Warnings for this chapter: Language.
Lay me down
Wash this blood off of my hands for me
While I cry out
Don't let me die before I go to sleep
I can't keep going but I cannot start again
-Never Will I Break by 3 Doors Down
"Mail," The voice is soft and nonthreatening. That single word, so familiar yet so foreign to me now, has a melodic quality to it.
My eyelids flutter, weighed down by exhaustion. I make a sound in my throat so the owner of the voice doesn't think I'm dead.
Soft, dainty fingers caress my cheek. They don't seem to mind my evening stubble, tracing my jaw line. "Mail," The voice says again, gently. "You can't sleep all day…you have to go school."
With some effort my eyes open, squinting against the light. The voice and the hand belong to a beautiful woman sitting on the edge of my bed. Strawberry blonde curls frame her kind face, a small smile pulling at her lips.
I blink tiredly. "Mom…" I whisper, disoriented. "I don't…go to school anymore."
Her hand brushes the hair back from my forehead affectionately. "You were always so smart Mail, you should go back."
"I'd…I'd rather stay with you." I murmur.
"You can't stay with me all the time." She laughs softly. "That's not the way to make friends and learn."
I'm quiet for a moment, simply looking up at her. Finally I reach forward, touching one of her curls. It's silky, just like I remember. "Your hair…" I say faintly. It's long, like it was when I was five-years-old and would crawl into bed with her when I'd had a bad dream. Her hair always smelled so good and it would help me fall asleep.
"It grew back; I told you it would grow back." She smiles.
"But last time I saw you…"
"It's been a long time since then, it's had a chance to grow." She grooms my hair with her fingers, fixing my bed head.
I frown, staring into space. "But last time I saw you…" I say again, memories pulling at the edges of my mind but eluding me.
"Shh," She cups my cheek and looks down at me with that same smile. "None of that matters. I just wanted to tell you that I love you Mail. Don't be late for school."
No, this isn't right. Where am I? "Mom," I say seriously. "You're…you're dead." I blink, squinting against the light. It hurts my eyes.
My mother's lips turn down in a frown. She looks hurt. "I'm not dead dear, don't say things like that."
"But you are." I insist, adamant now. "I remember."
It's like she doesn't even hear me. "You're going to be late for school." She says again.
"I don't go to school Mom! I haven't gone to school in almost ten years!"
"The bus will be here soon, I have to go now. Don't forget your lunch."
I start to push myself up to sit. "No Mom, stop. Tell me what happened? Please, stay!" I plead.
It's no use. She's getting up to leave. "Mom!" I shout, but she doesn't hear me.
"Matt!"
I gasp, starting as I'm ripped from unconsciousness. My gaze darts around the room, finally focusing on a pair of blue eyes that are looking down at me. Mello's eyebrows are furrowed with concern. "Are you okay?" His lips move, asking the question, but it's like he's speaking through a tunnel. His voice echoes in my head. "You're sweating, do you have a fever?" His hand touches my forehead and I flinch. He frowns.
"What? No." I say, breathless, my voice a little husky from sleep. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
"Were you having a nightmare?"
"He might be hallucinating." A voice interrupts before I can deny having any sort of dream. My eyes travel past Mello's shoulder to see a woman leaning against the wall. She gives me a slight smile. "A combination of stress, a concussion, and whatever you've self-medicated him with could be making him worse."
"I'm-I'm not hallucinating." My eyes move back to meet Mello's. "Who's she?"
"Your doctor."
My gaze travels back to the woman to study her more closely. She's tall—probably taller than me or Mello—and very lean. Like, super lean. I could probably wrap my hand around the circumference of her thigh. It doesn't look very healthy. Shouldn't doctors look healthy? It doesn't help that she's dressed in acid wash skinny jeans and a Guitar Hero t-shirt. She's maybe thirty. I hope she's thirty, at least.
I look back at Mello, hoping my gaze is communicating how uncomfortable I am with the situation. "She doesn't look like a doctor," I say in a low tone.
"What, do we have a dress code now?" The woman speaks up. "This isn't exactly a hospital." I guess I wasn't talking a low enough tone.
"I know her; she's helped me out in the past. Trust me Matt."
I narrow my eyes at Mello. He's saying that just to irk me. "If she kills me, I hope you know it's your fucking fault."
"If you die, then it's you two's fault, not mine." She says, stepping forward. "I'm not the one who went out and got myself shot." She sends me a pointed look.
My face sours. "I didn't do it on purpose."
"That's what they always say." She sighs, weaseling her way in front of Mello, who looks slightly irritated but lets it slide. The woman picks up my arm gingerly; I'm still lying on my back. "It's Matt, right?"
"Right." I study her face. It's all angles and lines. She looks younger than thirty up close. "And you are?"
"You can call me Karen." I simply nod. She continues, "Can you move your arm at all?"
"No, I can't lift it."
She takes my hand in hers, gently pulling on my fingers. "Wiggle this one." She tugs on my pointer finger.
I concentrate on my hand, and the finger twitches successfully. She goes through each of my fingers, asking for the same thing and getting the same result.
"Can you rotate your wrist?"
Mello is watching us from the corner now but I don't look at him, instead trying to move my whole hand. Pain shoots up my arm, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. "No." I say, breathing labored.
"Okay, relax." She gently deposits my arm back on the bed, careful not to cause me any unnecessary pain. I can appreciate that. "It isn't totally wrecked. It's a good sign that you still have some motion in your hand. There's one big bone in your upper arm, the humerus."
"I know that." I deadpan.
Karen rolls her eyes before continuing, "It looks like the bullet went through the underside of your arm, the part closest to your body. It might have splintered the bone and ripped through some muscle. An x-ray will help me get a better picture of what needs to be fixed."
"How are you going to fix it?" I ask, accepting my shirt as she hands it back to me. I begin the slow process of pulling it on, trying not to further injure myself.
"Surgery. If the damage to the humerus is substantial enough I won't be able to just pin it back together; I'll have to insert a plate in place of the bone. Then stitches and a cast. Most likely you'll have to change that a few times until the swelling goes down, and it'll have to come off again when the stitches need to come out."
"How long will I be in a cast?" I ask, feeling my heart start to sink.
"At least six weeks. I'll need to check your progress every week or so to see how fast you're healing."
I swallow. Six weeks is a long time. I can't work with my arm in a cast. "Is my whole arm going to be immobile?" I ask.
"I could put only your upper arm in a cast, but if that's the case I'll need to have you in a sling for about a month. I need you r entire arm stationary while you're healing. You've probably already screwed it up more by having it loose since the accident."
I nod numbly. I won't be able to shoot or type for at least two months, I bet. I'll be totally useless. I have one final question for Karen, and that's, "How old are you?"
She smiles a little. "Twenty-five. Why, does it matter?"
I exhale a slow breath. "Great."
"Don't worry; I'm a licensed physician in the state of California. I took the MCAT when I was sixteen and graduated from medical school when I was twenty-two."
"Of course you did." I look past her to see Mello against the wall. He's smiling faintly; I bet he already knows what I'm going to ask, which is, "So you know each other, how?"
"We're both smart orphan kids." He says lightly.
"Is there a club or something?" I ask blandly.
"What, you didn't get your membership packet? Damn, sucks to be you." Cocky bastard.
Karen clears her throat. "The flirty banter is going to have to wait till later boys; this is kind of a time sensitive situation. I haven't even looked at his head yet."
I frown. "We're not flirting."
"Maybe not, but you'd like to be." She gives me an innocent smile. "Now please, let's get a move on here."
I tilt my head to look at Mello again. "Why the hell didn't you call her to begin with?" I demand irritably.
"I didn't know if she was in town." He grumbles, crossing his arms.
"I'm here at a week-long medical conference." She adds. "You got me out of the oncology seminar, thank God."
"I'm so glad my life-threatening injuries were convenient for you." I roll my eyes.
"Is he always like this?" Karen glances back at Mello. "Or can we add irritability to his list of symptoms?"
"I have a list of symptoms?" I ask in disbelief. They ignore me.
Mello shrugs. "He's been pretty bitchy ever since I met him. I would say this is normal."
Frustrated, I say, "Just because I don't take your crap doesn't mean I'm bitchy!"
"Oookay then." Karen helps me sit on the edge of the bed. "Hold your arm like this against your body, try not to move it. You okay to walk? I don't think this place has any wheelchairs handy."
"Thank God, I'd rather not be further degraded by all this shit." I mumble.
"You should make him take off his pants, just to embarrass him." Mello pipes up.
I send him a death glare. He raises an eyebrow in challenge, quirking a smile. I don't give him the satisfaction of responding.
Karen simply ignores the two of us, going to the cabinet and finding a roll of bandages. She comes back to my side and winds them tightly around my wounded arm. "I'm going to have to put you on some hefty antibiotics since you've just had it open to the air like this."
I cringe as the bandages squeeze and irritate my already hypersensitive arm. "Yeah, okay." I mumble. Sitting up makes my head start hurting again. "We're not doing all this here, are we?"
Karen snorts. "Heck no. This is a dump; we need some real medical equipment. I know of a clinic in town that closes on the weekends so it's your lucky day. We'll have access to the full facility. I won't even make you wait for two hours filling out paperwork."
"They'll let you in?" I ask, skeptical.
"Of course not!" She laughs. "Mello will pick the lock."
Mello shrugs. I have a headache.
We don't tell Felix that we're leaving and end up sneaking out the back door. I'll be happy if I never see the club owner again; he gave me the creeps.
The clinic Karen was talking about is located about fifteen minutes away by freeway and we drive there in her car. It takes Mello less than two minutes to pick the lock on the side door of the urgent care, the door labeled 'Authorized Personnel Only'.
Once inside Karen turns on the lights in the immediate area, but the place is still eerie because it's so empty. She takes me to radiology, Mello wandering to another part of the clinic after saying something about finding the lollypops.
Karen helps me up on the radiology table. "So have you and Mello known one another long?" I ask conversationally while she's positioning my arm under the sensor. The light makes a cross that intersects over my arm. Oh, the irony.
She laughs under her breath. "I guess so. We grew up at the same orphanage, but he's what, five years younger than me? We weren't close, but we knew one another. Us Wammy kids have to look out for each other."
"Like a family?" I ask softly.
Karen smiles. "Something like that. Stay still, will you?"
She goes into the other room and I hear a whirring sound. I let my gaze travel around the room, studying the posters of human anatomy on the far wall. Karen rejoins me a moment later, the sound having lasted only a few moments. She's carrying a manila envelope. Are those my x-rays? That seemed really fast; maybe I'm spacing out.
"Let's go look at these in the other room. How are you feeling? You're functioning surprising well considering all you've been through."
I shrug a little, allowing her to help me back to my feet. At this point I just feel like I'm going through the motions. "I'm just ready for all this to be over. I'm tired of people asking me how I'm feeling."
"Sorry, it comes with the territory."
With Karen's help we walk one room over and I sit down heavily on the patient table. It isn't covered with paper like it normally would be in a doctor's office. (Maybe because the clinic is actually closed for the night and no patient should be sitting here.)
Karen puts the images of my arm up on the lighted x-ray board. Just as she's about to say something the door bursts open and in walks Mello, a lollypop in his mouth. "Catch," He tells me, about to throw me something but then he seems to think better of it. "Sorry, forgot you're an invalid." He steps up to me, handing me a lollypop with a red wrapper. "I thought you looked a cherry type." He pulls his own lollypop out of his mouth; it's a lovely shade of brown.
I scrunch up my nose. "What is that, dirt flavored?" I ask, struggling to unwrap my own candy with my one useful hand. Finally Mello grabs it back and does it for me. He holds onto the stick, offering me the candy side. I take it between my lips, pleased at the flavor.
"Mine is chocolate flavored." Mello announces, giving his a lick.
"Well it looks gross." I say around my lollypop.
"Yeah, it kind of tastes gross, to be honest." Mello says, which makes me laugh softly.
I totally forgot about Karen, who is just staring at us. "Um, hello, his arm is shattered to pieces. Is now really the time to be talking about who likes what flavor?"
"I actually like nicotine flavor, but I don't think they make that in lollypops." I say thoughtfully.
"Isn't that illegal?" Mello raises an eyebrow.
"I don't know, is it?"
Karen is shaking her head. "I'm putting my neck on the line here; can we please be children later? Matt, how much pain medicine have you had?"
"Um," I think for a moment. "Some of Henry's pain medication for his back, and those shots Mello gave me."
"And I gave him whiskey." Mello adds, trying not to smile.
"With orange juice." I amend. "It tasted horrible."
"You're both hopeless." She points at me. "Stay. Do not move, and don't do anything stupid."
I furrow my eyebrows. "What makes you think I'd do something stupid? I'm not an idiot."
Karen shakes her head. "Mello is a bad influence. You look like a good kid."
"Thanks." I deadpan.
Mello is chuckling, covering it with a fake cough.
She ignores us both, turning to leave the room. "I'll be right back, stay put."
When the door shuts behind her, Mello turns to me. His lollypop makes a smacking sound as he pulls it past his lips, twirling it between two fingers. "So what am I going to do with you after all this?" He asks, seemingly talking to himself. I'm too tired to respond, so I let him continue, "I could drop you off at wherever you live, although I don't know if that's advisable. You've been seen with me, so whoever is after me knows that we're connected somehow and will probably track down where you live."
"We're connected? How's that?" I ask, a little afraid of the answer.
"I don't know, we shared a traumatic experience?"
I snort. "Fuck that, you get shot at all the time and I shoot people all the time. The only traumatic part was my arm nearly being blown off."
Mello's eyes flash; he's irritated with me now. I suck on my lollypop sullenly while he says, "Fine, whatever. What I'm saying is that we've been seen together. That makes it seem like you're connected to me. Anyone smart would use that to their advantage and try to find you."
"So what'd you do?"
"Excuse me?" Even his 'excuse me' has a demanding tone about it.
"To have people want to kill you so bad. What'd you do, kill someone? Take someone's drug business? What? People don't want to kill someone for no reason unless they're just a psychopath."
"I've built up a lot of connections in this business." Again with the vagueness. "A lot of people would benefit from my death because I control so much of the city."
"But you're not even a Boss." I blurt out without thinking.
His gaze darkens. "Titles aren't everything, assassin."
I hunch my shoulders. "You were worth a lot of money, get over it." I mumble.
"I don't blame you for doing your job; I just don't know what's stopping you from finishing it." He crosses his arms.
"You're kidding, right?" I look at him to gauge if he's serious or not. "For starters, I can't move my arm. On top of that I can barely think straight. I'm seeing white I'm in so much pain, and I was stabbed in the stomach. Thanks again for that." I add sarcastically.
Before he can respond the door opens again, and Karen reenters with an armful of supplies. Mello looks away from me. "I'm going to go check the security system one more time and make sure we can cover our tracks."
What's his problem anyways?
"You do that. I'll patch Matt up." Karen agrees, and Mello leaves us.
I can't help but feel like a stone is settling in my stomach. I thought we were, on some level, getting along. But now I'm not so sure. He really doesn't trust me.
"Lie back." Karen interrupts my train of thought. "I can't knock you out completely for this so I want you to look at the other wall while I work on your arm. I'll numb it, but don't look."
I scoot back on the medical table, reclining as she had asked. She pulls a chair up to my side, starting to lay out supplies. I don't know if everything is sterile, or if she really knows what she's doing, or if she might accidently (or purposely) poison me. I don't know. And I really don't care. At this point I just want to get better. I don't have any other options, so I turn my head away, close my eyes, and let her start working.
"How's it going?" I hear the voice through the layers of haze. It's Mello's voice; it's strange how I can recognize something like that and I've only known him a few days.
"He keeps going out." That's Karen's voice. "I have to wake him up every few minutes, but this is better than him being in pain. The pain medication and local anesthetic seem to have put him more at ease."
"I can hear you guys." I mumble, but my tongue feels thick. I don't know what she gave me, how she gave it to me, or how long it's been. I force my eyes to open, turning my head to look down at my arm. What was once blood and torn skin is now wrapped in a clean blue cast. "Huh." I say faintly. "How…long did that take?"
"A few hours." Karen gives me a tired smile. "I had to put four pins in your arm then stitch it up and cast it. Don't you remember anything? You asked me a few times if I was done yet."
"No…I don't remember." My gaze wanders to Mello, who is standing a few feet back from where Karen is sitting. "What time is it?" I don't know why it matters.
"It's about one in the morning."
I would have thought it was later. Huh.
Meanwhile Karen was getting something from a drawer by the sink, and she returns to my side. "Come on Matt, sit up." She wraps a bony arm around my back and helps pull me up into a sitting position. I'm groggy and it's hard to focus on anything. She shines a light in my eyes and I squint.
"Stop that." I say irritably.
"I think your pupils are returning to a more even size. This is good." She turns out the pin light, finally. I relax, shoulders slumping. My arm feels so heavy. "I need to find you a sling, but first I need you to take this. She hands me a small, clear plastic cup.
I look down in it; it contains a white capsule pill the size of the multivitamins I used to take as a kid. "What is this?" I ask, weary.
"Antibiotics. I'm going to get you a prescription, but luckily they have some sample packs around here so you can take one now. I'm giving you a really hefty dose so it may make your stomach sick but that can't be helped. We really need to make sure your arm doesn't get infected."
I look at the pill, skeptical. "My arm is good now…I don't want to take this." Maybe logic is escaping me, but my arm feels okay. It isn't infected. I don't need this. Aren't you not supposed to take unneeded medication?
Karen gives me a confused look, her eyebrows furrowed. "Matt, I'm serious. You could lose your arm or even die if that gets infected."
I frown. "I'm not going to die."
"Not if you take the damn antibiotics." Mello cuts in.
"I don't like medicine, I already feel funny." I set down the little cup, rubbing my eyes with my hand.
"It's not that kind of medicine; it's not like you're going to get high off of it." Mello is irritated with me now.
"You don't get it." Now I'm mad too, I guess. But it's kind of a subdued mad; I'm drugged out of my mind. "I don't even know what it is. I don't want to take it. I'm fine." I need control. I feel like the world is spinning a million miles around me, and I have no control. I need to have a say, this is my life. I need to reassert myself; I can't just roll over and let them do anything they want to me. I don't need help. My arm is fixed; now I can take care of myself.
Mello and Karen exchange a glance. He steps up beside the doctor, saying something in a low tone that I can't hear. Karen nods; fuck them and their secret whisperings. I don't need anybody; I've been getting along fine on my own all this time. So maybe I needed some help because of my arm, that doesn't mean I have to listen to them.
Karen turns to me again. "I'm going to go get you a sling, sit tight." She turns and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.
I eye Mello wearily. He steps up beside the table where I'm sitting, picking up the medicine cup gingerly. "So you're feeling better?" His voice is a little cold.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I say with confidence that I don't quite feel. "I can go home; you don't have to babysit me anymore."
"Hm," Is Mello's only response. He turns and walks to the sink, his back facing me. When he turns around again, I see that he set the cup on the counter. Good riddance.
He stalks back to where I'm sitting, but before I can say another word he takes me by the chin, pulling my lips down against his. A startled sound escapes my throat, my good hand curling around the edge of the cushioned table.
By taking me off guard he is able to easily slip his tongue past my lips. I moan faintly, hand moving from the table to instead grip the front of his shirt. Mello's hand slips to the back of my hair, the other resting on the table beside me. Somehow, he has maneuvered his way between my legs.
His grip on my hair suddenly tightens painfully; I breathe a gasp just as his tongue shoves something past my lips—something distinctly pill shaped.
I gag, my hand on his chest twisting to try and shove him off. My head thrashes from right to left but he keeps me firmly in place. So I do the only thing I can in this situation. I bite his tongue. Hard.
He yelps, jumping back. I taste metallic, just in time for him to grab my chin again. "Swallow it." He growls, voice thick, eyes flashing dangerously. Blood is trickling down his chin. For some reason, that gives me a bit of satisfaction. "Swallow it or I'm going to beat you until you take it."
I weigh my options for a moment, turning the pill over a few times on my tongue. It hasn't started to dissolve yet because it's a capsule, but it's getting moist. This thing was in Mello's mouth. Finally I swallow hard. I can't win in a fight against him anyways.
"Open your mouth—let me see you swallowed it." He demands, wiping his lips with the hand not holding my chin. He just smears the blood on his face. That must really hurt.
I sigh faintly, but open my mouth and let him see that I have indeed swallowed the medicine.
Satisfied, he releases me. "Little fucker," He hisses, opening his mouth to gingerly touch his injured tongue. "You bit me, you little bastard. We're trying to help you." His eyes flash dangerously, promising payback.
"Yeah, and you tricked me." I say sullenly. "It was self-defense."
"Like hell. You spread your legs like a whore."
"I did not!" I squawk.
Mello has meanwhile gone to search the drawers around the sink for presumably a mirror. He doesn't find one if his frustration is any indication. Finally he uses the reflective paper towel holder, sticking out his tongue to inspect the damage. "Fuck, what did you do, file your teeth? I have at least three puncture wounds."
"I guess we're even since you stabbed me." I can't help but be a little snippy.
"Are you saying I should stab you two more times?" His eyes flash. "That way we'd have an equal number of wounds."
"No!" I subconsciously lean away from him, eyes wide. "I have a hurt arm and a concussion. So-so that makes three total. We're even."
Seeming satisfied with my fear, Mello shrugs slightly. "For now I'll let it go, but only because I'm too tired to think of a creative way to hurt you."
"Thanks." I deadpan.
The door opens, and Karen rejoins us with a blue sling in hand. She looks at Mello, lifting up one eyebrow. "Is your mouth bleeding?" She walks over to me, starting to fasten my arm in the contraption so it's immobile against my chest.
"No," Mello mumbles, rubbing his mouth with his hand again.
Karen gives me a questioning look, but doesn't say anything else about it. "Matt, let me clean up your stomach while I have all my supplies out. Mello told me you ran into a knife."
I send him a withering glare. "That's what he said, is it?" He smiles slightly.
"I honestly don't care what you did." Karen says, holding up her hands. "Just let me see it and I'll clean it for you."
"What about his concussion?" Mello pipes up.
"I'm no neurologist, but his symptoms should go away on their own. If his headaches were to get considerable worse, it would mean that blood is putting pressure on the brain. The only treatment at that point would be to drill a hole into his skull and let it drain to relieve the pressure."
I'm silent for a long moment. "You're kidding, right?" I ask, eyes wide.
"No, I'm totally serious."
Mello starts laughing. He's laughing.
"No, you're kidding." I say, panicky.
"Matt, I really don't feel like you're at that point. Your headaches would be excruciating. It's just something we should keep an eye on, but I think you'll be okay. To be sure though, we can take a scan of your head and make sure everything is in order."
"Let's cover all of our bases." Mello agrees. "I don't want to have to take him to the ER in three hours because he's having a seizure or something."
"Why would you be taking me to the ER?" I ask, suddenly confused. "Aren't you taking me home after this?"
Mello scoffs. "Like hell I'm leaving you alone after all this shit. You'll probably end up killing yourself on accident. You're stuck with me."
I just stare at him. "What, are you holding me hostage?"
"Yes, yes I am."
Of course he is. But for some reason, I don't mind all that much.
AN: Happy Labor Day weekend! I started college classes two weeks ago; it's been a very busy and exciting time for me since I last posted a chapter. I hope all of you who are still in school are enjoying it as well! Chapters will continue to be posted as often as I can manage. I really enjoy writing For Hire and I have a lot of plans for this story. It will continue on what is hopefully a decent schedule. =) The plot took a back seat in this chapter in order to get Matt's wounds treated, but hopefully we'll be back on track with the action next time!
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I haven't been getting as many reviews lately and it is a little upsetting. All the reviews I do get, however, are so kind, thoughtful, and they make my day. Thank you to everyone who has continued to show their support! I really appreciate it. See you in the next chapter—soon!
