AN: This is a long, long story written a long, long time ago. It began just before 2008 started, and I finished it six months later, give or take a few. Looking back, it has some rough edges. Do not expect answers to all of your questions. This is not that kind of fic. Perhaps some day I'll go back and polish this one up, but until then, it remains as it is: a long, tangled story. Please forgive its awkward start; I promise that the later chapters are better.

Thank you for reading.

Fly, 1.28.2010.

"Who are you?"

The kid met his gaze stonily. Matt sighed and stuffed his Gameboy back in his pocket. "Look, kid, I really do need my wallet back. It's important."

The kid bared his teeth and scrambled farther up the tower of cardboard. Matt scowled. There was no way on Earth or any other planet in any other galaxy, real or imagined, that he was going to brave that haphazard pile. But he really did need that money...

So did the kid, by the looks of him. His blond hair was matted and almost indistinguishable in color from the cardboard he was perched on. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, and from the look of the joints that stuck out at every angle, it had been a while since he had had a steady food supply. "Look, kid, come down from there, and I'll get you some food, I promise. If you stay up there, I'm gonna have to go get my teacher, and he'll be mad."

Again--silence. Matt sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. That was it, then. Down came kid.

Matt abruptly shoved his shoulder into the pile of boxes. The kid's eyes widened, understanding, as the tower wobbled. Matt smiled thinly. "Get it, kid?"

Another shove, and the kid found himself sprawled on the asphalt in front of Matt. He scrambled to his feet, too slowly, and Matt was already clenching the front of his ragged shirt. "Think you can steal my wallet, kid?"

The boy swung his leg out and caught Matt in the side. Matt dropped the kid's shirt in a moment of surprise, but snapped back with an instinctive punch to his face. The kid stumbled into a fall and tried to scramble away, but Matt was already pinning him to the ground; he had gotten used to scuffles long before Wammy had found him, and the kid was starving as it was. The kid grunted as Matt twisted his arm behind his back. Matt winced inwardly at the sharp pop that snapped in the boy's shoulder--he hadn't meant to hurt the idiot, just scare him a little...

"Two, three, five, seven..."

Matt blinked, confused.What...?

"...Nineteen, twenty-three, twenty-nine, thirty-one, thirty-seven..."

"What the hell are you doing?"

Matt dropped the kid's arm and stared at him. The kid crouched on the asphalt, clutching his dislocated shoulder, reciting the primes all the while. "Fifty-nine, sixty-one, sixty-seven..."

Matt frowned and plucked his wallet from the other boy's hand. He didn't respond; his eyes remained unfocused, glazed with an emotion that was rather familiar to Matt. Matt frowned and pulled off his gloves. He had seen that glazed look of pain often enough in the mirror, before he had snared his second-place spot in the rankings...

"This is gonna hurt, kid." Matt sighed inwardly; here he was, calling the boy "kid" when the scrawny thing was probably older than he was. He would have to ask his name...or not, if the idea that had just popped into his head worked out. Names were a dangerous thing...

Matt popped the boy's shoulder back into its socket. The counting ended in a yelp, which was quickly replaced by a wary look. Matt felt the muscles in his jaw slacken at the boy's next move:

"Thank you."

Matt struggled to keep his face under control, to keep from breaking into a smile. Smiles were bad; apathy and the masking of emotions had served him well since birth, and he saw no reason to break that tradition for a pickpocket. "Yeah, well, don't thank me yet. Why'd you steal my wallet, anyway?"

The boy scowled and glared at the ground. So, then. Silence once more; so be it.

"You know, I've never met a stray who blocks out pain by reciting primes."

The boy shot him a dark glance. Matt grinned. "Come on."

The boy tried to tug his way out of Matt's grip as he found himself being dragged out of the alley by his captive elbow. "Hey!"

"So your vocabulary contains at least three words," Matt remarked. "Good. Only sixty thousand or so to go and Wammy might consider you."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"That makes five more. Good job." Matt had to wonder at that question himself. He had to be insane, introducing a new rival to the competition. Still...

He took another look at the kid, with his ragged hair and protruding joints, and shook his head. There was a light in his eyes, now, and it was a light that Matt recognized. He'd be damned if the kid wasn't going to take the test.

"You follow me, no questions asked. Got it?"

If only he had known that from this point on it would be the other way around--Mello leading, Matt following. But even then--even then, Matt still would have done the same.

Stupidity. It was just ingrained in his being, wasn't it?