Okay, so I know next to nothing about Russia or Moscow so I'm researching a bit but I'm not getting a whole lot so if you're from the country or city or know anything about them I greatly apologize for the lack of description or mistakes. I suck. But anyways, I hope everyone is having a lovely Yule, or Christmas, or had a good Hanukkah or whatever other holidays you guys celebrate! This is my gift to you I guess, and I hope you like it and that you're all spending a happy time with the loved ones in your life. Here's your Chapter Ten:

Matt knew he was an idiot for not taking a warmer coat, for somehow forgetting that Moscow was known for its cruel harsh winters. His cheeks were stinging raw pink from the strong cold wind and flakes blowing against his face, he had to squint through the white to see where he was going and was sworn at by the many people he bumped into on the sidewalk. He could feel his toes going numb as he curled them tightly inside of his boots. He longed to lie against each brick wall he passed, his body feeling his lack of sleep and the three hour jump forward of the time zones.

The week leading up to taking the plane here had been Hell. He could barely sleep in Near's room, couldn't stop thinking about where Mello might be and what might be happening to him. He tossed and turned most of each night away imagining Mello's reaction to him showing up uninvited. Would he be relieved that Matt had seen through his scheme of a letter or completely furious? Was it not all bullshit like Matt thought, could there be a bit of truth and Mello didn't actually want him around. It doesn't matter, he tried to reassure himself. It doesn't matter what that bastard wants because he can't make you feel this way about him and then abandon you like this, that's not fucking fair. And what would you do if you didn't follow him huh? Just wait around here at Wammy's until your eighteen and then what? Doesn't it freak you out that he's the only thing you see in your future?

It did freak Matt out, freaked him out so bad because he knew that although Near was right that they should wait a week to avoid suspicion, there was a chance Mello might already have left Moscow, or at least a chance that he wouldn't be able to track him down in a city so large. Who knew if he had decided to go back to his parents old house or somewhere else entirely, the boy was fucking unpredictable. And he might try and shake Matt off as soon as he found him. Matt hated himself for ever letting himself believe that Mello wouldn't leave him behind if he left Wammy's House. His whole life he had never been of importance to anybody, so why had he let himself think that this was going to be any different?

He spends the night before he's supposed to leave packing all his things, he's so ready to get out of there but when Near nods him a simple goodbye the next evening, totally unfazed as usual as he headed downstairs to make sure that Roger's time for the next few hours was completely taken up, he found himself frozen in his crouch on the windowsill. What if he was making a huge mistake? What if finding Mello will hurt him worse than his leaving without him did? Your being an idiot, he reminded himself, there's nothing here for you in this place now.

With that he pushes himself off, feels his heart catch in his throat for the moment he's airborne before the soft impact with the snow. He makes his way to the spot up the road where he told the cab to meet him, gets in and gives the directions to the airport to the driver and feels so much braver now, so much better watching the lights of Wammy's House fade away knowing this is the last time he will ever see them. He feels like he's letting something wash off of him, like now that he's left it behind he can really begin his life, wonders if this is how Mello felt too.

He's not even nervous getting on the plane because of how high he's feeling, even though this is only the second time he's flown in his life and the last time was nine years ago with a man whose now dead. The feeling of his stomach dropping doesn't even bother him; he just lets it add to his excitement as he tunes his ears out of the noise of the conversations around him and into the humming of the engine. He played on his DS the whole flight to keep his mind off what would happen after they landed, but now he's wishing that he slept so that he would have more of his wits about him.

After they did land and he collected his bag off the luggage carousel and he got out the guidebook and map and the notes Near had given him about reading things written in Russian, he realizes just how hard this is all going to be. He calls a cab and cringes when he has to keep repeating what he's saying to the grumpy looking driver over and over again, his pronunciation breaking on every word he reads from the book and Near's notes with no accent at all, feels like crying from the fed up look he gives him. He tips the man double to make up for it, but regrets it when he's dropped off and is doubting if this is actually where he asked to be, the street doesn't look right at all, the buildings are too modern and sky scraper like and not like Mello's parents old manor-ish looking house from the photo. He gets frustrated when he tries to ask a few people passing by questions about how to get to the street and they brush right past him or curse at him. So he just starts wandering aimlessly forward, making sure to take no turns for fear of getting even more lost.

He's just about to give up and duck inside a restaurant to try and buy some soup or something to warm himself up when he sees the street behind through an open alley way, a street with buildings that look smaller and older and more like what he's searching for. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't stop to think, just pushes into the space between the brick walls and starts making his way over. It's darker in the alley way than he thought, so dark he doesn't notice the opening between the back of the restaurant and the building on the next street, doesn't see the two men hovering in the shadows and the taller one stick his boot out, just falls on his face on the grimy cement.

They both step out and it's all so horribly like every single fucking movie he's ever seen, the tall muscular bald guy with his black leather coat undone to reveal the swirling pattern of a tattoo extending up his neck, the shorter greasier looking one with the thick brown beard and the switch blade already flicked open to make up for his skinnier build. Matt hears the tall man shout the words at him, would know even though he doesn't understand the language, even without the gesture to his bag that it's money that they want and that he's going to give it to them, even if it means that he's going to starve in the streets, because he'd rather die from that than bleed out here in this alleyway because of his stupid mistake. Or maybe they'll slice him up anyways purely for the thrill of it and he'll only have himself to blame then too.

The man yells again and leans over him further, snatches the blade from his buddy's hand and yanks Matt up roughly by the hood of his jacket, pressing the cool edge to his throat. Matt knows how easy it will be for the sharp metal to slice through his skin, just like his own father's pocket knife, knows he won't even be able to get a scream out before he's dead. His hearts pounding so loudly in his ears so he doesn't know why he can't make his body move, why his arms aren't chucking the bag away from him as far as he possibly can so he can take off running, like he's heard you're supposed to do if you're a dumb tourist who walks into dark alleyways in areas you don't know. He can feel and smell the man's foul smoky breath on his face as he spits out more threats. Mello will never even know your dead. And maybe if he did he wouldn't even care.

That's when he feels the pressure leave his throat suddenly, can hear a new voice shouting with familiar angry passion. Even though he's never heard it in Russian he would recognize Mello's swearing anywhere. He cracks open his tightly squeezed shut eyes that he hadn't even realized had closed and took in the sight of Mello standing in the dimly lit alley behind him from the same side he had come. It had only been a week since they'd seen each other but that was the longest they had ever gone and for some reason Mello seemed to look older. He's got on a black winter coat with a feather lined hood drawn up over his head that's way too big for him, hangs down to his knees, but it broadens out his shoulders and the shadows the feathers cast on his face make him look menacing, even without the gun cocked towards them from his outstretched right arm. Where in the world did he get a gun and how did he already know how to use it? Matt supposed he shouldn't be too surprised.

He stared down the barrel and watched the small silver cross dangling from a chain attached to the handle swing back and forth from the momentum of the gun being whipped out from the coat. He concentrated on that as if it was hypnotizing him, imagining that Mello was inducing him into a state of courage. A state that wasn't him shaking in his boots, hyperventilating and feeling like he was going to wet his pants from the electric tension coming off the blade a few inches from his neck being gripped above it by a hulking man who wouldn't hesitate to plunge it into his Adam's apple if he called any bluff on Mello's part. And Matt couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not, even when he heard the click of the safety being taken off when the bald man let out a harsh laugh and spat something tauntingly back at his best friend in response to the threats. He felt himself being pulled further off the ground and the man wraps his arm tightly across his collar bone and wrenches Matt up with him to stand with his back against his chest, his other hand reaching up to press the handle of the switch blade against Matt's throat until there's an aching pressure. He's a hostage now. All of the weight of his body is on his toes which struggle to scrap the ground in the man's hold. Every breath he takes rattles in his chest, and he can feel the tears starting to trickle hot tracks down his cheeks.

Mello's next words are short, come out quiet, almost a tense hiss. He feels the man's head shake over the top of his head. His eyes close before it happens. His ears are left ringing when the gun goes off, the loud crack sends a jolt through his chest and he feels the warmth splatter his hair and his forehead before he slumps down out of the man's hold to kneel on the concrete, hears the dull thump behind him. The dead man's hold. He watches his bearded companion sprint off as fast as he can into the night and he raises his palm to his head before bringing the sticky red substance running down his fingers back in front of his eyes, can't stop staring at it. He can't look at Mello.

"Fuck, that piece of shit did not know what he was doing! Couldn't the idiot see I had a clear shot at his head because of how tall he was, you weren't even fucking close to being in the way! Matt? Hey Matt come on, we've got to get out of here."

Matt recoils when he listens to Mello's footsteps come towards him, tries to push his body up by pushing the heels of his palms into the ground but his ankle slips out from underneath him and he falls onto his back. He brings his hands over his face and can smell the metal tang of the blood again and starts sobbing. So much for having courage.

"Oh Matty, fuck come here. It's okay now alright, I've got your back."

Mello scoops his bag up off the ground and throws the straps over his shoulders before reaching down to Matt and wrapping a hand around his waist to pull him to his feet, but Matt just can't stop shaking and he finds himself unable to take a step. Mello sighs and takes the bag off again, crouching down and gesturing for Matt to climb on.

"Come on, I'll carry you. Just hold on to my neck."

Matt still can't get his feet to move.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

Mello gets up again and throws the bag into Matt's arms which catch it, but it still knocks the wind out of him, causing him to fall back against Mello's arm and chest when Mello sweeps his knees out from under him.

"Shit your heavy! What have you been doing, eating all chocolate I left? Just fucking hold on to the bag then will you, were not that far away."

Mello jogs as quickly as he can with Matt's weight in his arms and Matt cringes when he feels the gun holster hidden beneath his coat brush against his leg. He's relieved when they finally come to the long circular driveway before a large white house with a wraparound porch. The windows were boarded up and the lawn was overgrown, and Mello pried open more boards covering the window of the front door before reaching through a jagged hole punched in the glass to jiggle the lock open. He carries Matt over to a black couch and places him down.

"Fuck you're freezing aren't you? I haven't managed to get the heat working yet but the water is, so I'll get you a bath going okay?"

Matt stares past Mello's shoulder until the boy grasps his chin in the leather glove Matt didn't even notice he was wearing and jerks his face up to look at him. His blue fires are brighter than they've ever been, and Matt finds that all of his fears melt away instantly.

"If I didn't shoot him then he would have killed you, there's no doubt about it. He was scum, you understand? Come on Matt, fucking talk to me!"

"I understand. I could have been killed."

"Exactly!"

"If you hadn't shown up at just the right moment then I would be dead right now."

"… Yes?" Mello trailed off running a hand through his blond hair and looking uncertain.

"Then can you maybe understand why I'm just a little pissed off at you right now?!" Matt shouts and sits up.

"Pissed off at me? I fucking saved your life!"

"You wouldn't have had to save it if I hadn't had to come chasing after you in Moscow, not knowing where the fuck I was going!"

"I fucking told you not come! I didn't want you to come!" Mello protested.

"What the stupid letter?! Did you really think a piece of paper was going to stop me, I saw right through that shit! Besides it doesn't matter what you fucking want! What about me huh, how could you just leave me there by myself, what was I supposed to do?! Just wait?"

"You were… It was supposed to tell you not to wait for me, to just move the fuck on with your life okay? That's what's best what for you, not clinging on to me and risking your life all the time, which is bound to happen again with what I'm getting into."

"Why the hell do you get to decide what's going to be best for me?! That's my call, it's my life and I'll do whatever I damn want with it! And what I want sure as fuck isn't my best friend betraying my trust by sneaking away in the middle of the night and thinking that leaving me a note trying to denounce nine years' worth of history is going to suffice!"

Matt had told himself that he wasn't going to start crying again, wasn't going to let his tightening throat cheapen his words by cutting them up with sobs, but here he was looking like a complete baby, a boy having a temper tantrum.

"Fuck Matty… fuck just stop crying okay! I'm sorry alright? Come on, let's just get you in the tub okay, you're freezing."

He pulls Matt by the cuff of his coat sleeve into the wide hallway and through a doorway leading into a huge bathroom with a black tile floor. A white bathtub with silver claw feet sat in the center and Mello leaned over to turn the taps, sticking his hand under the running faucet. He turned to Matt and unzipped his coat before working on the buttons of his shirt.

"I can do it myself!" Matt objected before fumbling with his icicle like fingers slipping around the buttons and meeting Mello's smirking face.

"Uh huh, sure you can. You weren't even wearing mittens you big idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you Russia's fucking cold?"

"As cold as your heart, you ass!"

"Oh he wounds me!" Mello laughed, placing his hand over his chest before shrugging his own coat off and tugging his shirt over his head. Matt couldn't help but swallow as he watched him undo the gun holster and place it on the marble sink counter. "Stop staring at me and get in the tub loser!"

Matt got in quickly, the hot water stinging his skin but he welcomed it after the winter wind burning his face outside. He tried not to look at Mello again until he too was submerged in the water, once he heard the splash. Of course he even wears his rosary in the bath, the weirdo, Matt thought and before he can stop himself he reaches out and runs his hand over the beads, over Mello's bare chest. Mello lets out a deep sigh, and covers Matt's hand with his own warm and rough palm.

"I missed you." Matt admits, leaning forward slowly, and for the first time in many months Mello doesn't stop him, lets him press their mouths together. But to Matt's disappointment he keeps it chaste, capturing Matt's hands reaching up to ensnare themselves in his hair and using them to turn Matt around so that his back is facing his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist as if it's the most casual thing in the world, them being in the bath together. Matt can feel his cheeks flushing.

"Yeah, I'm glad that you're not dead you little shit."

"Good. Because I'm fucking staying whether you like it or not! You better not try to ditch me again."

"I won't. There's no point I guess. Besides I could use an accomplice, someone to clean all my dishes and to go out and buy me more chocolate and-" Matt smacks him in the nose but Mello isn't fazed, lands a punch to his gut that makes Matt want to throw up.

"Fuck Mello!"

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you." Matt knows he's getting redder every second that they're in the bath together.

"Hey, where'd you get the gun?" Matt asks, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, that's one of my old man's. It was where he left it, beneath the floorboards of his and my mother's bedroom, the only one the police didn't find. They did a big raid on this place after they died to take all the weapons and drugs and such, then they boarded it up. I guess they thought it wouldn't cell, what with its backstory and all, which is maybe why there's no squatters. People think it's fucking haunted, and you wouldn't want to piss off the ghost of a Russian mafia member, would you?"

"And you thought you'd need it? You already knew you might have to kill someone?" Matt didn't think the feeling of the man's blood splattering on his head was ever going to go away, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his hair.

"Well yeah, I knew I'd need protection in this city. And I'm going to need it to gain some power when we go to the U.S."

"So that's where we're headed huh? Wait, what do you mean gain some power?" Matt asked.

"With the mafia in Los Angeles. If I'm going to take on Kira I'm going to need some man power to help me get things done, and that's the best way to get it."

"Through the mafia?! You're going to infiltrate the mafia! How, by just randomly shooting up people?"

"You're acting like it's a fucking surprise but it's not. I grew up around this lifestyle, at least for the first few years. I would have been a part of it once I was older if my parents hadn't died. I know how this shit works. These guys have a lot of balls, but they need someone with real intellect to show them how they can broaden their influence, and having power over things is all they want. I'll assassinate a rival gang member or two who they couldn't get on their own to show them I mean business and they can benefit from helping me with the Kira case." Mello explained.

"You've really thought this out haven't you. But being involved with them, killing people to get what you want… that doesn't make you hesitate at all."

"No! Not if it's to catch Kira. It's for the greater good, for justice. It's what L would want, and I owe it to him to finish this."

Fucking L.

"And what if killing me was for the greater good huh?" It comes out as a whisper from his lips, but Mello hears him anyways.

"Matty, the people I'll be killing will have killed people with themselves, their apart of the mafia so they're not innocent. I'm not going to be murdering random civilians, only criminals who are necessary to get out of the way."

That almost sounds like something Kira would say.

"If you say so. So when do we go to the U.S.?"
"I already bought the plane tickets. We leave New Year's eve. It's more important than Christmas here so nobody will be flying away, and Christmas here is mostly celebrated on the 7th of Januaary so hopefully hardly anyone will be flying home either. I fucking hate crowded airports."

"Plane tickets huh? As in more than one? Just fucking admit it, you were praying that I was going to come after you!"

Mello pinches Matt's shoulder roughly.

"Hey shut up! I just knew that you might try something fucking stupid like following me, so I thought I'd buy another just in case to avoid any hold ups. Don't flatter yourself you bastard!"

"Mello… You're glad I'm here now right?" Matt asks, twisting in Mello's arms to meet his fiery blue gaze before his eyes close. Matt's noticed that he can't stand to look him in the eye when he has to say these kinds of things.

"Yeah, of course I'm glad you're here dummy. Now let's get out of this tub, I can feel your disgusting pruney feet on my leg!"

Mello pushes Matt off of him roughly and sloshes water all over the floor by hoping out of the tub so fast. He turns back over his shoulder to glare at Matt who's laughing at him, relishing the feeling of the warm bubbles rising in his chest from Mello assuring him that he really didn't mean what he said in the letter, that he was secretly relieved that Matt had found him. And that feeling meant that it didn't matter to Matt that he had almost died that day or that he had felt the blood of a man who had been shot. All that mattered was that he had found Mello now and they were together and that nothing would be able to separate them again. He would never allow it, he couldn't live without Mello. He would rather die.