Poisoned Rationality

Matt looked up from his game as the light changed in his room. It took a second to realise that it was because half of his wall of monitors had suddenly become white. A large, gothic \'W\' loomed in the centre of each one. He cast an emerald gaze, unaccountably, to the second cluster of screens, checking that they weren\'t being physically invaded, but all was well. Matt paused his game and crossed to the keyboard. "Mello!" He yelled.



"It\'s happening in here too." Mello called back, so Matt left his study and entered the one over the landing. Mello was just pressing the button to speak. "Watari? How have you hacked our system?"



Roger\'s voice replied, "Mello, how are you feeling?"



Mello glared at Matt, as if he had something to do with this. "We\'re good."



"I need your help."



Mello looked startled. He jabbed at the controls again. "Why not call L? I\'m assuming that the big official \'W\' means that you haven\'t just messed up the laundry order or something."



"L has gone missing." Roger sounded tense, gabbling the words like hesitation might render them never spoken. "He\'s not been seen since Thursday."



Matt and Mello exchanged glances. Matt kept his expression neutral, Mello alternated between a few, mostly silent, reactions before hitting the button again. "And this concerns me, why?"



Now Roger paused. "Because he helped you." As Mello\'s mouth gaped and he made to fire back a response, Roger rushed on. "And so the last shot came from him. He owed you for Kira and he repaid it. That means that you haven\'t got one up on him and I thought that perhaps you might like to." Mello glared, Matt smirked. "Also because he has a really strong team now, but none of them have the sort of mind that you have, Mello. I am asking you as a personal favour if you will find Near."



Matt shrugged. "He\'s remembered to call him Near and not L. I thought that was an error from the start, personally."



Mello waved at him to be quiet and pressed the button again. "I\'ll think about it." He ended the call. "Matt, how did he do that?"



"Freak." Matt replied. "It\'s the... oh. You\'d left." He went on to explain that they all had a restricted access line, only to be called in dire emergency or official communications. One of several servers housed the lines, but each of the Wammy alumni had a bespoke number. They were supposed to alert Roger if that number would no longer reach them. He finished happily. "It\'s the first time he\'s ever called me."



"You?"



"Well, it\'s got to be if you didn\'t set yours up." Matt frowned. "It\'s set to over-ride all other browsers and default to a phone line if it\'s not picked up. Some of our feeds are linked. It must have leaked into yours when... Mell, I\'m going to shut up now, because you look like you\'re about to kill something." He backed out. "I\'m going to find out where I fucked up with the wiring."



Mello sat on his armchair staring at his own reflection in the darkened window. His scar, distorted even more in the glass, made him look like a monster. He looked away. On one hand, Mello was touched more than he would care to admit that his help had been solicited in this way; on the other hand, it rankled like Hell. He felt like some trained sniffer-dog only being called when the Lord and Master was missing. They called on him, for the first time - no! They called on Matt, because no-one had bothered to tell him about this Wammy line thing - solely because there was no Near to consult. That hurt. After all of this time, it hurt more than it should do.



Matt returned. "Fixed."



"The bastards!" Mello screamed. "Who does he think he is? Well, fuck Near! If the smug, little shit wants to go on a holiday, let him. I don\'t see why they have to drag me into it!" He was out of his seat and pacing. "And for the record, Matt, you want to know something else that really pisses me off?" Mello\'s fingers clenched on the back of a chair. "Every night, at twenty past eight, Roger calls you. I know that\'s a secret arrangement just to cover your back, in case I have you trapped and brutalised again, but it really fucking does my head in."



"He fusses, that\'s all."



"Not him! You!" Mello bellowed. "You haven\'t told him to stop! And I haven\'t worked out yet if it\'s because you want the safety net or you\'re keeping him sweet so your supply of drugs doesn\'t dry up." He punched the wall. "Either way, I don\'t like it. But you just do what you fucking want to." Mello snapped up his discarded chocolate bar and bit into it viciously. His window reflection showed him that there were now tears of rage falling down the monster\'s face. "Call Roger back. Tell him to send me through the information they have so far. Last known sightings, all that crap. Tell him that once I do this, we\'re square and I owe him nothing. And tell him that I want my own access number and you," He turned again and glared, "had better not have taken the M."



Matt backed out and returned to his own room. It resembled a storeroom more than a study, with electrical items covering the walls and every spare surface. Only a settee in the centre, facing the most elaborate games station he had ever constructed, suggested that someone lived in here. He relayed the messages to Roger and passed on Mello\'s e-mail address, then opened six search engines. Each window displayed a different website explaining the causes, symptoms and risk factors of Asperger\'s Syndrome. He used two mouses and both hands to scroll through them, as he read each monitor simultaneously. An opening door alerted him to Mello\'s approach and he sat back, awaiting orders.



"How did we ever share a room?" Mello asked, stepping over wires to reach the settee. He sat down and sucked on his chocolate. He seemed a little calmer. "It\'s no good searching the internet for sightings of a pyjamaed freak scaring children in the street. They think he got changed before he went out. There was a delivery, which he took into his room. When Hal eventually checked the next day, his pyjamas were folded on his bed, the box was open and the delivery note suggested a change of clothes. He walked out without setting off a single alarm."



"If he\'s abdicated, does that mean you have to be L?"



"I don\'t need to hide behind Lawliet\'s name. I\'m making my own way." Mello frowned. "After I\'ve finished the decorating."



Matt shrugged, "My feeling is that he has gone for a wander. They are panicking because they\'re sheep. He\'ll come back when he\'s good and ready." He pointed to the screens. "There\'s nothing here says his condition will make him top himself."



"The concern," Mello growled, "is not that Near might have fancied a trip to the seaside, but that some people might work out that the stupid arsewipe is L and wouldn\'t that be a lovely target to hit?" His expression stated clearly that he was one of them. "A situation made all the more probable by the fact that the arrogant shit would most likely just come out with the information."



Matt cringed, but spoke anyway. "Much as I agree with you about Near being an arsewipe, he is, well, erm, he\'s quite clever in his own right. You know? He had the sense to wear a mask when he met Kira."



"Meaning?"



Matt reviewed his words and couldn\'t spot anything that highlighted a failure of Mello\'s. He debated between not responding or applying a diversory train of thought. The mood Mello was in, the latter seemed better. "Can I run something past you that I\'ve been musing on?"



There was a loud sigh, followed by a crack of chocolate. "What is it, Matt?"



"If someone with Shinigami eyes looked at me, what name would they have seen?"



Mello\'s eyes rolled in his direction. "Mail fucking Jeevas, why?"



"Where did that come from?" Matt raised a hand. "Hear me out. At the risk of sounding like Shakespeare, what\'s in a name? I was never registered. My name might be something that my Dad made up on the spot during the only time he spoke to me. I haven\'t officially got a name. I\'ve been called Matt nearly as long as I\'ve been called Mail; if you check the list on Roger\'s computer, my name\'s It Matters, which I will not answer to, by the way. You go on the EHC and they\'ll tell you my name is Mariomatt. I\'ve been called that for as long as I\'ve been Matt." He lit a cigarette. "So where is the name coming from? If the Shinigami goes and looks it up at the Registrar\'s, then am I immune from Death Notes? If it\'s the name that you secretly call yourself, then mine changes, even in my head, depending on the circumstances. If it needs an official name, then I suppose that my passport name might cover it, but I don\'t feel like a Steven."



"I don\'t know!" Mello barked. His words dripped sarcasm, "Next time Sidoh comes for a visit, I\'ll ask him, shall I?" He glowered at the paused game screen, then glanced up. "You registered yourself, Matty, in foot high letters scratched into rust in an oil tanker."



Matt turned away, feeling the bite more deeply than Mello may have intended. It was hard to tell. Sometimes Mello just wanted to lash out and hurt whoever was nearest and he was certainly in that sort of mood tonight. He continued to skimread sites about Asperger\'s. "Do you want me to do anything specifically here?"



Mello sighed and rose in a creaking of leather. He placed a hand on Matt\'s shoulder, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "That was actually meant to be reassuring. You exist and you told the world that you existed when you did that. I\'m not surprised that you were the only one to kick back when Wammy had us change our names, because you went through Hell to get yours in the first place." The hand rubbed along the back of Matt\'s neck and stroked his cheek. "I\'m pretty certain though, that if a Shinigami looked at you, it would see Mail Jeevas. That\'s who you are." Matt looked up with a small smile and received a kiss on the lips. "Just search in your own way, I\'ll search in mine and we\'ll pool knowledge as we get it."



Matt took a perverse warmth from the fact that Mello didn\'t close his study door. He reciprocated the sentiment by not switching on any games, even when he was thinking. He searched news feeds, forums, missing persons, Kira sites and the speculative L sites, then padded over to Mello\'s door. The blond was tapping at his laptop keyboard, occasionally consulting a pad covered with circled thoughts. "Cup of hot chocolate?"



"Please. But first your brain." Mello sat back and put his feet up on the table. "When we got back from Japan, what did you want to do most in the world?"



"Sleep."



"After that." He frowned. "Ok, it got a bit fucked up after that, but if it hadn\'t. In fact, if I hadn\'t been around, what would you have wanted to do?"



"Find you, then chill."



"Just as I thought." Mello chewed on his pen, then substituted it for chocolate. "So you wouldn\'t be looking to run off on some next big case?"



"No, I\'m knackered and a bit shell-shocked." He frowned. "Even you didn\'t. Well, not life or death ones. You found a house and now you\'re full of interior design and stuff."



"Ok, thank you." Mello flashed a smile, but his eyes were defocused. He was thinking. Matt pushed himself away from the doorway and made their drinks without any real recollection of going to the kitchen and back. His own mind was rushing through different scenarios, evaluating them along the way. When he returned, Mello had a new page of notes open. "Thanks. Any chance you could stay in here, quietly? I have more things to pick your brain over."



"Yeah." Matt raised his eyebrows, but put his own mug of tea on the table next to Mello\'s chocolate. He wandered into his own study and picked up his DS. He ensured it was muted before picking up his cigarettes and an ashtray. "Can I smoke in your study?"



There was a pause and a derisive, "Yes." Mello was frowning when he walked back in there and sat down. "I said I wanted you in here, not a cranky arsehole who\'ll bite your head off soon as look at you." He smirked. "That\'s my job. Since when have I stopped you smoking anywhere near me? I never say a word about your smoking, even when you\'re coughing up an oyster first thing in the morning."



"I was being polite."



"Well don\'t." He tapped the pad. "Where\'s Near, Matt?"



"Mainland Britain."



Mello grinned. "That\'s what I think as well, why do you think it?"



"Because to leave, he would have to arrange a flight or a boat. He can\'t drive, so he\'s not going through the Channel Tunnel. This is only a 89% definite theory, by the way, because there\'s still the shuttle, but I think he wouldn\'t take that either." Matt shrugged. "To leave the country, he\'s going to have to deal with people and arrange the documentation. It\'s too much hassle for him."



"Right. I think he\'s here because he\'s not gone to America. He\'s not gone for the same reason that we aren\'t either in Spain or Croatia right now. That accent wasn\'t East Coast and he spent plenty of time in Manhattan without venturing into the rest of the country." Mello sucked hot chocolate across the chunk of chocolate in his mouth. "You\'re tired. I\'m tired. He\'s tired. We\'ll do the emotional reunions another day."



"Not emotional reunions. He\'s got Asperger\'s. He can feel things, very deeply in fact, but not in the same way. It\'s more tactile or whatever the opposite of tactile is. I can\'t imagine him placing himself in a situation where an emotional reaction would be inevitable. Similarly, he\'s not going to be where there are crowds of people." Matt quickly glanced at Mello\'s laptop. A second too late, Mello closed it, flashing him a dirty look. "When was the last time you saw Near touch anyone?"



"I try not to see Near."



Matt rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Mello used to study his rival with an obsessive intensity. "I don\'t think he\'s gone to America, because it would be too traumatic to get there even in normal circumstances. Do we think he flipped out?"



"If we did, he did." Mello replied prissily. "Hal says that he\'s now made a Matt puppet and that he was," He paused, struggling for an acceptable word, "attentive to them before he left."



"In what way?"



"She couldn\'t say. They were just on his fingers."



Matt switched on his DS. "I suddenly feel very unclean." Beside him, Mello chuckled. "Mell, start remembering every word you\'ve said to him over the past few months. Literal translations."



Mello glanced at him, startled, but Matt was already clicking buttons. "Care to illuminate me?"



"He might be picking over something you said. You\'re one of the few people in the world who can really set him off on a new direction." Matt told his game. "If he\'s anything like us, he\'ll be looking for something new to obsess over."



Mello picked up his \'phone and dialled Roger\'s number. It rang out several times before the elderly man answered. "Roger, did you give Near our address?" He appeared satisfied by the reply. "Thank you. Matt\'s still alive. Bye." Mello smiled as he watched Matt\'s head bow lower. "Two things occur. I said something that day you hacked the computer at Wammy\'s, I mean the notable occasion you dragged me into there with you. I was being ironic and said something about the sex, drugs and rock\'n\'roll scene. I said a lot of things that day in the warehouse. I can\'t remember what I said to him..." Mello fell silent. Matt glanced up, but Mello was just staring into space, chocolate immobile between his teeth. Suddenly he snatched up his pad and ripped over the page to start writing on a clean sheet. "Matt, you arrived in America with those goggles on. They aren\'t the same ones you had as a child. Where did you buy them?"



"Huh?"



"Pay fucking attention. Where did you buy those goggles?"



"Camden."



Mello wrote a note on his pad. "Jeans, jacket, boots, top?"



"In a minute."



Mello growled, "Where the Hell did you buy them?"



"Camden."



"High Street store?" Mello pushed, pen poised.



Sensing that this wasn\'t as good a time as it had been to become absorbed in his game, Matt paused it and looked up. "What?"



"You never had a jacket like that as a child. Those goggles have little holes in them which would make them useless for racing, swimming or any other possible use for goggles. Is there a theme here or were you just grabbing the first things that you liked?" Mello surveyed him with a mercenary look. "I know you\'ve always liked stripes and jeans and I know that you could have been just going for the nearest equivalent of..."



"Cyberpunk."



"What?"



"I see that cyberpunk didn\'t reach the Mafia quite as much as it infiltrated Camden Market." Matt grinned. "That\'s me pinpointed. So what did you come as?"



"Get me Camden up on the screen. I want to see it." Mello pointed with his pen to the monitors and bit off his chocolate. His gaze was totally taken with the notes on his page. "Why did you go to Camden to buy cyberpunk clothes?"



"Well, I\'m not going to get it in Marks and Spencers, am I?" Matt grinned, bringing up several websites.



Mello started making circles on the paper. "Humour me, Matt. If I was to accidentally tear all of your clothes to shreds, including the ones on your body, where in Hampshire would I replace them?"



"The internet." He gestured to show Mello that the sites were up, but his lover was still gazing at the pad with an intense gleam in his eyes. "Order them from Camden."



"Ok, topmost, left-hand screen, there\'s a \'welcome to Camden\' video, let me see it." Mello hadn\'t appeared to have looked up and Matt raised his eyebrows, smiling. The blond stood up and joined him, leaning on the keyboard shelf. His eyes widened when, within a few seconds, he spotted a zipped, leather outfit exactly like one of his own in a shop display. His keen eyes took in the background of every scene. "I saw jeans and a top like yours. I definitely saw things that I might wear."



Matt lit a cigarette. "When did we make the giant jump from Near\'s in Britain to Near\'s in Camden?" But Mello was looking from screen to screen, his head moving jerkily, as he scrolled down one then another. "If we\'re going to the cyber shops in Camden, I need to take some money." He waited patiently. "Are we?"



Mello nodded. "It\'s a lead." He paced back to the chair and began rifling through the rest of his paper, before comparing random sheets with information on his laptop. "How long will it take us to get there?"



"Me driving or you?"



"Me. You\'re high."



Matt opened his mouth to protest his innocence, but Mello didn\'t look like he was interested in truths outside his latest mission. "About an hour and forty... call it an hour." Matt pushed past the chairs and ambled to his room for jacket and travelling essentials. He opened up his safe and counted out money, finally settling on £500. It was a lot to be spending in one go, but he rarely made it to the home of British Cyberpunk, so he could justify it. It bothered him slightly, again, that he had no idea how much money they had between them generally. Mello shrugged questions off with \'I\'m wealthy enough\' or \'don\'t worry about it\'. Matt couldn\'t even find a benchmark figure for what Mello considered to be wealthy. It might just be there his lover was bored by discussions like these and they could have the electricity cut off any moment now. Matt returned a hundred into his own hoard. There was £3987.53 in there. It would keep the baliffs from the door if necessary, but wouldn\'t cover replacements if Mello ever went on another rampage smashing up their things. It wouldn\'t cover a new car, if he crashed. He knelt there, waivering over returning all funds against a rainy day. No, the way they lived their lives, they could be killed any day now and so it was better spent while they could enjoy it.



"Ready?" Mello strode through his doorway. Everything about him radiated impatience and movement.



"Oh, I\'ll just get a hacking job." Matt muttered, retracting the hundred again and shoving notes into his pocket. Then something occurred to him. "Did Roger say any more about money from the Kira thing?"



Mello paused in the act of walking away. "No, it\'s still not been calculated. I\'ve got money, stop fretting."



"How much though?"



"Will you please come on?" Mello marched off down the landing, his boots clicking on the stairs. He yelled back up. "Matt, bring cameras with zooms."



Matt bowed his head and returned hundred to the safe.