Some actual plot in this one. Characters and some bits of dialogue belong to Ohba and Obata.

That damn cat was on his stomach again. Mello tried to will himself back to sleep, into that comfortable empty place where there was no Kira and no Near and no used-to-be best friend bringing up things better left forgotten and most of all, no cats. It didn't work.

"Ugh," said Mello eloquently, and began to shove the furry creature away from him. Moxie gave him a forlorn look, and Mello was forced again to notice how familiarly green her eyes were. This was a fucking guilt trip, that's what it was. Well, he wasn't going to stand for it.

"Get off." He made sure to toss the quilt on top of the cat as he shimmied out of the bed, idly hoping it would suffocate. There was a noise to his left. Mello's hand reached automatically for a gun that wasn't there, in too-loose pants that weren't his.

But of course it was only Matt. Mello wondered how anyone could fall asleep wearing goggles with their head on a laptop, but it didn't seem to be a problem for Matt, who had apparently been gaming before he'd fallen asleep: the noise Mello had heard was Matt's DS falling out of his pocket. He wondered what the gamer was doing here. It was technically his room, Mello supposed, but surely the couch would be preferable to a swivel chair that didn't even have armrests.

Unimportant. Matt was asleep, and Mello needed chocolate. He closed the door gingerly behind him and made for the kitchen, where the grocery bag was still sitting on the counter. Mello fished around inside. Bananas, some cans of tomato soup, a bottle of painkillers (and with the way his shoulder was feeling Mello would definitely be needing those later), and finally, in a despicably indifferent heap at the bottom, the chocolate Mello sought. He took out three bars and unwrapped one immediately, shoving the other two into the waistband of his borrowed pants for later. He'd have to get some decent clothes at some point.

Mello desperately wanted to use the laptop on the table, but he knew his own rudimentary hacking skills were no match for Matt's impenetrable security systems. He settled instead for turning on the television. After a commercial for asthma drugs, the program began again. It seemed to be a press conference of some kind.

"The President of the United States," said the announcer, and Mello leaned forward. He snapped off a piece of chocolate with his teeth.

This new president was ugly, thought Mello, remembering the man he'd blackmailed with the Death Note. David Hoope was dead now, at his own hand; the sweating man with small frightened eyes had been his vice president. He began to speak, and seemed to stammer at the flashes of cameras. In his slow Southern accent he managed to say, "The United States of America will no longer oppose Kira."

"WHAT?" yelled Mello. The reporters at the press conference were in a similar uproar.

"Does this mean you think Kira is justice?"

"Whose decision was this?"

The president babbled something about the Mafia being obliterated. Mello knew that all too well. But how could this fool think that submitting to Kira would make the world a better place?

"You fucking coward!" Mello told the man on the television. It was all he could do not to crush the remainder of his chocolate bar. But the president kept talking.

"We also plan to officially dissolve the organization known as the SPK, which the former president created to capture Kira, in keeping with this new policy."

Mello froze. What would happen to Near now? Moreover, why would the president announce the dissolution of something that barely anyone knew existed in the first place? This had "Near" written all over it. What the hell was going on?

"Matt!" he shouted, going back to the bedroom, but the redhead had disappeared. Mello barely had time to register that Moxie had not, in fact, suffocated, and was now happily batting at a stray wire, when a door opened behind him.

"What?" said Matt. Mello turned around.

Well, he hadn't been expecting Matt to only be wearing a towel, and it was kind of surprising how muscular he'd turned out to be with only video games for exercise, but Mello put those thoughts out of his mind. "You have to hack the SPK," he said. "Look–" and he gestured toward the television, but of course it had gone back to commercials.

"I don't see how Near relates to the special at Applebee's, but okay," Matt said.

"Not the commercial, dumbass," snapped Mello. Matt grinned and shook his hair so Mello was spattered with water. "Cut that out. The president, Matt, the president of the United fucking States just went on TV and told everyone that they're giving into Kira."

"They're what?" Matt yelped.

"And," Mello said, "they just said they were going to dissolve the SPK."

A pause. "Well, fuck me," said Matt simply. "What was Near thinking?"

Mello almost smiled when he saw that Matt had come to the same conclusion he had. It had been entirely too long since he'd been around people that didn't need everything explained to them. "That's what we've got to find out, then," he said, with enough irritation to remind Matt whose orders he was supposed to be following. The redhead stood there a minute longer, watching the television contemplatively.

"Guess I'd better put some clothes on," he said.

Ten minutes later, Matt, now wearing skinny jeans and a T-shirt with an incomprehensible picture on it, was slouched over one of the shinier laptops, typing in passwords and receiving popup messages in an elaborate language that Mello couldn't hope to follow. The images on the screen reflected off the orange goggles, which suddenly showed a huge series of folders.

"Here we go," said Matt. "Special Provision for Kira, created by blah blah blah… received files from previous head investigator, L… what exactly do you want to know, Mello?"

"Where they are," said Mello. He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "And see if they have a Halle Lidner listed there."

Matt typed something else and double-clicked. "Headquarters in New York, unlisted address," he said. "That Halle chick is working for them, all right. Hm, she's pretty hot," he added, and Mello saw a small picture of a blond woman with icy blue eyes appear on the screen.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he ordered. "Let me see that." He leaned over Matt's shoulder and tilted the laptop toward himself. Lidner's profile was as thorough as he could have wished and even, to his astonishment and delight, contained her home address. Mello had met her once before, and she seemed to like him; she'd be easy to pump for information.

"Perfect," he said to himself. "Matt, what did–"

He hadn't realized how close they were, both staring at the laptop screen, so close that when Mello turned his head their noses nearly collided, nor had he noticed that Matt had pushed the orange goggles into his still-wet hair. For one improbable second he was caught by Matt's eyes, shockingly green next to his pale blue. A lone drop of water fell from one of the dark red strands of hair.

"My gun," Mello said, regaining his train of thought as he straightened up. He had to keep a tighter rein on himself; he couldn't afford to space out like that when he talked to Near. "What did you do with it?"

"Why do you need it?" the other man asked warily.

"I'm going to New York," said Mello, with the air of one stating the obvious. "I want my clothes back, too."

"It'll take a while to pack," mused Matt.

"Not for someone with only one outfit to their name."

Matt regarded him coolly. "I meant for me."

Mello blinked, then put on his best aloof boss demeanor. "You're not coming."

"Yes, I am."

Matt said this with his usual indifferent tone, but Mello knew how stubborn he could get when he wanted something badly enough. The idiot, couldn't he see that this was something better done by Mello alone? Matt had never cared about beating anyone at anything; this battle with Near didn't concern him. "I'm just going to find out what Near knows. I'll be back."

"I don't have four more years, Mello." At some point the goggles had gone back over Matt's eyes, hiding whatever emotion could be faintly detected in his voice. "And frankly, I doubt you do either."

Mello's eyes narrowed. That was a low blow. But, now he thought of it, Matt's hacking skills might come in handy while they were there, and a trip to New York wasn't worth the argument. It was always a good idea to have backup in case it came to a fight.

"Fine," he said with poor grace. "If you're not packed by tomorrow, I'm leaving you here."

"I can do you one better," Matt said, scanning the screen of the laptop. "Says they've got a flight from LAX to Newark at ten tonight."

Mello bit off another piece of chocolate with his trademark maniacal grin. "I'll pack the guns."

Five hours later, the plane departed for the city that never sleeps.