Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor do I own the Wizard of Oz. How that ended up mentioned in here I have no idea, but it happened…

A/N: This one came out shorter than I intended it to, but I like it. Don't know if I've said this yet here, but major thanks to DessArtem for being my RP partner. She's a good Mello. Even looks vaguely like him…

Chapter 4: Re-Railed

By the time I was done reading through everything I could find on Near's computer that had any value, the only thing I wanted was sleep. Unfortunately, I didn't have to do any math to know that the odds of Mello waking up again in the next few hours were pretty good, which sadly meant that I couldn't take a twenty-four-hour nap.

Time for more coffee. And another cigarette. Not that either of those things would be effective for much longer. They could only do much. Sleep was waiting to pounce on me the moment I closed my eyes for more than two seconds.

I'd just plugged the coffeepot in when I heard a small, raspy voice. "…Matt?"

Within seconds I'd yanked the plug back out of the wall – the coffeepot wasn't allowed to run without adult supervision – and dashed back into the bedroom, though I had to slow down before the doorway so I didn't trip on my laptop cord or the pile of papers I had next to the door. "Right here," I said, hopping over the minefield on the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Mello blinked up at me with his good eye. After a minute, he seemed to relax. "…Where am I?"

I hoped that meant he'd gotten over the Hell thing. I didn't want to go through that again. "You're in my apartment, about thirty miles away from LA. You're safe – nobody knows you're here." Well, Near didn't know he was here, at any rate. Neither did the NPA. I highly doubted the mob was going to try to hunt him down – at this point, everyone assumed he was dead anyway, so why bother?

"…How'd you find me?" By the sound of it, somebody would peg him as the smoker rather than me. His voice was that raspy. Damn, he must've inhaled a lot of ash.

"I hacked multiple government agencies, police forces, and topped it all off with the SPK three days ago. I hacked them a few hours before you blew your hideout to high Heaven."

"…Should've left me there…"

I frowned. "The hell I should've. Did you want to die in that explosion?"

"No…" His hand drifted to the still-bloody rosary. "Might as well have, though…"

"Wasn't it you who told me that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?"

He was silent for a moment. He probably didn't appreciate me throwing some of his own advice at him. "…How long've I been out?"

I had to think about that for a minute. "About three days, give or take. I kinda started losing track after the first forty-something hours."

"…Three days. Damn."

"Why? Have a date you weren't supposed to miss? I usually clear my calendar before I blow stuff up."

He glared at me. Well, at least that was normal. "After three days," he growled, "it's no wonder I'm fucking thirsty."

"Just a sec." I hopped up off the bed and headed into the kitchen to get him some water. His sense of hostility was still there, that was obvious. In some ways he was more like a wounded animal than anything else. He was going to hate not being able to get up. Three days of being unconscious had given him a jump-start on healing, but he still looked, well, like somebody'd dropped a building on him, like the Wicked Witch of the East, minus the flashy shoes.

The thought of Mello wearing ruby slippers and saying, "There's no place like home!" nearly made me burst out laughing. Fortunately, the glass overflowed just in time to keep me from completely losing it.

These were the places sleep-deprivation drove my mind.

After a few seconds I pulled myself together, grabbed the bottle of painkillers on the counter with my free hand, and went back into the bedroom. Mello was coughing and somehow managing to look exceptionally frustrated while doing so. I set the glass and the pill bottle on the nightstand. "You shouldn't've tried to sit up."

He shot me a venomous glare which clearly said, fuck you. I couldn't really blame him; in his place I'd probably feel the same way.

Now for the tricky part. "I'll help you get up."

Mello glared at the sheets as I put my arm around his shoulders to help him up. I guess he didn't want to glare at me because I was helping, but he wanted to glare at something because he couldn't do it on his own. The glare stayed right as it was he downed the pill I handed to him and forced the water down after it. I had to hold the glass for him, which I could tell he hated, but he was already glaring too much for it to get any more extreme. "The painkillers should kick in before long," I told him as I helped him lay back down.

"Good." He sounded annoyed. No wonder. "…How bad is it?"

I didn't have to ask what he meant. I just didn't know how he'd take the burn. "It's mostly just cuts and bruises from stuff falling on you. Worst bit's the burn on your shoulder. Goes down your arm a few inches, and up the side of your face."

He didn't say anything. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I didn't think that was good, but I couldn't really do anything about it, especially not with him about to fall asleep from pain medication. I'd deal with that another time.

There was silence for a few minutes, since I had nothing else I could say and Mello wasn't talking. The next time I looked at him, he was asleep.