A/N: For a head start, I do not have any medical background and every medical reference in this fic is purely based on independent research in the internet so there's always a chance it might not be 100% right.

Oh, and medical dramas. My personal favorites are House MD and Grey's Anatomy.

Ok I'll stop rambling now.

Special thanks to Alkirian who beta-ed this chapter (my first ever beta!) and did an awesome job on correcting my bad grammar/tenses :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters except for the OCs.

CHAPTER 13

Valerie

Thankfully, Mello's x-rays and CT scan showed nothing on fractures or MTBIs. So after she put him into an ACE wrap and an air cast, prescribed him NSAIDs (1), and told us to come back to the clinic in one week to have his stitches removed and in two weeks for re-evaluating his ankle, Dr. Davies discharged us.

But apparently not so soon, since she—out of the blue—dragged me to the corner of the waiting room, much to my confusion.

"What is it, Dr. Davies?" I asked.

"Rousseau," she said in a low voice, but it was the same voice like she had always used in "The Gestapo" mode. It sent shivers down my spine in an instant, "I need you to be honest."

I swallowed nervously, trying to stay calm and collected. What was it that she wanted me to be honest? Don't tell me she was aware that we were lying about Mello's cause of injury? Or that he was, in reality, no ordinary civilian?

"Yes, doctor?"

She briefly peered at Mello from the corner of her eyes, who was watching over us in silence, sporting his trademark bitter look as he sat in the waiting room, before returning her attention at me. "I'm sorry if this sounds harsh, but tell me," the doctor began, "is your friend over there currently under the influence of certain drugs, to your knowing?"

I froze on the spot.

Oh, no. No. No, no, no.

It took me a while to decide what to reply.

"Uh, what makes you think that?"

I mentally cursed myself right away. What kind of second-year med student asks silly question like that?

She arched a neatly drawn eyebrow. "Do not test me. Flushed skin, dry mouth, vital signs especially heart rate and respiratory rate slightly below normal; need I say more? So, unless there are no other signs, I won't stop asking," she said. "Now, do you notice any signs of nausea, vomiting, or even drowsiness on him lately?"

My mind was battling. Should I tell her the truth?

No, of course I couldn't tell her the actual truth; my life was at stake here! But I knew I couldn't lie to a full-fledged physician either... then how should I answer?

"... Yes, I think so," I answered uneasily.

"And?"

What should I say?

"I only know that he had his fair share of painkillers this week..." I tried to be as vague as possible, my thumbs fiddling frantically behind my back. Mello's going to kill me. "But that's only to because of his burns," I quickly added. "He stops taking them today."

"What kind of painkillers?"

Think, Valerie, think! "V-Vicodin...?" I stammered the first thing that came to my mind.

"Did he take the right dose or did he take more?"

"He—" Shit, I can't lie about this one. "He said he often took more..."

"And why didn't you tell me sooner about this?" she asked sharply.

I felt horrible, half-lying to the doctor who had greatly contributed to my current studies like this. "I'm sorry, I didn't know any of that until today either..."

"Today when? This morning? Just now?"

"Um, this morning..."

"So you're basically telling me it kinda slipped out of your mind. Is that so?"

I didn't know what else to say and I could only shut my mouth, casting my eyes to the floor.

Dr. Davies sighed and fixed her glasses. "I'm sorry, Rousseau," she said, her voice softened. "You're a patient here and not my pre-med anymore. I shouldn't have criticized you like that."

"No... it's alright, doctor. I deserved that," I replied, inwardly feeling a tad bit relieved. "I'm really sorry. I mean it."

"Promise me this won't happen again. You're gonna be a doctor someday. You would take an oath. And you can't let even the slightest thing slips away like that."

I felt my heart sunk, fully aware that I had not exactly let the fact slip away, but intentionally half-lied about it to the doctor. I nodded solemnly. "I promise I'll keep that in mind..."

"Good. When was the last time he took Vicodin?"

I pursed my lips. "Around 9 this morning."

"Alright. If it's true that it's only been a week, then he'd only have very mild withdrawal symptoms and it'd be tolerable. The ibuprofen I prescribed him would also help relieving the muscle aches. In case he experiences diarrhea or abdominal cramps, I assume you already know what to take?"

I nodded. "Loperamide can bind to opioid receptors within the intestines, thus relieve diarrhea or abdominal cramps. Will OTC (2) medicine containing loperamide like Imodium work?"

"It'll work. But call me right away if you notice any side effects."

"Ok."

"Now, I know I said I would respect his privacy yet I couldn't help but wondering: what on earth happened to him to have those burns?"

"He... told me he got trapped inside a building in fire."

"The scars look pretty fresh. Do you know when that happened?"

"Last week. He didn't tell me exactly on what day, though..."

"Oh my God. Poor man... Danger follows him everywhere, doesn't it."

Absolutely true, doctor. And everyone else around him.

"Well, you know I'm bound to doctor-patient confidentiality, so I won't report his recreational drug use unless there's court order. After all, your friend is not the only one; patients lie to their doctors all the time."

"... Ok. Thank you."

"And Rousseau, be honest about one more thing."

Dear Lord, now what? "Yes?" I braced myself.

The thin smile that currently appeared on the doctor's face was the last thing I expected. "Is the 'friend' thing real? Don't think I didn't notice this... tension between you two back at the exam room."

I really wanted the floor to crack open and swallow me right here and now. "Can we please change the topic, doctor?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Alright, alright..."

We exchanged a few more words, she asked me in particular to keep an eye on Mello's medication and withdrawal treatments, not to let him repeat the same addiction on his current medication and so on, seek help from health providers if urgently needed, and finally let me go.

"What are you two talking so secretively about?" Mello grunted as I approached him.

I hesitated for a moment there. I took a breath, bracing myself to prepare for Mello's worst reactions. "Dr. Davies knows you're under drug influence."

He looked alarmed. "What did you tell her?" He eyed me with narrowed eyes.

"I swear I said nothing of the heroin," I quickly replied in a low voice, my eyes sweeping across the whole room, afraid if someone's listening, and told Mello about the whole conversation (minus the last question, of course). To my greatest relief, he didn't snap on me right away. But I could see he didn't like it one bit. "Look, I'm truly sorry I couldn't cover your dependence on painkillers..."

"You already did well."

Mello

Valerie looked at me in disbelief as soon as the words escaped my lips. I couldn't help but guessing about what kind of reaction she had expected from me. The wave of guilt was back. Am I that much of a savage in her eyes?

She had lied to the doctor acquaintance of her and I knew it wasn't easy, given the good scolding she had to receive because of that. Sure, she was the one who insisted going to the hospital at the first instance, and I didn't like this newfound fact at all, but she must had been conflicted inside: the urge to blurt out the whole truth and have local authorities arrest me right on the spot, or doing none of that and only did what's necessary to have my injuries treated.

And she had chosen the latter. What kind of person I was if I didn't have the slightest gratitude?

"You're not mad?" she asked cautiously.

I shrugged. "Why should I?"

"But back at the alley you said—"

"I told you not to do anything unnecessary. You did what's necessary."

"I thought... telling the doctor that—"

"She believed you about the Vicodin, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess? Since both heroin and Vicodin—"

"—belong to the same class of drugs: opioids, thus the similar early signs of use," I finished the sentence, remembering the information from science books I had read in my younger days, Valerie's examination this morning, and did the math. "So without further tests, the doctor couldn't have known for sure which one I've been taking."

She nodded. "That's what I thought. And even if she intends to run tox screen... well, possibly next week when you'll have your stitches removed—"

"—the results would be more likely negative since both drugs wouldn't be detectable in blood after 2 days and in urine after 2-6 days. She'll find no trace of the heroin and probably would just confirm that I'm actually on Vicodin withdrawal," I concluded. "Well, that is if the doctor doesn't decide to take a hair sample instead, for it will show up positive for at least 90 days. But it's rather unlikely since tox screen is most often done using a blood or urine sample..." I trailed off, and returned my attention to Valerie. "Is that what you're saying?"

Valerie looked at me astonishingly, lips parted. "Yeah," she nodded, eyes widened. "Yeah, that's right."

I deadpanned. "Quit giving me that look."

"What look?" she switched back into neutral expression as quick as she could. Too bad my eyes won the race.

"My knowledge in gross anatomy might not be as vast as yours, but I still know a thing or two about drugs."

She blinked. "Oh. Right. I almost forgot you were a Mafia member."

"Or maybe," I countered back, "I'm simply well-educated."

"… Right," she murmured. The skeptical tone was strikingly obvious, to my annoyance, but I decided to brush it off for now.

She took a breath. "This is only an opinion but... are you sure you don't want to tell the doctor about the heroin? It's an illegal drug, yes, but you accidentally took it because it's disguised as Vicodin. Every doctor is bound to doctor-patient confidentiality, you know—"

"I know," I cut her off. "But I also know there are exceptions. It might have been different if I was a mere user, but what if they track it down to the Mafia's illegal drug trade?" I lowered my voice. "Don't get me wrong; I loathe Rod and everything inside the damn circle and I want to crush his skull and kick his ass so bad. But I still need to monitor any activities inside the Mafia to find anything related to the Don and Jack's murders."

There was a lengthy pause before Valerie spoke up. "If you say so... then I'll say nothing more. I know it's none of my business."

"Good."

"Still… you really not gonna yell at me for telling the doctor?"

I rolled my eyes. "Listen, stop worrying. You look exhausted," I patted an empty chair next to me. "Sit down for a minute."

Valerie still looked puzzled, but obeyed nonetheless and sat down. In the meantime, I glanced at my newest and most sophisticated item ever: the air cast. My stitches were way less bothersome than this. Wearing the air cast felt so weird and uncomfortable. Not to mention that it made me look utterly ridiculous. Dr. Davies had stated that I had to wear the air cast for around two weeks before coming back to the hospital for a re-evaluation, and I really didn't want to hear whatever snarky comment Matt's gonna throw at me for that long.

Plus, it fucking irked me to my core to know that I, a grown man, should be babysat by a girl—most of all, the very same girl who had been scared shitless of me when I was in a better shape. I'd never admit this out loud, but anyone else would've agreed that it was quite humiliating.

Well, at least it seemed Valerie and I had gone past the rocky start and started a better communication for now. I had my fair amount of troubles for today and I didn't want any more incoming.

"We bring you the breaking news: American Mafia spotted in New York City. Just this afternoon, a group of what are suspected as Mafia gangsters did an ambush just outside an apartment located in NYC suburbs..."

The faint, tinny sound turned my attention away, and I looked over to the TV placed near to the corner of the room. The screen was displaying the chaotic view around Matt's apartment with the reporter describing the location, crowds gathering around the area, and cops being interviewed about the situation.

That news spread out fast... I thought rather worriedly. My instincts perked up; afraid if somehow they had caught either of me, Matt, or Valerie on the camera when we left the apartment, but luckily it didn't seem to mention or show anything about the three of us. Anyway, I know it would be better if we get out of here as soon as possible.

"Time's up. Let's go," I growled and made an effort to stand up.

Valerie didn't budge.

When I followed the direction of her eyes, I understood. "Relax, they didn't show nor mention us. But we have to go now," I told her, but Valerie was still not showing any intention to stand up. Instead, I immediately noticed her tense look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's world news," she said, rather blankly.

I looked back at the TV. There were tiny letters spelling 'WORLD NEWS' on the bottom left corner of the screen. I barked a scoff. "Typical media exaggeration. So?"

"My parents know my apartment location. And if there's a chance it also airs in France..." Valerie turned her gaze to meet me, her face aghast, "they may hear about this."

Valerie

Mello turned stiff. His icy blue eyes penetrated through me quietly, and I assumed he caught what I had been meaning to say.

"I need to call my parents," I stated, emphasizing every word. Knowing that the news about the Mafia ambush was being aired all over the world had been enough to make me a bundle of nerves.

Like what Mello had pointed out, the news on TV didn't mention or show him, Matt, or me, but how could I know for sure how far the authorities' investigation around the apartment area had progressed? I left my medical bag at Matt's flat and who knew if the police might use it as an evidence for the investigation?

And if this reached my parents, they would've been worried sick.

At this moment I knew even if my parents wanted to, they couldn't reach me at all; I had been away almost all day long. It might sound normal for me going outside for a whole day in some occasions, but it was certainly different in this one. Moreover, I didn't bring my cell phone so I couldn't contact them as well, just to inform them that I was alright so they didn't have to be worried about me.

But unfortunately, I knew I could do nothing unless Mello gives me his permission.

The blond man hadn't given any response, only eyeing me with furrowed eyebrows and dark look. I knew it right away—he's being wary that I might report everything that had happened to me today.

"Mello, I promise, I won't tell them anything about today," I tried to assure him. "I just want them to know that I'm alright."

He considered it for a moment. "How can I be sure?" he lowered his voice. But I noticed he wasn't using the same cold, threatening tone as he did before. It sounded more like a confirmation.

"I didn't even tell either the nurse or Dr. Davies about the heroin or anything that happened today. You know that. I won't tell my parents about any of that either. Please, believe me, I just don't want them to be worried and resort to desperate measures..."

Mello averted his gaze away, seemingly thinking hard, but still gave no response. I sighed exasperatedly and scooted closer to him. "Mello, listen to me," I tried to bring his attention back, "I know that involving outsiders into this… business of yours is the last thing you wanted. Matt told me. And to me, involving my family is also the last thing I ever wanted," I uttered solemnly. "After all, the fact is that I'm alright this very second. I'm safe and sound, thanks to you."

He turned slightly to me at the last sentence, and after noticing his sullen expression I hurriedly added, "Of course, not that I'm grateful of what happened to you after that! I mean, I'm grateful that you saved my life, but it's not like I'm happy or relieved that you're injured, but you did protect me from getting hurt, so—ugh, why is it so difficult to put this into words…"

"I get it," Mello spoke, and I swore I saw a split-second half-smile there on his lips before it disappeared completely like it never had been there from the start.

"Ok… so, can you please believe me when I say I just don't want any more trouble, or questioning from the authorities, or anything like that? I just want to let them know their only daughter is safe. Please?"

I waited for a while, every second felt like a whole century had passed, before finally Mello heaved a long sigh and returned his eyes at me.

"I'll have to talk it over with Matt first. Until then, you'll do nothing."

1. NSAIDs: Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs

2. OTC: Over-the-counter drugs: medicines that can be sold directly to a consumer without a prescription

A/N: Our favorite Matty boy will return next chapter! And thank you so much as always for the wonderful reviews and constructive criticisms. :D

Coming up next...

Just please, please show me just a little bit more of your human side.