NOTE- THIS IS THE PRODUCT OF SHEER BOREDOM! O.k. then…. Now that we have that out of the way…

In a few words, this is a Mello & an OC pairing. (Frankly, even though yaoi is cute, I don't like yaoi pairings with Death Note. Sad, but true…)

I felt bad that Mello had no real girlfriend, so I decided to make him one. (Mello-you have met your match! Bwa-ha-ha! O.o)

I'm going to TRY to stay on track.

Enjoy…

Love is like wildflowers; It's often found in the most unlikely places."- Unknown

She knew that she didn't belong anywhere, but, as she stepped out into the night rain, she knew that she almost belonged at her destination, the back alleys of L.A, among other misfits, almost as lost as her.

Emphasis on the ALMOST.

The girl sighed, shoving her pale, delicate hands into her hoodie's pockets, feeling careless. That was the closest emotion to sadness she would let herself get. Blowing out her black bangs loudly, she attracted the attention of a couple drug dealers, who, for once, didn't try to sell her a joint. Those thickheaded dweebs must've finally got it through their heads that I don't do drugs. She thought, resisting the urge to smirk, knowing that her now late guardian would've told her the first time the drug dealers had approached her to stab them with her little switchblade in her holey jean's pocket.

Not that I wouldn't mind, B.B.-senpai, but your advice is now futile-I know that I'd get caught for the murders, just like you. She thought bitterly, blowing out her bangs again, sighing.

She learned a few seconds after that she needed to break her habit of thinking deeply while walking as she ran into the local gang leader, a 25 year old, 6'5, skirt chaser of a man who never took no for an answer.

"Well, well, well…Look who we have here, boys." The gang leader, otherwise known as Slasher, drawled, his hand clamping onto the girl's wrist. She winced and tugged away, trying to ditch the half brained gangsters as they laughed like idiots at her struggle. "Let me go! Let go!" She hissed, disappointed when her current mood turned what could've been threatening remark into a whine of a ninny.

Slasher snorted in amusement (a word that I, myself, doubt he could spell.) as he leaned in and proceeded to stroke the girl's cheek, watching her shudder away. "How 'bout it, babe? A night with me and you'll never be the same again…"

"NOT INTERESTED, YOU SON OF A -!" She shouted, poison lacing her words as her lip curled with disgust, pulling out her switchblade. She cried out in dismay as he knocked the knife out of her hand, glaring.

"Don't play games, little girl. Give in now or you'll get played with yourself. Ain't that right, boys?" Slasher called to the ring of men that surrounded him, smirking as they began to call dibs. The girl paled, despite her skin already having a snow shade. She knew what she was to most men- the innocent lamb, the prey that would be stolen to make the man the real predator- but yet, she couldn't grasp what her fate was to be.

To be raped by a gang and left for dead after their crime, perhaps even living to bear children of the crime?

Or to be rescued by another gang, all because of her hidden connection the events so affecting her main redeemer?

It appeared that Fate agreed with the second option.

"Playtime certainly isn't what it used to be anymore…" A casual, but mocking voice commented from a deserted doorway.

Slasher, his gang and their victim all looked up to see a blond, bowl-cutted youth step out of the shadows, older and stronger men following.

The girl's jaw grew slack as the gang idiot, an unfortunate, huge man with little to no I.Q. to speak of, stepped forward and, in a seriously mistaken gesture, felt the youth up. The girl winced as she shouted, "Idiot! Don't you know the difference between a man and a chick?"

The man stopped, his hands still resting on the youth's chest and looked back, saying, "Course I do. A guy has a dick; a girl has a vajay…" The man slowly looked to the chest he was rubbing, and went speechless with shock as he realized his mistake.

"Your Mummy never told you that girls have breasts, huh, basterd?" The boy asked, raising a pistol to gunpoint on the man.

A muffled bang later, and the boy stepped over the idiot's body, gun level to Slasher's eyes. "You have no respect for a man's personal property, huh?" The blond youth inquired, letting his glare and gun to most of the talking.

Slasher struggled to regain his nerve, muttering, "This your chick, shorty?"

Slasher soon was on the ground, blood caking his forehead, due to getting knocked in the head with the gun. The boy stood over him, girl hugged against his chest, (where she was blinking out shock at the moment) hissing at the nearly unconscious man 10 years his senior, "What's it to you, dicksucker?"

The boy's mob was now surrounding Slasher's brain-dead criminals, leveling their guns, aiming to kill at the order of their leader. The girl made an uncomfortable sound against the youth's chest, which he ignored, paying no heed to her whimper of "Don't kill them…" Instead, he covered her eyes and ears, and fired, cutting Slasher's life short.

5 minutes later…

The girl looked up at her rescuer, whispering, "Thank you…"

He grunted in reply, letting her go, walking back to the doorway from where he had appeared. "H-hey! Wait up!" The girl cried. The boy glanced at her from over his shoulder, glaring, "Why should I?"

She faltered before stuttering, "You don't …care to even know who you risked your life for?"

The young man barked out a laugh, letting his men go into the deserted apartment building leading to their hideout before him, stepping to face the girl.

"Why should I? You're probably gonna be dead tomorrow morning with your luck, anyways. I don't do introductions."

"B-but…! Mello!" the girl cried, eyes wide as the boy crossed the alley in 3 quick strides, backing her into a wall, slamming both hands on either side of her head, his face inches away from hers as he snarled, "How the hell do you know my name?"

Words tumbled out of the girl's mouth in a rush. "W-well, I was invited to live in Wammy's House a-and the man who came to get me showed me pictures of e-everyone there, including you! A-and I was told about you by my guardian…"

"Just who the hell did your guardian think he was?"

The girl gave him a level look, answering, "Beyond Birthday, thank you. He thought of himself as the ultimate criminal, the ultimate challenger-just like you. So he told me."

Mello backed off, scoffing. "Damn straight!" He declared as they heard police sirens coming closer. Cursing, he dragged the girl through the doorway, pushing her all the way to his hideout, relenting to her pleas of slowing down when they reached the threshold.

Leading her past his slightly confused men, (who now were wondering if Mello hadn't been lying when he claimed the girl as his.) Mello dragged her to his room, slamming the door closed before letting her wrist go. Grabbing pillows out of his closet, he turned to inform the girl that she'd be sleeping on the floor for the night, his words getting lost in his throat when he saw her collapsed on his bed. Growling, he dropped the pillows and stomped to the girl, hissing, "Get off my bed!"

She groaned in response, causing Mello to concede with his intuition to feel her forehead, pulling his hand away in dismay as a fever was discovered. Throwing his hands up in dismay, he grumbled, "Why me?"

"Sorry…" the girl mumbled, embarrassed as she sneezed and as Mello threw an extra blanket at her. "What's your name, girl?" He asked, doing a double take as she replied, "Death."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah…Beyond said that I got to name myself. And the name suits."

"Yeah- you look like death thawed over."

"Thanks."

"….That wasn't a compliment. Death…huh…weird name."

"That's why it suits. I'm weird…and I like the sound of it."

Mello stayed silent as he slightly glared at his new "burden", rolling his eyes as she snuggled into his pillow. Damn…a handful already…he thought, muttering to her "Whatever. Shut up and go to sleep."

He lowered himself to the floor and suppressed a groan of protest, considering for a millisecond of whether he should kick Death out of his bed. He brushed it off.

Damn, he wanted his bed back.