A/N: Well damn. Sorry for the wait. I've been….colleging. Lots and lots and lots of work for school. For the first time in my life, I'm a straight A student. Be proud. And then smack me for setting such a high standard for myself that now my teachers expect it.
Dear lord.
Anyways, my birthday was September 16th, so maybe as a belated birthday gift, you give me a free pass and review instead of yelling at me for taking forever to update. I was gonna update with a 10,000 word chapter, but then I decided you'd rather get what I have then wait. So I'll be updating at least once more this week. And regularly after that. By the way, the review response to last chapter was utterly fantastic. If you guys could just…keep doing that, I will be sure to favor this fic above all others and shower you in updates.
Warnings: None! No sex, no gore. I'm sure all you lighthearted folks out there are breathing a sigh of relief. I know I've been hard on you lately.
Enjoy!
It took two hours for my sight to return, and three and a half hours for my agents to return with a suitable new location. It had only been at my own request that none of them had stayed with me, and I could tell they were uncomfortable with the idea of my spending any more time at the admittedly dangerous-looking safe house Mello lived in than was strictly necessary.
For me, packing was mostly an issue of replacing my toys into my suitcases, and stuffing my three spare pajama sets and toothbrush into my backpack. To avoid socializing, I waited until I got the confirmation text from Rester to walk downstairs, but all of my careful planning was in vain. The idiot- excuse me, Flavio- decided to impose his company upon me the moment I went downstairs. I believe he said something about a monster; admittedly, I was not paying much attention.
Lidner opened the front door without knocking, and from the expression on her face, I could see that it had been a deliberate maneuver on her part to prove to Mello's associates that she was superior. Not above those sort of mind games, I reprimanded her, to prove to Lidner that she was not.
"It is traditional to knock, Lidner."
"Sorry, sir." She replied, with only a quirk in her lips betraying her irritation at having had her behavior berated. I gestured to my suitcases, and Gevanni and Rester began walking towards them as I began walking out, feeling it would be unnecessary to make an exiting statement. Anya, apparently, disagreed.
"Goodbye, Near! Take care of yourself!" She then proceeded to violate my personal space by flinging her arms around me. She froze around me, most likely because of the four guns pointed at her. It would have been six, however, Gevanni and Rester each had one hand occupied with my belongings. I waved them away impatiently, and waited for her to remove herself.
"Sir?"
"Miss Malay does not mean any harm to me." Unless, of course, she were to break my ribs, in her pointless farewell gesture. Rester actually snorted at me, which prompted a somewhat undignified wriggling maneuver so I could turn in Anya's arms and stare him down properly.
"Sorry sir. It's just…you keep saying that."
"Well, I must be a better judge of intent than my predecessor, as I am alive, and he is dead. You would do well to remember that."
"Of course, sir." I glared at the quirk in his lips before I allowed the moment to pass. At last, Anya disattached herself from me, and I was able to proceed.
Someone cleared their throat behind me as I got the first foot out of the door, and I suppressed another eye roll as I turned. Was the world conspiring against me? I would think I hadn't been sufficiently harmful to warrant such a response. Maybe the world was conspiring against Mello. He probably fully deserved any retaliation the universe might dole out for its own safety. I looked at the culprit, and discovered large red and yellow eyeballs, disconcertingly close to my face. Close enough that one would need to be floating to achieve the desired angle.
To avoid looking insane, I raised my eyebrows instead of voicing a query.
"I know where Mello is." I immediately lost any semblance of the normalcy I had maintained by not speaking to the air.
"I forgot something in my room." I announced, and walked back towards the room I had used.
"I'll get it, sir." Must my subordinates always be helpful at the least helpful moments?
"No, I will retrieve the item."
"Hyuk, hyuk. You're makin it sound like one of those magazines. They'll think you're looking at PORN!" My face remained perfectly impassive until the door shut behind me.
"Although it would not be an unreasonable guess considering my age, my associates tend to assume I am sexless. They probably believe I am completing an old puzzle."
"No fun!" Ryuk blew a raspberry at me, and rolled in the air, seemingly content to wait out my patience. He was not kept waiting for long.
"Well? Where is Mello?"
"What will you give me if I tell?"
"Apples, of course, are always available to you. Alternatively, if you do not, I will dedicate my life to finding a way to destroy you." Ryuk's mouth dropped open in shock, and a grape fell out. Since I hadn't seen him insert the grape at any point, I had to wonder how long it'd been in there.
"Whoa. You know, if you did that, I'd have to write your name down."
"You have suggested that my ability to be entertaining is dependent on Mello's presence."
"You genius types are always so cruel!"
"Are we?"
"Yeah." He picked the grape up from the floor and popped it in his mouth, chewing noisily. "It's a problem, really. You all might end up destroying the world and it's only even five of you playing your game. Three, now. You'll tear apart this world." He looked slightly admiring.
"Two." Matt would not be a factor.
"Three." Right. Well.
"Mello's address?"
"Give me something nice!"
"Would you like a pet? I would be willing to host a dog, if you'd like to train one. If you do well, perhaps we can re-open the baby discussion." I had absolutely no intentions of allowing the Shinigami a baby, however, at times it is best to appear open to options one would never seriously consider. Mello would call it misleading. I am not so much in denial, and can call it deception. Lying.
"Yes! Yes! A puppy and a baby! And more of you and blondie!"
"If we have a deal, then give me his address now."
"Fine. Got a pen? I memorized how the door numbers looked."
When I returned, I was clutching a sticky note with an address scrawled on it, in his oddly stylistic handwriting. On the way downstairs, I wondered if Shinigami were born learning how to write, or if there were schools in their realm. Questions for later.
"Gevanni, visiting the new office will have to wait. I have an address."
"How the fuck did you…" I heard the yelling trail off as Anya ran up to the bedroom, most likely to see what it was that had given me the information. I would need to consider pockets, so that people could at least consider the possibility that I was concealing something in them. A cell phone, in this scenario. Or a weapon, and I could get shot for being a potential threat. Suddenly, I was reminded of the reasons behind my choice in wardrobe.
"You have to let us come with you."
"No. Excuse me." Gevanni was pulling at my arm, so I turned to see what it was that had incited him to neglect his usual observance of my personal space.
"That wasn't in your handwriting." He stared at me, as if he could find the truth in my eyes. I stared back, because I knew he could not.
"No." My employees didn't know that I knew about their trick of biting their tongues inside of their mouths in order to appear impassive when they were deeply frustrated with me. I watched the flexing of his tongue through his throat, and when it stilled, I said, "Gevanni, the preparations." He made a jerky bow towards me, and turned away. This time, instead of watching his throat, I watched his shoes; I had suspected for about two months at this point that they also clenched their toes in their shoes.
As expected, the leather crinkled a little, suggesting movement. Another case solved by N. Who would N have been if L hadn't died? Who would N be if Mello died? With Kira, we were our own little section of the alphabet, those of us playing the game. K, L, M, N. Matt halted the pattern, which bothered the part of me that was soothed by patterns. He should have been named Oliver. Oakley. Obediah. Octavian.
I noticed with some disgust that my thoughts were wandering. I was…agitated. How inconvenient. Without the gift of sociopathy, it was no small wonder that most never succeeded to the level that L and I did.
"Why the fuck can't we come? He's our boss!" Oh, they were still on about that?
"Because taking you would be considerably more difficult than leaving you behind. As it is, I can do anything, and the law will support me. Taking you brings an unnecessary risk, as I would consequently become unable to utilize my resources which are much more considerable than yours. Does that answer your question sufficiently, or would you prefer to spend further time exploring my reasons while Mello loses another finger?"
"You're just gonna call the cops?" He scoffed. My eyes narrowed, imperceptibly. I considered gritting my teeth, but refrained, because tooth destruction would be inconvenient later in life. How fascinating, to gain a firsthand experience regarding the effects of emotional stress during a case! These wanderings of the mind were frustrating, and yet the clarity of thought: unparalleled. "We're highly trained, armed, and not afraid to use it."
"Actually, I was planning to commandeer the police. They're armed, higher in quantity, and disposable."
"But-"
"And I will make them afraid not to use deadly force. Thank you for your consideration."
"But-"
"Is your question important enough to save Mello's life?"
"Well, I-"
"Because my time is. Come." My employees created their usual formation around me, which was comforting, in that it was a small space and separated from the distractions around me. Mello.
The walls of dedicated subordinates were replaced by the frame of the car around me.
"Where to, sir?"
"Locate the nearest police station, and inform the officers that they will be aiding L in a raid."
Matt's POV
"Matt."
"Yeah?"
"I heard people outside of the room. When he cut off my finger." The words were enunciated too perfectly, and for the first time in my life, I wondered if Mello had been worried his voice would tremble. Social genius that I am, I was totally smooth and came out with an eloquent answer. Not.
"Mmm?"
"Did you hear?"
"Him cut off your-"
"No, dumbass, did you hear people outside of your door. It's very important."
"Nah, they all went to watch, the vultures." More than once, I had deliberately watched a gory scene, so I could better critique the effects in my games. I just let the hypocrisy slide off my back. "Even my guard chained me to the damn floor so he could see."
"What were they, keyhole peeking or something? There wasn't even a two-way in that room. Fucking-" Mello broke off and glared at the wall, as if it were also spying on him. "Yeah, well, if they do it again, break your chain and get out."
"Mello, they left me behind with only a chain because it would be incredibly stupid for me to do that." His eyes flashed. Mello doesn't like being called stupid. "If I left, they'd still have you, and they'd be-"
"What? Would they not be nice anymore? Because I'm fucking done-" Again he stopped to glare at the wall, and presumably calm himself.
"Do it. And tell…tell Near where I am."
"You want me to tell…" I trailed off. I could see from the fury in his expression that it wasn't a decision he made lightly. He would act on a plan that made him, in his mind, look inferior to Near. For me. My heart swelled with goodwill towards Mello, and the sign that he really cared. I felt as though I should say something to acknowledge what he was doing for me.
"When you go all slack-jawed like that, you look almost as dumb as you sound. Shut it."
"Um."
"And piss off. I've gotta get some sleep, since they'll probably torture me again. You know, after they're done torturing me the first time, and then find out you've escaped."
"Um,"
"Piss. Off." I shrugged. Damn. He must have been desperate, to put himself up for torture and depend on Near to get him out before he died, or I dunno. Something Mello would consider worse than dying. Like, not getting chocolate for longer than a few hours, while he waited for Near. Heh. Yeah, I know my sense of humor is nonexistent. Something about all the torture and death.
I curled up next to the wall to sleep. Despite all the warm fuzzies from the Mello-style declaration of giving a shit, it was still damn cold, and I wished he'd stop being such a cold bitch about it, and let us sleep next to each other. Seriously. I would say he was overcompensating, but he had come out as gay, so it wasn't like he was withholding his passionate urges or anything. Hey, before I discovered porn, I read like, a shelf of romantic novels. But noooo, Mello is too badass to feel anything like cold, or loneliness. The more he wanted it, the more he pushed it away. Ergo, the "piss off" from before. Asshole. My asshole, though, so I had to love it.
Snickering at the sentence that had passed through my mind, I curled into an even tighter ball, and engulfed in my own body heat, started to fall asleep.
Mello's POV
I might or might not have insinuated that Matt's survival was a priority.
Obviously, it was only because I was confidant in my ability to take a blow, or even lose a finger (I winced) without coming completely undone. Matty's all soft. I mean, mentally. He's got this thing about his eyeballs, fingernails and ears. He's scared that something will go in his earhole too far and touch his brain.
Talk about irrational. Mind you, he took the same med classes I did. He has a degree. Scary, isn't it?
And he doesn't want his fingernails to come off. Torture 101, and he's scared to even pry the lid off of some tech with his nails because he thinks they'll pop off like he's some sort of deconstructable toy.
The eye thing…well, I guess that's a universal fear. Getting something lodged in it. Seriously, though, I pinned him down once, to try and force him to wear some colored contacts, and he actually cried, and started begging, and telling me secrets about people I didn't even know. Tickling him produced similar results.
So I never got to see what he'd look like with green eyes, but I did end up with the knowledge that Matty doesn't do well in those kinds of situations. I have valuable secrets he's keeping for me. So does the government, although they don't know he reads through their stuff. Ask which government, and he'll just smile.
Seriously, there's too much important information in his overly mushy head. Again: scary, isn't it? The information needed to topple the world is a tickle attack away from being public knowledge.
So anyways, I was staying awake—a little cold, but I couldn't very well get all cuddly with Matt now—and trying to make a logical argument to myself that I was in possession of two balls, and therefore could not be turning into the braindead teen girl all of my recent actions were suggesting.
I would've probably done the same thing before, but knowing that I'd do it now for Near too…made me question ho w far from watching CareBears and wearing makeup I was. God.
God!
Comforted in the knowledge that at least God would guide events as He saw fit, I started my prayers for the night. As my fingers worked around my rosary beads, I started to drift off. Fighting sleep to finish, I had just finished the very last bead when I heard gunshots.
Wide-eyed, I looked down at my rosary. Then I patted it, fondly. Nice.
If He was going to intervene with a timely raid, who was I to waste time? Matt, who was used to sleeping through the hum of monitors and video-games left half completed, was still humming in his sleep. Sounds endearing, doesn't it? Well, it's not. It's bloody annoying. I shook him, hard.
"Get up. Raid. We're going to escape. Bring your thingie."
"I told you my electronic telegraph doesn't work yet."
"To bash in heads, until we can get a gun."
"Oh." He retrieved it, while I worked at our chains. Chains, mind you. Like a PLEASE ESCAPE sign, when it wasn't reinforced by about a dozen guards.
"Don't bite your tongue."
"Wha- Ow, fuck! Fuuuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Did you break it?"
"No, just dislocated, so I could bend it right. Don't bite your tongue."
"Don't you- OW!" He hissed, long and hard, through his teeth.
"See? Good as new."
"Really? 'Cause it still feels like my ankle is broken."
"That's only pain. You can walk on it without collapsing." He looked utterly pathetic limping, and I decided to attribute it to the sudden development of a dramatic side, instead of wasting time I needed being concerned. Sound heartless? Well, I didn't want either of us to get shot.
Through the walls, I heard something more beautiful than I had ever heard in my life.
"The number is delta…" The voice faded out, but it was clearly the voice of a police officer's radio. Which meant we just had to sit and look like sad little victims. Which Matt had down, with the whole ankle-not-slender-enough-to-escape thing. Wimp.
More gunshots, and then about five minutes of shuffling, which became gradually more purposeful until it was clearly an organized search party. But who would they be searching for? None of mine would dare call the police.
"Mello?"
I knew that voice.
"Mello?"
The door handle turned, and suddenly, I dreaded it. I couldn't stand if it was him. Collecting me, like I was a pet. Damn.
Near opened the door, looking like a sacrificial lamb, with all the cops hulking in formation around him. His subordinates discreetly trailed behind. I could see the edge of a corpse; one of our captors.
"Hello, Mello."
"God damn it."
Please review. I solemnly swear you'll never wait that long for an update again. But encouragement always helps.