Author's Note: I'm visiting my family for Christmas, but I'm going to try to update when I can! In other news, there will only be two more chapters after this one: the last chapter and the epilogue. Then it's the end! I'm almost sad…and please, don't hate me after reading this chapter…

To WildfireDreams: I hope you like this chapter!

To garnet86: Glad you like it, though I do hope it isn't too long. I didn't want to make it too short or anticlimactic, either. I don't know—tell me if I did it well or not, please!

To WhiteLadyDragon: The entire situation is most unfortunate, isn't it? I like to keep people on their toes! No need to apologize for the silence. I too have been under a lot of stress lately, but I'm looking forward to being on break for Christmas.

I wanted to make this story's climax seem kind of like a movie; I thought it would work well with the subject matter. I'm glad you liked the scene with L and B, and I hope you like this chapter too!

Warnings: Violence, Blood/Gore, Profanity.

Chapter 38: For Them

I can't believe this. Is he for real? I mean, I know that I told him I'm willing to risk my life, but this is just insane. It's like the guy has a death wish, or something.

The most ludicrous part of all of this was that, in spite of his reservations, Mello was still doing what L had asked him to. He had bolted down the stairs as soon as the detective gave the word, with little to no regard for the implications of his plan.

What did that say about himself, he wondered? Was he blinded by the respect he held for the famous detective? He couldn't bring himself to care at this point, though the thought still nagged at him incessantly.

The blonde cursed his body's ineptitude as he raced downstairs, but above all else he cursed B for kicking him right in the stomach—and for slashing him with the knife as well, though the wound was almost entirely superficial. The most he had to worry about was infection, but he still felt a justifiable sense of disdain for the serial killer. He hated it when other people made a fool out of him, and that was all B seemed to be doing—to both him and L, and to everyone who had tried to stop him. Mello wanted him gone—preferably dead.

However, he wasn't so full of bloodlust as to completely lose all sense of his logical faculties. What L had asked him to do seemed not only entirely reckless, but also capable of getting them all killed. If he were to let all of the infected people inside, how would they get away? He understood that L couldn't relay a whole plan to him with such little time, especially since their enemy was right in front of them, but it still bothered the blonde man. He had never liked doing things without knowing the reason, and if said actions were dangerous, he wanted to know every single detail.

But it looked like that wasn't going to happen.

L…what are you thinking? The strange man's state of mind continued to elude him, but perhaps that was for the best; he wasn't sure he wanted to know every facet of the man's mind, especially since he seemed to carry so much baggage. But even so…his idea didn't appeal to him.

Yet, as much as Mello was vehemently opposed to it, he still found himself obeying L's request. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered that he had to trust the detective, and if he didn't, then they would all be dead meat anyway. Just this once, he had to suck up his pride.

Though he was breathing heavily as he raced downstairs, the blonde pulled out L's walkie-talkie and pressed the call button.

Come on, Matt, he thought to himself, impatience wearing on his nerves. Pick up. Please don't be dead…

His heart hammered against his ribcage when his best friend finally picked up. "L?" the brunette called out, his tone still saturated with panic. It was difficult to even make out his words over the chaotic background noise. "Is that you?"

"Matt? No, it's Mello," the blonde huffed out, cringing in pain as the strain caused his abs to cramp. He stumbled, and only narrowly avoided a nasty fall down the stairs by grabbing ahold of the handrail. "I need a favor."

"Mello? Is everything okay? Where's L?"

"He's fine, and so am I," Mello lied; he tried in vain to keep the lingering pain out of his voice. "Listen, I need you to do something for me, okay? Try not to argue with me."

"…Uh, okay. Sure, man. What is it?"

The blonde sighed, hastily throwing open the next door. "Tell Itzel to go unblock and leave open the front doors of the school. Tell her to hurry up, too. L and Lana are in a bad situation."

Just as he had thought, Matt took a few seconds to process his friend's request. Mello could picture the brunette gaping at the walkie-talkie, wondering what the hell he was doing by asking for such a ridiculous favor. "What?" he finally gasped. "Are you kidding me, man? If I do that, all the sickos will—"

"I know," Mello growled. "But that's what L said to do. I don't know exactly what he's planning, but we have to trust him, right? And think about it: if all of them come after us, you guys will be off scot-free. Don't worry about it. We'll be fine."

For a moment the blonde thought that Matt had hung up, but a few moments later his skeptical voice returned. "…Right. We should trust him. You're right…I'll tell her. But…be careful, okay, man?"

Despite himself, Mello smiled. "Didn't I just tell you that we'd be fine? I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah. You're pretty smart for a dumb blonde."

"Fuck off."

"Right back at you."

"Matt…thanks."

"…You too."

Matt hung up then, and ever so slightly the blonde sped up. He made it to the front doors in record time, and very nearly crashed into them before managing to halt his momentum.

Now all he had to do was wait, and in doing so his anxiety returned. But this time, instead of giving into it, Mello crushed it beneath his metaphorical foot.

L…I don't know what your plan is to get us out of this, but I'm going to trust you. It's fucking stupid, but it's hard for me to shake off an old habit. When I was a little kid, you were always the person I looked up to most. Being alone made me want to become strong, and you seemed like the strongest person in the world. Even though I had no idea who you were, you seemed so smart, so invincible—I even thought of you as a hero. I think I idolized you so much when I was young that I only ended up becoming bitter when I realized I could never be like you—that I was probably going to die here, without saving a single person.

But then I met you in real life—and now I understand just how stupid I was being. You aren't normal, but you sure as hell aren't a hero, either. You're a person, just like anyone else—just like me. I think…that's all I really needed to know. But even though I know you aren't invincible, I think…I think I'll trust you now.

I'll let you be a hero one last time.

Itzel had never felt more useless in her life, and that was saying a lot. When she tried to trace her past and the sequence of events that had led her to futilely attempt to staunch the massive flow of blood from a dying man's neck, she came up with only one explanation.

Yeah. It's because she never knew when to quit, did she? She never knew when to give up and let things lie. She wasn't about to start now.

"Itzel, L needs your help!"

"What?" The Hispanic woman craned her neck to see Matt leaning over her, a worried gleam in his eye. "What's he want? If ya couldn't tell, I'm kind busy right now," she snapped.

For the sake of saving time, the brunette decided to ignore her rudeness. "Mello just called," he said. "He told me to tell you that L wants you to open the front doors."

Itzel's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "What? Is that fucker on drugs or just suicidal? I thought the whole point of keeping 'em closed was to keep B from getting out! If I do that then—"

"He knows," Matt told her, cutting the woman off midsentence. "I already asked him about it. I don't know what's going on in there, but we've got no choice but to trust him, right? I mean, it's not like there's much else we can do."

While Matt talked, the large woman could not help but muse on the fact that she had never met anyone with a bigger death wish than that freaky detective. At times it almost seemed like he was trying to get himself killed, but Itzel was beginning to think that the guy was psychic or something. Everything he did made sense in hindsight—reckless it may be—but right now all she was capable of doing was shaking her head slowly.

That guy must be fucking crazy—guess I don't have a right to judge, though. S'long as he saves Lana, I don't care how he does it.

"Goddamn," she muttered. From the moment Matt asked her, she already knew she was a goner. "I'm up to here with this shit…Misa, keep pressure on that wound, got it? But be careful not to push the glass in further."

"Okay!" the blonde girl chirped, following the other woman's directions with ironic enthusiasm.

Without further ado, Itzel stood up and proceeded to do something that, in any other circumstance, she would consider rightfully insane.

"Hey, fuckers!" Her scream echoed up and down the street, and chances were it attracted the attention of every infected person on the block. That was what she was hoping for, at least. She waved her hands above her head like a madwoman. "Over here!"

Mogi and Matsuda gaped as the attacks on them suddenly stopped; the infected people turned their attention towards the flailing woman instead, and several of them began heading in her direction.

Perfect, she thought, a cocky smile blooming over her face. I got their attention. "That's right, cocksuckers," she yelled, trying her best to get them riled up. "Come and get me! I'll kick the shit outta you!" Self-preservation told her to shut up, but as most of the attackers turned away from the others, she only yelled louder. "Sorry, guys," she called over to them. "L's orders!"

And with that, Itzel turned tail and bolted towards the front doors. She heard the footsteps behind her pick up speed, and it was only then that she allowed her fear and adrenaline to dictate her movement.

Fuck me.

She stumbled to a halt at the front of the school and whipped around to face the approaching mob. Though she wanted nothing more than to keep running, she forced herself to stand still until the very last moment.

Sorry about this, guys. I sure as hell hope L knows what he's doing.

Just as the first person came at her, Itzel threw open the doors.

L could barely keep up at this point. With Mello no longer helping him in the fight against B, he was on his own in defending against the other man's attacks. Weapons had never been his forte, especially when trying to defend himself from them. He was a close-quarters, hand-to-hand (or foot) fighter, a specialty which did not bode well when his opponent was both armed and skilled with the use of a weapon. He had even had a hit landed on him by Lana while she was weaponless, so he in no way dared to overestimate his abilities.

The detective knew that if this went on for much longer, he would undoubtedly lose. He only hoped that Mello would get back here soon; it was probably just in his head, but he felt as though time were passing by much more slowly now.

"What's wrong, L?" B asked, dodging the other man's swing. He countered with a right kick, and L easily avoided getting kicked in the abdomen. Blows, at least, he could dodge. "You look worried."

The momentary distraction allowed B to aim a sweep at his foot, but L managed to turn his stumble into an evasive maneuver.

I should try to distract him as well.

"I am only worried about you, B."

"Me? Why would you be?"

Swoosh.

"Because, contrary to what you may believe, I do not wish to see you die."

"That's funny, coming from you. You almost sound human."

"I could say the same for you."

"True, but I'm not the one denying that claim."

L stopped for a moment; he tried to gain enough distance from the serial killer in order to address him without fear of a surprise attack. "Listen to me, B," he said, putting more force into his tone. "It does not have to be this way. You don't have to end the world."

B glared at his former mentor. "This again? I already explained my reasons. Stop wasting time."

"You did, but it's not too late to stop. Destroying the world will not solve anything. It will not right past wrongs—and it will not bring A back, either."

"Maybe not, but it will get rid of the modern-day barbarism that other people call society."

L shook his head sadly. "You may think so, but you're wrong. All it will do is destroy the potential to make it better. How can that be right? It's mere fatalism, and getting rid of society is not a solution."

"Well then…" B said, shrugging nonchalantly, "I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree, wouldn't you say?"

"…I suppose so. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

The two men went silent, and L once more allowed adrenaline to take over his body as B eyed him with a predatory gaze.

I have to beat him, he thought. I cannot afford to lose here. I have to beat him.

For them.

For Lana, the voice in the back of his mind added.

They collided with frightening speed, neither one holding his strength back against the other. Both had the same intent—to cut through his opponent with one swift blow and finally end the charade they had been involved in from the beginning.

But, as it had seemed from the start of their fight, neither one knew how to let go.

Their blades flew through the air, knocked from their hands by the force of the other's hit. For a moment they both stood still, appalled by the almost poetic nature of the situation as both knives slid to the end of the hallway. When the disbelief wore off, they sprung away from each other, their hands and feet now the only weapons with which to fight.

"L?" Lana's voice called from behind the door. "What the fuck's going on? L!"

B grinned. "How fitting. This leaves us with no choice but to use our hands, doesn't it?"

The detective inclined his head. Privately, he allowed hope to bloom in his chest.

Sorry, Lana. I can do this. Just wait a bit longer.

"Itzel, you bitch! Are you trying to kill me?!"

That damn woman hadn't held back, that was for sure. It sounded like she had brought the whole fucking block into the school, if the sheer volume of the cursing and screaming behind him was anything to go by. Couldn't she have at least shown some restraint before sending all of these infected people after him?

He was lucky he had a head start; otherwise he'd probably be mincemeat right now. As it was, he just made sure to slam the door to every stairwell closed. It would at least buy him some time.

The real tragedy in this situation was that it was twice as hard to run upstairs as it was down.

I can do this. I just have to make it back upstairs. Then everything will be fine. L, you'd better have a fucking plan.

L spat blood as B's knuckles slammed into his cheek and caused him to bite down, but that didn't stop him. He reared back and avoided the next flurry of punches, and instead tried to gain time. He didn't want to admit it, but he was still a bit rusty from his most recent injury, and this made it all the more difficult to stall.

"What's wrong, L?" B taunted him, smirking as the detective slipped his right hook. "Why don't you hit me?"

Wait for an opening…he has more stamina than me. I have to wear him out first. He has a good guard, so the only way I'll get a winning shot in is to wait for him to slow down.

"Waiting for an opportunity"—L dodged another punch—"won't get you anywhere, L. This isn't a normal fight. If you don't do something soon, I'll get a hit in eventually."

He's only trying to provoke me.

"Then I'll win."

"Don't listen to him, L!" He heard the scarred woman's scream as vividly as if she were standing right behind him.

Lana…

A sadistic smirk flitted across B's features. "And the first thing I'm going to do"—his next hit wasn't dodged as quickly—"is kill that woman."

L slipped up for barely a second, but it was more than enough. B's punch slammed into his jaw with full force, enough to send him reeling into the door right behind him. The back of his skull cracked against the wood, and his vision devolved into a hazy blur. He sank down to the floor, his mind and body both stunned.

Through the dizziness he heard B's snicker, and the echo of his footsteps told him exactly what he was going for—the fallen knife.

"No," he mumbled, his teeth clenching. "Get…"

Get up.

Get up.

"Get up, L!"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice, the familiar alto issuing from right behind him. "Lana…"

"You know it! Now get up, please! He's going to kill you if you don't. Don't let him beat you!"

"You…" An image of her face surfaced in his mind, of the last time he had seen her. The night that they slept together, he had watched her sleep. Her expression had been peaceful, not contorted with pain or frustration. She had looked happy—and seeing her that way had made him ache in a way that he didn't believe should come from happiness.

It had saddened him, because he rarely ever saw her in such a state. And now…now she was suffering even more.

Because of him.

No.

He forced his eyes open, and refocused his attention on B. He was already almost to the end of the hallway, and L watched as he picked up one of the knives he had dropped. When he turned back around, there was a smile on his face.

"Sorry, L," he said. "I've won."

Not yet.

With all the strength he could muster, L stood up. He shook off the dizziness and took a step forward.

I won't let you.

At that moment, an echoing boom sounded from the stairwell, and with no warning Mello burst into the hall. The echoes of several people sounded not far below him.

And, L realized, he was right next to B.

"Mello—"

He stopped talking, and stared in disbelief at what was right in front of him, but what he didn't want to believe.

Mello, staring into the face of the serial killer with shock plastered across his features…

And B, smugly looking back while his hand held onto the hilt of the knife—the knife that was plunged into Mello's stomach.

"Mello!"

After what felt to her like hours of ceaseless effort, Lana finally managed to undo the lock on the door with her knife. The lock made a hollow clicking sound when she moved the blade a certain way, and when she tried to turn the knob afterwards it moved with relative ease.

Finally.

From outside the door, the scarred woman could hear L clamber to his feet.

"You…" He trailed off before he said anything else, and Lana idly wondered if he had retained some sort of brain injury when B had kicked him into the door.

Is he really okay? Her heart raced with anxiety at the thought that he was going to continue to fight B, and despite the fact that she had been encouraging him a moment earlier, the thought made her uneasy.

She heard him take a step away from the door, and as soon as she was able to do so without hitting him, she opened it. Lana blinked her eyes several times as she had her first view of the hallway, and was mercifully able to at least make out the shape of L and B's bodies as they faced each other. L didn't turn around; he didn't seem to notice that the dark-haired woman was now huddled on the floor behind him. If B noticed—and she found it doubtful that he didn't—he said nothing.

The utter silence in the hall weighed heavily on her mind, and Lana found it hard to breathe.

What do I do? Should I let L fight him again? What if he can't keep up? I have to do something… She subconsciously clutched the blade tighter in her hand, holding it so fiercely that it nearly caused her pain. "L—"

Before she could even get his name out, the deep boom of a door bursting open cut her off, and another silhouette emerged onto the scene right next to B.

Mello? Lana wasn't able to make out any finer features other than his body shape, but she figured that it was the blonde merely returning from the task L had given him—to open the front doors. That meant…that meant that all the infected people would be able to come in.

But that concern quickly took a back seat.

"Mello—" L said, his voice laced with concern.

There was no warning, no shout or cry of pain, and no climactic atmosphere. She could hardly see anything, but what Lana could see caused her heart to freeze in her chest.

There were two silhouettes—Mello's and B's, presumably—that were pressed up against each other, one of which was unnaturally stiff. The sound of a blade sinking into flesh was unmistakable; she had heard it many times before. L's cry of warning had not been enough to save the blonde, and now, as she listened in stark horror to the scene before her, Lana found it within herself to do something.

"Mello!" she screamed.

All three of the men turned their attention towards her; she could feel their gazes boring into her. B was the first to respond, and he released a snort of amusement. "So you finally spoke. Good. I was starting to think that you'd gone mute from shock."

Lana cringed at the sickening noise of the knife being pulled from Mello's flesh, and the blonde man let out a groan of agony as he fell to the ground. He landed with a heavy thud, and his labored breathing reverberated throughout the hallway.

Mello…no…why are you dying? Why did you…?

You can't die. I can't let any of you die…

I won't.

Suddenly anger, the likes of which she'd never felt, ignited her shaking hands and legs. Adrenaline kicked in with full force, and the scarred woman pushed herself into a low crouch.

"You bastard," she hissed, her tone venomous. Before she could get to her feet, however, she felt L kneel down to her level. He placed a hand on her knee.

"Please don't try to get up," he said. For once, he actually sounded concerned.

Though she knew he meant well, Lana could not hide her frustration. "Don't tell me what to do," she snapped.

"He's right, Lana," B told her, sounding more amused than anything else. "You aren't in any position to fight me right now. I'm surprised that you're still trying to stand up. I really did a number on you." He paused for a moment, his sadistic laughter filling the room. "In any case, you aren't fit to be a hero."

Her blood sang with rage at every word that came out of his mouth, and she strained violently against L's attempts to subdue her. He tried to calm her with words, but without much success.

"You should go back to the room, Lana—"

For some reason, the suggestion that she sit out this fight enraged her more than she already was. "No!" she boomed. "He killed Mello! He has to fucking pay!" She angled her face towards his, despite the fact that she couldn't see his expression. "Aren't you mad? Don't you feel sorry?!"

When next he spoke, his tone was somber. "…Yes. I am, and that is why I want you to go back. I do not wish to lose you as well."

These words were enough to give her pause, and the scarred woman relaxed slightly in his grip. "Dammit," she mumbled.

L cares about me. I know he does…and I care about him, too. I don't want to make him suffer because of me…

But I can't let B go. I can't let him kill Mello and not do anything about it. And…and I don't want L to get hurt, either. Even if that means I have to die, too…I will. I'll do it for him. For them.

"L…I'm sorry."

"How touching," B taunted, "but I'm afraid your time is up." She heard him take a step forward, and Lana's brows furrowed when he stumbled over his feet. An angry hiss issued from his throat. "What are you doing? How are you still able to move?"

"I'm…I'm not going to die that easily, asshole…"

She would know that voice anywhere; hope crested in her heart. Mello…you're still alive…

"Let go of me!"

Though she could hardly see what was going on, the scarred woman felt that she was able to see the twisted smirk on the blonde's face, and the vengeful gleam that she knew was in his eye as he held onto the serial killer's ankle.

A morbid snicker made its way out of Mello's throat. "Try and make me, you fucking prick."

And just like that, her resolve sprang back. Mello's strangled taunt was all she needed. With all the strength in her body, Lana shook L off of her, sending him off balance and springing to her feet. Everything after that seemed to move in slow motion, at least from her perspective.

The dark-haired woman plowed straight ahead, her eyes and ears set on B's struggling and distracted silhouette. In the very last second before she reached him, Lana closed her eyes and gripped the hilt of the knife close to her chest.

And then…she did what needed to be done.

I cannot see.

But I can hear, and I can feel, and what I felt in that moment was something that I'll never forget. I could feel his breath on my cheek, and I knew that even if I couldn't see them, his eyes were locked onto my face. He was probably shocked that I'd actually done it, given what he'd done to me earlier. He probably should've stabbed a little deeper.

And I felt my hands, covered in the warmth of his blood as I held the knife in his stomach. And I twisted it, and I could hear his agonized breaths as my blade tore up his insides. But I didn't stop, and do you know why?

Because I was so angry. My hatred for a person had never been so strong. I thought I hated Light, but that was nothing compared to what I felt then. It was one thing to hurt me, but it was another to hurt the people I cared about. Of course, I learned not long after that it didn't really accomplish anything. Hurting him, I mean. Revenge is a hollow victory, and no matter how many people will tell you that it helps sometimes…

It never does. Believe me on that.

"You…"

B choked on his words, and the clang of his dropped knife echoed loudly in the silent hallway. Lana held firm; her hands shook on the hilt of the knife, but it was due more to rage than fear.

And then, she smiled.

"Me."

The serial killer hissed as the scarred woman twisted the knife in his gut, and she flinched at the inhuman noise he made. But it wasn't enough. She wanted him to suffer more for what he'd done, to curl up into a ball and wallow in agony until his last moments—

"Lana."

Her racing thoughts came to a screeching halt when she heard L's familiar monotone voice behind her.

When she didn't answer, he tried again.

"Lana, stop. Let go of the knife. It's over. You don't have to hold it anymore."

But…I want him to suffer more…

"Please, Lana."

She felt a fleeting touch on her wrist, and finally, she did as he asked. Her hand went limp, and she left the blade buried deep within B's stomach. Not long after she let go, she heard the serial killer's knees hit the linoleum, and she allowed herself to be pulled away from him by L's surprisingly gentle grip.

When he spoke, it was with an uncharacteristically somber tone, one that even left Lana feeling weak-kneed. "It didn't have to be this way, B," he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "If you had stopped when given the chance, this could have been avoided."

A weak snigger tore out of the fallen man's throat. "You keep saying that," he replied, "but it was always meant to be this way, L. There was never any other option for me after what happened. This world…wasn't made for people like you or me. You'll see. One day…you will."

B made a move to push himself to his feet, but before he could even get halfway Lana heard him crash back to the ground.

"You aren't going anywhere," Mello choked out. "I won't let you go. You're going to stay here with me. You guys…go."

Lana's heart began to race at a mile a minute; she could hardly believe his ridiculous request. "What? Mello, we can't leave you behind! You're coming with us—"

"No." He cut her off with a harsh tone. "…Sorry," he added weakly. "I won't. Can't you see that I'm beyond saving?"

Heat stung the back of her eyes, and it wasn't just from the injury she had sustained. The scarred woman struggled not to let her inner pain and conflict show. "No. I can't."

Both men went silent, as did B; the serial killer's silhouette had gone still. He was either already unconscious, or dangerously close to the brink of it.

Or, she added on, perhaps he had finally given up.

"What do you—" Mello started. He then paused when he realized what she was talking about. "…Oh. I get it. I didn't even notice until now…"

"What is it?" L spoke up, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Wait a moment…don't tell me that you are…"

Without a word, Lana craned her neck sideways to face his general direction. She swept her hair out of her face with one hand and displayed the fresh wound that B had given her.

"…I'm sorry," she said softly. "For not telling you."

L didn't answer her in words. Instead, the detective merely grabbed her by the wrist and began to pull her away from the two mortally wounded men.

"Wait!" she objected, digging her feet into the ground. "Where are we going? We can't leave without Mello! We have to at least try to save him—"

Suddenly, she felt L's breath fan over her face, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. He might have been staring into her eyes, but she couldn't be sure.

"Listen to me, Lana. Mello already told you himself. He isn't in any shape to escape. The infected people he let in are making their way up here, and the only safe exit is the window from the room that you were trapped in. It will be hard enough for me to save you. I cannot carry you both."

"But…" Lana resisted the urge to wipe her cheek as a single tear fell from her right eye; her mind was already occupied with the blonde friend who lied dying behind her. "But…"

"He's right, Lana," Mello coughed, his voice already starting to fade. "I'll just slow you two down. I might even get you killed. Now hurry up and go. The others still need you…"

He might have said more, but L didn't give her an opportunity to listen. He grabbed ahold of her wrist once again, and she felt herself being dragged back toward the room that had been her prison for who knows how long.

More tears fell from her eyes, but she didn't try to stop them.

Mello…I'm sorry. Once again, I couldn't save someone I care about. I'm sorry for everything…I'm so, so sorry…

"You fool. Why would you choose to die here with someone you hate?"

Mello could hardly hear B's voice over the chaotic din issuing from the floors below. Provided he wasn't just hearing things, it sounded as though the infected people were getting closer.

It shouldn't be long now.

"Why not try to hide yourself in one of the other rooms?" B went on in a raspy voice. "You might survive."

Though it caused him severe pain to do so, the blonde man chuckled. His grip on the back of B's shirt tightened. "It should be obvious by now that I don't trust you. I'm not letting you go. Besides…I'll be dead in a few minutes anyway. You really did a number on me."

B ignored the latter half of his statement. "You're an…unusual man, Mello. Your nerve doesn't cease to amaze me. Not many would have been able to sustain your injuries for this long."

"You're being awfully chummy right now. I thought you'd be flipping out about getting beaten."

"I'm not a monster, you know. I might dwell on the past, but I know when I've lost. If you can't win, you might as well die. In any case, does dying here with me really not bother you?"

Mello never answered him. He heard B's question, but he chose not to address it. His mind drifted off, caught up in the thought that, in a few minutes' time, none of this would matter anymore. It was odd to think of it that way, and in a strange sense it was even somewhat comforting—to know that, at the very least, he had finally done something worthwhile.

His wound was still fucking painful, though. Thankfully, the agony had begun to fade, much in the same way his view of the tiled floor and hallway began to blur into nonexistence.

This is it, huh? I'm surprised I lasted this long…but still, I'm really going to die here. This time it's real. No one's coming for me.

But at least those two got away.

As Mello lied there, bleeding out onto the cold floor, he began to wonder. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he thought about the future. He could picture it so clearly in his head—how the two of them, L and Lana, would meet back up with the rest of the group, battered and bloody but still alive. The others would be relieved at first, but then someone—probably Matt—would notice that he was missing. The mood would shift. Matt would ask where he was, and neither Lana nor L would want to tell him. But he knew them well—eventually L would spill the beans. And Matt would…

Well, he would move on. He had no choice. If Mello knew him at all, then he would suffer, of course. He would be shocked—maybe he would even be in denial for a while. For the last seven years, all they had was each other.

And that was why Mello knew he would be okay. Because now, Matt wasn't alone—not anymore. The others would help him. He would move on, and one day he would realize that he didn't need him as much as he thought he did.

And as for him…well, no one could help him anymore.

"Do you believe in God, Mello?"

The echo of Emilia's voice came out of nowhere, and it even shocked him that he was thinking of it. He remembered when she had asked him that question. He remembered the conversation vividly, and how in that moment just one question had seemed to define their relationship.

It was strange. Before the pandemic Mello had liked to believe in God, and meeting her had given him more optimism. Her despair had encouraged his hope. After she died, though, and after everything he had known vanished, his faith had seemed to wane.

Yet, here he was, living out his last moments—and he was thinking about God anyway. How ironic. Once again, she had given him faith—and she didn't even have to try.

Sorry, Matt. You'll be fine without me. I've kept her waiting for too long, anyway.

As the doors behind him and B burst open, and a swarm of infected people raced inside, Mello closed his eyes. He wrapped his hand around the rosary that hung from his neck, fingering the beads with a soft smile.

"Do you believe in God, Mello?"

In his last moments, he entertained the thought that he just might.

Was that ending sad enough for you guys? Did you hate it because of what happened? Or did you hate it because it wasn't executed properly? I knew that this was going to happen for a while, but I spent too much time trying to figure out how to go about writing it. Did I do a good job?

—Vicious Ventriloquist