Alex's Tears Chapter 6
AN: I've posted! This fic is switch point of view from beggar girl to Alex. At the end I was try to show the conflict between Alex and MissionAlex; do you like, dislike, want to roast it on a fire? Hope you enjoy and please review!

He wasn't panicking with the bullets flying all around, the sun blazing and blood soaking into the sand. So she didn't. Either she would live or... she wouldn't (she might get to see her brother again). Panicking wouldn't stop any size caliber. Screaming hysterically (like some small part of her wanted to) would defiantly attract gunfire. So she stayed silent. Even when the pain began.

He was glad she had died. Jack wouldn't wanted to see how low he'd sunk, he realised. That he stood by and let someone be killed in front of him, and not done a thing to prevent it.(Was this what Ash felt like, why he gave in and gave his parents up?)

It was on one of the latest missions deep inside some foreign country. (They refused to tell him which one instead only briefing him on the location of the base, the languages spoken and where to deliver to material to. He would have been amused that they thought he could blackmail them but this was the third such mission in two days.) He had been tired, so tired and had made mistakes. (But what could they expect of someone with bruised ribs, a head aching from dehydration and a severe longing to just stop?)

He had sprinted into the alley way, not realising that it was a dead-end filled with rubbish heaps, not realising there was no way out. (Not realising that the beggar was even there, and he would regret that night after night). He dived behind on of the heaps, praying that they had missed him, even as he started around and realised his mistakes when the he saw tall walls surrounded him and a pair of shy brown eyes meeting his.

He was so surprised when he saw her, he hadn't noticed her at all. Well, that wasn't unusual. What was there to notice? Another child of the streets? A worthless girl? She lived on the edges and no-one knew she was there. Or if she wasn't. He put a finger to his lips, a unspoken plea in his eyes, she obeyed. Why not?

A couple of the guards entered the alley unsure if Alex was even there. It could have just ended there, Alex realised bitterly, they could have just turned away and walked off and he would have had one less nightmare at night.

A sudden sound cracked the silence; a rustle of a rat in one of the heaps. She knew there was a nest in there and hated it. (Her brother had been... found by the rats.) A man shouted and gunfire rent the air sending rubbish flying and rats scurrying for cover.

The beggar was so calm under the layers of grime and dust. Alex watched as one of the rounds painted blood on their chest. But they didn't scream, didn't make a sound that could be heard of the sound of gunfire. They didn't condemn him to death as well by making a sound. And he felt guilty for not feeling more thankful.

Something punched her in the chest. It hurt. Her curious fingers felt wet when they touched the crimson flower. But she felt distant from it, almost warm. It was hard to get warm sometimes at night. She was drifting. She could feel the boy's eyes on her, concern on his face. That was nice. Someone cared. She couldn't remember when someone last cared...

He could have applied pressure (but to reach her he would have needed to enter the men's line of sight), he could gotten help (but who would have helped a beggar when there were men with guns nearby) he could have done something, anything instead of just watching her die (he did what he had to, he completed the mission). The eyes accused him in his nightmares (but they were so calm until they slide closed). It was his fault (so what? Only a singer causality on a mission – except for the guards- that's a success.)

She didn't scream. She did as he asked. It was hard to breath, why? She hoped the men wouldn't get him, he cared. She was cared for. That was important, she thought fuzzily, that somebody cared for you...

Even in his nightmares, she didn't speak, didn't panic, didn't scream. She just said everything with her eyes instead. She was dead because of him. He wonders if it was worth it.
(But the mission succeeded.)
The mission succeeded.