Near was young, five years old, he realized. He was sitting in his living room, stacking blocks while his parents watched the news. His mother gazed at him lovingly, pointing out his genius like antics to his father. His dad looked at him worriedly, scared that Nate might be autistic. His mother refused to accept that.

The door bell rang.

His mother and father exchanged confused looks. Who could possibly be visiting at this time of night, in the pouring rain?

His dad got up and walked to the door. Nate looked up curiously.

In the doorway stood a man. He had long, dark brown hair, and he was soaked to the bone. The two, Nate's father and the man in the rain, talked for a few minutes. The man told some sob story about his car breaking down, and if he could stay here until morning when he could call a tow truck to come get him and his vehicle.

Nate's dad invited him in, leading him to the living room and asking his wife to fetch the man some towels.

Nate twirled his hair nervously. There was something about the man that made him uneasy. There was a gleam in his eyes. One that reflected something other than innocent intentions.

Nate followed that man across the room with his eyes, watching intently as his overly kind parents draped fluffy towels over the mans sopping wet body. He kept telling them how thankful he was, sipping the hot coffee they had provided him happily.

"My name is Mike, by the way. Mike Tailor."

His parents shrugged of the gratification, giving the man their names in return.

"... And this is our son, Nate." She said, smiling at Nate, who hadn't moved the whole time.

"Good evening, Nate." Mike said, smiling. "How old are you?"

"You're lying." Nate replied, his voice commanding. Mikes eyes got wide.

"E-Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Nate's mother rushed in. "He gets like this sometimes." She turned to Nate. "Behave yourself!" She chided.

Nate looked away.

He knew this man was lying. He knew it.

But his parents were unconvinced.

Nate wasn't sure how much time passed as he stared at Mike from under his silver hair. He couldn't tell you who long he sat there, calculating this man's face, his movements, everything about him. There was something ominous about the adult. Something evil and terrifying, a secret he hid cleverly.

Nate sighed. He'd been here before. It was a nightmare, one that plagued his unconsciousness often. The day he became an orphan. He'd gone over this scene again and again in his sleep, to the point that he knew every minute detail..

He stacked blocks warily, listening for the inevitable. Finally, he heard the key sentence. The words that ruined his life.

"Hey, how far to the city?"

Nate inwardly cringed. How stupid are his parents to live in the middle of a forest, and to take in strangers?! They must be idiots!

"Oh, Uhmm... At least eight miles. Don't you think so, honey?"

His father nodded in reply.

"Oh, my. Does anyone else live around here?"

"No." His mother said. "We're the only house for a while."

Nate glanced up to look at Mike. That gleam he had seen before shone brighter.

He was so menacing.

"Oh." He said, reaching into his pocket. "That's fine then. No one will hear you scream."

Nate remembered the gunshot, like thunder, surrounding him. He closed his eyes and covered his ears. "No!" He yelled, trying to block out the noise; to keep it from consuming him, grasping tightly to his soul and squeezing until it hurt to breathe, to move, to think.

But it seemed that as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving a resonating ring to echo through out the room. His mother was screaming. Not even her voice could break the silence of death. Nate opened his eyes.

Mike was holding onto his mothers arm. She was fighting, whithering beneath his grasp, desperately trying to break free and get away. He father lay on the beige carpet, crimson blood pooling underneath him from the hole that had appeared in his chest.

"Call the police!" his mother shrieked, reaching for Nate before turning and wailing on her captor.

Nate scrambled for the phone, crawling across the floor. It was within his reach. He heard mother scream again, her body hitting the wall, heavy footsteps coming after him. His fingers grasped the cool plastic. It was smooth and promising in his hand. The last hope he and his family had. That was the last thing he felt before the excruciating pain, his world going black as the man pistol whipped him in the back of the head.

Nates subconscious and imagination filled in what may have happened during the time he was out cold, bleeding from a head wound, inches from the phone, his life source. In his dream, his mother, his kind, gentle, beautiful mother, tried everything in her power to help Nate.

"No!" She screamed, her throat raw. "Stay away from him!"

Mike turned on his heels and stalked toward her, the gun in his hand.

"You better be thankful I only had that one bullet left." He hissed, approaching her.

"Stay away from me!" She sobbed.

Mike smiled.

"Woman, you haven't even seen the worst."

He grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the ground and throwing onto the couch.

"Bitch, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you and your precious little Nate." He snarled, forcing himself on her.

"No!" She wailed, "Don't touch me!"

Mike's smile widened, his white teeth gleaming as he lowered his body across hers. She flailed, trying to push him off, to harm in anyway possible. Mike grabbed onto her wrist, holding her tightly.

"Do you really think," he asked almost sweetly, wrapping his fingers around her small, pale wrist, "that such a delicate body part will stop me?" With that, he broke the thin bones. She howled in pain, thrashing to get away, but stopping as soon as a clenched her broken wrist to keep her there. She sniffled at him, helpless.

"Please..." She pleaded. "Let me go."

"Never." he replied, grabbing her other wrist and snapping that one too.

She screamed louder, wincing with the pain that invoked on her thrashed vocal chords.

He got off of her and walked over to Nate. Despite the pain, despite her snapped bones, she yelled at Mike, telling him to get away from her son.

Mike looked down at the petite bundle of white and red, smirking. "He's already dead." He informed, unplugging the phone.

His mother was too shocked to do anything, to shocked to move. Mike went into the kitchen and got a knife. When he returned, the butcher knife glinting evilly in the light, Nate's mother was sobbing silently, her hands cradled in her lap.

"Kill me." She said, looking at Mike with red, tear stained eyes.

"In due time." He replied, pushing her against the couch.

Nate remembers his mother. She was pretty, with amazingly light blonde hair that gently curled around her face and glittering emerald eyes. She'd had a small body, but she was willowy, the effect mesmerizing and beautiful. He remembers staring at her, watching as she walked about the house, doing chores and humming to herself.

She was rinsing the dishes when he walked up to her, buried his face into her powder blue skirt and murmured, "Mommy, you so pwetty."

She smiled down at her son and scooped him up in her arms. "Nate, you're so handsome." She replied.

"Weally?" He asked, twirling his hair.

"Yes." She said kissing his cheek. "The most handsome little boy ever."

Then the two went and put together a puzzle, leaving the dishes half dried, the other half still soaking in soapy water.

When Nate opened his eyes that time, his mother had been smiling and laughing. Her hair was falling about her face in light colored wisps, and her eyes, what Nate thought to be her most wonderful feature, were clear and gleaming, sparkling with happiness and kindness.

When he opened his eyes this time, his mother was crying. Her hair was sticking to her red, tear streaked face, the once gentle curls knotted into something furious. Her eyes were closed, but he knew they were bloodshot, her incandescent eyes twinkling with tears, not happiness.

She was bleeding from multiple cuts and stab wounds. Her life was seeping from her arms and chest.

But that wasn't the worst.

Nate was surprised he'd woken up at all. The excruciating pain throbbing in the back of his head told all he needed to know about why he was face down on the floor. Cold blood had dried on his skin, matting his hair and staining his clothes. He focused his pain dulled eyes on the scene in front of him, only to want to run away, far, far away.

He'd already watched his dad die. He himself had taunted death. He did not need to witness his mother being raped.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to desperately block out the sight he'd just seen. He quickly wondered what his chances of escape were.

Considering the intense pain he was currently experiencing, the chances were slim to none.

"Okay," Nate thought, "I'll rest for a few minutes, and try to run. I'll use my mother's current... predicament to my advantage."

He lay there for a few moments, willing the pain to disperse elsewhere. He counted to 100 before pushing himself up off the floor.

"Nate!" his mother gasped. Nate mentally screamed at her. If she had been silent, maybe Mike wouldn't have noticed him.

If Mike had seen him, or looked up because of his mother's gasp, it didn't matter because he was looking at him now.

"You bastard!" he cursed, reaching for his pants and the knife at the same time.

Nate grabbed onto the table, steadying himself for the onslaught of pain. His head felt like it was going to explode, his vision blurred and he realized that he really wasn't in any condition to escape.

"Nate, run! Run!" his mother shrieked. She threw herself at Mike, sending the man to the floor, but also sending the knife through her stomach.

"God damn you!" Mike yelled, trying to push the dead weight off of him.

"Run..." She said, blood gurgling from her pale lips.

"Easier said than done." Nate thought, stumbling towards the front door.

He heard Mike yelling as he grabbed the mans shoes and locked the door before venturing out into the rain. The only light he had was the lamps illuminating the windows of his no-longer home, and the flickering lightning.

He threw the boots into the wet dark forest as he ran. He may not be able to get far barefoot, but neither could Mike.

He half ran, half staggered through the woods. His head throbbed with pain, and rain misted his eyes, not doing much for his already pain-impaired vision.

"Get back here!" He heard Mike shout behind him.

"Does he really think that I will turn around and run to him? Is he really that much of an idiot?"

Nate listed off his disadvantages as he bumbled haphazardly through the rough tree trunks. He was slower than this man on a daily basis. He was even slower because of the blunt object that has connected with his skull eariler. He was even slower because he was running through mud and rocks and pine needles in nothing more than socks. He was wearing white, so he knew that even without the unpredictable lightning, he was quite noticeable against the dreary background.

He was going to die.

Nate lunged fore ward, a particularly raised tree root getting the better of him and twisting, or possible breaking his ankle. He crawled through the think gloppy mud and pulled himself up with the help of a rained covered tree. He winced when he put pressure on his foot.

He mentally added this to his list of disadvantages.

Clinging to the dripping trees, he limped his way through the forest.

He heard it before he saw it; the sound of cars on a road. His paved ribbon of hope.

He burst out of the tightly growing trees. Trying his hardest to put minimal pressure on his injured ankle, he limped to the side of the road, praying that a car would drive by soon and notice the mud and blood covered boy.

"There's still hope." He thought. "It can't have been more than 20 minutes. Maybe Dad was shot in the shoulder. Maybe Mom was still breathing. Maybe we can still be a family."

But his hopes were shattered as lightning lit up a man running out of the forest.

"You little son of a--" He voice was washed out by the thunder, the flash of electricity glinting almost blindingly off the knife poised about his head.

Nate collapsed, eyes wide with fear and realization.

His dad was dead. His mom was too.

But at least he would meet them in heaven.

Nate screamed, his voice ripped from his throat and carrying on the raging winds. It traveled to the edges of the world, to the oncoming car. It rang in his ears and deafened the sound of the rain, the sound of the knife coming down like a guillotine, ready to end his puny existence.

"Near!" someone called, "Near, wake up."

Near opened his eyes, blindly trying to push whoever was leaning ever him away.

"No..." he whimpered, fighting against the strong arms that held him there. "No, don't kill me.."

"Near." L said stiffly. "Near, it's me, L. I'm not going to hurt you."

"L-L?"

"Yes. It's okay. You're alright."

"L." Near sobbed, wrapping his arms around L. L immediately tensed. How was he supposed to comfort the crying boy? It'd obviously been a nightmare-- Near had a sleep talking habit.

He leaned up, pulling Near closer to him.

"It's okay, Near. It was just a nightmare."

"H-he killed them!" Near choked, crying into L's shirt. "Why did they have to die?"

"I can't answer that." L said

L was not one for comforting. He didn't know what to say. Near wasn't speaking anymore, just crying quietly. Finally, L did the only thing he could think of.

He wrapped his arms tighter around Near and leaned back down on the bed, Near still in his arms. Near looked up at him with large, confused eyes.

"Try to go back to sleep, okay?"

Near snuggled into L, drying his eyes on his thin, cotton shirt

L could swear that he heard Near whisper something along the lines of, "I love you" as he closed his eyes.

L looked down at the mess of white hair, surprised.

Then again, he could have thought L was his mother.

Either way, L closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

---

When Near woke up, he wasn't sure what was going on. Somebody was holding him, he could tell by their long arms wrapped around him and the gentle rise and fall of his "pillow."

He knew this, but what he couldn't register was why someone was holding him, and who that person was.

He tried to remember everything that happened last night. He had a nightmare, and someone was their to comfort him. And that person was... L?

The breath caught in Nears throat. He was sleeping in L's arms. What was he supposed to do? He decided to untangle himself from L's grasp. As he slowly pulled away from the older man, L's hold on him tightened, and pulled the boy back to his chest.

Near, eyes wide, heart racing, soon came to the conclusion that L wasn't going to let him go.

Near was on the line of ecstatic and terrified. As he woke up more, he realized just where he was.

L's body curled around him, his knees attempting to curl into his chest. However, Near disrupted this unconscious process. To make right what Near's body had wronged, L's legs had just moved around the boy, putting him in the most awkward position.

He was between L's legs.

Near wasn't sure how he should react, or if he even should.

By the dim morning light, Near gathered that it was sometime around 7:00 in the morning. Class started in an hour. He had two options,

1. Wake L up.

2. Wait until L wakes up.

Surely this would be a perfectly suitable excuse as to why he was late for class. Nobody would dare challenge the great L. Near decided to take this opportunity and snuggled closer to L.

Besides, it's not everyday that he got to sleep with the worlds best detective.

---

L had always been one to test people. He knew that most humans would not just up and admit to being guilty, at least if they thought they had a chance to get away with whatever they did. L had learned long ago that the easiest way to get information out of someone was to trick them into giving it. L's superior intelligence always gave him an advantage. It was easy to trick someone when they were an idiot.

L wouldn't let Near know it, but he was already wide awake when the boy opened his eyes. He'd been thinking about what Near had said after L woke him up from that horrid nightmare. As the boy slept, he'd formulated a plan. He'd get the truth out of the boy, even without the boy saying a word.

Before Near awoke, L wrapped his legs around him. He knew enough about human psychology that when Near woke up, his reaction to the contact would scream his feelings, although he would be silent.

Near didn't seem to notice L's body wrapped around his when he woke up. Well, he seemed to notice the embrace, but not the rather intimate position that L had entwined them in. L felt kind of bad, practically seducing a child like this. But humans were naturally curious. It was perfectly natural of him to want to know if Near liked him. It's not like if he could just corner the kid and demand an answer, right? Right.

The first thing the small boy tried to do was untangle himself. L had planned ahead for this and tightened his hold.

He felt the instant jump in the boy's heartbeat.

He was either scared or exhilarated.

Near was thinking. About what, L could only guess. He decided to wait to see what Near would do next and then base his move off that.

Having come to a mental conclusion, Near snuggled into L's chest. L smirked slightly.

He had gotten his answer.

---

L glanced at the clock. 7:43 A.M. bold red letters announced. Near had fallen asleep again. He pondered waking the boy up and telling him he needed to get ready for class when the door burst open. Mello marched in, obnoxiously telling Near he had over slept.

However, his voice died out the moment he laid eyes on Near and L.

Eyes wide, Mello just stared. L stared back. Near woke up and rubbed his eyes, but he would probably be staring too, if he were awake enough.

L fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Don't tell me Mello like me, too." L wasn't sure if he should be flattered or freaked out by the fact that he was the love interest of 10 year old boys. He decided to stop thinking about it.

Mello's rather shocked expression turned to one of anger.

"Good morning, Near. Ryuuzaki-san"

"Good morning, Mello." L replied pleasantly.

"Good... Morning." Near said, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"If you don't get up soon, you'll be tardy. You've already missed breakfast." Mello hissed, venom dripping from his voice. Near didn't seem to hear the evil in his rivals voice.

"Oh.. Okay." He responded, yawning.

Mello glared at Near again before stalking out of the room.

L gnawed on his thumb, watching as the boy climbed from the bed and grabbed a new pair of white pajamas.

"Mello seemed really angry, didn't he?" L asked, looking at Near with wide eyes.

Near looked at the detective, sleep still glazing his eyes. "Huh?" he asked.

L chuckled to himself. "Not a morning person?"

"Huh?" Near said again, looking at L as if he had just shouted something in Greek. L just shook his head.

L watched as Near left the room, muttering something about changing. L got off the bed and stood in the room, looking around.

There was a stack of puzzles in the corner. On the top he saw a large box that was taped back together. Curious about it, he went over and picked it up.

He recognized it instantly. It was the puzzle he had given Near. He remember Roger telling him that Mello had smashed the box, and he naturally assumed that Near threw it away.

He hadn't, apparently.

He now had another piece of evidence for Near liking him. He stored it away in his mental evidence cabinet.

Setting the box back, he wandered over to his desk.

It was tidy and uncluttered. He had a stack of paper, a computer, and along the back of the desk were an assortment of small toys and Gundam models. He leaned down eye level with one Gundam, and prodded it with his finger.

It had been glued back together many times.

He peered at the other's and saw the same.

What did Near do, make them and then throw them at walls?

L was inspecting Near's book case when the kid in question walked in.

The hair framing his face was damp, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. His new pair of pajamas looked exactly like his old, only there was a small rip on the ankle.

"I'm taking this book." L said, pulling a book off the bottom shelf. Near looked at the book and shrugged.

"Sure." He replied, grabbing his book bag off the floor and stuffing some papers into it.

L followed his out the door and down the hall. Watari was waiting for him by the front door.

"Goodbye, L. Thank you for staying with me."

L just smiled, saying goodbye and hugging Near quickly. Mello raced down the hall, yelling to L about waiting for him, and threw his arms around the detective, hugging him tightly before rushing down the hall with Near right behind him, already late for class.

L stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the sun. Watari followed him to the car, opening the door for his employer before slipping into the front seat and starting the engine, gliding out of the driveway, on their way to the airport.

L stared out the tinted window, watching the scenery go by, but not taking in any of it.

He remembered one of the conversations he'd had with Nears parents murderer.

"You killed two people about five years ago." L's scrambled voice crackled over the microphone. Lind. L. Tailor laughed.

"I killed a lot of people five years ago. Care to narrow it down for me?"

"Their names were Sean and Willow River. They had a son named Nate."

Tailor laughed. It was a cold, sharp, metallic laugh, like a razor blade.

"Aww, Nate. I remember him. He was the only victim that got away from me."

"How did that happen?" L asked.

"Well, first the stupid bastard fooled me into thinking he was dead, then jumped up and ran away. I couldn't have some kid ratting me out, so I followed him. Man, that kid was fast. Then he broke his ankle. I remember, he crawled up to the road. He seemed so hopeful. Then I was about to stab him through the heart when that wretched car drove up and I dropped it into his thigh."

"Why didn't you kill him?"

"What? You really think I would take the time to grab a knife, dislodge it from a hysterical five year old's leg, and then take the time to force it through his ribs and into his heart while some asshole is about to run me over, his headlights showing every feature and detail of my face? I may be a serial killer, L, but I'm not a moron."

"You have a point there, Tailor." L mused, seeing the point the man had made. "Did you know then that that kid would be the end of you?"

"Oh, yes. I knew from the second I laid eyes on him. He was genius."

L was quiet. Tailor laughed. "I can't believe I was brought down by a five year old kid. How is he now?"

"I cannot disclose that information."

"Oh, come on, I just want to know if he's scarred for life, rocking back and forth in a corner muttering to himself."

L was silent. Tailor just stared at the computer, smirking. "Just tell me how my only living victim is doing." he whispered.

L contemplated what he should do. He knew he shouldn't, but at the same time it seemed okay.

"Of course he's scarred for life." L replied, his garbled voice emotionless. "But he's fine. He is functioning at a way above average level, and wants to become a detective."

Tailor nodded, still smiling.

"That's great." He said. "I'd hate for the only one to survive me to be dead inside."

L cut the line soon after that.

"Ryuuzaki-san?" Watari asked again. L looked at the front of the car.

"Yes?" he wondered.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Tailor."

Watari "hmm"ed and the conversation ended there.

He remembered something else Tailor had said.

"Tell Nate I'm sorry."

"For what?" L sat, wondering. "For killing his parents, or not killing him?"

L didn't know the answer, and he was afraid he would never get one. Everything about this boy was getting more confusing by the day.

He was L's personal puzzle, dropping pieces for L to place and figure out.

Yay! Chapter 7 is up a little more than a week after the 6th! Rejoice!

This chapter was fun to write in class. People kept looking over my shoulder, asking me what I was writing. I was like "You really don't want to know." It's not like they would get it anyway.

Everything past Near's dream was spontaneous, completely unplanned, and is hoping very much that you like it. The whole "L testing Near" thing was random and thought up while typing. Eww, L seems very OOC to me. Eww. TT.TT

Thank you all for reviewing! Internet huggles for each and every reader! I am beyond ecstatic. I hope you like this chapter as much as you liked the others.

-Hybrid