My Own Way

"Where\'s Mello?" Rod boomed out as soon as he entered the door. His shirt was unbuttoned and his comare hung off his arm, herself looking slightly dishevelled, as though she had hurriedly dressed and hadn\'t had change to see to her make-up.



"He\'s praying." Jose responded and, overhearing them, Mello knew that he must have gestured in his direction too, because Rod\'s footsteps approached the shrine of the Virgin, heavy on the metal floor.



"Messaggero is back from the Batinelli family. Come and hear what he has to say."



"K Tebi vapijemo prognani sinovi Evini." Mello replied pointedly, a bead of his rosary gripped tightly between finger and thumb. "K Tebi uzdisemo tugujuci i placuci u ovoj suznoj dolini."



Rod placed a hand on the teenager\'s thin shoulder. It engulfed it. "Say \'amen\', Mello. This is important. If we\'re hitting the mattress, then we are going to have to shelve your Kira plans for..."



"Amen." Mello crossed himself and stood. "Let\'s see if we can\'t sit down like reasonable people and settle this problem. The Kira plans go ahead." He lifted his rosary back over his head and stared at the icon of the Virgin for a few seconds, before crossing the platform to sit down at the settees. Chocolate bars were scattered all over the table and he helped himself to one, as Rod and Maria sat down on the adjacent settee. The messenger approached with a slightly inclined head, his stance made not less nervous by the unwaivering stare of the blond Consigliere. "What did Batinelli have to say?"



"The Don passes on his condolences, but swears that this was not an operation carried out by his people."



Rod was dismissive. "There are enough young Turks running riot in that family that Batinelli has no control anymore. I\'m amazed that there\'s anything still on the record there." He signalled for and was poured a Scotch on the rocks. "What else?" The rest of the message was provided, but it was mere diplomacy. The crux of the communication had already been conveyed. "Mello?"



"Bullshit. It was Batinelli whether he admits it or not. There is no other reasonable deduction." Mello smiled, biting into his chocolate. "Tell the Don that we would be willing to overlook his indiscretions if he agrees to back out of his business interests in the South. He knows as well as we do that there\'s not room for both of us down there."



"But if he agrees to that, then he\'s implying that his people did attempt to hit you, Mello." Rod frowned.



"I know." The blond\'s grin grew yet more maniacal. "Batinelli should also be reminded that hitting the mattress is not a happy position for either of our families until the threat of Kira is out of the way." He bowed his head, so that his hair fell forward to veil his entire face. "I trust that flowers and a living wage have been sent to the wives of Rhodes and Bulmer?"



Rod nodded, "It\'s been arranged." He sipped his Scotch considering it. "You\'ve never been wrong, Mello. I agree. Tell the Don precisely what Mello just told you to say." The Messaggero scurried out, leaving them alone, though flanked by various soldiers. "What the Hell is Batinelli playing at? He\'s not strong enough to move against us at the moment. Not unless our information is severely lacking."



Mello flung his head back, smiling prettily. "He\'s got ambition and he hasn\'t the brains of his father. Fortunately for us, this will have forced the issue. We will secure the territory, which will leave me with a lot more peace and quiet to work on our Kira plans." There was isolated bursts of laughter around the room. Mello fixed his Medusa stare on just one of them. "Laugh away, Rocky, but while you are servicing your lady on the settee behind me, you are interupting business." The threat hung heavily in the air. Mello snickered and bit into his chocolate. He picked up his laptop and glanced at Rod. "I\'m going to do this in my room, where I can hear myself think."



There was a nod of acknowledgement and Mello pushed through a group of men, who all dwarved him. They let him pass with a wide berth and he marched into the room where a bed had been laid out for him. This was one of the few hide-outs where there was actually a door on his room. He prized the blessed privacy, especially now, the first chance he had had to be alone since the car had fetched him from that LA street. Mello slid down to the floor, his back against the wooden door, biting his lip. He closed his eyes, seeing again the redhead and unable to stop the wide grin that split his features. Matt, in America, only a short flight away. Cold as ice and uncommunicative, but here, carrying with him the feeling of home and friendship. All too human needs, that Mello usually disdained as unhelpful, but stabbing now within his own feelings.



Mello sighed. He could go out there now and arrange for transport. Rod might question it, but he was unlikely to say no outright. If he tried, then Mello knew he could win him around. He could be with Matt in less than an hour. He could try to penetrate that closed shell and get Matty to smile at him like he used to; to make the world alright again. If he really worked on the redhead, he might even be able to make him crack a joke or come out with one of those statements of his, that were so ludicrous that laughter was the only response. Mello couldn\'t remember the last time he had laughed properly. Laughter seemed obscene amongst men of violence, in a world gone so wrong. Matt always made the world seem better, orange-tinted and sunny. Less lonely.



But if Mello was to go out and demand transport now, those same men would learn about the existence of Matt. That would never do. Never. Mello pushed his hair back behind his ears, but it immediately fell forward again. Matt would become his weakness; Mello might be guarded pretty much 24/7, but threaten Matt and he could be influenced. With stakes so consistently high, there could be no weaknesses. There were footsteps outside his door and Mello stopped to listen, but they carried on by. He munched on a square of chocolate and watched the start menu loading on his computer. Mello wasn\'t stupid. He knew that many of them out there thought he was a homosexual and if that was ever proved, then all his power and status would be undermined. Or worse. Mello touched his rosary. He was not gay. He was asexual. But Matt was gay and it might be one association too many for the petty minds watching on. Either or both of them could get hurt. Three men had died today to cover Matt\'s tracks into the country. That should not be in vain, just because Mello was having a vunerable moment.



Mello logged onto his remote server and stared at the files that had been accessed in the past hour. Just under half of them. As he refreshed the page, another date-stamp revealed that another had just been opened elsewhere. He was watching Matt working and his finger rose, with a will of its own, to touch the screen. This was stupid. Mello half-closed the laptop and rested his head against the door. He had framed Batinelli. If that went according to plan, then people would be drawn down to the south side of LA to oversee business. There would be fewer people to notice Mello\'s own movements and plenty of opportunities to fly to the city himself. With a little more patience, he could exploit the situation and visit his friend. The family would grow richer and he could have a few minutes to feel companionship again. "Everyone\'s happy." He whispered, hitting such a note of sadness that tears threatened. Mello started angrily at it and lifted the laptop\'s lid again to refresh the page. Matt had read through another two files. It was a comfort enough just to have that bit of contact.



Mello rose from the floor and put the laptop down. He flung himself onto the bed and lay back, eating chocolate. He was going soft. Comfort. He shook his head and began reviewing his plans. There was the shortest knock on the door, then it was opened. Rod\'s huge form filled the doorframe. "It\'s a go. We can get the Japanese chief of police."



"You ever doubted me?" Mello smiled. "Bring him in."



"But we haven\'t got the rest set up yet. The compound is ready, but the missile..."



Mello yelled. "It will be ready!" He rose up onto his knees, peering up at Rod from beneath a perfect fringe with a manic glare. His tone softened, but was no less brimming with rage for that. It just held a more seductive edge. "I\'m working on the missile. You can trust my computer skills, they are probably the best in the world. Not to mention the fact that you\'ve fixed a couple of senators. The position is ready, it just needs the hardware and that is being worked on."



"Ok, Mello, keep your hair on." His face became blank, which was always a bad sign in the Capo. "You are acting even more strangely than usual. What\'s going on, Mello?"



The blond deflated a little, stepping off the bed with feline precision to stand before the boss. He gazed up, blinking through big, blue eyes. There was nearly a foot between them in height; Rod could make the teenager seem very insignificant. "I\'m just excited." Mello purred. "We\'re going to catch Kira and I will be number one." He patted Rod\'s chest. "Did you want me to look at something?"



Rod took a step backwards. "Yes, you can go over the plans again with me. I want to see how this is all fitting together before I give the orders." He turned and walked out into the passageway. "Sometimes Mello I think the best thing for you would be to get laid. A good woman might just sort you out."



Behind his back, unseen, Mello\'s glare took on a darker hue. His hand took up the rosary and he kissed it, before letting it drop again against his chest. Had he picked up the laptop and refreshed it, it would have shown that all the files had now been read and an extra one had been created. But Mello closed the door on the laptop and strode away into the central area to plan kidnap and murder.