*A/N* Remember me?

I remember our last winter in fragments- snow melting in my hair and trickling down my neck in a cold, icy trail, the coolness of Matt's lips on mine, the ominous smell of chocolate lingering in the hallways and the kitchen, the bitter taste of black coffee and the calming aroma of jasmine tea, the subtle scent of boy's cologne every morning, brooding silence whenever Mello was in a bad mood, cigarette ashes on the windowsill and beeping of Matt's game controller. The endless stacks of papers, the never ending all-nighters, the taste of tobacco on Matt's lips when he'd wake me up after I dozed off on work, Mello's frowns, unfriendly at first, a sign of trust and sympathy later on. The nervous nail biting that day, the sleepless nights even after there was no work to do, the horrible smell of burnt flesh and Matt's panicked hands flying over Mello's body, never settling down, eyes wide, face frozen- my own mind going into nurse mode and shoving him out of the way, the small Italian woman helping me get the melting clothes off. The scarred face that kept judging me for the oncoming weeks- you should have stopped him, even though its' owners eyes showed nothing but gratefulness and respect.

Our last night, spent awake, our bodies intertwined. Our last morning, when I hugged Mello and he hugged back, and whispered me the promise we both know he couldn't keep (I'll keep him safe) the brief kiss Matt placed on my lips before leaving, that ended up lasting much longer than necessary, both of us knowing it might, and probably will, be the last one.

The never ending hours, sitting in front of the screen, a phone in my hand, a gun in the other, biting my lower lip until I could taste blood.

I held my breath for the length of the car chase- for all I knew, my heart stopped pumping blood and resorted to adrenaline, keeping me unable to move but unable to stand still, turning me into a statue with a heart thumping against my marble chest.

The first shot. The second. The twenty four ones that followed. Matt's body hitting the floor. The scream. Not mine. I could not have screamed. Stone can't scream.

The drive to the hospital, of which I remembered next to nothing- the hysteric run down the corridor, tears flooding my eyes. The strong arms- wrong arms- pulling me away from Matt's body, back to the waiting room, giving me a cup of tea and assuring me I'll be the first to find out any news- sitting there, with the bloody cup stinging my palm, brain empty but for MattMattMatt stuck on loop, the sound of his laugh, the smell of his hair. Somebody lit a cigarette. I loosened my fist. The cup fell on the floor, hot liquid soaking the linoleum. They escorted the smoking man out. A cleaning lady came to mop up the floor.

The collective gasp that managed to capture my attention. The small screen on the wall repeating the same news- a church was burning, a man was found dead-

Heart dropping, turning to stone itself, Matt's laugh deafening in my ears, Mello's face flashing before my eyes oh my god he's dead he died oh my god oh my god no

Running back to Matt's room and being pushed back out. Running to the bathroom. Catching the sight of my reflection and screaming at it, until the noise stopped coming out. Being led away by a nurse, back to the damned waiting room. A blanket thrown over my shoulders. I've tried asking whether Matt will be okay, but all my throat managed was inaudible rasping. Sitting there, completely numb, tears drying on my cheeks.

Doctor's arriving, hours later. I can see Matt now. Matt is not very well, but hope is not lost.

Matt in the bed. So pallid. So stiff. Cold. Too cold. I rubbed his hands until they were warm again. Corpses are cold, not Matt. Matt can never become a corpse.

Mello's corpse wasn't cold when they found it. Mello burned to death.

Mello hated fire.

More sobbing. They tried to lead me away, but I pulled myself together and held onto Matt. If he stayed alone, he might forget he is not a corpse. If Matt knew he was not a corpse, he'd never become one. Matt's brain could do that. Matt was- is, Matt is!- clever.

"Matt is clever." I said out loud. The Doctor nodded, a small smile on his lips. Pity. I scowled. There is no need to pity me. I was stone, and Matt was alive.

The restless sleep, still holding Matt's hand. Waking up, disoriented, refusing to open my eyes for a whole minute, hoping everything would turn out to be a bad, bad dream. Opening my eyes. Refusing to cry again.

Bland, tasteless coffee, brought to me by a doctor. Him, explaining the situation- "Brain dead, the vest saved him, but he still lost a lot of blood, too many bullets-"

The vest. I gave him the vest. Matt said they wouldn't shoot him, Mello said they wouldn't go after him, but I knew better.

Not good enough. Matt was still dying.

Throwing up the coffee. Nurse giving me some pills. Falling asleep again. Waking up, feeling sick and tired and sad. Asking about Mello's body. Them telling me a man named Watari took it from the police. Drugs kicking in again.

Waking up to see Roger sitting across me. A small, shaken, sob-like yell erupting from my throat. Him pulling me close, me melting into his arms. More sobbing, more crying, more desperate phrases repeated over and over "Matt can't be dead, Matt is so clever"- Matt is clever, yes, but Matt's brain is dead.

**************angst****************

Roger woke me up with a small nudge- I fell asleep on the chair, head nuzzled into Matt's collar bone, arms wrapped around Matt's arm. I blinked the sleep away and sat up, accepting the offered phone with some confusion, one arm still intertwined firmly with Matt's.

"Hello?"

"X?"

Mind jumping to life. "Near?!" I looked up at Roger, who nodded with a smile.

Near offering me co-operation. Accepting- but not yet- I need to see that Matt is fine.

"Light Yagami knows about you. You must leave as soon as possible."

"He can't kill me."

"He can." Near hung up. I sighed, squeezing Matt's hand again.

"I am so sorry." I whispered, looking down at Matt's closed eyes. "You should be, too."

**********angst***************

Near made it through the confrontation. Light Yagami didn't. We still didn't know about Matt.

He visited the hospital with me, faces hidden under crude masks, and he sat there as I held Matt's hand. Nobody spoke. Nobody minded.

I told Near that, thank you, but I was not interested in further crime solving. Near understood. He left me after a brief goodbye. I realised I was becoming like him, and begun to wonder just how many people he has lost.

Weeks passed. Matt didn't wake up.

I sat by his bed every day, for hours, talking about everything and nothing. I tried to do some painting, did numerous sketches of his face, back when he was still not-brain-dead.

A month later, I sat there, head on his chest, listening to the faint heartbeat, the buzz of the machines keeping him alive almost drowning it out.

"You're lucky we're rich." I whispered. "I am not letting anyone give up on you just yet." I took his hand, placing it against my abdomen, where a small bulge was beginning to form. Tears threatened to appear again.

"Please wake up."

************angst************

I have little memories of the birth, but for the unbearable pain and a lot of screaming. But as I blinked away the painkiller-high and nuzzled the small, warm bundle to my chest, the doors opened and a familiar figure walked in.

"His name is Mihael." I told Near, and he nodded. He extended a finger towards the bundle, and Mihael reached out, caressing it before giving up with a yawn. "It was Mello's name."

"I thought so." Near was focused on the child. "He has Matt's eyes."

"I wanted to name him after you." I added. "He still needs a middle name."

"Name him Charles." He offered. I looked up at him, then shrugged. He was allowed to know.

"If you ever find yourself in need, call Roger." Near added, retreating his arm. "He will send you to me."

I smiled. "Thank you."

Near nodded again, before pulling on his mask and heading out.

"Nate."

I looked up. He didn't stop walking. Doors closed behind him with a creak.

"I guess you're Mihael Nate then." I murmured to my son. He yawned at me. "A better name than your dads, certainly."

***************hecouldjointheangels***************

Matt woke up two years later. His hair was reaching his shoulders by then, and he was horribly thin, but his sight was still horrible and his eyes still lit up when he saw me.

"You've cut you hair." He noted, touching the tip of my braid. I nodded.

"Looks good." He smiled. "How long have I been out?"

Breath stopped in my throat, and I had to blink away the tears. "Two years."

His eyes widened for a moment, and then he was smiling again. "You haven't aged a day."

I laughed, leaning in, kissing him with all the passion of two years of fear and longing. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around me, into my hair.

"What have I missed?"

"Kira is dead." Good news out first. He nodded. "So is Mello."

I held his hand as he blinked away a couple of tears. "Feel free to cry."

"Later." He forced a smirk. "What about Near?"

"He's L now."

"Good for him." Matt's smirk grew steadier. "Anything else?"

"Kind of." I looked over to the doors, nodding. Roger pushed the doors opened, and Mike wobbled in, still a newbie to the whole leg-using thing. Matt's eyes widened.

"Is he-"

I picked him up, placing him on the bed. He looked up at Matt, eyes big and blue, straight blonde hair framing his tiny face.

"Mike, say hi to your dad." I muttered, and Mihael looked up to Matt, eyes wide, before grinning and reaching up to touch his nose.

"Not much of a talker." I explained, blinking more tears- damn it- out of my eyes. Still in shock, Matt pulled Mihael closer, into his lap, and ran his fingers through our son's hair.

"Hi, champ." He muttered, and I suddenly felt very warm and very relieved. "His name is Mihael?"

I nodded. "Mihael Nate."

"Jeevas?"

"Jeevas."

"Why Nate?"

I reached over to remove a strand of hair from Mike's eyes. "Nate's his godfather."

"Nate who?"

I shrugged. "You'll meet him soon enough. He is waiting at our house."
"Our house?"

"I bough a house." I shrugged, grinning.

"Am I supposed to ask for your hand now?"

"If you wish so."

Matt smiled at me, pushing some hair out of my face.

"Lets go home."

*A/N*

OH MY GOD IT IS DONE

This was my first fic and I felt an urge to give it an ending- I have a reputation to keep up, after all.

It was supposed to end with Matt leaving the Wammy's, but it didn't. Then it was supposed to end with Matt and Mello dying. Turns out I can't do that either.

Sorry for the angst. I had a lot of Wammy's boys feels today, so I decided to write a nice closure. I hope you enjoy the cheesy ending.

Most of the people on my account are here for the Superwholock, and it is my number one fandom at the moment, but Death Note will always have a special place in my heart. It was the fandom that got me to make a tumblr account and to join fanfiction and I owe so much to it asdagfd

This fic was, well, corny as a cornfield, but it had its moments, me thinks? I will definitely be back with more Death Note stuff because a) I FOUND SOME DEATH NOTE STUFF I'VE WRITTEN WHAT and b)Death Note has so much fanfiction potential it'd be a waste not to write for it.

Okay. That's all. It's been a pleasure sailing with you, captains. See you around.