Author's Note: Yayy for disappearing for months on end and then randomly wandering back into the world of fanfiction with another one-shot in hand! …or not.

So, I was just feeling the need to write some Halle/Mello angst. I'll probably follow it up with some Matsuda/Misa angst. Eventually. I hate saying that I'm going to do something, because I almost never end up actually…doing it. That's just how much of a flake I am.

Well, anyways, I hope that you guys can find some enjoyment in reading this. I don't know if it's any good, since I just randomly wrote it while watching Mythbusters and wanting to RP very, very badly. If you enjoy it, let me know! Reviews make me very happy.

Disclaimer: I have never, in my life, claimed to own Death Note or any of the characters/situations/donuts contained therein. Seriously, people. You'd think that everyone would have learned this by now.

We are broken. What must we do to restore
Our innocence, and all the promise we adored?
Give us life again, because we just want to be whole.

Bells resounded throughout the courtyard. Each ring pushed an invisible knife even further into Halle's heart. It was hard for her to accept that no one at Wammy's House recognized her. She had always struggled with accepting her age, but, for the first time, she felt as if she was part of a past generation—a group of people who were no longer necessary to the world. Quillsh Wammy was dead, L was dead, almost every single one of her colleagues was dead, Matt was dead, and finally…finally, Mello was dead. The only one who still recognized her was Near, and he was nowhere to be found. Part of her couldn't believe that Near hadn't bothered to show up to the memorial, but she knew that he was working on a case. He was the new L, after all, and he had the greatest responsibility of all of the survivors.

Blowing out a deep breath, Halle took a few hesitant steps towards the cold, stone memorial tablet. It was so hard to believe that there was nothing left to remind everyone of him but a few fragile memories and a piece of marble. The blonde agent sniffed back a sigh and ignored the lone tear that managed to tear free from the corner of her eye. No one cared that she was there to pay her final respects; almost no one even cared about why they were there, in the first place. She was not the only one who was part of a specific generation. She and Mello had always been alike. Even though he was dead, Hal still felt that they were alike—they had both been forgotten.

Those who could remember them simply didn't want to. Who would have wanted to constantly be reminded of everything that had happened because of Kira? Whether she liked it or not, the memories of both her and Mello were inseparably tied to the painful situation. She couldn't blame anyone for wanting to forget about what had happened. Hell, she wanted to forget about what had happened. But not at the cost of forgetting about Mello. Absolutely nothing was worth that.

It took every bit of self-control that she possessed to force herself to choke back a sob. Letting her chin fall to her chest, she slumped and rapidly lowered herself to the ground—her legs unevenly tucked underneath her body and her black skirt uncomfortably shifting up on her thighs. Her pale, shaking fingers still trailed over the white, unforgiving marble.

White. Mello had never liked that color. To be honest, she had never found an affinity for it, either. Black was so much classier—sexier, even. White represented a sort of purity that neither of them had ever possessed. If someone had told Mello that someone would erect a white marble slab in his memory once he passed away, he would have keeled over in laughter. It was a laughable thought, really. And, yet, the most that it could do was bring a heartbroken half-smile to her face and a flood of tears to her eyes. The happiest memories that she had of him were the ones that hurt the most.

Their relationship had always been anything but acceptable. No one ever had to know, however. Halle knew that Near had been able to figure it out. That kid was far too smart for his own good. No one else knew, though, and that was more than fine with her. She knew that, once she died, there would be no one to remember the real Mello; therefore, it only seemed right that there would be no one else to remember the feelings that they had shared.

Something deep inside of her had always known that Mello would not be with her for much longer. He always had a penchant for throwing himself headfirst into the most dangerous situations. He was reckless and rash—illogical and passionate. Still, he almost always knew what he was doing and managed to escape nearly unscathed from almost every circumstance. How he managed to do so had always been completely beyond her comprehension, but she knew that she didn't have to understand him. All that she had to do was accept him, and she did. She not only accepted him, she loved him. How or why, she didn't really know. But she did…deeply.

During their final conversation, Mello had seemed melancholy. It wasn't like him to be melancholy. Irate or malevolent, yes, but not depressed. She hadn't thought much of it at the time; he had been worrying her for quite a while, so she thought that his mood was simply a symptom of his ever-rising stress level. After watching him kidnap Takada, however, she quickly realized that she had been wrong—dead wrong. No matter how she rationalized the situation, she felt that his death was all her fault. There had to have been something that she could have done. She should have stopped him. Why didn't she try to stop him?

Halle gritted her teeth and slammed her clenched fist on the memorial tablet. She was upset…depressed…angry…and, yet, she didn't really know what she was anymore. What was she supposed to feel? In such a short period of time, she had lost almost everyone that she cared about, including the one person who always knew how to make her feel…well, that was just it. He made her feel. Whether he made her angry, defensive, happy, excited, worried, or anything of the sort, it was much better than being the stony and emotionless agent that the CIA had trained her to be. It was hard for people to squeeze their way into her heart, but he had beaten the doors down and refused to leave. He still refused to leave, even though he was dead, and that was the most painful thing.

Look at you, Hal. She could almost hear him snickering in disdain. You're crumpled on the ground, crying over me, of all people. I thought that you knew better than to do something like that.

Hal couldn't help but let a single sob tear free from her shuddering frame. "I can't help it. I…I don't know how to let you go." Her voice was small, nearly inaudible. She knew that she was simply talking to herself, but she wanted to believe that he was really there with her. "You…were the only person that I had left. How am I supposed to accept that you're gone?"

You just do, Hal. There's no "how" about it. Hal could imagine him watching her as he spoke, a sardonic sneer dominating his face, but a soft and compassionate gleam in his gaze. There were not many soft spots in Mello's heart, but she knew that he possessed one for her. It had come to be the only possession that she treasured, and she knew that she was going to miss that intimate attachment.

"I know, Mello. I know." She let out a deep, shuddering breath and managed to pull herself to her feet, using the slab of marble as a support. Using her slender fingers, she deftly wiped away the trails of the tears that had cascaded down her pallid cheeks. A small, sad smile managed to tug at the corners of her lips as she caressed the cold stone for the final time. "I can't say goodbye yet, Mello. Maybe, one day, I can, but…not today." Her long blonde hair fell into her face as she leaned forward to briefly press her lips to the tablet—her voice lowering to nothing more than a whisper. "I love you, Mello. I always will."

I know, Hal. I know.

A slight chuckle slipped past her lips. Turning her back on the ironically white marble, she pulled herself together somewhat and walked back towards the orphanage where everyone else was gathered. No one would recognize her, and no one would ever remember that she had even been there. That was alright with Halle. Regardless of whether or not she ever learned how to deal with Mello's death, no matter what, she knew that she would never forget him.

To her, Mello was simply unforgettable.