A/N: Here's the second chapter for the day. Happy New Years!

O

As the guards unceremoniously dumped Alex in his cell, he decided he was not going to be sleeping off his sedatives. He stretched out on his bed, feeling the fuzziness sweep across his brain and fighting the creeping tendrils of sleep. Well, batting them away. As much as he craved the rest, he didn't want life to return to those last few days in the MI6 facility: waking, shuffling over to food, sleeping, waking again, bathing, eating more food while he struggled to stay awake long enough to have a quick session with a doctor, waking again to realize he'd fallen asleep without realizing it…. Even if the drugged sleep lacked the nightmares he so dreaded, it was hardly worth the sacrifice of feeling like he was sleeping through all of his waking hours too.

The crocodiles prowled and hissed as they dug their claws into the carpet, waiting for him to slip off the bed and onto the floor. They must be lazy today, unwilling to climb up on the mattress to get at him. Once in a while his legs would jerk, the sensation of creeping canines and the near miss of a snapping jaw too much for his nervous system to ignore completely.

He dragged in a lungful of air and turned on the TV. Flicked aimlessly through the channels for a few minutes before finding an American high-school drama of some kind. Distraction was his only hope. There was a tightening in his chest as the school bell chimed on the screen and a dozen children streamed back into class. Swallowing, he jabbed at the remote with shaking fingers.

No more school. No more teachers. No more Tom and James.

He let his eyes flutter shut, struggling to keep his breathing under control. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

One of the crocodiles hissed at him, circling.

Alex missed school. He'd been a good student once, but even as that had begun to slip he'd made every effort to attend if at all possible. It had been a welcome distraction from the racing thoughts in his head, though intellectually he knew that they hadn't been a good combination. He'd been utterly unable to focus as the anxiety attacks grew more frequent. By the time the hallucinations had become a regular, near predictable thing, Alex was either too scared or too high to even attempt to pay attention to his lessons.

Maybe it would have been different if MI6 had allowed him to go back to Brooklands instead of carting him off on a mission right away.

Alex sat up, ignoring the mild dizziness that seemed to accompany sudden movement nowadays. Something to do with his blood pressure, he supposed. He couldn't just sit here and think. Thinking would just lead to remembering, which would lead to being frustrated or sad or scared and those were all guaranteed to impact his hallucinations. Ripping his iPod from his jeans pocket, he thumbed across the menu to the first song he saw, not recognizing the language.

Fighting to keep his eyes open, he studiously listened to the music. Some sort of Korean jazz, if he had to take a guess. He randomly selected another song, listening to a bizarre combination of bluegrass washboards and electric guitars. Country metal, maybe? He chuckled. Tom would have probably laughed at Smither's musical taste too.

-Tom's arm popped, crunched, cracked as it broke-

Music wasn't good enough of a distraction, Alex decided. Opening the secret menu, he considered his options. He'd already examined the accommodation block for bugs and used the infrared to glean the rest, knowing full well he was under at least a few kinds of surveillance here. The security measures didn't really matter in the long run since Alex knew better than to try and escape his punishment, but Alex couldn't quite smother the instincts of the spy within him. He wanted to know.

That had shot him in the foot right away.

Apparently, his punishment was at least in part knowing that he was watched every second of the day. He would never have privacy again. That rankled, but not as much as knowing that even with Yassen fucking Gregorovich right here, he'd never be able to ask him anything he couldn't keep vague. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was impossible to ask about the things he really, really cared about: not about Scorpia, not about his father, and certainly not about his own bizarre motivations for stepping in on Alex's behalf from the moment he took a bullet for him on Air Force One to whatever that debacle in the dining hall had been. Alex's curiosity burned, but would never be satisfied.

This really was a well-constructed hell, tailored perfectly to Alex himself.

Bug sweeping was out, then. He tapped on the Audio Surveillance feature and rolled backwards and onto his side, pretending to get comfortable as he swept the iPod in a handful of directions. Screeching tires and explosions told him that one of his neighbors was watching a movie, some sort of action flick. Fast and the Furious maybe? Moving his iPod in an arc, he could follow a pair of patrolling guards' bets on the next football game. Silence. Silence. He kept shifting his arm. A bird calling.

Bored already, he rolled over onto his other side, hoping for something a little more interesting.

"-know physical contact is forbidden between prisoners for any reason. Why did you intervene?"

The warden's voice was unmistakable. Alex held his hand steady, feeling his wrist cramp a little at the angle.

Silence. Alex was afraid he'd inadvertently lost his signal when Yassen replied, "The guards seem to lack the skill to restrain him without injury. If they tackle him again, he'll probably break that rib."

They were talking about him. Flexing his wrist minutely, Alex settled against his headboard, ears straining to make out every word. By the time they finished speaking, and the warden excused Yassen to track Alex down, Alex was already numbly switching back to music.

He couldn't believe it. Not the sitter part- it made perfect sense that the warden wanted him supervised. As much as it rankled to be treated like a small child prone to temper tantrums, Alex wasn't stupid enough to think himself completely harmless. Powerless, yes, but not harmless. He had assumed that he'd eventually be either thrown into solitary confinement or assigned a full-time guard, not passed off on another inmate who'd proven willing to tackle him. And assigning Yassen? Of all people here capable of following him around and poking him with a needle, they'd pick the one man- the one man!- who'd murdered his uncle and thus kicked off the shit-storm of a mess his life had become since.

His mouth dropped open as understanding flooded him.

Actually, now that he thought about it, that made sense. Perfect, horrible sense.

His father and Yassen had been friends. Yassen had said that he'd loved him in a way, so maybe one of the worst things Yassen ever did was betray John Rider by killing Ian. Alex's punishment for killing Julius was taking his place in prison. Was Yassen being punished in the same way? Ian's role had been Alex's carer in a very loose sense (though Alex snorted at the idea of Ian doing anything remotely domestic as childcare), much like Julius's had been a prisoner.

What a bloody mess.

Alex groaned. It wasn't as if they'd ever be able to look at each other for very long without remembering some pretty unpleasant experiences. It was already bizarre enough to see the man when Alex wasn't deliberately avoiding thinking about it too much. Whoever was in charge of the afterlife was clearly a genius. There were so many layers.

O

A few hours after he'd been released from the punishment block, Yassen rapped his knuckles on Alex's cell door. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he waited patiently for the sound of the boy's staggering footsteps to grow closer. The distant roar of a crowd became louder suddenly as Alex yanked open his door, a football game blaring loudly on the TV behind him, flashing bright against the surrounding darkness of the room.

"What time is it?" Alex asked him, barefoot and blinking against the light of the hallway. His long blonde hair stuck up in the back.

"Nearly five," Yassen informed him, stepping back from the door. A quick glance confirmed that the hallway was still empty. "Did the warden send anyone to speak with you yet?"

Alex shook his head, rubbing a hand through his hair. Finding the stuck-up part, he made a face and raked his fingers through the tangle irritably. "No. Why?"

"He's asked me to watch you," Yassen said, preparing himself for the litany of questions Alex surely had. It certainly wasn't a typical prison arrangement. As much as Alex seemed unbothered by Yassen's presence at the prison, he rather suspected that had more to do with the infrequency of their contact and the scope of his drug-induced apathy. Yassen's constant company was sure to be met with more than a few minor objections.

"Right." Alex blinked again, before scowling. "I'm not a kid, you know. I don't need a full-time babysitter to follow me around forever."

Yassen schooled his expression into neutral. What had made Alex assume this was full time, instead of for perhaps the next hour or so? It was a small thing, but too much of a convenient leap to be a proper coincidence. Assassins who believed in coincidences tended to be dead assassins.

Was Alex hiding something?

Alex's expression showed no signs of deception as he yawned, leaning against the doorway and blinking owlishly in the light of the hallway. Yassen allowed himself to relax fractionally. It was more likely that Alex was just confused or had failed to form the memory of a visit. Perhaps someone had been by to speak with him and Alex had simply forgotten, being half asleep.

"Treating dining tables like jungle gyms and library shelves like monkey bars is probably not the best way to convince the warden of that." Yassen nodded to where Alex's trainers lay scattered on the floor beside the bed. "Get your shoes. Nurse Scalia wants to see you before dinner."

"Why?" he grumbled, turning around to grab them by their laces. He sat on the bed and began yanking them on. "It's the same sedatives they gave me yesterday. Hell, it's essentially the same stuff as my pills. If some weird chemical reaction was going to happen, I'd already be vomiting blood."

Yassen raised an eyebrow at that, but Alex declined further comment. The walk to the infirmary was quiet, apart from the occasional bird calls and the thwacks of the automatic sprinklers as they showered shimmering droplets over the vegetable garden. Despite having clearly slept, Alex's pace ambled along at a disinterested crawl and he yawned a handful of times more.

Nurse Scalia waited for them at the entrance. As they approached, he held open the swinging door for them with a polite smile. "There you are. I'd hoped to catch you before I settled in for the night. How's that injection treating you?"

Alex scowled as Scalia led them into the exam area, separated from the general recovery area by a curtain. Yassen hung back while Alex dropped onto the closest chair, avoiding the exam table altogether. "Sleepy. Numb. Same as yesterday. Can I go now?"

Scalia gave him a small smile. "Almost. I promise I'll be quick. First things first," he said, walking over to the cabinet above his computer. Rifling through it, he pulled out a small orange bottle of round white pills and tossed it to Alex. "Can I trust you to take that at least twice a day on your own?"

Reading the label, Alex groaned. "Lorazepam? You want me to take it regularly?"

Scalia nodded to him. "It's more potent when you combine them with your other medications."

"Great. It wasn't like I wasn't half asleep all of the fucking time already." Alex shifted on his seat.

"Language." Yassen's lips twisted as Alex shot him a look.

"Wait." Alex glanced down at the bottle again. "Don't these carry the risk of dependency? My last doctor told me about it." He held them out to the nurse, shaking the bottle smugly so that the pills rattled within. "Take them back, I can't have these. I'm a drug addict, remember?"

Scalia shook his head, though his smile seemed a little strained as he pulled out a clear bottle and a disposable syringe from a second cabinet. "While there is a real risk of dependency, it's still better than getting stabbed with irregular doses of B-52. Hopefully, the pills will keep that from become a daily ritual. Can I trust you to take it or will we have to make someone else administer it?"

Yassen grimaced slightly, well aware that nurse Scalia's "someone" would be him. Clearly, he'd love nothing better than to start his mornings by forcing tablets down an undersized teenager's throat. The look Alex shot him suggested his thoughts had wandered along the same lines.

He sighed and retracted his arm, cradling the pill bottle against his chest. "Alright, I'll take them. Is that my stupid booster shot?"

Scalia nodded, grabbing Alex's arm and probing for his vein. He tied a stretchy strip of plastic around his arm and tried again. "You're already familiar with it?"

Alex shrugged, wincing as the needle bit into his skin. "I've been taking it for months now, since my appetite comes and goes on these pills. My last doctor explained it. Something about vitamin absorption rates."

"Speaking of your appetite," Scalia said, setting aside the syringe and pressing a cotton ball to the small swell of blood. "How's the nausea?"

"It's been worse." Alex made a face. "Can I go now?"

"Almost. Why don't you grab a bandaid from the front room while I talk to Six. Should be a box of them on the desk." Scalia swiveled on his small rolling stool to face his computer, tapping a few quick notes.

Alex rolled his eyes and pressed the cotton ball to his arm, but didn't argue.

Scalia didn't bother waiting until Alex had gotten out of earshot. He offered Yassen a small sheaf of printed papers. "I've already spoken to the warden about your assignment. Apart from keeping an eye on him, try to keep him physically active and eating. Here's a complete list of his medications, dosages, and what each pill looks like. You don't have to watch him take them, but if you suspect he's skipping doses, let us know which ones he's missed and he'll have to start taking them here or in front of you."

Yassen flipped through the papers, eyebrows raising. Little Alex seemed to be on at least six different things at any given moment, ranging from antipsychotics to sleep aids. Another short list detailed a dozen extra "as needed" medications to tackle the resulting side effects. "Anything in particular I should look out for?"

"That's on the last page," Scalia said, consulting the label on the bottle Alex had just been injected with before adding another note to his file. "Red highlighted symptoms require immediate notification. It's pretty common sense items, stuff like the inability to regulate his body temperature, any sudden muscle spasms, that sort of thing. Symptoms highlighted in yellow are concerning, but can wait an hour or so if it's inconvenient. Just get those looked at within the same day. Green items are bothersome, but don't suggest anything truly amiss. He can ask for something to counter them if they're persistent enough, but he's already been prescribed a few things. Any questions for me?"

Yassen pointed at the page. "Delusional thoughts and interrupted cognition are only yellow?"

Scalia actually scoffed at that. "Compared to the rest of Alex's symptoms and side effects, I was tempted to make those green. You notice anything like that?"

Yassen opened his mouth, tempted to explain Alex's conviction that he was in the afterlife. Footsteps drawing nearer signaled that Alex was returning from the desk and would likely overhear. If Alex had any reason to doubt Yassen's restrictions on what topics they could discuss, he might just test the limits of their so-called "rules" to be certain. He'd need more time to figure out how to approach the topic.

Damn. He shouldn't have been so thoughtless before. Shouldn't have agreed so easily when Alex had prompted him. Even so, the nurse had a point: delusional thinking was one of Alex's more mild concerns. There'd be time to address it down the road, once he'd improved.

"Just suspicions," he said eventually.

Scalia pulled off his blue nitrile gloves and tossed them into the trash with a snap as Alex reentered the room. "Just let me or Dr. Wood know if you notice anything. There's probably not a lot we can do about it just yet. We'll get a baseline for his mental state as well as a full health exam sometime this week. Once that's out of the way, we can consider experimenting with his medications." He turned back to Alex and gestured to the door cheerfully. "All right, you made it. You survived. You're free now."

Yassen noticed the boy tuck away his iPod, even though he'd been gone for less than a minute. What song was less than a minute long?

"That was easy. Pass that along to the warden for me?" Alex asked, earning a chuckle from the nurse as they left the administrative block.