Mack's (POV)

I slam the car door shut after pulling my backpack out, waving one last goodbye to mom as I head towards the Brown's front door.

Polly falls in line beside me, her own backpack on her back as she stares straight at our destination; the door. Both of us just as weary as the other.

Who ever invented school anyway? Because I think it's just a pain in the backside that we shouldn't have to deal with if we don't want to.

Sure everyone in the world would be bumbling idiots that can't even recite the abc's. We'd probably be mindless zombies.

But come on, you can't deny that at least once in your life you haven't wished school was inexistent?

What teenager hasn't?

And right now, my smarting feet from walking all over school today are only helping to make that one thought more prominent.

Though the thought of taking it easy here at the Brown's does help ease it just a touch...Just a touch mind you.

We walk up the deck steps that suddenly seem much steeper than last time I checked, neither of us saying a word.

Pulling the unlocked door outwards, I hold it open as Polly walks in ahead of me, immediately shutting it once I'm through.

The usual homey atmosphere surrounds me as I walk past the small hallway, almost more familiar than my own house. Which is kinda sad when you put it that way. But I'm used to it by now.

I follow Polly into the kitchen, my eyes immediately landing on the prone figure of Don who's sitting at the dining room table with a open newspaper surrounding his face.

Lucy looks over at us from her position from the right of the kitchen, the skin up to her elbows covered with flour as her hands work to knead a pile of dough on the counter.

She smiles at us, a piece of hair falling down from her loose bun so it hangs over her left eye.

"Hey guys!" She cheerfully greets. We mumble what sounds like a greeting, dropping our bags by the table as we each take a seat at the table with Don.

I hear her chuckle. "Rough day?"

Polly and I both groan in union, and I let my arms flop down at my sides as I lay my head back so it hangs over the backrest of the chair. Legs spread out before me. Polly folds her arms on the table, laying her cheek down on them as she lets a exhausted breath out.

"I don't even want to talk about it." I mutter, running my right hand over my face as a slight crick in my back continues to pulse like a annoying bug in my ear.

Stupid desks they make you sit at. That should be considered child abuse.

"I just want a-" Polly yawns, barely getting her hand over her mouth in time. "Nap." She finishes with a sigh.

I can feel Don roll his eyes in dry amusement from across the table, his paper crinkling as he turns the page.

"Kids these days are sissy's." He flicks his wrists, straightening the paper out. "When Lucy and I were in school they'd keep us longer and their desks were like sitting on a thick plank of wood." I see him frown at the memory, his voice low as he pretends to be absorbed in the black and white words before him.

I roll my neck, feeling it crack in certain places. "Yeah, yeah." I raise an eyebrow, giving him a sidelong glance. "When was that again, dear old Don?" He looks at me over the top of the paper with suspicious eyes, and I smirk.

"The nineteen thirties?"

Don gives me a sweltering glare for three straight seconds, both Polly and Lucy immediately coughing as they obviously work to hold in a laugh.

His nose twitches before he averts his eyes back down on the paper, leaning back in his chair as he flicks it out again.

"It was the seventies." He quietly corrects, trying for cool and collected.

I smile in triumph, folding my arms behind the backrest. "Sure. Whatever you say." I wiggle my eyebrows at him, immediately earning a disgruntled sigh.

My smile fades as I take the room in again, one specific person not present.

I redirect my attention to Lucy.

"Where's Alex?" I question, and I can tell I've sparked something in the air by the way everything suddenly goes quiet.

Only the sound of the ceiling fan squeaking surrounding us.

Lucy resumes her kneading, eyes down on her work. "He's upstairs." She answers, something in her voice catching my attention.

A slight waver. She's upset - worried?

I bring my hands back to my front, sitting up a little straighter. "How long has he been up there?" I glance over towards the door that leads to the stairs.

Lucy bites her lip, blinking a few times before she works to straighten her face back out into one of a carefree housewife.

"Since we got back. So about an hour." She decides, nodding to herself after she checks the clock on the stove.

I lean back again, blowing a breath out as my eyes fall down to my now free-of-a-cast leg. The events of two months ago replaying in my head a split second.

He's been up there - alone, since they got back from the clinic?

I wasn't able to to visit him yesterday - though I was there most of Saturday even if he was still highly jacked up on pain medicine and could barely stay awake longer than thirty minutes - because my dad forced me to go with him to attend a family get-together with his side of the family.

And apparently I absolutely couldn't not go. Because they just happen to only come around here maybe twice a year and my dad doesn't seem to grasp the concept that I haven't seen Alex in almost two month because he was kidnapped.

Sometimes I think he's a little more heartless than I already knew.

I sigh, running my right hand through my short hair as I think back over these last two months.

You could say I didn't exactly take it the best.

But between getting shot at and someone I thought was my friend kidnapping my new friend and watching helplessly as the betraying friend hauls off my new friend like a sack of potatoes and thinking I'd never see him again, I think I took it pretty well all things considered.

Though I know everyone else around me doesn't agree.

What was I to think though? I needed time to sort my thoughts out, to process everything that happened. And if that meant reserving into myself to figure it out, then everyone just needed to respect that.

The betrayal stung the harshest. I mean Ben and I played video games together at least three times a week. We joked around together. I thought we were genuinely friends.

Guess that proves you don't really know someone until they let you see the real them.

Then there was the grief, the sorrow that I might never see Alex again after finally feeling like I was getting what I've always wanted.

A brother.

Because in that agonizingly long minute I watched Ben drive away with Alex, I realized that's what I've come to associate him as.

And thinking you might never get to see your newly discovered brother, is heart wrenching. It hurt - more than I'd like to admit. And I don't ever want to have to go through that again. Ever.

During these last two days I think I've still been in shock about the fact he's back. That he's actually here and not who-knows-where being forced to do god-only-knows what.

Thankfully I seem to be returning back to my old self. Much to the Brown's, Polly's, and even my own parents joy.

Yes. That weight that seemed to have been living on my chest those two months is finally gone.

I can breathe easier now.

I place my right arm on the table beside me, tapping my fingers on the wood. "Should I go see if he wants any company?" I question, glancing up at Lucy.

Her eyes flicker over to Don before coming back to rest on me.

Her lips move in a gentle smile. "Sure. Why don't you see if he wants to come down." She adds, refocusing on the dough in front of her.

I wordlessly nod, meeting Polly's gaze before I stand up from my seat. She gives me a encouraging smile, repositioning her arms on the table in her way of saying she's staying put.

Not because she doesn't care. But because she doesn't want to make it a crowd.

I feel a few gazes on my back as I head across the kitchen towards the door, everyone silent.

I stare down at the ground as I head up the stairs, the air around me suddenly heavy and much too quiet.

Turning right at the end of the staircase, I pass the empty guest room that might as well be marked mine, and the bathroom. My feet pause in front of Alex's door, open only a crack. The room obviously dark despite it being daylight.

I raise my hand up to knock, vaguely wondering if I might be disrupting a nap.

Shrugging to myself, I flick my wrist, knuckles lightly tapping against the well-built door.

I'm met with silence on the other side of the door, not even a slight shuffle of clothing to be heard. A soft breath.

Nada.

I flex my hands out, feeling suddenly nervous.

Raising my hand back up, I hold it up to the door a few seconds before pushing it up against the wood.

It slowly swings open, my body tense as I lean to the right to look around the larger opening.

The light is off, no sign of any other form of light evident. What makes it so dark despite it being daylight is the way the thick curtain hangs three-fourths of the way across the single window. Blocking out the sunlight. Leaving just enough for it to be dark, yet not pitch black.

His room looks the same since I last saw it. Cleaner than I can safely say mine is.

My eyes immediately zone in on the still form of Alex.

He's sitting at the end of the bed with his feet firmly planted on the ground, his sling tossed carelessly on the bed behind him. He stares at the wall straight in front of him - my left, his right hand gripping the mattress to his right as his left lays limply in his lap.

I carefully examine him, alarms going off in my head.

Quinn had instructed us Saturday after we'd first seen him that once he's back here we need to watch him for any....signs.

She didn't elaborate - though she talked in private with the Brown's, simply stating to look for anything out of the ordinary in his behavior.

And this isn't what I would exactly call 'normal.'

He'd seemed fine at the clinic - besides the whole 'I'm knocked up with anesthesia and can't really compute part.' Quiet and observing like he usually was.

Heck, if I'm being honest I'd have to say he almost looks healthier than before he was kidnapped. Muscular and older looking. Refined, yet weary.

I guess she's concerned about the..after affects he may have. Even if he hasn't shown anything different than before all this.

Because none of us know what happened those long weeks.

I take in his tense wider shoulders, his blue plaid shirt that's opened in the front to reveal a black t-shirt underneath stretched smoothly across. The way his eyes stare unfocused and blank at the wall. Nothing to show he's acknowledged my entrance.

My feet move a few steps forward before I can stop myself, a board immediately speaking beneath my left foot.

I catch the movement of Alex's eyes flickering over towards me without moving his head, not a single muscle in his body twitching.

Taking that as a sign he's registered the fact I'm present and won't go all ninja on me, I walk the last couple of steps forward.

Stopping next to him, I absentmindedly rub my right hand on the side of my jeans as I contemplate what to do.

Making my mind up, I slowly lower myself down so I'm sitting next to Alex. A foot of space between us.

Silence stretches between us, goosebumps forming on my bare arms as a cold gust of air drifts over me. Summer preparing to leave until next year.

I hate cold weather....Except for sipping hot chocolate with mini marshmallows around a warm fireplace.

That might make up for the unforgiving, bone chilling air that plagues the atmosphere during those horrid four months.

I fiddle with my hands, repeatedly looking from them over to Alex who's on my right. Still staring blankly at the wall.

"Hey Alex." I great, glancing up at him from my downturned face.

Silence.

My shoulders fall slightly, eyes falling back down to my lap. "Everyone's downstairs..." trail off, gnawing my bottom lip as I think of how to word my next sentence.

Don't mess it up.

I cough lightly, clearing my throat as my eyes flicker back up. "You wanna come down with me? Lucy's making cookies."

Oh yeah Mack. Brilliant.

I roll my eyes at myself, redirecting my attention on Alex.

His eyes finally move so he's staring more at the corner of the room, his chest moving as he takes a deeper breath than what he had been doing.

Then his right shoulder moves in a half shrug.

I feel a tug of disappointment in my chest, eyes moving to stare at the left side of his face.

Shallow dark smudges reside beneath his eyes, his face drawn and pale despite the healthier look it at first glance appears to have. His cheeks no longer hollow.

There's movement from his hands, my eyes unconsciously looking down towards them.

The fingers on his right hand absentmindedly play with the fabric of the white bandage wrapped tightly on his left hand. His long sleeves covering his wrists just like before.

I frown as I find myself staring at the bandage, questions running through my mind.

No one told my what happened Saturday night, but I know something did. He didn't have that bandage on Saturday morning. Didn't have a reason to.

So what happened?

Though that's probably the question that's in everyone's mind right now.

What'd they do to him those six weeks?

Sure he was quiet and reserved before. Tense for no apparent reason. But this just seems....different.

He appears more withdrawn, like he's constantly thinking and that keeps him from paying the outside world any mind. His body language kinda reminds me of a cat that only has one life left. Skittery and jumpy. Expecting something to happen at any moment. Afraid.

My eyes trail up his covered arms, images from Saturday flashing before my eyes.

Scars over scars. Marks. Strange lines. Deformed skin.

I feel a invisible shudder run down my spine, and I redirect my attention elsewhere.

He'd said he was tortured. I didn't doubt him one bit when he told us. But after seeing that, it's nothing but truth to the fullest.

I unconsciously look over the rest of his upper body.

And I'm sure he hides plenty more beneath his clothes.

Snapping my mind out of those thoughts, I tap my finger on my thigh as I think over my next move.

Slowly lifting my right hand up, I hesitantly lay it on the side of his left shoulder. I immediately feel him tense under my hand, his eyes moving to look further away from me. If that's even possible.

His throat moves in a obvious deep swallow, a shallow breath leaving his lips as his hands pause.

"I can't force you to get up and come with me," I start with, literally thinking of the words as they come. "But I can ask." His head turns more to the right, his right arm rubbing his left forearm.

"Alex, would you like to come downstairs with me?" I repeat, lowering my hand down to my side.

More silence.

I force a small smile on my lips. "Please. I'm bored. Lucy's cooking, Don's reading his paper, and Polly's taking a nap." I practically beg, realizing I seriously hope he'll come down.

Not just because I know it's not healthy to sit around alone in a dark room by yourself. But because I genuinely want his company.

His eyes finally glance over towards me, his back slouching just a fraction.

He lets a sound out like a tired sigh, moving his upper body forward as he slowly stands himself up.

I stand up next to him, a real smile on my face now.

We face each other, Alex expertly avoiding eye contact as I work to gain it.

He gives a slight nod in answer to my previous question, holding his left arm up against his torso instead of doing what he's supposed to do and wear the sling.

Though I can't blame him.

Turning towards the door, I walk out of the room. Alex falling in line behind me.

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A/N

MAAAAACK!! I've missed you! (All of them really!) Yeah, I seriously didn't realize how much I missed all of them.

Alright, well, the first chapter is officially up! Sorry for taking so long.

Questions:

1.) Tell me you missed these guys just as much as I did?!

So the next chapter will most likely start off where this one ended. Probably in a different POV though.

Next update: Hopefully sometime this week.

VOTE!!⭐️⭐️

Maggy