2 AM

It was 2 am and Lincoln was up, looking at the ceiling with arms folded under his head. He was usually so tired he fell asleep at the moment his head hit the pillow. Not that night. And it had nothing to do with the unpleasantly hot and sticky air of the night.

As the building was very quiet at night, it was easy for him to hear the sound of steps. Somehow he knew whose steps that were. In the next second he found himself following them, leading him into the sanitary room. He knocked on the half-opened door quietly.

"Alex?" he said, walking in. He stopped when he heard running water.

"Come in," Alex said in a dull voice. "I'm not doing anything private."

Lincoln closed the door behind him, switching the lights on. Alex was leaning against the wall, shirtless, his face wet. Lincoln walked over, turning the tap off.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing..." Alex mumbled. "Only that I'm drunk as an ape."

"OK..." Lincoln said slowly, unsurprised. "Did it help you to feel better?"

"No," Alex shook his head. "I didn't want to feel better. I wanted to feel less. But the only effect it has so far is that I feel like throwing up. Which is not exactly what I wanted to achieve."

Lincoln watched him for a while. Only a few days ago he would see an emotionless beast in his place. Calculating and callous. But now he apparently was in so much pain that despite he still held grudge for Alex, somehow he was able to forget it. Suddenly Alex smirked bitterly.

"This is so pathetic I would laugh at myself if there was a mirror."

"It's not pathetic," Lincoln said. "It's normal."

"Normal?" Alex repeated, looking at him with fury. "Normal like beating and murdering a small kid?"

Alex's voice was dripping with wrath and agony. That was such a change from the cold hearted bastard Lincoln always thought Alex to be. When he saw him broken down like that, he almost wanted to pat his shoulder with sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he said and Alex shook his head. His usually piercing and alert blue eyes were glossy and apathetic. And deep inside of them, Lincoln could see a glimpse of the unimaginable sorrow and torment he went through.

"It's none of your business," Alex said silently, worn out. "Leave me alone."

But Lincoln wasn't about to do that.

"Let's go get some fresh air," he said instead.

"I can do it on my own," Alex said, making a few steps and swaying a little.

"Yeah, sure," Lincoln said with a bit of irony, getting a hold of Alex's arm. He moved away quickly but Lincoln had already noticed what Alex didn't want him to see.

"Where did you get the scars on your arm?"

Alex rubbed his eyes, the sharp white light from the strip lamps making the numerous scars on his arms and shoulders obvious.

"From my father," he said. "It was his way of expressing love."

Lincoln watched him with raised eyebrows.

"Are you kidding?"

"I'm not really in the mood for kidding, Lincoln," Alex muttered, walking away. Lincoln followed him outside the building where Alex leaned against the railing, looking down at the sea.

"I hated the man," Alex said. "What I hated even more was the fact he was my father and I couldn't change it. I would never hurt my son. I would never hit him or kick him or burn him with a cigarette. I thought... what a good father I was. And yet, no matter how hard I tried not to do him any harm, I did... I did..."

Alex's voice broke down and he couldn't speak any more. He put his head into his arms, shivering with cry. Lincoln held a hand on his shoulder, while the refreshing ocean breeze blew against their faces.

"I don't know how you see it, Alex, but for me, Wyatt killed your son, not you. It doesn't matter who made the order, he had a choice and he decided to murder an innocent child. He is a heartless fucking bastard who deserves the worst. And in one way, you are lucky. You are very well capable of avenging yourself. Which is a luxury not everybody gets. There are thousands similar crimes made every day, crimes that stay unpunished and people are helpless against it. But you aren't. You can do something about it. You have the name and you have the skills. It's your little share of justice in the unfairness of life."

Alex took a deep breath, pulling himself together.

"I guess I found the old wise man of our little group."

Lincoln smirked at the hint of sarcasm in Alex's voice.

"I just like smart talks."

"Yeah..." Alex said, giving him a look and there was unsaid gratitude in his darkened eyes.

"Thank you, Lincoln," he said frankly and Lincoln nodded.

"You're welcome."

"I can't be sure about this, but I had the impression you didn't like me," Alex remarked. "Obviously all I had to do to change it was proving what a lousy father I am."

"Don't flatter yourself, Alex," Lincoln said, crossing his arms on his chest. "I still don't like you. But I fucking want you to see dashing that bastard's brains out."

Alex snorted with amusement, narrowing his eyes and coldness returned to them.

"You'll have the first row ticket."

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