A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! Here's another longer chapter to spoil you guys with, only this time it's from Alex's POV. As always, comments are very much appreciated. I always love some constructive criticism, but even if all that's on you mind is how much you liked something, it would really help me out to know what it is. After all, it can be a little tricky to figure out what works and what doesn't. ^^

O

Alex awoke gradually, trying to burrow deeper into his blankets to keep warm. As sleep began to peel away, he became more and more aware of a persistent flapping sound. Screwing up his face, he pushed himself onto his elbows and blearily looked for the source. The balcony door had been left open just a crack and the cool Atlantic wind rippled across the drapes.

Staggering to his feet, Alex dragged it shut before turning to collapse back on his bed. Glancing at the clock, he realized with a jolt that he must have passed out for at least a couple of hours. No, wait. Not passed out: slept. He'd dreamt while he'd been down, of what he couldn't remember. Just that it was warm and he'd felt safe for the first time in a long time, that his mother had seen to it-

Right. His mother.

Alex furrowed his brows, struggling to piece together fragmented details. Had he dreamt his mum holding his hand or had he hallucinated it? He supposed it didn't matter since he'd managed to sleep either way. It still nagged at him. Why did he have memories of a hand taking his? His brain couldn't invent flashbacks that never happened. It hadn't been part of his memory of lying on the pavement outside the Royal and General. He'd wanted to reach out and take hers, but hadn't had the strength to. Had figured he was moments away from death anyway.

And where was Yassen?

Alex pushed himself off the bed a second time and went to investigate. The bathroom was empty and it wasn't as though there was anywhere else to hide. Yassen must be out grabbing more stuff or enjoying his freedom to walk about the ship. Not bothering to stifle his resentment of that fact, Alex realized his shirt was sticking to his body with sweat and decided to shower for the first time in days.

The cool water felt heavenly sluicing over his feverish skin. He stood under the spray as long as he could to clear his head. He still felt achey, miserable, and starving, but the worst of his symptoms had ebbed. Sleep must have done him some good. As much as he wished he could count on the Sandman to find him again, he knew that his slumber could just as easily be a fluke.

He had to take advantage of his meager energy.

Climbing out of the shower, Alex dug out a clean set of clothes and dressed quickly. He'd seen Yassen tuck the spare keycard to their cabin into the wardrobe on the first day. Finding it quickly, he poked his head out of the room and examined the hallway. Empty, aside from a young woman with a severe bun in a white uniform pushing a cart laden with fresh towels, sheets, and cleaning supplies.

She glanced at him as she approached, clearly taking in the Do Not Disturb sign that had likely decorated their door for days. "Lucky, lucky. You're my last room on my round tonight. Is there anything I can get you, love? I've noticed your sign has been up since we raised anchor."

Alex nodded and smiled. "Oh, I haven't been feeling well. Can we get some fresh towels?"

"Sure thing." The woman nodded and stooped to pull them off the bottom shelf. When she straightened, she smiled a touch tiredly at the boy. The way she shifted on her feet made Alex suspect she'd been on them all day. "Do you want me to make your room up for you while I'm at it? There's a magic show in the main auditorium right now, if you'd like to see it. I can be in and out before you're back."

He shook his head. "No, that's alright. I think the towels should be all we need. Thank you." Once she'd faded from view and into a staff corridor, Alex studied the keycard he'd pick-pocketed from her uniform's wide pocket.

Perfect.

Wishing bitterly for his iPod, Alex took the elevators down two decks and picked the emptiest hallway he could find. Soon the woman would realize she was missing her card and recall the last room she'd been able to access. It was far safer to search the rooms at least a deck or so away from his and Yassen's. He couldn't afford to leave a trail.

Holding his breath, Alex picked his first door. Pressing his ear against it yielded no sound, but he wished he could use the surveillance and infrared functions on his iPod to double check. Oh, well. He was already feeling tired and Yassen would probably come back to their room soon. He had to move fast.

Shoving open the door, Alex peered in, relieved to realize that all of the lights were off. He shut it behind him and engaged the deadbolt, not that he knew how he'd make a getaway if someone did return. Tugging open the door to the loo, he stepped over a pile of dirty, plus sized clothes and began rifling through the vanity. Each offered several compartments, ideal for trips longer than a few days. This particular cruise was for twenty one. Though Alex and Yassen wouldn't be staying the full amount of time and lived out of their bags, this vacationer had opted to unpack at least halfway. Apart from a few toothbrushes, a brush, and some mouthwash, he didn't find anything. Scowling, he took a cursory glance through their wardrobe.

A wide set of purple suitcases with roses on them stood upright near the beds. Not particularly eager to dig through strangers' underwear, Alex poked around just enough to realize that they were mostly full of clothes and souvenirs.

Despair washed over him. There was nothing.

He quickly unlatched the door and stepped back into the empty hallway. So the first room he'd tried had been a bust. So what? If his luck held and everyone was at the auditorium watching the show, he could check more rooms. He only had to get lucky once.

The next was a little better. Empty, as he'd hoped, with suitcases left wide open and messy. A young family, he guessed, stepping over a handful of educational toys strewn about the carpet. He ignored the wad of cash sitting out in the open on the coffee table. The vanity cabinet in this cabin offered him an unexpected boon: a small bottle of bubble-gum flavored codeine cough syrup prescribed to a Jenny Yerkov.

Alex hesitated, fingers clutching the small bottle as he half raised it to his lips. The codeine would be amazing. With just a sip, he would feel so much better. He almost cried thinking of it- the muscle aches were coming back full force as well as the dizziness that had plagued him since he'd set foot on this stupid ship. At this point, he'd swallow a chunk of lava if he thought it would make him feel better for even a minute. He turned the little brown bottle in his hands, unable to shake his fear that he was stealing medicine from a sick infant. Why else would it be bubblegum flavored?

Necessity is the mother of invention. Alex quickly settled on a compromise: ethical drug stealing.

Snatching a small paper cup from a dispenser on the counter, he poured out a tablespoon of the cough syrup and knocked it back. Just enough to get him to the next room, but not enough that he felt bad about stealing candy-flavored drugs from a baby. Replacing the bottle, he quickly tidied up after himself and left.

Two more rooms proved themselves a waste of time and offered little more than dramamine and tylenol. Moving on, Alex began to regret his decision to cut Jenny Yerkov a break when he finally struck the motherlode: a vanity covered in little orange bottles. Checking the labels frantically, Alex swallowed the urge to just shove them all into his pockets and go. He couldn't pronounce any of their names must less tell you what they did, but none of them looked like chemicals he recognized. Shaking slightly, he kept checking, reading out what the generic names were in hopes he could recognize a prefix or a suffix. He needed have bothered: the last bottle was clearly labeled percocet.

"Thank god," he muttered, feeling his shoulders slump in relief. He bit his lip and stared at the thirty or so pills rattling in the bottle. Tried to convince himself to just shove them all in his pocket.

Ethical drug stealing aside, Alex felt awful at the idea of stealing medicine from someone in pain, regardless of age. He didn't know what these other tablets were for, but they all had the same patient name on them, so whatever Daniel Herder was suffering from was likely severe. Was it too optimistic to hope he was a hypochondriac? Most definitely. But Alex was sick too and it wasn't like he had any other options. All he had was that over-the-counter garbage Yassen brought him and none had worked, no matter how much Alex took. These people could go see the ship's doctor if they had to, the lucky bastards. Why should he have to suffer while they had access to all the treatment they wanted?

His fingers whitened against the edge of the bottle.

He wasn't entirely convinced Jenny Yerkov's parents wouldn't notice the dose missing from the bottle. What if they reported it? Alex hadn't seen any cameras in the hallway, but there might be something he was missing that could tie him to the thefts. Thinking was hard through all the pain. He could have easily forgotten something.

Sighing, Alex unscrewed the lid and shook four white pills into his palm and replaced the bottle. There. Now Daniel Herder would get the majority of his meds and probably wouldn't notice the discrepancy until Alex was long gone.

Tucking the pills into his pocket, Alex quickly left the cabin and picked the next. If he was going to be kind and only take a few pills at a time, he'd just have to increase the number of cabins he searched. It was simply the price he had to pay for having such a love-hate relationship with his morals nowadays. How many had he searched already? Five? Six?

His luck ran out on the next cabin. Pushing open the door, he stepped in only to come face to face with a middle aged woman with a bright red perm.

She froze. "Perdóneme? Quién eres tú?"

Alex stepped backwards, hardly having to pretend to be surprised. Tried to ignore the pounding of his heart or the sudden urge to flee. "Este no es mi camarote." He glanced down at his card as though surprised and swiftly took off, calling over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him. "Que extraño. Perdón por molestarte!"

Fortunately, Alex made it another deck down before he had a panic attack in the stairwell.

How could he have been so careless? He'd stopped listening at the doors for any sound that someone might be inside as he'd gotten more and more comfortable. Everyone seemed to be out, despite the evening hour, but obviously that couldn't be true. He'd gotten sloppy. It was bad enough that he devolved to becoming a thief, but a shitty one too? He could have ruined everything. If he got caught, that was it: he had no way of contacting Yassen. He didn't even know where the man was. If they were recognized because Alex did something stupid, there was nowhere for either of them to run this far out at sea. MI6 would board the ship and take them into custody before they could do anything!

He was so stupid! If they got caught, it would be all his fault!

His hand drifted to his pocket where the four pills rested. At his old pace, they would last him maybe a day, if that.

Taking a deep breath, Alex straightened. He had to keep going. One more room, then he was done.

Descending another deck, Alex picked his mark. No one had come in or out of the hallway for at least two minutes, so either everyone was settling in for the night or still making the most of the ship's entertainment. He remembered spotting a casino on his way in, so perhaps there were lots of things to keep people busy until well after midnight.

Listening carefully at the door this time, Alex gently pushed the door open before entering completely. He sighed in relief. It was empty. He shut the door behind him and bolted it, determined not to make any more stupid mistakes.

Nothing of interest in the bathroom vanity, but Alex had to make the most of his last room of the night. He ripped open the navy blue duffle bag between the bed impatiently and dug around, hoping to feel the hard plastic of a pill bottle. Clothes, clothes, a little porcelain replica of the ship, a few keychains, and… His fingers found a small white bottle. He checked the label: lortab.

Wonderful.

It wasn't a painkiller he'd taken before, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He shook out about six or seven pills this time. It was the only prescription he'd found, so compared to Daniel Herder, Alex was feeling less charitable towards whatever pain Randall McCarthy found himself in.

The doorknob rattled. With a sharp crack, the sliding deadbolt engaged, only allowing the door to open a crack. "Hey! Who's in there?"

Alex whipped around. Given the angle of the hallway, there was no way for the man to see him. It was a small comfort: he was still trapped in the cabin. Even if he managed to overpower the man after months of not eating well or practicing his karate, there was no way he could avoid being seen. The door was the only way in or out, unless Alex felt the sudden urge to throw himself off the balcony like a drug-pilfering dolphin and swim his way to fucking safety.

Actually…

Hearing the door rattle and thud, Alex abandoned the rest of the bottle on top of the duffle bag and shoved open the sliding glass door. Climbing atop the balcony railing, he glanced down at the dark, broiling sea where it slapped against the ship and jumped.

His stomach slammed into the railing of the next balcony over. The gap between them had to only be about five feet wide, but Alex hadn't had room or time to take it at a run. Grabbing the metal with desperate strength, Alex dragged himself over the edge and flopped awkwardly onto the new balcony.

The luck of the devil was on his side, at least in part. This room was empty. Alex made his way through it, pausing at the door.

His next door neighbor was still pounding on the door, hollering loudly in English. "Hey! I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you don't open this fucking door I'm calling security! You know what, I'm doing that right now. I'm going to find someone and-" Footsteps angrily pounding away.

Alex held his breath to the count of fifteen. Steadying himself, he eased open the door and strolled out. A giggling group of women in their early thirties pushed past him without a second glance. Walking confidently but quickly, Alex made his way to the elevators and returned to his cabin.

Yassen still wasn't there.

At first, Alex was grateful to have his panic attack in peace without having to answer any awkward questions about where he had been for the last hour. However, as his breaths to the count of four evened out, he found himself growing agitated. Yassen had been acting weird for the last few days. Alex had chalked it up to what a pain in the arse taking care of him had been, but maybe the problem was bigger than that. Maybe Yassen had been telling the truth about not knowing why he was taking care of Alex. Maybe demanding the answer from him had actually forced him to realize that he was wasting his time and energy on a kid he wasn't even related to.

Sitting on one of the stuffed chairs in front of the coffee table, Alex drew his knees up under himself. A shiny foil wrapper peeked up at him from the table. Turning over the Pop-Tart in his hands, he ripped open the wrapper and nibbled it with little enthusiasm. His stomach settled, but his nerves refused to abate.

Yassen could hardly abandon him on a cruise ship, right? There was nowhere to go. Unless he was really that peeved with Alex- he wouldn't put it past the man to hijack another helicopter.

His stomach squirmed as he felt a small trickle of heat flush his cheeks. Oh, god. He had half-formed memories of his mother holding his hand and the smell of the cigarettes Yassen had been smoking. Had that been a dream or had he really called Yassen 'mum'?

Another wave of embarrassment crashed over him and he had to bury his face in his hands.

Digging one of the percocet out of his pocket, Alex swallowed it before tucking the rest underneath his pillow. It was an almost infantile hiding place, of course, but at least it was within easy reach. Even if Yassen tied him to the headboard again, he'd still be able to get at them. The keycard proved to be a bit more challenging. In the end, Alex used the pen from the room's stationary set to dig up a corner of the carpet. Tucking his stolen goods against the exposed metal floor, he stamped the covering back down and hoped Yassen wouldn't notice anything.

Assuming he came back at all. Where was he?

Too tense to properly doze, Alex maintained his perch in the chair, unable to look away from the door for more than a few seconds at a time. Alex had been awake for three hours now; the longest Yassen had ever left him alone in the room. It didn't take that long to run to whatever little shop Yassen had been going to for the last few days. Still hungry, Alex tore into the scattered collection of candy bars throughout the room. It did little to satisfy him, but at least it was something to focus on.

Another thought crept in, spiking his anxiety. Had Yassen tried to come back when Alex had been out stealing from the sick and the elderly? Shame flared within him, but it was easier to push away this time as the codeine kicked in. Yassen might be out looking for him if Alex hadn't been in the room when he'd returned.

Or very specifically not looking for him. Maybe Yassen was enjoying a break from dealing with Alex's shit. Maybe he was commandeering a lifeboat and escaping before Alex could call him 'dad' this time-

The turn of the handle cracked like a gunshot. He stiffened in his chair, feeling dread and relief mingle in his chest as Yassen came into view. Had he always looked so tired?

Yassen paused at seeing Alex awake, showered, and sitting upright. "Sleep well?"

Was that a probe? Did he know that Alex had left the room? Or was he hinting at the 'mum' thing?

Alex felt his cheeks warm. "Got in a few hours at least. Where were you?"

Yassen dropped another brown shopping back on Alex's bed. "Shopping."

"For three and a half hours?"

"Among other things." Yassen hesitated, looking at him. "How lucid are you?"

Alex flushed again. Yeah, Yassen was definitely remembering the 'mum' thing. "I'm fine," he snapped, feeling testy all of a sudden. So Yassen hadn't abandoned him. Yet. "Fever's dying down. What other things?"

Yassen dug a bottle of vodka out of the bag and shoved it in the mini-fridge beside the entertainment center with more force than necessary. Returning to the bag, he pulled open the drawer of the beside table and dropped a small handgun and a bottle of liquid inside. "A Scorpia agent followed us on board."

Alex surged to his feet. "They found us?"

"I handled it, but yes, they know where we are." Yassen pulled a pack of cigarettes and took a long glance at Alex before he yanked open the balcony door. Cold ocean air flooded into the room. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it," Alex echoed. He glowered and wrapped his arms around himself. Even with the drugs kicking in, he still felt like shit. He was in no condition for a fight. "A Scorpia agent tracked us down and we're trapped on a slow-moving ship with nowhere else to go. And I'm not supposed to worry?"

"I handled it," Yassen ground out, lighting his cigarette with a small disposable lighter he pulled from the pocket of his jeans. He stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing.

In the doorway, Alex stared at him from under his overgrown bangs. "Handled it how?"

"How do you think?" Yassen scowled at his cigarette and looked out over the dark waves.

Alex bit his lip hard enough to draw a small droplet of blood. "You killed him."

"He would have killed us both," Yassen snapped, jerking a hand at the bedside table. "He intended to kidnap you in order to lure me out. You don't need to worry about it any more because I handled it, just like I'll handle the rest of it."

"You mean them coming after us now that they know where we are." Alex's voice flattened. "How do you plan on doing that? Let me guess. More murder?"

Yassen's flat glare more or less confirmed the accusation. "Not necessarily."

"So how?"

"I don't know exactly how. A good plan is adaptable. Just because I don't intend to kill anyone doesn't mean I won't, Alex." Yassen shook his head. With a side glance at Alex, he seemed to realize that he had to yield some ground if he wanted to end the line of questioning. "I was thinking I might dose a passenger with that sedative. If I get it right, the ship will either have to make an emergency stop or request assistance from other vessels. We can seize those opportunities."

"Don't," Alex snapped. "What if they die because you give them too much? You can't just kill random passengers."

Yassen grimaced and looked away. "Just focus on getting better and let me deal with the logistics of not getting caught."

"Why?"

"Because I'm better at it."

Alex ground his teeth. "Not that. Why are you doing this? Don't pretend like it's easy. What do you get out of taking care of me?"

"Not this again," Yassen grumbled.

Alex rounded on him, still hovering in the doorway. "Yes, this again! Don't brush me off. Why are you doing all this for me? Specifically, tell me why."

Yassen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why does this matter so much? I just am. Don't worry about it."

"Because it makes no sense!" Alex spat, balling up his fists. How could Yassen just stand there, so condescending? There was zero reason why he shouldn't understand how important the question was and Alex was sick of having to justify asking. "I know I'm miserable to deal with, I know you've been going crazy having to deal with my problems. You don't have to! You owe me nothing, so why are you still here?"

Yassen waved his cigarette at the ocean lightly. "That's a silly question. Like I can go anywhere else."

Alex felt his expression shutter. So Yassen was planning on leaving him on his own at some point. Now was just a bad time. Bloody fantastic. "That still doesn't tell me why."

Yassen sighed, face hidden in shadow. "I don't know why. I already told you that."

"Bullshit."

"Language, little Alex."

Alex glared at the older man, fighting the urge to pummel him. He'd lose quickly and he really didn't want to be tied up again. How did Yassen not understand? Would he really do all of this for no particular reason? That had to be the literal definition of insanity. To think that Alex thought he was the crazy one between the two of them.

How did Yassen expect Alex to believe that he didn't have his reasons for even a second?

It didn't seem like a lie, though. Yassen seemed pretty uncomfortable both times he'd answered, as though he genuinely wished he knew himself. But Alex couldn't just accept that; he needed more. He trusted Yassen with his life; after everything he'd done for him, he had no reason not to (though he definitely didn't trust Yassen with anyone else's). As far as Alex could tell, Yassen had burnt a lot of bridges getting them both out of prison alive. He knew the assassin would have his back if bullets started flying, but why?

It was driving him mad. If Alex couldn't understand what motivated this bizarre level of commitment, then he had no chance of knowing when to expect it to end. Everyone left eventually. Alex didn't like it, it was just something he had come to bitterly accept about his life. Even Alex wanted to leave Alex, given the sheer magnitude of his problems. If he didn't know what kept Yassen going, then how would he recognize it if any of that changed? How would he even have a chance of trying to fix things if he didn't know what might break?

It would hurt when Yassen got sick of dealing with him, regardless of whether or not he knew why- Alex was certain it would. Without another word, he knocked the bag off his bed, enjoying the crunching noise of whatever was inside hitting the floor and knowing he was acting like a spoiled brat. Climbed under the blankets and angrily yanked them up around himself.

Yassen leaving him was inevitable. It would hurt. Alex just didn't want to be surprised when it happened. Was that really too much to ask?