"Is it true you saw a ghost?" Kinoko whispered, eyes wide with excitement.

"I don't know," Near muttered, "Maybe."

"But Mello said you fell into a puddle of blood."

Near shrugged. "It was probably a trick of lights. There were windows in there.. that would be why it disappeared when they turned the light on. It disrupted the light that was making the illusion."

Kinoko pouted. She leaned farther over the seat, fixing Near with her dark brown eyes. "There you go again, explaining things with science."

"When you can, why shouldn't you?"

"But you saw a bleeding body hanging from the ceiling! Explain that with science!"

"I can't," Near admitted, turning to look out the window. He also couldn't explain the feeling of the warm blood on his skin, the stickiness as it soaked into his clothing. He could still feel it, like a filmy residue, clinging to his flesh and the cotton of his pajama's.

"Exactly!" Kinoko said proudly, "you can't!"

In the back of the bus, Mello and Matt sat together, pouring over Near's note and scrawling possible answers on a loose sheet of notebook paper.

"What if..." Mello suggested, "the A's are Y's?"

"And the Y's are A's?"

"Yeah."

"Matt wrote for a second, then looked at the piece of paper cluttered with letters and scribbles. "I think that it works."

Mello sighed in relief. "How many do we have left?"

"Four."

"Good, we're close," Mello said, rubbing his eyes, "what's next?"

"We just have the vowels. They're the ones that don't fit the pattern."

"Let me see." Mello grabbed the paper, and in one glance solved the rest of the puzzle. "E is U and I is O!" He snapped.

"Oh. Well. I'm sorry, I'm sleep--"

"I'm tired too!" Mello barked and began translating the note.

"Figure out this language, and you will find the next clue. So here, decoded. 'Look in the bathroom we cried in.'"

"What's that mean? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"There is nothing that I'm not--"

"I mean, I know you like the little bugger, but seriously--"

"Matt!" Mello invisible-knife stabbed the redhead in the thigh. "You will be silent."

"Y-yes master," Matt managed.

Mello clinked the pen against his teeth. "I can't wait until we get back, this game is so annoying."

Matt blinked. "I thought you liked it."

"Not particularly," Mello sighed.

Pierre say behind them, pondering what he'd just heard.

- - -

Near pushed the last piece into the appropriate place, completing the puzzle. He leaned back and admired it for a second before breaking it apart, deciding to redo it upside down.

"Hello, Near, how are you today?"

"Fine, Pierre, and you?" Near didn't even bother to look up from his task. That annoyed Pierre.

"I heard something very interesting this morning on the way here."

Near remained silent, pushing the white cardboard together.

"Don't you want to know?"

"You're going to tell me regardless of whether I want to know or not."

Pierre chuckled, "Keen observation."

"No, just stating a well known fact."

Pierre walked slowly and deliberately in front of Near, sitting on the floor and making himself comfortable.

"Apparently we have a bunch of fags at our orphanage."

"Are you talking about sticks of cigarettes?" Near was almost finished with puzzle.

"I'm talking about gay people."

"Pierre, many homosexual males find that slang term extremely offensive--"

"Shut up, Near."

Near shot a quick, expressionless glance at Pierre before he shoved in the last piece and swept the white square away from him.

"There are bunch of homosexual retards here, and it is disgusting."

"I don't mind," Near replied, picking up a Rubix cube.

"Oh, so I'm sure you're fine knowing one of them likes you."

"I don't care. There's no law against liking someone."

"My, my," Pierre hummed, smirking, "are you one of the fags?"

"I think it is unwise of you to care so much--"

"So you are!"

"I never proved or disproved your statement."

"God damn you!" Pierre cocked his arm back and swung.

Near was expecting this, but not so soon. The fist connected with his jaw and his head snapped the side. Pain exploded in his mouth and skull, and he fingered the tender area, turning his eyes on Pierre. The other boy, bigger, meaner and presumably older, grabbed Near by his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

"There's no one to protect you now," he hissed, watched Near eye the door.

Pierre's knee hit him square in the stomach, and Near coughed hard.

- - -

"Look for a small, silver box or a puzzle piece." Mello commanded, opening a stall door.

"'kay," Matt replied, checking under the sinks.

"So what do think Pierre is going to do Near?"

"Huh?"

"You know, Pierre was all hating on Near, picking a fight. What do you think will happen?"

"Pierre's a douche."

"Inarguably, but that doesn't answer my question."

"I don't think Pierre will try anything."

- - -

Near lashed out, the heel of his stockinged foot hitting Pierre in the side.

"Ow! Jesus!"

Pierre threw himself at Near, throwing punches and slamming his fists into Near whenever he felt the pale flesh beneath his clenched fingers. Near scratched and fought, and maybe even bit Pierre once or twice, but he was sore and bleeding and covered in bruises. His eyes were swelling, his lip split. His body ached, his arms, shoulders and chest especially.

He swiped at Pierre once more, hitting his shoulder pitifully before letting his hand fall limp to his side. Pierre's beatings were growing less furious, and his swearing was lessening. He was panting and gasping and Near aware that he himself had barely made a sound.

"God fucking damn you, Near," he hissed, "even when you're getting the life beaten out of you, you're stoic."

Near wanted to say something, but he didn't trust his voice to work. He tasted blood.

Pierre delivered one last punch to his rib, causing Near to exhale sharply, unable to draw in breath, and left.

Near whimpered.

- - -

"Where the hell--"

Crish-- crack-- bang-- tink!

"... oops."

"Matt?!" Mello threw open the graffiti-covered door and looked at where Matt stood on the sink, holding one corner of the long mirror up, whereas the other end settled ungracefully on the counter.

"I found it..." he announced timidly, holding up the thin box.

After putting the mirror back, the two boys left the bathroom and started down the hall. Mello opened the box and was pulling out the note when they passed a slightly open door. From behind the door he heard ragged breathing. He pushed the door open and stepped in, finding the beaten Near crumpled on the floor.

"Near!" He yelled, dropping to his knees. Matt was right behind him. "What happened?!"

"Pierre..." Near opened his eyes, but the light hurt, so he closed them again.

"Pierre did this to you?"

A nod.

"That bastard!"

Another nod.

"When I get my hands on him--"

"Please don't." His voice was weak-- had Pierre gotten his hands around his neck?-- but forceful. "If you do something to him, he'll just want revenge again, and I might end up worse."

Mello sighed. "I should teach you how to fight."

"Please do, but for right now I'm bleeding and have lost the feeling in my left arm,. Mind taking me to the infirmary?"

Mello scooped Near up, and Matt ran to keep the door open. The sight spurred a few odd looks, and Matt played Police Officer and ushered people away.

"Nothing to see here, ladies, nothing to see. Move along now, move along."

Mello held Near to his chest. "Do you have any broken bones?"

"Not to my knowledge. He didn't hurt me that bad."

"You look pretty damn hurt."

"Just a little bloody is all."

They arrived at the nurses office, who dropped her ham sandwich at the sight of the small, harmed boy.

"What happened?" She gasped, getting to her feet. She lead the boys to a cot, expecting someone to explain.

"Pierre beat the crap out of him!"

"Pierre?" She asked, wetting a clothe and wiping blood from Near's lip.

"He came into the room, insulted me, and then preceded to beat me into the ground."

"Oh, you poor thing! Do you think anything is sprained or broken?"

"Unlikely, though, my wrist may be sprained."

"Which one?"

"Left."

She began to bend and twist and push on his wrist.

"Yes, pain."

"We'll splint it. Your head?"

"Was bashed a few times. I have a head ache, but nothing presumably life-threatening."

"How about your chest? Stomach?"

"He knocked the breath out of me. Nothing too bad, I can breathe fine now."

"You're sure in bad shape." She whistled, checking his ankles and knees. "Never would've that thought Near would get into a fight."

"I wouldn't call it a fight, exactly." He closed his eyes, which were swollen and purple and hurt to close. "More like a torture session."

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "How did it happen?"

Near sighed, his head throbbing dully. "Uhmmm... I was in a play room, and he came in and starting talking to me about homosexuals at Whammy's. When I didn't care, he became angry and defensive, accused me of being one of 'those fags', and attacked me. I fought back best I could, but..."

She nodded and started splinting his wrist.

"Pierre was such a good kid, too."

I hate to say it, but obviously not."

She laughed and handed him an ice pack for his eye. Near thanked her and put the cold plastic to his pulsing eye. His skin chilled within moments and he shuddered.

"Pierre's a bastard!" Mello seethed, forgotten in the corner with Matt at his side. Near looked at them with his relatively good eye.

"He could be an illegitimate child, yes."

Mello rolled his eyes. "You know I mean the insult."

"When that term was coined, being illegitimate was an insult."

"Near, shut up, you know what I mean."

The nurse clicked her way back into the room, pain killers in a little, paper cup and an ice cold bottle of water. Near took what was offered, and down the pills and some water before smiling at his two lingering friends.

"Thank you," he mumbled with a smile. Mello and Matt smiled back and slipped out noiselessly. They found themselves in the hallway once again, and started walking back to their bedrooms, Mello fuming with intense enthusiasm.

"I'm going to kick Pierre's ass."

"Near asked you not to."

"Near was obviously not in a state of mind to be thinking clearly. If he had been thinking normally, he would have asked me to hunt Pierre down and knock his teeth out."

"What if you had something to take your mind off of Near's attack?" Matt inquired with a mischievous smirk.

"I don't have anything that will make me think of something less than revenge."

"How about... this?" Matt opened his hand to reveal the silver clue box on his palm.

"The clue! I forgot about that!" Mello snatched it away and ran the rest of the way to his room. He flung himself onto his desk chair and opened the box. The note and the puzzle piece were on top of the customary square chunk of cotton.

"I suppose the last clue wasn't so hard, the code was child's play. But I do believe the hiding place made up for it, yes? This next one will be more difficult, not because the clue is especially hard, not even the hiding place is tricky, but you'll have to go on a quest of sorts to get there. I'll leave you with this parting gift: Why not converse with Kinoko? She holds your next clue, though you might have to talk it out of her. Au revoir!"

Mello blinked down at the clue, handwritten in smudge-less black pen. He blinked again. Matt read the clue over his shoulder as Mello reread it to himself, hoping he'd missed something.

"We're supposed to just talk to her? Just walk up, have a normal conversation, and see if she says anything useful?"

"We could ask her if she knows anything. Near may have gotten her in on this." Matt replied.

"No, that'd be way too easy. She's probably oblivious to this." Mello sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. "I guess we have no choice but to talk to her."

- - -

"Why, hello there Kinoko. May we have a minute of your time?" Kinoko looked up from the math homework she was working on and at the two boys: Matt standing there, smiling invitingly, and Mello scouring the note for a detail he might have missed.

"Sure, I suppose. Why?"

"Oh, no reason... Just thought that maybe we should come by and see how you are." Matt continued, sitting across from her, Mello stumbling into the seat between them, mouthing the words to the unusually long note.

"I'm fine," she replied briskly, eying Mello wearily, "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, nothing," Matt laughed, waving off the question, "he gets like this. So, Kinoko, what do you like to do?"

Kinoko returned her gaze to Matt. "You know, you two are really freaking me out."

"Why would he end the note in French?" Mello mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Kinoko asked, scooting her chair away from the blonde.

"Nothing!" Matt sang, leaning over the table, closer to Kinoko. "Anyway, your hobbies?"

"I don't know... I like to paint?"

"Fascinating. Tell me more about it!"

"I.. er... I like color. I paint a lot of... happy... scenes. What is he obsessing over?"

Matt smiled. "Actually, I guess I could talk to you about that. Near, Mello and I are involved in a... scavenger hunt, if you will, and Near make brief mention of you in this clue. Do you have any idea why he would?"

Kinoko shook her head. "Sorry, no. I have no idea what you're talking about. Can I see the note?"

Matt clasped his hands together, and managed to sadly condescending. "I'm afraid not--"

"Kinoko, do you speak French?!" Mello cut in, looking up abruptly.

Taken off guard, Kinoko jumped, slapping the table and yelping, "Yes! Yes, I'm learning!"

"Is Near learning French?!"

"He's in my class!"

"Has he done anything weird lately?"

"I- I don't know!"

"Has hidden anything in the classroom?"

"I'm not sure--"

"Has he given anything strange to anyone?!"

"The teacher! He gave a chemistry book to the teacher!"

"Thank you so much for your cooperation," He sounded more maniacal than gracious. Standing up quickly, and with enough force to knock the chair over, he started down the hall. "Come on, Matt!"

Blinking after his friend with an amused smile, he nodded at Kinoko, "A charming chat this has been. Let's get together again sometime soon." And with that he was up and after Mello, leaving Kinoko a tad frightened and mighty confused.

- - -

"Chemistry book?" she asked, blinking down at the two boys.

"Yes, Near gave it to you recently?"

She placed a contemplative finger to her lips. "I think I may remember. Just a second, let me see if I 'ave what you are looking for." She walked to her desk and pulled the drawer open with a jerk and squeak. There was the soft sound of shifting papers, and the roll of pencils across the metal bottom, until she let out an enthusiastic and accented, "Ah-hah!" and held the book in the air in sweet triumph. "Yes, yes, I remember now. 'e told me that if you come looking for a clue, I am to give it to you."

"Thank you!" Mello gasped, and took the heavy book in his hands.

The teacher clapped her hands together happily. "You are very welcome! I 'ope you figure it out!"

- - -

Mello sat alone as his desk. The clue and chemistry book sat open in front of him.

He stared at them.

He had no idea where to even begin. The book was hundreds of pages; and even if he read it cover to cover, he had no idea what he was looking for.

He flipped through the glossy pages, looking for scribbles in the margins and highlighted sentences, but found nothing. The book was new and pristine and looked untouched.

He crossed his arms and thought.

Somewhere in that book was his answer, but of course Near wouldn't make it easy. Near wanted him to think, to use his mass of grey matter and really get into it.

French. Was that just supposed to get the book, or is there more to it? Should he be looking for French phrases within the book?

But... no, Near would be more creative than that. Near was a genius, albeit a strange one, and Mello knew the boy well enough to know that Near was not going to make his obvious.

He thought. He thought and thought. Should he go talk to Kinoko again? No, Near wouldn't use the same trick twice.

This was difficult.

Mello skimmed through the chemistry book, replaying all of what happened. The mirror, the interview with Kinoko, the chemistry book... The conversations, everything they said, the bathroom... the mirror...

The mirror.

Mello flipped to the table of contents, then to the page that had what he hoped was the answer. All the ways mirrors have been made through time. He copied down the chemicals and contemplated them, rearranging their letters. With a cocky satisfied smirk, he pulled open a drawer of his desk and searched through the junk. He pocketed a single bobby pin and got to his feet, skittering out the door and down the hall. He climbed several flights of stairs, turned several corners, and traverser several hallways before finding himself before an average looking door.

He tried the handle; it was locked, just as he had predicted. Falling to his knees, he bent the bobby pin and jammed it in the key hole, wriggling it around. He listened intently for the click, and let out a small chuckle when it sounded. He turned the knob and peered in.

He clicked on the light. The room was immaculate. No one had lived in here for awhile, and they had left it spotless when they left. And yet, there was a small trail in the layer of dust on the floor, and it led right to a desk, and upon the desk, sitting must obnoxiously, was a small silver box. Mello walked over to L's ex-desk and lifted the lid of the box, extracting the note within.

"Formidable. I hope this didn't take you too long? Your next clue is this: I hope you've been keeping them."

Mello blinked. He set the paper back down on it's little square of cotton, and closed the box. He grabbed it and left.

What could Near mean? Keeping the clues? Yes, of course he'd been keeping the clues. He traced his steps back to his room, and, again, took a seat in his chair. He opened the drawer that had his clues, his puzzle pieces, his boxes, and read and reread every slip of paper until his eyes burned.

How was it he could form sentences out of nitrates and ions, but could not make paragraphs fit together?

He feel asleep at his desk, without a clue about the next clue.

- - -

Near was lonely.

He couldn't remember being lonely for a ridiculously long time. In fact, the last time he'd felt this emotion must have been when his parents were murdered. He was lonely and miserable and all kinds of dark emotions. He didn't talk to anyone, he didn't have the energy.

And now that he was getting deep into these memories, he recalled that Mello was the first person to extend a hand. Or, at least the first person who's hand Near didn't bite off. Mello had been there before Near, and was sick of hearing about this mysterious albino that hadn't said five words since arriving. He finally stomped up to him, arms crossed and lips curled.

"What's your problem?" Was his delicate opening line, accent thick.

Near merely gazed down at his building blocks. He wouldn't give this rude individual the satisfaction.

"Well?"

Near looked up. Eyes met. Silence ensued.

Finally, "I'm a recently orphaned child. What do you think my problem is?"

"Why don't you just get over it?"

Near stared.

"What, you think you're the only orphan at an orphanage? So vanity is disgusting."

Near felt like glaring, but didn't want to expend the energy on it. He merely continued to look up and Mello with a blank but you-effing-idiot look. "You have no idea what I've gone through."

"And you don't know what happened to me," Mello retorted, "but I got the hell over it."

Near felt anger rise like a balloon, two ribs below his heart. "I don't believe you had to go through anything near as bad as what I did. I assume you lost your parents in a house fire? Stolen in the night by the mob, to pay off gambling debts?"

Mello's eyes narrowed dangerously. When he spoke, he spoke in a language Near didn't understand. Russian, he assumed, according to the blondes accent.

It was a whole year before Near found out what he said.

Out of three words, only one wasn't outrageously offensive, and that would be "off."

But all these "heart-warming" recollections only made poor Near even lonelier, and he suck deeper into the bedspread.

Life, as he knew it, had changed. Drastically.

He was talking, laughing, being all around social with Mello-- Mello, who he thought hated him. He couldn't even comprehend that his antagonist...

... liked him.

Wanted him.

Love, lust, life...

he was ten, and already he'd been faced with all of life's major problems.

What would be next? Drugs and alcohol? He pulled the pillow out from under his head and attempted to smother himself with it. His birthday was coming up. Eleven. A whole year. Like that would make a difference.

He gripped his pillow and rolled over. His life was entirely too complicated. He'd witnessed the rape and murder of his parents. He'd fallen in love with a man ten years his elder. He was the love interest of many a student at his wondrous orphanage. Thinking back, this had all started when he started talking. Talking got him in all kinds of trouble. So, coming to the conclusion, he decided he wouldn't talk anymore.

He even paused his even brooding-genius breathing, letting his vow of silence settle over him like snow. But before long he was laughing, hoarse and forced sounding, at the indolence of himself, and dragging his nails down the silky fabric of his pillowcase.

He was delusional of delirious or crazed or possessed by stupidity.

He snaked a porcelain pale arm out from under his covers and grabbed the first book he found on his bed table. It was a German to English dictionary. With a sigh, he began to read.

He was well into the G's when his door burst open.

"Near!" Screamed a cat-eyed blonde, "You suck!"

"Entschuldigen Sie mich?"

"Look!" Mello shoved a paper into Near's face. A bright red A was circled and glaring at him from the top.

"... I see."

"Look closer!"

So Near did. A little one hundred over one hundred accompanied an A, an A he now identified as his.

"... I see."

"Now, take a look at this."

Mello shoved another paper in Near's face, that had another A circled in red. This time a ninety-nine over one hundred hovered next to it.

"... I see." Near said, again.

"The only question I got wrong was this," Mello flipped through the multiple page test before pointing out one. Near saw that it was question nineteen, and that it had a red slash through it.

"What is your point?"

"You got it right, and you weren't even present the day we learned it! How do you do it!?"

"It was pretty obvious to me. You take x to the--"

"Ah! You are so frustrating!" Mello fumed, flailed, and exited the room in a grumbling rage. A moment later, Matt popped his head in.

"Feeling all right?"

Near shrugged.

"Want some soup?"

"Ja bitte."

- - -

You have permission to hate me.

I have a boyfriend (we had our one year anniversary on the twelfth) and I suck and I've had half of this written forever and finished the last few pages tonight and oh my God here it is.

Typos? Yes. Sorry.