A/N: Hi! Second to Last chapter! I can't believe y'all are still reading this so thank you so much, this is my first fic on this site.

Reviews are welcome! :)

Alex's brain ground to a halt.

Did he dodge? Duck? Try to signal someone?

Well, if he noticed the laser sight, someone else probably had.

He was still playing. He couldn't stop.

Suddenly, the assassin shifted the rifle, making it glint again in the lighting, and faster than Alex could see, he fired.

The soft pfft of bullet piercing wood was muffled by the music, but Alex saw a hole appear on the stage two meters away from his foot.

He knew what was going to happen.

His bow scratched on the strings. Skidded off, out of his hand, over the bridge.

Clattered to the stage.

The violin soon joined it and Alex turned and threw himself at Danielle as, with a bang not unlike a dying star, the floor exploded.

It was pitch black.

People screamed in poly-symphonic layers of noise that spiraled up through the cracked ceiling towards the stars that glimmered in the murky sky. Ben hauled himself up. His leg ached. Every muscle in his body loudly complained as he forced himself to move his legs and walk down what was once an adjoining hallway to the theater.

Now it was a crumbled mess of plaster and wood.

There had been a bomb on the stage. Someone shot it, which activated the explosive, and the state disintegrated into a flaming pile of ash.

Alex and Danielle were both missing.

Ben feared the worst: he had seen explosions like that, and most people in such proximity to the epicenter didn't survive. If they weren't vaporized, the shock wave killed them.

The theater burned.

Acrid smoke made his eyes sting. He coughed, feeling like his lungs were covered in dust.

Where were the others?

People still screamed.

They clambered over each other in hordes trying to escape the lower level. The Prime Minister was already gone, his entourage with him, not bothering to stop and help the other civilians and dignitaries who were trapped inside.

That was the job of the service, Ben supposed. Get the Prime Minister away from the threat. Then clean up the collateral damage.

He wanted to get out.

He had to.

If he died, what would Gwen do? Gwen, and - and the - no, he wouldn't even think of it.

The paper tucked in the lining of his bulletproof vest crinkled as he walked down the hallway. He wanted to stop, to see it one more time in case this would be the last -

No.

"Focus," he muttered through layers of smoke and ash.

"Hey!" someone yelled. "HELP!"

A child's voice.

Ben turned. He fumbled with the flashlight in his belt and switched it on, aiming the light a pile of collapsed rubble near one of the rear entrances to the seating.

Kneeling on the ground was a boy of about five years old. His face was covered in soot, streaking his hair. He stared wide-eyed at an arm flung out from underneath a collapsed section of the wall.

Ben climbed over a charred folding seat and crouched next to him. Heat from the nearby flames scalded his face. "Hey. Come on, we're going to go outside."

"No!" the boy protested. Tears spilled out of his large, terrified eyes. "That's my Daddy. He's stuck."

Ben saw the stillness of the arm and feared that it belonged to a corpse. "I know someone who can help him, but I need you to come outside. Let's go."

He switched on the microphone in his ear. "Wolf!"

Static.

"Yeah?" Wolf's voice was distorted. The connection popped and crackled.

"There's a kid in here. Near the back entrance. Person trapped under the wall."

"I'm on the right. Coming."

Ben held out his hands to the little boy. "What's your name."

The boy sniffed. "Peter."

"Okay then, Peter, let me carry you. Your Dad doesn't want you to stay here and get hurt."

Slowly, Peter nodded, and let Ben hoist him up in his arms.

Alex wasn't dead.

He knew people probably thought he was, but he and Danielle were fine.

Unless they got out.

Then they would be very burned and very dead.

He tried to keep his mind clear, pressing the collar of his shirt against his nose to keep from inhaling smoke.

Danielle coughed, a wracking, painful sound. "Alex."

"Yeah?" he wheezed. His eyes flicked around the burning shell of the theater. There had to be a way out.

"Are we going to die?"

"No." he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Her dress was in tatters. The hem was charred, and the skirt riddled with holes.

That was what happened when floors exploded and thousands of tiny splinters ripped through clothes and skin.

"Danielle, can you stand up?"

Her dress rustled as she got to her knees and stood, pausing to kick off her shoes. She winced.

The floor beneath them was molten hot, but it wasn't burning yet. Smoke saturated the air in a grimy haze; Alex couldn't see the audience.

He couldn't see if anyone was going to help them or not.

"Okay." Alex took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. "We're going to try and get backstage. It should be sturdy."

"What?" Danielle shouted.

Roaring flames and screaming people drowned out his voice until he finally yelled, "We're going backstage!"

She nodded. Gripped his hand.

Alex felt his heart thud against his ribs. All his instincts prickled a warning that something wasn't right.

The sound of splintering wood drew his attention towards the left of the stage. A hulking figure moved towards them, wading through the flaming pieces of floor. Alex coughed. His eyes streamed.

Danielle's fingers tightened around his. She gave him a glance that stated: Who is that?

Alex didn't know.

His skin prickled.

Something wasn't right.

He turned to Danielle and nudged her towards the half-broken doorframe that led to the backstage halls. The fires hadn't gotten that far yet.

"Go!"

She bit her lip and remained motionless.

Alex shoved her.

She stumbled, slowly walking to the door.

"No! You can't stay here alone -" he couldn't hear her voice, but he read her lips.

"Get - out!" he frantically motioned to the door then turned back towards the figure in the heat-proof suit, just in time to feel the cold bite of a bullet as it drove into his stomach.

Then he was falling.

Everything was cold.

Danielle yanked up the hem of her dress as she ran through the crowded hallway. It wasn't on fire yet, but stage lights and soundboard panels were worse than flames.

They slowed her down.

She risked a glance back to see if Alex was following, but the hallway behind her was empty.

Her breaths rasped out in the thick air.

Door, door, where was the door?

Slowly, she stopped running.

Tattered dress.

Smudged face.

Her reflection stared back at her from one of the mirrors on a dressing room door.

Breathing heavily, Danielle peered through the hazy air for the red glimmer of an exit sign. She remembered one near the dressing rooms.

There.

It was back at the other end of the hallway, blocked off by other stage equipment and clothing racks that had been moved there during the renovation.

Steeling herself, Danielle started to climb. Metal bars from clothes racks dug into her elbows. Box flaps scraped her knees. Her hands were covered in sweat from the heat so she couldn't grip anything tightly.

She sniffed and clambered over a box full of glittery fabric.

The only thing left between her and the door was a light - not a small light, no, but a spotlight at least a meter in diameter. It spanned the width of the hallway.

Balancing ontop of the box, Danielle leaned forward and grasped the supports on the opposite side of the light. She didn't know how thick the glass was or if it could hold her weight, but she didn't have any other options.

She climbed onto the edge of the light and swayed, arms out for balance. Just one step. That was all she needed.

Carefully, she stuck her foot onto the center of the glass rim.

The suspended bulb creaked and shuddered in its restraints.

Her stomach rolled with nausea.

Danielle jerked her head up, keeping her eyes on the red sign. That was what she needed to get to.

She edged forward until her toes hit the opposite rim of the bulb. Right as she was about to jump, the glass cracked and shattered.

Shards of pain stabbed through her right leg as it sank into the center of the glass hole. The edges caught her skin, scraping painfully, and she could already feel blood trickling down her ankle.

The heat on her back was getting worse. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying and looked behind her, noticing the dim glow at the end of the hallway.

Fire.

She returned her attention to her trapped leg. Bracing her good foot against the rim, she threw herself forward, trying to pull her ankle out of the glass vise.

The waves of pain wrenched a scream from her lips but she tried again, knuckles gripping the rim, bracing herself, and as the heat blistered her back, her leg finally came free.

Danielle jumped down to the ground and shouldered open the door. Warm air hit her in the face. She expected to see people waiting outside, but there was no one.

Above her head, the theater burned.

Ben watched as the paramedics lifted Peter onto a stretcher and slowly wheeled him towards an ambulance. The poor kid hadn't been able to stop shaking, and his dad was headed straight for ICU. He was alive - barely.

Snake was helping with injuries. Most of the people who'd escaped were either burned or injured by flying shrapnel.

Eagle and Wolf were on their phones conferring with their commanding officer, who was apparently ordering them to stand down.

Ben clenched his fists and stared at the burning building. He had a gut feeling that Alex was still alive, but the fire brigade had blocked off the entire front of the building. Something about containing the blaze.

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

He was safer outside. At least, that's what he told himself.

"Ben."

A raspy, broken voice.

He spun around.

Danielle was walking towards him - was she limping? Her dress was practically falling off, and her face was covered in ash. Bright, angry burns covered her hands, which she was wringing together as she approached him.

"Danielle! Are you okay?" he hurried over to her, reaching out to wipe some of the soot off her face.

"I'm fine." she doubled over, coughing, but straightened up. "Alex needs help."

"Is - is he alive?"

She nodded urgently. "There was someone else in the fire. They were wearing a suit. Ben," she gulped. "I think they had a gun."

Ben felt his heartbeat stutter.

He couldn't leave Alex. He owed him that much, at least.

Before Danielle could say anything else, he turned and sprinted towards the burning building.

Alex could taste iron as blood filled his mouth. With a Herculean effort, he turned his head to the side and wretched.

Everything was burning.

Around him, the stage was collapsing. He tried to push himself off the hot floor, but the pain lancing through his stomach prevented that.

His shirt was sticky with crimson blood.

Sweat poured down his body.

This is hell, he thought dimly as a hulking shape emerged from behind a pile of smoldering rubble and walked towards him. A firefighter?

No.

The figure stopped, towering over Alex's prone body, and pulled off the hood of their fire suit.

It was Troy.

Alex's head was spinning, but he realized that the mission was never about the Prime Minister.

It was about him.

He had walked right to his own death.

Troy's face was brutal, contorted with years of pain and rage. His cheeks were flushed from the heat, but he shook his head with a satisfied smile.

"W-Why?" Alex rasped. He spat another glob of blood out of his mouth.

"You killed my wife." Troy's words echoed through the air, louder than the crackling flames and splintering wood. His face was enraged but his eyes were dead, chilling and hollow like a shark's. Alex didn't know how he didn't notice earlier.

No, no tried to say. I didn't know.

Suddenly Troy lifted his foot and stomped on the bullet wound in Alex's stomach.

Alex screamed. His spine arched up off the ruined stage, every muscle in his body contorted in agony. It felt like someone was stabbing him over and over again. Black spots danced in front of his eyes.

He was dying. He could feel the blood leaving his body and his head ached with agonizing, stabbing pains. He gasped for breath, but His lungs hurt.

"It should have been you," Troy hissed. "Every - time, it should have been you."

Alex felt his mind slipping away into the delirium between life and death, and he barely had enough presence left to hear the Bang that echoed through the air before he closed his eyes.

The ground vibrated next to him, but he didn't hear the thud. Hot breath crackled in his ear as Troy gave him one final thing that would be the last words Alex would hear. "You will suffer. If I can't have you now, I'll have your family. How many of them will die before you? Danielle? Tom? Next time I see you, Rider, you'll beg for death."

Alex almost cried when, finally, his eyes closed. Fragments of threats and pain swirled around inside his mind, holding him close to the heavy shroud that stifled everything else.

"Alex," someone said, but his voice was muffled as if he was calling from across a chasm.

His shoulder was roughly jostled at the same time something else pressed against his stomach. Sweat poured off his body as he yelled out, muscle contractions contorting his spine in an arch again. He couldn't open his eyes - too hot, the fire was too hot. Was this hell? Was he dead yet?

His mouth fell open.

Nothing came out.

"I'm not dying in here!" Ben yelled as he shook Alex's shoulders again, pushing a strip of fabric against the entry wound on Alex's torso. The fabric was from his sleeve.

Alex's eyelids fluttered - was his face burned? How? oh, right, because of the bloody flaming plaster that was collapsing on top of them - but he didn't move again.

The scream he'd made. . . Ben knew he would be having nightmares about it for weeks.

Troy had vanished. Bastard. Ben had gotten a shot off, but it went wide.

Ben staggered to his feet and shoved his arms under Alex's legs and back, hauling him up. Blood was everywhere. Alex needed a transfusion, otherwise he'd bleed out before the hospital could stitch up the wound.

Ben glanced around. The only way out was straight back, but he would have to get across the gaping hole in the stage.

He started to walk. Alex was dead weight; Ben checked to be sure he was still breathing.

The stageboards crumbled further as he walked - stumbled, really- and skirted the pit. Flames licked at his shoes.

Overhead, the ceiling creaked.

Ben felt his arms start to shake. His injured leg started to stiffen. No, NO!

"I'm not dying in here," he repeated. He had to survive. What would Gwen do - her and the - no, no, don't think about that. Don't panic.

He cursed himself for not working out since his injury, and stumbled up the aisle strafed by shrapnel and charred chunks of carpeting.

Suddenly, Alex's body stiffened. He gasped, groaning. "Aaagh."

"Hey, steady," Ben gasped as he almost dropped Alex. "You're bleeding."

"You don't say," Alex whispered, his voice a hoarse croak, and Ben vowed that he would smack the living hell out of him as soon as Alex was healed.

Because they would get out.

Ben loosened his grip and Alex swayed on his feet, one hand pressing the knot of fabric against his gut and the other slung over Ben's shoulder, clenching down. Alex breathed.

And immediately doubled over, staggering, choking on the smoke. Ben could barely see him through the acrid haze.

"I can't move my arm," Ben muttered as he tugged Alex towards the fire truck lights. He could see them flashing outside the ruined front of the theater. They were almost out.

" Can't - stop," Alex hissed. "Ican'tfeelmyarm."

Ben swore and yanked the piece of paper out of his pocket, shoving it into Alex's hand. "Here."

He heard the paper crackle like the flames as Alex balled it up. "Wha's this?"

"An ultrasound." Ben shoved Alex forward, pushing his head under a flaming beam. "I'm gonna be a dad. Now MOVE!"

"Ben-" Alex coughed, or wretched, but his lips were red with blood. "Get - out . . ." He staggered.

"No," Ben growled. "You're coming with me."

Alex turned his head, every muscle in his face contorted with pain, but his eyes were filled with terror, the kind of vulnerability that people got when - when they knew they didn't have much time left. "Be- Ben. I'm dying."

Ben shouted. His voice echoed through the flaming labyrinth of collapsed beam and plaster. The exit was right there, and Ben prayed to anyone who was listening that Alex would last just two more meters. He felt Alex's arm around his shoulder go limp, and held him up, plodding towards the gap between flaming wood.

Come on, Alex. Please don't die.

"*Let me in*!" Luke yelled. "There are *civilians* inside - a bloody *kid*!"

One of the firemen gave him a sympathetic nod. "Can't do that, sir. Too dangerous."

He turned away, swearing, and threw his hands up into the air. Pacing back and forth, he stared at the burning building.

Ben, the bloody idiot, had run in after Alex because Danielle had come out saying he needed help.

She was perched on the back of the ambulance with her leg propped up on an empty stretcher. Angry gashes mutilated the skin, but she clutched a shock blanket around her shoulders and stared at the building too.

Luke strode over to her. He needed a distraction from memories of Iraq and the similar situation there, except that one had ended with an innocent child's head cut off. Just remembering it made him want to throw up.

He was a leader and a soldier, but he couldn't do his duty. He couldn't save his team.

His commanding officer had given the order to stand down, and Luke was about to risk a discharge and ignore it. Ben Daniels was a valuable agent and soldier, and he was Luke's friend, like a brother. He'd saved Luke's life before; Luke owed him.

Danielle straightened up when she saw him and tried to stand. He pushed her shoulder, keeping her down.

"Don't. They're trying to find something for your leg."

She bit her lip - one of these days, she was gonna bite it off if she wasn't careful - and tapped her fingers against the metal flap of the ambulance doors. "I want to help."

He scoffed bitterly. "No way. You're a kid."

Glowering at him, she cinched the blanket tighter around her shoulders and stared at the inferno. Flames danced in the reflections on her eyes. Her good leg jiggled, bouncing up and down. It made the ambulance doors rattle.

Suddenly a paramedic rushed over and practically yanked the stretcher away. "Sorry," she yelled over her shoulder as she started rolling it towards the fire trucks. "Two more've come out!"

Luke sprinted after her, but a tight knot formed as other emergency responders crowded around the stretcher and he couldn't see who it was. Forcing his way through wouldn't help anyone, so he stopped, impatiently waiting. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Hey!" one of the EMTs yelled. "We need that ambulance!"

He glanced back. Danielle would have to move.

She was pale as death. He wondered if she was losing blood, but then he saw the stretcher. Two paramedics were wheeling it towards the loading bay and a third was strapping on a mask to the person lying down.

It was Alex.

The front of his shirt was coated with blood and soot. His face was ashy. He looked dead already, and Luke felt his heart stop.

Where was Ben?

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and hurried over to Danielle. She looked up as he touched her shoulder.

"They've got Alex, you gotta move."

Nodding, she slid off the back and balanced carefully on one leg, still clutching the blanket around her shoulders.
She tried to walk.

Stumbled.

The stretcher was coming closer and they were yelling at them to move because otherwise Alex would die if he wasn't already gone, so Luke finally lost patience and lifted her out of the way. She barely noticed as her eyes were glued to Alex.

"Luke!" someone yelled.

He whipped around, searching for the source of the noise, and saw Ben hurrying towards him, very much alive. Relief coursed through his veins.

"I'll help her." Ben gestured to Danielle. "Go in the ambulance with Alex and explain."

"Yeah," Luke said as he helped Danielle slide to her feet. She gave him a grateful glance. "Make sure she's okay."

"Ben!" Gwen screamed as soon as they walked - limped, actually -in the door.

Danielle heard something clatter to the floor as Gwen ran over and threw her arms around him. He staggered backwards but returned the hug, holding her close.

"It's okay," he said. "It's not my blood."

She pulled away, still holding his hands in hers. "Who's is it?"

"Alex's," Danielle said. Her hand was almost numb from gripping the railing for support. She wanted to be at the hospital with Alex, but Ben insisted that she needed bandages, even though she argued and yelled the entire car ride to his house. Even now, she felt her eyes start to sting. "He got shot."

"Oh my - Danielle, what happened to you?" Gwen backed up, drawing her into the house. "Are you still bleeding?"

"A little," Danielle said as she unwillingly allowed herself to be pulled through the first floor towards the bathroom. Her mind raced with thoughts about Alex and wow, that was a lot of blood on him. Was he alive? Luke had *promised* to call if anything happened before they got there, and he hadn't called yet - but what if he was just saving the bad news until they arrived? Her fingers drummed against the edge of the bathtub - wait, since when had she sat down?

She blinked. Gwen was rummaging through one of the cabinets under the sink. A bottle of iodide was already sitting out on the counter as Gwen stood with a roll of gauze in her hand.

"You get used to injuries living with Ben," Gwen said in explanation.

Danielle nodded and stretched her leg out. Filaments of her dress were starting to stick to the ruined flesh, and she peeled them away, which hurt. A lot.

She took a shaky breath and buried her head in her hands, hot tears trickling down her face.

"This might hurt," Gwen warned and poured a steady stream of iodine onto the gashes.

Danielle kept herself from flinching - she was no stranger to iodine - and caught sight of Ben lurking in the doorway.

She tapped her fingers impatiently again and he gave her a tense stomach felt like a pit full of butterflies, or like she was on a roller coaster, or going to throw up any second -

"Whoa," Gwen yelped, catching her. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," Danielle said as she tried to push herself back upright. Dizzying spots danced in her sightlines. "I'm fine."

"Probably shock," Ben said. He sat down next to her and pulled his watch from his pocket, rubbing some soot off the glass face. "It's normal."

She numbly nodded as Gwen deftly wrapped bandages around her leg. It stung.

"Between the two of you, there's one working set of legs," Gwen muttered.

Ben's eyebrows quirked upwards. "True."

Danielle managed a small smile as Gwen finished and got to her feet. "Thanks."

"No problem. I'd let Ben do it, but he should be changing his shirt. You're not leaving my house covered in blood."

Blood.

Alex's blood.

Danielle barely turned around before she pitched forward and vomited. Her world narrowed to an aching pinpoint of cool tile pressed up against her face and chest and knees, kneeling on the floor of the bathroom. Cold air kissed her skin through her ruined dress and she shivered painfully as warm fingers brushed her face, pulling her hair away and gently rubbing her back. She gripped the edge of the tub until she could open her eyes without the room spinning.

She couldn't help but think of the last time she had been on the floor throwing up in complete and utter pain while parasites wormed their way into her muscles. That time, she had been the one in the hospital and Alex had visited.

"Danielle, I'm going to get some of your clothes, okay?" Gwen's voice was soothing and Danielle nodded, too tired to speak.

Ben was gone, probably getting the blood off him.

When Gwen returned, she gently pulled Danielle to her feet and pushed a bundle of folded clothes into her arms. "Here. Do you need any help?"

"Zipper," Danielle muttered, trying to point to the one on her dress.

Gwen deftly undid it and left Danielle to change.

Danielle shimmied out of the dress and left it lying on the floor in a puddle of blue and red. Flipping on the hot water, she rinsed the mess she'd made down the drain and washed off her hands. The water felt good, lessening the shakiness inside her.

She quickly redressed in the sweatpants and pullover that Gwen had brought, pausing only to tug the sweatpants away from her bandage, then limped to the door.

Ben was waiting outside, leaning against the wall. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

His keys jangled in his pockets as he hurried to the door. Danielle started to follow him, but her leg suddenly seized, making her fall against the doorframe and cry out. Ben immediately whirled around, concern filling his face.

"Are you okay?"

"I can't walk," she said, feeling herself start to cry again.

"Yeah, you can." He tapped the back of her left hand then placed it on his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around her waist so she could balance on him and jump down the stairs. Unlocking the car, he helped her into the passenger seat and jogged around to his side. Danielle fumbled with her seatbelt for a few seconds before giving up and letting it recoil.

"Ben?"

The car started with a rumble. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

The waiting room was fraught with nervous energy. Danielle seemed to be recovering okay; she was feeling well enough to banter with Eagle and not slap him, at any rate, but the underlying tension in everyone's movements made Ben feel even more nervous.

A doctor had come out about an hour ago to report that Alex was stabilized and undergoing a blood transfusion, which prompted Danielle to speak up and add that Alex was anemic.

How she knew that, Ben had no idea. He hadn't, and judging by their faces, neither did his colleagues.

Luke restlessly prowled back and forth in a manner very much like his namesake. Every now and then his phone rang, and he spoke to whoever was calling in rapidfire Italian - probably his Mum, he'd mentioned she still spoke it.

Eagle sat with uncharacteristic stillness next to Danielle, who was trying to read one of the magazines on the nearby coffee table with little success. Her eyes kept glazing over and she looked like she was about to fall asleep on Eagle's shoulder.

"Where's Snake?" Eagle asked.

"He's in the burn victims unit. Offered to help."

"Wish I had a skill like that."

"Me too. Hey, has anyone told Tom or Clara about Alex?"

Eagle shook his head and Wolf didn't reply, still on the phone. Ben left his vantage point by the door to the wards to jostle Danielle into wakefulness, and she rubbed her eyes with a sleepy yawn.

"What?"

"Have you told Tom or Clara?"

"Uh-uh."

"Okay. Well, you probably should."

She sat up and felt around on the coffee table for her phone, swiping it unlocked and pressing a few icons.

"H-hey, Clara? . . . Yeah, m'fine. Alex isn't. You should probably come to the hospital. Yeah - yeah, tell him. Okay. Bye." Danielle yawned and set her phone down. "She's bringing Tom."

"Great. Thanks, Dani." Ben ruffled her hair.

Hinges creaked across the room as the folded doors swung open and a doctor strode in, still dressed in operational scrubs. Ben hurried over to him, but Wolf was faster.

The doctor glanced down at his clipboard. "Are you here for Alex Rider?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"Well, good news: He's stabilized, and the wound's all stitched up. Transfusion went fine. The bad news, though, is that the bullet had a copper casing on it, which means it was built -"

"For penetration," Wolf cut in. "we know."

Unfazed, the doctor continued, "It punctured his small intestine and pancreas. Only half of the pancreas was salvageable."

Ben frowned. Didn't the pancreas produce insulin? "Why couldn't it be sav - salvaged?"

"It was completely mutilated and would have contaminated the liver, so it was surgically removed and the ducts around it cauterized. He'll have to take insulin and enzyme supplements until his body adjusts." the doctor shook his head. "As far as gunshot wounds go, it could have been much worse."

"Could've collapsed his lung," Wolf muttered.

"Yes." the doctor gave him a slightly suspicious glance. "You know a lot about bullet wounds."

"SAS."

"Ah. And you?"

Ben gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Something like that."

"I see." The doctor - surgeon, probably - scribbled a note on the clipboard and held it out to Ben. "Sign here, please."

Ben skimmed over the forms for admittance, filled out what he knew, and scribbled his signature. The doctor - Jennings, his badge said - glanced over them once more before tucking the clipboard under his arms and peering over Wolf's shoulder. "Only family can visit right now. Your relation. . ?"

"She's his sister," Wolf said quickly, glancing back at the rest of their group. Ben followed his gaze to Danielle, who was sleeping.

"I'm their uncle," Ben said. He ignored the strange look from Wolf; Danielle might need help walking, and Ben wanted to go with her and see for himself that Alex was alright. He owed the kid for pulling him out of the car back when they wrecked.

Wolf jogged over to where Danielle was asleep and leaned down, tapping her shoulder. She startled awake, scared eyes flying open, but relaxed when she saw him and listened as he spoke. She scrambled to her feet.

"Easy!" Ben muttered under his breath as she tried to walk, managing a little better than before, and held out his arm for her.

"Are you okay?" Dr. Jennings asked her.

She nodded warily.

"You hear about the fire downtown?" Ben asked.

Realization dawned in Jennings' eyes and he nodded. "That explains the burns on Mr. Rider. You guys were caught in it?"

"Yeah. It was bombed," Danielle said, and Ben elbowed her. She gave him a questioning glance but he shook his head, warning her not to say anything else.

"Can we see him?" she asked.

"Yes." Jennings smiled and stepped out of the way, gesturing towards the door. "Through those doors, number five on the left. He's still sedated, so let a nurse know as soon as he wakes up."

"Thanks," Ben said.

Dr. Jennings nodded in acknowledgement and disappeared back down the hall marked TRIAGE in bright letters.

"I can walk," Danielle protested as Ben tried to help her. Privately skeptical, he nodded and allowed her to go first.

When they reached the fifth room on the left side of the hallway, the cracked door was allowing copious amounts of light to flood into the darkened room. Heavy curtains covered the window and the lamp was on its lowest setting; the only other light was from the heart monitor and another device that Ben couldn't name.

Danielle slipped inside and immediately collapsed into the plastic chair, stretching her leg out. Alex's eyes were closed, his breathing even. The sheets were pulled to his bare chest to hide the bandages and bruises from surgery, and monitoring electrodes sat over his heart and on his wrists. He had an IV stuck in one of his arms too, looking like the subject of some alien experiment with so many different wires coming off him.

Pale, Danielle glanced at him, dark eyes filled with worry. "He will wake up, right?"

Alex could hear them.

He was too tired to open his eyes and the rest of his body was numb, otherwise he would probably be screaming in pain from the operations.

Dim voices filtered through the haze around his mind. He chased them, trying to remember who was speaking, but just as he thought he recognized the voices, they were gone.

"He will . . . up, right?" someone mumbled.

Alex forced himself to think. A girl, from the timber of her words.

Danielle?

His thoughts slipped away again. He was drugged, supposed to be sleeping.

"Please wake up," the same voice said.

I'm trying, Alex tried to say, but he was utterly exhausted.

So he slept.

Aww Ben's gonna be a Dad. Assuming nothing else happens to him. . . ;)

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Torchwood Cardiff: Thanks!

Guest: - Aww, thank you so much! And, I honestly tried to come up with a way that someone could adopt Danielle, but everyone in K Unit is too young :(.