Disclaimer: I obviously don't own DN, if I did, Matt would still be alive, and Mello probably would be too. Ohba and Obata definitely own because Light's an asshole and Near has no personality whatsoever, which is rather annoying.

A/N I'm sorry for my language, it probably won't ever be cured. Also all measurements mentioned are in metric.

I don't know when he changed. Maybe it was when he found out that L died, and I just didn't notice it; or maybe he changed when they gave him the first name on his hit list. And, for the first time, I tried to find out the answer to my own question. I wanted to help him, to help the man I had watched mature and grow, the man who had made me fall in love with him, little by little.

I know that I would do anything to sway him from this case; to just let it be the way it is. One criminal controlling the minds of people, warping the way they would live their lives, making them lead just and liberating lives, versus hundreds of thousands of petty thefts that would never be caught. It didn't seem so bad to me, but I knew Mello wouldn't stop going forward until something was abrogated, whether it be him or Kira. He was going to go ahead in this, faster than a flying bullet and never pausing to think of the consequences; never stopping to think of me.

I was thirteen the first time we acknowledged our feelings for each other. We kissed, our lips pressed against the each others, before letting our tongues intermingling and fighting in our mouths. I roamed every inch of his mouth with my tongue, not wanting to give him any excuse to disentangle himself from my arms, to back away from my touch. I loved him, even at thirteen years old, I knew exactly what love was, and my definition was Mello; the way he laughed, how he tried so hard to be ranked above Near, even the way he chewed on his lower lip when he came across the one problem that just would not work itself out. Less than a year after we shared our bed for the first time, sharing so much more than talk that night. The next morning he was gone, a speeding train out of Wammy's, and, what I presumed he thought, my life. I was informed only after his departure, in amongst the other orphans, that L had been assassinated. I didn't last long after Mello fled, the last ranking exam I took placed me just a few scores from the bottom. I got a lecture from Roger about not paying attention and how I needed to rid myself of the apathy that was ' consuming my mind and poisoning my reason'.

I don't think Roger thought I'd keep my lazy ways throughout my adolescence, but nothing seemed important to me anymore. The only things I ever made sure to do as quickly and efficiently as possible were the things Mello wanted done. Stalking that Misa girl, breaking into the NAPD database, all so that he could get his psychological fix by playing the good guy. It made me sick to think of what was going to happen if I ever slipped up and left a trail behind me. Although I figured that Near would probably cover my ass, simply because under that 'I don't give a flying fuck' attitude, I would bet that he'd give anything to have someone who actually cared about him.

"Matt, love, I need you to do me a favor. I need packages of military dynamite, and I need you to set explosive train so that when detonated, they won't demolish the central. I need those monitors to stay active for as long as I possibly can get them to." His voice had a mechanical buzzing sound to it through the phone. What the hell was he planning now?

"Mels, I don't know if I can-"

"Matty, please. Once this is over, I'll have what I need, and then we can finish this fucking bastard off. Kira will be vanquished, and then we can live whatever fairytale land your latest game has you hooked on. Right now, however, I need you to do me this one little favor." "And for Fuck's sake, Jose, stop fucking around with that fucking pistol. You're going to shoot something, and then I 'm going to take it out of your pathetic Mexican ass."

When he returned to the phone, his voice had the edge that told me that if I was going to stay on his good side, I was going to have to wire the States' headquarters. I was also going to have to figure out how to hack the U.S. Military's system, under the guise of being a supplier. Shit.

"I'll do it, but I need blueprints. I also need you to come back, so I can show where you need to be after I figure everything out."

"I know you can do it, Matt. There isn't anyone else who's like you."

I ended the call and lay back on the bed, my head was pounding already, like I'd just analyzed an entire reigning period of a Chinese emperor. I hated history, it never made any sense to me how illogical most human beings were. Even Mello had his moments when I wasn't sure what the fuck he thought he was doing.

Like now. But I had try to do this for him because if I didn't, he'd probably get pissed and leave. He'd probably hire some imbecile who knows nothing about building structures and can only hack, eat shitty microwave ramen noodles, and watch gay hentai on cheap porn sites. He would more than likely just be some loser who fell asleep on the couch I had transferred here, jerking his small dick off to the thought of my Mello.

I exhaled as loudly as I could, meanwhile pushing myself off of the bed and I moved over to the mostly unused stereo in the corner. Mello hated American music; he said it lacked taste, intelligence, and class; but I loved the quick beats and the catchy, if not sophisticated, choruses. I spun the dial, and when the stations stopped changing, it landed on a rock station that played music from the 1970's and 1980's.

I snatched my laptop from its resting space on the stool next to the doors that led out to our cement balcony. It emitted a low humming sound as it whirred itself to life. I immediately opened my browsers, my proxies, everything that would hide me from the whitehats who were probably still looking for my ass after I unleashed a worm into a corporate machine's system.

I lost myself in the underground. The only place where people knew of me, and no one treated me like shit; they were too afraid to cross me. Coding was like another first language to me; it just felt so natural. I don't know when I started this, but I do remember using it to find Mello after he ditched me, keeping tabs on every single traceable thing he did. It worked then, and it works now.

The door slammed shut, and I ignored it; I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by him just yet. Cabinets with rusty hinges creaked open in the kitchen, and I typed in the address of the P.O. Box I had acquired in Santa Barbara, and I completed the order for his newest suicidal plan.

"Hey lover-boy."

The bed pressed down under his slight weight. I hit the switch on the side of my computer, and closed the screen. Wisps of blonde hair entered my vision, and I felt a hand resting on my shoulder. I straightened my back, feeling the bones in my spine creak and pop as I moved them to an upright position for the first time in hours.

"Hey, Mels. I have the explosives ordered for you, but why did I need to order them anyways? I coulld have had them made by the time they get here. Also, I need a copy of the blueprints."

"You'd blow yourself up. And if you need them, then go find them."

"Why the fuck are you so difficult. We both know that you have them somewhere in that hell hole of a building where you and all of your remaining Mafia rats and whores hide. Speaking of which-"

"She wasn't anything compared to you, Mattie. She just needed a good time."

Fuck. Not again. The last time he started screwing around with a hooker who was in need of a 'good time', he was gone for weeks at a time. Calling only when he needed me to do something for him.

"Mello, please. Don't do this again, not again. Don't leave me again, I'll find the blueprints myself, just don't desert me like you did a few months ago." I didn't care how desperate I sounded, I was desperate. I couldn't have him ditch me again. I don't think I could survive it a third time.

"Come on, Matt. Stop acting like a pathetic little housewife. You mean too much to me for me to leave you for some common whore. I've told you time after motherfucking time, I was too busy trying to keep my men from getting themselves blown up. I never left you; I was a few miles away."

"That's bullshit, Mello. Why the fuck do you have to lie to me? I don't care that you did it, not anymore. I just.. don't leave me again."

I felt that pain spreading across my face before I even realized he had hit me. I think his gun was back in its holster before he realized it had made contact with my face.

"Matt-"

"Fuck. Off." I stood up from the bed, blood was dripping down my cheek, tracing a path down around my jawline. I strode out of the room, and down the stairs, laptop in hand. I climbed into the crappy little Chevy and made my way to a small park outside of another cheap apartment building.

Two little boys were playing on the dilapidated swing set. I put a cigarette between my lips, and watched them out of the corner of my eye as I lit the fag up and nicotine enriched smoke began to fill my body. The two kids were playing around, pushing each other sideways on the swings, before finally jumping off and chasing each other around the playground. A woman, probably the grandmother of at least one of the, came out and yelled for them, they turned around to the sound of her voice before scurrying inside the dingy brick building.

Mello and I used to act like that, back when we were confined to Wammy's. There was a playground outside. I liked to go lay out on the merry-go-round and play Mario on my beat-up little gameboy while Mello ran around, spinning in in circles and making it go faster and faster until he couldn't keep up with it anymore. He would jump on, making the entire structure lurch, and then we would lie back next to me, his infectious life spreading through the air like a common cold.

We would spin out of control almost every single time, and, on more than occasion, we would slide off the edge, falling on top of each other in a mass of childish limbs. Roger or one of the matrons would run over, making sure that we were both alright, only to walk away, shaking their heads at the immature wrecks we would become. That was the Mello that captured me, the one that I wanted back., the Mello I would do anything for.

I drove away from the tiny playground, my cigarette burned out, and my nostalgia starting to overwhelm my senses. I drove out of the main city, and after passing a few gas stations, I pulled into one and parked as far away from the road as I could get. I walked into the small, squat building and headed straight for the back where the restrooms were. I looked up in the mirror; dried blood caked to the left side of my face. Cursing under my breath, I started to clean it off. I hated head wounds, too much blood for even the most shallow of cuts.

I heard the door open, and I glanced up at the mirror. Shit. One of the Mafia lowlifes stood behind me, staring at my back. I pulled my goggles up from their place around my neck and turned to go, but I was stopped as a beefy hand grabbed my wrist.

"You, I know ya from somewhere. Where're ya from, Ranga?"

Shit. Think faster, Matt. "Britain," I said, pulling out the accent that I normally hid. "London, actually. I came to see some movie stars for myself."

"Ya sure, boy? I'm positive I know ya from somewheres. Ya been here to see yaself some movie stars before?"

"No, sir, I've never been to the States before. I arrived late last night." Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

"Well, in that case, why don't I show ya some of the stars you've been wanting to see."

Pull something out of your ass. Just think of something, anything. He knows who you are. "That's very kind of you, sir, but I think I need to get back to my friend. I told him I couldn't wait until we reached the hotel to use the W.C. and he might be wondering whether I fell In or not.

Pi Pi Pi. Pi Pi Pi. My phone rang from my pocket. It worked perfect for my cover.

"Hello?" I answered, hoping that Mello wouldn't be yelling at me, I couldn't have him slip this up for me. Greasy pigs like this loser wouldn't think twice before knifing me to get back at him.

"Matt, please, I didn't mean to, I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, mate, I'll be back there in a flash. An American inside is being friendly and offered to show me around town."

"Matt, where the fuck are you?

"I'll be out to the car in about five minutes after I finish my conversation. Then we can keep going on north to the inn, and then we can see what we want to do."

The line disconnected. I turned back to the burly man behind me. He was staring at me suspiciously, but that wasn't any different from earlier.

"I've got to go. Charlie doesn't like to wait." Five, four, three, two,-

The door bust open, and a pistol that still has tiny spots of my blood was shoved into the face of the man whose now released grip on my wrist had left a throbbing reminder of my close encounter.

I exhaled and then proceeded to leave the restroom and a pissed off Mello, get back into my car, and drive back to the apartment. I wasn't going o stick around to see what was going to happen, not like I didn't already know.

Mels' bike was fucked up, laying on the asphalt, but it was drivable. He could get home on his own. I didn't want to know who that freak was, or how close to Mello he would have had to have been to recognize me. No one knows who I am, except the woman who works as a cashier in the small convenience store on the corner near out apartment. She only knows me by site anyways; it was the closest place to get a pack of smokes, not to mention they never asked for age. Where else could a seventeen year old go in and buy himself a pack of cigarettes in the States? Fucking laws that self righteous bastards decided, I hated them all.

I climbed the stairs up to our landing, going as fast as possible and concentrating on not tripping, anything to keep me from thinking about what an ass I was for ditching Mello back at that gas station. I probably shouldn't have done that. What if he needed my help with something. He could be hurt, all because you left him alone.

My lapse in concentration ended my sprint up the concrete stairs. I land with a loud thud and a painful sounding crack after my foot caught the corner off a step. I lifted my head off of the cheap polyester carpet that lined each landing. The door to our apartment was cracked open, and a stab of remorse pierced my stomach. Why'd I leave him alone? I pulled my pitiful self up off the ground, cursing as pain shot through my already bruised face from our earlier fight. By the time I reached the door, I heard the familiar rumble of Mello's bike pull up into the driveway, and the crunch of his boots across the gravel made me freeze in my place. I slumped against the wall next to the open door, and expected the worst from the blonde who stepped up onto our landing.