Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, sadly.
4 Days in the Pacific
Prologue: It's His Life
It's his life.
He chooses how to live.
It's his house.
He chooses to live in his single bedroom apartment in the slumps of San Francisco.
It's his call.
He chooses when to pull the trigger.
It's his baby.
He chooses to care and nurture his child.
That makes him a man…
And a father…
--
That was Mihael Keehl. Twenty years old, standing at a whopping five foot eight at a hundred sixteen pounds. His hair was short, above his shoulders, a brilliant beach colored blonde which did NOT match his demeanor one bit. Mihael had two piercing blue aqua colored eyes like always seemed to be dilated. That meant his pupils seemed a little too small for his eyes. But, one look from his sapphire irises sent a fifteen year old gang banger packing, running to the window. The fact that Keehl carried a small rifle in his pocket didn't help make him any less scary.
Mihael Keehl was called Mello though he wasn't mellow.
Always dressed in black leather, he walked the streets, his pride by his side, a half eaten chocolate bar jammed in his gloved hand. His stolen motorcycle was often his way of going about through the street lit nights of the Pacific coastline town, leaving a trail of thick, black smoke behind. The environment was not one of his close friends.
Things about Mello, meaning stuff he likes:
One is definitely chocolate. He'd die without the mouthwatering substance if he was somehow deprived of it. That's why jail wasn't an option. You could say chocolate was Mello's heroine.
Leather. He has to like the tight stuff if that's all he wore.
Black. He always wore black, even before the leather.
His mafia. Mello was the boss of a huge group of fellow slumanians. Yep, he and his fellow mafia were the ones feared the most in the city of San Francisco. Especially Mello…
Whatever Mello wanted, Mello got.
If that meant taking a life, he did.
Hostages weren't uncommon.
Nor was killing or strangling a cop, stripping them of their wallet and their life.
His motorbike. The metal contraption took him everywhere he wanted, what ore could he ask for?
Lastly, sluts. The name alone wasn't appealing but he could easily rid himself of the reoccurring problem of hormones through them. Not once did one get pregnant. If they did, he shot her…
Dislikes:
Cops. Why else would he shoot so many of them?
Children. God, those screaming sissies who never could shut up!
School. He dropped out at sixteen for a reason.
Rich bastards. They were WAY too full of themselves. Boy, would he love to fill those idiots with lead.
That was really it about Mello, his pros and cons.
A few other tips about this cop bounty hunter. Mello was temperamental and headstrong, thus the scar on the right side of his face from a shootout at a burning building. Because of his lack of self-control, Mello almost died, shooting down a rival mafia.
Luckily, he was pulled out by his best friend Matt, named really Mail Jeevas.
Also, Mihael was a genius. But, not the best due to his tendency to follow his instincts. That was his definite downfall.
--
Now that Mello was almost seventeen, he saw his life as perfect. The ruling mafia, cops off their back working on some serial murder case, and a girlfriend.
This was the girl. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, brains… She was the next America's Top Model. She had long flowing platinum hair, which was rare, she was albino, skinny, and short, no taller than five foot one.
Alison, the name of an angel.
Mello loved her and she loved Mello.
Spending days at a local café, chatting over coffee and kicking back.
Alison was a collage student getting by on a scholarship. She knew of Mello's mafia and she didn't think differently of him. Actually, she worried.
Every time he left, she'd say, "Come back safely."
He'd kiss her passionately then he shut the door, leaving her all alone in his one bedroom apartment in the slump of town.
One day, everything came crashing down.
Mello was sitting, shirtless, drinking some hot cocoa on his stool by the small but clean, tile counter. His black slacks were covering his heated legs.
Another sleepless night with Allison. He loved it. Every week, one day was spent in his bed, not a speck of sleep coming anytime soon. Of course they used protection.
Nothing could go wrong…right?
Another small sip of his hot chocolate, the small hand radio switched onto metal, Mello's favorite music. He didn't have a TV or an oven. One torn sofa, two stools, a small stock of food in the cabinets, no fridge, a small radio, that was it. Mello was content.
Allison came out in her silk whit gown, a look of forlorn written all over her china face.
She slowly went to Mello's side, over the stained red, chunky carpet, stopping beside his stool.
"Mornin' Ally," Mello said softly, planting a small kiss on her cheek.
Allison chuckled, embracing her boyfriend lovingly, a smile gracing her lips.
"Mel?" Allison started, tearing the embrace.
"Hmm?" Mello sipped his hot cocoa again.
Allison's face panned down, her hair falling in front of her face.
"I'm pregnant…"
Mello literally spit out his hot chocolate, brown drops splattering all over the counter.
"WHAT!?" His furious eyes pierced Allison, sending knives of pain through her heart.
Crack.
"I'm pregnant," she squeaked again, looking to Mello with tearful onyx eyes.
"Wha how? We used" Mello stared to protest.
"Condoms and birth control aren't a guarantee."
Mello lowered his head, his blonde hair plunging in front of his face. His world was over. This was reality. Reality was never sweet. It was sour.
"Get out…"
"What?" Allison took a small step back.
Mello's sharp eyes flamed up. "GET OUT!"
Allison whimpered. "Wh-why?"
"Slut! Get the fuck out!" he screamed, sprinting to the bedroom.
Slamming open the drawer and slapping out her bag, he stuffed it full of clothing and her other things.
He chucked out a thousand dollars from the last bank heist and stuffed it in the bag, zipping it loudly.
Behind him was a scared Allison, who was withdrawn from reality.
"Here. Have the thousand dollars and GET OUT," Mello glowered, hurling the bag towards Allison's still, bare feet.
"Mello," she whispered, on the verge of tears.
"Out," Mello said, turning his back to her.
"Tell me why, Mello, tell me," Allison said softly, hiding her face in a blanket of snow colored hair as she picked up her bag.
The darkness overcame light, the room was shadowed.
"I don't want a damned family," he cursed, his back still turned.
"I see. I won't give up my baby Mello, not for you."
Allison felt her heart tear, disappearing and turning to stone. All she felt was anger, bitterness replacing the love she once held.
With that, she took her bag and walked out of the room, still in her transparent gown. Out into the cold, gone forever, leaving Mello to weep quietly.
The perfect alternate realty burst into pieces. That mirror broke that day, the pieces to never to be reassembled again. Shattered into crimson pieces, a reflection scattered into another universe.
Goodbye my perfect world…
--
Allison left. Mello never saw her again.
That night, a cop was sliced through the stomach by a knife.
Nine months later…
The snow reigned down, covering the sidewalks of the graffiti walkways I blankets of pure snow. Snow was odd, especially for coastlines. But this was no ordinary town.
Mello, in his black leather and fur coat, stomped over the fluffy, frozen water, leaving deep holes behind from his black boots.
Thoughts remained in his head.
Allison…
The baby…
He loved Alison, yes, but he didn't want a family.
No, that wasn't right.
It was more…it was more like Mello feared it. How could one man who isn't an illegal adult care for another being? That kind of pressure made Mello think of the afterlife, after shooting himself in the head, after plunging a blade through his abdomen…
After the incident and falling out with his own family, Mello hadn't an idea of how to properly care for one, let alone do it himself, considering the fact that he is an unemployed mafia boss didn't help much either.
A frozen flake fell to Mello's face, on his scar from the dull gray, smog filled, sky above.
His face panned up to the sky.
Why, why me? Why did this happen to me? God fucking dammit!
His teeth gritted together, his lips forming into a low frown as the heels of his boots clicked against the concrete below. A pile of muddied snow flew above his ankles, hitting a tin trashcan a few feet away, creating a loud panging sound as the lid rumbled above.
Cerulean irises stared into the sky.
Why?
Cars zoomed by, leaving tracks of contaminated snow, some bits splattering onto Mello's coat.
Mello didn't move, he didn't yell, he didn't curse. He stayed perfectly still like a statue.
Without a sound escaping his icy lips, he stomped off, leaving sorrowful tracks fleetingly behind for they were to be filled with the rare coastline snowfall. A memory that would live for a lifetime…
--
It was close to midnight when Mello stumbled back to his rundown apartment complex. He was exhausted to say the least. A shootout with experienced SWAT members wasn't easy. Especially when they mistake you for another mafia, the wrong one, thinking you have a large Meth lab somewhere underground and they charge in, armed and fully ready to arrest you.
The SWAT members were appropriately punished for their actions though. Luckily, Mello's mafia suffered minor injuries.
Mello stumbled through the doors of the apartment and up the creaky stairs to his second floor room.
With a loud sigh, Mello collapsed to his knees beside his door, panting heavily.
"Crap, why did they have to be so damn persistent," Mello cursed, sinking to his knees, resting his back on the flat of the peeling wall.
The hallway, short and dark, was empty, as usual. The lights were off, or they stopped working. Mello hardly paid any notice to it.
Mello's eyes scanned the hallway as he wheezed, seeing something in the corner of his eye that interested him.
It was small, some sort of five stick looking thing lightly swaying above. By the shadows, Mello could tell whatever was in there was covered by a blue blanket. It looked seemingly like a bundle of blue, kinda circular, with something inside.
What is it? Mello pondered, staggering reluctantly to his feet.
After stumbling a few yards, he was next to the lightly moving blue bundle.
It's…!
Mello's eyes widened to full capacity, hardly believing what was in front of him.
Its eyes were onyx, a full head of platinum hair with a gray tint, and pallid yet pudgy skin.
It was…a baby…
…One that looked like Allison…
"Hey, what're you doin' out in a place like this?" Mello asked sweetly, pinching the baby's cheek. For a baby, he was skinny. (Mello checked…)
His cheek stretched a bit, his lips separating as Mello pulled. The baby was silent though which struck Mello as odd.
"Aren't babies supposed to cry?" Mello chuckled, letting go of the child's red cheek. The stubborn baby grunted.
Mello shrugged.
He picked up the bundle and carried it into his room, switching on the lights.
A small paper fell from the bundle as Mello placed the silent infant on the torn up sofa.
"Hmm?" Mello bent down, taking the small binder paper between his fingers. Then, he opened it.
All went still.
Dear Mello,
I can't take it anymore.
With college and my life.
I can't go on like this.
I was kicked out of my home, out of my scholarship.
Take him, take him…
His name is Nate Rivers. Now he is Nate Keehl.
He is yours.
You were the one who forced me to so he's your responsibility.
In a few years, when I get my life together, I'll come and get him.
Please Mello, for me.
Please take care of him
Love,
Allison
The breath in his throat hitched, air filling in his lungs, not releasing from his throat.
Allison…
Mello looked down at the now sleeping infant on the couch.
A baby…
His baby…
Allison… Damn you. But…you have a point… I am the child's father, making me responsible for him but it's as much your job as it is mine.
Mello growled, crumpling the paper in his clenched fist.
His eyes traveled to the sleeping bundle of "joy." His eyes stayed closed peacefully, fluttering open a little.
Mello's face softened. His temper sizzled out. This baby made him feel…at ease…
That was impossible. Mello was never…mellow…
The paper swayed to the floor as Mello traveled to the couch which was only a few paces away.
Reaching down, he swooped the child into his arms, cradling little Nate.
Nate's eyes cracked open, revealing a fair shade of onyx underneath. Soft, pale, tiny fingers wound around Mello's large, rough pointer finger. They enclosed lightly, creating a blanket of warmth radiated around him. The warmth flooded through his veins, coursing through his body.
"Nate Keehl has a ring to it," Mello chuckled, Nate, whom was sucking his thumb, cradled in his arms.
The baby…no…Nate…stared up at him with obsidian colored eyes.
Yes, this was going to be hard but that was what Pacific landlubbers endured. That was what people in San Francisco did. They weren't aren't sissies. They're people, all fighting for survival.
This was the start of a brilliant adventure. For Mello…and for Nate… This was their story. A deprived father, his odd son.
But Mello won't quit.
He lives in the Pacific after all.
And we're all…
Survivors…
Spend four days in the Pacific and you'll know what I mean.
Four days, four babysitters, four years…
The next time you see Mello and Nate, four years will have already passed.
I am writing their story of love, of doubt, of genius, admiration, courage, of family and friendship.
Just spend four days in the Pacific…that's all I ask.
end of prologue
End of prologue, yay!! This took 3 days. THREE! Making it flow just right was hard. Hey, at least it's done. Oh, and the next chapter DOES take place four years later.
And I do plan on putting in these characters, as secondary characters:
-Matt (Mail Jeevas)
-L Lawliet
-Light Yagami
-Misa Amane
-Matsuda (And he acts like an idiot too, as usual...--)
-And Takada (As the rich snotty girl that Near...well, you'll see.)
If you want any others, you can request them.
Oc's are coming too. But only one probably.
R and R, I won't update till I have 2 or 3 reviews. (I'm starting low.)
And, language will get better; Mello's still an irresponsible teen.