Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters except for the OCs.
CHAPTER 11
New York, November 19, 2011, 05:13PM
Valerie
It took a while to convince Mello to go to the hospital, but he finally agreed, to my relief, because I was tired of all these pointless debates against him. I would've been blind if I couldn't see that he did not like my ultimatum one bit, but it wasn't my job to care about that. My only job here was to make sure his injuries get treated as soon as possible and make sure they didn't lead into something worse. Yes, I was actually concerned about his condition.
Even more since he got those injuries from protecting me, intentionally or not.
After my long rant earlier, I ran to the convenience store nearby and bought a pair of scissors and an elastic bandage, then quickly ran back to the two men. Apparently during my short absence, they had gotten into a long, heated, full-of-swearing argument (the heated and full-of-swearing part was one sided actually, three guesses who). I could only bear listening to their debate in silence as I moved without wasting any second. I cut a small portion of Matt's blanket using the scissors (sorry, Matt…) into long pieces to function as temporary tourniquet, and then carefully tied them tightly over Mello's cuts to control the bleeding. After that, I used the elastic bandage to carefully bandage and compress Mello's ankle.
Thankfully their argument was over shortly after, and with a quite satisfying outcome as well. Apparently Mello finally agreed, or most likely was forced to agree, and gave his permission to leave his bike at the parking area at the park within a note that if there's anything happen to his bike then Matt would hold full responsibility. I didn't know what kind of responsibility he meant (did he mean the usual—buy him a new bike—or Mafia-way responsibility?) but anyway, that wasn't really my business, so I didn't ask anything regarding to that. From the argument, Matt also, thankfully, managed to talk to Mello about not bringing his gun with him in the hospital and instead leave it with him in his car. I couldn't explain how relieved I was to know that I didn't have to worry over being threatened at a gunpoint when I would be with him in the hospital.
After that, Matt drove us to the hospital right away. During the ride he told me what he told Mello earlier; from how he first knew about the bombs to the vicodin he found near the building and how he thought it was a legit drug and asking my opinion about it. I barely paid attention to every word; I was too busy keeping an eye on Mello, who was sitting at the backseat with a grim expression like he could've shoot me dead here and now at any time. I had to make sure he didn't do anything unnecessary such as opening the bandages, as well as making sure he was keeping his injured foot lifted above the hip level as I told him to.
As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Mello and I immediately headed to the urgent care center, with me helping Mello walked. I had made it clear that he wasn't allowed to walk by himself, even though it led to his dismay. It was uncomfortable enough having visitors, patients, and hospital staff occasionally glanced at me, or to be exact, at Mello and his extravagant appearance as we made our way, probably experiencing the same wave of intimidation as I did when I first met him. But hey, looking on the bright side, they moved away as fast as they could, making a clear path ahead for us. We went in through the front doors of the urgent care center, and I urged Mello to sit in the waiting room.
"I'll go sign us in, so wait here," I said.
Mello rolled his icy blue eyes at me, sporting the same ever bitter look. "Do you really expect me to wander off somewhere?" he asked mockingly, nodding to his sprained ankle.
Ticked off with his attitude, I opened my mouth to scold him but somehow managed to refrain myself. With some patients and nurses already having their eyes on us, I wouldn't want a drama that will attract more attention. I ran a hand through my hair agitatedly. "You're lucky we're in the hospital so I'll shut up now," I said in a flat tone. "Anyway, I'll need your full name to fill in the forms."
He shrugged indifferently. "Write whatever comes first to your mind."
"Mello."
"Fine. It's Michael Keith."
I stared blankly at him and gave no response for a few seconds.
"That's your full name?" I raised an eyebrow.
"You asked for a full name, I gave you one. Now go sign us in."
"So… 'Mello' is only a nickname?"
"Go. Now."
I clicked my tongue in annoyance and walked over to the desk attendant to sign us in. The desk attendant told me to wait for another hour before we get to see the doctor, to my disappointment for having to wait that long, but what else could you expect from one of the busiest departments in the hospital? I joined Mello in the waiting room afterwards and sat beside him.
"We have to wait for an hour," I told him.
"Not surprising," he spat, scowling at the wall on the other side of the waiting room and at every poor patient and nurse who just happened to pass in front us. He folded his arms, both hands clenched into tight fists, that he looked so ready to connect to the jaws of whomever person came into sight the next second. I supposed this was what Matt had referred to earlier: Mello's expertise (or more likely, hobby) on mentally traumatizing innocent bystanders just by a single look.
"Later on the exam room, just please, please try to be cooperative through every session, ok?" I pleaded.
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Fine," he growled through clenched jaws.
"Do you really mean that?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I said fine, alright? I just wanna get out of here."
"Ok, ok. That's... quite reassuring."
I leaned unto the back of the chair, closing my eyes, and exhaled wearily. Phew, now all's left was to get this done and over with. But even after that, we'd still have to discuss about whether or not they would let me go...
I resisted the will to groan in frustration. Dear Lord, one and a half year being sleep-deprived through med school couldn't even compare to the amount of exhaustion I had been because of today; a single day, not even 24 hours had passed yet.
"... Valerie," Mello called a few minutes later, keeping his voice low.
"What?" I asked tiredly, still keeping my eyes closed.
"What will you tell the doctor?"
"What else? Our injuries of course. Especially yours."
I heard he clicked his tongue impatiently. "Not that—what will you tell the doctor about the cause?"
"The truth? You got your injuries from jumping off 10 foot fire escape because..."
At the moment, my eyes snapped open.
Because of what?
There's no way I would tell the doctors here that Mello and I jumped off the fire escape in a bombed-out building which was set up by the Mafia! How could I didn't think of this before?
Panicking in silence, I slowly turned to Mello, who was at the moment still deadpanning yet sending an annoyed look to me as if he had known it was coming.
Mello
I knew it was coming.
"You shove me into the damn hospital and yet you didn't think of that?" I hissed crisply at her.
She fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, sorry! You know I was—"
I rolled my eyes and cut her off. "Forget it. I'll come up with something."
"... Ok. Sorry."
"And take off your gloves. People will think you've just murdered someone."
She laid her eyes on her gloved hands and her eyes bulged out, looking genuinely surprised like she hadn't noticed the blood spots from Jack's body earlier. She hastily took her medical gloves off and stuffed them in her jeans pocket. "Thanks for reminding me. So that's why the convenience store cashier refused to look at me in the eye…"
We didn't say anything in the following minutes, too busy dwelling in our own thoughts. Or in my case, seething in silent. I really wished I had my Beretta at the very moment. It took all my will power to focus my attention somewhere else and resisting landing my fist on every single damn retard who shot me a look like I was a fucking freak or something.
I knew since the beginning that my presence here would most likely make others feel uncomfortable. And while usually I enjoyed every second of it, this time it only led to my great dismay, which only made it ten times worse.
I eyed the silent girl who was sitting next to me. If only I hadn't seen her intelligence with my own eyes, or wasn't to blame for her misfortune today, I wouldn't have so obediently agreed to her ultimatum to go to the hospital. Yeah, you read that right; this was me being obedient, in case you hadn't noticed that.
The worst of all, when I really needed them the most, I ran out of chocolate bars. Ate 'em all at the park. Fuck.
"Mello?"
"What," I growled.
"Back at the park... you asked me if there was anything I wanted to say."
"So?"
A pause. "I did have something in mind. Can I say it now?"
"You almost broke my nose, called me a monster, and even dare telling me to shut up. Why bother asking permission now?"
There was no response, so I turned to look over at Valerie. She was staring down at her lap, frowning, at the same time looking genuinely guilty. Oh jeez, great, keep making that face to remind me of one hell of a monster I have been the entire day. Fine.
"Sorry, forget what I said." I decided to give up. "What's on your mind?"
I could see that she was hesitating. I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not gonna be an ass anymore here, I promise. Just say it," I told her.
She finally looked up. "Ok," she said, still sounding unsure. "Back in that building... why did you rescue me?"
Whoa. I didn't expect that.
Tapping a finger against my elbow in a steady rhythm, I was thinking of how I should answer. Should I be honest? Should I go on sarcasm? Or should I dismiss the question?
"Why do you ask that?"
"I don't know, I'm just thinking... it would've been easier to leave me and make your own escape."
And look who never stopped yelling about that, I sneered inwardly."Hn. Tell me about that."
"Then why...?"
I sighed and decided to be honest. Partially, at least. "It's the least I can do after all the shit you've been through."
She nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright," she mumbled faintly, "I wish I have said this sooner but... thank you."
I nodded stiffly. "No problem."
"I know you didn't want to go to the hospital for reasons, and I'm sorry I forced you to. It's just..." she pursed her lips, "it concerns me to know you're in a bad shape because of me."
"But it's not. That was my decision, you didn't ask me to."
"If that's what you said..."
"Anyway, I could say the same thing about you; what makes you decide to help me?"
Indeed, it was something worth asking. Like what she had said in that long annoying preaches of hers earlier, she knew about how human body works more than me (which I really hated to admit). So she could've done something; in awareness, intentionally, to sabotage my injuries to her own benefits. Wouldn't she be happy to run away and seek sanctuary elsewhere, fully knowing that her captor couldn't even beat toddlers in a fucking crawling race, and—oh, that reminded me—too fucked up from having too much of heroin flowing in his vessels in the first place?
"Like I said, I'm worried," she said, keeping her tone even.
My eyebrows shot up. "About someone who has taken you by force and pointed a gun in your face?"
She didn't respond right away and downcast her eyes back to the floor. "Well... you did save me at the end, so that counts." A full pause. "And then there's this saying they keep telling us at school... Primum non nocere."
"'First, do no harm'," I muttered solemnly.
She nodded. "Yeah. That's why I refused to provide you treatment other than the first aid. Trauma injuries like yours aren't something to be taken lightly. And as I'm still learning, I could've risked causing more harm than good."
I mused on her words, letting them all sink in. "Ok," I finally said. At least that made sense. "By the way, thanks for the first aid."
"You're welcome."
We went back into full silence. Throughout the short conversation, I must admit that it was weird. Just this morning I first met her and pointed my Beretta in her face. Just this afternoon we screamed at each other's lungs. And now we were talking like we were acquaintances. It was... surreal.
"Valerie Rousseau and Michael Keith?"
The nurse's voice sent me back to earth and I looked up at the same time with Valerie.
Valerie
I helped Mello stood up and we walked over to the nurse. "Miss Rousseau and Mr. Keith?" the nursed asked again and I nodded. "This way, please."
The nurse walked us into an exam room. There, she quickly moved to measure Mello's and my vitals and scribbled the results down on her papers. She asked about our injuries and I quickly explained about Mello's sprain, cuts, and the bumps on our heads. Throughout the questioning I didn't miss how she cast one or two nervous glimpse at the sullen blond man. The poor nurse seemed as she wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible.
"Please wait for a moment, the doctor will be here shortly," she told us, gathered her papers, quickly stormed out of the room and shut the door closed before I could even thank her. Not so long after, I heard a faint new voice outside of the room. As the speaker getting closer, the voice became clearer.
"... and what the hell are you getting so scared of? That's a patient inside the room, and don't tell me you haven't seen burn scars before—now you're talking nonsense. How can looking at a person's eyes knock you out cold? Jesus, and you call yourself a nurse?"
That must be the doctor. But hold on. The voice sounds familiar…
The door swung open. A small, stout, stern-faced woman in her middle-age wearing physician white coat entered the room. The chain holder of her eyeglasses was swinging as she walked in. "...that's enough. If I hear another story about hospital staff whimpering over a patient like 5 years old, I'll be the one to cross your names off the list on the next evaluation, mark my words," she pointed her index finger repeatedly to whoever person outside of the room, scolding the person with a sharp tone (I suspected it was the nurse earlier) and closed the door. "Goodness, nurses these days... Oh, I'm so sorry you have to see that. I'm Dr. Davies, how can I help you, Miss..." She stopped abruptly. "Rousseau?"
I was no less surprised. No wonder it sounds familiar. "Dr. Davies?"
"Oh my God!" she extended her hand and shook my hand eagerly, which I returned in the same favor. "When I heard about a patient registered under your name, never have I imagined it would actually be you. How long has it been? Two years? Three?"
"Almost two," I couldn't help but smiling widely, glad to see a familiar face. "I never imagined you'd be in the urgent care as well. I thought you worked in the ER?"
"I did and I still am. Clinic duty this evening. How's the med school doing?"
"Good as for today, thank you. Rotation begins in January."
"Aah, clinical year, eh? You know what they say, never start with the one you're most interested with, save it for later. Have you got something particular in mind?"
"Yes, but I'm not really sure yet..."
I trailed off when I peered over at Mello at the corner of my eyes. He simply looked at me, his eyes demanding explanation.
"Oh, so this is the one who turned the whole center into a gossip network," Dr. Davies commented with a sneer, glancing sideways at Mello. I was impressed by the fact she's the first person I had ever seen, other than Matt, who was immune to Mello's so called 'mental terrorizing'. But then again, as what I had heard so many times from the staff during my internship in the ER, Dr. Davies was nicknamed "The Gestapo". And she didn't earn it for nothing.
The doctor then leaned over to me. "I never knew you're into bad boys, Rousseau," she said in a low voice.
I gawked. "What? No, no, no! He—he's a friend."
Wow. Weirdest sentence of the day.
"Hmm, friend, eh? Give him a favor by introducing us, would you? Poor fella looks a little lost there."
I turned to Mello. "Sorry. Um, this is Dr. Camilla Davies, an emergency physician. I had the great opportunity to shadow her during my internship 2 years ago," I informed him. Mello simply gave an acknowledging nod at the doctor.
"So, I heard you have some injuries here, Mr... Keith, right?" Dr. Davies drawled while leafing through her papers.
"Yeah," Mello gruffly replied. I struggled to keep a straight face.
"A sprain, cuts, and also bumps to the head on both of you... May I ask how this happened?"
I nervously stole a glance at Mello.
A/N: As you may have noticed, I added line breaks between POV switches so that they wouldn't be confusing, courtesy of the tip given by TTY7 (thanks again! :)) Oh, and Dr. Davies character is not from the original Death Note series, but also an original character. That's why I typed OCs with an "s" in the disclaimer.
Also, I want to thank you again for your encouraging and helpful reviews! They never fail to make me smile :D
EDIT: kfranke gave me helpful insights about healthcare procedures in America, and I decided to edit a few tiny things in this chapter. It doesn't affect the main storyline so no worries. I sincerely apologize for the errors.
Coming up next...
"You told me to be cooperative through every session. I was simply obeying the command, Miss Rousseau."
