Sometime before the Present …


    Lilian jerks to alertness at the rapt sound of harsh knocking downstairs, jostling Chris who rises up beside her, albeit bleary and incoherent.


    The knocking reverberates through the empty house again, the silence of the night multiplying the sound ten times over.


    “What is that?” She asks, head swirling about to peer at the clock by the bedside table. 3:24AM. What the fucknugget?


    “Calm down honey.” Chris stretches his arms above his head with a loud yawn. And she realizes she said that last part out loud.


    His eyes finally pry open in attentiveness, shaking his head to dredge the final tendrils of sleep. “It''s just the door.”


    She knew it was the door, her issue was simply with the placement of the appointment of whoever was knocking.


    “At this time? Why didn''t George call?” She rasps, the harsh knocking cutting her off.


    She lifts off the bed to peer through their room window, doesn''t see a soul. “Chris, I don''t like this.” She says from her station at the window.


    Chris flips over the duvet covering him with a sigh, feet stuffing into his slippers. “Fine. Stay here, I''ll go check.” He grabs a robe, about to stride out their room. And Lilian nearly has an aneurysm.


    “By yourself?!”


    Chris huffs a breath, clearly wanting the entire thing to be over as soon as possible. “Then grab a bat or something and follow me.” He says, before exiting the room. Lilian copying his motions, hot on his heels.


    They tiptoe down the stairs, Chris taking extra precaution to avoid the creaky spots. It wouldn''t do to announce his presence to whoever was at the door, should it turn out to be an axe murderer or something of the like.


    Lilian bumps into him, a la Scooby-doo style and he jumps two feet in the air, brain catching up to the fact that his wife had come down with him, a bit late.


    “Jesus Lilian! Watch where you''re going!” He wants to raise a hand to his palpitating heart, but decides against it. He wasn''t in the mood for Lilian''s excessive fussing.


    “You slowed down!” She whispers back.


    “Do you want me rushing to the door?” Chris asks, hands making a sweeping motion from their current position on the stairs, to the door. He peers around his wife and frowns. “And where is the bat you were supposed to grab?”


    “No one in this house plays baseball!”


    The loud knocking starts again, Lilian giving her best impression of a koala, arms gripping Chris tight.


    He sighs. “Honey, at some point we''re gonna have to answer it.”


    His gaze drops to her hands wrapped around him, and she reluctantly lets go of Chris.


    He takes a deep breath, moving to the door, and wrenches it open. Eyes expanding in their sockets. “Alex?”


    The blood covered and barely alive subject swaying on his doorstep gives a weak wave, hand dropping back down to cradle her left shoulder.


    “Hey Chris.” She says with what he recognizes as a genuine smile. “Let''s not make this a habit.”


    ~~~


    Alex is laid out on the couch, a multitude of towels spread out under her shoulder so she doesn''t redye the cream upholstery red.


    Lilian is beside her cleaning the deep gash on her shoulder, a futile mission seeing as the thing is still spewing inhuman amounts of blood. For biology’s sake, she should be dead.


    “If this is drug related, I suggest you leave as soon as Lilian''s done.” He says from where he is stood across from them, and Alex laughs.


    “Chris.” Lilian chastises softly, still absorbed with the task of sealing Alex closed.


    “Drug related? Ow.” Alex winces a bit as Lilian dabs the surface of the gash. “Haven''t heard that one before.”


    Chris scrubs a tired hand down his face. It was a little past 4am now, and he hadn''t had nearly enough sleep to tackle a crisis this severe. He spares a moment to curse the Chris two months younger who had offered Alex an open door invite at any time of the day.


    “Look, when I said I was here to help, I certainly didn''t mean dry cleaning blood out of my sofa.” he says plaintively.


    “I recovered something.” Alex responds unrelated, and Chris has to realign his bearings to keep up.


    “Recovered what?


    “A knife. This one in particular.” She whips out a bejeweled dagger adorned with the carvings of different runes.


    Chris and Lilian take a cautious step back.


    “What am I looking at?” He asks.


    “A knife.” Alex repeats, head cocked to the side. “I thought we established this?”


    “Yes, but why is it in my house?”


    She looks from Chris to the knife and then back to Chris again. Jaw clenched hard at work, grinding molars to little nubs. Wonderful. She hadn''t even thought this through.


    “Because I honestly have nowhere else to put it.” She says after an agonizing moment.


    Chris scoffs incredulously. “What do you want me to do? Add it to my kitchen set?


    “Chris she''s bleeding out, we need to get her to a hospital.” Lilian touches a hand–thankfully not the bloodstained one–to his arm.


    He is about to recite a long list of lamentations detailing what driving a bleeding patient to the hospital will do to his car interior, when Alex thankfully objects.


    “No, none of that.” She tries to sit up, failing unceremoniously. Lilian rushes to her side, firm hand pushing her back down


    “I vote for someone who''s not suffering from blood loss to make the decision.” Lilian says. “You''re going.”


    “You don''t understand,” Alex winces. “It won''t work.”


    She bullies herself away from Lilian''s grip, feet hitting the floor. “You''ll just end up confusing a lot of doctors.” What new hurdle was this?


    “What the hell does that even mean?” Chris asks, brow furrowed dubiously.


    Alex seems to take this as some sort of point. “Exactly. I''ll need a car battery, and some jumper cables.” She says to Chris and Lilian who gape at her.


    “Lilian.” Chris says and Lilian hums in response, eyes still locked on Alex. “What have we let into our house?”


    ~~~


    Chris considers the car battery right beside the sofa, jumper cables hooked up to it. Alex has the other end in her hands, and Lilian is staring in horror.


    It was pure insanity, is what it was. Alex had lost a decent amount of her marbles granted, but Chris would be lying if he said he wasn''t interested in seeing how far Alex was willing to take this thing.


    “You know you don''t have to look if you don''t want to.” She says, eyes not shifting from the cables in her grasps.


    “Are you really about to weld your wound shut?” He can''t stop himself from asking.


    The mad girl shrugs. “It''s the only thing to do.”


    Chris looks around the house in sarcastic askance. “As opposed to the normal people way of getting stitches?”


    “Let me rephrase that,” She says, finally meeting his gaze. “it''s the only thing that will work.” She says, before trying unsuccessfully to reach the wound.


    She attempts again a couple of times, coming up short. Chris losing his attention on watching her fail, when Lilian gives him a little nudge, prompting him to roll his eyes and offer his hand out for the cables.


    Alex considers his upturned hands for a moment. “Are you sure?”


    “No. But after this, I’m expecting a huge bottle of Jack and an explanation.”


    “Fair enough.” She hands Chris the cables, sitting up straight. The sofa dips under Chris’ weight when he joins her, face an uneasy mask.


    “Wait!” Lilian yells, causing Chris to jolt at the interruption. He glowers at his wife. “Don''t you need something to bite on?” She directs at Alex sheepishly.


    “It''s alright really, I''ve had worse.” Alex offers a weak smile. At ‘worse’ Chris'' eyes widen.


    “That bottle of Jack better be the biggest one there is.” He says.


    The sound of sizzling flesh fills the room, followed by a scream of immense pain.


    <hr>


    Kyp’s hand had been instinctively prodding around his chest in a bid to relieve the pressure he felt there.


    His eyes rip open from the black, blinking rapidly a couple of times. Eyes that had been shut for a while struggle to get used to the harsh white of a marble ceiling.


    He wiggles around, confirming his fingers, toes and other extremities are intact before attempting and failing to sit up straight.


    “Ow!” Kyp winces as he is forced back down by the biting pain in his chest.


    “The secret to avoiding the pain would be staying still.” The voice says again. Kyp has to painstakingly rotate his head as slowly as possible to identify the owner of the voice. The man from the crystal room. Kyp can''t do anything but stare owlishly.


    “Chris.” The man says next, bloody hand gesturing to himself. “Your makeshift nurse.”


    Kyp stares some more. Marveling at the man''s maintained calm in the presence of a crisis. Humans tended to disperse like rodents in the face of trouble, making them easy to eliminate one after the other. Perhaps Chris was a trained member of a legion.


    “Kyp.” he says finally.


    Chris’ brows knit together. “Skype?”


    “Kyp.” He says louder, making sure to enunciate, as much as you could enunciate a monosyllabic, three letter word. Why was English the dominant language on this rock again?


    “Okay, Kyp.” Chris responds, busying himself poking about in Kyp''s chest once more, Kyp groans at the feeling.


    “I have not felt pain like this in millennia.” And he had partook in some devastating wars.


    “Millennia? You''re pretty spry for a Mummy.”


    Kyp bristles at the incorrect appropriation. “I''m male.”


    “For a Daddy, then.” Chris'' head lifts up to assess him, cracks a secret smile. “Sorry about the gun, Glenn showed me a prop from the set of E.T and I went overboard with the Alien-Invasion Prevention.”


    Invasion? “Do three people count as an invasion?”


    Chris'' eyes peer over his spectacles in a criticizing gaze, hands still moving fervently against him. “Seeing as you three could technically cripple our World Government with a mere sneeze, I''m going to go out on a limb and tick ‘yes’.”


    He was only grasping every fourth word that exited the man''s mouth, but that seemed like an answer that leaned toward the affirmative. “All we came for was the crystal.”


    “You didn''t exactly ask nicely, did you?”


    “A ruthless tyrant grew power hungry and exterminated my kind. Forgive me if we were aggressive in retrieving the instrument vital to our retribution.” Kyp sighs.


    Chris’ lips twist in a pout, shoulders dropping in sympathy at his statement, then– “Hold on you told me you were here to help.” He points a bloody scalpel at him in accusation. Kyp at least had the good grace to wince in shame.


    “I lied.”


    “Of course you did. Now, tell me how I''m supposed to believe any other thing that comes out of that perfect mouth? If the mouth is even real.” Chris’ hands flail about in offense. Scalpel of accusation angling dangerously close to Kyp’s face.


    Kyp has to awkwardly shuffle away on his back from what could accidentally turn into an onslaught.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “I knew you wanted it off your planet,” he says, anxiety abating when Chris folds his arms, scalpel tucked safely away. “I did not think you would care what it did when it was off earth.”


    Chris frowns in thought. Yes, the sentiment was accurate, but it was the principle of the matter. He couldn''t help but feel slightly betrayed from the nearly-lie.


    He unfolds his hands and deftly returns to patching Kyp up, deliberately poking the injury a couple of times.


    “Ow!”


    “If you could try not to move at all. I''d appreciate it.” He says, eyes trained solely on his work. “I mostly deal with wires and the occasional computer, so not that kind of doctor. Although I''ve got two kids, one of which is an actual doctor. The other could be the President if she wanted. But she doesn''t seem to want anything, except watch old TV shows.”


    He looks up at a silent Kyp after a while, realizing he had been rambling. This would be when he''d generally apologize for going off track, but Kyp for all purposes, was staring at him like he genuinely hadn''t understood a word that had been spoken.


    “You talk a lot.” Is all he says. And Chris snorts.


    “Guilty.”


    Kyp winces as he tries to peer down his torso. Succeeding slightly. “And you seem to know what you''re doing.”


    “This isn''t my first rodeo, friend.” Chris preens, purposefully ignoring the suspicious gaze boring into the side of his face. “Hopefully your friends are coming for you. Cause I was hoping to hitch a ride.” He segues skillfully away from any talks about previous rodeos.


    “As long as the crystal is nearby, it can be tracked.” Kyp settles his head back down on the floor, face to the ceiling. His mouth turns down in a frown, and he turns back to Chris. “The crystal is nearby, yes?”


    “I don''t know.” He says. “Look, between the both of us, they''re probably never going to let us near that thing anymore. The semi-good news being they shut it off to move it.” He adds in explanation to the look Kyp is giving him.


    “Move it? This is not the Plant?” Kyp would probably be panic-pacing right now, if he wasn''t physically confined to his back.


    “No. No, it actually isn''t. Heck, I can''t even tell where we are, seeing as I''m now a recipient of the little black bag.” Chris lifts the hand with the scalpel to the side of his head, scratching a spot with his unsoiled pinky.


    “I do not understand what that means, but you do not know where the crystal is, right now?” Kyp asks urgently.


    Chris shakes his head. “Could be in Timbuktu for all we know.”


    “If we are not in proximity to the crystal, Nod and Nelzux may never find me.” Kyp seems to deflate as he speaks. Chris can''t find a shred of optimism to assure him otherwise.


    “That is not good news.” He settles on. Synapses firing in quick thought to formulate some kind of plan.


    The easiest thing to do would be to get a message across to Alex or Akio. Which ironically would also be a terrible plan in theory, considering the psychotic things Glenn had cooking in the last lab he had been allowed into.


    “Your offspring.” Kyp says, and Chris has a fleeting second to wonder if he can read minds. “they are forever indebted to you for their birth. Can they not save us?”


    Offspring, Jesus Christ. “Don''t … Call them that.” Chris grimaces.


    Kyp sobers. “On my planet it was worth a two moon celebration, when a child picked up the sword.”


    “I don''t want them within 10 feet of this place. There''s no need pulling them into this foolishness as well.”


    “So you would rather die, than be saved by them?” Kyp blinks steadily at him, eyes darting about his face as if for better understanding.


    “If it means they get to stay safe. Then yes.” He retrieves a filthy rag from beside him to wipe the blood off his hands, then the surface of Kyp''s injury. Fingers crossed Aliens didn''t get infections.


    Kyp brings a fist to his chin. “I can not decide if your decision is endearing, or foolish.”


    “Let''s stick with the former.” Chris preens at the work done on Kyp''s chest, discarding the rag before reaching for a soldering iron nearby.


    “What are you doing?” Kyp croaks, voice disclosing his fear.


    “Try to hold still,” Chris brandishes the soldering gun like a weapon. Closing Alex up once did not make him a pro. “I’ve only done this once before.”


    <hr>


    “She looks so peaceful.” Lilian coos at an asleep Alex on their couch. Blanket thrown neatly over her, shoulder bandaged up tightly, and shockingly still in the same position they had left her in two and a half hours ago.


    Chris is beside his wife, both in their Pyjamas–they’d had to change into new pairs after the impromptu doctor session earlier this morning–observing their sleeping guest.


    He lets out an exhausted yawn, eyes scrunching shut while he does. Lilian had been unable to sleep, fussing around in bed the rest of the night/day, and wrenching him awake in painfully short intervals. He had been incensed by the sun peeking in through his curtains a mere 2 hours later.


    So much for wishing it was all a very creative nightmare.


    “Indeed.” Chris says, staving off another yawn. “She doesn''t sleep like one who just mutilated herself not three hours ago.”


    She also hadn''t so much as stirred in the 10 minutes they had been observing her. He quickly brushes away the panic of moving a dead body off his couch.


    “I''m just gonna check if she''s still …” Lilian squats beside Alex, reading his mind. Her finger barely reaching out to check for breath, when Alex snatches it away, sitting up violently.


    Chris lets loose a very undignifying yelp, hand to his heart. Lilian turns to him unimpressed. In his defense, he was functioning on less than 2 hours of sleep.


    “What the hell are you, a Vampire?!” He directs at Alex, who was currently shaking coherent thoughts back into her head like a dog.


    “Vampires aren''t real.” She says in a crystal voice that belied the horrible scream that had ripped from her throat a couple of hours ago. That and the fact that she had just risen from a pain induced sleep.


    “Vlad was a sick man. An artist given, but a very sick man.” She muses.


    “How do you say so many things and still make no sense?” Chris asks in exasperation.


    “You''ve got blood on your nose.” Lilian grimaces, producing a tissue from God knows where and offering it to Alex, who accepts it with thanks.


    “I''m sorry I grabbed you like that, it''s a reflex thing.” She says once she has wiped her face clean.


    “It''s okay. Breakfast?” Lilian smiles, a true sucker for good manners.


    It was time for Chris to his foot down.


    “Hold on now, honey. I think she owes us an explanation.”


    “I am a bit hungry.” Alex says to Lilian over him. He angles his glare at her instead.


    “Good. Because the faster you explain, the sooner you get to eat.” Chris says, arms crossed. Lilian starts to solicit.


    “Chris, don''t you think–”


    “No Lilian, we''re in this too deep, okay? We helped her. Now, I''d like to know if someone''s going to attempt to snipe me on my way out to the office for that.” He turns his commanding glare up a notch.


    “Nobody''s going to snipe you.” Alex waves him away, before fidgeting about on the sofa. “I sorted it out.”


    “I am begging you to assure me that that isn''t code for ‘I killed someone’.” Chris pleads.


    Alex twists this way and that, eyes roving about her entire inclined form. “Look, if it helps, he wasn''t supposed to be alive this long anyway.”


    “The hell is that supposed to mean?” Chris asks, mortified.


    Alex finally raises the blanket, inspecting her outfit.


    She makes a very un-Alex like noise in distress as she jumps off the couch. Hoping hurrying off would dissociate the clothes from her body. It doesn''t.


    She''s clad in a god awful yellow Winnie the Pooh top and bottom pyjamas, tiny honey pots adorning the length of the entire outfit.


    She looks down at herself in slight disgust.


    “I think I''m going to be sick.”


    “Those are my Pyjamas, so you''d better not.” Chris warns.


    “Here.” Lilian says, depositing the ancient knife on their side table. “I had to put your ... paraphernalia in the wash. It was soaked in blood, and the shirt sleeve was ripped from where ... you know.” She concludes, Chris not realizing she had left to fetch the thing in the first place.


    Alex is transfixed by the Pyjamas on her, completely oblivious to outside stimuli.


    “Why is it yellow?” She muses out loud.


    “Because that is the best color.” Chris answers, her head lifting up to him in question.


    “What?”


    He snaps his fingers in her face, causing her to jolt slightly. Good, he has her complete attention. “Who exactly did you kill, and how do we prepare for the blow back?”


    “Meredith will be irate.” Lilian adds, a contemplative hand resting on the side of her face.


    “PR Officer.” She explains in response to the questioning look on Alex''s face. “She manages … well PR.” Alex still has the look on her face, Lilian trudges on. “PR means–”


    “I know what PR means.” Alex interrupts, eyes blinking rapidly. “You''re not going to need her, I told you, I sorted everything.”


    “Really? Is that why you showed up to my house with your blood on the outside of you?” Chris bites.


    He catches a slight wince before she schools her face back into impassivity.


    “Slight miscalculation.” She responds, back rigid. “I wasn''t expecting him to be hostile.”


    “Considering you stole from him–” Chris starts to say, but is interrupted by a feral growl, that to his surprise comes from Alex.


    “I have never stolen a thing in my life.” She insists, a finger to his clothed chest punctuating her every word. “The dagger is technically mine.”


    Chris lets out a haggard breath that makes her realize she''s backed him up to a literal corner, the wall now a wedge behind Chris.


    Alex lets out a deep breath of her own, and backs off. Relaxing her shoulders, she turns to Lilian.


    “I apologize for the inconvenience I must have caused, and thank you most profusely for the first aid, Mrs Jordan.” She says, some new Alex replacing the one that looked like she was about to rip Chris apart.


    “Lilian is fine–”


    “If I could have my … paraphernalia back,” She grimaces at the word, “I''ll make sure I send your pyjamas back dry-cleaned.” She stands primly, posture taut.


    Alex hadn''t meant for any of this to happen, rushing down here in a fit of desperation. She got hurt and her subconscious for some reason had opted to head here.


    She takes a swift moment to curse Castor''s lineage. After extensive planning and said plan’s execution, the thief had proven himself to be more trouble than she had stumbled across in a while.


    “No.” She hears Chris say, and her head whips to him.


    “I beg your pardon?”


    “I think I am well within my rights to demand an explanation. So I’m doing just that.” He crosses his hand playing what after extensive research, she had dubbed the ‘Adult card’. She chuckles a bit to herself, if only he knew.


    “Explain.” He prompts again.


    Well, If he insists …


    “The dagger in the right hands can kill me.”


    He shifts. “Yes, knives sometimes do that, you know, kill people.” It is a rather hard thing resisting the urge to roll her eyes.


    “Not me. Knives can''t kill me, in fact not many things can.” She schools her face into utter seriousness, hoping to get her point across. Chris hums.


    “And why can only this particular dagger kill you?” Lilian chimes in.


    There the right question was. She cracks a smile. “Because it''s magic.”


    “You''ve got to be kidding me.” Chris chuckles emptily, hoping it hides his nervousness. “I mean, I wish–”


    Alex''s eyes widen at the statement.


    “Don’t!” She flies to him, slapping a hand over his mouth abruptly. The action jostles her injured shoulder, causing her to bite back a hiss.


    The purple gem at the top of the dagger hums low as it brightens in a dim glow. The ominous buzzing increasing when it starts hovering over the table, blade spinning in an arch, like a compass searching for North.


    Lilian lets out a muted gasp, and Alex puts a finger over her lips, imploring Lilian to stay silent. Chris’ own response muffled by Alex''s palm still sealing his mouth.


    The floating dagger clatters back to the table after a silent while, reverting back to its inert state. Only then does Alex release Chris from her firm clutch.


    Chris sputters in both in affront and at the hand that was on his mouth.


    “What the fuck was that?!” He asks, and it is testament to how shaken they all are, that Lilian doesn''t moan over his vulgar insert.


    Alex reaches over to swipe the knife from the table. “I told you. Magic.” She answers, twirls the thing about, catching Chris’ flinch from her peripheral.


    Yeah, she probably shouldn''t be playing around with something that was alive not 30 seconds ago.


    Chris looks like he wants to yell at her, perhaps clock her on the side of the head, before rudely dismissing her from his house.


    Instead he stands staring, frozen to the spot.


    “Like abracadabra?” Lilian finally breaks the tense silence.


    “Fine, sorcery.” Alex reneges, setting the knife back down. “A group of very angry warlocks crafted the knife a long time ago.”


    Lilian blinks rapidly in disbelief. “You asked a bunch of magicians to make you a couple of fancy weapons?”


    “It was made to kill me, why would I ask for that?”


    “Why aren''t you dead then?” Chris interjects, finally coming around to joining back in the conversation.


    Alex bristles, shoving back the memory of the wooden box. “Believe me, it''s not for their lack of trying.” She grits.


    “Mm-hm, so it takes ‘sorcery’ to make killing you possible because …?” Chris intones, he didn''t even need to throw up air quotes to show how stupid he thought the word ‘sorcery’ sounded.


    A knife just levitated on its own accord, how much more would it take to convince the man he had stepped into a different world?


    “I''m not ordinary, Chris.” Alex sighs, bone deep, an aged weight on her shoulders. “I''m tired, probably insane, and have lived over a hundred lifetimes. It would be insulting if a mere gunshot was what ended all that.”


    A beat.


    “So, what can kill you?” Chris asks. Again.


    Alex sighs. “The dagger Chris.”


    “She did say the knife, honey.” Lilian supplies.


    “Right, right.” Chris nods, gears turning in his head. “And you were able to save us that night because of … magic?”


    “Ugh, no.” Alex would be even more affronted if it were anyone else. “I don''t touch the stuff with a ten foot pole. Besides, I''d have to be a warlock to be able to practice.”


    Chris contemplates. “What are you exactly?”


    The million dollar question. The answer to which she hadn''t been able to unearth in over twenty-five hundred years and counting.


    “Demon, Demigod, God, Abomination, Vampire, four times a witch, and once a ghoul.” She lists off on her fingers. “Take your pick.” She finishes with a shrug.


    The look on Chris'' face softens, Lilian letting out a pitying sound beside him. Alex would die before she let this turn into some pity party.


    “How long have you been like this?” Chris asks, all trace of sarcasm or jest completely disappeared.


    “As far as I can recall.”


    “How far is that?”


    She hesitates. “Just over 2500 years.”


    Lilian rears back in disbelief, just as Chris loses some of the sympathy he seemed to have amassed.


    He scoffs. “On one hand, you act mostly insane, so mental unbalance really isn''t a difficult conclusion to come to.”


    “You''re not wrong.” Alex acquiesces with an amused smile.


    “Then again, you did rip apart my car door like a piece of toast.” A hand lifts to stroke his chin, as he tsks.


    I accept you''re some sort of … super powered individual, I''ll maybe even begrudgingly accept that that knife over there is voodooed ten ways to Saturday. But I''m gonna have to draw the line at dining with Attila the Hun.” He concludes, eyebrows scrunched together.


    That looked like a very difficult thing for him to admit. A quick glance at Lilian showed her revisiting the laws of nature herself. Eyes darting about as if reading from some invisible blackboard.


    Alex nods slow in contemplation. It would take a while to convince Chris; he was a man of science. Lilian on the other hand looked like she simply needed one last nudge.


    “I did kill Attila.” She says, clocking the unimpressed look on Chris'' face. “Don''t worry, he wasn''t a good person either.”


    His frown deepens. “I have a very strong urge to restrain you right now.”


    “Maybe call for help.” Lilian adds reluctantly


    Alex raises her hands in defeat, allowing them smack against her sides. “I can''t convince you I''m older than I look, that''s fine … probably. How about if I prove I can''t die?”


    “That sounds like an excellent first step.” Chris shrugs.


    “Awesome. Do you have a gun?”


    A manic grin spreads across his face.


    “Follow me.” He ushers with a wave of his hand.


    “No, no, no Christopher! We are not going to shoot this poor girl!” Lilian, the resident voice of reason screeches, halting their decisive march.


    “Oh you don''t have to worry about that Mrs Jordan, I''ll be shooting myself.” Alex assures, to Chris'' absolute delight.


    “There!” He claps his hands in excitement. “Our hands are clean.” turning back to Alex, he inclines his head once more. “This way.”


    “Chris!” Lilian shrieks after them. Whinging her displeasure all through the short trek through the kitchen into the garage.


    ~~~


    “I am not in support of this.” Lilian pretends to huff. In reality her heart was about to tear through her chest.


    Chris was cleaning Darling. A stupid handgun that she had worn him into relocating to the garage. If she knew some delusional child, slash self proclaimed demigod would stroll through their house one day asking to be killed, she might have convinced him to toss the thing instead.


    “Calm down honey,” he assuages, blowing air up the barrel of the gun, “she''s just going to prove she''s indestructible, for the sweet love of science.”


    “That''s really not why I''m doing this. I hate being called a liar.” Alex interjects. Accepting the gun a tad aggressively when Chris hands it to her. “So, whatever happens, I ask that you at least give me 2 minutes, before you start panicking.” She smiles tightly.


    Lilian can''t fathom why she seems to be the only one in the room with common sense at the moment. “Does panicking before you even start count?”


    “2 minutes.” Alex repeats, before placing the gun to her head.


    “Oh my God,” Lilian cries. Hand latching on to her husband''s arm. “Chris stop her!”


    Chris obliges, arm outstretched. “Wait, wait, wait, wait! I thought you were gonna aim at your arm or feet or something, not your–”


    Alex fires.


    “Skull!”


    Lilian''s hand immediately covers her mouth in terror. Chris muttering an uninterrupted string of ‘oh my God’s’.


    “Is-Is she dead?” Lilian squeaks, eyes frozen on the unmoving form beneath them. Chris shivers.


    “There''s a bullet in her head Lilian, I think it''s safe to assume.”


    They walk towards the body. Situation becoming even more real once they properly take in her glassy unmoving eyes.


    “Oh my God.” Chris mutters again, hands flying up to pull on his hair. “Meredith will kill us.”


    “I warned you about this!” She scolds loudly.


    “I didn''t think she was going to go through with it!” The grip on his hair gets even tighter, fingers whitening at the strain.


    “You gave her the gun!”


    Chris nudges at the corpse with a foot, shuddering at its stiffness.


    “I knew she was insane.” He says regretfully.


    A tad belated in Lilian''s opinion. “Who the hell shoots themselves in the–”


    They are interrupted by Alex''s gasp, as she jerks up into sitting position. The bullet pops out with a squelch as the hole in her head closes.


    “I am not a liar!” She gasps in between death heaves, eyes blinking back into focus.


    Chris and Lilian stare mouth ajar, a couple of seconds before Lilian feels the earth tilting and blacks out.


    “I believe you.” She hears Chris say, before her head thuds against the cold floor.