Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m wasting my time.

This was a bad idea. He knew it. But it somehow was the best idea he could come up with.

All he could hear was the clamor of his thoughts, telling him to turn back, rethink the situation, run. Not even the roar of his bike as he skidded over the dark streets, certainly well over the speed limit, was enough to bring him out of his thoughts. 

The streets were dimly lit, the light from the night sky blocked out by the tall buildings that flanked the pathways. The blonde had decided to forgo switching the headlights on, and avoided the main roads. He didn’t need any more eyes noticing him.   

He turned the corner.

Almost there. 

He was barely focused on the road, on which way he was going. He didn’t need to focus. He knew exactly where to find him. 

He parked the bike a few blocks away, deciding to walk the rest, and lifted his hood over his head. Matt was tailing somewhere behind him, out of sight, and would deal with the discarded bike, making sure to cover his tracks. Mello removed the signal jammer that Matt had installed on the bike, and shoved it into his pocket. 

Better not leave any room for suspicion. 

After just under an hour, the blonde found himself on the front steps of his destination, two large glass doors at the entrance, and Mello ducked against the wall next to the doors to peer inside. 

It was dark. 

He realized he was not being very careful as he moved to look closer, but there seemed to be no movement or sound coming from inside. 

Warning bells went off in his head. 

Was this an ambush? 

A trick? 

No, it couldn’t be. A quick glance to his top left confirmed that the cameras situated outside the building had been shut down. They weren’t watching for anyone. 

Why would he disarm his cameras? What’s going on here?

The door was locked, as expected, but Mello was prepared. Matt had managed to hack into the security system and create a temporary profile that would delete itself after a few minutes past the hour. The profile was registered with Mello’s fingerprint data. 

The intruder quickly pressed his finger to the sensor, waited for the small beep and the doors easily slid open, the lights in the entryway automatically switching on at the movement. Mello scowled a bit at this and stiffened, but just as he'd confirmed earlier, there was no one here. 

Hm, security’s unusually lax. 

His mouth thinned into a line at that thought. But he had no other choice. 

Something was amiss, and those bells went off again, but Mello was already here and there was no turning back now. It had taken him two months of contemplation and a few too many close calls that had finally pushed him to make this decision, so he wasn’t about to leave just yet. There was too much at stake for him.

His boots clacked loudly against the white tiled floor as the blonde automatically made his way to the elevator. It was a few floors up from here, but Mello knew this place inside and out, once Matt had managed to get the floor plan for him. 

Still, there was no one else in sight. 

The blonde was on high alert. The eerie silence that engulfed him was loud to his ears. The warning bells started to turn into annoyance in his mind. He’d come this far already, and he employed his usual M.O- he threw caution to the wind. Turning back wasn’t an option anyway. 

He stopped at the tenth floor, the hallway that was revealed past the opening doors unlit and dark. Straight down the corridor and to the left, then the room opened up into a sort of waiting room, with three large sofas filling up the space.

What does he do with all this space? 

The door to the right of the room was closed and Mello could see blue-white light spilling out from under it. There. 

Suddenly, realisation struck him, like the instantaneous crack of a whip that had his mind jolting into action. Putting the pieces into place.

He knew. 

Mello felt the annoyance bubble beneath his skin, hot like lava. 

He’s there. 

Before Mello could rethink his decision, he barged into the room, a loud wooden thunk reverberated throughout the space as the solid door slammed open. 

In the middle of the white-washed room, as the blonde had expected, was Near, his back to him. 

The white-hared male didn't even flinch.

Mello was seething. 

A second ticked by.

Near's continuation to completely ignore him was what caused Mello’s rage to take over as he stepped forward, making a beeline for the only other person in the room.

"You knew." he spat out, the words laced with heated accusation. 

"It's nice to see you too, Mello." 

The obvious nonchalance in his voice, as if Mello storming in here was a normal, everyday occurrence, only made the fire that was stirring within burn hotter. As if Mello barging in here was something Near had already predicted.

He couldn't hold back the primal growl that escaped his throat, threatening and dangerous.  “Don’t waste your pleasantries on me, Near.” he said his name as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. “How?”

“What is the point of a safe house if I’m not aware of what’s happening around me?” the younger asked rhetorically, his cool voice leveled as he picked up one of the playing cards lying around him and balanced it carefully on the top of his card tower.

The blonde’s mind was racing, telling him to do so many things at once: fight, shout, leave. He took a deep, staggering breath, the oxygen scraping into his lungs only fanned at his annoyance.

“So you disabled the surveillance system knowing I was on my way here?” 

“I didn’t want you alerting the rest of the staff. That would mean unnecessary cleanup for all of us.” After a beat of silence, as if expecting Mello’s next question, he stated plainly, “Security is currently viewing stitched footage from a few months ago.”

Those words spoken by the younger was all the confirmation Mello needed and that hot anger ran through him again. He darted forward, his hands moving on muscle memory, pulling out his gun in one fluid motion, and pointed the barrel against the back of Near’s head. 

A second passed before Near spoke. 

“This almost feels like deja vu.”

Mello’s face twisted into an angry scowl, his teeth bared. “Only last time,” he laced his words with venom “you were hiding behind your deadweight bodyguards.” 

Finally, Near angled his head to look back at the blonde, his grey eyes hardening like coal when meeting Mello’s hot orbs. The blonde sharpened his glare, the two of them having entered a match of wits. The gun, still pressed into the back of the younger’s head, glinted as Mello tightened his grip around it.

He feels nothing.

“You underestimated me, Near.”

Near continued to stare blankly back at him, Mello’s words hardened with bitterness and a hurt pride that he tried to hide, but which his violent emotional state only highlighted. He ground out the words again, punctuating each sound with a little click as his finger slowly tugged at the trigger, inch by inch. 

“You. Underestimated. Me.” 

The younger showed no sign of fear, not even flinching nor paying the weapon any mind. “Are you asking?”

Mello would have done anything to break him in that moment, to puncture his perfect façade. 

How could Near possibly trust him to not hurt him? 

No, this wasn’t trust. This was a game of power. Of control. The blonde was sick of his mind games. “You don’t think I would have been able to get this far without any “help” from you, is that it? What were you thinking, making this easy for me and then throwing me a welcome party?”

Still nothing.

“Listen, I hate being underestimated. You know that. So what were you thinking?!” the sharp word reverberated around the room, filling the tense pause as Near remained still. He inhaled deeply. 

He leaned down towards Near, his eyes still locked on those vexingly calm ones. His voice was low next to Near’s ear, dark as the resentment that was simmering just beneath the surface of it all, “I could break your neck right now if I wanted to.”

The younger had probably already worked out the silent threat, but Mello wanted to say it. 

“You shut off your surveillance. No one would know if I ended you. Surely, you took that into consideration when you made your 'calculations'.”

“It was a minor risk.” the boy responded coolly. After a brief consideration, he added, “And it remains to be.”

Mello scoffed, the bitterness still in his tone. “You’re really taking that risk? You’ve already irked me. That 'minor risk' isn’t so small, which I’m sure you’d already worked out in that big head of yours. Unless,” he paused “there is a reason you wanted to ensure I get here?”

Near’s eyes seemed to harden, almost as if he finally wasn’t bored anymore. “You finally asked the right question. I’m surprised it took you so long.” 

Mello growled, his hand instinctively tightening his grip on the firearm and Near made no move, didn’t flinch. Mello studied his face for a moment, searching for a reaction. He didn’t loosen his grip. 

Near shifted a bit, turning to face the other fully. Still crouched on the floor, he looked up at him through dark lashes, silently studying Mello. The blonde straightened, adjusting his grip so that the gun remained trained on Near, but waited for the younger to speak before making any further moves. 

The next words falling from his mouth were spoken like he was simply listing items on a shopping list, “You need a place to hide, you’ve run out of other options, and I would like to make use of some of your special skills in my case.” A pause, and then he trailed off, “Not to mention, your knowledge of the world of organized crime could prove useful to me...”

With a violent yank, the blonde hauled the younger up by the collar of his shirt, forcing him to his knees as the blonde lowered himself to be at eye level with him, angling the weapon under Near’s chin, close to his pulse point. His eyes flashed with warning. 

He always resorted to this- to using proximity, his superior physical strength instinctively as an attempt to intimidate. Only, being manhandled didn’t seem to have the slightest bit of impact on the other.  

His grip tightened in Near’s shirt, so hard that he could feel the dull dig of his nails on his own palm. 

Near didn’t regard him at first, focusing his gaze somewhere behind the blonde’s head.  Disassociated, removed.

Mello‘s voice dropped low as he spoke, dangerously, voice quivering with repressed emotion, keeping himself in check so as not to let his rage explode. “I don’t need to do anything for you. You’ve done nothing for me.”

Near breathed coolly, “I’m not demanding your help. I simply thought you might be interested. Maybe if you would let me finish, you can work out what is in your best interest.”

Mello’s eyes narrowed. 

The younger’s eyes finally met Mello’s. “Helping me or killing me.” 

Near’s levelled voice felt unusually loud with the current proximity.

The blonde grit his teeth. Near assuming that he knew what was in Mello’s ‘best interest’ sent a tremor of anger down his arm. His fingers flexed at the tension, briefly loosening their grip from the younger, before returning to their original hold.

Near continued. “It’s work on one of your old friends. There’s information on the table behind me, if you would care to look through it.”

Mello scowled, glancing at the folder behind Near. He gave the younger another once-over before dropping his hand away from him and pocketing his gun after a brief hesitation. Crossing to the table, he plucked the folder up and roughly flicked to the first page. 

He immediately recognized the photograph of the man inside it. 

A member of the L.A Mafia, an old associate of his. He’d disappeared from the Mafia's watch a few months ago. Without a trace. 

Near interrupted Mello’s thoughts, bringing his hand up to twirl a strand of hair and resuming the seated position he had been in when Mello had first barged in. “He was being followed by the FBI under suspicion of heading up a weapons laundering setup. Just before the FBI could move in on the operation, the base was blown up and all those inside were reported dead.” he paused, then- “And I believe he knew you.”

Mello scoffed, “he’s not dead. He escaped.”

Mello caught Near’s lips twitch into a small smile at that. “So you know a bit more about this case, then.” There was a hint of interest in the other’s tone, before he nodded. “I guessed as much. How convenient for all the evidence of the operation to be burnt to the ground just as the FBI were planning on moving in.”

Mello tossed the file onto the table, watching as it slid over the surface to the edge, almost teetering off, before stopping. “Someone must have tipped him off.” 

“And the Mafia thinks that someone is you. Or at least that you helped hide him. His disappearance has you on the run, that much is clear.”

Mello eyed the younger. It was true, that was exactly what the Mafia suspected. That he was somehow involved in Daisuke’s vanishing act. With each of Mello’s late associates having been killed in the past few weeks, and after two failed attempts on his life by the Mafia, Mello knew they were sending him a message. 

That he was their target. And it could only be because Daisuke was missing.

Near continued, “Yet something about this case has brought you here. You have no other place to hide.” 

Mello growled, spinning around fully to face Near. “Let me get this straight. You’re trying to make a deal with me. You hide me and I help you solve your case with inside information? Forget it, breaking the code of silence would mean my head anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be giving me information.” Near clarified. 

Mello halted at that. “Then what do you want from me? Knowing you, this kind of offer doesn’t come without a price.”

“A risk investment. I hide you and use your network to infiltrate different circles of the Mafia. I simply need your instinct, your ability to think like them, and your unorthodox methodology is something I cannot replicate. Exactly what this case needs."

“So using my name to draw out the Mafia?” Mello’s mind swam with the offer. Near wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks, and if the Mafia discovered Mello working with Near, it could put him in a worse position than he was in now as far as the Mafia was concerned. Not to mention, working closely with Near would go against everything he stood for.

On the other hand, leaving here would be a death wish. There was no other safe place for him to be. Even Matt was already a risk, knowing where Mello was right now. He was running out of options. No, he’d already run out of options, and Near knew that. The threat of the Mafia was already over him, forcing his hand to take dangerous measures. 

Near seemed to sense his admittance of defeat, speaking up again, “Solving the case would mean your leverage over the Mafia. At least as much as you had before they put their target on you. We can find out who is responsible for the target’s disappearance, forcing the Mafia to drop their pursuit against you. By hiding you, I could use your experience with the underground world, your connections-”

“And my willingness to play dirty, right? Bend the law and knock a few heads to get answers.”

The white-haired man nodded. “In keeping you here, I can monitor who’s moving in to find you and you won’t be able to contact anyone to give away the game. That is, if I can trust that I have your cooperation?” 

Mello considered the offer, snapping off a piece of the chocolate that he had retrieved from his coat pocket. With his other hand, he held up a gloved finger, “I have one condition.”

Near remained still, his eyes fixed on Mello’s. He seemed to be willing to hear the blonde’s proposal.

After a second, Mello elaborated, “I have just as much reason to want to solve this case as you do, if not more. You give me access to your resources, your leads, and any information you find, and you can use my name in the Mafia network. I give you my word, I will not interfere with that.”

“I thought you might request something like that.” After a brief pause, Near added, “That’s fine. As I previously mentioned, you’ll be an asset to this investigation, so I’m willing to cooperate if you are.”

Mello smirked, “You know, your whole plan fails if I make one wrong move. Are you really going to bank so much on this alliance?”

Near leveled his gaze, “I’m willing to take that risk. We have the same goal, and even if our personal reasons might differ, we each have something the other needs. This alliance is in the best of both of our interests, if you are hoping to find Kujō before the Mafia does. Or before they find you.”

Near was manipulating him, and Mello wasn't blind to it. Reminding him of the threat of the Mafia to get his cooperation. 

He knew Near was right and he knew that Near wouldn’t risk so much on him without having another plan up his sleeve. Whether or not he revealed it to Mello wasn’t important right now. But Mello needed to find out what it was before Near could blindly turn the tables on him. 

“What about the rest of your team?”

“They won’t have to know about your staying here. They work on a need-to-know basis and their history with you might prove unhelpful to the case at this time.” He added thoughtfully to himself, “However, that might change in the future.”

The blonde clenched and unclenched his fist. This was a dangerous partnership, and they both knew it. Working together, but working against one another would be inevitable. 

The stoic man pulled Mello out of his thoughts. “What do you say? I would say you don’t have much of a choice.”

Trust Near to point out the obvious. 

“And I would say you’re desperate.” 

Mello didn’t miss the hint of amusement in the other’s tone. 

His mind was whirling, turning the offer over in his head to find any cracks. He couldn’t think clearly between Near’s proposal and his pride screaming at him that he couldn’t possibly agree to work with Near. Still, he had come this far.

He was aware of the minutes ticking past as he weighed the agreement they were about to make. This would not mean Near had won. 

“Fine,” the blonde gritted out, crumpling one of Near’s playing cards that had been lying around underfoot. An obvious act of pettiness, he knew.

Near’s lips curved up faintly at the corners, into his signature not-quite-a-smile that was all too familiar to Mello. Cold and unsettling in its amusement that never reached his eyes. Like he was already winning at a game only he knew was being played. 

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” 

Chapter Text

The room was cool, bathed in the bright white light from the multiple monitor screens that lined the walls. This office, on one of the floors of the safehouse, acted as the headquarters for the previously-titled SPK team. 

“I’m pulling some profiles up onto the screen,” came Lidner’s voice from where she sat at her desk. A quick flicker of his eyes and Near took in the names and faces of several individuals. 

“See what you can find on all of them and file it,” came the young detective's response after a pause. In the middle of the room, he was sprawled on the floor, a robot figurine in each hand. This is how most of the day went by: Commander Rester and Lidner sat in front of their laptops, searching through anything they could find on the members of the Mafia faction that Kujō Daisuke was associated with, occasionally narrating their findings.

It had been a week since Mello had shown up at the safehouse, agreeing to be an asset to the case, allowing the detective to play his cards for him and make use of his radical thinking, while he stayed hidden. Of course, Mello had limited access to Near’s investigation, having no contact with Commander Rester, Lidner or Gevanni. Near couldn't risk having the others know that Mello would be staying in the building, not while they still needed to figure out more about the case. 

He knew Mello would be conducting investigations on his own as well during the day, likely not fully trusting Near to be completely transparent with him either. However, with limited resources and no outside contact, there was only so much the blonde would be able to do. 

Near had already decided that this case required both of their best efforts to solve, and he would therefore be sharing the task force’s findings with the older boy. This was also in line with what Mello had requested before agreeing to work together. Besides, there was no point in keeping information to himself that Mello might be able to analyze from the viewpoint of the Mafia and reach a different deduction.

Yes, Near believed his ability to reason critically was on a higher level than that of Mello’s, but there was no denying that the blonde was superior in matters that required more off-beat action and initiative. Not to mention that he had been personally involved in the Mafia- working from the inside was no doubt a valuable asset that Near simply couldn’t overlook. 

Despite this claim, the obvious shortcomings that had come with working with the blonde had left Near’s sanity a touch frayed and his mind working overtime to accommodate the new circumstance. 

Within only a week, the blonde had gone from one abrasive outburst, to cold stubbornness, and then to reluctant agreement enough times that Near could say he’d had his fill of Mello’s emotional range for a few years. But they started finding leads, more names, more locations, things that Mello didn’t know about the Mafia or wouldn’t tell Near, but working together under the tension and scrutiny they put one another through, seemed to have sharpened their reasoning- both of them frustratingly moving to the same goal in parallel, even if the way to get to those new leads had Mello storming out of the room only to emerge a few minutes later again, and leaving Near feeling unwelcomely more drained than he would have liked.

“Iwata Junpei…” Commander Rester said aloud, pausing as he probably read over more of the file on the screen. 

There was a silence in the room now, the two agents having paused in their research, Lidner peering over at Commander Rester’s device. With a click of one of the keys on his laptop, Near caught the flicker of the light as Iwata Junpei’s portrait was displayed on the screens out of the corner of his eye.

“Seems like he worked closely with Kujō,” came Lidner’s next words, thoughtful, as she straightened up to cross her arms over her chest. “He may have been directly under him in rank, if I’m not mistaken.”

Commander Rester shifted in his seat. “Definitely not the type of guy you could afford to lose overnight.”

Near nodded to himself, placing one of the figurines in his hand down on the tiled floor. His fingers hovered over it for a moment. “Tell me,” came his clear voice, “Did Iwata die in the explosion of the base?”

“Yes,” came Commander Rester’s reply as he re-read the document. “His was one of the positively identified bodies. Dental records confirmed it, despite the disfiguration of the face.” 

A pause. Then- 

“...I see.” That was all the younger said in response, knocking over the toy with a flick of his finger. 

Currently, Mello had been given duplicate files of the Mafia members suspected to have been part of the weapons laundering operation, including the file on Kujō Daisuke, whom Mello had seemed to react at seeing the picture of back when he’d arrived. 

Headed up by Kujō and the L.A Mafia, the weapons laundering operation had been a long-term project, something the FBI kept a wraps on and thought was under control, until it suddenly became bigger than they expected and drastic action had to be taken. That was when the FBI planned to move in- only to be met with a bomb attack. The place had been rigged either in anticipation of the infiltration or in case of the infiltration. The former hinted at a mole, either within the Mafia or FBI. The latter hinted at a potential rival Mafia group that had wanted to inhibit the operation from reaching more success.

Near brought a pearly lock between his fingers as he thought on that. 

According to the FBI and the folders Near had been handed for the case, Kujō's death could be neither confirmed nor denied, hence the uncertainty that the operation had been shut down entirely. 

Mello seemed to have immediately recognized Kujō from the picture in his folder- showing more familiarity than simply having known of him, and without hesitation, had confirmed that he was alive. There was such certainty in his claim. It wasn't mere speculation. 

With Mello now being hunted by the Mafia, that only confirmed that the Mafia knew Kujō was still alive and wanted Mello dead as he could be viewed as a liability. 

Near chewed his lip thoughtfully. If this was the case, that would mean Mello could have had more of a role in the operation than he was letting on. 

A big part of Near believed that the ex-Mafia member was innocent, and that’s why he was okay to offer the blonde refuge. He had a strong feeling Mello wasn’t the one who tipped Daisuke off and that he wasn’t the one hiding him either. Otherwise, why else would Mello have come to Near for help in the first place?

Regardless, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the situation painted the older boy in a highly suspicious light.

Near let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The investigation was at a stalemate. With over one hundred FBI and Mafia members dying in the fire, risking further work on the case without a proper investigation of the FBI would mean another death wish for them. 

And now that Near had confirmation about Kujō still being alive…

It’s likely the operation is still active and might have simply moved its base of operations or changed a few hands.

Either way, Mello’s conviction about Kujō's death being his escape made him wonder how deep Mello and Kujō could be connected.

His train of thought was interrupted by a beeping sound that was emitted from a nearby device. Lidner was quick to react, hooking the line up to the big screens before them. “It’s Gevanni.”

Near nodded to himself, turning his focus to the screen where the video footage from Gevanni’s camera was being streamed to. 

“I'm inside the warehouse.”

His voice was slightly distorted, but the picture was clear. The feed showed the inside of what must have been the base where the operation had been taking place. Just as expected, almost everything had been destroyed beyond recognition, turned to ash or melted down to an indistinguishable mess. 

Gevanni walked slowly through the spacious area, expertly taking caution to ensure the video footage was as clear as possible with minimal jolting around of the camera and not to disturb anything in his path. 

“I’m not really seeing anything here-” 

He trailed off, before Near spoke up into the receiver, “There’s a metal door along the wall on the right,” he remembered the layout that he had seen in the blueprints of the building. “Try to get inside.” 

Gevanni headed towards the door which was marginally still in-tact compared to the rest of the warehouse and still standing strong. He quickly found that it was sealed from the inside. Cursing under his breath, a heavy sigh could be heard as the man got to work on the lock. It wasn’t too long after that there was a click, and the door was unlocked. 

Once inside, the scene before them was similar to that of the rest of the warehouse - destroyed beyond recognition. Near briefly noted that whoever had planned the explosion of the base had made sure to rig the inside of that room as well. Clearly, nothing could be left behind. 

“Gevanni,” came Near’s order, “see if you can find a computer that’s still accessible. It appears this may have been the server room.” 

Wordlessly, Gevanni walked around, stopping at what looked like a badly-damaged computer, but beyond the smashed-in screen, it still sprung to life when powered on. In quick succession, Gevanni hooked up the computer’s mainframe to his handheld device, working quickly to hack into the system. It wasn’t long before he was in. 

“There are some emails here that are still salvageable. I'm forwarding them to you now.”

Near directed his next words to the others in the room, “Commander Rester-”

“On it,” and almost instantly, the emails were listed on the screen. 

There were only 4 emails that could be salvaged; one about a potential client for the weapons tech, one about a transaction receipt and the other about a meeting point, time and date that had already passed. 

As for the last email, it's contents had been encrypted. 

Without instruction, Lidner got to work at decrypting the file and Gevanni spoke up again, 

“I think the rest of the drives have been erased. I’m only able to get half-deleted files that can’t be accessed in their state.” 

“That will be fine, Gevanni,” Near started, turning his attention back to the robots on the floor before him, then after a moment, added, “Take a recording of the inside of the warehouse and forward it over too.” 

A pause on the other line and then, “Got it. I’ll do a walk-around.” 

With that, Commander Rester ended the call and got back to work, “I’ll see if the transaction can be traced to give us any leads and if there is any surveillance footage from the meeting point.”

After a few minutes, Gevanni sent the footage of the warehouse and it played on a loop on the screens for a bit. Near wasn’t interested in the footage at that moment. That was meant for Mello to see later.

A few more moments passed as Near recalled the emails that hadn't been encrypted. As far as he could deduce, there was little to be discovered in the way of leads from either of the salvaged communications. Identifying the potential client would send them on a wild goose chase considering they were only identified via a vague alias and would effectively be a waste of time to look into. The transaction receipt appeared innocent enough, disclosing no traceable account or name, and even seemed unrelated to the case entirely. And then regarding the meeting that could have potentially taken place, unless Commander Rester could find anything useful via any available surveillance footage of the meet-up location, there was nothing further to go off on. 

The white-haired boy let out a slow breath. He was almost certain that if there was anything to be uncovered from Gevanni’s visit to the base, it would lie in the encrypted email.

“Near, what are your thoughts on the case so far?”

Commander Rester interrupted his train of thinking.

He hesitated briefly, weighing what he wanted to say. “There may be multiple factions involved in Kujō's disappearance and I need to see how deep these connections or rivalries go.” Near continued, “Kujō worked on the weapons operation and I have reason to believe he may still be alive and planned his escape. I need any intel you can get on the work he did for each party. ”

Commander Rester paused, “Planned his escape? What do you mean?” 

“I suspect Kujō was the one who planted the bombs that resulted in the death of the agents that worked this case before us, and members of the Mafia. There's a chance that he was heading up this operation and saw his opportunity to get rid of the FBI and the Mafia in one swoop, essentially getting away with the money for himself.”

“I see,” Commander Rester nodded. “It’s likely he was waiting for a chance to cross the Mafia and was never truly loyal to them, just used them to get his operation off the ground.”

“Wait, does this mean that Kujō knew the FBI were closing in on him? He had an exact date and time for when they would be showing up?” Lidner asked, her sharp gaze fixed on Near.

Near nodded, “It’s possible there was a mole or an information leak.” 

Lidner cursed under her breath at that, frustrated. An FBI leak was a serious threat. 

Near didn't elaborate any more on his thoughts after that, and the team got back to work. There was no point in more discussion. Lidner and Commander Reser would still need to look into the new information they had found- investigating the emails and, decrypting the fourth email and searching the profiles of each of Kujō's suspected associates.

“Oh, and while you’re looking through Kujō's contacts,” Near started, not glancing away from the screens before him. “See if you are able to find connections with Mello.”

Lidner paused, and Near could feel her eyes on him. “Mello? You think he might be involved with this?”

“It’s merely a precaution,” Near said mildly, not providing any more of an explanation.

The team nodded in understanding. 

It was after Lidner had left that Commander Rester escorted Near to his suite. There was an elevator on each floor and Near preferred not to travel on it alone. Commander Rester never followed him inside his suite, simply waited in the elevator once it reached Near’s floor, before giving the younger a parting goodbye once Near stepped out. 

Tonight, Near was more aware of Commander Rester’s presence next to him, as he had asked him to carry one of the laptops from the headquarters under his arm, along with the box of toys in his other arm. The older man didn’t comment on it, despite it being unusual for Near to make such a request. 

Once they reached the destination floor and Commander Rester had set the box and laptop down just outside the door, as instructed by Near, the other man left. Near entered the room, leaving the box and laptop where they stood. He would instruct Mello to collect it later.

Mello had been given a room on the same floor as Near’s suite, so he wouldn’t be at risk of being seen by anyone other than the white-haired boy himself, and it was here where he had been staying for just over a week now. There were no wiretaps and any surveillance cameras there, were only accessible to Near. 

Mello was sitting on one of the couches when Near walked in, nursing a bar of chocolate, and the pajama-clad detective couldn’t miss the slight way that Mello’s shoulders tensed, stiffening ever so slightly. 

The younger had noticed Mello being somewhat on edge since he’d been staying here, and could only speculate that the threat of the Mafia was working its way into the blonde’s psyche. 

That, and that working together wasn’t the least bit comfortable for either of them. 

“You haven’t wrecked my living room yet. I’m surprised, Mello.” 

The blonde lifted his bright eyes to meet Near’s, hard and without any amusement in them, “Funny.”

The younger made his way over to where the blonde sat, settling himself on the floor before the low coffee table where the case files were sprawled. “It wasn't a joke,” he stated matter-of-factly. “My suite getting a little trashed was actually one of the risks I had considered.” 

He heard Mello scoff, “careful what you wish for. It's still not too late for that to happen.”

Near didn’t offer a response. He simply picked up one of the documents off the table, paging through it tentatively. 

Neither spoke for a moment, and just as Near had predicted, the silence got to Mello. The sound of the pages being turned seemed louder, and the slight creak of the couch as Mello shifted his weight on it to lean forward reached the younger’s ears. Near didn’t need to look at him- he could sense the blonde’s restlessness building in the air in that tell-tale hum that seemed to always precede his outbursts.

“Well?” the blonde asked, his voice hard, betraying a hint of annoyance. Impatience. Near was surprised he was trying to hide it. “Remember your end of the deal? Or could it be that even after a whole week you have no new leads?”

Near weighed his next words before he spoke, “the intel we acquired today is at the door. You’re welcome to fetch it if you would like.”

There was a sharp scoff, almost a laugh. “Cute. You seriously think your little leads are so important that I’ll just bend over backwards and become your errand boy? You forget who you’re talking to.”

“I simply assumed you would rather go over the intel yourself than have me recount them for you.” the younger stated evenly. “I am well aware of your reservations in trusting me and my conclusions.”

Mello let out a sarcastic laugh. “Right, that’s because you keep your cards close to your chest. You act like you’re giving me the full picture, but I know you better than that. You win by staying one step ahead.”

“You overestimate my investment in trying to outdo you,” was the automatic response. “As I recall it, you are the one fixated on trying to best me.”

There was another shift in the older boy’s posture before he spoke again. “You forget,” Mello stretched the words, “My life is on the line here. I’m not playing a game with you, Near, so don’t start trying to get under my skin. ”

“I shouldn't think so.” Near paused. “Considering the importance that we urgently make headway on this case, provoking you would be pointless for both of us. That being said,” he turned another page in the folder before closing it and placing it down before him. “ I’m certain you’re more interested in that intel than in making a point.”

That seemed to get Mello to still for a moment. 

And then, in one swift motion, the blonde stood, seeming to pause there, standing next to Near. Out of the corner of his eye, the younger could see the other’s fists at his side, clenched and shaking. The barely restrained aggression shouting at him to do something. 

Near briefly wondered why he was holding back again. 

“Always gotta be so high and mighty, don’t you? You always have to be right.” The blonde’s voice was tight, strained.

Near didn’t respond, didn’t look over at him, opting to ignore him. It was pointless arguing about something that they were never going to be able to solve.

He let his eyes slip closed into a slow blink. Controlled, calm, before reopening. 

A gloved hand moved sharply, possibly to make impact with something, anything, but was rather shoved into his pocket, and Near didn’t flinch, didn’t stiffen in preparation of impact. Arrogantly, Near knew Mello wasn’t going to land a blow on him. If there was one thing he knew, Mello acted impulsively, but wouldn’t take action as long as Near wasn’t feeding his fire. Or if he felt he had the upper hand. Small wins such as holding back from lashing out or having the last word ensured Near’s safety.

The blonde decided to speak again, his voice low in warning. “But don’t think that I’m just gonna sit back and play nice. You can pretend to control the pace of the investigation, decide when to act. But we both know that I will step out of line. And then your whole plan will collapse around you.”

It wasn’t trust that he had for Mello. 

In those moments where Mello raised his voice or held a gun to his head and the younger showed no signs of fear- that was not trust that Mello wouldn’t pull the trigger. It was Near’s confidence in his characterization of the blonde and the nature of his anger, that he simply couldn't pull the trigger. 

A growl escaped the blonde from somewhere above him. “Say something, genius!” he snapped. 

“I have nothing of value to add, if your goal is simply to anger and not resolve anything. Working this case requires cooperation from both of us, which I assume goes without saying.”

The blonde turned to him sharply at that. Near didn’t move to look at him.

“You keep acting like that- like you don’t feel anything, like you’re better.” he paused, either gathering his words or making sure Near heard him. “And one day, I will be the one wiping that smug look off your face.”

That was where Mello was wrong. 

Near did feel emotion, which was something most people overlooked, thinking he felt nothing. In truth, however, while he did feel emotions, he simply repressed them, opting to not act on emotion, as they simply hindered his ability to think clearly.

This was the complete opposite to how Mello operated.

Near lifted his gaze to follow the line of Mello’s body, needing to tilt his head slightly given the proximity. 

He let a breath pass between his lips, not quite a scoff but the effect was the same, before stating flatly, “If that is the case, I advise that you do not delay in your intent too long.” he paused. “You typically fail to follow through with your threats.”

The reaction was as instant as it was predictable. The blonde simply clenched his fists tighter at his sides, his jaw twitched and his eyes flashed angrily. But he didn’t move to grab Near.

He knew he wouldn’t. 

Not yet.

Mello, without fail, fell into predictability, his actions repeating themselves, and Near could always count on his anger to ensure his consistency. Anger meant Mello relied on instinct and instinct was easy to trace, to anticipate. It didn’t evolve like thoughts did.

In fact, Near was almost entirely convinced that Mello would retrieve the laptop without any further input from himself. He would work it out in his head to have the last say, but still complete the task regardless. 

A foolproof formula.

“At least I’m not the one who just sits back and lets someone else pull the trigger for him.”

Near acknowledged the words fall from Mello’s lips, dripping like acid, but he didn’t say anything, knew anything more that could possibly be said was better left unturned. He simply regarded the other with that same façade, taunting Mello with his calm. 

He cast his eyes to the side, his hand slowly reaching for a playing card that he’d previously discarded. 

“Fine,” the other hissed, and turned around sharply, away from him, his shoulders squared. “Don’t say anything. That's what you’re good at- pulling back before you’re the one on fire and watching the smoke from afar, acting like you’re above it all.” He started walking away, to the door where the laptop and box were. 

Near still didn’t say anything.

After only a few steps, the blonde paused, directing his bitter words at Near. “Don't act like you don’t need me to work this case with you. You said so yourself, you require my skills.” his voice shook with barely contained restraint. “But don’t forget this- it’s only a matter of time before I do things my way.”

The heated air between them shifted and any icy chill settled in its place.

Still, the younger said nothing, unaffected by the weight in the room. He glanced down at the card in his hand. 

The Joker. 

The wild card that doesn’t follow the rules of the game. Foolish or fatal. Equal parts harmless and dangerous.

A flicker of amusement touched his lips but was lost before it could be traced. 

Chapter Text

The footage was slightly shaky, blurring at the beginning before clearing up, and then, Mello was seeing the aftermath of the ordeal that turned his hands cold at the sight.

The video seemed to be tinted red, as though a filter was over the lens, but closer inspection revealed that was not the case. Blood and burn lined the walls of the warehouse, the floors streaked and bits of iron hanging at odd angles. Burned bundles were lying about, and judging from the damage that the explosion had caused, Mello was surprised the warehouse was even recognizable as a structure. 

For a brief moment, he was transported back to when he’d survived his own bombing incident, the reminder on his face still that- a reminder. 

Shifting slightly, Mello pulled himself from his thoughts and returned his focus to the video, the small screen having him lean in a bit.

A server room on one wall, boxes piled high at another end of the warehouse, were now splinters and rough cubic shapes. Then the video ended. It replayed automatically immediately after it had ended, and the second time, he noticed something. As the camera moved to the server room, Mello’s eye caught sight of an upright bullet shell perched on one of the servers.

Was that intentional? 

Mello begrudgingly glanced over at the younger detective a few feet away from him, seated neatly on the carpeted floor, his back to him. His slouched posture was indicative of the late L and for a moment, the familiar flicker of jealousy made its way into Mello’s chest. This wound that was never healed and probably never would be. 

He took a deep breath to steady himself.

It was frustrating being here. It felt as though Mello had sunk to the lowest low, having to seek out the younger’s help, while Near seemed to be thriving- holding the title that Mello had wanted for much of his childhood and adulthood. 

That Mello had to harbor this rivalry while Near was unaffected; blind to his own privileges. His nonchalant facade perfectly in place in his clean, sterilized world. Where things came easily to him; the title of L, an FBI team working for him, while Mello had needed to carve a space for himself in the Mafia and build his respect from the bottom. 

All for that to mean nothing now that he was on the run.

A frown settled on his features and something close to disgust rooted itself in his gut.

I’ll find you, Daisuke. 

If it meant he would get out of here, he needed to find that man.

Mello paused the video and aimed his next words at the other, “what did your team gather from this?” He wasn’t going to share his thoughts without first hearing what Near had learnt. He needed to know if he was missing any information in the picture. 

There were random objects and toys in front of where Near sat, and Mello noticed he was stacking dice, as if he if was slowly building a wall, not just out of habit, but with the quiet precision of building one that mirrored the mask he never let slip. His hand stilled at Mello’s question, holding the dice in mid air for a second before carefully placing it. “Gevanni was able to recover some emails from the server room. Three of them you can find on the laptop if you wish, the last one is still being decrypted.”

“And what about the warehouse footage? Did he find anything else there?” he asked roughly, sounding clipped, even to his own ears.

“No. He didn’t,” came the steady answer. Then, “what have you managed to find?” And now Near had turned his head to cast a sideward look in the blonde’s direction, those blank orbs somehow expectant.

Mello felt the furrow at his brow deepen. He found it hard to believe that there was nothing else Near and his team had managed to uncover, and decided against that small part of him that wanted to lie and not reveal what he’d found. 

He grit his teeth. Finding Daisuke was the only way he was going to get out of this mess. 

“It’s a bit of a long shot,” the blonde started, “but Mafia groups have their own signature way of marking a job they did, like leaving a playing card at the scene. It's to communicate with other operatives that they’ve done their job.”

“I’m with you,” Near confirmed when Mello paused, and he pulled himself slightly more upright, before scooting himself over closer to the couch, robot in hand, settling next to Mello’s leg, still on the floor. And despite himself, Mello pulled his leg a few centimeters away from the boy, as if repulsed by him.

Near didn’t seem to notice or rather didn’t pay it any mind, instead, angling his head to look at the small laptop screen on the table in front of them. 

Mello resumed the video and after a beat, Near spoke, “I see. The upright shell. Could it be the signature that you were talking about?”

Mello shrugged, “like I said, it’s a long shot, but if it is a signature… Then it would mean that a rival gang didn’t do this. Nor an outsider.” He paused when the video replayed again, watching the screen keenly. “That’s Daisuke’s calling card.”

A moment passed.

Then Near’s hand went up to twirl a strand of hair, a behavioural habit he hadn’t grown out of. “I see.” And quietly, Mello might have missed it had Near not been on the floor next to him, he added, “That’s something to consider. A confirmation that Kujō did indeed escape from the explosion, if it was he himself or one of his men that had placed the bombs.” 

Mello glanced down at the other out of the corner of his eye. Near wasn’t looking at him; was watching the screen. Mello felt pensive, waiting for Near to deliver a blow, a cold insult veiled as an observation, but it didn't come. 

How did your team miss that?

He hated himself for the childish pride that briefly made itself known to him, having provided insight that Near’s keen mind might have missed. He clenched his teeth and roughly turned the laptop to face more towards him. Hated that he still needed to feel validated by his rival, after so many years.

Competition that he had been encouraged to pursue growing up at the orphanage, where everyone compared him to Near, told him to be more like him. And though Mello was well past those teenage years, time hadn’t removed the inferiority complex that Whammy’s had nurtured in him.

His eyes lingered on Near’s figure beside him, the scowl never settling into something lighter. We’re on the same side. And I’m still competing with you.

All at once, Mello was too aware of the silence between them- of Near’s stillness and of the familiar feeling of unplaced annoyance turning his blood to a low simmer. Their one-sided rivalry claimed the space between them. 

How can you feel nothing? 

Hating the silence that stretched, a part of him despising the side of himself that still held onto the competition between them, the blonde needed a distraction and switched over to look through the emails. He wasn’t in the right space to address why he needed to change his mindset. He never was.

The emails were almost frustratingly worthless. He found none of them particularly interesting and assumed Near and his lackeys had also come to the same conclusion. 

He could look into the potential client mentioned in the first email, but a quick glance at the sender’s name and multiple redirected loops confirmed that tracing it back to any name at all would almost be a waste of time. The transaction receipt was even less interesting, revealing surprisingly normal data for a criminal organisation, and visiting the meeting point mentioned in the last email was also probably not going to reveal anything new since the Mafia never hit the same location twice.

How was it possible that even after a week, they still had no new leads on how to find Daisuke? 

He felt that earlier urgency burn hotter into frustration, jumpstarting his muscles into action, and without thinking, he slammed the laptop shut.

The sound did little to ease the tension he felt in his arms, less did it actually give Mello a new lead. He hated being here; he needed to find Daisuke so that this whole situation would be over. 

“Let us not add property damage to your list of sustained threats.”

Mello abruptly turned his head to look at the other, the motion sharp and like a whip. “Don’t push me Near.” It was a warning, spoken through clenched teeth, Mello's jaw tight, and one that Near would be smart to listen to, considering he knew well that Mello had a short fuse.

Near’s cool gaze easily met Mello’s, and he spoke, almost slowly as if testing the blonde’s patience, “I barely touched you. If I'm not mistaken, you were already teetering at the edge.” And then he briefly cast his eyes to the now closed device, adding quietly, “and you took it out on the laptop.”

Mello’s eyes burned into Near’s head, “you’re lucky I didn't take it out on you.”

There was nothing between them, no shield, no barrier and Near was sitting too close for Mello’s sanity, too close to allow Mello to snap. 

Near’s eyes strayed from the older’s, as if bored of the conversation, “I fail to see how your frustration could be sated by taking it out on me. All that would accomplish is a hindrance to solving the case, which works against your judgement considering the nature of your frustration.”

It was always Near who knew how to push Mello’s buttons, the same way Mello knew how to push Near’s, and judging by the lack of surprise on either of their faces, they both saw his next move coming.

Mello’s hand shot for the younger’s chest, fist curled in the fabric of his shirt, forcing Near’s body to turn towards him as he pulled the other closer to him. Mello remained seated on the sofa as he leaned in slowly, voice dropping to a low threat.

“You don’t think this would satisfy my frustration?” 

Near didn’t say anything, didn’t react.

His eyes still weren’t looking at Mello’s, and the older detective tried tirelessly to search his face. “Why are you rising to the bait, Near? Or is it that you just like to have the last word?”

He didn’t understand what the younger was angling for. Was he trying to inspect Mello’s frustration with the case in order to draw his own conclusions about the nature of his involvement with Daisuke? Was he simply trying to rile him up so that he would crack and Near would come out calm, superior, forcing Mello to acknowledge his inferiority? 

He scoffed. It always came down to a game of power between them. A battle of wits and control. 

Of first and second.

His hand shook slightly with the force as his grip tightened.

Still nothing. 

“Don’t just ignore me!” 

A slow blink of those thick lashes. Mello would have preferred he fight back. This silence was worse.

Do something!

Seeing the toy robot in Near’s grip, the blonde wrenched it from his hold with his free hand. The motion seemed to get the younger’s attention, his eyes lifting halfway to barely meet Mello’s orbs.

“Is this all just a game to you, Near?” his words were loaded, dangerous like the pressure that was pressing in on the figurine between his fingers. He tightened his grip around it, having half a mind to toss it somewhere out of sight. “Does seeing me lose my temper make you feel like you’re better than me?”

“No,” came Near’s monotonous response, a single word that was spoken too close to Mello’s face. There was no emotion in it, but the older briefly caught Near’s fingers twitch at his side. But he never moved to reclaim the toy. Didn’t even look at it, his eyes locked on Mello’s.

“Then what is it?!” he searched the younger’s face, cold eyes staring back, unwavering, and the next words died on his tongue. The only thing left was the bitter taste in his mouth. He scoffed, a little incredulously, painted with distaste. ‘Man, you’ve got such an ego.”

The sick thought that Near was purposefully trying to rile Mello up to make him feel inferior had him dropping his hand from the collar of Near’s shirt almost immediately, as if scathed. The robot also fell to the floor.

Pulling his leg under him to resume his seated position from earlier, the younger finally spoke, “I’m sure you’ll find a more constructive outlet for your frustration. I’m not here to give you the reaction you’re looking for.” 

Mello growled low at that. “No, you’re just here to drop some smart observations and watch me blow up.”

Then Near plucked up the robot that Mello had dropped. As if their faces hadn’t just been inches apart and he had not just been roughly handled by the blonde, he placed the robot on the table, made it walk over to Mello, aim at him with the laser on his arm, but never fire. And Near left it like that, glancing over at the blonde and Mello understood the unspoken challenge. 

Scoffing, Mello shook his head, bringing a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “You know you’re a freak, right?”

To his own ears, he was surprised to hear that his voice had lost most of the tension that had been in it just seconds ago.

Near’s eyes easily found his at that point, and a look that Mello could have mistaken for satisfaction rested on his face as the other spoke, “A freak and a wildcard. What a team.”

Mello stilled despite himself, Near’s words hanging in the air, strangely out of place with the rest of the tension that had been stretching between them, and Mello was left to wonder if the other had somehow attempted to console him in his own weird way, that they would find Daisuke despise the slow progress.

He decided not to acknowledge Near’s use of the word ‘team’ that had grated on his nerves a bit. 

Chapter Text

He ruffled through another batch of files, thumbing the pages in quick succession, not even reading the words presented before him. He had memorised these documents front to back, and could just about recite them by heart. 

In a rare display of frustration, Near tossed the folder that he had been sifting through back onto the table that was at shoulder-height with him as he was sprawled sitting on the floor. He almost wanted to sigh at this inconvenience - it didn’t matter how many times he looked through the various folders, he just couldn’t seem to find any new leads. 

Kujō Daisuke. 

The man had been a highly regarded member of the Mafia, heading up the weapons laundering operation, his mental prowess apparent in how close he’d come to turning this into an international crime case, not simply a mob issue. Near was the best asset the FBI had, and the best decision to fix the blunder the FBI had made, and Near suspected that Kujō was still operating in the shadows, the risk of his unfinished project still a threat.

The only thread of new information they now had was Kujō's calling card, which confirmed that the warehouse bombing had been an inside job- one that Kujō had organized. 

The white-haired man stood up slowly, taking calculated steps around the robots and cards and dice lying around the floor without looking down as he made his way over to a sofa chair. He knew exactly where everything that was strewn across the floor was. It was an organised mess. 

He let a slow breath pass between his lips as he sat down, feeling the cool breeze of the air con on the back of his neck. The summer heat could be felt even at this hour of the night. 

He cast his grey orbs to the full screen television set mounted on the wall of his living room that showed the news almost 24/7. The news reporter’s hard blue eyes brought a fresh thought process to Near’s mind.

And then there was Mello. The blonde had shown considerable signs of knowing the man at the centre of this case. Near suspected they’d worked together before, but hadn’t managed to determine how deep their partnership went. But now that Mello was the target since Kujō's disappearance, something told Near that Mello knew a bit more. What role did Mello play?

“Is this all just a game to you, Near?”

He sighed for the second time that night as Mello’s words played in his mind, a slow, controlled breath being released. 

Despite his mind being deep in thought, his body was trained well enough that even when the blonde suddenly appeared in his peripheral view, claiming a seat on the lounge suite in a way that was both territorial yet elegant, he didn’t flinch. 

The corner of the younger's lips twitched. How amusing that Mello could not manage to drop that easy dominance act even in relatively unfamiliar territory. He briefly wondered if this was a ruse to hide any unease at the situation, or if being in the Mafia had further amplified this side of him. He absent mindedly twired a strand of hair around his index finger.

The living room of Near’s suite was where they sat now, Mello having just emerged from his room, possibly having just showered, by the looks of it, his blonde hair a touch darker at the ends where the strands were still damp.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Near didn’t answer the blonde for a moment, focusing only on the way the breeze at his nape shifted the curls in his own hair. The familiar sound of Mello pulling out a bar of chocolate met his ears. Finally, he awarded a response,“You seem uncharacteristically relaxed. Compared to the past few nights, you appear to be more comfortable.”

“What’s the point in being on high alert?” he snapped off a piece of chocolate between his teeth. “Also, I hope that wasn’t just a really bad attempt at changing topic.”

Near still hadn’t turned his head to fully regard the other, instead, observing out of the corner of his eye. 

“Of course,” the blonde weighed his next statement, “you’re probably scheming; trying to figure out how you’ll get me to give you more information about what I know,” he paused to take another bite of chocolate, the loud snap oddly poetic here, given how quickly they could go from talking to being at each other’s throats, as the previous few nights had indicated. 

It was no surprise that each night was like walking in a landmine. 

The blonde turned his steel blue eyes onto Near, burning into the other with his sharp gaze. “Well, you’re smart enough to know that I can’t give you anything on the Mafia.”

“I don’t expect you to. As I said before, I don't need you to reveal secrets of the Mafia.” 

The blonde scoffed, a haughty sound that was both dismissive yet disbelieving. By the sounds of it, he was probably doubting that Near didn’t need information from him. He knew that Near didn’t have too many leads to go on in this case. The Mafia was like a top secret organisation. They knew how to cover their tracks, mitigate suspicion and get rid of anyone who showed a threat without so much as even raising the questioning brow of the police. He would know even Near would be stumped. 

With a swift motion, Near stood up from the single sofa chair and crossed the room towards the larger couch, seating himself back on the floor where he had been earlier, as if closing some of the distance between them would bring him that much closer to finding something useful from the blonde.

He lifted up a file with transaction statements and placed them on the small coffee table, before where Mello sat. The blonde regarded the folder with a raised brow. 

“How long has the Mafia had their target on you?”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, the blonde leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his knees and picking up the file. “Thought you didn’t need answers.” he stated dryly.

The way the dim lights caught his golden strands briefly transported Near’s memories back to their younger days. Back then, they’d had a chance to work together. Then that chance had been thrown away. 

“Call it general curiosity. As long as you feel like talking, care to explain your situation? I don’t think you’ve told me your role in the Mafia yet.”

A wry chuckle escaped Mello’s lips. “Huh, and I thought I must have gone crazy when I even thought of asking for your help. Now I see that you need my help more than I need yours.”

“I wouldn’t say I need your help more. Let us not forget that you have a bounty on your head.”

Mello’s response was quick, sour,  “and there was a time I would rather have died than work with you.”

Near was surprised that Mello had brought that up, his own eyes widening almost a fraction at Mello’s words, going unnoticed by the blonde. It was that stubbornness of Mello that had always put a wedge between them and any collaborative efforts Near had tried to extend towards the blonde.

In this rare moment where Mello was pointing out his own contradictions in his firm belief against working together, Near didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity to study his reasoning behind his agreement to being here. He busied himself with the deck of cards that lay on the floor in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Why the change of mind?”

He heard the blonde tightening his grip on the folder, not needing to look at him to know that Mello had stiffened. Near knew this wasn’t the safest territory for either of them to tread on; with the floor beneath them shaky and wanting to give way at the smallest movement, the younger held his breath.

At a glance, he caught the blonde chewing the inside of his lip in consideration. After a long moment where Near expected a change in topic, Mello responded. “It’s true, I would rather be killed by the Mafia than come to you. In the end, I have no fear of being killed by them, don’t get that wrong.” A pause. Then, “It’s the fact that I’m being blamed for something I didn’t do.” 

Near glanced at him after those words filled the room and something close to a wave of satisfaction washed over him.

The blonde continued, quietly, almost as if sharing a secret that he hadn’t realized he’d admit to, “I’m trying to leave the Mafia behind me. This situation… it’s not helping. And I know Daisuke needs to pay.”

Near felt a small tug at his lips. So his characterization of Mello’s motives was still correct. Mello still had a strong sense of self-righteousness, justice. Even during the Kira case, on two occasions, Mello had put the case above his pride, sharing intel with Near and even almost sacrificing his life just to give Near what he needed to stop Kira.

Even then, he had rather worked with Near than let Kira win, even if on the surface, it hadn’t seemed like it. 

It was no different now.

Near turned to Mello, deciding to give him a slight smile “I see. So we do have the same goal, then.” 

Mello clicked his tongue, “Like I already said, this doesn’t make us a team.” His eyes seemed to flicker over Near’s lips, likely surprised at the smile he was receiving, almost looking unsettled.

“No,” Near agreed, letting that cool mask slip back into place. 

For once, the air between them seemed to settle, an almost calm atmosphere surrounding them.

Near broke the silence, “With that being said, it’s clear that you and Kujō worked together, or at least, you were associated with him.” He focused his gaze on the blonde, searching his eyes for any indication of an answer.

“Don’t phrase it like it’s a question if you’ve already got the answer. What you really want to know is how long we’ve worked together, right? How long ago we were in cahoots.”

The smooth response was loud in the quiet room. “Since you already know what questions I have, it seems like you might be prepared to tell me more about your situation, Mello.” 

Mello scoffed. He placed the heel of his foot on the knee of his other leg, the leather of his boot catching some of that drab lighting that seemed to match the decor. Another bite of his chocolate and Near knew he was determining how much he could- no, wanted , to say. Mello didn’t want to make this easier than he needed and Near wouldn’t have been surprised if Mello wanted him to grovel for the information.

But in a rare moment, Mello had managed to do the unexpected. Something he hadn’t really managed to do often.

“We dealt with a few affiliates together. Recon stuff, gathering intel,” he paused, fixing his eyes back on Near’s. “Nothing major.”

Near let his eyes linger on the blonde’s face, searching for more information. He knew Mello was still holding something back judging by the hard set of his jaw and the way he passed the bar of chocolate from one hand to the other once, twice- a restless motion he probably didn’t even notice himself. But it didn’t matter at this point. He would find out what it was in due time. For now, Mello was talking, so Near didn’t want to stop him. 

“He’d worked with others before, not just me, but I won’t give their names.”

Near nodded, having assumed as much. The blonde was sworn to secrecy, after all. 

“The last time I worked with him on a mission was a few years ago. He was heading up the weapons laundering operation, but I wasn’t part of that.” 

“Did you know about the operation at the time?” 

The blonde shook his head. “Not from him, he never said anything. But I figured something was up. It was around the same time I got out. Decided to work for myself, do my own thing. And that was the last time I really spoke to him.”

That still didn’t answer Near’s question of placing Mello and Kujō’s connection in the timeline of Kujō’s disappearance. Why the Mafia thought Mello would lead them to Kujō or that killing him would solve their problems. Could it have been they knew that Mello had known about the weapons laundering, despite not even Kujō himself having told him about it?

He was quiet for another beat, drawn out of his thoughts when he caught Mello’s posture shift. “So the Mafia is after you since you knew about the operation? Or-”

“Or what ?” the blonde spat the words out harshly. 

He didn’t miss a beat. “Could it be that Kujō in fact reached out to you to assist him with the operation?”

Mello almost seemed like he wanted to bolt out of his seat at what Near was suggesting, but instead settled on slamming the table between them with his fist. “You think I was actually involved, is that it?!”

Near fixed him with a hard look. “It merely seems convenient that you claim to have cut ties with him years ago, and regardless of whether you turned him down, the people looking for him seem to think otherwise. Why else would you be their primary suspect in his disappearance?”

“Why don’t you get off of your high horse for once, Near, and realise that I have no interest in lying to you?! If I'm a suspect, then why offer me refuge? Or is this your sick way of keeping me captive here, monitoring my actions, and using me for information?”

The younger simply stared back at him, studying him. He took note of the desperation tainting Mello’s voice, the real emotion behind it. There was no dishonesty. Near could rule out that Mello had helped Kujō.

This made sense to Near. The fact that the Mafia was after the older really didn’t work in Mello’s favour, painting him as the guilty party. They were never wrong about their target. But the possibility of Mello aiding someone like Kujō didn’t fit in the picture in his mind about Mello. As far as Near was concerned, the blonde’s motives were always predictable. Near knew Mello, knew his morals, his loyalty. His entire idea of Mello’s personality was built around the fact that he was righteous, no matter how reckless and messy he could also be. The idea of him helping someone like Kujō escape the hand of justice for his crimes didn’t make sense to Near. 

Again, he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him.

However, that didn’t rule out the possibility that Mello was in contact with Kujō more recently than he claimed. There was no other reason why the Mafia would target him.

He brought his hand up to absently twirl a strand of hair. He allowed a touch of amusement to reach his eyes, muttering to himself, “That’s interesting.” 

“What is?” the blonde’s eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“You’re right. From what I know, the Mafia typically doesn’t misplace blame, but rather almost always has their target right on the money. Kujō knew the op was going to be hit by the FBI, however, you claim to have had no involvement in this. If the Mafia knows for a fact that Kujō escaped, that he’s not dead, it’s possible that they know he was tipped off about the FBI.” 

The blonde furrowed his brow, “You’d better not be suggesting what I think you are. All I know is Daisuke got out before the FBI could move in. He didn’t even warn anyone, not even his closest partner in the Mafia-”

“Iwata Junpei.” Near recalled his name. Iwata was apparently Kujō's closest known associate. The man was trusted, loyal. And Kujō just threw him under the bus with the rest.

The blonde gave an affirmative nod.

The younger was quiet for a moment, his mind turning the pieces of information like pieces of a puzzle, examining each fact closely. 

He didn’t even warn Iwata… Kujō had left him to die.

The hand twirling a lock in his hair stilled.

He didn’t even warn Iwata.  

He repeated this to himself, something about it standing out to him. And then it clicked. The tip couldn’t have come from someone inside that faction.

It came from someone on the outside. Someone with enough connections, enough power, to have known about the hit the FBI was planning. Someone Kujō trusted, evidently trusted more than the people working alongside him. Even more than Iwata. 

“He left them all to die..” The white-haired detective mused aloud, his voice quiet, distant.

Mello didn’t say anything at that, only stared back at Near, questioning. 

The younger reached for a different file, briefly glancing at Mello before returning his gaze to the documents before him. “I believe you just gave me something, Mello.” he turned a page. “Kujō disappearing the way he did, leaving even Iwata and all the rest behind- he was protecting his contact.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

“If the person that warned Kujō wasn’t you, it means there’s someone else involved in this, someone outside the Mafia who we have yet to identify. Someone who’s able to leak federal intel.”

Mello’s jaw clenched at the implication. “So you’re saying the mole could be the same person helping Daisuke stay hidden right now.”

Near nodded.

The hour was getting later and later as they sat there. Near shuffled through some files as this information wedged itself between them. A new discovery, a new lead. They’d both considered it before, yet, saying it aloud felt like progress.

Near placed another file back down before picking up another. He could feel Mello’s eyes tracing his movements. 

After a minute of the blonde’s focused gaze, Near spoke, “Most people ask their questions out loud. Though I didn’t realize you were capable of quiet contemplation.”

The blonde didn’t say anything for a few seconds, perhaps hadn’t even registered what Near had said. Then-

“Still get so little sleep?”

Near paused his work on the file in his hands to find the other reclined on the sofa, looking at him with the same intensity that was somehow always present in his eyes, even when exhaustion was clearly showing through his body language. 

“Getting some sleep isn’t as important as solving the case.”

‘You’re smart enough to know that sleep is necessary for strategizing, even for someone like you.”

The younger shrugged. Whether at a loss for words or simply not deeming the comment worth a response, Near busied himself with abandoning the folder he had been flipping through in favour of retrieving a figurine that had been lying close to his knee.

He expected the scoff that Mello let out when he didn’t say anything- it was a habit the blonde had picked up, and a telltale to his annoyance. And Near also anticipated what was coming next. 

As if Mello had pulled a page out of his own personality textbook, Mello pointed, sounding bitter, “Yeah, just like always, you think you’re so above human needs. You’re so predictable.”

Near almost wanted to smile at that, considering he’d just been thinking the same thing about the blonde. 

The younger detective calmly turned his eyes to the older man, the snarl on Mello’s face not killing Near’s own fire. If Mello wanted to hide his jealousy behind a veil of pretending that he cared, Near would play the game with him. He knew exactly what Mello was frustrated about in this moment and it had nothing to do with Near’s sleeping schedule. Besides, when the blonde got angry, he became careless too, making him more likely to talk.

“Maybe if you got less sleep, you’d come up with some new leads, Mello. Maybe you wouldn’t even be needing my help.”

Mello’s frown deepened and the anger rose in his voice, “Ha, says the one that was begging for my help in this case.” 

Near had his response ready even before Mello had spoken that last line, but paused for effect, “I admit, you have more information about this case than I do. And yet, you still haven’t figured anything out.” He placed the figurine atop the folder that was resting on the table, as if to indicate the case, letting his fingers hover above it.

Near didn’t know how Mello would respond to that. 

He must know that Near was right. Mello had been at the heart of the Mafia at one point. He knew all the names, the faces, the secrets. Near was an outsider, yet here he was, piecing together the puzzle with minimal details.

Near didn’t have to wait long to find out. The growl was the secondary reaction. Mello’s first reaction was felt as a rough grip at Near’s wrist, the one that had been hovering over the action figure. The blonde had reached forward to grab him, the coffee table between them acting as a barrier, keeping Mello in his seat. 

He squeezed his wrist. Hard, yanking him to turn to him fully and in his harshness, knocking the robot down and to the floor. Near didn’t take his eyes off the blonde, challenging him with a look as hard as the blonde’s grip.

Mello leaned forward slightly, his voice a dangerous tone. “Think you’re better than me now?”

Near didn’t respond, his eyes watching Mello’s burn into him, flickering with emotion, and waiting for the blonde to say his piece. Mello taking advantage of their difference in size was the one place Near knew Mello was aware of his own advantage.

“At least I’m not the one pretending to know everything.” Mello spat the words, “All I’ve seen you do is stack papers and act like you have this all figured out. You wouldn’t even have thought of half the links you’re currently keeping track of in your head without me here, so stop treating me like I’m your backup plan. I have my own conclusions too.”

Near’s ears perked up at that, “Hm, and I thought we were to be collaborating.”

Mello scoffed, and Near barely felt the hot air at his cheek, “Now you’re so concerned about what I have to offer. A moment ago, you acted like I’ve made no contribution.” 

“I have your interests in mind, Mello. I’m trying to help you get the Mafia off your back.”

A snark laugh was the response Near got from the blonde, followed by his bitter voice, “As if I’d fall for that one. Don't pretend that you care about helping me. I know this is all just about the case.” 

Near’s lips quirked up at that, “Then don’t pretend to care about my well-being, Mello. It’s a poor disguise for your jealousy.” 

As if physically burned, Mello roughly dropped Near’s wrist, the fire in his eyes darkening and Near knew when he’d touched on a sensitive subject. But he met the fire head-on, with a tilt of his chin, his confidence being something that always came easily to Near. 

A second later, the blonde was up and the crack of wood sounded throughout the room as the little coffee table that had been sitting between them had been kicked aside, landing hard against the wall. Pages fluttered around and the angry slam of the door that closed indicated to Near that he was alone in the room again. 

He paid no attention to the dark bruises blossoming on his wrist, and began to collect the fallen pages.

Chapter Text

Another week had passed since they had discovered that the Mafia had an external mole, and despite that their evenings were spent together like this, working on the case, they were still less than comfortable. Their evenings lacked the familiarity one would expect from once-classmates eventually working together. This was nothing like that. It was sterile, forced, and always a second away from an explosion if one of them were to simply strike a match.

Sometimes they got to talking as if they were colleagues. But those moments didn’t last long.

The living room, as the evening was already drawing late, was dimly lit. Mello sat on the sofa and once Near had walked in, resumed his usual spot on the floor, searching through decoded transcripts- conversations that had taken place between Daisuke and some of the affiliates Near had linked back to him.

“You know, you should invest in getting a futon for yourself. Or a dog bed. You’re always sitting on the floor, you could at least make it look comfortable.” The corner of his lips pulled up a bit at his comment, knowing it wasn’t professional and was actually stupid, but as clever as Near was, Mello took joy in making him feel like he had nothing to say, and was chuffed when Near didn’t respond, only looked at him as if he wasn’t sure how to respond or if he even wanted to say anything at all.

The blonde continued, certainly in the mood to irritate the younger, “Just saying; you could really do something with the place. Make it more comfortable.”

The detective apparently opted to ignore his comment. “Since your current location is highly top secret, any information we gather under your name has to be done without anyone discovering us.” He gave Mello a long look before continuing, supposedly making sure there were no objections to what he was saying. “They have to believe that any movements we say you are making are actually happening.”

Ah, Near was talking about his plan to use Mello’s name to discover who in the Mafia he could draw out. Mello had agreed to this a few weeks ago.

“Well don’t worry about me spoiling things. I’m doing my part- I’m not in contact with anyone besides you.”

The younger nodded and turned around to click a button on the laptop and the wall in front of them was lit with a projection, showing a map of a street in America. “I have a plan. If we indicate that you will be here,” he gestured towards a red indicator on the projection, “we can perhaps draw out a response.” 

The blonde nodded. “Typical, I wonder how long you’ve been planning this idea. Since before I got here?”

Near didn’t respond and Mello, not actually wanting the answer anyway, continued, “So someone somehow tracks my location to this spot, thinking that I’m on the move.” 

Near nodded. 

The blonde scoffed a bit. “The members of the Mafia won’t all move on this at the same time, rather, they work as a synchronised pattern. If they think I’m there, they’ll start funnelling resources in that direction, moving observers to this location to scout me out, then we know they’re looking. But there’s still the chance that they won’t look.”

“Yes,” Near affirmed. 

“And what happens when they realise they’ve been tricked and I’m not there?”

The younger didn’t even hesitate. “They won’t. It will never be stated that you’re there- just assumed by those looking.” 

“Okay..?”

He turned to face Mello, his eyes looking even darker in the drab lighting, swallowing the light in the room. “A flight’s been booked under a suspicious alias, a car rental that matches something you would drive, hotel reservations at a location you’ve frequented once before.” 

“So they will pick up on this small lead with a chance that it could be me, if they’re still looking for me, that is. And we will see who takes the bait.”

Near gave another affirmative nod before returning to looking through the folders before him. “For now, it’s a matter of finding out who’s looking.”

“Do you think it could be more than just the Mafia looking for me?”

“It’s a possibility.” Near responded, calmly and Mello felt his nerves fray just a little at the thought. 

“Figures,” he sighed, almost sounding frustrated. “Considering the Mafia think I was the mole or the one that hid Daisuke… whoever helped with framing me could also be looking for me, to make sure I don’t ruin their plan.”

Near nodded, “And from what we know, Kujō has things he wants to keep secret, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he played a part in organizing your being framed.” 

Mello scoffed, “Well, I’m not expecting Daisuke to be the one we catch in this little plan of yours.”

“Of course not. It will be someone else. We won’t know who they are at this point. But we should be able to find a piece to the puzzle when we see who gets drawn out from our ‘little plan’.” 

“ Our plan?” he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. 

“We’re pretending to make moves for you. You’re part of it.”

Mello decided to change the topic. “And you think that answer is in one of those folders? Or are you going to keep paging endlessly through those until I snap and give you a name?”

There was no response from Near. The only sound that could be heard was the ruffling of pages as the younger didn’t look up from the files. 

“Hey,” Mello directed the hard command at the other. “I asked you a question.”

Still nothing. As if Mello wasn’t even worth addressing with one of Near’s usual dismissive one-liners.

“Alright,” the blonde stretched, letting the word out with a bitter edge to it. He was feeling especially restless that night, frustrated at the lack of action they had been taking. His neck still on the line. 

Standing up from the sofa, he stalked over to where Near sat and grabbed the wrist that had been holding the folder, tugging at Near, though not enough to lift him off the ground. In the back of his mind, Mello registered the folder falling to the floor, the pages spilling out of it at odd angles and it brushed Mello’s pride slightly that Near had not predicted Mello’s action in time to hold onto the file. 

Mello leaned over Near, noticing that the angle that he was pulling Near’s wrist at could not be comfortable at his shoulder, and he bent down onto his haunches, now at eye level with the other who kept his head lowered. 

Picking up the file with his free hand, Mello lifted it next to his face, “You’ve looked through these files… how many times now since I got here?” he asked rhetorically, dropping it carelessly back down onto the floor and scoffing. “You really think you’re gonna find something new?”

Near shrugged, still not looking up at the other. He wasn’t even bothered by the way the folder landed precariously, some of the pages bending. “There’s merit in repetition.” he briefly glanced at Mello, giving him a once-over, before averting his gaze again. “Sometimes you may find hidden connections that might not be initially apparent. If you have the diligence to look.”

The blonde’s brow furrowed, his gaze burning the top of Near’s head, his teeth clenched in agitation. “Are you implying that I’m some impatient fool?” He gripped his wrist harder at the word fool as if to send a threat Near’s way if he so much as thought Mello was.

The younger’s eyes remained pointed to the carpeted floor, and Mello’s blood boiled, more infuriated by his lack of reaction than if the younger had tried to fight him off.

His tone was flat, his words evasive yet digging as always, “You are well aware of your own impatience, Mello. You don’t need me to tell you that.” he paused, glancing at the blonde as if to assess the impact of his words before adding as an afterthought, “Though, I don’t think you’re a fool.”

Mello’s eyes hardened, though he couldn't determine if this was a manipulation tactic or if the younger was being genuine. He regarded the empty orbs as they stared back. A façade that Near had perfected from a very young age. Mello grit his teeth.

As if noting the confusion on Mello’s face, the younger clarified flatly “Otherwise I would have dismissed you already.” 

The blonde felt a sudden stab of bitterness in his gut at those words. He leaned in closer, his voice no longer laced with taunting, but rather with accusation. “But you did just dismiss me. Everytime you choose not to respond, to not react, like you’re simply observing something you’re trying to study and I’m stuck with talking to a wall.”

Mello clenched his jaw. He leaned in further, tightening his grip around the sleeve of Near’s wrist. They were close enough that the blonde could feel Near’s warm breath on his face. He always defaulted to physically dominating the other, knowing full well that Near could not worm his way out of his grip, even if mentally he was always a step ahead.

Near’s next words were cold, “and you’re testing me too. Like you’re trying to validate your anger through my response.”

There was a tense moment, like a taut elastic that could snap and leave them both burned if they continued pulling too tight. But neither stood down. Neither was ready to address what the crux of the problem was.

“You think you’re so untouchable, don’t you, Near ? Better than everyone.” he spat the words out, heated with the rage bubbling beneath his skin. “You’re no better than me.”

And then, in one sudden motion, he let go, shoving Near’s wrist back. 

Mello’s breath came out hot and uneven, chest rising and falling in uncontrolled anger.

“Don’t you dare,” the blonde hissed, his eyes flared in warning as he stared into the blank eyes beneath him, “act like you’re better than me.” 

The white-haired man remained silent, keeping his eyes trained on Mello as the blonde towered above him. There was nothing in his expression. No fear, no regret, no surprise.

Mello growled low again. No satisfaction.

And for once, despite himself, the blonde was thankful for the other’s silence.

He didn’t want to see the fire he felt in his eyes reflected in Near’s. He was tired of the cutting remarks, the calm facade. 

Because Mello could feel his sanity slipping. From exhaustion, from the threat of the Mafia, from the endless loop of letting Near get to him. And falling for it every time. 

The blonde sighed heavily, letting himself claim the spot on the floor next to Near. He let his head fall back onto the couch he was leaning against. The air between them was thick with unresolved conflict. What were they doing, trying to work together? The blonde shook his head lightly, a small movement that was barely noticeable. “I must be crazy.”

He turned his head to the side, watching as Near seated himself into his signature slouch, bringing a hand up to twirl a strand of hair around his finger. 

Neither said anything for a moment, and Mello could at least be content that Near wasn’t immediately reaching for one of those annoying files again, and he felt like he had a moment to breathe.

Near was the one that filled the silence. “You know that I think we solved the Kira case together. I never said I was able to succeed L. I said that together, we could succeed L.”

Mello wasn’t ready to hear that and he felt his face harden, picking Near’s words apart for pity. The straight look Near leveled him with did not reflect the weight of the confession that his tone had. And Mello wasn’t about to fall for it.

“So when is this plan of yours going to be taking place?” That’s right, he wasn’t going to acknowledge Near’s words. 

Mello told himself he wouldn’t fall for it. 

Near didn’t respond at first. Instead, he placed a once-broken figurine between them- its arm having been reattached to it using a mix of glue and tape. 

The implication wasn’t lost on Mello.

“The flight lands tomorrow night,” the younger claimed, returning to busying himself with retrieving the fallen pages and arranging them in order again.

The blonde nodded, lifting his gaze back up to the ceiling, hiding a touch of pride at the fact that Near wouldn’t face him, even if he had instead returned to paging through the files. Whether because he was distracting himself from the tension between them or simply didn’t care to address it didn’t really matter to Mello at that point. 

“Got any ideas on who will be turning up?” The smirk he wore offered a poor attempt at diffusing the tension in the room. 

He let his eyes slip shut for a second before reopening them to glance at the white-haired detective. “Or are you really at such a dead end that you don’t even know who’s really involved?”

Chapter Text

It was a while before Near looked over at Mello again. The blonde, having dozed off into a light slumber at some point in the night, had his head turned away from him, the only tell-tale of him having fallen asleep being the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

That, and he was quiet for once.

Near allowed himself a small smile at that thought. 

He let his gaze pause on Mello’s form for a moment, blinking slowly before he let out a controlled breath and pinched his eyes closed. Yes, he really was at such a dead end. Despite the fact that he needed answers from Mello, he wouldn’t bring himself to put Mello in a dangerous position. He needed to get answers from somewhere else. 

Near slowly shifted to sit closer to the table. The blonde didn’t stir, didn’t move in any way that would indicate that he’d disturbed him. But Near still kept his eyes on him, fixating on the slow breaths he dragged in and out. Such a contrast to the quick breathes the blonde took when anger bubbled beneath his skin. 

“Hm,” Near mused aloud, “Is there a piece that you haven’t told me, Mello?”

There was no answer, and Near didn’t expect to receive one. 

The younger detective picked up the nearby dummy he had representing Kujō Daisuke. There was one for X, the person suspected to have helped Kujō from the outside, one for himself and one for Mello as well. Mello was placed in the centre of the space on the floor in front of him. Near placed himself next to Mello. Then after a consideration, moved him away to a different corner of the layout. Kujō was placed next to Mello. 

They both worked together at some point, meaning, they knew each other. 

But according to Mello, that was long ago, and given what Near could gather about Kujō's character, a long-burned connection meant nothing to him. 

So Near moved Kujō to another corner of the floorspace. 

Near knew the Mafia had their target on Mello, suspecting he must have helped Kujō escape. But why pick Mello as the suspect if on the surface-level, the two had not exactly shown camaraderie toward one another? But there was the possibility of Mello being hired by Kujō to fake his death. Near had been recently informed by the other that he does hired jobs. And anyone in the Mafia knew that Mello’s intelligence and reasoning was far beyond that of most FBI members’. 

Another glance toward the blonde.

Then there was X. The mole. He had to have been working from outside the Mafia, someone with connections to the FBIs’ data. An insider? A family member? Either way, Kujō had been protecting him and now he was the one keeping Kujō hidden.  

Near’s mind went back to the plan they had formulated moments ago. 

Near would need to ask Commander Rester to set this up, but in such a manner that wouldn’t reveal Mello was a party to this case. Commander Rester had no reason to believe that Mello had a connection to Kujō's disappearance, didn’t know that Mello had a target on his back.

Near cast his eyes over at the other again, but this time he didn’t immediately pull his gaze away. Curiosity allowed his eyes to trace over the hard features of his face, as if pulled in by something. His bangs having fallen over his eyes as he slept, almost covering his scar and Near’s eyes lingered there for a moment.

His eyes didn’t study, didn’t analyse. Just noticed.

Right now, Mello didn’t look reckless. He didn’t look like he was a bomb ready to explode, and like this, Near could almost forget that Mello saw him as his rival. 

They were nothing alike, they operated vastly differently, contradicting each other in every way. Mello; all emotion and impulse, trying to open a problem up with force or until someone fought back, just enough to keep his fire going. Near; all cold and clinical, trading his emotions in favour of logic, control, for that’s all he knew. He understood that emotions were valid to feel, but also that they got in the way, and that was something he would never fully understand. 

Whenever they were at each other’s throats, whether physically or psychologically, their arguments were about something just beneath the surface, never really hitting the mark. They would argue in circles without any sort of satisfaction in the end. Nothing resolved. 

And Near didn’t know how to meet Mello’s intensity with anything but resolute silence. 

And at the end of the day, they both thought they were the ones being ignored. Neither able to reach the crux of the matter for what was building a wall between them. 

Tracing the line of Mello’s jaw, Near’s orbs watched dutifully and trailed back to his scar again, and for the first time, Near wondered what Mello would do if he asked. Not as a means to uncover a new lead or for any leverage against Mello, but simply to understand. To satiate that part of curiosity that had him watching the blonde in that moment. 

His eyes fell away at that thought, returning to his figurines.

A sudden thunk and a choked gasp, and out of the corner of his eye, Near caught Mello jerk upright, eyes wide and hand flying to his side where Near knew he kept his gun. 

It was a second before Mello’s eyes rested on Near, all tense before the fight seemed to diminish a bit from his body as realisation settled in.

“It was just the air conditioner,” Near supplied flatly, not even fully looking at the blonde. 

Mello sighed heavily, relieved, before he scoffed, running a hand through his bangs, “Why didn’t you wake me when I fell asleep? Could’ve saved me from almost having a heart attack.”

Near cast a glance over at the blonde, seeing the lingering panic still hiding behind his eyes and in the set of his jaw, before it vanished from his features all together. He wasn’t looking at him. “You looked like you could use some sleep.”

Mello let out a dry chuckle, the bitterness evident in it as he stretched his arms over his head and shifted to lean more comfortably against the couch, an attempt at dispelling his nerves. “Look who’s talking.”

Near returned to moving the characters around the space in front of him, offering quietly, “I can't afford much sleep.”

“Ah, right,” Mello supplied sarcastically, “you’re too busy evolving yourself into becoming part robot that you’re more algorithm than human at this point.” 

Near could feel those blue eyes on him again, his gaze icy enough that Near could sense the coldness beneath Mello’s sarcasm. 

The simmering below the surface. 

“It’s not about that,” he offered mildly. “I simply prefer to be as aware of my surroundings as possible.” he adjusted the layout again, all the while still looking for a flaw or a new insight. 

“But this is your safehouse. You’re not in any danger here.” 

“That’s a subjective stance to take,” the white-haired detective paused, and after a beat turned to face Mello, the barely perceivable trace of a smile ghosted over his lips. “You’re here.”

Mello glared at him, half menacing, half amused, entirely complicated. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

Near blinked once. He didn’t voice his doubts about that.

As if Mello sensed it, he growled low in his throat. Near subconsciously readied himself for a physical attack, but none came. He was a little surprised that Mello simply pulled a chocolate bar out from his pocket and snapped off a piece with enough ferocity that Near was glad he wasn’t in its position.

“Well,” the blonde offered, shifting his gaze from looking at Near to focusing on a spot on the wall in front of him. “Don’t blame me when the exhaustion gets to you and you start hallucinating.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was the calculated response he offered. There was a moment of silence, which Near supposed he should have expected to be short-lived given that Mello was awake now. 

“You’re wrong, Near.” His voice was calm, unthreatening. Distant. “Don’t think I’m too afraid to hurt you.”

There was no danger in his tone, no hurt pride. He was eerily calm. 

“You’ve said it yourself, you could use my ‘special skills’ for this case.” he finally turned his eyes to Near, something dark simmering beneath those usually traitorous orbs. “You know I'm not afraid to play dirty. One way or another, if you get in my way- ”

“You’ll kill me,” Near supplied, the evenness of his tone matching Mello’s. 

There was a beat of silence, a stand-off. That familiar feeling where their silence reflected their shared understanding behind their words.

And then Mello shook his head, a strained, humourless chuckle falling from his lips. “You almost sound like you’re asking for it. Trying to rile me up until I snap.”

“I don’t doubt what you’re capable of, Mello,” was the default reply he offered. “I can rely on your resourcefulness, you think of solutions I wouldn’t attempt.”

Once more, the blonde let out that same, dry scoff, offering Near an intense look, one of something quietly hiding beneath his strangely calm facade. The air between them crackled despite it. “As long as yours stay clean, you really don’t care who gets blood on their hands. So long as you reign as the noble, righteous one in the end.”

Near allowed the smallest amount of mirth to show in his eyes, somewhat pleased for a reason he wasn’t sure of. “No, I simply don’t think the end justifies the means if the mess can be avoided.”

“And you think I do, is that it?” The accusation in his question landed flatly, not loaded with its usual sting. Near was almost surprised at the other’s menacingly calm demeanor. 

“I think you’re convinced it’s the only way you matter.”

Mello’s train of thought seemed to short-circuit at that. The chords in his neck tightened briefly, as if he was going to say something, but then didn't. His eyes remained locked on Near’s, but the air between them seemed more hostile. More charged. 

Despite himself, Near shifted his posture slightly, barely noticeable, not fully realizing it was to direct some of the tension elsewhere. 

There was a brief moment of silence, where all Near could do was study the other’s face. Those eyes that saw too much and showed too much, all so easily. All that emotion that just came to him as if it was second-nature. Such a contrast to the way he experienced his own emotions.

You really haven’t changed.

Near spoke again after a moment, “You know,” he started, “you would be marginally more terrifying if you ever mastered patience.”

Mello didn’t pause for a beat, “And if you didn’t look at everyone like they were some problem to pick apart and solve, you might actually be able to get someone to care.”

Care.  

Near thought it was a strange choice of wording on Mello’s part. 

The sudden shift in the atmosphere of the room was noticeable, changing from the hostile, tense buzz that had been softly humming around them to something somehow more dangerous. 

His eyes remained trained on Mello’s face, focusing on his scar for a second time that night. Yes, Mello’s special skills had put him in danger before. But it was that same radical thinking that got him out of those situations.

As if noticing where Near was looking, Mello quickly turned his head slightly away from the other, barely noticeable, but the movement pulled Near’s focus away from the mark, blonde locks shifting at his movements.

He followed Mello’s gaze as it trailed to the floor. “You’re working on your setup?” He asked, indicating the toys Near had been moving around the layout a few moments before the blonde had woken up. 

Near tipped his head in a controlled nod, knowing that the blonde probably couldn’t see the movement but choosing not to verbally clarify regardless. 

The older detective reached a hand out, picking up the robot figurine off the floor that Near had placed between them before Mello had drifted off, moving its arms absentmindedly. “So who’s this supposed to represent?” he asked the question despite Near knowing that Mello knew the answer.

Unbeknownst to the blonde, Near mentally studied the changes Mello was making to the robot’s previous position. He’d left it the way he had for a reason. But that was something to rectify later on.

Chapter Text

Two nights later, the setup was in place. All the arrangements had been made; the flight booking, the car rental, the hotel - all had been booked and scheduled thanks to Rester. Apparently the man hadn’t asked any questions and Mello’s whereabouts were still unknown.

The leather-clad detective kept his eyes trained on the wall that was covered in numerous screens, showing a world map with a blinking pin icon.

‘Mello’s’ location. 

They were in the taskforce headquarters; Near having made arrangements so that stitched surveillance footage would be covering their tracks- anyone watching right now would be seeing an empty office. Additionally, the other members of Near’s team had already left by this hour, and Near’s suite not having the equipment they needed for this setup, required that they work here. 

At the very least, Near needed Mello to be here for this stunt and couldn’t have him around the others. 

It was nearing 12 A.M when everything had been set up- the surveillance footage from the different cameras streaming live to the screens before them, the facial recognition software running in the background, a database synced with all the known members of the Mafia that the younger had acquired from the FBI. 

Mello was grateful for the change of scenery. He knew staying at the safehouse would be less than ideal, however, small blessings like getting out of that suite didn't go unnoticed by him. 

“Do you have anything to eat around here?” the blonde asked around a mouthful of chocolate, feeling more than a little hungry. He idly rotated the chair he was sitting in to turn and face Near. The bright lights from the screens in front of them only seemed to enhance that clinical white that matched the younger so well.

Near didn’t look up at Mello from where he sat slouched on the floor, a pack of dice in one hand, his other typing something on the laptop that was sitting next to his knee. “I do, but you seem very committed to your all chocolate diet.” 

Mello’s fingers flexed at his dry tone. He scoffed, “as long as I’m not expected to survive on sheer willpower, I’ll take a good meal.”

“I didn’t say anything about a meal. There’s cereal or noodles.”

Mello nodded absently, not particularly liking the sound of either option. “So I do have to survive off of willpower.” 

“If I’d have known you were going to be this dramatic,” Near paused to slide his eyes over at the blonde, a movement Mello might have missed had the younger not tipped his head slightly, “I would have set you up at a 5 star hotel instead of my place.”

“So then I would have missed out on all this quality time with you, aw that would have been so thoughtful,” the blonde said sarcastically and got up anyway, searching the pantry cupboard that sat between the coffee machine and mini fridge. 

It reminded him much of the pantry in Near’s suite- cans of food and bottles of sauces, and the idea that Near had ingredients to potentially cook was there, but Mello knew him better than that. Near didn’t cook. Probably couldn't even boil water in the kettle. 

He reached for the most nutritious-looking box of cereal, and poured a bowl for himself. Habitually, without really thinking, he reached for another bowl, his fingers barely touching it before he clicked his tongue, closing the box of cereal and making his way back to the seat he had previously claimed. 

Mello crunched a spoonful of cereal unnecessarily loudly, belatedly realizing that he’d forgotten to add milk but not bothering to rectify it. 

Even now, Mello couldn’t help the twinge of annoyance that surfaced at examining the other’s calmness- his movements as he stacked dice were relaxed; no flair, no tension, no hesitation in them. Everything so controlled it erred on robotic. 

Or everything so repressed it erred on nothingness.

Mello straightened suddenly, deciding he needed a distraction.

As if hearing Mello’s thoughts, Near moved to switch the map over to the surveillance system that he’d gotten access to, showing the many streets that were within a few miles radius of where ‘Mello’ was said to be arriving. A facial recognition scanner was active in the background, tracing any faces that showed up against a database to confirm their identities. 

The blonde didn’t expect to see anyone he recognized. The roots of the Mafia ran deep and wide. There were so many people involved, he hardly ever saw the same person twice unless they were working together.  

“Alright,” the word was spoken cooly and Mello was mildly surprised at Near breaking the silence that had lapsed between them. “Now we simply wait for anyone that seems to be looking for someone. Namely, you.” 

The older grunted at that. It wasn’t going to be that simple. “And how will you know when we get the reaction we’re looking for? Are you going to wait for a suspicious looking guy in a huge coat to walk past? You know the Mafia look like ordinary people, right?”

Near gave Mello a sidelong look “Yes, of course. After all, you’re rather ordinary-looking yourself.”

Mello could feel Near talking about his cropped vest and fur overcoat combination and clicked his tongue in a small tsk sound. 

Near turned back to the screen. “We’ll know it when we see it.” 

The waiting game. 

Mello leaned back in the office chair, knowing this was coming. According to his fake ticket, his landing should have been 20 minutes ago. The plane had landed 5 minutes earlier than expected. One of the streets they were surveilling had an auto rent shop and the motel that ‘Mello’ would be staying at nearby. All 10 to 30 minutes away from the airport. Meaning that anyone after him would be checking the areas soon.

That is, if they fell for the bait.

The Mafia weren’t stupid. The most likely scenario would be that they didn’t believe the lead to be a solid one, and would send out a few low-ranking goons to take a look around. 

Mello’s cereal was long finished and the bowl was forgotten, the clock now showing 2 A.M. 

The seconds continued to tick on past. 

The room was so quiet he could hear his own breathing.

The blonde, never being known for his patience, began to grow agitated at the waiting and whether it was the exhaustion pricking at the corners of his eyes, or the annoying way Near was so focused he hadn’t moved in the last hour, the blonde felt the tension in his limbs tightening.

Absent-mindedly, he drummed his fingers against his knee, anything to rid his body of the tension that was pulling his muscles tight. 

Near’s body was turned towards him, but his eyes were cast off to the side, his face in profile as his keen gaze watched the footage displayed on the laptop screen. 

His finger twirling in his hair in time to the seconds passing had Mello hyper aware of the fact that they were waiting and that he needed to work on his patience. But something like this should have either worked by now, or not, but the streets were empty, save for a few individuals that were seemingly on their way to or from a nearby nightclub.

“So how long are we still going to wait for something to happen?” the words came out harsh, loaded with frustration. 

“As long as needed,” was the stone cold reply, the other’s eyes still glued to the screen he was watching from the side, unmoving.

The blonde grunted, tugging a hand roughly through his locks, his voice raised. “If something was going to happen, it would have happened already!" 

“Patience, Mello.” 

"All the people that showed up haven’t brought up any flags on the cross-referenced database, so why are we still waiting? Shouldn’t we at least do something else while we just sit here?”

The younger didn't respond and didn't look at him either. 

The blonde cursed. “Stop telling me to just sit back and wait, Near! At this rate, we’re going to be sitting here waiting all the while the Mafia runs circles around us, and we wouldn’t even know it!” 

“If they’re looking for you, there is a chance they will wait until they know you are inside the hotel before appearing. For fear they might be spotted.”

Mello could feel his head swimming, his nerves spiking. The paranoia and Near’s utter lack of doing anything at all only began to heighten Mello’s fight instinct as it started to kick in, aware that it was not his lack of patience that started his spiral, but rather that he felt utterly powerless in this moment, no control.

“We should be out there, not sitting here locked up trying to find some desperate, delusional lead that would probably get us nowhere!”

Still no reaction from the other.

As if he was so focused he couldn't even hear Mello’s raised voice.

He felt something in his resolve crack.

In a second, Mello was up, his body surging toward the younger, not actually knowing what he was planning on doing, but knowing that he’d wanted to grab onto something. In the moment where instinct was taking over and thoughts were pushed back, Mello’s foot hit the ground and suddenly the floor slipped out from under him and he was falling forward. Near’s immediate reaction was to lean back, away from the body that was crashing down toward him.

It took no more than two seconds and Mello was winded, his chest smacking against Near’s and the audible thunk as Near’s head hit the tiled floor rung in Mello’s ears. 

A soft groan was heard from beneath him and Mello lifted himself up like lightning, his arms lifting his shoulders and chest off the smaller body. 

Belatedly, Mello realised that his foot had stepped on one of the stupid folders on the floor, and pushing off of it had caused him to slip, some of the papers probably sprawled out behind him. 

When he lifted himself up, recollection hit him- his hands were on either side of Near’s shoulders, one leg between his and Near’s eyes were pinched tightly closed, one of his hands sluggishly reaching up to grasp Mello’s shirt, and Mello froze a bit, finding it unusual for Near to reach for anyone, let alone him.
The younger’s fingers clenching tightly around the fabric had Mello feeling like he couldn’t place the hand at his collar to the male on the floor. 

Against all his better judgment, Mello cursed under his breath, “Is your head okay?” 

Near winced slightly again, and Mello couldn’t even blame him for letting his composure slip for a second after the impact Near had taken to the head. Suddenly a futon didn’t seem like such a bad idea, if it would prevent hits like this.

A minute passed between them. 

Then two.

Near let out a small huff and a quiet quip, “Well, you’ve always wanted to be above me.” 

The blonde blanched. “Wha-?!” he said unintelligently. Clearly, Near, much to Mello’s shock, decided this was an appropriate time to joke. “Did you hit your head so hard that you developed a sense of humor?” 

But the younger didn’t seem to hear him. “Another fall like that and you’ll have completely destroyed my organizational system,” Near finally said, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Mello, referring to the folder that Mello must have scattered. His voice a touch strained, but he’d managed to preserve enough coolness that anyone else might not have noticed.

“Another fall like that and I’d knock you out cold,” Mello returned, almost annoyed that Near was thinking about his folders. 

“If that happened, any progress made to solving this case would be pushed back significantly.”

The blonde couldn’t suppress the lick of anger that seemed to flare up at the jab Near had made. What a waste of time for Mello to have been concerned for even a second. Near was just a robot after all - a freak, who didn’t think twice about manipulating others, repressing every emotion until all that was left was clinical detachment. And that’s the only way he would ever hold himself, wanting to preserve the image of being impossibly inhuman. 

Mello briefly considered punching him right then and there. Maybe if he bled, he would be able to see how human he really was.

But that thought melted away when an alert sounded from the screen and Near’s brow furrowed at the high pitched ping, and although it was only a split second, the hand at Mello’s shirt tightened ever so slightly. 

“The surveillance,” Near said. Then seemed to remember himself, dark eyes hardening as they locked on Mello’s reflective orbs. “Get off.”

Mello scoffed, “I was just about to,” and he yanked Near’s wrist away from his shirt, not sure if Near had even realised that he’d still been holding onto it or that his hand had been there in the first place.

The sudden motion, coupled with Mello roughly lifting himself off the younger, had Near looking dazed as he lay on the floor a second longer than he probably would have liked. Placing his hands at his sides, the genius seemed to be about to lift his back off the ground, when Mello bent back down and put a hand to his chest. 

Near faltered, passing a glare at Mello that could only be described as poorly hidden annoyance, a hint of frustration showing through. Mello almost marveled at how being knocked so off balance affected that mask that the younger instinctively had in place. 

“I said get off.”

“Wait, you might have a concussion,” Mello supplied cleverly, and he was sure Near was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Can you see clearly?” he asked and Near gestured to the ceiling. 

“There are bright lights in my eyes. I would like to sit upright.” 

Before Mello could comment any further, another alert sounded over the surveillance footage. 

“Mello.” Near said his name in an uncharacteristically hard way, letting some of his frustration show as he forced himself onto his elbows, ignoring the hand the blonde had placed over his chest. “I need… to check the footage.” His voice was strained as he pinched his eyes closed again, no doubt steeling himself in preparation for sitting up the rest of the way.

“What you need is to be moving as little as possible,” the blonde retorted before lifting himself up and picking up the laptop from where it had been sitting next to Near. If there was anything to see, he could handle it just as well as Near could.

The younger let out a breath, a touch harsh. It was a huff of frustration, which at any other time, Mello would have found highly amusing. Near moved to tilt his head back to get a look at the projection on the wall behind him, but quickly winced at the movement before getting his head far back enough. 

He seemed to pause, before stating dryly, “Trust you to pick the perfect timing to pull off something like that.” 

Mello grunted, “Well don’t get in the way next time.”

Mello could picture Near’s straight face as he responded, “Considering I was your target, that wouldn’t have been an easy feat.” 

Mello ignored him in favour of switching the screen over to focus on the surveillance camera that had made the alert. “Okay, so the facial recognition scanner picked something up here,” he mumbled, zooming in slightly. 

The data log of the identified individual showed his name, age, nationality and other various stats, like registration numbers, criminal activity logs, charges against him. Mello recognized him as one of the lower ranking members of the Mafia group that he had been affiliated with. 

Near had managed to stay mostly still, having been able to turn his head slightly to look at the large projection on the wall in a way that was comfortable enough for him, while Mello was a few paces away with the laptop.

“No- go back to the previous view,” Near said, watching Mello zoom too much into a section.

Mello huffed a bit, biting out unnecessarily harshly, “I know what I’m doing.” And pinpointed the face of someone emerging from somewhere almost off-camera. The footage was paused as the facial recognition software ran in the background, bringing up a blank log of the person. The match percentage with any of the supporting databases was too low for the system to draw any conclusions about who this person was, which was understandable given the shades, hoodie and high collar that they were sporting. 

Near squinted a bit, “Would someone from the Mafia look this oddly suspicious?” 

“Look, you can barely lift your head right now, so just let me handle this.” And in the spirit of having the chance, Mello lightly kicked the other with his foot, a reminder to stop interfering with him.

Near’s sarcastic tone almost made Mello forget that the boy might have a concussion, “Being able to handle it, and being able to handle it correctly are two very different things entirely.” 

Mello’s head snapped to look at Near, the other not meeting his eyes as they stayed fixed to the wall where the screens showed the footage. 

“You think I can’t do this myself?” He didn’t wait for Near to respond as he dismissed the information box that appeared on the screen for the suspect, and instead pulled out an editor to brighten the picture and alter the contrast of the paused video. Some pixels shifted and soon a new individual in the footage was revealed, one in an unlicensed car that was parked in the background on the street of fake Mello’s rented hotel, barely noticeable. 

Immediately the information screen that popped up had found a match in the recognition database, but further inspection showed missing information and whereabouts. Including a name.

Mello finally responded with, “I’m not an idiot, Near.” And he started searching through the three faces that had appeared, only finding solid information on the first person. Definitely a junkie from the L.A Mafia. 

He felt Near’s eyes shift over to him briefly, but didn’t acknowledge it. 

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

Against his better judgment, Mello’s finger stilled for a second before he continued reading. The words passed over him and while he pretended not to hear them or told himself that Near probably did have a concussion, some of his pride was less hurt by Near’s confession than he’d have liked to admit. 

It didn’t matter, Near was just saying that to get a reaction out of him. And it didn’t help that the younger had sounded so genuine, but with his poker face almost always in place, Mello dismissed it to be part of that carefully placed façade that Near was just unabashedly using to butter him up. 

A few more minutes passed like that, with the two detectives reading through the profiles and looking for any possible ties.

Any new faces that showed up at ‘Mello’s’ hotel were also looked into and several faces with sketchy backgrounds and links were found. 

“Interesting,” Mello and Near both said simultaneously, then looked over at one another. Slight surprise played on Mello’s face, while Near had one brow raised as if saying, ‘well, go on.’

Mello looked back to the names and faces on the screen. “They’re from rival Mafia groups.”

Near hummed. “And they’re both looking for you. Or for Kujō, if they thought you'd lead them to his location. That’s new information.”