A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! Sorry this is so late, comparatively speaking. My hedgehog had a bit of a health emergency (read: he was being a stubborn turd, but he's still alive and I adore the little monster) and that sucked up my entire day. On that note, enjoy the slightly longer than normal chapter. :D


Alex slumped across the lunch table and picked at his open faced sandwich. It tasted perfectly fine, but he had little appetite at the moment. He suspected that had more to do with his 'added' pills, but despite the sudden halt in his weight gain, he had to say he felt that the benefits outweighed the costs.

His stomach tightened. Okay, so maybe he should have told Yassen that he'd stolen more than the Vicodin from the safe, but at the time, Alex hadn't been intending to use them. He'd translated the little labels on the other two bottles out of curiosity- amphetamine and zolpidem tartrate, whatever those were- and then promptly chucked them in his bedroom's bin. He'd quite forgotten about them until the day after he'd had to be assessed.

Well, the first time.

Alex knew Yassen hadn't actually said that one night would be the only night of assessments, but when they'd arrived home, Yassen had pulled him aside and explained the need for other follow up exams before throwing himself into his room to avoid everything. As cranky as he'd been, he'd appreciated Yassen's somewhat vague, but direct attempt to make sure he wasn't surprised by any more SUV's appearing outside his school with little warning.

He just hadn't fucking expected it to be every night since.

Alex pressed his palms to his grainy eyes. True to his word, Yassen had forced Vankin to schedule everything around Alex's school day. While it did succeed in keeping him in school, it quickly ate into both of their evenings and almost all of Alex's study time. The appointments themselves weren't stressful- innocuous things like more blood draws or saliva samples, lying still in an MRI machine and the promises of another EEG in his future. One night had even included a headache inducing amount of paperwork and legal statements that Alex absolutely had to pay attention to, since they revolved around him being in Russia and participating in the case willingly (Yassen had triple checked every single document and insisted Alex do the same). Only twice had they gotten back to their flat with enough time for Alex to put in a half hour of homework before he had to get to bed if he wanted anything close to eight hours.

Of course, lying down never actually equalled sleep. For the last seven days, Alex had stared at the window beside his bed until he'd eventually passed out in the small hours of the morning, rising only a few later to get up and get ready for his school day.

It wasn't that Alex didn't want to sleep, or that Yassen wasn't successful in forcing Vankin to release them with enough time to. Alex just couldn't relax. He could lay there, feeling his sheets press up against his back and feeling the comfort of his pillows and mattress, but he just couldn't let himself drift off. Not voluntarily. If he could have stolen more opiates, he might have, but they already made him sleepy during the day, especially paired with the Xanax, so it wasn't like that would help him with his current "falling asleep in class" problem. It was by day two of testing that he remembered what he tossed in the bin with enough energy to google the prescription names.

Adderall and Ambien.

Perhaps it would have been wiser to use the Ambien to sleep more deeply at night, but Alex felt like that might be a waste. He was sick of pills shutting him down and besides… he wanted to keep them in his bathroom for his little private ritual. He hadn't actually gone back to it- yet- but he liked knowing that they were there, just in case he needed to hold them. In the morning, Alex would rise and get ready for his day, pop a quick adderall and go meet Yassen in the kitchen for the rest of his dosages.

Four hours of sleep and some mild stimulants was enough to get him going for his day, but he found his energy had started to flag by lunchtime. Not quite enough to pay complete attention in class. Alex contemplated his mostly full lunch tray, let the sea of voices of the other students wash around him.

Maybe he should take some of the adderall to school with him. Double up.

At any rate, Alex forced himself to sit up and chew. It tasted okay, but swallowing didn't hold much interest to the back of his throat. He did it anyway. His weed tincture might help, but it might also take his remaining energy away. It tended to mellow him. Maybe just a few drops?

He glanced at Timofey as he stood. "Running to the toilet. Can you keep an eye on my bag?"

Timofey nodded from where he was chatting with Patrice and Martina.

As Alex stepped away, Patrice gave him a hesitant look. "Just don't get so high you can't focus, alright, Sasha? We've got that partner project today in Immersion and I don't understand half of it."

Alex stopped short. "What?"

She shrugged and glanced away, earning a hiss from Martina who was in the middle of braiding her hair. "I'm not trying to boss you around or anything, I just need your help today and you've got the conjugations down better than me."

"What makes you think I'm getting high?" Alex asked.

She glanced around a touch uncertainly at the group, which elicited a few apologetic winces. It took him only a split second to realize that they were aimed at him. "I mean… we all just kind of know."

Seamus, a redheaded boy from the Bronx, leaned back and gave him a reassuring grin. "Don't worry about it, Sash. We're not judging you no matter what anyone else says. At least you hide your pill popping better than that asshat, Nika."

Great. The rumors had already begun. Of course.

"It's medication," Alex tried, chewing on his lip. Maybe it was early enough that he could nip it in the bud? "For my hip. I injured it, remember?"

Martina raised an eyebrow from where she was busy sticking bobby pins into the wreath of braids she'd created. "If it were, you'd be taking it from the nurse. Relax. No one will tattle, just don't overdo it." She gave him a sharp glance. "Unless it's finals week and you're holding out on Adderall. I still won't say anything, but I'll give you bad notes."

At Alex's look, Timofey looked away from the braiding and gave him a shrug. "You're not that obvious, but between ducking into the restroom for point five seconds to swallow a pill or two and how spacey you get sometimes, it's pretty easy to guess. The teachers won't bother you so long as they don't witness you taking anything and your marks are alright."

"Guards don't care either," Seamus assured everyone. "They don't search you unless they're looking for something else. Even then, someone told me they ignore pills if you're not making more trouble."

Wonderful. Alex grimaced. "Who knows?"

Martina shrugged and leaned back, admiring her work. "I don't know. Everybody? It's not a secret but you don't do anything crazy enough to be good gossip material. You're not even, like, the biggest drug addict here or anything. Maybe in our group, but definitely not the school."

"Yeah," Saanvi said, glancing up from her phone only briefly to snort. Alex was a little startled she'd weighed in at all, given her usual contentment to listen. "You and Tim are some of the tamest mafia kids here. You haven't even tried to stab anyone."

Timofey raised an eyebrow. "That you know of."

"Well, I'll just be a minute then," Alex grumbled, plodding off. He'd probably have managed to hide his habit if it wasn't for his absence seizures making him seem more spacey than he actually was. Still. At least it didn't seem to be as much of a social death sentence as it had been at Brookland. He sighed. Even if it worked in his favor, he couldn't exactly pretend to himself that it was a good thing.

Not for other people anyway.


No familiar SUV waited for him today, finally, but Alex didn't breathe a sigh of relief until he physically sat on the metro, the doors drew shut behind him, and the train started to move. The inner walls blurred reassuringly through the windows as it picked up speed. Today was his first appointment with Dr. Werner and Yassen had mentioned that they'd be going together. Alex wasn't sure if that meant the man would sit in on his sessions and he didn't care. He just wanted to go home and lay down and just fucking sleep and not think about anything for awhile.

He'd chosen the oldest doctor because he'd been a combination between the most friendly and the most businesslike. Instead of focusing on Alex's feelings, he'd gone along with Alex's pace and simply focused on his physical responses. The nightmares. The hallucinations. The panic attacks. Alex hadn't sensed anything particularly sharp or threatening about the man; he'd simply sat in his chair and took notes, expression perpetually mild.

And he'd been the only one to pet the dog, apart from Stepanova. That didn't count in her favor because it was already her dog.

Alex got off on the new stop, spotting Yassen waiting for him right away. The man was leaning up against a pillar with his hands in his pockets, not seeming the least bit unusual among the other commuters. He straightened as Alex approached him, tugging Alex's bag strap in an obvious invitation. Shoulders already sore, Alex handed it over gratefully as he followed Yassen out of the station. Neither of them made any real effort to talk.

Dr. Werner's office was downtown, tucked inside an eight story building on the fourth floor. The first five floors seemed to be devoted to various medical offices, while the last three seemed to be various insurance agencies. Alex studied everything he could see, but apart from the slightly stagnant water feature in the lobby, there was nothing suspicious about the place. They checked in with his receptionist, a woman with long hair of an unnatural auburn hue that matched her lipstick and who seemed a little annoyed to be staying late before taking a seat in the waiting room. Alex stared at the floor.

A minute later, the doctor pushed open his door. "Ah, there you are Alex. Come in."

Alex glanced at Yassen. "Coming?"

The man shrugged, having picked the waiting chair that gave the best view of the main hallway outside of the glass walls that separate this office from the Dentist across from them. "If you'd like."

"He and I will have a short private session afterwards," Dr. Werner informed Alex. "I'd prefer to work with you alone, but if you'd like him with you, that's also fine."

"Another session?" Alex scowled. "So you can talk about me, I suppose."

"Yes and no." Dr. Werner gave him a steady look. "My sessions with him are to ensure you have a stable home environment. The details of your discussions are not offered, though legally speaking, he may demand them of me."

"I don't intend to," Yassen said, leaning back into his seat.

Alex wasn't entirely surprised. The contract killer had been explicit in what he expected of him for these sessions- that Alex go, discuss the bare minimum of his current life problems, be relatively civil doing it, and let Yassen know if anything felt off. Cooperation was required, trust was not. It wasn't as if Alex didn't understand the necessity, even if it irritated him to no end. Yassen likely knew most of what Alex would say anyway. "Fine. Alone is fine."

"We shall get started then." Werner waited until Alex had sat down inside his interview room before shutting the door. The room was small and pleasant: painted a pale sage green with large oak bookshelves set around the walls, while a series of squishy chairs framed a matching couch. Perhaps he did group therapy too. Alex spotted another door opposite the windows. Storage closet, if he had to guess. Potted plants dotted the room with such frequency it felt like a small jungle had sprung up near the windows letting in the dwindling winter evening light. A small black cat with batlike ears and a narrow little face let out a meow, circling out from beside a plant stand.

Werner paused. "Are you allergic to cats? Your file did not mention it."

"No."

"Wonderful. Minka is mine, but I don't like to let her sit at home all day alone. Claws the drapes with boredom. I bring her in with me about half of the time." Werner settled into his seat and tugged free his reading glasses to perch them neatly on his nose as he grabbed his notepad from the table beside. "She is too stubborn to be trained in anything like therapy work, of course, but you're welcome to pet her if you like. She loves the attention. I can always move her to another room if she is distracting."

Alex nodded, but leveled the slinky little feline with suspicion. Minka didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she did, because she immediately made a beeline for him and hopped up onto the couch beside him. It would be just like the SVR to keep sticking him with animals, like a child who needed a lollipop and a sticker with all his shots. Or maybe… Alex stroked her head, taking the chance to surreptitiously check her collar for a listening device or anything else that shouldn't be there. She purred, leaning into his hands such that it was easy to probe. Nothing he could see…..

Dr. Werner nodded softly. "She is not bugged. Neither is this office, at least that I know of. If the SVR has installed anything like that, it was not with my permission. I'd say it's more likely they haven't bothered. I'm to send them reports anyway."

Alex fixed him with a sharp look. "I see."

"Your suspicion is warranted," Dr. Warner said kindly. "Since there is great interest in you and you have little reason to trust me. I'm not offended by any means. Now, first I want to tell you the purpose of these sessions."

"You're here to gather information."

"Not strictly, no. I will not recite what you say word for word, but I might be asked to comment on larger trends. Details are not something I will offer with any regularity unless demanded. For example, if Vankin asks me to provide insight, I shall say something to the effect of 'Alex is not a trusting person' as opposed to 'the first thing he did was look for a listening device on my cat.' I'm not permitted to withhold those little details entirely, but..." the man shrugged and gestured at his forehead. "I'm quite old, you see. If I don't write it down, it's quite lost to me."

Alex digested that. "Why are you telling me this? If he has bugged the room, he won't be happy with you."

Werner shrugged. "Because it is not my job to record you or to make him happy. Progress reports will go on record, of course, but I doubt that they will provide too much interest. Gathering information on you is only secondary to the SVR's goal of discrediting MI6. For them, this checks the box saying they have done all the proper things with your best interests at heart. I doubt they care beyond that but I actually intend to treat you. My goal, as a practitioner, is to help you examine your current situation and make better choices in the future to maximize your own happiness. In order to do that, you'll have to trust me at least a little bit."

"I see."

Alex's therapist seemed not at all phased by the utter lack of sincerity in his tone. "Would you like me and Minka to give you a moment alone? You are quite welcome to search my office for bugs or cameras. I ask that you don't read my patient files, but you may rifle through them to look for whatever else might be hiding in the cabinets."

To say yes was to admit that he was paranoid. To say no would be to pass up the chance to check for bugs without drawing attention to his iPod.

"Yes, please. I'd like that."

"Very well." Werner stood and scooped up Minka from where she'd pooled onto the couch, hoping for more scratches along her spine. "My computer office is through that door there, unlocked. Would you like five or ten minutes?"

"Ten, please." He could do it in less than one, but he was secretly hoping to burn up as much session time as possible.

"Of course. I will leave you undisturbed."

As soon as the door shut behind the man, Alex yanked the little digital device from his pocket and activated his surveillance hunting options. He wondered briefly if Yassen was in the other room doing the same. A quick sweep of the room revealed no unexpected signals. The room beyond the other door was an office, Alex could see, but apart from the usual wifi connection and printer signal, he couldn't find anything coming from that direction. The room itself was devoid of anything unusual, though Alex used his infrared features just to be safe. No cameras, no bugs, no lurking notetakers.

Unless Smithers tech was no longer any good, Werner had been telling the truth.

Even the cat bed in the corner showed signs of long term use. Alex examined it carefully, before flipping it over. Bits of dust and cat hair were both on the floor and leaves of the plants around it; obviously, Minka had really been coming here for a while and not trotted out to play on Alex's response to the puppies or dog. Alex let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Werner wasn't lying to him.

At least not yet.

Ten minutes later on the dot, the man rapped on the door and re-entered. Alex had long since tucked his iPod away and spent the rest of his time staring out the window.

"Satisfied?"

Alex shrugged. "Yes, thank you. I appreciate it."

"I'll take that as the best answer possible," the man said, with only a touch of dryness. He settled back into his chair, stroking Minka as she immediately took up a spot on his lap. "Now, since we've already gotten through your history with MI6, there's no need to rehash any of that, even if this is your first session with me. Why don't you tell me about your life right now?"

Alex twisted his lips, already regretting his promises to Yassen. The bare minimum would be his new religion then. "I live here in Moscow. I go to school. I have lots of strange health issues."

There. No new information. Obviously they were in Moscow, Alex was still wearing his uniform, and the man had been stuck with him for hours a week ago while he'd detailed those health issues. Not a drop more.

"Well, that's quite a lot of things."

"Not really."

"I disagree. This is a new country to you, a new city. New school. Your strange health issues can't make anything easier for you." Werner swatted Minka as she tried to bat at his hand, settling his writing pad on the table beside him. "Let's start with school. How do you like it?"

"It's fine."

Dr. Werner seemed unsurprised by his lackluster answers. "Have you made friends yet?"

"A few."

"Tell me about them."

It went much like that for the rest of the hour, with Werner gently introducing questions while Alex gave short, factual answers. If Werner were annoyed by Alex rebuffing every attempt to draw him into conversation, he didn't show it. Instead, he filled the silence with more questions, taking a few notes here and there, but otherwise seemingly unconcerned with what surely barely qualified as active participation from his patient. Five minutes to the end of their session, he picked up his pen again.

"Now, due to many of the symptoms that we covered last week in your assessments, I want to start you on some proper medication to help improve your moods and anxiety. There are some side effects but it varies upon formulation, which may take some time to adjust for. However, I'm not yet comfortable starting you on any, as the majority of what I think would offer any efficacy would also conflict significantly with your opioids. Would you be amenable to decreasing your current dosage?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I need as much as I'm getting. For my hip."

"Your hip is doing great, according to your physical therapy file. At any rate, by this stage most patients are off of their hard painkillers. You are still taking the same amount you took immediately following your surgery. Is the oxycodone the only opioid you are taking currently? Please be honest with me, Alex. It's very important."

Alex sighed. "Yes, I'm only taking oxycodone."

"What benefit are they providing you at this stage?"

Alex clenched his fists. "You know why. I just need them."

Werner considered him. "The thing about opioids, Alex, is that you quickly develop a tolerance. It's one of the most dangerous qualities of having an addiction to them. Do they even get you high anymore, or are you simply in maintenance to avoid withdrawal?"

Alex scowled. "Sometimes I use them to get high. Mostly it's maintenance."

Werner nodded gently. "Do you know what methadone is?"

"Sort of." Alex sighed. He'd been braced for this question, but he still couldn't help but feel a flood of dread in his chest. "It helps with pain and keeps away withdrawal but also stops you from getting high, right?"

"That's a simplification, but yes. Methadone is much harder to abuse and is a very effective tool to help addicts. If I were to prescribe you that instead of the oxycodone, would you take it instead?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Alex looked away and folded his arms. "I don't want to. Obviously. Are we done yet?"

Werner raised a hand. "I only ask because I need to understand where you are in your dependence on them. Your use, by your own admission, has escalated from where it was in the past, but goes flat now during a time when everything is new and strange. I would typically expect another upward trend, but you say it has not changed. It would take a great deal of effort and self control from you to remain at your current dosage; yet, you are not interested in entering recovery."

Alex glanced at the clock, frustrated to see that he technically had another two minutes with the man. "Because Yassen only gives me the same dose the doctor did."

"So he controls your medications."

Alex grit his teeth. "He holds them for me."

"How did that come about?"

"At first, withdrawal made me forgetful. Then I used to take too much and now he doesn't want me to use it to get high." Alex crossed his arms and stared at the clock.

Fuck it. Cooperation time was over.

"That would explain your steady consumption," Werner said, a hint of something heavy in his voice. "He doesn't like you using it to get high, you say. What does he give you instead?"

Starting only slightly, Alex glared at a potted plant to his right and refused to answer.

"Your pupils have normalized since you got here," Werner said offhandedly. "And your attention has improved, though that was more subtle. You are quite skilled at hiding inebriation. Either way, I know you're taking something. What is it?"

Alex scowled.

"I have no intention of reporting him for it," Werner said. "It would hardly do me any good even if it was worth burning that bridge with you. The SVR is already excusing him of murder. I am quite familiar with the overview of his file. Giving a minor controlled substances doesn't even hold a candle to the majority of what he has been accused of."

"He just gives me weed drops," Alex snapped. "A tincture. It's less risky because I don't pass out or stop breathing if I take too much."

"That makes sense." Werner made another small note and looked up at Alex, thoroughly unruffled. Alex wanted to smash something, just to get a proper reaction from the man. To find the limit of his mild-faced mask "Do the drops help with your symptoms?"

"I eat a bit better, but they don't fix anything. Not as well."

"Would you rather take more opiates?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"They work better."

"At getting high?"

"No, at turning me purple."

Dr. Werner gave him a wry smile and set down his pen. "Well, they certainly aren't doing that. Would you like a moment alone in here? Your session is over, unless you would like to keep going. I'm sure Yassen would be willing to meet with me in my office instead if you'd like a few minutes to sit and relax."

"I'm fine," Alex snapped, standing. "I'll send him in."

"Thank you, Alex."