A baby crying. He wouldn't open his eyes. He knew that a baby crying meant that they were awake and doing the rounds, it meant that they were going to come in. The thought of seeing those evil people again made his stomach turn in waves of nausea. Creaking floorboards. They were outside his cell door. They were going to come in at any minute. He gripped the thin sheets pathetically and rolled his face into the mattress, screwing his eyes shut. Maybe if he was lucky they'd think he was dead. He didn't think he could go through anymore treatments.

Shit. He flinched as the door clicked open. He brought his knees instinctively to his chest, gripped his hair, curling in on himself. Pressure on the mattress confused him. They never sat on the mattress, it wasn't big enough for starters. He chanced opening one of his eyes. He gasped, letting out the breath he'd been holding. Where he'd expected to see the evil stony eyes of the nurses he instead found the kind ones of Eliza as she perched at the edge of the bed. He wasn't in the institute at all, he hadn't been for years. Idiot.

"Are you alright? Alexander said you were feeling out of sorts, I brought you some tea. You've got a fever."

John didn't know what to do; he lay frozen in the bed in a state of shock. Eliza smiled warmly, sympathetically. She stood from the bed and moved around to John's side.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Eliza fussed with a damp cloth, pressing it onto his forehead. He noticed how soaking wet his body was. He'd been sweating like a sinner in church throughout the night. Where was Alexander?

"It's past noon, that's for sure."

John tried to sit up in vain as Eliza only pushed him back down again.

"You need to stay in bed, at least until I can get that fever down."

He shook his head, "I'm fine, I was just drinking last night."

And the night before.

Eliza frowned and insisted he stay still. He fell back, defeated, as the baby's cries grew louder. He didn't want to listen to him like that, wanted so badly to rip himself from the bed and cradle the child until he was happy again.

"Is Philip alright?" he asked. He couldn't help but ask.

She huffed, "I don't know. I always thought I would just know what was wrong."

"Maybe he just wants some momma time. It's important to get skin to skin contact while he's still newborn. Build bonds and stuff."

She nodded, "it's worth a try. I haven't really had time."

"Have you not been resting like I told you to?"

"Please, if I left Alexander in charge for three minutes I would have a house burned to the ground with nothing but his precious writings to call property."

"Where is he?"

She rolled her eyes, "in his study, no doubt. I can tell him to come here if you want? Maybe he can bring Philip."

John shook his head, "oh, no, no, no, if I really am sick, I don't want to be near the baby. Not while he's so young."

He spent the rest of the day in bed, a chunk of the next, too. Eliza's strict orders. But he hadn't slept. Turned out he really did have a fever. That's what happens when you turn up on someone's doorstep in the middle of the without a coat in the freezing cold. The fever was hard to shake, he wasn't feeling a hundred percent when he finally did get out of bed. He'd barely seen Alex during his stay, but now he sat in the lounge with Philip, a bundle in his arms.

John crouched down beside him and cooed at the baby who gargled back, though making a conscious effort not to breathe on him. He gripped Alexander's finger with those adorable baby fingers and waved his other arm around. It was enough to lighten John's mood.

"Do you want to hold him?" Hamilton asked.

John shook his head and stood back up, "I'm still not completely well, I don't want to take any chances."

"You do look pale."

Alex gestured to the chair across from his and John took it, rubbing his eyes and bouncing his knee. It felt better to not be cooped up in the spare room, but even the confinement of the Hamilton house was almost unbearable. But he promised he wouldn't leave until Eliza said he could, and as of yet she hadn't given him her approval.

His eyes fixed on the floor, he coughed and lost himself in the world of 'weird thoughts'. He could have sworn he was having a conversation with Alexander, or maybe Eliza, but he couldn't recall any of it. The only evidence he had was the muscles in his face growing tired, his mouth drying.

"And how do I do that?" Alexander asked.

John looked at him blankly. What were they talking about?

"Do what?"

"Burp him?"

"Oh, uh, I'll help you."

He stood up, but nearly fell over when his ankle gave way. He hissed and rolled the problem joint in a circle, trying to bring it back to life.

"Are you alright, Jack?" Eliza's brows creased in a concerned way, an expression that seemed more common the longer he stayed.

"Quite alright."

He knelt down beside Alexander and told him to hold Philip upright on his knee.

"But what about his neck?" He held his baby like it was his abusive grandmother's favourite vase.

"You support the neck."

The more John instructed, the more painful it was to see Alexander's confusion.

"Just, put your palm on his chest. Hold his chin up with the same hand. It's gonna look like you're about to strangle him but as long as you don't apply pressure he'll be fine."

He looked horrified at that and Eliza laughed. John helped him with where to put his hand and felt shudders course through him as they touched. His skin felt hot and he worried he'd be blushing.

He cleared his throat, "yeah, uh, just lean him forward a bit. That's right. And rub his back, pat it until he burps."

"Like this?"

"Little firmer. But not too hard. Yeah, that's about right."

They all watched and waited, Alexander clearly scared he was hurting him even despite John's constant reassurance. The moment Philip let out a tiny burp they all cheered and Eliza walked to her husband, kissing him on the cheek. John tried to look anywhere that wasn't the happy couple, but no matter how far he turned his head he could still see. Alexander tried to find eye contact with him, himself feeling the tension that hung tangible in the air.

John excused himself and went up to the spare room. He'd left it clean, as though no one had been in there for years, cleaner than when he'd found it. But he wanted to do more, help out around the house, especially to get some work off of Eliza's back. Needed to make it up to her. He was the murderous little mistress, after all, the least he could do was clean up after himself.

The next day he dedicated to cleaning the whole house. He beat the rugs, swept and polished the floors. He took the cups that Eliza had brought up to him down the stairs and started on all the dishes. She had protested but in the end decided to take John's advice and go to rest. Philip had been put down for a nap and Alex hung around the kitchen as John worked.

"You know you don't have to do that, right?"

"I know."

"Then, why are you? Sit down, you've been at it all day."

"I'm alright."

John felt Alexander moving behind him, still started when he weaved his arms around his waist. He smelled of bitter coffee; John turned his head and smirked at him.

"What are you doing?"

He looked up at him and brushed his hand over the skin on John's arm, exposed where he'd rolled up his sleeves. Traced the scarring there. John tensed and turned back to the dishes, scrubbing a particular troublesome spot on a plate. He rolled his lip between his teeth and sniffed. He stepped back and faced Alexander who still held his hips firmly. He could get away if he wanted to, but it was fine, he didn't want to.

"Why don't… me, you and Philip go out? For a walk? I need some air and I'm dying for a smoke."

Alex scratched the back of his head and frowned, "he doesn't have a stroller. Wasn't exactly in our budget."

John shrugged, "then I'll buy him one."

"Do you have any idea how expensive strollers are these days?"

"Do you have any idea how much I get paid? I don't need that kind of money. I'll buy the stroller, we can have a nice day out."

Hamilton shook his head and slumped into the kitchen chair, "no way, I'd never be able to pay off that debt."

"You won't have to. Consider it a gift."

"I don't know."

The pipes gargled as the sink drained and John dried the dishes on the rack, putting them away. He pulled his most authoritative face and crouched down in front of Alex, hand rubbing his knee.

"Please?"

He let his hand climb higher up his leg and tilted his head. Alex squirmed in his seat and looked dead straight at the kitchen window. John patted his thigh and stood up to his full height.

"The cheapest one?"

"So cheap that it might as well be free of charge."

"I'll go tell 'Liza."

He hurried off up the stairs and John pulled on his shoes at the front door. He almost slipped on the freshly polished floor but caught himself on the banister; not sure if he wanted to be angry or proud at how thoroughly he'd cleaned. Alex met him on the doorstep with Philip in his arms, wrapped in a blanket. John walked behind them on the path so he could smoke without feeling guilty. He shivered and pressed the cold paper weapon to his chapped lips, lit the cigarette. He took a long drag and sighed contentedly. The sweet toxins flooded his lungs and he exhaled his relief in a cloud of grey smoke. Christ, he'd needed that.

They found a small store selling their desired product and entered, John holding the door open after stubbing out his cigarette, half-smoked, stuffing the good half in his pocket. Alexander looked horrified at the prices and incredibly out of place in a shop like this. John chuckled and patted him on the back and looked at the strollers, trying to find the one he had in mind. He'd seen one recently, he always said if he had children he would get them that stroller. Now would have to do.

He called over the store attendant and bargained with him, handed over the cash and left the store, stroller in hand. Alex lay Philip down in the cushioned space and tucked his blanket around him. John took charge of pushing him around while Alex smoked the rest of John's cigarette. He led them to his favourite park, despite Alex grumbling about the cold.

"You could have worn your jacket. Neither me nor Philip are complaining. Maybe we're just smarter than you. Isn't that right, Pip?" John grinned at the baby who had woken up, smiling. Sure, he knew it was just wind, but he liked to kid himself Philip liked him.

"Pip?"

John blushed, "yeah. It's just cute. I like it. Easier to say than Philip, too."

They found a park bench and sat down, overlooking the lake. The ducks there were huddled together on the banks, the weather too harsh for them to bother begging passers by for scraps of food. He found it strange that people would purposely bring food to the park to feed the ducks, but when it came to passing their own kind on the streets… some would even spit. It didn't make sense to him.

Alex rested his foot on the stroller, rocking it back and forth as he watched the people around him. John studied his face. He looked like he was thinking about what to say, something was on his mind but he didn't know how to phrase it.

"What are your little grey cells doing?"

He cleared his throat and shrugged, "just thinking. Sorry."

Clouds gathered in the sky, blocking out the sun. That was the downside of London. As much as he loved it... the weather, climate; it was depressing. He leaned into the stroller and picked up Pip, holding him to his chest and bouncing him lightly.

"Aren't you just the cutest baby I ever did see?" he cooed.

He held him in front of him and he screwed up his face, sneezed. John pulled out his bottom lip and pouted.

"Bless you, baby. Have you got the sneezes? Yeah, I know, it's the worst. But your daddy is gonna make you feel all better again, yeah? And then when we get you home, your momma is gonna give you lots and lots of kisses and cuddles. You're gonna be so loved, baby."

He locked eyes with Alexander who gawked at him. He threw his arms in the air at him and laughed, holding his sides.

"What's tickled you?"

"You!"

"What about me?"

"You're just… I don't think I'll ever understand you."

John frowned, bounced Pip who grew annoyed that he was being ignored, "no, what do you mean?"

Alexander raised a brow, and huffed. He pulled his hair back into a low ponytail and stared at John.

"I mean, you're being so good with my son. From the second he was born you've been bonding with him. But it's insane. The night I met you, you literally killed a person. Your standards are crazy."

"Three people."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I didn't kill one person the night we met, I killed three. Two of them deserved it."

A painful silence followed. John played with Philip for a little longer, but he couldn't stop thinking about what Alexander had said. He did have crazy standards. But for valid reasons. Maybe he should tell him. But he'd never told anyone. It was his life, pathetic as it was, but it was all he had. He couldn't just dig up his past and throw it around.

"I don't hurt children. Or pregnant women. It's my code."

"Your… code?" He turned, interest peaked.

"Yes, my code."

"People have codes for reasons," Alexander prompted.

John nodded. Philip burped on his own and John praised him, smile reaching his eyes. He was a beautiful baby, a genuinely beautiful baby.

"It started when I was a kid, in the institute. At first, my mom was still around. She was the only good thing about it all. Obviously she didn't want to be there but it wasn't like any of us had a choice. There were five of us, I had two brothers and two sisters…"

He bit his lip.

"Had?"

"They either died early on or were killed. None got past eight. But I digress. No, the point is, the story I mean. Hold on, let me start again?"

Alexander held his arms out for Philip and John passed him over gently, knee bouncing, hand twitching.

"Take your time."

He cleared his throat, feeling himself start to choke up. But he wasn't going to do that anymore, he promised himself.

"When I was nine, there was a raid on the institution. Or at least I thought it was raid. I'll- I'll get to that bit. But there was a big shootout in the common room… thing. It was meant to be a common room but it was more of a big holding cell with all these tables, that's where we'd all go once they'd given us the… treatments. No, sorry, I digress again. There- there was a shootout and some of the other children got shot or trampled or stabbed or, you know, all that stuff. The few of my siblings that were left died there and then. But I wasn't there. I was at training with my father on the one day I wasn't supposed to be. I was taken to this room and had to stay there until it was all over. And my mom had been shot…"

"Christ."

"She was pregnant. And then my father made me go around the common room and look at all the bodies. It was horrible. They were my family. My mom's body was on top of my brother and sister, she'd died trying to protect them. Then I found out it wasn't even a chance raid. It had been premeditated. Not by an opponent either. It was an inside job. An assassination to wipe out the 'weak' ones in the group and make the ones with potential 'stronger', all of it orchestrated by my father. That's why I'd been booked for training that day I think. But, we were just kids. We didn't deserve that."

"I'm sorry I brought that shit up for you."

"You were probably going to find out at some point. But that's- that's why I have that code. They made me a monster but I was still more human than they ever were. I know I'm a bad person, but at least when I killed people, it was because they did something wrong. Those kids were innocent."

They walked back to the Hamilton's house without speaking a word. John still pushed Philip's pram. He felt like he had to prove himself, not just to Alex, but to the baby in front of him. He felt an overwhelming need to protect him. He slowed down his walking, kept fidgeting with his blanket. He was probably hungry. Alexander squeezed John's hand briefly were it rested on the handle before anyone could see the gesture. John half-heartedly smiled, checked the road and crossed to get to the house.

Eliza sat in the lounge reading a book. She cradled her baby and asked them how their little outing was. John didn't answer, let Alexander take care of it. He felt too tired to make anything up. He sniffed, the cold still getting to him.

"Are you still sick, Jack?"

"Just a little, I can leave if you'd like?"

"Oh no, please stay, just one more night? There's something Alexander and I wanted to ask you about actually."

His breath caught in his throat. What did she mean? Jesus, Eliza, vague much? Way to give a man a stress headache.

"Oh?"

"Yes. well, it's just that we'll have to have a Christening for the little one soon, and we were discussing godparents last night. We thought, seeing how you've done so much, you'd might like to be his godfather?"

John froze. Not what he was expecting. His mouth hung partially open and it felt dry. Godfathers were meant to protect their godsons forever. How could he promise to God to do that when in a few months he wouldn't even be in the same country? The kid was important to him, sure. But that only made it seem more daunting, the idea that he wouldn't be able to always look out for him. But he couldn't refuse. How could he deny that wonderful woman - a woman he'd hurt terribly and she didn't even know it - a promise of being a second father to her baby?

He swallowed down his doubts and smiled, "I would love to! It would be an honour."

An honourable task, but a position he'd certainly dishonour.