Letters
10
----M----
July 1, 2007
Matt woke up groggily, light slipping through the slivers at the curtain edges and tickling his senses awake. He'd fallen asleep with his goggles on again and his laptop humming away on the bed next to him. Just like he'd left it before dozing off in the early hours of the morning. He tried to swallow around his thick tongue, but it felt like someone had stuffed his mouth with a used dishrag while he was sleeping. Matt rolled over onto his back, stretching his spine and cramped muscles, before reaching up and massaging the skin under his goggles. The relief of pressure was welcome as he debated whether he needed to go brush his teeth or have a cigarette.
The decision to do both reached him shortly and he hoisted himself off the mattress. The movement woke his computer and Matt found himself staring at the screen he had left the night before.
More details of Mello's life, the bits and pieces he'd scraped together while constantly on the move.
He closed the laptop, and proceeded to the bathroom. His toothbrush beckoned him and he picked it up, squirting a bit of paste onto the bristles.
He caught his reflection in the mirror and let the hollow image stare back. He looked like hell caught in a shitstorm. His hair was oily and mussed, his skin too pale, and his eyes had the dark red lines surrounding them, making them look more sunken. He shoved the toothbrush into his mouth and splashed some cold water on his face in an effort to restore himself.
If this is what reading about Mello did to him, then no wonder Mello had always been so fucked up.
He looked back up into the dark mirror, the flecks of water catching the hints of gold light from the main room. A drop slid down his cheek, running along his jaw, and for a moment Matt couldn't recognize himself at all. Who was this redhead that had usurped Mail's place? Had his eyes always been that green? The seconds clicked by and Matt grabbed a hand towel from the rack. He looked like he always did, with some extra wear and tear peeking through his exhaustion and around the towel. He dropped it on the counter and finished brushing his teeth. The need for a cigarette was growing more apparent.
He wandered back into the room, feeling somewhat refreshed, but still unbalanced. How long had it been since he'd packed up and left with Mello's stolen information safely stored in his laptop? Each time he'd done some more digging into Mihael Keehl, he'd switched locations. He didn't know if the hacker-wannabe at Wammy's had managed to leech the same information while Matt was downloading it. Because of that Matt was forced to assume that his opponent had access to everything he did. Each search for something related to Mello's childhood could be red-flagged and could send warnings to the Wammy's House representative. Matt just didn't know, and so he was forced to keep moving through a string of endless hotels, trying to fit the pieces of Mello's past together like one of Near's puzzles.
Matt searched his pockets for cigarettes and a lighter. He found the lighter and an empty package. He sighed, rifling through his bag and the pockets of clothes he was no longer wearing until he found his personal addiction.
From what Matt had figured out, Mello's life had been worse than his own. He'd been born into a country just as Communism had become defunct throughout it and the rest of Eastern Europe. Slovenia declared independence from Yugoslavia and then began the Ten Day War. It wasn't a big event for most of the world. In comparison to other revolutions across the world, the change happened quickly and fairly easily. But there were casualties. And that's where Matt had found Mello's father.
Damijan Keehl, upstanding citizen, dies at 33. A loyal citizen, Keehl was killed in an unprecedented attack on a church by the Yugoslav People's Army last Sunday. He died protecting his family, country, and faith against the enemy. Twelve other citizens were murdered in this horrible tragedy. He leaves behind his wife Isidor, 31, and son Mihael, 19 months. He will be greatly missed by family and friends.
A single obituary had held so much information. Wading through the paper's bias and foreign language had revealed that Mihael had been caught in unlucky circumstances since an early age. More digging into various state records had shown Isidor's subsequent, yet unpredictable medical records and a change of address. Taking baby Mihael with her, Isidor had fled across Slovenia's borders into Austria, where her brother and his wife lived. Roughly five years later, Isidor died. Her access to medicine and qualified doctors looked to have been insufficient. From what little medicinal jargon he could understand, Matt had deduced the woman had been injured in the same incident that had claimed the life of her husband. She hadn't been able to recover, instead prolonging her suffering by a few years as infection and disease ate away at her body.
Mihael had turned six and for two years, he only seemed to exist in the records of the Austrian justice department. His aunt and uncle were the kind of people who didn't pay taxes regularly and who gave Matt the impression they skipped community functions. Closed, unfriendly people. They hadn't enrolled Mihael in school. It seemed as if no one knew or cared about his existence.
And then the aunt and uncle died in a car accident. Mihael had been swooped up and carried off to Wammy's House, his gifted intellect somehow recognized beneath the dirt and poverty. He'd been transformed into the recognizable Mello.
This history was true, flawlessly so. It wasn't as if Wammy's House adopted children who weren't orphans, so discovering the pile of family deaths shouldn't have surprised him. It was horrifying to imagine the scenario, but it couldn't surprise him.
His cigarette was nearly finished. He took one more deep pull and blew out the smoke from his lips in a stream.
It was time to move again.
----M----
"All this that is ceases to be,
All is revealed,
The obvious door opens nothing,
Nothing... nothing left... nothing left...
Nothing left to chance."
----M----
January 12, 1999
"We then know that x is greater or equal to the derivative, but less than six." The math instructor tried to look each of his students in the eye, but finally settled on Orphan to nod at. Near wasn't interested in eye contact, Mello was watching the man icily and Matt could only guess that his goggles threw the man off. They weren't even two weeks into the new quarter and the new teacher had stopped smiling at them, his lessons becoming increasingly lackluster. It was becoming obvious that the man didn't like teaching them. Matt couldn't figure out why; what instructor wouldn't want to teach intelligent, gifted children? In Matt's opinion, it would beat having to explain the same concept innumerable times for it to sink in. The teacher turned away as if he'd rather stare at the whiteboard instead of them.
Matt jotted the new equation down in his notes. It had taken a few weeks for the soreness to disappear after his battle with Mello, so Matt had diligently returned to his schoolwork. He knew he couldn't win physically against Mello, but since the urge was still there, he became determined to beat Mello mentally. Matt had finished up the term with flying colors and had nosed in front of Mello. Orphan still held the lead, but Matt was now second and Mello third.
Once the initial gratification had worn off, however, Matt realized he had become more focused on beating Mello than he had about Kiss and the Letters. It was during winter holiday, just before the new term started, that Matt had first tried to approach Near since Mello's birthday.
And it was then that Matt realized that getting the opportunity to speak alone with Near was more or less impossible.
Mello guarded his companion like some dark shepherd with a newborn lamb. Whenever Matt tried to catch Near's eye, mime a phrase, allude to the matter, or pass a note, it never seemed to reach his intended target. Mello's pale eyes were too watchful, nothing escaped him, and his intent on keeping Matt and Near separate was obvious. The last two weeks had been full of nothing but a close observation of Near's pale skin, dark eyes, and the splotching of bruises that sometimes accompanied the boy always in Mello's company. Mello himself never said a word, and kept himself as removed from Matt as possible. Obviously, this meant that Near was kept at the same distance.
It was frustrating, but Matt was wary of Mello. With Matt already beating him in the rankings, it wouldn't take much for the blond to be pushed over the edge and Matt honestly didn't want to find out if he would survive another beating.
He swallowed, wondering if that was what had happened to Kiss. Had Ivan beaten her to death over rankings? It was surreal to imagine. Surely, Wammy wouldn't bring in another violent kid if Kiss' death hadn't been an accident? Matt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Wammy was plenty smart enough to learn from a mistake of that magnitude, and it was more likely that the regs just liked spreading stories about those kids on the fourth floor. What had probably been an accident had morphed and been exaggerated into a story meant to scare other students.
Matt glanced out of the corner of his eye to where Near was crouching on the floor in their classroom. He wasn't looking at Matt, focused instead on the methodic placement of puzzle pieces while their teacher droned on. Matt didn't dare try to make any movement that would alert the other boy. It was far more likely that Mello would notice it.
The last puzzle piece clicked into place and Near glanced up at the teacher for a moment. His silver curls swayed softly at the movement, revealing a dark spot near his temple. It hadn't been there the day before. Another bruise then.
"If you find yourself at a dead end, look at the problem from a different angle. In this case, we need to go back to the beginning and see what equations we now have to work with," the teacher continued, scrawling on the whiteboard with numbers and symbols without glancing back at his students.
At that moment, Matt realized the futility of his actions toward Near and the wisdom of his math instructor. The concept of using different approaches applied to every kind of problem-solving, not just math. Of course. Matt felt a little stupid for not realizing it sooner, but what were his other options?
...There was always the former Letters. Dan, Crick, and Grant surely knew something. But would they ever talk to him? Or just.... Matt held himself still so that the icy feeling that passed through his body wouldn't be noticeable to the others. If he were dealing with those three, he would have to be especially careful. It wouldn't be like asking Linda. No, Matt felt instinctively that the three older boys were somehow hazardous. His stomach twisted and the thrill of danger brushed up his spine as he remembered Dan's liquid dark eyes raking over him.
"So," the teacher said, finally turning to face his small class, "Can anyone tell me what we're left with?"
Probably something better than counting Near's bruises, Matt thought, but didn't say anything. It was a relief, however, to know that he no longer had to.
----M----
February 1, 1999
Matt relaxed his grip and the last page of the paperback flipped close. And thus ended another mystery, solved by Dr. Slyvia Strange. The books about the psychologist-detective had been passed around the fourth floor. Orphan had started the crime novel craze, and then shoved one of the books at Matt. Since Orphan was higher in the rankings, Matt figured it couldn't hurt to read them like she did. Matt's second place had probably been what prompted Mello to pick up one of Orphan's cast-off novels too. Matt didn't have a clue if Near read at all, but sometimes he thought he saw the smallest boy nod when he and Orphan were discussing the latest novel they'd both read before class.
Matt set the book on his desk just as a knock sounded on his door.
"C'mon Matt, it's your birthday, isn't it? Let's go already." Orphan's voice was muffled through his door.
"'Kay! Just a second," Matt replied, picking up his goggles and wiggling them on over his head. He turned the light up to a more normal setting, and opened his door.
"Who would have thought that I'd have to drag you out of your room for your own party, Matt? Seriously, what were you up to?" Orphan rolled her eyes dramatically and began walking off down the hallway.
Matt paused to lock his door. "I just finished the third Strange novel."
"Oh yeah? Did you like it?"
"It was alright," Matt answered.
Orphan just rolled her eyes again. "The next one should be out before too long. I'm going to have Wammy get it for me."
Matt didn't have much of response to Orphan's usual chatter. They began walking down the stairs together.
"So, do you think Wammy'll let us go out to see a movie sometime? We don't ever leave, really, but I bet if we asked, he'd let us." Orphan was usually full of the strangest ideas.
"What would you go see?" Matt asked absently.
"Have you seen the trailers for The Matrix? Keanu Reeves is so cool," Orphan said, drawing out her 'so' for dramatic effect.
"Yeah," Matt said, nodding.
"Americans are so much better looking than our actors, I think." Orphan screwed up her face into a frown. "It's not fair."
"You watch British movies too, Orphan," Matt pointed out at they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Yeah, but it's representative, you know?" she replied, sighing dramatically. "Movies just prove that Americans are more handsome than Brits."
"That's not true." Matt felt the need to defend his male compariots. "Look, even in the orphanage, we've got some handsome guys."
Orphan raised her eyebrow and gave him a flat look. "Oh puh-leeze."
"Really!" Matt searched his head for a good example. "Um, like... Dan! Dan's good looking and if you don't know Mello, he's not bad either."
Orphan had stopped walking to stare at Matt like he was some kind of strange new species. Matt stopped too.
"What?" he asked, annoyed.
There was another moment of silence before peals of Orphan's laughter echoed down the first floor hallways. Matt stood there, uncomprehending of why she was laughing, only knowing that she was laughing at him.
"You- you just said you thought Dan and Mello were handsome! Bloody hell, Matt, you're going to give me a heart attack here!" Orphan continued laughing, gasping for air between words.
Matt felt his face turn a horrible red that he knew must clash with his hair. "I-I did not! You're just misunderstanding! It's not weird to think they're not ugly or anything!"
"But you're a boy," Orphan continued, still laughing.
"So? You're a girl, but I bet you still think Cassandra is prettier than you." Matt's embarrassment had transformed into a need to get back at her.
"She's not prettier than me!" Orphan retorted, but her laughter had ceased. She sent Matt a quick glare. "Hmph. If it wasn't your birthday, I'd slap you."
Matt rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Orphan. I'm going to go eat some cake now."
Without waiting for the girl, Matt opened the door and crossed the lawn to the classrooms. On one hand, Matt was excited. On the other, he knew exactly what birthdays at Wammy's House were like. He'd already been to Near's, Orphan's, and Mello's, and they were affairs where no one else had been particularly excited. It would look childish and immature if he let himself be as excited as the regs were for their birthday functions.
Orphan caught up to him as he opened the door. They walked down the hall and into one of the classrooms. Mello and Near were already inside, contrasting in black and white like usual.
"Hey," Matt said to them both, but neither one in particular. Ever since he'd stopped paying close attention to Near, Matt had found that Mello had let up on him. They were on speaking terms again, even thought they'd never be friends.
"Happy birthday," Mello offered sourly without turning to face the birthday boy. Near gave a tiny smirk and nodded once.
The cake was sitting out along with paper plates and plastic ware. It looked like Wammy had prepared the typical birthday feast for Matt. Sure enough, Matt could tell it was a vanilla and apple cake, just like he'd asked for. Unable to help himself, Matt smiled.
"You should light the candles, Matt, and then we'll sing for you," Orphan said brightly, their previous argument forgotten in the typical Orphan way. Quick to anger, but also quick to forgive.
Matt picked up the box of matches left on the table next to the cake and lit up his nine candles.
"Okay, ready everyone?" Orphan said brightly. She immediately began singing and Matt had the impression she wouldn't have minded finishing by herself if Mello and Near hadn't joined in.
"Make a wish!" she finished.
Matt thought for a moment. He hadn't thought about what he would wish for... not that he really believed anything would happen. Still, it was only a split second before he held his wish in his mind.
Let me find my family's killer.
Matt blew out the candles, feeling a sense of relief when they all went out. Staking the man with the hat on whether all his birthday candles went out suddenly seemed terrifying. What a bad omen that would have been if he hadn't gotten them all, but it was good because he had.
Matt reminded himself that he didn't believe in lame superstitions like that.
"Think you can handle that knife yourself?" Mello asked derisively.
"Yeah and I can cut you next if you want," he replied easily as Orphan smacked Mello on the shoulder.
"It's his birthday. He could decide not to give you cake, you git," Orphan hissed. Mello shrugged off the light blow and suggestion easily.
Picking up the knife, Matt cut the cake into four pieces, handing them out. They all dug into the moist layers and there was silence for a while as everyone savored Matt's favorite flavors.
"It's cake for him, you know," Orphan said in her typical know-it-all fashion. She swallowed, and then helped herself to another bite of birthday cake.
Mello looked superior, his chin lifting as he spoke condescendingly. "Yeah, we do know, Orphan. Stop saying obvious things."
"I've got cats," Orphan continued, ignoring Mello. "What've you got, Matt?"
"Games," he said, wondering why Orphan was asking. She already knew how addicted he was to his outlet. He took a mouthful of cake, the bits of baked apple delicious on his tongue.
She nodded and turned to Mello. "What've you got?"
Mello smiled and typically when that happened, a chill went through the room. "Near."
There was a long pause.
Orphan busied herself with her piece of cake. "And what's Near got?"
Mello continued to smile. A creepy-crawly feeling scaled its way up Matt's spine.
It was a shock to hear an answer, let alone to hear Near answering a question directed to Mello on his own. A smile pulled the corners of Near's pale lips up, satisfaction overflowing from the little, unpracticed grin.
"Optimus Prime."
Somehow, even Mello laughed at that. And looking back at the end of the day, Matt considered his birthday to be a success.
----M----
April 16, 1999
"You've been weird lately," Orphan said, peering at him with her large honey-brown eyes. She seemed to be searching his goggled face carefully for evidence explaining why. Matt just stared back until Orphan looked down at the cat in her lap and busied herself with petting Kismet under her chin. "I just meant that you always seem to be thinking of something else. It's like you're not here anymore or something, you know?"
Matt didn't know, but he supposed it was true. Days, weeks, months even, had passed and Matt still hadn't plucked up the courage to speak to the three oldest Letters. Surprisingly, it wasn't Crick or Grant that had Matt the most worried, even though Crick was obviously mentally off, and Grant was heavyset with muscles. Matt's preoccupation was with Dan and his lying eyes. They danced with a dangerous fire and Matt wasn't sure what would happen if he were confronted with the handsome teenager again.
"Sorry," he mumbled to Orphan. "I'm..." Matt searched for the right words to say to Orphan without letting her guess his detective mission. "...trying to figure out the best way to talk to someone."
Orphan's eyebrows shot up. "To who?"
Matt paused, frowning at her reaction. "Someone," he said carefully.
Orphan seemed more determined to press him further. "Yeah, but who, Matt?"
Matt shook his head and then Orphan grabbed him by the arm, her expression turning sly. "C'mon, Matt, you can tell me. We're friends, right?"
The redhead gave her a strange look. Sure, they were friends, but they were also rivals, and he wouldn't just give out his information to her for free.
Orphan rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're being stupid. I can help with these kinds of things. I am a girl, you know."
Matt was utterly confused by her logic for a moment, but then it hit him. "Orphan! I'm not talking about liking a girl or anything!"
His outburst startled Kismet, who jumped out of Orphan's lap and crouched behind the cross-legged girl. Orphan stared at Matt levelly. "Who else would you afraid of talking to? And you're blushing, by the way."
"I am not!" Matt said hotly, even though he knew that it was probably true. "It just looks that way because of my hair!"
"So?" Orphan teased. "Who is it? Who does little Matty have a crush on?"
"I do not have a crush, Orphan, and I'm older than you are!"
Orphan's girlish smirk and teasing attitude suddenly stopped. She pulled Kismet back into her lap. "But you must think at least someone's pretty, right?"
Matt blinked, confused by her odd mood swing. He wondered what the right answer was, and so hazarded a noncommittal one. "Er, I... I guess so?"
A moment of silence went by and then Matt sneezed. His eyes seemed to catch on after the allergic reaction and began filling with water. "I should probably go before I die in here, Orphan," Matt said, nodding at the fluffy gray and white animal.
"Whatever," Orphan said, not looking up at him, "But you know you should probably talk to that person sooner rather than later. I mean, what if they change their mind?"
"Like I said," Matt replied, "It's not about a girl."
"Bye, Matt."
"Bye," he answered. Matt stood, wiping his nose on his sleeve and watching the girl still on the floor. Her black hair spilled over part of her face, darker against her dark skin, and down to her shoulders as she bent over the cat. He turned to go, and suddenly wondered if her earlier question had been self-directed. Matt hadn't thought about it before, but he guessed Orphan was pretty. Had she been fishing for compliments from him with her question?
He opened the door and pushed Orphan from his mind. The talk with her had made him realize that he was wasting time. He hadn't gotten anywhere in his deciphering the Letters or Kiss' death. Swallowing, Matt turned his feet towards the stairway. It was almost eight o'clock, the time when Matt would usually hide out with a game or do homework in his room. He turned away from his door, and passed the other letter M instead.
Crick, Dan, and Grant all lived on the floor below. In Building A, it was the only floor exclusively for boys. Building B was situated in the same fashion, with the girls' dormitory on the first two floors and boys on the third and fourth floors. The only floor without gender segregation was Matt's, but then again, nearly everything about the fourth floor was different.
He descended the stairs and looked down the hallway. Despite having lived in the same building, Matt hardly ever ventured into the other hallways. There was never a reason to associate with the other orphans. He thrust down a growing seed of fear and vowed to knock on the first door he found belonging to the older boys. He peered cautiously at the names on doors through orange lenses. Instead of the single gothic letters of his own floor, everyone who was normal got their full first names. Neither were they listed somewhat alphabetically.
His eyes landed on "Dan" and Matt felt his stomach curl. Suddenly he wished he hadn't just promised he would try the first door, but now that he was here, Matt wouldn't let himself back down. It was now or never, he thought, taking a deep breath. He straightened his goggles and flattened his mussy hair in an attempt to look more presentable. What if Dan thought he looked like too much of a kid to even talk to him? Matt wasn't sure whether it would be worse if he were turned away or smiled at by the older boy.
Assured that he looked as good as possible, Matt reached up and knocked. There was some shuffling inside the room, and then heavy footsteps towards the door. It opened.
Dan stood blocking the doorway and looked down, his eyes darkening with some kind of pleasure at seeing the smaller boy. He smiled, showing perfect white teeth, and crooned softly, "And what have we got here? A lost little lamb?"
Matt held his ground, but his voice shook as he answered. The smile directed at him was making his stomach churn in strange ways. "I want to talk."
"Then come right in, little lamb. The lion's den is waiting." Dan stepped back, throwing one hand towards the inside of his room as if ushering in a foreign dignitary.
Matt gulped, but strode purposefully into the dorm room. A brown quilt covered a neatly made bed in one corner. In the corner opposite, Dan had positioned his dark wooden desk and matching chair, a black velvet cushion on the seat. Matt identified some landscape paintings artfully arranged on the walls from the Romantic era; they featured dark craggy cliffs overlooking cloudy seas and misty fields.
The door closed behind him and Matt spun around. Dan noticed, his eyes skimming over Matt as he walked languidly over to his chair, pulling it out and sitting on it. "So? What did you want to talk about, little lamb? How big the lion's teeth are?"
Matt shook his head, keeping his eyes on Dan by sheer force of will. "I want to know about the fourth floor and—"
Dan laughed, but it wasn't unkind. He continued in his slow, smooth voice, superbly calm and arrogant. "You're the one who lives there. What makes you think I know more than you?"
Matt hesitated for a moment. Dan's intonation had hinted at things beyond Matt's comprehension even as his words had held the opposite meaning. Matt plowed forward; he had already gotten this far. "You... used to live there, right? And I want to know about Kiss, too."
Dan gave Matt an appraising look and Matt felt like he had won something important. His voice was heavier when he spoke, the gravity weighing his words down. "You're asking a lot about things people shouldn't ask. Are you sure you want to know, little lamb?"
Matt nodded slowly, not exactly liking the way Dan spoke seriously. The older boy's mocking tone had vanished, even as he spoke the patronizing nickname. Dan was finally treating him less like a child, but it only gave off the impression that Matt was making an adult decision—one that he wasn't sure he was prepared for. What was he getting himself into? Matt brushed his concerns aside. Dan watched his face carefully and Matt got the uncomfortable feeling that Dan could read his thoughts.
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you," Dan said, his grin appearing again and growing larger. He looked distinctly catlike, ready to play with the mouse who had come willingly out of his dark hole.
"Yeah, I used to live upstairs. It was four years ago though, and Crick was up there with me. In fact, there were five of us, and, well, Lawrence, of course," Dan said slowly. Matt got the impression the older boy was trying to draw out everything, like telling a ghost story. But even though Matt understood the process, it worked all too well and he suppressed a shiver. Dan still seemed to catch Matt's reaction anyway and his eyes darkened as his smile grew. "If you think what happened to Kiss was bad, be glad you never met Backup or Excalibur. I can't say what the fourth floor is like now, but I was there when it all started.
"There were five of us, lambs like you... or maybe a bit older. Alec, Backup, Crick, me, and Excalibur. We all had some sort of idea of our job: to learn and become detectives like Lawrence. That's where Backup even got his name. If anything happened to Lawrence, we were supposed to take his place, be the backup. That's what the fourth floor is for."
Backup detectives? Matt didn't exactly like the idea. Sure, he knew he wanted to be like Lawrence, but... it wasn't like they couldn't be detectives at the same time. Of course, Matt would be a better detective than Orphan, Mello and Near, but there was no way to preclude them from being law enforcers of their own, albeit lower, caliber.
And what if Matt eventually exceeded Lawrence? Wasn't Wammy's a secret detective school instead of a replacement training facility? The idea of a replacement suddenly caught Matt off guard. After all, Matt was the replacement... not for Lawrence, but for Mello. That would make Matt a backup replacement. It didn't sit well with him.
"But nothing's happened to Lawrence," Matt said cautiously. "So why aren't you still training?"
Dan chuckled darkly. "Of course nothing's happened to Lawrence."
Matt waited, unsure of what to say next since his previous question hadn't been answered yet.
Dan's smirk widened. The mouse was waiting for the game to continue. "This is what happens when the training doesn't kill you, little lamb."
Matt felt his body tremble, a strange tightening and stretching spasm working its way through his system in a split second. It wasn't the normal kind of fear that tapped into the fight or flight response that Matt was experiencing. This was the fear that paralyzed and froze. Matt couldn't move and didn't think.
The older boy continued in Matt's silence, clearly relishing his power over the little redhead. His voice lowered to a whisper and he leaned into Matt's ear. "In my experience, if you live on the fourth floor, you either wind up dead or reg. And you've all passed the reg stage."
Dan's breath rustled against his ear, teasing the hairs on the back of his neck. Matt swayed on his feet, his stomach twisting, his mind nearing numbness, his eyes staring unseeingly at the wall, and his hands relaxing into dull weights. He couldn't process the information or the sensation of Dan's presence enveloping him without touching.
The teenager leaned back slowly, the chair creaking as his weight resettled into it. Matt felt like he was being released from a spell. His breath came normally again, and his legs held him solidly. He took a steadying breath and looked at his taller predecessor with determination.
Dan let out a burst of honest laughter, his chocolate eyes filled with a hint of approval. "My, my, little lamb, you just might have enough backbone for me to recast my vote."
Matt held himself firmly, again feeling like he had won something. "Thank you," he acknowledged stiffly.
Dan laughed again, his dark eyes dancing with pleasure. "You may visit the lion's den again, little lamb."
Matt took it as his cue to leave, even though he still had questions. Dan hadn't said anything about Kiss, but... Matt felt like he would need time to digest everything that Dan had said about the other Letters. There were more names to add to his list. Matt's theory of alphabetically named detectives was proving to be true. They were Letters.
It was only as he shut the door behind him that Matt realized what he had just won during his interview with Dan.
Respect.
----M----
But what exactly did the Letters mean?
Matt had found the old notebook he'd first written the Letters into, and opened it. He'd filled in the names Dan had supplied him with, but there were still two missing. Matt had also updated the rankings among the current fourth floor members, feeling smugly satisfied with his own advancement.
Alec
Backup
Crick
Dan
Excalibur
F – girl?
Grant
H – girl?
Ivan
Jiwon - graduated
Kiss – dead
Lawrence – BEST
Mello – 3
Near – 4
Orphan – 1
Matt – 2
When he caught upon Jiwon's name, Matt realized that Dan must have been lying about everyone winding up dead or reg. If Jiwon graduated, that would mean he became a full-fledged detective, right? Matt felt self-conscious because he had been so easily duped, but the stronger emotion of relief flooded through him. As far as Matt knew, only Kiss had died.
Despite that, Matt thought with a hint of irony, she was the only former Letter he had seen on the fourth floor.
Matt focused back on the notebook filled with names. It was nearly bedtime, but with his mind whirling, there was no way he would get to sleep. He knew he had gotten a lot of information from Dan, but... what to do with it all? Most of it seemed like confirmation of his theories. He had been invited to ask more questions, and Matt knew he couldn't waste a resource as valuable as Dan despite his inaccuracies or methods. Matt felt like he could face the older boy again with the right preparation. As long as he stayed focused on what he was doing, Dan was less likely to sidetrack him into terror.
With that in mind, Matt began writing out a list of questions he wanted answered. He would ask, and if Dan didn't tell him, he'd simply move on to the next one. He made a note at the top to remind him that Dan could be inaccurate beyond the normal misinformation effect. Dan's prime motive seemed to be frightening Matt.
How did Kiss die?
Where are the other Letters?
What happens after graduation?
Matt stopped there, the future suddenly uncertain. It seemed almost too far ahead to think about seriously. Sure, he knew he was going to be a detective. But even with all the 'Detecting' classes, he couldn't grasp what it would actually entail. His experience was limited to solving mysteries in the books they all read.
Matt took a deep breath. He could write more questions as he got to them. It was probably time for sleep. Matt put the notebook into the drawer of his bedside table and reached for the lamp switch.
Except it was Friday night, he suddenly remembered. No school tomorrow, which meant he could game all night if he wanted.
Matt grabbed his gameboy and Super Mario Bros. Deluxe to escape into his game world. He had only gotten the game recently from Wammy, and hadn't yet beaten it. Making the pixeled Mario jump around and into pipes would be great stress relief. It was his normal outlet.
Matt couldn't contain his giggle at the next thought as he switched the game on and it beeped to life. It sure beat staring at Optimus Prime.
----M----
June 16, 1999
Matt had been dreading the day as it loomed closer and closer on his calendar. He had already decided he wouldn't be going to any of his classes.
Instead, he had asked Wammy for candles on Monday. Three of them: two big ones and one little one. Wammy had seemed to understand right away and hadn't asked any questions, reminding Matt gently to be careful with them in his room.
The night before, Matt had locked his door and set his alarm for midnight. It was now noon and the candles had dripped hot wax all over his desk. The smallest one had burned itself out and Matt had cried as if Blair Rose had died all over again when the light went out. His heart ached and his mind was numb with grief.
The man with the hat was still at large, Matt's family unavenged. Matt felt like a failure. He hadn't been trying to find the killer like a better son and brother would have. He hadn't even been working much on the matter of the Letters. If he were really intent on becoming a detective, he would have gone to see Dan again. But he hadn't, and so his Letters investigation had reached a standstill. It seemed as if Matt was failing at everything.
He didn't feel good enough yet; he wasn't satisfied with everything he'd done. His family was probably disappointed with Mail's achievements.
No, Matt realized carefully through his tears. Mail Jeevas had died along with his family. There would be only Matt until the killer was found. It was the name that defined him now. Mail had been the boy who had led a simple life with a normal family. It would be impossible for Matt to retake his name and to let Mail's family rest in peace until the man with the hat was either dead or locked away forever. Maybe Wammy had understood this conclusion and that's why he had allowed Matt a new name.
Matt didn't wipe his tears away, letting them continue down the streaks on his cheeks. He hurt in a terribly hollow way, but he didn't hold it back, knowing the pain would fuel his efforts and determination.
The candle he had dubbed Adair Jeevas sputtered, guttered, and died. Matt felt it as if something had suddenly vanished from his chest. He doubled over and sobbed, holding nothing back. He knew Cara Jeevas would follow shortly, her candle flickered dangerously.
It was a few minutes later when the candle finally flared once, brightly like a beacon in the night, before it drowned in its own wax with a hiss. Matt was plunged into complete darkness, alone with his hot tears and choked bawls.
A year had passed.
----M----
And there's another chapter! Sorry for the ridiculously long wait between updates (although perhaps you're all used to it), but this is the longest chapter to date, so hopefully that makes up for it. Anyway, thoughts on Matt's first year at Wammy's? This chapter in particular? Guesses for the future? (That last question can apply to older Matt as well.) I really like engaging readers about my work, so if you ask a question or post a thoughtful response, I'll likely get back to you. Please leave a review, even if it's a quick "please continue writing this story because/but I (don't) like x about it." Thanks for reading, and following Matt's story.
~anja-chan