A/N:

Hi! Would you believe I've had this written since Wednesday? Free period is wonderfully productive for writing when you don't have any homework. Or when you've missed three days of school.

I'm a little obsessed with Air Catcher (I won't fall in love with falling, I will try to avoid those eyes 'cause I'm not sure I want to give you tools that can destroy my heart) by Twenty One Pilots so that's what inspired the bit with Alex and Danielle.

I'm working on some fanart for this fic as well. (:

Also - if ANY of you have requests for things you want to see, things you want me to add, *please* review and let me know. Actually please review in general because reviews are one of the best things you can give any writer (read: I'm insecure and crave validation). I really do value your guys' opinions and input (:

Thoughts on a possible Danielle/Tom pairing?

Danielle didn't need a babysitter.

She knew that was what Snake was doing after Alex, Tom, and the other soldiers left. It was just her and Clara, and after whatever happened with the microwave, apparently they were not to be left alone.

Clara continued on looking through the textbooks while Danielle rifled through a stack of delivery menus, debating whether or not to order pizza. On one hand, Alex could be mad.

On the other hand, her stomach was growling.

"Just order one," Clara said. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Snake glanced over from where he sprawled on the couch with a bottle of root beer. "Order a what?"

"Courtesan."

"*Clara!*" Danielle exclaimed as Snake choked on his drink. "You are horrid-"

"Hush, Dani, it was a joke. Kurt uses it all the time, you should see Mother's face-"

"I'd rather not be anywhere near your parents if that ever comes up."

"I don't know how I've dealt with you for three years." Clara gave her a good-natured smile, flipping her hair back.

Danielle shrugged as she went to the online order site for the pizza place. "Your brothers trained you well."

"Probably."

"I thought you were new to London," Snake said, much too casually to be innocent.

"I am," Danielle replied. "Clara's family owned the studio where I took lessons."

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "Interesting."

"Well-" she sneezed.

Clara made a face and dug around in her purse for a pack of tissues. "You're sick."

"I never get sick."

"Everyone gets sick." Snake swung his feet off the couch and ambled into the kitchen.

"Not me. If I was sick, then I couldn't go to school or work, and then I had no reason to leave the house." Danielle pulled another one of Tom's books towards her and tried to decipher his scrawled handwriting on the papers stuck to the pages marking relevant information. His writing was awful. She really hoped Snake wouldn't ask anything, but he caught on quick enough.

"Why was staying at home bad?"

She glanced up at him, then back to the book. "I think you know why."

His face told her that he did but he voiced nothing. He leaned against the wall next to the table and peered over her shoulder at the text.

"You're studying law?"

"No. This is Tom's." she began rewriting Tom's notes onto fresh pieces of paper that were hopefully readable.

"Domestic law."

"Yes."

She sensed the question rising to his lips and quickly tried to divert the conversation. "What's your real name? The non-reptilian one."

He smiled, faintly amused. "Quinn Cariston."

"What's it like being a medic?"

"Probably the same as changing the subject."

Caught.

Guilty, she looked away.

"Hey," he lightly touched her shoulder. She tensed. "It's fine to be curious. Are you considering any charges?"

Clara sharply looked up, eyes flashing, about to say something in Danielle's defense. Danielle shook her head. "It's fine, Clara." She turned towards Snake - no, Quinn. "Yes. I am."

He didn't seem very surprised, as if he'd already known. "You should order the pizza."

"Please do," Clara muttered. "I think Rider ran out of food."

"I wouldn't ask this if I thought there was any other way," Quinn said.

Danielle felt her stomach drop into her toes. He knew.

"Why didn't you press charges sooner?"

"Can we save the achingly personal questions for later?" Clara asked. "She doesn't know you, Alligator."

Danielle scrutinized his expression - open; curious, but reluctantly. "Why do you want to know?"

"Maybe we can help you."

"I don't want help. If I did, I'd get it." she pulled another slice of pizza towards her. "Curiosity isn't a crime."

"But drug and sex trafficking is."

She sighed, feeling her stomach tie itself in knots. He looked nice enough and he worked for the SAS, and hadn't asked any questions when he first patched her up.

But. . . no. He would probably be obligated tell the rest of his unit.

She picked at a loose threat on the cuff of her sleeve, avoiding his gaze, and prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her whole before she caved to the desperate urge to tell someone.

"You're bothering her." Clara's voice was quiet. "Can't you see what she's been through? Please."

"You shouldn't care," Danielle said. "You don't know me. I don't understand why you're even here when you probably have better things to do."

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"Do you believe that?"

"What would you rather me say?" he leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "That Luke ordered me to stay? That your problem could hurt Alex?"

She bit down on her lip. Hard. "Yeah."

He was about to say something else, but his phone rang and he quickly answered it with a swipe of his thumb. "Yeah?"

Something slid into place behind his eyes and he was all business. "Where? Yeah. . .yes. Still here."

Clara impatiently drummed her fingers against the table, shooting Danielle a look.

Danielle shrugged. She had no idea what was going on and was starting to doubt that she ever would.

Quinn stood up and nudged the pizza boxes aside. "On my way." Faster than Danielle could follow, he slipped his jacket on and held out his phone, pressing it into his hand. "Come on."

"Where?" Clara asked.

He snatched his wallet off the table. "There's been a car wreck. The hospital."

Danielle sprang to her feet. "What? Is everyone okay?"

The look on his face was answer enough.

Alex hated hospitals by now; everything from the antiseptic smell that covered every inch to the machines that incessantly beeped next to the patients. A healthy distaste of needles had been instilled in him as well.

They were in the waiting room - him, Wolf, and Eagle. They'd been there for three hours. Tom had been taken back too; his arm was bent at an odd angle, even if he insisted that it didn't hurt.

It was Ben who worried Alex.

A pretty woman with freckles sat in a chair next to Luke, who let her squeeze his hand until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were red.

"Ben's wife," Eagle said, answering Alex's unasked question. "Gwen."

Alex started pacing laps around the coffee table, replaying the wreck in his mind. It had been deliberate, that much he was sure of, and the driver hadn't bothered sticking around. Did they target Ben, or himself? Tom, obviously not. He was the last person anyone would want to assassinate.

The attack was direct - almost personal, but Alex had walked away with barely a scratch even though his wrist had swelled to twice its normal size. Adrenaline took the edge off the pain. He didn't want to step through those doors until Ben and Tom were stabilized.

The body was tattooed with the IRA's slogan. Alex thought the IRA disappeared with the seventies and eighties, but apparently not. Around the ink, the man's skin was red like it had been burned. Was this a punishment killing, then?

Someone had tailed them - that much was obvious. How else would the driver know their location?

Alex had a horrible thought. He hurried around the coffee table to Eagle's chair.

Eagle looked up. "Yeah, Cub?"

"Where's the car?"

"Impounded."

Alex swore and turned away, running his hands through his hair. He had to find Ben's car - yes - he was sure of it. . .

A hand closed over his shoulder, wrenching him around. Alex instinctively twisted his arm up to jam into the offending forearm and pivoted, stepping out to the side, shifting his weight to his heels.

It was Wolf.

Wolf slowly let go of Alex, the derision obvious in his eyes.

Alex swallowed down any retort. He couldn't get defensive, Wolf was trying to rile him, he knew that. . .

He moved back a few more steps to put even more distance between him and the leader of K Unit.

"Dial it down," Wolf said. "You're scaring Gwen."

"No, I am not." Alex threw a quick glance towards Gwen. "She's sitting back. Hands unclenched. Face blank. She's more concerned about her husband than me."

Wolf grunted in - no, not approval, but acknowledgement, and Alex couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of a test, administered in the middle of a crisis. He wouldn't put it past Wolf. "She wants to talk to you."

Alex was about to answer when the admittance doors slid open with a faint whoosh, allowing Snake in. He marched straight past the receptionist over to Wolf, who pulled him aside just out of earshot. Alex shifted his weight, leaning forward to pick up a magazine off the table. The subtle change in distance let him hear Wolf's hushed conversation with Snake.

". . . considering a safe house. If Ben's car was tracked, they know where Cub lives and goes, and where Gwen works."

Snake shook his head. "Too disruptive."

"This won't be my call."

"Well, stall."

"I can't-"

"Luke, I'm telling you - they can't. I don't think Alex or Danielle is stable enough to cope-"

"The girl isn't coming," Wolf said flatly. He crossed his arms over his chest, feet slightly apart, a stance that dared Snake to argue.

Snake's eyes hardened. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You're not serious."

"What's happening to her sucks. It is not in our jurisdiction."

The two men stood face to face, less than a foot apart. Alex saw Eagle start to rise, and shook his head frantically.

Eagle relaxed back in his chair.

Alex knew at this point that intervention would get them nowhere, as much as he wanted to protest that yes, he was stable. Mostly.

"It's illegal to leave her behind." Snake's voice remained even. "She's a witness. And she's a minor."

Wolf's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. "A minor? I thought she was nineteen!"

"Her eighteenth birthday is in a couple months."

Alex fell into a chair. His feet plonked out onto the floor. How had he not noticed it sooner? The panic, the screaming - the candidness of her reactions - she wasn't just terrified, she was young.

Alex was permanently traumatized from what happened for a eighteen months when he was fourteen; he couldn't imagine thirteen years of constant torment, even if it didn't involve strange tortures and various psychopaths.

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes."

The doors opened again ,admitting Danielle and Clara, who made for Alex with a determined look in her eye.

Alex got to his feet. He'd seen enough of Clara to realize that she had a . . . formidable temper. Definitely better to stand for this encounter.

"Are you okay?" she demanded, eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine."

"Who was hurt then?"

Danielle shouldered past her. "Where's Tom?"

"His arm's banged up, but it should be fine." Alex rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he suddenly felt tired and very sore. The impact jolted his body beyond its capability to handle.

"I thought you were one of the people hurt," Danielle said with a deep breath. "I - I should tell you. I'm not nineteen."

Alex decided to pretend that he hadn't just heard Snake say that. "What?"

"I'm seventeen - but my birthday's soon," she hurried to add. "The Academy accepts anyone good enough to audition as long as you have parental permission and the forms signed and someone to stay with. Mom didn't really ask so I just signed the form myself, and Clara offered. . .see, most people believe I'm nineteen. I'm really only a year younger than you." Her words blurred into each other as she rambled on in typical Danielle fashion. Clara stood like a silent sentry, her gaze flicking between Danielle and Alex.

Trying to think of something to say, Alex gestured for them to follow him a few feet away from Eagle and the others.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked.

She scuffed the tip of her shoe along a line of grout on the floor. "I thought you would be mad that you got stuck with someone younger than you. And that you wouldn't think I was, I don't know. . .talented enough, I guess."

He gave a light laugh, incredulous. "How shallow did you think I was?"

Biting her lip, she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, guilt plastered across her face. He quickly backtracked. "Ah - wait, no, I didn't mean - God."

Clara shot him a glare sharp enough to cut diamonds. "Nice job, Rider."

He scowled at her.

Danielle wiped her eyes on her t-shirt, sniffing, and took a shuddering breath. "Alex? Can we go outside?"

"Yeah. That's a good idea. Clara, if any of them ask, tell them we're going for food."

Clara smoothly pivoted and walked over to Wolf and Gwen, offering her sympathies and introducing herself. While they were distracted, Alex took Danielle's arm and pulled her out one of the side doors from the back parking lot.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle that left wisps of fog crowding the skyscrapers and streets between. Brightly dressed pedestrians crowded the streets, some with umbrellas and others with cameras, obviously tourists. London was the city of rain; something as simple as a heat wave rarely granted any reprieve from the persistent dampness.

There was a small bench against one of the walls. Alex sat on one end and leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hands. Danielle tried to sit as far away from him as possible without standing, her limbs curled close to her stomach like she was waiting for someone to punch her.

Maybe she was.

"You're talented and put up with me. I don't really care if you're younger."

She sniffed again, mumbling something lost in the traffic noises.

"Sorry, what?" Alex glanced over and instantly regretted doing so. Her face showed nothing else but raw pain, spread open like a book anyone could read. She hadn't learned how to mask her emotions.

"That's why I didn't want to press charges," she whispered, so quietly he could barely hear her. "They'd look for my dad."

"Did he leave?"

"When I was three. He never came back." Her hand drifted up to clench her necklace. "He promised."

Alex didn't know what to say - what could he possibly say that would make any of this better? There was nothing, no words, no expressions. "I'm sorry."

She blinked the tears away. "It's not your fault. I - part of me still loves Mum, and I didn't want them to take her away - if she was gone then August would take me, or Dad, and he'd be so ashamed at what his daughter became, I'm sure of it."

"No. He wouldn't. It's not your fault, Danielle. None of it."

"How do you know?"

Because there are a lot of things that I'd like to think are my fault because it's easier to hate yourself than stuff you can't change. "Because you didn't have a choice.*

For the first time, sitting outside in the rain, Alex realized: Neither did I.

He felt unbalanced like the world had been yanked out from under his feet and there was nothing left to do but fall.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked on impulse.

She nodded.

"The contract I signed to never disclose anything about where I used to work was for the people who employed my uncle. When he died, they were left in charge of me. I never knew. They realized I could be useful."

"Did it have anything to do with music?"

"No." Wolf will murder you if he ever realizes you told her.

"Didn't you say your uncle worked for the government?"

"Not the bureaucracy."

Remarkably less sad - which was his goal, he didn't know what to do with crying women, - she leaned against the armrest of the bench. "Oh. Were you ever going to say anything? I mean, I understand if not, you're probably breaking half a dozen laws. And-"

"I wanted to," he said, cutting her off. "Eventually. I just - gah, I don't know what to do when people cry."

"Well, telling them government secrets seems to work. Keep trying that." Her face was blotchy with tears, but she gave him a small smile.

"Good idea. Hey, don't tell K Unit that you know, okay? Wolf will-"

"Have you hung, drawn, and quartered." She nodded decisively. "He's terrifying."

"Eh. He doesn't like heights."

"Really?"

"God, don't tell him I said that."

"You'll owe me one."

"Anything."

"I'll remember that," she said with a look that reminded Alex of Clara. Fantastic. "What kind of stuff did you do?"

Words died in his throat, which promptly went dry. Horrible things.

She must have noticed because she scooted closer and put her hand on his arm. "You don't have to tell me anything. I'm sorry - I guess I should've figured."

"I - can't-" his face flushed red, hot in the chilly air. Her fingers squeezed around his wrist then, hesitantly, laced around his hand.

"It was like that for a long time," she said. "I hate talking about it."

"Why did you?"

She stared out across the parking lot and he could envision the gears churning inside her head. "It started with Clara. Then with you - I don't know. Tom, he was easy to tell because if he was scared off it didn't matter. I didn't have to work with him."

"But we work together. Professionalism, and all that." He noted her usage of past tense - didn't matter -, and made a mental note to needle Tom for any of the implications of that when the first opportunity arose. If he could gather his thoughts away from the edge of an darkened cliff for more than a few moments at a time.

"Yeah."

"Professionals can be friends, you know."

Her eyes, blue like ice, flickered to his. "You think?"

"Yes."

The doors whooshed open and Clara breezed out, followed by Tom, who had a bulky splint on his right arm and some kind of bandage near his mouth. Danielle hopped up and threw her arms around his neck. He stumbled back.

"You're alive, okay, Alex said it was just your arm, but -"

"Are you okay?" Tom pulled away, looking at her face. "Were you worried?"

"Now I am. I was going to sell your textbooks for money. Guess that one's out," she replied flippantly, and he laughed.

"Hey," Clara said, stepping over to Alex and poking him in the shoulder. "Gwen asked me to let you know Ben's awake, and she wants you to go see him."

"Thanks." Alex stood, stretching, and shook out his sore arms. He hadn't forgotten about Ben, but he almost preferred talking to Danielle about his missions to the thought of facing Ben, someone else who'd gotten caught in the crossfire between Alex and faceless guns. A lump lodged itself firmly in his throat as the receptionist directed him through the folding doors into the hospital between them - did Ben even have two legs anymore? What if he was an amputee? He'd have to quit MI6, therapy, it would be a massive expense. . .

Alex felt his breaths become shallow and bottom out, adrenaline buzzing through his blood again. The lift rattled its way up to the third floor and jolted to a jarring stop. Alex stepped out, dizzy, and tried to remember how to breathe. Two guards stood at the last door on the right and the door was open, bright light spilling from inside. He reached for the wall to steady himself.

One of the guards, a soldier dressed all in black, turned his head towards Alex with a bland, uninterested stare.

Alex squared his shoulders and walked on numb legs to the door, nodding to the guards as he tried to step in. They moved in front of the doorway, rifles crossed in an X.

"ID?" one of them asked in a gruff voice.

Alex patted his pockets and found them empty - of all the days to forget his wallet. "I'm Alex Rider."

"No card, no in."

The commotion drew Gwen into the doorway. Her eyes widened. "He's cleared." She motioned Alex inside and wrapped him in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. He stiffened, unused to being touched.

"Thank you," she murmured. Her voice broke. "They said that you - you were the one who pulled him out of the car."

"I - uh. Yes."

She pulled back, her hand trailing to rest on the side of his face, even though he was about eight centimeters taller. "The doctor said that if he'd been left in the car his leg would-" she gulped. "It would have to be cut off. Getting him out, it stemmed the blood flow enough."

He reminded himself that he was technically an adult, and Wolf, Eagle, and Snake were *standing right there* so he was *not* going to cry and his voice was *not* going to crack. He wasn't a kid anymore.

Her hand was warm against his skin, and the look in her eyes, dammit -gratitude, tenderness, something a mother should have but he wouldn't know- and he clenched his jaw because it was all too much.

"Thank you."

No one had ever thanked him before.

"Is -" Alex coughed, the words rasping out of his throat. "Is he awake?"

"He's told me about you."

"I'm sorry."

Her lips quirked up into a wan smile as she turned back towards the bed. "Me too. He was never okay with it, you know. Yeah, he's awake. C'mere."

In no position to refuse, Alex reluctantly glanced to the clot of people gathered around the hospital bed: Wolf, Eagle, Snake.

Ben's skin was almost as white as the sheets on the mattress. His fingers splayed out, twitching feebly, and he answered Wolf's questions in one or two words that didn't quite reach Alex. Maybe he wouldn't have to talk to Ben.

That hope was dashed when Ben noticed him, albeit with a haze in his eyes, and smiled. "Hey, Alex."

"Hey." Alex looked at Wolf, who along with the others, was waiting for him to speak. "How's the -uh, leg?"

"Still attached." Ben spoke faintly but his voice wasn't weak. He sat up as much as he could - Gwen materialized at his side, her hand pressed against his back - and gestured to Wolf. "You should tell the kids about the house."

Understanding, Wolf, Snake, and Eagle all filed out after giving appropriate goodbyes to Gwen.

Sunlight streamed in from the window. Gwen's dark hair looked almost golden as she leaned forward and kissed Ben on the forehead. "I'll go with them."

"Thanks, Gwen."

"Us girls have to stick together," she replied, standing and grabbing her coat off the floor. On her way out she hugged Alex once more, thanked him again, and whispered very explicit instructions to not, under any circumstances, let Ben move from the bed.

Alex could understand how she and Ben ended up together.

"I guess I owe you one," Ben said after a few moments.

"No," Alex replied firmly. "You don't."

"Seeing as I appreciate the use of both my legs, I do. And yes, I can walk, but it'll take a few months to completely heal. Steering wheel rammed into the bone."

"I was thinking -" Alex paused and reconsidered if he should say anything at all. Ben had just been in surgery; now he was awake, had spoken with at least four other people, and was probably realizing that the anesthetics were wearing off. "Was your car tagged?"

"I've been wondering the same thing. There weren't really any grounds to check."

"I should've remembered."

"You've been out of the field for five years. Besides, my car isn't your problem. Did Wolf tell you about the safe house?" Ben tried to sit up again. His face twisted into a grimace and, with a muttered curse, he fell back against the pillows. "Could you hand me the water there?"

Alex grabbed the plastic bottle and handed it to him. "It's been mentioned."

"It's definite now."

"For how long?" Alex quickly ran a list of things through his mind - violin, clothes, music, et cetera - that he had to get from his flat.

Ben didn't answer.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "Ben, How long?"

"Until my leg's done healing."

"*Ben.*"

Ben heaved an aggrieved sigh. "Three months."

"What?" Alex shouted as the string holding the anxiety at bay snapped. "Three - no! We have a case - you just finished destroying my home with bloody surveillance equipment and now you want to move it?" He knew he was being extremely petty, but there were only so many unwelcome surprises he could take. So far the day's toll was a dead IRA member, an orchestrated car 'accident', Danielle actually wasn't nineteen, and he was expected to drop everything and go to some God-forsaken hole in the middle of the countryside. At least he expected some of that when he was blackmailed into working for MI6, but the last four years had practically coddled him with routines and no gunshots and the other little luxuries.

"If it helps, none of us want to go."

Alex pushed his hair out of his eyes. "No, it's the best thing to do. Sorry."

"I understand."

Awkward silence fell between them, broken only by the heart monitor that beeped every now and then.

"So," Alex finally said. "Gwen's nice."

Ben's countenance brightened considerably. "She's the best."

"She said thank you." Alex was hardly aware that he'd spoken aloud. "No one's ever said that before."

Ben turned his head. "You're kidding."

"Nope. To be fair, it's not easy to thank someone for something that didn't officially happen."

"They must've given you some stipend."

"Getting Scorpia to leave me alone was good enough."

Ben gave a dry laugh that wasn't very amused. "I can't believe it. After all they made you do - nothing?"

"It's fine."

"Highly illegal and unethical."

Alex shrugged. "When has that ever stopped them?"

"How in God's name did you end up tangling with Scorpia? I tried to get assigned to them a few years ago. Didn't work out." Ben winced, his face screwing up from pain.

"I can call a doctor," Alex said, unsure if he should offer help or if it would be welcomed.

"Nah, I'll be - ow, goddamn - I'll survive."

"Right."

Footsteps echoed down the hall, faint and rapid, probably Gwen returning. Alex backed towards the doorway and the guards who stood there. "I could tell you about Scorpia. You didn't miss much."

With an understanding look in his eyes, Ben nodded.

Alex passed Gwen in the hall but barely remembered to greet her. His mind was focused on the last thing he said.

I could tell you about Scorpia.

He hadn't meant to say anything, but the idea was sounding more and more appealing by the second. He owed Ben something - an apology, an explanation, a thank you.

They had to solve this faster than ten months, before anyone else got hurt. Or worse.