Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, if that wasn't already glaringly obvious.

A/N: This chapter reveals my ineptitude at first aid. I can give CPR if I have to, but just injuries? I don't know anything about them. Dess Artem was awesome about correcting me, though. I guess she can be called my beta on the basis that this is based on an RP we did about the same topic, so big thank-you to her. I'll put the next chapter up after a bit, but it may be a while, since I'm hoping to keep a chapter ahead in my actual writing of this and I'm rather spastic about writing and tend to go off on tangents.

Chapter 2: Dead or Alive

The explosion site was a wreck – what else would it be? – but the dust was settled by the time I got there. The police were long gone – there was nothing here for them. At least, nothing they couldn't come back for later with a body bag.

But Mello was here. He had to be. I'd been listening to the Japanese radio chatter the whole way here, and they hadn't found him. They'd assumed he was dead.

Admittedly, the chances of anyone surviving this disaster was slim, but clearly the police had managed, so I was certain Mello had too.

"Mello?" I called, swinging the beam of my flashlight in a large arc. Not surprisingly, there was no answer.

From what I'd gathered, Mello had been on the second floor when he'd blown the place. The bare skeleton of the building had held, and I picked my way through the wreckage towards a shape that looked like a staircase.

Then I heard the scream. It was coming from the other side of the wreckage, beyond the staircase, and it had an agonizing, almost inhuman quality to it, pain and rage and despair all rolled up into one. I stopped dead for a moment, then sprinted towards the noise, barely managing not to trip. "Mello!" It couldn't be anyone else.

I found him by nearly tripping over him. I saw his hair in my flashlight beam just in time to stop. Then I saw the rest of him. "Oh, fuck," I breathed. He was unconscious; from what I could see under the dust and plaster, he was out for good reason. There was a huge burn from his left shoulder up to his hairline. It looked nasty. Other than that he didn't look too awful, just a few cuts and a shitload of bruises.

After taking a few seconds to assess how badly hurt he was, I worked on getting the rubble off of him. Thankfully it was mostly little chunks of ceiling with no beams or anything. Mello was motionless the whole time, which made me a little worried. I would've expected him to be fighting his way free by now, but he was just lying there. It scared me a bit.

I crouched down next to him. "Mello? I'm gonna pick you up," I told him, even though he probably couldn't hear me. Then I worked my arms under him and lifted him, a bit surprised by how light he was. Well, it made it easier to carry him, anyway.

We'd gotten about halfway back to the car when he finally started struggling. While I figured it was a good sign, it was also a bit dangerous. I readjusted so I was holding him tighter – I didn't want to hurt him, but there wasn't much choice. It was that or drop him. Or trip, that was a danger too. "Would you please stop squirming?" I asked him. Not that he heard me or did what I asked, of course.

Somehow I managed to get to the car without getting us killed. Then I had to crouch down to open the door without dropping Mello, which was a feat in and of itself, especially since he was now squirming like a fish that was trying to get back to water. Once I had him laid down across the backseat he calmed down a little bit, though he still looked pained. I couldn't really blame him.

The drive back to my apartment was a little less frantic than my race to the explosion site. These roads had their shares of potholes, and I didn't want to go over bumps with Mello in the back. I also didn't want to speed on the off chance that I was pulled over. That would be an interesting explanation. "Well, officer, my friend here's in the Mafia, and I'm just picking him up from the explosion site over there." Yeah…that wouldn't go over too well.

After an hour of anxious driving, I pulled to a stop outside of my apartment. For a moment I was worried that somebody might see me bringing Mello inside, but then I realized something – it was two thirty in the fucking morning! Who the hell would be looking out their window?

Getting Mello out of the car was just as much a challenge as getting him in had been. At least his reflexes were intact. The second I touched him he reacted, and he continued trying to beat me, albeit weakly, all the way to the door. Thankfully, by the time I had to adjust my hold on him to open the door, he'd passed out fully again. I wasn't sure if that was a bad sign or not, but whatever sort of sign it was, it made my job a lot easier.

Once we were in the apartment, I set him down on my bed and dashed into the bathroom to find the first aid supplies. I knew I had some. Somewhere. I found them at the top of the medicine cabinet and snatched them. I hoped there would be enough gauze to cover that burn.

Burn. I had no idea how to treat a burn, beyond the basic 'if it hurts run it under some cold water'. Well, the same rule probably applied – cold water couldn't do any harm. I grabbed some washcloths and dunked them under cold water until they were soaked through, then headed back out of the bathroom to try to apply this sorry excuse for first aid. Then I had to run off again because there was no way in hell I was going to be able to get that leather vest off him without scissors, and I had no clue where the scissors had gotten to. I thought they were on the kitchen counter, but they'd somehow migrated to the table. I grabbed them and went back to the bedroom to finally start accomplishing something.

Mello didn't react at all to the vest being cut off, even when I peeled it off the burn. I would've thought he was dead if it weren't for the fact that I could hear him breathing. Him not moving made my job easier, but I would've felt a hundred times better if he'd been fighting me every step of the way. He didn't even protest when I used the cold washcloths to get the dirt and grit out of his burn, even though it must've been excruciatingly painful.

It was nearly four o'clock by the time I'd finished everything. I was completely out of bandages, partially because I was so inefficient at using them. The lumpy mess I'd made would probably make any competent medical professional want to smack me, but it was the best I could do. I would have lots more practice, I was sure.

Satisfied that Mello was as comfortable as I could make him, I grabbed my laptop and sat down at the computer chair that had somehow taken up residence against the bedroom wall a whole room away from its desk. I had a lot of catching up to do.