Alec didn't know how long he had been staring at the black liquid in his mug when the sound of padded footsteps alerted him to Dean's presence.

He turned, wondering absently what a sight he must make with his mussed hair and eyes that were probably well-packed for the vacation of sleep—fully illuminated with the lamp in the corner flicked on. Ever since Rory went missing, he and Max had been getting a lot less free time. And not all of them were blessed with shark DNA.

The boy shuffled a little farther into the room, shoulders back and head down. He looked like he was warring with himself—his body fearful but his eyes sharp and assessing.

"C'mere," Alec beckoned him over. "Sit down, kid. I think we gotta talk."

Green eyes flitted from Alec to the floor over and over as Dean approached. He slid into the seat like he expected iron spikes to be sticking out of it, his posture ram-rod straight. The transgenic noticed the slight gooseflesh on the kid's skin. But more than that he noticed the heavy scent surrounding him.

Alec swallowed, his mouth splitting open as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts.

"You don't have to be scared of me, Dean."

Nothing.

"So you're not talking anymore today?" Alec nudged his coffee cup, like moving it two inches closer would be some kind of piece offering.

Nothing.

"You know I'm not gonna hurt you, right? I told you I wouldn't—and I might not be the straightest arrow, but I don't lie like that."

That earned him only a flash of green eyes. Dean looked scared, tense. But also limp, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he just found out there wasn't an end in sight.

It was hard to look at. Seeing small glimpses of the amount of life the boy was capable of only made it worse.

So Alec flicked his tongue over his lips, moistening them. Gathered his thoughts again. One thought bounced around in his brain.

Don't fuck this up.

It sounded suspiciously like Max. That woman did have a way of beating him over the head with the truth when he least wanted it.

"Look… kid." He paused again. Sighed, his eyes sliding shut. "I think you should go to bed."

Dean finally looked up at that, alarm mixing with confusion in his eyes.

"Go on." Alec jerked his head towards the bedroom. "We're both exhausted. Let's pick this up tomorrow."

He didn't seem to need any more urging, sliding out of his chair.

"Dean—" The boy pulled up short, his back to the rest of the room. Alec could see the tautness under the thin cloth of his shirt, scars dripping down from the concealment of the short sleeves. "You going to try to sneak off again tonight?"

Dean ducked his head. There was a tremor now—a thin vibration through those skinny shoulders. If Alec didn't have enhanced senses he probably wouldn't have heard Dean's soft, hoarse voice.

"No sir," he whispered.

Alec's mouth tightened into a thin line. There was only five feet separating them. But in the stillness of the apartment the words spread out. Stretching the space between them until it felt like miles.

Right now you're the highest bidder. Even if you took the five-finger discount. It's the only way he's gonna see it.

Something in him clenched. He turned back to his coffee.

"Go to bed, kid."

If Alec thought the next morning would somehow magically make the conversation easier, he was wrong. Dead wrong.

At least he got enough sleep. He woke up well-rested for the first time in a long time—the sunlight from the windows warming the mattress. Maybe it was one of his more cat-like urges, but at that moment the only thing he had wanted was to sprawl out and drift off for another few minutes.

If 'a few minutes' meant a couple hours.

But he didn't. Instead, he shifted himself up to sitting on the bed, his hair mussed and throat still thick with sleep, his chest still softened with it.

His eyes automatically went to the cot in the corner. Dean was still asleep, his back tucked up close against the wall, his eyes closed, and a tuft of blonde hair peeking out from under the covers.

And one sleeve of Alec's hoodie. It stretched out from under the kid's cocoon, dangling itself incriminatingly over the side of the cot. Like Dean had his nose scrunched up against it underneath the covers.

The transgenic scoffed to himself, shaking his head. Partly in amusement, partly in befuddlement. The boy was all over the place. Acting like he was scared to death of Alec one minute and the next swiping the man's clothes so he didn't have to be without his scent.

He still remembered Dean the first time they had a real conversation—hysterical and blabbing about how his dad was going to kill him. He had been stiff as a board in Alec's arms, until he breathed in.

Then he had slumped, clinging to Alec like the transgenic was some kind of fucked-up lifeline.

It was damned confusing.

He tossed the covers back from his legs, swinging them over the side of the bed. No matter how hard he tried, the rickety old thing squealed like a gutted pig when Alec moved.

The figure across the room tensed in response, though his eyes stayed closed. The only sign he was awake at all was the minute change in the boy's breathing, before it dropped back into a regular rhythm. But since he was looking for it, Alec could hear clear enough how forced it was.

But he left it alone. Hell, maybe letting Dean think he could trick him would give him some semblance of security.

And it also gave Alec an excuse to procrastinate, for just a little while longer.

At least he was being honest with himself.

In the end, though, he only got ten minutes to himself. Time he used to pull out the ancient—and extremely questionable—hotplate and get started on heating up a pot of oats. There wasn't any running water in the kitchen, so he had to fill it at the bathroom sink. And even then, the pipes rattled when he did.

God, sometimes he missed his old apartment.

But at least he had food, he thought wryly, when he swept his gaze over Dean on his way back through the bedroom—at the cheekbones that were still far too hollowed and concave for a ten-year-old boy.

In all honesty, it was so damn easy for Alec to forget just how young he was. Far too easy.

He had turned the hotplate to high—well, slightly above medium, he didn't want to burn down his apartment, after all—to bring the water to a boil, when the door to his apartment opened.

That familiar scent struck him, and he didn't even have to turn around.

"Max." He smirked. "Come on in, why don't you?"

"Just did," she said, pulling out a chair and plopping a roll of papers on the table. Without Max's hand wrapped around them, the heavy-weight maps flopped open of their own accord.

"You'd better be careful—I might not be decent one of these days."

He had his back turned, but he didn't need to be facing her to know she cocked her eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. With a kid around and everything."

Alec was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that Dean was awake, and definitely listening in to their conversation. More than that though, he was hyperaware of his skin. It felt like it was crawling. He swiped three plain bowls out of the cupboards.

"Way to ruin a joke, Max," was all he said, his voice clipped. And maybe he set the bowls down a little too hard on the table, because all of the sudden Max's eyes were on him. Scrutinizing.

"Rough night?" she asked, voice measured. But her previous words were all he heard.

"You don't think I can handle him?"

"Alec… I don't think you've figured out how to handle yourself."

He shook his head, turning back to the water. It was only simmering, but he needed something to do with his hands so he poured the oats in besides. "You staying for breakfast?"

"No. I've got a lot of shit to do," she sighed.

He poured in a little more anyway. It only took a second for him to set up the pot to stand on its own, then he moved to the table.

Max was already sorting through the papers, bringing the maps to the surface to look over.

"Who'd you pick for this one?" he asked.

"Gab and Rod. They work well together. Did a lot of heists for Manticore solo too. Figured they'd be a good call."

Alec hummed absently as he looked over the specs, still standing with his hands braced on the side of the table.

The goal of the job was simple enough. It was a private commission—government based. Those types of commissions always sent all of their hackles up, but they had worked with the man who was hiring them before. Ryan Calder. Though he wasn't transgenic friendly, he wasn't picky either. Super soldiers who could be 'rented out' were well worth it to him, and it was his skin if any of this got out.

He was a goody two shoes, too, in a way that reminded Alec of Logan. A 'more power to the people' person. Which made sense, since what he wanted them to swipe was government documents. But hell if it mattered to Alec. As long as they weren't doing something harmful, everybody got out safe, and they got paid, it was a good day.

Money was tight, too. They needed this.

"One thing—you might want to re-route the entry point here," he finally said, pointing out the red line that marked the intended path of the transgenics.

Max's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with it? It's back hallways."

"Yeah, but there's a bathroom that way. Security guard drinks too much before his shift? Gets desperate? They're gonna be spotted."

She sighed, eyes falling shut. Like she couldn't believe she had made such a rookie mistake.

Alec couldn't really blame her though. They had all been running on fumes lately. He was probably the most rested out of all the 'higher-ups.'

He supposed that was one benefit to watching his clone.

"When're they heading out?" Alec asked. He checked on the oatmeal, stirring it so it didn't overflow. That would be the end of his ol 'faithful hotplate. And as much as his apartment was lacking, it was his, and he would prefer for it not to burst into flames.

"Tonight." Papers rustled, a scribble coming from behind him. Alec knew she was re-routing it through a previous section. It would lose them a few seconds, but it would be safer in the long run. "I'll be running the job from HQ. Dix's comms should be able to go the distance if Mole can get the van with all the equipment close enough. He's got the body cams up too."

More funds down the drain. But they all knew it was necessary, an extra precaution to keep what happened to Rory from happening to anyone else.

Rory had been one of the younger ones; bright with an innocence that Manticore hadn't quite managed to stamp out. But she was good at her job, and no one had thought twice about giving her the chance to prove herself on a solo mission. Without body cams or comms, none of them were sure what had happened to her. Just that she had left, and never come back.

That was another reason why they almost didn't do the extraction mission. It made Alec's hackles rise, to think that the boy in the other room almost slipped through their fingers over a spat about the comms not being ready yet.

"Alec?"

Damn, he must've been still for too long.

He cleared his throat, replacing the lid. "I can drop Dean with Josh. I don't think bringing him to HQ is such a good idea right now. A lot of them aren't adjusted to the idea of him yet."

"Alec…"

He turned, leaning up against the counter. "What?"

"I… I think you should sit this one out."

He frowned. "What? Why?"

"Priorities. You'd better stick with Dean today. We did talk about this."

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "Right. As I remember, that 'talk' was you saying that I should dump the kid."

He didn't think about it, the words just slipping out of his mouth. He forgot the pair of ears listening not twenty feet away, unknowledgeable of the white knuckles Dean had clenched around the blanket. Clutched close to his chest. Eyes wide.

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth," she snapped back. "I said you have a responsibility to this place, Alec. You got your head up in the clouds and you needed a damn bit of grounding."

"Max, you know there's this thing? This revolutionary new method of communication. It's called telling someone what the fuck you want from them!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought we were past the point where I had to tell you how to tie your damn shoes."

He laughed. It was cold. Biting. "Right." He smiled at her, all teeth. "Right—put it on Alec. You ever think of the fact that this is a little more serious than shoelaces, Max? It's a kid's whole damn life!"

"Yeah, well he's not your kid!"

"Ha. Now that—that is funny. Not like there's any kind of resemblance or anything."

"You know damn well what I meant," she growled. "We're finding his family, and he's gone."

"I know already, okay? What, you think in the meantime I should just treat him like a doorpost? Somebody's gotta look out for him till then."

"Why does it have to be you?"

He pulled up short, staring at her. "You see anyone else volunteering, Max?" He spread his arms. "None of the others want him around here. He can't stand anyone else. And as much as there is something really fucking wrong with his taste, I can't change that."

Max opened her mouth, fire lit behind her eyes. But before she could get anything out, something caught at the corner of Alec's eye.

He turned, more than a little surprised to find Dean standing in the middle of the living space. Alec's hoodie drowned him, his bruised face ducked to the ground and blond hair tousled. The frazzled locks caught the fragmented light streaming in through the windows, making them almost seem to glow like a halo, his freckles standing out and making him look so young and so old at the same time.

He fiddled with the hem of Alec's hoodie, a nervous flicker of his gaze sent first to Alec, then Max.

Silence settled over them. It was startling, after the burst of noise. The only sound was the happy gurgling of the oatmeal, totally oblivious to the tense scene.

Max broke it first, with a nervous exhale. "Dean… how much of that did you hear?"

Green eyes flicked to her, almost immediately ducking back to the ground. He just shrugged.

"'M guessing all of it," Alec chipped in. It made Max roll her eyes.

"Very helpful, Alec," she hissed back. He held up his hands in self-defense, eyes wide like he was saying, 'Hey, you can't put this all on me.'

Dean's breathing didn't get heavier, but it definitely lost a regular rhythm. The boy was terrified. If he was honest he didn't know exactly what had possessed him to get up, or come in while they were in the middle of an argument.

But what the hell, he was gonna get it either way for sneaking out, right?

He swallowed, feeling that far-too-familiar knot tie in his throat. Keeping all the words locked inside.

Max sighed. "Dean—"

"I got this, Max."

He caught her gaze—brown eyes filling with unnamed worry as they switched between Alec and the kid.

"I got this. I'll stick with the kid today. You got a lot of shit to do."

It wasn't meant to be a jab, but it slipped out as one. And despite his long rest Alec didn't feel like he had the energy to stop her when she started snatching up her things.

"I'm glad you're back, Dean," was all she said, barely pausing long enough to cast him a flicker of a smile.

She got the barest glimpse of one in return, wan and shaky. It faded the minute she shut the door behind her. Leaving him alone, with Alec.

The man seemed preoccupied with stirring the pot in front of him. Dean stayed where he was, keeping his head down. Though he couldn't resist the occasional flicker of his eyes up to the man's face. For all of the emotions swirling in the air around the man, his face was a mask. Only a hint of the tension bled out through his eyes.

Alec turned the hotplate on low, covering their breakfast to stay warm before he faced his mini-me. Arms crossed, leaning up against the counter. Dean hadn't moved, still fiddling with the holes at the hem of the transgenic's hoodie.

"For the record, Max likes having you around. It's me she can't stand."

Dean gave a weak smile as his response. But it was barely there, and paired with only the merest upwards glance.

Alec sighed. He didn't expect Dean to be talking today, but it would sure as hell make it easier. It would make it even simpler if the boy would shout, get angry. Maybe start ranting out what he actually wanted, like so many other of the entitled brat ten-year-olds that he had seen.

But he just kept looking at the floor, like he was resigned to whatever fate Alec decided to dole out.

He was sure he had been in that same position himself. Many times at Manticore—Alec wasn't exactly a straight shooter as a child. He was rebellious, snarky, always mouthing off. Then came the six months in Psy-ops after Max and her unit escaped… when he was around Dean's age. After that he had fallen into the same pattern as the boy in front of him. But more 'yes sirs' and 'no ma'ams'—eyes locked straight ahead and shoulders back.

Alec was a harshly disciplined soldier, with a shitty childhood and enough crap in his head to fill up dozens of physiatrists' waking hours. Dean…

Dean was an abused dog. Powerful, capable beyond what he believed. But still standing with his tail between his legs because of the one thing he was never taught; how to use his abilities for himself.

The kid didn't move when Alec pushed himself off the counter. But he could see him warring with himself as the transgenic came closer, fighting not to back up a step.

He crouched in front of Dean, tactile fingers reaching out to pinch a bit of the hoodie's cloth at the boy's abdomen. He gave it a gentle tug, making his clone look up at him. Fear still suffused the air around them, Dean's heartbeat slightly elevated. But there was something else, too—a softness in his eyes, like a small measure of trust. A silent, childlike plead to make it better.

He wondered if he was the first person who ever noticed it.

"Look… kid. This is a shitty situation for all of us, okay? A lot of crap's going down. And I'm sorry I can't be around all the time, but you can't just run off like that. All this is just temporary, anyway—cuz we are gonna find your family. And there's gonna be a big sappy reunion, and your dad is gonna take you back. He will. Cuz he'd be a shit fool not to."

Dean looked seconds away from crying, eyes bleeding red and face contorted in a grimace. Compressed mouth trembling in an effort to keep himself under control.

He turned his head away, pale light from the windows striking across his soft features. Highlighting the bruises, making his eyes glisten further.

"You don't know," he croaked out, voice thick.

Alec tugged on the hoodie again, making Dean turn his way just a little. "What don't I know?" he prodded.

But Dean just shook his head at the floor, clamping his mouth shut.

"Nope." Another tug. "C'mon, man, you can't say I don't know and then just clam up like that. That's not how that works. We're gonna talk about this."

Nothing.

"Kid—" he stopped, having to gather his thoughts. Damn but it was so much easier when he could just ignore these types of things.

Not my problem.

Yeah, that's what he kept telling himself before too. Right up until he placed the bomb under the Berrisford's car. By then it was too late—and he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"What is it, Dean?" he nudged, lowering his voice to more of a murmur than words. But he knew the boy could hear him. "Do you not like it here? Don't want to be here?"

He looked up at that, bright eyes wide with shock. "W-what? No."

Alec raised his eyebrows. Waited the kid out. Watched the frown mar the boy's forehead, the movements of his throat as he tried to form the words. Nervousness surrounded him like a cloud, his heartrate picking up.

"I…" he closed his eyes, bracing himself. "I think I like it here. It's nice… y-you're…" he blinked at Alec's feet, his next words barely a breath of air. "You're the best I've ever had. Sir."

Alec waited a beat. Shock struck hard, delaying his reaction and leaving him just staring at the boy in front of him. Then he breathed out a chuckle, tugging again on the hoodie. "You've got shit taste, you know that kid?"

When he looked up again, he was surprised to find Dean staring at him. He shook his head.

"You're nice," he whispered. The words were more of a slap in the face than an insult would have been.

"Then why'd you run off?"

Dean tried to turn away again, but Alec tugged on his hoodie. A little harder this time, enough to pull the boy's focus back.

"You're not in trouble, Dean. I promise. I just need to know."

The young face shut down, barrier's constructing at a pace so rapid Alec didn't think it was possible. He clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

"Nah, c'mon, man, that's bullshit. You're less nervous now than you were two minutes ago. I know you can talk."

Dean glared at him. But he didn't say a word.

Alec stared right back, the standoff far more obvious this time.

"Why not?" he pushed. "If you want to stick around here, why're you sneaking out? You trying to get money? You not getting enough food? Do you want something?"

Dean just stared back, utterly impassive like he had been carved out of marble.

"Are you missing something?"

Nothing. Not that anything was expected.

"Y'know using a psychological condition as an excuse not to do something is a pretty shitty thing to do, right?"

Dean shook his head, turning away. But he didn't try to remove Alec's hold on the hoodie, not that the transgenic was surprised. By this point, he had seen enough to know that the kid was hardwired not to resist.

Except, apparently, questions that he didn't want to answer.

"Dean…" Alec couldn't stop himself from fisting his hand in the hoodie, the memory of adrenaline and worry from the night before sitting heavy in his stomach. But even that didn't make the boy look back.

God. And he thought he was out of depth in the ambulance.

What the hell am I doing?

Alec closed his eyes, his world shutting down to just the feeling of air chasing in and out of his lungs, the feel of knit fibers clutched between his fingers.

Max's words drifted back to him, feeling like eons ago in the stillness of the moment he was in.

"Oh, yeah? And what do you see?"

What do you see?

When he opened his eyes, he found Dean staring at him. His own face reflected back at him—youthful and ancient at the same time. Pale light made the boy's eyes flash with an inhuman glow.

Dean's brow slowly furrowed, as if he was trying to pull all his thoughts together by brute force.

He raised up his hands, face still heavy with thought as he held up one as a wall between them—and dragged the other down behind and beneath it. Open to closed.

"Missing?"

Dean nodded.

"Something's missing?"

The boy's face pinched, frustration mixing with resigned exhaustion. It was a strange combination, but then again Dean was a bit of one himself.

"What's missing, Dean?"

Alec could see a war written all over the kid's face as he fought with himself. He had no doubt that Dean could communicate it if he tried—he was nothing if not smart.

But whether he would tell Alec… that was something else entirely.

"C'mon, man. You gotta give me something."

Nothing.

"What, you want me to play twenty questions? Is it a vegetable or a mineral?"

Dean's expression flattened, obviously unimpressed. And okay, maybe sarcasm wasn't the best tactic with him. If anything it probably gave him more excuse to get around the issue to what he wanted.

And whatever he wanted had led him to come back with bruises.

Alec raised his eyebrows, tightened his hold on the hoodie. Silently urging him along.

But nothing. The boy just held out his hands to the side, raising his eyebrows right back. As if to say, 'you asked, I answered.'

Alec was suddenly realizing why Max was so frustrated all the time.

He let go of the kid, completely missing the minute flinch Dean had before the transgenic sat back on his heels. Not yet believing the impunity promised him.

"This conversation isn't over, y'know."