In Charge

Chapter 17 – Adrenaline

By Threshie

AN: Welcome to chapter 17! :) I'll talk at the bottom; seems to work better than blabbing a lot up here. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.


A week ago, everything had been different.

Matt let his gaze drift across the ceiling, absently noting tiny spots in the paint, bumps in the shiny surface... He was tired, but he couldn't sleep right now. There were too many worries and confusing thoughts going through his head.

He couldn't help but feel that, somehow, Near's kidnapping had been his fault. It wasn't like he was the one who gave Mikami the idea or anything, but maybe if he hadn't antagonized the man so much, he wouldn't have thought of shooting Matt, and then the redhead could have at least fought with him a little to protect Near, instead of going down in one shot.

Just like that—bang. Only it really didn't make much sound at all... His eyes slid to the side, toward the door. It was slightly ajar; Mello had left in such a hurry that he'd forgotten to close it.

A week ago, he had never been shot before.

Hurts...but how can I sit and feel sorry for myself when that creep might be doing who-knows-what to Near? That really ate at him, that the person he had promised to take care of had been taken away so easily. It was even worse that it was Near, who seemed so childish and fragile. Near, who he had just started to become fond of...who he had begun to think of as a friend.

He doesn't want your friendship, he reminded himself, sighing softly. At least Mello still cared about him, though he sometimes wasn't sure why. What did anybody that intelligent see in him? I'm pretty much a nobody. I'm not as smart as L or Mello or Near, so I'm not much help to them...and now that Mikami shot me, I'm just dead weight for this situation. Useless.

He closed his eyes, letting blackness slip down over the lonely, spotless sight of the hospital room. Let's face it, I was dead weight before I got shot, too. That's why Near turned me down—I'm not good enough to be his friend. I'm not good enough to be anybody's friend...

A week ago, he had never felt as worthless as he would be feeling a week from then.


Near blinked, finding himself looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Green...? He glanced to his left, where the spot of bright green that had caught his eye was, and stared. The dinosaur stood beside the bed, nearly eye-height, and seemed to stare back. It was standing on a familiar dark, polished tabletop.

He was in the fancily-furnished room he had gone into to find the phone, he realized, glancing over at the desk. The phone was still there, placed very neatly on the textbook so that the corners and angles of the edges matched exactly. ...I didn't have time to replace it that neatly before. Had Mikami looked at it and realized that he had made a call?

The dinosaur wasn't the only thing on the table, he realized. That brown case that Mikami had carried in when he had interrupted Near's phone call was arranged neatly beside the plastic reptile, still closed. The white-haired boy wondered again what was inside...there were no markings on the outside to suggest the contents, and he wasn't familiar with the style of case...

"How are we feeling today?"

Near almost flinched at the sudden voice; wide-eyed, he looked to his right and realized that Mikami had been sitting there beside him not two feet away the whole time. Was he watching me sleep? How could I have overlooked him? The fact that Near hadn't realized that he was there unnerved him. He had been completely silent...

Turning his head toward the tall man, Near looked at him stoically and remained silent. What do you want with me? Why move my bed out into your living room?

Mikami's slanted eyes had a strange softness to them, as he said unhappily, "I am sorry that you were left so long without an IV—I can't believe that a nurse would neglect their patient so terribly. When I find out who was responsible, I'm going to have words with them on your account."

Do you really believe that there is anybody else around to be responsible for neglecting me except for you? Near asked him silently, continuing to stare without a word in reply aloud. He spoke like he really believed someone else should have been tending to Near while he wasn't there, but it was difficult to be sure. He could be that delusional...or perhaps he is only lying. He is mentally ill, there isn't any doubt about that.

If anyone saw him now, it would have been easy for them to believe that Mikami's instability wasn't the dangerous kind. He seemed to be acting civil, even gentle. After seeing him shoot Matt as calmly as a normal person would toss out a piece of garbage, though, the white-haired boy wasn't about to start trusting the man, no matter how nice he acted. I only want to be away from him. There must be some reason that he has brought me here, and it cannot be an acceptable one for him to have to kidnap me to accomplish it...

The pain was gone—Mikami must have actually put what he said he was putting into the IV. Near was grateful for that, at least. Going without pain medication had been pretty degrading on his ability to think clearly, especially when combined with exhaustion.

I am not that tired now, either. How long have I been asleep...? With as exhausted as he had felt before, it had to have been at least an hour or two. That realization was upsetting, though...

If Mello hasn't reached me by now, he can't have tracked the phone number. No one is coming for me... He sighed, breaking the stare with Mikami to close his eyes. He felt a lot better now that he wasn't in pain, but he still wasn't well enough to escape. At least, not with Mikami present. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere...would the price of trying to run for it and failing be worth the gamble that the man might slip up and let him get away...?

No...he could kill me. "Like Matt," his mind wanted to add, but he hushed it; he couldn't afford to think of the redhead right now. I must focus on the present...just keep focusing on it, and a solution will present itself. He reopened his eyes to focus on the dinosaur, which smiled as toothily as ever from the tabletop, and frowned faintly. I must wait until he leaves me unattended. Perhaps I can break a window, crawl through and escape that way...


Is he good at everything? Mello watched as L scrolled steadily through screen after screen of what, to him, appeared to be complete garbled gibberish, shaking his head in disbelief.

When he had arrived at the police station where L was doing the technical side of the investigation, the black-haired man had already had several cords plugged into the front of one of the computers. One was attached to a tiny handheld device of some kind, and the other he had immediately plugged into Mello's cell phone through the micro USB port on the bottom.

A few keystrokes later, the great detective's usual intense stare was focused on the computer programming behind the operating system of the phone. Mello had watched over his shoulder for the past five minutes while he scrolled rapidly through screen after screen of symbols, numbers and letters.

"Hmm...as I thought, the caller's number encryption is fairly substandard," the black-haired man murmured, selecting a lengthy string of symbols. Pulling up another program entirely, he pasted the string into it and pressed the "okay" button in the lower right side of the screen. The software flew into motion; the symbols flurried in the box, blinking rapidly through an array of letters and numbers, before stopping abruptly in the very familiar form of seven digits.

A phone number.

He got a phone number from all of that?! If ever Mello started to take his mentor's talents for granted, things like this always reminded him of how brilliant L truly was. Computer programming and encryption weren't even specialties of his...hell, the police computers were PCs and L almost always used a Macintosh. He seemed to know the keyboard shortcuts for copying, pasting and switching windows, though, even on an unfamiliar machine.

L could probably do anything, the blonde decided, watching anxiously as the great detective pasted the phone number into yet another program. The handheld device that was still plugged in beside Mello's phone blinked on, a tiny blue LED glowing on the front.

"Mello, listen carefully," L said without looking up from the computer. Not waiting for a confirmation that Mello was actually listening, he continued quickly, "I'm inputting the phone number into this GPS unit for you. I'll give the address to the police as well, but I want you to go on ahead of them." The handheld GPS blinked its blue light again, flickering as the data streamed into its memory.

So you're worried about Mikami doing something to Near, too, Mello thought, watching grimly. That must be the reason he was being sent ahead—if not for being so concerned about that, the blonde was sure that L's cautious nature wouldn't allow him to send any of his pupils into a situation where the criminal was armed and still at large. Their jobs had to do with solving crimes already committed, not preventing ones that were being committed...

That's fine...I know how to handle people with guns. Besides, if I'm not there first, how am I going to take him down for what he did to Matt?

Something flying at his head snapped him out of his thoughts.

Without thinking, he reached up and caught it deftly in one hand. Blinking, he realized that it was the GPS unit; L had tossed it at him. A red point blinked on the screen, with a slender line leading away from it until it reached the edge of the display. Just follow the red line and I'm there...alright!

"Please hurry, but be careful" L said quietly, looking very solemn. He had stood when he tossed the GPS, and now had his hands shoved into his pockets. "I'll send the police after you as soon as possible. Go."

Mello nodded quickly, turning and dashing out the door. It's up to me...! He reached the motorcycle in moments, and not long after that the roar of the engine filled his ears as he sped away, chasing the red point that glimmered at the edge of the screen.

I'm coming, Mikami, and I won't give you a chance to shoot me!


"Take off your shirt." Mikami's demeanor had switched from gentle back to stern and serious in the brief silence. Near stared at him, caught off-guard by such a blunt command. Why was he saying such a thing?

No, the reason didn't matter—the answer was going to be the same regardless.

"No," he said flatly, frowning. I don't care if you believe I am your patient—I refuse to undress for you. He didn't even like to undress in front of people he did know well...it had been fortunate that he was only half-conscious when the doctors had undressed him at the hospital, or he would have probably put up a fight. And that had been for medical professionals, when he had actually needed their help...there was no way he was taking any clothing off for an insane kidnapper.

"You have to," the nurse insisted, that stiff tone returning to his voice. He seemed to fall back to being stoic any time something displeased him or someone didn't do what he wanted them to. "I need to examine your stitches."

So that is his line of reasoning...or his excuse, anyhow. Now that he was awake and thinking clearly again, Near was beginning to feel very anxious about this whole situation. Not that he'd been enjoying it before...but he had been so stunned by everything that had happened and so intent on focusing on a solution that he'd never considered how much danger he was actually in until now. He could do anything he wanted to me...

The question was, what did he plan to do if Near did take his shirt off?

He will probably insist that he has to touch me to examine the injury. He felt cold suddenly. I don't want him touching me. Not after he has been watching me so intently...

"I do not have to, and I refuse to," he said as firmly as he could, looking Mikami right in the eye. When it came to stare-downs, his only superior was L himself. Staring at people seemed to announce confidence, and when Near bothered to actually look at people they more often than not got intimidated. He wasn't sure what he could do about it if Mikami tried to force him to do anything, but he did know that removing any of his clothing wasn't an acceptible option.

I cannot do anything to deter him, though... Making excuses wouldn't work; if he said he couldn't take the shirt off, he was sure that Mikami would jump at the chance to "help" him.

"Mr. Kennedy, the pain you were in this morning could be the start of an infection," Mikami said sternly, meeting his intense gaze straight-on. His sharp look actually made Near feel uneasy this time...he felt like he was being scrutinized closely, even while the tall man was in the midst of arguing with him. "If you don't stop being so difficult and remove your shirt, I will have to remove it for you."

Near carefully betrayed no reaction to the threat, instead glaring even more intently into the nurse's eyes. It was all a show now—he wasn't confident at all about standing his ground. He was afraid of what was about to happen--because regardless of whether he acted or not he was now sure that something was going to happen. Mikami was going to do something. He did everything he could to hide that suspicion and stare his captor down. Don't you dare attempt anything.

Mikami's eyes narrowed; for a long moment, he sat perfectly still, eyes locked with his white-haired captive's.

Don't try it.

As if in reply to the thought, Mikami suddenly reached for him, grabbing the collar of his pajama shirt.

Don't...!

He already had the top button of Near's shirt undone by the time the small boy could react; without thinking, he scrambled off of the bed in the opposite directon of Mikami, crawling sideways so fast that he swiped the dinosaur away with one arm and landed roughly on his back on the tabletop. What am I doing? What is he doing...?

His thoughts were short and confused; he struggled to sit up, realizing that his right wrist was stinging, hot...wet? Looking quickly at it in bewilderment, he saw that he had yanked the IV needle out of his arm. It bled badly, shocking crimson against the white sleeve...

"What are you doing?!" Mikami sounded alarmed and angry. He was on his feet, going around the bed to be able to reach Near. "You're hurting yourself—stop! If you hurt yourself it will be my fault, you know!"

All of this is your fault! The white-haired boy thought shakily, crawling backward toward the other side of the table. His hands were hot and slippery, the blood streaming from his wrist having gotten beneath him, but he didn't care anymore. Get away from me...!

Mikami was already at the other side of the table by the time he reached it. Struggling as the tall man grabbed him by the shoulders, Near tipped himself over the edge of the table. He jerked out of Mikami's grasp, felt fingertips brushing roughly across his bloodied arm, and then the floor was slamming into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.

This...is stupid...have to get away... His mind was racing dizzily through snatches of thoughts, trying to come up with plans that he already knew were impossible. He lay there gasping for a breath, the dim sight of the carpet pressed against one cheek dancing with brightly colored motes as he felt Mikami's arms wrapping around him from behind. He wanted to struggle, but found that his body refused to move.

No...d-don't touch me...

The blood rushed in his ears, drowning out his captor's voice; he was saying something about "for your own good", or at least that's what it sounded like. There was the swaying feeling of being picked up, carried...and then the darkness swallowed him.


BEEP-BEEP!

Mello shot a glare at the honking car that he had just narrowly missed hitting head-on, swerving a little further into the right lane. The driver tossed him a rather obscene gesture and sped by, glaring back. The blonde paid her no more mind; he was alternating between watching the road and the GPS unit clutched tightly in one hand, and it was difficult enough to steer the motorcycle that way without interacting with the other people on the road. Thankfully there weren't many cars on this street...

He'd been cruising along for forty-five minutes now; the trail had led him halfway across town, miles away from the apartment they had first searched for Mikami, and into a quiet residential area uptown from the noise of the highway. That only made the motorcycle's roaring engine seem even louder, but Mello wasn't very concerned with disturbing the peace—he was on a mission.

Not much further...a left! He swerved abruptly onto the outlet road, not bothering to activate his turn signal beforehand. His hair flew out sideways at the motion, swishing away from his eyes as he glanced down at the GPS yet again. The red dot blinked rapidly, indicating that his destination was getting close. Why can't this damned screen be bigger so I can see where it's leading me?! The blonde thought in frustration, taking another abrupt turn in pursuit of the end of the red line.

The road he was on now belonged to a quiet, posh neighborhood. Houses sat half-hidden by expensive landscaping, only a few shiny cars not hidden by enormous garages. Mello subconsciously was checking each one he passed to see if the curtains were drawn.

Come on, come on...! Where the hell is it?!

There! A large, soft blue building two houses away had every window covered by curtains. A polished brown sedan was parked carefully in the front yard, even with the edge of the pavement.

He was about to stop, but a glance at the GPS made him hesitate.

The red dot blinked insistantly, a line still leading up and away from it...

This isn't it? He looked up at the house, frowning. Near could be just behind one of those curtains...him and the man who had tried to kill Matt.

It looks like what Near described to a T...

After a moment, he revved the engine, speeding up and past the silent home. I have to trust L. There's no time to waste...where the GPS says to go is where I'll find Near and Mikami!


Near awoke to stinging in his wrist. He felt lightheaded, like he was drifting on the surface of water...but he was laying on his back on the bed again. He wasn't moving at all, much as the world seemed to sway.

Blinking dizzily, he turned his head and saw that Mikami was bandaging his wrist, blood all over both hands and a troubled frown on his face. Mr. Mikami...y-you...

He had tried to take Near's shirt off.

The incident was fresh in his mind, playing out as clearly in his memories as a recorded movie would have. I-I feel ill. What does he want with me? I don't like it when he touches me... He didn't even want the man to be touching his wrist to bandage it; shakily, he pulled his arm away from Mikami's hands...

Or rather, he tried to.

What...?! He tugged on his arm again, but it wouldn't budge—something large and flat was wrapped around his wrist. Staring at his arm, he realized in alarm that there was a thick tan strap binding his wrist to the metal tube framing of the bed. He quickly tried to move his other arm, then each of his legs, and found that both ankles and wrists were bound tightly, his arms held up on either side of his head.

He was tied down.

"Mr. Mikami," he forced his voice to stay cold rather than give away how shaken he was by this development, "Why are you doing this?" I-I want to go home...I want Matt to be alive and okay and here with me instead of you... He felt a pang of emotion at the mention of the redhead's name, but Mikami turned dark eyes on him, pulling him quickly back to the situation at hand. His captor's gaze was gentle again, as it had been before the struggle.

He sounded sympathetic, almost pitying, as he explained, "You were hurting yourself—I was forced to restrain you." I only struggled because you were trying to undress me, the white-haired boy thought, panic tightening his chest. His breaths were short and fast; he was starting to feel even more lightheaded... No...stay calm. There must be a solution to the situation...there must be...

He didn't believe himself anymore, though. There was no way out, was there? He had tried to get away from Mikami, and all he had accomplished was to injure his arm and to fall off of the table... His stomach was throbbing dully from that last action, even with the pain medication still in his system. Did I rip any of the stitches? With them half-numbed, I can't tell...

And now that he was tied down like this, he couldn't even try to run away. If Mikami wanted to take his shirt off, he could. If he wanted to take all of his clothes off...

Is that why he brought me here...? Near's voice sounded very small, even in his head. He watched numbly as Mikami turned and opened the brown case on the table. A glint of metal flashed from inside. Neatly lining both sides of the case, held in place by small leather bands, was an assortment of surgical utensils. Scalpals, tweezers, needles both curved and straight...

What is he going to do? Turning back to him without offering any explanation, Mikami calmly reached over and began to unbutton the white pajama shirt again. Near shrank away from him, but the restraints kept him from moving out of reach. D-don't... He would have spoken if it would do any good, but arguing with Mikami was pointless. The straps ensured that Near really couldn't say no to anything that the tall man told him to do and be telling the truth...

Helpless. H-how can I be this helpless? It was a horrible feeling, realizing that he really couldn't do a thing to stop Mikami. When he was untied, he had at least had the illusion of control over the situation...now he truly was helpless.

The white-haired boy shivered, turning his head to hide his face behind one arm. He was beginning to wish he had been shot in the hospital along with Matt...biting his lip, he decided that it didn't matter if he showed fear or not anymore. It didn't matter if he stayed calm or reasonable anymore, either—there was no reason to stay calm when no one was going to save him, anyway. No one is coming for me. No one will come...

--End Chapter 17


AN: ;.; Near, I'm sorry I had to write what happened to you in this chapter! Writing the struggle and restraint scenes literally gave me the shivers...LOL, I guess that's what I get for being really into writing this story. It's rather tricky to believably portray Near panicking about anything, so if that part seems hard to believe trust me, I wrote and re-wrote that last scene about three times.

It is what it is...hope you are enjoying the story!

On a more technical note, GPS stands for "Global Positioning System" for anybody reading who might not know.

Disclaimer: The term PC, which stands for Personal Computer, is not actually a copyright that I know of (it's commonly used for all brands of PC), but I disclaim it anyway. Macintosh is definitely not mine, either—it belongs to the same people who started that whole iPod craze that has yet to end. (sweatdrop) Consider it disclaimed.

Hang in there, Near, chapter 18's coming very soon!

-Threshie


In Charge Akugi! Volume 17

Akugi #65

Narrator: A week ago, he had never felt as worthless as he would be feeling a week from then.

Matt: T_T; "Wh-what the hell does that even mean...?"

Threshie: "Eheh...it means that the metaphor went back in time a week, then forward in time a week, so it ended up at the present again!" :D

Matt: "..."

Threshie: (sweatdrop) "Okay, okay, so maybe it was a weird way to end a scene...." (Mumbles and pokes index fingers together awkwardly)

Matt: "And this chapter's even worse than the last one—I didn't even get to speak this time!" (Shakes fist)

Threshie: (Pat) "Calm down, the story WILL get back to you eventually—I promise!" :)

Matt: "...'Eventually'?"

Akugi #66

Near: (Glances at Mikami) What do you want with me? Why move my bed out into your living room?

Mikami: ^_^ "Now we can watch anime together!" (Goes and turns on tv, putting in Magic Knight Rayearth)

Near: "..." (Sweatdrops at example of Japanese stereotyping in action)

Threshie: (Pops up) "A-hem: Magic Knight Rayearth belongs to CLAMP. Thank youuu!" (Disappears again)

Near: (Wonders if he hullucinated that...)

Akugi #67

Mello: That's fine...I know how to handle people with guns.

Mikami: (Aims gun) "I'll shoot, I swear!"

Mello: (Holds up electromagnet) "Go ahead—all of your bullets will just aim themselves at this thing!"

Mikami: "...Dammit!" (Throws gun to floor)

Gun: (Flies across room and sticks to magnet)

Mello: (Grin) "Science classes pay off! Mwahaha!"

Akugi #68

Car: BEEP-BEEP!

Mello: (Ignores)

Motorcycle: (Runs right over top of car, jumping about eight feet before landing on the pavement again)

Driver of Car: o_o; "H-holy CRAP!" (Forgets to do obscene gesture called for in script)

Mello: "..." (Has been doing this the entire drive; doesn't even look up from GPS anymore)