Chapter XXVI: Sudden Arrest

My eyes blurred in and out of focus as the street lights flew past us. My sleepy eyes had been gazing out of the window of the car for the last six hours. Everyone had been quiet the whole trip. I had no idea where we were, or where we going. All Nathaniel told me was that he was taking me to see Near. Of course, I had no guarantees that he would actually help me. Near was cold, and methodical. He seemed to think I was okay, at least back then. I was younger than him, only thirteen when he left Whammy's house.

Is it all a dream? Should I even try?

I looked around the dining hall. I had just started grade four, and it was decided I was old enough to be housed and interact with the other children. I was given my special name, the name I was to give everyone, to hide my true identity. I was not Sawyer anymore. I was Sylvia. The dining hall used to be an old cathedral, so it was full of marble moldings on the walls and tall, stained glass windows. I stood near the door, looking across all the tables. Most of the children were solitary, though some were in small cliques. I was among the youngest in the room. I looked over in the corner, and I saw a boy sitting on the floor. His hair was white-blonde, and his skin was extremely pale, with no freckles or blemishes at all. He wore a white shirt that was much too large for him, and blue jeans, and socks, but no shoes.

His head was bent over his jigsaw puzzle with concentration. I watched him click each tiny piece in at a precise interval without missing a beat. I was drawn to the cadence of it, and I started to approach him. As I got closer, I saw that the puzzle pieces were mostly white, some had varying degrees of black on them. I could see from the skeleton of the puzzle he had already assembled, it was forming some kind of letter. He looked with intense concentration, quickly analyzing each piece and putting it into its proper place. He had one hand in his hair, twirling a strand between his forefinger and thumb.

As I got close, my foot lightly tapped a toy truck that lay amongst a pile of toys near him. I bent down and picked up the brightly colored toy. Suddenly the rhythm stopped. He dropped the piece he was holding suddenly and his eyes quickly met mine. They were a bright, almost frightening shade of blue.

"What are you doing?" he said. "Little girls don't play with cars." His voice was soft, with a sweet bell tone. It was almost musical.

"Sorry," I stammered. I set the toy down. I expected him to continue with his puzzle and ignore me, but instead, he lifted the half-completed puzzle and dumped the pieces back on to the floor.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Sylvia," I said.

"That's not your real name, is it?" he said.

"Yes, it is."

"Finally, one of you young ones are smart enough to remember to lie about your name and actually commit to it. Most of those kids out there would reveal their true identities on either the first or second question."

"But I'm not lying."

"You just ruined it for me," he said. "I already know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your name is not actually Sylvia, but it is a moniker selected by the guardians in charge here in this institution. Now your commitment is futile. What's your next step?"

"Umm.." I said quietly. My young mind was having trouble understanding what he was trying to accomplish. But I could understand well enough that he was playing a mind game. Still, I did not know how to answer his question.

"I don't know," I said meekly.

"If your cover is blown, any trust you have established with your targets is now null and void. Trust is the only tool you have to complete your mission. To re-establish trust, I want you to volunteer some information. Are you going to tell me your true name?"

"No."

He smiled. "There might be some hope for you after all."

I squinted at him. His accent was different.

"Are you American?" I asked.

He laughed. I didn't understand why.

Over the next couple of years, I followed Near, shadowing his footsteps. I knew from day one that he was the best. There was another boy who was a close second, named Mello. I never saw him or met him, because he was much older than me and lived in the West Tower with the secondary school children. Near told me a little about him, including a surprising admission at dinner one evening when I was eleven.

"Mello is actually smarter than me," he said. "He's the smartest one here. But he's too emotionless. Too fearless."

"But fear clouds your judgment," I said.

"Fear exists for a reason," he said. "Fear tells us when something is too dangerous or too risky to attempt. Fear is what keeps us out of harm's way. Mello would willingly jump in front of a speeding bus if it got him to a conclusion quickly. I would rather solve the problem in a safer way but less perfectly if it preserved my life."

He picked up two toy robots and set them down, face to face, as if he was segwaying into the next point he was making.

"He's also too emotional," he said. "He's too involved. He's attached to somebody, and that's ruined him. If the person he's attached to is ever threatened, it would take priority over anything. If he wants to be L, the only thing that can matter is winning the game."

Somehow, this statement affected me. I almost felt an aura of disappointment or loss surge through me in that moment.

Over the next year and a half, as I hit puberty and became aware and increasingly interested in sexuality, I would sometimes imagine scenarios, fantasies, about doing physical things with him. At first I was frightened and ashamed, but eventually I had come to the logical conclusion that I was attracted to him, and very emotionally attached. It bothered me to a deep extent, as over the years Near had taught me that attachments were a hindrance and should be avoided. I began to worry that now my intelligence was lessened, I was weaker. But I didn't want to accept it, and I wanted to prove him wrong.

When I was twelve, nearly thirteen, there was a dance held for all the pre-teen and early teen children at Whammy's House. It was a rather uninspiring event. Most of the others were too introverted or too serious to do something as frivolous and silly as dance. Still, I took great care in my appearance before going. I bought a push-up bra from one of the older girls, and took great efforts to smooth out my usually wavy hair. I wore a lavender spaghetti strap dress and clunky black shoes with heels on them. I actually, for once, looked like the other girls my age in the magazines and on TV. I even managed to get a hold of some eyeliner and lipgloss.

When I arrived at the dance, I saw Near in the corner where he usually was. The dining hall had been utterly transformed with balloons and other party décor. It was very dimly lit with a spotlight in the center of the room, designating the dance floor. I went over to his corner. He was wearing what he always wore, and as I predicted, he said nothing of my vanity. I felt as though all of this had a purpose, but I didn't know what.

"I cannot, for the life of me, understand what made the faculty here think that many of us would be interested in anything as ordinary or pedestrian as a dance," he said.

"Roger says that forming human connections is more vital than it is for anyone else," I said. "He says because of who we are and what we're destined to become, connecting with other people is only thing that keeps us grounded."

"Given everything I've told you before, I think you could logically conclude that I think that Roger is wrong."

"Well, I think you're wrong."

He looked taken aback. This was one of the only times he'd ever appeared affected by anything I'd ever said.

"What made you change your mind?" he said. "After all these years of agreeing with me, what's changed?"

"Maybe I changed."

"Nobody changes," he said. "Maybe it's something that's always been there that you never told me? What is it?"

"I'm not going to tell you," I said. "I plan to stick to my position, like you've always taught me to do."

"Are you in love with somebody?"

"No."

"Who are you in love with?" he said. "Your challenging of my opinion has forced me to conclude that you are attached or even involved with somebody. Who is it?"

"You think you're so perceptive," I said, frustrated. "But if you were as perceptive as you think you are, you would already know the answer to that question."

"What are you implying?" he demanded.

"Well, I'm wearing make up and a fancy dress and a bra that's supposed to make my boobs look bigger. We can safely conclude that I'm trying to impress somebody, right?"

"Yes."

"But the entire time I've been here, I've been standing here, just talking to you, right?"

"Yes."

"So if I was here to impress somebody, it's probably because I'm attracted to them and find them interesting and enjoyable to be around. Correct?"

"Yes," he said. "Where are you going with this?"

"But if I'm here to see said enjoyable company, wouldn't one assume I'd be spending time with them?"

"So why aren't you?"

"I already am."

He stopped, looking at me intently, analyzing me like a piece of his puzzle.

"What are you telling me, Sylvia?" he said.

"Near," I said. "Would you kiss me?"

"Wh-what?" he stammered. He usually had a quick, intelligent response to anything I ever said or asked. Now he was speechless. He was a master of anything logical, anything tangible, anything concrete. But now he was stuck over something abstract and illogical, such as the matters of the heart.

"You heard what I said," I said, pressing the matter. "It's a simple question. Would you kiss me?"

"Simple as it may be," he said, "It's not easy to answer."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Wow, never thought I'd hear those three words come out of your mouth."

"That's enough," he said. "Considering the monumental proposition that's on the table at the current moment I wouldn't be ridiculing the party you're trying to convince."

"I wasn't ridiculing you, and I'm not trying to convince you to do anything."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

"I simply asked a question," I said. "I didn't ask you whether you were attracted to me, or whether you had romantic feelings towards me. I just asked you to kiss me."

"Do you think I feel for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "How am I to know the secrets of anyone else's heart? It's hard to tell because you've willingly spent time with me day in and day out for past three years, but you've never declared me as even a friend to me or anyone else."

He looked intense and almost panicked. I knew he was only deflecting while he considered my proposal. He started to twirl his hair thoughtfully.

"Am I your friend, Near?" I said. "At least answer me that while your thumb and forefinger try to find the meaning of life."

He took notice of what he was doing and lowered his hand nervously. I felt guilty suddenly, because I knew that that was probably a security blanket for intense situations.

"Yes," he finally said. "I will admit that I have found your company to be enjoyable and welcome."

I smiled slightly. Finally, a small victory.

"But," he said abruptly, "I am sticking to my original judgment that romantic attachments are an obstacle to intelligent and rational thinking."

"Really?" I challenged. "Because I've had feelings for you for quite some time now. Have I appeared any less intelligent? Any less worthy of your attention?"

"No," he conceded. "I suppose not."

"Very well then. I'm glad to see we're on the same page then."

"You've won this round. I will give you credit for checkmating my logic."

"So what's it going to be then?" I said. "Are you going to accept my offer?"

He sighed and looked away for a moment. I felt my question hanging in the air between us, so thick, that I could almost reach out and snatch it back.

"Okay," he said finally. "I'll do it. I'll kiss you."

Suddenly, my heart took off racing and I felt myself slip into almost a state of altered consciousness. I slowly took a step forward and he did as well. We were standing now very close, so close that I could feel his body heat radiating into my skin. His hands lightly fell on my waist and mine on his shoulders. I nearly jumped out of my skin with the intensity of such physical touch. I had never felt such intimacy before. My stomach felt as though it was boiling over and when I took a breath, it felt as though no matter how much air I took in it wasn't enough. He moved his thumb lightly, almost like a caress. It sent jolts of electric sensations through my body that made every part of me tingle.

I stared into his intense, voltaic, cerulean eyes, and stepped closer until our bodies touched. The stimulation was almost too much for my brain to process. At last I closed my eyes and our faces drew closer, until I could feel hot breath on my lips. When they impacted, I couldn't help but to take a sharp inhale of breath. It was warm, and soft. I felt doped up on the chemicals and hormones coursing through my veins. I had only been anticipating a small, light peck, but instead it felt as though our lips were magnetized like opposite poles, hopelessly drawn together until a strong enough force could pull them apart. At last, slowly, the embrace came to a close and we parted, the sensations ebbing off. I still felt the high from my own body chemistry affecting me.

For the rest of the night, even after going to bed, I lay awake, and every time I recalled that moment, I felt a small jolt of the sensations move through my body in sweet remembrance.

A few weeks later, everything changed. It was a warm spring day. Near had been called up to the headmaster's office. We had kissed several more times after the dance, although he would not acknowledge me as anything more than a friend. We even explored more sexual touching, though it stayed fairly innocent. Nothing more than a squeeze of my butt or a kiss on the neck.

I waited in the stairwell for him to come down and walk with me to the library as we did every Saturday afternoon. At last I heard the sound of a wood door open and close and I heard the sound of soft, sock-covered feet descend the stairs. He reached where I was in the middle, between flights.

"What did Mr. Whammy want?" I asked.

"I can't talk to you anymore," he said suddenly.

My breathing stopped for a moment. I was shocked. I couldn't believe what I had just heard.

"What?" I said. "Why? Did they say something to you about it?"

"No; in fact, Roger seemed to think it was great."

"Then what?" I said, fighting back tears.

"I was correct in my original theory," he said. "Attachments hinder your ability to move ahead. To win the game."

I didn't believe him, and I couldn't understand why he was breaking it off with me.

"I don't believe you," I said. "Are you just too stubborn to admit that you love me? Too proud? It's pathetic and stupid!" I said angrily. "You're too afraid to admit the truth."

"I am," he said. "So stop wasting your time."

The next morning, I found out that he had left the institution. I never saw him again.

Please forgive me for the sorrow, for leaving you in fear, for the dreams we had to silence, that's all they'll ever be...

I felt my weary head press against the cool glass of the car window as we pulled into a gas station parking lot.

"I'll be right back," Nathaniel said, as he stepped out of the car. I watched him disappear into the store. Rain began to fall and form clear, shiny beads on the windshield. Each drop landing with a tiny thump on the car. I looked into the rearview mirror and I could see that Caroline was sound asleep. Nathaniel emerged from the store with a plastic bag in his hand. He approached the car and opened my door. He placed the bag in my lap.

"There's some water and some snacks in there, help yourself," he said. "It's going to be another hour before we get there."

"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked.

"Le Maison de Succession."

"The House of Succession?"

"Yes," he said. "That's where L's successor lives."

He closed the car door. He flipped open the hatch to the gas tank and I heard the sound of gasoline flooding into the tank. I reached into the bag and grabbed a bottle of water and a candy bar. The water was soothing on my dry throat and the candy bar eased the dull ache in my stomach.

After filling the gas tank, Nathaniel got back into the car. We drove off and back onto the highway. After another hour, we came across a small, narrow street that was almost invisible. We continued down the narrow way which took us into a patch of woods. At the end of the street, there was a large estate. It was covered in ivy and at first glance looked entirely uninhabited. But upon further inspection, I could see that it was actually well maintained. I saw a motorcycle parked in a circular driveway in front of the house.

"We're here," he said. Caroline stirred and opened the door and slowly pulled herself out. I too began to step out, but I noticed Nathaniel had not made any movements towards getting out himself. I stood up out of the car, but decided to wait until he had gotten out to shut my door. But suddenly, he reached over and grabbed the door and shut it. Fear struck in me as I saw the reverse lights go on. His car flew backwards back down the drive. My draw dropped in shock.

"What is he doing?" Caroline said, panicked. "Where is he going?"

His car disappeared behind the trees.

"He left us. He left us!" she shouted.

"Who are you?" came a voice from behind us. It was a very familiar voice. It was a man's voice.

"Turn around slowly. I have a gun."