Journey - REVISED EDITION

Trouble

I own nothing here. Except the writing...and the storyline...and the angst...and the bad plot points.

The dreams came in snatches of terror, explosions, and pain. Nothing made sense, but the images flashing through his brain were enough to have Alex gasping for air as he woke, trembling all over, and unable to shake the broken look in Tom's dead eyes from his mind.

Liam was at his side almost immediately, reassuring him that he was safe, but that wasn't what Alex wanted to hear.

"Tom? Where's Tom?" He couldn't remember what had happened to his best friend. He'd been there...and then he hadn't. His chest was tight with fear and while he knew it was probably irrational, he had to know that Tom was okay.

But Liam had no clue what he was talking about.

Of course.

He hadn't been there that night Tom had shown up, dripping wet and wonderfully familiar.

The panic rose in Alex's throat, and he flung back the sheets, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His knees buckled when he tried to stand, and if it weren't for Liam's hands reaching out and catching him, he would have fallen to the floor.

"Alex. Alex. What's wrong?" Liam asked, still supporting the trembling teen.

"Where's Wolf?" Alex asked, in-between gasps for air. His chest was tight, and he scrambled at it with his hand, pushing down hard, and coughing.

"He's on duty right now, Alex, but you need to breathe, buddy."

Alex stumbled to the door, Liam still supporting his thin frame, and clutched the door frame, his vision blurring and legs shaking. His lungs burned.

"Wolf!" He shouted, pushing Liam away and walking towards the stairs, clutching the rail with one hand, the other still bunching up his sweatshirt in a white-knuckled grip.

His head swam, and he sank to the first step, head going between his knees as he coughed and gasped for air. His face felt wet; he didn't know when the crying had started.

What if something had happened to Tom? All because he couldn't take care of himself, and had been so selfish, demanding that all the attention be on him with that stupid, stupid argument he'd had with Wolf...

Then Fox had gone missing.

Alex didn't think he could take another person leaving.

Liam's hand rested on his back, but Alex couldn't hear anything through the thoughts raging in his head, and the way his limbs tingled and went numb, how the burning in his lungs became sharper, each wheeze feeling as though he was breathing glass.

Stupid. Stupid. All your fault.

He didn't even try to stop the flashback. Instead, he fell headfirst, plunging his world into darkness.

"Alex." Falcon's voice is soft, and Alex wants to reach out and grab hold of it and never let go, because he knows that he will probably never hear it again. Instead, he opens his eyes, and finds himself curled on his side at the old safe-house, Falcon crouching down beside the bed. "Hey." The soldier sounds so concerned, and there's a furrow in his brow that makes Alex's fingers itch to just fix it and his head aches with guilt. "What's wrong?"

Alex doesn't quite know why he feels so numb and so so heavy, but there are many reasons he could give. Like Jack's death. His uncle. His health. MI6's abuse. Instead he just shrugs, even though the guilt from lying and making the others worry threatens to choke him.

Falcon's face becomes unreadable, and Alex knows he's seen straight through the lie the teen has made. A part of him just doesn't care, so Alex makes no move to tell the truth. Talking feels like too much work right now.