Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
A/N: Kinda-sorta sequel to Heat and Bleed, although prior knowledge of these two fics is not necessary in order to understand Duality.
Rated for sexual innuendo, swearing, and Matt's gay jokes. With lyrics provided by Hot Hot Heat.
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running with scissors wasn't smart
i tripped and cut open your heart
i didn't mean to, but i seem to
have pushed us back to the start
--
duality
--
Mello was in a bad mood. That was nothing new, since Mello was always in a bad mood, but today he was especially ill-tempered. The murderous blonde threw venomous, scathing looks at anyone who dared to make eye-contact with him, pushing over underlings who blocked his path as he stomped down the hall and down into the basement where Matt was currently lurking. The red-haired genius, one of Wammy's finest, seemed to be the only one who was coolly unaffected by the blonde's smoldering anger. (Even Rod Ross himself was not impervious to Mello's dramatic mood swings.) The teenager didn't even look up as Mello came stalking in.
The heavy fall of Mello's boots halted directly behind Matt, on the other side of the couch in which the youth was currently perched upon. "Why don't you quit dicking around and actually do something useful for once, Matt," he snarled malevolently.
"What, you need me to make a run to the nearest 7/11 and get you another tampon to stick up your ass?" Matt asked mock-sweetly, not even bothering to look up from his game. Mello muttered something nasty under his breath, and then punched Matt squarely in the spine.
"Hey, you miserable fuck…!" Matt cried in outrage, just as Mello yanked the gameboy out of his hands.
"What is this, anyway? … Mario?" his face contorted up in disgust as he pitched the Nintendo down on the cushion beside Matt again. His companion twisted in his seat, glaring up at Mello through yellow tinted lenses.
"Those goggles look fucking ridiculous, I hope you realize," Mello informed him kindly.
"Your leather looks fucking gay," Matt retorted immediately. "You look like someone's dominatrix." Mello's brow furrowed; another onslaught of violence appeared to be imminent, so the other prodigy wisely moved to the other end of the couch. "What've you got your panties in a knot over, anyway? The kidnapping was a success. You got some ass, and we got the notebook. Everybody wins, right? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"You're fucking stupid, Matt," Mello said, looking away. Matt quirked a brow at him.
"Aw, I get it, you're pouting." Matt's eyes shone mischievously as he came to the conclusion. "You miss her, don't you? Ickle Mello wants his Sayu-wayu." Mello glared at him and Matt grinned. "Stop being a little bitch and get over it, dude. It's bad form to get involved with a hostage anyway. Didn't you learn anything in Kidnapping 101?"
"I'm going to shoot you," Mello told him, already half-way to the staircase. "I'm going to get a gun right now." And he stomped up the steps whence he came.
--
God damn it Yagami, Mello thought some time later, the plastic molding of the detonator warm and slick in his already sweaty palm. Your daughter is never going to forgive me for this.
He closed his eyes as he pressed the button. Boom.
--
In the wake of her father's death there were a lot of sympathetic words, awkward condolences, pitying glances. Everyone seemed to tiptoe around Sayu as though she were made of glass, compromised and on the verge of shattering. It impressed only that much more grief upon her, made her father's death that much harder to cope with. She wished people would just leave her alone; wished her mother would stop asking her to open up, to talk about what has happened; wished the psychiatrist would stop prescribing her pills. She passed every day in a delirium, trapped by her own pain, fear, and loss. It was inescapable, and she felt herself slowly giving way to despair.
It was a few days after the funeral that she saw Light for the first time since Christmas of the previous year. She didn't bother to inquire as to why he skipped the memorial service—she was pretty sure it had something to do with The Investigation. It always did.
The details surrounding her father's death were vague. She knew that he had been shot, that there had been a fire of some kind. That he had died in America, while partaking in a raid to recover something invaluable to the police and the Kira case. She knew he had been murdered, and that the killer was still at large. (She also had a pretty good idea who the culprit was, but she hoped against hope that she was wrong.)
Sayu's first thought upon seeing Light again was how, well, grown-up he appeared. Although only a few years separated the two siblings, when Sayu gazed upon the stoic and composed face of her elder brother it seemed like decades. He looked so out-of-place, standing in the doorway of her room, with his dark suit and his stoic expression. The transformation from a boy to she once knew and a man she could not identify with was astounding. He also looked a bit peaky and malnourished, which was understandable, considering the circumstances. She wondered if their father's passing had hit Light as hard as it was hitting her.
"Light," she said, blinking at him in surprise. "Did mom know you were coming?" Sachiko had left for grocery shopping just a half-hour prior; Sayu knew the widow would be upset if she knew she had missed her eldest child.
Light didn't answer. "Sayu, I'm sorry I'm dropping in unannounced like this, but it's really important." His expression was grave. "When you were kidnapped… did you meet someone named Mello?"
Sayu's insides wrenched up painfully at the sound of his name. She bowed her head as she felt her eyes begin to swell with the familiar sting of tears. "Light…" she whispered, as she heard the quiet footsteps of her brother draw nearer. "…H-he's the one who's responsible… isn't he?"
"Sayu." She felt Light's heavy hand clasp her by the shoulder. "I need your help. You might actually be the one to help solve this case."
"Do you need a description or something?" Sayu asked, looking up at her brother. Light was wearing an expression Sayu couldn't quite identify. She wondered what he was thinking.
"I just need his name."
"I don't know his name," Sayu told him truthfully.
"I do," Light said unexpectedly, and Sayu blinked at surprise. He reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a torn piece of lined notebook paper. "Sayu, I'm going to tell you his name, and I want you to write it down on this scrap of paper." It was an unusual request, and Sayu locked gazes with her brother, trying to gain some kind of understanding. She suddenly remembered something Mello had said to her, on the night before he released her back into police custody:
"We're going to make a trade," Mello told her in a half-whisper. "The notebook, for your freedom."
Then she thought of her father, and what he had died for. (Retrieving something invaluable to the Kira investigation.) She wondered if he had been successful, and if it had been the aforementioned notebook. The more Sayu considered it, the sounder her theory became. After all, detective reasoning ran in her blood.
"Sayu," came Light's voice again, gentler this time. Sayu realized she had gotten caught up her memories. "Do you think you could do that for me?"
He extended the piece of loose-leaf before her. He seemed tense, and a faint flicker of anxious hope seemed to flitter across his features before it was gone. And Sayu wondered for the first time if perhaps Mello and the others were right in having their suspicions.