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Annals of Fear II	By : DeathNoteFangirl Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 5803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I do not make any money from these writings

Chapter List
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There was a crackling tension in the car, not helped by Fenian's fingers absently tapping out a military tattoo on his thigh.    He was the only one visibly raging, though he wasn't alone in the sentiment.   His fidgeting impatience to be out there, ripping shit out of their quarry, was contrasted by Mello's stillness in the seat in front.    Mello appeared relaxed, almost bored; yet his eyes were shrouded in a darkness that glinted in the rearview mirror, when highlighted by the streetlamps.   His was the inertness of a barracuda in the coralled depths or a cobra in the dust.   Even had none of them known him, they would have listened to their instincts jangling.    He was so much more now than when they'd been together at the institution.   The more comfortable Mello seemed, savouring his chocolate like it was a delectable treat to be nibbled and enjoyed, the more his companions were subdued.

It was neither reason nor experience that kept Matt and Century silent; nor reduced the frequency of Fenian's angry outbursts by degrees.    They were all answering a primal warning, forged in their genetic code, in a cave sometime before the last ice age.    It said to beware the motionless creature, with eyes like that, because when the attack comes it will be with lightning speed and deadly.   All three men had worked this out, in their own way and their own minds; and none of them felt stupid heeding it.   It did not seem like hyperbole in that time and that place; as the car trawled through the night-lit streets and adrenaline boiled in their veins.   And if Fenian or Century needed more evidence to rationalise their increasing reticence, even in the face of their own willingness for the fight, then a glance at Matt was enough.   Even the cocky redhead seemed wary of his husband right now.

Century, on the backseat, kept his head bowed over the laptop.   Matt had hacked into the CCTV system of the Heddlu Ceredigion earlier, while he had waited in his Camaro for them to join him.   It had taken him just under three minutes and that only because he'd had to use Google Translate to look up a couple of Welsh words.    Century clicked through and studied each camera feed in turn; warning of the location of patrol cars, so that Matt could slow to the speed limit or else avoid the encounter entirely.    Century mused on the fact that the police command centre was seeing the same CCTV footage as he was.   Even in the stop-frame, slow-motion images, it was obvious that the red car was passing through the Aber streets like they were a Formula One racetrack.    Century didn't mention it.   Matt probably already knew and he was still driving like a maniac.    The nearest patrol were right up on the Penparcau Road, nowhere near them now.   Of the souped up Punto, there was no sign.

"Deontic knows how to fucking fight!" Fenian barked, apropos of nothing.   "I was there when she learned!"    His tapping accelerated to a frenzy.   "She's at least a formado, if not a professor."   He stared at the passing numberplates of the row of tourist cars parked along the hotel saturated Glan Y Mor.    "If she's stayed hanging around Wammy's, she's probably a fucking mestre by now."

"Yeah." Mello drawled, sounding more West coast American than he usually did.    "And she got away from four men, who, we can deduce by her general physical demeanour, once had her surrounded.    I wonder how she did that."

Fenian clenched his jaw so tightly shut that his teeth hurt.    His fingers had their own momentum now, drumming with a woodpecker velocity, rapping a bruise into his thigh.    Matt reached the dead-end at the top of Victoria Terrace and reversed as fast as he'd driven them down there.   They shot off up the next right-hand turn, skirting the great darkness of Constitution Hill.   It was getting hard to breathe in the air inside the Camaro; and that had nothing to do with altitude nor the smoke from Matt and Fenian's incessant cigarettes.    Century tongued his lollipop from one cheek to the other; Mello's chocolate snapped.   The atmosphere grew ever more dense; one spark would set off an inferno.   It felt like someone could get killed tonight and, if they didn't find the Punto, then each other would do.

"Matt."   Mello spoke with disinterested observation.   He wasn't fooling anyone.   He was scaring the shit out of them.   "There's fuck all in these streets."

"Sorry."

Mello smirked over a square of chocolate.   It was terrifying. "While you're trying to work out why you're sorry, swing by the hospital.    Let's see who she put into ER."

Century interjected, with impassive precision, "Bronglais, up on Fford Penglais."   Then, because he was getting used to qualifying anything that he read on Google Maps, he added, "Back through the one-way system, so we're on the road we just left."    He actually closed his eyes, concealed beneath curtains of black hair, as Matt switched into reverse without seeming to have slowed to do so.   The Camaro did a swift backwards three point turn, then sped a short distance the wrong way down their one-way street.   Steadily, Century said, "Left."    They shot out onto Northgate Street.    "Follow the signs to the A487.   Fford Penglais.   That's P.E.N.G.L.A.I.S."   He risked a look out of the window.   They were almost at the hospital.   "Stop!   Right!"

They cruised the car park with no sign of the Punto.    "Fucking, bastard wank!" Fenian snapped, as they arrived back at the entrance.   "Fucking arsehole chickenshit!   Start on a girl, then fuck right off!" He stopped tapping abruptly, then sucked on his top two fingertips.   The pins and needles in them had finally penetrated.    Mello watched him in the side-view mirror and smiled.    Fenian caught him at it and had to over-ride his own caution to say, "What?"

"Your testosterone finally crawled back into your balls."

"What?"   Fenian scowled.

Then, because it was expected and someone had to do it (and it wasn't going to be Matt), Century said, half-heartedly, "Fenian, let it drop."

"What?!"

Century scoured his brain for a reason, any reason other than the obvious, why the Irishman shouldn't challenge Mello.   "Because we're in this together."   He settled on.    "For our sister."    It sounded weak even to his own ears, but Fenian just flashed a sneer and backed down.    It was an honourable avenue of retreat, that was infinitely better than the truth.   That Mello, at the moment, had the aura of one who could put a bullet in the head of someone just for fun.   Century visibly shuddered, cold to the bone at the notion.    He concentrated on the laptop.

Matt evidently tired of waiting for someone to give him directions.   The Camaro went from idling, stationary, to doing 60mph up the Fford Penglais with a suddenness that threw them all forward in their seats.   Century grabbed for and caught the laptop. Fenian hissed, "Fuck!", under his breath.    Even Mello had to move his foot, to brace against the dashboard.   He threw Matt a look that almost made the redhead slow down.     Consequently, Matt didn't make another move like that, without warning, throughout the rest of their journey.   They scoured the upper estates and back lanes as far as Commins Coch, with no success.    Out into the darkness of the road beyond that, Mello simply signalled with a flick of his gloved hand.   Matt turned in a lay-by and took them back.

Within a handful of minutes, they could see the lights of Aberystwyth emerging around them.   "This is horseshit."   Fenian declared, but the passion had gone.   He had been in this car long enough for it to occur to him how badly it might go when they caught up with the men.   Not for themselves, but for Deontic's assailants.   It wouldn't be a mere beating, in honourable retribution.   Not with Mello casting Mafia shadows a mile long.

"Century?"   Mello prompted, mildly.

"No sign of them on CCTV."

Mello inspected the remains of his chocolate bar.   His tongue snaked out to lick it.    "Matt, pull over and hack the DVLA.   See who the car is registered to."    He stared at the chocolate like it was going to start doing tricks, if he just waited long enough. "Maybe pay them a house call."     Fenian and Century exchanged looks.    They were both thinking of mothers and children and pets.    Matt drove by an obvious stopping point and pretended that he hadn't seen it.   The chocolate bar broke in two between Mello's teeth, with shards flying down his front and onto his lap.    He spoke over it, his voice husky and chillingly vague.   "Do I sense dissent?"

Fenian and Century both remained silent.   There was a duty here too and it wasn't theirs.    It took Matt a whole two streets to speak.   His tone was more blandly emotionless than at any time since Wammy's House.   "I really wish I'd had some of that pizza before we came out."

Mello had the last jagged piece of chocolate between his teeth.   The tip of his tongue lapped occasionally at the portion protruding into his mouth.    He gave a half-shrug, flicked back his hair with a shake of his head and surveyed his husband.   The Slav seemed almost amused.    "You're not going to park up, baby?"

Fenian took a deep breath, on the verge of speech, because he had deduced that this could end with Matt being the one beaten up again.    But Century caught his eye with a slight gesture of forbearance.   Matt might get away with it.    Fenian would not.   Matt signalled and pulled into a bus stop.    His cigarette glowed momentarily orange in the half-light.   He said something so softly around it, that neither of them in the backseat heard a word.    Neither, did it seem, had Mello.    The blond frowned and threw a quick glance at Fenian and Century.    Fenian was staring intently out of the side window; Century was still bowed over the laptop.    It wasn't being passed across to Matt.

"So," Mello let the disdain show in his hard eyes, "am I to deduce that you've all suddenly lost the stomach for this?   It was all just running on that first thrust of dopamine, brought on by Deontic's sad, little, weeping face; sustained by adrenaline and all gone now."

Century's hand rose to cover his heart.   Mello saw it happen, but it was Fenian who responded, "I'll admit that I've calmed down enough to remember that Century's got a dicky heart.   I'd be happier if we dropped him back at the chalets."    He was awarded with a quite convincing look of incredulity by the Welsh teenager.   Fenian warmed to the theme. "How are you feeling?"

Century just rolled his eyes, as if the question was beneath contempt.    Mello nodded slowly, "So Mail's hungry.   Century's pleading heart-attack.   What about you, Fenian?"   Mello turned in his seat to stare fully at him.   The look in his eyes made Fenian's gaze flicker downwards to try and ascertain if there was a gun concealed below the level of the seat.   Mello knew exactly what he was doing.   He lifted his empty hand and waggled his fingers in a parody of a wave, his mocking eyes never leaving Fenian's face.   Mello's lips were curled into a dark smile.   He was showing every sign of enjoyment.   "Have you still got the balls to deal with this disrespect to our sister?"

"Ja ne vidim bilo koji način na sve, gospodine." Matt said suddenly, loud enough for them all to hear, but still in that same blank tone.   Mello frowned and sat back, his attention on his husband now.   The scorn was gone from his face.   He was trying to work something out, but they only knew that because they had seen him concentrating before.   Mello's visage barely gave a hint of deep thought.   Matt threw the dog end of his cigarette out of the open window.   The embers scattered along the footpath.    "My pronunciation was out."

"I got that it was Croatian." Mello smiled.   His hand snaked out to stroke the hair from Matt's face.   "And I got that you're worried.   You want to go back?   Just take us back, guapo."    He nodded towards the backseat. "And drop off the kiddies too."

Fenian's fists were clenched.   "Fuck you!"   He spat.   "I fucking helped you out earlier!   I came and fucking..."

Century sighed, "Please, can we....?"

"Can we what?" Fenian glared.   "Listen to this toerag's fucking, cuntish..."

Mello undid his seatbelt.    It sucked back into the roller and Fenian immediately stopped talking.   Mello opened his door and slid out in one graceful, poised movement.     He was stepping into the road, but there was no traffic, even for a main strip, at this time of night.    He closed the door, paused for a stretch, then turned on the balls of his feet.   He took a couple of paces to draw level with Fenian's door.    The Irishman fought to retain his own anger, but cold ice was sloshing down his spine.    Century was wide-eyed, visibly worried, just for an instant, before his expression consolidated into the poker face that they'd all acquired as children.    Mello made no attempt to open the door.   He just stood there with his back to Fenian.    Century swallowed, licking his lips.   His body language and voice alike betrayed the emotion that his face was trying to conceal. "Tell me he hasn't got a gun."

"I don't know what the fuck he's doing."   Fenian breathed.

Matt turned the keys in the ignition, killing the engine.   He opened his own door and took the keys with him, as he ducked out.   As soon as Mello heard him, the blond started walking.    Mello took off, with long-legged strides taking him at speed back down the road.   But he didn't go far, before stopping to wait for Matt to catch up.    They were out of earshot of those still in the Camaro.    Mello took Matt's arm and pulled him partially behind a huge elm, sprouting up from a hole in the pavement.   They were mostly out of eyeshot as well now.   "What's going on, Mail?"

"Huh?"

"Just tell me."

Matt leaned back against the tree. Tiny twigs stuck into his back and he shifted again.   He watched a lone car pass by on the other side of the road.   It was neither the police nor the Punto.    "Well, Century's shitting himself that you're going to zero Fenian."

"Heh." Mello began, but then shrugged.   "I thought he was a genius.   He has no reason to think like that."

Matt raised his eyebrows.   The gesture was entirely lost behind his goggles and hair.    "I'm hurting a bit from sitting down for ages."

Mello surveyed him with a penetrating look.   "Whatever it is that you're not telling me must be really fucking big, if you'd go so far as to admit that to avoid having to say it."

Matt deflated a little, then pushed away from the tree and wrapped his arms around Mello's neck.   Mello stood woodenly in the embrace, not even lifting one arm to extend around his husband.    Matt spoke quickly, albeit quietly, "I'm aching. I'm tired. I'm hungry.   I was scared out of my wits earlier and yes, you're right, I did push that down.   But I'm just as shaky as you are underneath.   I just want to curl up in bed with you and get that cuddle that you keep going on about.   With some noms."   He blinked behind his goggles, with Mello still staring, with that intense searching, into his eyes.   "Take that how you will."

Mello nodded slowly. "What did you attempt to say in Croatian, when you were feeling braver?"

Matt's shoulders sagged, as he loudly exhaled.   He wrinkled his nose. "I said, 'I don't see any method at all, sir.'"

"Oh." Mello tested out the words.   "I see."   Matt bit his lip, watching him.   "Yeah, your pronunciation was shit."

"Figured."

"And the context is also evading me."

Matt couldn't keep the sneer from his mouth and nose. "You own the film."

Mello lifted his left hand now, but only to cup Matt's battered cheek, before gliding down to find his collar.    Holding it in the lightest of grips, Mello smiled, "And how about you stop with the cryptic half-hints and just speak to me like your life partner and best friend?   Because I'm really losing patience here." He waited and, when Matt didn't immediately reply, pressed on, "Are we going after these slags or not?"

"Can we just go home instead?" Matt asked, a pleading edge to his voice.   "Well, chalet, home."

"What film is it?"

Matt sighed, "'Apocalypse Now'."

Mello fixed him with the strangest look.   Part disdain, part blankness, part exasperation; and somewhere behind it all, part solving the puzzle.   "Right. That will be when Willard diplomatically tells Colonel Kurtz that he's gone insane."   He pulled away from Matt with an irritated sneer. "Well, thank you, Mail."

"You thought that was diplomatic?"   Matt replied.   "Really?"

"Don't push it, Matt. I'm really not in the mood."   Mello marched out from behind the tree, but waited for his husband to start following.   The redhead had noted the 'Matt' instead of 'Mail' and silently stepped into line.   They could see the faces of the other two, bleached in the streetlamp glow, staring back from the rear window of the Camaro.   Mello hissed. "And you say that I play mind games.   You ought to listen to yourself sometimes."   Matt paused to light a cigarette and Mello stopped with him. "And I'm tired, hungry and shaky too. Moreover I don't want those bastards to get away with touching Deontic like that.   But suddenly I'm the insane one. When we all set out with the same thing in mind.   So fucking fucked up."   He grew quiet, as they reached the car and Matt didn't reply at all.    Mello yanked open the passenger door and threw himself into the seat.   He closed the door gently behind him.    "We're going back to the chalets."

Century nodded, "Ok."

Matt was back in the driver's seat, starting the engine up again.    Mello glanced at him, then asked sharply, "That alright with you too, Fenian?"

The Irishman was smoking a cigarette out of the window.    He nodded, cleared his throat and said, "Yes."

"Right then." Mello sniffed, with a forced bonhomie laced with ire, "Back to the chalets it is.   Take us home, Mail."   The Camaro jetted out onto the empty road and raced off towards the coast.    But Mello wasn't finished. "And Century, I don't know what the fuck I have to do for you.   I thought we had an understanding.   I thought it was all on a level now.   We survived that fucking house and now I'm back here again because you asked me to come."

"You'd have come anyway."

Mello stiffened, then forced himself to relax, "I came with peace offerings.   On your birthday, at Wammy's, I..."   His words faded into an irked sigh.   "And Fenian!   I got the constitution amended so that you didn't have to worry about Kiana."

Fenian sniffed, "And I came running when you sent an SOS out this afternoon."

Silence.   Mello shifted position and nodded.    He finally replied, quietly, with all the fire gone from his voice, "Yeah, you did." They were already at the marina, roaring out and past it, turning into the road that would lead to their chalets.   Even by Matt's standards, they were driving too fast.    All of them eager to be back and, more importantly, out of each other's company.   "Thank you for that."

They turned a narrow corner, with the drystone wall of a residence high along the left side and the boulders of the beach head to the right.   There was only a couple of inches clearance on either side of the car, before a tight straightening to stop them plunging down an incline into rocks and the ocean.   Most of them slowed to 20mph to navigate it.   Matt took them through at 100 and succeeded.   Nevertheless, Fenian waited until they were past it and parking, before releasing a breath and replying to Mello.   "Yeah."

Mello nodded and sat there, even as Fenian and Century rushed to scramble out.    Matt sat passively, because it was cold outside. He didn't want to stand in it, waiting to do the central locking, while Mello contemplated life in the warm.   "Mail, for the record."   Mello paused, watching Kiana rush out to greet Fenian.   He and Century were already across the green.

"Yes?"

Mello glanced at him, and opened his door to get out, "When all of this is over and it's time to go home, I'm driving."   He got out, closed the door and set off to see Deontic.
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Annals of Fear II