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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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- 65
I

The sun shone across the mountainside.   That, in itself, was unusual for a November morning in Wales, but it seemed that the night's high winds had chased the clouds from the sky.     It was still cold, but it felt like a nice touch to Kiana. She stood in the ruined courtyard, where the manor house still hissed and fizzed in smoldering embers.   The standing stone was exposed.   It rose from the rubble, blackened with chips and soot, but very much there.   Fenian and Century lingered at the safety rope, placed there by the fire crews.    All Kiana felt from the men was a deep tiredness; both too exhausted to even care about their individual academic concerns.

She turned to survey the remains of the house.   The older eastern part, that which dated from the 15th century, was mostly still intact.   It was that fact, along with the survival of his Mini Cooper, that had gone some way to appeasing Century.    He had winced when he'd seen the destruction of the west side of the manor, but he had not said a single word in complaint.   Kiana traced her hand over the top of Century's car now, as she meandered past it, down towards the yew tree.    She reached out with her senses, but there was nothing much to feel, beyond the glorious, wonderful energies of nature Herself.

The mountainside sheep grass displayed its muted, matt green; the woodland whispered with hidden life and the majestic longevity of trees; the stream tinkled, as it ran, in bright abandon, through the gorge; while the Ystwyth Valley just looked pretty, with its distant, sparkling river and the infrequent bleating of sheep.   Kiana could see them too; they were little dots of white, ambling across far-away fields.    Wales felt, as it always did, a beautiful, hard and peaceful place; sleepy, when left alone.

Kiana stooped and, almost casually, took the witch bottle from the roots of the yew tree.    It wasn't unplanned. She had been considering it since the moment they drove up the track.   She had been testing the ether ever since, with her psyche stretched out and waiting to receive.   She stood with the bottle in her hand and felt no shifting in the air.   She watched Fenian and Century; neither budged nor looked back.   They continued chatting about whatever young men talk about, when their spirits are low and the end came better than any could have hoped.

Kiana smiled. Now it was over.   She placed her hand on the yew tree; her palm wide with feeling.   It felt warm to the touch.   It felt peaceful.   It was done.

II

"Dee?"   Hal peered around the opened door, then entered properly, as Deontic jolted awake in the chair.   "Sorry.   I'm finally here now."

Deontic glanced towards the bed, where Mello lay. She yawned.   "How did it go?"

Hal gave a cursory grimace.   "Upsetting and distressing, as you can imagine." She nodded towards Mello.   "How is he?"

"No change."   Deontic stretched.   She caught Hal's sharp look and misinterpreted it, as the American not knowing the latest news.   They had all been in contact with each other, by 'phone, throughout the night.   Some things got missed.   "He's had surgery and a bullet has been removed from his stomach muscle.   He's been extremely lucky."   Deontic frowned, as Hal raised her eyebrows.   "No, he has.   He was shot twice.   One passed straight through his bicep, breaking his arm, but that can be fixed. The other went into his side, hit a rib and was thrown downwards.    It broke two ribs all told, but it didn't penetrate any major organs and it stopped short of his gut.   That is lucky, if you ask me."

"I know." Hal smiled.   She was tired too.   "I was in the conference call, where everyone was speculating that he must have turned around at the last second."   She placed a cardboard box onto a chair and took out a couple of coffees.   "Do you like doughnuts?   I have some cinnamon ones."

Deontic shrugged. "It was a weird angle to be shot."

"I agree." Hal handed a lidded coffee to Deontic, then walked across to look down on Mello.   "He looks so angelic, when he's asleep."

"Has Matt said anything?"

Hal shook her head.   "None of us exist at the moment, as far as he's concerned."

Deontic looked pensive.   She eventually breathed, "Yes."   Then sat and sipped her coffee.   She declined the doughnut.   "The bullet taken from Mello matches Matt's M9 Beretta, you know?"

"I know."   Hal removed the empty box, placing it on the floor, before sinking into the chair with an audible sigh of relief.   Silence descended between them.   Long minutes passed before Deontic yawned again.   "Why don't you get off?   Go back to the chalet and put your head down for a few hours.   I can stick around here, in case he wakes up."

Deontic nodded. "I do want to catch Fenian before he leaves."   She finished the dregs of her coffee and dropped the cup into the bin.    "But Mello is unlikely to wake up until they want him to.   He's being kept under to help with his post-surgery recuperation."

Hal looked up. "That bit, I didn't know."   Concern showed visibly upon her face.   "He is going to be alright though?"

"Yes. The prognosis is that he'll make a full recovery."   Deontic found a weak smile.   "What's that saying? The Devil looks after his own?" She exhaled a tiny, mirthless laugh, which died on her lips, as she surveyed him again.   "Does Matt know?"

"I'm assuming so."

Deontic stood.   "I'll double-check that."   She collected up her handbag and coat, looking in confusion at a pile of origami shapes on the carpet around her chair.   "Oh."

Hal gestured in dismissal.   "You're good. I've got them."

"Thank you." Deontic scurried towards the door.   "I'll see you later, at the chalet."

"Get your head down."

Deontic shook her head. "No time for that really.    Century and I are going to go through all of the pieces of this case and see if we can finally make sense of the whole sorry mess.   If I leave it too late, he'll just sod off somewhere with all of the clues.   I know that boy."   She waved away any dissent. "It's fine. Bye Hal.   Call me if there's any news."

"Bye Deontic."   Hal smiled.   "And I will."

III

This town had once been the seat of the High Kings of Gwynedd.   It was on Ynys Môn, this sacred isle of the ancient druids, which may or may not have been a school for Merlin himself.    Macsen Wledig had followed his dream to find his Elen here, in Caergybi; before the Romans wrecked the place and slaughtered all of the priests and priestesses.    Segontium, it had become then.   A proud and mighty fort, an outpost of the Western extremities of the Roman empire. It was one of just three walled Roman forts in the entirety of Europe.   Century was perched upon the ruins of part of it right now, staring out over the Menai Straits, towards the smear of misty mountains that constituted the Llŷn. Home.   He would be doubling back on himself, now that he had made up his mind.

A loud horn sounded from the harbour below, shaking him from his reverie and making his ears ring.   Caergybi and Segontium alike were gone.   In their place stood Holyhead, the great North Welsh ferry-port, with its obscenely large ferry starting to pull away.   The endless trains of lorries had finally been huffed and crawled into place and off they were to Dublin.   Century glanced over the hundreds of windows, seeing people as indistinct shapes behind them. Fenian and Kiana had driven into it ages ago.   He had no idea whether they were looking back and waving, nor even if they even knew that he was still there.   He unwrapped another lollipop and shoved it into his mouth.   Of course he was still here.   Their road had taken them past the turning to the Llŷn Peninsula, with its signpost to Aberdaron.   There was no way of going to Galway after that.

Century scratched the back of his head, then slipped off the wall onto the wet, gritty soil of the car park.   It might be worth nipping into the town before he left.   He could have a look at the grave of Gybi and potter around the hill-fort's crumbling brickwork.    See what else there was to see.   He looked back. The ferry was seeming to take forever to leave the port. They always did.    He felt like he should wave, so did so, quickly, with his head bowed to his chest.   Maybe they saw; maybe they didn't.

"Kelly's up the duff, gen now! My mam told me!"   The young woman nearly collided with Century, as he suddenly turned.   She cast him a look to kill and carried on.

"Gerraway!" Her friend replied, giving Century the once over, before hurrying on by.   "Told you, doll, she's a right slebog that one."

He waited for them to pass, then trudged off towards his car.   He glanced back, just as they both did, and felt a small spark of confidence in their embarrassed giggles.    Century smiled.   He could call Siân.   He could swing by Conwy, before taking off into the Llŷn.   She might come with him.   She had still sounded keen to see him, when he'd called to check that she was alright that morning.    Though taking her would involve finding some room in his Mini Cooper.   He paused, looking down through the window, where one of the three computers taken from the computer hub was in plain view.   The blanket must have fallen from the top.    He ought to have checked that, before he'd parked up.   Anyone could have seen it and broken in to steal it.

Century supposed that he ought to feel a little guilty about taxing Matt of his hardware.   But it felt a little like revenge. After all, Matt had taken over Century's computer and nearly blown up his car.   Besides, it was likely to be the sweetest system set-up that Century was ever going to see, while Matt could always create more.   All was fair in love and cyberwar.   Century shifted the blanket to cover the errant laptop, then unlocked his car door and drove south-west, back into the land of his fathers.

IV

Matt stood stock still, not acknowledging a soul as they patted him down.   This was Stephen Gevanni, one of Near's gang, who reacted with detached professionalism, as he took Matt's goggles and handed them to Lauren.    If the man recognised Matt, from the Yellow Box, then now was not the time to mention it.    Matt lost his gilet, his keys, his boots and socks, his gloves and the contents of his pockets.    His belt was pulled from the notches of his jeans.   To his credit, Gevanni didn't look as though he was enjoying this.   His fingers reached for Matt's wedding ring.

Lauren was quick to intervene, "No.   Not his ring or his collar.   Everything else, fair enough, but not those."

Matt said nothing.   He already felt stripped.   He wore his white and black striped, long-sleeved shirt and his jeans, but he felt naked.    They were right next to him, but he gave no indication that he could even hear their conversation.   Matt chewed the inside of his upper lip and didn't say a word.   Gevanni paused.   "It could still..."

"No." Lauren straightened.   "If I have to watch him every second, 24/7 for the next week, you will not take his collar.   You have no idea what is being asked here."

Gevanni hesitated.   Matt could feel those grey eyes skating over him.    Then there was a little nod. "Fine."

"Thank you." Lauren replied, brusquely.    "And once he's settled, I have just one request. That is that you stay with him, while I speak with Near."

Gevanni risked a short smile.   "You can do that from in there.   Near's flown back to New York."

"What?" Lauren gasped, then considered it.   "So he's putting the Atlantic Ocean between himself and the incarceration of Mello's husband.   This is what I'm being told?"

"It's not actually Near's problem though, is it?" Gevanni responded, blithely. "He's working on several cases at the moment and still got dragged into this one."

Lauren nodded, impatiently.   "Ok, let's get this over with.   You know that he's not to be anywhere near Neuron nor Morien Williams?"

However that was answered, it was in non-verbal communication behind Matt's back.    He barely cared.   Valerie had gone to settle Morien Williams into his own cell.   Psychiatric evaluations all around.   Matt wondered if they'd judge him insane, when it was his turn to be seen.   He wondered if he was going to go insane.    'Don't take the Beyond Birthday route', Mello had told him, yet here Matt was facing bars and the loss of it all.   He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter if they took his collar.   It might not be his right to wear it anymore.    Mello could die and, if he didn't die, then would he want the man who'd shot him twice?   Matt's wedding ring felt so cold on his finger.   The handcuffs chafed, though they were fitted well and he hadn't struggled.   He stared stoically on, not wanting to see anything.   They had taken his cigarettes. They had taken his games.

"Ok, Matt." Gevanni said, gruffly, "This way."   He reached out, but Lauren must have signalled or something, because the hand didn't actually connect.   Matt walked into the direction that he was shown.   There was a cell. It had a narrow bed, attached to the floor, but no bedding upon it.    A strip of windows, right up near the ceiling in the opposite wall, provided sunlight and illumination.    Matt was reminded suddenly of reciting 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol', in a warehouse room, in New York.   Telling Mello that he was stir crazy with surveillance, on the Kira case.   It was a good memory; Mello's smile and his eyes lighting up, a beautiful man, who hadn't often allowed himself to look so genuinely amused back then.   Beautiful, gorgeous Mello.   Matt bowed his head, unwilling to show emotion, as he stepped into his cell.     "There's a toilet in the corner.   If you need privacy, just shut this door.   There's a little window in it, but that's..."

"He knows." Lauren quickly interjected.   "Matt, it's going to be alright.   I'll be sitting right out here.   I'm not going anywhere."

The cuffs were being unlocked; his wrists were released.    Matt brought them back to the front of his body, rubbing the life back into his frozen hands.   He glanced up at the window and, for the first time, the tears pricked dangerously at the back of his eyes. The barred door was shut, with as gentle a bang as Gevanni could muster.    The key turned in the lock.   Matt couldn't help it.   With his back to them, so that they couldn't see, the tears slid down his cheeks.   Mello was going to make it, Lauren had said, passing on reports from the hospital, as they came in.   Each piece of news shimmering and lost to the numbness inside.   Matt knew that he should be there.   Waiting outside the theatre as they cut into his man; sitting at his bedside, as Mello rose out of the anaesthetic.    But Matt couldn't be, because he was the one who'd put Mello there; and he couldn't reconcile himself to the reality of that, nor its apparent conclusion, that he had been possessed at the time.   Taken over by Mello's rival.

"Matt?" Lauren whispered, as if afraid that volume would shatter him.    "I've got a table and chair out here.   I'm going to keep you informed.    I'm not leaving you, until we know what's going on with Mello. Ok?"    Gevanni had gone.   Lauren was peering anxiously through the bars.    Matt sat on the edge of the bed, his forearms resting on his thighs.   His head was bowed against her seeing him.   He didn't respond.    "I'm not allowed to give you your lighter, but I have it.    I have your cigarettes too.   Would you like me to light one for you?"

Matt noticed that his tear-drops were collecting, in small, splattered pools, upon the tiles of the floor.   He thought he'd been so discreet too.   He bent down further and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, then stood and shambled to the door.   Lauren was waiting.   She placed the cigarette between his lips and struck the lighter.   He inhaled until it caught, then sucked in the calming nicotine.   "Thanks." He softly said, before turning away, back to the bed.

"You're welcome."   Lauren lingered by the bars. "Is there anything else that I can get you?   A drink of water?"

Matt didn't reply.   He sat back as he was, but this time smoking beneath his bowed head, with the red hair shielding him from the world. His feet had scuffed the tear-drops, but others replaced them without him even realising that he still cried.   His mind was racing, in eidetic recall, through all of those times with Mello.   The little moments; the years that no-one knew; a smile and a look, the little touches that made Matt feel real.   He'd really loved being with Mello.   Really loved him.

An age seemed to pass before there was news, but then it was only about Dion Williams.   The post-mortem said that his death was due to head injuries, sustained during an epileptic fit.    There had been rocks in the ground, beside the drystone wall.   The wounds were consistent with his having struck them in his seizure.    Morien Williams was sedated.   It was too early to tell whether he would make a reliable witness, though he was already gibbering descriptions of the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn.   Lauren told Matt this, in far too bright a tone.   Mello was off the hook.   Innocent.   And Mello was going to make it too.   Everything was going to be alright.

Matt stared into space, his hand at his collar.   He half wished that he was in the manor house again, conjuring hallucinations that saw Mello pacing the room with him.    He had nothing.   Just the endless hours of waiting for an outcome that felt so inevitable now.    "Lauren."   Matt rasped, eventually. She was up like a shot, standing at the bars, where he could see her properly.

"Yes?"

Matt tried to speak, but his voice failed him.   He coughed and managed sound on the second attempt, "When Mello wakes up..." His sentence trailed away, because, ultimately, what was there to say?

"I can get a message to him." Lauren supplied. "I promise that I will do that."    She waited.   "What will you have me say to him, Matt?"    She was still there, as he opened and closed his mouth.    The words kept dying on his lips.   "Mail?"

"Tell him." Matt bowed his head further.   "Tell him, 'Watari'."

"Watari?"   Lauren frowned, checking that she had heard that correctly.

Matt turned away from her, curling up on the bed with his knees to his chin.   He croaked out, "Yes."   Then, when she didn't go away, he repeated it. "Watari."

She must have nodded or gestured, because she didn't say anything else. When Matt sneaked a glance into the direction of the bars, she had gone.    Her chair was empty.   Matt tucked his head into his arms and his face turned to the mattress.   Finally alone, he let his heart break, as it had been silently doing since he realised that Mello was gone. Soft sniffles into the night, that abated only when he realised that Lauren had returned and that she'd been there for quite some time.   "Oh Mail," she said, as soon as she knew that he had seen her. "I swear to you that everything is going to be alright.   Chrissie has agreed to represent you and Mello," she paused, "Mello loves you, I know that he does. And his condition is stable.   He's going to pull through and when he does, if I know Mello, he's going to raise Holy Hell, when he knows that they took you away from him."   She was silent so long that Matt thought that she'd shut up.    "Hal's with him.   I've told her to tell him 'Watari', the second that he wakes up."   She sniffed and turned away from the bars. "Hang on in there, Mail."

Matt closed down; closed her out and everything else too, except for his memories of Mello.    Those he clung to for warmth, because he knew how this story ended and his mouth formed the silent words, into the ether, "Volim te."

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