Work Text
Wammy's House was very often a dark, secretive place, both inside and outside of the walls. Even more so after A's suicide.
Even more so after B's breakdown.
A and B were two sides of the same coin. Yin and yang. Light and dark. Good (adjacent) and evil (adjacent).
No one was as affected by A's death as B. And no one was as affected by B's disappearance as Mello.
Near would know, because he and Mello were also two sides of the same coin, and anything that happened at Wammy's House triggered a chain-reaction. They were merely dominoes, waiting to be toppled.
Mello was eleven when B left, and Near had been nine. Any normal child would be too young to understand what had happened, but the kids at Wammy's House were far from the garden-variety. They couldn't be-- the child geniuses taught to suppress their emotions, forced to face the evils of the world the moment they could understand the concept of death. Any other orphanage would've sugarcoated the tragedy, fed it to the younger kids with the least detail possible. Wammy's used it as a teaching opportunity, complete with the live viewing of A's mutilated corpse.
They knew exactly what happened. A killed himself. B went crazy. B dug up his grave. B desecrated the corpse.
Then B killed someone.
And then, B killed someone again.
And again.
B was the same as the serial killers they'd been taught to hunt in all ways except for one-- the level of anonymity only possessed by members of the House. No one knew his name. No pictures of him existed. No legal record, either. No one knew where to find him. He was a ghost.
On top of all of that, he knew how Wammy's operated. How they tracked people down. L had been trying to find him for years, left with only the clues that B had wanted him to find. He could only be found if he wanted to be, their only luck being his House-built urge to surpass the competition by any means. In B's case, the competition was L.
Near supposed that was why, three years after his initial disappearance, he had chosen Mello after L's announcement regarding who would be his apprentice.
Who would be next in line to succeed him when he was to die.
L had chosen them both. B only chose Mello. Mello, being himself, would go where he was the only choice. His pride didn't allow for any other option. That left Near alone as L's apprentice. Something he had been willing to share with Mello, but knew from the start that he would be unable to.
Mello had always seen a bit of himself in B. Near knew that. It was the same way he had always seen fractions of himself in A. Whether it was how Wammy's House tended to mold its residents, how they naturally came to be, or a mixture of the two, no one could deny that A and B were a glimpse into the future for Near and Mello. That tension only rose after the incident.
Only, the pressure wasn't too much for Near. He was just as sensitive as A-- if not, even more so-- but he had learned long ago to shut it down and never feel it. The only person that could break through that override was-- you guessed it-- Mello. The same was true in reverse. Nothing made Mello react quite like Near's mere existence.
So now, eight years after B's disappearance and five years after Mello's, L and Near were still frozen in place on the case. The two geniuses were too dangerous to be left as an unsolved case, but for every step forward L and Near made, B and Mello made two.
They were only found if they wanted to be.
Which was why, on one of Near's few and far between public expeditions (to get a new set of Legos), he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Mello, standing by the Atlas monument, talking to some young man that Near had never seen before.
Near ducked back inside, watching cautiously as he phoned L.
As usual, he picked up halfway through the first ring.
"Yes?"
"Mello is here."
"Is he with B?"
"I don't see B at this time."
"What is Mello doing?"
"He's speaking with a man. He's young-- perhaps twenty-five-- with dark brown hair, a slim build, and glasses."
"Are you able to get a picture of them?"
Near opened his mouth, but as if on cue, the man he was with stood up to leave, and Mello's head turned to where Near was standing in the window.
"I believe he's spotted me."
"Are you in danger?"
"I'm unsure."
"I see. Get what intel you can and come back quickly, please. Do not provoke him."
Near hung up the phone, not taking his eyes off of Mello, who was in turn not taking his eyes off of Near.
Time paused for one second. Two. Then, Mello was moving. Near felt his heart rate spike, but he had to get Mello alone. He moved as quickly as he could, but Mello was walking faster than Near's legs could keep up with.
Near went down the stairs, not looking behind him as he slipped into the men's bathroom.
Empty. L would most certainly scold him for this later. But this wasn't about L, or their investigation.
No one broke down his barriers like Mello did.
The door opened again, slamming as Mello entered.
"Mello," Near said.
"Near. Unexpected, seeing you here."
"Likewise."
"What, you're not going to arrest me?" Mello taunted.
"I have nothing to arrest you for."
Something Mello already knew, he gathered.
"What a shame," he said. "I never thought you'd be wandering around Manhattan. Or anywhere, for that matter. Not a recluse anymore, Near?"
He was stalling. It was a set-up.
Mello, much like himself and every other Wammy's kid, was not one for small talk. Juvenile taunts, rambles, and monologues were all his way of buying time so someone could arrive and carry out his dirty work for him. He didn't have an aversion to violence-- he did whatever he needed to in order to achieve his goals-- but he was still never one to get his hands dirty if there was any way that he could avoid it. A little something to do with the crimson rosary around his neck.
Near also suspected it had a little bit to do with himself.
One thing was certain, though-- if Mello knew he'd be here, which meant that B was likely on his way. It also meant they knew L was in New York.
"How did you find us?"
"You have to be careful on the dark web, Near," mocked Mello. "Any wrong move and your IP can be traced by anyone."
"Right, and I suppose you know all the tricks, don't you, Mello?"
"Of course," he replied. "Some of us are professionals."
"Professionals," said Near. "Right."
Mello clicked his tongue. "Near. Near, Near, Near. Always taking the high road. Always acting like you're so much better than I am. Virtuous, a little saint."
"Why don't you tell me why you're really here, Mello? You can't be scared."
"Can I not just visit an old peer?" The word sounded like it was venom on Mello's tongue.
Near eyed him up and down. "No, that doesn't sound like you."
He clicked his tongue again. "No faith in me."
The constant clicking. The incomplete sentences. Mello was nervous.
He was alone.
"Mello, where is B?"
"Straight to the point, huh?"
"We both know you're not here for a visit."
"Is it wrong to want to get out for a while?" taunted Mello. "If that's a crime, Near, you have all the proof you need."
"Are you doing a job here?"
"Why, are you looking for work?"
Near said nothing, he only glared. The reusable shopping bag in Near's hand clattered to the floor as Mello stepped closer, and Near backwards, pressing his back to the brick wall behind them. Mello took another step.
He was two steps ahead, every single time.
Mello's gloved finger moved a whisp of hair from Near's forehead before trailing down his face. Near suddenly became aware of Mello's other hand on his waist, pinning him in place like the target girl on a Wheel of Death.
Was this a threat or an advance? It was hard to tell with Mello, the two things often presented the same.
Mello leaned down to his ear. Softly, in a barely audible whisper, Near heard, "We'll give you some of the profit, you know. There are plenty of organs you can live without..."
Near avoided Mello's eyes, feeling the difference in their height as Mello loomed over him.
"I'll pass, thank you," Near said firmly.
Mello did not move his hand from Near's waist, opting to ball up his hair tightly in his other fist. "If you'd prefer, you could try it yourself. Cutting someone open. Eating it. You're such a little freak, I bet you'd love it."
"Mello, let go."
He did as instructed, only taking one step backwards. A third click of his tongue. "So serious..."
All bark.
"Who was that man you were with?"
"A representative for a client," said Mello. "Don't be bothered searching, we insured all of the cameras in the area were malfunctioning before we met. They've been looping tapes from five years ago for almost an hour now. The guy I was with has never even seen our client's face, and we don't know his name. We're very careful with our business."
"I'm sure you are, Mello," said Near. "There's no room for error. You're logical enough."
Do not provoke him.
Too late. Mello's expression went from cold and disinterested to a spark of rage in a matter of milliseconds.
Near had known what this meant at Wammy's House. It meant his eye would be black and blue, or his toys would be beheaded, or his block towers would be toppled.
But this wasn't Wammy's anymore.
Mello didn't throw a fit, he merely took a step backwards. His hand drifted to the hem of his black shirt, pulling it up to his abdomen.
Tucked into Mello's waistband was a pistol, sleek and elegant. Near had recalled his interest in Berettas from the House. Some things never did change.
"Yes, I can see your gun."
This only enraged Mello further. "Do I have to put a bullet through your skull for you to understand a fucking threat?"
"Considering the circumstances, I don't think it's wise to threaten my life."
"You're not tapped," said Mello. Despite appearances, Near knew this was a question.
"Correct," he confirmed.
"Then there's no evidence for you to bring back to L," said Mello.
"My only instruction was to keep an eye on you, not to gather evidence."
Mello scoffed. "You only found me today because I set it up."
"Why?"
"Because B wanted confirmation that you were here." Something about his tone sent chills down Near's spine. Mello had changed-- a lot. Yet, he still trusted Mello wouldn't kill him. Harm him, maybe-- but not kill.
"What purpose is that for?" he asked.
Mello clicked his tongue. "As if I can tell you that."
The bathroom door opened, and Mello stepped back at the speed of light as a middle-aged man walked in, giving them a judgemental glare. He couldn't quite hear what the man had muttered under his breath, but it sounded a lot like fucking faggots.
And of course, Mello didn't stick around to give Near any more details.
"We'll be seeing you soon," teased Mello. He stormed out, and the pain in Near's legs didn't allow him to keep up. Mello was already way too far ahead, anyway.
Near opened the door, grabbing his bag and making his way back to the stairs, leaning on the walls for support.
As Near got back outside, Mello was long gone. He took out his phone, staring for a second before putting it back into the pocket of his sweatpants. He didn't need to call L, he'd see him in maybe thirty minutes. They could debrief it all then.
He needed to work it out alone, first.
Near examined the taxi driver even more attentively than usual. The last thing he needed was to be kidnapped on his way back. His examinations did have a tendency to seem a bit... well, creepy, at times. His eyesight was not very precise, so he did need to get extremely close. Most taxi drivers didn't mind, it was only safety.
This one seemed more annoyed than usual, but it could've been due to Near's increasing levels of anxiety.
Why now?
That was going to be his first question for L. It wouldn't be the first time that L had withheld information that he didn't think Near needed to know, or wanted him to figure out on his own.
Perhaps he was in contact with B, or maybe he suspected that there was a new plan in the works.
Near was aware of one time that L and B had been in contact. It was before Mello ran away, but L had informed him of most of the encounter. As expected, he had his secrets, and Near didn't question it.
In the fashion of an old movie, L had gone into his room one day to find B sitting at his desk chair, giving him a creepy smile. If there was one thing B and Mello had in common, it was their theatrics.
L had, even then, been tracing B for suspicion of multiple counts of murder. Three victims, all killed with wara ningyo pinned to the walls of the room they were locked in at their time of death. Again, a flair for the dramatic.
L had seen much, much worse things through his career, as had any Wammy's kid through their studies. B's murder technique was not particularly as unique or interesting as his identity and history.
B. A former student of Wammy's House. The first second-place. A runaway. A serial killer.
A cannibal.
No, his style was not interesting. Given any other circumstance, L wouldn't be bothered with such a trivial case. But B was fascinating. Wammy's House needed to be kept private and secure, something B threatened with every murder. Of course L was on his trail. How could he not be?
Things should have played out differently. The case should have, technically speaking, been solved. Not just discovered, but officially closed. The traditional sense of the matter would point towards B being imprisoned, left to die and rot in jail, but that wasn't how it would've worked out. Wammy's House cleans their own messes.
Or at least, they would.
L had told him that B had been ready to commit one final murder-- himself-- but then, a better idea had struck him. Why not keep having his fun?
The moment in L's room was a courtesy. A taunt.
Just like Near's interaction with Mello today.
They were up to something. Something big. Something drastic.
Judging by the look on L's face as Near opened the door to their condo, it wasn't anything he needed to say aloud.
"Near," said L. "I'm glad you've returned. Please have a seat, we need to talk.