Poisoned Rationality

Mello awoke. The flashes that had felt like dreams appeared real around him. He was at The Wammy House. He was in his own bed there. He was staring up at a rosary, dangling as it had in childhood from the bedpost, instead of around his neck. He glanced across and was reassured to spot a redhead in the twin bed opposite. Mello blinked. Disorientating images in his mind. Nonsensical things in the tangible world. This was madness.



He tried to remember what homework, what exams, what priorities needed to be set for this day. Nothing drifted into his mind, but the notion that there was none. He lifted his hand to touch his face and found the burn scar there. Another piece of reality slotted into place. He really was an adult. He reached up to unhook his rosary and placed it back around his neck. He stared at the door. No sound out there. He twisted to look at the window. Daylight tumbled in, highlighting the computer and a packet of cigarettes. There were no bars and he vaguely wondered why he thought there should be.



The past few days span in kaleidoscopic spikes through his memory. It was difficult to pinpoint a chronology, nor to make sense of the things that he remembered. He leaned up on one arm, listening to Matt\'s breathing and using it to regulate the beating of his own heart. "Vjerujem u Boga, Oca svemoguæega." Mello gripped the rosary, still staring about the room. "Stvoritelja neba i zemlje." A bar of chocolate was on the floor beside his bed, so he released the rosary to grab it. Fabric creased at his waist and he peered underneath the bedclothes. He was wearing a greyish-white pair of cotton pyjama bottoms. He had never owned a pair of pyjamas like those. Unsettling the notion that these could be Near\'s. They looked a bit like Near\'s. But they reached Mello\'s ankles and so couldn\'t be. Near was so much shorter than him.



Mello sat on the edge of the bed, sucking on chocolate as he gazed around. There were books in the bookcase, some of which he recognized as his own. There was a DS on the floor, a retractable Mario stylus beside it, clear evidence that Matt had been playing on it before he went to bed. There was something else different, other than the distinct lack of notebooks and the paraphrenalia of study. There was a tea and coffee maker on the desk, with a tray full of the ingredients for making a hot drink. The air smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Mello rose and opened a window. Outside the trees were still bare and the wind icy. The back yard of Wammy\'s House lay unchanged. Its playthings still the same colour. Its foliage already mature when they had been here as children, with the perennials not yet pushing through with the Spring. It had been Candlemas, so Spring was on the way, despite the evidence out there.



The draft was stirring Matt. His breathing less regular, faster. There was a sudden sigh and the redhead woke up. Mello turned to look at him, questions in his gaze. Matt saw him and jolted upwards, against the headboard. Mello froze. "What is it?"



Matt stared back and there was fear in his eyes. He reached for his goggles and put them on, before even going for a cigarette. They were on the windowsill, not beside him. Then, with infinite care, he climbed out of bed. The alertness in his face and his actions worried Mello. Matt had never been good first thing in the morning. The policy was to feed him tea and cigarettes before attempting a coherent conversation. As Matt stood, he wobbled a little and had to reach out to the bookcase beside his bed for support. He gained his equalibrium For a moment, they were face to face, Mello frowning, Matt peering back with benumbed eyes. Then the redhead knelt, head bowed, at Mello\'s feet.



Startled, Mello reached out, but stopped short of touching him. A memory crashed in of Matt tied to a bed, terrified. It brought with it hurt and a feeling of chaos. Mello gulped, trying to process the data. He turned and took the cigarettes and lighter, holding them down where his redhead would see them. Then Matt looked up at him and, at the expression on his face, Mello thought his heart would break. "Matty, I don\'t know what I did. I mean, I can remember bits, but nothing that makes any sense."



"Are you back, Mihael?" Matt whispered, hope flaring in his gaze.



Mello jumped at the use of his real name, automatically scanning the room. He spotted the camera. "Who is watching us?"



"Roger is. We\'re both on suicide watch." Matt\'s voice was barely audible. He held the cigarette packet listlessly, not even attempting to remove one.



"What?" Mello yelled. He whipped around to face the camera. "What kind of incomparable arsewipe put us back here on suicide watch? What the fuck has been going on? Mary, Mother of God! Matt, I want answers." He looked back, glaring, and the expression on his lover\'s face was indescribable. Anxiety, guilt and hope, so much hope. "I\'m talking about right now. What?" He took in the fact that Matt was also in pyjamas. They were checked fannel and covered his body. "Oh God! Have I hurt you?" Then the meaning of some of those words sank in. "Suicide watch?"



"Don\'t go there!" Matt countered. "You\'re back. I can see it in your eyes."



"Right." Mello sucked his chocolate nervously. "Have a cigarette and..." He paused, noting how quickly Matt ripped into his packet and lit one with trembling hands. "You." Mello blinked. "Since when did you wait for my permission to smoke? I\'ve been passively smoking about eighty a day for years!"



"Twenty." Matt spoke softly, inhaling gratefully. "Don\'t exaggerate."



Mello pouted and gazed out of the window again. "None of this is making a blind of bit of sense, so I\'ll just ask you one thing. Are we in immediate danger?"



"No." Matt\'s head was bowed again.



Mello nodded. "I\'m going to trust you here. I\'m going to fathom out how to use this contraption," He pointed to the tea and coffee maker, "and make us a hot drink. When you have enough drugs in your system to be thinking again..." He noted Matt\'s flinching. "Matt, I know that I\'ve really fucked up, ok? I just need to know how and what I need to do to sort it out again."



"What do you remember?"



"I think I\'ve tied you up and..." He glanced at the camera. "Perhaps this isn\'t a conversation that Roger should be overhearing." He switched on the computer, intending to hack the feed.



Matt watched him, tears brimming. "Roger knows."



Mello\'s voice rose again. "Roger knows what?" But the eruption was strangled at birth as he looked back at his lover. "You\'re crying." He shook his head. "You were crying on that bed. Shit, Matt. What have I done to you this time?" He knelt and hugged Matt close, the cigarette held in the air behind him, his shoulder quickly becoming saturated with the heavy sobs pouring out of his beloved redhead. "I\'ve never known you cry like this. Japan." Mello rubbed his back. "I need to know what I did to you."



There was the sound of running feet outside, coming closer, and a key turned in their lock. Mello blinked, annoyance rising. They had been locked in! He gripped Matt with a fierce possessiveness and glared at the opening door. A face from the past appeared. Ann, her stout figure filling the doorway, her eyes meeting his. "Mihael, you will leave that boy alone." She said sternly, like he was an eight year old again. "Now!"



Matt snorted a laugh and twisted around in Mello\'s arms to peer back. Red hair hung in clumps over his tear-stained face, but the gaze was defiance. One arm encircled Mello\'s waist and the other brought his cigarette back to his mouth. His head remained firmly against Mello\'s chest. Mello looked down and imperceptively squeezed the arm that still held Matt to him. He bit into his chocolate and stared back at Ann. "He doesn\'t want to be left alone."



She stepped forward, revealing two caretakers standing out in the corridor. "Are you alright, Mail?"



"Yeah." He glanced guiltily at the ash that fell from his cigarette to the carpet and quickly wiped it into it with his fingers. Hiding the evidence, despite the funnel of smoke rising from his hand and the clear sight of the cigarette between it. Mello handed him the can, that Matt had been using as an ashtray the night before. Ann ignored it. She entered the room properly, closing the door behind her.



"How are you feeling this morning, Mihael?" Ann gave him a searching look, as she sat down on the bed beside them.



"Is it safe to be using our real names?" Mello challenged with arched eyebrows. He felt Matt jump slightly in his arms and wondered at it.



"Yes, it\'s safe." Ann smiled gently at him. "Mihael, do you know that you\'ve suffered a mental collapse?"



Mello met her eyes. "I suspected as much." Matt\'s arm around his waist tightened. "I\'m waiting to find out the details and then I\'ll comment further. Right now, I just want to get a cuppa into this one," he nodded towards the redhead, "and then I\'ll plan the future. That\'s as much as you are getting from me at the moment, Ann."



Ann\'s smile grew broader. "You continue to amaze me, Mihael. You never do do what is expected." She reached to pat his arm, then saw again the scarring there. "Oh Mihael, you\'ve been so hurt. Why didn\'t you come home?" Ann met cold, blue eyes again and shook her head. "I know that this must be tearing you up inside, but I also know you. You will be wanting all of the information as quickly as possible, even if it kills you."



"That would be nice." Mello agreed.



"You need to know that you have literally terrorised Mail." Ann was impressed. All of their children were schooled in masking their emotions. They were taught the importance of a cool, clear head, unsullied by human reactions, in order to read a situation more fully. Mello had struggled so much at those classes, but he was doing it now. "Mail is in this room with you against all of our advice. My own, Roger\'s and Madeleine\'s. He is here because he fought tooth and nail to be here, threatening the direst consequences if he was to be denied." She allowed that to sink in. A stab of pierced pride passed through those blue eyes, but otherwise, Mello remained calm. "I will be honest. Though I can see that you are much better today, Mail is still in this room against my advice."



"I understand."



"The camera is for his protection, do not allow him to disconnect it."



Mello flushed and Matt moved to look up at him. The blond flashed a look of reassurance. "It\'s ok, Matt. Ann, are we prisoners?"



"No. So don\'t start planning the great escape and destroying our equipment. If you want to leave, you simply walk out of that door." She looked at Matt. "It is locked for your privacy and Mail has the key around his neck." They both watched Matt start at that and he scrambled to pull the lace, holding the key, over his head. He shook as he held it out for Mello to take, but Mello just stared in horror. Ann interjected firmly. "Mail has the key and Mail should keep the key."



Matt stared back, his expression pleading, his head bowed below the level of his shoulders. "You don\'t understand."



Mello took the key from him. With a slight frown, he placed it back over that Matt\'s head, pausing with his hands on the redhead\'s shoulders to calm him. "Ann, in whose best interests is it for Matt to be here?"



Ann sighed. "Probably everyone\'s." She eased herself off the bed and pulled out the glass jug on the tea and coffee maker. Busying herself in their tiny bathroom, so that she didn\'t have to watch the unspoken exchange taking place for their mutual pacification. She emerged when she sensed it was safe to do so. "I\'ve never seen Mail so animated as he was last night. If only we had seen a bit more of that passion when he was doing his studies, instead of the laid-back sloveniness, perhaps he might have given you a run for your money." She poured water into the filter. "Am I making tea or coffee here?"



"Tea." said Mello.



"Coffee." said Matt.



Ann paused at the tray. "Then we will have to make two pots. Mihael, I hope you will forgive me opting to make Mail\'s choice first. He has been a little lacking in getting his own way of late."



"But Matt prefers tea." Mello argued. "It\'s me who likes coffee first thing." He stood to sit on the side of the bed, rubbing his knees against the aching of their recent supporting of his weight. "He was chosing that so I could have mine. Do tea, please." Mello watched Matt move to sit on the floor at his feet and a flash of irritation bubbled to the surface. He didn\'t want this. He wanted Matt to sit beside him, as cocky as usual. Perhaps rebelling against being made to be sociable by side-tracking his attention into a game. Not cowering, broken, at his feet. Mello snapped. "Will you sit up here please?" Matt flinched, Ann stared with narrowed eyes. Mello pursed his lips and stared straight ahead. "I\'m sorry, ok?"



"Mihael." Ann turned from her tea-making. "Give yourself a break too."



Mello nodded, holding Matt\'s hand as the redhead sat down beside him. "I know I\'m missing three days. I think that, in that time, I had Matt tied up and I..." He frowned. "Did I hurt you?"



"No." Matt replied, at the same time as Ann answered, \'Yes.\' Matt flashed her an exasperated look. "Let me show you." He unbuttoned his pyjama top and revealed a remarkably blemish-free, white chest. The only significant wound was the gunshot, but even that had healed very well. "You didn\'t hurt me, Mello."



Ann shook her head. "You can\'t show him your injuries, Mail. They aren\'t on your body."



"So I fucked with your head." Mello supplied. "For that I am truly sorry. Am I messing with your head right now?"



"No." Matt whispered.



Mello was looking at Ann though and he caught her expression. It spoke eloquently to the contrary. "Ok. We\'ll stay here until we sort this out. But Ann, I want us to be separated. He\'s not to see me or talk to me or be in the same room as me until..."



"What?" Matt gushed. "No! Mello, don\'t. I promise I\'ll..." Across the room, Ann dropped the teaspoon with a metallic clatter.



"No." Mello bowed his head. He kept his tone neutral. "Matt, all rules are off. If you think that allowing me to continue to influence you is the best plan, then..."



Matt bit back a retort, squeezing Mello\'s hand. He stated, equally neutrally, "I would prefer to stay here."



"No, I\'m over-riding it." Mello replied from the depths of his hair. "Sitting somewhere quiet with your DS and several packets of cigarettes will sort you out much quicker than listening to my crap. I\'m getting another room."



"All rules are off?" Matt asked, thoughtfully. "In that case, and I speak with some experience here, you are out of your fucking mind, Mello." His hands shook as he extracted another cigarette. "I want to stay." He was trembling so much that he could barely use the lighter, but he managed it in the end. "And if you think I\'m leaving your side for one second, you\'ve got another think coming, you fucking contrary bastard."



"There you are, Matty." Mello peeped up from beneath his fringe, his smile actually meeting his eyes this time. "I was afraid I\'d lost you."