Runaways: Epilogue

Future.

_Mello's Point of View_

I waited.

They'd taken us to different sections of the Social Care System. I had no idea where Matt was or even if he had a plan. But I waited and hoped in earnest – sure that he'd turn up any minute. Three days later and I wasn't going to lie to myself any more. The adults weren't telling me where he was, they wouldn't even acknowledge that he existed.

I got a few phone calls. I used one to phone Officer Jenkins directly and realised too late (in my total anger) that yelling at him to bring Matt to me wasn't going to do any good. He spoke to my Supervisor and that was the end of that.

No Matt.

My second phone call was after I'd calmed down a bit. I'd rationalised that I wasn't going anywhere any time soon, and that yelling wasn't going to get me anywhere. So I sat and calculated and when they offered me up another phone call – I considered calling L. But that would put him and Watari in the firing line and I didn't want that to happen. There was also the vague hope that maybe L was already looking for Matt and I. But I chickened out and phoned Winchesters local police station. I needed to know if Light had been arrested – and was glad to find he had been.

My third phone call was me clinging to a lost hope. Matt's phone. The chance that he'd have it on him was none-existent. It'll probably be in a bin, or a plastic bag somewhere. But I wanted to hope, so I rang it and wasn't disappointed when there was no answer.

I wasn't expecting one.

At least, that's what I told myself.

Then came the checking for clues.

I was convinced that everything Matt had done at the station had been for a reason. So I went back and tried to remember – the best I could – everything that Matt had done. Every face he'd made, every step he'd taken. Nothing.

I couldn't figure it out.

And that was more annoying than anything. Because I'm smart damnit! I should have been able to figure it out.

I'm not eighteen – not technically an adult. So Social Services started looking for places for me to be 'fostered' now that Officer Jenkins had sorted out all of the details. There was a ton of paperwork for him to do –explaining our whereabouts and justifying things – I was expecting to be arrested for fraud, or something.

After another day, they found a family that was willing to take a 'troublemaker' like me; I was transferred to somewhere called 'Hereford' and I knew it's somewhere in the west of England. All the while, I held onto the hope that Matt would turn up and we'd go away together again. Which was usually followed by the secondary thought that I was being stupid. That Matt was relying on me to get to him. But not an inkling of a plan reached any part of my brain. I couldn't think.

I just want Matt back.

OOO

They didn't waste any time in moving me in with my foster carers. The family is nice, as far as families go. They are polite, understanding of my need for information and keep me up to date with anything the social workers mentions of anything. They have a dog – which seems to like me. I offer to take him for walks, but the adults don't seem too willing to let me out of their sight for too long. I think O.J. must have mentioned something.

It takes them a week to give in, and I find myself enjoying the walk. The temptation is there, to ditch the dog and run and go and find Matt – but then there's the kid. I can't leave the kid. She's all of seven years old and the adults have trusted me with her (or her with me, I'm not sure). The dog is 'our' responsibility, and she seems to like my company because she keeps talking. Linda, her name is. Creative kid – but loud.

She finds the park (meaning she walked both me and the dog here purposefully) and disappears off onto the swings. I find a bench and sit there, the dog sitting obediently next to me by my legs. Every now and then he changes positions, but other than that, he seems happy enough. But I can't seem to stop the rescue-scenarios that pop into my head. Where Matt would race me away. Or he'd come and steal me away in the dead of night. Or he'd sit on the bench I was on and I wouldn't realise until he spoke some words that I instantly would recognise and we'd have our happy ending.

But each minute that ticks past is another minute I'm fooling myself.

OOO

Matt.

I had a plan.

I did.

I needed Mello elsewhere. We had to be separated so that they'd believe their plan was working.

Not looking at Mello was the hardest thing. If I'd have looked at him, he'd have deciphered everything – picked it apart in that Mello-like way of his. He expected me to have a plan. He said as much. And I did. I wanted to show him it'd all be ok – but there was no way to do that. Officer Jenkins saw us to our own separate cars, but we were at the same place, briefly.

I spied Mello – looking at the floor completely and utterly lost – as they signed me off to another county. Every time I felt my heart tug, I reminded myself that this had to happen. The security was too tight, and Officer Jenkins had made sure that we were both well and truly secured separately. I wasn't stupid enough to try and get to Mello. My efforts would be wasted, God knows what they'd turn to if they found out that just separating us wasn't enough. They could fly him to America or something.

No.

We had to split up and the Social Services had to believe we were co-operating. I hope to God Mello was co-operating.

Eventually they find a foster home for me. A woman who runs a local youth centre – she's apparently dealt with 'my kind' before.

I seriously doubted it.

I spent the first few days working up her trust, doing chores here and there – helping out at the youth centre. I dye my hair black and she calls it a reflection of my feelings. What, the actual, fuck? Finally, I got computer privileges. She wouldn't let me on it before – apparently she'd been told to advise against it.

"But I suppose you've helped enough…what teenage boy can last longer than a week with no computer?" She laughs and turns on the computer before going to watch her TV dramas.

It took me half an hour to find out what had happened with Mello. They'd kept him in for a while, struggled to find somewhere to place him but eventually did. Hereford. I Google-mapped it from where my new house was – it was a three hour drive. Hell in bus-fare. Passable by train.

The next few days worked up pocket money. I went to the corner store and got a paper with the aim of looking for jobs, but the corner shop guy was advertising for a paper-round job. I took that and spent the rest of the week walking my paper round.

Then my carer gave me a tenner for helping around the youth centre and the house. I was only five pounds short of a train ticket to Mello.

"I have to nip to the Centre – something's set the alarm off and I'm their key contact. Will you be okay here on your own?" Words had never seemed so golden.

"Sure – can I go on the computer?"

"Knock yourself out" – I couldn't wait any longer. She was an idiot. I could walk to the train station in less than five minutes. I looked at train times to the nearest train station to Mello – there was one in twenty minutes – but it was five pounds more than I had. I shut down the computer and packed my minimal things into my black bag – all the while considering the money pot I knew she kept in the cabinet. She'd tried to be discreet, but I'd seen. I nicked a few things from the kitchen and then gave in – stealing a fiver from the money pot before bolting my way to the train station.

I got on the train and counted to fifteen before it started moving. Fifteen seconds and I'd have missed it. But no. Back on a train, going nowhere near Glasgow (though, still without Mello) – but definitely a step in the right direction. I find the train guy and pay for my ticket, finding a seat soon after and all but curling up. It was dusk – getting dark. It'd be evening by the time I get to Hereford, never mind Mello.

We'd been separated almost three weeks now. I don't think we've ever gone this long. I wanted to ring him, text him or write – but I was sure he wouldn't have his old phone. And until then, I'd had no way of knowing where he lived to write to him. I wondered if he'd recognise me with black hair. And then I realise how stupid I'm being. Of course he would!

The train was delayed for two hours – so by the time I get into Hereford, it's nearly half eleven at night and almost freezing. It had an old look about it, Hereford. Something about it reminded me of Winchester, but I didn't know what. I followed the signs to the library and I was glad to find it still open. With free computer access, I hacked the Services account and found Mello's address, memorising it instantly before shutting all the digital doors behind me. I then Google-mapped the house in relation to where I was at the library. It was a ten minute walk – if that. I memorised it and shut down the PC, saying goodbye and thank you to the library people before walking briskly the route I'd just remembered.

OOO

The house is a nice family one. The sort you'd get on postcards or something.

There's a helpful sign on the gate that says 'Beware: Dog' – so I freeze on the pavement and try to figure out which rooms are what. Or where Mello's might be. Or where the dog might be. I wander around the back of the garden silently, my heart skipping when I see a light on.

Automatically I assume it's Mello. That he, like me, has been unable to sleep properly because of our habit of staying up and keeping watch. Or, you know, because he misses me. I head towards it silently, but then a dog starts barking.

"Shit" I breathe, backing up into the shadows and watching, comically, as the lights turn on one by one. New plan.

I take out the scraps of paper I'd collected from the train journey and skim-read my letter to Mello. I'd folded it up with nothing but an 'M' on the front. I really hope nobody else in that family had a name beginning with M. I wait for the house to calm down and for the lights to go off, before I move to the front door and put the letter through the letter box as quietly as I can. It was written in case I couldn't get to him. For the purpose of meeting up somewhere else and leaving, if I couldn't get to him tonight.

Knowing that he's in that house, with nothing but a brick wall to separate us – I struggle to turn and leave. Even when his bedroom light switches off.

OOO

Mello.

"Mi-Mi!"

Linda wakes me up.

She has a letter in her hand which she passes to me curiously, her head tipped a bit.

"I didn't think you had any friends yet" She says.

"Of course I do" I chide, kicking her playfully off my bed. The dog comes in. "It's too early for you two – go on, get breakfast or something"

"Want me to bring you toast?"

"No, thanks"

"K!" She races the dog out of my room and I have to get up to close the door. All the while, my hand is shaking with the letter that's in my hand.

M.

My new family know my real name – Linda can't say it, hence 'Mi-Mi'.

Once I'm sure the door is closed, I sink down against it and read.

M.

I'm around if you need me. You know I'll keep an eye on you. Talk soon.

Shroomz.

"Matt" My head swims and I go giddy. My heart soars and all I want to do is laugh. He's here. He found me – and everything is going to be ok! God, he had me worried there!

But nothing of a date or time.

You know I'll keep an eye on you.

He could be watching. I race over to the window like I expect him to be standing in the back garden – but he's not and I'm an idiot for thinking he'd be so obvious. I spend the day in a mess. I walk the dog with Linda – expecting Matt to be around every corner. We go to the park and I sit at the bench. I expect Matt to sit down next to me at any moment and –

I've seen too many films.

The day is over and I find myself packing things up from the bedroom. I'm not aware I'm doing it at first – but I quickly realise that the contact with Matt has switched on the 'we're-leaving' buttons in my brain. I've packed spare clothes, a few necessities and even managed to swipe a packet of biscuits. The bag is under my bed and ready to go – but like a kid at Christmas, I can't sleep. I spend the night waiting on eggshells for him to do something.

But I still jump out of my skin when the window is tapped three times.

I creep out of bed and pull aside the curtains in seconds, double checking my door is closed before shifting the net curtain away and opening the window, holding my breath with hope. At first, I don't see anything. Then I see his vibrant eyes and his coy smile, and I know it's him.

"Honey, I'm home" He whispers. I move aside as he pulls himself over the sill and silently into my room. He instantly moves over to the bed and collapses on it. "Didja' miss me?" I pounce on him as silently as I can – but I'm far too happy to care. I dip in, kissing him anywhere and everywhere, my hands in his hair – his black hair. His fingers reach for the tips of mine. "Still blonde?" I shrug. I hadn't considered dyeing my hair another colour again and I'm proud that my natural blonde is back and untainted. "Risky" He murmurs. I place my hands either side of his head and kiss him again, suddenly aware that I've slept in nothing but joggers and he is freezing cold. I endeavour to warm him up.

"Mel" He whispers. "We need to leave"

"Just let me have this…" I ask him, running my hands over his jacket "…Have you"– then nudging that aside. Then his Tshirt, and then nudging that up a bit, and then his chest. Still skinny. I lean down and kiss him again, full on the lips and so hard that I'm not aware what my nether regions are doing. Matt stifles a laugh and leans up – my grinding stops and I shift off him.

"Not that I don't like that – but we really need to go"

"Bag's packed" I lean over and kick my bag out from under the bed. I whip the new hoodie from the end-bed railing and sling it on.

"It's cold out there" Matt warns me.

"We'll be fine. How are we with money?" He leans in and kisses me, catching me off guard as I flick my hair out. "Mmmm"

"I'm sorry I took so long"

"Another story for a better time" I whisper, slipping on my shoes.

"The dog?" Matt asks dubiously.

"I made sure he slept in Linda's room – other end of the house"

"Linda?"

"The little girl" I touch the note that's by my light as I swipe up Matt's letter. It's just a small note to say thank you and goodbye for the family. "They aren't bad people"

"I'm sure" Matt smiles encouragingly. "And as for money, I had the day to pick-pocket. So now I feel bad, but at least we can get out of here"

"Alright" I stand up and swipe up my bag quietly. Matt shifts off the bed and takes his own bag – I hadn't seen it – from the bed.

"Ready?" He smiles.

"Let's go" I grin.

OOO

AN: The real end!

Thanks again!

(and happy holidays!) x