Chapter Text
Alex groaned as consciousness returned. He could hear noise, beeping, and people talking. He couldn’t think through the molasses clogging his thoughts. He tried to ask where he was, but he wasn’t sure he managed. Blackness took over again.
The sound of people talking near him was the next thing he registered. He tried to turn his head in that direction. “Who?” He attempted. This time he thought he actually managed the words. Something was tugging at his thoughts trying to drag him back into sleep. “Where am I?” He faded back out before he got an answer.
His first clear thought was that he was in a hospital. The sounds of distant alarms and the smell of disinfectant was unmistakable. His chest was elevated to an almost sitting position, his wrists were on top of the blankets and he could feel something wrapped around them. He shifted them slightly and nothing tugged, so he was probably unbound. He opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling tiles where they met the wall.
Looking around Alex saw he was in a private room. It was pretty standard, beige walls, an empty chair to his right, monitors above his head, privacy curtain track along the ceiling. The curtains were an ugly shade of blue and currently pulled back against the wall. The safety bar was up on the left of the bed, but down on the right.
Alex looked down, there were bandages on his wrists but no restraints. There was an IV in his right hand. He remembered that part, he thought, someone asking about insurance. The tube led to a drip underneath a bag of clear liquid hanging from the headboard. The bed was the wrong model to be St. Barts, the normal hospital he ended up in after missions. His brain was fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate. The amount of painkillers in his system was making it hard to catalog his injuries.
The door opened and Alex looked over. He didn’t have any weapons and there was nowhere to run even if he could stand. He wasn’t sure he could. A man wearing a police uniform in his late twenties walked in holding a steaming cup.
“You’re awake,” He said in an American accent sounding startled. Something jostled in Alex’s cotton filled mind. Then the whole thing slotted into place.
He had been on loan to the American FBI looking into some kind of smuggling ring and gotten caught. He recalled the sorry excuse for an interrogation and the failed escape attempt followed by the boot of the car.
“You were the officer who opened the, um, trunk” Alex said, remembering to use an accent and stumbling over the American word for boot. His cover was American and he didn’t know what the officer knew. “Emmett right?”
“Yes,” the man said, coming over to sit in the chair. “And you’re Alex.”
“Alex Machunski,” Alex confirmed.
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a while, I figured I had time to grab some coffee, turns out I was wrong. How’re you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Could do with less painkillers,” Alex said. He hated the way they made his thoughts swim. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Beaumont Hospital in Farmington Hills. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard anyone say they want less painkillers.”
“They make my head fuzzy,” Alex said while he tried to figure out where Farmington Hills was. His mission had been in a suburb of Detroit called Redford. He knew the suburb over was Livonia but he didn’t recognize Farmington Hills. The officer was definitely the one who had pulled him from the car but he could be mixing up missions. “Farmington Hills,” he muttered.
“Fancy I know,” the officer, Emmett, joked. “It was the closest hospital that could treat you, Redford doesn’t have one.” Alex relaxed slightly. So he wasn’t confused, just geographically challenged.
“Can I talk to the doctor? I really don’t need this many painkillers,” Alex said. He wanted to yank the tube out of his IV but he doubted the officer would let him.
“You’re hurt pretty bad, I’m sure the doctor knows what he’s doing.”
He wasn’t sure why the officer was even there. Normally he woke alone, and wasn’t there a rule about interrogating a kid without his guardian present?
“Am I under arrest?” Alex asked. The officer looked surprised.
“What makes you think that?” He replied. So Alex was under arrest, great. He hoped somebody had been called or this was going to be a mess. His handler had been killed, so it would need to be the head of the investigation. Alex didn’t even know who that was.
“Why else are you here?” Alex said bitterly.
“You think you’re under arrest?” The officer sat forward in the chair sounding surprised. Alex just stared at him annoyed. “You’re not. you were found in the trunk of a car, you’re a witness. I’m here to make sure you are kept safe.”
“Then why are you in the room sitting next to me not outside guarding the door?” Alex said. That was how guard jobs had gone before, the few times they had been needed. Alex usually managed to neutralize any threats before the mission ended, generally explosively.
“There’s someone on the door, don’t worry. I came to sit with you since your guardian won’t be here for a few more hours and I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
“Oh,” Alex said, startled. He looked down at his bandaged wrists. “It’s fine, you can wait outside if you want. I’m sixteen, not five. Nobody is usually there when I wake up anyway.” That last part had slipped out unintentionally. Alex pressed his lips together cursing doctors and their unnecessary painkillers.
“Usually? Does this happen often?” Emmett asked. “Wait, don’t answer that, I’m not allowed to ask any questions until your guardian is here.”
“Right.” Alex said. “Do you know when they are getting here?”
“They said around four this afternoon. The chief said-” Emmett started, but was interrupted by the door opening and a nurse entering.
“How are you feeling kiddo?” he asked. Alex twitched at the term kiddo. He hated being called a kid. He wasn’t really one anymore, not in the ways that mattered. The only exception was a particular Russian who was not here right now. “Can you rate your pain right now from one to 10 for me?”
“Umm,” Alex said. He knew from previous experience that the nurse would make him answer that. It was every hospital’s favorite question. Alex evaluated his pain, there was a dull ache, easily ignorable, from his ribs and something internal on his left.“Two I guess? The dosage is so high on the painkillers I can’t feel much of anything. Can you take me off them? They make me fuzzy.” The nurse paused at that.
“Take you off the painkillers?” he said.
“Yeah, they make my head fuzzy,” Alex repeated. “I can handle the pain. Some um,” Alex stumbled over the American word for Paracetamol “over the counter stuff is fine.”
“I’ll mention it to the doctor,” he said in a tone that told Alex he would do no such thing. “Your blood oxygen level looks good. How does it feel when you breathe?”
“A little tight,” Alex said, suppressing a sigh of annoyance.
“That’s good, you need rest right now. The painkillers will help with that. Hard to sleep when you’re in pain.” Then he turned to Emmett “There’s a cooler outside, you can get him water if he wants it, lunch is served between twelve and one.”
Alex felt anger wash through him at the dismissal. His eyes caught on Emmett’s uniform and he took a breath. Just because he wasn’t under arrest didn’t mean they wouldn’t restrain him if they thought he was a danger. Instead Alex closed his eyes and fought the emotion down.
“Do you know where you are?” The nurse asked, turning back to Alex.
“Emmett said Beaumont Hospital in Farmington Hills,” Alex said.
“What do you remember before?” Emmett shifted in his chair at the question. He looked on the verge of objecting.
“I was in a trunk, then an ambulance,” Alex replied, careful to keep his response to things Emmett would already know.
“Thank you,” the nurse said. “You arrived with two fractured ribs on your right side, a bruised kidney, and a mild concussion. You also have superficial wounds on your wrists and ankles as well as your right arm and shoulder. Do you remember how you got those?”
“Yes,” Alex said, putting as much finality into his tone as he could. He didn’t want to explain anything. The debrief would be bad enough. The nurse waited for him to continue, when Alex didn’t he just nodded.
“Concussions can cause memory loss, it is a good sign that it didn’t happen in your case.” The nurse walked over to Alex’s chart and jotted a few notes down. “Do you have any questions?”
“No,” Alex said, looking down at the bandages on his wrists and resisting the urge to pick at them. He was less injured than he expected given how incompetant his interrogators had been. The nurse looked at him for a moment before walking out.
“Do you want some water?” Emmett asked.
“Sure,” Alex said. “Can you hand me my chart before you leave?” Emmett looked confused at the question but obligingly unhooked Alex’s chart from the foot of the bed and passed it over before walking out.
Alex read through it carefully. The worst damage was his ribs, he had fractured eight and nine on the right. His left kidney was badly bruised but it didn’t look like there would be any long term damage. He had a mild concussion and was likely facing headaches for the next couple of weeks. There were cuts on his right arm from below his elbow up to his neck of varying depths. And his wrists and ankles had abrasions.
He had been given fluids at his initial arrival to combat dehydration and was now on morphine. He noted the morphine dosage was significantly below what he normally received. It explained why his head was clearer than normal even if his thoughts still felt like they were trying to swim away from him.
Alex had just finished reading when he heard Emmett’s voice through the door. Alex couldn’t make out the words. A moment later Emmett came back in.
“Got you some water,” He said grinning. “They even had a selection of straws. I didn’t know what color you wanted so I grabbed a couple of options.” Emmet handed Alex a styrofoam cup with an opaque lid, then he held out his other hand. There were five bendy straws individually wrapped each a bright cheerful color.
Alex stared at the straws before selecting the green one. He must be in the pediatrics ward then. He hadn’t been in a pediatric ward since he had broken his arm when he was ten. Ian had been on one of his numerous business trips and Jack had been the one to take him. He curtailed that train of thought quickly. Even all this time later thinking of Jack was still painful.
“Thanks,” Alex mumbled as he poked the straw through the wrapping and inserted it into the cup. “Can you put the chart back? The nurse will probably need it.”
“No problem,” Emmett said, still smiling. He set the extra straws down on the bed and picked the chart up off of Alex’s lap, returning it to its place hanging off the foot of the bed.
Alex took a sip of the water and then had to stop himself from immediately downing the entire thing. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Alex had been dehydrated plenty of times, he knew he wasn’t dangerously dehydrated because he’d read his chart, but by now it was ingrained to drink slowly when he was this thirsty. So Alex took small sips, bringing the cup to his lap every couple to force himself to slow down.
Emmett sat quietly next to Alex as he drank. It was a comfortable silence as Alex felt his brain drift. Slowly he felt the urgent need for water fade and started taking longer sips.
The gurgle of the straw running out of water startled Alex and looked down at the cup in surprise. The lid prevented him from being able to see into the cup, but he shook it and didn't feel any liquid.
"Would you like some more?" Emmett asked. Alex nodded and handed over the cup.
When Emmett came back he also had a fresh cup of coffee. Alex wondered how long Emmett had been awake. Had he even slept since finding Alex in the trunk.
After he was settled back in the extremely uncomfortable looking chair Emmett asked "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Alex said. And he was, the fog was starting to clear from his head somewhat. That of course meant the pain was returning with it. But he would take pain over drug fog most days.
"I always hated hospitals," Emmet said. "Nobody is ever in a hospital for a happy reason."
Alex stayed quiet and took another sip of his water. He didn't dislike hospitals. Usually he was in a hospital because the mission was over. He associated them more with safety and relief than anything else.
"When you aren't in the hospital is there stuff you like doing?" Emmett asked, clearly trying to start a conversation.
Alex thought about that, he had liked football before, but now he spent most of the time between missions frantically trying to catch up on schoolwork.
He was Alex Machunski right now anyway. Alex wasn't sure what he was supposed to like.
Apparently he took too long to answer because Emmett tried a different track.
"Have a favorite subject in school?"
Alex shrugged. It wasn't like he was there enough to have a favorite subject. He could hardly explain that to Emmett though.
Alex finished his water in silence. He declined more and leaned back, closing his eyes.
He drifted in and out of sleep. The nurse came in again, but didn't wake him. Emmett left a few times, presumably to get coffee if the aroma every time he returned was anything to go by. Not that it smelled like particularly good coffee.
Alex heard voices at the door again, different from the background bustle outside. He opened his eyes just in time to see the door open and the nurse from earlier come in. Behind him was a much shorter man, slender and moving with the same dancer’s grace as always. Alex sat up as his fogged brain stuttered to a halt.
“Your guardian is here,” the nurse said.
“What are you doing here?” Alex asked, only barely keeping himself from shouting.
“ You’re the one who called me, ” Yassen said in Russian.
“ I didn’t call anyone, ” Alex replied in the same language. His Russian was still accented, but it had been steadily improving. Enough that he could hold a complex conversation with minimal stumbling.
“ You gave the hospital the number, ” Yassen said as he reached the bed.
Emmett stood up and looked between them. Clearly he was expecting a less antagonistic response. Alex knew he should be pretending to be relieved at Yassen’s presence, but he was too busy trying to remember giving them Yassen’s number. Then his fogged brain supplied the memory of the ambulance, after the doctor had hooked him up to the the IV.
“Oh,” Alex said as everything clicked into place. Instead of giving the mission backup number, he’d given them Yassen’s number. “Oops?” He tried hoping Yassen wouldn’t be too mad at him.
“Sasha,” Yassen simply said with a sigh before turning to Emmett. “My name is Yassen, I’m Alex’s brother.” Emmett looked between them in confusion for a moment, probably noting how completely unrelated they looked. “Not by blood. It’s complicated,” Yassen clarified. Alex tried to contain his startlement at Yassen using his real name.
“Emmett Hill,” Emmett said, taking the hand Yassen had offered.
“I hope he hasn’t been any trouble,” Yassen said.
“No trouble at all.” Emmett rushed to assure Yassen. “He’s a good kid, his only complaint has been how much painkiller he’s on.” Yassen glanced sharply at Alex at that.
“You want off the painkillers,” Yassen said, it wasn’t a question. Alex nodded anyway, he didn’t need to explain that particular dislike. “How much are you on? And how much is your normal post mission dose?”
Alex focused back down on his wrists, giving into the urge to pick at the bandages. He muttered the answer, keeping to Russian. Yassen sighed again, but didn’t say anything.
“Can you tell me his injuries?” Yassen asked, turning to the nurse. The nurse turned to Alex with a questioning look.
“My stepfather is dead, so I guess he’s my legal guardian right now anyway,” Alex said with a shrug. Everyone in the room looked startled. Alex noticed Emmett was still standing next to the chair as if waiting for Yassen to sit. “Emmett you can sit, Yassen’s not going to need the chair.” Emmett, still recovering from the previous statement, just stared at him blankly.
The nurse focused on Yassen and started running through Alex’s injuries. Since he had entered the room Yassen had been fairly emotive, smiling at Emmett and frowning disapprovingly at Alex. Now, listening to the list that seemed to go on and on, Yassen’s face fell into the blank mask Alex was used to seeing on missions.
“You really can sit down,” Alex said to Emmett. The man looked like he was swaying on his feet, and Yassen was unlikely to use the chair. Emmett looked down at Alex and sank into the chair.
When the nurse was done explaining, Yassen launched into a series of questions. His voice had all the emotion of a lake in the Russian winter.
Alex knew he was in for a long interrogation and a sharp lecture as soon as the nurse left. And it would be an interrogation, even if Yassen wasn't torturing him this time. He would want every detail described and every decision explained.
"Thank you," Yassen eventually said to the nurse, apparently done questioning the man. Alex expected the nurse to leave but instead he turned to Alex.
"Can you rate your pain for me again?" He asked.
"Three," Alex sighed.
The nurse reached down to the clipboard to record the answer. He was interrupted by a sharp "Alex," from Yassen.
Alex looked up at Yassen and winced. He looked pissed. Before Alex could ask what he was objecting to, he continued, "try again."
"It's a three Yassen, I've had worse." Alex protested.
" You rated your gunshot wound in Peru a five. I hardly think your three is normal for your age group. The nurse needs an accurate measure of your pain to make sure nothing is wrong. Try. Again " Yassen's voice was icy, and there was a note of steel underneath that promised there would be issues if Alex argued.
"Ummm," Alex said, turning to the nurse. "A six I guess?"
The nurse and Emmett were watching them alarmed.
"I have a high pain tolerance," Alex explained. The nurse looked between them for a moment before making a note on the chart and leaving. He glanced at Emmett for a moment before he departed.
Alex felt his stomach sink. He knew his medical history was written into his body. From the scars and poorly healed bones to off balance muscle mass from inadequate or insufficient physical therapy. The doctors had likely put two and two together and come to five. It was not the first time, but it was the first time his handlers weren't there to extract him from any awkward conversations.
The way Yassen had spoken and Alex's response had probably led them to believe Yassen was the one abusing Alex. And while he had been responsible for a number of Alex's injuries, he was not the underlying cause of the harm.
" Could you have picked a worse way of handling that? " Alex asked Yassen, turning to him angrily.
" You should tell the truth about your pain. And lying helps nobody " Yassen responded coolly.
"I wasn't lying!" Alex nearly shouted. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. " On the scale of pain I've felt, it's a three. " Yassen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
" Perhaps for you it is a three, but compared to what a normal sixteen year old has experienced it is not. It helps nobody if you die of internal bleeding because you underestimated your pain level. " Yassen said. He sounded exasperated. Alex looked back down, chastised. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms.
Suddenly the door opened again, and two men entered, both in casual business attire. Emmet glanced over and then abruptly stood up.
“Chief,” he said.
“Officer Hill,” The taller of the two acknowledged. He took in the rumpled state of Emmett’s clothes, and the way he swayed. “No need for all that, you can sit.” Emmett did.
The Chief looked Yassen up and down. In his usual nondescript clothing, all muted colors, dark enough to hide in shadows, but not solid black enough for someone to look twice, Yassen looked unremarkable. Then he turned to Alex.
“Alexander Machunski? I am Walton, and this is Detective Adams. We are here to speak to you about the events of last night.”
“Chief?” Alex asked. He wasn’t sure what Chief was supposed to mean in this context. He glanced over at Yassen.
“I am the police chief in Livonia.” Alex nodded, police made sense. “We would like to ask you a few questions about what you remember.”
Alex looked over at Yassen. He couldn’t answer police questions. How was he supposed to explain anything without bringing up MI6, or the FBI in this case. Walton followed his gaze.
“If that is okay with you. As his guardian you can be present. This isn’t an interrogation, we just want a witness statement to understand how Alex wound up mixed up in all of this.”
“Of course,” Yassen said. “Ask away.”