Discovering the boy's mangled, half dead body branded Matt. He stood, frozen in the doorway; the smell of blood and sweat nauseated him. The image imprinted in his mind, and would last there until he died. He knew it would. Those limp eyes covered any emotions, if there was any left to cover. His chapped lips were covered in blood, along with the floor of his cell. But, he never showed any initiative to move. An indescribable horror. Worse than watching a human die. Worse than taking a life.

Matt quivered. "I'll get you water," was all he said. He stumbled away, gasping for air. The room stank worse than death and, if the boy hadn't had shifted his gaze, Matt would've assumed he was dead. Death would've been a gift compared to the Hell the boy had gone through; whatever the fuck it was.

"Mello!" Matt panted, swinging the door open.

"What?" Mello grumbled.

"Wake up, you have to do somethin'. I-I can't even look at'im."

Mello sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What're you talkin' 'bout, Matt?"

"That guy, Mello-somethin' happened to that guy."

Mello casually walked out the room, refusing to let Matt's frantic gobble phase him. He got to the door, immediately wrinkling his nose. He had seen a lot of shit, but nothing like the boy. He hardly moved, barely breathed, so close to death that Mello smelt it on him. His eyes were lifeless; whatever hope he had was beaten away.

"What happened to you?" Mello asked, suppressing his horror. The boy didn't answer. Mello could barely stand looking at him; he was pitiful. His stomach heaved as the boy lifted a shaking arm; he swallowed the bile before it came out. The scene sickened him so much that trying to just describe it made him dizzy.

Later that day, after they'd let the boy compose himself for a few hours, Matt found himself needing comfort. Normally only Mello searched for comfort in their relationship; Matt was always content. But nothing sat right in him. His mind spun and his body shrank. When they were alone, Matt linked his fingers between Mello's and rested his cheek on Mello's shoulder. Mello became rigid to his touch. His blue eyes reverted to their original callous state; they became his mask. The pity for the boy had become so overwhelming that Mello couldn't look Matt in the eyes without fearing he would notice.

No, he didn't care about the boy; after all, he was probably a spy. But the sole fact that one of his men had performed such a disgusting act irked him. They went past his demands, making their own moves. And pathetic ones at that. Whoever had done that to the boy deserved to be shot, but no one admitted it when he confronted them. Besides, Mello couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy. His story, if it was legitimate, was hilariously unfortunate; until that day. After what he had been through, his life would be Hell.

Suddenly, guilt pained Mello. What was he supposed to do, let the boy go? So he could tell the authorities about their location, forcing them to move? He would suffer the rest of his life anyway. It would be best if he was just put down.

"I'm gonna kill'im Matt. Tomorrow."

Matt sighed, "I think you got no other choice now." He thought for a moment before continuing: "You should at least get'im drunk tonight. Let'im be happy-or at least forget."

Matt the saint. Mello nearly rolled his eyes as he agreed.

Light only listened to Matt. He didn't trust him-he didn't trust anyone-but Matt seemed to be looking out for his well being. It didn't matter much anymore. Any goodness and righteousness that lingered in his soul before had be wiped away. But he was far from empty. He had never wanted to watch a human being suffer, but if he ever got his hands on that thing, he would tear him apart, limb by limb. Peel his skin off. Feed him to the wolves. Burn him. Kill him. Kill everyone like him. They didn't deserve to be on the planet, not with good people. Not with people like Light.

Matt handed him some water and bread, then lit a cigarette. "Who did this?"

Light didn't answer. Matt's compassion had been profoundly helpful, but Light didn't need it anymore. He just needed to escape. He would come back for the thing one day. He scarfed down the bread and chugged the water, satisfied as his stomach finally stopped growling.

"Want?" Matt offered him a cigarette. Light shook his head. "Tonight, we're gonna get you nice'n drunk."

"Why?"

"'Cause Mello feels bad. But don't go tellin' him I told you that," Matt grinned, taking a drag from his cigarette. There was something else up. Mello may have felt bad; Light watched his horrified reaction when he first saw Light. But Light knew Mello wasn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He would just have to be careful.

Or maybe they were gonna kill him. No, not until he destroyed that thing. He needed a plan, and fast.

Just as he began plotting, fate sent him a gift. Matt turned around and the match box flew from his jacket. He didn't hear it land; he was shutting the door as he was leaving. Light gazed at the matchbox. Fire. It had so much potential. He could burn this entire place down, send everyone straight to Hell with him. But no, that wouldn't be satisfying. He couldn't die, not yet. Not while people like the thing polluted the Earth.

An idea suddenly struck him. He sat up, lusting to carry out his plan. The pain in his rib bashed at his skull; his torn open body whined from the movement. He didn't care, though. He sat for hours in the dark, planning carefully how it would be done and how he would avoid harm. Then his door opened. He shielded his eyes from the light.

"Do you need help getting up?" Matt asked.

"No," Light struggled to stand, rejecting Matt's hand when he held it out.

Together, they walked to the main room. Light hobbled, trying desperately to stand up straight. He wouldn't allow the thing to be satisfied, to think that he had broken Light; fixed would be accurate. He received puzzling glares as he followed Matt to Mello's table. The thing was sitting there; perfect.

It sneered as he got closer. Yet, Light could see a hint of surprise in those blackened eyes. He wanted desperately to lunge across the table, but he kept himself composed. There would be no signs of weakness or distress. The thing would wait, watching him, but Light would show it that it didn't do a damn thing except make him stronger. His mind became his weapon, and what a weapon it would be! More deadly than a gun, more frightening than any Birthday Boy or A. Kinan. But, only for those who deserved it. He would reign justice upon the land.

'Thank you,' he thought as he glared at the thing. It stared back, but it was obviously taken back by Light's assault.

The bartender brought over a pitcher full of moonshine. The thing finally broke the tension and began to guzzle down shot after shot. How predictable. Light nearly laughed as the thing continued to follow his plan perfectly.

Mello, who was sitting next to the thing, kept rejecting Matt's whispering conversation. Light had the feeling they were lovers. The way Matt gazed admirably at Mello and how Mello seemed to flush whenever they made contact made it obvious. It was also apparent that no one else noticed; this room was full of idiots. Even better.

About halfway through the pitcher, the thing called for more. Light only had a few sips; he needed to keep his composure. Mello had too much, but he sat perfectly still, watching over his minions with his arms crossed. The bartender came back and refilled the large jug. Perfect.

Light reached out, acting like he was about to pour some. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. He had never physically harmed another human, but his body reacted like it had been waiting for him to his whole life. The thing scanned the room; his eyes glazed over, bored and plastered. To pour the moonshine from the gigantic jug, Light had to stand up, which made his job easier. He stood up, his body twitching from pain.

He counted to three in his head. His fingers shook as he started to pour. One.

Everything slowed down around him. He became alert, focused, and ready. His pain had ceased, covered by hatred and adrenaline. Two.

The thing's eyes lolled around; a disgusting smile plastered on his face. It would be the last time he smiled. Three.

Light splashed the rest of the jug on the thing. It covered the thing's body and some splashed on Mello.

"What the fuck!" Mello shouted and stood up. Moonshine drenched the left part of his body.

The thing was puzzled at first, but Light only had a quick second. He grabbed it's gun and struck a match, tossing it onto it's lap. Suddenly, it's entire body engulfed in flames. It screamed, sobbing for someone to put it out. Before anyone had time to react, Light grabbed Matt and held the gun up to his head.

"You do anythin', he dies," Light growled.

Mello froze. Suddenly, tons of guns pointed towards Light. He gazed at Mello, waiting for him to make his move. But Mello wouldn't let Matt die.

"Don't shoot," Mello shouted at his gang.

No one did, but they all waited earnestly for their next command. Someone was trying to put the thing out with a blanket. It's arm swung up, embers danced from his skin. It's hand merely brushed Mello's cheek, but Matt watched in horror as the flames spread across the left side of Mello's body. He cried out, smothering them with his gloved hands. Others put it out with water, blankets, shirts, anything they could find.

"KILL HIM!" he shrieked, clutching the left side of his face.

But Light was already out the door. He tossed Matt onto the porch outside and ran over to the horses. His stallion was still attached to the post. He flung himself onto it and they took off into the night.

Matt scrambled up. A bunch men ran outside the saloon, screaming for blood. They were too late, though. The boy's plan had worked; he was long gone. Matt ran inside, covering his nose from the putrid smell of rotting flesh. Ross was burnt to a crisp, frozen dead in the seat. Mello was hunched over the floor, clutching his left eye.

"Mello?" Matt whimpered as he knelt by his lovers side. "God, aw'right, let's get you to your room. You're going to be fine, okay? Just fine."

Matt scooped Mello up and, ignoring the frantic cries from the men who had stayed behind, carried him away from the chaos.

A/N: This isn't the last of Matt and Mello (not even close).
But I hope you enjoyed it!