Thank you all again for the reviews! I'm sorry this one took such a long time, but at least you get your money's worth, right? Most of the dialogue comes from the manga volume 9, and is therefore of dubious ownership, since I had to change pieces of it to fit my English-speaking sensibilities.

Characters (c) Ohba and Obata

Mello didn't like New York. He'd quickly learned, on previous Mafia business, that the gangs in NYC didn't put much stock in reputation, particularly when said reputation came from California. Getting things done had basically involved starting from scratch– only with considerably more firepower to back him up. And now, everyone assumed he was dead, so if he wanted to use any Mafia resources he'd have to establish himself a third time. Not at all worth it.

On the plus side, New York had an extensive selection of leather clothing.

Another more pressing reason to hate the city was the subway Mello was currently taking to Halle Lidner's apartment. For all that New Yorkers claimed to be jaded, his scar was raw enough to draw the attention of nearly everyone in the train, particularly in conjunction with the tight leather outfit and fur-lined coat. A woman sitting across from him kept shooting nervous glances at her children like she expected him to attack them. Mello glared at her.

When the train got to the station, everyone else waited for Mello to exit before jamming themselves out the doors like lemmings. Mello smirked. At least these people understood that he was not to be trifled with.

A flash of red hair caught Mello off guard. Hadn't he specifically told Matt to stay at the hotel and monitor things for him? Angrily he strode toward the perpetrator– but it wasn't Matt. Seeing him up close, Mello couldn't fathom why he had confused them. This boy couldn't be older than fourteen; Matt was definitely taller than that now. But something in the way the stranger was bent possessively over his cell phone reminded Mello of watching Matt play video games for hours on end. This nameless boy was Matt in the past tense.

And, Mello reminded himself, the thing about the past was that it was over. The boy was about to look up and see him staring and goddamn it, he had a job to do. He spun on one booted heel and strode up the stairs into the biting November air.

Hal's apartment was shamefully easy to get into. Hardly a two-minute lock, and no alarm inside to back it up. She might as well have invited Mello in. He flexed his fingers inside their leather gloves and performed a quick search of the place. Why hadn't Near installed cameras here? Was he so concerned about the privacy– or, Mello scoffed, the virtue of his employees? Of course not. This oversight was probably the work of some overly chivalrous underling. He took a bite of chocolate.

Footsteps from the hall. Mello pulled out his gun and stood next to the door, patiently waiting as Hal unlocked the door and entered. He saw the sheen of her blonde hair and aimed at it, waiting for her to notice– then, unexpectedly, she turned to look at him with a finger to her lips.

Well, this was different. Mello raised his gun slightly to indicate that he wasn't going to shoot her just yet, and Hal pulled something off her coat collar.

"Near, I want to take a shower, so I'm taking the wire off for a while," she said. Mello was slightly put out by how calm and unconcerned she sounded. Soundlessly he followed her into the bathroom, his gun still pointing at her back. She turned on the water.

"That's really not necessary," said Hal, turning to face him and gesturing at the gun. "I'm not going to try anything."

"A precaution," Mello said. "How did you know I was here?"

Hal shrugged, smiling slightly, and began to unbutton her blouse. Mello raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted a shower," she replied, though the look she gave him implied that any other clothesless activities would be fine by her. Hal turned around modestly to take off her bra and panties, and Mello rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand women who threw themselves at you.

"Near guessed you'd try and contact me," Hal continued, stepping into the shower. "He thought I'd be your choice, since I'm the only woman, but I don't think he knew we'd met."

"Of course Near would think that way," Mello muttered. With Hal in the shower, he let the hand holding the gun drop to his side and took another bite of chocolate.

"You're stuck now, aren't you?" said Hal. "You lost your notebook, so you can't control me. All you can do is threaten me with that gun. If you shot me, you'd be easy to find. And they're about to put cameras in my rooms…"

About time, Mello thought, though it did make life more difficult for him. Hal gave him a sidelong glance.

"So what are you going to do, Mello? Live in the bathroom?" She laughed. "I wouldn't mind. I like having you around."

You're a goddamn whore, you mean, Mello thought contemptuously. Instead he said, "That's not what I came for."

"Oh, I know." How long could it possibly take to wash your legs? Hal seemed to be quite preoccupied with her bending over and running her hands up and down. "By the way," she added casually, "Near thinks the new L is Kira."

"L?" Mello gasped. Yagami had told him the new L was nothing but a figurehead– Touta Matsuda, an idiot. No real threat. Dammit, what was going on? Could the new L be Kira? He supposed it was possible. The sound of the water cut off.

"So what are you going to do?" Hal repeated as she wrapped herself in a towel.

Mello considered her as he leaned against the wall. Certainly Hal wouldn't object to a quick fuck, but that would be both inadvisable and a waste of time. He knew she'd told him everything important, or at least everything Near had instructed her to say, and sex wasn't likely to get anything more out of her. At this point, any kind of relationship– with anyone, but most of all with a member of the SPK– was just begging for problems he didn't need.

"Whose side are you on, then?" he growled. "Mine or Near's?"

"I told you last week, didn't I?" Hal responded as she toweled her hair. "I'm not on any side. I want to catch Kira. We all do."

Catch Kira. Beat Near. Sometimes it was hard to tell which came first.

"Are you going to leave? If you run off, I'll tell Near I met you hiding in my bathroom," Hal warned. "Or would you rather meet somewhere later?"

Again with the suggestive looks. It would almost be worth tipping his hand to Near to get rid of this obnoxious woman. Perhaps sensing his indecision, Hal added, "Oh, and by the way… You were really cute as a kid."

"What?" The gun snapped up to her temple almost without conscious instruction on Mello's part. As a child– but there was no way she could have– had he missed a picture when he cleared Wammy's of any trace that Mihael Keehl had once lived there?

"Near has the picture," she said as though responding to his thoughts. "The only photo of you he could find, he said. He's taken care of everyone from that orphanage too."

No, Mello had taken care of everyone from the orphanage. And yet somehow, Mello had allowed himself to be beaten even at that simple task. He ground his teeth. He needed that picture, and Near knew it.

"Go back to headquarters," he instructed. Hal looked confused.

"I was just there; there's no reason for me to–"

"Make one up," Mello growled, pointing the gun at her face. "Go back."

"Okay, okay, Jesus. Stop pointing that thing at me."

Mello could have guessed which building housed the SPK, but he let Hal lead him in. It was easier to keep his gun on her then, anyway. Both their footsteps echoed in the empty white halls as they made their way toward the center of the labyrinth.

Hal tapped out a security code on the wall, and an imposing metallic door slid open. Mello took a quick survey. The walls were covered in video screens, mostly showing the empty building. Beside him was a screened-off portion of the room with a computer and several monitors. Then, of course, there were the two men, one small and dark, one burly and blonde, but both pointing guns at him. Mello ignored them. The only thing his attention was drawn to was a head of curly white hair, crouched on the floor and surrounded by toy robots. Mello's lip curled in a silent snarl.

"Welcome, Mello."

"Drop your gun!" yelled the brawny one. Former army grunt, no doubt. Mello didn't move.

"That goes for all of you," droned Near. His disinterested wispy voice was exactly the way Mello remembered it, and it still made his blood boil. "It would be quite useless to shed blood here."

"But Near, he killed the SPK!" complained the smaller man with the black hair. "And he kidnapped the Japanese director, and killed him too–"

"We have no proof of that, and it was probably Kira who killed the director," Near replied. "But that's not important. I will not repeat myself, Gevanni; our goal is to catch Kira, not Mello. He managed to get the notebook, and in doing so came closer to Kira than any of us. Let's respect that, shall we?"

The two men slowly lowered their weapons, both looking as though it cost them dearly. After a moment, Mello took his gun from Hal's head.

"Well said, Near," he said. At least the albino admits that I beat him so far– not that I expect him to take that sitting down. Crouching on the floor, rather. "So everything's going as you imagined?" he sneered.

"Yes," Near said simply, without turning around. "Though I have to say, I didn't expect you to come all the way here. Thanks to you…" and Mello could hear the almost imperceptible smirk that would be creeping onto Near's face just now "… I have been able to greatly narrow down my list of possible Kira suspects."

"You­–Damn it, Near!" Mello flew into a rage, his gun shakily pointing at Near's dull white form. "I didn't do it for you! I'm not some tool to be used in your fucking puzzles!"

There was a clatter as the other two got their own weapons back up. "Commander Rester," Near said, as casually as if he discussed the weather. "Don't make me repeat myself. Please lower your gun." None of them moved. Mello's finger itched on the trigger. "Mello," continued Near, "if you want to shoot me, shoot."

He can't be serious! Mello thought. To be rid of that horrible voice, that emotionless face with the judging eyes that were like L's and yet so much worse, and the knowledge that no matter what Mello did it would never quite be good enough… He tightened his grip.

Suddenly Hal was there, pointing the gun at her own chest. "If you kill him, it won't mean anything even if you do catch Kira," she said in a low voice. "If you shoot Near, we'll have no choice but to shoot you. And then Kira wins. It would all be for nothing."

A pause. Mello almost thought it would be worth it to die, if only he could take that smug bastard down with him…

"I'm only letting you go alone if you promise you'll come back once you've got the picture."

"I can take care of myself, Matt. Don't be such a pussy."

"Promise."

"Ugh! I promise. Now for fuck's sake, stay here and do something useful."

Whatever else could be said of his morals, Mello kept his promises. He lowered his gun with a mirthless chuckle. "She's right. I only came for my photo."

"Yes." Near held up a small bit of paper, pinched between two fingers. "This is the only remaining photograph. There are no copies. And the cameras here only monitor, not record." He flipped the photo through the air, and Mello deftly caught it. "I contacted everyone at Wammy's who knows your face. It's not one hundred percent certain, but you should be safe from the notebook."

Mello looked at the picture of his younger self, unscarred, at least on the outside. He flipped it over, surprised to find something written there. Dear Mello.

He recognized the neat printing– it had always covered the papers that had gotten slightly higher marks than his. So Near knew he'd get the picture back eventually. Come to that, Near had probably anticipated Hal giving Mello the SPK's information.

"I'm not gonna team up with you," Mello began.

"I had not anticipated that you would," Near answered, still playing with his toys.

"But I can't take this photo without giving you something in return." That, and Mello would never lose an opportunity to rub Near's face in the fact that he knew something the other boy didn't. "The Death Note… It's a shinigami's notebook. People who touch the notebook can see the shinigami."

"Impossible," blustered Commander Rester behind him. Mello had almost forgotten the two lackeys, despite the guns they were probably pointing at him.

"Who's going to believe that?" threw in the dark one. "A shinigami? Come on…"

"I believe him."

Near's tone brooked no argument. Mello, for all he didn't care about Near or his men, was perversely grateful. "What would Mello have to gain from such an outlandish story?" Near continued. "If he was going to lie to us, he would make it something believable. Therefore, shinigami exist."

"The notebook I had belonged to a shinigami named Sidoh," Mello put in. "He dropped it in the human world, and came to get it back. But it had belonged to another shinigami first."

"And we know that because of the rules written in the front of the notebook, do we not?" Near mused. "How odd that the shinigami would write rules for human use if he wanted to get it back."

"One more thing…" Mello said, turning away. He grinned. "One of the rules is fake. But that's all I'm saying."

The two of them waited, facing opposite directions, one standing and one sitting. The silence stretched to the breaking point.

"Near."

"Mello."

"Which of us will get to Kira first, I wonder?" said Mello. He took a bite of chocolate.

"We're both headed for the same place," came the reply. For the first time, Near's voice held some emotion, though he spoke as quietly as ever. "The race is on."

Mello smirked as he left the room. "I'll be waiting for you."