Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel or any of the recognizable characters or places. So no owning Jondy or Alec, though that'd be fun! ^_^ Season Two would've been very different, though... ^_~

A/N: Set a few days after "Two." Thanks for all the reviews, everyone, I love them all!

So Insecure

Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem...

-"Crawling" by Linkin Park

Alec had had enough of caution. He blurred back to the apartment and up the fire escape, trusting the Ordinaries to convince themselves they were just confused or seeing things. A tall, handsome fellow with devilishly good physical structure hadn't just run past them faster than their eyes could track. He didn't have the time to waste, and Ordinaries didn't want to see things that didn't fit into their world view anyways. It was like that wizard movie where the bus could get away with being loud and obnoxious because the stupid humans were too blind to see past their own noses.

Luckily none of the neighbors came out to bother him, and he made the last leg to the apartment without being hassled. The door opened when he touched it; it seemed that Jondy hadn't bothered to lock it after he had left.

She was on the couch, right where he had left her, curled up in a tight ball with her face pressed into a pillow. Instead of shaking, she was trembling, jerking every so often as he walked toward her. He didn't know if she was unconscious or asleep, but he was hoping for the latter as worry clenched his chest uncomfortably. He popped open the bottle of pills as he knelt down next to the couch.

"Jonds," he said quietly. When she didn't respond, he raised his voice and dropped the lid to shake her shoulder. "Jondy. Jondy!"

"Wha…" She lifted her head and cracked open her blue eyes to half-heartedly glare at him before she rolled over to bury her head in the couch cushions. Sweat was beading on her forehead, and her skin was warm to his touch. She mumbled something else but whatever the scathing, witty sting was, it was lost on the deaf cushions.

"Look, woman, I didn't take a walk all the way over to Freedmont Street in the cold for you to not take these pills," he said, hoping the humor and goading would make her retaliate or at least stir against him. No luck. She shuddered and burrowed farther into the cushions, narrow shoulders curled in on herself. Narrowing his eyes, he set the bottle down on the coffee table and stood up, one hand on the couch. "Don't think I'm done with you yet," he said roughly, contrasting the gentle way he brushed his hand over her damp, matted blond hair.

Snatching up the bottle again, he walked over to the kitchen and pried open the fridge. Milk, milk, where'd she put it this time… He should've given her some before he had left, but he had been intently focused at that point of time. Tossing a few nonessentials out of the fridge, he finally located the milk behind a Tupperware container of leftover fried chicken and rice and gravy. They had had a Southern-cooked meal back on Sunday, and he had learned that Jondy had spent a couple years in Georgia with a foster family.

Jondy's life was scattered and weird, but he was piecing the bits of it together over dinners and lunches and idle times spent in the living room. Up until she was nine their experiences were similar, but then they diverged wildly. While he had been learning to slice arteries and speak Mandarin, she had been running through the states, sometimes alone and sometimes with one of her fellow escapees. Still, even if it hadn't been a stable life, she talked about it with zeal and harbored a passion for the freedom that was a theme throughout it.

He snatched a coffee mug from the drying rack and splashed milk into it before shaking four or five or the tryptophan pills into his hand. The doctor hadn't said how many he should give her, which was a stupid elimination of information on her part. And she was supposedly a pharmacist in another life. Damn, he hoped he didn't kill her while trying to medicate her. The thought made him clench his fists, effectively crumbling the pills into dust. He wasn't going to kill her. The pills would stop the shakes and maybe let her get some rest. They would make her better, he had to believe that. He wouldn't think of any alternatives.

After he dropped the tryptophan dust into the milk and stirred it all together, he went back to the couch. Jondy had started shaking worse, almost to the point where the shakes could be called seizures. Alec frowned fiercely and put the mug down.

"Jondy." There was no full name to call her by, like angry, frustrated people called each other on TV.

Alec bent over and cautiously flipped her onto her back over before picking her up. He turned around and sat on the couch, cradling her in his lap, supporting her in his arms. She mumbled weakly in protest but didn't try to get away. He would never admit how much it freaked him out to see her so defenseless and vulnerable; it wouldn't do her any good, anyways. "Hey, come on, open your eyes," he said, shaking her a little, "I need you to wake up a little for me."

Her eyes opened, little blue slits of confusion and delirium. She flicked them back and forth before settling on his face. "Al…?"

"With an 'ec' on the end, and good morning, sunshine," he said, though the sarcastic words weren't nearly as biting as they might've been. He stroked her hair out of her face and jostled her carefully into a better position in his arms. If she had been feeling better and consented to being held like this, he might have thought about how her tiny figure fit perfectly there in his arms and how good it felt to hold her. She still smelled like lavender, as if she had soaked the scent into her skin a long time ago and even sickness couldn't drive it out.

He picked up the mug of milk and held it to her lips. "Drink this. Promise you'll feel better." Whether he was promising her or if he wanted her to promise him, he wasn't entirely sure, but he hoped it sounded reassuring to her, no matter what.

Thankfully, she didn't refuse, and after the first couple tentative sips, she lifted her trembling hands and held onto the mug. She downed most of it and then pushed it away, taking massive gulps of air. Alec quickly put the mug down and hauled her upright, nestling her between his side and his arm. The shaking had stopped, and she lay limply against him, her head resting against his shoulder. Worried to move her too much, he stayed still, content with the fact that she was probably in the clear.

After a long while, Alec felt her stir a fraction, picking at something on his arm. He leaned over and peered into her face, wondering if she was awake or starting to shake again. God help him, if she was shaking, he was going to force a liter of tryptophan-infused milk down her throat. She looked back at him with a tired but comprehending gaze that looked out from a paper-white face.

"Mmm, you've got a hole in your jacket," she mumbled. He was suddenly aware that her pointer finger was poked through a small hole of the arm of his jacket. He had probably snagged it on the fire escape or something. "Remind me to fix it so you don't look so much like a hobo."

Laughing silently, he shook his head and bumped his forehead softly against the side of her head. He let his head rest on hers for a moment, breathing against her hair. "Could you even lift a needle right now?"

"Not now," she said, "Later. Too tired now." She lifted her head from under his and kissed his cheek. Warmth radiated across his skin at the tender touch. "Thanks, Alec. For helping me."

Sighing, he held her closer, tighter, secure in knowing she would be okay now. She was his one mainstay in life outside of Manticore, this little renegade 09er roommate of a few weeks. He was sort of disturbed by how attached he had gotten after such a short time, but…there was no helping it. He lifted a thick lock of hair away from her eyes and smirked down at her. "You're welcome, Jondy. Now go to sleep. You look like death warmed over."

"So eloquent with your stolen phrases," she teased, but her yawn caught her, and she settled against him without arguing.

Maybe he would tell her about Max tomorrow. Tomorrow it might be okay. For now, though, he held her while she drifted off, her arm curled around his, his other arm secure around her waist. Yeah, he'd tell her about Max. Later.

A/N: And finished! Maybe he'll tell Jondy about Max in the next story, lol, if he can make himself do it. We'll see! :)