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

Chapter List
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Mello's motorbike roared into the driveway of the manor house.   His foot came down, as he slowed upon the cobbles; the steel of his boots striking sparks on the stones.   There was Century's car.    It was not the one that Mello and Matt had bought him.   The stable door was open.   Mello considered parking up inside it.    If all Hell was unleashed, then it might afford him shelter for a get-away.    But, on the other hand, the vehicle batteries had all failed before.    They would probably fail again.   He drove his motorbike inside anyway.    It would save his seat from getting wet, if the laden skies carried through on their constant threat of rain.

He paced out of the stable, straight over to the tree.   He squatted in the squelching earth, the hard, leather padding stiff around his knees.   Still, he was able to see the witch bottle, safe beneath the roots.   That was the main thing.   Now Century wouldn't necessarily have to die.   Mello strode towards the house.    He took Matt's tracking device out of his pocket and checked it. A red light blinked on and off. The signal was strong.   He dropped it back in and took out the communicator, affixing it to the front of his biker jacket, as he entered through the unlocked kitchen door.     Mello activated the audio and visual recorder, then depressed the tiny button on the side.   "Getting this, Mail?"

Matt sounded like he was a million miles away.   His voice soft beneath the static.   Nevertheless, Mello discerned his words. "Yeah. Didn't know you had it on you."

"In my pocket."   Mello replied, dashing through the passageway.   He passed through the kitchen and the lounge behind, then took the stairs two at a time.   "Situation?"

There was a hum of feedback.   Mello cringed, but Matt's muted tones followed. "Century's got a crowbar on the altar in the priest hole."

Mello blinked, but he was at the landing now.   He stepped into the bare room, startling Siân, as his heavy boots trod across the floorboards.    Beneath their feet, Century was swearing in Welsh, between ringing, metallic bangs.   Mello switched off the communicator. Matt didn't need to hear that.    Siân gasped out, "Dewi! Mello! Scared me, you did!   My heart is going like the old clappers!   This house is haunted, did you know?   Lots of ghosts, see.   It's got all this history and things.    Iestyn is..."   She took a sharp intake of breath, as Mello pushed past her and leapt, feet first, down the hole.    His hands, still encased in thick biking gloves, caught a rung of ladder. A boot swung once against the wall; a single colliding touch, that was enough to break his fall.   He landed squarely on his feet and stared at the scene inside.   "Iestyn." Siân called, peering down. "Mello's here."

Century knew.   Mello would have been most disappointed if he hadn't.   All of that Wammy's House education going to waste. To his credit, Century hadn't flinched, nor paused in his work, even as Mello had descended.    He was smacking a hammer against the curve of a crowbar.   The tip was chipping away at the seal between the altar's lid and its front side.   It occurred to Mello, for the first time, that there was something under the wooden casing.   It sounded like stone.   But something that heavy would not be on the upper floor of a house.   Not without a lot of steady support, reaching down into the bedrock. Mello waited.   He still had his helmet on, but the visor was up.   Century didn't speak, not even to fill the expectant silence.   Mello unzipped his jacket pocket, still staring at Century's back.    The teenager was red with exertion.   Mello took out his chocolate.   It was softer than he would have liked, but he bit into it anyway.

"Iestyn." Siân's voice quivered slightly, but she was obviously controlling it, so not to appear shrill.   "Keeping an eye on the old time, is it?"

"Oes."   Century panted.   If he had a watch on, Mello couldn't see it.   "Dyw e ddim yn bell o 'ma."

"Oh." Siân hesitated. "Speaking English, I was, for Mello's sake, see?"

"Mello siarad Cymraeg."   Whatever her response was, it was lost in the fervour of renewed bashing on the edge of the crowbar. Mello stepped forward.   He would have liked to have loomed over the Welshman, but that was difficult, when Century had half a foot in height over him. Difficult, but not impossible.    Mello waited until there was another pause in the industry, then squeezed past to stand at the foot of the altar.   Close enough here to reach out and touch the teenager, but not so near that it was obvious that Mello was having to look up at him.    The Slav injected every ounce of menace in his soul into that stare.   But he maintained a faint smile, as if what he saw bemused him.   Century glanced across at him, blowing out a breath. It was only the briefest, momentary arrest of that, which told Mello that Century was unsettled.   Mello bit into his chocolate and let his smile grow.   He judged it time to speak, but Century got in first.   "You could help, you know."

Mello's head twitched sidewards, in the tiniest shrug. His eyebrows raised, but he sucked in his chocolate, with every sign of enjoyment, savouring its taste.    Then he spoke.   Mello's voice, as he had planned, emerged husky with a warning growl, but his tone held a note of lightness.   As if he was just humouring the lesser being with his statement, but the response had better be the right one.   "I don't know if I want it open yet."   The implied question hung in the air.

"No, you don't."   Century's shoulders heaved with the effort of filling his lungs.   Sweat dripped in droplets from his saturated face.   He stopped and leaned against the wall, his left hand pressed against his chest.

Mello watched him carefully.   "Heart trouble?"   He surveyed Century for a long moment, then took a step around the altar, with his hand out, palm up.   The Welshman handed over the hammer.   The crowbar was jutting out of the front of the wood, caught in the seal beneath the lid. Mello nodded slowly and then gave the hammer a look brimming with significance.   He tested its weight in his hand, then bounced the handle against his palm a couple of times.    He swung it in the air, with studied nonchalance, as he returned to his spot at the foot of the altar.   "Quite painful heart trouble; or you wouldn't have just given up your tools, in the ill-considered belief that I'm about to continue your work.   What do you think is under there, Century?"

Century exhaled, "Fucker."

Above their heads, Siân tentatively spoke into the hole.   "Iestyn, time to be going now, is it, cariad?   Said you were only going to be ten minutes, you did."    Hearing her, Century's whole body sagged.   He bent at the waist, his hands on his knees and his head bowed.    By degrees, his breathing was settling, from frantic gasps into steady wheezing.    "Iestyn, allwch chi ddweud..."

"Siân, rwy'n dod! Aros!" Century snapped, only slightly out of breath at all now.   He peeped through his fringe, upwards, towards Mello.    The Slav affected amusement in his expression, but his eyes remained cold.   Century sighed, as Siân lapsed into nervous silence in the room above.   He forced himself to ask nicely, "Faint o'r gloch yw hi?"

"Mae'n amser mynd." Siân replied plaintively.   "Mae'r trên yn mynd am dri o'r gloch."

Century closed his eyes, asking again, in as blandly pleasant a tone as he could muster, what time it was now.   "Faint o'r gloch yw hi?"

"Dau ddeg munud i."

"Cachi!" Century stood upright and winced.   "Ffwc."   He pressed both hands over his heart now and his head went back, against the wall.   He sounded in pain, as he called up to his girlfriend, "Rwy'n dod."    Across the small room, Mello sniggered. "Huh?"

Mello smirked, "Oscar winning performance, that is bound to be leading to you asking me to accompany you to the station. That way you're not leaving me with what you evidently assume to be a case breaking discovery."   He looked decidedly smug, as Century frowned.   "I'd hurry, if I was you.   Only twenty minutes to catch her train; and I should imagine that there would be an irate father at the other end, if she doesn't turn up."

"It's not a performance."

Siân was restless. They heard her footfalls, as she obviously hurried back from where she'd gone to wait, near the door.   "Iestyn. Mae'r trên..."

"... gwybod." Century swallowed, then became utterly calm.   His eyes took on a blank quality that gave away nothing.   He licked his lips, but didn't speak again.   He took out a lollipop and pushed it, almost automatically, into his mouth, but his face remained devoid of any emotion at all. There was the hallmark of their upbringing right there, in that Century evidently thought that that meant he cast off no clues to his mind and feelings.   But Mello had been a long time out of Wammy's House. He had been in the real world, mixing with people for whom that kind of behaviour was just weird.   He studied people, both from a professional interest and as a way to glean how to control, or at least effectively smokescreen, his own emotions. Misdirection was the key, not this robotic mask.

As Century pushed away from the wall, and made towards the ladder, Mello wryly commented, "Hurts like fuck, doesn't it?   So close, only to have it threatened at the last."

Century ignored him and began his ascent.    Only as he reached the top, did he call back. "You'll still need me to interpret it.   It's historical."

Mello snorted.   He sang back, "Polymath genius."   Then grinned. "Some of us didn't need to specialise."    But he was following, silently placing the hammer on top of the altar.   As soon as Century was clear of the exit, Mello sprang after him; not bothering with the ladder, when a leaping trajectory could get him up faster.   His second movement, knees bent in leverage, propelled him out into the room above. Mello rolled and was on his feet.   "Spatial genius being all part of the package.    And really not stupid enough to let you leave without me, when there's a bottle under the tree and Mail is on his own."

Hope flared in Century's unguarded gaze.   It was quickly hidden by the teenager turning away.   Siân had gone, halfway down the stairs.   Her pleading words sailed back up towards them, exhorting her boyfriend to hurry.    Century began with a rush, but slowed by the time he reached the landing.   He was already breathing heavily again.    Mello noted it, but hung back. He was determined to keep Century ahead of him, even if that meant moving at a crawl.    Century made it to the mid-landing and looked back.   Mello smiled pleasantly, taking another heavy-footed step down the stairs, just above him.   "You think," Century paused, gasping around his words, "I'm going to double back. Barricade myself," another gulp, "in, is it?"

"Thought never crossed my mind."   Mello replied, lightly, the last slivers of chocolate being tipped from the foil into his mouth.

Siân yelled from the kitchen, shrill in her agitation, "Iestyn!   Mae hi'n chwarter i!"

Century did hurry then, leaping from the fourth step to the floor and running in her wake.    Mello picked up pace accordingly and they left the house together.    Century was blinking rapidly, panting, as he pressed the button on his keyring to open the central locking on his car.    Siân was bouncing on the spot by the passenger side door, but she leapt in now.    Mello could easily have beaten Century there, but he kept their positions neck and neck.   Century flashed him a look of pure irritation, as they both climbed into the car.   Century behind the wheel and Mello in the back.    Without a word, Century checked his mirrors and started the engine.   He reversed cautiously, inching along in a wide arc, until he could safely drive forward.    He crunched the gears and breathily swore.   "Cachi."   His shoulders rose and fell under his erratic respiration.   He succeeded in lodging his gearstick, then eased his foot off the clutch.   The car stalled.   He snarled out, "Ffwcin cach!"

"Dawelwch."   Siân whispered, her voice tight with trepidation.   Her eyes flickered constantly to the dashboard clock, like she could will it to say something different.   "Ddeg munud i."

"Yr wyf yn gwybod!"   Century glared.    He had them moving again, negotiating his way carefully along the winding gravel driveway.    Siân looked close to tears, as she prepared to jump out to open the gate.   Century sighed, "Mae'n ddrwg 'da fi.    Iawn?" Siân nodded mutely and left the car.   "Ffwc."

Mello couldn't resist a gleeful smile.   "It makes a change from Mail's driving."

"Mello."   Century began, anger edging his tone.   But the gate was open and he had to concentrate.

"Let me drive."

"What?" Century spat.

Mello changed tactics.   He was as keen to get rid of Siân, as they were to reach the station.   He wanted Century alone.   Mello leaned forward, whispering urgently, in a conciliatory tone, "You've not long passed your test.   You're doing really well from what I've seen so far..."

"Fuck off."

"... but the girl needs speed and a little touch of recklessness to get her to the station in less than ten minutes."   He placed a reassuring hand onto Century's shoulder.   "Plus you're not going to have much time for fond farewells.   Why don't you both sit in the back here?    Settle your differences with a kiss and cuddle, while I get us there in time to catch that train?"   He smiled encouragingly, as Siân rushed back into her seat.   "Only I will be staying back here, while you drive her all the way to Conwy."

Century emitted an exasperated sound, but unhooked his selt-belt and hurriedly opened his door.   "Siân, back."

"Beth?"

"Yn ôl."   Century stood aside, as Mello manoeuvred past him, in the narrow walkway between vehicle and dry-stone wall.   The Slav had his helmet off by the time that he made the front seat.   Siân belatedly realised what was happening and squeaked.   Indecision visibly wracked her sensibilities. Her hands rose to cover her cheeks and her feet gently stamped on the floorwell.   Mello waited, poised to put his helmet down the instant that she shifted out of the way.   Then, as Century closed his door, Siân raced to open hers and transfer seats to be with him, before Mello took off.   She hadn't properly got the backdoor shut, before he did just that. "Mello! Cont!"   Century yelled, but Siân slammed it to without injury, as the car hurtled down the track towards the road.

They had just over five minutes to get there.   Mello mused silently on the logistics of this happening.   The thought rose, unbidden, that Matt would probably have been able to get her there in time.    Mello frowned, gritting his teeth and flooring the accelerator.   Even in supposition, he refused to fail where his husband might succeed.   On the backseat, Century and Siân were thrown together, in shrieks and Welsh expletives.   Mello ignored them and span the car out onto the road.    It was a straight run from here.

The train was at the platform as they pulled up.   It was only the sight of it, through the black railing gates, that galvanised the couple from their frozen glowering at Mello.   They released each other with fingers stiff from hanging on and clambered out of the car.   Mello stayed firmly in the driving seat. Through the rearview mirrors, he watched with growing incredulity the sheer amount of bags that followed her suitcase out onto the pavement.   Even if there had been a trolley ready and waiting, Mello couldn't see how they would manhandle them all onto the train in time.   Century apparently reached the same conclusion, because he sent Siân ahead to beg.    Mello started to remove the keys from the ignition, as a precursor to going to help; but a group of passers by swarmed around Century and the luggage was conveyed into the station, with all the efficiency of an anthill in progress.    He listened to Century's, 'Diolch! Diolch yn fawr! Diolch!', fading into the distance.   He briefly glimpsed Siân, her cheeks smeared with eye-liner and tears, tottering to meet them, accompanied by the conductor.   The train still hadn't left.   Mello allowed himself the smug satisfaction of knowing that she was probably going to make it.

Mello pressed the button on his communicator again.   "Are you there, guapo?"

"Yeah." Matt sounded clearer now.   The signal was perfect here in the town.   "What are you doing?"

"Fantasizing about a gorgeous redhead, on his knees, sucking my cock."

Mello heard the breath under Matt's imagined smile.   "Oh?"   He also heard Lauren's smothered giggle and, presumably, Deontic's short gasp. There was amusement hidden under Matt's precise diction.   "'kay.   Why are you parked outside the railway station?   Dropping Siân off?"

"Nicely deduced." Mello unzipped his pocket, hunting for the second chocolate bar, but willing to send Century to the little kiosk for more, if it was melted.    "I'll be back soon.   Te amo, mi cariño." He was half enjoying putting on a show, knowing that the women were listening.   It plastered over the rage, disappointment and anxiety that were his deeper emotions.   "Mail bonito."

There was a soft, vaguely embarrassed chuckle.   Then, almost an afterthought, "Volim te."   In the background, Lauren said, 'awww'.   "Erm..."   Matt would be bowed over his computer, concealing how flustered he was, under a veneer of laid-back nonchalance.   Mello smiled, picturing it, with an aching fondness for his beautiful geek.    "Anđeo."

"Yes?"   Mello replied, innocently.    Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the train sliding away from the station.    They had had plenty of time, unless it had been Siân holding the thing up.    Century would be back any minute.   Mello quickly unwrapped his chocolate bar to inspect it.   It would do.    "What is it, light of my life?   Mi puta chupapollas favorita."    Mello knew damn well that the 'angel' had been intended to be attached to the 'I love you'; just as he knew that Lauren understood every word that he was saying.   He knew that Matt knew that he knew.   But it was passing the time, while possibly reassuring Matt that his husband loved and cherished him, and was, incidentally, not going to leave him.   Even if he was out of sight. Moreover, it was reducing the chance of Mello punching Century, if he didn't talk very soon.   Mello bit his lip, uncomfortably reminded of how he had slapped Hal. That had been a mistake.   He was going to live to regret that.   He was already regretting it.

Matt mumbled, "Just saying."

Mello sat bolt upright.   The train had gone.   "Mail, has Century got a fucking tracking device on him?"

"Yeah."

"Where...?"

"About twenty feet away from you to the south."

Mello peered at the station entrance and relaxed.   "Ok.   Just tell me if he moves.    Is he moving?"

"Not yet."   Matt paused.   "Oh!"

"Got him."   Mello could see the tall Welshman, slouching through the crowd, with his hands in his pockets.   It was only viewing Century now, alongside his compatriots, that Mello realised that the teenager was unusually tall for his race.   It irked him.   Perhaps more than it should.   But the average height of a Croatian man was 5ft 9", so Mello already felt deprived of three inches.   He halted his own line of thought, inwardly embarrassed that he even knew how tall he should have been.   If there was any justice in the world.   Century strolled around to the driver's side door and opened it.   Mello's fingers curled around the keys.   "Don't start an argument that you can't win, Century.    Get in the passenger side, like a good boy, and let's get this car off double yellow lines, before you get a parking fine."

Century hesitated, "Don't be a twat, Mello. Get out."

"I think you heard me." Mello started the engine, but didn't remove his hand from around the keys.

"This is my car."

Mello nodded. "Yes, it is.   Now get into the passenger side."   There was no movement, just a hovering uncertainty in the air. Mello frowned. "You're starting to piss me off."

Century slammed the door.   It rocked the little car.   He stood, for a few seconds, in the middle of the road, debating his options. Then marched angrily back to the pavement and climbed into the passenger seat.   "You're the biggest, fucking wanker..."

"Yes, I am. But call me it again and I'll take you out."   Mello smiled pleasantly.    Through his audio, he heard Deontic murmur something inaudible.   Century had opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped in surprise at the sound.    His quick gaze swam over the dashboard and onto Mello, before alighting on the communicator.    A stony silence ensued.   Century had no idea who was listening, thus he wasn't going to say a word.    Mello was fine with that.    For now.    He drove them away from the station and back onto Alexandra Street.    He ignored Century's sharp look as they turned right.

They missed the second turning into the mountains. Century spoke very clearly, "We're going south, away from Aber. Where are we going, Mello?"

Mello smirked, enjoying the teenager's discomfort.    "That was textbook.   Telling someone where you're going, just in case they care enough to help you."

Deontic's voice sounded through the communicator. "Mello, what's going on?"

"I've kidnapped Century.   Well, hijacked, I suppose, seeing as I have his vehicle too." Mello replied, blithely. "And I'm now maliciously and, with some considerable intent, signalling to turn into the road leading to our chalets.    Do you wish to call the paras to rescue him?"

There was a short silence, as they crested the hill and the buildings and marina gave way to a seething oceanscape.   Century sat slumped in his seat, sucking morosely on a lollipop.   Mello wasn't fooled.   The teenager would be assessing every moment, in disguised hyper-awareness.   Then they heard Lauren quietly say, "He's really nice when you get to know him."

Deontic was closer to the microphone, her nerves taut and her voice prickling with indignation, "I grew up with him!"

Mello's eyes were wide, fixed on the encroaching vision of their parking bays.    Beside him, Century snorted.    Mello noted, with a penetrating glance, that Fenian and Kiana's cairn construction was still there.    The couple had left the beach.    He knew that he should be saying something pithy, like 'don't fight over me ladies', but he wasn't in the mood.   He rasped out a quick, "Just parking up, Mail.   Be right up."   Then did as his commentary stated.    Century held out his hand for the keys, as soon as they were stationary.    Mello cast him a derisive look and climbed out of the car.

Century quickly followed.   "Mello! What the fuck are you on?"   He raced after the Slav, who sprinted the final distance to the concrete staircase.    "Mello?"    Century actually caught him at the top of the stairs, which secretly shocked Mello.   He gave the teenager a look to kill, which resulted immediately in Century taking his hand off Mello's arm.   "Just give me my...."

But Mello was already marching into the computer hub, unzipping his jacket and peeling off his padded gloves.    He wasted no time on the women present, but made a beeline for Matt.    He pulled the redhead in close, breathing in the scent of him; salving his own tattered wits in the sensation of the beloved frame beneath his arms.   Matt's heart thundered against Mello's own chest. Mello waited until it calmed to a steady beat.   He felt Matt's torso relax, so subtly, and his husband shifted his weight onto his other leg.    Mello smiled.   He leaned back, meeting Matt's eyes.   "I know how long to wait now."   He winked and smiled, while Matt frowned a silent query. "Later."   Then pecked a kiss on his lips and turned to face the others.   "Oh! What a mixed bag of emotions we all are."   He watched Century.   The teenager was leaning up the wall, with his head bowed, breathing heavily.   He had his hand pressed over his heart, but didn't appear to be in any pain.    Mello rolled his eyes.    "Century, you will get your keys back, when I'm ready to give them to you.   But first, I want information.   We'll take a little stroll to the communal hall, I think.    Lauren, please ask Hal and her lesbian shrink to join us too.   Deontic, come here."

Lauren ran to obey his order, while Century looked up, glaring.    Deontic nervously took the five steps that brought her into his orbit.   Mello instantly placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer still, in a one-armed hug.   Deontic gasped and tried to pull away. "Mello!"

Mello inclined his head, peering around to meet Deontic's harried eyes, "Brother. Gay man. Safe."   He watched Deontic's fragile composure crumple.   She turned away, so he couldn't see her eyes fill with tears, fishing in her sleeve for a tissue.   Mello moved around, releasing Matt from under his other arm.    He stood before Deontic, with his arms open. She flapped at him to go away, but then stepped right into them.   "That's my girl."   Mello smiled, rocking with her, as he held her in his arms.   "I've got you."    Mello winked at Matt over Deontic's head, but his stomach was clenched and his mind was icy.    In a minute, he was going to walk into that communal hall and it was going to be a fight.    Mello knew one thing and one thing only.   He was going to win it. "Dee, would you do me a big favour and ask Fenian and Kiana to join us in the hall please?"

She shifted slightly, her hand going up, under her glasses, to wipe the tears away.   She replied, miserably, "Not if it's going to involve another row."

"I promise to be a good boy."   Mello smirked, stepping away to bow chivalrously at her.   "On my honour."

"Mello."   Century breathily interrupted.   "If you don't give me my keys, I'm going to get Fenian to drive me up there."

Mello shook his head. "Fenian's been drinking. He's over limit."

"What?"

"I'm a detective. I notice things."   Mello declared.   "Like whiskey bottles on the beach, when I saw him there less than an hour ago. Unlucky."

Deontic sighed.   "You're starting on him now."

"Pardon?"

"Century. Just because he had the audacity to learn something before you did."   She shook her head at Mello.   "Why can't we all just work together?"

Century walked out of the door, but Mello raced after him.    Century heard him coming and sped up, along the concrete balcony. "Century!"    Mello called out.   "Don't make me have to persuade you to comply."

Century stopped dead at the corner and looked back.   With haunted eyes, he hissed, "You bastard."

Author's note:   I've been asked to set up a discussion forum on my website. It's still in beta mode (as I sort out the colours), but the discussion has started. The URL is: http://mrsjeevas.joharrington.co.uk/forum/viewforum.php?f=11
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Annals of Fear II