A/N: My apologies for the lateness of this chapter, everyone. It's been difficult finding any time to write at all lately. :/

.

Adrenaline Rush

.

The life I think about
Is so much better than this
I never thought I'd be stuck in this mess
I'm sick of wondering
Is it life or death
I need to figure out who's behind me
- One-X, Three Days Grace

Chapter Nineteen

50 minutes left.

Time to rethink everything. I need a better plan this time. The words are branded in her head. Hex flits through marble hallways and corridors, not taking any more than just shallow breaths. She had had it all sorted out in her head: Get in, Get Hoope's kid, Get out— all planned to have it done in barely one hour. And then Mello had to go and throw a wrench in it.

Find out who the President's guest is.

It was a whole lot easier said than done.

And she has less than an hour. If it had been best, she would've asked Matt to give her more time. But as it is, it's suspicious enough to have a stolen car parked nearby the White House, with the thief sitting casually in the vehicle. Having Matt just sit there is dangerous for him now as it is. Suddenly paranoid, she flicks her earpiece on and whispers, "Are the video feeds back on yet?"

Matt's voice replies in a crackle. "Sorry Hex, but no. You okay?"

"Just peachy," she says with a roll of her eyes, a smile on her face. "I'll contact you if I need you. I want you to talk only when there's an emergency, comprende?"

"Yeah, yeah," Matt says. "Be careful, Hex."

"Always am, Mattie," she answers, a dark look crossing her features. Of course she's being careful. Maybe she did drop her guard before around Mello, but that's all changed now, hasn't it? Knowing Mello's intentions are for her to die somewhere down the road of time is still hard to swallow. But if ignorance of his plans were bliss, then all this knowledge is power. She licks her lips, her throat drying.

Weddy was right in the end. You can never trust anyone but yourself.

Pulling herself away from the depressive feelings creeping up on her, she wills herself to stop thinking so much. It won't help her right now, when all she needs is sheer focus. She supposes it's just sheer luck that the CCTVs are all down today; not needing to be so wary of hidden eyes will make things a little quicker.

She stops when the next hallway splits into two separate corridors. She knows she's closer to the general area of Hoope's office now, but she can't just march in now, can she? Hex stands there for a moment, trying to reorganise her head. There has to be a better way to figure out the identity of the guest and get the kid without a hitch. Some way to kill two birds with one stone.

Five minutes later, she hears a door close somewhere down the corridor on the right. Two people, men, are heading her way. Hex's brow furrows, and she ducks behind an alcove. Not her best hiding place, she muses with an inward sigh, but it's not like she tried scanned for those types of things around this part of the White House before either.

Shaking her head, she listens to the men's voices. Maybe, if they say the guest's name, she won't have to go see for herself after all.

"Aw, calm down, Howie," the first man says. "He couldn't have been that bad!"

The second man, Howie, grunts irritably. "You didn't see him, Brian. I actually like kids, but this one was a real creep, and that's saying something. Rude as heck, treating everyone like they didn't exist, sitting before the President did—" The men are a few metres away now. Hex wills herself to blend with the wall. She waits, heart pounding.

Just say the guest's name, she whispers silently. Say his name.

Howie continues, "It was total disrespect."

"Just let it go, Howie," Brian says, "Like you said, he was just a kid. Couldn't have known any better."

"Kid or not, this one was different," Howie insists. "Had something— I don't know, intelligent about him. His guardian was letting him make all the decisions, for Pete's sake." The men pass by her. She sees Howie shake his head, fighting back a shiver. "I don't care how 'esteemed and important' this kid is, and I don't care that he's just a kid either. When you meet the President, you don't come in your white pajamas!"

Hex's breath catches.

Brian laughs in disbelief this time. "Pajamas? Seriously?"

"Take a look if you don't believe me," Howie says. "But he was wearing pajamas— and socks. All white. Heck, even his hair was white. But the look on this kid's face, man—"

Hex tunes them out, the hard, frantic pounding of her heart threatening to drown her. She barely registers the men disappearing from sight and sound, her mind stuck on just one thought. They didn't have to say this guest's name. She has only one guess who exactly this kid is. Flickers of memories hit her.

She was almost seven. It was in a car. Mr. Wammy had just retrieved them, and had wasted no time in telling who won. And it was neither of them. Z was yelling at Mr. Wammy, outraged, saying he'd won against her. The older man simply shook his head, and told them both, point blank, that he was disappointed with them both.

She wasn't surprised; they both had used underhanded methods to solve the case and it ended up blowing up in their faces when Y died. When she and Z's titles and ranks got stripped from them, she'd been too shocked to move. It felt like the world was over.

And then Near, the passenger who'd been silent until then, told the he'd solved the case before either of them. And he did it without resorting to the same means she and Z did. He told them that was why he was the new Number One. The knowledge stung, and she watched dumbly, passively, when Z broke. He screamed and crashed into Near. He beat him in the only way he could then, with fists and hard kicks and screams. Z forgot thought and reacted— and Near just let it happen. He didn't retaliate, and that made Z hate him even more. And then no one saw, but somehow the car door was pulled open— and Z shoved Near right out.

Hex wonders if his leg ever recovered properly.

Near.

She swallows thickly, an unfamiliar guilt creeping up and entangling with her hate. She does hate him, but not because of his rank, or all he's said to Z and her. Hex hates him because she did nothing to help when he needed it, and he didn't even blame her. He didn't blame Z. He didn't blame anyone. Not when they'd taken him to the hospital, and not when they got him back at Wammy's House. Near just wore that knowing look she's so used to associating with him, and it made it all the more worse. It felt like pity.

Near said he understood. Z acted out of circumstance, he said. And because of the circumstances, you didn't act either, Near said. It's only natural, he said, and I don't hate you for it. "I can't blame you for something you didn't do," he said.

"But you can blame me for something that I could've done," she said.

And only because of him did Mr. Wammy not throw expel her and send her to the Nut House like he did with Z. Hex owes Near. She's owed him for over a decade now. And she hates owing anyone.

Matt's voice in her ear shocks her out of her thoughts. "You alright, kid? Smooth sailing so far?"

With blood pounding in her ears, she takes a moment to answer, but to which question is anyone's guess. "Yeah."

"Mello's asking for an update," the brunet continues. "You someplace secure?"

"Hold on a sec," Hex says, looking around her distractedly.

Tell Mello, screams half her brain in warning. He'll know what to do.

She swallows, and pulls out her phone. She punches the familiar set of numbers, eyes and mind blank. Mello should know about this. He has every right to know. Near being here could put a dent in Mello's plans. Her thumb hovers over the dial button.

But Mello was against her.

So why should she be so worried?

Chewing on her lip, she pockets her phone again. Hex slides out of the alcove, and heads down the corridor the men came from.

Perhaps she's already figured out who the guest was, but no one said she couldn't interact with this guest. If Near hasn't changed so much, she can bet he'd be willing to hear her out. It was about time she faced him and settle her debt.

"Near would find some reason to need to hide your existence," Mello told her. "I know for a fact that he's been looking to recruit you."

She might as well make it work to her advantage, somehow.

The right plan suddenly clicking in her mind, she whispers, "I need your help, Mattie."

35 minutes left.

Down the corridor is a large door, guarded by two guards. She heads over to them confidently. "I received orders from L to report to him."

The first guard looks at her. Hex lifts her chin defiantly, and is more than just a little relieved that she's decided against wearing her usual get-up. Now, in a black pencil skirt and blazer, and her hair pulled back into a low bun, and spectacles over her eyes, she looks less like a rogue and more like business. Still, it doesn't stop the men from asking for her ID. She doesn't expect any less from them.

She hands the card over without hesitation. It's fake, but seemingly authentic, claiming her to be Personal Assistant. She prepared it for kidnapping Arnold Hoope, but she's glad that the card had turned out to be useful.

Hex isn't surprised that they let her through without any more question. After all, if she knew the guest's name when a scarce few did, and her ID was legit, then why would they doubt her so much?

Hoope's office is as grand as they make it seem on TV, ornate furnishings and strategic lighting. But Hex's attention is more focused on the group of men sitting just across the room. She sees Near sitting perched in a chair some ways off, curling his hair and outright ignoring her entrance. Hex isn't sure is she's more annoyed or relieved.

She strides deeper into the room, schooling her face into one of panic. Hoope and a familiar man, Mr. Ruvie stop their discussion and turn to address her. Hex remembers Mr. Roger Ruvie used to be a regular visitor to Wammy's House. She supposes that when Mr. Wammy died, he took up the role as caretaker for all the kids there.

She isn't so sure how, but he seems to recognize her. He blinks, and is ready to open his mouth, when she speaks smoothly, "My apologies for interrupting this discussion, Mr. President, sir. I was told to report directly here to L if there was a disturbance." She pauses, faking a look of worry. "A group of men were seen breaking into the building, sir."

Hoope looks doubtful, but willing to listen. He knows that he's shut down all the video feeds, so there is no proof to back up this claim. Still, he says, "Security would have reported this."

And just as he says this, two men burst into the room looking breathless. "Mr. President! There's a breach in the security. Some of us have been attacked by one of our own."

The President rises from his seat, face grave. "Forgive me, L, for this unexpected turn of events."

Near nods patiently, "We shall continue once the— disturbance has been taken care of."

Hoope smiles gratefully, and then turns to address his men. "I need all security systems back up, stat."

Hex rushes over to Near's side and discreetly places a folded piece of paper— containing her contact information— in his hands. Hearing the president's wish for the video feeds back on is kicking her into action. She needs to act quickly, so she whispers to Near, "I need to leave. Now."

The younger boy gives her a calculating look. "You will explain."

"Later," she hisses. "Give me an excuse to leave. Alone. Now, Near!"

Matt pulls his hand away from the man's pressure point, and watches as he slumps forward and falls unconscious. He looks around nervously. He's only seen the inside of the White House through video feeds before. While everything looks vaguely familiar, they are also alien somehow. He supposes this is what happens when areas captured only in pixels suddenly become reality.

"Matt!" the earpiece crackles to life with Hex's voice. "Target locked. Meet me at the East Wing. I want him to think you're leading him to safety."

He's about to reply, when he hears heavy footsteps running down the hall toward him, Matt is quick to fall to the floor. He groans and rubs his temple, pretending to just stir from being hit. As he does this, two hands help him up. Matt looks up blearily, and meets the eyes of yet another stranger guard.

"You okay, buddy?" the man asks him. "What happened? Did you see where the intruders went?"

Matt answers sluggishly, voice thick with supposed headiness. "I'm fine. They took us both down behind our backs. Didn't even see 'em coming." He rests his hand on the man's arm.

The man looks around, "Where'd they go? Did you see?"

Matt looks past the man's shoulder and fakes his worry. His eyes widen, and the man turns to face the supposed 'attacker' behind him. Matt doesn't hesitate to stab into the same pressure point. The man lets him go and falls unconscious. Matt stumbles back and starts running down another corridor to find Hex.

Waiting in the car for his friend to arrive was the worst. He tried checking on her, but Hex'd just told him to stop worrying. Matt felt useless, trying again and again to hack into the security system, and in vain at that. He had to sit there, wondering if everything was alright, or if it was all falling to shambles. When Hex spoke to him again, telling him that she needed his help, he was all ears.

She told him to break in, in such a way it seemed professional, but to ensure that he'd be spotted if one was looking. She told him to head into the rooms of the security guards and don their clothes, and start attacking the hell out of them. She never did explain why, only that she needed him to. Still, it was enough for Matt.

Hex is standing right where she said she'll be, speaking with Arnold Hoope calmly. As Matt nears them, he hears that she's spouting nonsense about protocol and ensuring his safety. Matt greets them both politely, feigning professionalism just as Hex is. He turns to Arnold Hoope. "I've received orders from the President, sir, to escort you out of the building."

"What about my father?" Arnold asks. Matt realizes that this guy is probably just a little younger than the both of them. Sixteen or seventeen, but he looks the more composed gentleman than a rowdy teenager. Arnold Hoope stands straight and wears a sporty kind of spectacles that makes him look sharp, even if he is still in his sport gear.

"The President would like to ensure the safety of his guests first," Hex answers, looking around quickly. "As it is, I will have to return to my charge. Excuse me, sir." Behind Arnold's back, she motions for Matt to usher the president's son out of the building and mouths that she'll meet him later. Matt assumes she's going off to find out who the president's guest is. He only hopes she'll be back in time.

Getting out of the building was relatively easy. What security guards he encountered did question where he was going with Arnold Hoope, but the using the same excuse works like a charm. Of course, at least until the kid realizes, after Matt leads him away from the building, that they aren't taking the president's limo.

"Where are we going?" Arnold Hoope asks, looking unsure.

Matt answers, "We've received word that one of the intruders were seen lurking around the garage. Forgive us for the circumstances, sir, but you'll have to take this vehicle instead."

"But—"

Suddenly, a hand whips him in the back of his head. Matt fights back a yelp or surprise when Arnold Hoope falls into a graceless heap on the ground. Looking accusatorily at Hex, Matt asks, "Was that really necessary?"

"We're running out of time," Hex mutters, looking over her shoulder for fear of anyone watching. "Come on. We need to get him in the car. Bind his hands and legs together, would you?"

Matt is behind the wheel, his feet stomping on the accelerator despite their going at maximum speed for a while now. All he has to do is take one look at Hex and he'll feel glad he helped her. And then he looks at Arnold Hoope and then guilt replaces it, seeping in like nothing else. For even with their surprising success in their first attempt of kidnapping, the fact that it was, for all intents and purposes, a kidnapping,keeps him quiet.

Even Hex is unusually silent, picking off imaginary lint from her shirt. The mindlessness of her action prompts him to believe that there are many things on her mind too. And if her worrying her lip is any indication, she feels some degree of guilt too.

"I didn't want to do this," Matt tells her quietly.

"Me either," she says. Not that this new piece of information makes much of a difference as to what they did or did not want to do. They still did it. And it's an empty victory. One Mello will celebrate with a laugh and drinks and threats to the president. Matt can imagine Mello now, saying to the president, if you want your son back safe, I want my missiles.

"What do you suppose happens next?" Matt asks, though he knows the answer already.

They were going to keep the boy, and trade him for a bunch of weapons Hex has been trying to tell Mello they don't need. Arnold Hoope truly had no reason to be a part of this, but now it seems, even the innocent are getting caught in Mello's crossfire, all because of his unnatural need to be Number One.

Hex turns her head to the window and closes her eyes. "We go back to Mello."

"Did you manage to find out who the President's guest was?"

Her answer took a while. "It was Roger. He was telling the President that the L in Japan wasn't to be trusted. He also said not to make any alliances with the L in Japan."

Matt looks at her, confused. "That's it?"

She snorts, an irritated by amused smile on her face. "Cut me a break, Matt. I was there for two minutes."

"Sorry," he mutters. "I just thought it'd be something more— I don't know. More secret, maybe? Even I wouldn't have had the video feed system shut down completely for that."

She shrugs. "I guess they thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

A/N: Review, please