November 11, 2009
Mello couldn't help the slight tremble that wracked his body as he crouched underneath the heavily reinforced desk. His eyes were closed tight to hide the terrible images in the rooms; bodies, everywhere. His entire gang—dead. Dead dead. Mello had seen plenty of death in his lifetime; he had been there when his father was shot in the face during a mugging, which landed him in Wammy's house in the first place, and he had caused plenty of death during his time with the mafia.
But seeing so many bodies, of people he had come to know and even rely on—if not exactly like or trust—over the years, was more than a little disturbing.
Tugging his helmet that covered his entire face more tightly over his skin, he let out a hiss of frustrated breath. The point was moot with the helmet; his true name had been discovered and told to Kira. It was a matter of time before he was dead, anyway, but the cameras were destroyed, and Kira's only man who had seen his face was certainly in no condition to write anything down at the moment…
Fingering the long metal tube clutched in his gloved hands, he fretted, feeling more stressed than he had in years, despite multiple murders and one kidnapping. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, that he'd set Matt up at their apartment keeping tabs on Misa Amane—had he been with Mello, he would certainly be dead right now. Thank God…
Biting his lip, he waited until he could hear the feet of several men hurry to where he was hidden, probably intending to rescue Chief Yagami and possibly force the mask from Mello's own face. Unacceptable.
Biting his lip, he hit the small black switch that lined the metal, such an innocent, harmless-looking device. As if.
Hurling the quietly beeping tube away from his face and towards the door as hard as he could, Mello buried his face in his arms, smashing his masked head on the floor. His body was curled; his legs bunched frog-style underneath him. This was gonna hurt…
The force hit him before the sound did, and he actually felt shockwaves rip through him, slamming him into the underside of the desk with a massive amount of power. He felt the plastic of the helmet shatter on the right side of his face, before heat surged throughout the room. He heard the men yelling, smelled flesh burning.
The desk gave way, tumbling into the wall, and Mello went with it, shattering through the wall. He acutely felt his flesh bubble. I'm going to puke, he thought absently. I'm going to die in my own puke…
Feeling his body crash into a tree outside the Los Angeles Mafia headquarters, he heaved, his shoulders shaking. His vision was covered in little black spots; he couldn't see out of his right eye at all. Kira's not even going to need to kill me, he thought mournfully. Guess I did it myself.
The charred reek of flesh permeated the air, and Mello, realizing that it was his own, could no longer breathe. White was clouding the edges of his vision as he attempted to stay conscious, feeling flames lick into his back, his body curling around the tree.
The intense pain was gone within seconds, and he realized that it was because the high-intensity flames had literally burned away his nerve endings. He could feel nothing in his face, his neck, his back…
He really did vomit this time, heaving bile through his sore and abused throat, listening to the roar of the building crumbling behind him.
Seconds passed like hours, or was it the opposite? All he knew that the whiteness in his left eye's vision expanded and contracted with his heartbeat, over and over, and he sighed, wishing darkness would overtake him already. He really had never been fond of waiting.
And then the absolutely unexpected happened. A low moan of a cry echoed throughout the courtyard Mello subconsciously knew he was in, and he stiffened. He knew that cry, and he most certainly should not be hearing it right now. He was definitely hallucinating.
And then hands were at his side, carefully pealing him away from the tree. He watched as some of the flesh of his arm stayed on the tree as he was rolled backwards, and he shuddered in disgust; no hallucination would be that sickeningly unpleasant.
His partially melted mask was gripped in familiar hands, carefully peeled off his face; he almost said not to bother being careful; it wasn't as if he could feel his face, anyway. He heard the sharp intake of breath, and he felt the man that gently cradled his body shake in revulsion. Had more skin come off?
"Mells," the man hissed quietly. "We need to get out of here now. Some of those guys are still alive; they have backup coming."
Matt stuffed his head underneath Mello's arm, standing and taking Mello up with him. Tentatively wrapping an arm around his best friend's waist, half-dragging, half-carrying him away into the tree-filled area behind the building.
This time white did overwhelm Mello's vision, and he could barely control his lips enough to speak. "Wha' are you do'n here?" he slurred his words, hearing how thick his voice was with smoke, feeling liquid trickle from his mouth. "S'no safe…"
"Shut up," Matt insisted unhelpfully, briefly lifting Mello up to avoid tripping him on a root. "Damn, you're heavy." Was all he grunted.
His eyes were closed, but the left one shot open again when he felt a second pair of hands seize his ankles, a curtain of hair touch the unburned skin of his legs.
"Halle?" he was incredulous, the loud sound tearing from his lips resulting in a hacking cough.
She didn't respond, and soon his eyes were lulled closed again. He must have fainted for real this time, because he felt himself groggily return to the present as he was heaved in the back of what looked like an unfamiliar van, on top of a clean white sheet.
"Get in," he heard Halle urge Matt shortly. "Hold him." Her words were brisk, and to Mello's foggy hearing, a little angry sounding. He still wondered what she was doing there; had Matt called her? And how had he known to do so? Had Near sent her?
He felt the red-haired boy slide into the trunk beside him, gently lifting his head until Mello rested in Matt's lap, the boy's strong arms around him.
They had been staying together in a nondescript apartment since Mello recruited Matt, but they had little to no interaction; a brief discussion of plans here and there, but really Mello spent most of his time with the Mafia, and Matt spent most of his time at the apartment monitoring Misa on several computers. Mello had tried to introduce Matt to the Mafia members, but instantly regretted it; he watched his men's eyes light up when they looked at Matt, traveling hungrily up and down the young man's skinny frame.
Strong feelings of hatred and jealousy had heated his belly and that had been the end of that; there was no way Mello was going to allow his men to sit there and undress his Matt with those eyes—not that Matt was his, of course.
Fingers pushed his singed hair out of his face, and he felt Matt tremble slightly underneath Mello.
"God…" He whispered, staring openly at Mello's charred skin. "Oh, Mells…" the horror in his tone made Mello's stomach roll. Was he really that bad?
"Shut up." he attempted to glare at his friend, and then stopped with a wince. Even glaring hurt. "Talk abou' som'thin' else."
"What do you want me to talk about?" Matt's voice was definitely rising in pitch, taking on an edge of desperation. "The fact that the one person in the world I love is currently burned half to death?"
Mello's eyes widened a little at this; he had to be hearing things. Hoping to keep Matt from saying anything else he'd regret, he spouted the first thing that came to mind.
"Tell th' story of how he go' the choc'late from Roger's stash, that time…" he felt something ooze from his mouth and watched as Matt put his fingers to Mello's lips; they came away red. Matt shook his head.
"Which time? We did it so often…"
"Any time."
The car was silent for a long time, Halle carefully making her way to... to… Mello actually had no idea where they were going, and he didn't ask; for the first time ever, he really didn't care. He was beginning to think Matt wouldn't talk at all, when the boy began.
"There was that time when…" Matt's voice was a still a little higher pitched than normal, but he spoke through it; soon it returned to normal. Mello had to thank his lucky stars he was wearing his helmet when he set the bomb off; otherwise he probably wouldn't be able to hear at all. "you got in trouble on purpose. Did something stupid—I think you literally waited until Roger was watching and then squeezed an entire bottle of red paint on the carpet. Deliberately."
Mello wasn't able to smile, but he certainly felt like it. Oh yeah… I remember…
Matt continued. "I thought you had lost it—it was white carpet, and Roger had paid a ton to get it in place—for Christ's sake, Mells, it was brand new."
"So then, of course, he dragged you to his office to yell at you, but you turned and winked at me, and all of a sudden, I knew what was going on. God you were an idiot," Matt added fondly.
"I waited a few minutes and snuck outside his office in time to hear him yelling at you—about Oppositional Defiance Disorder and did you have a problem with authority figures and he asked whether or not you were mentally sound… That went on forever. I still don't think it was worth it."
"It was," Mello interjected softly.
"And as soon as he went to his "secret" booze stash you were digging through his desk, grabbing all the chocolate bars you could reach. You stood up—what for, anyway? What was your excuse?"
"I jus' pretended I was pacing." Mello's voice felt very hoarse now; he hoped he wouldn't need to speak again.
"Yeah, ok. And you went to the door and started handing all the bars out to me—Roger caught you, of course, but he didn't have any proof on me—I ran before he could see my face. Probably guessed it was me, though." Good old Roger; innocent until proven guilty and all that.
Mello had gotten into so much trouble…
Smiling fondly at the memories, Mello closed his eyes, feeling very, very tired. He wondered with a little distress whether or not he had a concussion, but he knew just how smart Halle and Matt were; they would take care of him. He allowed himself to be rolled with the rocking of the vehicle.
Something landed on his face, followed by another something. Unable to really feel what it was, he opened his eye. Matt was sitting absolutely still, tear after tear rolling down his cheeks, plopping onto Mello's face. HE frowned; he had never seen Matt cry before, even when he had accidentally kicked him where guys don't like to be kicked during capioperia.
"Matt...?" he didn't say anything else, but the question lingered at the end of the sentence just the same.
Matt didn't respond, just leaned over fully to press a soft kiss on Mello's unburned scalp, and Mello understood.
"I love you, too," he spoke carefully, without slurring. More than you'll ever know.
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November 19, 2011
"Damn it, Mello, you're insane," Matt hissed through clenched teeth, watching the blonde man rip away at the bandages that covered his melted body. "Stop that." He attempted to grab Mello's arms, but he dodged his grasp and continued to rip away chunks of clean white bandage without hesitation.
"No. I'm leaving." Mello was enraged, ripping at the binding and removing more than a few slivers of brittle skin as he did so.
"At least leave the bandages around your chest," Matt cried desperately. Mello was standing, naked except for the bindings, in front of a mirror. He had stiffened when he saw his reflection; massive amounts of scar tissue covered half of his face, but, miraculously, both of his eyes were still intact and functioning.
His back, however, was a different story. Blistered black, it flaked like dust in the wind. Matt had never seen anything so horrifying and so sad. It was sheer, blind luck that Mello had survived at all. He ought to be in a hospital somewhere, with skin grafts and IV's keeping him hydrated. But being a wanted crime boss, that wasn't exactly a possibility. Matt had to make do with the supplies Halle kept him stocked up on; he would never understand why she had come through so helpfully—she had just showed up at their apartment eight days ago and literally dragged Matt into her car. He had no idea how she knew, but suspected Near was involved somehow.
"Mello." Matt tried to keep his voice soothing and reasonable, ever-so gently wrapping his arms around his best friend's damaged skin, holding him tenderly to his chest. "Mells, listen to me. You were in an explosion eight days ago. It's a miracle you're even alive. For heaven's sake, go lay down or something; let me bring you some damn soup."
Mello turned slowly in the circle Matt's arms, looking him straight in the eye. He saw Matt flinch as he saw the once-beautiful Mello's face completely ruined, but he held his ground.
"Near has my picture. I can't… I don't…" Mello struggled for the right words to say. "I should have destroyed it years ago. The fact that Near has it is… deadly. I NEED it." Matt could have smacked himself in the head; Halle had told him about the picture, and he had just had to open his fat mouth and blab it to Mello. Stupid.
Matt understood that Mello was trying to be reasonable, a further testament to Mello's failing health; were he feeling like his normal self, Mello would simply have shoved Matt aside and done as he wanted anyway.
"Fuck." Mello swore softly underneath his breath, and Matt broke his grip as he watched Mello seize a bottle of pain medication, tilting far too many pills into his mouth and chewing them dry.
"Ok," Matt scrambled for the right words to say. "Ok; I'll get it from Near; how 'bout that? You… stay here and watch TV or something normal for somebody who JUST SURVIVED a BOMB."
"No." Mello's response was curt and sharp; he would get his way on this. "You wouldn't be able to do what I'm going to do."
Obeying Matt, he left on his chest and other body wrappings, just baring his face as he dressed slowly, grimacing in pain, in Matt's black jeans and his own black hoodie—nothing else. It hurt, after days of recovering in no other clothes…
"What are you going to do?" Matt was officially freaked out now as he watched Mello snatch the keys to the red car they shared. They kept guns in that car… and worse, bombs.
"I'm going to Lidner's place," was the curt response as Mello stepped firmly out of the apartment.
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It wasn't the first time Halle Bullook had had a gun trained on her—not by a long shot. But the one wielding the weapon was what caused her nearly-white blonde eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.
She had barely stepped into her hotel room when she sensed that she wasn't alone. On seeing Mello, she pressed a finger to her lips, shushing him without making a sound.
"Near." She spoke to the bug attached to her clothing and watched Mello's confused expression melt into one of wry understanding. "I'm going to take a shower now, so I'm taking the bug off, alright?"
"Alright," came Near's emotionless response; she detected no suspicion in his tone, but that didn't mean squat. She unclipped the device from her top, setting it down where Mello could see it, on her counter. Beckoning him to follow her, she betrayed no fear, simply because she felt none. She could sense when somebody intended to really hurt her, and she had received none of those vibes from Mello.
She led him to the tiled bathroom, where he leaned heavily against the wall, attempting to pull it off as a moody slouch, but she knew better; he was exhausted and probably in a significant amount of pain. She really hadn't expected to see him so soon; it made her like him even more than she already did.
Turning the water on full blast, and switching on the bathroom fan for added noise, she gestured for Mello to speak.
"Lidner," he struggled to remain blank-faced as he fought the pain coursing through his remaining nervous system—stupid meds barely curbed it at all.
He watched, a little surprised at her boldness despite himself, as she stripped out of her clothing with absolutely no self-consciousness, tossing her coat onto the sink with the rest of the outfit, before carelessly turning her back on him and stepping into the water. Huh—it wasn't just a ruse; she really did intend to bathe. Whatever; wasn't his problem either way.
She spoke briefly about Near, her voice somewhat garbled underneath the showerhead's descending water, but easy enough to understand.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, once she brought up the possibility that Near already knew Mello was in the bathroom. "Live in here? I don't mind."
He raised an eyebrow at that question, despite the pain it brought to his un-burned forehead. Live in Lidner's bathroom? Why the hell… and then it hit him, the purr in her tone, the way he could see her silhouette tilt backwards seductively, and he forced down a lump in his throat. Was she really offering… He remembered his first time meeting her when he was a child, remembered thinking how beautiful she was… but now was hardly the time to dwell on it. He could hardly stand up, let alone consider doing… other things.
She correctly interpreted his silence as an uncomfortable rejection, and she shrugged, not really upset either way.
"Near thinks that the other L is Kira." She offered the information as a gesture of an apology; sorry if my offer made you uncomfortable.
This struck Mello like nothing else she could have said. It fit into the puzzle so well… he was briefly reminded of Near and his puzzles, each piece falling perfectly into place on the first try. It had to be… damn Near, he was too good.
She stuck a hand out from behind the curtain after a few long moments of silence, fumbling for the towel she had left folded neatly on the toilet lid, and Mello bent forward to hand it to her. Ow.
Emerging, dripping from the shower a second later, dabbing at her hair with the towel clenched in her hand, not even attempting to cover herself, Halle strode past Mello to look at her reflection in the mirror. Trying to keep his eyes off of her shapely buttocks, although he doubted she'd mind even if he openly stared, he dug a bar of chocolate from the pocket of his hoodie and unwrapped it, biting into it with more force than the task required.
"Halle," he finally asked, using her first name because he was pretty sure it was real, unlike 'Lidner', "whose side are you on?"
She shrugged off the question with a comment about Near and Mello sharing the same goals meant that there weren't any sides to begin with, and he bit off a groan of frustration. She knew what he meant; she was just being difficult.
She stood in a doorway, her nearly clear-blue eyes flickering to his own electric blue ones, a dangerous smile causing her heavily-lashed eyes to lower attractively. She gave a vague threat about telling Near where Mello was if he wouldn't tell her his plans, and the gun, as she suspected it would be, was once again focused on her face.
"We're going back to your headquarters. Get dressed; you're taking me."
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Headquarters were surprisingly close to Halle's hotel; Mello noted, feeling more than a little suspicious as he followed Lidner's lead, his gun trained firmly to the back of her head. He knew they were being watched, but that was just as well; no need to surprise anybody if he just wanted the picture.
The two men inside the room opened the doors for him, but did not look at all trusting; quite the contrary—they both pulled their own guns and aimed them at Mello. He held back a smirk as he saw the more-than professional panic in the dark-haired man's eyes; clearly Halle had her own admirers. Near requested that his guard dogs lower their weapons, which they reluctantly did.
The exchange between Near and Mello was brief, as Mello knew it would be. The boy didn't even turn around to meet his old rival's eyes.
As he left the building, leaving Halle behind as he did so, pulling out his phone to contact Matt, he examined his photo, almost not recognizing his little hellion self in the glossy photo—he had changed so much, and not just physically. But when he flipped it over, two words that had not been there before caught his eye. Dear Mello.
"Dammit!" Mello couldn't help but loudly exclaim, no longer caring that he was probably still being watched. He dropped the photo into a tiny pool of dirty water puddling by a storm drain, grounding it underneath his boot until it was just a pulpy mess. Once again, Near had one-upped him.
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DBL here—jeez, this chapter was LONG. Couldn't find a way to make it shorter, though—sorry, guys.
I tried to fill some requests here; colbub's request that I write about an elaborate Matt/Mello plan to steal chocolate, zaurora's request that I talk about when Mello introduces Matt to the mafia, and Ygrayne's standing request for MOAR HALLE. : ) As always, I love reviews! SO much. Love it, hate it, be sure to let me know!