A/N:

This is the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, followed, or even just read this as a guest. Just, thank you. I never thought I would get 15,000 hits on the first fanfiction I've written. You guys are all amazing and I'm so thankful for every one of you.

A sequel is coming! It will be entitled Furioso and will be up sometime in February.

Again, thank you so much, and happy reading :)

~Nienna

By the time Alex woke up, Danielle had eaten breakfast, started work for her online classes, and reluctantly requested a pair of crutches after Ben insisted that she do so.

She adjusted her position in the uncomfortable chair, propping her left ankle up on the opposite armrest to balance the laptop so she could type a response to an old poem assigned by her literature teacher. Earlier that morning - sometime around four - Ben had come in with a laptop and handed it to her, not saying where he'd gotten it. She wasn't complaining; she knew that she was behind in her work. She was perpetually behind in schoolwork.

The bedsheets rustled. Danielle almost dropped the laptop jumping to her feet and hastily set it aside before hurrying over to Alex, who stared at her with bleary eyes.

"You're awake," she exclaimed.

Alex's lips moved but nothing came out.

"Do you want water?"

He nodded emphatically.

She quickly fetched him some from the tap at the wall sink and hovered by his bedside as he drank it, his hand shaking slightly. Coughing, he set the paper cup aside, almost knocking it over, and exhaled.

"Thanks."

"Sure. No problem. Do you need anything else?" Danielle anxiously tried to think of anything else he could need. "There's food - wait, you can't eat yet, do you want a drink? There's coffee, tastes like tar but it's better than nothing. I could go get tea?"

"Nah. I'm -" Alex broke off with a fit of hacking coughs. "I'm good."

Danielle couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Yeah. I think your lung's lying on the floor - I could pick it up if you want."

He snorted. "Hilarious."

"Seriously, do you feel okay? Ben said you were coughing up blood last night."

"M'fine. My mouth's just dry."

"From the snoring."

"Pardon?"

"Kidding. Actually, you were basically in a coma last night. It was the anesthetic. You know, they're stories about people whose hearts have stopped from being put under in an operation." Danielle drummed her fingers against the arm of her chair. "I was worried."

Alex managed to do a pretty close imitation of a shrug with all the wires attached to his upper body. "I'm still alive."

She sighed, unable to stop smiling. "Thank God."

"So," Alex said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Do I get clothes, or. . ?"

"Yeah, but after the bandages set. They've gotta be sure you're not bleeding through the stitches - oh," Danielle silently cursed herself.

Alex watched her questioningly, and she hastened to explain. "I was supposed to call the nurse as soon as you woke up."

"Oh. It's only been, like, five minutes."

Danielle tried to smooth her hair out to little avail, then jabbed the call button on the intercom. "Mhm. She's terrifying. Tell her you just woke up, please?"

"Where are you going?"

"To tell Ben you're awake." She checked her reflection in the mirror over the sink, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her t-shirt, and gathered up her crutches as quietly as she could to slip out before Alex noticed.

He pushed himself up with a wince, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why do you have crutches?"

"I stepped on a spotlight," she called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the room, crutches clacking against the linoleum tiles.

The hallway led to an intersection with another corridor that led to surgery, marked by a long reception desk with three women running it. A few nurses were stocking a rolling cart with plastic canisters of medication, but, thankfully, the head nurse wasn't in sight. She was a terrifying woman.

Danielle swung herself around the corner that led to the waiting area, the sharp pivot making her crutches squeak against the slick floor and reminding her to be careful; the floor was slick. She nudged open the door with her foot, peering into the waiting room for Ben.

At first glance, the room was empty except for a haggard-looking man with a cast on his arm, but a pair of scuffed shoes stuck out from behind a row of chairs, kicked out onto the ground. As Danielle limped closer, she saw Ben lying on the floor, asleep with one arm flung over his eyes. Quinn slouched back in a nearby chair, still dressed in medical scrubs from helping in the burn victims unit.

"Quinn?"

He didn't respond. His eyes were shut.

Shifting her weight, Danielle balanced on her good leg and poked his shin with one of her crutches. "Quinn."

With a groan, he opened one eye and squinted blearily at her. "Wha-?"

"Alex woke up."

Quinn scrambled to his feet fast enough that he almost tripped over Ben's head, but he darted to the side just in time. "Already?"

"Yeah. Come on!"

Using his foot to nudge Ben's shoulder, Quinn woke him. "Hey! Alex woke up."

Ben rubbed his eyes, smudged with dark circles, and stiffly got to his feet, staggering as soon as he put weight on his injured leg.

Danielle held out one of her crutches. "Need one?"

"Nice try," he muttered, yawning. "You're not getting out of using those."

She sighed. It was worth a try.

They hurried back into the ward. The halls were rapidly filling with other visitors, nurses, and doctors reporting for work. Danielle made a mental note to text Tom and Clara as she dropped the crutches to the floor, leaning against the wall as Ben and Quinn entered behind her.

She couldn't help but shrink back against the wall when she saw the head nurse checking the readings on Alex's heart monitor and IV dial. The head nurse was a severe-looking woman, with jet black hair streaked with silver pulled back into a tight plait and pointed features that could have been carved from stone. She reminded Danielle of one of Picasso's abstracts.
"So," the nurse said, marking off a list on her clipboard. "You've been awake for fifteen minutes-" she glared at Danielle. "And you've drunk water-" Another glare. "Well, you haven't died yet so that's a good sign."

Quinn smothered a laugh.

"Dr. Jennings will be in soon."

With that, the nurse turned to leave, not before giving Danielle one final glower. As soon as she left, Danielle whirled around and glared at Alex. "You absolute-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he interrupted with an innocent smile that was almost - almost - convincing.

She flopped into the chair, unable to stay angry at him.

"Hey," Ben said. "How're you feeling?"

Alex looked slightly bewildered. "Fine. How was the burn victims unit?" his question was directed to Quinn, who let out a heavy sigh.

"It was rough. So many kids there-and they're the ones no one really wants to look at, you know?" He shook his head. "Dozens of victims from the bombing, too."

"that's awful," Danielle murmured, stifling a yawn. A wave of tiredness washed over her now that the excitement was gone.

Ben reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Good to see you, Alex, but we should get going before the doctor gets here."

Danielle shifted in her seat. "I want to stay-"

"Can't," Ben cut her off. "Confidentiality law, especially given his employment. You're still a civilian."

Too tired to protest, she hauled herself to her feet, balancing on her crutches.

"Good news," Snake said as soon as the others had left. "Customs picked up Troy this morning. He's in custody."

Alex nodded, too tired to speak. The doctor had dulled his morphine drip, and the pain in his stomach was beginning to throb.

He didn't think anyone would be waiting with him. This was the first time he had ever woken up in a hospital room with visitors, and it made his head swim. And - Danielle was on crutches? Or had he imagined it?

Alex blinked. His mind was entirely too fuzzy to think properly. He coughed, his voice rasping against his throat. "When can I leave?"

"Two, maybe three days. The doctors here are good - you're stitched up, but they want to be sure there's no lasting internal damage. . . which reminds me, here." Snake held out a small bottle of pale blue pills and a paper cup. "You're now sans half your pancreas. Bullet clipped it. These are insulin replacements until your body adjusts the production rates."

Alex felt dizzy. "Wait, what?" He fumbled for the pills and skimmed over the label and ingredients before swallowing one. "Nothing can surprise me anymore."

"Yeah. You'll survive. Anyways, I've gotta go finish some briefings that Eagle bribed me into writing for him, so I'll leave you alone."

"Good luck. Thanks."

"Anytime."

Finally, Alex was alone.

He allowed his head to fall back against the pillows, and slept.

Two Days Later

Ben didn't know when his flat suddenly became a crisis center for teenagers with massive life issues, but here he was setting up the pull-out couch for Alex while Danielle was working on schoolwork. She had timidly offered to help, but he could tell she wanted some time alone.

Alex was recovering faster than anyone had expected, and he was moving in because, shockingly enough, nineteen year olds apparently weren't supposed to be responsible for taking care of gaping bullet wounds. He was due to arrive any moment.

Ben straightened up and stretched, the bed pulled out, just as the doorbell rang.

Gwen's footsteps thundered down the stairs and he heard her warmly greeting Alex and Wolf.

Heading towards the stairwell, Ben hurried up out of sight to change the dressings on his burned forearm - it wasn't a severe injury, but irritating enough that he covered it.

He could still smell the soot from the burning theater. The stench was probably ingrained into his mind by now, just like the phantom flickers of searing heat from flames that didn't exist.

That was the first time he had ever been that close to a bomb zone.

Ben shook himself and set out bandages and ointment on the bathroom sink, sloppily applying them to his arm.

Something rustled at the open doorway. "Ben?"

"Yeah?" He knew without looking that Danielle stood there. "What's up?"

"Is Alex here?"

"Just arrived. Gonna go see him?"

She was silent for a few seconds. "Maybe."

He turned his head to fully look at her. She sagged against the door frame, unable to stand upright with her leg, and quickly glanced away when he looked over. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth again.

He smiled. "Nervous?"

"No. I just -" she let out a frustrated sigh. "well, I don't know."

Ben tucked the end of the new bandage under the wrapping and tossed the supplies under the sink, then slung his arm around because she seemed on the brink of collapsing right there in the hallway. "You'll be fine. No one would blame you for staying in your room."

"Okay," Danielle mumbled, staring at the carpet.

"Yeah. Hey," he narrowed his eyes at her. "Where are your crutches?"

Her eyes widened as she turned to leave and almost fell as her injured leg buckled and gave out. Shaking his head, Ben leaned over and scooped her off the ground despite her indignant protests.

"Ben Daniels your arm!" Danielle shouted, making a very aborted attempt to wriggle out of his grip. "You shouldn't be - I'm not a child, put me down-"

Ben managed to stagger the three metres to her bedroom where he unceremoniously deposited her onto the bed, which resulted in Danielle gently shoving him out of the way as she sat up and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her t-shirt.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

He ruffled her hair until she smacked his hand away with a quiet laugh. "No problem, kiddo."

Any forthcoming protest died on her lips as she gave him a rueful smile and reached for one of her textbooks, presumably to start the mountain of work she must have missed.

Danielle was working on a history essay when someone knocked on her door.

"Come in!" she called.

The door opened, and Alex stuck his head in. "Danielle?"

She gasped, almost knocking her chair over in her haste to stand, and immediately leaned against the bed as her leg shook. "Alex! What are you going here, you're not supposed to go up the stairs - come on, sit down, you idiot. . ." Grabbing his wrist, she limped over to her rolling desk chair, dragging him behind her, and pushed him into it. He looked slightly confused, but acquiesced with a shrug.

"I have enough painkillers that it doesn't bother me," he said. "I could probably run a marathon and not feel it."

"Don't you dare," Danielle said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're going to kill yourself."

He laughed, but his face quickly turned serious. "So, how are you?"

"Me? I'm fine."

His eyes scrutinized her face with an intensity that made her cringe away. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah." she waved him off. No need to say anything about the nightmares - she already had her share of those, and she couldn't go running to someone every time she had a bad dream.

She could tell he didn't believe her, but he didn't push his point either. "How about you?"

"Honestly?" he cocked his head. "I don't know."

"I thought you would be more relieved," Danielle said. "They caught Troy."

"Right. . ." Alex trailed off, his brow furrowed. "Almost too easy."

She bit her lip and moved to perch on the edge of her bed, moving a few old notebooks out of the way, which reminded her . . . "Hey, Alex - I need you to look at these."

He stood and sat next to her, unsuccessfully masking a grimace from the movement. "What's that?"

"Plans for the reception. From, like, three months ago. It's next week. So, for napkins-"

"Danielle," he interrupted. "I don't think anyone will care.."

"Well, I don't know what I'm doing!"

"You could ask Tom," Alex suggested. "Oh, that made you blush-"

"Shut up," Danielle mumbled as she snatched up her stack of notebooks and turned away to hide her flaming face - she was starting to hate it when Alex was right - as she slid them under the bed. "Forget I said anything."

He smirked, and suddenly she knew that he was amused. "Look, I know you've been staring at him-"

"Alex. Stop. And I have not!" she stumbled over her words. Her face felt like it was on fire.

"Do you like him?"

"What are we, twelve?"

"You're not denying it."

"I barely know him. Please stop teasing me," she huffed as she dug her elbow into his shoulder.

"Oh, but it's so much fun." He poked her in the stomach, making her yelp and jump away from him as he let out a short laugh.

"Ticklish?"

Danielle snatched a pillow off the bed and whacked him upside the head with it before he could say anything else.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Startling, Danielle whirled around to see Luke standing there looking highly amused.

"Wish I had a camera," he muttered and she bit back a sharp retort, still wary of angering him. "Danielle? Obligatory legally-required check to be sure you're not bleeding out somewhere?"

"Obviously not," Alex muttered, glaring at the carpet.

"Hush," Danielle told him, then turned to Luke. "I'm fine. He's completely deluded though. Must be the painkillers."

"Well, I hope his head clears soon."

"Why?" Alex asked, his face clouding with suspicion.

"Troy's in custody back in the States. Apparently he'd fallen off the grid for a while after some embezzlement scandal." Wolf shifted his weight to lean against the doorframe. "Alex, the Americans need you to testify against him during his trial."

Danielle could almost see the shutters click shut behind Alex's eyes as he practically flinched away. "No." his voice was nothing like she had ever heard, quiet and almost fearful. "I'm not going. I'm never going back there."

Wolf sighed. "Look, Cub, I know what happened last time, but they're not going to press charges -"

"No."

"Alex?" Danielle began, but the sentence fell flat in her mouth when he gave her a blank stare, all the light gone from his eyes.

Wolf shook his head. "I'll come back later."

As his footsteps receded, Danielle touched Alex's shoulder, feeling the muscles tense under her palm. "Alex, what's wrong?"

He shook his head silently and cupped his chin in shaking hands.

When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with tears, which surprised her enough that she couldn't think of anything to say.

"I can't go back," he muttered.

"I'm sure it will work out," she said soothingly, but he shook his head.

"It can't."

"Alex-"

"No," he raised his voice. "I can't -"

He tried to stand too quickly and immediately fell back down, groaning in pain.

"Alex, what's going on?"

Alex wrenched his head up to meet her eyes, pain and fear written across his face. "The last time I went to America, I swore I would never go back there. I screwed up. I screwed up, I screwed up." He took a deep, shuddering breath and buried his head in his hands again.

Danielle was scared. She had never seen him like this before - sad, anguished, yes. But terrified? No, never. Part of her was beginning to think that Alex Rider couldn't feel fear.

That part was very, very wrong.

With another shaky sigh, Alex ran his hands through his hair. "The last time I was there. . . The last time I was there, I killed a man."