My Own Way

Mello took a circuituous route to the hotel where he knew his hacker to be held. It was a cleaning, but he was certain that no-one even knew where he was, let alone was following him. Nevertheless, the city had eyes and ears. It was unlikely that a button had got into the inner sanctum long enough to recognise him, but that was no safety net. There were whole streets in this part of the city that owed their protection to his family and other streets where the families might risk all out war to clip the blond teenager.

He crossed himself surreptitiously for the tenth time and ducked into the foray of a hotel. It was busy enough to be camoflague in there, even dressed as distinctly as he was. Mello passed immediately into the restroom and locked himself into a cubicle. From the depths of his pockets came a hairbrush and mirror. He checked his eyeliner, but it was still perfectly straight, emphasising the striking blue of his gaze. He hadn't expected to be this nervous and, in fact, turned and gagged a few times into the toilet bowl, but nothing came up. Rechecking his appearance again, he made a call. He told Rod that their car had been exploded and that he thought the Batinelli family were behind it. He sat that he was laying low and would 'phone to be picked up. He stimulated seeing something worrying and hurriedly ended the call. Then Mello smiled.

He took the lift to the sixteenth floor and paused outside the door of Room 16987. The keycard, already taken from Bulmer, was in his hand, but Mello stopped and paced in a tiny circle for a moment. This was the moment of no return. If who he thought was behind that door, then there could be no turning back from here. His heart skipped, all at once wanting it to be true and not wanting to see that face again. If it wasn't him, then that was too cruel. If it was, then there was no guarantee that they could even work together, let alone be friends. Suddenly loneliness stabbed at Mello and he inserted the keycard. A little light switched from red to green and he was inside the room.

The soldier guarding their captive glanced up and immediately stood. He was visibly nervous at the sight of the Consigliere, having expected Bulmer and Rhodes to be relieving him or taking the prisoner back to the hideout. Mello beckoned him into the hallway and handed him an envelope. "Take this to the Hetginstein brothers and report back." The soldier was too new, too eager. He left without a word. Even if he read the letter inside, it was in German. He would not know, until it was too late, that it contained within an order for the brothers to make him disappear.

Alone now, Mello walked into the main apartment. As soon as he saw the red hair and the stripey shirt, he knew. Matt was turned away from him, secured with paranoid efficiency to a chair, but facing the window so that any attempt on his part to unpick locks would be witnessed before he got very far. Mello pulled off the blindfold as he passed by and leaned up against the windowsill. Bright sunshine poured in behind him, but it wouldn't be enough to put him in silouette, just enough to make him seem to shine. "Welcome to LA, Matty."

The red-head blinked several times. His jaw dropping and his eyes widening. Several seconds later, he still didn't appear to believe the evidence of his own eyes. "Mello?" He gasped out at last, then recovered enough to yell. "What the fuck?"

"On which count?" The Consigliere's gaze drank in the sight of his oldest friend and suddenly the whole act tremored. He stepped forward and hugged the redhead close, despite the fact that Matt could not reciproprate in his state. "You're here."

There was a catch in Matt's breathing. He spoke levelly, but with an undertone of threat. "Mello, fucking untie me, you bastard."

Mello smirked and walked around him, crouching with a creak of leather and a whoosh of feathers to work at the ropes. "You've all grown up on me." His hand paused just inches from touching the arm fastened in front of his face. He concentrated again on the knots with an added fervour. He should have remembered how uncomfortable it had been, at the end, being around Matt. Unholy squirmings at the pit of his stomach causing his flesh to crawl even now. Ropes released, the blond looked around for the keys to the handcuffs. They were on the table. "Nothing to say?"

Matt replied quietly. "What do you expect me to say?"

The blond swallowed against the verbal slap. He deserved it, he supposed, though he had had no choice in the matter. He could not have fought Kira from a room in The Wammy House orphanage. He had needed resources and an army. He had needed the Mafia. Mello unlocked the handcuffs and stood back, watching his erstwhile roommate rubbing the life back into his limbs. Mello buried again the Judas thought that there had been another reason he had had to leave. He touched the rosary around his neck and watched the redhead light up a cigarette. "I need your help."

Matt turned and glared. For the briefest instant, there was a flash of his rare temper. "Well, that's alright then!" He sat down on the far side of the table and just stared back. His hair covered his eyes down to nearly the tip of his nose and the rest of his face was hidden behind the cigarette. It was still Matt, but four years had altered him from boy to man. He was taller, nearly as tall as Mello himself, and the lines had hardened on his jawbone. There were even toned muscles showing through the fall of his sleeves, though he was still as scrawny as ever. "Mello?"

"It's still me." Mello gestured redundantly. He too had changed, maybe far more than his friend. The habitual baggy black clothing of his Wammy's House days had become skin-tight, sometimes skimpy black leather. The Catholic boy now oozed sexuality, because that got him what he wanted and that was all that mattered. "Will you help me? It will be just like old times. You and me against the world."

"You could have just called me." Matt whispered behind a cloud of smoke. "I kept the same number that you memorised."

Mello sat down on the edge of the bed, uncomfortable with the fact that they weren't just slotting into how it used to be. He didn't know what he had expected, but most of it revolved around Matt being so bowled over to see him that four years of silence would just dissolve like it had never happened. "Hey, I missed you, man." He tried to speak lightly, belying just how much he had missed him. "I'm sorry we had to meet up like this. Were you hurt?"

Matt rose and lifted his shirt. There was deep bruising all around his torso. He rolled up a sleeve and another purple and black mark ran the length of his forearm. "What kind of shit are you mixed up with?"

The blond stared back with dead eyes, "I think you already know. I'm sorry you got hurt, Matt."

"Yeah. I bet you are." He sat back down, lighting another cigarette from the first. "Am I free to go?"

Mello nodded. "If you want to."

The redhead shook back his hair enough to properly glimpse those green eyes. They met with, and held, Mello's gaze and, with that look, they both knew that he was staying. "Are you in over your head?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Mello pushed from his mind the memory of a single kiss. It had only flickered into his consciousness, but the afterburn was still there. He would not get that close again to Matt. Never again. Mello touched his rosary with a fluttering gesture, then projected out towards the redhead the full intensity of his Mafioso aura. The hand which held the cigarette lowered and froze in the air before his chest. The hair came back down to cover his eyes. Mello was impressed. He had seen Capos flinch when he had looked at them like that. "I'm at the top of my game, Matty. Just as I always was."

"And yet," Matt softly spoke, articulating every word, "you still touch your rosary when you're nervous."

"And you've started smoking."

Matt straightened, tapping his hand on the table. "What's the job and how much are you paying me?"

"I don't want to talk about business here." Mello rose from the bed. "We're leaving here. Did you bring any things with you?" Matt held his cigarette in his mouth and crossed the floor, picking up a pair of orange goggles from the bedside cabinet. Wordlessly, he fitted them over his eyes and pulled his fringe out to flop over them. The blond stared. It was like being transported back nearly half a decade, back to a bedroom and another place in time. "You've still got your goggles! You don't change at all."

"Yeah and you came dressed as Trinity out of 'The Matrix'. Where are we going?"

Mello actually provide the answer. He gave instructions. "We will leave separately and go down different routes. There are elevators at either end of the corridor and a staircase in between. Once out of the hotel, turn right and walk along the street until you see a laundromat..."

"Stop." Matt smiled. "Elevator? Laundromat? When did you turn into a Yank?"

"Am I speaking too quickly for you, Matt? Need me to slow down so you can follow these directions?" Mello glared, though each time he glanced across his heart skipped a beat. He had to resist the urge to hug the the redhead again. "Once you see the laundrette, cross the road and you will see an alleyway. Wait for me in there. Do not speak to anyone. Do not intervene if you see me with anyone. Is that understood?"

"It's very cloak and dagger."

"Yes." Mello stared at him, communicating the danger here. "It is very cloak and dagger. If you want to stay alive, you will do as I ask you."

"You were asking?" Matt smirked, then raised his hands. "'kay, boss. Lay on, MacDuff."

Mello went first, striding out into the corridor as if he owned the place. He passed the lift and continued on down, until he reached the corner. A quick glance back showed no sign of Matt following him nor even leaving the room. Mello waited, hating the reliance on another mind to do as it was told. He pressed himself up against the wall and listened. A couple of minutes went by and, just as the blond was about to storm back, he heard a door opening. A sneaked glance around the corner showed him a rear view of the redhead, strolling off in the opposite direction as if he didn't have a care in the world. Mello clenched his fist, biting his lip, watching him go. He forced down the emotion and rushed away to the elevator, riding down to the ground floor. Matt was already leaving through the main doors, turning right.

The Consigliere waited a few minutes before following. People looked at him, but quickly looked away. They knew his sort on these streets and perhaps some sixth sense told them that he was worse news than the men they usually dealt with. Mello smiled and reached into his pocket for a chocolate bar. He had earned this one and, though he didn't usually ration himself, it happened to be the only one he had on him. As he passed the laundromat, he unwrapped the top section with relish and snapped off a sizeable chunk with his teeth. The beautiful cocoa melted on his tongue, as he licked the underside, with the remainder clasped hard between his incisors. With a quick glance backwards, he turned suddenly and entered the alleyway.

It was empty. Old trash and graffiti were the only things he could see. Certainly no people. Definitely no Matt. "I'll kill him." Mello muttered and turned. The redhead was leaning in a doorway on the opposite side of the road, smoking a cigarette and watching him. There was a smirk. Mello glared back at him and watched the smug smile disappear. Matt slowly straightened and wandered out onto the street, looking up and down before slouching across the road. "What was that about?" Mello demanded, as soon as he was joined.

"You seemed concerned about being followed. I was watching your back."

"Well, don't." Mello snapped, though secretly it felt warm inside to know that someone he trusted was doing that. That hadn't happened for a long time. Those watching out for him tended to be people who might be taking him out themselves, if the price was right. "I'm assuming you can drive." The redhead nodded. Mello produced a set of keys from his pocket and two folded pieces of A4 paper. "This is the address and this is a map there. I've set you up in an apartment. The car is that Corvette parked there. At the apartment, you will find a cellphone. Do not attempt to call me at any time. I will call you."

Matt frowned. "We haven't even talked prices and you're telling me what I can and can't do."

"Yes." Mello scowled. "Get used to it." He smiled, like sunshine on a stormy day. "Again."

"Are you coming with me?"

"Hell no." Mello quickly responded, a little more harshly than he had meant to. "It's not that easy." He pulled out a wad of dollars. "The fridge and cupboards are stocked, but I didn't know to get some cigarettes for you. Try to keep your head down and stay in the apartment as much as possible." He smiled to take away the sting of his words. "It's good to see you again, Matty."

Matt waited, as if expecting more, it made Mello uncomfortable. He glared to cover it. "What do you want me to do when I get there?"

"There's a file on the laptop with your instructions. The password is the telephone number for where we grew up."

"You remembered that?" Matt sneered and, for a moment it seemed like he was going to say something else, but he just turned away. He walked with that same careless pace towards the indicated vehicle, throwing the keys into the air and catching them again. He was absolutely closed down and even staring at him, Mello missed him more than he could admit. The redhead walked around to the passenger side door and looked down in confusion, before remembering where he was. He jogged around to the driver's side and only then glanced back down the alleyway.

"Matt." Mello called out softly. "I'll catch you later." The redhead waved a hand in salute or dismissal, it was difficult to say, then he climbed into the car. There was the quickest skim through of the two documents, then he was gone. Mello gulped. "It was fucking cold on the other side of you, Matt." He bowed his head and then called Rod.