I was cleaning out my old writeing folder and found this today. it would apear that oneshots are all i could ever finish.

The screams radiated from the room like flames from a building on fire. Fire. That's why we were all really here anyway, wasn't it?

"Sir, you can't go in there," the nurse said, her arm snaking out in front of my chest as I pressed my palm against the oak door. The skinny little bitch actually thought I was going to give up. "I assure you he is fine."

Another scream came from inside the room. I felt bad, as a smoker I knew what they did to burn patients. I had dropped a cigarette on my foot and panicked, and my jacket had caught fire once, but I had never had burns like this. Another scream and I felt my palm reaching for the door again.

"Sir, I assure you this is standard. He isn't being tortured, just treated. And we can't treat him with people who are not direct family hovering over him."

"This is torture to him. He has a very low pain tolerance. I mean it, you can't even pull his hair without –" a scream cut me off and I was practically pressing myself against the door as if I could phase into the room simply by wishing it.

"Sir, unless you are a brother or father you can not enter the room," she said, her voice pinched and annoying. I could have probably taken her in a fight. But last time I checked guns weren't to be brought out unless it was an emergency.

Another scream, this one ending in a loud swear and then "What are you trying to do to me!"

And then, we were in a hospital, broken bones could be mended easily… not that this nurse probably didn't know how to stand up for herself.

"Please, he's just scared; he just needs someone there to tell him it's all going to be ok."

"I'm sure the doctors are doing that."

"Listen, Jenny," I said, my eyes drifting to her name tag for a moment, "If I told you he was my boyfriend could I get in there? What if I was a government agent that needed a sample of his blood? Maybe I'm his mother after extensive plastic surgery."

"Sir, I'm not buying any of this. I recommend that you park it in the cafeteria until he is out of the treatment room and moved into a bedroom. You will be notified as soon as he is transferred."

Another scream from the room. I couldn't listen to this much longer.

"As soon as he is moved?"

"I will find you as they are loading him on a gurney."

"He won't be able to walk?"

"Sir –" she began, he voice being drowned by another scream ending in less then polite language, "He is going to be on extensive pain killers once all this is over."

I nodded and headed towards the gift shop. Some of the people in this hospital were infuriating, like Jenny, but also the people in front of me in line. I could have probably picked up half of them and moved them out of my way, but I had to reason they were just as tense as I was. It was the little punk at the counter who couldn't work the register that was really to blame for all of this.

When I reached the front she felt the need to talk to me. I wasn't sure why, her people skills left something to be desired.

"Cigarettes, you know these are bad for you?"

"They sell them in a hospital don't they?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"And chocolate," she said, looking away from me. "Aw, are you buying chocolates for your girlfriend?"

Why the hell not?

"Yes, she's very distressed and finds that the caffeine calms her. So if you could hurry."

"I just think it's so sweet, how many boyfriends come in here and buy things for their girlfriends. It really shows they care. Would your lucky girl like a teddy bear?"

Somehow I doubted that Mello really wanted a teddy bear. I don't know what it was, but I had a feeling that it would be shredded, and therefore a waste of my time.

"Just the chocolates please, I'm not paying for your advice on shopping or health."

"Your fault when you get lung cancer," she responded, handing me my bag of hospital merchandise.

I found that there were no smoking signs all over the cafeteria so I got a cup of coffee, since they didn't sell anything stronger then that, and took it outside so I could smoke and drink it at the same time.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a light?" a pretty little blonde girl asked, holding out a light cigarette. She looked anything but sorry. Maybe if she saw the heart shaped box of chocolates in a bag at my feet she'd be less intrusive.

"It doesn't matter. That crap is a waste of money, burns out faster, that's why it's light," I said, handing her my lighter and dragging on my own cigarette.

"Isn't someone cynical? Let me guess, you just found out your girlfriend's dying?"

Why did everyone here assume I had a girlfriend? Why couldn't I be the dyeing one? Maybe I had just realized I had lung cancer.

"No, my best friend is here for some burn treatment."

"Ah, does he smoke too?" she asked, putting my lighter back in my pocket for me. I guess she thought she was being cute. I didn't like strangers touching me. Thankfully I could see Jenny, the bitchy nurse, waving to me from the hospital's glass doors.

"He's starting to wake up; his room is 290, the ICU. Now I know he asked for a private room, but we don't have any. Hopefully with the amount of painkillers he's on he won't notice the three other people with him."

"Waking up? You said you'd get me right away!"

"Honey, he probably thinks you were there the whole time. Even now he's going to be pretty out of it."

I didn't bother to thank her for how annoying she had been, I decided to run instead, despite the no running signs in the halls. I wanted him to wake up with someone there. I didn't want him to be alone; he hated hospitals, and was probably in considerable pain.

The room was big, and the other three patients appeared to be sleeping, but he was wide awake. His eyes were wide, in an expression of fear he hardly ever wore.

"I don't think you should be squeezing the IV like that," I said, sitting down on the edge of his bed, and taking his hands in my own to keep him from releasing what was probably an illegal amount of painkillers into his blood.

"Matt," he whispered, and I couldn't help but notice the way he turned his face away. Always the vain one, my Mello. I had assumed there would be scaring, that's generally a side effect when you blow yourself up, but I had not realized he'd be embarrassed because of it.

"I got you chocolates," I said, handing him the box and watching his face light up as he picked at them. I wasn't sure I was supposed to be giving him food, it could mess up the IV he was on, but he looked so happy eating them and I wasn't about to take that away.

"The gift shop girl recommended a teddy bear," I said, wishing he would be less careful about his face. Even with chocolates he would rather put more thought into his looks. The nurses were in for a surprise when he attempted to dye his hospital gown black with IV fluids, and to be fair, if anyone could do it, Mello could.

"Listen, I don't think scars are," I began, but he didn't even look up from the box at which he was completely emptying. I should have given him the chocolates after the big emotional speech. I would have to remember that the next time he tried to blow himself up.

I took my fingers and lifted his chin to look at me; his hair was singed and uneven. He no longer had eyebrows, and a large scar marred the entire left side of his face. His left eye was so swollen he could barely open it, and the look in his right eye said that he actually thought I would care.

"I know this sort of thing matters to you," I began. I hadn't expected the scar to be that big. Or on his face.

"Oh, God, just be honest Matt. Tell me it's horrible! Tell me the truth; don't come up with these sissy lies."

"Ok, it's bad, Mello, it's very bad. But it will get better. If you get used to it I know I will. Because I could care less what you look like."

"Matt, the entire left side of my face has melted off!"

I wasn't sure how to respond. I took one of his chocolates and ran it back and forth through my fingers until the heat from my hands made it gooey and deformed.

"See, I knew I looked terrible," he wailed, anger forming in his eyes, daring me to defy him. An idea occurred to me.

"Mello, you still want this chocolate?" I asked, handing him the melted one I had been toying with in my hand.

"Yes," he mumbled, snatching it from me and stuffing it in his mouth. He averted his eyes once more so that I could no longer see his scar.

"And why did you still want it?"

"Because it was chocolate," he mumbled, not quite catching my drift.

"And you are still Mello," I said, turning him to face me. Anger melting from his eyes into something soft and warm. He knew I loved him. He knew that nothing else mattered to me. I would live and die for him. Scar or no scar.

"Remember when we were little and scars were cool," he whispered, sinking back into the bed cushions, and I moved from the edge of his bed to a visitors chair next to the bed, kicking my feet up around his shoulders.

"Yeah," I mumbled, just happy to keep him from being alone in this place. To bring sanity back to him when he was most in danger of loosing it.

"Well, I'm defiantly cool now," he said, turning over to trace the patterns along the bottom of my shoe.

"The coolest," I said, and there was no doubt about it.