Try (Again)

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.


Chapter 2: House of Cards

The crosses positioned upon the roof ascended into the heavens, a stark black contrast against the overcast sky and the snowflakes falling obliquely like ash around him. Looking at them now, Mello remembered spending countless afternoons staring at them and questioning to himself whether they were arrogant signs that the institution was conducting the work of God, or whether they were merely a gaudy accessory to conceal the devil hiding inside.

Standing just outside the orphanage gates sent nightmarish memories rushing through his system like fire that had found the trail of oil. Standing there now, staring up at those crosses, he swore he could even smell smoke.

'What the hell am I doing?' He asked, exhaling a white cloud from his nostrils. Matt had said that this was the best decision; that this was what he needed. He'd said that this wasn't about Mello at all, or even about his history. This was about the institution itself. This was about Near. And above that, this was about victory, and finally achieving everything he'd ever wanted since he was a child.

But if that was true then why did standing just outside it's gates fill him with such gloom?

Somehow it felt almost… fitting. Staring up at the façade he could feel it tearing away at the brittle shingling of the sense of self he'd constructed around himself after leaving its premise. It was a masochistic torment. But then, what part of his life hadn't been? In the end that felt like the only reason he could finally muster the courage to push open the wrought iron gate and make his way up to the awaiting stronghold.

Upon reaching the main entrance he pushed open the door before he could be overcome by any thoughts set on reminding him of all the reasons he had vowed to never return to this place. A surge of warm air rushed out to blanket his chilled bones. The immediate sight that greeted his blue orbs was a refreshing drink to the memories he'd held onto for so many years, and for a moment Mello found himself wondering if maybe… just maybe everything that'd happened after he'd left Wammy's had been nothing but a bad dream.

Everything looked the same as it had back when he'd lived here as little more than an unruly teen. His boots squeaked against the same polished light wood floor. The same white and half paneled design covered the walls. Even the positioning of the furniture all appeared to be in the exact same place, consumed now by the musky smell of burning wood and childhood innocence.

'Something's not right here…' Mello told himself as he gazed around the area, 'But whatever it is, it goes much deeper than just whatever is happening with Near.' Everything appeared in its proper place, yet the air was heavy with the words nobody wanted to say to each other; and much less to him. In a way, it was British repression at its finest: never breaking face to admit when things were going wrong, even when the world itself was on fire.

In any other situation their attempts at containing it may have worked had Near not sent out his own SOS signal.

"Can I… help you?" A woman's voice appearing from the side broke through Mello's focus. His attention moved over to the young woman now standing in the doorway between two rooms; her large deep brown eyes surveying him suspiciously.

'Well… At least some of the staff are new.' He thought, feeling his own gaze on the woman bordering on the same amount of suspicion she was sending him; as though finally locating the new factor within the otherwise unchanged realm was far too jarring for him to believe.

"Roger called me here. I know where his office is." He stated simply, beginning away from the entrance and leaving her to process the surely unexpected words.

With each step, Mello felt himself become further entrenched in his memories once more. How many times had he made this same trip to Roger's office? Each move reminded him of another mischievous prank he'd pulled which had earned him endless lectures from the old man. With that said, he found himself surprised that Roger was still working here at all, considering his age. He was certainly devoted, Mello had to give him that.

When Mello finally reached the formidable wooden door, he found himself paralyzed in place. What exactly was he supposed to do now? History told him to ignore social convention and barge into the office without so much as knocking. But the years apart, plus his added maturity told him that such a moment required he tread with more care than he would have in his youth. The world was no longer his to conquer and bully into submission and he needed to treat it with more respect.

He knocked, listening until he heard the familiar, muffled sound of Roger's voice muttering a simple, "come in." He pushed the door open, entering the office he hadn't set foot in since that fateful day when his world had cracked and broken down around him. L was dead, and Near had won. But now… L was in shambles, on the precipice of life and Mello had won.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen…

Roger looked from a folder of papers, up over the rim of his crystalline glasses, "Mello? So, it seems I was right to hold my breath after all." He offered with a small, warm smile, "Still, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't equally surprised you came at all."

"Not nearly as surprised as I was you called in the first place." He muttered, hearing the way the bitterness seemed to drip off his words as he came to stand before the large desk.

Roger sighed heavily, his demeanor shifting as his eyes closed for a long minute. "How have you been, Mello?" He asked as his eyes slipped open once more.

The blonde's form tensed under what he perceived as the man's scrutinizing gaze. "Don't, Roger. You lost your chance to 'catch up' a long time ago. You don't have to pretend you care. Besides, you wanted me here for a reason so let's get straight to the point. Tell me what's going on." The time and history between them was at once reduced to little more than a business deal. The years apart had taught Mello better than to allow history to cloud his line of sight to the goal.

A silence settled over the two in which both attempted to compile all that they wanted to say into some semblance of a natural order. "There's… a lot that needs said." Roger exhaled once more. "For the sake of time it would be sufficient to say that since the conclusion of the Kira case our organization, and that of L, has not exactly fared well."

Roger had made mention of such a fact when he'd called before, yet hearing it still seemed to shake the blonde on a fundamental level. Wammy's House and the unimaginable power behind L had always been an absolute in his life. Like the law of gravity, it was unquestionable. But then, he supposed even gravity itself could be disproven given the right conditions in the universe. "Why?"

"Becoming involved with the Kira case brought the power and use of L into the public eye and subsequently their knowledge. After witnessing the chaos wreaked by Kira, and in addition what's perceived to be the inefficiency of L, there are many who employ his services whether due to fear of what it might say about them, or their country or because they believe it would do more harm than good. There was, and still exists a lot of fear among the people surrounding Kira's return, after all." Roger answered as though it was all so simple, so perfectly calculable.

In that moment, Mello regretted having asked for Roger's input on the matter. True as Mello knew it was that people around the world still harbored their own paranoia regarding Kira, or even the justice systems of their countries.

But that alone didn't seem as though it would be enough to lead to the decline of L, and much less Near of all people. Near wasn't so weak as to be brought down by a changing social climate. That meant that in the end it was Near's viewpoint alone which would be most valuable in his investigation.

"So? What do you expect me to do about that?" They'd competed and Near had ultimately won. This was Near's fight, and his mess to clean up. It hardly seemed fair to use Mello's abilities only when it was convenient for their agenda. But then, when had Wammy's ever known the meaning of the word 'fair'? When had the world ever known fairness, let alone shown it to him?

Roger shook his head as he stood up and moved around the desk to go towards the door, "I don't expect you to do anything about the position we've found ourselves in. I understand that it's no longer any of your concern one way or another."

"Then how exactly do you figure that somehow Near is my concern?" Mello practically spit at him. He'd forgotten how much he hated going around these circles with Roger…

"As I previously stated, if there's anyone who can get Near to talk, it's you. Somehow this situation… has taken a drastic toll on him. I can't even begin to help fix it if I can't get at what's going through his mind."

'Somehow.' Mello repeated, hearing in that word alone the sheer size of the mental and emotional disconnect between Roger and the younger successor.

The longer Mello spent here the more painfully obvious it was becoming to him that Roger didn't understand Near at all. And it was for that reason that Roger would never amount to anything close to the level of skill and partnership that had been shared between Wammy as Watari for L. Wammy had understood L through and through. Roger cared only for the status and perpetuating of the title. The fit just wasn't right and the same history just wasn't there between the two and each word Roger said seemed to be just another nail in the coffin of the definitive causes.

"What if there's no way to fix it?" Mello said in a tone hardly above a whisper as the two of them exited the office and into the empty hallway.

The older man paused long enough to shake his head, "We'll deal with that situation as it arises, then. For now the first priority is to get him talking again, and to get an understanding of what is going on in his head to cause this in the first place. Why this? Find that out, and I will take care of the rest." He instructed.

Mello bit his tongue to stop himself from asserting the point that such a task wasn't quite so simple; that Near wasn't that simple.

Wishful thinking said that perhaps in any other instance Mello could merely insert himself between Near and whatever was on the other end of his mental focus; by engaging them both in nearly ritualized movements that each knew and understood to fight a distinct enemy. But Mello was realistic enough to understand that that wouldn't work now. Not when what lay at the other end of Near's battlefield was his own mind. How could Mello ever hope to find space between that?

Somehow he would have to if he was to get his answers.

They ascended the grand stairs up into the higher levels of the building, passing the bedrooms of the orphans as they did so. Seeing them made him wonder, "If this ends up taking longer than a single day… Where exactly do you expect me to stay? My old room?" He looked quickly down the hall to the closed door of his own childhood room, wondering if it too looked almost the same as when he'd left it.

Roger shook his head, "We have a lot of children here, Mello. Obviously your room was given to another child, so that won't be a feasible option. To be perfectly honest I think it'd be best if you stayed with Near. It's realistically the only open space we have available, and likewise I think it would be best to remain close to ensure that nothing serious happens to him again while the situation is being stabilized."

Mello's insides churned as he found himself wondering whether Roger had merely goaded him here to be Near's handler. That wasn't why he'd shown up here, but more it felt like that was what Roger was forcing on him. "He's not my responsibility, Roger. I'll find somewhere else to stay." He practically grumbled at the end.

As they continued up to the highest floor, Mello suddenly found himself forming the question that had plagued him since Roger had initially called him. As though the closer they moved to the source of this predicament the harder it became to hold back the waters of his curiosity. Yet it felt like such a haunting topic to discuss aloud, let alone even think about. "What exactly happened, anyway?" He looked over to Roger, "What did he do?"

The two of them finally stopped outside the one door in all of Wammy's that Mello had hardly ever been inside; the mere sight of it sending a frigid shiver down each vertebrae of his spine. Suddenly Mello felt ripped away from the present, placed against his will back into the body of his childhood self who had always felt utterly shadowed by the intimidating force emanating off this place.

L's old room.

He shuddered, 'Once he acquired the title it'd only make sense that he'd inherit his space, too.' Mello rationalized. But at the same time, 'How can Near even stand to be in that room, let alone live in it?'

"If you really want to know you're going to have to get him to talk and find out yourself. Find out what you can and bring the information back to me. That's the only way this can be resolved." Roger stated plainly.

To the old man this matter was just that simple… there was no humanness to the justification behind his rationale. As more and more of the demonic reality that lay within the heart of the system became known to him, the more Mello felt a tug at his heart to simply turn and leave without giving Roger the satisfaction of perpetuating such a heartless system.

But this was no longer just about himself. Near's SOS had brought him here. Near too was a victim of the system, and now much deeper entrenched than Mello was and in one respect or another the younger must have known that. But what did either of them expect Mello to do?

"You're putting a lot of faith into a history that has always worked against your goal." Mello finally replied.

Roger was quiet for a long moment, during which it seemed through the silence each knew only how to revel in the memories of their shared past as the common bond between each other. Finally, Roger turned back the way they had come to leave Mello with his assigned task. "I've been doing this for a very long time, Mello. I'm putting my faith where I know it will serve best."

That was the end. A near silent admission by his childhood caretaker that, for all the time he'd spent around Near, he still hadn't acquired the skills or communication necessary that Mello had. It felt… like an isolating honor. The world, their world believed that Mello was the only one able to handle a situation of this caliber and at once the life he'd built for himself outside these prison walls was reduced to a space large enough for only the two of them.

Yet still he felt a growing weight upon his heart which worried that perhaps he in fact didn't possess the needed skills to live up to such high expectations.

But what other option did Mello have but to face this head on?

He entered the room, the opening of the door releasing a wave of cold air that begged to question whether there was any barrier between the room and the outside world. Letting the door's latch click closed behind him he noticed the atmosphere consumed by the weight of death itself. The stale air seemed to grip the blonde's lungs with the intent of extracting any level of life within him while the only light in the room filtered in from the outside through a wide window that was partially shrouded with drapes.

If the ghostly meanderings of the falling snow outside were the ashes of burnt dreams, then suddenly Mello knew he had found its source.

The room itself seemed almost entirely bare other than the sparse pieces of furniture serving to make the space seem less forsaken by the rest of the organization. Though in that aspect it was failing entirely. But it was the extensively constructed wall of cards circling most of the room, standing at about four feet high, which took hold of Mello's attention. The holed, fragile walls were the physical representation of Near's defenses against some form of threat on the outside.

Through the house of cards that depicted the younger's mental state, Mello could see where his childhood rival sat facing away from him; the subtle movements of his shoulders suggesting that he was working on another section of the wall.

The image before him was haunting. He lacked the usual air of power that normally resonated off his person, nor was there any sense of the visual superiority or control he'd always commanded over everything short of God Himself. What Mello saw before him was little more than the fragmented pieces of the dominating power who had once held the threads of all the world's powers at his fingertips.

This wasn't Near.

No… this wasn't victory.

This wasn't what winning was supposed to feel like… this hollow chasm penetrating his heart and perhaps into his very soul, permeating down into the very grip Mello had held over his once stable base of reality. But in this single suspended moment of time none of that mattered.

If he was going to get any of the infinite questions answered; if he was to fix this current state that Near had fallen into, then these walls simply would not do.

His foot moved towards the intricate construction and with just the slightest amount of pressure the toe of his boot nudged the side of the card wall. The extensive structure began to fold and collapse in a wave moving outward in both directions down to the ground until all that remained was a satisfying ocean of cards scattered between the successors.

Near's actions came to a screeching halt the moment the flutter of cards reached his ears, his form tensing up and curling in on itself. But not a single sound was emitted from him. Not even a single seething utterance of Mello's name was released, as he had expected. There was no swear, no curse thrown to the air over his own work's sudden destruction. Nothing but the perpetual passed between them.

'Fuck…' Rarely did Near ever miss the opportunity to exchange such verbal jousts with the other; a chill shot down Mello's spine, the gravity of the situation becoming increasingly real to him by the second.

'He's trying to prove a point.' He heard a small part of himself rationalize. 'He just wants to prove that even I can't break his silence. Bastard.' His brow creased and he had to look away momentarily to push the thought out of his mind before it really took root and painted his subsequent actions.

Realistically he knew that Near's silence demonstrated just the opposite. There was no doubt that Near knew Mello was the one standing behind him, for there was no one else who would dare infringe upon the detective's space, let alone so blatantly and unapologetically destroy his creations. But his lack of response proved that Near was not willing to follow in the cyclical track of their history; that they could not merely rely on one another's reciprocated moves thrown back and forth like some deadly game of tennis to solve their problems.

This was human. This was visceral. This was now a matter of survival and for that reason, if Mello was to get anywhere even close to his goal he would need to construct an entirely new foundation upon which he could build a bridge to connect their long-separated continents.

He exhaled the breath that had been locked within his lungs. "Well, you're stubborn as ever." He said as he began to cross the room. "I know you're pissed off."

He moved before the younger successor, immediately feeling those slate gray eyes locking on him, following his every movement until the blonde finally took a seat on the wooden floor across from the younger. It was only then that he could really take in Near's appearance, which had previously existed within him as little more than the stagnant image burned into his mind the last time he had seen him -at the end of the Kira case.

The image presented before him now was entirely disconcerting.

The features of Near's face seemed almost hollow, the once childhood innocence he'd somehow retained for so long existing now as nothing more than a pallid shadow covering his thin frame; alluding not only to his own sense of self but a more physical lack of nutrition. His gray, abysmal eyes were little more than pooled voids, black holes set within lackluster fair skin to swallow the light of the world with absolutely nothing to show for it. His hair had grown longer since the last time Mello had seen him, left uncut the unruly locks hung over his eyes, precariously pushed to not obscure his vision.

How had Roger allowed him to get to such a point?

'Free will.' He suddenly told himself, despising the bitter taste it left in his mouth of what such a realization would mean for Mello's role in all of this. 'Roger put too much trust and control in Near knowing how to handle himself despite the downturn his efforts were having.' How idiotic could this institution get?

"You look like hell." He finally said to break the silence settling between them. Still there was no response from the younger genius, instead he looked down to the rubble of his defenses and began to construct each precariously aligned card pyramid again.

Mello allowed him to align two of the pyramids together between their forms before he reached forward and pushed them both over; Near shot a glare up to him as he finally continued, "Roger called me."

There was nothing from the younger, yet the lingering expression somehow still seemed to say: 'I know.' Of course he did… Who else would have figured to bring Mello of all people into something like this?

"I know what happened." The blonde hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to continue saying what needed to be said, no matter how hard it seemed to formulate the words themselves, "I know what you did."

Near's look turned shifted to one harder and defensive for but a second before it ultimately fell to the floor and he again began the construction of his wall to separate them. For the moment Mello allowed it.

"Never would I have thought that you, perfect you, wouldn't be able to handle the title of L. You know L would be rolling in his grave if he saw what you've let it become. Roger won't even tell me all of the details and still I know that."

Moment by moment Near's head began to tip forward just a bit, almost unconsciously, till his unfocused gaze became obscured completely by the strands of his white hair; his shoulders curling over under the added weight of Mello's words. The resentful childish side of the older successor urged him to keep piling reality onto Near's shoulders. But neither of them were going to get anywhere if he allowed himself to make easy jibes.

The blonde then leaned forward and knocked down the delicately balancing cards, but this time he reached between the vast ocean of space to take hold of Near's chin and guide him upwards until their eyes locked again. "You fucked up. I don't know what you did, but the point is that it happened and there's nothing you can do to take that back now. It happens, Near. But the results it led you to… what you did… it's nothing short of immature."

The glare sent by those endless eyes were sparks on his skin struck with flint with the intent of making fire. But Mello had felt real fire, and had been subjected to the slow, cruel incineration Near could produce.

Blue orbs were firm and unfazed, consisting inherently of the water necessary to counter Near's silent assault. "You're better than this. I know you are. I've seen it." The silence was deafening, any critical words becoming lost in the void that consistently obscured both of their intents. But there was nothing more Mello wanted than to tear it down to reveal exactly what lay at the core of Near's thoughts, his worries, his demons.

"Roger called me in to deal with you. That's what you've let this come to. That now I had to come all the way across the fucking ocean to deal with your screw ups. At the end of the day, Roger realizes that he may be willing to let you drive yourself into a hole, but I'm not.

"So, from now on consider yourself under my direct control."


A/N: Originally I'd wanted to end this chapter later, after Mello gets Near speaking again in order to dissuade any thoughts that the direction of this story would be that Near would in a sense be mute for most of it. But after editing this for nearly 9 hours, and after having the epiphany that became the ending of this chapter (and thus the actual sort of guiding direction of the story) I decided it could safely ended. So, I have spent an exorbitant amount of time scrutinizing over this to make sure that at least most of my concepts are clear. In the end I'm still not sure how well I achieved that goal. But I would still appreciate any comments you may have regarding your thoughts on the story, the style, or anything of that sort!

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-Forbiddensoul562