The sharp whine of a tea kettle woke me the next morning, but I was too comfortable to immediately move.

"How'd you two end up in the living room, anyway?" I recognized Lion's voice nearby, and I thought he'd spoken to me. Resignedly, I almost replied from the cocoon I'd somehow created with the blanket, but Bear responded before I could.

"Woke up around four thirty this morning to some noise," he said, his voice more distant. I heard a clinking mug, and assumed he was making tea. Lion sounded like he was in the kitchen, too. "Jag was in the bathroom. He had a bad nightmare."

Ah, shit, I thought, still unwilling to break the spell of peace and warmth I was locked in. I decided to eavesdrop for a moment and figure out what Bear revealed.

"Is he alright?" Lion asked, his voice concerned. I could practically picture the furrowed eyebrows, his mouth flat in worry.

"Yeah, he was okay when he fell asleep," Bear conceded, punctuated by running water and a clink. He must've put something in the sink. "It was bad for a few minutes, though. Poor kid's been through piles of shit."

"Did he talk to you about it?" Lion's voice was colored with surprise. "I thought he would've clammed up."

"Me too. But yeah, he talked a bit. First part was about Hollis, then…well. Apparently someone shot himself in front of him after telling him it was his fault." He paused, and I opened my eyes, staring quietly at the tellie and the living room, bathed in the golden rays of early morning. I hadn't slept for long, then. "I had a feeling there was more to the dream, but…" He paused. "He'd said enough for the night."

Bear paused, and I listened intently, clutching the blanket in my good hand. God, what I would give to spend then rest of my life on this nice warm couch, without anything else mattering. "I've never seen anyone like that, Lion. I startled him, and…I really think he thought I was going to hurt him, at first."

Honestly, I almost marched in and clocked Bear for the blunt reveal, but I knew last night that if I was confiding in one of them, it would reach all of them eventually, anyways. I supposed I knew that after the first few times. It was still a little frustrating, though. I couldn't help the bloody flinching, he didn't need to advertise it.

"Jesus," Lion said quietly. "What the hell?"

"That's what I was thinking," Bear admitted. "After he'd calmed down some, we watched the tellie for a while, and he fell asleep. Unfortunately, I did, too. I was going to go by the youth center for a while."

Lion laughed quietly. "You can nap anywhere. You should've known."

Their conversation continued aimlessly, and I took the moment to stretch, disentangling myself from the blanket and sitting up. I blinked blearily, sleep still weighing heavily on my eyelids, and rolled my left shoulder. The wound pulled, but it felt alright. I probably needed to put it back in the sling, though.

"Look who's alive," Lion said from the doorway, and I turned to look at him, still squinting from the remnants of sleep. Lion chuckled. "Or maybe not."

"Not," I affirmed, deciding to steadfastly ignore any and all questions about my wellbeing at least until I'd drunk some coffee. Preferably forever, but I reckoned that wouldn't go over so well. I stood, promptly falling back to the couch when the living room started to spin. "Whoa."

Lion looked like he couldn't decide whether to be amused or worried, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug in his hand. "You alright?"

"Just a little dizzy," I admitted, rubbing my forehead. "I'll be fine after some coffee."

Bear brushed past Lion and into the living room, eyes narrowing. "You look worse than you did last night."

"Oh, thank you," I bit, though I could admit that I probably looked like a ghost at the moment. I felt pretty bad.

"You're eating something," Bear said resolutely, turning back to the kitchen, "then taking your medicine. Then going back to sleep."

If I was being honest, I didn't have much to do besides that, but being denied the option was enough to piss me off. "I'll watch the tellie for a while. I'm really fine, I just have trouble getting going in the morning."

Lion raised an eyebrow. "You stood up and almost face-planted into our table. I'd say that's a little more than just some trouble."

I didn't comment, sending him a look before trying again, steadying myself on the edge of the couch as I got my bearings. "See? All fine." The world was only spinning a little bit, anyways.

I wobbled into the kitchen, earning a disapproving glare from Bear. "I hope you're here to tell me you're going to spend the rest of the day horizontal."

"Bear, I really appreciate what you did last night and what you're trying to do now, but please don't mother me," I said firmly, steadying myself on the counter and grabbing a coffee mug from the shelf, my hand shaking the slightest bit.

I was very appreciative of Bear and his willingness to help me and worry for me, but I was also struck with just how bad last night's nightmare had been, and by the fact that my walls had been reduced to dangerously low blockades. I'd spoken much more than I should have, and I was paying for it now.

I remembered Bear's words, about being brave for speaking up, but I was nowhere near ready to face them just yet.

Bear gave me an unreadable expression before shimmying the frying pan in his hand, runny eggs congealing from the heat. "I'm not mothering you. You're pushing yourself well past your body's limits, and as the medic, and your friend, I'm trying to make you understand that you're not proving anything but your absolute stupidity and lack of self-preservation by stumbling around like a drunk on a bender and calling it independence."

I blinked, trying to translate the sentence, squinting at Bear as my lagging brain tried to keep up. I heard Lion laugh from the living room. "Bear, he's not used to you in post-disaster medic mode. You have to ease him in."

"Shut up, prat," Bear shot back. Lion snorted.

Bear glanced at me, then sighed reluctantly, plating the eggs as the toaster dinged in alarm. "Just…I know you're obviously not used to letting people help you, but you can't be so independent that you don't let yourself heal. Alright?"

I blinked again, feeling my face heat. I looked down, sliding the coffee cup in his direction. "Two sugars, no cream."

Bear kind of looked like he wanted to be mad, but he smiled a little. "I didn't say you could turn me into your bloody butler, kid."

I couldn't help but smile a little. "All or nothing, Bear."

Bear laughed, then, and something in my chest eased. I really didn't like it when Bear was upset. It felt wrong. "Sure, sure. Taking advantage of my generous nature. Get out of my kitchen."

I laughed quietly. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome, Jigsaw."

I stilled, glancing back at him with what I hoped was an incredulous expression. "The hell was that?"

"Your new nickname," Bear said, and I could hear Lion continuing to laugh in the living room. "Jigsaw. Because you're a puzzle. C'mon, I thought it was funny!"

I didn't even dignify that with a response, sitting back on the couch. Lion's eyes danced with mirth in my periphery.

"Not a word," I warned, fumbling for the remote.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I managed to fenagle the tellie to the correct settings, putting on the morning news. Bear brought me coffee and eggs and toast, and I felt like an absolutely useless excuse for a human being, but I couldn't say anything after his monologue earlier. "Thanks."

"Sure," Bear said, plopping down beside me with his own plate. "Just don't tell Tiger. That was the last of his coffee."

He said so mid-sip, and I almost inhaled it on accident. "Oh. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have asked for it if I'd known."

Lion chuckled. "Nah, it's funny. If you're going to stick around, dealing with Tiger on a day he doesn't get coffee is practically a rite of passage."

"Speak of the devil," Bear whispered, tipping his head towards the back hallway.

As if summoned by the conversation, a bedraggled Tiger with an expression that could incinerate a planet stumbled out into the living room, not even glancing in our direction before continuing to the kitchen.

"Shit," I breathed, chugging the coffee to hide the evidence. Bear and Lion were trying very hard not to laugh, remaining quiet as I threw back the hot drink, hoping to finish before Tiger inevitably discovered the theft.

There was a few seconds of shuffling, some opening and closing of cabinets, and a couple mumbled expletives when I finally set the empty mug down, breathing heavily. Damn, that was hot.

Then, there were a couple seconds of silence.

Then…

"Which one of you sons of bitches thought it was a good idea to take my bloody coffee?"

A week later, I was settled more comfortably into the L-Unit flat. I'd had a couple more nightmares, but I'd been doubly sure to remain exceptionally quiet during and after, so I didn't have to repeat last week's experience.

Living with the guys outside of Brecon Beacons was a different experience, one I found I actually enjoyed. Tiger, surprisingly, was a bit more open with me now that he was at home, for which I was grateful. Bear continued to be a good friend and overbearing maniac, but I…enjoyed his company.

Lion…well, I'd actually decided that I didn't know Lion all that well, compared to the other two. He'd been awesome, very supportive and patient, and kind, but he didn't talk about himself much, or give much away. I wondered if it was on purpose, or a byproduct of his childhood.

I got the chance to get to know him a bit more one day, and I was…actually kind of eager to do so. Bear had confided in me, and even Tiger had let down his walls a bit…but that first time, when Lion told me about his father and his childhood, it was like he was reading from a script. I knew it had been hard to do, but…he'd seemed…blasé, almost, about the reveal. I was letting so many secrets come to light, and knowing that I knew so little about him, and what made him tick, was disconcerting.

"Ready?" He asked, knocking twice on my open door.

"Yeah," I said, shoving my feet into my trainers and adjusting my sling. It was my first day of physical therapy and my first appointment with the shrink I'd been assigned. I'd clammed up as soon as Lion told me, but I felt a little better after he explained that it was standard practice for anyone who'd been captive by the enemy on an assignment, for however long. Bear assured me that he was going to have to see one, too.

Since I couldn't drive (which I chalked up to my extended period of nonexistence instead of the fact that I, um, wasn't of age yet) Lion offered to take me. He and Tiger both owned cars. I'd gathered that Bear usually took the subway whenever he needed to get around. I felt kind of bad that Lion was wasting his whole day chauffeuring me around, but he'd assured me he had some errands in the city to run, anyways.

"Well, we'll be late if we dally any longer," Lion said, twirling the keys in his hand. "You alright for the stairs, or do you want to try the lift?"

"Stairs are fine," I assured, tugging on a jacket and flinging the left arm over my sling. God, I hoped to get rid of this bloody thing soon. It was so annoying. "I feel good today."

"Don't let the shrinks scare you," Tiger said from the living room, flicking through channels. He was a little too happy about having the flat to himself for the day; Bear was volunteering at a youth center or something outside London. Apparently he did that a lot while he was home. "They're vultures, but they're easy enough to deal with."

"Thanks for the warning," I said. I was somewhat dreading the experience, but I also knew that I'd probably be able to talk circles in them, unless they were very good. Which, according to Tiger, wouldn't be the case.

We were going to the London branch, so our drive was a little under an hour. We spent most of it in silence. After a week cooped up in the flat, watching the scenery pass was nice.

"How're you settling in?" Lion asked as we approached the outskirts of London, cars packed nice and tight on the inlets.

"Good," I admitting, readjusting my jacket, which had begun to slip off my slinged shoulder. "I still feel bad about using Elliot's room, but…I like it there."

I saw Lion quirk a smile out of the corner of my eye. "I'm glad."

Silence resumed, but it wasn't thick or heavy. It was nice, companionable silence. It reminded me of the days of silence I'd spend with Ian, sometimes. He'd be working, and I'd be reading, or watching the tellie, but…we were together. We didn't have to talk, or anything.

I closed my eyes. What I wouldn't give to have another day with him.

"You alright?"

"Hm?" I said, glancing at him. "Ah, yeah. Just thinking."

"What about?"

I shrugged, continuing to look out the window. Couldn't hurt, I supposed. "My uncle."

Lion nodded. "Yeah? You said he raised you, right?"

"Yeah," I conceded, knowing full well that Lion was fishing for information. Well, it startled me to admit it, but...I was almost nonchalant, now, about revealing little pieces of information. After Bear watching me utterly break down, and Lion and Tiger seeing the aftermath…it felt like anything I told them couldn't possibly be as bad as knowing they'd seen that.

"Are you close?"

I smiled a little, involuntarily, thousands of snapshot memories filtering through my mind. Mountain climbing, scuba diving, camping, holidays, and those days of companionable silence. "Yeah. We were, anyway."

Lion didn't say anything, but he nodded.

The facility was far enough away from the Bank that I wasn't too worried about anyone recognizing me, but it was still a military facility, so I'd hide my face as much as possible. I'd finally re-dyed my hair, too, so that would help. Lion had helped. I felt kind of bad; he'd ruined one of his shirts.

"I'll be in the lobby when you're done," Lion assured, patting my shoulder as I followed the nurse back to the physical therapy wing.

Tiger warned me about the psychiatrists, but he should've warned me about the physical therapists. Apparently they'd taken lessons from Dr. Three in their courses.

I blinked as the thought crossed my mind. That was…very dark humor. I'd avoid that in the future.

However, I couldn't help but think it was true. My therapist Lissa was very nice, but she didn't mess around. I would've thought we'd be starting with some stretching, perhaps some light motions, but she had me lifting weights almost as soon as I took the sling off. It was disconcerting to know how much strength I'd lost in the arm, but at least she was jumping right in. I didn't know if I'd have the patience for gradual improvement.

Unfortunately, that meant I was getting the speed-treatment, which was so far unpleasant.

"You look like you just ran a marathon," Lion commented as I stumbled into the lobby, where he was twirling the keys in his hand and perusing the magazines on te coffee table. "And then doubled back and did it again."

I gave a short, humorless laugh, my arm and upper body aching. "Feels like it. Lissa doesn't mess around."

"Oh, you got Lissa? She's brilliant. I tore a muscle a couple years back and she worked on me. She's tough, though."

I scoffed. "You don't say."

The shrink was in a different wing of the facility, and I was pleased that, while I was winded once we finally got there, I didn't have to stop and rest along the way. Lissa said I was doing quite well for someone who'd recently survived sepsis, but that I still needed to watch my exertion. Apparently, physical therapists were psychic, and knew exactly how much one overexerted themselves, and she gave me hell for it.

Bear would get a kick out of that.

The receptionist gave me enough paperwork to kill half a forest, so Lion and I hunkered down in a corner of the waiting room while I scanned through it all. It was mostly just standard stuff, medical history and everything. I supposed I should answer truthfully to at least that, in case they had questions about the medication in my file.

Lion resigned himself to flipping through a copy of Cosmopolitan (he defended that the options were limited) while I worked through the stack of papers, stopping briefly on the fourth page.

Do you have any pre-existing mental health conditions?

I snorted, and started checking boxes. Lion glanced over, eyes narrowing as I worked my way down the list. "Damn, kid. Is there any box you aren't checking?"

I glanced at him, then scanned the list again. "Um…schizophrenia."

Lion shook his head. I shrugged.

It must have been a slow day, because I went back fairly soon after I turned the paperwork in. I was led to a cramped little office with a sofa and a cluttered desk, papers and files piled in every available space. Behind the desk sat a mousy middle-aged man (bonus points for alliteration), with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a casual outfit that practically advertised a midlife crisis.

"Ah, Mr. Smith," the man said, glancing up from his computer as I rapped twice on the door. He stood and crossed around the desk, sinking into an armchair nestled in the corner and gesturing to the couch. "Come in, have a seat. Or would you prefer Matthew?"

"Matthew is fine," I said, closing the door behind me and settling on the couch. It was deceptively comfortable; it looked like it had been crafted in the stone age. I glanced at the nameplate on his desk. "Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hash."

"And you," he said with a thin smile. I decided I didn't hate him. He didn't seem overly imposing, or aggressive. Perhaps I'd make it out of here alive after all. "How are you doing today?"

I shrugged, glancing around the room. There were a couple framed degrees and some pictures on his desk of him and a woman with red hair, and a couple kids. "I'm well. Bit tired. I just came from a physical therapy session."

"Ah, yes, I've heard those can be quite brutal," he said sympathetically, opening a folder. I recognized my paperwork. "You're with the SAS, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it looks like…you're fairly new. How're you settling in?"

I took a second to word my answer. "Good. It was…rocky at first, but that's to be expected, I suppose. We're getting on well now."

"Pleased to hear it," he said with a small smile. The small-talk continued for a few moments, and he asked some more detailed questions about my family history and my own history with mental illness, but I think he gathered that I didn't much care for the topic. After about twenty minutes of beating around the bush, he finally got to the point.

"So, I understand you were taken captive on your last assignment," he said, his posture relaxed as he set his files to the side, watching me intently.

"Yes, sir," I answered, planning to keep my answers brief and impersonal for the most part. I supposed the trick would be making them just genuine enough to earn his approval, but I didn't want to let out more than I needed to. "For about sixteen hours."

"I see." The vague answer set me on edge, and I shifted a bit. "Would you like to elaborate on your experience, or would you like me to ask questions?"

Well. It was nice of him to give the option. "There really isn't much to tell; I was unconscious for most of the time." That was actually true. While the worst memories were highlighted in excruciating detail that would take decades to fade, the rest was a formless haze of distant feelings, instead of memories.

"And why was that?"

I shifted again, my arm aching in phantom pain at the memory of the infection. "I was going into septic shock. I'd been cut a couple days before, and the cut had gotten infected." I gestured to the sling. "It's what I'm in physical therapy for. I was mostly slipping in and out."

"Hm," he said, and I decided I was liking him less and less. I didn't like the vague one-word answers and the decidedly neutral expression, and his apparent inability to reveal any genuine emotion. It made me feel like he knew something I didn't, and it was pissing me off.

I blinked.

Holy shit. My poor unit.

Before I could dwell on it, though, he continued, "Well, why don't you tell me about the men who took you?"

I debated telling him no, but I supposed that wouldn't go over too well on a psych eval. "It was our package, Frederick Hollis, and three Irishmen who'd come to spring him. I never learned their names." If I could keep my statements clinical, detached, I could get through this. I took a deep breath to calm my quickening pulse, shifting to hide the movement. "Hollis was a convicted terrorist, murderer, and more, and it showed in his actions. He showed above-average intelligence and was very egotistical, which dictated a lot of his actions. He wasn't quick to anger, but he seemed to go ballistic once he snapped. The Irishmen seemed more like grunts than anything, but they were resourceful, and dangerous."

Dr. Hash raised an eyebrow. "What?" I asked, unable to hide the defensive bite in my tone.

"You sound like you're reciting a report," he explained, adjusting his position. "Forgive the cliché, but…how did you feel during this time?"

I shrugged, suddenly very intrigued by the intricate patterns in the rug. "Exhausted. Scared. For myself and for my teammate, Bear. I was kind of…stuck in a limbo, almost, not knowing which would kill me first—the sepsis or Hollis. It helped to focus on a way to get out of there."

"And what was your plan for that?"

"I had a knife on my ankle. Bear used it to tunnel out. The earth was damp and soft, so it only took him around eight hours, or so. Then he ran to find help."

"So you were alone for a portion of your captivity?"

No, I had an imaginary friend. What the bloody hell did he think happened after Bear left, I spawned a twin? "Yes."

Deep breaths, I reminded myself, realizing that I was getting both defensive and aggressive. Knowing me, that was never a good combination, especially towards someone who had a big say in when I could return to active duty. The last thing I wanted was to keep my unit out of the field because of my own weakness.

"And what happened during that time?"

I shrugged again. It was a safe gesture. "Not much." Well, that was a damn lie. "I was unconscious for most of it; I'd been getting worse, and by then, I wasn't doing well. Hollis came down to…ask me some questions, but he didn't hurt me much." Physically, anyways. "An hour or so later, he took me out front. He was going to shoot me and leave me for my unit to find. I'd managed to pry a zipper off of Bear's jacket, and I bought them a few minutes by shoving it into his eye."

The gruesome image flashed into my mind, and I had to blink it away. The few seconds of silence must have told the therapist volumes, but he let me continue uninterrupted. "Then my unit showed up and I was airlifted to a Czech hospital."

Dr. Hash was silent for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive frown. "That sounds like a harrowing experience."

"Well, it's not something I'd like to repeat."

"You don't sound very upset," he observed, sitting up straighter.

"I don't like to dwell on things too much," I bullshitted, going for a 'well-adjusted' vibe. "I was lucky to survive, and now it's over. I suppose that's all there is to it."

"Well," Dr. Hash said, picking up his file again and flipping through it. "You have a fairly long dossier when it comes to dealing with mental illness, Mr. Smith."

I tensed, feeling my shoulders tighten. "I guess."

"I'm concerned that, despite that, there's no record of therapy on your medical records," he said, leafing through the forms. "It seems like you have some trauma that hasn't been properly addressed, and I'm concerned that this experience may exacerbate those other symptoms, despite the medication you're on."

I decided to helpfully withhold the fact that I wasn't taking the medication. "I've been fine so far, and I think I'll continue to be fine. I spoke to a family friend off the record a few times, and she was very helpful."

"Would you like to discuss anything unrelated to your assignment?" He asked, looking up from his files and looking right at me.

"No," I said stiffly, holding his gaze.

He sighed, glancing at the clock, and readjusting his glasses. "Well, it seems our half hour is up, anyways. I'd like you to come in a few more times while you're on leave."

"Is that necessary?" I asked, eyeing him as he crossed to his desk, scribbling something on a slip of paper.

"Well, it would make me feel more comfortable," he admitted, handing the paper to me. "That's your next appointment. You can reschedule with the receptionist if it doesn't work, but I'd like to see you again in two weeks."

Damn. That sucked. I wondered if I could reschedule it and keep doing so until we went back on duty. Or maybe I'd schedule it for Christmas Eve just to piss him off.

"Well, thank you," I said, rising and practically fleeing the room, desperate to get out of the cramped space.

I stopped in the bathroom before I went back to the desk, splashing some cold water on my face and taking a second to breathe. My hands were shaking.

I took a deep breath as I leaned over the porcelain sink, willing my heart to calm. My chest felt tight.

Damn. I was a mess. I was held together with duct tape and pointless hope, and it seemed like every day, someone was picking at the edges of the tape with a grin and a promise to make it better.

I gave myself two more minutes to calm down, ignoring an employee who came in and gave me a questioning glance, before continuing to the lobby. I gave the slip to the receptionist who confirmed the appointment, and then found Lion, who'd moved on to a copy of Home and Garden. Sabina had like that magazine in California. I wondered what it was doing in England.

"Ready?" I asked, unable to help a smile as he jumped, not having heard me approach.

"Damn ghost," he scowled without any heat, returning the magazine to its pile. "Sure. How'd it go?"

"Fine."

He didn't ask again.

"Are you serious?" I asked as Lion eased the car into the handicapped parking spot outside the bustling shopping center, looking towards the ice cream shop on the corner.

"Yes," he said, turning off the engine and glancing at me. "You were white as a ghost after your appointment. I figure ice cream should help."

"I'm not a kid, you know," I said defensively, glancing at the shop. It seemed innocent enough. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had ice cream, either. I thought it might have been with Sabina on a boardwalk she liked to frequent, which just twisted my gut.

"Jaguar, I'm twenty-seven years old, and I have never once in my life turned down ice cream," he said resolutely, opening his door. "Seriously. Come on."

I sighed, resigned to my fate, and followed.

Lion got mint chocolate chip. I got Rocky Road.

It was a nice day, so Lion insisted we sit outside. I felt heat flame in my cheeks with every questioning look we received. After all, it wasn't every day people saw two (almost) grown men eating ice cream on the patio.

"You're quiet," Lion said, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, taking a long drag.

"I'm always quiet," I defended, taking another bite. I'd missed ice cream.

Lion smirked, releasing a smoky breath. "I suppose."

"Was there a reason you wanted to come get ice cream?" I asked.

"Why would there be?"

"Because you don't seem like the kind of guy to waste gestures," I said carefully.

Lion chuckled. "That's not entirely true, but yeah. You caught me. I wanted to let you know that K-Unit will be hanging around a lot in December; they wanted to wait a bit so they could see their families on Christmas."

I felt the blood drain from my face even as I looked away, hoping to hide the reaction. "Oh. Alright."

"And that's why I wanted to talk to you, because you reacted badly in the hospital, too," Lion said, leaning forward. He looked more serious now, eyes honest and earnest. "What's up, Jag? What's wrong with K-Unit?"

Shit.

I took a breath, the taste of caramel turning to ash as I tried to keep the panic from overflowing. "Lion, I'd really…really rather not talk about it."

"And I get that, kid, I do," he said, looking concerned again. Damn, he should patent the expression. It made me feel defensive and guilty all in one go. "But I want to help, if there's a problem. You can't just keep everything to yourself all the time."

"Lion—look, I don't want to be rude, okay? I really don't," I started, knowing full well that what I was about to say would sound just that. "But honestly, you don't get it. You don't, and that's fine. I wouldn't want you to. But every time any of you asks me a question about…about me, or my past, or both, I feel like the world is about to end, alright? I feel like everything I've worked so hard to leave behind is going to come flooding back, and that will be the end of me. Every innocent question you ask, every time you think it's going to be an easy answer, I'm wondering if I'm going to have a heart attack. That's how much I'm panicking. And I know you—you told me about you, and what happened to you, and I was really grateful. I still am. But you were, at least you seemed, prepared to do that, and I'm not. I can't even tell you how terrifying it is to know that every day I'm going to be expected to reveal something else, knowing that one day I'm going to slip up and have it all come crumbling down. There are some things I can't talk about, that will just…absolutely blow everything I've tried to build to absolute shit, and you can't get that. So I'm sorry, but…no. Just…just no."

I looked down when I was finally finished, watching a drop of runny chocolate ice cream fall through the gaps in the iron table to the pavement below. My heart was racing like usual, and my hands were clenched in fists beneath the table, my knee bobbing in nervousness and anger and…and fear. I didn't want to look at Lion.

"I'm sorry," I said after a second of silence, running a hand down my face. "Sorry, you—you didn't deserve that."

He didn't answer. Damn, I'd probably offended him worse than I thought. Shit. All the progress we'd made, and I'd just taken it and—and blown it to hell, like everything else.

"I can't drink because I'm terrified I'll become my father," Lion said quietly.

I glanced up, surprised, to see him looking out at the car park, eyes dark and far, far away. I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn't have to say anything else, because this had absolutely not been my intention, but he kept going before I could.

"I've never had a sip of alcohol. When me and the guys hit the bar, or the club, I'm always the DD, because I can't stand the thought of drinking like he did and becoming what he was. I think it scares me more than anything else."

He paused, and I started, again, to tell him to stop, because now I felt like the worst human ever to walk the planet, but he kept going.

"I smoke," he said, looking intently at the cigarette in his hand, "because when I was ten, he started burning me with them. When I was fifteen, I found a few under his bed. I wanted to…I wanted to understand the thing that hurt me, and I went and got myself addicted to nicotine. It was just a few at first. One every once in a while. By the time I was twenty-two, I was smoking a pack a day.

"I've been trying to quit. Tiger and Bear don't know, but…I've been trying nicotine patches, cold turkey, reducing the number I smoke a day, and…well. It hasn't gone very well, honestly." He punctuated the statement with a sardonic shrug, and I could only sit in abject horror, knowing I'd been the one to prompt all these very private reveals, and I felt even worse.

"When I…when I was sixteen, he finally crossed a line." Lion's eyes darkened. I didn't think that was possible anymore, but it happened. "He was…he had some poker buddies over. He…" Lion's face twisted, and I could tell it was agonizing to get the words out, but somehow, he did. "The bastard was going to…was going to let them…have Angie. For the night."

A cold stone of dread settled in my stomach.

"I stopped them, thank God," Lion said, taking a drag on the cigarette, his hands shaking just slightly. "But…well, they gave me the beating of my life, and I wasn't about to let it happen again. To either of us. Angie called the cops, and we disappeared before they got there. They tracked us down a few months later, but our dad was in jail, and that was all that really mattered."

Lion finally stopped, and I thought I was going to drown in the guilt pooling around me. God, I was an asshole.

"You were right," he said before I could apologize. He looked at me, and I'd never seen this side of Lion, and I never wanted to see it again. "It does kind of feel like the world's ending."

I couldn't even answer him.

The car ride back was painfully, painfully silent, and I drafted and scrapped and re-drafted dozens and dozens of long-winded apologizes that could never, ever do my guilt justice.

Lion drove in silence. His shoulders were relaxed again, but his eyes were quiet, and there was no trace of the usual easy smile or friendly gaze.

I was officially the worst human alive.

I realized I'd run out of time when we pulled into the garage down the block from our flat, and I was nowhere near ready to apologize, but Lion was opening the door to get out, and…and it was now or never.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Lion," I said quietly, not looking at him as I fiddled with my sling. "I never meant…I'm so sorry I made you dredge all that up. I feel awful."

Lion took a deep breath and closed the door, sinking back in his seat. His expression was blank. "You shouldn't be. I'm sorry, too. If I had known that's what you've been feeling for the past month and a half, I never would've pushed you."

"What? No, I'm fine," I said quickly, trying to redirect the conversation. "Seriously, I…thanks for telling me, but I feel really bad. I never meant for you to…to let everything out, you know?"

Lion finally looked at me, and I saw a shadow of a smile. "No worries, kid. I'll be alright. Just…do me a favor and don't mention it to the others, yeah?"

I nodded. Of course not.

He made to exit the car once more, but I had one more idea. "Hey."

"Hm?" He said, turning to me.

"Listen, um…" I fiddled with my sleeves, feeling incredibly self-conscious and small, but determined, nonetheless. "I…I'll make you a deal."

I took a deep breath. "For…for every day that you don't smoke, or that you meet your scaled-back goal…I'll…I'll answer a question." I took a breath, but quickly continued, rambling, "But I totally have to right to veto a question. Like, you can't just ask me to spill everything. But, um, if I veto one, you can ask another one. Just…yeah."

I fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, finally glancing at him. His eyes were wide. "Seriously? You don't…why would you do that, kid? Now I know how much it sucks, I don't want to make you do that."

I shrugged. "You've…well, you've done a lot for me. This way, I guess…we can help each other?" I said, phrasing it like a question, feeling my neck heat up. "You don't—you don't have to. If it's stupid please just tell me, and I'll forget all about it."

Of course he'd think it was stupid. It was the most childish thing I think I'd ever offered to anyone. Ever. I was feeling the embarrassment manifest in the sweat on my neck and my fidgety hands, waiting for him to shoot it down.

Instead, he smiled, slow and small, but genuine. Real and genuine and…touched.

I glanced at him, still self-conscious, and he ruffled my hair. I was surprised by how…gentle he seemed right now. Nothing like the intimidating SAS man I'd thought he was at first, just…someone like me with a lot of shit to unpack and no desire to do so.

But he gave a small laugh, shaking his head, and it was enough.

"I think I'd like that a lot, Jag."

I blinked in surprise, but didn't get a chance to answer as he patted my shoulder and got out of the car, stretching. He turned away from me, raising the cigarette he'd been smoking on the way to his lips, and pausing. A few seconds later, he crushed it under his boot, and threw it away.

After a second of uncertain silence, I gave a small, disbelieving laugh.

It…it was progress.

It was really good progress.

It was enough.

A/N: Ehehehe that was so satisfying to write. I love them. Let me know what you think!

As always, you're all amazing! Thank you so so much for the favoriting and following! And for my reviewers, I love youuuuuuuu you're amaziiiiiiiiing!: Weirdo, LoveRider, scarlettmeadows, fa6imah.200, Luna Space, Asilrettor, Alex Rider Fan, Guest, onedemoniclily, Aima, otterpineapple06, reginamare, ClarenzaK, Guest, RiderKitty, Fangirl all da way, Guest, Guest, VINAI, Guest, Charlie, Guest, and Blondie 24-7!

Weirdo: Aw thanks so much! They're great to write XD OMG thank you so much! I'd love to! I'm honored! Okay here goes [Iron Man 1, IM2, Thor, Cap Am. 1, Avengers, IM 3, Thor 2, CA 2, Guardians of the Galaxy, Avengers 2, and so one. That should get you through my story! There are complete lists online, too! Thanks so much!

LoveRider: Thanks so much!

AlexRiderFan: Thanks so much! I'm glad you think so :)

Guest (Love this story! I'm interested…): Dude you and me both XD I can't wait to write that

Reginamare: Thanks! I'm so glad I could help give you some motivation :) in answer to your questions about the nightmare, honestly I didn't have much in mind, but now that you mention it…I think Alex really just feels empty after everything that's happened, you know? So it makes sense to me that he'd have a void. For him, nowhere feels safe, anymore. Thanks so asking!

ClarenzaK: Omg thank you so so much for such an awesome compliment! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Guest (Hey, I'm the one who was talking about an update schedule…): Of course! Thanks so much! And I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Weirdo again: Aw thanks so much for saying more, I loved it! And I hope you liked the Lion-Jag moments :) kind of intense, but also…they've got intense pasts, so. Yeah. :)

Guest (I love this!...): Thanks so much! I will!

Guest (This is so good…): Thanks! Me neither XD

Guest (I can't wait for L and K-unit…): Aw thanks so much! And me neither dude XD

Charlie: Hey! Um. Long. Long. Like…maybe 300k or above. We are literally still in the exposition. I did not anticipate this, but here we are X'D

Guest (This is the best…!): Thanks so much! And yes, he will, but not until later ;)

Thank you guys so, so much for all the continued support, and for all of you who helped me out with the British terminology! :D Hope you liked the chapter. Let me know!