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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 met Matt's eyes and smirked.    They were momentarily alone.   Century had gone to use the bathroom.   Deontic had seized the pause in proceedings to nip and get another cardigan, from her own study, two doors down.   Chrissie had signed off. The screen-saver whirled, password-protected against viewing the desktop beneath.   Mello dropped to his hands and knees, then crawled up, along Matt's out-stretched legs.    He leaned over the laptop to claim a kiss.    Mello's face glowed with delight. He hissed, quietly, "Game, set and fucking match.   Valerie gone.   Hal watching her step. Century chastised and ready to spill.   Fenian nowhere near the manor house, when I'm about to go back into it.   Chrissie thinking the sun shines from my ass.   Sometimes I even impress myself."

Matt smiled, "Don't underestimate Deontic. She knew what you were up to."

"Up to?" Mello blinked and bobbed another kiss onto his husband's lips.   "Te amo."

"Is this the interval?   Or am I on the consigliere check-list?"    Matt winked, behind his goggles, to show that he was joking. "Item 400, ensure husband feels loved."

Mello sat back, peevishly, "At least it's on my check-list."

"Volim te."   Matt replied, taking Mello's hand and stroking his thumb across the hard nub of Mello's wedding ring, under his glove.    To his surprise, Mello bit his lip and gave a little shiver.    Matt's voice, always soft, dropped even lower, "Pretty, pretty Mihael.   Volim..."

They were interrupted by Deontic's return.   She had left the door on the latch, but hurriedly shut it now and scurried back to her chair.    She huddled in it, dithering.    "Had a text from Hal.   She's with Kiana.   I don't know how they're sitting on the beach in this."

"They have a fire."   Mello swivelled off Matt, onto his knee, then resumed his own position, in the other armchair.   "And whiskey."    But he was frowning now.   Hal's presence could well send Fenian back to them.    "You've been very quiet, Dee."   She nodded, but didn't reply.   Mello caught her gaze.   "I haven't forgotten about them.   They won't get away with hurting you."

Deontic's chin burrowed further into the snood neck of her jumper.   "Vigilantism or justice?"

"What I do best." Mello winked; and was saved from elaborating by the sound of the bathroom door being unlocked from within.

Century had had a wash.   His hairline, and some of the strands hanging down at the sides, were damp from it.     He flicked the kettle on, as he passed it, after first checking with a glance that there was water in it.    Then he sat down at his computer, but rode the chair around to face them.    "I hate that this is your impression of Wales.   Ghosts in the mountains and knuckle-scraping bastards in castles, is it?   Racists."   He frowned.   He'd found the pocket with the lollipops in and was carefully unwrapping one now.   "That's not the Welsh."

"Yeah."   Mello shrugged. "And not all Yugoslavians are cannon fodder.   Now what have you found out?"

"Never said they were, did I?"

Mello gestured surrender. "No, you didn't.   I just meant that I understand that some first impressions get formed under unusual and fucked up circumstances."    He nodded towards the computer and made to speak.

"So what is it that you are thinking about the Welsh?"   Century pressed.   "Only I..."

"Ok." Mello tapped his foot, wanting to get on with the case.   "I won't presume to be speaking for the other two as well, but I probably am."   He raised his chocolate to his mouth, but didn't take a bite.   "My first impression of the Welsh is exactly the same as my first impression of the Irish.   That is that they are really disconcerting, when you've just spent time learning and becoming fluent in English; then you get native speakers pronouncing everything totally differently.    An accent is fine, but you rearrange the whole sentence structure.   Bit of a mindfuck, when we've broken our balls learning it the other way."

"English isn't my native language."

A short rap on the door signalled why Century was stalling.    None of the other three reacted, letting their unmoved expressions communicate that they had been expecting this.    Century let Fenian in, then crossed immediately to set out some mugs for cups of tea.   Fenian gave them a sweeping look, then surveyed the room for somewhere to sit, where he could see the computer screen.

Warmer now, Deontic unfurled.   She kept her vision steady on a pile of books, pointedly not singling out anyone with even a glance.   "Can we do this without any sniping and insults please?   It gets very tiresome after a while."    She waited, but they were either not replying or ignoring her.   She took a deep breath.   "My grandma always told me that only one class of men feel the need for one-upmanship, bickering away whenever they feel that their manhood has been challenged.   Those are the men with very small penises."

There were gasps all around the room, even Matt chuckled.    In the noise and steam of the boiling kettle, Century turned, incredulous, "Did she say 'penis'?   Deontic!"

She was trying very hard, with some success, not to blush.   She replied, "I said 'penises'."   She sat primly, not meeting any eyes.   "Just so you know what I'm thinking.   Argumentative. Small penis."

"And did your grandma have much empiric....?"

"Mello. Don't go there."   Deontic glowered.   "Don't even joke about my grandma."

Fenian and Century carried two mugs of tea apiece, placing them down beside the others.   They were both grinning.    As Deontic's colour flushed crimson, even Fenian and Mello exchanged half-laughs, as their gazes unexpectedly met.   Century sat back at his computer; while Fenian cleared books from a table against the wall and settled down beside the microfiche reader.

Mello raised his tea to his lips and blew on its surface.   "One way to break the ice. Go Deontic."    He watched Century opening files, then leaned to see what his husband was displaying on his laptop.   "Mail, are you doing anything important?"

"Me?"   Matt looked at him.   Mello nodded and took a sip.   "Yeah. I'm with Deontic, trying to work out the size of everyone's cock."

Mello had to swallow hard, so not to splutter hot tea everywhere.    Deontic sighed, "Matt, please."

Fenian shuffled uncomfortably on his table.   "The only time he fucking talks all day, it's about cocks."   He caught sight of Deontic's expression and so, leaning around the microfiche reader, he chucked a cigarette onto Matt's lap.   "Now let's shut up about them."

"Thank you, Fenian." Deontic found a wan smile.

Century turned sideways onto the computer, so he could face them all.   "I'm expecting to see the Holy Grail inside the altar." He waited and no-one said a thing.    Deontic looked studiously blank; Matt didn't look up from his laptop; but Fenian and Mello both, after a short pause, smiled.    "What?" He looked to Mello, then hated that he did, so switched to Fenian instead.

Fenian pulled a face, "You look like you're waiting for a drum-roll."

Mello added, wryly, "Carry on talking, Century."

Century sighed.   "This feels like a set up. I've solved this. I have solved this."   He stared at his computer.   "And I'm being bullied into telling you too.   So that you can..."

"Haven't we covered this once?"   Mello frowned.

"I'm getting a taxi." Century countered, not meeting his eyes.   "If you're not giving me my keys back."

Fenian shrugged, "I told you that I'm probably not over the limit."

Deontic rubbed her face.   "This isn't Wammy's House."

Mello shook his head, looking from one to the other like they were mere children.    His gaze alighted finally on Deontic. "Yes, it is.   And, if it wasn't, you would have gone home.    But Century, who can take a thing from you?"   He indicated the presence of the others with a languid gesture.   "Witnesses.    A jury of your peers to know that you found it all out before us.   Who's left to convince?    Chrissie, Salvo, Linda, Luigi, Near.     Just get on with it, so we can all be duly impressed."

Century swallowed and took a lollipop.    He looked scared.    "I want more time, to go over my notes, before I submit it to you all." He was met with stony silence, under four intense gazes.   Even Matt was watching him, smiling.   "Fuck it."   A nervous fiddling with the plastic wrapper of his lollipop.   "I don't...."

"Y gwir yn erbyn y byd."

Century stopped dead and met Mello's calm gaze across the room.   The Slav smiled.   Century exhaled. He uttered a little laugh, then surveyed Mello again.   "You haven't a clue what that means."

Mello's smile grew into a smirk.   "It's your battle-cry.   Now go into battle."

Century narrowed his eyes, unable to tell whether Mello had divined the meaning or if it was merely a lucky guess.    Neither could he work out if Mello was his best ally or worst enemy.    "I still don't feel very well."

"Then let's download your files onto Mail's laptop and go to the hospital."

Fenian jumped off the table. "Cent, come into my room.   Let's have a little chat."

Mello shook his head. "He can speak in front of us all."

"Please stop." Deontic whispered.   Tears were rolling down her cheeks.   "Please stop."    Fenian continued walking, skirting her chair to reach the door.   Mello held his hand out, palm upwards, towards Matt.   Matt reached for something concealed under his gilet.   Deontic screamed. "Please stop!"    And they all froze.    "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!" Ending on a final command shrieked at the top of her voice, "Stop!"

"Dee." Fenian stepped back into her view. "We've stopped."

"Such fucking games!"   She yelled, the expletive awkward on her lips.   "Liam, sit down!   Mihael," her eyes narrowed, "you dare..."   Her sentence fell away, but her eyes flashed.   "Iestyn, I don't know what the heck has gotten into you, but, for all of our sakes, just stop it.   And Mail..." She faltered, because she had nothing on him, though she had no doubt at all that he was up to something.    Still bowed over his laptop, Matt smiled.   Deontic closed her eyes.   "I had to sit there and watch one of my closest friends starve herself to death, because of the ethos of mutually assured destruction that exists from Wammy's House. I had to sit there and try to comfort Linda, who had seen her fiancé shot dead and," Deontic gestured, helplessly, "Nathalie."   She brushed Fenian away, as he made to touch her.   "I don't know when the 'phone is going to ring to tell me that Luigi has finally succeeded in topping himself.   And I sound, to my own ears, like a stuck record, going on and on and on."

Mello leaned forward, speaking gruffly, conspiratorially, "Gentlemen, we are upsetting the lady.   Shall we....?"   The Celts both cast him disdainful looks.

"And sometimes I think, just let him go."   Deontic whispered, her throat full of the tears that she was gulping back.   "But what if Linda or Chrissie had thought the same about Mail?   He wouldn't be sitting here right now, with that cocky look on his face."

"What?" Mello breathed.   "Ok, this is getting way off track.   Century, just tell us what you fucking know, so we can get this over with."   His arm twisted back, so he could grip Matt's shoulder.   The redhead hadn't moved.   His fingers clattered on the keyboard.

Deontic rose from her seat.   She looked up into Fenian's eyes, seeing his face swimming through the film of tears covering her own.   "I'm so glad that you made it back to Galway.   You always wanted to go home so much."   She pulled her coat close to cover her chest and made to walk past him.   "So glad you made it home."

Fenian held out an arm to stop her, "Where are you going, Dee?"

"I don't know." She shook her head, her voice cracking.   "Somewhere where I feel safe and I don't even know where that is. Because I knew. I really knew. Then I see the, what did Roger once call it? The house of cards is coming down." She shuddered. "When those bastards touched me, all I kept thinking was..." She swallowed, bowing her head.   Her glasses steamed under the emotion.   "How can I be safe with you four, when you're so intent on doing each other's heads in?   This is nothing to do with the forces at that house.   This is our own private brand of suicide."

Mello sighed, "Deontic."

She turned and shrieked at him, "Don't!   I remember you in that house.   The way you brought Century through. The way you acted like nothing, in this world nor the next, would hurt him, while you stood in the way.    Now look at you." She raised her voice even louder.   "Look at you!"   She shrugged Fenian's arm from her shoulder.   "Go home to Galway.   You broke your heart enough to get there. You've kept out of it until now.   Go home."   She caught Mello's glance and turned her head sharply to survey Fenian.   "Are you mouthing things to him?   Working together now that there's a madwoman being hormonal?"

"No."   Fenian uttered a half-laugh.   "Come on, lass, what's set you off?"   His gaze flickered past her and Deontic whipped around.   Mello was standing just two feet away.    "Why don't...?"

Deontic made to bolt, but Mello caught hold of her.   She kicked his shins and twisted, but landed practically into Century's lap. He put out a hand to steady her. Deontic gasped, panic rising across her features.   "No!" She gulped, lashing out and knocking Century into his computer.   She broke free and made it around the desk to the space before the window.   There she stood, pale and shaking.   "Oh gosh."   A trembling hand rose to her mouth. "Oh gosh."

Fenian quietly instructed, "Give her space."

Mello, who had leapt to block the fall of both Century and his computer, nodded.   He glanced at the teenager, who was now standing. "You ok?"   Century nodded, but slipped behind Mello and went to sit on the armchair beside Matt.   He knew instinctively that Fenian and Mello were the better suited to deal with distressed women.    Mello's attention was on Deontic now.   "Dee, you know that we aren't going to hurt you.    I'm going to call Hal and..."

"Matt!"   Deontic called out. She looked from Mello to Fenian, then back to Mello.   "I want to speak with him."   Her voice rose again. "Matt!"

Out of her view, on the floor across the room, Matt replied softly, "Yes?"

Mello frowned, "Why do you need Mail?"

Fenian's mind was also working fast.   He muttered, "Smallest, gayest, geekiest?"

Deontic was trembling.   Her voice broke, as she tried to use it, but her words were conveyed, "Please come here."

Mello shook his head slightly, with a sharp sidewards glance at Fenian.   Behind them, heard, but unseen, was the sound of Matt closing his laptop, unplugging it and carrying it with him to squeeze past Mello.   Then he stopped.   Mello's hand automatically snaked around Matt's waist and rested against his hip.   It was Mello who answered her.   "Mail's here."

Deontic beckoned, looking close to losing it.   "Here."   She shuddered. "Please, here."   She watched Matt hand his laptop to Mello, who had to release him to receive it.   Matt moved to the corner of the table and waited.   Deontic wiped at her eyes. "I want to speak with him, privately."   Her gaze flittered over Fenian and Mello, then she looked away.    Fenian exhaled and stepped back, taking the other armchair, next to Century.   Mello was more circumspect.   He held his ground. Staring.   Deontic turned away, leaning against the window, huddled into her coat.

Long seconds passed, before Matt blew out his cheeks, then sauntered to her side.    She immediately grabbed the hem of his gilet and yanked upwards.   Matt's fingers encased her wrist, but observation and luck both played their part.   She had her other hand around the handle of the semi-automatic, concealed in the waistband of his jeans.   Matt gripped that wrist too.   Her finger found the trigger.   She didn't know if the safety catch was on or off.    Matt watched her, impassively, giving nothing away.    They had both been absolutely silent about it.   Even Mello, close by, but with his vision blocked by Matt's body, had no real idea of what was going on.

Deontic whispered, low, under her breath, "Dame el arma."

"No." Matt mouthed.

"Por favor."

Matt smirked and mouthed, "Chica estúpida."   Then released her wrists and stepped back, gasping loudly, "She's got a gun! Fuck!"    His hands were in the air.    Deontic's finger, trapped against the trigger, caused the gun to remain in her hand, pulled back from the waistband of his jeans.   Matt darted backwards, around the desk.    "Mello!"    Mello caught him, pushing him down.   Deontic stood, dumbly shocked, holding the gun.

Across the room, Century did what he was renowned for doing.    He fled.    He pushed himself up from the armchair, leapt over Fenian's legs and rushed, crouching, to the door.   He grasped the latch and, though Deontic now recovered herself enough to scream his name, Century hurtled out into the night.    Fenian had lunged to grab him, but missed.   The Irishman now gave a sweeping, scathing look at them, but his gaze lasted longest on Matt.   Then he raced after the teenager.    Deontic spluttered out, "You bastard. You utter, utter bastard!"

Matt scrambled to the door, shut it and jammed down the dead-latch.   Then smirked at Deontic.   "It's not loaded."    He jogged back to the computer and took out a memory stick.

Mello stood beside him, still clutching the laptop, trying not to appear stunned himself.    Only his eyes moved, passing from the door, to Deontic and back to his husband.   He carefully placed Matt's laptop onto the desk beside him, then strode around to the distraught woman.    He prised the gun from her hand and then hugged her.   She let him do both.   Mello's head turned to watch Matt downloading Century's documents.   He blinked.

Deontic recovered herself enough to push against Mello.   He released her and she stood, cowering and shaking, at the window.   Her fingers fished her 'phone from her pocket and, trembling, she speed-dialled Century.   Mello watched her doing it, aware that he probably should be stopping her.   He turned to stare at his husband.   "Guapo..."   Then stopped, because he had no idea what to say.    Century's firewalls were beeping against invasion.   Matt was obviously installing any one of his trojans or keystrokers.   Mello glanced at Deontic, but Century was not picking up.   Mello hurried to Matt's side and hissed. "That was really low."

Matt shrugged, but didn't stop copying files and ensuring that his foster brother's computer could never be used without remote observation.

Deontic swallowed and stood straight.   With extreme willpower and by holding herself very stiffly, she appeared to stop shaking.   Her voice emitted blankly, yet with a slight undercurrent of ice, "You cheated."   She began a walk towards the door that recalled Haile Selassie leaving the League of Nations.

"Dee." Mello held out a hand to stop her, but she wriggled clear of it.   "Pek Wan."

She raised a hand. "Just don't, Mello."

"You think this is ideal?" Mello snapped.   "When they're probably halfway to the manor house in Fenian's Land Rover, intent on removing the witch bottle.    You think that this is what I wanted?"

Deontic froze. With her back to them, she spoke, "They're not all as evil as you pair."    She bowed her head, but didn't take another step. "Dissent between you and Matt."   She snorted, then woodenly turned, just her upper body, to survey them.   "Interesting."

Mello put out a hand to touch Matt's arm, but the redhead was still working at the computer.   He was apparently oblivious to the conversation, though neither were fooled by that.    Mello kept talking.   "Has it not occurred to you that it would have been easier and faster for me to have just driven Century up to the manor house?    I came here instead for a reason.   I wanted to go up there.   The answers are up there. The evidence is up there.   I had Century with me and he is convinced that he knows something relevant.   But I came here.   Why?"

Deontic blinked.   "Power games. And Matt was here."

"No." Mello glowered.   "Because we know that that altar is ground zero.   All of the phenomenon rises from that room and the priest hole seems key to that.   Now we have a deeper mystery.   The last time that something was disturbed there, the music could reach out across the world.    Do we actually know what is going to happen when we open the altar?   Nothing? Armageddon?   No.   But what we did have was yourself, Mail and Lauren listening in.   We know that whatever the unplugging of the witch bottle unleashes can reach through the signal.   Call it instinct, but I think that whatever is under the altar has the potential to be worse.   Did you really want me to let that hit you?   Hit Mail?   Hit Lauren, who, frankly, is my woman on the outside.   I'd SOS her before I ever went near to Watari."    He glared at Deontic.

Deontic stared at him.   "So you came back and sent people home."

"Everyone who was superfluous to need.   So that when whatever potentially could happen goes and happens, they don't get caught in the crossfire." Mello wiped his mouth.   "Century thinks I'm trying to take this from him.   I just want my life back."   Mello's free hand rose.   "Yes, maybe I am pissed off that he found something before I did.   But I'm also well aware that Century is a brilliant historian and, therefore, has an historian's tunnel vision.   He wants to get in there to find some historical artefact, that will change the world.    He's got no heed towards the supernatural and divinity, because that's not where his mind is.   I would rather look over that evidence first.   Yes, professional pride.    I admit it.   But also because I am 100% certain that I might see things from a different perspective from him and, ultimately, it might be something that saves his life too."

Matt looked up.   "I've finished. I've got it."

Deontic ignored him.   She watched only Mello.   "Is the plan now that I believe your story, then repeat it to Century and Fenian?   Buying you time to review the evidence and get up to the manor house yourself?"

Mello hadn't shifted his gaze, locked upon her own.   "Mail, apologise to the lady."

Silence hung solidly in the air.    Mello let it hang.

"Sorry."   Matt said, eventually, though his tone was too light to convey much sincerity.

Mello's fingers tightened around Matt's bicep.    "And Deontic, you have my full apologies too.   I didn't mean for the situation to spiral out of control again.   My intention was damage limitation when, or if, it blows.   Please use that information as you will. I'm not going to use you as a pawn."

Deontic nodded.   "No. You're not."   She turned and continued to the door.   She flipped back its dead-latch and paused.   But then went on out into the night.

Author's Note:   This story is being discussed here: http://mrsjeevas.joharrington.co.uk/forum/viewforum.php?f=11
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Annals of Fear II