Alex awoke to total darkness. He bolted up, listening intently. His hearing settled at about the same time that his eyes began to adjust. He picked out a soft, rhythmic ticking, his own breathing, and, ever so faintly in the distance, the sounds of voices. And then his eyes adjusted to what was not, in fact, total darkness, but only partial, with a small amount of light streaming through the curtains and filtering under the door.

His wrists were no longer bound.

The first thing he did, after glancing around, was check his body for injuries. He was surprised to find his chest wrapped, creamy white bandages circling his torso like a second skin. There were also bandages, soft cotton ones, wrapped around his wrists and ankles, the edges glistening with some kind of salve. He swung his legs over the side of the bed in an attempt to stand, and immediately crumpled to the floor, mewling in pain.

Footsteps ran toward his door and the flimsy wood swung open, the hinges creaking. Alex slammed his eyes shut against the sudden light change. "Okay, Alex," a calm, feminine voice said. "Okay, it's alright. It's alright."

The footsteps stopped just short of the bedside, and the voice spoke again, the accent distinctly American. The only woman in the Alias compound had been French. "I'm going to come closer, now, Alex. I just want to help you back into the bed. I won't harm you. Okay? No hitting this time. I don't want to sedate you again, but I will if you hit me. Got it?"

All Alex could manage was a feeble whimper. His head throbbed as if it had been split open with a hatchet and every other part of him ached and burned with unseen fire. A pair of cool, steady hands lifted him under his armpits and pulled his right arm over a slim shoulder. "Alright, let's get you back in bed." He was eased back onto the mattress again, and the covers were tucked back over him. A cool hand, one of the same ones that had just assisted him, felt his forehead. "He's still got an incredibly high fever," the woman said. "I'll say it again, he needs a hospital."

"Scorpia is looking for him, we can't risk it. They know he didn't escape alone, without help. Your father would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you or Alex." This voice, Alex did recognize.

"W-Wolf," he whimpered, cracking his eyes open again. The pain from the light was still intense, though, and he shut his eyes again. The light suddenly vanished, though, as the door shut with a creak. He opened them again.

A strong, firm hand rested on the top of his head, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "It's alright, Alex. You're safe now."

"H-hurts."

"Where?" the female voice, which he was slowly becoming accustomed to, was low and close to his ear.

Alex attempted to pull away, his eyes darting over to see her. The girl couldn't have been very old at all, no older than him anyways. Dark hair pulled back in a braid and startlingly intense eyes, though he didn't get a color, were the only features he could easily grasp at the moment. He looked to Wolf, but the older man didn't seem at all alarmed by her presence. Alex licked his dry lips and said nothing.

"Where, Alex?" the girl pressed. "I need to know where it hurts."

"The boy's half delirious," a strong, Scottish voice said, just a bit too loud for Alex's comfort. "You won't get a proper answer out of him."

"He needs a hospital, Snake. Tell him! Tell James that we need to take him to a hospital."

"We've got Snake," Eagle chided. "He'll be fine."

The girl huffed. "I'm going to get Ben, see what he thinks."

"Ben's not here," Wolf said gruffly. "Went out."

"The boy's in pain, Alicia," Snake reminded her softly.

"Right, sorry. We'll discuss this later." The girl knelt by Alex again, snapping her fingers to get his attention as his eyes roamed feverishly. "Alex," she sang softly. "Alex, look at me. Look over here."

His gaze rolled to her, his eyes clouded. "Alex, I'm going to give you an injection, alright? It's going to make the pain go away, but it's also going to make you sleep. Don't worry, we'll protect you. There's no need to panic." Then something pinched his arm and the world went dark again.

The next time Alex woke, he was alone again. This time, there was a glass of water near the bed, which he gulped eagerly. There was a small pile of clothes on the foot of the bed, folded neatly. He stood slowly and pulled them on, easing his way gently around the multitude of bruises and gauze.

Alex racked his mind, trying to remember what happened. He'd gone to investigate Alias…he'd found out that it had all been a setup…and then…then it was all blurry. He'd been captured. That much he knew. But there was something else…someone else had been there.

It came to him in a rush that left him staggering against the wall, his eyes wide. "Terra," he choked.

He thought hard, trying to recall why the other MI6 agent, the one who'd been missing for six months, had been there. Something had happened to her, he knew. Of everything else, he was certain of only one thing. She was dead, and he was pretty sure he'd killed her.

Willingly.