A/N Hello there! I... Okay, fine. I came back from my trip earlier than I had thought I would. I arrived in the late afternoon, more than enough time for me to write this angsty fic that had been roaming my mind for weeks now. Whatever...

I also never anticipated for this one-shot to end the way it ended. I was only thinking that Jack would hand him over to Scorp. Co. and so on.

Notice: I used a reference from my drabble fic, Of All Things. Tom betrays Alex for Scorpia in this one, too, okay? It's kind of like a continuation of the drabble.

Disclaimer: Do you expect me to write a... what you humans call... a disclaimer to say I don't own the characters? A shame... Fine *pouts*. I don't own 'em. Never will. Why are you so mean?

It was a sunny, not-humid day—a pretty rare occurrence in the wet British lands—when Alex arrived from school without being called down to the Royal and General. He hadn't caused any trouble that day, and the day was normal—as normal as Alex's school days could be, now—which included jeers, rude comments, insensitive words, various "Hey there Druggie, how was your gang trip?" questions, and weird looks from almost everyone in the school.

Tom had stopped coming to Brooklands Comprehensive after he gave away his cover by giving Scorpia Alex's current positions—whether it was Brooklands, his home, the Bank, or at Tom's house—and telling Alex about it to taunt him at the end. He probably doesn't exist on the face of the Earth anymore because of that stunt, Alex thought sadly.

Even though his best friend's betrayal had hit him hard, he still had some affection—in a friend-way—left for the backstabber, cherishing the memories that they shared, despite the fact that the comforted, thankful feeling was not on Tom's side; Alex would bet all his money on the fact that Tom's feelings from when he betrayed Alex was simply nothing, nothing at all. Not a speck of guilt, not even a minute piece of sadness.

Alex opened the front door to his grand house that he, his uncle, and Jack had been living in. Now it was just Jack and him. The house would have seemed empty and like a plain house, not a home, but with Jack there, it was his one and only place he could truly call home.

"Jack, I'm home!" he called.

"Hey Alex! Back so soon? How was school?"

"It was… Okay, I guess. Thanks. How was your day?"

"It was great! I saw this episode on TV, and—" she babbled on and on. They both knew that neither Alex nor Jack didn't listen to what she said. It was just an icebreaker to ease the tension, a habit they had had since Alex was twelve.

Jack told Alex to get ready, sounding like an excited puppy ready to go outside for a walk or something.

"Why… What… Jack? Where are we going?" asked Alex, genuinely puzzled.

"Somewhere special. You'll see. I'm sure you'll like it."

"So… E-everything… Was f-fake? Even the feelings?" Alex could feel the familiar prickle of unshed tears behind his brown orbs. He knew what the prickle was, yes, but he hadn't cried for a long time now.

"Of course, you idiot. Why would anyone like you? Everyone left you. Your, ahem, friends, Tom—he was on my side. A nice spy, although we had to shorten his life, send him to wherever you go after death—your family, and now, me! I don't really count, though, because I never really cared for someone like you." Jack sneered as she spit those harsh words out.

The insensitive words pierced Alex's heart like an arrow to the heart, and he could feel his eyes brimming with the betrayed tears.

"I… You were with them the whole time?" he asked shakily.

"Yes," Jack scoffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, thinking back, it was. I shouldn't have been that naïve, Alex scolded himself. Who knew what Jack could have done while he was away on missions?

"With Scorpia?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Oh my fucking God, yes!"

"You're going to turn me in to Scorpia now, then?"

"Duh."

The sharp sting of betrayal tore at Alex's hardened heart. Paired with the pang of sadness, his feelings were on overdrive, and he shed the tears, clear despite how clouded his feelings were. A strangled sob escaped his throat as he realized that everything he had thought he could rely on after his uncle died—mainly, Tom and Jack—had turned out to be fake, false, a simple act that he had thought was real.

He had known that slipping deftly through death's fingers would have a price, but wasn't this too cruel? Was someone he could trust too much to ask for?

Yes, he decided. But it's my fault, because I should have known better than to trust just like that.

My fault, my fault, my fault. The words echoed in his head, numbing his senses. He drew out a pocket knife that he had kept hidden in the lining of his shirt, and had never told Jack about. She was still talking about the things he did not want to hear—betrayal, trust, gullibility, a smirk plastered on her slim face that was rimmed by her fiery red hair. Her vibrant green eyes shone with cruelty, something he had never noticed before.

He drew the knife up, up, up. To him it was a long moment, but in reality, the movement was almost matching the speed of light. Jack's eyes widened, and her bright green orbs locked with Alex's broken brown ones. For a second that seemed to last forever, Jack's eyes held a genuine compassion, sympathy that told Alex that she hadn't completely hated him. She had still loved him, in a backstabbing way. He knew that deep down, through the thick layers of greed and selfishness, there was still the Jack that he thought he knew. But he also knew that it wasn't going to come out. The best thing that Jack could do for him was to let him be.

The blood.

Dripping down his neck. His chest. His arms. Pooling at his feet.

Alex was reminded of a poem that he had read before, when he hadn't been dragged into a world he wanted to be no part of...

If I slit my throat, what would you do?
Just stand there and watch me subdue.
Watch me bleed, watch me die,
Everyone else will just hide.

Watch me as my blood curls round your toes,
As the wind howls and blows.
Watch me as I stain the grass crimson red,
I can tell I am messing with your head.

My eyelids close, my eyes want to hide,
Who knew my organs had already died?
Stop the bleeding, stop the pain,
All my screams have been sustained.

As I drift away to the promised land,
A blood stained white rose, falls from my hand.