Warnings: Spoilers for the whole series, language (maintains PG-13 level), hints toward shonen-ai, and drug references. Also, no offense is meant to any group of anything.

Wow, it's been so long since I submitted, I'm sorry! I had this sequel half-finished and then my hard-drive died on me, and with it went all my saved stories. 100 dollars later I got myself a new one, and since then I've been struggling to get over having to redo all my work and rewrite. At any rate, the sequel is at last nearly done, and here is the first chapter. Count on the action picking up in Chapter 2 :)

I'm a bit more nervous submitting this time. You've all been so kind writing reviews for the first part of this, "Face", and I'd just like to say I really appreciate it and I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it. I really hope this sequel lives up to your expectations and is as good as the first.

Mello, Matt, L, Near, Kira/Light and the idea of Death Note belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

Lyrics to the song Can't Take Me belong to Bryan Adams. Listen to it. Seriously.

Arik, Matthew, and Airetsyh (I pronounce it air-et-sigh) were created by me.

"So, what did you think of that one?"

"It was alright I suppose. A seven."

"Mello, you rate them all sevens. Come on, that was the best sunset we've seen so far!"

"It wasn't all that great."

Matt sat up beside me from where he'd been laying on the Camaro, shaking his head. "You're never going to be pleased are you?"

I grinned up at him, my hands folded behind my head as I rested against the still-warm hood. "I didn't say I wasn't pleased. I'm not ecstatic about it, if that's what you're hoping for. Don't count on that happening, Matty-boy."

The sun disappeared completely at last, and with it went the purples and reds of the day's sunset. As stars flickered into sight and night set on the desert, we were still miles from any town, pulled over on the side of an empty highway with nothing but the Camaro as a bed for the night. I suppose I didn't really mind. I wasn't minding about a lot of things lately. It was kind of nice, relaxing during the day and letting Matt drive wherever the heck he wanted, while I just sat back and watched the sand and cactus go by. I'd never thought I'd actually enjoy myself doing something like this, but quite a bit had changed in the five days since we'd left LA.

…

It didn't take long after we first left for me to wonder why the hell I'd ever given in and gotten in the car. The case wasn't solved, some psychopathic killer was still on the loose, and I was going to go drive off like I didn't have a care in the world? Life didn't work that way for me. The problem was Matt seemed determined to drag me across the U.S, and certainly wasn't going to let me out of the car prematurely. No matter how much I yelled and threatened to strangle him in his sleep, nothing fazed him. He just laughed at me.

Our first day out we drove straight through the night and on through the day. We didn't really have any particular place to go, which drove me crazy for a while. I wasn't used to not having a goal, having something to do. "Bored" wouldn't quite be the word for it, but I just couldn't stand to sit still for that long. I felt like I should have been doing something useful, but what was there to do?

Right. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

We stopped everywhere that happened to catch Matt's fancy, whether that be some run-down pawnshop with an owner that didn't speak a bit of English or a pricey restaurant where everyone looked down their noses at us, the trashy freak-show kids that happened to pop in and ruin their egotistical snobbery. Matt had a credit card he seemed determined to max out, and one of the first things he bought with it was a little disposable camera.

"And what's that for?" I'd said as he came out of the gas station with it, struggling to rip it from the plastic packet it was wrapped in. I took out a pocket knife and handed it over to him so he'd quit trying to tear the thing open with his teeth. "You thinking of taking up scrap booking?"

"This," he said, waving it in front of my face once it was finally free of its bindings. "Is to chronicle your transformation."

I raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Did you inject me with something I didn't know about? Sorry Matt, but there's no such thing as the incredible Hulk."

He frowned. "Not that kind of transformation, smart-ass." He pulled up the camera, snapping a picture of me before I could get in a word of protest. "Now, when that photo is printed, you will be looking like the most run-down, depressed, world-is-out-get-me-and-life-is-miserable emo blond kid the world has ever seen. But by the end of this trip, you will be a perfect little ray of sunshine. And you will smile," he tapped the camera against my chest with each word, "In. Every. Picture."

"Riiight. Nice fantasy. Matt, unless you pump me up on something real strong, I'm not going to smile in a single picture you take of me."

"Oh really? A little contest then? I bet I can make you smile without getting you drunk or high."

I grinned. "Good luck." And before I could wipe that expression off my face, he'd snapped another picture.

We rented a motel room that night, and when we opened the door I instantly noticed, even in the dim light, that something was wrong.

"There's one bed," I said. Matt flicked on the light switch, nodding.

"Yep. Congratulations Mello, you can count."

I glared at him. "We need another room."

"Go ahead and buy yourself one."

Well I certainly would have done that….if I'd had the money. But I was completely out of cash, and Matt had the credit card. I glared at him. "What're you trying to do?"

"I'm not trying to do anything," he smirked at me. "You're just way too suspicious. Chill, man. Take the floor and wake up with a sore neck if you want to."

Of course I couldn't simply go along with that suggestion. We went ahead and shared the bed, after I threatened to give him a broken nose if he so much as nudged me through the night. Never mind that I was the restless sleeper and ended up sprawled over the bed with one foot on the pillow and the other on his chest. He told me the next morning that I mumbled in my sleep and "Sheesh, Mel, you could have given me a little breathing room". Damn him, taunting me like that. There wasn't really any retort I could give, so I just kept my mouth shut as I felt my face reddening and let him laugh at me. Again. Apparently I was a pretty funny guy.

…

For those of you who have lived under a rock in Antarctica your whole lives, the desert isn't a good place to wear tight leather, or any other clothing that doesn't let your skin get a little air. I'd gotten a really good idea of that fact by the end of day one, at which point we had almost reached the Arizona border. Neither of us had any spare clothes with us, so day two found us in Wal-Mart. I'll make this short and blunt: I hate their clothes. Matt didn't care.

He insisted that since he had the credit card and was "in charge" of this trip, he should be the one to buy our things. I wasn't really left with much choice other than to follow him around the clothes racks insulting everything he picked up. I told him he'd be dead if he bought the Spider-Man shirt he held up to me, and when we checked out it was one of the first things to be bagged.

So it was really a matter of pride that I went on sweating in my leather for the rest of the day, while he changed into a baggy t-shirt and shorts reaching just to his knees. I told him I'd rather go naked than wear what he'd bought, so when I woke up the next morning and my clothes from the previous day had conveniently disappeared, I stayed true to what I'd said. I walked out to the Camaro in nothing but briefs, while Matt lingered behind to pay the receptionist for the room and laugh at me as I went.

I finally gave in and dressed around noon, glowering in a ridiculous Spider-Man t-shirt and shorts too small for my liking. But they made the heat more bearable, and Matt was perfectly sweet about it that night, and actually thanked me for wearing the things. It would have been easier on me if he had been a jerk, because then I would have had a good excuse to lay him out. But no. All he could do was smile and thank me, and I was left me feeling like an ungrateful bastard.

We stocked up the trunk of the car with chocolate bars and Monster drinks, and that was what we lived off of when we couldn't get to a restaurant. We went ahead and rented motel rooms, never more than one and rarely with two beds, just because Matt liked to annoy me and watch me huff and complain about sharing my sleeping space. I suppose I didn't really care about that anymore though.

The truth was, I began to…enjoy myself…a bit. Once I stopped obsessing over the whole trip being useless and wanting something I suggested to be taken into consideration for once, I realized it wasn't all so important as I thought. Matt even managed to get another picture of me smiling.

So here we were, five days later, somewhere in Arizona – maybe bordering on New Mexico – sleeping in the car for the night. I said I wanted the back seat, but Matt insisted he was getting the seat, and I was going on the floor. As soon as we'd both lay down, with no small amount of grumbling on my part, his hand flopped over the seat and tangled in my hair, alternating between careful tugging and gently rubbing my head. I was thankful he couldn't see my face from up there, since that rubbing was putting me right to sleep.

Just before my eyes closed fully, I wondered if I could spend the rest of my life this way. At the moment, that wasn't looking like a bad plan.

…

Several dozen miles back down the road sat an abandoned gas station, old and dark, its walls worn from the scourge of wind-blown sand. The price sign still read 1.02, the windows were cracked and the place had long since been gutted of everything within it. Yet there in the parking lot, beneath a single street lamp that hadn't been turned on in years, sat a gray BMW without license plates, parked just beside a low wall of crumbling brick.

Upon this wall sat three young men, looking as out of place beside the old building as their car. They sat very straight, dressed in immaculate suits and ties, as if on their way to a business meeting. It could be said they were handsome, though it was in the way a porcelain doll could be called such. They were neat and clean, too much so in fact, and their faces had such calm expressions one would think they were incapable of moving their lips into a smile or their foreheads into a frown.

"Matthew," the middle one spoke, carefully preening his slicked-back brown hair. "Have you found them?"

"Almost," said the man to his left, his eyes fixed upon the laptop set on the wall beside him. He carefully pushed his rimless glasses farther up his nose. "Reception is certainly not the best out here."

"Hmph. What a bother." The third gave a small roll of his eyes as he spoke, sounding bored. "I could have taken care of them weeks ago, Arik. Yet you've dragged us out here, to the oh-so-beautiful desert." He held a bag of M&Ms in his hand, and as he spoke he sifted through them with his fingers, picking out and eating only the yellow ones. "It seems wasteful of our time."

"Hardly so, Airetsyh," said the middle one, Arik. "We are doing our duties as Our Lord's heirs. We are to act with mercy and compassion for these terrible sinners. They must be given a chance to repent. Think of how long a chance Our Lord gave L to repent. Must we not follow his example?"

"But these ones caused Our Lord's death. Do they deserve such mercy?"

"All sinners deserve mercy."

"Got it," said Matthew, smiling very slightly. "They're not too far from here. We'll easily be within a good distance of them by morning."

"Excellent," Arik dropped down lightly from the wall, Matthew following behind him. "Let us take our leave then. Airetsyh, are you coming?"

"Yes of course, brother," Airetsyh lowered himself from the wall, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked ahead on the highway. "Where are you hiding?" he whispered. He tipped his bag of M&Ms, letting them pour out onto the sand. "I have to wonder, Mr. Keehl, why haven't you come out to play?"

…

Day six gave us a red sunrise and a breakfast of caffeine-rush and sugar-high. The highway was empty as far as we could see, as usual, and Matt reached over a hundred MPH when we came to a hilly part of the road. The pavement went up and down so quickly even I started to feel a little sick. There was hardly any radio reception out here, except for a few country stations, so we went ahead and listened to a Velvet Revolver CD we'd already heard straight through plenty of times in the past few days.

Matt eventually got bored with that, switching it to the radio where he went ahead and tried to sing along with some country love song. The fake Texas twang he tried to pull off sounded even stranger when paired with his British accent, and I swear the kid couldn't hit a right note to save his life.

"Damn, Matt, deafen me why don't you?" I said, covering my ears as he screeched into a high note. He laughed, as usual. I didn't get how he could be having so much fun out here.

"Come on, Mel," he said. "You sing too." I shook my head adamantly, and he began flipping through radio stations, determined that he would find something I'd sing along to. I told him the whole while I wouldn't, no, nope, not doing it, never doing it, ever, not even if it was me alone in the shower. I couldn't sing, and I knew well that I couldn't. If my voice bordered anywhere near a tune, it would sound like a combination of bad car brakes, a hurt dog, and nails on a chalkboard.

Matt paused on some Bryan Adams song, glancing over at me questionably. I shook my head, but I went ahead and listened to the lyrics anyway.

I can't be beat and that's a fact


It's OK - I'll find a way


You ain't gonna take me down no way

A slow smirk spread across Matt's face. "Come on Mel, you want to."

"Nope."


Don't judge a thing until you know what's inside it


Don't push me - I'll fight it

Matt started singing, swerving the car back and forth across the road as he did. The windows were rolled down, whipping his hair around his head, making him look as crazy as he sounded, shouting the lyrics "You can't take me!" at the top of his voice. But I was beginning to smile a bit, something in me going off like adrenaline, some kind of rush. So what the heck, why not? Next time the chorus came around I sang it with him.

You can't take me – I'm free

"Yeah!" Matt reached over to push my shoulder lightly. "I knew you could, Mel." His grin turned to a more sincere smile. "You're no worse than I am."

"Yeah right," I gave him a little shove back. "I'm better than you any day; you sound like a yowling cat." I felt a bit like a buzz-kill after that, but he kept his smile despite it and still had it when we pulled into a McDonald's parking lot in the next town we came to a few miles up the road.

"See, this is good for you," he said, walking backwards in front of me up toward the door. "I told you I'd get you to smile." He reached out to nudge my face a little with his knuckle. "You got dimples, kid."

"I don't," I said, brushing his hand away, then watching as he tried to pull open the door when the sign on it clearly said "push". Here was the reason he had been only third at Wammy's: he rarely paid attention. I went ahead and pushed it open for him. "Rocket science, Matt. Look at that, I'm the next Einstein."

He shook his head. "I'd starve without you Mello."

…

The BMW pulled off the road into the parking lot, Arik sitting calmly in the driver's seat as Matthew kneaded a plastic bag filled with red liquid in his hands. There was a soft sound from the backseat, like a cry of frustration, and Arik said, "Let's remain calm, shall we Airetsyh? We don't want a repeat of what occurred at the White Tiger. That was rather rash of you."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Airetsyh voice sounded strained as he spoke, sitting very straight and tense in his seat, glaring toward the large windows on the sides on the restaurant. "I can't see them…"

"You don't need to," said Matthew, holding up the bag. "We can't get rid of them yet anyway. Mercy, brother. We must give them their warning"