Taking a moment just to peer across at one another, Sabina felt her heart skip a beat.

They locked themselves in another embrace, this one much tighter than any before it; openly needy, it conveyed their mutual feelings completely. She didn't have to say anything like "I know" or "you're welcome", she spoke those words in actions, even though it went without saying, even though she didn't have to do anything more than look at him and smile for him to know exactly what she meant.

"You forgive me for everything?" He knew the answer, but there was nothing sweeter than hearing it out loud.

"Of course I forgive you," she murmured. "I was never mad at you in the first place."

0o0o0o

Chapter 35

Externalized

The talk of the day at Brookland Comprehensive was, for the first time all week, not Alex Rider.

Monday afternoon had brought out ideas from the populace about the school newspaper doing an article on Alex's mysticism, which had snowballed quite dramatically by Wednesday morning when talk emerged of Alex being some kind of invulnerable, supernatural being, requiring possible vivisection to uncover the secrets of. Through it all Tom endured an endless amount of attention as a by-product of Alex's absence. He'd always considered himself very fortunate to receive the shy glances and whimsical waves of the school's most eligible ladies, but now he pointedly avoided meeting their eyes for fear of being pounced on and mercilessly interrogated. It was at best irritating and at worst disheartening to think his reputation couldn't stand for itself.

Finally, after weeks of hearing Alex's name around every corner, something else of interest had captured the attention of the student body. The school had been broken into and the headmaster's office vandalized. Thus far no suspects had been apprehended.

The part that had everyone puzzled was that Brookland Comprehensive's headmaster was a drab and non-confrontational woman in her late fifties who nobody seemed to have enough of an opinion about to get as far as liking or disliking her. The vandalism had come as a huge shock to the community – as far as the records went, there wasn't a student who'd had so much as a spat with her to date.

"Got any idea what it means?" James asked Tom as the two of them weaved in and out of the hallway rush.

"I'm afraid to imagine," he admitted. Tom wondered how long it would take the gossips to decide the case was somehow related to Alex Rider.

"Have you… I mean, do you think it's got something to do with Alex?"

"If it does, I am going to throw myself off the school roof."

James slapped a sympathetic hand onto his friend's shoulder as they passed a group of younger students casting sidelong glances in their direction. "Don't worry mate, I'm well sick of the press too. Remind me never to do anything significant enough in my life to gain any level of fame..."

"Fame isn't the right word. Notoriety, maybe."

The two of them spent lunch outside in front of the school, and as final period approached, James was the first to catch sight of a familiar presence pulling into the school parking lot.

"Blue Mustang, 9 o' clock."

"Oh, hell. Finally!"

Alex stepped out of the vehicle soon after, pulling a navy hood over his head as he went. Unfortunately that was about as inconspicuous as Alex got. Tall and marked by his purposeful stride, the teen was already drawing a few looks by the time he caught sight of his friends. Tom could imagine the whispering: Do you think that's…? It looks like him…

Settling in across from the pair, Alex matched their smiles twice over. "Hello friends!"

"Look what the reaper dragged in," James joked.

"Very funny."

"Couldn't help myself; I've been sitting on that one all week. It's good to see you, Alex! I was really starting to think maybe you'd died again."

"Not this time," he responded, crossing his legs and making a grab for Tom's half a sandwich.

"So, why today?" Tom asked, watching his friend carefully.

He suspected he knew the answer even before asking the question. Alex's condition had dramatically improved as of late. Since making up with Jack and Sabina, the change was nearly impossible to – well, notice, if you were comparing him to his previous self, before all the trouble had started. Tom had been over at Wolf's house twice in the last three days to play video games, and while he and his friend had noticeably stuck closer to the sports and fantasy-adventure themes over more violent titles, it was still leaps and bounds away from Alex's attitude when he'd first gotten back.

Alex thankfully chose to swallow his gargantuan bite of bread before answering. "Why not?"

A sly smile crossed Tom's face. "Wolf made you, didn't he?"

"Jack, too," Alex divulged shamelessly. "They wouldn't leave me alone!"

You might have never noted his absence, Tom thought to himself, unless you cared to send a glance in the direction of his hands. Although many of Alex's injuries had healed up nicely, his hands remained taped up to the second knuckle. Even Tom had yet to see the level of disfiguration that was causing his friend so much anguish. He knew better than to ask.

James did not.

"What's with the paws?" he quipped, reaching out to take one into his own. Before he could get close Alex had extended his hands behind him and leaned back, regarding him coolly.

"Still healing," he said.

James gave him the next-level puppy-dog eyes, and Tom might have accused him of being a sell-out had he himself not been graciously well-informed with very little prying necessary.

"Oh Alex, couldn't you give me something? Tom's been as tight-lipped as MI6!"

There was a pregnant pause where Tom stiffened and Alex watched James closely to gauge whether or not that had been a coincidence or an admission. Evidently the former, he dug his fingers into the grass and then pulled up to collect a handful, throwing it at his nosy friend. It rained down over him like confetti.

"I thought my friends were supposed to give me a break from all the interviews," he complained.

"Well, I thought friends weren't supposed to leave other friends in the dark."

Tom was about to break in and try and change the subject, but it seemed like James had already prepared himself for the unbroken secrecy. He backed off with one final warning from Alex: "It's just not a comfortable topic yet, 'kay mate?"

"Fine," James moaned dramatically, flopping down onto his back. "For God's sake, even I'm starting to fall for this supernatural-being stuff!"

"Supernatural being?" Alex repeated, glancing between them with raised eyebrows. "No way."

"The public has declared you a vampire," Tom informed him, as though this were a fact.

"Not a zombie? I would have expected them to spring for zombie for sure." Tom started laughing and Alex nudged James with his knee, continuing, "Seriously, I was brought back by a necromancer."

"But who killed you?" Tom quipped, grinning widely.

"Don't you know? The drug lords, obviously. Who else would want to kill me?"

"Christ." James was shaking his head.

"It was nothing like that," Alex assured him. "I was hospitalized; run of the mill bed-ridden. A mistake in the system had them telling people I'd died. I thought it'd make an awesome prank for me to show up to my memorial rather than call in. And didn't it?"

James cracked a smile. He bowed his head, unable to deny the fact.

The school bell sounded, forcing all three boys to stand up, breaking their circle. Alex laid a hand on James's shoulder and squeezed, looking him in the eye in an attempt to be as sincere as possible.

"Trust me mate, everything was blown way out of proportion."

"I'm sure, Alex," James muttered. "I'm sure."

Tom was turned away from them, watching the scores of students make their way into the towering brick building. He seemed reluctant to leave their post.

"You coming?" Alex addressed him. "It's show time. Should be entertaining."

Tom appeared unconvinced. "Trust me when I tell you it got old a long time ago. Let's just get this over with."

0o0o0o

As people began pouring back into the halls and through classroom doors, Alex ducked his head and broke away from them, pointing to the front office. It was for this delay that Alex was the last student to make it into history. As usual, Mr. Greven was grumbling along in monotone about some subject that might have been interesting had they not been gifted with such an unenthusiastic instructor. Five minutes into class a knock sounded and the door opened to reveal Alex's leaning form, prompting the class to erupt into buzzing and causing Mr. Greven to drop his chalk.

"Mr. Rider," he recovered quickly, snatching up the chalk and mindlessly dusting it off against his sweater vest. It left a white streak against the gray fabric. "How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

"They told you I was coming, right?" Alex hovered awkwardly by the door, unsure where to take his seat.

"They did. I just didn't expect you to actually show up."

"Well, here I am," he tried for cheerful, sending the teacher a half smile. A glance in the direction of the window revealed that the glass there had yet to be replaced. Thankfully Mr. Greven chose not to reopen the topic. He pointed to an empty desk, front-and-center between two girls Alex swore he used to know the names of. They were both peering at him with slight awe. Alex sat down and started taking out his books.

"If it isn't Alex Rider!" the girl on his left said. "Alive and in the flesh! I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it!"

"You weren't one of the ones speculating that I crawled out of the grave, were you?" he asked.

"Of course not!"

"Miss Lindman," Mr. Greven wasted no time in breaking in, "save your socializing for after class. Students! Quiet. Mr. Rider – have you been keeping up with your studies?" His tone suggested low expectations.

"Yes. We're about halfway through the World War II timeline, right? German invasion of Poland?"

Mr. Greven nodded. "Now, one of Adolf Hitler's first major foreign policy initiatives after coming to power was to sign a nonaggression pact with Poland in January 1934, so the invasion…"

By that point the vast majority of the classroom population had already stopped listening, and Alex ended up being one of the only students to answer questions all period. Time ticked by as more and more eyes turned to the clock on the wall. When the bell finally sounded, Alex didn't even try to escape. He was surrounded in a matter of seconds.

"Welcome back Alex!" "Are you feeling better?" "I was wondering when you'd return!" "Did you hear about the headmaster's office?" "That wasn't you, was it?"

Wrestling his way to the front of the crowd, Tom swiftly brought the clamouring to a close.

"Settle down!" he barked in typical publicist fashion. "How's he supposed to answer if you all start interrogating him at once? Alex, can we get a blanket statement so some of these blokes can get out of here with relative peace of mind?"

"I was in the hospital," he started before he was interrupted by a loud, "For what?" "Did it have anything to do with that Wolf guy?!"

Tom cleared his throat, allowing Alex another chance to speak.

"Actually, if it weren't for Wolf, I wouldn't be here today. He was the one that took me to the hospital. You guys know about my condition, right? It has its ups and downs. I was doing pretty well up until a few weeks ago when I started feeling sick again. It was just bad luck really – I was standing at the top of the stairs when I was hit by this intense vertigo, and – well…" Alex held up his arm, pulling back the sleeve to give everyone a good look at the cast.

A girl behind him decided this was a great time to reach forward from her position and start massaging his shoulders. Alex almost jumped out of his skin, instantly spinning around to face her. She retreated a few steps back and Alex, seeing the look on her face, hurried to enact some damage control.

"Oh, Lily, you scared the crap out of me!"

She laughed a little nervously. "Sorry – I should have said something first… You seem like you might need a bit of TLC is all…"

His fingers tightened around the back of the chair. "Trust me, I'm getting lots. Uh, since I've gotten out of the hospital I've been really – sensitive to, stuff."

The hesitant explanation and weak delivery had a few people raising their eyebrows. Lily drew her hands in behind her, sending him a nod and a smile. With that, he turned back around and continued with his fabricated tale.

"Anyway. I was out for a while, sleeping mostly while my body fought to keep my illness at bay and heal my injuries from the fall. There were a few touch-and-go moments, but they've got me on an experimental new treatment that seems to be working really well. So… I guess I'm back for a while?"

Tom frowned. "Must you phrase that like a question?"

The Q&A didn't drag on much longer than that. It seemed as though his explanations had proved adequate for the students, vague and improbable as they were, and once reality had swept aside the myths surrounding Alex's miraculous revival people lost interest and trickled out accordingly. The three boys shrugged off the last of them in the parking lot, right before splitting ways.

"See you tomorrow then, Alex?"

"Bright and early," Alex confirmed, sending James a steady grin as the sandy-haired teen broke away from them with one final wave.

Once they were alone, Tom crossed his arms over his chest and appraised his friend. Despite all the grief Alex's friends had given him, it really did seem like he'd managed to make a turn around without any sort of interference from a therapist. Tom wasn't sure whether he should call that strength, luck, or pig-headedness. Perhaps a combination of the three?

"You're looking a lot better," said Tom. "Grown into that haircut a bit more, I see." The unspoken I'm proud of you was delivered through a quirked eyebrow and a half-smile. At the start of all this I wasn't sure you had it in you.

"All I needed was a little time," he reminded his friend in a tone that suggested Tom's doubt was less betrayal and more stupidity. "I mean it is me we're talking about… don't you remember the only thing that can kill me is silver bullets?"

Tom laughed. "I wouldn't rule out decapitation."

"Well, maybe let's just hold off on testing that one. I'd rather not lose my head again so soon, having just gotten it back and all… You need a ride home?"

Once the two of them were in the car, Tom decided to pop the potentially disastrous question: "Do you've any idea what happened to the headmaster's office?"

They were driving past a park, where the barred-off trees rushed past in a blur of green and black. "Are you asking if I was involved?"

"Well, that's not what I asked, but sure," he replied, crossing his arms behind his head and reclining his chair back an obnoxious amount.

"I was as surprised as you are," Alex admitted. Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, he brought the car around a bend and continued, "It makes me nervous though. I've never heard of anyone having an issue with Mrs. Cassidy. They broke the window, right? It was all taped up with covering when I walked past it."

Tom shifted his weight as he felt something poke him from the base of the seat. Reaching back, he withdrew an empty pill bottle out from under his backside and held it up to inspect the label.

"Yeah, they broke the window. I don't think that was all, though. Apparently they left some kind of message."

"What?" Alex sucked in a breath. "I hadn't heard about that. What was the message?"

"Not much of a message. It was just a word. Children, or something. No – 'child's play'. Creepy, huh? I think the school just assumed it was the culprit bragging. Does that relate back to any of the stuff that just happened to you?"

Alex narrowed his eyes, gazing into the pink and blue sky that expanded forth from the horizon. Their drive was now leading them into residential territory, where Tom began to recognize the suburbs surrounding his mum's house.

"Not directly, I don't think," he said. "I mean, I want to say it doesn't have anything to do with me. But Mrs. Cassidy? Mrs. Cassidy is nice. Or at least she's not not-nice. You know? Like, Mr. Greven I could see someone vandalizing the office of. But not Mrs. Cassidy."

"Except Greven doesn't really have an office, just a classroom. But that isn't a half-bad idea… I hate that guy." They were closing in on Tom's house, so the dark haired boy decided to try and dig around for some gum before he had to leave. Lifting open the center console, the first thing he noticed was another pill bottle.

"We are not vandalizing Mr. Greven's classroom–"

"Jeez, Alex, got enough meds in here?" Tom held up a handful of the tiny plastic bottles, sending his friend a grimace. "Are you really still going through this much?"

Alex pulled into the driveway. Then he cut the engine and waited a moment before turning to his friend.

"You know what it sounds like when you ask me that, don't you?"

Tom scratched behind his ear. "I'm concerned about you… that's all."

"If you're concerned, you might try to remember I was shot in the gut a few weeks back. Have you been talking to Wolf again? Is he giving you these ideas?"

"What ideas? I haven't said anything!"

"It was implied." Alex snatched up a bottle out of Tom's lap, opening it up for him and showing him its content. It was mostly full, dated from a few days back. The label indicated an option for a refill.

"Look: they're prescription pills for my injuries. I got really messed up, you know? I'm trying not to show it, and these help. I would think that to be obvious. Does it seem like I'm just taking them for kicks? My meds are the only thing keeping me between eye-level and the floor!"

"I didn't – I'm sorry," he faltered. "You're right. I didn't mean for that to sound like I was accusing you of anything. I know you're still on the mend, but… you've done a really good job acting tough. It's a little too easy to forget."

Alex melted back into his seat a little, all signs of aggression evaporating instantly. It looked as though the whole day's façade had chosen that moment to catch up with him. Pressing his fingers into his eyelids, Alex took a deep breath.

"I know. It's hard to find a balance. In my good moments you can hardly tell anything happened to me at all, right?"

Tom nodded. "I was just thinking that today."

"Good. I want it to feel like that. But – I think I'm also giving everyone a false sense of security. It's like, when I start to feel bad again, people think I'm overplaying it or purposefully dragging it out. Worse still, Wolf seems to think I'm going to get hooked on the morphine and turn into an addict or something. I don't know how to explain to him how much I still need them. It's like he wants to forget what happened so badly that he's actually started to forget."

"Well, in Wolf's defense–" Tom tried to add, but Alex shook his head and cut him off.

"Tom, it's ok, you don't have to. I understand it, really. What happened in Carlisle was fucked up, and nobody took it harder than Wolf did. The man saved my life and he practically paid for it with his own sanity." Alex raked a hand through his hair.

"He needs to see I'm alright," he said, staring blankly across at Tom's front steps. "He deserves to."

"I agree," said Tom, "but it sounds to me like you're overdoing it a little. If you keep jumping between extremes, you're only going to stress him out. Maybe you should try taking it easy a bit."

"That sounds simpler than it really is," Alex replied. "I tried to take it easy for as long as I could. My original plan was to wait until I was completely healed before re-entering the public eye so that nobody would have to see me during the in between, and I could just come back full force. But then there was the school thing, and then Fox started coming down on me about seeing the girls, and before I knew it… you get it. It didn't happen on my own timing, and I've got to work around that."

Tom tried to smile, but it was a difficult thing to do while he was empathizing with his friend. Alex certainly sounded like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. "You'll just have to emphasize your commitment to downtime a bit more."

"Hey," Alex defended, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, "It's not as though I'm climbing mountains over here. Today was my first day back at school and that was relatively uneventful. Sabina and I went on a hike. That's really the extent of it – other than that I've been getting tons of rest."

"Happy to hear it," Tom told him. "So maybe you're not overextending yourself after all?"

"No – I don't think I am. Physically I feel stronger every day."

Tom leaned back, resting his elbows on the back of his mostly-horizontal chair. Alex decided he was looking far too comfortable in the reclined chair and reached over to pull the lever, snapping the chair back to vertical and startling Tom in the process.

Tom sniffed, and muttered "rude!" under his breath. He was met only with snickering. Playfully dusting himself off, Tom readjusted the chair and then carried on seamlessly,

"Although your diversion tactics are amusing, I think we were just about to touch upon the real root of the problem, weren't we?"

Caught red-handed, Alex's smile slipped away and he guiltily turned his eyes to the ceiling. "You're talking about…"He paused, struggling to find the right words. "Not physically."

"Right… which is?"

Alex flexed his fingers around the wheel. "All the shit I have to work through on my own."

Tom frowned. "Why do you have to work through it on your own?"

"Because it's my problem," said Alex. "Nobody else is going to be able to understand it – as much as everybody wants to."

Tom was silent. Once again, unspoken words hung in the air between them. Tom wanted to bring up the therapist issue. Alex was determined not to let the T word make its way out and into their conversation. With a yawn, Alex needlessly flicked the unlock button and nodded at Tom's house.

"By the way, we're here."

Tom rolled his eyes at the less-than-subtle dismissal. "I got that, thanks."

Gathering up his books, he stepped out of the car and walked around the hood before pausing in front of Alex's window and grinning.

"What's with the stupid grin?" Alex griped, eyebrows furrowed.

Tom looked like he was about to break out into humming. "I'm happy. Things are falling back into place. You're going to school again. Sabina and Jack know you're alright… and you're confiding in me about things – just like we're best mates. Why shouldn't I be smiling? Good omens, if you ask me."

"You think so? It's not like I ever really stopped confiding in you. I just wasn't talking about things for a while."

"It's all the same to me. I missed you, Alex." And wasn't that the truth. Multiple times throughout his friend's absence Tom had considered leaving all his baggage behind and relocating to a far off land where nobody knew him and he could start anew. It was like his life was a Jenga puzzle, and Alex was a block which had left the whole thing wobbling and shaking without him. Tom hadn't really noticed at first, but he himself hadn't started to feel normal again until he saw Alex heading firmly in the direction of recovery.

Although it was likely quite obvious to an observant bystander, Tom was confident that Alex had no idea just the depth of emotional investment his friends had in him. Returning to see his loved ones in shambles over his death, he'd seemed almost… surprised.

With a final wave, Tom bid Alex goodnight.

0o0o0o

The rest of the week went by quickly and relatively peacefully, with Alex's reintroduction into school bringing forth a generally higher-spirited Wolf. After a few days of this Alex detected a pattern: when Alex behaved normally, Wolf became unnaturally cheery; when Alex acted distant or seemed less energetic, Wolf collapsed in on himself, silently brooding from place to place. Tom had commented on Alex's extremes taking their toll on Wolf, but he was starting to feel like it was the other way around – the slightest tilt in Alex's own equilibrium seemed to be throwing Wolf's completely off balance.

Saturday morning saw Alex stumbling down the stairs to inspect the front door, which had been left wide open. The fresh spring air was sweeping through Wolf's house with a vengeance, coating everything in pollen and promising a highly-allergic Snake hell for his next visit. In the driveway, Alex's Mustang was parked in its usual place behind Wolf's Camaro. The hood had been popped and propped up to reveal the twisted array of mechanical organs that lay beneath it.

Alex had just opened his mouth to summon the man when Wolf appeared next to him, gently nudging him out of the doorway so he could pass. Alex wondered if he was still wandering through the tail end of a dream. It was unclear if he'd fully woken up yet – although the sheer strength of the sun on his retinas did seem a little intense for him to still be sleeping.

"What are you doing to my car?" he croaked.

Wolf held up the large red tin he'd retrieved from the house a minute earlier. "I'm changing your oil."

"Oh. Thanks?"

Wolf turned around, shielding his face from the sun with a hand atop his forehead. "You sound kind of sick. Are you sick?"

"I just woke up," he explained, stepping down onto the path and examining Wolf's handiwork.

"Oh, okay. Well, I'm performing a check-up. Woke up kinda bored, figured you might have been neglecting your car. I was right."

"I have no excuse," Alex confessed mournfully. "Thanks for the hard work."

He shrugged. "Doesn't really feel like work to me. Especially on a morning like this…"

Looking around, Alex had no choice but to agree. Waking up in his dark bedroom after a night spent sweating in his bed had felt a little like death, but two minutes out beneath the blue sky already had him feeling revitalized. The rest of the neighbourhood seemed to be sharing their sentiment – a few houses down Alex spied a man in a speedo lying prone on a chaise lounge, and across the street an elderly woman was enjoying the shade of a tree in her front yard.

Wolf followed his gaze and wrinkled his nose. "Why's that guy tanning in a pair of knickers?"

"Probably gets a more even tan," Alex replied reasonably. "I forgot we had neighbours. Do you know any of them?"

The elderly woman had set up a collapsible chair on her lawn from which she sat reading. Next to her feet, a scruffy little gray dog was snoozing in the grass. "Do you know her?"

"The old lady? Yeah, actually. She moved in the day after I did. I helped her move some of her things into her house. Not that she had a lot of things."

Alex settled onto the ground quite comfortably, pulling his legs in so he was sitting cross-legged. "Did you grab her name?"

"Elsa," Wolf replied.

Almost as though she'd heard them, Elsa's chin rose, bringing her eyes level with theirs. She yawned, startling the scruffy dog next to her into wakefulness. A second later, the dog yawned too. Both resumed their previous activities.

"We should bring her a casserole!" Alex exclaimed. "Or cookies."

"She's the grandma. Don't you think she should be bringing us cookies?" Wolf reached over into his beat up red toolbox, extracting something sharp and shiny. "Why the sudden interest in the neighbours, anyway? Isn't that a little… I don't know, average life for you?"

Alex shrugged. "Not necessarily. But who says she's your average neighbour? She's probably a surveillance agent. Didn't you say she moved in here just after you did?"

Wolf, who was mid-crank in some sort of twisting action, paused to peer around the hood at Alex. The blond kept his gaze steady on Elsa's peaceful form. "I've been in this house for a year – that's long before you showed up. She's just an old lady, Alex."

"The fact that she has you convinced that she's just an old lady only further strengthens my case," Alex declared. "That's probably not even a real dog. I'll bet it's some kind of robot, with cameras for eyes and an explosive mechanism in the tip of his tail."

"Ah, I see. You're kidding." Wolf resumed his cranking. Alex sniggered.

"Okay, yeah, about the dog anyway. But I really do think Elsa is a spy."

"I don't believe it. Not her. Maybe the guy in the speedo, though."

This time Alex actually cracked up, which in turn drew a grin from Wolf. Taking a step back from the engine, Wolf wiped the back of his arm across his forehead and examined his handiwork. Not bad. He glanced back over at Alex.

Rather than meeting his gaze, Alex had his head cocked to the right, where he seemed to be looking at the empty space next to him.

"Hey," Wolf called. Alex's head snapped back to stare at him.

"I've been meaning to tell you – I'm leaving in a couple days. The boss is calling us in. Well, except Eagle."

"Why isn't Eagle going?" asked Alex, lacing his fingers in his lap. Wolf lifted the wrench to scratch at his hairline, leaving a little streak of oil on his skin.

"Eagle's still feeling a little under the weather," he said. "So he's going to come stay here."

Alex raised his eyebrows. "Like a b…"

"Don't say 'babysitter'," Wolf cut him off. "It's not like that. He wants to ease off Sadie for a while – feels like he's been stressing her out. And you both need the company. Alright? Don't turn it into something's it's not."

Wolf turned back to the car, digging into the engine once more. In the next second he let out a cry, leaping back and immediately popping his finger into his mouth.

"Damn car!" Wolf slipped it out of his mouth and shook it.

The two of them spent about twenty minutes longer outside before heading in for lunch, and it was over BLTs that Wolf's eyes settled on Alex's hands once again. He knew the kid wasn't going to like it, but what else could he do other than pry until he got an answer? Wolf hadn't a clue what was left under there to hide after nearly two weeks.

"Cub," Wolf addressed him, and the brown eyes flicked up from his plate to meet Wolf's.

"Wrolf," said Alex through a mouthful.

"Listen. I want to bring something up."

Alex swallowed and fixed him with a blank stare.

"I've tried to talk about this with you before, and you're not very welcoming of the topic, but we can't keep off it forever."

"Right, spit it out then."

"Your hands, Cub," he said. "What happened to them?"

Alex set down his sandwich to begin wiping down his fingers with a napkin. Wolf watched the motions in growing despair. Was he going to abandon his sandwich and make a run for it again?

"I don't see why it's so important," said Alex.

"You're still wrapping them. They must have healed by now. You've made it important by hiding them so religiously."

"You don't know they've healed."

"Only because you refuse to show me," Wolf retorted. "Hey – don't get up. We live in the same house; you can't avoid me forever. What did they do to them? Did they tattoo them?"

"No." Alex scowled. "Why would they want to do that?"

"Why would you want to hide your hands?"

"This is stupid."

"No it's not. You can't wear bandages on your hands for the rest of your life."

"I could if I wanted to."

"Why would you want to?"

This time Alex really did stand, edging his way out from around the table and making a dash for the doorway. Wolf caught his hand, digging his fingers beneath the first layer of gauze and clinging tightly. Alex froze in his tracks. He spun around to try and rip the hand away.

But he couldn't. Not without taking off the bandages.

"Let go," Alex ordered coldly. "You haven't got any right–"

"You haven't got any right to keep secrets from me!"

"Wolf," said Alex, tugging at his arm and tightening the bandages around his palm. "Wolf let go I'm not fucking kidding, you can't force your way to these things! I don't want to show you, get your hands off of me!"

"No!" Wolf snapped, reaching over with his other hand. Alex caught his wrist in a tight grip, twisting his arm and sending them into a full out wrestling match. Alex slammed Wolf up against the counter, jamming the granite into his lower back. Wolf's temper flared. "Ow!"

"Let go of me!" Alex commanded, slackening his good arm before suddenly throwing it in towards Wolf's face, where Alex's elbow met his nose. Wolf released a second cry of pain, still clinging to the white tape.

"Cub! Just let me see!" he ground out. "I'm not gonna – be mad – so would you just–"

"I'm telling you no!" Alex shouted, connecting his forehead with Wolf's and sending it bouncing back to hit the wooden cupboards. The double impact had Wolf's head spinning and, as a result, he released his grasp. Alex, now with both hands free, grabbed Wolf's shoulders and looked him square in the eye. Wolf was blinking blearily, elbows resting on the countertop behind him for support.

"Ow," Wolf repeated, more out of annoyance than lasting pain.

"Wolf," said Alex, still holding the man steady, "not cool."

"Is my nose bleeding?" Wolf asked.

"Only a little."

"Ow," Wolf sounded for a third time. "Brat…"

"You deserved it," Alex said simply. "You started it."

"I did not hit you first."

"You may as well have!"

Confident that the fight was over, Alex released Wolf's shoulders and took a step back. He used one hand to rewind the loose bandages on the other. The motion was reminiscent of nervous hand-wringing.

"Boundaries," Alex reminded him.

"Trust," Wolf countered. Though spoken with open bitterness, both followed the words by casting their eyes to the ground; a clear indication of guilt. Wolf reached up to gently touch his nose. The damage was minimal, but there would likely be a bruise. Alex sighed.

"I'll get you a facecloth…"

"I'll get it myself," said Wolf, slipping out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word. Alex waited for the sound of the bathroom door closing and the rush of tap water to make his way upstairs, where he retreated to his room and instantly reached for a bottle of pills. Twisting the top off, Alex tipped it sideways and three little white tablets tumbled out into his palm.

He peered down at them, suddenly aware of the growing ache in his body. It wasn't just his side or his arm – it was his head. The longer he waited, it seemed, the stronger the throbbing became.

Why not just tell Wolf?

Alex thought back to his conversation with Tom in the car. Wolf needs to see I'm alright, he'd said. He deserves to.

Why was it so much easier to say than it was to do?

A hand, tan and lightly scarred, reached out to pinch one of the painkillers between its fingers. Alex's head snapped up to meet the gaze of Other Alex, who held the pill up between them like one might present a wedding ring. He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Bottoms up."

Other Alex tossed the pill up in the air before catching it in his gaping mouth. He followed up with an exaggerated gulp and a lick of his lips.

"Delicious!"

Alex's stomach churned at the sight of his double. "Why are you always smiling?"

The two of them were seated across from each other on Alex's bed. Other Alex tipped his head to the side, regarding him serenely. "Maybe because you're always frowning?"

Alex returned his eyes to the remaining two pills in his palm. Even if he closed his hand and rolled them around against his skin, he could feel no more than two. How did that make any sense? Other Alex was just a hallucination. He couldn't have actually swallowed the pill… could he have?

Other Alex closed his fingers around Alex's foot, tugging it forward and beginning to knead the sole with his knuckles. Caught off guard by the odd behaviour, Alex didn't respond right away.

"You don't want to show Wolf your hands because you know you'll have to explain why those scars matter to you so much," said Other Alex, voicing the thoughts Alex had kicked down into the depths of his unvisited subconscious. "And if you tell him that, you'll have to tell him about the man you tortured and killed."

Alex leaned back into his pillows, allowing his reflection to continue with the oddly-soothing and logistically-impossible foot rub.

"Yeah," he whispered, staring vacantly across at the other side of the room. "You got it."

"You know once he finds out about that, he won't ever think about you the same way…"

Alex's eyelids felt heavy. For a second he drifted off, then woke with a start.

"… But don't you think he's going to find out about you eventually? What you're really capable of…?"

"Shut up," said Alex, without venom.

"How's the foot rub?" Other Alex asked. He individually cracked each of Alex's toes.

"It's nice," Alex admitted softly, nuzzling the side of his face into the soft fabric. Had his bed always felt this comfortable?

Other Alex released a long breath and broke out into a wide grin. Grabbing Alex's baby toe, he gave it a playful shake and said, "Good."

The two of them shared a minute of relaxed silence. Alex felt distinctly aware of the lack of trouble his double was giving him. Before nodding off again, Alex wanted to try and understand the strange shift.

"Hey…"

Other Alex glanced up. With his long face, untidy light hair and bright brown eyes, he was truly Alex's exact replica. Alex had never experienced anything like it. It was him; unquestionably he was looking at himself, but somehow Other Alex seemed to experience his own force of will, his own private set of thoughts, separate from Alex's. Had he developed multiple personality disorder? Or worse… schizophrenia? Was his mind permanently divided? And if so, what had broken away from Alex to become the Other? What aspects of himself did he no longer have access to?

Alex struggled to find the right phrasing. "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?"

Other Alex switched feet, and the sensation of being massaged by a pair of warm, fleshy, real hands continued without a hitch. Glancing next to him, Alex noticed the two forgotten morphine tablets scattered across the blanket. Still only two. Where had the third one gone? Was it there, and Alex just couldn't see it? Or maybe there were never any pills at all, and all three were merely extensions of his current hallucination? As usual, there were more questions than there were answers.

"I'm looking out for you," said Other Alex. "I want to help you."

He searched the other's eyes, uncovering nothing. "Then why were you taunting me before?"

Of all things, Other Alex almost looked a little… hurt. "I never taunted you, Alex. I said what was on your mind, and you took it the wrong way. You're just not honest enough with yourself to realize that."

Alex shook his head. "You've messed with my head this entire time," he contended. "You haven't tried to help at all until now."

"That's not true!" Other Alex insisted. "You decided I was messing with your head, so that's what happened. I've been trying to help. You like the physical contact, don't you?"

"No!" said Alex. Up until that point, he had never explicitly enjoyed the hallucination's touchiness. In fact, it was horribly off-putting in the beginning. Hallucinations weren't supposed to feel so real – wasn't Other Alex's touching just supposed to be another form of taunting?

"You think I'm crazy," Alex accused. "You think I'm a monster, a psycho. You've said so yourself."

"You said that! You only decided to tell yourself it was me."

"Why would Isay that?" Alex demanded.

"Because it's what you believe," Other Alex explained. "You needed me to take on your self-hate, your negativity, your 'dark side'. So I did. I took the blame. But I was only doing what you wanted me to do. I was helping."

The words sent a chill down his spine. "I don't remember ever asking for your 'help'," Alex snapped. "And I can tell you right now, it didn't help. If you wanted to shoulder my pain, you should have internalized it."

"No, Alex," he said, "you can't internalize it. Internalizing it is risky; dangerous. You have to remember what can happen when everything you internalize gets a chance to break free. You lose control."

Thoughts of Flint's death flooded Alex's head, but the images were noticeably muted, even difficult to recall. He remembered objectively the actions which had taken place, but there was nothing vivid about the recall. Alex wasn't sure when he'd closed his eyes, but upon opening them again he found Other Alex sitting even closer. Now he was kneeling between Alex's legs, almost in his lap. He placed his hands on Alex's knees.

"The safest thing to do is externalize it," he said gravely. "And that's what you're doing."

The words seemed to echo in the room after they were spoken. In a sick way, it sort of made sense. Blunt and Jones were right: Capricorn's unclassified drug had nothing to do with the fragmented state of Alex's psyche. He'd done it to himself.

"You are… my trauma. Externalized."

Other Alex nodded. "I hold it all at arm's length. But if you ever need it…" He pressed a too-real hand against his chest.

"It?" Alex repeated.

There was no trace of the unshakeable mirth Alex had come to associate with his imaginary counterpart.

"Everything you took home from Carlisle."

And with that, Alex understood. His most potent memories of his time spent underground… his frayed nerves, and the monstrous "auto-pilot" he'd developed out of self-defense… all his rage, all his sorrow… he holds it all at arm's length.

0o0o00

Later that night, around 3:45 a.m., Wolf heaved a heavy sigh and twisted in his sheets for the hundredth time since lying down four hours earlier. The bedroom was pitch black save for the dim green glow of the alarm clock's flickering digits and the dark amber light pollution filtering in through the cracks of the blinds. Neither would normally create enough of a distraction for Wolf to focus on, but tonight they were impossible to ignore. He couldn't sleep.

Another ten minutes went by. Soon it was past 4. Wolf breathed in slowly through his nose, then exhaled, counting his breath. Nothing was working.

He knew what was causing the insomnia, of course. The problem wasn't his body – it was his mind. Earlier on in the evening, an idea had struck him which he was now spending every waking second trying to ignore.

Go to sleep, he told himself. You're not going to do that. It's unethical. Let it go.

Another fifteen minutes went by. Wolf curled his hands up and around his ribcage, thinking back to Alex's earlier fury. "You can't force your way to these things!"

Why can't I just fall asleep?

Wolf didn't last a lot longer after that. Dragging himself out of his bed, he flicked on bed side lamp and stumbled over to his closet. He slid open one of the drawers to reveal a mash-up of mostly black-and-white socks and ties. Rummaging through the pile, he waited until his fingers slid over the smooth plastic surface of the item he was searching for.

Wolf retracted his hand, peering down at the tiny USB drive. On it contained all the information he could copy from Finnegan's laptop before having to hand it over to MI6 as evidence.

Everything that happened to him while he was in their clutches… Wolf thought. It's all on this.

Holding the prize, Wolf internally battled it out with his conscience. It's not right. Scratch that; it's downright fucked-up.

Wolf's fingers curled in and out of his palm as the deliberation continued.

If you want to figure out what they did to his hands… you're going to have to watch those videos.

Wolf's hands closed. He moved to put the USB back in the drawer, only to pause at the last second.

God dammit.

He'd made up his mind hours ago.

0o0o0o

Friends! It is I! The world's slowest updater! Fun fact: at the very moment I finished this chapter, the tea light next to me burnt out.

I missed you! What's new? How were your Christmas holidays? Mine were so unnerving I wrote a CNF piece about them. But anyways….

THANK YOU FOR YOUR WORDS. I read them all and I absolutely value every last one of them! This story has a finish line and I plan on crossing it, I promise. I have it all mapped out. (and then I will be free to work on original literary pursuits, FREE!... oh wait… AitF…)

Speaking of which, that's next. But really, I won't keep you all waiting on LAB that long again… the next chapter's gonna be fuuuuun… but not as fun as the one after that. Mwahahaha.

Can you tell it's waaay too late for me to be writing an A/N… or anything really. X.X zzzzz

Please review! I bubble with joy everything I get to read someone's thoughts, theories, opinions about this behemoth of a fanfic. Seriously. You guys are the life-blood of this publication – I just stack up the bones.

Next chapter: What is real and what isn't? Does Alex truly have as much of a handle on things as everyone thinks he does? Stay tuned for Tiger Tiger, raspberry jam, and the slim possibility that will Alex actually confide in someone…