A/N: The material of chapters 1-3 has now all been combined into one chapter, as of August 16, 2010. New material starts in chapter 2. Sorry for any confusion.

Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, Meiyl.

Disclaimer: The story and characters of Death Note were created by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. This chapter contains dialogue quoted from the English edition of the manga.

2. Stealth

Somehow, when Mello said that I had to help him follow these two Japanese guys, it didn't occur to me that he meant we had to follow them on a plane. Mello's told me to get my fake IDs and credit cards, pack up all my surveillance equipment, and bring anything else I need for traveling. He won't tell me how long we'll be gone, so I just throw some clothes, my laptops, and two handheld games in my old suitcase. I can buy anything else I might need.

He's staring at me impatiently while I pack—I guess he really meant it when he said that we had to start right now. But Near's agent won't be dropping the guys off for another forty-five minutes, so I don't see why I should hurry. We could have spent less time just sitting around and talking, but I guess I wouldn't have agreed to help him if he had said what he wanted right away. Actually, I still don't know why I agreed to help him—but damn it, it's time I had some fun. I haven't gone further than a mile from my apartment in months.

When Mello stops hovering over me for a couple of minutes—either to get more chocolate, or to go to the toilet—I kneel on the floor and surreptitiously pull a dusty cardboard box out from under my bed. All the stuff I took with me from Wammy's when I moved out... there isn't anything in here that I really need to take with me now, but I just want to look at one thing.

After digging under all the crap at the top of the box—doodle-covered notes from computer classes, some drawings that Linda gave me, an older pair of goggles with a cracked lens—I find what I'm looking for. All the other books in here are battered and dog-eared, but my copy of Paradise Lost is pristine. Bitter memories flood me of the day Mello left, and I have to remind myself of the reason why remembering doesn't have to hurt as much now. If what Mello said was true, inside this book is proof that he cared about me.

I open the book for the first time in five years. My breath catches when I see that behind the front cover is a small piece of paper folded in thirds. But I hear Mello coming back, so I quickly shove the box back under the bed.

"Are you almost done?" Mello asks irritably.

"Yeah, just let me get my vest and lock up, then we can get out of here."

He nods. "All right. I'll take some of your stuff down to the car."

As I hand him a suitcase full of equipment, I do a double-take. "You have a car?"

He shrugs. "Yeah. I'm just renting it for the day."

I follow him out of my bedroom and to the front door, where I put on my vest and quickly slip the note into an inner pocket. "Can I drive?"

"Nope," he replies shortly, and I give an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "Hurry up, will you? I'll give you five minutes."

"Okay, okay," I say as he hefts the suitcase and shuts the door behind him.

When I finish gathering the rest of my stuff and look back at my haphazard apartment, I briefly wonder if I'll actually be coming back. Then I find that I don't care. If I don't pay my rent, the landlord can just throw the rest of my shit away. I have no ties to this city; it was never home anyway.

I lock the door, stuff the key in my pocket, and smile, whistling as I pick up my bags and head to the stairs at the end of the hall.

Mello eats chocolate even while he's driving, and he drives pretty damn recklessly. It doesn't really bother me, but I curiously ask him, "When did you get a license?"

He swerves into the next lane on the highway while taking another bite. "License?"

I chuckle. "If you keep driving like that, the cops are going to pull us over and haul you off. It would be pretty lame if you got arrested for something as stupid as a traffic violation, you know?"

"Whatever. We're here."

He pulls up to the curb and scans the mob of people outside the airport, checking the digital clock on the dashboard. "They should be here right now... there. Those two. Aizawa and Mogi."

He points to two men who have just climbed out of a fancy-looking car with tinted windows. One is big and hefty-looking; the other is shorter and has a sparse beard. "They look pretty serious. Oh, and also, don't those guys want to arrest and possibly kill you? Maybe we should be farther away."

Mello doesn't seem to be listening; he just looks out the windshield in deep thought, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and his chocolate bar with another. Then he abruptly says, "Okay, let's go. I'll drop off the car while you go in there with some of your stuff and get the first two tickets available to L.A. Pay any amount you need to make sure that one of them is on their flight. And give me one of your credit cards."

"Uh—okay." I guess Mello's used to throwing a lot of money around, being in the mob and all. As long as we don't do this every day, I can probably afford it. I pull out a random credit card from my vest and hand it to him. "I'll meet you past security." He nods curtly and takes another bite of chocolate as I get out of the car. "Hey, Mello?" I call out as I get two of the bags from the backseat. "Where are we going to live when we get there?"

"I've got one safe place left. I'll stay there, and you'll get a hotel room near wherever it is we follow these guys to. I can monitor stuff from my place once you set everything up. Come on, watch where they're going!"

"All right, I'm watching." I glance up, seeing the two men walking toward the entrance. "See you in a bit." I slam the car door and run to catch up to them while Mello drives away.

Seven hours later, I've logged a good amount of playing time on my newest video game, slept for a while, read two in-flight magazines, and eaten three packets of pretzels. Now I guess I actually have to pay attention again, since the plane's about to land at LAX and I have to watch the two guys I'm supposed to be following.

Mello's on another flight. I could only get one ticket on each plane, but Mello said I had to be the one tailing Aizawa and Mogi, since I'll be able to see where they go while Mello drops off all my equipment at his place. Plus, they might recognize him if he were on the plane with them, and then things could get ugly.

Once the plane taxis to the gate and the seatbelt sign switches off, I quickly make my way out. Luckily I'm in an aisle seat and Mello has all the luggage on the other flight, so it isn't difficult for me to catch up to Mogi and Aizawa as they get off the plane and head toward the terminal.

I casually walk about fifteen meters behind them until they hail a cab at the curb outside the airport. I flag down the next one and tell the driver, "Follow that taxi," feeling like the hero of some cheesy action movie.

We end up driving for a long while, until we're in the city proper. When the cab ahead of us stops at a swanky-looking apartment building, I tell the driver to pull over, shove a wad of cash at him, and get out of the car. I guess I've got nothing to do now until they come back out of the building, so I sit down on the curb and pull out my cell phone. Mello hasn't switched his phone on yet; I leave him a message with the address of the apartment building. He probably isn't going to get here for another couple of hours. I wonder whether this is where the Second Kira suspect lives, and if Mogi and Aizawa are talking to him right now.

It's a long wait. Just when I start to worry that a cop might come along and try to apprehend me for loitering, a motorcycle pulls up to the opposite curb. The biker is wearing all black leather and dark sunglasses, but I can tell it's Mello by his shock of blond hair. He beckons to me, and I run across the street.

"Nice bike," I say appreciatively, hands in my vest pockets.

"Has anything happened?" he asks over the sound of the engine.

"Nope. The two of them went into that building about an hour and a half ago and haven't come out yet."

"Maybe they're—Look." He nods toward the building and I turn around to see Aizawa walking out the front doors. Mello revs up his motorcycle again. "Matt, you stay here. I'll tail that guy."

Sitting around for a little while longer is fine by me. "Okay." Maybe Aizawa is going back to the Second L's headquarters, and Mello will be able to find out where it is.

After Mello rides away again, I pull out my handheld game from one of my voluminous vest pockets. I don't have any cigarettes with me, but I might as well indulge my other addiction.

I glance up from my game whenever I see someone coming out the door, but it's another hour before Mogi exits the building. Hanging onto his arm is a short Asian girl with dyed blonde hair. She's wearing a stylish jacket and boots, so she's probably at least sixteen, even though she looks about twelve. What the hell is Mogi doing with her?

Cautiously, I start to follow the two of them as they head to the nearby shopping district. There are still some business hours left in the day, and I remember with a shock that it's still the day after Thanksgiving. It feels like the longest day of my life, even though it's technically only been extended by a three-hour time zone difference.

I guess I should call Mello and tell him about this girl that Mogi's with. Mello answers after only one ring. "What's the matter, Matt?"

I get right to the point. Mello appreciates efficiency. "A young woman..." I squint at her again. "Well, a woman who looks like a child... lives in the room that Mogi went into."

"A woman?" Mello sounds doubtful. I guess I'm surprised, too. The Second Kira is a woman?

"At first sight, she looks like Mogi's girlfriend. They've gone shopping with their arms linked..." The girl shrieks and points out something in a shop window. "If you'll pardon my expression... she's an awfully cute Japanese girl. I can't tell her age, but I'm guessing it's anywhere from fourteen to twenty."

"Are you serious, Matt?"

He seems frustrated with my inexactitude, but how the hell am I supposed to know how old she is? "Yeah, very serious." Maybe he's just as incredulous as I am that the Second Kira could be this bubbly, perky girl.

"Okay. I can't do anything yet, so we'll start with that girl."

I shrug, doubtful that this will lead anywhere, but I guess Mello knows what he's doing. "Okay. If I scout around her apartment, I can probably find a weak point in the security and get at least a few cameras in there within a couple of days."

"Good."

I watch as the girl drags Mogi behind her into a boutique. "Should I keep following them for now?"

"Yeah, don't let them out of your sight. Hey, I had no idea you were this interested in pretty girls," Mello teases.

"Didn't say I was interested," I say mildly, checking my watch. How long were the girl and Mogi going to be in there? "She's nice to look at from a distance, but from what I can see of her behavior so far, she actually seems pretty fucking annoying."

"So, did you ever have a girlfriend during the time I was gone?"

"Huh?" I snort. "'Course not. What girl would ever be interested in me?"

"Oh, I dunno," he says evenly. "I thought it was pretty obvious that Linda had a thing for you back at Wammy's."

Yeah, right. Linda asked me to play football with her and the other kids, like, once. "Whatever. I'm just not into girls. Don't think I ever will be."

"So, you haven't changed at all... Unless you're actually into boys."

The idea of being attracted to anyone at all is giving me a stomachache. "Oh, very funny, Mello. You know my true loves are Nintendo and Linux." I give a mocking amorous sigh. "No human being could ever compare."

He chuckles. "Well, even if you aren't getting distracted by how sexy this girl is—"

"I said she was cute, not sexy." The only thing I've ever thought was sexy is my newest laptop. Eight gigs of RAM, a quad-core processor, the most powerful graphics accelerator on the market... now that's what I'd call attractive.

"Fine, by how cute this girl is—just don't let your guard down, all right? Pay attention at all times."

"Yeah, yeah, I will," I assure him, but he's already hung up.

Finally, it's nearly 2200 hours and the longest day of my life will be over soon. Mogi and the short blonde girl went back to her apartment a while ago, but my work isn't over yet, apparently—I've got to meet up with Mello again in another part of the city, where he tailed Aizawa earlier this evening. I don't feel like shelling out the money for another taxi, so I take the bus, concentrating on not falling asleep in my seat. When I hop off at the correct stop after a fifteen-minute ride and squint through the glare of the streetlights, I spot a dark figure standing next to a motorcycle in the parking lot in front of a hotel. I suppress a chuckle; Mello's still wearing his huge aviator sunglasses, even at night.

He doesn't bother to greet me when I walk up to him. "I checked you into that hotel. Here's your key and room number," he says, perfunctorily shoving them into my hands. "I've already put some of your laptops and cameras in there, but you'll need to set them up to observe their room..." He points to the building across the street. "Four windows up, three windows across."

I stow the key card in the back pocket of my jeans. "What about that girl's apartment?"

Mello crosses his arms and frowns at the pavement. "I thought it'd be too hard to install any cameras or wiretaps in Aizawa's room over there, since it might be the Kira task force headquarters and they'll probably have good security... but if you can break into the girl's flat, I can do surveillance remotely. All the rest of the monitoring equipment is back at my place. Once you set that up, you can stay here and watch Aizawa and his guys."

"Okay, I can do that." When Mogi and the girl went out earlier, they spent a good four hours going to all the shops, so if they go out again in the next couple of days, they'll probably be gone long enough for me to sneak in, stick a couple of cameras and bugs in unobtrusive places, and get out of there with time to spare. But I need to figure out the times that they're likely to leave and whether there's anyone else in the apartment. "I should probably spend another day observing them, just in case," I add.

Mello nods. "So we'll both stay in this hotel room tonight and I can monitor from here tomorrow. It's probably more important to watch Aizawa than this Second Kira girl, but I'm not about to pass up a lead..." He stretches his arms, looking over at me from behind his ridiculous sunglasses. "This is probably the only time we'll be able to get food and shit before we have to start doing round-the-clock surveillance. Come on."

Wait a second... "Uh, Mello—what do you mean, round-the-clock surveillance? Aren't we going to sleep at all?" He mounts his motorcycle and I clamber up behind him.

"Not much." Mello grabs the handlebars and starts the motor. "This is what you've signed up for, man... four hours of sleep a night, long hours of staring at monitors, junk food meals. Sounds like exactly how you've always spent your life."

"Hey!" My nose wrinkles at the thought of how boring it all sounds. "That's not true! At least I'm usually doing something when I'm looking at a TV screen." Maybe Mello doesn't consider playing video games to be doing something, but I certainly do.

Mello laughs over the roar of the engine. "Shut up and hold on."

I hesitate for a fraction of a second before putting my arms around Mello's waist. It occurs to me that this is the first time I've touched him all day, the first time I've touched him in five years. Mello isn't really one for hugs, but I guess he's not about to let me go flying off the back of his motorcycle, even if he's not concerned enough about road safety to wear a goddamn helmet. At least we're not going on the highway tonight, and there isn't much traffic.

It's a short ride to a little grocery store a few streets over. Mello's pretty familiar with the area, so he knows which places are open late. After he parks in front of the place and we hop off, I want to talk to him more about the Kira case, but it probably isn't a good idea. We're the only people in the store at this hour, and we already look weird enough as it is; I don't think Mello would appreciate calling more attention to ourselves.

He grabs a basket by the entrance and drags me down one of the narrow aisles. "The hotel didn't provide nearly enough coffee, so we've got to stock up." Pulling a few packets of instant coffee off the shelf, he gestures down the aisle. "Chuck in whatever food you like, too—just make sure it's nonperishable and has loads of calories."

After we've piled more than enough coffee into the basket, we start foraging for other provisions—potato crisps and energy drinks, mostly. I'm going to need a lot of carbohydrates and caffeine if I'm going to be spending many late nights monitoring camera feeds. I notice that Mello's only added some ramen packets to our collection of purchases. "Aren't you going to get any chocolate?"

He shakes his head. "You're paying for all this, you know. I'll get my own chocolate." I shrug and we make our way to the empty checkout, where one grumpy-looking cashier is standing impatiently behind the counter. I flash one of my fake IDs and ask for cigarettes, then hand him a couple of twenties and wait for him to ring everything up. Good thing I brought several hundred dollars in cash on the plane today, since I doubt I'll have time to get to an ATM in the next few days.

It's a bit awkward for me to hold the groceries between me and Mello as we ride back to the hotel, but I manage to not drop anything. It's past 2300 now, so it feels like two in the morning—how is Mello still alert enough to drive a motorcycle? It can't just be the caffeine in his chocolate; maybe Mello is just better than I am at staying awake. How ironic, since at Wammy's, I used to stay up for hours playing video games while he fell asleep in his calculus book long before dawn.

After Mello parks his bike in the hotel lot, I hand him one of the bags and dig in my back pocket for the key card. It's a bit hard to see in the dark with my goggles on, but Mello must have it worse with his stupid sunglasses. I guess we're both too stubborn to take off our eyewear for something as inconsequential as a lack of sunlight.

Once I've swiped us through the back door, I start to move toward the lift, but Mello stops me. "Let's take the stairs." I shrug and follow him, remembering his aversion to small enclosed spaces. Lounging on a sofa all day with a game console doesn't do much for my physique, even if it keeps my fingers nimble and my reflexes sharp, so Mello climbs to the fourth floor much more quickly than I do. He's already leaning impatiently against the door to our room by the time I get up there; I shove him out of the way and roll my eyes at him as I unlock the door. Maybe I'd have gotten here faster if he'd carried more of the groceries.

The room isn't half bad, I note as Mello flicks on the lights and strides over to the window. Very weird atmosphere, though—everything is strangely cubical. The far wall is covered in rectangular slats, with cutouts for the windows that overlook the street. A pattern of squares covers the floor, matching the square tables and bed. Instead of a couch, there's some kind of strange stylized bench that looks like it was stolen out of a park. Well, this is L.A., after all, and we're in a kind of artsy district. At least it seems to have the ordinary amenities: mini fridge, coffee maker, microwave. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be using the shower much during my stay here, but I'm sure the toilet works.

I start unloading all the energy drinks into the fridge while Mello stares out one of the oblong windows. We haven't said anything since we walked in, and the awkwardness of the situation is starting to get to me. Mello and I were roommates for years at Wammy's, but there's a big difference between sharing a room with my best friend and sharing a room with a guy who dropped off the face of the earth five years ago and has suddenly reappeared to drag me across the country as his partner in crime. It can't be helped, though. As Mello said, I signed up for this.

"So, um..." I uneasily break the silence. "I, uh—I can sleep on the floor. That bench doesn't look too comfortable."

"What?" Mello turns away from the window. "Oh, go ahead and take the bed. I'm not sleeping tonight." He walks over to one of the cases of equipment in the corner and starts to flip open the metal fasteners. "You paid for this room. You should get the bed anyway."

"Oh, uh... okay," I shrug. It doesn't really make a difference to me; I can sleep almost anywhere. "Why aren't you going to sleep?"

He looks up at me. "Well, I'd make you set up the cameras and stay up to do the monitoring, but I thought you should get a full night of rest. We've got a long couple of weeks ahead of us." How oddly thoughtful of him.

"Is it really necessary to monitor their place in the middle of the night?" I ask him skeptically.

"Yeah, it is. What if somebody goes in or out? We're talking about a police task force here; they won't keep normal hours."

I shake my head and kneel down to unpack one of the remaining cases. "Okay, I'll sleep, but I've got to at least help you do the setup. This is expensive shit."

"I'm not going to break anything." Mello smirks at me, but the expression is somehow humorless. "Trust me, I've dealt with expensive shit before." Why do I keep on forgetting that Mello was in the mafia for a year and a half?

We silently get out all the cameras, tripods, and cables and start connecting everything up. When the cameras are ready to be placed at the windows, I turn out the lights so we won't be seen from the street, and a sudden wave of sleepiness hits me. I've been awake for at least seventeen hours—not my longest streak by a long shot, but everything I've done today as well as the shock of Mello's presence has made me absolutely exhausted.

"I can take it from here," Mello says, adjusting the focus on one of the cameras and checking the feed on the connected laptop. "I'll wake you up in seven hours."

I kick off my boots and fall on top of the bed, pulling off my goggles. I don't really see the point of changing out of my clothes. "Mello?" I call out after a couple of minutes.

There's a click as he turns on the TV set. "Yeah?"

"Is all of this really going to help us get to Kira?"

Mello exhales almost inaudibly, but I can tell that it's a sigh. "Just go to sleep, Matt." I roll over and try to comply. As I allow my eyelids to slide shut and attempt to get comfortable on the unfamiliar bed, I vaguely wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into.