whosthatpokemon | Game Over; [Voice]

[A dark night, cold for the time of the year. Nothing but the stars above, and the whispers of the forest below. Scurries of the nocturnal pokemon, soft voices and rustles in the bushes. The sound of the wind, scattering all them. Mingling them. Except for one human voice, quiet in it's own right and yet so loud in the dark of the night.]

O merciful God,
take pity on those souls
who have no particular friends and intercessors
to recommend them to Thee, who,
either through the negligence of those who are alive,
or through length of time are forgotten
by their friends and by all.

[The words of a prayer, even if the one who voiced them didn't particularly believe in any god or celestial being above. As such the words were empty, and yet still they continued.]

Spare them, O Lord,
and remember Thine own mercy,
when others forget to appeal to it.
Let not the souls which Thou hast created
be parted from thee, their Creator.

[Another pause, longer than the first, and the voice lets out a sigh. Bored as much as it is listless.]

May the souls of all the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen.

[The feed seems to cut off there, but if one listens carefully, the sounds are merely muffled. The PokeTop is closing, but not fully disconnected yet when the last words are whispered to the wind.]

Donec obviam iterum Mihael.

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[L's words, no matter how comforting they may have been intended to be, leave him feeling hollow. Even more so than before. So when he hears the clicks, the knows what it is. He knows who it is. And with each decisive sound, there's another pang of guilt.

He's still in Vermillion. He knows he should have said something, anything to Near when him and Light had beaten the gym, when they had gotten their badges from Near and that strange alien that accompanied him. But he couldn't, not with Light there with him. Not without blowing his cover.

So why didn't he approach the other later, when he got away? In times like this, when he finds himself alone just a couple miles outside city limits.

He honestly doesn't know.]

Near.

[He's spent so long with Light, following him. Pretending to be someone who doesn't know who he is, what he's done. Trying not to think of what Mello would think of him now, of how empty he'd become. There was a time when he wouldn't mind lingering around Near, when the boy was the only thing left to remind him of Mello's ambitions back in that year before Matt bailed out of Wammy's too.

But now, what does he say? He barely has words for himself, for anyone.

Because honestly, what do the dead have to say to the living?]

I assume this transmission is secure.

[ But could he make it more so? In theory, no one in this world save L, Kira, Matt, and himself should know of their history, but theory was just that: theory. There was no telling if lips had been loosened or to what degree and certainly not everyone in the world was benevolent, be it theirs or this world they'd found their way into. He had no desire to risk certain information finding its way back to Light. Thus, the unspoken question of, 'Can this transmission be made any more secure?'

What he isn't expecting is that small pang that sees him pause in his placement of the domino pieces. He knows this; it isn't unfamiliar. Their win had not been secured without losses. ]

I wouldn't have broadcasted if it wasn't perfect. Light isn't that much of an idiot.

[An idiot he is, Matt will stick to that, but for far too many reasons that he knows he shouldn't go into. Reasons Matt has debated with himself, thought what would he have done, if he were given that power?

Fucked up thoughts he shouldn't have been having. Ones he had no choice but to have, being alone with Light Yagami as his only companion for months on end. And of course, the ever constant reminder of how easy it was to be unknown. How he was never written down in the Death Note, he hadn't mattered. His life had been lost in accident, a minor casualty in the big scheme of things.

No one knew his name. No one would remember him. Mello wasn't the only forgotten dead, he can never forget that. And even if he's alive now, how alive is he really?

Thoughts he keeps to himself. Has kept to himself, for far too long it seems. There's a click from his end, that of a lighter. His smoke has already gone out, he needs to light a new one.]

He isn't the only possible danger here.

[ But Matt knows that surely because Matt isn't an idiot. His movements, however, had been somewhat troubling to Near, namely in that he hasn't heard a peep out of him, nor seen him since he and Light had come to the gym in Vermillion to challenge its leaders for their badges. He understood the need not to give himself away before Light. Certainly, the lack of so much as a word of recognition had been merited at that time, but time enough had passed that Matt could have sought him out over these devices or in person. Matt knew where he was. He knew how to contact him; and yet, he's the one initiating, and to the best of his ability.

Why?

Time had changed them. Near wasn't so naive as to think Mello and Matt hadn't changed in some ways for all that they had likely remained the same in others, but Mello wasn't, isn't here. If he was, things would be different. Matt owed him nothing, regardless, but that radio silence had proven too bothersome to let pass. The blip that was L finding his way to him had been something, at least, and, of course, there was the matter of Matt's company. For all it appeared benign, nothing good could come of it, not for Matt. Light was Kira; Kira was Light. Matt was... ]

How long will your thumb hold the square before it gets tired?

[The puff of a surprised laugh is the first thing heard, he hadn't been expecting that.]

This was supposed to be a way of me letting go and saying goodbye, for now.

[Because there's still hope there, even if minuscule, that he'll see Mello again. The feed goes dead shortly after those words, and Matt can't help but ponder his next move. He's not like the others. He doesn't plan ahead, doesn't see everything like a chess game. He's always been the type to play a different kind of game. One where you make decisions of the moment, ones that can be changed. Some that shouldn't be made, but can always be salvaged at some point in time.

He sees this as one of those times. Honestly, he has nothing else to do tonight, so why not? There's no warning, no inclination of an idea of what he has planned. His poketop goes into his bag he slings over his shoulder as he hops down from the tree he'd been perched in.

It's a long walk, one that costs him a pack of cigarettes and an extra five minutes to stop by the store to pick up a new one on his way. In total, the trip back probably takes him just over two hours. But it's time he spends thinking, reflecting. Debating. He doesn't know why, doesn't care to second guess himself. But it seems far too soon he finds himself on the doorstep of the Vermillion City gym. He doesn't even know if Near's still awake, it's getting late into the night after all, or if he'd even care after the more than a little rude way Matt had simply cut their conversation short.

Not to mention the huge ass alien that lives here.

But he doesn't care, because it's hard to worry and fear when you feel like you don't know what you're living for anymore. So he lets himself in to the gym, moving around to the back areas that were meant to be off limits to trainers.]

Hey, you here?

[ 'Goodbye,' that was the word that stuck in Near's mind when the feed went dead. They never had said that, had they? 'Goodbye' was a word that carried such a strong degree of disconnection, of finality. For Matt to say that now -- it saw a finger brush a domino for a moment's hesitation in placement, the puzzle folding prematurely and falling into a mess the pieces of which he moves to draw to him again after a tense moment.

"For now."

And later? Later, Near is up late at the 'insistence' of his Plusle and Minun, a blanket wrapped loosely across his shoulders as the two electric types bound about the not quite makeshift fort. That is, until that voice cuts through the air and sees the three of them pause in their playing, the robot in Near's hands gripped a little more tightly as his eyes move to follow that voice to its source. ]

Matt?

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