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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
- 22
- 23
- 24
Matt moved in his chains, but he was stuck fast to the wall.   That didn't stop the clanging of the links echoing throughout the cavern.   He winced under the sound until it faded away, leaving only the rush of the ocean unseen.    Mello was standing just a few feet away, with his back to Matt, peering over the edge of the rock, into the darkness of the chasm below.    He had on his long-sleeved, black shirt and his black jeans, with a bag slung over his shoulder.   Matt was afraid that Mello might jump. He was very close to the pit.    Far above their heads the sound of bat wings grew louder.   Indeterminate shapes filled the shadows beyond their murky light.

"Mello."   Matt spoke quietly, so not to disturb the bats, but the noise had changed.   It was lower. It scratched and scurried.   Matt turned his head in time to see the swarm approaching.   Thousands, billions of rats.    "Las ratas se acercan! ¡Corre!"   Then Mello turned and it wasn't Mello.

"Mail!"   Mello held him down.    "Mail!   You're dreaming, baby, wake up!"

Matt blinked blearily at his husband.   He was in the chalet, in Wales, caked in sweat.    It wasn't even dawn yet.   He mumbled, "Hay ratas."

"No hay ratas."   Mello exhaled.   "But you did punch me nearly in the fucking nuts."   He fell back, lying in the twisted wreckage of their quilt.    His hand rubbed vigorously beneath the covers.   "I got my leg up in time."

"There were rats."

Mello nodded, "I know. You just said.   But there are no rats now. You were dreaming.   No hay ratas.   No hay ratas.   ¿Comprendes?"

"You were Gwrach-y-Rhibyn."   Matt kicked the quilt away from himself, aware just how warm he was. The cool air immediately chilled him too much.

"No ratas.   No Gwrach-y-Rhibyn."   Mello replied, irritably, yanking the quilt back up over them.    "No fucking sleep either. You don't half wriggle about in your sleep, Jeevas."

Matt scowled, "Well stay over on your side of the bed then!"    He felt like he'd been hit by a truck.   He fumbled for his cigarettes on the bedside table, but they weren't there.    His laptop sat on the floor just beside the bed, with the lid still up.   The screensaver had long since come on, but the machine itself was still live.    "... the fuck?"    He looked around, eventually locating his cigarettes beside the can on Mello's bedside table.   "How much did I have to drink?"

"Haven't a clue."    Mello straightened the quilt, punched his pillow and lay back down.    A second later, he bounced right up and leapt out of bed to dart into the bathroom.   He didn't bother closing the door.   Matt listened to his husband urinate, before the blond was back, yawning.   Matt reached across and snatched his cigarettes before Mello could settle back down.    Mello paused, frowning, looking down at the floor.    But he didn't say anything, until he was back under the quilt.   Then it was only, "Buenas noches, God bless."

"Que Dios te bendiga." Matt softly returned the blessing.   Mello's eyes shot open again, staring at him. Matt lit his cigarette. "Did I really punch you?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"Ok." Mello's eyes closed again.

Matt inhaled on his cigarette, letting the nicotine calm himself down.    "I don't remember going to sleep."

"Mail."   Mello groaned. "Shut the fuck up."    To emphasise the point, Mello turned over, his back towards Matt now, and lay still.    Matt smoked in silence.   A minute later, Mello made him jump by suddenly growling, "Neither can I."    Mello peered over his shoulder.   "And my laptop is on the floor down here, still on, with the pizza box next to it."    He snaked a hand out to pick up Matt's can of beer, testing the weight by lightly shaking it.   "And you only had about a quarter of a can."

Matt nodded sagely, "Is that offer of you fetching the kettle still on?"

Mello's expression was eloquent enough.    He passed over the can of beer instead, then lay there staring at the ceiling.   "What time is it?"

Matt leaned down and touched his laptop.   It powered back up, so he could squint at the clock.   "6.04am."   Matt knew, rationally, that he should still be out for the count, but he was wide awake.   His mind was cloudy though.   He needed caffeine.   He took an experimental sip of the beer.   It was only slightly flat.   Outside, he could hear the gulls calling, but little else.   The rain had stopped.   "If I give you a blow job, will you fetch the kettle?"

For a moment, Matt thought Mello was actually going to do it, but the Slav just leaned over the side of the bed and hoisted his own laptop up.   He activated the screen and peered thoughtfully at the notes he had made.   Those in the early circles were articulate enough, but had given way to single words by the end.   Matt couldn't recall Mello even typing them.   "It auto-saved at five past ten."

Matt quietly reasoned that the laptop must have gone into sleep mode by then.   They personally must have gone into sleep mode a little earlier.     He took long gulps of the beer, but it wasn't tea.   He mentally charted his progress out of bed, getting dressed, going outside, up the stairs, into the computer hub, back down here.     He factored in the acknowledgement that he was very warm and comfortable in this bed.   Even his bruising wasn't throbbing quite so much today.

"The bitch!"   Mello exclaimed suddenly.    He whipped up the pizza box and opened it up.    The contents were gone.   "There must have been sleeping tablets in the pizzas."

Matt frowned.    Mello was being paranoid again.   "We'd have tasted them."

Mello shook his head. "Not if they were ground really fine."

"No way to ensure that we'd eat them all.   Or one of us could have eaten both pizzas and died of an overdose."

"Freak."   Mello glared. "Mine had sun-dried tomato on it.    Which means it was Deontic.   Fenian and Century wouldn't dare.   Hal didn't grow up with you and therefore wouldn't know that you don't like sun-dried tomato."

Matt finished the beer and put down the can.   He was feeling like he might have another hour of sleep now.   "Dee wouldn't have dared either."

Mello was warming to his theory. "She would if she thought that the alternative was someone watching our door all night.   Kept us safe by ensuring that we were comatose."   He grabbed his chocolate bar, which had been left unwrapped on the table, then devoured a strip of it at once.   "Bitch."

"Still think you're being para."    Matt replied, though he was secretly finding fewer flaws in the notion than before.   It did make a twisted kind of sense, he conceded, "I suppose it does explain why I feel so groggy."

"What if we'd eaten them before we went out?" Mello demanded. "Fucking irresponsible."

Matt tucked the quilt back around himself. "I doubt she anticipated that might happen. At least the way it did happen." He closed his eyes. "More us going out to top ourselves in a church. In which case, it was a good idea to stop it."

Mello shifted on the bed, "Well, I don't appreciate it."   There was silence, then, "Are you going back to sleep? After you've woken me up!"

"Yeah, man."

"Sweet dreams, Mail." Mello huffed. There was some tapping on his laptop, then a heavy sigh. Matt knew without looking that Mello was staring into space now. Only Mello could be so loud, whilst keeping still and not uttering a sound.

Matt turned in his cocoon and peered over the top of the quilt.   "That was really nasty."

"Huh?"

"Saying 'sweet dreams', when I've just had a nightmare."

Mello smirked and bit into his chocolate.   He said nothing, just shrugged.   Then lifted the pizza box off the floor, looking for evidence that his theory was correct. Matt felt his eyes growing heavier, so snuggled back down to sleep. He was nearly there, when Mello rose, with great ceremony, from their bed. "I can't get back to sleep," he declared, though he hadn't even tried, "and I hate feeling this dull. I'm going for a run."

Matt muttered, "'kay. Bring the kettle back when you return."

"Will you be alright?" Mello asked, waiting by the side of the bed.

Matt nodded, realising belatedly that that wouldn't be seen. He whispered, "Yeah."

Mello didn't move. He stood there for whole minutes, until Matt had dozed off and was woken by the eventual confession, "I don't think that I should leave you.   You're not right and you're having nightmares." Matt didn't reply and Mello seemed to take the hint. The Slav disappeared into the bathroom.   Matt was disturbed again a short while later, when Mello passed through en route to the door. "Mail, I'll only be on the beach path. Call me if anything happens. Any tiny thing. Ok?"   Mello waited, but Matt didn't reply. "I know you can hear me.   Just acknowledge that, please, or else I won't feel right going out."

"Ngh." Matt moaned.

"Te amo, guapo."

"' te." Matt murmured.   Mello left and the room descended into blessed silence. Matt drifted fully into sleep and stayed there.

Mello was halfway to the drystone wall, separating the chalet level from the vehicles, when Hal's door opened and she called across. "Mello."   Her eyes were heavy with lack of sleep. She was wearing her dressing gown. She glanced around the square, mindful of not making too much noise out of consideration for its sleeping residents. Mello was already striding across. She hissed at him, "Where are you going?"

"Did you spike my fucking pizza?"

Hal straightened, "Yes."

Mello stared. He hadn't expected such candor. "Right." He surveyed her irritably, but, in truth, his mind felt too woolly for a fight. "Ok, it was inspired, I'll give you that, but don't ever do that to me again."

"Like I could, now you're wise to me." Hal flashed him a charming smile, though her eyes were inspecting him. "So where are you going?"

"For a run. To shake off the effects of the drug that you sneaked into my food."

Hal nodded.   "Ok." She took a step back inside. "Give me five and I'll join you." She disappeared back into her chalet and closed the door.

Mello supposed that he should feel grateful. But what he mostly felt was annoyed. He hadn't even made it to humiliated yet, that he should fall for that.   He looked for a light in Deontic's chalet, but it was in darkness. She must have slept in the end. He completed his warm up exercises, then wandered across to the edge of the beach.

Moody Wales was gloomy today. She was trying on her winter dress for size, though they had barely done with fall.   The sky was swollen and dark; the sheen of wetness, all around, testimony that the blanket clouds had periodically divested themselves of their load. In front of him, great, grey Cardigan Bay was surging in a berserker's frenzy. The sea was sucked into watery troughs, before the swell became mountainous waves higher than himself. They crashed onto the shore with a sound like a thunderclap; crackling like lightning in retreat, as they raked the gritty sand into the clutches of the deep. So fierce was the surf, that the beach was misting, all along the tideline, continuing long after the spray had settled. Mello turned back to survey their chalets, looking incongruous painted white, squatting between the Ystwyth and the sea. Behind them, the Cambrian mountains rose, veiled in wispy fog, its tightly packed trees, seen from afar, were like forests of dark green broccoli. Black hewn rocky fingers poked out from the nearest summit, seeming poised to fall, but they had stood the centuries yet. Mello found himself thinking, 'this isn't my landscape', and wondered if that thought was entirely his own.

"Mello." Hal had returned, dressed for running, with her hair scraped back into a pony-tail. "What's up?"

"I was just going to run up and down the track. It's too rocky to run on the beach itself."

Hal nodded, "We could run into the town. Deontic and I found a Costa coffee there on the way in."

Mello shook his head. "I'm not going that far away from Mail. Nor Deontic, for that matter."

"Dee's asleep." Hal gestured back towards her own chalet.

Mello's eyebrows raised, "In your bed?"

Hal surveyed him wryly, "I wasn't in it, was I?"

"Is she ok?"

"She's sleeping." Hal replied, like that answered anything. "And how are you this morning?"

"Pissed that you drugged me." Mello cast a quick glare and started jogging down the slope. Hal kept pace. "Even more pissed that I can see a vague logic in it."

Hal glanced at him. "I'm sorry that I dealt so clumsily with Mail over the cuddling thing."

"You should be. It's going to take me months to fix." Mello looked ahead towards the lighthouse pier. The surf powered along its stepped sides, erupting in spray throughout its length; before rolling back just feet from the shore, to crash into the oncoming tide. He watched its passage as he ran, but realised that Hal hadn't replied. "Huh?"

Hal was tired, but that didn't slow her pace. "You can be so exasperating sometimes."

Mello gave a half-smile, "I'll just have to try harder."

She gave him a cool, hard, appraising look. "Is that an apology?"

Mello shook his head, "No, it's an acknowledgment that there are evidently times when I'm not being exasperating. I'll have to work on those."

"Ok, stop." Hal slowed until she was standing, hands on hips. "Yesterday, Matt pulled a knife on me, while you treated me appallingly. I still ensured the safety of both of you through the night. Do not take me for granted, Mello."

"You're doing it because you're Watari. You're not here as my friend, you're here as Watari. So you'd have done it anyway, even if you thought I was evil incarnate." Mello had stopped running too.

Hal frowned, staring at him. "So this has nothing to do with Mail and the cuddling incident. This is you sulking because I'm trying to remain impartial amongst your peers?" She waited, but Mello was just watching the anglers flinging their lines, from the stone wall, after bass. "You really are an immature jerk-off, when you get going."

Mello considered that sentiment and found nothing wrong with it. "Yes, I am, but I'm 21 so I have time to grow up." He pushed his fringe out of his eyes. "But if you're going to be condescending, how about targetting Fenian, who's intent upon raking up shit from when we were about twelve. Or how about Century, who's probably shagged his jailbait by now."

"Siân's 16. That is the legal age of consent in the United Kingdom."

"She looks nine."

"She's 16."

"Yeah," Mello sniffed, "but she's lied to her parents about being here. And you're all quick enough to judge mine and Mail's sex life, why not Century's?"

Hal rolled her eyes. "You are so petty." They stood in silence for a minute or so, then Hal patted his arm. "But you're not normally quite this petty. So.."

"Yes, I am."

"... I'm thinking that it has to do with how frightened you were yesterday." She watched as Mello grit his teeth and looked away. His lack of self-control, whilst affected by the music, had rankled him. The fact that it had happened in front of fellow Wammy alumni was downright killing him inside. Undaunted, Hal went on, "And I think that the whole cuddling thing is part of something bigger. I've never known you as," she struggled with the word, "I don't know, soft? as you have been this time." He had looked sharply at her. "Not soft then. Gentle, candid. Human. There's a lot of posturing going on, you and Fenian displaying for alpha male, as Deontic put it. But underneath, I can almost see the person doing all of the posturing."

Mello sneered, "You never did psychology at school, did you, Hal?"

"I did criminal psychology as part of my training."

Mello laughed, "Very apt." He looked out to sea, to the distant horizon where the grey took on a greener hue. "I say you didn't study it, because those who have wouldn't come out with something so devoid of logic, but overbrimming with natural instinct." He smiled, "Hence they'd be wrong."

Hal looked at him, "I'm trying to work out if you're complimenting me or really badly insulting me."

A smile played upon Mello's lips, but was quickly gone. He shuffled back and forth, staring at the floor. "I just did a case in Belarus. Serial killer. Stuff that he did was brutal.   He'd had a bad upbringing and, when he was asked why he did what he did, he replied, 'Breed out the human and you're left with the beast.'" Mello shrugged. "I'd disagree, of course. Not even a cat would have sunk to his sadistic depths; that was purely human depravity. But it did get me thinking." He stopped moving about and watched the waves crashing against the stone steps again. "I could identify with a lot of his reasoning."

"You're not a serial killer, Mello."

He stared at her for the longest time. "One thing I like about you is that you do see a kinder me. It gives me something to strive for; to be the Mello that you think I am." Mello met Hal's gaze. "You know that I gave the order to kill your colleagues in the SPK, don't you? I kept you alive for the sole reason that I might, one day, need a route to Near. And I did. I had your name and photograph. I had a Death Note. I could have made you put a bullet in his head yourself."

Hal had recoiled. In the back of her mind, she had always known this. She tried not to think about it, in the same way that she knew where oil came from, but still blithely drove a car. As long as the knowledge and its implications weren't properly considered, then it wasn't true. She touched her fingers to her lips, but she wasn't gagging. She removed them and looked at him. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you deserve to know."

"But you've just confessed to collusion in mass murder." Hal shook her head. "I am a police officer."

"I'll deny it on the record." Mello smiled. "Sorry."

"They had families. Friends. Lives. They weren't nameless people, far away, they were..."

"They were to me."

Hal stared, "I'm still in contact with Margaret Callaghan. One of those who died was her son. It's broken her."

Mello nodded, "It was a war. There were casualties."

Hal started to walk away, then turned to look at him, "Why now?"

"Living your lie is still living a lie." Mello replied. "And if I'm going to become a reformed character, I'd rather do it in truth."

There was a stand-off, both watching the other. Hal nodded and turned again. "I've been up all night. I'm exhausted. I don't think I'm going for a jog."

Mello nodded, "What do you need?"

"Sleep."

He shook his head. "Bigger picture. What's stressing you out generally?"

"Right now, you." She took a few more steps away, before spinning around to face him. "The really scary thing is that you're still doing it. You think that I'm your route to Watari. That by controlling me, you get to add Wammy's House and the whole system to your own little empire. It's pure, cold strategy."

"Not all of it." Mello replied. "You're also useful because you call me on more of my shit than even Mail does. A lot more."

Hal stared. "Then you come out with things like, 'if I was straight, you and I would be lovers', or whatever you said. What kind of crap was that?"

"Truth."

"Oh! Go to Hell." She marched away and didn't turn again.

Mello caught up with her. "Then use me. I might not be Near, but I'm the next best thing. Let me put the fear of God into this generation's Mello and stop him turning out like me. You're my friend, so abuse that position. There's bound to be someone who'd appreciate a private one to one with me. I could take them out on a day-trip."

Hal glanced at him, scowling. "You admit to murder, then expect me to let you take one of my kids on a day-trip?" She snorted. "And besides, this generation's Mello is already behind bars."

"Neuron is not this generation's Mello." Mello persisted. Her expression disagreed. "Ok, this constitution thing dragging on is doing your head in. Give me Luigi's 'phone number. I'll get it signed. You know how much better your American soul will feel with a constitution behind you."

Hal shook her head. "I'm not having you threatening Luigi. In fact, I'm not having you anywhere near him. He's easily the most vulnerable of the alumni now."

"I'm not going to threaten him. I'll buy him a Physics kit or something."

"No, Mello." The indignation was taking over Hal's voice. She fought for professionalism and succeeded. "Just no." Then her eyes brightened. "Fuck yes! There is something that you can do for me. I need Matt to see Val."

"The shrink?" Mello smiled. "Er, no."

Hal stopped walking and gazed in incredulity at him. "You do know that Matt and I had this conversation yesterday?" She watched Mello's smile freeze into place. "And here's me thinking that he told you everything."

Mello brushed back his hair with his hand. The wind was whipping it all over his face. "Yesterday was pretty packed for drama and intrigue. This item must have got missed off the agenda." They surveyed each other. "So when you say you had this conversation, you mean that you talked and Mail blanked you."

"Maybe."

"And you reached the end of it wondering if he's deaf." Mello smirked. "He's not. He just doesn't deign to respond to things that are patently ridiculous."

Hal shook her head and began the final stride up the slope to draw level with Kiana's Land Rover. Behind her, Mello unzipped a pocket of his running shorts and took out his mobile 'phone. She paused, watching in trepidation. "Who are you calling?"

"Luigi." Mello glanced at her. "Via Watari."

"It's 7 o'clock in the morning!"

Mello shrugged, "He was always up at 4." He straightened, as his call was answered. "Luigi."

"Mello." Luigi's voice actually tremored. His nerves were stark even in that single word.

Mello met Hal's gaze and held it. "It's ok, Carl. I just have a question. What's the hold up with you signing the Wammy's House constitution? And what can I do to help you past it."

Luigi took so long to answer that Mello thought he wasn't going to at all. He started quietly, then coughed and continued with a touch more volume, "It's fundamentally flawed."

"In what way?" Mello probed, though privately he doubted it. The constitution had been mostly written by Matt, with amendments as they occurred penned by all of them. Every other member of the alumni had signed it. Even Lamond had signed it before she died.

More silence, then, "I don't know. I can't quite find it."

Mello took the 'phone from his ear to give it a disdainful look, but Luigi couldn't see that. Mello's tone was friendly enough, "Luigi, how about I sit down at a computer with you and we go through it line by line. See if we can't find this flaw." He smiled at Hal, who was staring at him with absolute suspicion. "I don't mind doing that for you." Mello added, warming to his theme. "However long it takes."

Luigi sounded terrified, "You're thinking that I'm making a mountain out of a molehill."

"Yes." Mello replied immediately, seeing no sense in lying. Luigi might be a mouse, but he was a bloody clever one. "But that doesn't mean that you aren't right. You might well find something that neither Near, myself, Mail, Deontic and all of the others spotted. Something that didn't even transpire during the eight months that Chrissie was dissecting it." There was a long, drawn out breath on the other end of the 'phone, but nothing else. Mello waited for what felt like an eternity, before prompting him. "Sound good to you?"

Luigi coughed again. It didn't help his voice, which came through weedy with self-doubt. "Are you getting involved because you're trying to win Hal around on something?"

Mello frowned, but conceded nothing, "I have my reasons."

Luigi's proposal came out in a gush of words, "If I sign the constitution, could I pick your brains on something else instead? I have an enzyme behaving rather peculiarly and I would wish to have a second opinion before I declare my conclusions."

Mello's eyes widened. That was practically an act of bravery worthy of a medal for Luigi. Mello pondered whether this had been planned all along, but Luigi could never have predicted that Mello would call him, let alone offer time with him. It was opportunist. It was worth giving up his qualms with the constitution over it. Mello bit his lip. That meant that the constitution issue had been minor all along, with Luigi just grasping a smidgeon of power by not signing it. Alternatively, it meant that his scientific breakthrough was very significant indeed. Luigi had been working on a cure for cancer last time Mello knew anything about him. That had only been a few months ago. "Do I get a credit?"

"Oh!" Luigi sounded close to tears now.

"Ok! Forget that. Is it something that I can consult on-line?"

Luigi hesitated, "No, you'd have to come to my laboratory."

Mello froze. This was now a matter of personal protection. It wouldn't be the first time that a Wammy alumnus had been lured somewhere to be killed. Luigi was certainly deranged enough. But he was also easily enough intimidated over a telephone. He usually looked ready to wet himself in their recent face to face meetings. Hal was still staring at him. Mello weighed up the pros and cons. He'd walked into much worse odds while in the Mafia. "Ok. Once this case is closed, I'll arrange via Watari to visit your lab. But sign the constitution today, ok?"

"Ok." Luigi replied, meekly. There was a clicking of fingers on a keyboard, then a tap of a mouse. "I have it open right now. I'll send it to Hal within the next few minutes."

Mello grinned. "Thank you, Carl. Very much appreciated."

"Yes, yes." Luigi gulped. "Thank you. Yes."

"You have a good day now." Mello replied with great bonhomie. "Bye bye." Then he hung up before Luigi could even deliver his own farewells. "Job done."

Hal looked mildly impressed. "That's a relief. Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

"So, Matt..."

"No." Mello interrupted her immediately.    "I don't do deals involving Mail. Mail is sacrosanct."

Hal turned to stare at the mountain behind the chalets.   She wanted to pick her words carefully, but lack of sleep was darting in tiny dots across her vision.    She took a couple of deep breaths, but that cleared nothing.   She was either going to have to go running and hope for a second wind or else go to bed.   She spoke shortly, frustrated and, for now, bordering upon defeated.   "I don't know what to say to you."   She flashed him an irked look.   "You stand here and admit to mass murder, but you want me to ignore it.   You sulk like a small child, when I'm trying to do my job; but it's a job that you foisted upon me."

Mello shook his head. "That was Mail."

"It was both of you, Mello."   Hal snapped, annoyed.   "It might have been Matt's idea, but you took over for the hard sell."   She wiped her mouth.   "And the whole point of it was to give yourselves and your peers some basic human rights.   Fenian and Kiana are trying to play it by the book.   They have a legitimate complaint and..."

"Fenian and Kiana."   Mello said, blankly.   "You want me to persuade Mail to see a shrink, in order to appease Fenian and Kiana."

"Frankly, yes!"   Hal climbed up onto the wall and started to walk towards her chalet.   Now that sleep had been considered as an option, her whole body was reaching for it with relief.    She was almost at her door, when it occurred to her that the original reason for her vigil wouldn't be covered.   Mello had slept while she watched, but he was wide awake now.   "Fuck." She hissed, with one hand poised to insert the key into her door.   With another hefty sigh, she returned to Mello.   "How are you feeling?   Are there any after-effects?"

Mello wrinkled up his nose.   "Of you drugging me or the music fiasco?"

"I am this close," Hal held up her finger and thumb, with only a tiny gap separating them, "from just leaving you to it and going to bed.   Do not push it."

He nodded.   "Let me deal with Fenian."

"No."   There was another stand-off.   Hal rubbed her eyes.   "If I'm staying awake, then I need coffee. Let's go upstairs to the spare chalet.   We can still watch for Matt out of the window and I have a kettle up there."

Mello glanced wistfully at the track, still harbouring thoughts of a run.   Hal started walking up the stairs beside her own chalet.   He called after her, "Hold on, let me tell Mail..." He paused, reconsidering.   "I'll text him."    He raced after her.   "This is because Mail pretended he'd planted a car bomb in Kiana's Land Rover?"

Hal nodded, still walking, "It's a lot of things.   You've said yourself that Mail isn't stable.   Plus there's his misogyny to address. Not to mention the way he just froze into place yesterday."

"Misogyny?"

"He pulled a knife on me yesterday.    He pulled a knife on Madeleine last year.    He threatened Kiana yesterday."   They reached the door and Hal put the key in the lock.

Mello wore the faintest of smiles, quickly suppressed.   "Mail over-reacts when he's cornered or I'm threatened, but he's no misogynist.    I don't think he's got an opinion either way about women.   I mean, he knows that they exist.   As a species. But they don't really impact upon his world."    He glanced at her, but she didn't react.   She just stared stoically forward, pushing open the door.   Mello inwardly grimaced.    "He took Madeleine hostage because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.   He threatened both Fenian and Kiana.   As for you, does that really count?"

Hal gasped and stopped dead just a few steps inside the chalet.   Despite being on the upper level, it hadn't been converted into a study of any description. It still retained its bed.   "I beg your pardon?"

"No, no, no."   Mello's hands rose in warding or conciliation.   "I meant that in the sense that, if you'd really wanted to, you'd have disarmed him in seconds and had him flat on his back.    He knew that. You knew that. I'm amazed you let him get away with it at the time."   He waited and, after a couple of beats, she carried on in.    Hal turned immediately into the kitchenette and wearily lifted the kettle to fill with water.   Mello closed the door behind him and followed her.   "Besides, we know what's up with Mail.    He's spent most of his life in the care of a child psychiatrist.   That's what Roger does.   He's got whole novels worth of notes about Mail.   You must have access to the files."    He saw her nod, curtly, as she crossed the kitchenette.    He followed her.   "Have you read them?"

"Yes. I've read everyone's files."

Mello blew out his cheeks. "Disconcerting."   He hurried on. "So you know precisely what's up with Mail.   You'll also note that, in each of the examples that you proffered, I was being threatened."   Mello waited for her to switch on the kettle.   He texted Matt as he spoke.   "You will note that Mail never actually hurt anyone.   Madeleine was frightened, but Mail gave up the knife the second I asked him to.   There was not a bomb in Kiana's Land Rover.   Attacking you was doomed to failure from the onset, but even so, did he so much as nick your throat?"

"Do you want coffee?"

"Yes please."   Mello moved to stand beside her, his hand on her back.   "Hal, I know that we've put you in an impossible situation.   You're brilliant at your job, but you're saddled with trying to control brilliant, damaged, completely self-absorbed, complete and utter assholes."   He gave her back a light rub.   "By which I mean all of us.   Not just me and Mail.   We're just the worst."

Hal didn't disagree with him.   "Ok, let's turn this around.   You give me one good reason why Fenian does not deserve to have his complaint answered."

"He does deserve it."   Mello stated, carefully, "He deserves it and you have done your best to make it happen.   However, I'm still not going to support Fenian over Mail.   That's nothing to do with what's just nor morally correct.    The sole reason is that I'd protect that man with the last breath in my body, because he's my husband.   My respect for you is boundless too, but I can't support you on this one.   It's Mail.   It's my Mail."

Hal filled their mugs with boiling water.   Tiredness cloyed around the edges of her world, making it seem slightly unreal.   There was no emotion in her tone, because she was past feeling any.   "Then Near will intervene, as L, and force the issue.   Which will put you and Near back in the arena and all bloody Hell will break lose.    I am trying to engineer the easy option here.   It's by no means the only option."

Mello nodded.   "Then we have our cards on the table."    Wordlessly, they took their drinks out into the main room and sat down on the edge of the bed.     There were no chairs.    Mello had no chocolate and felt the absence of it keenly.    He waited, but Hal just sipped her coffee, looking exhausted. "I'll speak to him.   That's the best I can promise."

"That would be appreciated."   Hal glanced at him.   "And you?"

"What about me?"

"You'll see Val too?"

Mello's eyes bulged in their sockets.   "What?"

"Nothing to do with Fenian.   This is for me."   Hal continued, mildly.   "A personal favour, from my friend."

Mello's tone became icy. "You're over-stepping the mark."

Hal gestured that she didn't care.   "I want you all assessed.   Childhood trauma has been allowed to escalate or, in some cases, has been created, by your upbringing in the institution.   This is Watari finally saying enough and attempting to redress the balance.   Damage limitation."

"No."    Mello stated coldly.   The tension grew between them.   "Besides, I've got a shrink.   Mail's got a psychology degree."

Hal frowned.   "Has he?"

"Yes." Mello returned, firmly, concealing the fact that he was suddenly unsure about that.   Matt had collected so many degrees in his final years at Wammy's House, that it was difficult to keep track of them.   Especially since Mello had been busy putting his life on the line to capture Kira at the time, therefore he had relatively few of his own.   They didn't talk about it.

Hal smiled wryly, obviously convinced otherwise, "If you say so."   She sipped her coffee.   "Though he hasn't registered it with Watari and he didn't do it at Wammy's House."

Mello pursed his lips.   "I feel fine.   Go to bed."

Hal sighed, "We really have reached the depths of pointless point scoring."   She peered woefully into her coffee mug.   It was already half empty.   "I've been at Wammy's too long myself.   I'm turning into you lot."

"I think you're losing focus."   Mello replied.   "Make the kids that are there right now your priority.    The most important thing to remember about the rest of us is that we're adults.    If I hadn't come back, then Watari would have had no contact with me anyway.   Matt stayed out of touch for a year.   Fenian disappeared into the wilderness for ages.   Century famously absconds from Wammy's on a regular basis.    If Chrissie and Salvo stopped answering their calls, then no-one would have a clue how to find them.   You've got Dee, Linda and Luigi hanging around, but that's their choice.   Help the ones who want help; let the rest of us know that help is available, if so required.   Do an official mea culpa, if it makes you feel better.   But forcing people to dance to Watari's tune?   That's just perpetuating the madness of the past.   Different administration; different great and noble cause; same modus operandi.   Sorry."

Hal stared at him, then reached past him, to put her empty coffee mug down on the bedside table.    She let her head flop into her arms, folded across her lap.   "Thank you for dealing with Luigi."

"You're welcome."

"If I fall asleep, don't do anything stupid."   Hal opened her eyes, when he didn't answer, lifting her head to look at him.   He awarded her a reassuring smile.   "Did you really give that order, Mello?"

Mello met her gaze head on.   They both knew that he had.   They both knew that she was asking in a forlorn hope, born of over-tiredness, that he hadn't.   He replied, matter-of-factly, "Everything, when I was growing up, was a test.   People said things to be controversial, just to see how you would react. Sometimes to study how you'd react, so they could add that to their notes.   It provided a great portfolio in the assessment of human behaviour, which was invaluable in our line of work."   He calmly sipped his own coffee.

Hal blinked slowly.    He hadn't answered her question.    He had just given her another avenue to escape down.   She didn't know why she pushed it.    She already knew the answer; and she didn't know what she was going to do with it, now that it had been aired.   Maybe she asked again now to see if he would lie to her.   "But did you give the order?    Did you kill my colleagues in the SPK?"

"Omertà."

Hal lowered her head again onto her arms. She was facing him, but her eyes closed heavily.    In her mind, she saw the bodies falling all around her again.    Terrified faces, amazed at their own deaths. Distorted faces; changing colour with the strain of their ruptured hearts.    The strangled screams of men and women in sudden and searing pain.    The sheer enormity of it; so many at once.   Too many to help.   Too swiftly over to even summon help.   Forty seconds of agony, anguish, panic and grief.    The shocked realisation that, despite having worried about it as children, at the dawn of their own mortal awareness, they had each secretly believed that they would not die. Could not die.   Because they were here and real and so complete a living thing, that it was inconceivable that they should end.   At least, that was how Hal had felt, awaiting her turn, not knowing in that incomprehensible minute, that she would be saved.    It was a monstrous act; thus she wanted to hate the monster that did it.

Her eyelids opened just a fraction.   She peered through slits, between her lashes, at him.    He was just Mello, unaltered because she had learned nothing new about him.    Before she had ever met the man, his name had been used by Near in conjunction with the massacre.    Hal mumbled, "When I was a kid, everything was black and white.   Now nothing is.   Just endless shades of grey."   She saw him nod.    "Oh to be a kid again."

Mello nodded, his stare distant and his finger picking at a piece of loose formica at the edge of the table.    "The people who did it are all dead.   I too stood in a room and watched my colleagues drop like flies.   Call it divine retribution, if you like. Karma."   His gaze flickered into her direction; his eyes haunted by his own memories.   "No-one got away scot-free.   No-one. And all we can do is hope to live with our scars and the knowledge of what we did."

Hal closed her eyes fully, unwilling to think of her own mistakes and complicity.    The New Yorkers, trampled to death, because she didn't stop Near throwing money from the window; Takada, whom she sent to her death; Mikami, whom she didn't watch carefully enough; Kira, who ultimately did not have the right to be judged by a panel of his peers, but rather a select group of people, of whom she was a part, acting as prosecutor, judge, jury and executioner.   Then the one who got away.   Matt.    She hadn't known him.   In a moment of tunnel-vision, scenting the end of those tortuous years on the trail of Kira, she had made the decision to sacrifice Matt, in order to give Mello a fighting chance.   Matt survived.   She was glad.

She let herself drift backwards, turning to curl up at the end of the bed.    She thought that she murmured that she wouldn't fall asleep.   But she barely stirred when Mello gently eased a pillow beneath her head and let himself out the door.

Author's Note. I've been asked to set up an actual forum on my website.   I did that last night, but it's not linked up yet.   The URL is: http://mrsjeevas.joharrington.co.uk/forum/viewforum.php?f=2
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Annals of Fear II