Allison

"How long has it been, now?" I asked.

"Fifty minutes," Story said.

"And no one can calm her down?" I said. "Not Roger or any of the adults?"

"They've already tried, but she still won't stop screaming," Story said, beginning to complain. Story isn't one who complains very much or very easily, so the fact that she was meant that all hell was about to break loose... or it already had.

"What about that kid who used to be a wrestler?" I suggested. "You said he's sixteen; he should be able to calm her down... well, he should be able to hold her down."

"Daniel already tried holding her down about five minutes ago when we were extremely desperate. She still wouldn't stop screaming," Story explained.

"Story, what do you want me to do?" I asked. "I'm about a two hour drive away. Not to mention, kids hate me."

"That's not true," Story said.

"Okay, well, then I hate kids. The screaming ones, at least."

"Please, Allison, do something!" she begged. "Couldn't you come over?"

"No!" I told her. "It's your fault, too. This is what happens when you allow a seven-year-old named Sugar to have five candy bars!"

"I knows, but she was begging me, and you know I can't say no to her!"

I sighed. "What are Harrowing and your other roommate doing?"

"Amber ran out of the room five minutes ago, tamping and yelling that she couldn't take anymore. Harrowing is sitting on her bed, drawing," Story said.

"How can she concentrate with all of that screaming?" I wondered.

"I don't know.
"I'm sorry, Harrowing," Story said, being her usual, extremely kind and polite self. "What could you possibly be drawing at a time like this?"

"What did she do?" I asked.

"She held up her drawing," Story explained. "It's of Sugar... with her mouth sewn shut."

"That girl worries me sometimes," I said.

"Allison, isn't there something you can do?" Story asked.

"Listen, Story, I've had a rough day, and I just want to relax. The next time something bad happens, I'll help you; I swear on the Bible."

"I'm Jewish!"

"Then I swear on the Torah or the Tanakh or whatever the hell it is you read! Listen, I love you, but go bother Lacey or something! You have her number!"

"But Allison!" she pleaded.

"Goodbye!" I said in a sing-song voice, hanging up before she could say anything else.

I sighed in exasperation and then pressed play, sitting back and watching my movie.

"Don't open the door," I said to the woman on the television. "Don't open the door. Don't open the-ooooh! I told you not to open the bloody door!"

Then my phone rang once again. I didn't bother looking at the caller ID this time. I just picked it up and said, "Someone ought to be dying!"

"Actually, Kira just killed Patience." It was Birdie's voice.

"What?" I shouted, dropping the remote.

"Okay, that was a lie, but you were practically asking for it," Birdie explained.

I groaned, muttered one or two curse words to myself and looked at the caller ID.

"Birdie, why do you have Patience's phone?" I asked.

"Because I dropped my phone down the sewer," she explained. "There are a lot of drains in New York...
"I know I'm not supposed to be telling people where we are! Allison's not going to tell anyone...
"Right. Allison, Near says not to tell anyone that we're in New York."

"You dropped your phone down the sewer?" I said skeptically.

"Okay, so I didn't want to use up my minutes and made Patience give me hers.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "What is this call about, Birdie?" I asked, well aware that this wasn't a typical check-in.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she said, the only other sound on her end of the line the tap tap of her footsteps as she likely tried to find a room that was away from Near.

"I'm fine," I said, knowing that wasn't actually why she called.

"That's good," she said. "...How are you?"

"Hunky-dory," I said, unsuccessfully trying to avoid sarcasm.

"...That's good... What did you do today?"

"I went to work, I went out with my mates, I had a chat with Story, and now I'm watching a horror film."

"...That's nice," she said glibly. "...Aren't you going to ask me how my day was?"

I groaned. "Fine. How was your day, Birdie?"

"It was pretty good," she said. "...I ate breakfast... drew a picture... talked to Patience... buggered Near for a while... saw Mello-ooh, and I ate a pizza!"

"Wait, what?" I said.

"I know!" she said. "It was great! It had extra cheese and everything!"

"Birdie!" I shouted. "I don't give a monkey's arse about your bloody pizza!"

"Well," she said, feigning offense, "forgive me!"

I held back a growl of frustration. "You said you saw Mello. Does Patience know?"

"Yup, she was there, too. It was like a big, happy reunion but with guns!"

"Let me talk to Patience," I demanded.

"Oh... well, you see... she might be dead," Birdie said.

"What?" I shouted. Again.

"Yeah, you see, she went and sneaked up on Mello, so it's possible he just shot her. Or maybe he pistol-whipped her a couple of times. I saw that in an American film once. It was wicked."

"Birdie, I swear to God..."

"Oh... do you want me to check and see if she's still alive?"

She was being cheeky, but I could hear the worry in her voice despite how hard she was trying to hide it. She was probably scared of what she might find. As much as I was worried about Patience, Birdie was only twelve. "No. Patience is a big girl. She can handle herself."

Birdie huffed in annoyance but relented. "So are you coming?" she asked.

"Where?"

"America, of course."

"Why would I do that?"

"Do I need to explain to you that Mello is here? Did you not quite catch that?"

I sighed. "Birdie, why would I go to America just because Mello's there?"

"What the-?" she began, taken aback. "Did you suddenly stop caring about him overnight? What happened to, 'Patience, please bring Mello back?'"

"Not overnight, no. But Birdie, it's been years. I've moved on. For so many years, I didn't know if he was dead or still alive; I don't care anymore. You've already heard me say this.
"Anyway, I asked Patience to find Mello a long time ago. I can't believe she even thought to have you call me.
"I reckon I'll come, though. To stop Kira and to help Patience find Mello."

"Wait, what? Patience is here to find her mum."

"Birdie, I don't think that's the only reason."

"Oh, I see," Birdie said, grasping what I meant. "Patience is using your promise as an excuse to find Mello, because deep down inside, she really cares about him and still wants to find him, but she's in denial and hasn't quite figured out what it is she feels for him yet."

"I just meant that she might miss her mate, since we all know how important those are to her, but sure, let's go with that!"

"Okay, I'll tell her you're coming because you want to solve the Kira case and you got sacked. Patience gets all awkward when people butt into her personal life."

"Oh, heck; my job," I said, suddenly remembering I had an actual life.

"Don't worry, I can get you sacked," Birdie assured me. "I know your boss's number."

"What? How do you even know-? Birdie, don't do that!" I shouted. I was too late; she hung up.

I sighed. I guess this meant I was going to America.

Patience

I exited HQ and walked softly but quickly, seeing if I could catch up to Mello. I looked around a corner and saw him walking away. He didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry, considering what he'd just done.

I took a step forward, and I must have stepped on some sort of debris, because I heard a loud crunch. I quickly turned to run away but stopped when I heard Mello's voice.

"Stop," he said, and I could tell that he'd pulled his gun out on me. "Turn around, slowly." I stayed still. "Now." I hesitated, but I turned around after a moment. Mello's reaction didn't change when he saw my face. "I know you work for Near." There was no anger in his voice when he said this. "I doubt he'd send someone out after me. You're from Wammy's, aren't you?"

I must have looked like a complete idiot, staring at him like I did. "Birdie was there, so you must be from Wammy's, too. You look about Near's age, and I never found anything on you. Who are you? What do you want?"

I was silent, staring at Mello with a bewildered look on my face. "Mello, are you serious?" I said in a soft voice. "Don't you remember?"

He looked at me for a moment, and his eyes widened after a few seconds. "Patience?" he whispered. I nodded.

His eyes narrowed, obviously furious that I'd joined Near. "You're looking for your mother." It wasn't a question. Again, I nodded. He sighed in frustration. "This is a dangerous way to do it, Patience. Asking you to come with me was the stupidest thing I've ever done. I realized that right after I left; I would have just been needlessly putting you in danger. I was glad you said no; you'd be safe that way. But apparently, you went and put yourself in danger anyway. There are other ways you could find your mother."

"I wasn't allowed to leave Wammy's until I was eighteen," I argued. "I couldn't wait, so I found a way around it by joining Near.
"I've taken care of myself so far. I'm still alive, after all."

I was extremely surprised at what he did next. He put his gun in his pocket, grabbed my arm, pulled down my sweatband, and looked at my wrist. There were cuts there that were a couple of days old. "You said you'd stop."

"And you said you'd stay!" I shot back, yanking my arm away from him.

"How long have you been doing it?" he asked with a frustrated sigh.

"When I first met you? Once. I'd seen some teenager in my neighborhood do it, so I tried it. I wasn't even sure what it was supposed to do. It hurt. I hated it, so I didn't do it again. That was when I was ten, and then I started again when I left Wammy's. It still hurt, but it was different. ...That's when I was thirteen.
"It's the only thing I can count on; these scars are the only things that I know are actually there and always will be. What, did you think leaving was going to make everything all better? Did you even think about how any of us would react?" I was shouting at this point. You see, this is what happens when I don't whisper "patience" to myself.

"You're an idiot," was all he said. "What did you want?" I was surprised how quickly he'd dropped the subject. It's like he hardly cared. Perhaps he didn't care.

I hesitated. What did I want? I wasn't even sure I could answer that.

"Why did you leave, Mello?" I asked.

"You know why," he answered.

"You left everyone," I said. "How could you just forget about all of us?"

"I didn't forget."

"You left everyone," I repeated. "And all the things you left behind... Do you know how much you hurt everybody? Allison? Matt?" I resisted the urge to add myself to the list. "Do you even care? Do you even miss anybody?"

Mello pulled something out of his pocket. It was a piece of paper, singed at the edges from some sort of fire. I looked at his face, and it was then that I actually noticed the burn marks all over him.

Mello held out the piece of paper; I hesitated but grabbed it after a moment. It was a picture; I looked closely at the picture, observing it.

Mello and Joy were near the front of the picture, arguing as usual. Allison was behind them, staring and laughing at the sight. Matt was sitting to her right, playing a video game of some sort, and Lacey was on Matt's right, staring dreamily at Mello, who wouldn't let her touch him with a ten-foot pole. On Allison's left sat Birdie, who was simply staring at the camera, smiling. On Birdie's left was a girl that I didn't recognize, looking bemused as she stared at Birdie with a smile, wondering how in the world the child could ignore all the commotion.

I was glad to see that he had something to remember us by, even if I wasn't in the picture. "Who's that?" I asked, pointing to the girl next to Birdie.

"It's you," Mello said matter-of-factly.

I was shocked. I looked the girl up and down. She looked extremely happy in her light blue dress, her black hair in braided pigtails. I barely remembered; it was the end of the summer, when all of the kids who were ready left for university. That year, May had been one of the people to leave, and we'd all gotten dressed up to see her off. May had taken the picture; something to remember us all by. There must have been multiple copies.

I stared at the girl in the picture. Me. I was no longer surprised that Mello hadn't recognized me. I was practically a different person in that picture. I was joyful, content, and had a large smile on my face. Smiling... I hadn't smiled like that in years.

"May," I said, looking up at him after a moment. "May is dead."

His eyes widened.

"Kira killed her. I think."

When he heard that, his expression changed back to one that was angered yet calm. The same expression he'd had when he had found out who I was.

"Is that all you wanted?" Mello said after I handed back the picture to him.

I knew I couldn't convince him to stay. That was impossible. I should have nodded. I should have said yes. I don't know why, but I grabbedontoo his vest with both hands and buried my head into his chest. I didn't cry. I just stood there like that for a minute. Mello stiffened, but he didn't push me away. Then he relaxed, patting me on the back as he let out a sigh of defeat, and for a while, we just stayed there like that. I missed him more than I would ever have admitted.

I pulled away and stared at him. He nodded, then put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze; after a moment, he walked away.

I had done it again. I had let Mello leave again.

I walked back into the headquarters, shut the doo, and saw Birdie, who was just closing my phone. "Success," she said with a devious grin. She noticed me and smiled. "Patience! You're not dead!"

"You talked to Allison?" I asked, ignoring her somewhat morbid comment. "Was that her?"

"Yeah, sure," Birdie said. "Allison's coming. She's going to help work on the Kira case because Kira's a sod, and she's been sacked."

That was surprising. Allison loved her job and was good at it, too. "How did she get fired?" I asked.

"That's not important," Birdie said, waving her hand dismissively. "Did you hear that, Near? You now have another SPK member."