Miko: I swear this story will be the death of me. I enjoy writing it so much I don't get any sleep anymore!

Anyway, as I was worried about, this will be a few more then three chapters, because I don't like to make any one chapter too long, and this one would have been much longer but I decided to cut it in half.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Fiery Reunion

'The number you have called is no longer in service.' For the hundredth time Matt listened to the recording, hanging up only to dial it again in the hopes that he would hear Mello's voice pick up. He could still remember the blonde's tone, and he couldn't help but replay the conversation he had been expecting.

"Hello." Not a question, but a statement. Matt's heart would jump in his chest. It would be racing as he answered.

"Mel…" The word would be a whisper. All sound in the world would stop until the boy on the other end answered, surprise dripping off every word.

"Matt. Is that you?" Matt wouldn't be able to stop a chuckle from escaping his lips. "What the hell took you so long to find my number? I thought you were better then me with computers."

"I'm sorry." Matt would apologize for nothing, because it wasn't his fault, but that wouldn't matter. He would apologize because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Just get here now, Matt." Mello would say. "I'll meet you in the airport." And the line would go dead. They both knew where Mello had gone. It had taken Matt only a few moments to remember the conversation that he had had with Mello every time Near beat them on a test.

"One day I'll go join the Mafia." Mello would say. "My father was in it, you know." And Matt would grunt in reply, not even looking up from his game. It wasn't that he didn't care, but he didn't want to make a big deal over the fact that Mello would share something so personal with him.

As Matt got off the plane, he couldn't stop his eyes from searching the crowded air port for the familiar flash of blonde. But his eyes never found what he was looking for and so he made his way to a cab.

Two years passed and every day Matt looked for his golden haired angel. Several times he would catch a glimpse of something in a crowded room but each time he made his way to the spot, the person was gone. He tried to make his own life, mostly hacking computer systems for the highest bidder. But he knew that something was missing and he knew what that someone was. Mello.

During the days he could almost forget his golden haired demon, but at night he would wake in a cold sweat, Mello's name rolling off his lips in a silent plea. Sometimes it would be a nightmare, and some it would be a wonderful dream, but when he woke it was always a bad thing, because Matt would rather be with Mello in the worst nightmare then awake without him. Once he had woken up and thought he could see someone standing in the doorway to his room.

"Mello?" He asked, wiping his eyes to see better in the pitch black. "I can see you, Mello."

"Go back to sleep Matt." The voice said. "You're dreaming. Or high, knowing you." And the person chuckled; Mello chuckled. "Sleep off your high, Matt." And Matt obeyed, drifting off into sleep because Mello was right, he was tripping or drunk or both. When he woke up in the morning, he didn't know if the exchange was real or a dream but that didn't matter, because he had been with Mello.

Matt still wasn't stupid, though. He had compiled all the information he could on the local Mafia, but there were only vague reports on the area boss. No one was willing to talk, but from what little he had overheard, Matt knew the boss was quick-tempered, and that he constantly ate chocolate. It had taken him two years to get that much information, and despite his best attempts, he couldn't find the location the Mafia met at.

Then he hit a crack. One of his regular clients received an email from a . Matt tracked the email back to its sending computer and was out the door before he had time to change his mind. The location was remote, but Matt found it without a problem. When he got there, it was spouting smoke, and several small explosions were still going off.

"Mello!" Matt shouted, parking his car and running to the wreckage. He dug until his hands were bloody. He pulled glass and concrete and burning metal with no regards to his own safety. He knew now that Mello was there somewhere, buried under him, dying a slow and painful death. "Mello!" He shouted again, falling to his knees in a pile of glass. The spikes cut him but he was beyond physical pain now. Every second and Mello was closer to his death.

Finally, hours later, he uncovered a lock of gold hair. Within moments Mello's body was uncovered and Matt couldn't see through the tears. He took his goggles off and carefully lifted the unconscious body into his arms, holding him tight as though he would slip away again. If Mello really was in the Mafia, the last place he could be taken was a hospital, so Matt got in his car, refusing to put down his friend, and drove back to his apartment with the blonde cradled against his chest.

"This isn't how we were supposed to find each other, Mel." Matt said, laying the body on his bed. He sent a silent prayer that he had a fully stocked medical cabinet before stripping his friend of the few rags that had clung to his body. There was no room for modesty when half the unconscious boy's body was burnt and the other half covered in cuts and scrapes and bruises. Matt worked for hours cleaning his friend, but Mello didn't stir.

Finally Matt finished and was unable to bear the sight of Mello – strong, stubborn Mello – lying helpless on the bed covered in gauze. So Matt left the room and made it as far as the kitchen before breaking down into tears, falling to the floor to bury his head in his hands. It took him ten minutes to be able to stand again, and even then his legs felt shaky, as if unable to hold his 120 lbs. His world – his entire reason for being alive – was floating somewhere between life and death and could still go either way. It was just too much.

A week passed and Mello still didn't move. Matt had used all of his contacts to scrounge up an IV so the blonde wouldn't get dehydrated. He had also managed to get some painkillers, so hopefully Mello wasn't in too much pain. After that first night, Matt refused to leave Mello's bedside, neglecting himself food and rest. When he got too tired, he simply slept on the floor beside Mello, waking every time the unconscious boy moaned.

"Wake up, Mello." Matt said, tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away angrily – he had never cried before this – and faced the boy on the bed. "Wake up now! You've had time to recover. You almost don't need all these bandages. Get up!" But his words had no effect.

"I need you, Mel. If you ever cared about me, please wake up." A weak sound escaped the sleeping boy's lips and Matt leaned close to hear.

"Fuck…ing…looser…Matt." Never had Matt been so happy to hear those words. He laughed, and the blonde's lips twitched into a scowl before turning to a grimace of pain.

"Careful, Mello." Matt said. "You're still pretty burnt." He took the damp cloth off Mello's face.

"What the hell, Matt." He said, each word slurred in an attempt not to move his face. "Why didn't you let me die?"

"I…I found you." Matt didn't know what to say. Never had he considered that Mello actually wanted to die. "We can beat Near together now. Just like old times."

"Mhhmm…" Mello said. "You reek. Go take a shower." And he drifted back into sleep. Matt smiled, though, because for the first time in five years he felt like life was worth living. He was happy.


Miko: I would be insanely grateful to anyone who could write an actual review. With good things and bad things and the like. Pretty please?