Death does more to the living than it does to the ones it takes. A sharp absence of a presence so cruelly robbed from this earth reminds the survivors that our lives are glass. That there may be more forces that can break us than preserve us.

I read somewhere that it isn't the death of someone that hurts the most, but the reactions of those who loved them.

We don't use the "L word" at the agency. Maybe it's because we all think love is overrated. Maybe it's because we're all afraid to love again, because we all knew how bad it hurt when it inevitably ended. Love is caustic, stinging and tempestuous even before it's gone.

Axel disappeared after they took her away. No one saw him for about a week. Lautaro and Lucky looked everywhere for him. When Harrison came back from Boston, not five seconds after we told him about Adira did he sprint up to the roof of the tallest building on The Street, returning with his best friend less than two minutes later.

I almost decked Axel when he quietly admitted that he hadn't eaten or slept for almost a week. Except I'd seen grief before. I knew what it was like too. You completely forget about yourself and all natural functions because you're so wrapped up in that cloud of... numb. So I understood why he hadn't eaten or slept. As a doctor though, it didn't mean I was happy about it.

Jinx came to the agency every few weekends, when she didn't have a "ridiculously boring and infuriating project to bullshit." She claimed that she came to see all of us, but Harrison's new style of popping his shirt collar up to cover any possible bruises underneath proved my opinion otherwise. She didn't pressure Axel to rejoin society either. He kept to himself, only ever speaking with Harrison, and even that was rare. When he wasn't off alone somewhere, he was either fighting or drinking.

Like the rest of us, Zach had been leaving Axel alone, but after the 21 year-old bashed Hunter Martin's head against one of the cafeteria tables so hard he bruised the other agent's skull, Zach been trying to give him something extra to do that didn't leave him free to give agents concussions. Our Director's solution to Axel's newfound social problems: join me on the welcome committee.

The new recruit was an 11 year-old boy named Edjer, a Kurd from southeastern Turkey that a couple of agents on a mission in Syria picked up a few days ago. No parents. Little English. Not much formal education. But he was a brilliant fighter, had a strong sense of will, and had no family to take care of him. Exactly our type.

Axel's hands were deep in his pockets as he walked down the carpeted corridor of the second floor dorm rooms towards Edjer and I. His uncombed brown hair had grown longer since he came back from his last mission a few months ago, and so it defied gravity and fluffed upwards, and then curled back down a little. His stopped a few feet in front of us.

"Hello," he said, in a stronger tone than his defeated physique suggested he could. His voice sounded weird. I hadn't heard him speak in a long time. "Edjer?" He asked the young boy who was standing beside me. Edjer nodded, nervously curling a bit of his dark hair behind his ear. "My name is Axel." He gave him a small smile. Axel definitely hadn't been his usual self recently, but he would never just be mean to a new agent. He remembered how difficult it was.

"This is where you will sleep," Axel pointed to the dorm room door we were right next to.

"Thank you," Edjer said.

"Don't be saying thanks just yet, you haven't met Director Patterson," Axel said.

Edjer just blinked and then shrugged his small shoulders up to his ears.

"Doesn't speak a lot of English," I reminded Axel. I pointed to the door again, encouraging Edjer to open it and investigate for himself what his new living space would be. There was a box on the only open bed in this dorm and the 11 year-old started to look through it.

While we let the fresh agent look through his new things, Axel leaned his back against the opposite wall. He ruffled his hair and let out a deep sigh as if just saying a few sentences drained what remained of his life out of him. "I don't even speak Sorani," he muttered.

"Neither do I. Quinn will meet us in the training rooms to translate once we get down there," I said.

Axel kept his his hand in his hair. His eyes, typically sparking with curiosity and passion, now looked like they'd drowned out most feeling. He was definitely thinner too. Not scrawny or skinny, just smaller.

"You alright mate?" I asked tenderly.

He picked his head up and glared at me with eyes that definitely were not his. "Everyone here is complete shit at comforting, did you know that?" He said monotonously.

"It's different when it's someone you love," I said, praying I wouldn't get punched. Axel could still really pack a wallop when he wanted to. Sam Harding and Hunter Martin could both testify to that.

Together in the hallway we were silent for a while.

I thought back to Tunis, when Harrison got Adira to confess over the radio that she loved the boy standing next to me. Zach and I were with each other when we heard it, and I had excitedly nudged him in the shoulders and fought the urge to jump up and down like a little girl. He had given me a dull blue-eyed look and went back to piling crates of explosives into the back of the truck, but I didn't care. I knew all along something was gonna happen between them. It was so obvious if you were standing back and watching the both of them. Always throwing looks and glances at one another when the other person wasn't looking. Always standing closest to each other.

They made me excited to fall in love some day.

"You'll be okay though, right?" I asked finally.

Axel rubbed his forehead. "I dunno, Cal. I really don't."

"Not with that attitude you won't."

"Well what if I don't wanna get better?" He suddenly snarled at me.

"Fine," I said back dully. "But the drinking and the smoking, and the fighting and the isolation and the sleep deprivation and the starving is definitely gonna bring her back."

Axel glared at me. "If you're just gonna tell me everything that's wrong with me, then I'll just leave."

"That might be best," I said, crossing my arms. "This attitude you have is definitely not good to have around a new agent."

"Fine," Axel sneered at me. Then he pushed his back off the wall and stalked back down the corridor.

I let out a small groan and rubbed my face down. Axel might just be the death of himself and me at this rate.

-

I sighed deeply and loudly. "Would all of you please stop looking at me like that?"

Harrison tilted his head a notch. "Laurie, come on."

"Come on what?" I asked weakly.

"You haven't been in the rec rooms in forever and now you're here and it's just... different," he said. His arm was strung around Jinx's shoulders and she was running her fingers over the metal chain that held the dog tags around his neck.

"Yeah, well, get used to different," I crossed my arms and looked away. Luckily it was only the agents who'd been on the Basilone mission who were in this rec room tonight. Probably because the broken nose I gave Samuel Harding warded everyone else off.

But that dick totally fucking deserved it for having the audacity to look me in the eyes.

Lautaro's sneeze suddenly interrupted the awkward silence. The Honduran groaned and muttered something in Spanish as Ted padded through the doorway, white tail perked up and kinked at the top.

Quinn sat up straight once he spotted the cat. "Teddy!" He cried enthusiastically. The feline walked over to him and started rubbing his chin on the Iraqi's knee.

A few weeks ago Quinn prepared a slide show presentation to ask Zach if there could be pets at the agency, complete with facts and figures and compilations of cute cat videos. One thing led to another, and now there were six animals wandering the corridors of the main agency building and delighting all agents they came across. Sebastian (Jinx named him after some actor) was a black German shepherd, Marilyn (after Marilyn Monroe) was a Siamese cat, Sparrow was a red Irish setter (Captain Jack Sparrow of course), and Eleanor (after Eleanor Roosevelt, because "she's a fucking icon Hot Head, and if you don't like the name it doesn't matter because we're naming her that") was a sausage dog. There was even a black rabbit named Toothless (Jinx said it was a dragon's name?). The rabbit, that definitely had teeth, was in the rec room usually occupied by the youngest agents. Then of course there was Ted, named after Blitz's middle name, Theodore, and finally a small sleek blue-eyed grey tabby named Doe, named after her.

Quinn laid down on his back and placed Ted on his stomach, where after some kneading, the cat sat down on its paws and started to purr.

Conversations swelled up again, quietly though, and nobody dared include me in any of them.

Owen gently pulled the black-framed glasses off of James' face and set them on the coffee table away from him.

"I kinda need those Owen," the redhead gave the German a dull look.

"I like you better without them," Owen grinned.

"You just like it because you can kiss me better without them," James rolled his eyes.

"Damn straight."

"You're lucky I'm not," James teased.

"Du bist nicht lustig," Owen said dully, before leaning in to indeed kiss him. But before their lips could touch however, James lightly pushed the older agent away and nervously snatched a gaze over at me.

I rolled my eyes. "It's fine guys, go nuts, I don't give a shit."

Owen sighed heavily and backed away from his redhead.

Meanwhile Jinx and Harrison were doing a similar thing, except Harrison wasn't showing nearly as much restraint. He kept softly kissing Jinx's neck and rubbing his thumb in circles on her knee while she ignored him and kept taking notes from a massive textbook in her lap. Occasionally she would look up and tell him to knock it off, but it usually ended with her kissing him back and then returning to her work just for the whole thing to happen over again.

"How many times have you washed it?" Lautaro asked.

"Like five times today!" Lucky whined. He had his hands in his hair, which was sporting a bleached blond look from his last mission. Starkly different from his usual deep dark brown. "It won't come out!"

Quinn cracked up from the floor. "BTS is quaking."

"What's BTS?" Lucky asked him, still fiddling with his hair.

"Korean boy band."

"But I'm Mongolian?"

"Did you try that special shampoo Cal gave you?" Lautaro asked, trying to hide his snickering at Lucky's defeated expression.

"Yes! I tried my best but it wasn't strong enough."

"Title of your sex tape," Quinn grinned.

Lucky threw a crumpled up candy wrapper at the Iraqi agent's head and Ted batted it with his claws out, causing Quinn to squeal in a very manly way.

"Lucky just be happy no one dyed it blue like what Adira did to Axel," Lautaro laughed.

The agents around him froze. Then gradually each of them shot speedy glances at me.

"Oh for fuck's sake." I stood up to stalk out the rec room.

Harrison got up after me. "Laurie wait."

I turned back. "What? You don't need me here, spreading all my sadness and depression."

"It's not like that."

"I don't understand why you're all tiptoeing. We've all experienced grief before, every single one of us haa dead people, some even that they actually gave a shit about."

"Yeah, but you're...it was different, man."

I sighed loudly and glared at him. "You mean 'cause I loved her? Because I would never give up on her? And then I did that actual fucking thing and didn't even notice she was sick?!"

"Calm down, it wasn't your fault," Harrison said softly.

"You weren't even here!" I snarled at him. "You were out thinking about yourself, as per fucking usual!"

Harrison's eyes turned sad. Normally they'd glitter with anger, like mine probably were right now, if it was any other argument he got caught up in. But right now they were just round and sad. It made me bite down so hard I felt blood prick from where my canines plunged into my tongue.

I groaned loudly and scratched both of my hands through my hair. "None of you get it, do you?" I swept my eyes accusingly around the group. "Adira made me happy, she made me feel good about myself for once and I loved her way too goddamn much, and now," my voice cracked, "now she's gone. And instead of forgetting about it, all of you are treating me like a bomb, like if you even say her name I'm gonna—"

"Blow?" Harrison raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I sighed.

"I think you just did," Lucky noted quietly.

"Altan, I will break your fucking face," I snapped at him.

"You need to breathe," James said.

"Breathe?!" I repeated. "I'm not a fucking 6 year-old Strider!"

Harrison took a step towards me. "Just try and calm down then. You're being over-dramatic—"

Everyone in the rec room drew in a breath. I simply gaped at him.

"Over dramatic? Did you seriously just say that?" I demanded.

Harrison weaved one hand through his hair. "That came out wrong. That's not what I meant."

"No, I think it is. You think I'm being a little bitch about this."

"That's not true—"

"Yeah it is. And it's pretty fucking easy for you to say."

"What're you talking about?"

My jaw dropped again. I jabbed a finger at Jinx, who was beginning to look very frightened. "You have a living, breathing, girlfriend Harrison!"

Harrison dropped his dark gaze to the floor.

"Ungrateful is what you are. Always have been, always will be."

I turned to leave the rec room but a massive shape had suddenly clogged the doorway.

"Move Patterson," I said. The Canadian didn't budge. "I'm serious. I don't give a shit anymore, so I'll hit you if I have to."

"I'd love to watch you try," the Director said in his deep voice.

I sighed heavily. Just because Zach was no longer a level trainer didn't mean he'd lost any of his muscles. "I didn't think you were one to tell me to breathe and talk about my feelings," I sneered up at his face.

"You're killing yourself Lawrence. And you're a good agent. I'd hate to lose you."

I rolled my eyes and huffed. "So it's just because I'm one of your best agents that you're trapping me in a room?"

"I want you to stop being a whiny bitch and moping around like an ugly duckling."

"Bite me," I snarled.

Zach still didn't budge.

"Alright, fine." I beckoned everyone in the room with my hands. "Anyone else want to try and convince me why I'm being 'over-dramatic?' Anyone else want to tell me to 'breathe' and 'calm down?'" My eyes stopped on Jinx. "Wanna give it a whirl?" I asked her.

She frowned at me. "You're being a dick."

I shrugged once more. "Whatever."

"It's not 'whatever,'" she quoted. She took her textbook, notebook and various writing medians off her lap and stood up, then came over to me.

"You are not okay, asshole," she said, jabbing me in the chest. "Correction: you shouldn't be okay, asshole."

"That second asshole wasn't really necessary," I muttered.

"Don't sass me," she said, poking me again, this time in the ribs, which hurt more than it probably should have. I squirmed away from her. "The week Adira died, nobody could even find you."

"We'd thought you'd offed yourself, man," Quinn said.

Jinx whipped her head around to him. "It's called suicide, harebrain. Don't sugarcoat it. It's insulting." She turned back to me. "And cowering on a rooftop all night especially doesn't qualify you for to be 'okay.'"

"Point?" I asked her harshly.

She sighed again. "My point is that you're not actually okay," she said, green eyes concerned.

"So you just want me to admit it?" I asked everyone. "Is that what this is all about? Fine. I currently do not fit your definition of 'okay.' Happy?" I raised my hands. Jinx grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it up.

"I can see your upper ribs," she commented. I clawed my shirt out of her hand and pulled it back down over my body and crossed my arms tightly against it.

"Okay, that's it," I finally broke. "I've tried to be calm about all of this. Sam has exactly one bruise from all of this, and I deserve a fucking medal for that. But right now I want to rip someone's limbs off so bad it's scaring me. And it should scare you too Bristol," I growled through my teeth. She actually tripped away from me after looking me in the eyes.

I whirled around to James and Owen. "And you two," I said, pointing between them, "I don't care what you guys do together around me. Hell, you guys can go all the way right here and I'll just look the other way! I don't give a damn about the fucking 'relationship' shit, got it?" I said harshly. "And do you know why?" I looked around at everyone in the room. Cal, Lautaro, Lucky and Quinn all had their mouths clamped shut and were avoiding my glare by focusing on other wildly interesting aspects of the rec room, such as the lamps and carpet. "Because that was not what Adira and I were about," I continued. "And no one seems to be able to get a fucking grasp on that! We were simply there for each other. Emotionally. And that's why it hurts so much!" I yelled. I didn't realize I was sobbing until my throat felt like it was on fire. "I just want someone's hand to hold, someone to watch movies with and kiss and hug and comfort and sleep beside and laugh with and live for and worry about and love —I just want her back," I choked. "After everything the world fucked up for me, is that so much to ask?!"

All that could be heard in the rec room was the sound of my heavy breathing.

I wanted to run. I wanted to punch Zach in the face and sprint out the rec room and up to the rooftops as fast as I could.

But I was tired.

God, I was so tired. Of running, of pretending, of lying, of struggling, of caring. I was tired of feeling and I wanted nothing more then to get so high I forgot my own name.

"I just want her back," I whispered.

"So do we," James said softly. His brown eyes reflected my own sadness, only his face was dry and his voice wasn't cracking and his cheeks were a normal shade. You know, like a man.

"We all miss her," Lautaro murmured. I suddenly noticed how his amber eyes had traces of red around the edges.

"Like what you said, we've all experienced grief before," Quinn sat up and put Ted in his lap. "And I think we can all agree that it burns and it stings and it's like a cloud that you can't escape, but it also gets better. It's always gonna be there, and that's how you know that she was important to you and your life. Your life was better because she was in it. And now that she's not, and you can't do anything about it, the best thing you can do is remember what it felt like. What she felt like." Suddenly the Iraqi's eyes went wide. "Not literally obviously, that's not what I meant, I—I mean, if you can—if you want—like, you get it."