You decide you can't let feelings get in the way. You're in no condition to help anyone, Alec had the only weapon, and there's no guarantee that he's dead.

You sit and wait. Several minutes go by, but they feel like hours. Voices continue to be piped through your headset, and it seems more and more likely that, wherever the transmitter is, the security team doesn't know about it. Which means that it's probably not in his ear anymore. You find yourself hoping to hell that he failed to follow your instructions and get the transmitter plug in his ear tightly enough.

And now you hear a familiar gait. Those lanky legs always had a familiar cadence, and it's approaching the car now. Alec rounds the corner, panting, and gets in the car.

"I fucking blew it, I'm sorry," he says breathlessly.

"No, no!" you say. "It was my fault, I'm just... I'm just glad you're okay. God, I'm so sorry I sent you in there."

"Okay, whatever," he says, clearly in no mood for assigning self-blame. "We can't go back in there. What now?"