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Re-Route	By : Resting-Madness Category: Death Note > Crossovers Views: 1590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned from Death Note or Silent Hill fandom. I don't own any of the places mentioned in Silent Hill or Death note universe. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
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That was the fourth nightmare Mello's had since leaving the hospital 2 weeks ago. That place is just so all consuming. The first dream happened while he was staying there. He dreamt that he woke up right in the middle of a surgery- his. And a bunch of nurses and doctors were gathered all around him poking him, and slicing into him with scalpals. Their hands dug deep into his torso pulling out his liver, intestines... his heart was merely squeezed mercilessly within one of their faceless grasp. Mello could still feel the pain of it all when his eyes snapped open and he found himself in the hospital bed. His heart rate jumped rapidly when he saw a nurse, the grouchy nurse, standing beside his bed checking a screen. She practically spat an apology at him about how she had to knock him out because he insisted on getting out of bed when she specifically told him to stay put. He meant to chew her out until he remembered that Matt had been moved to a room somewhere in the hospital. It seemed the nurse had ESP because, right then, she'd pointed to a bed beside his own. Matt resided there, unconcious but alive.

Its because Matt is alive, and nurse Garland said that he could visit whenever he likes, that he had to come back to the horrible hospital again and again. He's not sure how the male is holding on with the condition that he's in, but Matt's been alert everytime Mello has come in to see him. Its frightening, though, having Matt's blue gaze so intensley set upon him. Its as if the male really is trying to suck his soul away. That gaze.... While at home, in his new move-in ready apartment in Blue Creek, Mello dreamt that he was being driven someplace by the tour guide; Matt was speaking to him but his words weren't coming in in english. He couldn't understand a word the red head was saying to him, but Matt looked happy all the same. It was after the male had leaned over to kiss him that Matt began pulling chunks of his own flesh out off of his body; the chunks lit on fire almost instantly, and were tossed into the air where they disintergrated into nothing but flittering embers to the back of the car. Mello watched this oddity with curious nerves. Matt seemed not to care about the fire slowly engulfing the backseat of his car, and just kept at pulling himself away. Mello reached out to the male, as if in plea that he stop, but Matt was snatched up in flames taking Mello with him.

Then there was the dream with Mello falling through the floor, landing in the basement in the hospital where a pile of roaches as large as his boots ganged up on him. Those damned things wouldn't go down no matter what was done to them. It wouldn't have bothered him so much if he didn't feel watched the entire time he was trying to take them out. Like some enormous presence loomed in the shadows to finish the job of killing him if the roaches couldn't manage it. He didn't die, though, he woke up before that part came to pass. But he did recieve some nasty bites and swells from those germy little fuckers. His most recent dream was of him sitting in a smoke filled room listening to sounds of people screaming beyond the bedroom door, and he couldn't or it seemed that he wouldn't do anything about it. He was safe within the bedroom, and so he stayed there. It was a weird emotion, being afraid. Mello isn't afraid of anything, so feeling his heart beat fast, his nerves prickle the hairs on the back of his neck, and cold shivers run up and down his spine was an unwanted foreign thing that made him wanna remain awake for as long as he could. And remaining awake seemed highly possible with the way life began to routine for him. He'd spend his mornings working, collecting trash from the city and returning it to the dump site. His nights, were spent with Matt, making sure the male at least knew that someone was there for him since the tour guide has no family. His mother appreciated it, and Matt seemed to as well. It was strange that the doctor said Matt could talk, harsh as it would come out with his damanged throat, but his friend never said a word. He didn't even smile at the lame jokes Mello offered. Matt just stared, and squeezed his hand to show that he was there. Nothing less, and nothing more.

Life became very mundane for Mello. Work. Hospital. Work. Hospital. He'd made one trip back into the city and that was to retrieve some clothes, and personal items that he'd left behind before moving out to the resort town. The city was the same: dirty air, great greasy food, stupid people. The usual. He got back into town sometime during the night. Going straight to the hospital he took Matt's hand, ready to tell him of this and that that happened during the day, but his friend was in a deep sleep, and it seemed that he would remain so for the duration of that night. Rather than stay, Mello decided to head out and detoured to do a little investigating at the History museum. He knows that someone had turned the knob from the other end of that door, there's no mistaking something like that. Which is why he found himself back at the place, a crowbar at his aid and a lockpick for just incase. It was for amusement. He doesn't know anyone in town but Matt, and he's clearly out of the question for entertainment. Chatting with people has never really been his thing, so why not do a little breaking and entering. Matt even said that people are in and out of the place all the time for their own purposes.

Its completely different at night, the entire room is blackened out. A few white tiles tried to come into view when his eyes adjusted to the solid dark, but it was hardly worth noticing. He would have used his pen-light but he doesn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself, though, he must look pretty damned weird to anyone who might be hiding in the shadows; his arms stretched out as he tries to feel for the display cases, statues, and other objects in the room so he doesn't trip into them. He would never make it as a blind man. Proof of that thought came when he clipped his hip against a display case which caused him to stumble forward right into the sought out door. Crowbar in place, Mello leans all his weight on it, shoving it deep beyond the boarder of the door frame. The wood creaked before splinting a bit; one more push should do it. Yes!

Mello looks over his shoulder, he thought he heard something. But when listening for a moment he figured that he was mistaken as not a single thing in the room so much as a room settling pop. Now was not the time to lose focus. Stepping through the entrance, he lifts the penlight attached to the beltloop on his jeans. The beam isn't large enough to provide any real comfort, but its definitely enough to make things out for him. A long flight of stairs lay before Mello's gaze, and he took a cautious step down them. One hand on the slick stone wall, turned green by mold and age, making the wall more cold than it should have been but then the seasons are nearing winter. Mello should have worn a heavier coat, but he didn't bring anything beyond a tiny leather zip-up. He didn't think he'd be going into an outright crypt. You know how it is when you're being nosy: open a door, find an office as, Matt had said, he'd look around and get bored then leave. Stairs just didn't make sense.

'I wonder how far down this goes.' Mello looks over his shoulder when a loud groan sounds behind him- strike that- the sound is all around him. 'What is that?' He wonders, his movement ceases so that he can listen to the sound a little better. Back pressed against the cold stone wall, he tries to figure where the sound is coming from, up or down. 'Sounds like a boat horn.' Mello decided, turning to walk down the stairs the rest of the way.

The noise wasn't bothering him if anything it was helping him sneak about; but that also meant it would help in hiding the sounds of anything else moving around in the catacombs, should it not stop. Mello had started counting the stairs and it was around 30 that his foot slipped on a chip in one stone stair, he was sent tumbling down them faster than a whip. And with the pain he's recieving from each sharpened edge of the stairs, he was sure his ribs would be completely broken this time rather than fractured. Mello was sure he'd crack his skull open once he'd hit the bottom but luck seemed to be on his side again as he landed on his hands and knees rather than his back. Feeling the pain of those injured ribs, he grabbed his side, and coughed out his exhaustion into the floor. Spitting out a clot of blood which gathered in his throat from the fall, Mello perked his ears to a low mumbled sound. He hadn't even noticed that the fog horn had stopped, but then its hard to notice anything when you're rolling down a flight of stairs. The horn was replaced with this new sound... low.... consistant. It sounds like talking. Closing his eyes to shut off one sense in exchange to highten another; he listens carefully for any loudly said stray words. It kind of sounded like a strange animal, trapped, and just barely making sounds for attention to be released. No. No, it is talking. Looking around for the penlight that fell from his person, Mello gropes the floor in the darkness until the plastic rectangle came into his hand. Turning the light on, it flickered for a second but the beam remained steady. Straightening himself, Mello shined the light at one door than another in a small hallway.

The mumbling sounded like it was coming from a door marked: office, in very scraped up letters. The other door had nothing written on it, nor did it look like it ever had. But there is a large glass square window in it, just like the office door. Getting up from the ground, he paces over to the marked door but before going inside he shines the light a little further down the hall spotting yet another door. That one has no window in it, but a thick, forebodding, solid look about it. Tempted, Mello surprised himself by turning the knob to the office door and entering it instead. The room was what one would expect an office to be: cluttered with papers that mean nothing now since the place is closed and in ruins, desks, drawers, lamps that are undoubtedly of no use. Mello spotted a door in the distance and moved to it. Trying the knob he found it to be locked. The realization and disappointment on his face was obvious when he realized that he'd left the crowbar upstairs. Mello leaves the office, once dubbing it uninteresting, and moves to the room across the hall, the one without the window. Its locked. Taking the small lockpick from his pocket, he stuffs the pen into his mouth to keep the beam on the job at hand, and then he sets to work at opening the door. When the lock clicked telling him that the door was free to open; Mello removed the light from his mouth, grabbed the knob in his free hand then stepped inside.

Looking around, he felt a knot in his stomach. Gurnies are stored in this room, and there's a noticable amount of red on the floor and what's on the bedding is brown with age, except for one bed that seemed to have fresh blood on it. How was that possible. Playing the light around the room, he notices a large wrack of ribs hanging from a hook thats attached to the ceiling. There's something else... it looks like a body. It is a body, there is no mistaking a human's shape. Taking a step back, he remembered that he heard voices not long ago, and though he entered the place where the voices were coming from he found that no one was inside. But they could still be down here, right? Hearing a loud screech, he shines the light toward the door seeing that its swinging closed on its own.

'Shit!' Rushing over, he grabs the heavy door pushing it open and makes a run for it. He's seen enough to sate his curiosity. It was time to go.

Dashing up the stairs nearly two at a time, he makes it out of the crypt slamming the heavy door behind him. Exhausted, he leans his weight on the door to catch his breath. But his break didn't last long as something big slammed into the door, something big enough to bounce him off of it slightly, and a high pitched outcry sounded right along with it. Panicked, since Mello knew that he had been down in the dank crypt alone. Mello grabbed the crowbar, ready to take in the head of whomever or whatever was behind the door waiting to claw at him; and in one quick motion, he jerks the door open. Empty. He would have investigated further for the culprit had his phone not rang at that minute. Answering, his teal eyes grow wide in shock and he hurried from the building; nearly crashing his way through the crowded room to leave. It was the hospital. Matt is dying.

The medical staff was done with trying to resusatate the guide by the time Mello had arrived. He could have kicked himself for not being there. But what was he supposed to do? Matt was out cold by the time he got off work and came to the hospital. If he'd known.... there was no room for 'if he'd known'. He'd been there when his mother was passing away, and there wasn't a thing he could do then either. Nurse Garland offered her sympathies, but they'd fallen on deaf ears. What was one more important person missing? Nothing. Mello's been on his own for years. He doesn't need a companion now. Matt.... well, Matt would just have to be one for the flashbacks of 'the good times'. He'll be remembered, but Mello knows what's good for him which means the red head won't be missed. Life in Silent Hill became very mechanical for the blond. Job. Home. Job. Home. Fall into step, and follow the scheduled routine.

&&&&&

It was December when it started happening. Not the nightmares, after four more days of it, those had stopped all together. But occurances began to happen. He'd be laying in bed, awaiting sleep, when he'd hear a knock on his bedroom door. The walls of the apartmet are farely thick, voices from the hall are muffled at best, so there was no mistaking where the knocking was coming from. It was definitely being produced from within the apartment. If Mello were any one else he'd swear it was a ghost, like maybe he'd brought something back with him from the tunnels of the History Museum. But since he isn't going to put any stock into thoughts like that, Mello pressumed it to be banging pipes. It could be the plumbing knocking into the wall, having him believe that it was being made against the door when in fact its just the sound traveling. But the next night the knocking was followed up by someone jiggling the knob from the other side of the door.

Unnerved, though still skeptical, Mello got himself out of bed; he's sure to grab a t-shirt to slip on over his head incase there actually is someone on the other side of the door. He waited a moment to let the person at the door get a good stride going before he gripped the knob and pulled the door open. His teal gaze scanned the living room. He knew it would be impossible for anyone to move that quickly, even in such a tiny place. Walking out into the living room, Mello crept slowly around the room, avoiding furniture as he does this.

"Hello?" He called to no one. Knowing how weird it would come out, he called out anyway. "Matt?" He jumped out of his skin right then when the stereo kicked on by itself. The volume is annoyingly loud, and he quickly crossed the room to turn it down. 'Damn power surges.' That's his story and he's sticking with it.

Though the building looks almost freshly built last month, you never know what kind of half-assed job goes on beyond the plaster and drywall. Calming himself, he had to smile at how paranoid he'd become in the short amount of time he's been living in this new town. This behavior simply is not him, and he won't give in to it. Walking back to his bedroom, he leaves the door open tonight; removing his t-shirt, Mello climbs back into bed. Wouldn't wanna be red-eyed through another funfilled day.

The next night the stereo kicked on by itself again, but Mello didn't have the care to go into the living room to turn it off this time. So he lay in bed listening to the long winded crackling of white noise. The damn thing could at least be set on a station playing music. Around 12:30 a.m. Mello made a mental note to buy mouse traps. He could have sworn he heard faint squeaks sounding from somewhere in the kitchen. Maybe he should have stayed at Matt's place; he's pretty sure there are no mice running around in that building. But that would never work out. He had been the one to tell the land lord that Matt passed on. That he would take care of his friend's personal belongings- which weren't much. It seems that Matt also bought a move-in ready home, and all Mello had to retrieve from the place were the red heads games, clothes, cigarette stash, and a few dirty DVDs. He keeps them in boxes in the bedroom closet. He sort of liked thinking about Matt playing with himself; he even wondered who the male thought about when he watched them. One of the guys from the DVD, or just nothing at all?

The night after that the strange occurances happened a lot sooner. It was 9:00 p.m. and Mello was seated on his couch watching television; after about ten minutes of the show, he laid himself down across the soft chocolate colored cushions, his head rest on a puffy white throw pillow; the couch reminded him of a good mug of hot chocolate and often had him downing a few steaming cups of the stuff. He loved the winter season for that reason alone. Nevermind holidays and lights, like most people tell you, its always been about the cocoa and delicious chocolatey treats they sell in the stores. It was the thought of having a slice of the devil's food cake he bought at the store that brought Mello from his mental stupor, reminding him that he'd made dinner and had yet to finish the food on his plate. Pulling the plate to himself from off the coffee table, Mello stuck the fork into a bite of rice; he hadn't noticed that a good portion of his rice was moving. It wasn't until the nasty taste of mealworms really came in pronounced, did Mello notice that something was wrong. Sitting up, he was digusted, spitting out the food in his mouth back onto the plate, the blond smacked at his shirt and lap to remove the worms that crawled their way from his plate and onto his person.

The dish clattered to the hardwood spilling the contents of it onto the floor. Mello, in socked feet, stomped the filthy insect into the floor and his once tasty meal. He isn't afraid of bugs, its just that it's damned disgusting to eat them. He pulled his foot away when a sharp pinch went into the heel of his flesh through the sock. Walking into the bathroom, he removed his sock and, using the closed toilet for a chair, checked for any sign of the pestering shard that went in. The smallest little peek of glass caught his eye. Raising his leg at an awkward angle, he used the pinch of his fingernails to remove the glass and after five tries finally obstracted the thing. Dropping it into the sink, he checked the puncture wound and wrote it off as minor when the hole didn't bleed. Only a red dot is visible from somewhere within the breech of his foot. Nothing to lose sleep over. Sock abandoned to the bathroom floor, Mello strides back into the living room to clean up the mess of his dinner.

'Where the hell did the worms come from?' He pondered to himself. 'It couldn't have been from the box. They'd be dead even if they had been mixed with the rice, or anything.' It wasn't as if he were eating a piece of raw steak. The worms wouldn't have survived the cooking process of any of the meals, so what the hell? Mello's nose scrunched up when the smell of his dinner wafted into his nostrils. Taking the gathered mess into the kitchen he dumped it over into the sink to get a better look at it. 'Are you kidding me?' His completely perplexed by what he's seeing.

All of it, the rice, the steak, the peas... its all molded. White patches and green cover the food as if its been there for years, when the meal was made just an hour ago. It was fresh then. So what happened between serving himself a plate of food to ignoring it and watching t.v? Sliding the trash can over to the counter, Mello shoveled the mess into the garbage can, then washed the sink out of the remnants of mutilated food and broken plate. Appetite killed for savory, he goes straight for dessert. Lifting the glass cover from the mouth watering mound of sugar but...

"Jesus." Mello voiced for the first time since his verbal 'ouch' when he'd had his brush with pain.

The cake seemed to be suffering the same fate as his dinner. He'd only taken one hunk out of it but he could tell the rest would be in no better shape. White patches of mold, fluffly, almost spider's nestish looking kind of stuff. Disgusting. His stomach growled furiously, and he was sure it was from nausea because seeing all this it couldn't be from hunger. Dumping the cake over into the trash can with the rest of his ruined night; Mello decided to turn in. After going through the nightly routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and tying his hair off into a low ponytail, the exhausted blond turns off the bathroom light, but paused before entering his dark bedroom. Was he crazy? Or is there really someone lying in his bed? It sure as hell looked to be that way: a lump of human form laying on its side, he can make out every curve, a blot of white face against the black pillowcase. Head cocked in curious wonder, he turns the bathroom light on. Nothing. The bed is empty. Light off, there's the lump again.

'And to top the night off, now I'm seeing things.' Throwing a hand up in defeat of trying to figure things out. Mello crossed the dark room to the bed. Even up close it looked as though someone were laying there. Reaching for the lamps on switch, Mello also sent a hand out to be brave and touch the lump of possibly something, but hopefully nothing. Simulatantious with the light coming on, does Mello slap his hand down onto the bed. It was empty. No body, not even a stray that broke in through the opened window. It could happen! Fire escapes are like a jungle gym- even to people. Very assured that he's losing his grip on life, Mello turns off the lamp then climbs into bed. He ignored it all night that it sounded as though someone was sleeping next to him the entire time.

Mihael Keehl was a stubborn man, but not stupid. And when he'd awoke the next day and found the entire bedroom of his apartment moved around, he told the landlord he'd be moving out in a month. And has since been staying in a little shack at the garbage dump. Its Monday, December 19th and Mello found himself back in his own city, in his old apartment. He needed a break from the fucked up head games, but it was there the truly bizarre took place. He got a phone call. As odd as someone calling Mello was, it was whom that made the male see red after he'd gone through a stint of confusion at how spot on the imitators voice was. The caller was Matt.

& & & &

Mello arrived in Silent Hill with one goal: manslaughter. He agreed to meet with the impersonator at the Sun Cafe; his and Matt's first meeting place. The leather gloves voiced Mello's readiness for a battle when his fist clenched upon his seeing the cafe door. If he had the strength in his body, the way he jerked that glass door open it would have ripped clean from its hinges. Eyes sharp like a bird of prey, he scanned the eatery. A sharp whistle off to his right caught his attention. But rather than spotting the poor victim he'd sought out, instead his shocked eyes rest upon Matt. The males crooked smile greeted him from behind a lit cigarette. Mello was so shaken by this that he couldn't move. Every muscle in his body simply froze up on him. He wasn't even able to blink! Its a dream. This is a dream. Matt was badly burned in a house fire. Matt stayed in the hospital. Matt died November 29th. He was cremated for fucks sake! Mello saw the ashes. But most importantly, Matt is dead! So who is this person?

The possibly imposter got up from the table walking over to him in Matt's easy shuffle. Red brows raised, the male cocks his head. "Well, you're in one piece," He touches Mello, surprised by the hard wince which followed it. Matt continued his thoughts though. "which means you haven't been running out in front of cars again."

"Matt." Mello heard himself say.

"And looook, he even remembers my name." The male smiled handsomely. "But, that puts you back on the plank again because amnesia didn't send you running. Which could only mean-..." Matt grunted when Mello slammed into him, the blond's strong arms wrapped tightly around his body.

"Matt, you're ok."

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you ok?" He lifts his arms to somewhat return the hug, though its a bit hard seeing as how Mello has them pinned at his sides.

Mello released Matt from his hold and looked at him. Hard. Same eyes, same face, same smile, same voice, height, weight, smell. All of Matt came flooding into Mello's senses like a tidal wave and he was almost physically knocked off his feet. He's alive! Matt's alive! But how? He's not crazy, nor is he on any hallucinogenic drugs. The realization slammed into Mello like a truck. Matt had told him about that weird grass, White Claudia, when he'd given him that tour early that day. Matt was smoking something that didn't smell right, and it surely wasn't a cigarette...

'Could I have been dreaming this whole time?' He looks at a perfectly healthy Matt standing before him, cigarette lit probably sometime between his coming over to Mello and the male having stood in a stupor of his own thoughts for a moment. "Matt, I need to ask you some things. Will you come back to my place?" He still has the apartment in Paleville leased to him for another month. If this isn't a hoax, maybe he'll tell the land lord that he's changed his mind about moving out.

More than a little confused, the red head nods. "Sure." Following Mello onto the streets, he watched the male grab a helmet from a large red motorcycle.

"Have you been on a bike before?" He asked Matt while digging the extra helmet from beneath the seat.

"No." Slipping the helmet on, he's sure to pay attention to instruction- if there were any.

Seeing as how this was Mello, there weren't. So the male just held on tight while being driven through the city. He may have to get a bike for himself. The ride was actually kind of fun. Although, he would never trade in his baby, plus bikes have no real class. No history to them. Its just a means of point A to point B. When they arrived at the apartment Matt followed his friend inside. Mello's weird behavior wasn't missed by the male, but Matt decided not to comment on it yet. After all, he's seen newbies, and for them this behavior really is typical. But for Mello, it seemed a bit out of place. But he's feeling a little more content, personally. And he's glad Mello came out to see him. He isn't sure what he's done but it must have been big for the guy to just leave on him.

Mello pushed open the apartment door, hanging his helmet on the coat stand by the door; Matt does the same. The blond is a little surprised to see that the place looks like it did the first time he'd moved in. He'd completely expected to see the couch in a new place, or maybe the coffee table against the far wall. But the room was the same.

"Wanna tell me why you skipped town?" Matt asked flopping himself down on the brown colored couch.

Was it lighter in color? Mello shook the thoughts away and focused on Matt. Seating himself on the coffee table in front of the male, he steeples his fingers then asks. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Asking you to tell me why you'd skipped town." Matt chuckled.

"Don't be a smartass," Though he appreciated it to the point of allowing himself a small smile from the comfort; now was not the time for jokes. This was serious. Matt died, and now he's sitting here before him, completely unharmed as though it had never happened. And he wants some answers, dammit! "Tell me what was the last thing you remember doing with me."

Rolling his goggle covered eyes, Matt thinks on it then shrugs. "We stained my couch. You took a nap, and while you were doing that I took a touring job." He continued speaking, though it seemed Mello would interupt him at any second. "I come back and find you missing. I search for you with no luck, come home, and find out that my landlord sold my place right out from under me."

"Wait." He shakes his head trying to process it. "You said that I was gone?"

"Yeah. Gone."

"So, you don't remember being at the hospital? You don't remember the fire in your apartment?"

"No. Whaat? Mel' you're not making any sense." Matt tapped the ashes from his cigarette into the dipped lens of his goggles since Mello doesn't own an ash tray. "Why are you treating me like an amnesia partient?"

'How does this make any sense? I know what I saw... I know what happened. So then how is Matt sitting here right now?' Mello racked his brain for an answer. Aha! His ace is the whole. "If I'm the one who bailed, than where were you up until now?"

"I got a house in Old Town- guy needs a place to live." A stream of smoke willowed from his mouth as he spoke. "I didn't call you 'til now because, I don't know, I thought you might have been pissed about something." He shrugged. "I wanted to give you time to cool off, but it didn't seem like you were going to so why not reach out first." Looking at Mello's boggled expression, Matt adjusted his sitting position then asked. "You said there was a fire, though? When?"

"This might sound really weird to you, but it happened so just listen okay?" Matt seemed more like he was humoring him than listening but Mello proceeded anyway. Worst thing he could do is laugh. "Matt, I fell asleep that day, and when I woke up you were draped over me screaming."

"Because I was on fire?"

"Yeah, and can you please not sound so damned therapeutic, Dr. Phil? I'm telling the truth." He pops snickering Matt on the thigh. "You were completely charred by the time I got up; the room was encased in smoke but I never found the fire. You went to the hospital and...."

"Mello, you're out of your mind. Would I be here right now if any of that were true?" He tapped the ashes into his goggles again. "I don't know what went on, but someone else is living in my place now, I've been looking for a new home to reside in, and you've been MIA the entire time."

"But didn't you see me when I rode through doing my job?" Surely there was no missing a garbage truck. The noise alone could wake the dead. Poor choice of words.

"I saw you. I even called to you from the window once, you didn't hear me." He shrugged. "I was sure that you saw me, though, that's why I thought that you were pissed about something. You snubbed me."

Mello did see a curtain move aside from one of the windows in Old Town around the first week of December, but there wasn't anyone in the window. He didn't see anyone anyhow. The sky must have been reflecting a little too much in the glass. "So then who the hell was I visiting at the hospital all that time?"

"How the hell should I know," Putting out the remains of cigarette, Matt stands to go empty his makeshift ash tray. "maybe some dickweed broke into my place for help when I left; but it wasn't me." He tipped his goggles over into the sink.

"That would explain the hard staring, and lack of conversation." Mello gets up from his seat on the coffee table. "God, I feel stupid." He scrubbed his face with his hands, as if trying to keep himself awake so he wouldn't return to the horrible dream of a world of solitude.

"You should. I was less than a phone call away for assurance and you didn't so much as press 1." He returns to the living room, wrapping his arms around Mello's waist pulling him close. "What kind of fucked up friendship is this, Keehl?"

Mello rolled his eyes before leaning into the offered kiss. Matt hummed in appreciation of the slip of tongue his kiss received; very pleased with himself for making the first move to envoke Mello to grab the front of his pants where he then undoes the zipper and fly. The leather of the blond's biker gloves is warm from body heat, and feels strangely good against the bare skin of his rear; the squeezes into it enticing him to grind his hips into Mello's crotch. Matt's jeans are pushed down to crowd about his knees, and Mello knelt down before the swelling meat giving it flirtatious scattered licks along its length. Watching this, Matt's breathing picks up. Mello must have really missed him while they were apart. Crazy nut that he is; visiting strangers at the hospital believing that it was he, Matt, who'd been the victim. He told Mello what the effects of White Claudia were but he still allowed him to smoke it around him; the guy could have been hallucinating the whole damned thing. Matt's thoughts clouded over when the wet heat inside of Mello's mouth fully enclosed around his member. He moaned, slumping forward and so not to bend Mello over like a bridge he places his hands on the male's shoulders for support while he rocks his hips into that welcoming cave.

The blond met each buck of the hips expertly, encasing the full amount when Matt moved in and substituting his gripping hand along it when Matt pulled out; Matt's fingernails dug viciously into his clothed skin when the tip of his tongue flittered over the slit of the head. The rough leather material was driving the red head mad with need, and he moved his hips in and out, faster and faster, enjoying how the slickness on the gloves came and went, being wet from the exit but dry on the re-entry. All the while Mello kept a firm grip on Matt's butt, kneading at the runway while his finger tips only teased past the hole.

Mello's cheek is brushed with a schmear of semen when his blowjob traveled along the underside of Matt's member; he rolls the male's sack around with his tongue, while its housed just in the opening of his mouth. The blond loved the tour guides hand in his hair, gripping it in chunks over and over like he were giving his head some type of weird massage. Matt hadn't noticed when the hand that was goosing him left, but he didn't miss a tantilizing beat of how wonderful Mello sounded moaning around his testicals as he brought himself to climax by jerking off. He was pushed on the couch and given the brief pleasure of watching Mello coat himself in his own seed, that gathered in the lap of his boxers when he came, and his erection quickly returned within the steady stroking of his hand.

Matt had little knowledge that Mello even wanted to go this far until he was kicking himself from his jeans and climbing between his parted thighs. He wasn't prepared for penatration but the raw shove in felt too good, and his body offered little resistance to the intrution; which showed just how badly he wanted it as Mello does. Their movement is hard and fast, breaths combined before a kiss ensued, mouths shared conversational moans when lips and tongue met. Mello barely had to touch Matt's length, it was over for the male when those gloved hands gave his testicals a jerking squeeze. And he felt Mello spilling into him; their bodies clamped tightly to one anothers while they waited out the climax. Mello peppered kisses into Matt's neck all the while catching his breath.

"Don't fucking skip out on me this time, alright?" He warned in a heavy, tired tone.

"Same here."

Mello hears Matt say that he lives in house 417 on Midwich street before he fell into a blissful sleep. But there were other words, he only somewhat made out... It sounded like "You're keeping me here".

................

Mello opens his eyes and like a smack in the face with a metal gloved hand, he smells the scent of burning. Instantly alert, Mello looks blurry eyed around the room.

'How did I get in the hospital?' He wonders when seeing the familiar objects in the room: beds, dressing screen, dresser for long term patients clothing.

The most familiar thing of all being the charred to a crisp Matt. All wrapped up like a mummy. But with the time he's spent here and the few treatments his pained body was able to endure, he at least isn't lumpy anymore. Mello stood up and stretched his aching bones. His ribs are in pain again, almost like they had never healed, in fact, his whole body feels tingly like that time in Matt's bathroom. Rubbing himself to calm the sensation, Mello walks over to the window. Its dark outside. It seems a good pile of snow has fallen as well.

'Had I dreamt all of that?' He wonders. 'It didn't feel like a dream.' Hearing a ruffling sound from movement, Mello crosses the room to the patient bed. "Matt, is that you?" He asks the writhing figure.

Matt, or whoever, stopped his wriggling and stared at Mello. Slowly, very slowly, as if it took a great deal of effort the male nods. Then his gaze settles on the table beside the bed, his hand stretches out for- what Mello assumes- is the Nintendo DS resting next to a pitcher of water.

"Do you want something to drink?" Mello asked, before handing the avid gamer his fix. Seeing Matt nod again Mello sets to work at making the male comfortable. Raising the bed so that his lover can drink comfortably, fluffing the pillows behind Matt's head. Pouring a glass of water he hands it off to the male. He drew a line at helping him eat or drink. A man has his pride and he's very sure that Matt would be annoyed later on, once he got out of this place. If he gets out.

Mello could kick himself because of how easily he just accepted the fact that Matt was alive and well, was nothing more than a dream brought on by his desires for it to be true. But as it seems, Matt is here. In the hospital. Still burned. Still in pain. Walking over to the window Mello looks out onto the street again, he's not sure why but... it sort of feels as though someone is watching him. Rubbing the fog, built up from the warmth of his breath against the chilled glass, from the window he catches a glimpse at himself and staggers back in shock. Dashing from the window into the bathroom he yelped in surprise. Mello was practically poking himself in the eye while feeling the wrinkles and swells surrounding the left side of his face, mostly around the eye.

'When did this... and how?' He questions himself.

Something was up with his eye as well, but it couldn't be! There was just no way! Closing his right eye it was confirmed. His vision has been burned away. He can't see a thing out of it. But its not a black blindness, but a white one, like having a flash light shoved in your face. He recalled that Matt had been laying over him that fateful day, but he didn't know the extent of his pain was this. He felt fine- fuck he looked fine. So what is this all of a sudden. Mello is finding it nearly impossible to know what's real or what's fake anymore. Its beginning to take a toll on his nerves. This whole damned place is. Is he at home with Matt. Or in this hospital right now? Maybe he is the one who'd run out on Matt, and is now laying in an alley like a burn out waiting for a fuck or a fix by some dealer.

"AAAHHHH!!!!"

The scream came from the hall, blood curdling, and loud. But it was different somehow. Leaving the bathroom, Mello glances over at Matt whose still hard at work saving Princess something or another with a plumber. It wasn't from him. Walking over to the door he pulls it open, then peers into the hall. It was a man, a big man, sliding along the floor like something were pulling him- dragging him. Looking just off behind the man, Mello sees that there is no one back there. But something has to be, people don't get dragged off by airspace; and his leg is extended up as though its from there he's being held. It sounded as though this were happening all over the place as screams go up all through the hallway. Stepping out of the room, Mello looks around for what he's uncertain of. Maybe he could help? Marching down the hall, he peeks around a corner and just catches the elevator doors closing shut, covering the gruesome scene of a woman having her skin torn clean off her body like she were getting a skin graph done- he knew of this because he sat in on one of Matt's appointments.

Staggering backward in confusion, the panicked male can sense something looming behind him but before he can make his escape he's knocked off his feet and jerked violently along down the hall. Twisting himself so that he's on his stomach, Mello scrapes and scratches at the floor hoping to catch himself on something so that he can pull himself free of this ghosts grip. He doesn't know what awaits him once its taken him to wherever it plans to go, and he sure as hell does not want to find out. He cried out in pain when his head popped against a slightly open door; it slammed shut after his impact. His good eye blurred and for a faint moment, he could see something ahead of him. A nurse... maybe. It was only a backside, but he could swear he saw a white nurses uniform, one of those blue cardigans... it was covered in blood and dripping.

He could see the halls end, and quickly, he hooked his arm around the frame of Matt's hospital room. His body jerked so hard he thought he'd be snapped in half, but thankfully the tugging stopped, his leg dropped hard to the floor as though it were declared infected, and was quickly abandoned before it spread to the person pulling him. He could barely get himself to his feet as he gathered himself up and entered Matt's room, closing the door behind him.

"Something's going on," He says to the gammer, he looked as though he were giving him a skeptical look. "We gotta go. I'll get you better care at the hospital in my hometown. Come on, wrap your arms around my neck." He sits on the bed, glad to feel Matt's weight against his back. He needed the male's full participation right now, so they can both make it out safely. "Just hold on tight."

Holding his lover piggyback style, Mello adjust the weight against him so that he can travel with ease. The door to the room is opened again; Mello looks out into the hallway. Its quiet. Empty. Perfect. Darting down the hall, he presses the button for the elevator. He held his stomach in check when seeing the lost pile of skin without its owner; there's blood everywhere though. But he can't let that stop him, being held up by worry will end up getting he and Matt into the same situation. The first floor opened up to them; Mello stepped cautiously out into the hall. He has to be sure its clear for a safe exit. He can hear people screaming within the patient rooms; some of them low now, like they've accepted that the pain is happening, or that they've gotten used to it and their mouths remain responding as they seem to need.

Hurrying to the large double doors at the end of the hall Mello froze. A nurse just stepped into view, clipboard in hand. She seemed completely oblivious to any of the screaming going on. Glancing up from her clipboard, she spots Mello. It was clear she thought nothing of it, at first, but upon seeing Matt's slumped figure resting upon him, she scrunched her face into a snarl and yelled out to him.

"Hey! Where are you going with him?!" When Mello runs, she grumbles in annoyance. "Get back here!"

The rescuer ducked into the nearest room which is back on the elevator, and while barely looking, he sent them up to the third floor. He couldn't hide in any of the patients rooms, so he settled for the bathroom. Pressing their weight into the door, Mello apologizes when Matt lets out a pained groan. Lowering his lover to sit on the floor, Mello straightens up and turns the large padlock to keep the hospital staff out. Hopefully they won't be able to open it until he can get them both safely to ground level out the window.

Letting out a relieved breath, Mello looks at Matt and says. "We should be safe in here." Frowning, he kneels down. "Aah, Matt. ....I'm sorry." He touches the male tenderly. It seemed the bumpy ride popped a few blistered. Matt's bleeding through the bandages. "But, you're gonna be ok. Just tough it out until I can get us out of here."

Mello strides over to the window, pausing momentarily because of a sudden sound startling him. It sounded as though someone was remembering their last meal into the toilet through their mouth. The smell was rising heavy in the air. Nose scrunched in disgust, Mello called to the man while trying to open the large, heavy window. "Hey. If you're that sick, you should have said something to the doctors." It was stupid to say, but his brain wasn't exactly functioning properly in the given situation. His thoughts panicked moreso when the hospital staff makes their presence known by pounding on the door.

"Open the door!" Called the nurse who spotted him.

"Get out here now! You're only hurting your friend more by doing this!" Called a certain doctor.

"Fat chance." Informed the refugee. 'But I can't stay in here forever. And there's no way of getting this window open.' He pats the thick glass. Looking around the room, Mello racks his brain for an idea. Its a little hard to think with that constant sound of heaving in the background. That's it! 'I can use that guy as a hostage. These people wouldn't allow me to kill someone; and in exchange for the mans life, they'll have to allow Matt and me to leave.' Sure this plan is fool proof; Mello knocks on the door of the stall. "Are you gonna be alright in there?" He calls in the kindest voice he can muster. "Do you want me to get you some help?" Mello's nose scrunched to stauch the full effect of the stink when the man made a loud belch in response. "Sir?" He knocks again.

The response to this was the man slamming his full weight into the stall door, so hard he actually cracked it in half. The splintered wood looked like jagged teeth in a monsters mouth.

'The fuck is this guys problem?' Wondered the blond, feeling his anger boiling steadily beneath his panicked demeanor. "Come on, you've gotta get out of there." He says again.

This time he takes a peek beyond the opening between the door and the frame of the stall, but his attention is taken away by the sound of the next stall splintering in half just as the first one. It was almost like the crack was spreading. Each stall door splintered in half with the speed of a rat running for a free meal on a kitchen floor. This phenomina didn't stop until the trail smacked into the wall, hard enough to crack the plaster. Mello watched this with a muddled look on his face; shooting a glance at Matt's slumped form, he couldn't ask if the male saw it because at the moment he seemed quite dead to the world. He must be in so much pain that he's blacked out. Falling plaster directed Mello's attention again, and he watched as the entire wall seemed to fall away going from the floor and up to the ceiling. It was incredible. He had to take a step back when the floor crumpled away beneath his feet; his butt popped into the rim of the sink behind him. All sound but the crackles and crumbles ceased to exist right then; no throwing up, no doctors pounding at the door, even his own breathing and heart beat silenced in awe of this weird scene playing out before him. Man, he wished someone was coherant enough to be asked if they're seeing all this as well. At least then Mello would know that he isn't cracking up like the room.

He's cast into a deep darkness once the room finished blowing itself apart. The last thing he heard was the sound of the window shattering. Turning on the tiny little penlight he keeps in his pocket, Mello looks around the newly redecorated bathroom. The walls are molded and dirty beyond belief. The stall doors are stripped completely from their paint, but strangely they've been fixed, the cracks gone. The floor was raw metal grating, the only bits of plater left were under his feet and once he'd stepped from them even they fell away. The window didn't leave any kind of glassy mess behind when they'd broken out, but the windows are now covered by rust, no glass; the cool winter air is blowing in heavily. Mello shivered. The man in the stall started up again, and he flashed his light in that direction. He had to admit- and only to himself- that he's a little bit hesitant to look. Because before when he'd peeked... there was no one inside. Will it be the same now? Walking closer, he winked an eye beyond the closed door. Catching his breath in surprise, he backed away.

What he saw just couldn't be real. There was a man inside... naked... sitting back on his haunches, head tilted and looking at the ceiling. The nude strangers mouth is open wide, and the deformed foods and stomach acid are eroding from his throat leaving globs all over the man's face; speckled with pimples, and blisters, and burns from the nasty stuff dissolving his skin like its trying to digest it as it would food.

He heard the movement, but had little time to prepare his nerves from the impact of the man slamming into the stall. Turning around he smashes his fist into the mirror, removing a shard to defend himself with should the man in the stall be as violent as his attempts to get out sound; angry grunts, louder than any human should be able to get, follow each slam. Finally the door seemed to give way for him, and slowly it swings open. Mello, poised for attack is once again slapped in the face by surprise. The stall is empty. He had to be sure, and carefully Mello shoves open each stall. Empty. Flashing his light around the bathroom, he wonders if the man were ever really there and it wasn't just his mind trying to come up with something gruesome to match his surroundings. He really must be dreaming.

"Come on Matt, I think we're in the clear to get out no-..." Light shined on the door, Mello couldn't say that he hadn't expected it. But he still didn't like it all the same. Matt is gone. He's nowhere in the tiny bathroom. He surely couldn't have gone out, Mello would have heard him. "I really must be dreaming." Didn't seem to take his fears away of it being reality though. "Guess I'm on my own." Walking over to the bathroom door, Mello takes his leave.
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