Poisoned Rationality

Matt sat back and stared at his screen. The forum was buzzing with people finally waking up to the fact that Kira was gone. There had never been anything officially said. No world leader or government spokesperson had led an address to any nation stating that the threat was over. Instead, as weeks had turned into months, the more passionate had started appearing on programmes beseeching their invisible idol to state his (or her) intentions; then had moved on to bemoaning the fact that they might be all alone now. Hidden terrors lurked in their hearts and minds. Criminals, once killed in their droves by Kira, could now be coming to kill the ordinary people on Main Street. Global, collective post-traumatic stress disorder, brought on by too many television programmes talking about dire menace outside their doors and Kira, the saviour of all.

After the wave of the childlike sheep came the intellegensia. Mostly conspiracy theorists, who looked at the available evidence and concluded that Kira was no more. After so many years of presense, shown in actions, not a physical form, the being (some, even amongst them, questioned whether Kira was a human being) had just stopped. Beyond the theorists came the named academics, speculating from their ivory towers about the impact of Kira and asking each other if the tide was changing again. One professor had written a book on the subject, which was instantly a best seller, and those conclusion asked if Kira was now gone. Mello and Matt had both read it. They hadn't commented, not even to each other. There was nothing left to say.

Yet here, on a forum where the demographic was largely teenagers and young adults, Matt had finally seen someone make that final leap into asking a pertinent question. If Kira was gone, as so many believed (s)he/it was, then who had done it? Everyone knew that L had been after him. Was it L?

L was a great enigma in the minds of many cyber communities. There were whole websites devoted to trying to work out who or what L was. The most popular was that L wasn't one person, but a secret cabal of international detectives, though no-one ever stated why any detective would want to work with another one. With a variety of different aliases and the help of a self-written IPgen, which scrambled then inserted a random IP code, Matt had been slowly introducing another name. Matching his tone to the different forums, he plundered only the evidence known to the wider public. He typed now, 'Has anyone heard of Mello? I read this site about him and I think he might be L.' Then Matt sat back and smirked. Later on tonight, he would log in with a more fixed account, which had some history in posts behind it, and actually provide the URL for the site.

He didn't need to though. Within a couple of minutes, someone else had done it for him. The poster was one of the 'names' of this forum. Not quite a founder member, but certainly someone who had been around for years. LunaFeline continued on with the old arguments for the existence of 'Mello', citing testimony from another forum where someone's brother had been killed during the purging of the SPK. That person had been told off the record that the instigator had been a Mafia don called Mello. The rest of the evidence was lifted directly from the site itself. Matt knew all about that. He'd written it. For the next half an hour, he watched the forum thread growing longer, with two camps emerging, one stating that the defeat of Kira must have been via L. The others believing that L would have publicised it and the more shadowy figure of Mello must be the true unsung hero. 'Could Mello be L?' asked PolishDancer. Others dismissed it. Matt logged on with his 'safe' alias and responded, 'I think there's a very good chance that he could be.' He opened a second browser and directed that to another monitor, meaning to cut and paste arguments to support the same, but, at that moment, the subject of their conversation strode into the room.

Matt was too slow. He was quick in posting the response and clicking off the forum, but not fast enough in similarly removing the second website. His blond lover was greeted with the sight of a 30" monitor bearing the legend, 'Is Mello another pseudonym of L?' Links down the side promised answers to other such speculative questions as, 'Does Mello exist?' and 'Was Mello in the Mafia?', along with a lot of others. Mello was frozen. He blinked several times, then just stood there. Matt risked a glance upwards, instead of just watching the Slav's reflection in the glass of the monitor. Mello was just staring at it. No emotions showed even in his eyes. He was a perfect display of neutrality, giving away nothing, as they had been taught as children back at Wammy's House.

Dread dripped through the redhead's psyche. He debated denying that it was him, pretending instead that he'd just stumbled over the site on some random surfing. But Mello would never believe that. The man's intellect sometimes bordered on the preternatural. "What are you thinking, Mell?"

"What is this?" Mello asked quietly, his voice practically in monotone.

"It's my big rebellion against obscurity." Matt replied, half-flinching inside in anticipation of Mello's inevitable eruption. "We put our lives on the line and no-one ever thanked us. I wanted them to know that there were soldiers out there and that the greatest of them was you."

Mello's shoulder's sagged and he breathed out, "What?"

"We were so nearly killed out there and if we had have been, if we'd have been lying now in some unmarked grave in Japan, who would have even known to wear a poppy for us?" He extended a finger and clicked on the link that asked, 'Is Mello dead?' The screen changed to display the opening lines to Wilfred Owen's 'Anthem for Doomed Youth' - 'What passing bells for those who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns' - before launching into one of the more emotive pieces on the site. While it reviewed the evidence and linked to film clippings of the news during the kidnapping of Lady Takada, it then went on to say that if Mello was dead, then he was a martyr. He died to save the world from Kira and he deserved to be remembered. There was a option to light a digital candle in his memory. So far 12,876 people had done so. "There's nothing on this site that you would have had to have been raised in Wammy's House to know."

"Oh my God." Mello's hands rose to cover his mouth and he turned to hurriedly sit down on the edge of the settee. He leaned forward, eyes flickering almost immediately back upwards to gaze again at the screen. "You did this, Matty?"

Matt swallowed, realising that this was his last chance to deny it, but that was foolish. Mello, for all his posturing, already knew. It was obvious. Even if it hadn't been at first glance, then Matt knew his words had already given it away. The question was rhetorical. "Yes. I did."

Mello nodded. "And do they believe that I exist?"

"The vast majority of people on this site do, yes. Other forums and the percentage lessens somewhat." He bit his lip, then shook out cigarette and lit it. "You're just a rumour there but one they actually want to believe. You've covered your tracks way too well for the evidence to stack up, but there's enough for doubt."

"And do they know about you?"

Matt shrugged. "They know that you had an accomplice. I saw one thread, on one site, that pointed to the intervention of the EHC, though they didn't call it that. One person mused in it that there might be a link between the world's best hackers and Mello, though that view was shot down. The more popular view is that the hackers just saw the news, like everyone else, and acted of their own violition. But no, no-one knows about me and I'm happy for that to remain the case."

Mello's half-laugh sounded more nervous than humoured. "So you're pimping my name instead."

"No, Mihael. I'm ensuring that you get the recognition that you deserve. You were out there fighting for six years and you won. As long as they suspect that Kira is gone, then they know that someone defeated him. I want them to at least consider your name in that same thought, even if no-one could ever prove it." Matt reached out a hand and Mello took it. "If I could have got you a medal, then I would have. Instead, I made you a website."

Mello cried. His mask slipped and his composure crumbled. He bent double over his thighs, his hand lost in the falling of his blond hair, covering his face. Tears dripped down his wrist. Matt rose and placed a hand squarely between Mello's shoulderblades. He felt the blond gulping, before Mello rasped out. "Sorry. I'm..." The sentence dropped unspoken. Matt let him have his moment, though he mused, abstractly, that Mello had survived having half of the top portion of his body being burnt off better than he'd coped with the aftermath of beating Kira. The first had fired him up with more determination; the second had just floored him. Eventually, Mello took a deep breath and sat back up. "Thank you, Matty. That is possibly one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"So it pwned stepping out into the firing line for you?" Matt smirked, but cringed as he was saying it. This was a beautiful moment and he was ruining it by being glib. He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry."

An arm rose to scoop around Matt's back and to bring him down onto Mello's lap. They kissed, long, deep, communicating with their lips gratitude for each other's sacrifices. Mello smiled as he released him, then gently pushed him away. "Let me see this site then." He stepped forward, sitting in Matt's computer chair, then scrolling down to see the rest of his memorial page. All that was left to see there was another couple of lines from 'Anthem for Doomed Youth' beneath the animated candle .gif - 'What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes - Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.' "So no-one thinks I'm female then?"

"Unlike real life, no." Matt rubbed his face and decided that he didn't want to watch Mello going through this site. The blond was already too emotional and it was awkward. "You understand that I've had to include misinformation in this as well, don't you? I could only use information in the public domain and some of it points to incorrect conclusions. Would you like a hot chocolate?"

Mello nodded. "I understand." He clicked on the home page and started reading. Matt left him to it, going to make hot drinks just to be out of the room. He loitered in the kitchen, unpacking the dishwasher and reloading it, go not to hurry back upstairs. In the end, Mello came to him. Matt heard him leaping down the stairs, his boots clicking then on the mosaic tiles of the hallway, so was facing him when Mello walked into the kitchen. The blond flashed a wan smile. "I am touched. I'm powerfully touched in fact. I see what you mean about the information, but Hell, Matt what you were able to tease out of the evidence that you could use is nothing short of genius. You give yourself away there." His smile grew wider, more proud. "Thank you for doing that."

Matt opened his arms, more a shrug than an actual invitation, but Mello skirted the table anyway and hugged him. "I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure you would, but I wanted them to know about you anyway."

"That's very kind." Mello smiled. "I thought that you didn't 'do' compassion."

"I don't. I 'do' justice." Matt reached to kiss him. "When I feel like it." He smirked. "And when justice involves you getting what you deserve."

Mello chuckled. "You're secretly a really nice bloke. But stop with the baby kisses, I want tongue." He cupped the back of Matt's head and held him in place, while their mouths grasped against each other's. "In fact, sod that, I want cock."

"Sweet-talking charmer, you." Matt grinned, as Mello's hands slid down and slipped into his jeans back pockets. "Though didn't you mean arse?"

"I know what I meant." Mello nuzzled at Matt's neck, leaving kisses and lovebites in a trail to his shirt's collar. "You do something that nice and you deserve a little extra attention yourself." The blond didn't so much sink, as shimmy down Matt's body to kneel in front of him. Green eyes opened wide in surprise, as the redhead realised what his lover meant to do. The intention was loud and clear once Mello brought his hands around to unclasp Matt's belt and release his flies. "And before you say a word, yes, I know it's not February."

Matt laughed, but braced himself against the sink, losing himself in the minute kisses and licks that ensued the second that Mello had freed him from his boxer shorts. It wasn't that Mello never took him in his mouth, but that the occasions were few and far between. Matt felt his legs going from under him and clutched the aluminium edge behind his back. He closed his eyes, then realised that he was missing the sight of his leather-clad lover bent against him and that blond head bobbing. Mello was good. He was really good. His tongue probed; his throat contracted; and suddenly there was no more thought for the redhead other than the exploding sensations in his groin. He came hard and Mello, remarkably, swallowed every drop of him.

"Wow!" Matt gasped, then, "Headrush." He held his temples until it passed over him, then looked down. Mello was staring up at him with a most self-satisfied smirk on his face. The man just oozed sex from every pore. "Thank you very much."

Mello unfurled, rising with feline grace to snatch Matt into his arms to claim another kiss. "No, baby, thank you. I meant what I said up there. I am touched. I know that what I saw probably hasn't scratched the tip of the iceberg. I did see a flash of the forum you were on before you closed it. You really threw up upstairs, but I want to tell you know, it's a beautiful thing that you did."

"You're welcome." Matt could feel the deep blush fading on his cheeks as he regained his breath. "I just wanted you to be remembered. It's not right, all the work you've put into this and everything you lost, for your name not to be even whispered by those with the intelligence to know it."

"That's very profound of you." Mello was giving him the kind of fond smile that only emerged when Matt was amusing him.

Matt frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that? I just don't want you to be in the category of the unknown soldier."

"Because the subtext here is that my Matty is saying, in his own way, 'I love you' and moreover is doing it with such genius. I do love seeing your little slips, where you show just how clever you are." Mello moved in to kiss him before he could even form a retort. "Sorry, I'm so evil to you and you're being lovely. But, baby, don't add any more content without running it past me first, alright?"

"Control freak."

"Yes." Mello grinned.

Matt pointed to himself. "Not thick."

"I know, but as you already deduced, I'm a control freak." He brushed his lips against Matt's one last time before reaching out to collect the hot chocolate that had been cooling on the side. "I am touched, Matty. Really fucking touched. Your rebellion..." Mello paused, trying to find the words to convey his emotion. "Your rebellion is pure Matt. It warms to me to see you rise up from your apathy. Sorry, that sounded patronising. I see your passion and I know that, if I should ever not be able to fight, then there's someone there to pass to baton to. That's reassuring. I'm sorry, this still sounds patronising." He sighed. "Your rebellion reflects back upon me and makes me feel like I'm worth it. Thank you."

"Thank you." Matt bit his lip, as he secured his jeans back around his waist.. "I think." He emitted a half-laugh and picked up his tea. "I get what you mean. It's all good."

Mello nodded and started to wander away with his hot chocolate in his hand. "I was in the middle of something upstairs." He stated, as an explanation for leaving. Then he stopped on the other side of the table. "'Is Mello another pseudonym of L?' I like that."

Matt grinned, lighting a cigarette. "I'd say that the answer is 'yes', though he's given it up twice, so in practicality, 'no'."

Mello sniggered and left the room. Beside the sink, Matt smoked his cigarette and drank his tea. The kitchen seemed lighter, more peaceful than normal. The redhead stared at the floor, then turned to look outside at the yard. He wasn't really seeing any of it, his vision turned too far inwards. He reviewed all that had happened in the past hour and let himself become enveloped in the well of good feeling generated by Mello's finding out about this. Matt wore a smile that penetrated deep inside.

Finally, he pushed away from his perch and sauntered back upstairs. Mello's study door was open, the blond moving inside with a rustling of paper, as he read while he paced. Matt left him to it, returning to his own room, where the monitors still showed him the Mello website. Then he paused, realising that one of the conspiracy theory forums was open too. Matt frowned and sat down to see what Mello would have read, but his eyes widened at the latest entry. It was by an individual called 'Capo Chocolate' and read, 'I can't reveal my sources, but they are sound. Mello's best friend is called Matt. I am 90% certain that he is the person driving the car in the Japanese news footage. Count Matt amongst your heroes, because he's mine.'

Matt sat back on his chair, shook his head and smiled. While a part of him shrank from the recognition, another grasped at the compliment. He decided not to analyse it too much. Instead, he rose from his seat, jogged out of his room and into Mello's, then stood grinning at the door. Across the room, Mello didn't look up, but a wide smirk grew across his face. Matt jogged across the distance between them and, as Mello opened an arm to receive him, kissed the Slav passionately on the lips. "Found it then?" Mello asked, as they parted again.

"Yes." Matt kissed him again. "Less than three, always."

"Love you too, baby." Mello squeezed the arm around his lover. "And fuck the unknown soldier. Viva la Revolucion!"

"Yeah, man!"