Disclaimer: I do not and will probably never own Death Note
. . .
"I think I'm in love with this couch," Matt sighed, stretching into the soft, grey sofa that he'd been occupying all night, "I want to marry and have children with this couch."
"Could you shut up?" Dagmar mumbled, stretched out on a loveseat nearby, "Some of us are sleeping."
"Sleep is for the weak," Mello added, storming into the living room, "Get your lazy asses up. Another day, another dollar."
"I will smack you," I mumbled into my sleeping bag, "I will smack all of you for waking me up."
"Sera, I will smack you for not sleeping on the furniture we bought," I could hear Mello plopping onto an unoccupied lounge chair, "Is that sleeping bag even comfortable?"
"It's comfortable enough," I rolled over, "Comfortable enough to sleep, that is."
It had been two days since Matt and Mello has announced their newly acquired ownership of the house and, in those two days, they had bought every piece of furniture available: the house was a haphazard mess of tables, chairs, couches, desks, and televisions. The one crucial thing that they hadn't thought to buy, however, were beds and the clutter of furniture had filled all the bedrooms so we'd all taken to sleeping on the bedrooms. Matt, Mello, and Dagmar had all immediately claimed every available sofa, loveseat, and chair, leaving me a small token of space below the TV to set up my sleeping bag in. I didn't exactly mind. I wasn't totally on board with Matt and Mello's Mafia job. I was already iffy about staying in a house bought with crime money, I wasn't really willing to use furniture bought with the same crime money.
"Like I said, sleep is for the weak, I never sleep and I'm fine." Mello said, pulling out another chocolate bar.
"Are you kidding me? You? Fine? Mello, you're a fucking madmen." Matt countered.
"At least I don't have a video game addiction."
"At least I don't have a chocolate addiction. The diabetes will get you, you know."
"Oh my God, thanks to you assholes, I'm awake," I sat up and spared a glance at the clock. It was nearly 7 in the morning. My alarm would have gone off in another ten minutes anyways but I wasn't about to admit that to them, "Dagmar, get up, we need to get ready."
She responded with a fatigued groan, "Why do we need to start so early? I just want to sleep. Why won't you let me sleep?"
"Because we need to get to work," I stretched and slowly stood up, kicking my sleeping bag out of the way, "C'mon. I'll let you use the shower first."
She opened one eye and then shut it, "Fine but give me five minutes," She turned around, hugging a pillow to her chest and mumbling, "Ungh, I so don't want to go to work today."
"You guys don't have to," Mello said suddenly, "I mean, Matt and I are definitely making enough now for you two to just chill."
I bit my lip, "I couldn't just sit around and let you guys do anything. That's boring besides, I'd feel kind of guilty."
"So don't. Don't sit around and do nothing but don't work a shit job for shit pay anymore," Mello added, "Come work with us. Work for the Mafia. I promise you, it's better than . . . picking potatoes."
I raised an eyebrow, not really believing what I was hearing. Even though I'd come back and, albeit begrudgingly, forgiven Mello, we had had a fight about them joining the Mafia, a fight where I made my opinion on the action very clear. I couldn't believe that he was seriously asking me to join now, as if I would even consider, "Are you kidding?"
"It's just an offer," He said, grabbing the remote and turning towards the TV, "I mean, it's better than you shitty job. Think about it."
"Right," I said, eyeing him skeptically, "Hey, Dagmar, I might rescind that shower offer if you don't get up soon."
"Fine, alright, I'm awake," She sniped, sitting up, "No promises on any hot water being left for you though."
. . .
"One of these days," I began, stopping to yank a particularly stubborn apricot off of the tree Dagmar and I were working on, "I'm going to steal one of these buckets and take home a bunch of apricots instead."
"I wouldn't blame you," She agreed, "Do you think there's a black market for apricots?"
"Maybe. I wonder how much we would get for a few pounds," I moved closer to the shade. We had been at work for about three hours now and I could feel the sun beginning to sear it's way into my skin, "Do you think the Mafia runs the black market on apricots?"
"Maybe," She said airly, breathlessly, "Wouldn't surprise me."
I dropped another apricot into the basket, "I still can't believe that they joined Rod's Mafia. I mean, it all just feels kind of surreal? I keep thinking that I'll wake up or something and it will all go back to normal," I spared her a glance, "What do you think about it? I mean, I made my feelings on it pretty clear."
"Look, I know you hate it but . . . I guess I kind of get it," She responded, picking at a piece of bark absentmindedly, "It's not like any of the jobs we've ever worked have been glamorous or high paying. Plus, it's kind of cool. They're actually involved with something that matters."
I was quiet. I didn't want to snap at her for voicing her opinion. I was just extremely against this. I couldn't believe that they'd do something so stupid, "I . . . get that but I just don't feel like it's the right thing that matters. If they really wanted to make a difference, why not actually join the cops?" I yanked at another apricot, "Why not help criminals get off of their paths? Committing crime is not going to help anything and it doesn't matter whatever way Mello twists it. The Mafia is a criminal organization, it is not some sort of fucked up neighborhood watch or whatever they were-"
"Sera," I was caught off guard by the weak quality in Dagmar's voice, "Hold on."
"Dagmar?" I asked, my attention now directed at her, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I don't know," She answered honestly, staggering over towards me. Her hand grasped my arm and I lead her towards shade, "I just feel really light headed."
"Did you eat anything? Here, sit down," I sank towards the ground with her, glancing at her face. Her face, normally tanned from exposure to the sun, was a few shades too pale for comfort, "Are you nauseous? Or just lightheaded?"
"Both, I'm more lightheaded -"
She was cut off by one of the overseers, who came over the instant Dagmar was on the ground, "What's going on here?"
"She's not feeling well," I explained, "She's nauseous and lightheaded."
"Aw, fuck," The overseer said, "Sun sickness. It's our third case today," He sighed and pulled out his wallet, tossing me a twenty, "Take her home. That should cover cab fare."
"Wait," I held the bill close to me, "That's all? You're not going to give her water? Or treat her at all?"
"Kid, we're not a hospital, we don't treat everyone that's just been in the sun for too long," He responded, crossing his arms, "Take her home, get her some water, don't let her puke in the cab. She'll be better by tomorrow."
"What about the baskets we picked? What about the money we made?" I asked, "We need that money to get her food or medicine. You can't just -"
"Sera, it's fine, let's go. I want to go." Dagmar mumbled, still holding onto my arm.
I tossed the guard one last withering look but dropped it, helping Dagmar up. I tried to walk along the shade on our way out but there was sun everywhere. Dagmar stumbled a few times and, for a second, I thought she might pass out but we made it to the front gate successfully. They must have called a cab ahead of time for there was a taxi parked right in front of the exit. I helped Dagmar in first and then slid in, giving the driver our address.
"What's wrong with her?" He nodded towards Dagmar and then glanced back at me.
"She's just not feeling well. Overheated," I explained, taking out my cell phone. I punched in Matt's number, "She'll be fine during the ride, I promise."
He let out a low whistle as the car started, "She better be. It's extra to clean up puke."
I ignored the comment and waited for the phone to dial Matt. He picked up within three rings,
"If it isn't my favorite Japanese girl. What's up?"
"Matt, Dagmar's sick," I said immediately, "I think it's sun poisoning. Are you two home? Is there water?"
"Are you talking to Mello?" She mumbled, head pressed against the car window, "I want to talk to Mello."
"She's sick?" Matt responded, concern in his voice, "Okay, hold on, get her home, give her plenty of water. Mello and I are, uh . . . at work. We'll be there in a bit. How is she? She's not really bad or anything?"
"I . . ." I glanced over at her and was petrified by the fact that I couldn't tell. She was as white as a sheet and I could tell that she was trying to keep her eyes open, "I don't know, Matt, just get home."
"Okay, I'm going to get Mello and then we'll be on our way. We'll bring a doctor, okay? Just blast the air conditioning and make sure she stays hydrated," I could hear him shuffling for something on the other end, "You have the keys, right? Bust a window if you have to."
"I have the keys," I felt for them in my pocket, jumping a little when the hot metal touched my skin, "See you soon."
I hung up the phone and glanced over at Dagmar, my hand going to her shoulder. I pulled her hair back and lowered the window a little, cool air rushing into the car, "It's going to be okay, Dagmar, it's going to be okay."
. . .
I paced outside of Dagmar's room, Matt and Mello leaning cooly against the walls. Despite their calm demeanor, I could spot Matt fiddling with his cigarette lighter and Mello's hands uncertainly pulling at the wrapped of another chocolate bar. They were just as nervous as I was.
"Stop pacing," Matt muttered, "I can't concentrate."
"Sorry, I just . . . " I took a ragged breath and propped myself up against the wall, "Do you think she's going to be okay?
"Jesus, Sera, she was out in the sun too long, it's not like she's terminal or anything." Mello snapped, giving me a withering look.
"Hey, I'm worried about her, she's our friend," I emphasized, tossing him a hard look in response, "There is a doctor in there examining her as we speak. He could come out and say that there's something wrong. What if there's something seriously wrong?"
"There's nothing seriously wrong," Mello responded, caught in a glaring match with me, "She has sun poisoning. He's going to come out and tell us that she needs to drink water and stay in the shade. This whole thing is a waste of time anyways."
"And I suppose you know all about that, don't you?" I responded, "Last time I checked, you weren't a doctor."
"Yeah, well, you're obviously not a genius so just leave the predictions to-"
"Will you two shut the fuck up already?" Matt snapped, now glaring at both of us, "We're all tired, we're all worried, we're all stressed, but arguing is not going to make it any fucking better so just apologize to each other and get over it, Jesus Christ. . ."
I felt a little sheepish. Matt had a point. We were all stressed out and the least we could do was not take it out on each other, "Sorry . . ."
"Yeah, same," Mello met my eyes for a second, long enough for me to know that he truly meant it, and then glanced at midnight, "Are you happy now, mom?"
"Yeah, now go wash up for dinner, kids." He quipped back but there was no glinting irony in his voice, just an obvious concern.
The door creaked open, announcing the doctor's presence obviously. He shut the door but met us with kind but impatient green eyes. That put me a little at ease. The impatience wouldn't have been there if something was truly wrong with her.
"It's just a strong case of sun sickness, nothing too grave," He explained and we all breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, "Just give her lots of water, lots of rest. Call me if it seems to get more serious but, for right now, she should be okay."
"See, Sera," Mello tossed me a pointed look, "Lots of water, lots of rest, nothing serious."
"Shut it," I gave him a look in return but there was a teasing tone to my voice, "Can we see her? Is she awake?"
"She is but not for too long, let her get her rest," The doctor said, shifting a little uncomfortably, "Now, as for payment . . ."
"Don't worry about it," Matt fished out his wallet, digging a stack out folded bills out a little clumsily, "This should cover it, yeah?"
"I . . . I usually don't take payments in cash," The doctor counted the bills as he spoke before filing them into his back pocket, "But, yes, it will do."
"Thanks, man," Matt nodded at me, "Sera, can you show him out? Mello and I will keep an eye on Dagmar."
"Yeah, sure," I nodded at them and made a motion for the doctor to follow me, leading him towards the staircase, "Sorry, I don't think I caught your name earlier."
"Levi Stone," He answered and then quickly added, "I'm, uh, not a doctor yet. I'm in the last stages of my residency. They usually send me or my colleagues for minor cases like these."
"It's kind of a relief to hear that it's minor," I responded, "She started feeling sick while we were at work, in one of those fruit fields, I got worried."
"That's understandable. I would be too," Out of the corner of his eyes, I could spot him glancing at me, "So you work at one of those fruit fields then? Forgive me if this is rude but why? I'm sure there are much better jobs out there."
"Maybe not for me," I responded, feeling a little sheepish in the presence of an almost doctor, "I moved here from Japan a couple years ago and there aren't a lot of temporary jobs that take, or even require, foreign high school degrees."
"Temporary jobs?" He tossed me a questioning look, "Japan? I have so many questions."
I couldn't help but spare a laugh as I opened the door for him, "Yes, it's been a pretty eventful few years."
"Sound like an interesting few years," He amended, "I'd like to hear more about it, maybe over coffee, sometime?"
I froze, a little unaware of what had just happened. Had he just asked me out? On a date? It seemed altogether surreal and not in a good way. I wasn't sure of what to say or do. I wanted to say no, I knew that much, but I wasn't sure how. This wasn't something that I'd ever been expecting. Ever.
"Uh, I'm sorry, Levi, you seem like you're really nice but I'm just not . . . I can't . . . My last boyfriend died," I blurted out before hurriedly adding, "Well . . . He wasn't really my boyfriend but we were. . . There was something and I just, yeah, I can't, I'm sorry."
Judging by the look on his face, any interest in me was gone, "Right, yeah, I understand. Uh," He cleared his throat. I almost winced at how awkward this had all become, "Call me if she worsens. Your friend has my card. Have a nice day." He flashed me a cordial smile and shut the door behind him as he left.
As if the situation couldn't get any worse, a loud, guffawing laugh sounded from the top of the stairs the moment the door closed. Mello, it seemed, had found the whole thing hilarious and was having trouble catching his breath. I covered my face with my hands, hoping to disappear. I would never hear about the end of this.
"That was the most glorious thing I've ever seen," Mello said through his laughs, "I love watching you interact with other people. You are the most awkward person I've ever met."
"Screw off," I muttered, running my hands through my hair, "How much of that did you see?"
"Everything," Matt smirked, cigarette between his teeth, "I don't understand you. He's going to
be a doctor. I literally put him in the palm of your hand for you-"
"Wait," I gave him a look, "You knew he was going to ask me out?"
"Yes! I thought you'd have to good sense in you to accept an offer from a guy that makes a $300,000 a year!"
"Ungh, I hate you, this could have all been avoided so easily," I ran my hands through my hair and decided very quickly that I wanted to change the subject, "How's Dagmar? Did you talk to her?"
"We did," Mello answered, still calming down from his laughing fit, "She's asleep now but she'll hear all about this later."
"Fuck you guys." I rolled my eyes, still a little red in the face.
"Come on, casanova, we'll get you a beer, take the edge off of this traumatic experience."
. . .
"They didn't even pay us for the baskets we picked up until then?" Dagmar asked, staring at my incredulously, "Assholes. . . "
"I know. They only gave us enough for a taxi. Jokes on them though," I pulled out a ten, "I kept the change."
"Nice."
I had been in Dagmar's room for the last hour, just talking to and checking up on her. It was late, sometime early in morning, but none of us were asleep. Dagmar had just awoken from her hours long nap and was, thankfully, looking like she felt a lot better. The color was back in her face and she just generally seemed less depleted, probably due to the gallons of water we'd all but shoved down her throat. Matt and Mello were outside, messing around in the pool they'd gotten filled up yesterday. I could hear them their exploits through Dagmar's open window, where a cool breeze wandered through every once in awhile, brushing the bottom of her blanket and my skin.
"Hey, Sera," Her serious tone caught my attention, "There's something I need to tell you and please don't hate me for it."
"What is it?" I was a little concerned, "You're not on drugs or anything, are you?"
"What? No, no, God no," She seemed horrified even at the suggestion, "Not that. It's just. . ." She hesitated and that made me more nervous, "Well, Matt and Mello talked to me before I went to sleep and . . . Fuck it, I'm joining Rod's Mafia with them. I'm tired of this shit, Sera."
"What?!" I exclaimed, raising my eyebrow, "God, not you too. What is it with all of you? Do you not get how incredibly stupid of an idea that is? You're literally getting involved with a criminal organization!"
"I know, I know but . . ." She sat up and gave me an intent look, "Sera, aren't you tired of picking apricots? Aren't you tired of shit jobs with shit pay? I, for one, am fed up with having to constantly take jobs that have us out in a sweaty field all day. It's a miracle that none of us have gotten sun poisoning before this."
"But that is a shit job! Maybe it doesn't have the shit pay part but you are literally committing crime for just a couple thousand dollars. It's demeaning. It's. . . " I paused, searching for the word, "Degrading."
"Degrading?" She struck me with a serious look, "You know what degrading is? Degrading is only getting taxi money after getting sick from working all day. Degrading is getting your hands hard and calloused for less than $100 a day. Degrading is not working for a couple hours a day and then getting a few thousand dollars. That is the complete opposite of degrading."
"Ah," Matt announced his presence from the door, Mello lurking somewhere behind him. They had clearly just gotten out of the pool, both of them were still in their swim trunks and completely soaking, "I see that you broke it to her."
"Yes, she did, and I think it's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I started pacing, "I just don't understand why you guys got involved with this. This is so . . . It's just not worth it."
"I just don't understand why you're so against it," Mello chimed in. The words weren't accusing, he wasn't glaring at me or trying to start a fight. He seemed truly, genuinely curious, "It's a job. It's not a bad one either. The Mafia isn't this god awful psychopathic crime organization you seem to think it is. I meant it when I said that it's like the police force. Cops are just Kira's bitches now. They don't solve anything, they just drag someone to jail and kill them. Rod's guys get to the bottom of it. They help people."
"But they're criminals," I responded, "They hurt and kidnap and don't help people-"
"No, no, see, Sera, that's where you're wrong," Matt cut in this time. He fished around for his wallet, grabbing it off of the bedstand to his right, and pulled out a photo of a man posing with his daughter. They were both black and had identical, bright smiles. The girl couldn't have been more than three years old. Her eyes, adoring and untainted, were trained on her father, who was giving her the same look right back, "See them? This man was mugged but he didn't want to report it to the police. He knew they wouldn't do anything about it and, in the case that they did find the mugger, didn't want to be responsible for a man's death, so he called the Mafia. They found the mugger, punished him their own way, and let him walk free. It scared the piece of shit straight and they got the man's money back. That's what the Mafia is now. They operate below the law, yes, but they get shit done because of that and I am not ashamed to be a part of that, neither is Mello, neither is Dagmar, and neither, we're hoping, you will be."
"What?" I gave him a confused look, "What do you mean by that?"
"What I mean is that we want you to join too," Matt responded, his eyes gleaming with an optimistic hope, "Think about it, the four of us could be a team. We can make the world right."
I was completely overwhelmed. Not only was I standing in a room full of mafiosi but those mafiosi were just asking me to join them, "This is just … too fucked up. I need some air."
I began heading for the exit but was crowded by Matt and Mello. The latter of which began talking, "Just think about it, Sera, it's not as fucked up as you think it is, we swear."
"I just can't deal with this right now." I brushed past them, walking hurriedly towards the entrance. I all but ran down the stairs, my footsteps echoing through the dark house, and out the door. I kept running until I was blocks and blocks away at a long closed park. There was a group of teenagers messing around on the playground but I ignored them, taking a seat on a tree stump and trying to catch my breath.
This was all just so insane. Dagmar, Mello, and Matt had all just joined the Mafia and they wanted me to become one of them too. That alone was crazy but what was crazier was that I was actually thinking about it. The story about the man and his mugger had really, truly stuck with me, and I couldn't help but picture this idealized version of the four of us, stopping criminals in our own way, punishing criminals in our own way. I . . . I liked it. I liked the four of us as a team. I liked the four of us working together and doing something right while we were at it.
But I kept getting hung up on the idea of being in the Mafia, of being a criminal, and it was messing me up. I'd had years of my life stolen by criminals and I didn't want to become another one but, at the same time, I didn't want to be stuck in this life. I didn't want to be stuck working awful jobs for just a few bucks at the end of the day. I wanted something more permanent, I wanted to do something that was just a little more.
I didn't know what to do. I was at a crossroads with myself. I didn't want to be stuck at where I currently was in life and I had a pressing fear that I might be if I didn't take Matt's offer but I didn't want to be a criminal either. I didn't know what to do. What I needed was someone to talk to, what I needed was someone to tell me what to do.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what L would tell me to do but even I didn't know. I could see him telling me to go for it, not to waste away picking apricots for the rest of my days but I could also see him thinking that joining the Mafia was the worst idea ever. That was, if he could spare time away from the Kira Case to answer my dumb life questions. I'm sure that would be his priority if he was still alive: catching Kira. No, that was wrong. I was sure that he would have already caught Kira and moved onto another case, somewhere far away from me.
I missed him. I missed him a lot, even though I tried my hardest not to think of him. I missed his inquisitive glances and deadpan tone every second of every day and I wished, so hard, that I had another five minutes with him, not to say anything, but just to see him. Sometimes I just needed to see a photo, something, anything. I just really, really missed him and I really, really wished that he was still alive. He didn't need to be with me but the world would feel so much better with him in it.
I could feel the familiar gnawing at my heart that came up anytime I dwelled on his memory and, I knew that if I thought on it for too long, the image of him alive would change to the one of him dead on the floor of the Task Force Headquarters, so I opened my eyes and stashed the thought away for another stolen five minutes, another moment where I wouldn't be able to mourn him.
The bottom line was that I needed advice, even if L wouldn't be the one to give it, so I pulled out my phone. I scrolled down to Sayu's number but stopped at the contact right above hers. The screen highlighted Light's name and, I wasn't sure why, but I hit call. Light would know what to do. Light always knew what to do.
"Hello? Sera?" He picked up after five rings. Given all of the chatter behind him, I could tell that he was with the Task Force, working again.
"Light? Hey," I bit my lip, "If you're busy, I could call back again -"
"No, no, the Kira Case is at a standstill. No new tips, no leads, nothing," He sighed, "It's gotten pretty bad but what's up? Isn't it like 4AM over there?"
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," I answered, glancing over at the kids. They were passing around a bottle of something, vodka, probably, "I actually need your advice on something. I kind of have a . . . big decision coming up."
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Well . . . " I didn't want to divulge that my big decision involved the Mafia. I knew that would only worry them further, "I have a shot at a job here. It would pay well, be really steady work, but . . . I don't know if I should take it."
"What's the job?" He asked, "Nothing dangerous, right?"
"Not really. It's . . . security. They'll train me and everything. I'm just . . . " I struggled to find the words to properly explain my dilemma, "I'm not sure it's for me."
He let out a long, slow breath, "Well, you know that I'm biased. Dad and I have always wanted you to settle down somewhere and continue your education. Are you sure that's not an option?"
"Not really, Light," I said, a little uncertainly, "I missed three years of school and crammed it all into two years of high school and university. I'd need to start over and I'm not keen on doing that."
"I don't agree with that but I suppose that I understand it," He responded, "In that case, I think that this . . . security job might be your best bet. You said that it wasn't dangerous, that they'll train you, that it pays well. Personally, I think it would be really good for you to have some stability in your life."
"Right," I wondered if he'd change his mind if he knew what the job actually was but some of the points he was making actually made sense. As always, Light had a point, "So you're telling me to take it?"
"I'm not telling you to do anything but I think it would do you good to take it," He added, "And, hey, maybe if you make enough money, you can come visit us?" There was a good-natured laugh at the end of his sentence and I couldn't help but smile. Light's laughs were contagious.
"Maybe," I let out a yawn, getting the idea that maybe I should go to sleep to, "Hey, Light, I'm going to go, I'm actually kind of tired and you have a huge investigation to get back to. I'll call you soon, okay?"
"Sure, Sera, and hey, send me some more postcards while you're at it. I like seeing where you're at it. It's kind of interesting to get an idea of all of the places you've been to."
"Of course, Light, I'll mail some tomorrow," I should call Light more often. As always, he was extremely easy to talk to, "See you soon."
"Good night, Sera."
He hung up first, the dial tone ringing in my ear as I shut the phone. He did make a few good points. As shady as the Mafia was, it was a steady-ish job with decent pay and, besides, I'd be working with a team that I knew very well. It wasn't even completely criminal work anymore, like Matt and Mello said, it was just operating below the law to help people. There was no shame in that.
On an impulse, I flipped my phone open again and dialed Matt's number. He picked up in one ring, "Sera?"
"I'm in," I said quickly, before the moment left me, "With the Mafia. I'm in."
. . .
oh no baby what is you doing
I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's going to take me a few to get into the swing of this part of the story but, luckily, it picks up pretty quickly.
Thanks to everyone for reviewing! I tried to respond to everyone's reviews so sorry if I didn't get to yours! I try.
Also, to anonymous review (LMA I'm looking atchu) thank you! Trust me, Mello's chocolate withdrawl will play a part in the next chapter. The poor man will turn the house upside down looking for them.
As always, reviews are appreciated. Thanks!
