I do not own Death Note or anything in this fic.
Hearts Bound for America
A New Beginning
About Mail speaking Gaelige, I was GOING to include this, but I wrote in a different direction. DX What it was going to be was, Mail was raised Catholic but hated his parents, so he rebelled and left the church to spite them. Before Mihael, he hated all Catholics because of it.
Anyway, enjoy the long-awaited final chapter.
Horses clattered down the narrow dirt road with carts of apples and other fruits. A woman had a stand set up with what looked like oysters and odd-looking fish. They reeked terribly. Down an alley, a few teens could be seen throwing dice. Every so often, a building we passed would smell heavily of cheap perfume or of delicious food. Most were wooden with a few grimy brick exceptions. Many of the signs were in Gailege. As Mail and I passed, he was taking in the sights and yammering away. I, however, was focused on the child following us. Sure enough, the child darted forward with a knife. I grabbed his hand and twisted the knife into my own, then pulled him in a headlock. Mail stopped chattering abruptly and gaped open-mouthed.
"What's your name?" I growled to the frightened, scrawny, filthy boy who looked no older than eleven.
He narrowed his frightened eyes. "None of your business you filthy German!" He made to spit at me, but I released his neck, and grabbed his hair, then put the knife to his throat.
"Do it. Make my day," I said in a chilling tone. His eyes grew wider than they were before.
"É-éamonn. My name is Éamonn," he stammered.
"Éamonn what?" I demanded.
"McCulloch." He swallowed thickly and glanced down at the knife I had yet to remove.
I inspected the knife and mused leisurely. "This is a nice knife. I doubt you stole it, therefore you work for someone. Whom?" I fixed him with a piercing gaze, and he trembled violently. I pressed the knife until he bled a bit. Mail looked ready to intervene when Éamonn cracked.
"His name is Thomas O'Connell! He's the leader of the gang!"
I tugged on his hair. "Which gang and where?"
He glanced to the side nervously then muttered, "An Dhorn Salach." I glanced at Mail.
"It means The Dirty Fist." Éamonn's eyes widened realizing Mail understood Gaelige.
I looked at Éamonn again and he said, "They meet at An Iasc Óir Tavern right around now. That's all I know I swear!" His eyes teared up. "That's all now please let me go."
I looked at him evenly. "Tell me how to get there and I'll let you go. I'm keeping the knife though."
He looked crestfallen but muttered, "Down the way you were headed. There will be a green sign with a golden fish right next to a bakery. Go in the green front door and you're there." I nodded and let him go. He ran without a backward glance.
Mail looked at me pensively. "Are you sure you want to go there? They're not going to take kindly to you, and we'll be outnumbered." I gave him a flat look and he sighed. "Let's go then. Just keep your mouth shut at first."
I rolled my eyes. "Give me a bit of credit please." We went to where Éamonn had specified and entered the door. Inside was a wooden room with wooden rectangular tables and some stools. There was a small bar that Mail started to head to until I went to a table against the wall. We drew attention with our cargo bags and filthy clothes. It couldn't be more obvious we were new to here. A girl no older than thirteen approached us in a brown dress with a navy plaid shawl.
"What would you two like to drink?"
"We'll have two whiskeys please. Do you have any food?" Mail asked, and my stomach clenched at the thought of decent food.
"We have some buns and chicken. We'll need money up front though." the girl said. "Twenty four cents total for both of you."
Mail and I exchanged glances, then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Keep the change," he said and winked.
Her eyes widened and she hurried to get our orders. There were some men at another table who were eying us. I decided to eat before the inevitable confrontation. I did not need my food poisoned. It wasn't too long before she came back with our meals. It took a lot for Mail and I to eat at a relatively regular pace. When we had finished the food and were on the last of our whiskey, one of the members of the group at the other table approached us. He was huge with bright orange hair and blackened palms. "You're new here eh?" I peered over my rim with a blank gaze and nodded.
"You wouldn't happen to know of any flats renting out would you?" Mail asked.
The man looked at him then me. "Mary McDonnell has some down the way. Ask around. Anyone can point you to her."
I nodded. "Thank you," I said and there was a tense silence. The man's eyes widened and he reached out to punch me. As he leaned forward I grabbed his hair and whipped out the knife to his neck. The others ran up to us but realized I would kill him if they attacked.
"That's the knife I gave Éamonn," one of the men said shakily. "Where is he?" he yelled furiously.
"Somewhere safe, save for a small cut on his neck. He'll probably come here soon," I said airily. Mail was still next to me. He was obviously calculating things as they went. I looked through the group and saw a man who seemed to be the leader. I stood up, dragging my captive with me, and turned to him. "I want in. I have the experience, obviously."
"Who do you think you are?" he growled.
I smirked. "The name's Mello." Mail didn't show any reaction to that. "As for whom I am… I'm either your new best asset, or new worst enemy. Your choice." He grit his teeth. I faked a yawn. "I'm bored. If that's the way you want it then-" I started to move the hand with the knife and they all yelled in protest.
"I'll let you in! Just… leave him be," the boss said. I smirked and slowly let him go. I was on my guard, knowing full well his words could mean nothing. Just then a small figure appeared at the door. Éamonn looked on with wide eyes and ran up to the man I held hostage.
"Papa! Papa, are you alright?" The man nodded and pulled Éamonn to him. The others noted I hadn't lied about him.
"Well, I for one think we should get a room before dark," Mail said as he stood. "Go raibh maith agatfir. Thank you men." He added the translation for my benefit. He grabbed our bags and left.
As I was leaving, while on my guard, I heard a man's voice call, "Tell her Liam McCulloch sent you." I froze then half turned my head to see the man I held hostage looking at me. I nodded to tell him I understood. I hesitated then returned to them and held out the knife. Liam took it with a grateful nod.
"Vielen dank. Many thanks" I said. He nodded back at me. Éamonn looked curious at the language, despite his earlier sentiments. I turned and headed out; glad despite the bad patch at least one man was accepting of me and my outsider status. Well, one man and a child.
Mail was waiting just outside. "Well that was nice of him." I saw he had lit a cigarette in my absence. "Heh, who knows, maybe they'll end up learning a bit from you." He turned his head to look me in the yes. "So how do you say I am one crafty some of a bitch?"
"Ich bin einer listigen Hurensohn," I replied cheekily, with a grin.
He chuckled."I walked right into that one." He blew some smoke. "I noticed you no longer have the knife."
I shrugged. "A peace offering can't hurt." He nodded then went up to a woman and asked something. I notice he said Mary's name. The woman jerked her thumb towards a building right next to us and Mail and I exchanged glances then went in the building.
It had a long hallway with no decorations other than some blue-gray paint. An old woman in clothes not too different than the waitress' was behind a desk with some wooden boxes that had keys and mail, in them behind her. "Madam," Mail began, "We're here to purchase a room."
"Liam McCulloch sent us," I added. Her eyes widened then narrowed in suspicion. "We met he and Éamonn today and they referred us to you." She realized I was telling the truth since I knew Éamonn's name.
"I have a room with two beds on the second floor for three dollars a month." Her lips were a bit tight as she said that but I could tell she was offering us something better than if we had just walked in.
"That's fine," Mail said. She saw him crush his cigarette to extinguish, it but showed no reaction.
"I'll show you the way then." She retrieved a key from an empty box on the second out of three tiers. She led us down the hall and up some rickety wooden stairs, then down another hall to a door. It had the number 206 on it. She inserted the key and let us in. It had two beds and a desk with a chair and an oil lamp. The beds looked relatively comfortable and were fully made already. Mail pulled out three dollars and handed them to her. She gave him the key and left.
Mail locked the door then turned to me. I tackled him into a kiss. It felt so right. Night was falling so we both stripped down to our knickers and got in the same bed. "Oíche mhaith a stor," he said as he nuzzled close to me. "Goodnight my love."
"Gute Nacht mein libeling," I whispered, as he had already fallen asleep. Good night my darling.
Zwei Seelen und ein Gedank, zwei Herzen, und ein Schlag.
Two souls, one thought, two hearts, one beat.
An áit a bhuil do chroí is ann a thabharfas do chosa thú.
Your feet will bring you to where your heart is.