A/N: Yayy, it's the infiltration chapter! I know all of you (or at least, everyone who reviewed) is really curious at what's going to happen in this. Will Mello get caught? Won't he? Will he die (haha)? Wont he? So...yeah, here it is, read your heart out. (I still do not get that expression at all.)
New review record for last chapter, methinks! Much, much thanks to:
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and VampirePrinssess! Thanks you all so much, you are forever in my heart! ...Even though I don't know who most of you are. XD Also, have an idea. (Be afraid...) If this story manages to reach 100 reviews, I think I shall write a oneshot for the 100th reviewer, pairing of their choice, but preferably in the Death Note verse. Soo, I know it's a while off, if it'll ever happen, but I think ahead a lot, and I thought it'd be fair to give y'all a warning. ;)
Disclaimer: Turns out wishing on a star doesn't work.
Chapter 12: Infiltration
It didn't take a genius to work out that Matt was distressed.
Despite the lack of necessity, however, Light was a genius, and therefore able to analyse the symptoms of Matt's worry in that much more detail.
The redhead was biting his lip, clenching and unclenching his hands (he'd completely given up on the pointless filler work L had set them), and periodically running said hands through his hair. His face was pale (or paler than usual, anyhow) and though there was not any sheen of sweat over his skin, he definitely did not look healthy.
And, a fact that only made the situation more ridiculous, all this was only serving to make Light worried as well. Matt was the closest thing the youth had ever been able to call a friend, though they had technically not known each other for very long, and Light did care for him. However, even this concern could not take away from what Light deemed to be the utter insensibility of Matt's cause of worry.
Mello-san, though he was a bit hot-headed, was perfectly capable of thinking through a situation calmly and forming wise decisions based on his assessments. He was used to sneaking into much more closely-guarded buildings than this one, and was armed anyway.
All in all, Matt was being an idiot for worrying about Mello-san's infiltration of Four-Field's main headquarters.
And yet, Light could understand part of what Matt was feeling and why. He had also felt irrational and unexplainable feelings in his time, such as unfounded fear of the visions his subconscious provided him every time he closed his eyes, the irritation towards himself for reasons even he did not know, and, more prominently, the strange mixture of hatred and...something else that he felt towards his guardian.
Light snorted, too quietly for Matt to notice in his anxious state. Guardian. What an ambiguous word. It could mean anything from a parent to a prison guard. But where did L fit on that scale? He was certainly closer to Light than a jail warden would have been, but the mere idea of L as a paternal figure was hilarious.
No, Light had no idea what L was to him.
And at that point, Light brutally slammed his train of thought into a metaphorical brick wall. Again?! Why was it that all his thoughts eventually led him back to the infuriatingly unmovable psychologist? Even if L had been his only source of company for more than a year, there was no reason for him to occupy Light's mind to such an extent. It was bordering on obsession!
Light rolled his eyes. If L were to know about this constant wandering of Light's mind, he would undoubtedly file some lengthy report on his psychopathic development, declaring that he wasn't fit to re-enter the public world until he was at least thirty. To be honest, Light was completely nonplussed as to why L so insisted upon Light being kept away from the general public; he sure as hell didn't feel insane. Except sometimes, when his emotions got to the point where he couldn't rein them in anymore and they took over his speech. But that was normal, right? Light wouldn't know – he'd been that way for as long as he could remember. If it was abnormal, he wasn't in any position to realise so.
He definitely wasn't as crazy as some of the people he'd seen on the news: disgusting, repulsive beings that butchered children and blew up houses for no apparent reason. And yet, while those degenerates were simply sentenced to spend the rest of their days in a psychiatric hospital, Light was doomed to spend the slowly dwindling years until he turned eighteen with a man who, to be completely honest, seemed to be infinitely crazier than Light himself.
Eighteen, Light mused. It seemed so far away, and yet when he thought about it, so close. His birthday was in February, and –
Light's head snapped up. February. It was January. He would be eighteen in just over a month. And then...he would have freedom, right? Yes, freedom, that was what he wanted. Freedom.
Without L.
He would finally be rid of the irritating man, finally be left to his own devices. He would be alone.
Light genuinely did not understand why that thought made him so inexplicably sad.
It didn't take a genius to work out that Light was distressed.
Subsequently, despite the fact that Matt's dubious status as a genius was limited solely to his skill with technology, he could see that Light was taking part in some kind of mental debate with himself.
Matt began to believe more strongly in L's claim about Light's lack of sanity, until he remembered he did the same thing frequently. And Matt definitely wasn't mad.
Though that probably wasn't going to last, if Mello took longer than another hour in finishing his mission at Four-Field HQ.
How long did it take to find out the names of the big bosses of one enormous company anyway? Not having the blond in the immediate vicinity was making Matt jumpy, the redhead expecting to receive some kind of supernatural message any second, declaring that Mello had perished in a horrible gunfight or something.
On second thoughts, maybe it wasn't that much of a great idea to dwell on such imaginings. Mello had been gone only for a couple of hours. He would return any minute now; he had taken a car, so he wouldn't need to walk all the way there and back.
But then shouldn't he have returned already? A traitorous voice inside his head whispered, Seriously, how long can it take for an experienced Mafioso to obtain a tiny bit of information? Something's gone wrong.
Matt amused himself for the next few minutes by brutally slamming the voice into a metaphorical brick wall.
There was no way something could have gone wrong without L or Near telling him, right? It was bad enough that they hadn't let him listen to the feed from the tiny microphone attached to Mello's collar (using the fact that neither he nor Light were trained detectives, and would "likely panic at the slightest hint of something going awry", to justify their ridiculous decision). Surely they wouldn't keep anything potentially dangerous from him, would they? They knew how much he cared about Mello.
Matt refused to acknowledge the blush spreading across his cheeks at that thought.
Suddenly, a door opened, causing Matt to jump. He whirled around in his revolving chair, his foot catching Light's leg on the way, snapping the brunet out of his obviously unpleasant reverie.
They came face to face with Near, parts of whose hair seemed to be curled into tight spirals, probably due to his habit of twisting it around his finger.
Matt tried not to expect the worst.
Near drew in a breath. "Something has gone wrong," he said.
Marching purposefully into Number Eighty-Four, West Street, Mello resisted the urge to loosen his tie. The blond hated any form of clothing that even remotely hinted at formality, but unfortunately the crisp, black suit was a necessity if he wasn't to be arrested on sight.
Spotting the front desk, Mello made his way over to the male receptionist (Another? Did Four-Field have something against stereotypes or something?) and put on his best lady (or in this case, gentleman) killing smile.
"Hi, my name's Michael Keene. I was wondering if I could talk to your manager about your job vacancy in ad production?" he asked pleasantly, noting with satisfaction that while this receptionist seemed to have more of a spine than the last, he also appeared to be much more susceptible to the blond's charms.
The receptionist smiled back, looking slightly dazzled. "Uh, sure, I'll just check to see if one of the bosses is free."
Mello held back his smug smile while the man picked up the phone and pressed a button. After a few seconds of waiting, the line was obviously picked up at the other end, and Mello proceeded to listen to one side of the conversation.
"Good morning, I was wondering if either of the bosses was free to speak with – oh, is that so? That's unfortunate, is there an opening soon? ...I see. Well, if you'll pass on my message, I can get his details so they can call back. Thank you." The man put down the telephone. "I'm sorry," he addressed Mello, "They won't be free at all today, but if you'd give me your phone number, I could ask them to call you back."
Mello hesitated for the perfect amount of time, before biting his lip. "I'm afraid I haven't memorised my number yet – new phone and all – and I left my mobile at home. I'm very sorry, should I come back with it later?" He shifted his expression to one of embarrassed worry, glancing at the receptionist in a way that the blond knew would melt any man's heart.
"Oh no, no, that isn't a problem at all! I can give you card with a number to call when you retrieve your phone. I'm here until six, so you can give me your number between now and then." For some unexplainable reason, the suggestion seemed a bit more, well, suggestive than it probably should have in a working environment.
Mello grinned and bore it. "Thanks, that'd be so helpful! I'll make sure to call back." He accepted the card and made to leave, holding back his frustration at not being able to discover anything much.
He fumed all the way outside, lost in his self-berating thoughts as he stormed (calmly, somehow) towards the pedestrian crossing.
He heard the words "Look out!" just before the car hit him.
Matt and Light rushed into the room where L and Near had been listening in on Mello's mission.
"What happened?!" Matt yelled, taking in the worrying sounds of static coming from all the speakers.
L was sitting in a chair, his entire body frozen and tense. Light ran over to him, concern and confusion written all over his face.
"L!" the youth shouted, putting his face right in front of the psychologist's. "何だ?!"
Matt cursed mentally as L began to explain in hurried Japanese. "我々はメロとの接触を失っている –"
"I can't understand a fucking word you're saying!" Matt screamed. "Now what the fuck has happened to Mello?!"
They all stared at him blankly for a second before Near said in a hushed voice, "We are not certain of what exactly happened, but we have lost all connections with Mello. It appears something has destroyed the bug, and we have reason to believe he was on a road when the loss of contact occurred."
Matt forgot how to breathe.
Light's eyes widened. "Mello-san was hit by traffic?" he asked disbelievingly.
"We do not know for sure what exactly happened, but that seems to be the most logical conclusion, yes," L said. "However, we do not know whether Mello is injured or not. He could be perfectly unharmed."
"Or he could be dead," stated Matt, ever the pessimist.
Silence.
Matt tried to remember how his heart had felt before it had been torn to shreds.
Mello lay sprawled in the gutter, his hair full of slimy leaves and mud. He didn't move, lest there was any damage to his spinal cord. He doubted that there was, but better safe than in hospital, being questioned about his name.
Mentally scanning his body, Mello found no injury, apart from a few expected bruises, and maybe some scrapes on his hands. He twitched his feet and hands, and made to sit up.
"No, no, stay where you are!" a concerned voice above him ordered, cautious hands holding him down. It took Mello a few seconds to recognise the voice as that of the receptionist he had just bade farewell to.
Shit, this is embarrassing, was Mello's initial thought.
"You're lucky the car managed to slow down a lot before it hit you, but I'm calling an ambulance now anyway," the man went on to declare.
Mello eyes snapped open, and he rolled onto his back in a hurry. "No! No hospitals!"
The muddy brown eyes staring into his looked confused. "But we have to, to check that you're oka–"
"I'm fine," Mello assured him. "Absolutely fine, thanks for your concern. But seriously, all I need is a shower and new clothes. Maybe a plaster or two. No hospitals, and definitely no ambulances!" Maybe he was laying it on a bit too thick.
The receptionist looked dubious, but Mello could sense he was cracking. "Well...if you're completely certain..."
"I am. Thanks." Mello heaved himself into a sitting position, noting with relief that he wasn't dizzy in the slightest, and therefore probably didn't have a concussion.
As he stood, he noticed a woman standing slightly closer than the rest of the worried crowd around them. If her wide, horror-struck and guilt-ridden eyes were anything to go by, this was the driver of the car that had hit him.
"I'm so sorry!" she proclaimed, reinforcing his assumption. "If you want to claim damages, I'd be happy to –"
"No, it's alright, it was my fault; I should have looked," Mello reassured her, wishing more than anything to escape the spotlight and head back to Near's headquarters. Talking of which...
Bugger, his microphone was broken. Matt was probably shitting a brick.
Making his excuses and saying goodbye to the still-concerned receptionist and driver, Mello hurried back to the nondescript Toyota Near had loaned to him for the mission. He ignored the odd looks his filthy clothes were getting as he got into the car, slammed the door and drove away.
Only when he was at least two miles away from the parking lot where he'd started from did Mello fish the receptionist's mobile phone out of his pocket.
That would prove to be useful.
Matt was in the middle of the depression part of the five stages of grief when Mello burst through the door, looking muddy and leaf-covered, but definitely alive.
The blond was, to say the least, startled when Matt launched himself at the blond and refused to let go.
They stayed like that for a few moments, Mello trying to avoid wiping gutter-mess on Matt, though it was slightly pointless when Matt had mud smeared all down his front now already.
They broke apart when Near cleared his throat tactfully, his normally blank eyes showing the slightest hint of warmth. "We are all glad to see that Mello is unharmed, but what happened to him? Why did the bug lose contact?"
Mello grimaced. "It got broken. I was hit by a car and fell over, though it wasn't going very fast. I wasn't hurt, but I can't say the same for your precious gadget, sorry." He shrugged, obviously not really sorry at all.
"It is alright." Near told him. "But now we have to formulate another infiltration plan to obtain information about Four-Field's administrators."
Mello shook his head, his grin slightly manic. "Nuh-uh, Sheepy. Look what I got my paws on!" He held up a silver mobile phone, swinging it by the strap.
L blinked. "And who did you steal that from?"
Mello smirked. "The receptionist, when he was fussing over me after the car accident. I saw another mobile on his desk, so this must be his spare, which is good, as he won't notice it's missing so quickly. If he has the number of his house phone stored on this, we can call it and get him to come here."
"Why would we want to do that?" Matt asked, "Isn't this place supposed to be top-secret?"
"So we can interrogate him, of course!" Mello said, like it was obvious.
"It is unlikely that he will know many details about the company's illegal actions, taking into account his position," L said, chewing his thumb.
"He must have heard something, and at the very least he'll know the names of the bosses," Mello retorted.
L looked thoughtful. "There is quite a big chance that is true. In that case, we shall do so tomorrow, at seven pm. He said his working hours end at six, so he should have returned home by then."
Near nodded. "Shall we stop work for the day, then? There is not really much else we can do at this point."
"Very well," L agreed. "We shall meet at two o'clock to discuss the finer points of the plan. Until then, good night, everyone."
As the two waited for the lift to arrive, Mello said to Matt, "I can't wait to finally put these dickheads behind bars. It'll probably be one of the most satisfying achievements of my life."
Matt chuckled. "Does this mean you've got over your worries that this seemed too simple?"
Mello shrugged. "Not completely, but we've been working on the Jouka Case for so long; surely we can't have missed any clue that told us we were on the wrong track."
"My thoughts exactly," Matt agreed. As they stepped into the elevator, Matt gathered up his courage and laced his fingers with Mello's. The blond squeezed his hand back. "I'm so glad you're alright, Mels. Don't let me think you're dead again, okay? Ever. I think I'd go mad."
Mello just drew him into another embrace as the doors slid shut, muds and leaves be damned.
Light entered the floor he and L were sharing just behind the slouching man. He was about to go and make some coffee (no sugar, of course) when L spoke.
"Light-kun?"
Light hesitated. "Yes, L?"
"Do you believe we are on the right track with this investigation?"
Light blinked. The question surprised him slightly, but L wasn't famous for his predictability. "Yes: all the proof points toward Four-Field. Why?"
L shrugged. "Just thinking."
Nothing different there, then. Sometimes, Light theorised the world would halt in its orbit of the Sun if L ever stopped thinking.
Light turned on his heel to exit the room, but whirled around once again when he felt L's hand on his wrist. He snatched his arm away, taking a step back.
L eyed him speculatively. "Still don't like being touched, Light-kun?" he asked in Japanese.
Light glared at him. "It's not that I still don't like being touched, it's that I still don't like being suddenly touched by you. Can you blame me for it?"
L sighed, and chose to ignore Light's dig at him. "Not really. What Amane Misa did to you was unforgivable, Light-kun, but you can't let it stop you interacting with others completely."
"I have no problem with interaction," he sniffed, "It is unforseen physical contact with you that I wish to avoid."
"Pedantic as always, Light-kun." L scratched his ankle with his foot, reminding Light strongly of a monkey. "Though you are correct; I see you have formed a friendship with Matt-kun."
Light nodded curtly. "Is there a problem with that?"
"No need to get defensive, Light-kun."
Light restrained himself from baring his teeth. Was the man's sole purpose in this world to annoy the hell out of him? He always had irritated Light, right from the point where they'd first met, in that accursed prison cell.
"Calm down, please, Light-kun." L, as always, managed to see through every façade he put up.
"That's a tall order, with you trying your utmost to piss me off," Light retorted, only barely keeping his voice calm.
L blinked infuriatingly slowly. "I am not trying to annoy you, Light-kun. Only help."
Light snorted. "Yeah, sure. Like you were only helping when you forbade me from seeing my own family."
"Contrary to your obvious assumption, I did not make that decision out of spite. Your mental state is not stable at this moment in time, and having you in close proximity with your family would put both them and you in danger," L told him.
"But I'll be in close proximity with them when I'm eighteen," Light shot back. "You'll lose custody of me then; even you couldn't convince the courts to allow you to hold me after then."
L sighed almost inaudibly. "Yes, that is true. Only five weeks left, if I recall correctly."
Light nodded, trying his utmost to look haughty and untouchable.
L smiled slightly, shocking Light to his very core. "It will be strange to be separate from you again, Light-kun. I have become accustomed to your presence."
Light's mask faltered slightly, his eyes betraying the tiniest hint of regret. "It will, won't it?" he said, "But not necessarily unwelcome."
L looked him in the eyes. "Though not necessarily welcome, either, Light-kun."
Light couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the clarity with which L could see into his mind.
A/N: Oooh, L's being all psychic and deep! As usual. :)
Please tell me whether you liked this chapter or not, and remember: 100th reviewer competition! Even if I am giving you thirty-four reviews notice. XD