Chapter Text
MANCHESTER, UK
She looks just like her father, Mello thought, watching the red-headed toddler lean her head back and giggle gleefully as her mother pushed her on the swing. He slouched against the pole of the swingset, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his fur-lined jacket. “Damn, they sure do grow up fast.”
“Language, Mello,” Coral chided him, giving her daughter another gentle push.
“Oh, shit-- I mean, crap. Sorry.” He glanced around, making sure there weren’t any other kids in earshot. Fortunately, the rest of the neighbourhood’s parents had decided to remain indoors, leaving the park nearly vacant. It worked to his benefit, anyways, as he was certain that one look at his scarred face would almost instantly land him on some sort of child predator list. “What I, uh, meant is… She’s just… gotten so big since I last saw her, is all.”
“Yeah…” There was a distant look in the young mother’s eyes. “She certainly has.”
Grinning, Matt beckoned his best friend over. “C’mon, Mells. It’s okay. She won’t bite.”
Mello hesitantly stepped forwards, peering over the edge of the crib at the tiny infant below. “She’s… tiny.”
“She’s a baby. Of course she’s tiny.” Matt laughed, good-natured as ever. “You wanna hold her?”
“You can’t be serious--” Mello started to say, but the red-headed young man gently scooped his daughter up and offered her to him. “Matt, I can’t hold your baby.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll… drop her, or something.”
“On purpose?”
“Of course not!”
“Then don’t worry. Just hold out your arms.”
Reluctantly, Mello did as Matt asked, and his friend handed the infant to him. The baby fussed slightly, but didn’t wake from her deep slumber.
Panic instantly gripped Mello, the realization hitting him that he was now responsible for the immediate safety of this tiny little life. There was no room here for the tough skin and hard edges he’d built up since leaving Wammy’s House.
“Dude, relax,” Matt said with a laugh. “You’re doing just fine.”
“I don’t know how you can possibly trust me with this,” Mello muttered, his whole body tense, as if even the slightest move could cause irreparable harm to the sleeping infant in his arms.
“You’re my best friend. Of course I trust you with this. You’re her Uncle Mello, after all, right?”
“That’s an honour you should bestow on a better person than me.” Mello sighed. “You know I didn’t come here to babysit.”
“You came because of the Kira case,” Matt said with a nod. “You need my help with something, don’t you?”
“I… I don’t know who else I can turn to. My associates are all dead… Kira probably has my full name… I sure as shit can’t work with Near, and as for Joey… Well, she’s made her position quite clear. But… if it’s too much to ask--”
“Nah, man. It’s fine. I’ll help.”
Mello looked surprised. “You will?”
“Of course.” Matt smiled. “You’re my best friend-- hell, you’re practically my brother. Whatever you need, I’m in.”
“What about Coral?”
“She’ll understand.”
Glancing back down at the baby in his arms, he rocked her slightly, starting to finally feel more at ease. “Damn, Matt. You’re a lucky bastard, you know? Your version of making a mistake is creating this little thing, while mine is nearly blowing half my face off.”
“Hey,” Matt said with a shrug. “It’s like Bob Ross says. There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.”
Happy accidents…
“Mello?” Coral’s voice shook him from his thoughts, and he glanced over at her.
“Hmm?”
“You said you had something for me, when you called me up out of the blue last week and asked me to meet with you,” she reminded him.
“Oh. Yeah.” Fiddling with the folded piece of paper in his pocket, he pulled it out and handed it to her.
Coral’s eyes widened as she unfolded the paper. “I don’t understand… What is this?”
“It’s payback.” He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “I know it won’t change the past, but… maybe it can help secure Rennie’s future.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “This isn’t some kind of… blood money, is it? Matt didn’t tell me much, but I know you were involved in organized crime of some sort. I’m not stupid.”
“It’s all legitimate, I swear. Every cent I have to my name is there. I sold everything I own and had a few people pay me back their debts. Now I’m just paying back what I owe.”
“I don’t know… Taking money, in exchange for his life… It just feels wrong.”
“It’s not about his life. It’s about hers.” He indicated towards the child on the swing. “Matt would want me to do what I could to take care of his family in his absence.” He paused as he felt the spectre of self-loathing creep up behind him. Especially since I’m the one who got him killed. That kid is gonna grow up without a dad, and it’s all my fault. “Just… start a college fund, or something.”
Coral still looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? How are you gonna survive?”
“I still have my half of L’s inheritance. I’ve already made arrangements with Near.”
“You actually contacted Near?” She sounded surprised.
“Yeah. Call it my penance.” His hand reached up to grasp the rosary that hung around his neck. “Take the money, Coral. Do it for Matt, and for Rennie.”
He could see the conflicted feelings flit through her eyes as she gazed down at the cheque. It had even been signed with his real name, as if laying out the vulnerability that had almost gotten him killed nearly a year prior would somehow convince her of his sincerity. The way she had looked at him earlier that day when he first approached her at the park… Coral would never admit to it, but her utter hatred of him emanated out of her like the shockwaves of the explosion that had damaged his body beyond repair. He could only guess at the myriad of things she had wanted to scream at him.
Murderer. Criminal. Complicit in the deaths of men far better than he would ever be.
And she would have been well within her right to do so.
His gaze shifted over to Rennie. The toddler’s tiny hands were grasped onto the chains that held the swing up. Her soft red hair poked out from underneath the tiny knitted Pokémon hat her father had surely bought for her before he had met his untimely fate. For a moment, he envied her. So blissfully unaware of the world and its cruel designs.
At long last, Coral sighed and tucked the cheque into her coat pocket. “I’ll… think about it. Do you… Do you need somewhere to stay for a few days? I can always set up the couch--”
“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted her. I’ve been enough of a burden on your life as it is. “I’m flying back to America early tomorrow morning. If you need to contact me for whatever reason, I have a room booked at the Holiday Inn near the airport.”
“Okay, well, you know I’d never turn away Matt’s best friend, should you ever need anything.” Coral brought the swing to a halt and gently lifted her daughter out of it. She crouched down, meeting the toddler at eye level. “It’s time to go home now, sweetie. Can you say bye-bye to your Uncle Mello?”
Rennie enthusiastically waved her tiny hand at him. “Bye-bye!”
“Bye to you too, Serenity,” he told her, smiling. “You be good for your mom, okay?”
She beamed up at him. “Okay!”
Coral stood back up and took her daughter’s hand. “You stay out of trouble too, Mello. Don’t make Matt’s sacrifice worth nothing by getting yourself killed.”
“I won’t,” he promised her. And don’t worry. This is the last you’ll hopefully ever see of me. I don’t intend to cause either of you any more pain.
Giving him one last sad smile, the young woman escorted her child out of the park, wandering back down the road. Mello watched them go, feeling his shoulders drop as he finally let out the breath he’d been holding in. Matt… I hope I did right by you. I know I still have a long way to go in making up for my mistakes… but I hope that was a good first step.
With a heavy heart, he meandered over to the nearest bus stop that would take him back to the centre of the city, the dead autumn leaves crunching under his boot with each step. A chilly wind blew past him, and he shivered, glad that he had decided to put on a long-sleeved shirt underneath his jacket rather than his favourite sleeveless leather crop top. Sometimes looking badass had to compromise with the weather, particularly on a grey, bleary day like this one where the temperature hovered around two degrees Celsius. Besides, his badass days were behind him now, both by circumstance and by choice.
Mello tried to ignore the strange glare that the bus driver gave him as he boarded the vehicle, dropping a few coins into the payment slot. The machine whirred as it printed him out a ticket, which he took, averting his gaze as he made his way to the very back of the bus. A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to stare the guy down until he cowered beneath the heels of the former mafioso’s polished black boots. But Mihael Keehl, the Old World’s Runner-Up, self-proclaimed King of the Underground, was gone. And all he had left in his place was the shell of a broken young man with nothing to show for his accomplishments but an ugly scar.
He pressed his head against the cold pane of the bus window and closed his eyes, fiddling with the cellphone in his pocket. One of the first things he had bought for himself back when he still had his resources from his time in the mob was a brand-new iPhone, for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure. There wasn’t anyone he particularly wanted to talk to, through calling or by text. He had tried to rationalize the rather impulsive purchase through reminding himself that having constant access to the internet was a must in this day and age, and the built-in GPS made it easy for him to get around, figuring that the only person who would have the capability of tracking his movements would be Near-- who would have likely been able to do so anyways, iPhone or no iPhone. In the end, though, all he ever really used it for, besides those few practical purposes, was to play the couple of dumb word games he had downloaded to keep himself entertained during his travels. Well, that, and listen to one particular message he had received in what felt like a long time ago.
Sighing, he found himself once again pulling out the phone, his fingers habitually dialing the voicemail number, and pressing it to his ear.
“You have no new messages, and one saved message. To play your saved message, press--” He interrupted the automated voice by hitting the key that he knew off by heart. The phone’s speaker crackled with static as he waited for it to begin playing.
“Uh, hey, Mello. It’s-- It’s me,” spoke a familiar female voice, her lilting accent clearly distinguishable despite the poor quality of her phone’s mic. “Near gave me your new number, so… I guess I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, but you didn’t answer the phone, so I’m just gonna talk to your voicemail, now, I guess…” Her laugh sounded slightly nervous. “Um… So… I hope you’re okay, and-- and maybe you don’t want to talk to me-- which is fine, I totally get it-- but in case you do… um… just call this number back. But, uh, anyways. I know we didn’t have much of a chance to catch up, being too busy going after Kira and all…” She laughed again, but this time he could detect a hint of bitterness, particularly when mentioning the name of that damned murderer. “I just… I just want you to know that I don’t have any hard feelings about, well, any of it. I don’t know if Lidner gave you the same speech about forgiveness and letting go of the past, since she’s pretty much adopted both of us-- and Near, too, of course-- but… yeah. That’s where I stand. So, um… Thanks for saving my life, and you’re welcome for yours.” When she let herself laugh once more, he recognized it as one that was unmistakably genuine. “I hope we can talk soon. Bye.” The phone clicked, ending the message.
He sighed. It had been nine months now, and he still couldn’t think of the right words to say back. Not like it mattered anymore. Nine months was more than long enough to be rightfully annoyed when someone didn’t return your call. Truth be told, he had tried, but every time he dialled her number, he could never bring himself to hit that damned green button.
Sorry, Matt. Sorry, Jo. You both deserve-- or deserved-- a better friend than me.