INFORMATION

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi.

Synopsis: Mello regrets that his involvement with the mafia has gotten his only friend, Matt, killed. One night, while out driving to help clear his head, Mello loses control of the vehicle and goes unconscious. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a familiar white shape.

Pairing: Mello/Near

Ambulance

The White Angel

Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal

Red light, can't stop so I spin the wheel

My world goes black before I feel an angel lift me up

And I open bloodshot eyes into fluorescent white

- Thrice

Nothing seemed to be going as planned. His friend was not supposed to die. Mello had not intended for Matt to die. Their last operation, without a doubt, ended in disaster. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, making his knuckles turn white under the black leather gloves. Perhaps getting Matt involved in the mafia wasn't the most ideal choice after all. The race for Kira was over, ending in a draw. Neither one of L's successors had captured the mass murderer on his own.

The race, from start to finished, had been between him and Near. Matt had nothing to do with it and yet Mello still managed to drag his only friend into a messed up situation that costed him his life. He stepped harder on the gas pedal and his vehicle accelerated down the street, the engine roaring. If there was one thing he was glad for now, it was that the streets were always deserted at this time of the night. Feeling the fast movements of the car allowed Mello to release his anger, frustration, disappointment, and regrets.

Mello wondered if his life had any other possible paths. Unlike the road ahead of him that seemed to have the ability to stretch on for miles, his path had reached an end. The asphalt that his car was speeding down was able to go on, able to merge with other roads; the street was endless. It was too late for regrets, he knew, but somehow it was just difficult to—

A blinding light burned Mello's eyes and for a split second. He saw the outlines of what seemed to be another vehicle dead ahead of his. Mello hastily stomped on the breaks. Tires squealing, ripping loudly through the silent night, leaving black tire tracks on the asphalt.

But it wasn't enough. The other car screeched and swayed but was still coming in closer. Mello gripped the steering wheel and turned it with force in desperate attempt to avoid the approaching vehicle.

There was an earsplitting, explosive crash. It was gone as quick as it came.

Complete darkness.

"Wait a moment!

"I know this…"

"Are you sure—"

"Call an ambulance, now."

"Y-Yes, of course."

The first thing Mello saw when he opened his eyes only a slit was the dim street lights illuminating a dark red oozing substances that was dripping down the deflated air bag of the car. What he smelt was a sort a burning mixed with motor oil and gasoline. There was a warm, metallic liquid in his mouth and on his lips. He finally became aware of the immense amount of pain that was gripping his body. He felt burning, stinging, and aching all at once. Mello gasped at the cold night's air and breathed in the lingering aftertaste of smoke and gas. He heard light footsteps approaching.

"Mello," a familiar, soft voice breathed. "I was right."

The blond parted his lips and tried to speak but the only thing that escaped from him was a short, inward gasp. Mello felt a strong pair of arms coming around him and he was pried away from the heap of metal that was probably once his car. His back was settled down gently on the chilly ground and he heard someone shuffling towards him again. His eyes opened slightly and were greeted by a body in white, from head to foot. The entity was shrouded in fluorescent white.

Mello tried to speak again but he only managed a soft groan.

"Mello," the figure next to him said.

He felt warm fingers touch his forehead lightly. This touch was truly different from the one before, the one that had pulled him away from the wreckage.

"You…" Mello finally whispered. He blinked slowly a couple of times, letting his eyes become accustomed to the stinging brightness around him. The person before him began to take shape. A young boy. Maybe not so young. White. Soft to the touch. Why did that all seem so familiar?

Matt? No… Matt was gone. Matt was dead because of him. Mello started to wonder if he, too, was a dead man, but the pain in his body reminded him that he was still very much alive. Perhaps dying, but alive. This person before him, it couldn't be his friend. Matt wasn't of this world anymore. So who…?

Suddenly new sounds began to erupt. There were loud sirens growing louder and louder. Mello sucked in more of the cool air to try and ease the pain all around his body. His eyes began to blur and the image of the angelic figure before him began to fade. Mello's lips parted, shivering. He lifted a shaking hand; straining while he felt a strange weight in his limb. Mello wanted to reach for the person before him.

Don't leave, Mello cried out mentally. But his vision still failed him. His sight was blurring even more. The person before him was disappearing. All he could see now were blotches of colors and light and dark shapes.

Then he felt a soft pair of hands clasped around his lingering fingers. It was gentle, but it was firm. With that, Mello allowed his eyes to close. He moved his finger slightly, making sure that the other hands were still on his. Mello breath out in shallow breathes. He started to hear more footsteps and they were coming nearer.

Again, he felt hands lifting him up and away from those soft hands. He could no longer feel those soft hands.

No! Mello protested in his mind.

He wanted to search for that person again, that person in white, those comforting touches. But the pain restrained him from moving anymore. He could no longer open his eyes. Something cold was pressed over his nose and mouth and the air he was breathing in became pure in contrast with the smoke and gasoline fumes. Mello gave into the new arms that were lifting him, carrying him away from the only thing he wanted more than death at that point. They carried him away from the angel that had saved him.

"Please, sir," the nurse pleaded. "Visiting hours are over now. We have to let the patients get their sleep."

"It will only be for a moment," said the young man with white hair. "I won't wake him." He was standing before the nurse with three of his people standing behind him. There were clean bandages that covered his arms, wrists, forehead, and cheek.

"But even if that's the case, only immediate family members are allowed in the ICU."

"I won't be long," Near repeated. "And he doesn't have a family. I'm the closest he has to that."

The nurse looked at him with questioning eyes for a short moment. She then gave a small sigh, nodded, and stepped out of the way for him.

"Thank you," Near said. He looked back at Rester, Gevanni, and Lidner and they too, nodded at him reassuringly.

With that, he walked into the ICU, closing the door behind him. He padded towards the body lying in the hospital bed, hooked unto IVs and covered with a white blanket. Near stood beside the bed and watched the blond sleep soundlessly.

It was hard for him to believe that this was Mello. The Mello that Near had grown up with was stronger. He was rarely sick and was always moving about, playing sports with the other children, reading and writing, solving problems, and more recently, running criminal missions with the mafia. Near never expected to see Mello in this pathetic and saddened state. Near pitied him, but he also felt troubled—worried. He had an uncomfortable feeling as he gazed at Mello lying on the hospital bed.

The IVs were feeding him with various medical liquids. The slow beeping sounds of the heart monitor tracking Mello's heartbeats were the only noises in the room. His breathing was regular now, stable and easy. An oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth. It was made Near's stomach churn. This could have been entirely his fault. At the time of the car accident, everything happened too quickly for him register what really happened. Whether it was his fault or Mello's, he didn't know.

However, one thing was clear, and that was Mello had taken the majority of the damage. The front of his vehicle had slammed straight into the side of the back of Gevanni's car. Near and Gevanni were the only ones in the vessel at the time and both suffered minor cuts and bruises.

"Mello," Near said quietly. He stepped closer towards the young man's bed and reached over the metal bar on the side of the bed. "You really never change." Near slipped his hand under that white blankets and found Mello's hand. It was cold and limp but Near held it gently, just like he did after Mello was pulled out of the wreckage.

"You're reckless," Near continued, looking into Mello's sleeping face. "You act too quickly. You act on your emotional impulses alone."

He tightened his grip on Mello's hand a little. Then Near felt a smirk forming on his lips.

"They say that people can still retrain their auditory abilities even when they're sleeping or in a coma," he said. He leaned in closer towards Mello until he was only an inch away from his ear. "You better not die, Mello, not like Matt. I don't want you to die."

Near couldn't deny that it felt good to be with Mello like this again, without guns or threats, without cases or challenges. Near brushed his thumb back and forth on Mello's rough knuckles. Why couldn't things be like this whenever they were together? Wouldn't it be easier on everyone if Mello had just listened to Roger and worked with Near? The Kira case had proved Roger's point. In the end, neither of them won the Race for Kira. They needed each other to solve the case that even the great L could not. Near took his hand away from Mello's and lightly touched the blond locks of his hair.

If only you would realize, Near thought. If only you didn't have that superiority complex. The white-haired boy hesitated, and carefully thought to himself for a moment. Then he breathed out a long, silent sigh. Near wanted to let his feelings be acknowledged by Mello. He didn't want to hold it in anymore. Mello had been stubborn long enough, and look where that had led him. It was now or never.

"I don't hate you, Mello," Near whispered into his ear once more. "You created that hate on your own. I wish you would understand that."

That was enough. Near assumed that Mello would understand, if he had heard any of it at all. Aside from that, there was nothing else to say. Near always had a difficult time conveying his emotions, so he decided that keeping things simple and steadfast would be best.

Near pulled back his hand and he felt a strange urge inside of him. He even blushed to himself, not ready to leave Mello's side, but his visit had already been long enough. He swallowed and took in a breath. Leaning over the metal bar of the hospital bed, Near lightly kissed Mello on the forehead. With that, he ended his visit, hoping that there was a chance that Mello had heard his words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I hoped you enjoyed reading that! This is my first time posting a Death Note fanfic. I've had this little plot bunny for a while now and I finally got around to writing it. I absolutely adorable Mello and Near together. Also, I know that Mello drives a motorcycle but you can take it as him riding Matt's car I guess. (The original plotline is altered just a bit.)

This fanfic is based on "The Artist in the Ambulance," a song by the band Thrice. You can check them out if you'd like to. I think the song is just great and the lyrics really fit into Mello's life so I decided to write this story around that. Well anyways, I hope you enjoyed and I hope you'll review!

I'm not sure if I want to keep writing because I'm still a bit worried that Mello will be out of character if he wakes up and sees Near again. I'm still debating that. If you have suggestions or comments, please feel free to let me know. Thanks for reading!