Author's Note: Special shout-out again to my shiny new followers—Puppies77777, iamhidekiryuga, and CrazeeChibi. Much appreciation for the love, guys. Hope that you enjoy this chapter, too!

Disclaimer: I don't own jaaack. (Or, y'know, Death Note.)

Three Lives Left

Life Two: Downfall

The recovery process went much as he remembered it going the first time. Mello was maybe a bit more reticent, but not enough to stop him from ordering Matt around, making him fetch food and chocolate and clothes for him to wear, and generally having the redhead wait on him hand and foot. It was nice to know that some things would never change.

One morning, Matt woke up, grimacing as he stretched the kinks out of his neck and shoulders—once Mello had recovered enough to not need near-constant supervision, the gamer had migrated from the beanbag chair to the couch, but his couch was a piece of crap so it wasn't exactly much of an upgrade—to find the apartment just a shade too quiet. Not that Mello made a ton of noise… most of the time. When he wasn't pissed off and screaming about something. But neither did he ever sit still if he could help it, and since he was no longer bed-ridden…

Matt shot up straight. 'Oh, fuck,' he thought to himself.

November 19. Was that the day that Mello had snuck out to visit Near? The day "the great race" began anew? They had always been competing, that was true, but once those two came face-to-face for the first time in four years… that was when things got serious. That was the beginning of the end.

Sure enough, a quick inspection of the apartment showed an empty bed, a missing jacket, and no Mello. Sighing in defeat, Matt dropped back onto the couch and lit up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Mello didn't like him smoking in the apartment, so he might as well take the opportunity. Not that Mello's disapproval had ever stopped him before—it was his apartment, after all—but it was nice to be able to partake guilt- and whine-free while he leveled up some characters in his newest game.

Several hours passed and many a side quest was completed before the blond returned. The door slammed open, and Matt glanced up to find his friend fuming, waves of frustration and rage pouring off of him as a chocolate bar met a painful death at his hands (or teeth, as it were). The sight was not an unfamiliar one.

"So, how's Near?" Matt asked wryly, watching as Mello twitched at the mention of his name. To be honest, he didn't even need the spoilers that came from repeating a day he had already lived; he would have known the source of this particular flavor of Mello-drama anywhere.

"Don't," he warned, heading to the kitchen for more fuel/chocolate. "Don't even start, Matt."

"Okay then," the redhead said, nodding agreeably. "How about instead I start on the fact that you are still recovering from second-degree burns and having a building collapse on you, and you really shouldn't be breaking into enemy territory right now?"

Mello growled at him. "I said, don't fucking start, asshole," he snapped. "And put out that damn cigarette, the entire place smells like a fucking bar."

Matt ignored him. "Look, I know you want to get back into the Kira hunt, but you need time to recover first," he said reasonably. "Once you're back to one hundred percent, you and I, we can start making a plan." Something that wouldn't get them both killed again, preferably.

"I don't need your help, you know," Mello said scathingly, dropping into the chair by the couch, sprawled out in that uniquely Mello way that looked at once unnatural and terribly comfortable.

"No," Matt agreed, trying not to show how much that stung. "But it couldn't hurt. And you're stuck with me, besides, so you might as well make use of me."

Mello huffed in annoyance, his eyes shooting daggers at the redhead. "Yeah, and why is that again?" he asked.

"You know why. It's because I lo—"

"Don't fucking say it."

"Then don't fucking ask."

"Seriously, Matt, why are you doing this?" Mello asked, rage and aggravation warring with genuine curiosity in the lines of his half-healed face. "You don't have to. You could kick me out any time. Pretend you don't know me. It'd probably be safer—hell, that's why I didn't tell you where I went after I left Wammy's! So why the hell are you here, on the battlefield, with me?"

Wow. Matt had not been expecting such a well thought-out question. It was a shame that the answer was going to piss him off so much.

"Because I love you," he said, and Mello's face twisted into a sneer. He stood up abruptly, heading for the door, and Matt, acting on instinct, reached out to grab his wrist and stop him. "I'm serious, Mello," he said determinedly. "Look, I could live without you, but it would suck. Been there, done that, right? It was boring as hell. But you… You've got this fire, this passion, and quite frankly, being near it is the closest I ever get to feeling truly alive, you know? So, you can be worried about me dying all you want. I'm more worried about not living."

Mello was staring at him now, eyes narrowed—in thought or in anger, Matt couldn't tell. Shifting nervously, he added lamely, "Plus, you get to blow stuff up. That looks like fun."

Rolling his eyes, Mello sighed. "You are such a fucking idiot, Matt."

"Well, yeah, but—"

Whatever witty retort he had been planning was cut and promptly forgotten by the pair of warm, slightly chapped lips descending upon his own. Eyes wide behind the lenses of his goggles, Matt froze, too stunned to realize what was happening… for just a moment. Then, his arms came up to loop around the blond's torso, and he pulled Mello down onto the couch, kissing back hungrily. When Mello moaned softly into his mouth, Matt felt his heart skip a beat, felt the blood in his body superheat and flow unerringly to someplace very conspicuous… but luckily, too-tight leather pants made the Mello's answering arousal even more conspicuous, so at least he knew he wasn't the only one enjoying this.

When they broke apart, Matt was panting slightly, dizzy and flushed, and Mello didn't seem to be much better off. His head spinning, the redhead licked his lips nervously. "Mello, what—?"

"Shut the fuck up," the blond growled, nipping not-so-gently at Matt's lower lip as he went in for another round.

Okay. Not exactly the sweet nothings he had never dared to hope for. But Mello was warm and slender and comfortable in his arms, and his hips were grinding in such a delicious way that Matt had to gasp, and when he did… oh god, where did Mello learn how to do that with his tongue? The gamer groaned, one thumb hooking through the belt loop on Mello's pants while his other hand buried itself in golden hair. He kissed back with everything he had, swirling his tongue around the blond's, suckling at it lightly, holding him close… When they parted again, both of their faces were burning red, and Mello's eyes were half-lidded and hungry, making him shudder a little.

"Matty," the blond whispered against swollen lips, giving another little love bite before nibbling his way down the redhead's neck. "You are mine."

And that was about when Matt's brain shut off for the night.


It was rough.

Somehow, whenever Matt had fantasized about his and Mello's first time together, he'd imagined that it would be gentle, two friends coming together to become so much more, an act of love, pure and simple and wonderful… but nothing about what had happened between them last night could be considered gentle, and referring to it as "love-making" would have been a joke. But still, it had happened. And had it not been for the very extenuating circumstances surrounding them, that thought alone would have been enough to keep Matt grinning for days.

"Mels?" he whispered to the blond head pillowed on his chest. He got only a sleepy murmur in response. "Mels, what just happened? What the hell was that?"

That got him up. Sighing, Mello pushed himself up onto his elbows, blue eyes staring into Matt's, considering him, weighing him.

"That… was nothing," he said finally. Matt blinked, feeling that familiar pain settle into his chest. Only Mello could break his heart with three words.

"Really? 'Cause it felt like sex," he retorted, and Mello rolled his eyes.

"I needed some stress relief, Matt," he said simply. "Thought you could use some, too. And I have a feeling that the next few months are going to be pretty stressful, as well, but if you're opposed to this sort of thing…"

"No!" Matt blurted out, his voice a bit over-eager. Fuck, the love of his too-short life was telling him that he wanted to keep boning for the next few months—no way he was going to pass that up, no matter how severely fucked up it was. "I, uh… I'm not opposed."

"Good," Mello said, nodding. He hoisted his gloriously nude body up off of Matt's, off of the couch, leaving him feeling uncomfortably exposed. "I'm going to bed then. We can start discussing Kira-catching plans in the morning. Good night, Matt."

And that was it. The blond disappeared into his bedroom—previously known as Matt's bedroom—and left the redhead on the couch, naked and cold and very, very alone.

Matt wondered what he had just gotten himself into.


Sure enough, the next day, Mello threw them both into planning for Kira's capture, and Matt had his hands full with surveillance and hacking work—a beautiful distraction, really. And in his scraps of spare time when he wasn't working for Mello or fucking Mello, he tried his best to make sense of his situation.

Wherever he'd been, Matt had always been the tech guy, and he had never let his world expand much beyond that very specialized, pixelated bubble. It was a large part of why, at Wammy's, he had never broken past that number three spot. The last time around, he had simply obeyed Mello's orders, a puppet doing its master's bidding never without ever knowing why. This time, he paid a bit more attention to the former Mafioso's work, and tried to ask questions rather than just blindly do what he was told.

That was how he learned about the Shinigami and the Death Notes. Sure, he had known the basics before, but this time he learned the specifics, piecing together the knowledge of life and death. Most of what he learned was not particularly helpful and did nothing to explain his current Groundhog Day-esque problem. However, there was one thing in particular that he did find very interesting.

Apparently, the Shinigami were able to see the lifespans of humans, and the only way to reduce that number was to make the Shinigami eyes trade, thereby halving the length of that person's life. If Matt interpreted this correctly, then that meant that his day and time of death were otherwise immutable. Fixed. Even if he were to up and leave right now, he would probably be hit by a car or something on the same exact day and at the same exact time that he had been shot the last two go-arounds. The date on his headstone would always be January 26, 2009, and he would just have to live with that.

Or not, as the case may be.

Of course, he could still be very much mistaken—the rules of the gods could be confusing, to say the least, and may not really have been meant for mortals to fully and accurately comprehend—and for that reason, he continued to pester Mello to give up on the whole plan in favor of something less life-threatening and more fun. He only tried on the days when Mello seemed in a relatively good mood and unlikely to shoot him, which were few enough, and bringing up the subject usually threw him right back into a bad mood. But Matt still tried, and failed, time and again. And then he got the make-up/atonement sex, which was a pretty sweet deal.

Unfortunately, if predictably, his "relationship" with Mello was not exactly sunshine and roses. It was mostly just semi-violent sex and espionage. And so it was that the weeks slipped by in a haze of alternating pleasure and mind-numbingly boring surveillance jobs (which was better than the last time, when it was just the mind-numbingly boring part) until, once again, he found himself on the eve of his death. Except this time, he was naked in bed with his best friend.

Life was weird when you'd died twice.

There were always a few minutes after the grand finale, before Mello took off for his own room, when the blond would just lie there with him, and Matt could almost pretend that they were just a normal couple. Tonight, Mello was curled up against his side, his head on Matt's shoulder, and Matt was absently stroking his hair with one hand. Every part of the redhead's body hurt in the most delicious way, and Matt was beginning to worry that this whole situation was turning him slowly into a masochist.

Deciding to live on the edge a little, he turned his face to nuzzle against Mello's hair, laying a soft kiss on his forehead. Mello stirred a little at that, and Matt sighed, figuring that that was the end of the night and preparing to disentangle himself from his friend for the last time.

To his surprise, though, the blond just cuddled closer… which was strange, because "cuddle" had never been a word to describe anything Mello had ever done. Still, Matt decided to try and enjoy the moment, pulling the naked form closer, holding him safe and tight as if he would never have to let him go. After all, if he could have his way, he wouldn't.

"Matty?" the blond asked after a moment, and his voice was so small and quiet that Matt could hardly believe it was Mello.

"Hmm?" he murmured back.

"Do you really love me?"

Matt blinked. "Of course I do," he answered, not a little surprised by the question. Despite the mind-blowing sex happening almost nightly, Mello had kept his initial promise to pretend the redhead's confession had never happened.

"…I wish you hadn't told me," Mello said quietly.

"I don't."

"The timing was horrible."

"Yeah, well, I'm awkward like that," Matt agreed.

"Did you know before?" Mello asked. "Back at Wammy's?"

"Yeah," Matt said, nodding.

"Why didn't you say anything then?"

Oh snap, what a question… "Well, first off, I thought you were straight—I know, right? What an idiotic assumption," Matt answered, grinning, and Mello smacked him lightly on the arm. "But mostly it was just that… we were just kids. I thought we had all the time in the world. It wasn't until you left that I realized… there's never enough time. I guess that's why I was always third. Always missing the obvious, right?"

Mello was quiet at that. Matt stroked up and down his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. He didn't know where these questions were coming from, but he really hoped he had given a decent answer. As in, an answer that wouldn't have Mello threatening him with a gun in a few minutes.

"Can I stay here tonight?" the blond asked finally. Matt's heart fluttered, his throat tightening. Apparently Mello had liked his answer.

"Yeah," he said softly. "You can stay for as long as you'd like."

Mello nodded against his chest, settling comfortably against him.

The next day, Matt would wake up, make chocolate chip pancakes, and ride off to help kidnap a celebrity and get himself killed. He would choose to go out classy this time, with a declaration of "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" that would doubtless confuse the ever-loving crap out of his assailants, and he would die pointlessly as he had twice before.

But for tonight, he slept with the love of his life in his arms. He figured it wasn't such a bad trade.

End Chapter Three

Author's Note: Okay, confession time? I actually really like this chapter. I am definitely my own worst critic, so it's rare for me to say something like this, but I am proud of how this one turned out. I love character play, and I feel like that's pretty much all that this story is, and this is about when shit starts to get real, so… Yeah. (Eloquence fails me today, apparently.)

I'm now alternating this story with my other story, "Secret Admirer," so expect an update on this one in two weeks. (And in case anyone's wondering, I'm keeping this sort of update schedule despite actually being done with this fic and probably about half of the other one because… well, quite frankly, it gives me something to look forward to each week, and keeps me from getting too stressed out and shutting down when I have trouble on a chapter or a scene, which in turn keeps me writing. Hopefully that's something you guys want.) I don't think you'll ever guess where Matt's going to wake up next. I mean, it's totally unpredictable, I don't think anyone would ever think….

What? You think it's gonna be Wammy House?

…Fuck you all.