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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
Author's note: Yesterday, this story got hidden on AFF. That was totally my fault and I apologise.   I've not written a novel for over a year. When I first came to post this one, I blithely carried on without checking whether any of the site rules had changed in the interim.   They had. Authors are not allowed to post in the review section. That constitutes a 'self-review', though I was using it to respond to comments.    This was automatically picked up by the site's admin and the story was hidden until it was dealt with.

They had e-mailed me to tell me, but I also hadn't checked which e-mail address was listed. It was an old one. My fail just carries on failing.   I ended up in Yahoo messenger with Demongoddess, who is one of the administrators here. She's very lovely and deserves much kudos for her behind the scenes work.   She also sorted me out and we've got this story unhidden, now that I'm legal again. Hurrah!

The upshot is that I cannot respond to reviews here, as they are, well, reviews. *grin*   Under Demongoddess's guidance, I've done what all authors on AFF should be doing.   That is get into the habit of making a thread for discussion on the AFF forum.   The Annals 2 thread is here:   http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20993-annals-of-fear-ii/

Purely coincidentally, Animeprincess asked me, a few days ago, to create a forum on my own website.   That's up and running (eleven people have already found it), though I'm still working on the coding to make it look pretty; then it will be linked up to the main site.    If you which to join the discussion there, the link for this story is: http://mrsjeevas.joharrington.co.uk/forum/viewforum.php?f=2

Alternatively, I practically live on MangaBullet: http://www.mangabullet.com/visit/MRS-Jeevas

The review section here should be used solely for reviews.   Thank you very much everyone who leaves one.

I'll stop waffling now and let you get back to the story.    Less than three!

"Hello."

Matt paused at the door of the computer hub and glanced at the Welsh girl.   Siân smiled brightly back.   He muttered a non-committal, "Hi."   Then pressed on inside.   It was the first time he had been back in there since yesterday, when it had all gone so badly wrong.   The room stank of puke.   He wrinkled his nose and wandered in to retrieve the kettle.   The monitors were all blank.   A mockery of all of the work that he'd put into creating this technology.

"I love how you all make your rooms so different.   I went into Fenian's room and it's all rocks and witchcraft.   Iestyn's room has about a billion maps and these readers that let you read really old stuff.   Like letters, from back in the days when they didn't have paper and had to write things on micro fishes."   Siân had followed him in.   "You must really like computers, eh?   It's a bit smelly in here, but we can soon sort that out.   Have you got an onion?"

"Microfiches."

"Or some bicarb of soda.   My Great Auntie swears by bicarb of soda. She grew up on it. You can do everything with it, see? Clean the house, wash your teeth, put it in food.    She puts some in a little, old dish in all of her rooms, see, and it soaks up bad smells really well."   She moved across to the computer stacks on the opposite side of the room.   "Though it would help if you opened some windows.   What does all of this stuff do?   This looks really complex.   Do you enjoy working for Iestyn?"

Matt stood against the kitchenette worktop.   He was trying to imagine Siân and Century together. He couldn't make the image fit in his mind.   But then, he supposed that a lot of people thought that about himself and Mello.    He was also wondering what it would be like encountering Siân first thing in the morning, before his first cuppa and cigarette.   That could have been today, but Mello had returned having mysteriously magicked a large Costa Coffee latte from the beach, despite the nearest Costa being in the town itself.   Matt decided that, if such a meeting did happen, pre-nicotine and pre-caffeine, he would probably have to kill her.   Century wasn't exactly a morning person either.

Siân also didn't need a second person in her conversation.   She reminded Matt a little of his old flatmate, Aimee, though the two would not get on.   Siân was way too mainstream for Aimee.   "... so my friend's brother, that's Elwyn, who I just mentioned, the one with the goat, he's like this really good computer hacker.   He can get loads of music free of charge! I'm talking like new releases. The same day that they come out in the shops, he's got them on his computer and he burns us all copies.   If you want anything, I can get him to get you some, you just give Iestyn a list and he'll send it to me because I know you aren't allowed to give out your e-mail addresses."   She actually took a breath.   "And he's going to get me XP!   I have that old Vista that takes up all of the memory on your computer and makes it so you can't even open eBay, which is just ridiculous.   He's also going to find me Firefox, which is loads better than Internet Explorer because hackers get into Internet Explorer and break the websites."

There was movement by the door.   Matt's strategy had worked perfectly.   He knew that if he was up here long enough, Mello would come to find out why.   Which meant that Siân was now Mello's problem.

She hadn't even turned around.   She was still going.   "Do you want me to get him to get you Firefox too?   So you're safe from hackers?"

Matt smirked, "I'm good, thank you."

"Anyway, once I get my new set up set up," Siân frowned, then laughed, "Set up, set up!" She gave a happy sigh.   "Yeah. Once I'm up and running with XP and Firefox, I'm going to start my own internet business.   I came up with the idea myself. You know how you get old personal shoppers in those big, fancy stores, like Harrods and, erm, Harvey Nics."   She smirked. "That's Harvey Nichols, but those in the know call it Harvey Nics." She winked at him.   She still hadn't noticed Mello, standing up against the wall, wearing a bemused expression.   "I'm fantastic at shopping!   Really good at spotting bargains. Like this old coat, it's Nicole Farhi, from Ellesmere Port!   And I got £250 off her!   I'll have to show you."   She raised her hands on either side, palms upwards, aping weighing scales.   Her face creased in an attitude of indecision.   "No, I'd better not.   I was going to get it to show you, but Iestyn just needed an hour to go through some stuff about Florida.   Not the new Florida, the old one, is it?   Bit of a shame really, because away I am this afternoon, so it's a shame I had to miss a bit of time with him, without really getting to know all of you.   But he's solved your ghost story case and so you'll all be going home soon as well.   I'm not missing much. Oh!"   Her whole body leapt with whatever had galvanised her mind.   "Oh yes!"

Against the wall, Mello was mouthing, 'Century's solved the case?'    Matt gestured back that he knew as much as Mello did.

Siân didn't even spot that exchange, despite the fact that she was nominally looking at Matt.   "My business!   I'm going to be a cyber personal shopper!   Like at Harrods, but on eBay, see?" She considered it.   "Or others, if I find any other big stores on the internet. It's good to branch out, but you don't want to bother about tiddly little stores, unless they are designer ones, but they're more boutiques.   I'd be like a shopper for all those people who don't want to go out and do their own eBay shopping. And, I tell you what, because you're really nice and you're a friend of Iestyn's and you know a bit about computers, when I'm up and running, I might be able to chuck a bit of work your way."   She smiled, magnanimously, and finally noticed Mello.

"Bore da." Mello smiled, as she jumped.

"Oh! Welsh is it?"   Siân beamed. Then launched into it at speed. "Dwi mor falch fy mod yn taro i mewn i chi, oherwydd eich bod yn yr un a Fi 'n sylweddol am ei weld. Iestyn dweud wrthyf fod gennych chi'r hen an beic modur! A beth nesaf? Mae wedi bod yn fy uchelgais bywyd mor hir ag y gallaf gofio i gael taith ar feic modur. Ond mae fy hen dad, yr oedd yn ffrind, gweld? Mae hyn yn ôl yn y 60au, pan fyddant yn ifanc ac yn gyd yn gwisgo rhai du a gwyn ffrogiau mini-yr wyf mewn gwirionedd yn dymuno yn dod yn ôl i ffasiwn, oherwydd yr wyf yn caru pawb o hynny, gweld? Ydych chi erioed wedi gweld 'Ready, Steady, Go'? 'I' cara 'n sylweddol fersiwn hwn hynafol o MTV a'r holl merched yn minidresses rhai du a gwyn. Ond mae fy mam yn dweud hen, 'aros yn ddigon hir, a'r cwbl yn dod yn ôl i ffasiwn'. Fi jyst yn gobeithio y mae'n ei wneud er fy mod yn dal i gael y coesau. Maent wedi edrych yn iawn gyda choesau hen wraig, gyda gwythiennau amrywiol a lympiau. Felly allai gael mynd, os gwelwch yn dda? Ar eich beic modur oed. Jyst hyd y llwybr ac yn ôl, neu i mewn i'r dref. Neu ar y traeth!"   She looked delighted. "O! Betia byddai marchogaeth mor dda ar y traeth, osgoi'r tonnau a stwff. Felly gallaf? Os gwelwch yn dda?"

Matt burst out laughing, though it was more at the look on Mello's face than anything else.   Mello was fluent in Welsh, Matt would give him that. He'd had two months to learn it, which was plenty for a natural linguist like his husband. But he hadn't had much practice with native speakers and had started to look lost after the first thirty seconds.     Siân was difficult enough to follow in English, let alone a 24th language newly acquired.

"Right." Mello nodded, cheating by switching back to English. "Something about my motorbike."

Siân deflated. "I thought you spoke Welsh! Oh! You should have stopped me."   She was openly staring at his scar.    "But I should have guessed, because you're American, is it? And I don't think they have languages in America."

Mello frowned, "Er."

Matt intervened. "They do.   They write them on micro fishes."   He had finally succumbed to temptation by switching on his desktop.

Siân nodded, sagely, "So can I?"

Mello and Matt exchanged nonplussed glances.   Mello carefully asked, "Can you what?"

"Have a go on your motorbike!"   Siân pouted, flashing her eyelashes.   "Please, please, pretty please."   She shook her head, grinning and losing the pout. "I've got that off Catrin. It gets longer every time she does it. Adds a whole buffet, is it?   Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top, and a squirt of ice cream, and a melon, and a carton of strawberries, and a banana, and some fondue icing, and some..."

"If you've got some leathers, I'll take you pillion to the Marina and back."   Mello interrupted, trying to picture how 'fondue icing' would work.    "I've got a spare helmet with me."

"Oh! Thank you! Thank you!"   Siân danced forward.   "I'll go and get my leathers."   She rushed through the door and was gone.

Matt's shoulders twitched under suppressed laughter.   Mello grinned and crossed the room to be with him.   "You know you asked what normal comares are like?   You've just met a classic example.   Only the good ladies of our Family tend to have a lot of money to throw around as well.   You daren't say to them 'go and get your leathers', because they'd go out and buy a whole set in a selection of colours. Whereas Siân is almost certainly going to get her leather jacket."

"She hasn't got a leather jacket. She's got a Nicole Farhi, which was £250 off."

"Ok, now I'm scared."   Mello looked at his screen.   "What are you doing?"

"Burning Windows 7 for her."   He scrolled through a catalogue of programmes lodged on his server, selecting dozens of them to enter the burn queue.

"Don't get too complex on her. Her brain might explode."   Mello replied.    "I'd take Sony Vegas out for a start.   That made me blink the first time I saw it."   He received a withering look from his husband.   "Ok, it wasn't as bad as it first looked, but if I blinked, then she's going to freak."

Matt continued adding programmes.   "Sony Vegas is easy.   You're forgetting that she's not blond, like you."

"I know Sony Vegas is easy!"   Mello frowned. "I'm just saying that the first time you see it, it looks complex."   He looked pensively towards the door.   "Has Century got a leather jacket?"

Matt peered over his shoulder at his husband and chuckled.   Mello's glance held a questioning air.   Matt shrugged, "I'd have thought a leather jacket might clash with his vegetarianism."   He returned to his programmes, loading new disks as the burnt ones popped out.   "Blond."

"You're in a very good mood today, Mailito."   Mello narrowed his eyes, suspiciously.   "And given the fact that you're separated from the majority of your toys; and we've had two days of unadulterated shit piled upon us; add in the present circumstances, to whit, we're standing in a room that stinks of vomit." He parked his backside on the desk next to Matt's computer and smiled at him. "Who have you happened to?"   Matt laughed.   "The laughter confirms it."

"Lucky guess."

"Excellent deductive skills."

Matt decided to call it a day with just 200 of the most essential noob programmes, then had to remove some, because he only had 150 blank disks.    "In other words, I've left my notebook on the bed downstairs, which you've seen is full of trail codes."

Mello smirked. "We'll make a detective of you yet, Señor Jeevas-Keehl."   He kept on watching his husband, until Matt's gaze slid sideways towards him. "Case related?   EHC?   Or...?"   He let it hang, but there was a predatory hardness behind the humour in his eyes.

"Or."

"Or?"

Matt nodded. "Definitely or."   He was saved from divulging further information by the return of Siân.   Against all rhyme or reason, she was wearing full biking leathers, complete with matching helmet.   They were red and white and, though not a perfect fit, it was close enough.   Mello's expression was studiously impassive.    But not Matt, who had immediately crouched down, roaring with hilarity.   He held onto the edge of his desk with both hands, as his head ducked beneath the level of it, twitching with laughter.   He went on, with moistening eyes, until a coughing fit wracked his frame instead.   "Oh my God! Fucking classic!"   Matt gasped out, when he'd sufficiently cleared enough tobacco stained phlegm to breathe and speak again.

Mello's chocolate bar had been held stationary a few inches short of his mouth.    It was the only outside hint of his surprise.   But Matt's mirth had been infectious and so he chuckled too.   He took a bite of his chocolate and swallowed it after just a couple of sucks, which meant, in Matt's reading, that Mello had either worked it out or else sussed that he needed more data.   Siân had been unexpectedly quiet throughout this, just posing in her outfit.   Mello smiled at her, "You came here by train?"

"Yes."

"Very concise answer."   Mello licked his chocolate.   "Have you been primed on what I might ask and what to reply?"

Siân gasped. Her tell-tale gaze turned to look through the open doorway, as she dipped, her hand against her heart.   "Oh wow! Oh! You're really good!"

"Yes, I am." Mello smirked. "But, in this case, Iestyn also gave you dodgy advice, which made it way too simple for me." He nibbled a corner of chocolate.   "He should have told you to answer the questions in your own way."   He winked. "Come on in, Century."

"Cer i crafi."   Century's sing-song accent sounded from outside the door.   "It stinks in there."

"Come in here or I'll start researching Florida in earnest and solve the case before you do."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Century appeared beside his girlfriend.   "Jesus, didn't anyone clean up that puke?"   He looked around for the evidence, but found none.   "Where is it?"

"It's been cleaned up." Mello nodded to the wall behind him.   "It's just the smell that's lingered, because this room got closed up straight afterwards and has only just been opened."   He gestured that it meant nothing.   "Open the window, Mail."

Matt shook his head, occupied in burning CDRs again.    "Freezing out there."

"Stopped raining though."   Century retorted.

Mello smiled, "Make a note of the day for the Welsh history books.   October 31st, 2011, it didn't rain in Wales."   His gaze fell upon Siân, resplendent in her biking leathers, then back to Century, laden with query.    "Spill."

Century smiled right back. "We were on messenger, listing our top ten things to do before we die. She put 'ride a motorbike'.   I mentioned that someone at our study group might bring his bike.   She was excited, so I packed some of the institution's leathers in the back of the car."

Mello blinked, "Since when have there been leathers at the institution?   That would have saved me a lot of hassle that day I had to pick Mail up from there.    Struggled through with his car instead."   He saw Siân starting to bounce on the spot, her eyes shining above a huge grin.   "You know that you can't ride it alone?   You'll be pillion."   She nodded, looking impatient to be off. "And you've also primed her on what to do if the bottle should be removed?"

Century frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Is there a guarantee that me and Mail are forever cured?    Or do we relapse when the bottle is next removed?" Mello studied Century's puzzlement.   "No, we don't know either, which is why, if I'm out with your lady, you will be staying with my man.   Deal?"

Century opened his mouth to protest, but Siân seemed barely able to contain her excitement for much longer.    He put his arm around her to keep her still.   "Yeah. Fine. Whatever."

"Done."   Matt dropped a CDR into its plastic cover, then into a shoebox sized cardboard box.   "Hurrah for turbo boosted burning speeds. I own."    He carried it across to Siân and held it out.

Siân's jaw dropped, "For me?"   She hurriedly handed her helmet to Century.   "Shoes, is it?"

Matt shook his head. "150 computer programmes or apps., including Windows 7, which is better than XP.    And some other bits pieces, like Sony Vegas.   Iestyn will talk you through installing them."

She screamed. "Oh! Wow! Oh! Wow! Oh wow! Thank you! Oh! Iestyn! Look!   Oh! Isn't this kind of him?"   Beside her, Century was looking a little shell-shocked.   "Windows 7!" She wrinkled her nose slightly.   "I think that we're up to Windows 10 now, but that's alright!   It's still very kind of you!"

Matt shook his head. "No, Windows Media Player is up to 10."

"Is that different to this browser one then?"   She was flicking through them, though most weren't labelled. "I really need a browser on mine, because I do use that all the time.   And e-mails. I do use my e-mails, don't I, Iestyn? Though we're on messenger most of the time.   EBay is good as well and, oh! Iestyn, do you remember that cheese site?"   She laughed aloud. "It's a whole website that's just a cheese maturing in a cheese farm.   We had it on all night, didn't we?"

"I looked at it." Century agreed, numbly.

"Will you be on messenger tonight?   So I can start installing these on my computer?"

Mello interrupted before she could launch into full throttle.    "I'd better get my leathers on then.   Mail, I'll have my 'phone.   Century, if you leave him alone and something happens..."   He let it hang in the air.    Century nodded.    Mello kissed his husband and jogged out of the door.    Siân squealed, swapped box for helmet, then stood on tip-toe to kiss her boyfriend.   She cheered, as she ran down the stairs.

Century waited until she was out of earshot, as judged by whether or not he could hear her.   "You bastard."   Matt smirked.   "No, really, you have no idea.   It took me three hours, over a telephone, to talk her through downloading Yahoo messenger." He peered inside the box.   "150 programmes.   At least 450 hours of installation.   Why do you hate me so much?"

Matt lit a cigarette.   "If we get to the end of this case without you seriously pissing off me or Mello, I'll give you one simple solution that will solve all of your worries."

"So it's a sting."

Matt shook his head. "It wasn't meant to be."   He sat down with his DS out.   His backside didn't hurt so much today.   It was difficult not to credit Kiana's ointment for that, after he and Mello had sneaked some out and liberally applied it last night.   "I didn't realise it was October 31st."

"Yeah."   Century sat down too.   "L's birthday."   He wrinkled up his nose, staring at the sky through the window. "I barely remember him.   L's always been more of a legacy than a reality for me."   He sucked on his lollipop.   "The great unattainable high."

"But L is still with us. Our valiant leader." Matt grinned over his game.

"Reckon Near is happy?"

Matt blew out his cheeks. He didn't reply.

Century pondered the question, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling.   "Reckon there will ever be a greater L than Lawliet?"

Matt nodded. "The ones who actually succeeded in the Kira case.   Lawliet failed."

Century stared at him for the longest time before asking, "You met Lawliet.   Did you like him?"

"What's like got to do with it?"   He completed two whole levels before adding, "No. I didn't like him."

"Oh!" Century sat up, as startled by the suddenness of the comment, as by its information.   "May I ask why?"   Silence. Century waited, but nothing was forthcoming.   He was prompted by the distant roar of a motorcycle to push the questioning. "Was it personal or professional?    I mean why you didn't like L."

Matt shrugged.   "Personal's easy.    Mr Wammy was the only person allowed to speak with me in Spanish and L took him away from the institution.    L occupied Mello's every waking thought and nightly dreams for, well, probably still.   And L kept threatening to have me evicted.   What's to like?"

"Evicted?"

"Earlier generations.   Ask Mello.   He's better at telling it."

The motorcycle passed right by the chalets and carried on up the hill.    Matt concentrated on his game, but he listened out.   There was a low level anxiety about Mello disappearing out on his motorbike with that girl.   Matt's mind fragmented into various angles and arguments about the issue.   He automatically itemised them, so that they didn't just fly around in circles and annoy him.   Item one, identify the subject/source of the anxiety.   1.1 Mello would ride away on his motorbike and never come back.   1.1a That one was easy. It was hardly worth examining.   Infant neglect can leave adult survivors with a deficit of oxytocin. Check.   Matt had been tested for this and it was positive.   Lack of oxytocin can manifest as paranoia about being left. Match to source code. Positive.   Access Clearance.   1.1b Just because it's a match, it doesn't mean that it's the match.

Century shifted in his seat, "So that was the personal.   You separated them. Is there a professional dislike for L too?"

"I never worked with him."   Matt replied.   "How old do you think I am?"   He paused, manoeuvred the tricky platform and snagged the checkpoint.   "Unless you're talking about Near.   In which case, sort of, yes, indirectly. Kira."

"Lawliet."

1.1b.i At home, Mello often goes for motorbike rides.   Checklist: Personal history.   He got into the habit in LA. He says that it blows the cobwebs from his mind and allows him a fresh perspective on tricky cases.    1.1b.ii He didn't initiate this one. Century is trying to impress his girl.   Mello's hand was forced by a rash judgement. 1.1b.iia   Mello doesn't make rash judgements. 1.1b.iib Then how did he end up with a massive scar?   He blew up a building that he was standing in at the time. 1.1b.iic But that was a malfunction.   A door, which would have shielded him from the blast, didn't close.   His safe room was vulnerable.   1.1b.iid Mello knew this when he pressed the button.   1.1b.iie If Mello hadn't pressed the button, he'd be dead, not merely scarred. It was a sound judgement.

Matt looked up.   "Why the sudden interest in Lawliet?"

"It's his birthday and it's the history of the institution that I'm bound to."   Century checked his watch.   "Did I tell you that I got my doctorate?"

"Another one?"

"Oh." Century looked bored. "Only the one. I already had it when we were here in August."

"I knew about that one."   Matt glanced up. "Congrats."   He noted the small smile of pride.   "So what's this about Florida?"

"I'll present it when I've finished looking into it."

Matt smiled, "But that will never happen. There's a lot of history and things ripple out. Influences upon influences.   So you never finish your research."

Century laughed. "That's a computer over there. Want me to teach you how to switch it on?"

"Why not? Your girlfriend has offered to show me Firefox."

"Oops."   Century grinned. "I haven't actually told her what all of your specialities are."

"Nope. You told her that we're your employees."

The motorbike screamed to a stop outside.   Matt had to resist the urge to run to greet Mello.   To ensure that it was Mello and he was back for good.   At the 11th hour, he analysed the anxiety that he felt and upgraded it from low level to medium.   That always happened as well, that last minute upgrade.   Matt suspected that it had been medium level from the start, but he had convinced himself that it was low level.   The whole thing was annoying anyway.   It should be reasoned away, but it never was. The chemicals weren't there in his body to counteract the cerebral poison.   The safeguards were there.   Every time Mello left, he said the same thing.   He had his 'phone.   Matt could call.   Instant gratification and instant reassurance, plus it would make Mello come home sooner.   But Matt would rather chew his own dialling fingers off than call Mello for that, especially if he was out on his motorbike. That would render Matt mentally disabled or something.   Though perhaps then fitting cybernetic dialling fingers, which were, after all, also his typing and gaming fingers, might be worth considering.

"Are you mad about that?" Century asked.

"More amused. You're trying very hard to get in her knickers."

Century grinned, but changed the subject. "I think this is the longest conversation that I have ever had with you."

"I hope it was very stimulating."

On the other hand, Mello might actually like to have that call.   He was forever kicking off about not knowing how Matt was feeling or even if he had feelings.   Like there was something deep and complex about the inner workings of Matt's mind.   Mello thought that Matt wouldn't let him in, because there was something dark and dangerous lurking in Matt's psyche.   The reality was probably more like Mello shouldn't come in, because he'd realise that he was married to a really boring, anal geek.

"It actually was." Century sounded surprised about that.   "Bit inconvenient on the timing though, see?"

There were footsteps on the stairs and Siân's excited chatter.   Matt could have cried at the reprieve and inwardly berated himself over it. He concentrated on his game and on projecting an aura of nonchalance.   He didn't even look up when the heavy tread behind Siân indicated that Mello was here, in the room. He was back.   Matt tuned out the Welsh babble, alert only for the TransAtlantic huskiness of his husband's voice.   It calmed him, even as another part of his own brain got wound up by the fact that it calmed him.   He heard Mello laugh and say, "It's a pleasure. Y croeso."   But maybe it was alright to enjoy your partner's voice.   It was probably just love or something and nothing to do with oxytocin deficiencies.

"Hey, baby, I'm back."   Mello strode right over to him and Matt paused his game the instant before he was kissed.   Relief tingled down to his very fingertips. The easement of anxiety growing with each extra second that Mello kept his hand on Matt's shoulder. Even though Mello was talking to Century and Siân, who were somewhere in the background, just leaving, that touch was there. It warmed him.   It made him feel special. Like a little cone of light was expanding inside and flowing out into his extremities.   Matt was no longer anxious. He had the memory of anxiety, but even that was sinking back.   He was also vaguely enjoying maintaining his self-analytic monitoring. He was experiencing the oxytocin flooding back into his system, that was all. He'd normally become bored and start thinking about something else by now. Usually related to combating the self-loathing, which accompanied the conclusion that it had been the Oxytocin Thing all along.   Century and Siân had gone.   Mello squeezed Matt's shoulder, then released it to put his helmet down.   "Alright?"

"Do you know?" Matt heard himself asking and had no idea where that had come from.   He'd thought that he was going to say, 'yeah, fine'.

"I know loads of things.   Any specifics on this one?"

Amygdalic impulse?   Maybe his hippocampus was keeping him busy with all of this frankly now irritating self-awareness bollocks, so that his amygdala could just get the data that he needed.    Fuck it, let's run with it.

"Mello." Matt said decisively.

"Mail."   Mello smiled.

"Three questions each. Truth. No politics, no diplomacy, no saying what you think the other wants to hear."

Mello nodded slowly.   "Ok.   Yes, I enjoy violent sex with you.   Yes, I will always come back to you, if it is in my power do so. Yes, it annoys the crap out of me when you won't tell me how you're feeling, when my awareness would help us both enormously."

Matt stared blankly at him. "That was annoying. Let me choose my own questions."

"Sorry." Mello sought and located chocolate. "It really smells in here, when you first come in."

Matt felt his temper just ignite out of nowhere.   He thew his DS at Mello and hit him square in the chest.   Mello caught it before it hit the ground, otherwise it would probably have smashed.   But Matt was already yelling at him, "You go on and fucking on about me not opening up to you and the moment I try, you just fucking..."   He couldn't get the words out. They weren't stacked right in his head.   He snatched up his cigarettes and lighter and started towards the door.

"Mail." Mello's tone was ultra calm.   Injections of warmth and friendliness in his apologetic expression. His hands, holding the DS and chocolate like some divine offerings, up in an attitude of surrender.   "I'm sorry. I didn't realise the gravity of the situation.   May I have a second chance to do it properly please?"

Matt found himself stranded almost at the door.   Now he hated himself for nearly storming out, like some hormonal teenager.   He looked out, at the cold staircase and had no idea where he was even going.   He looked back, to where Mello wore the tiniest sympathetic smile, encouragement to return radiating from every pore.   Perhaps it did smell of puke in here, but Mello was the one who'd vomited.   "I need five minutes to calm down."   Matt carried on out onto the balcony, where it was really freezing and difficult to get his lighter to spark.   It was also impossible to get the five minutes, because Mello had followed him.   "Am I talking to my fucking self?"

"No." Mello leaned up against the concrete railing and he looked really sexy in those biking leathers.   "You're talking to me." He gathered both chocolate and DS into one hand. The other arm snaked along the top of the balcony.   Another half an inch inwards and it would be around Matt.   "My first question is: what just wound you up so much?"

Matt grit his teeth and tried to get his cigarette lit, with what felt like a small gale whistling around the building.    He wondered whether he even wanted to go through with this questioning thing anymore.   "I monitored my reactions from you going out through to you coming back in.   I found that they were classic, textbook oxytocin fuck up, infant neglect bollocks and chemical imbalance shit.   I learned that it's not just the peaks and troughs of you leaving and coming back; but there's a secondary trigger of me experiencing self-loathing and lack of self-esteem, because I can't regulate that through rationality."

Mello bit his lip over a proud smile.   "Thank you, guapo.   My second quest..."

"Er, no." Matt warned. "It's my question."   He waved the cigarette.   "But first I've got to get this lit."   He charged back into the computer hub and got hit anew with the stench.    It hadn't been so bad when he'd been sitting in it for a while.   He'd only come up for the kettle originally. He grabbed that and lit his cigarette.   Mello, predictably, had followed him in.   "Let's do this downstairs."

"Ok."    Mello took his helmet and the items already in his hand.   Matt grabbed another laptop and took the kettle.   They locked up in silence.   But on the stairs, with Mello following Matt down, he said, carefully, "Thank you for telling me what you've already told me.   I didn't know about that second strand and we will work on easing that."

Matt ignored the pop psychology, pseudo-reassuring claptrap and hurried out of the wind, around to their chalet.   It took a bit of juggling, as they both had their hands full, but Mello opened the door in the end.    Matt just dumped everything on the bed. "My question: does your knowledge, or lack of knowledge, about my," he injected venom into the next word, "disability affect the way you live your life, including enjoyment value?"

"Firstly, I don't see it as a disability, because you are quite able.   Even when really anxious, you can function independently. However, that aside, I see it as an issue of awareness and leeway, rather than something that I have to mould my life around.   If I may use an example of just now."   He bit into his chocolate. "If I know it's a short trip, that you're already aware is going to happen, then I won't make a big deal of going.   That way I might be back before you know I've gone and you're spared the unpleasantness.   Hence," he took another square and sucked that too, "I went to change into my leathers, but didn't come back to tell you that I'm off.   For all you knew, I could have still been downstairs.   But I won't just disappear without you knowing that it was imminent and I'll always remind you that I have my 'phone.   I always double-check my 'phone, set it to vibrate and keep it next to my body, while I'm out, so I don't miss your call.    Upon my return, I will make a beeline for you and reaffirm, even subtly, that I'm here for you."

Matt nodded, "So you do make a lot of...?"   He stopped dead.   "Sorry, discount. That was a comment upon your answer, not my question."

"Say it anyway.   It's acknowledged that it doesn't count."

"You make a lot of allowances."

Mello shook his head. "No.   I add in a lot of checks and balances, but I still go out."   He chewed thoughtfully on his chocolate.   "If it wasn't for the fact that chemically you feel so bad when I'm not around, and accounting for the fact that you resent that chemical imbalance, ergo a portion of that resentment will be directed at me, would you have left me by now?"

Matt inhaled on his cigarette, "How many fucking questions did you just ninja into that one, Mello?"

Mello grinned, "It was one question."

"It was at least four."   Matt countered, his face engulfed in a cloud of exhaled smoke. "Am I only with you because I imprinted upon you, like a baby fucking duckling, when I was four?   No. Fuck off.   Do I resent the chemical imbalance and its effects upon my anxiety levels?   Yes.   Do I resent you as an extension of that?   No, please pay attention.   I already said that it manifests as self-loathing.   You aren't me, therefore you don't figure in the self-loathing. Am I going to leave you?   If I wanted to leave you, I would.   I'm here.   So no."

Mello frowned, "That didn't answer the actual question.   Maybe I didn't phrase it very well.   Is our marriage on the rocks?"

"That is not what you just asked!    That's you tacking yet another question onto the half a billion you've just had answered." Matt narrowed his eyes.   "You remember that redhead sitting next to you in class?   Well, that was me.   I learned how to do it too."   He glanced at Mello, when there was no response.   "And now you're just being silent, so that human nature will render me wishing to fill the silence.    No, our marriage is not on the rocks.   Satisfied?"

"Very." Mello smirked.   "Thank you.   You may ask your question now."

"Why all of the drama queening about cuddling, when we always have cuddled and when it's not like its sex or anything?"

"Because it is a need of mine, insofar as it makes me feel better.   But let me demonstrate this, in order to answer the first part of your three part question."   Mello winked.   He stepped forward and embraced Matt closely.   "Tell me how you feel, so that I can contrast that with how I feel, again so that I may answer your question."

Matt blew smoke over Mello's shoulder.   "I feel manipulated, because you are using my question in order to ask how I feel about cuddling."   His ear was nuzzled by Mello.   Little kisses covered the lobe and up to where the rubber strap of his goggles nestled beyond.   Two long minutes passed, dragging like an eternity.   "I don't get the point. I think it's a girl thing.   Or a Mello thing."   Against the side of his head, Mello nodded, then stepped back.

"Then let me see if I can show you the point."   He reached down and snapped up his helmet.   "I have my 'phone."    He turned on his heel and dashed to the door, pulling his motorbike keys from his zip up pocket as he went.   Without a by-your-leave, Mello left the chalet and was gone.

Matt stared, stunned in his wake.   The dregs of his last anxiety attack were only just fading and he had just experienced the uncertainty of the embrace.   He heard the motorbike roar away.   There was a sinking feeling in his stomach.   His heart pounded.   He was going to start panicking again, if he didn't distract himself.   He took up the DS from the bed and inspected it for damage from when he'd flung it at his husband.   Mello hadn't said where he was going and when he'd be back.   (And that tiny voice, suppressed beneath the layers of defence, whispered, 'If he comes back.')    Fuck Mello and his prima donna mind-games.   It would serve him right if Matt walked right over to Hal's chalet and complained about him, like Mello had whinged about Matt before.   All of this over a fucking cuddle!

Matt stopped.   He was on the verge of tears and had no idea why. It had to be the Oxytocin Thing.   Rationality.   He closed his eyes. Rationalise.   Mello was doing this on purpose.   It was to induce a situation where Matt wanted the contact.   It was playing games, because Mello was a sadistic, fucking diva, who thought that the rest of the world existed solely for his amusement.   But Matt had sparked it.   And there it was.   The self-hatred.   Not a subtle drip-drip of poison this time, but whooshing up and over his sensibilities, like the dam had burst.   He hadn't got the DS switched on.   He was smoking a singed dog-end, there was no tobacco even left.   Mello was doing this on purpose, but Matt was letting him. And Mello shouldn't even be able to do it, if Matt's mind wasn't so messed up that he couldn't rationalise out the feelings that were swamping him.

The motorbike was back.   Matt closed his eyes, detesting the fact that he'd fallen so badly in what could only have been a minute.   Less than that.   And yet there was the relief kicking in.   It wasn't fair.   Mello was running to the door.   He banged on it and Matt hesitated before opening up.   Mello still had his helmet on.   He stepped inside and ushered Matt backwards, before engulfing him in a bear hug.   The chalet door was kicked shut by Mello.   From the depths behind his visor, Mello rasped, "I'm back."   Matt took the comfort and hated that he needed the comfort. He could feel his heart slowing and his stomach settling. He wanted Mello out of the heavily padded, steel-lined leathers; he wanted to see his face.   Biking gloves rubbed up and down his back and Matt liked that, but it wasn't right.   He wanted to both flee and hang on.   "Baby, let me take my helmet off."

Matt nodded and released him.   He started off towards the kitchen, taking the kettle with him from the bed.   "Was it a test?   Should I have called you?"

"Now come back."   Mello pulled off his gloves and unzipped the heavy jacket.   "Mail."

"No, you made your point."

"I really don't think I did." Mello smiled kindly.   "I think I confused the fuck out of you and that is such an alien emotion for a man of your tremendous intellect."    He followed Matt into the kitchenette, dumping his jacket with a heavy thud on the work surface.   Then took Matt into his arms again.   This was better.   There was just wool between them now, as both were in jumpers.   But now the discomfort over-rode the comfort.   Matt shifted position.   "I think I missed my moment.   I should have disrobed before I came in.   Let me tell you how I feel.   I feel my blood pressure going down. I feel my whole body relaxing. It's a very tactile sensation.   I love the feel of you, because I love you and I find you very attractive.   You are right in that it's not quite sex.   I could easily become sexually aroused, but then I'm with you and so that's a given.   But this is a treat for more than just my cock.   It's a sensation of home.   It feels both protective and protecting.   I can feel your heartbeat against my chest and so it's a primal health-check as well.   The man I love is alive and healthy.   Are you getting any of this?"

Matt shook his head slowly.   There were a couple of tears on his cheek, that he couldn't recall welling in his eyes.   "Can I suck you off?"

Mello paused for a beat, then answered with a half laugh, "Yes, you can. Any time you want to, but," Mello drew Matt over to the bed, "I'd rather clear this up before going into your diversion techniques."    He half lay, half sat on the edge of the bed.   His legs, still encased in thick biking leathers and ending in steel-capped, heavy boots, were off the end of it.   Mello patted the bed beside him.   "Please."    Matt sighed and sat.   Mello's arm went around him and pulled him close. "It's an issue of acceptance, baby, because there's very little we can do to rectify something really fucked up that happened to you.   Do you trust me?"

"Depends."

"Straddle my body."   Mello uttered it as a command.   Matt complied.   "No, sit right down on my lap and put your head over my shoulder."    Matt frowned, but did it.   Mello placed a hand at the back of his neck and started vigorously rubbing Matt's back in a circular motion.   "This is how I learned to cuddle.   When I was tiny, my mother would feed me and I'd get wind trapped. That was painful, so she would rub my back and hold me like this. I would burp and it would make me feel better.   I could also feel her heart from here, which was familiar from my time in her womb."

"You're a bastard."

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Mail. I'm trying to show you."   Mello kept doing it, because Matt hadn't moved. "And I don't remember all of that.   I'm assuming that that's what happened, because that's what you do with babies.   Most babies.   But your records show that when you came to Wammy's House, physical contact frightened you.   You've come such a long way from then, chiquitito. And do you not realise what a momentous fucking leap that has been?   You're quibbling over crumbs, when you should be patting yourself on the back for all the rest that you can now do and enjoy."

Matt was feeling consoled.   It must have been taking all of Mello's stomach muscles to hold them both in place. Sooner or later, they were probably going to fall back onto the mattress.   Despite this, it wasn't unpleasant being there. At least physically.   Emotionally, it was a headfuck; rationally, it was disturbing; and moreover, it was a bit humiliating.   "Are you into babyfication now, Mello?"

"Do you realise that your shoulders have lost their tension?"

"Are you going to start ordering man-sized nappies from the internet and picking up dummies from the chemist?"

Mello chuckled, "Only if you want me to, guapo.   Otherwise, I'm quite happy with the wholesome sexual practices that we ordinarily indulge."    They sat there quietly; and it felt alright.   Mello started softly humming and Matt didn't recognize the tune.   He could fall asleep here, though he was loathe to tell Mello that, lest he never see his cocoon at bedtime again.   It occurred to him that the tune was probably a Croatian nursery rhyme and, if he was right, he would have to slap Mello. He decided not to ask him.    Eventually, Mello asked, softly, "Is this working for you, Mail?"

"It's alright."

"You feel very relaxed."

Matt blew out his cheeks, "I'm not getting off on it, if that's what you mean."

"Would you be happy to sit like this again?"   Mello asked.   Matt tried to dissect the question for meaning.   It had to be something to do with babyfication.   It was hardly news that Mello had sexual kinks, but there had never hitherto been a hint of this particular one.   He didn't seem to be the paternal type.    But it wasn't a bad position.   Matt could feel the strength of Mello holding them in place and there was just a touch of humiliation here.   If Mello's trousers weren't so thick, then he could probably have felt Mello's cock right under where he was sitting.    Matt mused on the fact that he could get hard here, if he really focused.   Though he would balk at putting on an adult-sized romper suit.   "Out loud, please, Mail."

"Yeah. I'd do this again with you, if it's pulling your chain."

Mello smiled. "This is cuddling, Mail.   It's all it is.   Now, hold on tight."   As soon as he said it, he was standing.   Muscles strained, shook and steadied.

Matt clung on, being lifted and carried.   "... the fuck?"

Mello laughed, taking him into the kitchen, where he took a chocolate bar from the worktop.   "No chocolate."   He carried Matt back to the bed.   "And I'm not letting you get off just yet. It might be ages before I convince you to..." There was a knock at the door, which halted him mid-sentence.   Matt scrambled off Mello, much to the blond's chagrin.   "Matt, we are married.   We can cuddle behind closed doors without censure."   Matt took a cigarette and lit it, several feet away.   "Ok, you act casual. They'll never know that you enjoyed a cuddle then.   I'll go and see who's now on my hit list for interrupting that."

He opened the door and blinked in surprise at the person standing there.    Lauren smiled, holding up a chocolate bar and a copy of Friedrich Nietzsche's 'Beyond Good and Evil'.   "Hi Mello, how are you feeling?"

"It's more what I'm feeling.   Which is a tremendous sense of the worst kind of déjà vu and trepidation about what this signals."   Mello stood back, narrowing his eyes.   "Why aren't you in Belarus?"

"Because the trial has been adjourned for another three months."

"And why are you here?"

"Because I overheard the conversation that mentioned you were going under."   Lauren looked worried.   "Which you're patently not."

Mello peered across the green to where Hal was carrying the cases of a strange woman, escorting her up the staircase.   "And you didn't come alone."
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Annals of Fear II