Walls Came Tumbling Down

"Mello." Hal rushed into the hospital room. "I've just spoken briefly with Matt." She flashed a smile as his eyes snapped open. "Sorry, you were sleeping."

Mello looked disorientated. His gaze slide sidewards to the water. "When is he coming?"

Hal moved to pour him a glass. She ignored his question. "He's punched a wall and broken his finger. He's just having that strapped up, then they are going to call." She watched Mello's eyes pointedly close. He couldn't be drifting back into sleep. He was too busy scowling with his eyes shut. "I know that you don't agree with his incarceration, but it is what it is now. His diva antics aren't helping anyone, least of all himself. He promised to tell Chrissie everything that happened up there, from his point of view. He's given her an outline, that's all. He said that he'd undergo a psych. assessment, but he refuses now to speak with Valerie." She waited. Mello's lips were pursed. "Mello, I'm not holding this water for my health. Do you want it?"

Mello nodded, opening his eyes and making a vain attempt to sit. He managed to tilt his head forward, before the aching and fatigue stilled him. He drank a quarter of the water, in small sips, from the glass that Hal held to his mouth. He flashed her an irritable glance, but rasped out, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Hal surveyed him. "Maybe I didn't make it clear. You are going to be able to speak with Matt in just a few minutes."

"It was clear." Mello confirmed. "And I'm not commenting because there is so much wrong with that picture that it beggars belief." He grimaced, then, despite his assertion that he wasn't going to respond, he carried on talking. "He was possessed. His grasp on events is going to be shaky at best. No, he shouldn't see Valerie, unless he wants his entire medical history broadcast to the world. On the subject of his medical history, is there anyone present there who actually knows about his abandonment issues? Of course he's freaking out! He's not here! And he bloody well should be!" Mello grit his teeth. "He shouldn't have got into the helicopter. You shouldn't have sent for the helicopter. I don't know what he's still doing there, when I've dropped the charges. I shouldn't be dealing with this. I'm so fucking tired. I just want to curl up and die. This is politics and..."

Hal's mobile 'phone rang, cutting Mello off in mid-flow. He stared intently at it. Hal raised her eyebrows. "Your objections have been duly noted."

"Answer the call."

She was already doing it. "Hello Chrissie. I'm with Mello now." She watched Mello's hand inch out from beneath the quilt and signalled that she would hold the 'phone to his ear. She listened to what Chrissie had to say, with a sinking heart. Mello's frown was deepening as he waited. His eyes, dull with pain, still contrived to blaze their questions. "Ok." Hal held the 'phone to her heart. "Will you ask Matt to co-operate?"

"No."

It was the answer that Hal had expected. Nevertheless, she had a job to do. "We are acting within the rules of the Resolution, which was Matt's baby to start with. Is this the precedent that you want to set?"

"I don't give a shit. Tell Chrissie to stop fucking about and put my husband on the line."

"Enforcing the Resolution is my responsibility. Why is it my responsibility? Because you and Matt manoeuvred me into this role." Hal didn't expect to see guilt in his expression, but the sneering disbelief that took its stead was a little over the top. She bit back a retort of her own, maintaining her professionalism. "Matt agreed to a full physical, in exchange for this call. Madeleine says that the marks on him go above and beyond S&M."

Mello tutted, "Because Madeleine is such an expert on the subject."

"You beat him up for a cuddle, Mello." Hal pointed out, taking care to ensure that her 'phone was muted first. "You told me that."

"It's got nothing to fucking do with anyone."

"Wammy alumni. Duty of care." Hal countered. "The same goes for you, as you are also Wammy alumni. You were shot. If that is a result of drugs or a mental disorder, don't you think that it should be identified? Loving him isn't the same as helping him."

Mello gave her a withering look. "This is bullshit. We're adults. Give me the 'phone."

"With all due respect, adults face up to the consequences of their actions." She raised the 'phone again to unmute it. "Particularly when it's attempted murder." She gave him a significant look, then had a double take. He wasn't glowering back. In fact, he seemed a little lost. She could have sworn that his bottom lip quivered for a nano-second, before it became trapped in a tight clenching of his jaw. She patted his shoulder for reassurance. "He's going to trial. Don't let him go in with no defence." She spoke into the 'phone again. "Ok, Chrissie, I've asked him."

Mello closed his eyes and considered his options. He had so much to say to Matt that he hadn't even planned what he would say. It was not going to be a private conversation. He hadn't checked that, but it was obvious that it would be overheard, if not actually chaperoned. If he was Chrissie, then he would have it tapped and taped. The 'phone was held to his ear. There was the scuffling sound of someone moving or else the receiver being handed over. Mello realised that he was nervous. This was ridiculous. This was only Mail. His heart and soul (his murderer); the love of his life. He had practically a whole life-time's history with this man. They had in-jokes that could be told with just a look, because they both got the punchline in the context. He could fart in his face. It was Mail. Just Mail.

"Mello?" It was a whisper.

And that was it. This call was going to be all about Mail and Mail's neuroses; while all Mello wanted to do was sleep or quietly die. It was laced through with high stake deliberations, because all had to be communicated without Chrissie and who knew how many other Wammy's alumni gaining ammunition. Mello wasn't equipped for this. His mind was too sluggish with pain-killers and his morale had hit rock-bottom. He was helpless in his humiliation. He hadn't even called a nurse to move him or get his communication fixed, because he'd closed his eyes as Hal had left, then slept until she returned.

"Mello?" Matt was breaking. There was neither a catch in it nor tears, but Mello heard it anyway.

"Mail." He growled. "Why the fuck did you let yourself get arrested?" Silence at the other end. "Get your ass back to Aberystwyth. We need to talk." Somewhere above him, Hal tutted. Mello moved his hand over the gunshot wound in his side. It didn't help with the pain, but it felt like it should. Matt hadn't answered him. "Are you still there?"

There was a short cough. "Yes."

"Then fucking say something."

"Mell." Matt began, then took an age to add to that. "I'm sorry."

Mello's world tilted very slightly. His eyes opened wide and his heart monitor beeped the quickened pace. It occurred to him that Matt might not know that he'd been possessed, or didn't believe it if he did. Or worse still, that Mello had hallucinated right at the end, because his mind hadn't wanted to comprehend what was happening to him. Hal looked pained. Mello asked, cautiously, "Why are you sorry?"

"For panicking. For leaving you to deal with this on your own."

Mello felt his own pique and ire come down a notch. "You know it wasn't you, don't you? Your face changed. Your voice changed. It wasn't you."

"Yeah." Matt swallowed. "But track four."

Mello thought of the trackway into the manor house and the railway tracks in the town. His mind alighted on the album by Deuterofobia. He wondered if 'Banshee' was the fourth song and this was some kind of veiled clue as to what had happened up there. He couldn't think. His mind was like mud. "Come here, so we can discuss this. Put it together."

"I can't. I'm in a cell designed by Near. Fuck all in here. 24 hour surveillance."

"I'm not exactly in a position to fetch you." Mello snarled, resisting the urge to scream at him to just deal with it. Silence hung heavily between them. If he listened closely, Mello could hear two people breathing. Someone else was definitely on the line. "I don't know what you want me to do, guapo. I can't move. I'm..."

"I love you." Matt said it quickly, like he was about to be whisked away. He'd said it in English.

Mello listened, trying to ascertain what was happening. "Mail?" Nothing, but two breaths, one of them quite ragged. "Mail, what's going on?"

There were unmistakably tears in Matt's voice this time. "I lost it afterwards. I thought I saw you in the house. I thought you gave me the code."

Mello wanted to placate him, but that didn't even make sense. The Mello Code was practically Matt's anyway. He did enough work on it and they both shared the proceeds. Mello didn't want to question it with people listening in. "Don't cry, baby. We're going to sort this shit out." He listened to Matt start choking with smoker's cough on the other end of the line. Mello closed his eyes and waited for it to run its course.

"What do I have to do?" Matt asked, as soon as he was able.

Mello sighed, "Mail, will you please listen? I'm going to say this very slowly and precisely, as you seem to be having trouble understanding me." He winced, as he accidentally pressed too hard in a bid to stop his side hurting. "I've got a shattered arm, broken ribs and I've had surgery to remove a bullet from my stomach muscles. This might not sound like much compared to surviving burning half of my face off, but it's got me completely immobile and half dead on heavy duty painkillers. I'm sorry if I sound unsympathetic, but you were the one who got into the fucking helicopter." He glanced at Hal, as it seemed that she was taking the 'phone away from his ear. She wasn't. She was just adjusting her grasp on it. "Have you got that now?"

Matt sounded very subdued. "Yes."

"There's a school of thought that says your intelligence is right up there in the top three." Mello paused to let that sink in. "Do I really need to do your thinking for you?"

"I'm going to fight for us."

"Good."

There was a pause. "Good?"

"We'll discuss it properly, when we haven't got to arrange a conversation by committee and then conduct it with an audience." Mello was fading fast. He just wanted to sleep. "I'm sorry, Mail. I can't right now."

"But there is hope?" Matt was hanging off the question. Mello knew that he was being asked something important and fought to stay awake long enough to say the right thing.

"Get your act together and you will do more than hope. Create hope." Mello blinked, reviewing his own words. "You know what I mean."

Matt paused. "I think so."

"I'm not doing this long distance. It needs to be private." Mello's eyes were closing. "I'm sorry, Mail. I know you need more." He grimaced. "You can ask Hal. I'm fucked." He yawned to demonstrate how tired he was, but the action pulled on his torso and that hurt. "It's like I'm being stabbed every time I breathe."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't you." Across the room, the door opened, admitting the doctor and a couple of apprentices. Mello's heart sank. This was too inconvenient right now. "Mail, I've got to go. Doctor's here. Do not punch any more walls or otherwise harm yourself in any way. Understood?"

Matt sniffed. "Mell, can we just say it straight? I don't want it to be over."

Mello sighed. Sleep was punching from beneath his eyes. It was killing him hearing Matt so upset and knowing that there was nothing that he could do about it. Powerlessness pierced his pride and made him want to cry too. Plus the doctor was reading his chart and looking impatient. "I know, but that's not my fault. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

The connection was cut. Mello glared accusingly at Hal, who looked questioningly back. "What?"

"Did you just end that call?" He demanded.

Hal shook her head. "No."

Mello lay still, trying to concentrate on the here and now, while his mind span through the call with Mail. The doctor was a distraction. He answered his queries anyway and attempted to pay attention to what he was told in return. By the time they were alone again, Mello was seething. "Did Chrissie hang us up?"

"It's possible it was Matt. All I heard was a lot of you rubbing it in." Hal moved around the bed and picked up his chart to read what the doctor had added to it. "Which is fair enough. Not knocking you."

"He should be here, instead of pissing around getting arrested."

She replaced the chart. There was nothing there that they didn't already know. "Go to sleep. You got your call. Now I'm going to nip out for a coffee, but I'll be back."

"Oh shit." Mello gasped. "I need another call!"

Hal raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Who to?"

"I'm not your prisoner. I've done nothing wrong. I can call who I want and I would like my cell 'phone back please. Or this," he lifted his chin to indicate the entertainment station, "fixed so I can access the communications section. I need to talk to Mail again. I don't think we were both having the same conversation!"

Hal gave him a long-suffering look. "What?"

"Please." Mello said, restlessly. "I just need to talk to him again. There were," he wrinkled up his nose, "some bits of that which might have been misconstrued."

"Then you and Matt shouldn't be playing games, talking in riddles, just in case someone was listening."

"Someone was listening! Half of fucking Wammy's was listening!"

Hal rolled her eyes. "Sure." She moved towards the door. "I'm getting a coffee, do you want anything? Or are you going to go to sleep, like you were half doing all the way through the call and the doctor's visit?"

Mello looked pained. "No, Hal, this is serious. I think he was talking about our marriage and I was talking about him getting his ass here. I need to clarify that. Shit! I didn't tell him that I loved him!"

"That will help with the abandonment issues that everyone is overlooking." Hal replied. Mello glowered at her. "I haven't a clue where your cell 'phone is. Where did you last see it?"

"Can I just call him on your 'phone?"

Hal shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Mello's fist clenched. He wondered how far he'd get if he just grit his teeth and got out of bed. He'd pushed through worse pain than this before. He'd been closer to death than this. He had taken on a whole Mafia family, while his skin was still raw with charred skin and blisters. If he stopped taking the painkillers, he could probably think more clearly. There had to be something in them keeping him flying halfway to the ceiling. He was making mistakes. "Hal."

"I'm sorry, Mello." She was loitering at the door, loathe to leave him, while he was riled. "And I'm not going to bother telling you the reason why, because you certainly won't support it."

Mello frowned. "I know. It's a carrot to lure Mail into complicity. But please." They remained, looking at each other from across the room. Mello sighed. Sleep was still chasing him. He didn't have the facilities to convince her. "Can I get a present to him then? Today."

Hal raised her hands. "It's possible. What is it?"

Mello risked a tiny smile. "Thank you." And he told her.