A/N: Woo short chapter because I'm actually in Virginia for a college visit! I'm missing like 3 days of school which is great, but I also lost my glasses at the airport, which is not so great because I'm basically blind without them. Apologies that this is a day late! Enjoy!

Please review! :)

This is it. The thought filtered through Alex's convoluted mind as he cast about for something solid to hold on to. This is what kills me. Shock. Dead at nineteen from a heart attack.

Everything instinct he had rebelled at the very prospect of what Ben said. He couldn't have a sister, fake or no. He couldn't be responsible for people; when he was, they died.

All the earlier events, gunfire and shattered glass, flew through his mind. He felt the adrenaline slowly leaching out of his blood. Its absence left him weak and shaky, like he was about to fall over.

He straightened, steeling himself, and glanced at the bed. "Really?"

"Yes," Eagle replied. "It was the only way."

The only way.

Danielle, she had to be affiliated with him, to save her - what a ridiculous twist of fate. Normally, affiliation with him was a death sentence.

"Will she be okay?" Alex asked.

Ben got to his feet. "Hopefully."

Alex wasn't very encouraged by that. "Hopefully?"

"It's an experimental drug."

He swore softly to himself, reaching up with a leaden hand to rub his eyes. "Okay. Do I stay here, or. . .?"

"Yeah. I'll go talk to Wolf," Eagle said.

A sharp rap echoed from the door and it swung open before any of them could reply, admitting a lanky man strode in, white coat flapping around his legs. His eyes were weary, half-obscured by floppy copper hair. He smiled, but his face sagged.

"How are you?"

"As well as can be expected," Ben replied.

Alex decided to take initiative and stuck his hand out. The doctor took it in a firm grasp, shaking once. "She's my sister." the lie rolled off his tongue. "What're the side effects of this new drug?"

"Standard," the doctor replied. "Nausea, dizziness, drowsiness. . .may I have your name? For the approved familial relations list."

"Alex Rider."

"Thanks. I'm Dr. Haulsen."

"Nice to meet you. When will Danielle be discharged?" Alex shoved his hands into his pockets, trying not to wring his neck with impatience.

"We don't know," Haulsen replied. "Depends on how long it takes the drug to run its full course. Any other family coming?"

"No, but her friends will."

"I don't think that's allowed at this stage. Parents?"

"Dead."

"Oh." Haulsen grimaced. "Sorry."

"Neither of us remember." That, at least, was true. Neither of them had parents - in Danielle's case, no real parents. Alex shifted in place, awkwardly glancing at the floor. He knew he should feel some sort of grief, but all he concentrated on was the swooping feeling in his stomach like the world had been yanked out from under his feet. For Danielle to be related to him was for his problems to become hers, and while they might seem preferable to her current situation, he didn't want her to pity him. He didn't deserve it.

"What will the recovery process entail?" Ben asked.

Alex's heart dropped into his toes as Dr. Haulsen paused ominously with his clipboard clenched in his hands until his knuckles turned white.

"It's going to get worse," the doctor said. "Before it gets better."

"What the hell does that mean?" Ben snapped.

"The night's going to be rough. Myositis? It gets into your muscles, of which your heart is one, and makes them freeze up. See that box on the table? Press the red button as soon as something goes wrong. We'll have nurses on standby."

"What could happen?" Alex asked, feeling increasingly worried.

"Her heart could stop."

Alex pressed the red button three times that night.

First when Danielle's back arched, bowing off the bed like she was going to snap in two. Her heartbeat spiked and fell on the monitor, going out of control. When the nurse came, she injected steroids straight into Danielle's chest, closest to her heart.

The second time was when her heart stopped.

Alex noticed first the slowed beeping, and was already reaching for the monitor as the jarring drone echoed through the room. Nurses were already on the way, but he slapped the button anyways and started yelling for help. He couldn't stop himself - Danielle was dying and she needed *help*, dammit. That's when Ben arrived again, tired and worn, dressed in sweatpants and a zip-up. His hair was rumpled. He clasped Alex's shoulders and pulled him away, out into the hall until the doctors had left.

"They know what they're doing," Ben said, over and over.

Alex leaned against the wall, crumpled, his hands pressed to his wet face. It was like watching Jack die over and over again, except this time it was his responsibility to keep Danielle alive. He couldn't deal with that, not again, never again.

Then Gwen appeared with a carrying tray of espressos. She shoved one into Alex's hand and wrapped her arms around him silently as he valiantly tried to regain his sense of dignity.

Third, Danielle had a seizure that was solved by another dose of experimental drug and further steroid injections.

Alex sat in one of the crappy plastic chairs until his back felt like it would give out with a thermos of cafeteria coffee sitting on the night stand next to him. His eyes felt twitchy from too much caffeine and his leg jiggled against the floor, unable to stay still. He drummed his fingers relentlessly against the armrest.

"Alex," Gwen mumbled, reaching over and clasping his hand. "Stop."

"I can't," he muttered, pulling away.

She glanced over at Ben, who was asleep, then back to him. "She's going to be okay, Alex. The doctor said that she's probably out of the woods."

"I know," he said, roughly wiping his eyes. "Just stress."

"It's okay."

"No. I don't want her to be nervous when she wakes up. If she thinks I'm freaking out-"

"Then she'll want to."

"Yeah."

Gwen smiled. "You're a good brother."

Alex scoffed bitterly. "No."

She shoved his shoulder and his elbow almost slipped off the armrest. "You are, especially considering that you don't know what you're doing. Now shut up, and go to sleep."

"I can't sleep! What if it happens again?"

"That's why we're here, Alex. You don't have to be alone."

You don't have to be alone. Before he could think to protest, Alex let his eyes slide shut and fell asleep to the great, overwhelming fear of relief.

Maybe things would be okay.

Danielle had been awake for three hours by the time Alex finally jolted to wakefulness, almost sliding out of his chair. She bit back a laugh. The sore spot on her arm from the needle twinged, and she fought the temptation to rub it, knowing that would only aggravate the pain.

"Hey," she said. Her voice cracked.

He blinked sleepily, hair ruffled, and waved. "Hey there, sis."

She grinned. "Ben told me about that."

He looked back, smiling. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah. The morphine helps."

"Ooh, they're giving you the good stuff."

Laughing, she shook her head and sank back into the pillows. She didn't feel worried about *anything*, and it was marvelous.

Alex stumbled to his feet and stretched, raising his arms high above his head.

Danielle wasn't feeling too wild about being on morphine - it was the gateway drug that got her mother into the harder stuff and August's debt list. Without it, though, the pain was unbearable.

Maybe that was what got her mother addicted.

Before that thought could get any further, Danielle turned to Alex again and kicked the blankets off her legs. "Can we go walk around?"

"No. Doctor's orders."

She groaned. "Really?"

"You feel great, but your body isn't healed."

Exasperated, she glanced up at the ceiling and reached up, trying to smooth down her hair, which was sticking up in every direction possible. "Tell me about your case."

"What? No."

"Please?"

"Classified."

"Really. You did Not just say that, Alex Rider -"

He shrugged, giving her an apologetic look. Somehow, she didn't think he was that disappointed. Alex seemed to like his secrets and it made Danielle frustrated. She wanted to help him because he had helped her, but he wouldn't let anyone in. Maybe Ben, a little, but not her. Was it because he thought she wouldn't understand?

She did.

She just wasn't going to tell him that.

Instead of asking again, she settled for a pleading glance.

He tried to avoid her gaze and groaned. "Fine. Don't look at me like that. I'll tell you what I can."

Pushing herself into a better sitting position, Danielle propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her hands. "I want to help you, Alex."

"No," he said roughly. "Don't say that."

She glanced at him again and noticed this time that his eyes were red, almost like he'd been crying. A lump lodged itself in her throat - she wanted to help him, do something so he wouldn't hurt. She would help anyone who looked that miserable. "Why not?"

He gave a heavy sigh. "Did anyone tell you what happened last night?"

"No," she replied, bewildered.

"You were unconscious, thank God. Danielle, your heart stopped. You had two seizures. It was - it was like watching you die." He shook his head slightly as if trying to shake off the memory. "It was awful."

She gaped at him; she felt fine, not like someone who'd almost died less than six hours ago. Why hadn't anyone told her?

"I - I'm sorry?"

"No," he said. "I was - scared, I guess."

"You don't have to be worried about me."

"You're my friend. Of course I'd be worried about you. You're lucky Clara and Tom don't know yet, they'd blow up the front doors to be here with you." Alex grinned, rubbing his forehead. "You don't have to be alone, you know."

She looked away. He didn't understand that being alone was the only thing that kept her sane. Not having people to leave her made her feel better about staying, not running away earlier when she had the chance.

Until now.

She left five months ago to come to London. It wasn't planned.

Maybe one day she would tell Alex that it was him who made her come to London. That she had read about him in a popular musician's magazine and his story had given her hope that even with the scars she carried she could still be something great - still do something great.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

He gave her an understanding nod. "I - uh, I have to protect the Prime Minister. There's an assassination plot against him for the reception. We're trying to figure out who's involved, but there's so many different possibilities. It's so confusing, and it's not coming together like these things usually do. I don't -understand, I guess - what's taking me so long to make sense of all this."

Danielle got the feeling that this was the most Alex had said about his personal feelings for his assignment. "What's making it confusing?"

"The microwave bomb. the body we found. The American informant who's wife got killed on a mission with me. My own head." Sighing, Alex swung his arms out in a stretch, his face gritted with lines of exasperation. "It's like reading music with just the notes. No dynamics, no instructions. You have to make it up as you go."

"Are you sure it's the right target?" she asked. "I - ah, I saw one of the files. Daedalus?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "One of the suspect's name's is Icarus."

"Like the myth. Flying too close to the sun."

"Exactly."

"You know it's not your fault, right?" Danielle scrutinized his expression. "That his wife died. I'm sure you would have done everything possible if you knew, and you were a kid anyways."

He shrugged listlessly.

Danielle knew how he felt. "You can't defend yourself so they're blaming everything on you."

His gaze turned sharp and bored into hers. "You know how that feels." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I do. Any theories for the motive?"

His lips curved up into a half grin. "You've been watching too much NCIS. We do things a little differently over here."

"You're hilarious."

"I know. And, yes. One is that the next guy down in the power structure is vying for his chance at Minister."

"That can't happen," Danielle said. An old news story popped into her mind; she had been reading about it the day she met Clara. "The next guy down owes everything to the Prime Minister, who got him out of drug crime charges. Since then most enforcement's really cracked down on distributors." Of course, they couldn't be bothered to stop August.

"Say that again," Alex said. He stared at her with almost a manic intensity.

Danielle slowly repeated herself.

Alex started pacing as she spoke, his brow furrowed, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his brain as he worked towards some conclusion that only made sense to him.

"It's not an assassination," he said finally, after five minutes of pacing and silence that drove Danielle crazy with curiosity. "It's an execution."