A/N: This is the last chapter to be posted on this site until the story is finished. It is being posted WIP on Ao3, but at the moment there isn't anyone reading this as chapters are posted, so it will be posted all at once when the story is complete. Lord willing.


Carr was yelling something. Alec was pretty sure the man was digging around in the supplies he had brought with him, throwing things around as the ambulance continued to bounce along, sending shocks up through the transgenic's legs.

But he tuned it out. Bent his knees and absorbed the vibrations on instinct. If he had any presence of mind at all, it might have been strange to him. Feeling entirely separate from his body while also aware of everything around him. Like how Trint was revving the engine to go even faster. How Max was in the middle of another round of stressing out, probably only keeping herself from saying anything for fear she would distract Sam. How the kid's mouth—his mouth—was gaping, his back arching off the gurney as the sound of the boy's empty gasps filled the ambulance.

He was aware of all of it, adjusting to it and tuning it out all at the same time.

It was impossible. Mocking the statistics that were flying through Alec's head at the speed of light.

Impossible.

Yet he was staring it right in the face. The bandage having slipped off the moment the kid started thrashing.

He was so out of it he didn't even move to block Carr's hand, even though he saw it coming a mile away, in some distant corner of his brain. The man slapped him, snapping him back to reality with a stinging pain and a reddening handprint. He jerked to look at Sam, green eyes flashing dangerously.

The man's face drained. But he collected himself, centering his attention back on the kid.

"Needle aspiration!" Carr barked at him, sending him fully reeling back into the world of motion and sound. And the kid who was dying right in front of him, while Alec stared like a rookie seeing his first corpse. Lydecker would be having a field day with him. "Pneumothorax! Find something!"

Alec had never been more grateful for selective breeding and gene splicing then at that moment. A multi-million-dollar mind processed the words and started flitting through solutions so fast it would have made Logan's algorithms turn green with envy. Green eyes scanned the enclosed space of the ambulance, flitting over duffels full of saline and medical equipment before finally landing on the ball point pen sticking out of Sam's shirt pocket.

The transgenic blurred, pinpoint pressure on Carr's shoulder turning him twenty-three degrees to give Alec a clear shot to snatch the pen out of the man's pocket. The movement stunned him into silence, leaving Alec locked in his own world with a suffocating kid and a length of plastic and metal.

A kid who's frantic wheezing was growing weaker and more desperate by the second.

He snapped off the sleeve, giving him a pointed cylinder three inches long that he drove into the kid's chest. Burying it two inches deep, through flesh and precisely placed between two ribs. An inch from the child's sternum.

There was a sucking, sickening whistle. The pressurized air pocket trapped in the kid's lung rushed out through the hole the metal sleeve made in the boy's chest.

Alec didn't wait. He plugged the child's nose, sealing full lips on swollen ones to drive air into the fully collapsed lung.

The machines in the hospital had more pressure, more oxygen mass compressed into a tighter space than the human lung. But Alec wasn't human, with a lung capacity that could keep him underwater for fifteen minutes at a time. And he was pushing all of it down the kid's airway.

The hand Alec kept on the kid's sternum could feel one lung inflating, the ribs rising lopsidedly. He came up for air for a split second, dragging in enough of a breath to dive down again and drive more air into the boy.

It was like a macabre version of inflating an unstretched balloon, feeling the minute tremors run through the kid's ribs, mixing with his frantic heartbeat, before the lung finally stretched. Before the ribcage rose evenly.

Alec pulled away, staring down at the kid, his green eyes slightly crossed. Watching the air ease out of his chest. The count between. One, two, three… then inflating. Still struggling, but better than it had sounded in the van.

A beat. The only sound in the ambulance was the rumble of the road and the labored breaths of the child lying on the gurney. Alec wasn't even sure that anyone else in the vehicle dared breathe.

Irony is a bitch.

Carr was the first one to break the silence, blowing out a long exhale. He was staring at Alec, eyes wide. "Damn."

"Alec?" Max's voice made him blink, tearing his eyes away from the kid. He looked over at the partition window, where he saw black hair in the corner—Max had twisted herself around enough to listen, but not to see. "Is he okay?"

For the first time in years, in a moment outside of grief, Alec found words lodging in his throat. It took him a few steadying breaths to be able to swallow the knot. Too long for Max's taste.

"Alec?"

"He's okay. Stable. For now."

For now.

Alec straightened, his attention transfixed on the face that was so familiar. He was even more grateful now that Max had chosen to give him the space in back. The girl could keep her cool, but he knew that the wound of Ben's death was still raw. And he knew that was all she would see. Not a young Alec, but a young Ben. Her story teller, and the same guy that landed him in Psy-Ops for six months.

But he wasn't Ben's clone. Or his, for that matter. Alec was sure that after Ben went insane, they cut off the line of DNA that made him. Even if the insanity wasn't genetic, they wouldn't take a risk on the rebellious behavior. Hell, Alec was lucky that they had sent him to Psy-Ops instead of shooting him dead on the spot.

Lucky.

So that line of reasoning went out the window—the kid wasn't a transgenic. He didn't have a barcode, and there was no way Manticore would allow another X5-493, or another X5-494. But what did that leave? The possibility that the kid was his? That was impossible. The kid had to be at least ten. At that point Alec was still at Manticore—not to mention twelve years old.

But what else did that leave? Doppelgängers were one thing, but only ten years apart? Everything being the exact same? Impossible. Two doppelgängers meeting each other? Even more impossible.

Yet, he was staring a ten-year-old version of himself in the face. Freckles standing out in a splatter across his nose and cheeks, lashes thick and full even around the tape that sealed his eyes shut. His features all soft planes instead of Alec's chiseled edges, but Alec's all the same.

He was gentle when he peeled the tape off the kid's eyelid, the delicate skin already red and raw from being wrapped in a bandage for so long. The child's eye shifted under the lid, the disturbance of such a sensitive organ probably pushing his adrenaline up higher.

"Easy," Alec muttered absently, when he got both eyes free. They were still sealed shut, what looked like weeks' worth of sleep hardened around the edges between the lashes.

"Hey Sam, can I have that water?" Alec asked without looking at him, holding out the hand that didn't have an IV.

Carr passed it over wordlessly, watching as the transgenic trickled just enough from the bottle of water to wet the kid's eyelids, making them quiver. Alec's touch was feather-light, running over the lid with gentle strokes to loosen the buildup of sleep. Over and over until he could only feel the soft brush of lashes, without the grit between.

Going soft, there, 494.

Alec pushed the thought aside between one blink and the next, focusing his attention back on the kid. He knew he was compromised. He had been trained to look past denial to be able to see that, to be able to keep under control during missions. What he had told Max in that bar had been true—Manticore was rough, but the worst side of it wasn't seen until somebody started to get soft.

But, you did what you had to do. And you tried to forget. And if you couldn't forget… they had ways of making you not care.

His own words ran through his head as he kept working to free the kid's eyes. He was becoming a liability. And damn fast, too. He wasn't sure how the kid did it—managed to slip past the defenses that he had reinforced for years. But he knew the boy wasn't the first one to do it.

Rachel.

Hell, maybe he just had a chink in his armor. Maybe he was just a sucker for embodied innocence wanting something to do with his sullied not-soul.

He thought it as sarcasm. But it felt like a slap to the face.

He pushed it aside. There were better things to worry about. Like making sure the kid lived long enough to get back to his family. Alec would do what it took to make sure that happened. And it didn't hurt that the plan had the added benefit of making sure he stayed in the real world. Or, more importantly, outside of his own head.

"You know…" Carr cleared his throat, "He kinda looks like you."

Alec looked up. The doctor was wiping his hands, his dark eyes still glazed over with fading adrenaline. He wondered if that was the first time he had seen how fast an X5 could move.

"Thanks," Alec smiled tightly, "I didn't notice."

He rolled his eyes as he looked back to the kid, wetting the other eyelid.

He was almost done clearing the grit out of the boy's other eye, when the next stroke of his thumb made the lid flutter. Alec's thumb froze at the kid's temple, his own eyes widening as the boy groaned.

What if he has brown eyes?

The thought was what made him freeze, made him stare crookedly at the kid while he continued to show signs of waking. His breath hitched, shortening into shallower pants as the pain from his ribs was no longer muted by sleep. Alec saw his eyes roll behind the lids, flitting around in the dark before the barest slit was made.

Even that seemed like too much. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment later, whimpering.

"Easy." Alec rubbed the kid's temple with his thumb, giving the boy something to ground to in his world that was rattling along on the brink of consciousness. The child's breath hitched at the touch, and Alec could hear his saliva catch in the back of his throat before he swallowed.

Carr chose that moment to spring into action, fitting his stethoscope into his ears and pressing the cup to the boy's chest. Alec knew it was necessary, but he still had to bite back a retort when the kid flinched at the cold metal. Groaned when the movement jostled his ribs.

"Try to get his name."

The kid was panting, eyes struggling to open again. Alec shielded them from the worst of the light by leaning over him and covering his eyes with his hand, at the same time putting himself conveniently into the boy's line of sight.

"Easy—easy kid."

Eyelashes fluttered against Alec's palm, languidly blinking in the dark behind Alec's touch.

"Heartrate elevated, blood pressure rising," Sam chirped oh so helpfully behind him.

"I've got you, kid—you're safe," he didn't know if the kid was hearing him or not. "I'm going to take my hand away, alright?"

Another slow blink. A hitched breath. A low keen. Nothing in the way of acknowledgement. As far as the transgenic knew the kid's ears were still ringing, still too far in the fog of unconsciousness to process what he was saying.

So he went slow, drawing his hand away, gradually exposing the kid's eyes to light.

They blinked up at him. Even expecting what he saw, he wasn't fully prepared.

"Holy hell," Carr breathed beside him. Alec could only stare, agreeing in silence.

His eyes were a mirror. Bloodshot and dilated from the bright light, but moss green and gold all the same. It was surreal, staring at the image of himself reflected back at him in the child's gaze.

Those eyes looked away from Alec, flitting across the enclosed space. His breathing shallowed even further to harsh pants. And though it was hard to hear over the sound of the ambulance bouncing on asphalt, he still caught the acceleration in the kid's heartbeat. Carr didn't have to say a word.

"Hey, hey." Alec rubbed the kid's temple, bringing those eyes back to focusing on his face. He had no idea if the kid saw any resemblance, or if he could even make out Alec's face. No recognition sparked in his eyes, but that might have been pure exhaustion.

It was probably a good thing. The kid was already in constant fight or flight. Seeing a guy twice his age looking like the original to his carbon copy probably wouldn't help matters any.

"That's it, just look at me." Alec smiled—hoped it was reassuring. He suddenly felt thrown into the deep end. "I need you to give me your name, kid."

A film of moisture built on the kid's eyes. Growing thicker as he gazed up at Alec. His nostrils flared, breath shuddering.

"Your name, kid. What's your name?"

His lids slid shut. It knocked loose the water, sending twin tears tumbling from the corners of his eyes and onto Alec's filthy fingers. Burning hot. Innocent. Open.

Something inside Alec twisted.

"Hey, hey hey hey—no sleeping yet. Stay awake for me, kid. What's your name?"

The kid drew in a thick breath. It came out a sob.

"D-Dean."

Dean. "Dean. Hey, Dean. You got a last name?"

"H… hurts."

"I know. I know. But I really need that name."

More tears leaked out from under his closed eyes, falling hot and fast over Alec's fingers. He sobbed, the string of saliva strung between his lips vibrating with every shaky breath.

"D-ad," he groaned, turning his head as if to wrench it from Alec's hold. "Dad!"

"Easy, easy tiger," Alec struggled to keep his voice calm, his touch light. He had taken down drug lords, mafia groups of fifty or more, and never had he felt this out of depth. "We'll find your dad, okay? But we need a name."

"I don't know!" Dean sobbed, eyes still clenched shut. "I don't know. 'M s-s'ry—'m s'ry, I don't know!"

"Shhh… shhh…" He had no idea what to do—the kid was still sobbing. Each one had to be agonizing, rocking his ribs, but the kid couldn't seem to stop.

"'M s'ry… 'm s'ry… p-please, 'm s'ry…"

"Hey, it's alright," Alec assured him. "It's okay, Dean. You didn't do anything wrong."

He kept crying. His swollen, mottled features twisted in pain and framed by Alec's tear-streaked hands.

To Alec, he looked a lot younger than ten at that moment. A lot older, too.

"Go back to sleep." Alec wiped the tears off his face, smearing the tracks that had cut through weeks' worth of grime. "I got you, Dean. Just go back to sleep."

It wasn't instantaneous. Alec kept murmuring words that felt hollow in his chest and even emptier coming out of his mouth. Kept stroking the kid's cheek, running fingers through grime-darkened hair. The sobs didn't die, staying strong as tears kept flowing. But then they abated, a choked-off whimper giving way to a hiccupping inhale. Then Dean's face went lax under Alec's hands, the fine-tuned tremors running through the kid's whole frame finally easing.

"That's it." He smeared off the last tear, his fingers coming away coated in dirt. "I gotcha, kid."

Dean.