Letters

7

----M----

June 18, 2007

What did it mean? The question ran rampant through Matt's head, the harsh inflections of the words slicing through his cortex. Mello knew Matt had wanted to meet. He must have known that Matt wanted to help with Mello's side of the Kira case as well as... the other information. So why hadn't he shown up? What was Mello thinking?

Was Mello thinking? Perhaps it was that thought that scared Matt the most: that Mello had stopped caring, stopped considering anyone other than himself. It wasn't too hard to believe it could be true… that Mello had never cared much about anyone, which was probably why Matt feared it. But as much as Mello had hidden his gentler side, Matt had known it existed. A cold and indifferent Mello tore at his heart—the boy he had loved would only exist in his memories.

Then there was the other option. The one that meant that Mello simply didn't want Matt involved, the meaning a firm 'stay away from this shit, you bloody idiot.' But that seemed more unlike Mello than the first choice of callous unfeeling. The blond had never tried to keep Matt out of harm's way; more often than not he had been the one to lead Matt straight into the dragon's jaws. Matt swallowed uneasily, pushing the memories aside.

It was exhausting, trying to weigh the scenarios like a poorly balanced scale. The truth was that Mello either didn't care or didn't want him there, and neither option gave Matt hope. In his mind's eye, the scale broke, the weight of both sides too much for the device to handle.

It looked like Matt would have to do it on his own. The idea dawned slowly, a sunrise creeping over the horizon of consciousness. He would have to expose the truth and bring down the entire institution… alone. He would probably destroy people's lives in the process, but could he live with his conscience if he did nothing? The organization had a terrible flaw.

Just like him. Suddenly, Matt was desperate for a cigarette. He fumbled into his vest pocket, pulling out a pack along with his lighter. Moments later, the nicotine was drifting through his system, calming him. He was just tired, he told himself, trying to convince himself he wasn't a coward, that he could do this, that he didn't need Mello's help, and he sure as hell didn't need Near's help. They were probably more flawed than he was anyway.

Matt glanced to the low coffee table where his laptop sat humming away blissfully unaware of its user's intentions. It was time. The hacker shifted to hunch over the computer, his fingers resting lightly on the keys.

There wouldn't be any turning back once he started. Matt sucked on his cigarette, producing a ragged indrawn gulp of smoke and air. He needed to do this, because if he didn't, no one else would. Even if it meant facing down his old monsters, or that he might be creating new ones. Or that in this Kira-dominated world, he'd be responsible for turning people over to the murderer. People he knew, had spoken with, learned to love.

Another long drag on the cigarette. Matt fought down the insidious panic, shoving aside the feelings where he found his shades of grey. Criminals deserved to be caught, no matter who they were. And he, the detective, needed to produce the evidence against the criminal. That was it. That was all there ever was to his job.

He'd start with Mello. Matt's face twisted into a grim smile even as his throat constricted. It didn't matter; the bastard probably deserved this hack for setting him up at least.

It'd been a long time since he'd hacked the Wammy's House.

----M----

"You don't like being second,

I don't like being wrong,

I won't forget the way you made me feel."

August 24, 1998

"Happy birthday dear Neeeeeaaar," Matt sang along, trying to drown out Orphan's squawking, which was more disagreeable than his own. "Happy birthday to you!"

Near's nonplussed expression continued throughout the whole rendition of "Happy Birthday" and its aftermath, in which Mello still refused to participate in. If it hadn't been Near's birthday, Matt doubted the blond would have even shown up to the festively decorated classroom. Or maybe it was the cake that had brought Mello there?

Matt didn't like thinking about any motivation Mello might have had for coming. It wasn't like Matt had ever figured out any reason for Mello's life's trajectory before… unless making life difficult for Matt was Mello's reason for existence. Singing certainly wasn't Orphan's forte and at least Mello could have helped drown her out for the sake of everyone's ears.

"You're supposed to blow out the candles, Near," Orphan reminded the pale boy. Near sat a few feet from the cake, his bad leg flush against the floor, the other drawn up so that he could rest his head on his knee. He swiveled his dark eyes towards Orphan, the rest of his body remaining motionless. After over two months spent learning to recognize Near's quiet language, Matt could tell it was a look that said Near obviously knew what he was supposed to do already.

Orphan slid the cake tray across the floor to the albino. "And don't forget to make a wish."

Mello, arms crossed and standing in the corner, rolled his eyes. His tone was his usual sarcasm tinged with arrogance. "And what exactly would Near wish for? A brain?"

Near ignored him as was common, leaning forward slightly towards the cake and parting his lips. "I don't need a brain to beat you, Mello."

The smallest boy blew out the seven candles quickly, anticipating Mello's clenching fist and his cry of outrage as he crossed the room heatedly. The candles were still sputtering as he swept up Near by the shirt collar, Mello's wiry strength enough to lift Near off the ground. Near went limp in response, and with their faces inches apart, Mello began shouting. "You're never going to beat me, Near! I'm the number one now, and you'll never be good enough again, you sorry git!"

Matt stuck a finger in his ear while making a face, the universal sign of 'you're-being-too-loud' quite plain. None of them wanted to be reminded of how Mello was currently at the top of their little class.

"C'mon, now, Mello, it's his birthday," Orphan complained.

Suddenly acting quite disinterested, Mello dropped Near in response, the birthday boy's body making a soft thump on the carpet. "You're not worth my time, Near."

This time Orphan rolled her eyes, sighing at Mello's constant dramatics. "Yeah, well that's all well and good, you two, but I just want some cake."

"I'll cut it," Matt replied wearily, taking up the knife and sympathizing with Orphan. Mello's abusive attachment to Near was beginning to get old.

Matt carefully wielded the knife, dividing the small, yet lavish cake into four pieces, placing them onto paper plates. Orphan took the first one, giving the second to Near. Matt gave himself the third, deciding that if Mello wanted some, he had to come ask for it. Then again, if he didn't want any, maybe he wasn't here for the cake? But it wasn't in Mello's character to wish anyone a happy birthday, even if it was Near, the boy he spent the most time with. Matt turned to the cake, trying not to think about Mello any longer.

"The cake here at Wammy's is really the best anywhere in the world, isn't it," Orphan murmured between mouthfuls of frosting.

Taking a bite, Matt nodded in agreement. Of course the cake had looked entirely white—it was Near's birthday—with vanilla frosting before Matt had sliced it into four quarters. But inside, the cake held two layers of light caramel and the spongy interior actually held pale pastel sugary confetti. It was decadently rich.

"Of course it's the best," Mello said derisively and Matt nearly jumped. He hadn't noticed Mello walk to the remaining piece of cake until the blond was already picking it up. "That's the only thing he eats."

"Really?" Orphan asked, simultaneous with Matt's, "He?"

"Yeah," Mello replied nonchalantly, as if he were completely in the know. Matt also got the distinct impression that no one would tell him who 'he' was. While frustrating, it wasn't the first time the other three had alluded to some greater being with a simple pronoun.

"Maybe I should only eat cake…" Orphan mused, twisting her fork around in her hand and also ignoring Matt's question.

Again Matt found himself wondering who the mysterious 'he' was. He knew most of the orphans and all of the staff by name. And since 'he' was obviously important, there was no possibility of 'him' being a reg Matt didn't know. When Matt thought about it, he had only met a mysterious 'she' at the Wammy's House. It was frustrating because he didn't know anything about her either. He wondered whether the other three knew anything, and more importantly, whether they'd tell him if they did.

But wasn't he supposed to be a detective? Matt's perspective changed suddenly with the thought of a small goal at hand. If he wasn't allowed to investigate his parents' death, he might as well challenge himself with finding out who the girl was. He could hone his field skills here. And certainly there was no harm in asking about her, trying to gain as much information as soon as possible.

"Oy, who's the other girl who lives on the fourth floor?" he asked, not looking at anyone in particular, and yet his peripheral vision caught them all. "She's tall, maybe sixteen, blond with grey or blue eyes…."

Mello and Orphan both paused, confusion on their faces as they turned to look at the auburn-haired boy. Near sat on the floor, twining his hair over a faint bruise with one hand, a fork in the other hand, which he was using to poke at his cake.

"I'm the only girl, you twit," Orphan replied, hitting Matt on the back of the head across the strap of his goggles.

"Unless it's you," Mello said nastily. "You're not even as smart as Orphan, so I guess that makes you even less of a girl."

"And you're a misogynist," Orphan retorted without missing a beat, turning to the older boy. Orphan and Mello stared each other down for a brief second before Orphan averted her brown eyes. No one ever held Mello's gaze for long… unless they were asking for a beating. Mello smirked triumphantly, and Matt's odd question seemed to be forgotten.

If they had known of her, Matt was sure the other three would have said as much, and then simply refused to give out details so they could gloat over their own knowledge. Matt would again be the odd one out, slow and clueless. He could only conclude that no one else knew of the existence of the beautiful girl on the fourth floor.

So who was she?

----M----

October 15, 1998

Red and gold leaves swirled through the blustery air, the wind demonstrating winter's chill for the first time in the season. Matt pulled his vest tighter around him, the fluffy fleece protecting everything but his striped, thin arms. He had chosen the vest because it still showed his purpose in stripes, and he figured the cold he endured would keep him from forgetting.

Although, there hadn't been a day yet where he hadn't considered his parents and little sister.

Lessons were over for that day after his last class, German. The new semester had started thirty-one August, and while it had meant the end of Latin, it had also meant no more computer science, Matt's favorite class, until next year. The language they were supposed to master by the end of the semester was German. But still, the new semester had brought Detecting as a class, and they were constantly reassured by their various instructors that they would continue to take Detecting until they graduated.

Not that anyone seemed to know when they would graduate.

Matt held his books tighter, shielding himself from the wind as it ripped between Buildings A and B. He knew he would have to spend hours at the library to finish up his World History paper. It was not a task that he was looking forward to, especially since it meant he probably wouldn't have time for dinner. His feet turned him towards the cafeteria. Matt would just have to get himself a snack now, scarf it down, and fast until morning.

Matt pushed the refectory door open with a swirl of fallen leaves; the dead foliage collecting in the wind blocked corners near the doors. Compared to the whistling wind outside, the vast room was full of muffled silence. Matt found himself in the cafeteria too late for lunch, yet too early for dinner. It seemed that even the cooks were absent from the kitchens on some kind of break before preparing the evening meal.

A metal utensil clattered lightly against a plate, echoing throughout the large room. Matt nearly jumped, looking around, before realizing that the sound had come from the kitchen. Maybe there still was a cook back there. If that was the case, Matt might be able to persuade him or her to give him some hot food.

He set his books and bag on the first table, and pushed the swinging door open into the kitchen. Among the stainless steel surfaces and metallic ovens, Matt found himself staring straight into the eyes of Lawrence.

The first thing Matt noticed was Lawrence's expression of surprise, like a deer caught in the headlights, or perhaps, more appropriately, like a child caught sneaking candy. Next came his strange posture, half-crouch half-squat, and the delicate way he was holding his fork. His black hair was still wild and his shirt still white, although this time it was a pullover and not a button-up. He wore faded jeans, the knees softer with wear and age, and his feet were bare, toes curling over the edge of his chair. Matt smiled a little reassuringly to his older friend, and then his eyes dropped to what Lawrence was eating.

It was cake. Surely this couldn't be….

"Would you like some cake, Matt?" The eerie monotone floated across the kitchen.

Matt nodded a little hesitantly and climbed into the stool opposite from Lawrence. The teenager abruptly stood and took a box from the refrigerator. Taking a plate, a fork, and a knife from the cupboards, he sliced a piece and deftly placed it onto the plate before returning to the table. He set the plate and fork in front of Matt with his quirky little smile and then returned to his seat. Matt watched, fascinated, at the way his legs seemed to fold up easily underneath him until he was sitting in his bizarre fashion. Was this…?

"You should eat it, if I was nice enough to share with you. Otherwise, it could be seen as being rude." Lawrence's tone, although still flat, held a hint of rebuke and Matt immediately picked up his fork, his inner questions pushed aside for a moment.

"Thank you," he replied, trying to be polite before taking a bite. Lawrence watched him carefully, his black eyes suddenly intense enough for Matt to consider them a little uncomfortable. He tried to ignore them and focused on the cake. It was chocolate, and Matt was happily surprised to find that the reddish filling was raspberry. "This is really good."

Lawrence seemed satisfied, and looked down to pick up his own fork. "That's because I picked it out."

Matt didn't really know what to say in response to Lawrence's statement, deciding it was probably safe to ask his question. "Lawrence," he began, trying not to squirm as the teenager's black eyes swung up to look at him again, "Do you only eat cake?"

The eyes blinked once, followed by a tilting of his head. Lawrence suddenly held an air of mischievousness. "And why would you think that?"

"I think… that I've heard about you, but just without your name," Matt replied cautiously.

"You… have?" Lawrence asked carefully, and Matt was sure he was being gently teased. "Or do you think you have?"

"Well, if no one mentions your name, then there's no way I can be sure right?" Matt replied a little quickly.

Lawrence seemed to be delighted with his answer, smiling ever-so-slightly and leaning forward. "You're right, Matt. Cake is the best, and you know the old saying…."

Lawrence's lilt trailed off as if he were hoping Matt would finish the sentence for him. Matt blinked, feeling suddenly as if he were being tested. It reminded him of when he had tried to ask Orphan about Mello. There was something hidden beneath the surface here that he needed to figure out. The old saying? Was it about cake? A second ticked by as Matt puzzled it out. No, not about cake….

Matt found the answer like pulling a single string to unravel a messy knot. Something internal told him he was correct before he even began speaking.

"You mean you're the best because you are what you eat, right?"

Lawrence's smile bloomed, and for some reason, Matt felt like receiving Lawrence's smile was the best praise he'd received all month.

"You really are very smart, Matt."

Matt beamed, and then paused. His own answer had led to another question. What was Lawrence the best at? Or what did he want to be the best at? He wondered whether the older boy would tell him outright if he just asked. Somehow, he knew Lawrence would never answer any questions so easily, but Matt's questions didn't seem to bother the teenager. Matt took another bite of cake, wondering how to get at his next answer.

"I'm glad I saw you here today, Matt, but unfortunately, I have to go now." Lawrence stood, his feet reaching down to the ground while his upper torso remained in its permanent hunch. Matt blinked.

"But I just got here!" he argued before realizing how much like a child he sounded. Matt still had answers he wanted to coax out of the teenager. Throughout the conversation, Lawrence had treated him not only like an intelligent being, but also with a sort of kindness. Kindness was not something Matt was accustomed to from anyone besides Wammy anymore. And Lawrence was much closer to his own age….

The older boy rolled his eyes. "And I am just leaving," he retorted, leaving his clean plate where it lay on the table. "But I will see you again, Matt."

"Okay… I'll see you around then," Matt said, feeling a little let down despite Lawrence's sincere reassurance of another meeting.

Never leaving his slouch, Lawrence padded on bare feet out the kitchen, the door swinging behind him. In his wake, Matt wondered why the teenager was so important to his classmates. For Matt, however, Lawrence was significant for his acceptance of the orphaned boy who needed goggles and for sharing his cake. It was the simple things that meant the most, and Matt hoped he would see Lawrence again soon.

----M----

"Oy, did you see him?" Orphan nearly pounced on him, fittingly cat-like, as soon as he had made it to the fourth floor. Matt tried to retreat a comfortable distance away, wary of his allergy to her.

"See who?" Matt answered guardedly.

"I told you," Mello drawled, and Matt noticed his shadowy figure in the doorway to Near's room. "Matt's too dumb; he's never belonged here."

"Bugger off, Mello," Matt responded, his anger getting the better of him. He reminded himself that he actually saw orange and not red.

"I don't have to," Mello retorted flippantly. He tucked a strand of pale golden hair behind an ear, and laughed. "You still don't have a bloody clue, do you, Matt?"

Matt tried not to cringe as his name fell from the lips of his enemy. Mello always had a way of making the four letters sound like an insult, instead of something Matt wanted to be proud of. Matt tried to sound determined and confident but his voice came out sullen. "I have more than a bloody clue."

"No, you don't, and that's why you're never going to make it." Mello's tones were loud and mocking, as if inviting everyone else to look in on the ridiculous spectacle that was Matt. "You don't even know what you're failing at. That's how much of a git you are."

Mello pulled himself up away from the doorway, and stalked into the center of the hallway. Matt forced himself to stand firm, lifting his chin to look defiantly into Mello's icy eyes. This close, Matt could see beyond the narrowed lids, glacial irises, and inky pupils into a fearsome anger, a near-blind rage. It looked about as possible as lightning in a bottle, and Matt understood the real reason no one ever locked eyes with the blond boy. It wasn't that the few people who had been unfortunate enough to try had wound up with bruises. It was the stare itself, a gaze of sharpened daggers restrained by the force of his questionable will.

Matt looked away, resisting the urge to draw in a deep breath to calm himself. He felt Mello smirk, heard the rustle of the other boy's black clothes as he relaxed into a superior position again. Somehow, Matt had lost this one, and as much as it irked him to have to lose to Mello, he was too scared to try to take him on again right away.

"You know, Matt," Mello whispered, traces of poison laced into his softened voice, "Maybe I'll let you in on the secret…."

Matt held his breath. Because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew there was something he hadn't been told. He could just ask Wammy what it was, but then he'd look weak. As if he couldn't figure it out on his own, because of course the other children must have done it alone. But here was Mello offering to tell him plainly, and even though Matt knew the blond must have ulterior motives—because it was Mello—the other boy was still offering. And moving in closer, apparently relishing Matt's weakness, his lack of breath, voice, movement. Strands of blond hair slipped from behind Mello's ear, swinging delicately as the inches between them closed. Matt was frozen so utterly that he could hear Mello's slight intake of breath before the blond completed his poisonous proposal.

"…So I can watch you fail."

Pulling back for a malicious grin, Mello abruptly turned and headed back to Near's door. Matt sucked in air as silently as he could and held back tears. There was no way he was going to cry in front of anyone, especially because of Mello. Now that the moment was suddenly over, Matt could hardly believe it had happened. What had happened? Mello had just looked at him and said a few taunting words… nothing like that should make Matt cry.

"Oy, Matt," Mello barked, and Matt turned instinctively at the sound of his name, "It's a contest, asshole. To be the best in the world."

The best… what? The four letters of 'best' echoed throughout Matt's head, oddly reminiscent of cake. Four letters… his head felt suddenly tight, like his brain was trying to expand but had no room, or perhaps his subconscious was trying to force its insights into his conscious mind. The four letters… were those C-A-K-E? Or M, N, O, and M? And yet, they were exactly like cake, weren't they? You are what you eat. The best. Suddenly positive the answer lay with Lawrence, Matt spun towards the door that never opened, the one emblazoned with a gothic L. It had to be Lawrence, even if he didn't know what Lawrence did… except, he knew what he, Mello, Near, and Orphan were trying to be. It clicked, all the pieces from his months at the Wammy's House, and Matt understood.

The best detective in the world.

"And I'm going to win," Mello stated triumphantly.

"Sure, Mello," Orphan replied sarcastically, suddenly taking part in the conversation, but still refusing to meet the blond's eyes. "Because you've always been so good at keeping everything together."

"If it's to be L's successor," Near's quiet voice floated from his doorway, and in the silence that followed, Matt heard the unmistakable click of puzzle piece. "Then it shall be me."

Matt saw them all as if for the first time. This contest… it was their lives. What couldn't Matt do if he were known as the best detective in the world? Policemen like Seaver and Brinkley would trip over themselves for his help on cases. Solving the murder of his family would be child's play. He felt himself change with the realization.

There could be only one 'best,' only one successor to the current great detective.

"You're all wrong," Matt found himself saying. He turned back towards the other three, clustered in the hallway, and lifted his eyes. "I'm going to be Lawrence's successor."

Mello yelled a wordless cry of fury, the electricity unleashed, and barreled into Matt, tackling him to the ground. Matt saw the fist coming, felt his chest constrict as he realized he was completely pinned. Then he was spiraling down into darkness as black as Mello's shirt, the impacts of Mello's fists on his flesh echoing further and further away.

----M----

Ahahahaaa... so sorry for the ridiculously long update. The good news is that the next chapter is almost fully written (my deadline for myself is Friday, my beta's will be given... two weeks?), so the wait shouldn't be as long. Um, I think I owe various people cookies from chapter five or something still... in my rush to post up the previous chapter, I forgot to put it up.

Crazy Little Feline: you get 3 cookies. Remind me and I'll see that you really get them when the time comes. XD You correctly guessed chapter 1's "Speeding Cars" by Imogen Heap, chapter 2's "Across the Universe" by The Beatles, and chapter 3's "Jump" by Madonna.

SilverSoleAclmst1: you get half a cookie because you got the artist for the song, and eventually wrote in the title… kind of... and you looked it up. But yes, I agree, chapter five had a lovely song: "Twilight" by Vanessa Carlton.

Svadilfari: you get the other half of the cookie because you left such a thoughtful review that reassured me a lot about how well I was doing. And you really wanted one.

The rest of you still have chapter four and six to figure, as well as today's chapter. Good luck!

Thanks muchly still to all of you who have reviewed since chapter six: akane-nechan, Nicole, foxxninja-xa, slashhack (which I want to believe is a Reboot reference), sammich, Risu, Okami'sTot, C Elise, Tobi Tortue, TELLMEYOURSTORY, Hinamori13, and Debility.

Okay, anja-chan over and out.