comfort to the little albino, who found the confusion more than enough replacement to the usual discomforts. If he just knew what Mello was thinking, why he was behaving the way he was, that would give him somewhere to start. Any attempt he made to figure out the inner workings of the blonde was thwarted, however; both by his own turmoil and by Mello's inconsistency.

If Mello were confused by Near's own behavior, then he should be acting normally. Nothing Near did that did not directly affect Mello should have bothered him enough to upset his routines. If the confusion made him angry, then he would have confronted Near directly, no hesitation. That was far from the case, as Near hadn't had such a peaceful stretch in over a year.

If Mello had somehow divined Near's feelings from his attitude, which was possible, then it was still all illogical. If he knew and was angered or disgusted, the least Near could have expected would have been a humiliation tactic of some sort. The worst to be expected didn't bear thinking about.

On the other hand, if he knew and reciprocated – which Near had considered the most probable at one point – then Mello's character would have had him at least approaching Near, feeling him out for some sign of how he would react. If Mello cared for Near in return, then he would have made some move by now. He was much more comfortable in the realms of emotion and interaction than Near was. Of the two of them, Mello had the upper hand in this situation. If only he knew, he'd have been thrilled.

But that had not happened. None of those things had happened.

Near stared at his ivory fortress. It was almost done, a miniature structure meant for defense and protection. It was all for show, though. The tiniest bump or vibration could send the whole thing rattling to pieces.

Some detective, he thought disgustedly. A brilliant mind, and you're incapable of solving your own problems.

Something had to change, and soon. If things continued as they were, Near might actually go mad, or Mello might finally snap out of his lethargy and take out all of his dammed up frustration on Near at once. Near felt no need for a hospital visit.

The bell in the old tower of the orphanage struck once, marking the quarter. 4:15pm. Time to start clearing away the dice, before the cooks came in to prepare dinner.

The dice were stowed away carefully into a white canvas bag. On his way to the stairs leading to the second floor, Near had to cross through the foyer. There were large windows on either side of the front door, showing grounds that had been transformed the night before by the year's first snowfall. What caught Near's attention, though, was a black stain on the pure white background, slowly shrinking. Someone had gone outside, despite rules about designated recess times.

It was Mello. All black clothing, a head of light hair, and breaking the rules so blatantly, it had to be Mello.

Near watched as Mello walked further and further away from the orphanage. Where was he going? There was nothing in that direction except gardens and greenhouses.

Yet another unfamiliar sensation made itself known to Near, snapping up his spine and emboldening him. Something had to change. If Mello wasn't going to be the one to initiate that change, then it would have to be Near.

Quickly, before he lost his newfound nerve, Near climbed the stairs to his room. Once there he dropped off the bag of dice and opened up his closet, pulling out a large white winter coat, a pair of boots, and a bottle of sunscreen. With all of that snow, he would have to be especially careful, the damaging light would be reflected and coming from all directions. After slathering the scented stuff on every inch of exposed skin, including behind his ears and under his chin, shrugging on the coat and pulling on the awkward boots, he made his way back downstairs.

The only problem would be if he were caught on the way out. This was breaking the rules, after all.

He wasn't caught. He made it to the door without being seen, although he could hear the sounds of playing down the hall. Still being quick, he opened the door and let in a rush of frozen air. Near shivered as it whipped past his exposed face, and squinted in the glaring light. Once outside, he dug into a coat pocket and found one of his many pairs of sunglasses. When you were an albino, you had to be careful about your eyes, whether they were pigmented or not.

Following the set of tracks Mello had left behind, Near ambled out into the winter landscape.

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Like everything else, the small vegetable patch Mello had come to had a fresh covering of snow. There were no vegetables left, they had all been harvested when the nighttime frosts had begun. So there were no shapes outlined in the pure white, only vague impressions of empty rows, their depths softened where the flakes gathered.

It didn't look much like a garden, but Mello could imagine what it looked like alive and growing.

Back in the days before Wammy's, before Mello had become Mello, his family's garden had always been the one place he could go to feel at peace. There had been no judgment, no jealousy, and no punishments, only the quietness of growing things and the wind. Those old memories, long ago set aside to make room for a new life, were all that gave Mello's tired mind any sort of rest.

Mello focused just on the peaceful times in the garden, when he had hid among the beans and cabbage, playing with stones… before the fire had taken everything…

A soft sound made Mello look up. Any tranquility he may have found was swept aside at the sight of Near, bundled in slightly overlarge winter clothing and holding a pair of sunglasses in ungloved fingers. His exposed eyes squinted in the light.

Mello felt something snap inside of him at the sight of the boy who haunted his thoughts. "Dammit, Near!" he shouted in the white stillness. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

Near ignored the angry exclamation and looked around with an air of mystification. He had thought perhaps there was some hidden nook beyond the gardens that Mello was headed for, or that he intended to leave the grounds altogether and walk to town. But he had stopped here.

"It seems strange that Mello would come to a vegetable garden," he said, still staring at the faint outlines of rows. "Why does he?"

Mello looked away, embarrassed. It was… well, not a rule, but a custom at Wammy's that when you stepped through the doors and took on a new name, your past was left completely behind. He'd just been reliving a piece of his past, leaving himself open to those old doubts and wounds. If he admitted it, it might come across as weakness. "Why do you care?" he snapped at the boy, hoping open hostility would make back off. "It's just a place to go."

"And yet very out of character," Near looked up at Mello, eyes still straining a little in the unfamiliar brightness. "Mello hates vegetables, and is not known for enjoying quiet environments."

"You don't know everything about me, Near. I'm not some book to be picked up and read." It was bad enough Near was standing here with him, alone, but his line of questioning was making him feel defensive. There had to be a better topic than this.

Near carefully tucked the sunglasses into a pocket. "This is true," he agreed. "Mello is more complicated than a book. There is much that is unknown about him. For example," here Near took a breath. If Mello wasn't going to be straightforward, then he would have to be, he reminded himself. "Why did Mello watch me in the library?"

Not this topic. Mello fidgeted under the question, eyes still averted. "Does it matter anymore?"

Slowly, Near began to circle around the small plot towards Mello. He wasn't used to wearing shoes at all, much less bulky boots, slogging through snow, so progress had to be slow. "Since we both appear to be experiencing the aftereffects of that day," he said without inflection, "I think it is important."

Mello noted Near's advance, and kept himself from moving away in response. Instead he stared into the younger boy's watering eyes. Why didn't he put his glasses back on? "…I was interested in what you were doing."

"Playing with my toys?" There was a hint of disbelief in Near's voice. "Mello has seen me do that hundreds of times." The distance had already been cut by half.

"Yeah, well, that time was different." The blonde continued to fidget, both from the questions and from the growing proximity of the albino. Why was he getting so close?

Near finally stopped, a little less than arm's length away. Mello had tensed so much he looked ready to bolt at any moment. If Near hadn't been so nervous as well, he might have laughed. "In what way was it different?"

"God, Near, I don't know!" Mello finally lost a little of his cool. "I've been trying to figure that out!"

"And had Mello discovered anything revealing?"

Mello felt the telltale heat in his ears again, and hoped it could be blamed on the cold. "Nothing I care to share with you."

Near felt a little sick. He'd pushed Mello into this corner deliberately, and while it appeared he felt something for Near, it was also fair to say he appeared ashamed and embarrassed by the fact. Any hope Near had for… anything… was draining away.

If things couldn't progress the way he had hoped, then it was time to snap their lives back into place. The one reaction Near could always rely on from Mello, and the best chance for normality, should be very easy to get.

"Because Mello has not discovered anything," he said blandly.

The ice in Mello's eyes flashed dangerously. "That's not what I said!"

Near stared directly into those blues and spoke very slowly and deliberately, as though to a child. "Mello has no idea as to his own motives."

"Shut up, Near!" Before he realized what he was doing, Mello had slapped Near across the face with enough force to send the small boy sprawling in the snow.

He was on his knees beside Near an instant later, helping him sit up anxiously. Mello wasn't wearing gloves; there already was a clear imprint of his hand blooming on one pale cheek. "Oh God, Near! I'm sorry, are you alright?"

Near brought up a hand to his cheek. It smarted, but he'd received worse in the past. He was more confused than hurt. Mello had never said 'I'm sorry' before. "Mello was provoked," he mumbled. "There is no need to apologize."

"Yes there is!"

Near looked up, but a curtain of straight yellow hair obscured Mello's face.

Mello was fighting reliving his memories again. The garden was a place of peace, and what it had provided peace from would haunt him for a long time. If he wasn't careful, it could become a repeating pattern. What he had experienced as a child he could bring with him as he grew. Still with eyes turned down, Mello began breaking that pattern. "Near, I'm sorry for everything. All the times I hurt you, all the things I've said… I'm sorry." It wasn't enough, not nearly. But it was a start.

Near's eyes had widened so much they looked like saucers. "Why does Mello apologize now?"

A touch of Mello's usual attitude returned. He looked up into Near's face through the veil of pale hair. "Can't you figure it out, genius? I love you…" As Mello trailed off, his eyes shifted to look at Near's right shoulder instead of his face, his cheeks burning.

The world tipped a little for Near. Mello loved him? Had said he loved him? Not like, or felt vague affection for, but loved. How could he say that word so easily?

"Mello… loves me…" he said, still deadpan.

Mello flinched a little from the voice that gave no sign of feeling. "Yes."

"That's not logical, even for Mello."

The older boy managed a halfhearted smirk. "No shit. But people aren't always logical like you, Near."

Near almost laughed again. Logical? It was almost out of memory since the last time he had been entirely rational. Even now, before this day, how often could he say he had been so close to laughter? If this was the effect love was going to have on him, he would need a mask to maintain his poker face.

"Illogical processes must be contagious, then."

Mello's gaze snapped from Near's shoulder back to his face, and he almost fainted. Near was smiling! A full-on, toothy grin! He started when Near leaned towards him, close enough that Mello could feel his breath when he said, "I feel the same way about Mello."

The last inches were closed, and two pairs of winter-chilled lips were brought together in a chaste kiss.

Neither boy knew how long it lasted, but it felt like only a moment. When they broke apart, the boys continued to lean into each other; foreheads pressed together, frosty blue eyes absorbed in soft grays.

Mello sighed, smiling. Who knew that things would – or even could progress this way? "Well," he said with a touch of amusement, "that's out of the way. What now?"

Near smiled as well, the normally flat eyes dancing. "Mello is superior to myself in matters such as this." The smile widened just a little, "He is best able to decide."

Mello had thought he was beyond surprise by this point, but he was wrong. Near had just handed control of the situation to him, when the boy must be feeling the need to take the reigns, to feel safe. It was… sweet. The younger boy knew about Mello's preoccupation with keeping the advantage, and had given it to him during this moment. Any time before this Mello would have been angry at the presumption, that Near thought it had to be given to him, but not now. Now it just felt good.

He tilted his head to kiss Near again, to answer words with action. But as he came in close, the handprint, an angry red against pearly white skin, caught his eye.

It froze him, that mark. It was the evidence of Mello's temper, his caged violence and unpredictability. What if it happened again? He loved Near, but love was no sure protection against abuse. His temper was so wild, and Near was so fragile… and not just physically. He could be broken so easily. Could Mello even trust himself?

"It would never work, Near." There was a catch in his voice as he spoke, and his eyes stung a little. "There's no way."

Near's breath caught as well, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. Why was Mello saying this now, after everything seemed to be going right at last? His smile faded away, his voice becoming as empty as it had ever been. "What is Mello's rationale?"

"We're too different," Mello said, forcing his own voice to be steady. "There's nothing besides our brains that we have in common. Besides," he brought up a hand and carefully stroked the print on Near's cheek, "I can't promise that something like this won't happen again."

Near shivered a little at the gentle touch. It stung, despite Mello's softness. "That would be painful," he whispered.

Did he mean if Mello struck him again, or if they kept themselves separate? Mello wondered. Did he mean painful for himself, or Mello, or both?

The boys stayed like that for a long time, kneeling in the snow far from the watchful eyes of caregivers, heads together. Neither wanted to break the moment, because once it was broken, there would be no retrieving it. There would be no coming back to this place and picking up the pieces.

Finally, realizing that it would be dark soon, and colder than ever, Mello broke the silence. "I think we should try to go back to normal. To the way things were before."

Near leaned back, putting distance between himself and Mello once more, the older boy's fingers trailing away and leaving his cheek feeling chilled. While they had been so close, he had felt the walls he kept between himself and the world slip, allowing in sensations he had denied himself for years. Now he felt them rising around him again, leaving him numb once more. "Does Mello believe that that is possible?"

"…Maybe not," he admitted. "But can we try, without things getting too awkward?"

Agate eyes dropped to the snow. "If Mello believes it is the wisest course."

The red impression seemed to blaze. "I do."

Another minute passed before Mello picked himself up out of the snow. His clothes had been soaked through in places, freezing skin. They would have to get inside quickly to avoid catching cold. Near especially.

Mello offered Near a hand. Seeming in a daze, Near took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Mello didn't let go right away, but instead gripped Near's pale hand a little tighter. "One thing I want to ask you before we go back, though."

Near looked up, his mask almost completely back in place. "Yes?"

Mello risked coming in close to Near again, to put his lips close to an ear. In a whisper, as though the sleeping garden or mounds of snow could hear him ask the most sensitive question for any Wammy orphan:

"What's your name?"

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A/N2: Okay, so I was expecting to absolutely hate this ending, myself. After all that, the boys don't get together? What the hell? Well, it make it all fit in with the original storyline of Death Note, they really couldn't get together, could they? Ending it like this made it so that everything that comes later can be fit in. Personally, when I think of all the conversations and interactions that took place between them in DN, what I've shown isn't out of the realm of possibility. At least I don't think so.

However, that doesn't mean I'm entirely satisfied with how this wraps up. The fangirl inside wants her mushy, happy, gooey ending, goddammit. So, after the epilogue, (which should be up fairly quickly), I will be writing an alternate ending. My happy, gooey, fangirl ending. (There's a little shame as a writer, but I can live with it.)

So to everyone who felt cheated, I shall make everything better again! The epilogue will – hopefully – redeem this version a little, and then we'll say 'Screw the original storyline, we want N/M!'

To all the folks who have stuck with me so far, thank you so much! I treasure every review, alert, and favorite I get. Seriously. The school year is finished, and I got some pretty harsh evals from the students… you guys are a major boost to my flagging confidence.

(By the way, how was the romance-y bit? This is my first real romance fic, and I'm curious how it came out.)

Love and pocky for all, I shall see you soon!