Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me and I make no money with it.

Summary: Picking up the essentials. Sickness plus trauma makes no clear head.

Date: Jan. 2nd - 2 pm, between Vacation and No Time (Timeline: http :/ shiruy. livejournal. com/ 3602. html)

Edited: 18.12.10

21. Cat

Alex woke with a scream in his throat and the feeling of hands all over him.

Without thinking he lashed out, attacking the only source of real contact he registered. His left came up and grabbed a wrist, giving it a sharp yank and twisting, while his right came up for a palm strike and-

Both his hands were caught and suddenly Alex found himself face to face with Yassen. He blinked slowly, feeling dazed and disoriented. His wrists were pounding in unison with his head.

"Awake now?" The Russian didn't exactly look concerned, just... less blank than normal. Whatever it was, it made the man's ice blue eyes seem much more alive.

"Uh... yeah," Alex croaked, his throat dry. He looked down, embarrassed. Yassen's hands were warm, the fingers encircling his wrists. The teen shivered when the man let go of him, the touch of calluses brushing over his raw skin just soft enough to feel good instead of painful.

"I am going to pick up medical supplies. What do you need?"

The teen glanced up in surprise and looked around. They were standing on the parking lot of an apothecary in what looked like a small town. Some kind of large, comic-style cat cut-out was standing in the window and advertising cough sirup for kids. He guessed that it was early afternoon. Had he ever before slept as much as in the last week? He felt like he was losing whole days.

"I, ah..." He ran his hand through his hair to buy some time. It was hard to think and his head just refused to clear up. "Something for the fever. Disinfectants. And bandages for my wrist." He couldn't afford for the wound to get infected.

Yassen nodded, but the intent look didn't vanish. "Any injuries beyond the visible ones?"

It took Alex a moment to understand what the Russian was asking. When he did, he blanched.

"No," he muttered, swallowing thickly. "Just a few bruises."

Frank hadn't gotten far enough to hurt him in that other way. The teen felt incredibly sick just thinking about it. If he hadn't managed to take that bastard's knife... He went even paler.

Yassen's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "If you have to throw up, do it outside."

Alex couldn't stop himself from sticking his bottom lip out just a bit, feeling kind of offended. "I'm not going to throw up. Excuse me for not being limited to the expressive abilities of a stone."

The contract killer raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement entering his eyes. "Indeed you are not. I will be back shortly. Don't leave the car."

The teen quirked an eyebrow, watching the man get out of the car smoothly. "Aw, and here I was thinking about running barefoot all over this nice, slush-covered parking lot. Go and spoil my fun, why don't you?"

He wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he could have sworn Yassen gave a quiet huff of laughter. "We all have to make sacrifices."

He closed the door and Alex let his gaze trail after the man as he crossed the lot. It was strange how - dare he say it? - nice the assassin seemed at times. Almost like he genuinely cared.

...yeah, right. He snorted and shook his head, deciding to try to go back to sleep. It seemed like he was still delirious.