Author's Note: Greetings! It's only been, what? Two years? Yep, two years since the last update. I don't have any excuses other than adulthood. It's hard to find the time to sit and write fanfiction these days, and it's even harder to find the motivation. However, I will never give up on this fic. It will be complete one day. In theory, it will be complete before it turns 10 years old. That's my goal, at least. Apologies for the lack of action in this chapter, but I needed to gather my thoughts for the next puzzle. For those of you getting bored with the Wammy's Arc, rest assured that the Kira Case and Zane's Assholery have not been forgotten! If you are not following me on AO3 yet, I have been slowly rewriting Game Over for publication over there under the same pen name. Check it out if you have the time! As for this chapter, I'm following the wise words of "Write drunk and edit sober" - except, I edited while also drunk, so please excuse mistakes. I'll try to edit again once I wake up in the morning. Enough babbling about nothing for now - Onward!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. I make no profit from writing fanfiction. I just really love Matt and Mello.

Warning: None for this chapter, aside from swearing and hints at the fact that the next chapter will probably have a sex scene. I'll just go with 'Warning: don't expect speedy updates' again.

Four hours of sleep felt like mere minutes to Matt, who pulled the covers over his head as Mello shook him awake.

"C'mon," Mello said, brushing his lips against Matt's ear, "The fireplace is probably fine now. Let's grab a sponge and some water. We're one step closer, Matty."

"Fine," Matt yawned, grumpily brushing the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. "But you're doing the scrubbing."

The boys quietly tiptoed down the hallway, the eeriness of nighttime at Wammy's never ceasing to amaze them. Matt remembered sneaking out like this in the middle of the night, certain that Roger would catch them at any moment. He was certain that Mello, too, was thinking of midnight kitchen raids and late-night truth-or-dare brigades risking it all to complete the infamous "I dare you to knock on Roger's door without getting caught" bets. He vaguely wondered if the children of this generation had nights like that. He highly doubted it.

"You're sloshing," Mello pointed out, jerking his thumb at the bucket Matt held in his hands.

"Sorry," Matt whispered, hefting the bucket higher to keep it from tilting as much. "Still half asleep."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Mello yawned. "But you know we'll never get this opportunity during the day. Not while those little freaks run the place."

"It's hard to believe that things have gotten this bad," Matt sighed. "I don't know if it can be fixed. Especially now... You know, Roger isn't exactly a spry young man anymore."

"Young man? I think Roger came out of the womb with wrinkles and gray hair. I can't imagine him ever being a day under 70," Mello snorted. "But, I can understand what you mean. Roger's not in the best health, and as far as I know, there's nobody to run this place when he's gone. These kids are leading him to an early grave. If we don't solve this..."

"We might not be able to, Mello. A and B were only kids. Brilliant," Matt added quickly, "but still children. A died as a teenager, and B left when he was sixteen. Do you really think they can solve problems they didn't even live long enough to see into fruition?"

"They're all we've got, Matty," Mello said, pulling open the door to the former common room. "I just hope their plan works. If I had it my way, I'd shove all the little brats into Juvenile Hall and start from scratch."

"Except, all of the other kids here are used to the hierarchy. Somebody else would take over," Matt reasoned.

"You're probably right. But still," Mello said, smirking, "it would give me such great pleasure to lock those four behind iron bars for a while."

"They're just kids, Mel." Matt knelt before the fireplace, testing the ashes. Stone cold. "They're kids like we were. Except, they were raised with even more pressure. At least we had names. Real names."

"I hate it when you're right," Mello groaned, snatching the sponge from the bucket. He waited for Matt to sweep out the ashes, then he crouched down into the fireplace and began to scrub at the blackened walls. "We had names. We were given more freedom. More choices. These kids, they had nothing. They weren't called anything at all until their ranks settled out. Can you imagine not having an identity? It was bad enough when they started calling me Mello instead of-"

"I know," Matt said, joining Mello in scrubbing at the wall. "But we turned out okay. Well, maybe not fully okay. But we're making it. Right?"

"Yeah, Matty," Mello said gently. "We're making it. Few bumps and bruises here and there, but we're making it."

"Hey Mel, stop. Look. Hey, hand me the flashlight," Matt squinted, frowning at the wall. "What in the hell is that supposed to be?"

Mello held the flashlight up, tracing the faint outline of a carving in the stone. It was probably gouged into the wall with a room key, judging by the thin jagged marks. But the shape...

"A... tree?" Mello asked, tilting his head. "Some kind of bush or tree, maybe? I have no idea."

"It's not a tree," Matt said, realization dawning. "It's a map. Look..." He pointed to the base of the tree-like shape. "That's probably the gate. The trail goes around the house, which is that square-ish pinecone shape. It loops up by the marsh, straight to the tip. That's the little X-shape. And then... why does it lead back in a different direction?"

"Are you sure it's a map, Matt?" Mello said, frowning at the carving. "I still think it looks like a tree."

"Believe me," Matt said, tracing his finger. "I've played enough find-the-treasure games. This is a map. It wants us to, er, take a circuit around the house. Or, at least, that's what it looks like. We're supposed to return from the east. See, there's little notches that look a bit like arrows, don't they? That says we have to go clockwise. Do you... I mean, is it safe to go into the marsh this time of year?"

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" Mello said, cringing. "I wish I had different boots. These cost a bloody fortune."

"Maybe we can borrow some wellies from Roger," Matt snickered. "Can we at least wait until the sun comes up?"

"Sure," Mello said, stifling a yawn. "Matt, rub some ashes across the drawing. I don't want any snot-nosed brats snooping in our business."

"There's no way any of them could figure out what we're after," Matt said. "They don't have the clues that we have."

"Still," Mello said, smearing a fistful of cold ash across the stone, "I don't trust these kids. I don't trust them at all."

"Roger, it's for the investigation. I'm not going to sit here and beg," Mello snapped, sounding much more like an insolent teenager than the grown man he claimed to be.

"Mello, Matt..." Roger wheezed, leaning heavily against his cane, "I've told you that you're welcome to our resources here, yet... this is an unusual request, even by your standards."

"Look, old man," Mello said, a hint of his authoritative mafia voice edging into his demeanor, "We need waders, a spade, a net, a pair of good hunting knives, and wire cutters. We've got to get past that old fence. It's important."

"Mello, what on earth have you discovered?" Roger asked.

"Roger," Matt piped up, trying to ease the tension of the situation. "We promise to keep you in the loop. But we've found a clue, and we need to go out into the marshes for a while. A and B want us there for a reason. It should help the case."

"Of course," Roger said weakly. He pulled out a handkerchief and coughed roughly, his hands shaking visibly as he attempted to re-fold the white cloth. "I do not believe we have any hunting knives on grounds, for safety reasons."

"Bullshit," Mello spat. "We had them when we were here."

"Yes," Roger said pointedly, "but we do not have them now. For safety reasons. The children..."

"We understand," Matt quickly added. "What about the other items?"

"I'll have them gathered and delivered to the attic room after the noon meal. Mind you, the ceramics class is held on the border now, so please see that none of the students follow you into the marsh. I cannot condone putting any of these children in danger."

"Understood," Matt nodded, nudging Mello with his boot.

"Yeah, yeah. Understood. Trust me," he rolled his eyes, "we don't want any children following us out there either."

"Roger, may I ask a question?" Matt said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Of course, Matt," Roger replied hesitantly.

"Do you keep our records here?" Matt asked quietly.

"I do," Roger said uneasily. "They're confidential. I cannot permit you to investigate our students further than what I've already-"

"I want to see mine," Matt cut him off. "My own record. I want to see it."

Mello's jaw nearly hit the floor. Roger wheezed and coughed into his handkerchief again.

"Matt, I'm not sure if that's such a good idea-" Roger began, but Matt held up his hand.

"Roger, I need to see my file. Please," he added. Matt exhaled slowly, glancing at Mello whose jaw still hung open incredulously.

"Perhaps another day," Roger said carefully. Matt opened his mouth to argue, but Roger held up his trembling hand. "That is, I cannot permit you to view your file today. It's in the archives. I will have to personally retrieve it. I've only had one such request in the past, and we needed room in my office for the new students' files. I had all the first and second generation students' files relocated to a secure place. It might take a few days, but I will retrieve it for you, Matt. You have my word."

"Thank you," Matt nodded, an odd expression flitting across his face. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I want mine too," Mello said quickly, setting his jaw. "And A's and B's, if you'll let me see them."

"Mello," Roger sighed, "it's an invasion of privacy..."

"They're dead, Roger. They can't exactly give a damn about their privacy. It might help the case to know more about them."

"I cannot permit it, Mello. I'm sorry," Roger said. "However, I will retrieve yours as well as Matt's. If you want to see one another's file, you'll have to discuss it amongst yourselves. The files will be on a temporary loan. They must return to the archives within twenty-four hours of retrieval. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Matt said.

"Yeah, sure," Mello grudgingly agreed.

"Very well, then," Roger said, limping across the room to the office door. "I will have the items you've requested prepared by afternoon. In the meantime, perhaps you should rest. You both look exhausted."

Mello, taking the hint, stood and exited the office with Matt in tow. He stood in the hall, listening to the sounds of shuffling footsteps as students crossed over to their next classes. The bells chimed, and the hallway grew still once more.

"Roger, do you think the kids can solve the mystery we proposed?" He asked, earning a nudge from Matt. He looked around the hallway, lowering his voice in case tiny ears were snooping. "Do you think they're as capable as L was?"

"I sincerely hope not, Mello," Roger said tiredly. "Imagining these students with the same capabilities as L..."

"I guess we'll find out soon enough," Matt said, tugging Mello's elbow. "We'll talk to you later, Roger. Thanks again."

"Rest, boys," Roger chided, before a coughing fit drove him back into his office.

"What the hell was that about?" Mello asked.

"What do you mean?" Matt said.

"Our files, Matt. How did you even remember them?"

"Oh." Matt scratched his head sheepishly. "I broke in when we were kids. Took a peek at a few of 'em before I got caught. It's the dumbest thing, but the little tribal figurine on Roger's shelf reminded me of them. When he was scolding me after I snuck into the file room, I kept looking at that statue. I guess the memory stuck."

"I guess," Mello repeated, wrapping his arm around Matt's shoulder. "Did you see mine?"

"No," Matt chuckled. "Saw Near's, though. It was right after he arrived at Wammy's. His file was one of the newest."

"Was there anything good in it?" Mello asked, suddenly very interested.

"Not much," Matt admitted. "Birthday, blood type, city of origin... a few psych evals... Most of the paperwork was still being processed. I wish we could get our hands on the files for the current Wammy Supreme kids. Can you imagine what their psych evals must look like?"

"I cannot think of a psychiatrist who could even begin to handle these little monsters," Mello scowled.

"We've got a few hours before lunch," Matt said, pausing. "Want to continue investigating, or...?"

"Or...?" Mello asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Or, we could head back to the attic..." Matt trailed off, biting his lip expectantly. "And, er, you know..."

"Matty, baby, are you...?" Mello smiled, genuinely smiled, and all the tension melted from his face. "Of course. Absolutely."

"It just felt so, um, good, to uh, to be... to be with you again..." Matt trailed off, staring anxiously at the ground. "If you want me-"

"I always want you, baby," Mello said, cupping Matt's cheek in his hand. "Always. Now, let's go up to the room before we accidentally give these kids an anatomy lesson."

Matt smirked, anxiety dissipating, only to be replaced with mischief in his eyes. "Sex Ed was never this interesting when we were growing up..."

Mello chuckled all the way to the attic steps.