Sleep. That was all he wanted, just a little bit of sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he slept for more than five minutes, maybe it was back in Sona, no, most definitely it was back in Sona. After the escape the voices had started coming back, slowly, but surely. It was the lack of noise out here in the forest, or maybe it was just knowing that he was back in a world full of innocent people; a world where Alex was sure he didn't belong. Not anymore, anyway.

The springs in the creaky old mattress dug into his back, forcing him to turn every minute or so to become comfortable again, but the turning and the thinking didn't help anything. Each prod from the spring was like somebody pushing against his brain, forcing more thoughts, both unwanted and completely warranted. Even two weeks after the latest break-out, Alex still wondered why Michael had asked him to stay. There couldn't have been a good reason, not unless they were planning on killing him (which, at this point, was a reasonably welcome thought), but when the offer had come Alex was almost certain he could see a hint of compassion creeping into Michael's blue eyes.

Who would give you compassion?

Despite the familiarity of the voice, Alex abruptly rolled from the wall so he was facing the door of the cabin, eyes sweeping the room, looking for the source. It was non-existant. Of course it was, it always was to start with. This one bore the gravely resemblance of his own father's voice; one he had long since heard from the man himself, or in fact from his own mind. Not since he had started his career with the FBI and the other footsteps started to trace both his sleeping then waking mind.

The little blue pills had become a salvation, a part of his every day life. At first it was just to stop the voices, constantly incriminating him, Shales, and his father. It seemed like those two voices were the only ones to know who he truly was, how easy it had been to just be rid of Shales. Forever. But in the end it hadn't been so easy, instead the man haunted him day and night and the only way to truly be rid of him was to take a little blue pill.

It didn't take long until one or two pills weren't enough, and he vividly remembered Sara's words "you must feel like you're walking underwater". He did, and it was nice, it was quiet... he missed the quiet, even in the silence of this forest, in this cabin, there was a constant stream of sound within his own head. Quiet, sleep, that was all he wanted, but it seemed too much to ask. The heroin had been worse, he didn't long for that, not now, he just wanted his pills, the heroin didn't bring him peace from this world like the Benzodiazepine did. Sometimes he wondered if Pam ever knew about the drugs, if she ever even had that nagging suspicion. The thought was easily pushed away however.

Especially now, when she was gone, and so was their son. He had told her to forget. Forget everything, forget him, and he truly hoped she had, no matter how alone he felt now.

Just do it, Alex. It's quiet here, isn't that what you want?

Charles Patoshik. An unwished for groan slipped out of Alex's mouth as he turned again, eyes closing for a second. All he saw within the darkness was Haywire on the edge of the grain mill, then his own voice telling him there's only one way, and then the man jumping, falling to his death.

It's quiet, Alex.

Eyes opening with sudden determination, Alex's fingers found the edge of the bed. Pushing himself up, he looked around, taking in the stillness, at least glad that neither his father or Haywire had made a physical appearance. For a moment he felt as though he were walking through utter blackness, one idea, one simple goal in his mind. Quiet.

The bath was less than hygienic, though for the price of the place and the fact that no ID was even required to take up a room it wasn't surprising, in fact it was pretty much expected. The sound of the water running seemed to put Alex at ease for a moment, the shaking in his hands slowing moving to his fingertips and flowing away with the water.

His shoes were the only piece of clothing he bothered to remove, as he stepped into the bathtub the cool water bringing his attention almost immediately to his bare feet. After he sat it didn't take long for the water to soak into his jeans, he felt like he was blissfully sinking despite the solid feeling of the bottom of the bath beneath his feet.

Water began to slip over the edge of the tub and onto the grimy green tiles. Alex, taking no apparent notice, lowered his head beneath the water. A small smile played on the corner of his mouth, you must feel like you're walking underwater. Now he truly did. There was nothing here, eyes closed there was just darkness, the sound of the running water seeming a mile away, as though an entire bubble surrounded him and nothing, no noise, no voice, no person could penetrate it.

Alex had begun to drift away; the pressure against his chest becoming a warm and welcome feeling rather than an uncomfortable and unwanted one, when the distant sound of thumps began to thread their way through his solitude. Then a voice, closer, "Alex?", footsteps on the tiles, they sounded like distant thumps of music being played from houses away, getting closer, closer.

Cold air slammed against his face and his body forced him to take a deep shuddering breath as a pair of warm hands yanked him from the water, "Alex!" He didn't realise who it was at first, didn't care, he wanted to go back to the peace and quiet beneath the water's surface. Furiously pushing the hands away, it wasn't until Michael's face faded into view in front of his own that Alex came to the realisation of who had pulled him from his rest. Only two words managed to form on his tongue, words that he wasn't even sure he meant, "Thank you."