Insert disclaimer here: I do not own House. I do not own Death Note. But I have watched marathons of both shows recently on TV. Hence, the fanfiction.
The night had been eerily calm. Other than a heart attack and a rogue gunshot victim, the emergency room was empty. Taking advantage of the situation, young interns shuffled between chatting with nurses about soap operas and offering them flirtatious advances. But that could, and would, change in an instant.
Glass doors clattered as a young man stumbled through them. He was small, thin, a little bit feminine, but immediately imposing. Pieces of charred leather clung to his body, barely hiding a blistering wound that covered most of his left side. Strands of blond hair were clumped together, matted and singed. There was blood everywhere.
"Oh my god…" Half of the staff was frozen in shock.
The man's breathing was labored, his voice scratchy at best as he wailed with weak inhuman grunts.
"Kira…" he eventually squeaked. "Note…book…"
His injuries were so brutal that no one, not even the orderlies, noticed the gun in his right hand. Fortunately for them, neither did he. It slid across the ground as he tumbled to his knees in front of the nurses station. The only things running through his mind were the notebook he had just lost… and unimaginable pain.
"Get a trauma team over here quick!" one of the nurses finally broke free of the moment. She rushed around the counter as Dr. Cameron hurried out of the ER. "Burn victim, likely inhalation injury, going into shock!"
"Going into shock?" she answered quickly, putting a hand to the unburned side of his neck. "He's already there."
His skin was cold and pale. His pulse was thready, clearly tachycardic. He'd lost a lot of blood.
The young man managed a silent scream as he was lifted onto a gurney. He coughed, fighting for another breath.
"Establish a line, start him on saline, Blood type O until proven otherwise. Get an endotracheal tube and get him sedated." She ordered, running alongside the trauma team. Even as he was slipping in and out of consciousness, it took two men to hold him down.
She struggled to get a good look at her patient.
The burns didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before. They weren't thermal, or if they were, they were beyond atypical. Instead of appearing red and wet, the blisters looked like large bullae. As he struggled, one of them painfully ruptured, leaking a yellowish fluid. They were most likely chemical, but that only opened up more questions – treating them depended on knowing what caused them.
She stared at his lips for a moment. Did he just say, 'Kira?'
"Sir? Can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened to you? Were you attacked by Kira?"
He coughed. Already they were starting to intubate him.
"Kira… Po… poli…" he hissed as the tube was forced down his throat. Both eyes shot wide open as he tried to scream again. The eye that was surrounded by burns was a bright red.
"We're dealing with chemical burns. Measure the pH of the affected area and begin irrigating the burned skin area with water. Alter the irrigation method dependent on the acidity of the irritant. Decontaminate that left eye with one to two liters of irrigation fluid over the next hour. In the meantime, ensure adequate fluid resuscitation. I'll be back."
"Wait, where are you going?"
"To get House."