giftsofglory | Time of Transition

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place of politics

Time of Transition

He made no move to return Mello to his room when morning came. In fact, a good week later there was still no move being made to that extent, and on that morning, when Mello woke it was to the now usual configuration of Sephiroth being wound around him, pinning his hands. This time, however, the act was accompanied by the silver haired man actually being asleep still.

Not to say they hadn't been spending all their time together, but Mello hadn't had the chance to see him asleep until then, him holding out for the blond to sleep and then rising before he could.

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When Mello stirred and woke up, it was Monday-- to him, at least. Monday, and he woke to an empty bed, curled up around his cat and still fully clothed. He sat up, stretched, and blinked down sleepily, remembering he'd come home late last night and hadn't bothered changing before crawling into bed. Nakago must not have wanted to wake him in the morning when he left for work, he figured, getting out of bed to shower and get dressed, turning on the television as he did so just to have the background noise. He didn't like silence very much. It made him uncomfortable, especially when he was alone.

The problem with having the TV on for noise meant sometimes there was news. "-from the recent layoffs. The former employee was reported to have gone back into the building to 'get his things' and in a show of aggression not seen locally for years, proceeded to shoot his coworkers. There are six confirmed wounded, and three verified dead, one being the CEO of the company, Gi Nakago. Gi was considered one of the most brilliant minds in business in recent years, so there is no doubt that this tragedy will be felt for quite some time in the business world. The other two dead are Anne Rosfelt, and Meralyn Jones, who worked on the same floor and died managing to pin the attacker, stopping any further deaths before the police were able to intervene. May the families of the fallen be in all our prayers tonight, and there will be updates as to the condition of the other six later this evening. In other news..."

Mello had been taking his shirt off when he paused at the mention of Nakago's name on the television, pausing and turning to look at the screen while suddenly a deafening silence pounded in his ears, drowning out everything but the words coming from the reporter.

There were pictures on the screen, each titled with a name. Each dead. Words across the bottom of the TV sending out condolences to loved ones.

Mello just stared, ears ringing. That... couldn't be right. It was simply impossible. Definitely impossible. The reporter was talking about something else but Mello wasn't listening, staring at the screen still without seeing anything on it. He walked across the room and reached for his phone mechanically, dialing the familiar preset and listening to the phone ring, ring, ring, go to voicemail. He hung up and tried again. And again. In all the years he'd known Nakago, even if the man had been in an important meeting, he had never missed a call from him without either calling back immediately or messaging him a reason.

Frantic, Mello just kept calling, realizing at some point that he'd slumped to his knees in the middle of the floor.

The cat hopped down off the bed, stretching before crawling into Mello's lap with a soft mrew of question, rubbing his head against his chest.

No one picked up, and the ringing suddenly cut off. When he called back once more, it went straight to voicemail, and Mello realized someone had turned Nakago's phone off. Something Nakago never did. Mello's own cell phone dropped from his hand and he stared at the floor blankly, heart pounding in his temples, completely at a loss.

Mail (he had been convinced by now that this really was his own cat after all) crawled into his lap and Mello's gaze shifted to the animal dispassionately. He shoved Mail away roughly, not hard enough to really hurt but enough to say he was unwelcome.

He made another mrew and batted at the phone, looking up at him as his tail flicked back and forth.

Mello stood suddenly, snatching up the phone and grabbing his car keys off the dresser as well, pausing only to stuff his wallet in his pocket before he was outside and on his motorcycle.

He needed to see for himself. With his badge, even if he wasn't the detective on the case itself, he would be allowed into any blocked off areas. He needed to see for himself right now.

The drive seemed short, but that was easily brushed aside by his sense of urgency, and there were people everywhere around the building in question when he finally arrived.

He didn't even notice, and the sooner he got there, the better. Mello parked haphazardly, practically running past the security and up the stairs to see if the crime scene was still as it was or if it had been cleaned up. And if-- No, no, he didn't want to see the body, but-- But he needed to...

Out of breath because he was panicking more than because of the exertion, Mello pushed forward into the room.

The news story was one of those that had gotten out quickly, mostly due to the fleeing employees that had gone unscathed. It meant that the scene wasn't as far along as it should have been in terms of being packed up. Two of the bodies were gone, but the last was still there, midway through being packed up.

Mello practically shoved his badge in the face of the security guard trying to stop him, slipping under the caution tape to go look, feeling as if everything was moving in slow motion. He was numb, breathing too fast, but otherwise looking strangely calm as he walked up to the body bag to catch a glimpse of the face just before it was zipped up. It was a face he knew so well-- too pale, too still. It didn't look anything like Nakago, not anymore.

The body was moved away and he stared at the bloodstains on the carpet, ignoring the questions of people wanting to know what he was doing here, ignoring the hands trying to pull him away.

Finally, they left him alone, and after some time, people began to leave, their jobs done, for the moment at least.

At some point, Mello realized he was mostly alone, save for the cleaning staff. The culprit had been caught; there was no need to preserve the crime scene and so the blood was being scrubbed away and the broken things cleared up.

Mello didn't notice he'd left until he found himself walking, climbing back on his motorcycle without bothering with the helmet. He was home in what seemed like the blink of an eye, so numb he didn't even notice that one moment he was driving and the next he was stepping into his house, closing the door behind him with a startling sound in the silence. And still no tears came, shock like ice gripping his heart.

The feline was there, giving a soft, confused mew up at him and sitting down just in front of him.

Mello stood there, staring down for a moment without seeing anything, then sank slowly to his knees.

"Go away," he muttered to the cat.

Instead, the cat moved over to lean its whole body against his legs, giving another mew, then purring.

Mello was not in the mood for paying attention to the cat, nor for listening to it be happy. Didn't Mail know his other owner would never be back? Didn't he know Nakago was dead?

Suddenly, with no coherent thought in his head, Mello shoved the cat off of him, brutally.

The feline rolled, then seemed to shake itself before advancing right back to Mello and settling himself where he'd been before being shoved, not purring and tail flicking.

Mello stood suddenly, shoving the cat away again and getting up to grab his gun.

"I'm going to kill him," he muttered under his breath. "I'm going to kill that fucker. I'm going to kill him." There would be no trial. He didn't care if he had to break into the fucking prison facility. He was going to kill the fucker who murdered the man he loved.

There was a soft, almost smug mrew, and then the feline ran off, deeper into the house as Mello was left to his homicidal intentions.

It was a good thing his sense of time and distance was already warped. He didn't notice that the scene shifted almost immediately, his mind instinctively filling in the time with mundane things like driving.

He'd been allowed in because of his job. But he didn't stop with killing only the man who'd been responsible for the office shooting. There were others in the cell, and once Mello began shooting, he kept at it, silent and cold as he vented his grief and anger and betrayal.

These were other people who had taken away loved ones. They were already on death row. Might as well speed up the fucking process.

Too bad the guards got in his way. They shouldn't have. He didn't stop, barely blinking as he shot them too, not even caring where the bullets landed.

--And then, again like a dream, and he was sure he was going crazy but didn't care, he was in his bedroom again, on the floor and sobbing hysterically. He didn't even know if he really had done all that. The world twisted with his whims and fixations and he didn't know what was real.

Finally, he decided that was enough, and he deliberately made noise as he moved through the house, opening and closing the front door, then the bedroom door, which he lingered in, dressed back how he'd looked when he'd first met Mello face to face, hair braided, clothes carefully a casual business style. He was barefoot though, giving the implication of being courteous enough to not drag dirt through the house on his shoes. "Mello."

He didn't even look up to see who it was. He didn't care. Mello lay where he was, crying loudly and breathlessly, shaking uncontrollably.

"I came to check on you when I heard something happened to your Nakago." It was a murmur and he padded over, kneeling to touch his hair.

"Get out," Mello snarled through his sobs, curling up away from the touch.

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