AN: So some people aren't going to like this chapter. For a couple of reasons. One of which is the fact that not only is it from Brian's perspective, but it also portrays in a way that isn't just not negative, it's downright positive. I'm sorry. But, while I don't like Brian/Chloe, I don't actually dislike Brian. As such, I don't really want to bash him. And its contents are so very, very important to the plot of this story.

AN2: Alek is going to be referred to as "Alex" during this chapter. Mostly because Brian doesn't realize his name is "Alek". He's only met him once and, honestly, he wasn't paying that much attention.

AN3: I hit 200 reviews last chapter. I can't tell you how happy that made me. I literally don't have the words. And I'm good with words. I'm like a walking, talking, grammatically correct dictionary. So, please, please, keep it up and let me know what you think.

Warnings: language

Disclaimer: I don't own "The Nine Lives of Chloe King".

Interlude by an Innocent Bystander

Brian is driving through the terrible downpour with a deep frown. His eyes are narrowed, scanning the streets for a flash of blonde hair and leather. Chloe had been so worried about the guy, and honestly, Brian is pretty sure he isn't as okay as he'd acted. So, being the good guy he is, Brian wants to give the Brit a ride to wherever he's going. Home, hospital, boyfriend's house. Whatever.

It isn't until the fourth time he's scouted the same street that Brain realizes that the boy he's looking for hasn't moved an inch from where he and Chloe had left him. He's just sitting there, propped up against the wall of a building. The rain's beating down on the poor guy, drenching his blonde hair until it shines black. His clothes are drenched, hanging heavy off his lithe frame.

Brian pulls up as close to the curb as he can, rolling the window down. Water starts leaking in through the large opening in his vehicle as he shouts out, "Hey, Alex! Get in!"

The blonde doesn't move. Doesn't lift his head to look at him. Doesn't open his eyes. Brian would think he was sleeping if it weren't for the rain pounding the streets. No one could sleep while in the middle of this kind of storm.

"Shit." Brian swears, opening the door and getting smacked in the face by rain hard as BB bullets. He hunches his shoulders and runs over to the downed Brit. He doesn't make a sound as Brian grabs his arm, puts it over his shoulder, and hauls his unconscious ass into the car. It's only as he's shoving Alex into the passenger's seat, jostling him enough that his jacket skews that Brian notices that his shirt is soaked in crimson red and rusty brown. Blood. "What the…"

Alex's eyes pop open, jade green and dangerous, and Brian is reminded horribly of a wounded panther preparing to attack because it's scared it doesn't have another choice. He even thinks the pupils are slit like a cat's. "241 Hollis Rd, Maquis Apartments. 1803."

"Hey, buddy," Brian says with his best calm voice, though he's fighting blind panic at this point. There's some kid in his car, bleeding out as they speak. "You need to go to the hospital."

"No." The word is nothing more than a snarl as his hand clutches Brian's wrist, weak and desperate. The nails dig in painfully and he can feel the skin break, but seeing as the guy is very probably dying, Brian doesn't hold it against him.

"Dude, you are literally bleeding to death in my car." Brian tries to talk some sense into him.

"No hospital." Alex reiterates, frantic in a way Brian doesn't understand.

"Okay." Brian finally agrees because the more time he spends arguing now the less time he has to save the guy's life. The hand clawing into his flesh releases its grip and Alex's eyes close again, pain and exhaustion painted across his face. And then Brian rears away in shocked surprise. "What the hell?"

The hand, which a second ago had torn into his wrist, is literally clawed. As in, lions, tigers, and bears, oh my claws. As in, yes, his wrist is bleeding from the gashes those fucking claws just ripped into his arm.

Brian blinks, and the hand is human again. He stares at it, trying to figure out what it is, exactly, he has bleeding all over his leather interior. But then the fact that, whatever he is, Alex is bleeding to death while Brian stares dumbstruck sinks in and he moves his ass behind the wheel.

Halfway to the apartments, he can make the connection with claws and not wanting to go to a hospital, he digs out his cell. His finger pauses over the call button though, suddenly unsure if he should call. Just because Chloe is this guy's friend doesn't mean that she knows what he is. Brian sure as hell wouldn't be broadcasting it if he was…whatever Alex apparently is. Brian can count on one the number of people he'd inform, and just because Chloe was on his list, doesn't mean she's on Alex's.

The phone goes back into his pocket and he drives.

The Marquis building is big, beautiful, and, Brian can tell, expensive. Which means that smuggling in an unconscious, profusely bleeding Englishman might be a bit difficult. But Brian has to try; it's not like he can just leave him there to die.

Brian steps out in the rain that's still coming down in sheets, and pulls Alex out. He groans a little, a muffled sound of discomfort that shows that even unconscious, Alex is still in pain. There's a puddle of blood pooled in the seat that Brian doesn't want to think about. He's just glad that Alex is still breathing.

He starts dragging the Brit towards the door, eyes darting around nervously. There is no way he's getting in there with no questions asked. No chance that they'll all just turn a blind eye to this macabre scene.

But they do.

The doorman opens the doors without comment, eyes staring, unseeing, straight ahead. The receptionist gasps in shock as Brian hauls Alex over the threshold, then pointedly looks away. Brian cannot believe it. It doesn't make any sense. What kind of hold this guy must have on these people to inspire such…loyalty? Fear?

His hands are shaking as he calls the elevator. He's scared. It's a feeling he'd seldom felt in the years after he'd lost his mother. But he feels it now. Pulse-pounding fear. Over the power Alex seems to have over the employees of his building. Over the very thing Alex is, whatever that may be. Over the fact that the bleeding blonde might just die and Brian might just have to watch him go.

Brian is afraid.

The bell dings and the sight that greets him is terrifying. Four men, dressed in black slacks and tight black muscle shirts, flank an imposing woman. And despite the men's bulk, it is the woman that holds all the power here. Brian can feel it in the air. The heavy cloud of authority clings to her, the way it had always clung to his father.

"Thank you, Brian Rezza," She purrs, and it's disconcerting instead of comforting, "for bringing my errant nephew home."

Two men step forward and take Alex's limp body away. Brian tries to ask what's going on, where they're taking him, who the hell these people are. But his voice is silent, unable to make it past the sudden lump in his throat. So he takes a step forward, he wants to follow. To make sure Alex is okay. They may not be friends, but he was important to Chloe, and that means, indirectly, he's important to Brian too.

But a hand halts him, accompanied by a firm shake of the head from a man who is more muscle that anything else.

"This is as far as you go." The woman speaks again, eyes focused on her nephew as he disappears behind a door to what Brian assumes is their apartment.

"Is," Brian croaks, "is he going to be okay?"

"That remains to be seen." She turns back to him. "But it is none of your concern, regardless."

She starts to walk away, and he just lets her go. Who is he to try and get in the middle of this mess? He had done what he'd set out to do. He'd gotten Alex wherever he wanted to go. He'd made sure he'd gotten some help.

Whatever happens now is out of his hands.