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Annals of Fear II	By : DeathNoteFangirl Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 5803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I do not make any money from these writings

Chapter List
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Matt hadn't gone far before Mello caught him up.   The Slav was so much fitter than he was and Matt didn't dare run. He'd only end up in a coughing fit, due to that lingering bronchitis that had him enslaved.   Matt glanced sideways at his husband.   Mello wore a pitying look, but he was obviously carefully choosing his words before he spoke them.   Matt gave him credit for that.   He had expected Mello to just manhandle him into the drystone wall.   Matt carefully regulated his breathing. Uphill was so much harder on his lungs than downhill.

"Mail, someone will be looking out for you."   Mello stated, confidently.

A flash of annoyance burst through Matt. He didn't respond. He just picked up his pace and was surprised to find them already at the trackway towards the house.   They must have really dawdled on the way down.     Now that they weren't struggling up a steep slope, Matt fumbled in his jeans pocket and extracted his lighter.   His cigarettes were in his gilet.   He lit one.   He strode on.

"Baby, slow down."   Mello grabbed at him now.   Matt shook him off.    Mello's eyes widened in shock.   His voice rasped with a warning edge.   "Mail.   Enough."

"Go back if you want."   Matt told him.   He mostly meant it as well.   He tensed, anticipating the lunge and bellow that Mello was bound to give.   Neither occurred.   Matt's eyes slid sideways.   Mello wore a pensive look.   Chocolate was static between his lips. He just walked, deep in thought.   The last thing that Matt wanted was Mello thinking.   "I can take it from here, angel.   I think I'm the only one with a fucking perspective."

Mello swallowed his chocolate. "Oh?"   It wasn't worth acknowledgement, so Matt continued on. The woods were hushed with susurration.   The acrid stench of smoke still hung heavily in the air down there. Matt sucked on his cigarette.   Of course the ambulance had come from further up the mountain road.   There was no other explanation.   It had been going too fast. Whatever had startled the driver didn't have to be supernatural.   Something mechanical could have snapped. The brake cable. That would explain their speed.   They had taken the turning too fast, swerved on the track, crashed through the wall.   Solved. Mello asked, "Is that a vote of no confidence in me?"

"You were sobbing your heart out up there."   Matt nodded towards the darkness of the mountain slope to their left.   "You were cruel to Hal.   No great shakes there, but you veered so far off your point that you couldn't find it again.   She's probably still thinking, 'What the fuck?'"   They were within sight of the gate now, with the yew tree behind it.   There were no silhouetted women.    But neither should there be.   Deontic's readings showed a massive infra-sound hotspot here.   Sound too low for the human ear to pick up.   But the eyes would be affected.   There would be slight vibrations in their vision, that they weren't even realising were happening.   That accounted for the sightings of ghosts.   It would also induce hyperventilation, which had the knock-on effect of producing feelings of unease.   Their brains would be receiving the subtle messages that something was happening just out of perception.   Yes, a concentration of infra-sound.   But their psyches, in classic pareidolia, would be telling them that they were being watched.   All of this and he hadn't even started on the effects of electro-magnetic forces on their temporal lobes.   "You're not yourself, Mello.   Sorry.   But you believe in any old shit at the best of times."

Mello's hand reached the gate before Matt could grab it.   The blond held it tightly, fast against the gatepost.   "You barely slept last night, Mail.   You had nightmares.   You've not eaten for hours.   You're cold and hungry.   You're aching all over and you're pretty beaten up.   You're stuck out in the countryside and you've been scared to death.   Now you're feeling acutely abandoned." Mello's gaze was piercing.   "You always lash out, when you're tired and hungry.    You don't do lack of home comforts."

"Fuck you."

Mello smiled wanly, "With pleasure, but later."   He winked.

Matt felt breathless and quietly furious.   Mello wasn't rising to the bait. So fucking smug.   Mello was expecting Matt to just stand there like some docile sheep, begging forgiveness and awaiting instruction.   Fuck that.    Matt stared at Mello, but his vision was taking in the gate. Could he vault before Mello grabbed his clothing and dragged him back?    Yes, he could. Mello had one hand encumbered by the helmet and the other on the gatepost.   Matt shuffled backwards a step, just to get a foot to bounce off.   It worked better than he had anticipated.   He was at the top before Mello even moved.   Matt didn't wait to crow about it.   He quickly leapt down the other side, with chocolate bars cascading from his pockets onto the ground.

An instant later, Mello was beside him.    "Mail.   Ok, you win, but can we stop for two seconds?"   Mello seemed worried. "Please."

"Pick up your chocolate."   Matt smirked and raced towards the house.   Adrenaline gave him air in his lungs and speed to his feet, but Mello matched him step for step.    They were past the yew tree and halfway to the Land Rover, before Mello resorted to actually grabbing him.   It was a painful, bruising grip to his arm, coupled with a thrust over Mello's waiting leg.   Matt toppled to the gravel and Mello wasted no time in sitting on top of him.   Matt's fist flew up into Mello's face, but the Slav was quick.   Mello caught his fist and parried the follow up with the other arm.   He'd put his helmet down and Matt couldn't see where.   He twisted his head around and saw it, dangling from a branch on the yew tree.   "Brawn over brain.   That the best you can do, Mello?"

Mello was unblinking.   His eyes were dark, as he peered down at his husband.   "Against you?   Yes."

Matt wasn't sure how to take that, which was probably the point.   He wondered about the candles in the kitchen.   They'd left them burning.   He'd seen the kitchen still softly lit by them, after Century and Hal had fled.   But the kitchen was in darkness now.   He'd seen that before Mello had scuttled him.   "Then you fail."

There was a flicker behind Mello's gaze, but he still held Matt down.   "I've been telling you for months, probably years now, that I want to see that genius brain in action.    It would be wrong of me to stop you now you're actually using it." Mello's voice was husky.   His words were controlled. "If you want the case, it's yours, but I'm your partner, not your whipping boy."   His eyes were hard, like ice-cold diamonds, probably hiding a lot of pent-up emotion.    "And I will hear your strategy first, because I need to make sure of one thing.   That this isn't just your tendency to bulldoze your way from A to B, whatever or whoever gets harmed along the way, just to achieve your objective in the shortest time possible."

Matt replied, as calmly and precisely as he could, "You tried so hard to beat Near and you still came second.   I could have taken the title just like that."   He clicked his fingers. Mello's grip tightened on his wrist beneath it.    "And you would have had to do whatever I said."

Mello gave a tiny smile.   It was horrible. "It was more or less on this very spot when I really fucked up last time we were here." He shook back his hair.   "When I told you I'd take that collar from your neck and leave you. You've never forgiven me for it."

Matt bucked suddenly, kicking out, in the way that had worked with Hal down in the chalets.   Mello just held on and rode it out. It was hurting Matt more than it was Mello.   The gravel dug into his extant bruises and the ground was cold beneath him.   He yelled at Mello, "You really think I'm that petty!"

"I don't think you know who or what you are."   Mello growled.   "But if you have a plan, I will fucking follow it.   I respect the mind of you. I've seen what it's capable of.   But not when it's out of spite and not when it's just to get home, regardless of whether the case is solved."    He pushed Matt's arms down onto the gravel and leaned forward.   His face was practically against Matt's.    "It will follow us.   If we don't solve it now, we will have to come back."   His lips covered Matt's and kissed him, though Matt struggled against him.   Then Matt relaxed and just let the kiss happen.   It was strategic and it worked.   Mello sat back up, looking appraisingly down at him.    "What's the plan, Mail?"

"For a start, I really need a shit."

Mello blinked, "What?"

"Been desperate to go for ages."   Matt smiled.   "I'm sorry, did you not realise that my rectum had other, more primary uses?"

"You'd use the toilet in there?"   Mello didn't have to nod nor gesture towards the manor house.   They both knew where.

"Why not?" Matt watched him disdainfully.   On the other side of the valley, on the hill overlooking the river and this house, was the Blaenplwyf Transmitter.    There was a case, in Blue Bell Hill, Kent, where ghostly apparitions had been spotted on a dual carriage, following the installation of the Blue Bell Hill Transmitter Station above it.    All those people who thought that television images just magically appeared, when, all the time, it was a strong electromagnetic signal bouncing off their aerials. It was in the air.   It was all around them.    Experiments, in both the universities of Edinburgh and Coventry, had proved that electromagnetic impulses, targeting the temporal lobes, could create quite physical hallucinations.    Matt had watched on YouTube, as a female volunteer became quite convinced that someone was pulling on her ankle.   It was fascinating stuff.   "You can shit in the woods, if you like, but beware the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn."

Mello sighed.   "Mail, when we get back, I'm going to make her tell you who is looking after you."

"Don't worry about it."   Matt rolled his eyes. "It's all shit anyway."

"But I know that I am."   Mello's gaze softened. "Te amo, Mail.   Estoy loco por ti." He smiled, fondly.   "Tienes los ojos más bonitos del mundo."

"Let me get up."   Matt challenged, not wanting to hear anything else about his pretty eyes.   There was a piece of gravel stuck in the waistband of his jeans.   It was digging right into him.   "I need to go into there anyway, but first port of call is the toilet."

Mello bit his lip.   He seemed about to say more, but instead he reluctantly released Matt.    Mello sprang up, onto his feet, and reached out a hand to help Matt up.   Matt took it.   Mello pulled him close and hugged him. "Mail, I'm going to get you out of here.   We'll go now.   We'll walk back to the others and get a lift back."

Matt sneered. "You really aren't thinking straight."   He shoved back, but Mello held tightly to his hand. He let him.   It wasn't worth arguing anymore with the irrational bastard.   Matt took another cigarette out, but didn't light it. He held it between his lips, as he led the way towards the open back door.

It was dark inside and, incongruously, even colder than outside.    Above their heads, there was what sounded like the whispers of many voices and the thumping of running feet.   Mello's hand was crushing Matt's; it was being held so tightly.   Matt tried to pull it free, but Mello was not releasing him.   Matt took his lighter out of his pocket and lit his cigarette.   The brief flash of light revealed a candle turned over on its side, extinguished, on the top of the refrigerator.   Beside him, Mello gasped, but didn't elaborate.   Matt reached out for the candle and lit it.

The room was destroyed.   Pots, pans and cutlery were strewn everywhere.   The cooker and fridge were both yanked away from the wall, blocking their passage beyond the central workstation.   Foodstuffs were scattered, out of their tins, packets and bottles.   They dripped from the walls and were smeared into surfaces and onto the tiles.    The clock was smashed on the floor. The worktop, across the room, had been wrenched away from its moorings.   It sat at an angle above the cupboards.   One tap was twisted away from the sink.   Its twin was broken off completely.   They couldn't see it.   Salt or sugar was trailed all around, sometimes in clumps and sometimes scattered like a light frost on the tiles.   There were no footprints in them.   Their belongings had been cast in various places, like someone had stood there and thrown them in all directions.    One candle was smashed upon the wreckage of the far worktop.   There was the mark, where it had been thrown, with some force, at the wall.    It felt as if something unseen rushed right past them. The candle in Matt's hand flickered and went out.   The sounds, upstairs, stopped.

Mello moved right up against Matt.   His grip on Matt's hand felt set to break every bone in it.   Mello asked, with constrained quietness, "How badly do you need the toilet, Mail?"

Matt put the candle down on the fridge and lit it again.    Even prepared for the sight of it, the room looked no better the second time.   "Could Fenian have done this?"

Mello gestured towards the worktop. "Heh?"

Matt needed to think about this.    He stepped forward and over a quantity of squashed pickled gherkins.   Glass crunched under his boot.   Mello followed, silently.    The sensation of being watched was very fierce, but then it would be.   They were drenched in infra-sound and electromagnetic forces.    Matt reached the sink and there found Fenian's climbing helmet.   He picked it out and inspected it.   It seemed ok, but there were deep gorges etched into the stainless steel of the sink.    There were also scratches on the inside of the window glass.    Matt's traitorous heart was pounding.   He was probably hyperventilating.   Cue panic attack and attendant hallucinations.   It wasn't worth the hassle.    "Ok, Mell.   I can wait for the toilet.   Come on."

Mello raised his eyebrows and they turned around.    They had only gone a handful of steps into the room, but the way back to the passage was inky black.    Matt handed Mello the candle, as he was closest, but it made no difference.    It was as if the little flame's glow hit a wall of darkness that it couldn't penetrate.   Mello frowned.   Matt stared.   It had to be an optical illusion.   Matt saw another whole candle on the floor, close to his foot.   He crouched down and picked it up, though Mello immediately pulled on his hand to raise him again.

Matt stood.   The darkness seemed closer.   He realised, with a start, that he could just about see Mello's face, illuminated by the candle glow, but nothing else.   There had been an aura of light.   Originally, they had been able to see the whole room, more or less, by holding it up.   Now he saw just Mello's head and nothing else.   Matt glanced down.   He couldn't even see his own body, let alone the floor.   He gripped his candle, in the same hand as he held Fenian's helmet.   The cigarette's smoke was starting to constrict the flow of oxygen into his mouth.   Matt breathed through his nose, but his nostrils were bunged up with cold.

There was a skittering noise.   A general scurrying down at floor level.   Of course, the spilt food and open door would bring rats in from the forest.    Matt felt himself freezing.   It was hallucination. It had to be.   Then Mello's voice cut through, with absolute confidence, "Oče naš, koji jesi na nebesima, sveti se ime tvoje." The Lord's Prayer was hurled as a threat.   Even Mello's face couldn't be seen anymore in the candle's glow.   Only the top of the candle itself was shown.   Something ran over Matt's boot. He reminded himself that he shouldn't be able to feel it like that.   The boots had steel toecaps.   It was playing with them.   "Dodji kraljevstvo tvoje!" Mello flung himself into that dire darkness.   It was oppressive. A band lay heavily around Matt's chest, constricting, holding.   Mello dragged him into a blackness so absolute, that they couldn't see the candle anymore. It had to have gone out.   Mello collided with the passage wall.   He didn't stop, but roared out,   "Budi volja tvoja kako na nebu tako i na zemlji."

They should have been able to see the back door by now.   Matt's leg hit the edge of the fridge.   They were nearly there, but both of them had to slide, at speed, along the wall to find it.    It was closed.   Matt heard Mello grappling with the handle.   The voice boomed right into Matt's ear, "¡Puedo verte!"    It was his father's voice.   'I can see you!'   Matt bounded away, straight into Mello's back, crushing the Slav against the door.   Mello had had it finally open. It crashed shut again.   Mello fought back and yanked open the door.   The couple tumbled outside.

Mello led and they ran, skirting the Land Rover and stumbling on the gravel.   They could see out here, insofar as cloudy night-time allowed. Thoroughly spooked, past the point of rational thought, Matt nonetheless grasped the one which had taken him into that kitchen.   He tugged against Mello and nearly loosed his hand, but Mello turned too.   They reached the stable door.   Mello sounded so shaken, "Mail, tell me that you heard it."

"Yes,"   Matt knew that he needed to get away from there.   He needed to think, without the influence of natural forces fucking with his psyche.   He ducked into the stable.

Mello was right behind him. "What did you hear?"

Matt wanted him to just shut up before he started screaming.   He flew at Mello's motorbike.   "You've still got the keys?"

Mello nodded, but grabbed him by both arms.   He yelled into Matt's face, "What did you hear?"   Matt felt the flight or fight instinct so keenly now.   He could almost see his father peering into a hole too narrow to admit him.    He didn't want to go there. Eidetic hallucination, on top of everything else, was too stupid to contemplate.   Mello's expression and tone held just a touch of hysteria.   "Did you hear a man shout '¡puedo verte!'?"

Matt felt faint. He felt the ground give way and stars polka-dot his vision.   He felt breathless.   He tore away from Mello, with a strength that saw him stumbling against the motorbike.   Mello caught both him and it before they could fall.   Matt was trembling wildly.   It felt more akin to a fit than mere shivering.   He had to get out of there.   Mello held him.   Matt found his breath and swallowed back an actual scream.   He felt mortified in every sense of the word.   Something banged, from his hand, onto the motorbike.   It was Fenian's climbing helmet and the candle, both still rigidly gripped.   He managed to speak, in a shuddering whisper, "Get the bike."

"The engine is dead."   Mello replied, his eyes like saucers.

"Stop being so fucking blond and get the fucking bike, Mello."

Mello blinked.   He let Matt go and Matt pocketed the candle.    He put Fenian's helmet on.   It was slightly too big, but it had a strap.   He grabbed the handles and released the foot-stand.   Mello just stood there.   "Mail, honestly, what are you doing?"

Matt ignored him and wheeled the motorbike around.   He tried to run with it, but it wobbled too much.   Mello helped him.   They pushed it out into the yard, both afraid to even look at the windows of the manor house.    Matt hated that.   It felt like victory for the irrational.    He still bowed his head and didn't look up, until they were level with the yew tree.   He didn't say anything. Mello reached up and retrieved his helmet.   They went on to the gate.   Matt left Mello holding the motorbike, while he unlatched the gate.   He picked up a couple of chocolate bars, kicking the rest to the side of the track.   They passed through and didn't shut it behind them.

Mello finally coughed and said, hoarsely, "You're going to attempt a compression start on a battery this dead?"

Matt nodded, jerkily, "Yes."

"Right." Mello replied, blankly.    They went on, in silence, for a few seconds, before Mello asked, "Are you alright?"

Matt really wanted a cigarette. He had no idea what he'd done with the last one he'd been smoking.   With any luck, it was burning the kitchen down.   "Fine."   He lied.

"Maybe it's your father looking after you."

A chill rose up from the pit of Matt's stomach and made his head feel like the skin was too tight around his skull.   He barked, "Shut the fuck up."

Mello bit his lip.   He was balancing his helmet over the handle that he was holding.   "Sorry."

They were approaching the entrance to the road.   There were shapes blocking the way.   Mello physically stopped.   Matt jolted against the bike.   Mello glanced at him and nearly dropped his helmet.   A voice rose up from the murky light. It was Hal's and she sounded relieved. "Mello, is that you?"

Mello straightened.   Matt practically saw the persona drop over his husband, like a shroud or a mask.   Mello the Great. Mello the sassy, sharp, brilliant thing.   Mello in control.   It was Hal who made him feel like that.   Matt glared ahead.   Mello called back, "It is us.   Your lift not arrived yet?"

They reached them.   They could see Daf just around the bend, with his taxi bicycle.   Valerie was with him too.   Hal and Lauren loitered at the trackway entrance, looking slightly contrite and more than a little concerned.   Lauren's expression held inquiry, as her eyes searched them for clues.   Hal asked outright, "Did anything happen?"

Mello would have stopped, but Matt was ready and doubled his pushing efforts as they drew close.   Mello had let go, so it was Matt who took the bike out onto the steep mountain road.    Gravity nearly took over, but Mello rushed to help him steady it.   Mello's face looked utterly washed out in the moonlight.   "Ladies, thank you for waiting.   But I really would feel better if you were back at the chalets."

"Keys." Matt demanded.

Mello glared at him. He put his black helmet on and straddled the motorbike.   "This is doomed to failure, Mail. Just for the record."

"Put it into second or third."

"I know how to compression start a motorbike, Jeevas."   Mello snapped.   He eyed the mountain road, snaking down into Aberystwyth.   "If this picks up speed..."

Matt rolled his eyes.   That was his plan B, but he'd anticipated that it would be him driving.   "Let me do it."

"What?"

"Reckon you could free-wheel it down the mountain, if the engine doesn't start?" Matt inserted a note of challenge and took the pillion seat.   He held onto Mello's waist and tucked his legs out of the way.    He had no leathers, but he had goggles and a climbing helmet.   It would have to do.   He didn't see Mello's expression, but he did see how both Lauren and Hal stepped back. He also saw the expressions on the faces of Daf and Valerie.    Mello shut his visor with a distinct snap.   There was a movement, which Matt deduced was Mello crossing himself. The way ahead was tree-lined and, even with the moon out from the clouds, it was dark.   There were hair-pin bends along the way.

Lauren called out, "Good luck!"    Mello kicked off.    They were rolling, with Mello's boots kicking sparks on the tarmac. Mello's hand impotently moved on the throttle.   For about thirty feet, it was all they were doing.   Then the Honda roared into life.   Matt emitted a loud 'woot' of triumph, while Mello's shoulders relaxed slightly.    They had a headlight.   They were driving down the road and it felt like the best feeling in the world.     Matt laughed aloud. His mind cleared.   His body felt light, free from pain.   They reached the foot of the mountain and the turning into the town.   Mello grinned back at him.

Matt hugged him from behind.   "Go back up."

"What?" Mello called, over the purr of the engine.

"Farmhouse."   Matt bellowed back.

Mello blinked. He lifted his visor. "Why?"

Matt stared, "Because the battery will never survive.   We need what's in the car.   We can then compression start the bike back down."

Mello considered it for a couple of seconds, then drove out of the junction, in a wide loop back.   They climbed the mountain, with the bike, for all of its horsepower, struggling with the gradient and weight.    Two thirds of the way back to the manor house turning, they passed the other four on the taxi bike.   Matt waved.   They all looked astounded back at them.   Hal seemed ready to scramble out of the net trailer, but Mello and Matt were gone.   They sailed on past the manor house turning and up for a couple of miles further.   Matt had to point to the turning, which Mello overshot.   They returned, pulling into the farmhouse's tarmacked track.    Hal's car still blocked the way in.

"Fuck," said Matt, "I'd forgotten about that."

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