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Chapter Text

The chairs in front of the headmaster’s desk were mildly uncomfortable. Alex got the impression that Mr. Bray didn’t want anyone to occupy them for long—at least, not on purpose. Alex had been slouched in one of them for nearly twenty minutes however and was beginning to regret it.

Jake Timmons sat in the other chair a few feet away. The boy was nervous. He kept bouncing his knee and cracking his knuckles. He was one of those people who couldn’t handle silence. He’d never survive as a spy. Alex wanted to tell him to cut it out, but Mr. Boswell was looming over the two of them like an angry gargoyle, so he kept his mouth shut.

Jake Timmons sat behind Alex during literature and maths. He was a smart-mouthed little aristocrat with too high of an opinion of himself and no sense of decency. He was also a bully. Alex despised him. 

Boswell looked up.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Bray said as he entered his study. 

Alex turned to look behind him and rose gratefully from his chair. Timmons did the same. 

“Thank you Mr. Boswell,” the headmaster said. “I’ll take it from here.”

Boswell frowned one last time at the boys and then left the office, closing the door behind him. 

Henry Bray was tall and thin with a full head of dark hair that was starting to gray at the temples. He liked to wear plaid ties, fashionable shoes, and glasses that perpetually slid down his nose. Alex had never had a reason to dislike the man, though he couldn’t say that he liked him either.

Bray walked to the front of his large desk and leaned against it, facing them. “You may sit,” he said. 

“Sir, he attacked me out of nowhere!” Jake said pointing at Alex.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Oh, sod off, Timmons, I barely touched you.”  

“Boys! I said Sit. Down.” The headmaster’s tone allowed for nothing. He was in charge, and he was displeased. 

They sat. Alex slumped down in his chair. He knew it made him appear uncooperative, but he really didn’t care. This way, if Jake said something particularly asinine, it would take Alex an extra half a second to get up and punch him in the face. And maybe that would be enough for someone to stop him. 

Maybe.

“Alex,” Bray began, “Would you please explain to me why you manhandled Jake after class today?”

Alex ground his teeth. “He wouldn’t leave me alone, sir.”

“I never touched him!” Jake interjected.

Bray held up a hand. “Wait your turn, Mr. Timmons.”

He looked at Alex again. “What do you mean, he wouldn’t leave you alone?”

Suddenly, Alex could swear he smelled antiseptic. And he could almost feel the straps around his wrists again, the memory of a needle in his neck. He rubbed at the spot and then folded his arms tightly. “Exactly what it sounds like… sir.” 

Bray sighed and turned to Jake. “Go wait outside my office.”

Timmons rose from his seat in a huff and left. 

The door closed and Mr. Bray drummed his fingers lightly on the desk. “I’ve already talked to your friend Tom and a few others. I have a pretty good idea of what happened today after class, but I need to hear it from you. What has been going on between you and Jake Timmons?”

Alex groaned inwardly. He felt like he was being interrogated. Which, technically, he kind of was, but he wasn’t strapped down in Eva Stellenbosch’s lab, and he couldn’t figure out why his body was reacting the same way in both situations. He took a steadying breath, and willed himself to relax.

“He… throws things at the back of my head during class. Makes rude comments. Knocks my things off of my desk…” It sounded so stupid. Alex had taken down six (six!) murderous psychopaths in the last year, and yet here he was, stuck in the headmaster’s office because of a schoolyard bully. 

“Has he been harassing you outside of school as well?”

This was not something Alex wanted to answer. Of course Timmons had been harassing him outside of school, but Bray didn’t belong in Alex’s personal life. There had to be a line somewhere, and that line was the gate to the schoolyard. 

Why did his age make it acceptable for adults to pry into his business?

He hated feeling trapped like this. Unfortunately, a meeting with the headmaster was not a socially acceptable situation in which to use his finely-honed escape skills. He wished Bray would just dish out his punishment and be done with it. 

“Does it matter?” he hedged. 

“Yes, Alex, it does,” Bray replied. “If Jake is sending you threatening messages or bullying you on social media, I need to know.”

Time for redirect number two. “Look,” Alex said. “All I did was twist his arm a little and pin him to the desk. I didn’t hurt him!” 

Irritation, then resignation marched across Mr. Bray’s face. Alex had won, for now. “You know that kind of physical contact between pupils is strictly prohibited.”

Alex looked down and nodded, pleased that Bray had dropped the harassment outside of school question.

“You should have involved an adult.”

Alex almost laughed. Involve an adult. When had that ever done anything but make his problems worse? He was much better at solving things himself. Case in point: after today, Timmons would leave him alone. Alex had whispered one or two relevant facts in his ear when he’d pinned him to the desk. The boy would barely look at him now. Bray didn’t need to know any of that either. Timmons would probably squeal on him, but he’d deal with that fallout later. 

“I’m sorry,” he lied.

The headmaster sighed. “And there’s more going on than just this incident with Timmons.”

Alex said nothing. It was true. He’d come home from Sydney ready to leave ASIS, the CIA, and MI6 behind, to go back to his normal life, but the last three weeks of school had gone about as badly as they could possibly go. Well, not that badly—no one was actively trying to kill him, as far as he knew—but his marks were awful, and all of his teachers were frustrated with him. He wasn’t fitting in with most of the students, and now this thing with Timmons. But really, Timmons was such an asshole, he’d deserved far more than he’d gotten.

It all boiled down to the fact that Alex was no longer a schoolboy: he was a spy pretending to be a schoolboy—and he was doing an awful job of it. Trying to be his past self was significantly more difficult than he ever could have anticipated. 

The silence grew a little stale. Bray obviously didn’t believe the lies that MI6 had fed him about Alex. He must have known that he didn’t have the whole picture. He was waiting patiently for Alex to explain, but there was no way Alex was going to do that. Official Secrets Act notwithstanding.

Bray checked his watch. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Alex continued to stare at the floor. “I just… need a little more time to adjust to being back, sir.” That, at least, was not a lie. 

The headmaster considered for a moment. “Well, be that as it may, I want us to meet with Ms. Starbright and the school counsellor on Monday. Also, I expect to see you in lunch and afternoon detention every day until the end of term. You’re dismissed.”

Bloody hell, Alex thought on his way out. I should have just gone to Bangkok with Ash. 

Later that night, he sat down at his desk and slid Ethan Brooke’s card out from underneath his laptop. He looked at the number. It had almost become a nightly ritual—a little dance with the what if’s of his life.

He slid the card back into place. Was he really considering dialing that number? He’d done a little research on the snakehead since coming home. Enough to know that Ethan Brooke had not been entirely up front with him (surprise, surprise). It would not have been an easy assignment, and the risk to his life would have been substantial. Even if he’d been successful in infiltrating their human pipeline, he would have had to add the snakehead to the list of criminal organizations who wanted him dead. Because Scorpia, the Russian mafia, and the Triads weren’t enough. 

Going back into the field was a death sentence. Most likely sooner rather than later. Ian and his parents were proof enough of that. 

So then, why? Why was he even considering it?

Because saving the world felt bloody brilliant, that’s why. And he could use an emotional high right now. 

This dream he’d had of being normal again just wasn’t working out the way he’d expected. If MI6 or the CIA or ASIS came knocking at his door tomorrow, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to refuse. Hell, he might not even want to. And that scared the shit out of him. 

Text convo between Alex and Tom: 

Dude, what the hell happened today?

**Dunno, I think I snapped. Timmons was being such a dick.**

Yeah, well, he deserved to be smacked about. What’d Bray say?

**detention**

Seriously?!?? He’s punishing you?

**Lunch AND afternoon until the end of term.**

That’s just wrong mate. Sry. At least the term’s almost over. 

**And a meeting Monday with Jack and the school counsellor.**

That sucks.

**Pretty much. Bray is digging for answers. He does’t believe my doctor’s notes.**

They are pretty lame. The bank couldn’t think up anything better than ‘Alex had the flu’? What are you and Jack going to tell him?

**Not sure.**

The truth?

**No. He wouldn’t believe it anyway.**

You should go with ptsd then, from Ian’s death. He’d believe that.

**That’s a good idea. He’ll probably want documentation though.**

Ask the bank to supply it?

**I’d rather not talk to them again. They might remember I’m here.**

Shit. You’re right. 

Chapter Text

Jack pounded on his bedroom door early the next morning. “Rise and shine!”

Alex cracked open one eye and looked at his clock. 7 am. “It’s Saturday!” he moaned.

“And you have a lot of work to be getting done. I made breakfast. Get up.”

“What?” 

“You heard me! You’ve got five minutes before I invade your privacy,” she pronounced this word in her best imitation of a posh accent. “Don’t think I won’t drag you out by your ear if I have to.”

That didn’t sound good. Jack had made breakfast. Early. On a Saturday. And was threatening him.

He buried his head in his pillow for a minute before sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his face. 

The smell of butter and maple syrup lured him into the kitchen. He made it three steps into the room before he had to stop and stare. 

“Jack, I think you broke your 10 minute rule. Is this take away?”

“No, it’s not take away! It’s called breakfast. American style. Pancakes, bacon, eggs and fruit.” She pulled a chair out. “And yes, I decided the best way to hold you hostage at this table was with food, so sit.”

“That’s a lot of food. Are we expecting guests, or am I supposed to, like, sit at this table and eat for three days?”

She stared at him, not amused. “Shut up and start eating. We have serious things to discuss.”

Alex settled in at the table and got to work piling pancakes onto his plate. 

In the end, they decided that the ptsd angle was their best option for satisfying Mr. Bray. They didn’t have any proof, however. 

“Maybe we can just forge it ourselves,” Alex said, setting down his fork. His stomach was comfortably full, and he’d made a sizable dent in the pile of food in front of him. 

Jack took a slow sip of her tea and raised one eyebrow. 

“What?”

She set her cup down on the table, both hands still clasped around it. “Have you considered,” she began and then hesitated. “That maybe you do have ptsd? I mean, it wouldn’t be surprising given everything you’ve been through this year.”

“I don’t have ptsd,” Alex said flatly. 

“Hmm,” she murmured, taking another sip. “Maybe not. But I think it would be a good idea to meet with a counsellor anyway. Someone who could help you process... all of this.”

“Jack, I’m fine!” Alex couldn’t believe she was saying this. 

“Alex.”

There was a whole world of meaning in the way she said his name like that. Their eyes locked.

“You’re not fine,” she said quietly.

Alex opened his mouth to protest and then changed his mind. He frowned down at the table instead. What could he say to that?

Was she right? 

He was... functioning. Surviving, really. The nightmares, feeling isolated from his friends, apathy toward his schoolwork, a hot pot of anger simmering constantly in the background of his mind, and above it all—a looming sense of inevitable doom. So... no... not doing great, actually, when he really thought about it. 

Still, going to a shrink was out of the question. 

“I can’t just meet with a counsellor, Jack. What would I even say? They made me sign the Official Secrets Act,” he pointed out. “And even if I could talk about it, no one would believe me. The counsellor would just think I was delusional.”

Jack contemplated this for a long minute, drumming her fingers on the sides of her cup. 

She let out a sigh. “You’re right,” she said. “The only other thing we can do is ask MI6 for help, but they’d probably just send you on another mission.”

Alex only nodded. It was a sobering thought - the fact that the only people who could help him would also use him. He kept bumping up against it over and over like a housefly on a closed window. 

If he had to keep asking for their help, how would he ever get free?

Another minute passed in silence. 

“Well,” Jack said finally, “Let me see what I can do about forging some kind of documentation for Mr. Bray.” She stood and began clearing the table. “While you go get started on your schoolwork.”

Alex groaned and pushed back from the table.

Jack set the plates in the sink and then walked back to him. She ruffled his hair. “Hey,” she said, and Alex looked up at her. “I know I said you’re not fine, and that’s true, but you’re not that bad either. You’ve had a crazy year, and it’s okay to not be okay after that. We’ll figure this out.” Her voice was steady and comforting. “I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Alex’s chest squeezed a little, and he bowed his head, nodding, not trusting himself to speak. 

Jack turned back to the sink, and Alex stood, heading upstairs. 

“One more thing,” she said before he left the room. 

Alex stopped in the doorway. “What?”

“Don’t go getting into anymore fights at school. You use your powers for good, understand?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” he huffed, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

“Good.” 

Alex walked slowly to Mr. Bray’s office on Monday morning, his book bag hanging heavily from his shoulders. The halls had been buzzing with students only moments before, but they had mostly all gone to class. Now he could hear the sound of his own footsteps going up the stairs and a lone locker crashing shut down the hall. It was the kind of quiet you only hear when you’re in a school and all the students are tucked safely into their desks at the start of the period. 

Alex liked it. It made him feel like he was somewhere he shouldn’t be—an echo of his spy self that truly enjoyed sneaking around. 

There was a certain thrill to it that he craved at times. Though all he had to do was remind himself of the terror that inevitably showed up, and the craving subsided. Mostly. 

The meeting had been set during his free period. Normally, Alex would have spent it holed up in the library working, but he supposed that with double detention looming over his foreseeable future, he’d have plenty of time later on to get his work done. 

All too quickly, Alex turned down the corridor to the headmaster’s study. Bray’s door was closed. Alex briefly entertained the idea of turning around, but... Jack would be in there. He owed it to her to at least show up. 

He reached the door and rapped on it with his knuckles. 

“Come in!”

As Alex closed the door behind him, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d walked into a trap. But that was ridiculous. This was the headmaster’s study, not some evil lair. The massive desk was there with its untidy stacks of paper. The shelves of books. The trophy cases. Even the uncomfortable chairs he knew so well. 

Jack was sitting in one of them, scowling. 

“Good of you to join us, Alex,” Bray said from behind his desk. “Have a seat please.”

Alex extricated himself from his book bag, setting it with a weighty clunk on the floor, and sat in the chair next to Jack. 

“You’re late,” Jack hissed at him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Mr. Bray steepled his fingers. “Mrs. Church wasn’t able to be here today, unfortunately, but I think we can still go ahead.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he disliked Mrs. Church. She was a generally agreeable person, but she did like to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions. 

Bray continued, “The purpose of this meeting is fairly simple Alex. This has been a difficult year for you, and we need to assess whether Brookland is adequately addressing your particular needs.

“Your many extended absences since your uncle’s death have set you far behind academically. And now, your teachers and others have noticed a certain change in your behavior as well. This incident with Jake Timmons being only one of several issues.”

Alex felt himself sliding down in his chair as the full weight of Bray’s words came to rest on his shoulders. It was worse than his backpack full of textbooks. Was he talking about possible expulsion? Surely things weren’t that bad?

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I’ve been doing the make up work. I...,” he looked at Jack and back to Bray, needing more of an explanation. “Are you... do you want me to leave?”

“No, not at all. But I do want to make sure that we’re on the same page, and that you’re getting what you need to be successful. And,” he added, “we need to be sure that everyone here at the school feels safe.”

With you here. Bray hadn’t said that part out loud, but his meaning was clear. 

Alex exhaled sharply. 

So that was the crux of it. His stunt with Timmons must have looked worse than he thought. He was making everyone nervous. 

Well, given everything that had happened, could he blame them? 

It had started with the clone. Greif’s science experiment had shown up to school and impersonated him for almost an entire day. Alex had only recently learned what he’d said to Aisha—and it had been nauseating. It was no wonder she wouldn’t talk to him anymore. 

Only Tom knew the truth. Everyone else just thought he’d lost his mind and had gotten mixed up in some kind of gang fight. One that had trashed the school library, progressed into a fistfight in the middle of the dance, and then ended with MI6 showing up in the yard. Fortunately no one other than Tom had seen Alex and his doppelgänger together. Or the guns. Or the assassin on the roof…

Shit. What was wrong with his life?

It seemed that everyone at Brookland sensed he was dangerous. They just didn’t know why. 

—Alex—

“Alex.”

Jack was touching his shoulder. He looked down at her fingers brushing his sleeve and realized he’d been lost in his own thoughts. She was staring at him, worried. 

Bray was also watching, a pained look on his face. 

Alex swallowed, suddenly embarrassed, and sat up in his chair. “Sorry,” he said. 

Jack squared her shoulders. She seemed to have come to a decision. “We haven’t been completely honest about what’s been going on Mr. Bray,” she said.  

Alex turned to her, panicked. This had not been part of the plan. What was she doing?

“Calm down, Alex, it’ll be fine,” she gave his arm a squeeze. “Mr. Bray needs to know the truth. This won’t get any better if we don’t address it.”

“Jack!”

“Alex.” And there it was, her ‘no arguing’ voice.

He pressed his lips together in a hard line, not knowing if he was terrified of what she was about to say or furious that she was saying it. Both probably. 

“Alex’s uncle died last March,” she began. “You know that, of course. What you don’t know, what neither of us knew, was that Ian was leading a secret life. Since his death, those secrets have come to light and have been... making things difficult for Alex. I can’t tell you more than that, except that the authorities have been involved, and we’ve been trying as hard as we can to get Alex back to school and normal life.” She paused. 

When Bray didn’t say anything, she continued. “I think Alex may have ptsd because of this, which would explain the changes in behavior you all noticed.”

Jack let the silence settle around them until it was clear she would say no more. 

Bray shifted slightly in his chair and pushed his glasses up. “Let me see if I understand you correctly,” he said. “Alex’s uncle was leading a... secret life before he died. One that was criminal in nature?” 

Jack considered for a moment. “Let’s just say it was... dangerous.”

Bray pursed his lips. Alex could practically see him analyzing every word Jack had said. “Hmm, well... so these dangerous elements from Ian Rider’s past have been causing problems for Alex. Inflicting trauma of some kind? Causing him to miss weeks of school?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

He turned to Alex. “Is this true?”

Alex nodded. He had been staring at the headmaster, trying to discern whether or not the man believed them. Bray possessed an excellent poker face however.

“Do you have anything else to add?” Bray asked.

Alex was just glad Jack hadn’t said more. “No, sir.”

Bray nodded as if he’d been expecting this. “Do you know what ptsd is?”

“Yes.” Alex was happy to leave it at that, but Bray clearly wanted him to elaborate. He sighed. “It stands for post traumatic stress disorder, sir.” 

The headmaster nodded. “I must admit,” he said finally, “That I’m not sure what to make of this information. Is there someone else I can talk to? Perhaps your contact in the ‘authorities’ you mentioned?”

Alex and Jack looked at each other. “I’m sorry, we... can’t tell you that,” Jack said.

Bray frowned. “Is Alex at least seeing a therapist? Has he been formally diagnosed?”

Jack flinched. They had been afraid of this question. Jack’s attempts to forge the paperwork hadn’t panned out. They could have typed something up, of course, but it wouldn’t have withstood even an ounce of scrutiny.

Bray seemed to catch on before they’d even said a word. In an uncharacteristic display of pure frustration, he removed his glasses and proceeded to massage his forehead. 

By the time he’d replaced his glasses, he’d come to a decision. 

“Ms. Starbright,” he began, “I’m sure you can appreciate the position I’m in as head of this school. I have a responsibility to my students, not only to educate them, but to keep them safe. From what you have told me, and from what I have observed, Alex’s well-being has been threatened. That is having a ripple effect into the rest of the school, at least the part of the school that interacts with Alex on a regular basis. And yet, I cannot see any concrete steps you have taken to address this. Problems of this nature do not just go away on their own.”

“I know Mr. Bray, and...” 

Bray held up a hand to silence her.  

Alex could tell she was on the verge of tears, but he couldn’t do anything about it. The headmaster had made up his mind, and apparently there was no stopping him. 

“I have half a mind to call child services and see what they make of all of this.”

“No!” 

Alex shot to his feet before he’d had a chance to think. His fists were clenched, his heart was pounding in his ears, and he was ready to do… something. Bray gazed up at him, mouth slightly open, momentarily stunned by the force of Alex’s outburst. 

Jack grabbed Alex by the arm to pull him back down to his seat, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Jack’s been looking after me since I was seven,” he said, trying to keep his voice under control and mostly failing. “None of what’s been happening is her fault. She’s doing the best she can. So Back. Off.” Or else. He didn’t need to say that last bit. He was pretty sure Bray heard it anyway. 

“That’s enough Alex!” Jack said. “Sit down. Now!”

Slowly, Alex obeyed, glowering at Bray like a wet cat.  

“Mr. Bray, while I appreciate your concern for Alex, you have to understand... we are in an impossible situation. I will make sure Alex gets the help he needs. I plan on taking him to a therapist, we just need to find the right one. One we can trust.” Alex could tell she’d said that for his benefit more than Bray’s. “He’s only been home for a few weeks, and we’re not even sure at this point if these difficulties are all in the past, or if more will come up.”

Bray’s eyes widened slightly at that. “You mean, the authorities haven’t taken care of the problem by now?”

“The authorities are the fucking problem!” Alex said. He was so done with this. 

“Alex!” Jack whirled on him, mortified. He almost never heard her swear, and she had never tolerated it in him. To do so in front of the headmaster was almost unforgivable in her eyes. 

Alex couldn’t bring himself to care. This meeting had been a train wreck from the start. 

Besides, it wasn’t like Bray could give him more detention. He’d pretty much maxed out in that department. 

“Out,” Bray ordered. “Go wait in the hall and cool off.”

Alex looked at Jack and she nodded. He stood and left the room, grateful for the chance to escape. 

Once the door had closed, Jack let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry about that Mr. Bray. He’s been under so much stress…”

The headmaster waved her apology aside. “What did he mean ‘the authorities are the problem’?”

Jack sighed. “They made him sign the Official Secrets Act,” she said. “Legally, he’s forbidden to talk about any of this.” She paused, watching Bray’s reaction. “But they never made me sign it.” 

Bray merely lifted his eyebrows. “Who?” he said. 

“MI6 Special Operations. Ian Rider worked for them as an operative - a spy. He was a spy.”

Chapter Text

Bray laced his fingers together on top of the desk and nodded for her to go on.

Jack hadn’t planned for this. She didn’t have a pretty speech prepared. She wasn’t even sure where to start, so she just said the first thing that came into her head.

“Growing up,” she said, “Ian took Alex on exotic vacations all over the world. He taught him survival skills, how to speak several languages, and how to fight. Alex knows Krav Maga, and he’s very skilled. We’ve also learned recently that his father was a spy for MI6 too. A good one.”

This was turning into a rambling mess. Jack took a moment to collect her thoughts. She needed Mr. Bray to believe her, but she knew it was a long shot. If she hadn’t lived through it, she probably wouldn’t believe it either. She kept going.

“Alex’s parents were killed when he was only two months old. He was supposed to have been with them on the plane, but he got an ear infection, and so... he lived. Ian Rider took him in and raised him. 

“He hired me when Alex was seven. At first I worked part time, but then Ian was gone on business more and more. Sometimes he’d be gone for weeks at a time. We thought he worked for a bank. That’s what he told us, and we had no reason to doubt him.”

She rubbed her forehead. “And then he died. The police told us it was a car accident, but Alex couldn’t accept that. He’s always been stubborn, curious, impulsive, and incredibly resourceful. I could never keep him out of the cookie jar, no matter how I hid it or locked it. It became a bit of a game between us actually. One that Ian encouraged. It’s clear now that he was grooming Alex to follow in his footsteps,” she stopped and cleared her throat. She was rambling again.

“So, after Ian died and the police left, he figured out how to track down Ian’s car, and somehow followed the trail back to MI6’s headquarters. That’s when MI6 took an interest in him. They told him the truth. That Ian had been working for them, and that he hadn’t died in a car accident. He’d been gunned down in cold blood.

“Then,” she sighed, “They asked for Alex’s help.”

“His help?” Bray asked incredulously.

Jack nodded. “They didn’t know who had killed Ian or why. The only lead they had was a school in the French alps. Ian had been looking into it before he was murdered. MI6 wanted Alex to pose as a student. To get inside the school and poke around, see if he could find any answers.

“Alex refused at first, but they threatened to have me deported and to have child services take him into custody.”

“They blackmailed him,” Bray mused. “It’s no wonder he reacted the way he did when I mentioned child services.”

Jack nodded. “They told him it would be an easy job, but it wasn’t. The head of school and his assistant were insane.”

Jack couldn’t quite bring herself to mention the clones. She was afraid it would derail what little credibility she had. “I don’t know all of the specifics of what happened. But he had to escape at some point and get help, then go back and free the other students somehow. Everything worked out in the end, but he came home with a concussion, a head wound, burns, and massive bruises all over his body. He looked like he’d been beat up. He was a mess.

“The worst part was that MI6 missed someone. One of the... staff managed to avoid arrest. He followed Alex home and then tried to kill him during the school dance.”

“The police said it was a local gang that tore up the library and disrupted the dance,” Bray said, tapping his fingers on the desk, “But that never did seem right to me. No one saw any strangers in the building that night. And from what I heard, it seemed like someone was specifically targeting Alex.”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“The dance was at the end of spring term,” he said. “Months ago. What’s happened since then?”

Jack stared down at her lap and picked at her fingernails. This was the part that ate at her most. She wondered for the millionth time why she hadn’t been able to keep Alex from going back time and time again. If she could have or should have done more. “MI6 kept using him. The CIA used him. He got sucked in to other situations by his own curiosity and desire to help people. He’s saved thousands of lives, but he’s paid a steep price personally. I don’t think he’s told me even half of what he’s been through the last few months. He tries to keep the worst of it from me.”

Bray frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been kidnapped, beaten, drugged, threatened, and escaped death so many times...” Jack shuddered. She hated saying all of this out loud, but Bray needed to know. “He’s seen people die. A few months ago, he was targeted by a criminal organization called Scorpia. They sent a sniper to kill him. The bullet missed his heart by a fraction of an inch. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. You’ve seen how he rubs his chest?”

Bray nodded, shocked.

“I don’t think he even notices that he’s doing it. Every time he comes back from a mission, he’s a little less of a kid, and more... well, like the way he is now. Instead of growing up, he’s growing hard and angry. It’s terrifying to watch.

“He ended up in Australia after his last mission a few weeks ago. I met him in Sydney to bring him home and the Australian intelligence service, ASIS, did what they all do and tried to manipulate him into working for them. Fortunately, I was able to convince him to say no and come home. ASIS didn’t have that much leverage over him, thank God, but it was still a close thing. I think he almost agreed to it.

“So here we are,” she said, suddenly exhausted. “Trying to go on like normal when nothing is normal. MI6 should be providing him counseling and other services, but they’re not. They’re waiting for us to come to them, to ask for help so that they can sink their claws into him again.” She realized she was shaking and wrapped her arms around herself.

“And the worst part,” she laughed darkly, “because all of this isn’t bad enough. The worst part is feeling so powerless. We have no one to turn to. MI6 has their fingers in every corner of the government. And if we try to reach higher, to go over their heads, they deny everything. The icing on the cake is that Alex’s story is just so…”

“Unbelievable?” Bray interjected.

Jack sighed, meeting his gaze. “Exactly.”

The door opened. Alex was sitting in one of the chairs along the wall outside Bray’s office. His arms were folded defensively across his chest, but otherwise, he looked calm. Bray invited him back into the room.

He sat down next to Jack.

Before the headmaster could find his seat again, Alex said, “Do you believe her?”

Mr. Bray cocked his head as he finished settling behind his desk. “Believe what Alex?”

It was cute, the way that he assumed his and Jack’s conversation had been private. “Look,” Alex said, “I know what Jack just told you. I heard the entire conversation, and I could probably repeat it back to you word for word.” Bray raised his eyebrows. “I want to know if you believe it, sir. Or if we’ve just stuck our necks out for nothing,” Alex added, “Because I’m pretty sure that MI6 was listening—is listening—as well.”

Alex had been spying long enough to know that someone was almost always listening. If MI6 had gotten wind of this meeting—which they most certainly had if they’d been paying any sort of attention to him—then they’d want to know what was said. It was a pretty safe bet that the room had been bugged over the weekend.

Somewhere, an agent was having a shitfit over what Alex had just revealed. Unless it was Smithers on the other end of the bugs. Smithers would just be chuckling to himself.

Even so, Alex had known he’d need to say something as soon as Jack started telling Bray about MI6’s involvement in his life. The headmaster needed to know what he was getting into if he chose to believe them.

Alex honestly couldn’t decide if he wanted Bray to do that or not. On one hand, it would be nice to be believed. On the other, the man was putting himself at risk by getting involved.

“Well, that’s certainly a loaded question,” Bray said, nonplussed. “How can you be so sure?”

Instead of answering, Alex put a finger to his lips and rose silently from his chair. Jack and Bray watched him warily. He crossed to the headmaster’s desk. He’d noticed the potted plant there earlier, and he had a hunch. Carefully lifting up the leaves at the base of the plant, he uncovered the dirt, and there, sitting on top of the potting soil, was a bug shaped like a bug. Alex rolled his eyes and picked up the bit of dark brown plastic made to look like a small cockroach. It was incredibly realistic and definitely one of Smithers’ jokes.

He held the bug up to his mouth. “Smithers, this is ridiculous,” he said loudly. Moments later his phone chimed. It was a text message from Smithers.

**That right there is a work of art and you know it. Also, you nearly blew out my eardrums.**

Alex laughed.

“What does it say?” Jack asked. Alex read the message to her.

“Serves you right,” he said to Smithers. “How many more of them are in here?”

Another chime.

**Just the one. It’s very sensitive. You’ve hurt its feelings, you know,** Alex read.

He scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when hell freezes over.”

Another chime.

**No, it really does have feelings. You’re going to have to apologize. Probably buy it flowers.** Alex chuckled as he read this one.

Shaking his head, he set the little bug down on Bray’s desk and then crushed it with a paper weight. Destroying the thing was surprisingly difficult. Alex had to hit it three times before the plastic case shattered, sending glittering electronic bits in all directions. He replaced Bray’s paperweight and brushed the debris into his hand. Then he gave it to Bray, who inspected the bits as if they were about to bite him.

Alex’s phone chimed.

**Ouch.**

“Don’t take it personally,” Alex said and scanned the room as he waited.

After a moment, it chimed again. He groaned up at the ceiling. “Dammit Smithers! I knew you were lying to me!”

**Don’t you take it personally, and don’t bother looking for my backup. You won’t find it.**

Alex quickly scanned the room again, but knew it was futile. If Smithers said he wouldn’t find the second bug, then he wouldn’t find it. He tucked his phone away and sat back down.

“That was… educational,” Bray said, brushing his hands off over the bin behind his desk.

Jack rounded on Alex, her eyes alight with fury. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Well I didn’t know you were going to tell my life story, did I?” His reply came out rather harshly.

Jack looked stricken, and Alex quickly backpedaled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t think. It’s Smithers on the other end, and he’s, like, one of the good ones. Without him, I would have died ten times over.”

That seemed to bring the tension in the room down a notch, but Alex wanted to neutralize the threat as much as possible. “Plus, Mr. Bray probably doesn’t believe a word we’ve said.” He nodded at the headmaster to say something. To play along.

“It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Bray muttered. He pushed his glasses up and sat a bit straighter. “I don’t know why you feel the need to make up stories, Alex. However, given the circumstances, I don’t know that it really matters at the moment. Here is what I propose. I will help you find a counsellor to begin therapy as soon as possible. This is non-negotiable. I will require regular proof of your attendance and cooperation with treatment. Do you understand?”

Alex’s stomach sank. Could Bray do that?

“Or you will need to attend school somewhere else.”

It was like a hammer blow. One minute Alex had thought he’d handled things, the next he was being fed to the wolves. Mandatory therapy? Proof of his cooperation with treatment? Did Bray hate him?

Jack was staring at him. Bray was staring at him. Both of them waiting for his answer.

“I...,” his voice sounded strangled.

He threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine,” he said, not really believing it, then grabbed his book bag and fled.

Chapter Text

That night at dinner Jack asked him, “Are they always listening to us?”

Alex stopped chewing. He thought about it for a moment while he took a drink. “Dunno,” he said, shoveling a forkful of fried rice into his mouth and chewing slowly while he thought about it more. “Possibly. But that would take a lot of manpower to be constantly monitoring us. It’s probably not worth the hassle. I don’t think the house is bugged. It doesn’t need to be. They can just use our phones.”

“It was worth it for them to bug the headmaster’s office for our meeting today,” she poked at her food with her fork. Alex nodded. He had his own theory about that. “So they can listen whenever they want?”

“Pretty much. As long as one of our phones is nearby.”

Jack put her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Doesn’t that make your skin crawl?”

Alex shrugged. He didn’t let himself think about it much.

Jack put out her hand and waggled her fingers at him in the universal sign of “gimme”. Alex rolled his eyes, but then took his phone out of his pocket and set it on her palm.

She walked it over to the fridge along with her own phone, set them both inside, and shut the door with a satisfying whump that rattled the condiments.

“There,” she said, dusting off her hands, “problem solved.” They went back to eating their dinner.

Henry Bray was not stupid, and so when Alex Rider had handed him some plausible deniability, he’d taken it. He most definitely didn’t want to be on any of MI6’s lists if he could help it. Not that he had anything to hide. He just didn’t want the drama; a school full of teenagers provided enough of that already.

Thinking back on their conversation however, he wondered if perhaps he’d made the wrong choice.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said Alex’s story was unbelievable, nor when he’d said it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. In spite of that, he did believe it. Maybe he should have told Alex as much.

The sun was beginning to set by the time he thought about going home, but there was one last task to accomplish. He grabbed his coat and briefcase and locked the study door behind him.

His destination was a building a twenty minute drive away in Covent Garden. He parked his car and made his way to a third floor medical office, spoke briefly to the receptionist, and then took a seat in the waiting room. He was the only one there. At two minutes past six, the door to the back opened, letting out a teenage girl.

The doctor then called her last appointment for the day. “Ciccino,” she said smiling, opening the door wide to let him through.

Bray followed her past the treatment rooms to her study on the far side of the building. Once inside the tastefully furnished space, he hung his coat on the wall and closed the door behind him.

Dr. Lidia Bray set her charts down on her desk and walked over to her husband, kissing him soundly. She was an average sized woman, curvy, with long dark hair that she wore twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Her professional wardrobe was fairly casual, slacks with a sweater and comfortable shoes. She took Henry’s hand and led him over to the small couch in the corner of the room, then kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her as she sat.

“So what is this school matter you need to discuss?” Her voice carried a slight Italian accent that Henry had always found intoxicating.

He pushed his glasses up and crossed his legs, absently caressing Lidia’s hand as he held it. “I had the most interesting meeting with one of my students this morning,” he began. “He’s struggling, to say the least, and needs a therapist. I told him I would find one for him.”

“Are you suggesting that he come to me? I thought we agreed not to share clients. It would be complicated, also it doesn’t look good.”

Henry squeezed her hand. “Yes, I know darling. This one, well, he’s a special case, and I think he might feel safer keeping all of his secrets ‘in the family’ so to speak. He needs someone with an open mind. Someone who will trust him, and who he can trust completely. I can think of no one better than you.”

“Maryanne is not up to this task?”

“No, she’s very good with run of the mill student problems—anxiety, depression, family drama, and such, but this boy’s issues are complex and ongoing. He likely has ptsd, and he is very reluctant to begin treatment. I had to threaten him with expulsion to get him to agree to it.”

“Ah, those are my favorite cases,” she groaned sarcastically. “So I will spend the first several sessions fighting with him?”

“Probably, though I told him that he had to cooperate, not just attend. He has some incentive at least.”

Lidia rested her head back against the wall and considered. “Okay,” she said after a minute. “I’ll meet with him. We will see if it is a good fit.”

The doorbell rang at eight o’clock that evening. Alex set aside his physics homework and went to answer it, and there was Mrs. Jones standing on his doorstep.

“Hello Alex,” she said cheerfully. “Sorry to bother you. May I come in?”

Alex just stared at her. He’d been expecting MI6 to contact him after the meeting with Bray, but he still felt as if his legs had frozen into the floor.

“You’re not in trouble, and I’m not here to recruit you for another mission, if that makes a difference.”

He stepped aside to let her in.

She was dressed in her customary black pantsuit, trench coat, and smart heels, and carried a small black case. Alex found himself staring at it. It wasn’t a briefcase exactly, though it was the same general size. It was rigid, made of some type of plastic, with rounded corners, and he knew he’d seen cases like it before.

In Smithers’ workshop, he remembered after a moment.

“What’s that?” he asked as they sat down across from each other.

She set the case on the coffee table and unlatched it. “A present,” she said, “from Smithers.” She lifted the lid and turned the case toward him. Inside, nestled snugly in a block of gray foam, was a phone. It looked perfectly ordinary.

Alex lifted his eyebrows, unimpressed. “I’ve already got a phone, thanks.”

Jones gave him a sly half-smile. “Not like this.” She gestured for him to pick it up. Alex lifted it from its little bed and turned it over in his hands. He still couldn’t see anything special about it. It may have been a little heavier than normal, but not by much.

“Smithers has installed quite a few special features. It’s already programed to unlock with your fingerprint. You’ll find a file on there that explains everything it can do in detail.”

Alex set the phone on the table. What was that phrase again? he thought, Beware of -something- bearing gifts... He’d have to look it up later. Maybe after he chucked Smithers’ phone in the bin. “So, why are you here?” The ice from his legs seemed to have transferred to his voice. He hadn’t realized he was capable of sounding so cold.

Jack came into the room then, her hair damp from the shower. “Hello, Mrs. Jones,” she said.

“Apparently, I’m not in trouble, and they’re not trying to send me on a mission,” Alex told her. “Also, she’s brought me a present.” He held up the phone and then set it back down.

Jack frowned but seemed to relax a bit. “Would you like some tea?” she asked Mrs. Jones.

“No, thank you. I won’t be long.”

Jack nodded and sat down next to Alex.

Mrs. Jones closed up the case and sat back, crossed one leg over the other, and rested her hands in her lap. She seemed perfectly at ease.

“Smithers passed on the relevant information from your meeting with Mr. Bray this morning. We would like you to know Alex, that we agree with him. You should be meeting with a therapist. Mr. Bray has already found someone who can help you—his wife, Dr. Lidia Bray. She is a well-respected child psychologist here in London with an excellent reputation. MI6 will foot the bill, no strings attached. The phone we’ve given you has a surveillance detection system installed. You will need to sweep the room before your sessions and then leave the phone outside with the receptionist to make sure no one is listening.”

“Have you been listening?” Alex asked, an icy edge to his voice. “Spying on me?”

“No,” Jones said, and then added, “Not officially.”

“Then how do you explain the bugs in Mr. Bray’s office?” Jack asked.

“We are monitoring Mr. Bray as it relates to you, Alex. We watch anyone who takes more than a passing interest. For your security. There are plenty of people who wish to harm you. Your anonymity is one thing that keeps you safe, and we need to make sure that layer of protection stays in place.”

Alex frowned and looked down at the floor. He only half believed Mrs. Jones. His anonymity—or at least deniability—was also what kept MI6 safe.

“Despite what you may think, Alex, we do care about you. Mr. Blunt believes in success at any cost, as do most of our cohorts overseas. That ability to do what is necessary—that ruthlessness—is why he is head of the department... but we are not all so heartless.” She said this with an apologetic smile.

Alex refused to be patronized. The fact was that MI6 had upended his entire life, and Mrs. Jones had played her part in that. At the end of the day, he was the one dealing with the fallout of their decisions to use him. And he knew they weren’t done with him. Not by a long shot. Smithers’ gift proved that more than anything.

“Are we done?” he asked. “I have a lot of homework to be getting on with.”

“Yes, of course,” she said.

Later that evening as he lay in bed, he went over their conversation again. MI6 wanted him to go to therapy. They’d even gone so far as to approve and pay for his therapist. The thought made his stomach churn.

From a purely academic standpoint, he wholeheartedly approved of therapy. But the idea of going himself made him want to throw up. There were things he never wanted to think about again. Things he didn’t want to remember. Things he definitely didn’t want to talk about with anyone, ever.

He had never been so afraid of anything in his entire life. It was right up there with being sent into space--worse, possibly, since that nightmare was in the past and this one wasn't.

Flying down the alps on an ironing board while being shot at was nothing in comparison. He would rather face Julia Rothman or Eva Stellenbosch again than go toe to toe with Dr. Lidia Bray.

He needed to get out of this somehow.

He needed a plan.

Chapter Text

Tom waited for Alex in the yard before school the next morning. “Hello, mate. Long time, no see.”

Alex smiled and shook his head as he removed his bike helmet. “It doesn’t help that you have a girlfriend and I have, like, a girlfriend’s worth of homework.”

“And detention.” Tom pointed out.

“That too. Where’s Steph by the way?”

“At home, feeling ill.”

“Not serious, I hope?” Alex clicked the lock closed around his bike.

“Nah, just girl stuff, she said.”

“Oh, right.” They began walking across the yard.

“So what happened at your big meeting yesterday?”

Alex groaned and sat down at one of the outside tables. It was cold and threatening to rain, but he didn’t want to go inside just yet. They had plenty of time before the bell.

“That bad, eh?” Tom sat next to him. They watched as students walked past them into the building. Eddie waved at them from the other side of the yard, and they waved back.

Alex took off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets. “Let’s just say, Bray knows more than he should now.”

“You told him the truth?” Tom asked in an excited whisper. Tom thought Alex should tell everyone the truth. Through one of his films, of course.

“Jack did.”

“Wow,” Tom replied, staring vaguely into space as he imagined. “That must have been epic. What’d he say?”

Alex sighed. “Things got… complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked.

“Someone from the bank was listening. I found one of their bugs.”

“What, like under your chair or something?”

“In the plant on Bray’s desk.”

“Dude! That’s crazy. They were listening the whole time?”

“Yeah. I had this weird conversation with Smithers through the bug, like, right in the middle of the meeting.” Alex picked at the wooden tabletop with his thumbnail.

“So then, did Bray believe you? He had to after that, right?”

Alex shrugged. “It was hard to tell. He knew they were listening, so he stayed pretty vague. That didn’t stop him from ordering me into therapy though.” He pulled up a splinter of wood and tossed it away angrily. “He threatened to expel me if I don’t go.”

Tom whistled, and then bounced a bit as he thought about that. “That’s pretty extreme, pulling out the expulsion card. But at least it’s just therapy. That was pretty much inevitable, wasn’t it?” he said.

“What? No! What are you talking about?” A gust of wind blew a few freezing drops of rain into his face. He pulled his coat tighter.

“Come on, mate. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve been seeing a therapist since I was nine.”

“I know… it’s not... I’m not ashamed,” Alex said.

“Then what is it?” Tom asked, frustrated. “You’re not Superman, you know. Everything that’s happened, it’s been tearing you up. I know it, Jack knows it. Hell, even Bray knows it apparently. You need the help.”

As usual Alex couldn’t think of how to respond to that. It made him angry, and he didn’t want to be angry with Tom. He looked over at the doors to the school, thinking it was time to go in, and noticed the secretary, Mrs. Bedfordshire, heading quickly in his direction. Alex got up and started walking toward her.

“Alex, dear,” she said rather breathlessly, “Mr. Bray would like a word before class. He’s in his study.”

Alex nodded and turned back to Tom. “See you, mate.”

Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

—

Alex stepped into Bray’s study once again. He was becoming much too familiar with this room. Bray looked up briefly from his computer.

“Alex, wonderful. Have a seat. I’ve found you a therapist and figured we should get you started as soon as we can.”

Alex sat without taking off his book bag. It pushed him awkwardly to the front of the seat, but he wasn’t planning on staying long. “Your wife, right?” he said.

Bray looked up again and eyed him suspiciously. “I won’t ask how you know that.”

Alex shrugged. He realized he was being petty, but it was enormously satisfying, seeing Bray squirm like that.

“But yes, my wife has agreed to see you. Normally, I wouldn’t refer my own students to her, however, we both agreed, yours is a special case.”

Alex rubbed his chest, feeling a phantom pain in his scar.

“Her office is in Covent Garden. Will Ms. Starbright be able to take you after school, or will we need to arrange a cab?”

“Between the bus and my bike, I’m sure I can get there.”

Bray rolled a pencil between his fingers debating whether to trust Alex to go on his own. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. Lidia, Dr. Bray to you, has an opening tomorrow at 4. You have my permission to leave detention early in order to get there on time. I will speak to Mr. Boswell about it.” He picked up a folded piece of paper from his desk and held it out. “Here’s the address.” Alex stood to grab it as the bell for class rang.

“Off you go.”

He left, clutching the paper so hard, he nearly ripped a hole in it.

Alex dragged himself slowly down the hall toward class. His appointment with Dr. Bray was tomorrow? How? How had they gotten him one so fast? He’d naively imagined he’d have at least a week, if not more, in which to make his move.

That meant he had to put his plan into motion today.

It was simple really; call Ethan Brooke and hop on the next plane to Bangkok. If he was in Thailand on a mission for ASIS, he wouldn’t have to step into Dr. Lidia Bray’s office.

Sydney was 9 hours ahead. That meant the workday there was nearly done. He was pretty sure Brooke would answer his phone no matter what time he called, but the likelihood of getting anything accomplished as quickly as he needed it to would diminish the longer he waited.

He had to make the call now.

The halls were already clearing out. He needed a place to hide, or barring that, he needed to leave school altogether. Hopefully without anyone noticing. The door to his first class was less than twenty feet ahead of him. He slowed to a stop, pretending to read a notice about the Christmas concert taped to the wall. He scanned the hallway quickly to make sure he was clear and then headed back the other direction.

He’d only gone a few steps when Mr. Bray appeared from behind a bank of lockers, blocking his way. “Alex, where are you going?”

Had the man been following him? Shit. Of all the times… “I left something in my locker.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” Bray waved his finger in a circular motion and pointed down the hall. “Let’s not be tardy.”

Alex seriously considered doing a runner. Bray couldn’t stop him, not really. But then Jack would get a phone call, and everyone would be out looking for him…

A parade of swear words marched through his head as he executed an about-face and headed to class. Bray stayed close on his heels. He crossed into the classroom just as the bell rang and practically threw himself into his seat, fury rising off of him like wisps of steam.

Mr. Bray conferred quietly at the front of the room with Mr. Boswell. Alex caught both of them flicking glances his way. He wanted to scream. He just needed to make one phone call before it was too late. Tom caught his eye from the other side of the room, clearly baffled. Alex could only shake his head angrily.

Bray left and Mr. Boswell started class. Alex didn’t even bother getting out his notebook and pencil. The clock in the back of the room ticked loudly, taunting him. He folded his arms on top of his desk and contemplated sending a text message to ASIS instead. If he could sneak his phone out under the desk…

Did he dare? Boswell was keeping an extra close watch on him, and getting his phone confiscated now would be a disaster.

He would have to wait.

Halfway through class, he asked Mr. Boswell for permission to visit the toilets. As expected, Boswell said no.

The bell rang and the room dissolved into chaos as everyone packed up and started talking. Alex grabbed his backpack from the floor and stood.

“Mr. Rider, a moment please,” Boswell said. Alex tried pretending he hadn’t heard, but the teacher was closer to the door and moved to cut him off. He pulled up short, nearly jumping out of his skin with impatience as the rest of the students filed past him out the door.

Mr. Boswell waited until the last of them had left, hurrying a couple of them, including Tom, along. “I’m to escort you to your next class,” he said once the room had emptied.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Mr. Bray’s orders. Come on, I’ve got another class to teach. I can’t babysit you all day.”

This was getting out of hand. Was this what came from telling Bray the truth? Alex was livid. He was being treated like a criminal.

Fine, he thought, then I’ll act like one.

He walked with Boswell out into the hall. As they passed the toilets, Alex ducked inside. “Hey!” Boswell yelled after him.
“I’m not going to piss myself on your account,” he yelled back. He knew the teacher wouldn’t follow him in. There was only one boy in the room and Alex growled at him to leave. Once the boy was gone, he got to work.

Above the far toilet stall was a large vent. Alex climbed on top of the toilet and lifted the vent cover up and over. He took off his backpack and shoved it into the opening, then pulled himself in. It was tricky. There weren’t any handholds inside the slick, dusty surface of the duct. He had to use his feet and legs to lever himself in by pushing up from the top of the stall partition. He had just enough time to move the grate back into place before Boswell stormed into the lavatory.

“Out! Now, Alex,” Boswell said as he came into the room. He turned in a circle scanning the entire space and realized his charge wasn’t there. Alex listened with immense satisfaction to his muttered curses.

Once Boswell left the room, Alex began the grueling process of moving himself through the ductwork. Crawling silently on his elbows and knees was a painful endeavor. The first room he came to after the toilets was noisy with groups of students chatting. He kept going. Two more rooms passed by that were also occupied. On the next one, he found what he’d been looking for. The room’s lights were turned off. Alex listened carefully at the grate until he was sure no one was inside, then lifted it away and dropped his bag onto one of the tables below. Slowly, he braced his hands on either side of the vent and lowered himself into the room until he was hanging by his fingers. He let go, and landed on the floor in a crouch. He dragged a stool over and replaced the grate, then grabbed his bag.

There was a supply closet at the back of the room. The door was locked, but he pulled out a set of picks from his backpack and made short work of it. Then he closed the door behind him, turned on the light, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The room was full of art materials—easels, jars of brushes, jugs smeared with paint, dusty boxes—and the musty, acidic smell of old clay and new paper. Alex leaned back against the door and slid to the ground. Finally, he could make his call.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Ethan Brooke’s number. His thumb hovered over the green call button, and in that moment of hesitation, the screen changed to black and his phone began to vibrate with an incoming call.

Alex read the caller ID. It was an international number he didn’t recognize. He debated a moment, but then tapped the green button and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Alex! This is Parker Roscoe.”

What the hell? Alex sat up. “Um… hi?” he said. He didn’t actually know Parker, despite having helped to rescue him from Point Blanc. He’d been locked away in the basement the entire time Alex had been there.

“Don’t worry, I got your number from our friends over at the bank. Mrs. Jones was very helpful,” he said. “Look, Alex, the gang and I have been talking, and we want to get together.”

“The gang?” This was getting weirder and weirder.

“Yeah, you know, the Point Blanc Alumni Association. Those of us who aren’t in jail anyway.”

“Oh,” Alex chuckled nervously. Parker meant that as a joke, right?

His brain had been on the same panicked train of thought all morning, and switching gears all of a sudden had him feeling disoriented. He rubbed his forehead. Parker and the other kids from Point Blanc wanted to get together?

“What’d you have in mind?” he asked.

“Well, the plan is to converge in Turks & Caicos in a couple of weeks over the holidays. I have a place there.”

“What? All of you?”

“No, not quite. Stepan and Arresh aren’t interested. Kyra said no, but she might be able to be persuaded,” Parker said, “You ever been to Turks & Caicos?”

“Um,” Alex actually had to think about this, “No, never been there.” Cuba and Flamingo Bay, however…, he thought with a grimace.

“Eh, It’s a bit sleepy — my dad liked that. But the beaches and the water are fantastic. I’m sure we’ll be able to liven the place up. Want to come?”

Alex pictured himself hanging around a bunch of billionaire kids. That had gone so well during his weekend stay at the Friend estate. Plus he was about to call Ethan Brooke, run away to Thailand, and go on a mission for ASIS. “I don’t think so, man. I’ve got…”

“Alex,” Parker interrupted. “You’re one of us. We want you there.”

“I…”, he hesitated, considering Parker’s words. Was he really one of ‘the gang’? He hadn’t really thought of it that way before. The kids at Point Blanc were all billionaires, but they knew how crazy it had been. They had experienced it too. And they knew who Alex was, like, for real. Was it possible that he could hang out with them and not have to pretend? The thought made him light-headed with relief. It could be a real escape, not the quasi-suicidal leap back into the field he’d been planning.

He wouldn’t go for another two weeks however, and that meant he’d have to go to therapy tomorrow. Could he do it? Maybe. If it was only two weeks…

How much could Dr. Bray squeeze out of him in two weeks anyway? He would be able to stall at least that long.

“I’ll send my jet to pick you up,” Parker said. “Plan for a week in paradise. Also some effigy burning, drowning of our sorrows, and trading of war stories.” He paused. “Listen… Alex… You saved all of our lives. And now that we’re, I don’t know how to say this, uh—not dead—we wanted another chance to be together. To celebrate.”

“Wow, um… okay,” Alex said, suddenly feeling better than he had in weeks.

“Excellent! I’ll have my people send you the details.”

“Sure.” My people. Billionaires were weird.

“And see if you can convince Kyra.”

Alex smiled. “I’ll try.”

“If anyone can do it, you can. See you in two weeks.”

“Bye.”

Chapter Text

Alex hung up, wondering what the hell had just happened. His head was spinning.

His phone was still ready to dial Ethan Brooke’s number. Alex stared at it and then pressed the delete button, watching as the numbers disappeared one by one.

He checked the time. There were five minutes until the bell rang. He stood up and gave himself a good dusting off. The gray filth wouldn’t come off of his trousers completely, but a bit of wide masking tape from one of the shelves lifted out the worst of it. He slid off his blazer and gave it a shake and a beating that made it mostly presentable again. Then he slipped out of the closet and crossed over to the hall door, waiting for the bell and the rush of students that would follow.

When they finally came, he eased out of the art room door and joined the throng as though he’d been there the whole time. He visited his locker and headed to class.

Mrs. Woolworth looked at him funny when he came in the room, but he ignored her and found his seat. Five minutes later, just as Woolworth was starting class, the door opened and Mr. Bray poked his head in. “Alex,” he said.

It had been too optimistic to believe that Bray would let his little stunt go unpunished. Still, he had hoped.

He joined the headmaster in the hall. The man was pink with fury. “Go wait outside my study while I call off the search,” he snapped. “I trust you can make it there without getting lost?”

Alex nodded and started walking.

“And Alex,” Bray waited for him to stop and turn, “any more of this, and you’re done. Do you understand?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded again. Bray turned and walked away.

He waited for the headmaster for nearly forty minutes. He suspected the man was making him stew, or testing him, or possibly both. Alex didn’t really mind. Sitting here or in Woolworth’s world history lecture were equally boring. At least here in the hall he didn’t have to pretend to pay attention.

Finally, Bray rounded the corner with Mrs. Bedfordshire. They were talking quietly and stopped to finish their conversation just out of earshot. The secretary spared a pitying glance for Alex before she headed off on her own. Bray ran a hand through his hair. Alex noticed a tired sag to his shoulders and almost felt bad for the man. Almost.

“In,” Bray ordered and held open the door to his study.

Alex walked past him into the room and barely had time to turn around before the headmaster shut the door and laid into him. “Do you have any idea how far out of my way I’ve gone to help you?” he shouted. “And what? You want to just throw it away?”

“Help me?” Alex yelled back. “What, like following me around and assigning Boswell to watch me like I’m some kind of delinquent? I can take care of myself!”

“Obviously not,” Bray spat. “You looked like you were about to do something stupid when you left my study this morning, and I was right. What were you doing? Crawling through the vents? Your uniform is a disgrace.”

They fumed at each other in silence for a minute.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. He wasn’t. Not even a little.

Mr. Bray nodded slightly. “What were you doing that necessitated a grand escape from the boys’ toilets?”

“I needed to make a phone call.”

“A phone call,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “To whom?”

Alex didn’t say.

Bray threw up his hands. “Fine, keep your secrets!” he growled. He stepped closer to Alex, and Alex stepped to the side, keeping one of the chairs between them. “But know this,” he said, every inch of him taut with righteous indignation, “I have had enough. Mr. Boswell has had enough. The entire school has had enough. Any more of this foolishness, and you will be expelled. Do you understand?”

Alex nodded.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bray stepped to the door and opened it. “Give me your phone, and go to class.”

Alex couldn’t find it in him to regret his actions from the morning. He may have forever destroyed his teachers’ good opinions of him, but he’d been able to answer Parker’s call. And that, as it turned out, had been a very good thing.

Afternoon detention came to an end, and he was free. He unlocked his bike, put on his gloves and helmet and started pedaling home. The ride was wet and miserably cold. Alex barely noticed.

He thought about the kids from Point Blanc. He hadn’t talked to most of them in months. Really he hadn’t talked to them at all unless he counted the occasional Instagram or Facebook comment. Kyra was the only one he really kept in touch with, and it had been a couple of weeks since he’d talked to her. That wasn’t unusual though. They had a comfortably distant friendship.

Jack was out when he got home. He grabbed the MI6 phone from off of the coffee table and a sandwich from the kitchen and headed to his room.

His book bag landed with an impressive thump on the floor next to his bed, and he left it there. He had more pressing matters than homework at the moment.

Much as he hated the idea, he would have to go to therapy tomorrow and meet Dr. Lidia Bray. He really didn’t know what to expect. Would she be able to tell if he lied? It was all so nebulous and overwhelming, like trying to battle a black hole. He was afraid that no matter what he did, he’d get sucked in anyway.

The one thing he could do to prepare was figure out how to use Smithers’ phone. At least that way, he could be sure his sessions were private.

The phone looked almost identical to the one he already had, or that Bray now had. He turned it on as he sat down at his desk, and waited for it to boot up.

It was ready in less than 30 seconds, and he started exploring. Smithers had left a large file of instructions for him to read. Alex took a bite of his sandwich and got to work.

Admittedly, the phone was brilliant. It had several advanced security features to keep his identity safe, a bug sweeper, a directional microphone, a thermal camera, and even a stun gun—all disguised as random apps. It was waterproof, shockproof, heat resistant, and would work anywhere in the world. It could also, as a last resort, self-destruct dramatically. Smithers said he was 85% sure the explosion wouldn’t be big enough to kill anyone, but it would probably be able to blow open a locked door or window.

Alex immediately pulled up the bug sweeper and and started scanning. His and Jack’s rooms were clean, as well as the rest of the house. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Outside was a different matter entirely. Alex spent almost twenty minutes shivering under an umbrella in the near dark locating several tiny cameras all over the front and back gardens. They were well disguised. He doubted he would have seen them without the bug sweeper, even if he’d been looking. As Alex brought the phone within a foot or two of each camera, the devices paired and he could then view the footage that each of them was recording.

They were all watching either the doors or windows of the house and were motion activated. Two cameras were set facing out from the house—one next to the front door and one next to the back. They were linked to facial recognition software. When he stood in front of one, the video feed on his phone displayed not only his picture, but also his name, age, and Interpol status.

Alex was impressed. No one would be able to enter or leave his house unobserved.

He texted Smithers and confirmed that the cameras were all MI6’s, just to be sure.

He didn’t like being watched, but it was slightly comforting knowing MI6 was keeping an eye on his house. He’d often wondered what he would have done if Yassen had decided to break into his bedroom in the middle of the night.

It was a frightening scenario, to say the least.

Jack came home with dinner shortly before seven. Alex followed her into the kitchen and helped himself to a container of chicken tikka masala. Between bites, he told her about the cameras outside and his appointment with the therapist.

“Mr. Bray called to tell me about it,” she said raising one eyebrow accusingly. “Do we need to discuss what else he told me?”

“No,” Alex said, not looking at her. “He made himself very clear.”

Jack decided to let it go. “That’s pretty fast to get an appointment with a therapist,” she said after a minute. “How’re you feeling about it?”

“Fine,” Alex lied, and then changed the subject. “I got a call today from Parker Roscoe.”

“Really? What did he want?” There was an edge of distrust in her voice. Alex had to remind himself that the Parker Roscoe Jack knew was the clone that had kidnapped and nearly murdered Tom. Even though she knew that hadn’t been the real Parker Roscoe, she still harbored a bit of a grudge.

“He invited me to come visit his place in Turks & Caicos over the holidays. He says a bunch of the other kids from Point Blanc are going. It’s meant to be, like, a reunion, I guess.” He poked at his chicken and took a bite.

Jack’s response was measured. “Do you want to go?”

“Maybe,” he said, “Yeah, actually, I do.”

“Hm.” She scooped more rice onto her plate and stirred it into her curry.

“Parker said he’d send his jet to pick me up.”

“I see.” She didn’t look up.

“What?”

Jack set her fork down and reached for her glass. “Nothing,” she shrugged. “It just seems a little weird is all. I mean, it’s been like what? Eight, almost nine months? Why is he just calling you now?”

“I don’t know.”

She drank and set her glass back down. “You don’t even know him, and now you want to spend Christmas with him?”

“Not just him. Kyra will be there.” He hoped. “Look,” he sighed. “It’s my first Christmas since Ian died, and I just...,” he stared down at his plate, “I just want to get away is all.”

After a minute, Jack reached across the table and squeezed his arm. “I understand,” she said, “I do.”

He looked up at her gratefully. “It’ll just be for a week. I’ll be home before the New Year.”

She nodded, “Okay.”

Text Convo between Alex and Kyra:

Parker Roscoe just called me.

**Let me guess, it’s about his little get together?

Yeah, he invited me too. Do you want to go?

**Not particularly.

It sounds like it might be fun.

**Sitting around getting sunburned while we whine about our lives and our ‘bad luck’?

**No thank you.

I’ll find you an umbrella to sit under. Come on.

**I can find my own Spy Boy.

So that’s a yes then?

**Maybe.

**I can’t believe I’m even considering it.

:) :) :)

Please?

**Fine.

**But I’m not putting on a swim suit.

**Or going in the ocean.

**Or leaving my room probably, so…

lol. Sure Kyra. See you.

**See you.

Chapter Text

He didn’t sleep well.

In his dreams, he ran from Wolf and Eva Stellenbosch—who was actually Dr. Lidia Bray—until Yassen showed up and shot them both. Then he found himself back in Damien Cray’s demented maze, hemmed in by a killer wearing his own face and covered in blood.

Hot, choking smoke, knives, grotesque faces, wild animals, gunshots, locked doors, an angry bull, Sabina crying, blood, and more blood, until he felt himself floating through it as if in zero G, only it was blood and he couldn’t breathe—

The nightmares went on and on.

What woke him finally was seeing Jack bitten in half by a great white shark.

His eyes flew open, the last remnants of a scream tearing from his chest. He clutched at his duvet, breathing hard, as the waves of terror gradually subsided. Finally, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

He was covered in sweat, and his head was pounding, so he got up and turned on the light. The clock said 4:14. Twelve hours to go.

He took a shower and some pain killers, got dressed, and then grabbed his schoolwork and went downstairs. Jack was sitting on the sofa in her pajamas with two cups of coffee set out on the table. Alex dropped his bag on the floor and sank down next to her.

She put her arm around him, and he let her pull him down sideways until his head rested on her lap. He felt a little silly like that—he wasn’t a sniveling boy anymore—but she ran her fingers through his hair, and it soothed him.

He sat up after a minute and grabbed one of the cups from the table.

“Therapy will help,” Jack said, reaching for the other one.

“How?” Alex turned to her. “I don’t want someone digging through my head, dragging up things I shouldn’t have to live through again.” He got up and went into the kitchen.

The morning was cold and clear as he set off for school. The rain had frozen overnight and left a blanket of icy sludge on the sidewalks. Sunshine glinted off of every frosted surface of the city, nearly blinding him. Alex rode his bike gingerly through the mess, hoping it would melt by the afternoon. The glare wasn’t helping his headache.

The school day passed smoothly enough. He chatted with Tom before the bell and told him about his trip through the vents and subsequent phone call with Parker. Tom didn’t seem too upset that Alex would be spending Christmas with the other Point Blanc students. Like Jack, he understood that Alex needed the break.

“Just don’t send me any pictures,” he said, not wanting visual evidence of his best mate hanging out with the person who had nearly murdered him. Or the person who looked exactly like the person who’d nearly murdered him. Alex couldn’t really blame him.

After that, Alex managed to stay mostly focused on his work, and he didn’t set even one foot into Bray’s study. That in itself was a small miracle.

At 3:15, he checked out of detention, hopped on his bike, and made his way to the address the headmaster had given him. The office was in a white Georgian building in Covent Garden, four stories tall, with elegant pillars etched into its face, and black iron railings. He stopped and observed it uneasily from across the street for a couple of minutes before crossing over and finding a place to lock up his bike.

The therapist’s offices were on the third floor. Alex elected to take the stairs.

He felt surprisingly calm once he was inside the building. It was the same way he had felt skiing up to Point Blanc with the SAS team, or after he had decided to lure the kidnappers away from Paul Drevin’s hospital room. His mind seemed to go silent and watchful in these moments, giving up control to his body as it carried him forward into danger.

He opened the door to the offices of Dr. Lidia C. Bray, PsyD. Inside was a small waiting area with four chairs and a coffee table. A display of children’s books leaned against one wall next to a basket of ragged toys. A door on the far wall led to the back rooms. Next to it and behind a window counter sat a receptionist talking on the phone. And in one of the chairs sat Mrs. Jones.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, incredulous.

“Hello Alex. Just taking care of some paperwork before your session.”

“And then you’re leaving, right?”

“Yes, not to worry.”

If she was upset by his rudeness, she didn’t show it. Alex walked to the receptionist’s window and signed in on the clipboard. The woman smiled at him, took the clipboard, and went back to her call.

He sat down in the chair next to Mrs. Jones and pulled out his phone—or the one that Smithers had given him. When had he started thinking of it as his? He pulled up the bug sweeper and scanned the waiting room. Nothing suspicious showed up other than a blip in Mrs. Jones’ pocket, which he figured was her phone.

Before long, the door to the back opened, and a woman he assumed was Dr. Lidia Bray called his name.

Mrs. Jones stood and walked over to her. “Come along, Alex,” she said when he didn’t move. Grinding his teeth, he pushed himself up from the chair, grabbed his bag, and followed them both into the back.

Dr. Bray led them to a small room off of a short hall. Late afternoon light spilled into it from a window at the far side of the space. It was furnished with a couch and two armchairs around an oval coffee table, and felt more like a comfortable sitting room than a doctor’s office.

Just inside the room Bray turned to him, smiling. “Hello, Alex. I’m Dr. Bray. Have a seat anywhere you like.” Her voice was warm and carried a subtle Italian accent. Hearing it reminded him of the Mediterranean. He wished he was there now, laying in the sun. Two more weeks, he told himself.

He chose the couch, pushing aside a couple of cheerful throw pillows to make room. Mrs. Jones sat in one of the armchairs. She pulled a gray folder out of her bag.

Dr. Bray closed the door and walked over to the other armchair. She looked to be in her forties, with olive skin and dark hair that she pinned in a loose bun behind her head. A few wavy strands fell out around her face, softening her features.

Alex was surprised. He had expected an uptight English schoolmarm with reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Someone like Doloris Umbridge. Dr. Bray seemed to be just the opposite. Relaxed, friendly, warm. Professional, but also personable. Was this woman really married to the headmaster?

Mrs. Jones interrupted his thoughts. “Alex, why don’t you check the room, so that we can get started.”

Alex glowered at her, but got up and pulled out his phone.

“Are you Alex’s mother?” Dr. Bray asked, watching, bewildered, as he walked around the room pointing his phone toward the walls, ceiling, and floor.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. Just a moment while Alex makes sure the room is secure.”

Lidia Bray blinked at that, flummoxed. Alex finished his sweep. Then he put his phone into his book bag and moved the bag out into the hall before resuming his place on the couch.

“All clear?” Mrs Jones asked him.

He nodded curtly.

“Right, thank you. I apologize for the confusion Dr. Bray. My name is Mrs. Jones. I work for MI6. I’m here merely to arrange the paperwork for Alex’s treatment, and then I’ll leave you both to it.”

“MI6?” Bray’s forehead creased in confusion. She looked over at Alex and then back to Jones. “Why...?”

“I’ll let Alex explain once I’ve gone. I just need you to sign a piece of paper.” She pulled it from her folder and laid it on the table in front of the doctor.

The therapist picked it up and began to read.

She looked up. “This is the Official Secrets Act.”

“Yes, a necessary formality I’m afraid, in Alex’s case. I know you are a professional and would never divulge your clients’ information. However, the powers that be want us to be doubly sure.”

Dr. Bray nodded hesitantly, glanced at Alex, and then looked back down at the paper. After reading it through, she picked up her pen and signed it.

“Here you are,” she said, handing it back. “Do you need anything else?” Alex thought he detected a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“No, that will be quite sufficient, thank you.” Mrs. Jones slid the folder back into her bag and stood. “I can see myself out. Alex…” she said. It was her customary, curt farewell and did not require a response.

Alex watched her leave.

“That was... unusual,” Dr. Bray remarked after a minute. “She said her name was Mrs. Jones? Do you know her?”

Alex had liked the part of this meeting where he just sat on the couch and didn’t say anything. But he couldn’t resist getting back at Mrs. Jones, just a little. “Her first name is Tulip,” he said. I tried to kill her once. He could feel the memory of that wanting to get his attention, but he ignored it.

“Tulip? You don’t say,” Bray smiled. “Well, she certainly seems like a tulip. Very... elegant and to the point.”

“Not as colorful though.”

“No, you are right about that. She is a black tulip.”

Alex almost laughed. He had never heard a better description of the Deputy Director of MI6 Special Operations.

Dr. Bray crossed one leg over the other and retrieved her clipboard and pen from the table. “So, what is she to you then? You know each other well?”

Alex didn’t know how to answer that. There was so much history between them, and his feelings toward her were complicated, to say the least. What was she to him? Not his boss, definitely not a friend, more than an acquaintance. Enemy? Adversary? Finally, he had it.

“She’s a thorn in my side.”

Lidia Bray raised an eyebrow. “Interesting,” she said. “And MI6?”

Alex shrugged. “Them too.”

She tilted her head to the side. “And what are you to them?”

Shit.

He’d walked right into that.

He felt the room go unnaturally quiet. So quiet he could hear his own pounding heart and the sound of his breath going in and out of his nose. “Nothing,” he replied automatically.

Lidia Bray did not believe that for a second, for obvious reasons. “Are you afraid to tell me?”

Again, Alex felt phantom straps around his wrists. Voices echoing in the back of his mind—

Who sent you?

Who did your uncle work for?

Tell me the truth...

He took a breath and folded his arms tightly around his chest. Bray was watching him, probably noting every twitch of discomfort, and he felt himself sliding farther down into the couch.

“Haven’t you read my file?” he said.

“No, MI6 did not give me any information about you.”

“Of course they didn’t,” he complained. ‘Well, didn’t your husband at least tell you?”

“He didn’t.”

Alex scoffed.

“I’m telling you the truth. Henry did not share your secrets. He would never do that without your permission.”

She really didn’t know? He found that incredible.

“Alex,” she said. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

He rubbed his face with his hands, thinking of the times he’d been stupid enough to tell someone the truth. “No one ever believes me.”

Bray nodded sympathetically. “Henry does,” she said.

“Does he?” Alex snapped, “Or does he just think I’m a nutcase that needs therapy? Look, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t the one who told him anyway. Jack told him when I was in the other room.”

“Jack is…”

“My guardian. She’s been looking after me since I was 7.”

Dr. Bray nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard. Alex watched her uneasily. It was the first time he’d seen her write anything down.

She seemed eerily attuned to what he was thinking. “I keep notes to help me remember who you are talking about,” she explained. “I don’t want to have to ask you again if I forget.”

Alex gave a slight nod.

“So, Jack told Henry your secrets without your permission and without you in the room?”

“Yes.” Damn… it sounded so much worse when she said it like that.

“How did that make you feel?”

Immediately, Alex sensed something click shut inside of him like one of Smithers’ foam-lined cases. “Next question,” he said.

Lidia Bray raised an eyebrow at him and tried waiting him out.

Alex stared at her, unimpressed. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to tell you,” he said, enjoying this little rebellion. “At least some form of torture—like, waterboarding, or something.” Mouthing off was frowned upon by pretty much every adult in his life. He’d missed it these past few weeks.

She waited a moment longer. Then she bent her head and wrote. “Try waterboarding…,” she repeated softly.

Alex couldn’t tell if she was wanting to be funny, but he was game if she was. “And add this to your notes,” he said, “Alex does not talk about his feelings.”

She scratched the pen across her page, ending with a flourish. “Done,” she said.

“Can I see it?”

She held the clipboard out to him. The sentence was there, written in slanting cursive. Alex scanned the rest of her notes. He didn’t notice anything more than what she’d said she’d written, which was, admittedly, not very much. He handed it back to her.

“Next week I will come prepared to waterboard you, but I’m afraid we’ll have to manage without torture for today. I forgot my knives.”

Alex couldn’t help it, he laughed. He laughed harder than he had in ages. Harder probably than the joke warranted.

As the giggles died away, he was left feeling oddly tired and hollowed out.

There was something about laughing that was strangely like crying, and the one could morph dangerously fast into the other. He felt that now, like he was on a knife’s edge of emotion, tears threatening to push up from his chest. He swallowed and shoved them away, suddenly furious.

Dr. Bray smiled at him placidly, as if she knew exactly what had just gone through his mind.

“You’re funny,” Alex said after he’d had a minute to collect himself. It came out sounding like more of an accusation than a compliment.

“Laughter is the best medicine, they say.”

Alex only grunted. He checked the clock. There were still 30 minutes left of his session. He was seriously starting to doubt his ability to evade her for that long. She was getting to him, somehow.

“Alex, what secrets of yours did Jack tell Henry?”

“Just have him tell you,” he replied, exasperated.

“It is important for you to tell me...,”

Alex started to protest and she gently held up a finger to forestall him.

“Because,” she pressed on, “they are your secrets. Not Henry’s and not Jack’s. I promised MI6 to never speak of what you say here, but it wasn’t necessary for me to sign that paper. My commitment is to you, Alex, and no one else.”

She paused and then added, “You are safe here. I promise.”

Her words hit him like a kick to the head. Time seemed to slow as they echoed in his ears.

Safe.

He hadn’t felt safe. Not for a long time.

The doctor’s words repeated in his mind again, and he realized with a flash of horror that he’d been wrong this whole time.

He had thought when he turned Ethan Brooke down that he wanted his normal life back, but he understood now that wasn’t true. He didn’t want to feel normal. What he’d really wanted, all this time, was to feel safe again. As safe as he had felt before Ian died.

Just for one fucking moment.

But it wasn’t possible anymore.

Ian was dead, and Alex knew the truth, and there was no going back. Ever.

Something in him broke at that realization, and a wave of grief surged through him then that he couldn’t stop.

Frantically, he grabbed one of the throw pillows next to him and buried his face in it, then he hooked the collar of his blazer and pulled it up over the back of his head, trying for the life of him not to fall apart completely.

He felt his body curling in on itself as the fear and anguish of the last nine months came pouring out of him in a choking, gasping torrent.

Dimly, beyond the turmoil of his shaking, wracked body, he became aware of the doctor. She had gotten up, opened one of the cabinet doors, and was pulling something out. On instinct, he curled more tightly into the couch and covered his head with his arms. A terrified whimper escaped him.

She froze. “Alex,” she said, “I’m not going to hurt you. I have a blanket here. Would you like me to drape it over you?”

He nodded his head, and felt comforting darkness envelop him as she spread the blanket over his arms, and head, and back.

She sat down again.

“Alex,” she said as he continued to sob, “I’m going to keep talking to you if that’s alright.”

He nodded again.

Her voice was calm and measured, as gentle as if he was an injured forest animal she was trying to save.

He didn’t know how long she spoke to him or what she said, but her voice was like a beacon in his storm, guiding him through it to the other side.

Eventually, the tempest subsided, and he found he was able to breathe again. His whole body ached. Dr. Bray kept talking for a bit.

“Alex,” she said finally, repeating it three times before he was able to croak out an acknowledgement.

“I’m going to call Jack to come pick you up okay?”

He nodded.

“Would you like me to bring her in when she gets here?”

He nodded again.

He must have fallen asleep after that, because the next thing he knew, Jack had peeled the blanket off of his head and was combing his hair out of his eyes.

“Hey,” she said.

His head was pounding and he felt a bit like he had the flu—achy and exhausted.

“Can you sit up?”

Alex let her help him. She gathered his things, bundled him into a cab, and took him home.

Chapter Text

Henry Bray picked up the dry cleaning and some dinner on the way home. Wednesdays were always his to handle as Lidia worked late.

He dropped his keys while trying to unlock the door to his flat and swore. It was a frustrating end to a frustrating day. His science teachers were squabbling with him over curriculum changes, one of the kitchen staff had quit, and no less than four parents had called to complain, including Jake Timmons’ mother who still wasn’t satisfied with the punishment he’d dealt to Alex. Given what had happened yesterday, Henry wasn’t entirely satisfied with the punishment he’d given Alex either. He just wanted to get inside, take off his shoes and tie, and pour himself a scotch.

After much scrabbling and shuffling, he finally made it through the door. With a relieved sigh, he hung the laundry on the coatrack, dropped his keys in the dish on the console, and set down the bag of takeaway and his briefcase.

Only then did he recognize the music coming from the living room. La Traviata—that saddest of sad Italian operas was floating out of the room and down the hall toward him. He knew what that meant.

He stood there a moment inwardly groaning and ran both hands through his hair. Then he nodded briskly to himself, loosened his tie as he picked up the bag of takeaway, and headed down the hall.

He found Lidia curled up at the end of the couch already in her pajamas, staring out the window with tears streaming down her face. On the coffee table sat a barely touched cup of tea and several empty chocolate wrappers. It had been a bad day at the office apparently.

He was pretty sure he knew who to blame for that.

Henry set the bag of food on the table and sat down next to his wife. These days happened occasionally, and after fifteen years of marriage, he finally knew how to handle them.

“So, should I go strangle the little bastard now, or wait until the morning?”

Lidia let out a small wail and buried her face in her arms, crying harder. Shit. He’d said the wrong thing. He’d said it as a joke—mostly—, but apparently the humor hadn’t translated. A really, really bad day then.

He rubbed her back lightly for a minute and then left her to it. There wasn’t much he could do when she was like this. She just had to let it out.

He took off his shoes slowly and put them away, then grabbed an entree out of the bag. He settled into the couch again and let the smell of olives and mushrooms waft toward her as he took a bite.

It seemed to work. Her tears petered out after a minute and she turned to see what he was eating.

“You know that’s my favorite,” she said. He handed over the container with his fork still in it. “Grazie.” She grabbed the fork and speared an olive.

Henry picked up the other container, and they ate together, listening to Violetta’s anguished laments.

Eventually, Henry had to prod. “Alex?” he asked.

She nodded.

He really was going to strangle that boy. Having him meet with Lidia had obviously been a mistake. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“No,” she interrupted him. “It is a good fit. He…” she paused, probably trying to figure out how much she could say. She cleared her throat. “He won’t be at school tomorrow or Friday. Maybe not next week either.”

“Darling, he’s missed more than half the term already!”

She looked at him, and he could see in her eyes that she wasn’t done crying. What the hell had happened in their session?

“School will do nothing good for him right now, amore mio. He must grieve properly.”

“He’s had months. Nearly a year…”

“Has he? It didn’t sound like that to me.” She went back to her food. “Believe me,” she said staring into the depths of her dinner. “His pain is… very fresh.”

The next few days passed in a nightmarish fog. Jack made sure he ate and slept and showered. She talked to him about the normal things, like what he thought she should buy her parents for Christmas. She pulled out the family photo albums and flipped through pictures of Ian and Alex scuba diving together, mountain biking, and skiing, encouraging Alex to reminisce with her.

He tried for her sake.

He’d been operating since Ian’s death from the notion that, eventually, if he just tried harder, things would go back to normal. But he’d been chasing a fairytale. His safe, normal life was simply gone.

It had died along with Ian.

What really mattered now? School? School was for people who had a future, and Alex couldn’t see one for himself.

It had been claimed by MI6 the minute he had refused to believe their lies. That meant it would be short. Just like it had been for Ian. Just like it had been for his parents. He would continue working for them until his luck ran out, and then, well, that would just have to be good enough.

The one thing that didn’t change was his plan to leave for the holidays. For some reason, he felt even more strongly about going to the reunion than he had before. He couldn’t pin down why exactly, but he felt like Parker and Kyra would be able to help him somehow. If anyone had answers to the questions he couldn’t put into words, it would be them. He hoped.

His next appointment with Dr. Bray was set for Monday morning. She insisted on meeting with him before he went back to school, and so Alex climbed into a cab with Jack and went back to her office.

The day was oppressively gray, so gray that even the sounds of the traffic seemed muted and the pigeons strutted around wearily. Alex watched out of the window as they passed shops and office buildings where nothing seemed to be happening. People on the streets walked with their heads bowed and their hands stuffed into their pockets. No one lingered outside.

Even the white Georgian looked a little dingy.

Alex left Jack in the waiting room, and followed Dr.Bray down the hall. After scanning the room and giving his phone to Jack, he eyed the couch warily and chose the chair instead. If Bray had any sort of opinion on his choice, she kept it to herself. Her manner was cheerful enough, but he caught something lurking under the surface. Worry, he guessed.

“How about for the next ten minutes,” she began, “You just talk. Tell me about whatever is on your mind. Try not to think about it too much, okay? And I will try not to interrupt.”

Alex frowned, but nodded once.

She had her pen and clipboard ready. “Alright,” she said, “go ahead.”

He rested his head back against the chair and focused his eyes on the window. There was a view of the sky through it, though he could only see gray.

“I think about Scorpia a lot,” he began. He didn’t look at Dr. Bray, and he didn’t bother explaining. She’d ask her questions later, he expected. “They killed my parents, they killed Ian. They almost killed me. I’m pretty sure they’re going to come back and, like, finish the job before long. I’ve made them mad, more than once. I think it’s been, maybe, three times now? I don’t know—if you count Point Blanc, which I don’t know if they do…”. He went on and on like this, half the time not even really paying attention to his own words. He heard Dr. Bray’s pen scratching away, and watched the gray out the window as it seemed to undulate and drift. He’d made a decent amount of headway into his history with the criminal organization before Bray interrupted him.

“That’s enough for now, Alex,” she said, drawing his attention. She seemed a little paler and was gripping her pen rather tightly, but otherwise her face held that same placid expression he’d seen the last time he’d been here.

She glanced down at her notes for a moment, considering. Then she asked, “What makes you happy?”

“What?”

“What are three things that bring you happiness?”

“Things?”

“Or people or experiences…”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know, uh, my bike, my friend Tom, and… Chelsea football,” he rattled off.

Dr. Bray nodded as she wrote down his answers and then smiled at him. “How about let’s repeat that first exercise, but this time, I will stop you after five minutes, and I want you to talk about your bike, and your friend Tom, and Chelsea football.”

So Alex did. It felt like a waste of time talking about something as mundane as his bike, but as he moved on to Tom, he felt himself warming up to his topic. He enjoyed describing Tom’s quirks and relating a couple of their adventures together. He even managed to mention Tom’s parents’ abysmal relationship and his girlfriend before Bray called the time.

“Did you want to talk about football,” she asked, “or are we okay to move on?”

“No, it’s okay,” Alex said. “The last match I went to was a disaster. But at least my team won.”

“How could it be a disaster if your team won?” Bray asked.

Alex hesitated. His last mission was still rather fresh. Thinking about it was risky, but he decided to plow on. He’d already had a massive break down. How much worse could it get?

“Nikolei Drevin invited me to watch a match from his box at Stamford Bridge. His team against Chelsea. —Don’t ask me how I met him because that’s, like, a whole different story.— Anyway, I thought it would be cool, because it’s football and my team, so I went with him. That was a mistake, because he turned out to be a psychopath. When his team didn’t win, he had his star player killed. Then the killers tried to kill me. It was a bit of a mess.”

Dr. Bray seemed to take his story in stride, or, perhaps, she didn’t know what to make of it. “I remember hearing about that on the news,” she said. “Adam Wright’s death, I mean.” She tapped her pen nervously against the clipboard a couple of times.

Alex shrugged as if it didn’t matter, though in reality, his heart was pounding as he recalled the footballer’s gruesome demise and the long walk across the stadium grounds he’d taken at gunpoint.

“Nikolei Drevin died not long after that, didn’t he?” she asked as though they were simply chatting about something interesting. “And his space hotel exploded and fell out of orbit. It was only a couple of months ago. What was the hotel’s name again?”

“Ark Angel,” Alex replied, trying to keep his breathing even.

“It was on all the news stations,” Bray said, watching him thoughtfully. She could sense his panic. He wasn’t hiding it very well anymore. “How did Drevin die?”

Alex blanched, but forced himself to keep talking. “It was a... plane crash,” he managed.

He watched again as the scene played out in his mind. The seaplane taking off, dragging the two canoes behind it. Drevin’s crazed flight. The hail of machine gun fire that had torn through the air and shattered the windows of the house. The soldiers hunched over Paul, protecting him from his own father. The canoes catching, ripping the plane in half, ending in a fiery crash into the trees.

“I killed him,” Alex whispered, staring blankly over the doctor’s shoulder.

“What?” Bray’s placid mask slipped for a moment.

“I sabotaged his plane,” Alex said, barely audible. “I killed him.”

Dr. Bray didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she took a deep breath and leaned toward Alex, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Alex,” she said, “I need you to look at me. Will you do that?”

Alex forced his eyes to focus on the therapist.

“Very good. You’re having a panic attack...”

Shit, was that what this was?

He couldn’t breathe and his heart felt like it was going to explode, and all he could see over and over was Paul bleeding in the sand and Drevin’s plane being ripped in half. Soon, very soon, they were going to pack him into a rocket and launch him into space, and he couldn’t handle that. Not again.

Dr. Bray talked him through it, drawing his attention back to her, back to the room and the things that he could see and smell and touch. Eventually, the fear released him. He was able to form coherent thoughts and let go of the death grip he’d had on the arms of the chair. He stretched out his fingers and rolled his neck. His body was aching again, and he felt exhausted.

“Now,” said Bray, “we need to talk about what you just told me, but I feel like I am not understanding enough to be helpful. I need you to tell your story starting from the beginning. Can you do that?”

Alex swallowed. He wasn’t sure that he could, but he found—somewhat surprisingly—that he wanted to. He actually wanted Lidia Bray to know. He realized with a shock that he trusted her. Maybe it was stupid of him. Maybe he’d regret it.

But maybe he wouldn’t.

“It’s a very long story,” he said.

“You can tell me the short version today,” she offered.

Alex took a deep breath. He got up from the chair and sat on the couch instead, hugging a pillow to his chest.

“Okay.”

Dr. Bray caught him glancing at the cabinet beside her, so she opened it and tossed him a blanket.

Chapter Text

Alex gazed out the window of the helicopter as it crossed a glittering landscape of white sand, turquoise water, and dense green vegetation. They had left the busy resorts of Providenciales behind some amount of minutes before. He didn’t know for sure because he’d stopped paying attention to the clock. Now, he saw nothing but empty sand, empty water, and occasionally, the roof of a lonely mansion or resort. Parker had described this place as sleepy, but Alex would have called it catatonic. It was Circe’s island—a place of forgetting—and Alex was perfectly fine with that.

Dr. Bray hadn’t been entirely pleased with his plans. She did acknowledge that a few days spent relaxing on the beach would benefit his emotional state, but she was less excited at the prospect of him cavorting with his fellow partners in trauma.

She gave him a journal to write in, and told him he’d probably need extra sessions when he got home.

Jack made him promise not to get mixed up in anything, and to call her twice a day.

The helicopter banked left and began its descent. Below, Alex could see the brown tiled roofs of several buildings all interconnected with pools, covered walkways, and garden paths.

The helicopter touched down on a grassy lawn next to the largest building. Parker was there, standing at the top of a wide staircase on a second-story veranda. The young billionaire was wearing board shorts, flip flops, and a sleeveless t-shirt. He looked like a California surfer complete with perfectly bronzed skin and sun-bleached hair. He must have been living here for months, long before Alex and the others came to visit. Looking around at the palm trees and turquoise water, Alex could understand why.

As the rotors slowed and he stepped out of the helicopter, Parker bounded down the stairs to greet him.

“Alex!” he said, “You made it!”

Alex swept his gaze across the estate. The building in front of him was massive, three stories tall and painted white, with a contemporary architectural style reminiscent of Italy or southern France. The exterior was planted with dozens of varieties of palms and lush, flowering shrubs, and the ocean surrounded it on three sides.

“Nice place,” he said, trying to cover up the fact that he was scanning for possible escape routes and noting the visible security. He’d have to do a more thorough reconnaissance later.

Or not, he chastised himself. He was supposed to be on holiday.

Immediately, memories of his recently disastrous holidays surfaced, and he grudgingly had to admit his instincts were probably correct. Given his track record, having an escape route planned out ahead of time was pretty much a necessity.

Parker thumped him on the shoulder. “Let me show you around.”

“Has anyone else come yet?” Alex asked, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder.

“Laura beat you here. She’s already made herself at home next to the pool.” They walked up the staircase onto the veranda and rounded the corner of the house. Here was the pool—or one of them. Up on the second story like this, the far edge of it blended right into the blue of the ocean. It was an incredible sight, and Alex paused to take it in. He was tempted to set his bag down right then, claim one of the overstuffed lounge chairs, and let himself drift into oblivion.

Parker gestured to a chair on the far side of the pool. It was facing away from them toward the ocean, but Alex could see Laura’s bare feet and legs. They were bent, a book resting on her knees. It seemed she’d had the same idea as him.

“You can say hi in a bit. Come on in,” said Parker.

Reluctantly, Alex turned away from the pool and followed Parker inside. At least, he thought it was inside. Glass walls had been folded away so that the room he was in now—a plush, luxurious sitting area—flowed right into the outdoors on two sides. A fan whirled languorously up by the ceiling.

“Welcome to Casa Roscoe,” Parker said grandly. “Make yourself at home.”

“Uh… thanks.”

“Let me introduce you to my man, Andrew—he’s going to be taking care of you while you’re here. Anything you need, Andrew can get it.”

The man in question came up to them then. He was shorter than Alex, dark skinned, and dressed in immaculately clean khaki shorts and a white polo—a uniform Alex had observed on a couple of other people he’d seen on his walk from the helicopter.

“Can I take your bag to your room sir?” Andrew asked.

“Um, sure. Thanks.” Alex handed it off.

Parker led him farther into the mansion. Past the sitting area was a large dining room and kitchen. He could smell something cooking, savory and delicious, and his stomach growled.

A tiny woman stood at the stove. She had a mess of silvery curls on her head, which she held back from her face with a pair of reading glasses and a long silk scarf. The ends of it trailed halfway down her back. She was wearing a flowing skirt and sleeveless blouse that looked right at home in the islands.

“Gigi, Alex is here,” Parker said.

“Oh!” She turned to look at them, put down her spoon and wiped her hands on her apron. “Our guest of honor! Come here darling boy so I can kiss you,” she said.

Somewhat alarmed, Alex turned to Parker who smiled. “This is my Grandma Georgina, everyone calls her Gigi.” He turned to his grandmother, “Don’t embarrass him.”

“Nonsense!” said the woman, walking toward them. “I want to kiss the boy who saved my grandson. Is that too much to ask?” She opened her arms wide, and Alex bent to hug her and let her plant a large kiss on his cheek. She held his face for a moment and patted it fondly before letting him go.

“You are a very special boy,” she said. “What can I get you to eat?”

Alex filled himself to bursting on Gigi’s cooking—“Food is her love language,” Parker explained helpfully—and then got a tour of the house. Along the way, he learned that Gigi was Parker’s paternal grandmother, that she lived full-time on this island, and that Parker had wanted to live with her rather than his aunt and uncle in New York now that his father was dead. Finally, they made it to Alex’s room in the guest wing. By this time, he was ready for a nap and a shower.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Parker said as he walked out the door. “The others should be arriving soon. Gigi serves dinner at 7. Don’t dress up.”

Alex managed a brief text to Jack, letting her know he’d arrived, before he collapsed into bed.

Kyra didn’t particularly like boats or helicopters. It irked her that she had to choose one of her two least favorite modes of transportation to get to Parker’s house. In the end, she chose the helicopter because it would be over faster.

She’d spent the flight from Hong Kong alternately sleeping, working on a project for school, and wondering why she’d allowed herself to get sucked into this “class reunion”. She’d moved on with her life. Point Blanc had been a nightmare, and it was over now, so why exactly were they congregating in the Caribbean?

Eventually, she’d had to admit to herself that she was here for only one reason, and his name was Alex Rider.

That was another thing that irked her—the fact that she’d flown literally halfway around the world for a boy.

She was not the kind of girl who just did things for boys—or anyone really. It was completely irrational. Besides, it wasn’t like she liked him or anything. He was just the first human being her own age she actually enjoyed talking to on a semi-regular basis. That meant he was her friend, right? They were friends. She was pretty sure.

Honestly, she didn’t have any experience to base her assumptions on. And she kind of hated that.

The helicopter touched down shortly after 5 pm, and Kyra rubbed her eyes blearily. She’d slept as much as she could on the plane, but 12 hours worth of jet lag was not something she could just shrug off.

Parker was there to greet her but not Alex. When she learned that he was passed out in his room instead of dutifully waiting for her to arrive, she nearly got back in the helicopter out of spite.

Again, completely irrational. What the hell was wrong with her? Unfortunately, she couldn’t just pick apart her brain and see which wire had short-circuited.

She stopped herself from throwing a fit, said hello to the grandmother, bypassed Parker’s tour (he earned at least four eye-rolls for that one), and got one of the staff to take her to Alex’s room.

She knocked loudly on his door, waited, and then knocked again.

“Just a minute!” she heard him grouse from the other side of the door.

Finally, it opened, and there he was.

His shirt was rumpled, his hair was sticking up, and he had pillow marks on one whole side of his face. He looked like he was still half asleep, but it only took him a moment to register who was at his door.

“Kyra!” He smiled.

Okay, fine.

She supposed she was glad she’d come.

Chapter Text

Alex felt a knot of tension inside him slide loose at the sight of Kyra on his doorstep. He’d been a little afraid she’d change her mind at the last minute and not show up.

She looked good. Different. She’d cut her hair short and had exchanged her black hoodie for a loose tank top.

She seemed... happier too. Although, the last time he’d seen her, she’d just learned that her parents had been murdered, so maybe that wasn’t very surprising.

He stepped aside and invited her in.

His room had a small sitting area, and they each claimed one end of the couch.

She was exhausted.

“How long was your flight?” he asked.

Her forehead creased as she did the mental math. “About 20 hours, plus a couple of stops to refuel.”

“Wow.”

She shrugged.

“Did Parker give you ‘the tour’?”

She rolled her eyes. “He tried.”

Alex laughed a little and nodded. “His grandma kissed me when I got here. And she called me the ‘guest of honor’. Did Parker say anything about that to you?”

“No,” she said, “are you worried about being the guest of honor?”

“No... yes... maybe a little. You don’t think…” he trailed off uncertainly.

“What, that Parker’s going to give a speech and present you with a gold statue of yourself?”

Alex snorted.

“I really don’t know,” she continued. “He might have something stupid in mind. He is kind of weird.”

There’s something weird about you..., Sasha’s voice said in the back of his mind. He rubbed his chest. “We’re all kind of weird though, aren’t we? Parker, me, you, James…”

“I’m not weird,” she countered, “Just indifferent.”

Alex smiled at that, shaking his head.

They talked a bit longer, but Kyra started to nod off.

“You should get some sleep.” He went and got her a blanket. “Here. I need to take a shower anyway.”

She took the blanket from him and stretched out on the couch.

Alex showered quickly and changed into fresh clothes. He had a bit of time for an ‘unofficial’ tour of Parker’s estate before dinner. Kyra was sleeping soundly on the couch, so he eased quietly out the door.

He headed into the bowels of the house, doing his best to avoid being seen, but also not look like he was sneaking around. It was a fine line to walk.

A set of doors past the game room led to the staff corridors. The lighting here was bright and businesslike, and the floors were covered in durable, sound-muffling carpet. He wandered, peeking in doors until someone saw him.

“Can I help you?” said a woman dressed in the staff uniform.

“Hi, I’m Alex. I’m looking for your head of security.”

The woman looked at him strangely.

“I just had a couple of questions I wanted to ask.”

“I’ll... take you to him.”

“Thanks.”

The woman led him farther down the corridor, stopped at an unmarked door, and knocked. It opened a crack.

“I have Alex here. He wishes to speak to Mr. Carnaby.”

Alex shifted so that he could peer into the room. It was dim inside, lit mostly by the screens of several computers. A large man stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

“What can I do for you?” he said, clearly annoyed. He was tall and broad-shouldered—as one would expect in a head of security. He had dark, curly hair, a pistol holstered at the waistband of his khaki slacks, and a look about him that made Alex want to turn around and go back to his room. He’d seen that look before.

The man was a hard-ass with a side of chips. Definitely ex-military, possibly special forces, with some kind of axe to grind. When he looked at Alex, all he saw was a fifteen year old brat who was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Condescension wafted off of him like cologne.

Alex swallowed. “Sorry to bother you sir. I was just hoping to get a map of the island, as well as a brief run down of any security precautions I should be aware of.” Really he’d wanted to have a frank discussion about what this man was doing to ensure that five, six if he counted himself, highly valuable teenagers survived the week. He could see now that discussion was never going to happen.

It was probably fine. Alex’s paranoia was a bit of a beast that needed reining in anyway.

“You’re the one who called the authorities, right?” Carnaby asked.

“Excuse me?”

“At the school, you were the one who escaped and got Parker and the rest of them out?”

“Um... I guess.”

“It must have felt pretty nice to play the hero,” he said.

Play the hero? Alex’s alarm bells started ringing at that. He was definitely being set up for something unpleasant. Carnaby’s wrath probably—though he’d done nothing to deserve it. Well… maybe he was being a little—or maybe a lot—presumptuous.

“It was actually kind of awful,” he said, guessing at what might throw Carnaby off. “The dean of students beat the shit out of me for bringing the SAS down on them, and then the room exploded. Like, literally. It felt like my lungs were on fire for days afterward.” He had to stop there. Any more and he’d probably give himself a panic attack, and there’d be no Dr. Bray to talk him out of it. “So, you know, I’m feeling a little twitchy still. After that.” Maybe honesty would work in his favor.

Carnaby considered him for a moment, then grunted. “You’ve got some balls kid,” he said. “Come on, I’ll get you a map.”

He led Alex into the control room. Alex was mildly surprised at how large and well-equipped it was. There were three others in the room, each focused on a bank of computer screens.

Carnaby led him to the center of the room where there was a large conference table and told him to have a seat.

Alex continued his scared little boy routine as the head of security procured a map and proceeded to brief him on some of the security measures they had in place. He could tell the man was leaving out a lot, but if Alex started asking the questions he wanted to ask, Carnaby would become suspicious.

He seemed good at his job, Alex would give him that, but it only took a few minutes of observation to see that the rest of the staff thought he was an asshole and didn’t want him around.

After five minutes, Carnaby shooed him away. Alex took one last look around the command center and headed back to his room. He’d been able to memorize the map and get a general idea of the kind of defenses Parker’s security had set up around the island. It did little to calm his nerves.

Already, he had thought of a half a dozen ways to get onto the estate undetected, and that was with the few resources he had access to. A certain Scorpia operative he refused to name would probably find it much easier. Then it was just a matter of overpowering the guards.

So, he’d just have to be on his guard. It wasn’t much different than how he normally went about things. He was used to living with a certain amount of risk by now. But it wasn’t just him he was worried about. Kyra and the rest of the Point Blanc kids were a pretty juicy target sitting here on this island. The thought made him feel a bit ill.

He mulled all of this over while walking back to his room. By the time he got there, he was tempted to grab Kyra and get away from this death trap as fast as possible.

He made enough noise coming back that Kyra stirred and sat up. “What’s the matter?” she asked, yawning.

“It’s nothing.”

She shot him one of her pointed looks. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re upset about something.”

Alex wondered when he had become so transparent. Wasn’t he supposed to be a spy? He sat in one of the armchairs. “I’m just… worried… about something bad happening,” he confessed.

“You mean you’re paranoid.”

“Fine. Paranoid. But I had a chat with security and I’m not—“

“Alex, shut up.”

“What?”

“You’re forgetting that Parker, and Laura, and all the rest of us have lived like this for our entire lives.”

“Oh,” Alex said.

“Exactly. So stop fretting.” She got up and walked to the bathroom. “We pay people to do that for us, and you’re not one of them.” She shut the door.

Alex sat there, gobsmacked.

It really wasn’t his job to keep all of them safe. He’d been invited here as a guest. He supposed he should act like one.

Kyra appeared a few minutes later. “Come on,” she said, “Dinner’s not going to eat itself, and I doubt Grandma will let anyone start without the guest of honor,” she waggled her eyebrows at him mockingly.

They gathered at the informal dining table Alex had passed earlier. Everyone had arrived by then, and they said their hellos. Parker and Gigi performed their duties as hosts admirably, keeping the conversation moving from one easy topic to another. The food was delicious, and James cracked obnoxious, slightly inappropriate jokes at regular intervals. Alex found that he was enjoying himself more than he had in months. Even Kyra abandoned her wall of silent sarcasm for a bit as they discussed which eighties music was actually worth listening to.

The only person he didn’t feel entirely comfortable around yet was Sasha. He was having a hard time separating her from the clone that had practically climbed into his lap during Greif’s film presentation. The real Sasha seemed aloof and quiet, but maybe she wasn’t feeling entirely comfortable yet either.

Near the end of the meal, champagne was brought out, and Parker stood with his glass. Everyone quieted. Alex tried not to slide down in his chair, but Kyra had to elbow him in the ribs to make him sit back up when he started doing it anyway.

“Gigi says I have to make a speech,” Parker said, “But don’t worry, I’m going to make it ridiculously short.” He held up his glass and everyone followed suit. “Thanks Alex. We owe you one.”

A general chorus of “Cheers!” went up from the table.

Alex laughed with relief.

After dinner, they met down on the beach. Parker had arranged for a bonfire. The flames danced higher than their heads and threw out a nimbus of suffocating heat that stirred up Alex’s memories. He grit his teeth and pushed them away. He’d deal with them later—preferably once he was curled up on Dr. Bray’s couch with a blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders.

By the light of the fire, they gathered bundles of dried palm leaves and tied them into life-sized effigies of Eva Stellenbosch and Dr. Greif. They promptly named the figures Stellenbitch and Grief, and then dressed them in replicas of their hideous Point Blanc uniforms.

For his part, Alex had brought along the bright yellow parka his clone had left behind after changing into one of Alex’s school uniforms. Fake Alex had stuffed it into a plastic sack and hid it in the back corner of his closet all those months ago. Alex had come across it weeks later while looking for a pair of shoes, and the sight of it had made him feel sick. He’d never told anyone about it, and he honestly wasn’t sure what strange reasoning—or lack thereof—had possessed him to just leave it there this whole time.

He dropped the sack onto the beach and sat down next to it. The air was full of noises—the crack and hiss of the bonfire, the whoosh of the waves on the sand, Laura and James’ teasing banter as they tied a noose around Stellenbitch’s neck.

Alex took a moment to appreciate the warm breeze gliding along his arms and face before he pulled the parka free. Then he shook it out and laid it on the sand in front of him. It was streaked with dirt and spotted with something that could have been blood. He felt the familiar heat of suppressed anger rising up inside of him at the sight of it. All this time, he’d allowed this thing to live like a ghost in the back of his closet. Tonight, he was going to watch it burn.

He heard an appreciative whistle next to him, and looked up to see James. “Guys, over here!” he called to the group. “Alex has some first-rate fire fodder.” He looked back at Alex. “This was what you skied down the mountain in, right?”

“No,” Alex said. The others came to gawk at his offering. “This was my clone’s.”

“Oh, man,” James breathed. “Even better.”

“Your clone’s?” Kyra asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

He’d told her about his clone, hadn’t he? Shit. Maybe he hadn’t. “He was a bit of a surprise.”

“He wasn’t in the lineup when we left,” Sasha said.

“MI6 didn’t even know he was there, did they?” Kyra murmured.

Alex shook his head. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the parka roughly in one hand, letting the bottom of it drag in the sand. “Come on,” he said to the group as he walked toward the flames. “The best place to tell scary stories is around the fire.”

He got as close as he could stand, feeling sweat break out along his hairline. There was a long pole stuck upright into the sand. Alex pulled it out, draped the parka onto one end of it, and then used it to lift the yellow monstrosity into the flames. “Back to hell where you belong,” he said quietly. He watched it catch and burn for a minute before retreating from the heat.

Chapter Text

“Who’s next?” Parker yelled gleefully. “Stellenbitch or Grief?” He waved his beer at the completed effigies lying in the sand. He was well on his way to being totally wasted.

The group cheered as Stellenbitch and Grief fell into the flames, and then settled down on the sand to watch them burn. A few minutes passed, and soon the figures were no more than ash and sparks reaching for the sky. Everyone was quiet, and the general mood settled somewhere between deeply contemplative and vaguely depressed.

James was the first to break the silence. “Okay Alex, story time,” he said. “We want to hear about your clone.”

Alex was sitting with his knees pulled up, drinking a coke. He looked over at Kyra just a few feet away. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He took a deep breath and let it out. He wasn’t feeling panicked thankfully, just weary. It was the soul-deep kind of exhaustion that had been his companion ever since his fateful first session with Dr. Bray. He didn’t really know what to call it. Grief probably. It was probably grief. Dr. Bray seemed to think most of his emotional baggage was grief in some form or another. Seeing the physical reminders of Point Blanc had intensified it.

The others were waiting, so he fiddled with his coke and started talking. His telling of the story was rough. Most of it was cobbled together from what he’d been told by other people—Jack who had seen the clone in Alex’s room—Steph who had briefly described the disastrous conversation with Aisha—Tom’s run-in with Fake Alex during school, and then again at the dance.

“I didn’t even know he existed until I got a video call from Tom’s phone. I answered it and there was Tom being... tortured. Fake Alex told me I had four minutes to get there, or he’d kill him. I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life.”

He set his drink down in the sand and shifted his legs. “I made it, barely. They were in the school library. It was the weirdest thing, seeing someone with my face like that.”

“Tell me about it,” said Parker taking another pull from his beer. The others nodded in agreement.

“He was pissed that the other clones had been arrested. Called them his family. He wanted revenge. I told him Greif was dead, and that really set him off. He came after me then, and Tom was able to escape. We had a row. He kept running off though, and I had to chase him down a couple of times. Eventually we ended up outside in the schoolyard. MI6 had finally figured out what was going on by then and had come to, like, save me, or something. Fake Alex got shot and taken away.”

In the dancing firelight, he could see Yassen again, peering over the school’s roofline with a rifle in his hands. That man’s ghost followed him everywhere.

“Holy shit, Alex,” James chimed in after a minute. “Did you punch him in the face? Please tell me you punched him in the face.”

Alex laughed a little and nodded.

“You are officially my hero. I think I want to marry you.”

“Get in line,” said Laura, and everyone laughed. Everyone but Kyra.

She was staring into the fire, twisting a palm leaf in her hands. She glanced back at Alex, but he couldn’t read the expression on her face.

She was the first to say goodnight to the group. Sasha, James, and Laura followed soon after. Finally, Parker thumped Alex on the back one more time and headed in.

The fire had died down into a heap of coals. Alex laid back in the sand and stared up into the sky. The moon was beginning to rise over the trees. He was exhausted, but couldn’t make himself get up. Going to bed would mean that the day was over, and he didn’t want it to be.

He lay there letting the night sounds fill his head, and felt still, like his body had melted into the sand. The immense canopy of stars overhead reminded him of his time on Ark Angel and the brief moments of wonder he’d experienced.

His thoughts drifted to Ian, as they often did, but instead of pushing them away, he sat with them for a while, and let silent tears spill over the sides of his face into the sand. He’d barely cried all those months ago. MI6’s story about the car crash had been so ridiculous that he hadn’t been able to believe it, and so instead of grieving, he’d buried himself in the search for answers.

You drive like you’re eighty...

No, he couldn’t blame himself for not believing their shitty lies.

A thump and a curse shook him out of his own head. Instantly, all of his senses came alive. He wiped the tears away with his hands. The noise had come from beyond an outcropping of rocks to his right. He tensed his muscles, getting ready to roll over and slink toward it when he caught himself.

We pay people to do that for us, and you’re not one of them.

He pushed himself up and brushed the sand off, then headed inside before he could change his mind.

Sondra Romero stumbled down to the boathouse with a large crate of clean towels. She’d already dropped it once and was trying not to do it again. It was nearly midnight, but she was still in uniform. Mrs. Roscoe had retired for the evening later than usual due to the commotion. She’d finally gone to bed less than an hour ago, and Sondra was desperately overdue for a cigarette break before she went to bed herself. This trip would kill two birds with one stone.

The path was illuminated with small solar lights, but the box was so large in front of her that she was still having trouble seeing where she was going.

Finally she reached the boathouse. She needed a smoke first and would unload the towels afterward. She followed the wooden pier around to the far side of the building and set her box close to the water. She sat down next to it and pulled out her cigarettes, lit one, dragged in a lungful of nicotine, and exhaled in relief.

Moments later, a diver surfaced in the water next to the crate. He pulled out his regulator and lifted his mask onto his head.

“You’re late,” he said.

Sondra continued staring out at the water and flicked the ash from her cigarette. Her precisely placed box concealed the diver from the security camera, but the camera could still see her. She kept her face pointed away from it. “I told you things would go late tonight. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“And?”

“All six targets are here. We can proceed,” she said.

“Do you have any more information on the sixth?”

“Not much. His name is Alex. He asked to meet with Carnaby today.”

“Just Alex? No other name?”

“No one has said and no surname was listed anywhere I’ve been able to see. He’s a Brit, and they’re fawning all over him. We’ve been instructed to give him whatever he wants.”

“Why did he meet with Carnaby?”

“He’s a paranoid little boy with a hero complex. He wanted to see a map. Carnaby took him into the control room for a few minutes, then sent him away.”

“Will he be a problem?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She took a long drag from her cigarette and blew it out over the water. “He’s a fifteen year old boy,” she said. “What do you think he’s going to do? Just take care of him the same as the others.”

The diver ripped a small pouch from a patch of velcro on his belt. “Here’s the last one,” he said. “Make sure all three are positioned exactly where I showed you.”

Sondra took one last drag from her cigarette and then bent to stub it out. She exhaled slowly over the box, using the smoke to conceal her hand as it reached for the pouch and tucked it into her pocket.

“Anything else?” the diver asked.

“No, we can proceed as planned.”

It was 6 am and Kyra was floating in the upper pool. She had found a perch that she liked right at the far edge where she could see the other pool one story below and the ocean beyond that. The sky was just starting to turn from black to gray, and she could still see some stars.

The bonfire last night had affected her more than she’d thought it would. Watching Parker and the others, she realized she felt a sense of kinship to all of them. Not just Alex. She still didn’t like them all that much, but she did feel connected. Part of a crazy, messed up family, as weird as that sounded. She’d never had that before.

Months ago, after hearing Alex’s message through the radio, she’d snuck back into the basement and freed them. She’d told them what to do, and they’d followed her without question. They’d trusted her, and she’d kept them safe.

She had liked that feeling of being trusted, of being in charge, and she’d been good at it. A spark of something had lighted inside of her because of that experience. She wasn’t sure what to call it, but it was pushing her to find out more. To be more.

Before Point Blanc, she’d been angry. Her parents had moved back to Singapore from Russia shortly after her eleventh birthday. Her grandfather had finally died, and Kyra’s mother had inherited the family fortune. Suddenly, Kyra was thrust into the cut-throat society of Singapore’s ultra-rich elite. She wasn’t prepared for their cruelty, the way they snubbed her simply because she was half Russian, and hadn’t grown up there. She talked differently than they did, with their snooty Queen’s English accents, and she dressed differently—much to her mother’s dismay. She didn’t enjoy parties, shopping, haute couture, or going to the club her mother insisted on dragging her to week after week. She hated all of it, the entire glittering, sweaty island and everyone on it, and had seethed at her parents for insisting that she try to fit in.

Hacking into the Tokyo Stock Exchange had been her most brilliant moment of revenge. Her mother’s hobby had been day trading at the time. She called her broker at least 5 times a day, and Kyra was half convinced they were having an affair. Destroying that had been a personal victory—but one that had left her hollow and hungry for more. She would have kept going, hacking her way through various asian financial institutions, and probably ending up in jail, if her parents hadn’t cut off her internet access by sending her to Point Blanc.

She hadn’t cried or put up a fuss when they‘d sent her away. Deep down, she felt like something was wrong with her, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

But then she hadn’t fit in at Point Blanc either. In a school for billionaire misfits, she was still the weird one. That was when she’d truly given up.

Then Alex had shown up with his stupid, but ultimately prophetic, fake name. Alex Friend. He’d come with questions and secrets, and a strange ability to see past her biting sarcasm and hostile glares.

She remembered how he’d looked when Stellenbosch first introduced him to the rest of the class. How he’d stood there with his hands hanging limply at his sides, a small hidden grin hovering at the edges of his mouth, like the whole world was one big joke, and he was laughing at everyone. She’d liked him almost immediately.

She hadn’t wanted to. She’d made up her mind to be a friendless hermit for the rest of her life, but he was almost impossible not to like. Maybe it was because he’d had bigger problems on his plate than worrying about whether or not anyone else approved of him. It didn’t come out of rebellion like the rest of them. For him, it was simply who he was. Nothing had seemed to set him back for long.

He’d been so hopeful, and so sure of himself, and now she could see that side of him slipping away.

“Aren’t you the one who told me you weren’t going to put on a swimsuit?”

Kyra turned to see Alex standing by the side of the pool. He was wearing red swim trunks and a black rash guard. She suppressed the urge to grin at him like an idiot and rolled her eyes instead.

“Parker’s grandma said I wasn’t allowed to swim naked,” she replied dryly.

Alex chuckled and sat on the side of the pool, swinging his feet back and forth in the water. There was something about him that felt off. His smile didn’t match the rest of his face. She’d seen it yesterday too, especially during the bonfire.

“How did you do it?” he asked after a minute.

“Do what?” she huffed. Cryptic questions were annoying.

He stared down at his feet for a moment, and then added, “Go back... after... everything.”

That was an oddly morose question coming from him. “You mean back to Singapore after my parents were murdered?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t. Not really.” Why would she have wanted to? In many ways, that place had been her own personal hell. After the funeral, she’d had no reason to stay.

“It wasn’t the same,” he said, and Kyra sensed that he was talking about himself now rather than asking her.

She nodded in agreement. It hadn’t been the same for her either. How could it? With her parents dead, she’d had no one but lawyers and her parents’ employees waiting for her when she got home.

They had wanted her to go live with some distant relatives in Russia that she barely knew, but she’d refused. She’d fought for her independence and then chosen to go to a boarding school in Hong Kong. A place known mostly for its excellent academic instruction and focus on technology. A place where her money didn’t matter and she could pour herself into her studies. She’d stayed there ever since, hyper-focused on her goal of graduating early and then getting into MIT or possibly Stanford.

Alex continued staring into the water. His gaze was distant, his expression troubled.

Kyra didn’t know how to handle that. She had little enough experience in the friend department as it was. Did he need her to say something? Do something? What the hell was wrong with him?

So she splashed him and just asked. “What’s wrong?”

He stiffened, but then laughed a little and splashed her back. “Nothing,” he said.

Kyra didn’t believe him, but decided to let it go.

Alex stood up and walked to the far edge of the pool, peering over it to look at the water below. “I wonder…,” he murmured, and before Kyra could ask what the hell he was thinking, he stepped out onto the wall and jumped.

Kyra shrieked and paddled after him as she heard him splash into the water below. She peered over the edge in time to see him surface. He let out an exultant whoop and turned around. “Come on Kyra! It’s totally deep enough!”

“You jumped before you knew that for sure?” Idiot. He was such an idiot.

“Um, maybe,” he admitted. “But it’s fine. Come on! This thing is like, twenty feet deep!”

Kyra considered it and then pulled herself up on top of the wall. She stood there for a long minute staring down into the depths, feeling dizzy. It looked way scarier now that she was up here. Was this supposed to be fun?

“Don’t think about it!” Alex shouted at her, “Just jump!”

She remembered how he had been willing to hurtle down a mountainside on an ironing board, and realized he was probably not the best person to judge what was safe and what wasn’t.

“If I die, I will haunt you to the end of your days,” she yelled down at him, trying not to shake.

Alex laughed. It was a real laugh this time, and she smiled. “You can do it!” he shouted again.

Kyra said a little prayer to the saints—a habit she’d picked up from one of her Russian nannies—and stepped into the abyss. She screamed all the way down and hit the water feet first, plunging deep enough that she felt like she’d been sucked into another world. She pulled and kicked her way upward, laughing as she broke the surface.

Alex swam over to her as she rode out the last of her adrenaline rush. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s do it again!”

Chapter Text

Alex grabbed an orange juice from the breakfast buffet and sat down at a table. The morning had turned soft and hazy, muting the colors of the island into a pastel painted wonderland. Alex turned his face to the sky and soaked in it.

Jumping off the second story pool with Kyra had been a fun distraction. The others had trickled down from their bedrooms eventually and were quick to join in the fun. Shortly after they appeared, Kyra had buried herself in her laptop, making it clear to all of them that she didn’t want to be disturbed. He supposed they were lucky she hadn’t just gone back to her room.

Parker set down his drink across from Alex and pulled out a chair. “So,” he said as he sat down, “what have you been up to since we saw you last? More daring rescues?” James set down a heaping plate of food and settled in as well.

Alex took a careful sip of his juice. “No man, just uh...,” he shrugged, “school and stuff.”

Lies. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to do that here, but there was still a lot they didn’t know. A lot he couldn’t talk about.

“You were able to go back after all that crazy shit with your clone? MI6 smoothed it over?” James asked around a mouthful of eggs.

Alex just nodded.

“I couldn’t do it,” Parker said. “I told the staff to burn every stick of furniture that motherfucker had even looked at, everything in my old room, all of it. I would have burned down the entire building if they’d let me. Apparently, I’m not old enough to make that kind of decision.”

James scoffed and shook his head. “What do they know about it?”

Parker nodded. They were silent for a moment, watching as a yacht sailed into view on the fuzzy horizon. It was heading southeast, away from them.

“When I first met you,” Parker said to Alex, “I had no idea that they’d killed my father. Stellenbitch and Greif... they… failed to mention it,” he stared down into the depths of his glass. “Like it didn’t even matter. Or like, maybe they thought it was funny... that I didn’t know.”

My father will pay you anything you want if you’ll just get me out of here.

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not sure what to say. He didn’t know why Parker was even bringing it up. Maybe he just needed to get it off of his chest.

“Sadistic bastards,” James offered.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to know who did it. Who was spending the blood money that took out my dad. So I hired someone to find out.”

“What? Like a P.I.?” Alex asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

“The best ones in the business.”

“So’d you find out who did it?” James asked.

“Took them a while, but yeah. Turns out it was a contract killer named Yassen Gregorovitch.”

Alex inhaled sharply and sat back in his chair. “Yassen,” he growled. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Parker and James stared at him.

“You know him?” James asked, his breakfast forgotten.

Alex nodded a fraction of an inch, his jaw working. He stared down at the table.

To talk about Yassen was to open up and read from the book of horrors that had been his life these last nine months. Point Blanc, Damien Cray, the bullfight, Air Force One, ...Scorpia. He suppressed a shudder. Those things were dangerous to think about; he really wanted to avoid having a panic attack. His heart was already pounding through his ribs however, maybe it was already too late...

He had to say something. Parker and James weren’t going to let it go now that they knew.

“…He killed my uncle too,” he said at last. “He’s the reason I was at Point Blanc.”

James whistled.

Alex continued, not quite able to leave it there. “I ran into him... later… He’s dead now.” Parker would want to know if he didn’t already—that Yassen was dead.

Parker just stared at him with his mouth slightly open.

He’d said too much. His heart was beginning to race, his chest constricting. He could feel it coming for him, a tsunami of fear—huge and unstoppable. He needed to go. Alex picked up his glass and downed the last of his juice, then got up from the table.

James jumped up from his chair. “Whoa, Alex!” He reached over and put a hand in front of Alex’s chest as if to stop him from escaping. “You can’t just drop a load of shit like that on us and walk away.”

Alex felt his hands begin to shake, and he clenched them into fists to get them to stop. James noticed the movement and backed off.

“James,” Parker said, “It’s okay.”

Alex looked at Parker and their eyes met. Parker’s gaze was pensive and questioning, but Alex caught something else in it — a crushing pain he recognized all too easily.

Here they were, him and Parker, connected.

Both of them orphaned by the same man.

“Did you kill him?” Parker asked quietly.

Alex felt the panic rising up, clawing at his chest, draining the blood from his face. He wanted to look away, but found he couldn’t. “No, but I watched him die,” he choked out, barely above a whisper. Memories of Yassen bleeding out on Air Force One threatened to crush him.

Parker nodded slowly. He looked down at the table and let out a shuddering breath.

“Holy fuck,” James said.

Alex fled in the direction of his room.

Kyra watched as Alex ran off, stumbling into the house. Something was very wrong. She closed her laptop, slipped on her shoes, and followed him.

The door to his room was open slightly. She rapped on it with her knuckles and pushed it wider.

“Alex?”

He’d fallen to his knees just inside the room and was pressing his forehead into the floor. His hands were clawing the carpet. Kyra could hear the sound of his ragged breathing, shallow and fast. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Alex!” She knelt down beside him, but he didn’t answer her. “What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?”

“No,” he said between gasps, “just... panic... can’t breathe.”

“You’re having a panic attack?”

He nodded into the carpet.

She got up and closed the door, then sat down next to him again. “What do you want me to do?”

His eyes were squeezed shut.

“Just... talk to me,” he gasped, “It’ll... pass.”

“What should I talk about?”

“...Anything.”

So she started talking about data encryption and current methods of securing financial information online and then moved into crypto-currency—basically everything she’d been studying in school for the last few months. It was probably boring for him to listen to, but maybe that was what he needed.

After ten minutes of this, his breathing started to even out. After another ten minutes, he stretched out his fingers and rolled over onto his side with a groan.

“Shit, that was a bad one,” he said, rubbing his chest. “Sorry...”

“Don’t apologize,” Kyra interjected, “How long has this been going on?”

He took a deep breath and rolled onto his back. “I don’t know. A little while. I didn’t know what it was at first.”

“Are you getting help?”

He nodded. “I started therapy two weeks ago.”

“Just two weeks?”

“Yeah, look, can we not talk about this now?”

Kyra raised an eyebrow at him, “You just had a massive panic attack and we’re not going to talk about this? Alex, what the hell? I just lectured you for ten minutes on the ins and outs of crypto-currency because you were literally out of your mind. How can we not talk about this?”

He pressed his hands into his eye-sockets. “Fine,” he moaned and ran his fingers through his hair, “but that’s a pretty steep price to pay for a lecture on crypto-currency. I didn’t understand most of it. What if I want a refund?” The hidden grin was back, teasing at the corners of his mouth.

How did he do that? she wondered. Ten minutes ago she’d been worried he was going to hyperventilate to death, and now he was making jokes?

“No refunds,” she said. “Payment is due, in full. Immediately.”

“What else is there to say? I’m in therapy. I’m getting help. Done. End of story.”

She wanted to strangle him. “How about telling me what the hell has been going on with you? First, I find out that you got attacked by Greif’s clone, what else have you not been saying? Where have you been going every few weeks? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I’m not stupid. I know it’s got something to do with you spying for MI6.”

Alex groaned again and sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and dropping his forehead onto them. “It’s just been a really bad year,” he said.

The silence stretched taut between them, but Kyra was good at enduring awkward silences—it was practically her superpower. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook with a non-answer like that. And really, didn’t he want her to know the truth?

“I almost didn’t come,” he said eventually, lifting his head and staring at the wall. “Before Parker called I was going to go to Bangkok instead. Hang out with my godfather. Infiltrate the biggest snakehead in Southeast Asia. Because, like, that would have been so much fun.”

Kyra felt her mouth fall open. “Are you suicidal?” she asked, horrified. She couldn’t quite believe what he had just said. She’d heard of the snakehead. They operated out of Singapore as well, and they were the stuff of nightmares—literally. She would have rather taken her chances with a tank full hungry sharks. “You weren’t really considering it, were you?”

He refused to look at her, but Kyra could still see the storm of emotions cross his face. “They said that Ash, my godfather, was my father’s best friend before he died. And if I went on this mission with him, he’d tell me about my dad.”

Kyra could barely wrap her mind around how messed up that was. “Let me try to understand,” she said. “They want you to infiltrate the snakehead, like, the actual, real-life criminal organization that will skin you alive and then make you eat your own intestines if they find out you’re a spy—that snakehead? And in return, your godfather will tell you about your dad? Information, I might add, he should already be telling you because he’s, you know, your godfather?”

Alex laughed and nodded. “Pretty much.”

She wanted to lean over and shake him. “Alex! That’s not even remotely funny!”

“I know, okay! I know.” He let out a long sigh. “I just... Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense, okay? Ever since my uncle died, I’ve barely had time to think let alone try to make sense of all the shit I’ve gone through. I’ve just been running from one mission to the next. MI6, the CIA, Scorpia. And then ASIS tried to talk me into doing this mission a few weeks ago, after I...”

He almost choked on what he was going to say next. He swallowed a couple of times like he was trying not to vomit. Kyra figured it would be better not to interrupt him, even though she had about a million and a half more questions by now. Scorpia?

“Never mind how I got there,” he continued. “They kept me in Sydney for a couple of days claiming that there were visa issues, but it was, like, all a set up. A chance to give me the pitch and pull me in. But I said no. I went home with Jack.

“I tried going back to school, but it didn’t work. I’m too... different from the person I used to be. Being home, trying to be normal again was impossible. I was about to get sucked back in. There was a part of me that wanted it to happen. I almost called ASIS and told them I’d changed my mind, and that terrified me, but I didn’t know what else to do.

“And then Parker called. His stupid reunion sounded like... I don’t know… a way out, maybe.”

Kyra had guessed that Alex was still working for MI6, but she had never imagined his relationship with them was this crazy. And now the CIA and ASIS too? How had he gotten onto their radar? “Is this what they do?” she asked, “MI6 and all the rest? Do they manipulate teenagers into going on suicide missions, and then just leave them to fend for themselves?”

Alex winced and Kyra almost felt bad. “Just me, as far as I know,” he said. “I don’t think they really see me as, like, a person anymore. I’m a name and a photo in one of their files now. Something useful. Effective.”

Effective.

Kyra was not a squeamish person, but the way he said that word made her stomach twist. If death had a tone of voice, that would have been it. Flat, hopeless, cold.

How could they do this to him? she raged.

He had changed a lot since the last time she’d seen him. He seemed angry and sad, but this hopelessness she glimpsed in him now was the most disturbing change of all. It was like he was trapped, and he knew he’d never escape. This week at Parker’s mansion was a last ditch effort, and he didn’t think it was going to work.

He was giving up.

Well, there was no way in hell Kyra was going to let that happen.

“Alex,” she said, and waited for him to look at her. After a moment he did. “I know I gave you a hard time earlier, but coming here was the right thing to do. Those bastards at MI6 don’t own you.”

The look on his face told her otherwise.

“No, Alex! They don’t.” She wanted to cry, and she never, ever cried.

He shook his head and dug his phone out of his pocket. “MI6 gave me this, a couple of weeks ago, right before they arranged for me to go to therapy,” he said, flipping it over in his hands. It looked like a normal phone—black, rectangular… functional. “They didn’t say why, just that it was a gift,” he said. “They built in some useful gadgets—a stun gun, a bug finder, a directional microphone for eavesdropping, some sort of x-ray capabilities—and four times the battery power, among other things. Oh, and it’s completely waterproof.” He tossed it at her feet. “Now look at that and tell me they don’t own me.”

Kyra felt her blood beginning to boil and angry tears threatening to surface. “That’s... absolutely disgusting,” she said.

Alex shrugged in defeat. “I don’t know,” he said, “Maybe it’s my fault. I mean, I could give the phone back or toss it in the ocean, right? In the very beginning, I could have said no too. Probably.”

It was pathetic to hear how much even he didn’t believe that, and she didn’t know how to respond. Would she have wanted him to have said no that first time? When her own life had been on the line? If MI6 hadn’t sent him to Point Blanc, it was very possible that she and the others wouldn’t have made it out alive.

She pushed that uncomfortable thought to the side. It was in the past. What they really needed to worry about now was Alex’s future. She swiped at her eyes quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed the two rogue tears.

“Come on,” she said, getting up from the floor. “If you tell me any more, I might just throw up.”

“Where are you going?” he asked warily.

She rolled her eyes just a little to let him know she was barely tolerating him and his stupid questions. “I’m going to get on one of those dumb paddle boards and try not to fall in the ocean. You can come too if you want.”

It had been the right thing to say. Alex smiled faintly and got to his feet.

He nodded as he grabbed his traitorous phone and tucked it back into his pocket, and they set off down the hallway.

They weren’t done with this conversation—not by a long shot—but Kyra needed to think. There had to be a way to save Alex Rider.

Chapter Text

That night at 10, Sondra Romero stirred a powerful sedative into Mrs. Roscoe’s herbal tea. She set the tray on the bedside table, poured a cup, and gathered the old woman’s dirty clothes to take down to the laundry. Mrs. Roscoe padded out of the bathroom in her fuzzy robe and slippers.

“Thank you Sondra,” she said. “Are the children still up?”

“Yes ma’am. They’re out by the pool again.”

“Remind them not to stay up too late, will you? And make sure Andrew is keeping an eye on them.”

“Yes ma’am.” She watched as Mrs. Roscoe lifted the teacup to her lips and took a sip. “Can I do anything else for you before I go?”

“No, thank you. I’m turning in for the night.”

“Good night, ma’am.”

“Good night.”

Half an hour later, after depositing the laundry, and checking on Andrew and the ‘children’, Sondra made her way back to the old lady’s room. She knocked quietly on the door and slipped inside. “Mrs. Roscoe?” she ventured.

The woman was snoring loudly sprawled out among her pillows. Sondra checked the teacup to make sure it was empty, gathered up the tray, turned out the lights, and locked the door behind her as she left the room. One down, she thought, five to go.

Her job for the evening was to secure the live-in staff—the cook, gardener, housekeeper, butler, and pilot. Nothing a gun, some duct tape, and a large handful of heavy-duty zip ties couldn’t manage. It took her a couple of hours, but she got them all trussed up and locked away one by one in the small storage room.

Kev’s job was to trigger the explosives that would cut off most of the communication from the island, sabotage the control room, let in the semi-submersible carrying the three men they’d recruited, and with them, take out what was left of the security team. Sondra wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to do it, and she didn’t really want to know. It was probably going to be messy, but Kev didn’t mind getting his hands dirty…

She and Kev hadn’t planned on becoming criminals, but it wasn’t every day you got six billionaire teenagers in one place, ripe for the picking. The payoff was so potentially enormous, they’d decided it was worth it. They’d had only a little over three weeks to get the plan in place, but they’d done it. With Kev’s connections and Sondra’s quick thinking, they’d made it happen, and now they were going to be rich.

That night, Alex woke in the darkness, uneasy with half-remembered nightmares. He checked the time on his phone. 2 am, which meant it was 7 am in London. He wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep for a while, so he decided to call Jack and give her a brief update. He dialed her number and waited for the call to connect. Instead, the phone beeped out and a ‘call failed’ message popped up on the screen. He tried again with no luck and then settled for a text. When that message refused to go through as well, he pulled on a t-shirt and left his room in search of some place with better reception. Parker was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island with a mug of something and his laptop. He looked up as Alex entered.

“Hey man,” he said lethargically. He was drinking again, Alex noticed.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep? Cause I can’t sleep.”

Alex nodded sympathetically. “Just trying to make a call. My phone isn’t connecting though. Do you mind if I use the landline?”

“There’s a phone in the office just over there,” Parker said pointing. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.”

Alex walked into the office and found the phone. He put the receiver to his ear, but there was no dial tone. He hung up and tried again. Still nothing. His heart began to pound.

“Hey, Parker?” he ventured, “Do I have to dial 9 or something to get an outside line?”

“No, why?” Parker called from the kitchen.

Don’t panic. “It’s not working.” He grabbed a paperclip from the desk and pocketed it.

“Thats funny, the WiFi isn’t working either,” he said, laughing a little.

Alex practically ran back into the room. “What?”

Parker turned toward him. “The WiFi is out too.”

“Shit. That’s what I thought you said.” Alex scanned the room, every nerve on high alert. “Do you have a panic room?”

“What?”

“A—a safe room. You’ve got one, right? Where?”

Parker frowned. “It’s here in the kitchen. A door in the back of the pantry. You don’t think...”

“There’s no time. Mobile phones are jammed, landline’s down, internet’s down.”

Parker cursed, just now putting the pieces together. Alex wished he’d stayed sober, at least for tonight.

Alex started rummaging through the kitchen drawers, looking for a weapon. He didn’t want to be caught defenseless. Not this time.

Parker sat there watching him until Alex finally asked where the knives were.

“Oh, right,” he said. He came around the counter, opened up a drawer next to the stove, and pulled out two kitchen knives. “Here,” he said, handing one to Alex.

“Thanks,” Alex took the knife, and then pulled the paper clip out of his pocket. He tucked it into his mouth, between his cheek and molars. Parker raised one eyebrow at that, but Alex ignored the implied question, “You need to get to the safe room now,” he said.

“But, I…”

“Now,” Alex pushed Parker toward the pantry. “Before it’s too late. I’ll try and get the others, but we probably won’t make it. You have to find a way to contact the police, MI6, the CIA, someone.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw a shadow move in front of one of the full-length windows at the back of the house. He ducked down to the floor, pulling Parker with him, hiding behind the kitchen island. “Someone’s here,” he whispered, “Go. I’ll hold them off. Lock the room. Call for help.”

Parker nodded and, staying low, shambled across the kitchen. He was slow and sloppy, and the intruders would be on them within seconds. Alex followed close behind. Parker just had to make it past the pantry door, but as his fingers closed on the handle, a bullet hit the doorframe right above his head, spraying splinters and bits of paint in their faces. They froze. Too late.

Alex wanted to scream. Was he cursed? Couldn’t he have one, just one holiday that didn’t involve being shot at?

“Drop the knives and put your hands up.”

Two men dressed in black combat uniforms had entered the house from the pool deck. They wore masks over their faces, and each held a semi-automatic rifle pointed right at him and Parker. Alex stood and lifted his hands slowly while he considered turning and bolting down the hall. But when he looked over his shoulder, he saw another gunman behind them.

Shit

He hesitated a moment longer, and then threw his knife down in disgust. It clattered as it slid along the floor away from him. Parker did the same, though with less enthusiasm.

A rough hand seized Alex by the neck from behind, shoving and then pinning him to the wall, grabbing for his wrists. It was too much. Alex roared in fury and bucked against the man holding him. He managed a decent reverse headbutt and an elbow jab to the man’s ribs which gained him a few inches of breathing space before he was slammed back against the wall. Pain blossomed along the side of his face. He was so pissed.

Another of the intruders joined the struggle, and before long, Alex found himself face down on the floor with a knee in his back. It took both of them to get the handcuffs around his wrists. They hauled him to his feet, livid and heaving, thrashing—but they hung on. He let his legs go limp, pulling his captors over and down, then pushed himself upward as hard and as fast as he could, aiming for one of their faces with his head. He connected with a satisfying thud that made his vision flash white, and he blinked, dazed, trying to shake it off. The man he hit doubled over in pain, cursing.

The largest of the intruders stalked toward him from the side of the room where he’d handcuffed and deposited Parker. He pulled a pistol from a holster at his hip, and placed the muzzle squarely on Alex’s forehead.

Alex stilled, breathing hard, mouth pressed into a thin, furious line. He felt tired and numb and so angry he could hardly see straight, but not afraid. The fear that had been so quick to attack him recently was simply… not there.

“You boy, may be more trouble than you’re worth.”

The irony of that statement was so unexpected that Alex nearly laughed. Compared to Parker and the others, he was definitely more trouble than he was worth.

The man nodded, and something stung the back of Alex’s neck.

Bugger.

They’d brought sedatives. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He felt his legs give out.

The staff gym was small and windowless. One wall was covered in mirrors, reflecting a couple of treadmills, exercise bikes, and some weight machines. It made the room look twice as large as it was. Florescent bulbs buzzed overhead and filled the space with harsh white-blue light, too bright for this time of night. There were four teenagers inside the room. Each handcuffed and in various states of sleep-deprived shock. James lay sprawled on a pile of mats near the mirrors. His eyes were closed. He may have been trying to go back to sleep. Laura and Sasha huddled together as far from the door as they could get, their backs pressed into the wall. Kyra had chosen a spot closer to the middle of the room with a clear line of sight to the door. She didn’t want any more surprises tonight.

She had pulled herself into a tight ball with her knees tucked under her chin. She rocked back and forth, just a little, as she sat on the rubbery tiles. It helped clear her head.

The intruders had woken her out of a deep sleep. First, they had gagged her, and then rough hands had handcuffed her and pulled her out of bed. Then they’d marched her to this room and locked her in. She’d been able to rip the gag off after they left. Sasha, Laura, and James had been thrown into the room one by one after that. None of them knew what the men wanted exactly, but it wasn’t too hard to guess the generalities.

Kyra leaned back until her feet no longer touched the floor and she was balancing on her tailbone. The movement reminded her of an exercise she had learned back during her mother’s pilates phase. Kyra had eventually stopped participating in her mother’s ever changing hobbies, but not before stupid pilates.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She couldn’t get that word out of her head, and with it in there, she couldn’t think the thoughts that truly needed thinking. Like, how to get out of this stupid mess. Alex had been worried, but she hadn’t listened to him. So here she was, doing stupid pilates on a dirty gym floor, handcuffed, in her stupid pajamas, with Laura and Sasha sniveling together in the corner. As if crying about it would get them anywhere.

She was the one who had gotten them out of Point Blanc alive. With Alex’s help. But she had saved him first, so…

They could do it again.

Maybe he had already escaped and was swooping in with the SAS right now. It seemed unlikely, but she could hope, right? Was it stupid to hope for that?

Then the door to the room opened and Parker stumbled in. He looked haunted.

Behind Parker, two men shuffled through the door, holding Alex between them. His feet dragged as they brought him into the room and dumped him onto the floor.

Kyra scrambled to her feet and rushed over to him. The door closed, locking the teens in together. She knelt down and levered Alex onto his side in what she hoped was a more comfortable position. A large bruise along his cheekbone was already turning purple, and there was blood in his hair. The others gathered around, and Laura brought over a pile of white gym towels.

“What did they do to him?” Kyra asked as she and Laura tucked the towels under Alex’s head.

“He’s asleep,” Parker replied, and Kyra could smell the booze on his breath. Alex wasn’t the only one who wasn’t coping well apparently. “Some kind of sedative. I thought they were going to shoot him, but they didn’t.”

“What? Why would they shoot him? Do they know?”

“Know what?” Sasha asked.

Kyra waived her off, she didn’t want to explain it all right now. Was it even safe to tell them the truth? What would happen if these kidnappers found out Alex was a spy? Would they kill him?

Okay, fine, Alex’s reluctance to talk about things made a little more sense now.

“He was so pissed,” Parker said. “It was kind of scary. He went crazy when they tried to handcuff him. I think he broke at least one of their noses. He wouldn’t calm down until one of them put a gun right here.” He tapped a spot in the middle of Alex’s forehead. “You guys, he totally laughed at them. With a gun. In his face. I thought they were going to shoot him right there in the kitchen.” Parker’s hands were shaking.

“That’s totally sick!” James said.

“Shut up, James.” Kyra brushed the hair out of Alex’s eyes. He had purple bruises and scratches along his forehead too.

“Shit,” James said grimacing. “That’s gonna hurt.”

“I said, SHUT UP James!” Kyra glared at him. She had thought he might be less of an ass once they were out of Point Blanc, but she’d been wrong.

“Hey, I just say it like I see it. And right now, it looks to me like these bastards are going to walk out of here with some serious ransom money. Parker’s security sold us out and our secret weapon here is unconscious.”

No one was going to argue with that. Not Kyra. Not even Parker. They all stared at Alex in dejected silence, wondering how long it would be before he woke up.

There wasn’t much to say after that, and the teens drifted to different parts of the room, trying to find semi-comfortable spots in which to wait.

Kyra refused to leave Alex’s side. She couldn’t, not while he was vulnerable like this. So she sat there next to him, and watched the clock on the wall.

Before long, she started nodding off. She didn’t want to sleep, but it seemed her body wasn’t giving her much of a choice. She went and grabbed a few towels for her own head and laid down on the floor between Alex and the door.

Chapter Text

Chen sat down in the control room and peeled his mask off as carefully as he could. The thing was soaked with his blood. He poked around his face, and yes, his nose was definitely broken. Fucking kid. What fifteen-year-old knew how to fight like that?

Doc entered the control room. “Found some medical supplies, let me see that.”

“Just hurry up,” Buck said from the hall.

“You’re lucky he didn’t hit your chin,” Doc said while he set and packed Chen’s nose. “Never let them get under you like that. He could have paralyzed you, or worse.” Doc finished, then handed him some painkillers and a bottle of water.

“They weren’t supposed to fight back,” Chen growled. The swelling in his nose made him sound like he had a bad cold. He waived Doc off. “This won’t take long.”

Doc nodded and left. Chen swallowed the pills —his face felt like hell— and then pulled out his laptop and the six cell phones he’d taken off the targets. He’d made sure to unlock each one as he got it. It had taken a couple extra minutes with each snatch, but it had been worth it. There was no way in hell he was going to put that bloody mask back on just to get some fingerprints.

As far as he was concerned, his time with those pustules was over. He’d done his part snatching them, and now it was time to do the real work he was here for. His job was comms, not babysitting. Now he could finally sit in a dark room with his face buried in his computer screens, just how he liked it.

He connected his laptop into the one ethernet port in the house that still worked, and then grabbed the first phone off the stack and began the upload process. He wanted all the data in one place in order to streamline and keep track of everything for 6 different targets. Phone numbers, passwords, bank accounts… all of it nice and tidy and under his control.

His laptop beeped after a couple of minutes. One phone down. He disconnected it and plugged in a second. This one turned out to be Alex’s —the little shit who had broken his nose. He began the upload process.

This kid was the mystery. The wild card. All they had known beforehand was that his name was Alex, he came from England, and he had attended school at Point Blanc like the others. They had assumed he was rich, but then Parker Roscoe had paid for his trip here. So perhaps not. Chen was anxious to dig into this phone’s secrets and see what it revealed.

The computer beeped—upload completed. Chen looked at the file size. It was ridiculously small. That explained why it had finished so quickly. There was practically nothing on this phone. He picked it up and began exploring. There were only five contacts in the address book. Two of them were numbers to pizza parlors, one for the Royal & General Bank, one for “Mum”, and one for “Dad”. There were no text conversations or emails, no photos, and only a handful of music files. The recent calls log listed almost nothing. And there was no financial information, nothing but the number for the bank. Had he picked up the wrong phone? Was this just a backup?

He checked the phone’s storage level just to make sure his computer had gotten all of it. There was a huge discrepancy. The amount of storage on the phone was enormous and fairly full, and yet he’d only been able to upload a tiny fraction of it. Chen looked away from the screen, thinking.

Was it possible the phone had a decoy profile? If so, it was a sophisticated bit of subterfuge. He smiled. Apparently this Alex had plenty to hide and the resources to do it. Chen was going to enjoy this.

First, he unplugged the phone, replaced it with another from the pile, and began the upload process. There were no minutes to waste in this operation, but Chen could do two things at once. He pulled out a second laptop, plugged in Alex’s phone, and began to hack away at the problem.

Twenty minutes later, he wanted to pull his own hair out. Buck was watching the clock like a man on fire, practically foaming at the mouth from the delay. He was probably getting flack from Kev who had likely finished disabling the helicopter and all the boats on the island by now. Everyone was just waiting on Chen.

All of the other phones had been uploaded, but still Alex’s resisted him. He had made literally no progress. Why was this so difficult? What was he missing? He should have been able to crack it open in a matter of minutes. Instead, he felt like he was scrabbling with his bare fingernails against a stone wall. He pushed away from the desk and swore. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to get it out of the boy.

Buck was NOT going to be happy about this. Or Doc. Or Kev and Sondra. The timetable was going to have to be adjusted, and he was going to have to put on his stupid mask again.

Alex felt movement. It dragged him back to consciousness, barely. Pressure on his arms and shoulders, voices in his ears. He remembered suddenly who they belonged to and a jolt of adrenaline brought more clarity. He kicked his legs and twisted his shoulders, trying to throw them off. The movement sent bolts of pain through his wrists and head and drained him of the little energy he had.

“Hey! None of that,” one of the men said, shaking Alex so hard that he bit his tongue. The drugs pulled him back under.

…

He was sitting in a chair, he realized. His arms were now in front of him, which was a relief to his shoulders, but his body slumped uncomfortably. He wanted to lie down. He couldn’t hold up his head.

“…Get me a strap or a...,” he heard one of the men say.

…

Tightness around his chest woke him again. This time he opened his eyes and saw a belt, no, two belts—one around his waist and one around his chest and upper arms—holding him in an upright position. He groaned. Why couldn’t they just let him sleep?

“That’s right,” someone said. “Time to join the land of the living Alex. Time to wake up.”

“…Piss ...off.”

“You need to answer some questions for us.”

“Not going... to... happen,” he mumbled. Even half-asleep, he was angry. He honestly didn’t care what they did to him at this point.

“How do we unlock your phone?”

Alex rolled his eyes at that, but he suspected they hadn’t been able to tell. He decided to just go back to sleep. If these morons couldn’t unlock a phone without his help...

…

Someone grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head, which pulled painfully on his bruised scalp.

“Wake up Alex,” he said, shaking him a little. The man was American. The big one had sounded American too. They probably all were.

The pain in his head flared, and Alex groaned and opened his eyes. At first, he couldn’t figure out where he was or what he was seeing. Focus returned slowly. They’d taken him to another room of the house. He remembered it from his little tour of the staff wing. It was the staff dining hall or lounge or something. There was a large table and chairs, a couch and some armchairs, a television, and bookshelves lining one wall. Alex was strapped into one of the sturdy dining chairs a little ways away from the table, and he wasn’t alone.

“Kyra?” he croaked.

They had her by the arms, standing directly in front of him on the far side of the room by the door. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pressed into a hard line. Alex knew why she was there, and so did she by the looks of it. Would they really hurt her?

They would have to.

Empty threats would get them nowhere.

Shit. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t let them do that.

Alex looked over into the face of the man gripping his hair. It was the tall, spindly one of the group. He had very blue eyes. The other two were in the room also. The one holding Kyra was large all over like a rugby player, and the third was comparatively smaller. Shorter with an athletic build— more of a footballer. Alex could tell by his eyes that he was asian.

“Leave her alone,” he said to Blue Eyes, his voice flat.

“Just tell us how to get into your phone. She doesn’t have to be involved.”

“Are you serious? All this to unlock my phone? Just use my thumbprint.” He had wanted to keep his voice neutral, but the question was just so ridiculous, his temper betrayed him. Absolute morons, he thought.

“Already tried that,” said the third one. Definitely American, and he sounded like he had a cold. So he had broken that guy’s nose! Alex felt his spirits lift at the sound of those swollen sinuses. Broken nose guy continued, “I’ve seen your decoy login. Now I want the real deal.”

Alex was surprised he’d discovered it. Smithers had been pretty convinced that no one would look that closely. So maybe they weren’t complete morons after all. He shifted his face into the blankest look he could manage. “What are you talking about?”

The man holding his hair shoved his head back in frustration and stood up. Alex was glad the sedatives were finally wearing off. He could hold up his own head at least.

The big guy guarding Kyra grabbed her index finger and snapped it like a twig. Kyra screamed.

Alex tried to launch himself out of the chair. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” he roared. Didn’t they know they were supposed to threaten him for at least five minutes —describing their torture methods in detail— before they started breaking fingers? “Shit, Kyra, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Not an empty threat, then. Alex felt horrible. He had thought they would rough him up a bit more, or at least give him a warning before they did anything to her. Shit. These goons did not play fair.

“The real login to your phone, Alex.”

He breathed for a moment. There was nothing for it. “Fine,” he said. “But you’d be better off smashing it into a million pieces. That is not a normal phone.”

The Big Guy moved to break another of Kyra’s fingers.

“No! Wait! I said I’d do it, alright? I’ll do it!”

Nose held up Alex’s phone. “If this goes wrong, if you activate a fail safe, or anything weird happens, we will crush both of her hands. Got it?”

Alex swallowed hard and nodded.

He looked over at Kyra. She was curled around her injured hand, trying to protect it. Her face was pale and drawn, her breath coming in soft, shallow gasps. She looked over at him momentarily.

I’m sorry, Alex mouthed to her. She looked away.

Nose handed Alex the phone and watched as he placed his index finger along one side, his thumb over the sensor, and then held it in front of his face for a couple of seconds. The Lock Screen cleared and Alex’s phone, his real phone, came online.

“What did you do?” Nose asked. He hadn’t been able to detect how Alex had unlocked it.

Alex pointed along the side of the phone, “Hidden secondary fingerprint sensors along here. My thumb goes on the pad here. The phone also recognizes my face and eyes. All three have to match —fingerprints, facial recognition, eyes — in order for the phone to unlock.”

“That’s… intense,” Nose took the phone from him and began tapping and scrolling.

“Alex Rider...,” Nose said. He continued scrolling.

“How do you spell it?” Blue Eyes asked.

“R-I-D-E-R”

The man nodded and left the room.

Nose paused for a moment and looked up from the screen. “Who is Jack?” he asked.

“My... legal guardian,” Alex replied. He tried not to squirm. Watching Nose paw through his private information like that was its own form of torture.

“He manages your assets?”

“What assets?” Alex said shaking his head. “You think I’m a billionaire? I’m not even rich. Relatively speaking.” And Jack is a girl, but… whatever.

“Then how did you get this phone? Who’s protecting you?”

“No one.”

The lie came out by itself, automatically. Alex had been lying about MI6 for so long that it was second nature. Unfortunately, Nose didn’t believe it.

He signaled the Big One, and Kyra cried out as he reached down and grabbed her hand again.

“MI6!” Alex shouted before any more of her fingers could get snapped in half. “MI6 gave me the phone.”

Nose just stared at him for a moment. “Why would MI6 give you a phone?”

Alex stared right back, “It’s complicated.”

Chapter Text

As soon as the kid said MI6, Chen’s fingers began to itch. It was never a good sign. He set the phone down on the table and resisted the urge to wipe his hands off on his pants.

He wanted to believe that the kid was a liar, but... well, the phone itself was a fairly damning bit of evidence to the contrary. Equipment like that didn’t end up in the hands of a teenager. One of the apps had actually been a bug sweeper. Another looked like a listening device. He hadn’t had time to go through all of it, but still… to put that into a phone, and with the added security on top… It wasn’t something you could buy. Hell, it wasn’t even supposed to exist. It was custom work, crafted by the best in the business. No one got that shit except for high ranking, highly valuable, or highly skilled government assets.

So then, what did that make Alex?

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why did MI6 give you that phone?” The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but the picture they formed made no sense. He would bet good money that the phone had been built for a spy, but Alex was —what?— fifteen?

The boy hesitated and glanced over at the girl again. Buck threatened him with a glare and the barest twitch of his fingers.

“My uncle worked for them,” he said. “There were people trying to kill us. MI6 gave me the phone as a security measure.”

Chen considered this. He supposed it made sense, but there was still something he was missing. He couldn’t quite pin it down however. “Does MI6 know you’re here?” he asked. He kept his voice calm, nonchalant, when in reality he wanted to throw something.

“Yes.”

Of course they did. That was a stupid question.

“Do they know we’re here?”

“I don’t know,” Alex glanced over at the girl again. “They might.”

“What do you mean ‘they might’?”

“I was supposed to check in with someone a few hours ago. They’ll be worried that I haven’t called or texted or anything. And if they’ve tried to call me...,” Alex left it at that.

Suddenly Chen had a horrifying realization. He had plugged that phone into his computer —both of his computers— and uploaded at least some of its files.

He let out a string of expletives and ran out of the room. He could hear Buck yelling after him, but he didn’t have time for that now.

He sprinted down the hall to the control room. Doc was sitting at the desk, reading something on the computer screen.

Chen scrambled past him and ripped the ethernet cord from the laptop. Doc looked up, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

“Complications,” Chen took off his mask and ran his fingers through his hair. “MI6. Shit! They probably know everything.”

“What? How?”

“The kid’s phone,” Chen said. “According to him, it’s one of theirs. I plugged it into both computers. Uploaded files.”

“And?”

“And one of those files is bound to be a worm or a bot or something with spyware that will tell them everything. Both machines are probably compromised.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Chen stopped pulling at his hair for a second and looked up. “No,” he said.

“Then make sure,” Doc said, getting up from the chair. “Find out if you’re right and while you do, we’ll check in with Kev and get ready to move the targets.”

Just then, Buck rounded the corner into the room. “What the hell is going on?” he growled.

Doc grabbed Chen by the arm and sat him in the chair. Chen got to work.

“He says MI6 is onto us. We need a backup plan.”

“We have a backup plan,” said Buck.

“Killing everyone and running away is not a backup plan Buck. I believe I mentioned this before.”

Buck scowled. “Now is not the time to be a smartass. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you do with the girl?”

---

As soon as Nose left, the Big One grabbed Kyra by the arm and hauled her to the side of the room. “What are you doing?” she asked, panicked.

“Shut it,” he growled. He grabbed a chair, sat Kyra in it and secured her hands behind her. She gasped in pain as he jostled her broken finger, but otherwise stayed quiet. Once he was sure she couldn’t get out, he left the room, following Nose at a jog.

Immediately, Alex began pushing the paperclip out of his mouth with his tongue, and then reached up with his arms. The belt around his upper body restricted his movement, so he leaned his head forward to grab it.

“What are you doing?” Kyra hissed.

“Getting out of here,” he said with the paperclip clenched between his front teeth. It wouldn’t do to drop the stupid thing.

He snagged it with his right hand and got to work. He’d practiced this maneuver so many times with his uncle that he barely had to think about it. He bent the wire, inserted it into the keyhole, fiddled with it a bit and unlocked his handcuffs. He was free in less than 15 seconds. A few more seconds unbuckling the belts around his waist and chest, and he had freed himself from the chair completely. He ran over to Kyra and unlocked her cuffs.

She stood, cradling her injured hand. “So Houdini, is MI6 coming?”

“I don’t know, but we probably shouldn’t plan on it,” he said, trying not to sound bitter. “Let’s get out of here.”

They crept to the door. Alex peeked around the frame into the dimly lit hall. It was empty. He could hear voices coming from the left, so he turned right. “This way,” he whispered and then stopped. His phone was still sitting on the table where Nose had set it. He ran back and grabbed it, stuffing it into his pocket.

They rushed silently down the hall in their bare feet. After rounding a corner, they came to a staircase that led up to the main living area. Alex stopped.

“There’s a safe room,” he whispered, scanning the hall right and left. “Parker said you access it through the pantry—a hidden door in the back. Can you get in there? Call for help?”

Kyra nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll try to get the others free,” he said. “They’ll have to work twice as hard to stop us if we split up.” He pulled the phone from his pocket and positioned his fingers, then said, “Unlock, unlock, unlock.” A notification appeared on the screen. He held out the phone to Kyra. “This might help. You can use it without me now. I don’t know if it will be able to connect. It couldn’t earlier. They’re jamming the signals. If you can plug it into some kind of internet connection or antenna though,” he shrugged. “You would know better than me.”

Kyra’s mouth fell open, and then she closed it. “They broke. my. FINGER! Alex Rider,” she whispered furiously. “Because of YOU and your STUPID phone! And all you had to do was just tell it to unlock?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

Kyra’s glare could have melted glass. Alex took a step back, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry!” he said, “I didn’t know what they were going to do!”

She reached out and snatched the phone away. “You knew they were going to do something.”

“I,” Alex hesitated. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“IF we get out of this alive, I might forgive you.”

Alex nodded. “Be careful,” he said.

She huffed. “You too.”

He watched as she crept up the stairs. Too late, he realized he had no idea where the others were being held. He’d been unconscious.

He cursed himself for his own stupidity.

He thought about racing after Kyra to ask, but then he heard voices, indistinct at first, getting louder. He inched back to the corner of the hall and peered around it. The Big One and Blue Eyes were walking together, arguing, heading into the room he and Kyra had just left.

He had to lead them away from her.

There was a door to his left, visible from the corridor the men were in. Alex waited until he heard their exclamation at finding him and Kyra gone before he sprinted for the door and slammed it behind him.

The sound of pounding feet told him they had seen.

Alex found himself in a wide, dark room. Moonlight filtered in through large windows, and he could just make out the shadows of the pool table, air hockey table, couches, bar, and other furniture. He must have come through a back entrance into the game room.

He ran over to the pool table and groped along the wall until he found the cues. He had just enough time to lift one from the rack before the door opened.

The Big One stepped into the room, one hand holding a gun, the other reaching for the light switch on the wall. Alex hurled the stick like a javelin at the man’s face. He wasn’t too far from the door, and his aim was true. The pool cue struck the man square in his left eye and clattered to the floor.

The giant of a man yelled and doubled over, clutching at his face. He didn’t drop the gun unfortunately. Alex grabbed another cue from the rack and ran at him, swinging it like a bat. He was aiming for the Big One’s kneecaps, but Blue Eyes pushed into the room, tripping Alex and sending him sprawling to the floor. Alex dropped the stick as he fell. He hit the floor and immediately rolled under the air hockey table. Two bullets slammed into the tiles where he had been. Scrambling onto his hands and knees, Alex began crawling frantically toward the bar, hoping the darkness would save him from a bullet to the head or leg or whatever it was Blue Eyes was aiming for.

He hoped desperately that Kyra had made it to the safe room by now. He didn’t know how long his luck would hold.

The lights came on, blue and soft like an upscale nightclub. Alex flattened himself behind a couch, thinking furiously, searching for some kind of weapon or a way out. Ahead of him lay the bar, a large, solid stretch of expensive-looking wood. It would provide him some cover and maybe some tools. That was what was he needed.

He crawled on his elbows and knees to the end of the couch and then launched himself behind the bar. Another bullet slammed into the wood, barely missing him. He pulled himself into a cubby under the thick counter. Safe from bullets for the moment.

“The girl’s not in here,” Blue Eyes said. “Go find her. I’ll take care of this one.”

Alex listened as the Big One’s footsteps left the room. Kyra had to have made it into the safe room by now. She’d be okay. He hoped.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” the man said. “I did a little digging on you just now. It was very enlightening.”

Alex smiled. Fantastic. Blue Eyes was a talker. That would give him some time to breathe and figure out a way to stay alive. Drevin had been a talker. And Damien Cray. The crazy ones, they were all talkers.

“You have quite the track record, don’t you?” the man continued.

Alex ignored him. There, almost within reach, was a small fire extinguisher. It would have to do. He slid a few inches across the floor and reached for it.

“Everyone seems to want you. MI6, the CIA …Scorpia.”

Alex froze, his hand millimeters from the extinguisher. Where the hell had he gotten that intel? He closed his fingers around the tank of the fire extinguisher and lifted it silently from its hook underneath the counter.

“I have a contact in Scorpia,” Blue Eyes said, answering Alex’s question, “Sometimes I do a bit of freelance work for him. Turns out they’re very interested in getting their hands on you.”

Alex felt his heart sputter.

“Parker Roscoe and his billionaire pals don’t care about you,” the man continued. His voice was coming closer. “People like them never do. Come out here and help me. We’ll both make some money, and I’ll make sure Scorpia stays away.”

Alex leaned his head against the wall. “Yeah, no thanks,” he said, hoping the sound of his voice would cover the faint scratch of metal on metal as he pulled the pin from the handle of the extinguisher. “Scorpia’s pretty incompetent when it comes to killing me. I’m not too worried.” He wished that was the truth.

“I can see why they want you dead.” Blue Eyes voice was practically on top of him.

Alex squeezed farther underneath the bar, pointing the nozzle of the fire extinguisher toward the opening.

The man rounded the corner, gun at the ready, but couldn’t see Alex. He took another step forward, searching the shadows underneath the counter.

Alex sprayed the fire extinguisher in his face and sprang from his hiding spot. The gun went off wildly, missing Alex, as Blue Eyes clawed at his face and doubled over coughing. Alex hit him on the side of the head with the tank, and then sprayed him again in the face. He toppled sideways into the shelves of beer mugs and crystal tumblers, and lost his grip on the gun. It dropped to the ground in a cacophony of breaking glass. Blue Eyes roared and threw himself at Alex blindly, trying to pull him to the floor. Alex stepped to the side, avoiding the man’s reach, and brought the canister down again on the top of his head as hard as he could. Blue Eyes crumpled to the floor. Alex stepped gingerly over his body, retrieved the gun, and then leveled it at his head.

He moaned in pain, trying to push himself back up.

Alex considered shooting him. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger and this piece of filth would no longer be anyone’s problem. “Don’t move,” Alex said, his voice cold, “I have your gun, and I will kill you.”

A finger of ice slid down his spine as he realized he wasn’t lying. When had that changed?

Blue Eyes stopped moving.

Alex backed away from him into the room. “Now turn over. Slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The man complied with difficulty. His eyes were red, streaming, and unfocused. He was still having trouble breathing. Blood seeped from several cuts on his hands and face where he’d fallen into the shards of glass.

Alex would have to check his feet for embedded slivers as soon as he got a minute.

“What did you use to sedate me earlier?” he asked. “Do you have it on you?”

The man only stared at him, heaving with rage.

“Get it out,” Alex ordered. “And use it on yourself.”

“Like hell I will,” he croaked.

“Either that or I shoot you in the head. Which do you prefer?”

Blue eyes muttered something vile under his breath. He took an injection pen slowly from his vest pocket and with a final glare at Alex, stabbed it down into his own thigh. After a minute, he slumped back to the floor unconscious.

Alex let out a long breath and lowered the gun.

Chapter Text

Kyra tried to ignore her stupid hand as she hurried up the stairs, but the entire thing throbbed and sent out lightning bolts of pain that coursed all the way to her elbow every time she moved. She held it against her chest in an effort to keep the pain down to a minimum, but ...holy mother..., it was bad. She needed a few minutes to put a splint on it or something, but now was not the time. She put Alex’s stupid phone in her pocket and opened the door at the top of the landing, just a crack.

It was hard to believe that it had taken only three men to break through Parker’s security, and that they were now holding this entire house. Were there others? There had to be.

And where the hell was the staff?

She passed through the door and closed it softly behind her. The staircase had led into a back hallway of the house. The main lights were off up here, but it wasn’t completely dark. Ghostly blue nightlights dotted the baseboards at regular intervals so that she could at least see where she put her feet. A light from kitchen up ahead spilled into the corridor.

Kyra noted a bit of disarray to the space that suggested someone had been in here (probably Parker and Alex) when the intruders arrived. She passed an overturned chair, a mug left on the countertop, kitchen drawers hanging open, and most interestingly, two chef’s knives abandoned on the floor.

She pulled open the pantry door and slipped inside. Her hand hovered over the light switch for a moment, but she stopped herself. Better not to advertise her presence. Instead, she took Alex’s phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight.

Like everything else in this house, the pantry was oversized. It was L shaped, and Kyra had to wind her way past shelves and shelves full of snacks, beverages, canned goods, and cooking supplies. Turning the corner, she saw the back wall, and there at shoulder level, was a keypad with a fingerprint reader. Kyra had been hoping for a doorknob, but nothing was ever that easy. She swept the flashlight over the wall three times searching for something more, but there was nothing. Just a lonely, slightly glowing keypad and a door-shaped seam in the wall.

She took a deep breath, intending to give herself a few moments in which to think through this problem, when she heard the unmistakable bang! bang! of a gun. Her heart leapt into her throat. The sound was muffled. It must have come from downstairs. Moments later, a third bang! sounded.

Alex

Suffocating dread overwhelmed her as she imagined him bleeding out downstairs. She wanted to run to him but knew it was stupid.

She shook herself, took a breath, and refocused on the task in front of her, knowing the best way to help him was to get into this room and call the authorities. Still it was impossible to think. Panic was setting in. Every nerve in her body expected a gun to appear at her back any second now.

She took another breath and turned off the flashlight, tucking the phone into her pocket. Reaching out her good hand, she pressed the zero key four times. She didn’t expect it to work, and it didn’t. The keypad simply blinked a red light at her. She pressed her index finger to the scanner - another red light.

Kyra groaned. What good was a stupid safe room if no one could get in??

She wondered if she could set off some type of alarm simply by entering a wrong code several times in a row, so she tried it. She typed in random code after random code. As she was typing in the fifteenth set of numbers and thinking this had been a fool’s errand, she heard the pantry door open.

She froze and held her breath.

The sound of heavy boots on the tile told her that whoever had entered was not Alex. The lights flicked on, and she looked around her for somewhere to hide. There was nothing. She was trapped.

Kyra backed silently into the side wall and pulled out Alex’s phone. Alex had mentioned, and she thought she had glimpsed —yes, there it was— an app on the screen that said StunGun.

Please let this be an actual weapon.

It was. As soon as she tapped the icon, two small metal nodes popped up from the top of the phone and an instructions screen appeared with a single message.

‘StunGun will deploy automatically on contact. There is enough battery power for -14- seconds.’

She had trained with stun guns and tasers before. She could do this.

Crouching low and flat against the wall, she waited. It only took a few more seconds. The man’s boots were close, just on the other side of the corner. He paused, and then swung himself around the bend in one smooth motion, gun high, aimed straight in front of him. Kyra launched herself forward, staying low under his arms and jammed the phone into his crotch. The man spasmed violently, squeezing the trigger of his gun. It went off with a bang that made Kyra’s eardrums feel like they’d been punched. She counted the seconds in her mind as she pressed the phone harder into the man’s groin. He was big. She’d need to stun him for at least five seconds if she wanted to even have a chance of getting away. Ten would be better.

At seven seconds, he toppled sideways into the wall. Kyra scrambled out from under him as he then slid face-first to the floor, landing with a groan that made her wince. She dropped Alex’s phone and snatched the gun from the man’s rubbery fingers. Operating one-handed was stupidly inconvenient.

She paused a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Run or shoot? Those seemed to be her only options. Anything else required more than one hand.

He was beginning to stir already. Soon she wouldn’t have a choice.

Her heart pounded with indecision, making her hand throb until the pain of it seemed to fill her entire body.

Run? or Shoot?

She was injured and had lost the element of surprise. Running wouldn’t get her very far. He’d catch up to her before long. Him or one of the others. There really was only one option.

Could she do it?

She hated this man for what he had done. Kidnapping her and the others, hurting her, and now for forcing her into this choice. She stepped closer, aiming carefully at the back of his leg, and noticed —

Blood.

It was spreading rapidly underneath his body.

Dumbfounded, Kyra tried to make sense of what had happened. She watched his body, waiting for some kind of life to return. He had been moving only moments ago, she was sure of it.

The blood continued to pool around him. Kyra had to step back in order to keep her bare feet out of it. She tucked the gun under her useless arm and quickly picked up Alex’s phone from the floor. Checking to make sure the StunGun app was turned off, she stuffed it in her pocket.

He didn’t seem to be breathing anymore.

The gun had gone off. Her ears were still ringing painfully from that, so she hadn’t imagined it. She looked toward the safe room door. There, to the side of the keypad, was a dent where the bullet must have hit, and then —what?— Ricocheted?

It must have.

Kyra stood there, shocked, watching the blood spread across the tiles. There was so much of it. Pretty soon it would cover the floor from wall to wall, and Kyra would be forced to wade through it on her way out of the pantry.

The smell of it hit her then, and she gagged. No, there was no way she could step in that. She was going to get into this safe room if it killed her.

Setting the gun down on the floor, she turned her attention back to the door. How to get in?

Alex finished tying the laces of his new boots. The fit wasn’t too bad. They looked a bit ridiculous with his plaid pajama bottoms tucked into them, but he wasn’t about to strip Blue Eyes of his trousers too.

He considered the vest.

The multitude of pockets with their potentially useful contents was tempting. But he’d have to wrestle it off of the unconscious man, and that would take valuable time he didn’t have. The Big One had gone after Kyra.

Alex found a set of handcuffs in the man’s pocket, so he dragged him to the front of the bar and secured his wrists around a metal railing near the floor. That should hold him for a while after he woke up. Based on his own experience, he doubted the sedative would last more than an hour. Probably less given that the man was an adult and had at least thirty pounds on him.

He stood and grabbed the handgun from off of the bar and checked the clip. There were five bullets left. He hoped it would be enough.

Alex decided to take the staircase nearest him rather than doubling back the way he had come. The soft blue lighting of the game room gave way to darkness as he headed upstairs. He went slowly, listening for any noise that might clue him in to what was happening with Kyra. He wanted to race to her rescue, but he knew he was already too late for that. He doubted the Big One would kill her. She was far too valuable. So either she’d made it to the safe room, and she was fine or... she hadn’t.

In either case, he didn’t want to barrel head-first into the Big One or anyone else if he could help it. Better to take his time, stick to the shadows, and avoid detection.

The stairway led up to the massive hall in the center of the house. Alex had to cross it in order to get to the kitchen.

Cool moonlight flooded in through skylights high above him, giving the space a silvery glow. Alex passed plush, white couches and armchairs clustered in careful arrangements around a display of royal palms in the center of the room. A fountain burbled up from the trees. It was an opulent and stunningly beautiful space. He felt like an intruder sneaking through it with a gun in his hand. He skirted the shadowy edges of the room, grateful when he’d made it to the other side.

At last, he reached the corridor to the kitchen. He stopped just outside the reach of the lights and flattened himself into the wall, listening for footsteps, voices, anything. The space was disturbingly quiet. He peeked around the corner, scanning for movement. Again, he found nothing.

He ducked into the room and stayed low as he crept to the pantry door. The light was on inside. He didn’t think that was a good sign.

He opened the door a crack and glanced inside, gun at the ready. A quick scan from side to side told him he was still clear, so he stepped in, letting the door shut silently behind him.

He had only taken a few steps into the room when he noticed the body at the far end of it. The black boots told him everything he needed to know. Somehow, the Big One had been taken out. Was that dark shadow on the floor blood?

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Alex?”

Chapter Text

Alex lowered his gun and rushed toward the sound of her voice. “Kyra? What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, “I just…”

Alex got close enough to see around the corner. There was a lot of blood and he tried not to step in it, but soon realized he’d have to. He flicked the safety on the gun and slipped it into his pocket.

Kyra was curled into the far wall with only a few feet of floor space in front of her that wasn’t tainted. She looked a little ill.

Alex swallowed his disgust and stepped carefully into the mess, grateful beyond words that he had taken the time to steal Blue Eyes’ boots. The Big One was dead, that much was clear. It was a relief. Two down. One to go? Alex had only seen three, but could that really be all of them? There had to be more.

After traversing the mess, he slid down the wall to sit next to Kyra. They stared at the body in silence for a moment.

“What happened?” Alex asked.

“I… He… ,” she started, then took a deep breath. “I was trying to get into the stupid safe room, but it was locked.” She turned to him, “Who locks a safe room, Alex? Isn’t the whole point to get inside quickly?”

Alex shook his head, at a loss, “I…”

“Never mind,” she continued. “I was trying to get past the keypad, when that one came in. I stunned him with your phone when he came around the corner, but his gun went off. The bullet bounced off the door and,” she gestured broadly at the man’s dead body and pool of blood.

“Wow.”

“And now I’m stuck here and I still can’t get the stupid door open. I already tried all the stupid crap on your phone.” She handed it back to him. “The battery is practically dead now. It is within minutes of becoming a useless brick.”

Alex looked up at the keypad on the wall as he stuck the phone into his pocket. Carnaby had never actually mentioned a safe room, though that didn’t really mean anything. Carnaby hadn’t told him a lot of things. And then a thought occurred to him. “Do you think…?” he started, tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

“What?”

“Well, I’m just wondering if this really is a safe room. Maybe it’s just a safe?”

Kyra stared at him.

Alex snickered. Just a little.

She put her face in her knees and groaned. “Parker is an imbecile.”

“Parker is an alcoholic.”

“That too probably.”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “We need get out of here.”

“And go where? Hm?” Kyra asked. “I’m barefoot and one-handed. We can’t call for help. We don’t know where the actual safe room is, or if there even is one. They will find us and probably kill us.”

“So let’s go steal their boat.”

Kyra considered this, turning her head sideways to look at him. “Do you know where it is?”

“No,” he grimaced. “But I have an idea.”

She huffed. “Is this how they teach you to do things at MI6? Just stumble along blindly, hoping you don’t die?”

Now it was Alex’s turn to groan. The adrenaline from before had faded, and his head was pounding. Kyra’s question stirred up the anger that seemed to hide like quicksand just under the surface of his emotions. He pressed his hands into his eyes.

“No, they didn’t teach me to do this,” he said, trying not to explode. “They never taught me anything!”

Kyra frowned for a minute and then stood up.

“Come on,” she said, holding out her good hand to him. “Freak out later.”

Alex looked up at her and rolled his eyes, but he grabbed her hand and levered himself up to standing.

“Alex?,” she said, arching one eyebrow, “Where did you get those shoes?”

“Blue Eyes,” he said.

“What?”

“The one with blue eyes, I don’t know his name. He came after me, and I attacked him with a fire extinguisher. Then I made him sedate himself, and now he’s locked up in the game room. He might wake up soon though. I took his shoes and his gun.”

Kyra blinked at him and didn’t say anything.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, “It’s not that crazy. You just took out the Big One one-handed using a mobile phone. So… points to you.”

“That was luck,” she protested.

“Yeah, well, welcome to my life.”

Kyra opened her mouth to say something but then changed her mind.

“Here,” he said, “Climb on my back, I’ll get us through the blood. Also, we need to do something about your finger.”

After considering her bare feet for a moment, she said okay.

Alex grabbed and pocketed the other gun, then crouched down to make it easier for her. She looped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her fairly easily. She was a good deal shorter than him.

He stepped carefully, avoiding as much of the gore as possible, instinctively knowing this moment was going to live on in his nightmares for years.

Once they were safely on the other side, he let go and she slid to the floor, gingerly avoiding his bloody footprints.

They made a splint for her finger out of plastic cutlery and a strip from the bottom of Alex’s t-shirt. The break was bad.

“Sorry,” he said again.

Her face had gone tense and pale from the pain. She took a deep breath. “I’ll be alright,” she said.

Chen had been buried so deep in code that he hadn’t realized at first that the noises he’d heard from down the hall were gunshots. By the third BANG however, he was paying attention.

Was MI6 here already?

He scanned the security feeds. Everything looked quiet outside and at the entrances to the building, so he called up Doc and Buck on comms.

“I heard gunfire, what’s going on?”

Buck replied almost immediately, “The two targets escaped. Doc has the boy cornered. I’m looking for the girl.”

“You don’t know where she is?”

“No, check the interior cameras, see if you can spot her for me. She’s probably upstairs.”

Chen swiveled in his chair to face the interior security console. There were a handful of inside cameras, mostly in hallways and by the entrances. He switched between them, reviewing the past five minutes footage in high speed. Then, he saw her.

“Buck, she went in the kitchen.”

“Copy that. Have we been compromised?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Keep looking. Update me when you know.”

“Got it.”

He busied himself in the search once more, occasionally checking the outside cameras for any activity.

Minutes passed. Chen found what he was looking for. It was buried deep, but it was there. Several files had been sent from his computer out into the void before he had disconnected the ethernet cord.

That was it then… the whole thing had gone to shit.

They had to get out of here.

Chen took another two minutes to read the messages between Doc and his contact. They’d been chatting about the kid— Alex Rider. Doc’s guy had heard of the boy apparently, and he was interested. Some higher ups in something called Scorpia wanted him —alive—, and they were willing to pay. Normally, Chen would have wondered what a teenager could do to earn that kind of attention. Now, he thought he could make a pretty good guess. It was just bad luck they’d stumbled across him on this simple operation. Now everything had become... complicated.

Hopefully he’d get to shoot the kid before they left. Somewhere that didn’t kill him. He wanted the money from Scorpia.

He slammed his laptop shut and pressed the button on his earpiece.

“Buck, we’ve been compromised. Time for plan B.”

He waited for a response, but heard nothing.

“Buck do you copy? …Doc?”

Still nothing. He switched channels. “Kev, this is Chen. What’s your status?”

“We’re ready on this end. Are we moving the targets?”

“I can’t reach Buck or Doc. Have you seen them?”

“No.”

“Shit. Yes, move the targets onto the boat. We need to get out of here.”
“What happened?”

“We’ve been compromised. Alex is some kind of mole for MI6. Last I heard, he had escaped with one of the girls, and Doc and Buck were retrieving them. I’m going to rig the control room to blow, then find Doc and Buck. You get the targets onboard. Keep an eye out for our runaways. I don’t think they can do much. Outside comms are still down, and you’ve taken care of the boats and copter. This Alex kid is a problem, but if we can catch him alive, there’s an interested buyer. Worst case scenario, we leave him and the girl on the island and get the hell out of here with four targets instead of six. We need to be gone in thirty minutes.”

“Copy.”

Thirty minutes was probably pushing it, but he didn’t think they’d be able to move any faster. Not without leaving everything. Chen had already started unpacking his explosives. It took ten minutes to properly rig the room, but he wasn’t taking chances with that. Every shred of evidence needed to disappear when they left the island. He armed the transceiver, grabbed his rifle, and left the room, locking the door behind him.

He checked the staff gym before heading down the hall. The targets were gone, off to the boat with Sondra and Kev, he assumed.

He found Doc in the game room, handcuffed to the bar and unconscious.

Chen rubbed his forehead and wished Buck would have just shot the little creep when he’d had the chance. Alex Rider was clearly more than a problem, he was a fucking catastrophe. Doc looked like he’d been run over by a car, but at least he was breathing. Also, his shoes were gone, and his pistol.

He pushed the button on his earpiece. “Kev what’s your status?”

“Just finished getting the targets into the hold. They’ll be secure in a couple minutes.”

“Leave them with Sondra. Doc is down and we should assume that Alex Rider is armed. Buck is probably down too. I’m going to check the kitchen for him next. Find an ambush spot and watch the boat. Alex and the girl are going to try to get to their friends. Shoot them if you have to, but we want them alive.”

“Copy.”

Chen removed the handcuffs from around Doc’s wrists and tried to wake him up, but the man wouldn’t stir. He’d been sedated.

Chen added ‘vindictive little bastard’ to the mental list of things he knew about the boy.

“I think we’ve got to try and find the others,” Alex said. “See if we can get them free, and then go from there.”

Kyra nodded, “Lead the way.”

“Stay close and quiet. Don’t move unless I give you the all clear, okay? I don’t know how many more of them there are.”

“I only saw three.”

“Me too, but there’s got to be more. It doesn’t make sense that there would only be three.”

Kyra nodded in agreement, though she’d been desperately hoping otherwise. The thought of sneaking around while an unknown number of attackers searched for them made her knees shake. It was Point Blanc all over again. Alex looked perfectly calm though, and entirely too comfortable with that gun in his hand. Like he knew exactly how to use it. And like… maybe he had.

Was he so used to this kind of thing by now that it didn’t phase him? She supposed so.

He’d told her just this morning about going on multiple missions for MI6 and others, but the reality of it hadn’t quite hit her until this moment. This was what he’d been doing.

She thought back to her flippant comments about Alex’s paranoia, how they didn’t pay him to fret, and felt suddenly, incredibly naive. Well, she had been naive, and Alex had been either too kind to argue with her, or too trusting because she’d played her billionaire card. She’d been such a fool.

They took a circuitous route back downstairs, sticking to the shadows as much as possible and approaching the staff gym from the opposite direction Kyra had come before. The door was hanging open, and they could tell it was empty before they even got there. The whole staff wing seemed deserted. They went back the way they’d come and ducked into the shadows.

“What now?” Alex whispered.

Kyra shrugged helplessly. “They barely spoke, and they definitely never mentioned their plans. I have no idea. But maybe we need to go looking for a boat? Alex, how are we going to get them out if they’re on a boat?”

“Just focus on one problem at a time. We have to find them first,” Alex said. “There’s only one dock on the island, at least according to the map Carnaby showed me. It’s the one next to the boathouse. It’s possible they could have moored somewhere else, but not likely. Not if they wanted to be able to load a bunch of kidnapped teenagers quickly.”

Kyra nodded in agreement.

“The boathouse then,” he said. “But they’ll be watching. We’ll need a distraction. Come on.”

Chapter Text

Shit.

Buck was dead.

Chen stared at the body for a minute and the bloody footprints all over the floor of the pantry. Alex Rider had shot Buck. Chen had no idea how because the man was a trained fighter and had survived in multiple combat zones in the Middle East and elsewhere. But the boy had killed him, and then... danced through his blood?

Chen was seriously disturbed. Was he dealing with a teenaged psychopath?

He needed to go back for Doc before the boy decided to finish him off as well. He moved cautiously down the hallway and gripped his gun a little tighter. He got the feeling the boy would be after him next, and he wasn’t at all sure anymore if he’d win that fight.

Alex and Kyra only made it a few steps down the darkened corridor when Alex heard something. He signaled to Kyra and they flattened themselves to the wall. He held his breath.

There was an irregular thumping coming from behind them and across the corridor. They looked at each other.

“Could it be the staff?” Kyra whispered. “They’ve got to be in one of these rooms. Why didn’t we think of them earlier?”

Kyra was right. The staff had to be around here somewhere. Alex crossed the hallway and started listening at the doors. At the second one, he heard the thumping again. He tried the door knob. “It’s locked,” he said. They scanned the hall, looking for something to help them open the door. Kyra ran off and returned a few moments later awkwardly carrying a large fire extinguisher.

“Such useful things,” Alex said with a smile and took it from her. He gave her the gun in return. “Keep watch, okay?”

She nodded.

Alex slammed the extinguisher down on the knob three times before it broke and he was able to open the door. “Hello?” he called into the room as he reached for the light switch. Several muffled cries came at him from the dark. His fingers brushed the switch, and he flipped it on. Bright white fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, and Alex found himself staring at the house staff as they blinked in the sudden glare.

They were bound and gagged with zip ties and duct tape, sitting on the floor with their backs against the shelves that filled the room. Three men and two women. Alex recognized Andrew and the pilot, whose name he vaguely remembered was Mark. The three others looked familiar from glimpses he’d seen of them around the estate, but he didn’t know their names.

Alex put a finger to his lips and ran over to them. “Quiet!” They fell silent, and he began pulling the duct tape off of their mouths. He looked at the zip ties. “Do any of you know where there’s a knife or scissors or anything? I can’t get these off.”

“There should be a box cutter in this room somewhere,” Andrew said. “Close to the door.”

Alex found it on a top shelf and cut away the zip ties around Andrew’s feet and hands.

“Here,” Alex said, handing over the box cutter. “I need to go see if we’ve attracted visitors.”

“What’s going on?” Andrew asked.

“Later, just get everyone free.” Alex slipped out the door and found Kyra. She was perched at the end of the corridor peeking around the corner towards the staff gym and game room entrance at the far end.

“I saw him,” she whispered, handing the gun back. “The third one. He went into that room at the far end of the hall a couple minutes ago.”

“The game room,” Alex said. “That’s where I left Blue Eyes. Do you think he heard us?”

“Yes, we have to get out of here.”

Alex nodded, and he and Kyra ran back to the storage room. The staff had all been freed and were in various states of rubbing life back into their limbs and trying, shakily, to stand up.

“Can you all walk?” Alex asked. “Are any of you hurt?”

“No, we’re alright. Where are Mrs. Roscoe and the other kids?” Andrew asked.

“We haven’t seen Mrs. Roscoe,” Kyra replied.

“The others have been kidnaped,” Alex added. “We have to get out of here now. This room is a death trap if anyone finds us.”

“Do you want me to take that?” Mark asked, gesturing to the gun in Alex’s hand. “I have some weapons training.”

Alex almost rolled his eyes, but thought better of it. “How much?” he asked.

“Three years in the United States Army,” Mark replied.

Alex pulled the other gun out from his pocket and handed it over. Mark raised an eyebrow but then checked the clip and flicked off the safety.

“You’re in charge of watching our backs,” Alex said.

Mark considered Alex for a moment, clearly not prepared to take orders from a fifteen year old in a combat situation. Alex could almost see his internal battle and was preparing himself to give in to the man just so they could leave, but then Mark nodded.

Alex peeked out the door to check the corridor. Nose had been close by, presumably collecting Blue Eyes, so he figured their group would be safe enough heading the opposite direction. “Let’s go,” he said.

He was stepping out into the hallway when the building roared and shattered around him in a blast of heat, slamming him against the door frame.

Chen had seen a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as he entered the game room and heard several loud bangs. He didn’t know what the brats were doing, but he figured if they were occupied somewhere else for a few minutes, that would work in his favor. Especially since they were so close to the control room.

He needed to get Doc out. Then he’d detonate the explosives he’d left behind. That would push them out of the building and straight into his hands.

Chen pressed the button on his earpiece. “Kev, I’m about to flush out the rats. Position yourself by the north exit and let’s catch them as they come out.”
“Copy. Give me two minutes.”

Doc’s eyes were open. The sedative was wearing off. He was only half awake, but half was better than nothing, and Chen was able to get him to his feet. “Where’s the boy?” he asked groggily as Chen practically carried him through the glass doors out onto the pool deck.

“Inside,” Chen said. He lowered the man onto a lounge chair.

“Did you get him?”

“Not yet. He killed Buck.”

Doc swore.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get him. And then we’ll sell him to Scorpia.”

“He’ll wish he’d never been born,” Doc growled.

Chen pulled his rifle from his back and his pistol from his hip. “Sit tight,” he said to Doc, handing him the smaller gun, “and shoot anything that comes your way.” Then he set off at a jog to the north side of the house. On his way there, he pressed the detonator and felt the ground rumble as the control room exploded in a ball of flame.

The next thing Alex knew, he was laying on the floor, coughing, opening his eyes. Shit, he remembered this feeling from Point Blanc— lungs burning, muscles screaming, head pounding, ears ringing. Waking up to a building that had been ripped apart. He’d been caught in another explosion.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Someone’s face was hovering over his. He thought it was Kyra, and she was saying something, but her voice was distant, muffled. He couldn’t understand her.

Another face appeared. The gardener? He pulled on Alex’s arms to try to get him to sit up, but Alex couldn’t remember how to make his body cooperate like that. Really, he just wanted to go back to sleep, but there was a nagging in his brain that wouldn’t let him. There was something important he had to do…

Kyra wanted to fall over and sob, but she had to keep it together. The group had mostly been sheltered from the explosion by the walls of the storage room. But not Alex…

He didn’t look good.

She bent over his face, shaking him, trying to get him to wake up and talk to her. He’d opened his eyes, but otherwise wasn’t responding.

The building was on fire. They had to get out.

Mark took charge. “Hugh,” he said to the gardener, “Can you get the boy? We have to go.”

Hugh walked over to Alex and tried to help him stand up, but Alex couldn’t do it, so he heaved him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“What about Mrs. Roscoe?” Andrew said.

“Can you get to her? You and Ruby?” Mark asked. He handed Andrew his gun.

Andrew nodded as he accepted it, and he and the housekeeper took off down the hall.

Mark picked up Alex’s gun from the floor. “Come on,” he said. He led them down the hallway toward the nearest exit on the side of the building. Smoke and dust filled the air, burning her lungs with every breath. Kyra could feel heat from the flames at their backs, and she wondered why the sprinklers hadn’t turned on. She and the other woman followed behind Mark and Hugh, who was carrying Alex. Her heart clenched.

Alex.

She needed him to be okay. He was her only friend, and she didn’t think she could survive losing her only friend. And how the hell were they all going to get out of this mess? One problem at a time, she reminded herself. Just get out of the building that is currently on fire.

At least Mark seemed to know what he was doing. They reached the exit, and he pushed the door open, scanning for trouble. Then he stepped out and held it wide. Hugh carried Alex outside, and Kyra and the other woman followed. She’d said her name, but now Kyra couldn’t remember, and she felt bad about that. It was a dumb thing to worry about under the circumstances, but it was better than worrying about Alex.

The night air was cool and fresh, and Kyra breathed it in gratefully. The full moon hung like a bright lantern in the sky, making the ocean shine all around them. Everything seemed to be glowing silvery white, and she could see the grounds perfectly. Which meant whoever was out looking for them would be able to see them perfectly too. She turned around to ask Mark where they should go and screamed.

Nose was there behind the pilot, and was pointing a rifle at them. “Drop the gun,” he ordered. Mark looked past Kyra’s shoulder, and she turned to see a second gunman with a rifle.

“Kev?” Mark said, “What the hell is going on?”

“Drop the gun Mark,” Kev said. “You’re expendable.”

Mark looked like he wanted to throw up, but he tossed his gun away. It landed with a thud into the sandy dirt.

“Everyone get on your knees and put your hands on your heads!” Nose yelled, “And set the boy down. Is he dead?”

Silence followed. They didn’t have an answer; none of them were quite sure.

“No, but I kind of wish I was,” Alex groaned.

Kyra sobbed with relief, pressing the back of her hand to her lips to muffle the sound. Bless him and his stupid mouth, she thought.

Hugh set Alex down as gently as he could onto the walkway, and Alex promptly rolled over and threw up into the bushes.

“Get down, all of you!” Kev yelled.

Kyra sank to her knees with the rest of them and put her hands on her head. She could feel the panic now —dread and fear combining to form a jabberwock in her chest that clawed at her and stole her breath away. They weren’t going to survive this. Not this time.

Kev kept his gun trained on them, while Nose stepped up to Kyra and pulled her hands behind her, snapping a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. She focused on her breathing, and blinked the tears away. Her chest throbbed and her eyes burned, but she refused to cry.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her up to her feet, then dragged her down the path toward the boathouse. She looked down as she passed Alex. He was laying on his back with his eyes closed, holding his head in his hands, in too much pain to even move.

Nose hauled her down the path a few more yards and then pushed her to her knees. “Stay here,” he growled and went back.

Alex hadn’t moved. Nose nudged him hard in the ribs with the toe of his boot, and Alex gasped in pain. “Get up,” he ordered. “Or I will shoot every one of these people in the head.”

Alex used his arms to push himself upward, hissing in pain, and Kyra could tell he wasn’t going to make it. Halfway up, he turned and vomited into the bushes again and collapsed back onto the ground.

Nose bent down, grabbed him by his hair, and pulled him up. Alex screamed and latched onto the man’s hand, trying to relieve the pressure on his scalp.

“No!” Kyra screamed, unable to keep her tears at bay. “Stop! Please!”

Nose ignored her and pulled until Alex was kneeling, then tipped his head back toward the sky. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, breathing hard through the pain. Kyra wanted to crawl under a rock. She couldn’t handle it. It was too awful.

Nose bent down close to Alex’s face.

“I really want to kill you,” he said, “but Scorpia wants you alive, presumably so that they can kill you. I can’t say I blame them. I hope they do it slowly. I’m going to wrap you and your girlfriend up like Christmas presents. Then I’ll find out how much you’re worth. You better hope it’s a lot Rider, or Doc and I might just keep you for ourselves.”

Now Kyra felt like throwing up.

Alex laughed.

It was soft and short and full of scorn, but it was laughter. Kyra held her breath, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

“You think you can play Scorpia’s games?” Alex asked, his voice strained. “You don’t even have a clue what they’re capable of, do you? They’re so far out of your league you probably didn’t even know they existed before tonight.”

“Shut up,” Nose said, shaking him.

“Ow, fuck! I’m doing you a favor, man,” Alex continued, gasping. “I hope you guys didn’t tell them where you are or what you’ve been doing tonight. They’ll smell blood in the water. Blood and money. They’ll smell it, and they’ll come, and the first one to die will be you.”

He said it with absolute certainty. It sent a chill through Kyra’s veins.

“I told you to shut up!” Nose must have felt it too because he was starting to lose it.

“You told them didn’t you?” Alex laughed weakly. “Oh man. How long has it been? An hour? Two hours? If I were you, I’d start running now. If you leave me and the others here, you might even escape. We’re the ones they want.”

“You’re lying. You think I’m that stupid?”

“I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with.” Alex cried out as Nose tightened his grip on his hair, but then he kept talking. “They will mow you down without a second thought. They killed my parents. They killed my uncle. And then they tried to kill me. They’ve tried like, three times. Or was it four? —Fuck, my head hurts—. Look, it’s personal with them, and they’re not going to haggle with some lowlife nobody to get me. They’re just going to shoot you in the head.”

“I don’t believe you,” Nose growled.

“You want proof? You saw the phone MI6 gave me. If that’s not enough, then look at my chest. Scorpia sent a sniper after me five months ago and shot me in broad daylight right outside MI6 headquarters in the middle of London. They don’t mess around.”

Nose stood there. Kyra could practically see his brain short-circuiting.

“Here, shit, I can’t even… Help me stand up, and I’ll show you.” Alex was trying to get his feet underneath him and having trouble.

Nose let go of his hair.

And then Alex seemed to explode to his feet. Suddenly, one leg was kicking Nose in the groin, one hand pulling him forward by the wrist, while Alex’s other hand struck him hard in the middle of his face, snapping his head back. In less time than it took to blink, Nose was on the ground. Alex grabbed the man’s rifle, hit him hard in the head with it, and pointed it straight at Kev.

“Drop your weapon,” he said.

They were all so stunned that Kyra could suddenly hear the waves crashing on the sand. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, and she was having trouble making sense of what she’d just seen. It had happened so fast...

Chapter Text

“I don’t mess around either,” Alex warned.

He held the rifle steady through sheer force of will. The edges of his vision were still fuzzy, and his legs were threatening to give out. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him upright.

He hadn’t expected his little act to work so well, but Nose had clearly been an amateur. Completely underprepared for the sort of trouble he could dish out.

It hadn’t been much of an act really. Just a slight exaggeration of the truth. Any second now, he was going to lose whatever was left in his stomach. Also, his head felt like it was going to explode, and his scalp was so bruised it hurt to think. He needed to get this situation under control before he collapsed.

Kev lowered his gun and set it on the ground, then held up his hands in surrender.

“Mark,” Alex said, “Take care of him please.”

Mark walked over to Kev and deftly patted him down, removing the man’s earpiece and a pistol. Then he pulled a set of handcuffs off of Kev’s belt and secured his wrists behind his back.

Alex lowered the rifle and felt himself swaying. Hugh stepped over and caught him before he fell. “Here kid,” he said, helping him sit on the ground.

“Thanks.” Alex wanted so badly to just lie down and close his eyes, but this wasn’t done yet. Kyra stumbled over and knelt down in front of his face. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back.

“Probably,” he said, and fished his paper clip out of his pocket. “Pretty sure I’ve got a concussion. And my side hurts. Maybe a bruised rib. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Here, let me...” he held up the paper clip.

She turned her back to him and he unlocked the handcuffs. “Thanks,” she said, wiping the tear tracks from her face before she turned back around.

Alex tucked the paper clip back into his pocket as Mark dragged Kev over by the arm. He’d picked up Kev’s rifle and slung it across his back. “What should we do with this one?” he asked.

“Torture him for information.”

The words came out of his mouth easily, casually, as if he said them all the time. It was pretty ridiculous, but he wanted Kev to believe it.

It was unnerving and slightly comical that everyone else believed him too. Even Kyra. Alex was pretty sure Mark turned a little green, though it was hard to tell in the moonlight.

“So Kev,” Alex said, “where are my friends?”

Kev stared at him sullenly, but he knew he’d been beat, and he didn’t want to be tortured.

Alex couldn’t blame him. Being tortured sucked.

“There’s a semi-submersible moored at the dock. They’re inside.”

Alex nodded and immediately regretted it when his vision began to swim again.

He blinked and waited for things to settle down a bit. “And who’s guarding them?”

“Sondra.”

Alex didn’t know who Sondra was, but it didn’t really matter. Mark probably knew.

“So that’s Sondra, you, this guy,” Alex gestured to probably-not-dead Nose with his boot, “the big guy, and the one with blue eyes. Five of you. Is there anyone else involved in this poorly executed night of horrors?”

Kev shook his head.

“It’s an important question Kev, you’re sure about that?” Alex warned.

“There were five of us,” he growled.

“Mark how about you shoot him in the foot so we can make sure he’s telling the truth.”

“Shit! I promise, it’s just five!”

Alex made a show of it, sucking on his teeth for a minute, considering. “Alright,” he said, still not sure he could trust the man’s answer. He wasn’t used to being on this end of things, and he didn’t possess the skillset for it. Malagosto’s interrogation class had been mostly theoretical, and also horrifying. Alex wasn’t willing to break out any of the tricks the good Doctor had written about so lovingly in his book.

He sighed and rolled his neck, which made the earth tilt. Bad idea, he thought, pushing himself back upright with his arm. Even that little bit of effort was almost enough to flatten him.

“Okay,” he said finally. “We’ve got two more to deal with then. Blue Eyes and Sondra.” He was definitely wishing he’d shot Blue Eyes when he’d had the chance. A leg wound would have sufficed, anything to keep from having to deal with the man twice in one night. And yet, staring up at Kev, he knew he wouldn’t have done it even if he’d known, just like he wasn’t going to do it now to Kev. He picked up the set of handcuffs he’d taken off Kyra and tossed them to Mark. “Go lock him to a tree or something. Then we’ll come up with a plan.”

Mark nodded briskly and marched Kev off into the bushes.

A sledgehammer of nausea and vertigo hit Alex so hard that he fell over onto the ground, groaning. Kyra must have caught him because he landed gently, laying his sore head on the paving stones. His stomach heaved and someone helped him roll over into the bushes again and then lay back down. This was it. He had nothing left. The thought of getting up again to do anything — ever — made him want to die.

Kyra was there hovering over him again. She looked so scared. He wanted badly to help, but he couldn’t. His body wasn’t listening to him anymore.

“Kyra,” he said, “I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Shit.

“It’s okay,” she said grabbing his hand and wiping the tears from her face. She was trying not to cry. “We’ll figure out the rest.”

“If Scorpia comes, just... remind them that you’re a potential client. Threaten to go to their competitors next time you need someone assassinated. They like to keep billionaires happy.”

“Shit, Alex,” she exhaled shakily. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Maybe just let them have me. I’m so tired.” And he was. He was so tired of all of it. Maybe it would be better on the other side. Maybe there was some kind of afterlife where he’d get to see his parents and Ian again. And nobody would be trying to shoot him or hurt his friends or kill millions of innocent people.

Kyra let out a sob, and Alex closed his eyes, needing the sky to stop spinning. Oblivion was pulling at him, trying to drag him away. He didn’t think he could resist it much longer.

“Alex?” She squeezed his hand.

He managed to grunt at her a little.

“Don’t leave me okay? I mean, don’t die on me,” she sobbed again, “You’re my only friend.”

“Not true,” he said. His mouth was dry. The words were sticking to his tongue. He hoped she could still understand him. “Parker and the others... You have to save them.”

She sniffed. She didn’t speak for a moment. Sleep tugged at him, pulling him down into the ground. He felt himself starting to drift.

“Okay,” she said, sounding more like herself. “Okay. Just... don’t die. Promise me you won’t die.”

He forced a bit of air through his vocal cords in agreement and then let the darkness swallow him.

The last thing he felt was Kyra’s hand in his, tethering him, sending warmth into the void.

Tulip looked up from her computer as Smithers came into her office. He closed the door behind him. He was agitated.

“What is it?”

“It’s Alex, he’s in trouble.”

She put her pen down and got up from her desk. “Come on,” she said, heading to Blunt’s office.

Alan looked up as they entered and closed the door behind them. “I’ll get back to you,” he said quietly and hung up the phone. “Report.”

Tulip looked to Smithers.

“Something’s wrong with Alex. I received a transmission this morning from his phone. Someone’s tried to access it and download his data.”

“What does that mean?” Blunt asked.

“It looks like he’s been compromised.”

“He’s not on a mission,” Blunt said.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean one of his enemies hasn’t caught up with him. The transmission included several other files from the computer it was connected to,” Derek stopped. “Let me back up a bit— one of the security measures I installed on the phone was a bot that would infect any unauthorized computer that connected to it. The bot spies on the computer and sends me the files. I’m still trying to make sense of all the data I received, but it looks like whoever owned the computer was reaching out to Scorpia. I didn’t get the whole conversation, the transmissions ended suddenly twenty minutes ago, but that was where it was trending.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

Derek blinked at Blunt for a moment. “Yes, of course. The phone went straight to voicemail. It’s been disconnected from the network somehow.”

Alan nodded slowly and then turned to Tulip. “What do you think?”

She wanted to send in the Royal Navy immediately to rescue the boy, but she knew Blunt wouldn’t respond well to her motherly instincts. “I think we have to do something. At the very least, we need to find out what’s going on. Scorpia wants Alex dead.” More than dead. They wanted revenge, which meant they wanted Alex to suffer. She couldn’t let that happen to him. She’d never forgive herself.

Alan drummed his fingers on his desk, thinking. He looked up at her. “I’ll leave it in your hands then. If he’s in danger, pull him out.”

Tulip held in the sigh of relief that rose up in her. She nodded curtly and left the office. Smithers followed. He looked relieved as well.

“I want eyes on Parker’s island now. If our satellite is too far away, call in as many favors as you need to get something.” Smithers headed off to his workroom.

She stepped into the bullpen. Crawley was bent over a computer monitor talking with one of the analysts. “John,” she said, and he looked up. “Who do we have in Turks & Caicos?”

He frowned. “No one at the moment.”

Damn, that’s what she’d thought. “Anyone close by?”

“What do we need?”

“Follow me.”

They went back to her office. Once the door was closed, she said, “It’s Alex. He’s at Parker Roscoe’s mansion and something’s happened. Who can we send to extract him?”

“I think our closest option is in Jamaica on a joint training exercise. Let me find out for sure. It’s also possible the Americans may have people nearby.”

Tulip nodded. “I’ll get Joe Byrne on the phone.”

“It’s the middle of the night there,” John pointed out.

“Scorpia may have a head start on us.”

“Shit.”

The fire spread. Kyra could see flames licking through the downstairs windows, pushing up into the levels above. Orange light spilled out into the darkness, and the sky began to fill with smoke. Had the intruders disabled the sprinklers? Thank God she and Alex had gotten the staff out. She hoped Gigi and the others were out by now too.

Sunrise was still an hour or two away. It was hard to believe that less than 24 hours had passed since she and Alex had jumped off the second story pool. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Kyra sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her injured hand, then took a deep breath. She squeezed Alex’s hand one more time and let go. He was still breathing. That’s what was important.

Parker and the others… You have to save them.

She looked up to see Mark, Hugh, and the other woman — Julie, she remembered gratefully — standing close by. Mark had picked up the other rifle and now had both of them slung over his back. Julie was holding a pistol. Hugh had chosen to remain unarmed.

“We have to find the others and get off of this island,” Julie said. They were all worried about Scorpia now. Whoever they were.

Gunshots sounded on the other side of the house.

“I’ll go see,” Mark said. “Give me five minutes. If I’m not back, go down to the dock and get the kids out without me. I don’t think Sondra will give us much trouble when she learns Kev and the rest of them have been taken out.”

Julie and Hugh nodded in agreement.

He unslung one of his rifles and handed it to Hugh, who took it reluctantly. Mark thumped him on the shoulder, then turned and started down the path towards the pool.

“Let’s get farther away from the house,” Hugh said. “I don’t like how close we are to the flames.”

Kyra agreed with him. The fire was spreading alarmingly fast, and the heat was becoming uncomfortable.

Hugh handed the rifle to Julie, and then picked Alex up and draped him over his shoulders again. They followed the path down toward the boathouse, but then veered onto the beach rather than the dock. Hugh set Alex down on the sand, gently positioning his head and limbs. “I’ll go back and wait for Mark,” he said, heading up the path.

Kyra and Julie sat on the sand next to Alex, watching the house burn and listening to the roar of the flames. Soon bits of ash began drifting down on them from the sky like hellish snowflakes, and the light of the fire was so bright, it blotted out the moon and stars.

Minutes ticked by and Kyra started to panic. Where were Mark and Hugh? Was Scorpia coming for them? Were Parker and the others still okay just hanging out in a boat on the dock? What if Sondra decided to leave?

She didn’t want to leave Alex, but she had to do something before it was too late. “Can you stay here with him?” she asked Julie.

“What are you going to do?”

“We have to get the other kids off the boat.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Kyra looked at Alex. She hated to leave him by himself, but she couldn’t just sit here doing nothing. The others needed her, and she was sure he’d understand. With any luck, Hugh would be back in the next couple of minutes to sit with him.

She reached into Alex’s pocket for his phone. He’d told her how to make it self-destruct when they’d been planning to create a distraction. She hoped she remembered how to do it.

Chapter Text

Sondra paced in the dank confines of the semi-submersible. It was miserably damp and smelled like rust and piss. She wished they’d been able to use something else, something more comfortable and less smelly, but they’d needed stealth. No one did stealth better than Caribbean drug runners, so they’d used one of their boats. Most of it sat underwater. Only a small sliver of windshield and the hatch extended above the surface.

She was in the compartment in the middle of the boat near the helm and could only walk about three steps before she either had to duck her head or turn around, so she just kept turning.

She needed a cigarette. This night was tearing her nerves to shreds. She’d done her part. It was all supposed to have been easy. Drug the old lady, tie up the staff, help Kev with the boats and helicopter, babysit a few teenagers while their parents wired the money, escape.

Now she was stuck on this nasty boat waiting. And she’d been waiting for a long, long time. Too long. Kev had said MI6 was coming, which was why they’d moved the kids to the boat. Well, four of them. Apparently two had escaped. And then Kev had gone off to get the stragglers and hadn’t come back. And what if he never came back?

She didn’t know how to drive this ridiculous boat. All the other boats had been sabotaged in some way to keep anyone from escaping or following them. And if she did take off on her own, she had no idea where to go or what to do with four angry billionaire teenagers. It was such a mess.

She looked again through the slit of windshield in front of her, hoping Kev was coming down the dock, and noticed instead an orange glow on the horizon and flames licking up the roof of the house. That had not been part of the plan.

“No,” she said, suddenly horrified. She’d left Mrs. Roscoe and the staff incapacitated and trapped in the building. She hadn’t wanted to kill them. She wasn’t a murderer.

She turned and scrambled up the short ladder to the hatch above and unlocked it, pushing it open with a screech of metal on metal.

“Oh hell,” she breathed. The house was a mass of flames. Ash was beginning to rain down from the sky. It was too late. Whoever had been in there was gone.

Terror gripped her chest. She didn’t know what had happened, but she knew it was going to be very bad for her.

Unless…

There had to be options. She needed to think. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and considered the four teenagers on the boat with her. She inhaled slowly, allowing her mind to sift through the possibilities.

Getting the money was no longer an option. Escape was the most important thing now. She would jettison the baggage and get away. She’d driven boats before. This one couldn’t be that different.

She stubbed out her cigarette and went back down the hatch, closing it behind her. She pulled out her gun, then ducked into the hold, turning on the light as she walked in.

“All of you are getting off,” she said. The teens blinked at her. They were bound hand and foot with their mouths taped shut.

They didn’t know what to make of it, she could tell. They watched her warily as she pulled her lighter from her pocket.

“This is what’s going to happen,” she told them. “I’m going to cut you loose, and you’re going to get off my boat. And if you don’t get off my boat, I’ll shoot you. Got it?”

They nodded hesitantly, glancing at each other.

“Just be glad I’m not taking you with me.”

She started with Parker, trained the gun on him, and used her lighter to melt a hole in the zip tie around his ankles. She couldn’t do anything about the handcuffs — Kev hadn’t given her the key — but she was pretty sure Parker would be able to get out anyway. He stood up slowly, bracing his shoulder against the wall, and reached for the tape on his mouth.

“Oh, no,” she said, waving his hands down. “I don’t want to hear it. Just get off.”

He stumbled to the ladder, but as he began to climb, an explosion blew the hatch partially open. Parker threw his arms over his head as the force of it slammed him down into the floor.

Sondra swore as dust swirled through the hold and began to settle. Now this boat was ruined too! Maybe there was still a way? But as she wracked her brain for more options that didn’t actually involve killing children, someone lifted the hatch door away and a voice called down to her from outside.

“Sondra?”

What the hell?

“Julie?” The relief that came from knowing her onetime friend wasn’t burning to death inside the house nearly knocked her over.

“Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

Julie seemed concerned. Sondra hadn’t been expecting that. Not after what she’d done.

“I think Parker hit his head in the explosion,” she replied. Parker was trying to sit up, and there was blood on the back of his head. It didn’t seem too bad.

“I see him,” Julie said. “You need to come out Sondra. And let the kids go. All of your accomplices are either dead or handcuffed. It’s over.”

Sondra thought she’d be devastated, but all she felt was relief. Relief and a whining kind of disappointment.

It was over.

There was nothing more she could do.

Kyra helped to get Parker, Laura, Sasha, and then James off of the boat and onto the dock. They were still handcuffed, but they’d managed to pull the tape off of their mouths. Parker was a little dazed and bloody, but otherwise seemed to be okay.

“Where’s Alex?” Laura asked.

Kyra opened her mouth to explain, but couldn’t get the words out. Instead, a flood of tears started, and she covered her face with her hands.

“Shit, Kyra, did he die?” James asked, panicked.

“No,” she managed to choke out. “Hurt. Pretty bad. He’s unconscious. I had to leave him on the beach.”

She could tell Sasha wanted to hug her, …which …fine, but her wrists were still chained, so she couldn’t quite manage it. She settled for awkwardly squeezing Kyra’s arm with both of her hands. It was oddly comforting. Kyra smiled at her faintly and wiped her face with her hands.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll take you to him. Hopefully we can find a set of handcuff keys somewhere.”

She let Julie handle Sondra. The two seemed to be friends, so that was weird, but also made sense she supposed.

She led the group to the beach and froze as Alex came into view. An inflatable boat had pulled up onto the sand and several men in dark battle gear had gotten out. Two were already bending over Alex.

The men on the beach pointed their rifles at Kyra and the others. “Stay where you are!” one barked at them. He sounded American. “Put your hands up!”

It was Scorpia. It had to be.

Kyra wanted to throw up. Would this night never end??

“Please don’t hurt him!” she begged as she raised her hands, staring down the barrel of a gun for what felt like the forty-seventh time. “I’ll pay you whatever you want! Anything! I promise. Just leave him alone, please.”

“What’s your name?” the soldier closest to them asked.

“Kyra Vashenko-Chao.”

The man put his hand to his ear and whispered into a headset. Then he lowered his weapon and waived her over.

She approached slowly. “Who are you?” she asked.

“United States Marines. We were in the neighborhood and received a distress call from British military intelligence saying you all needed help.”

“Oh thank God.” Kyra’s legs gave out, and she sank into the sand.

Voices drifted in through the mud. He didn’t know why it was mud, but there were voices in it. It was confusing. He didn’t know where he was.

The voices were angry. Were they angry at him? He couldn’t tell through the mud.

It was on his face and in his ears. He tried to get it off, but he couldn’t move his arms. Why couldn’t he move his arms?

Fear flooded into him. He wanted to scream for help, but what if…? He didn’t know. He didn’t know why. Shit.

A warm hand brushed his forehead. He could feel it. Through the mud.

No. Wait.

There was no mud.

“Alex. Alex honey, I’m right here. Can you open your eyes?”

Could he? He wanted to touch his face, to make sure all the mud was gone, but he couldn’t move his arms. It was irritating and terrifying at the same time.

“Alex. Shh. Shh.” She put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been hallucinating. The nurses had to tie your arms down to keep you from hurting anyone.”

“Jack?” his voice sounded like mud, thick and gritty.

There was a sob, then, “Yeah hon, it’s me.” She rubbed his arm.

Alex blinked. He wanted to see her. The light was fuzzy and his eyes felt heavy, like he wanted to go back to sleep. He kept blinking until finally, she came into focus.

“There you are,” she said and smiled at him. She had tears on her cheeks that she wiped away with the sleeve of her hoodie.

The tears reminded him of Kyra. “Kyra...” he said, agitated. He wasn’t quite sure why. There was something...

Jack nodded. “She’s fine. They’re all fine,” she said, “They’re here. I mean at the hospital. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Taking turns sitting with you.”

He closed his eyes, relieved.

“Hey, look at me,” Jack said. Alex opened his eyes again. “No going back to sleep yet. Do you remember what happened?”

He grimaced. Trying to think back. “Scorpia…”

“No, sweetie,” she stroked his cheek. “That was the hallucination. Scorpia didn’t come.”

They didn’t? But he could remember it so clearly. There’d been a bag over his head, and they were taking him… somewhere. And he’d been so scared.

It hadn’t been real?

“Do you remember what happened before? At Parker’s mansion?”

Did he? It was dim and fuzzy. He remembered being afraid for Kyra.

And guns.

And fire.

Handcuffs.

And someone pulling his hair.

And pain.

“Shh. Shh. Alex, it’s okay,” Jack said stroking his face again. “It’s over. You’re alright. Everyone’s alright.”

His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air.

“Breathe,” she said. “You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

He took a breath. And another. His heart calmed down.

“Miss Starbright, I need to ask him some questions,” a voice from Alex’s other side spoke up.

He hadn’t realized anyone else was there.

Jack nodded and took her hand away from his head, placing it back on his arm.

“Can you turn your head over here Alex?” The man’s voice sounded older and English.

Alex turned to look at him. He was gray haired, stout, and wearing a white lab coat. Alex recognized him. He was one of the Scorpia thugs that had come for him. His heart rate picked back up. He and Jack needed to get away. He pulled at the straps.

“Alex,” the thug said. “Miss Starbright told you that you’ve been having hallucinations. Do I look familiar?”

Alex nodded.

“I know it must be very frightening,” he said. “And I’m sorry we’ve had to restrain you. You became violent during your hallucinations. We were afraid you would hurt yourself or one of us. I promise as soon as we’re sure you’re okay, we’ll take them off. Do you understand?”

Alex nodded warily, not entirely convinced, but it seemed better to play along for now.

“It’s quite common actually,” the man explained, “To hallucinate after waking from a coma.”

“A coma?” his voice cracked. He cleared it. “How long?”

“Three days. We gave you some medicine to keep you in it while we assessed the damage. You hit your head quite hard, and endured a bit of trauma on top of that from what I understand. We stopped the medicine two days ago, and that’s when your hallucinations started.”

Jack rubbed his arm again.

Alex shuddered. Scorpia had come for him. They’d taken him away and were going to kill him. He’d tried to fight them off, but they’d drugged him, and then tied him up. And it had happened. He was positive. Wasn’t he?

“I’d like to examine you, if that’s okay?” the man said.

Alex turned to Jack. She nodded encouragingly. “It’s okay, I promise. He’s your doctor. He doesn’t work for Scorpia.”

Had they gotten to her too? Not likely.

“Scorpia didn’t come?”

“No.”

“Who then? Who came?”

“MI6 sent the Marines. The US ones.”

“What?”

“They said your phone sent out some sort of distress signal.”

Alex groaned. Another favor owed. To MI6 and Joe Byrne too probably. Shit. It was enough to make him wish he was still in a coma. He wondered how long it would take Blunt to cash in. Would he at least get out of the hospital first this time?

“Alex, I must insist,” the doctor said. He’d pulled a pen-light out of his pocket. Alex turned back to him and let him do his thing.

Chapter Text

The exclusive hospital in Nassau had a VIP wing. It was even more luxurious than the rest of the building and had its own security, which Parker had insisted on doubling. No one argued with him.

Alex was safely tucked into one room with additional security posted outside, Parker’s grandma was in a second room recovering from smoke inhalation, and Andrew was in a third healing from a bullet that had grazed his scalp. So they had pretty much filled the place to capacity.

Kyra was just grateful they were alive. Parker’s security team on the island hadn’t been as fortunate.

Her finger had been set and splinted properly days ago, and now it only throbbed when she accidentally bumped it or forgot to take her pain medication on time. She looked up from the screen of her laptop. The room they occupied at the hospital was technically a waiting room, but here they called it a lounge, because billionaires didn’t wait.

Parker and Sasha were busy playing a video game on a large screen at the front of the room, while James stared at his phone, and Laura read a book. Parker’s staff had been given leave and had gone various places to rest and recuperate, except for Ruby who was, as it turned out, married to Andrew. She’d mostly been camped out in his hospital room.

They were waiting for Alex to wake up again. Jack had been by a few hours ago to tell them he’d finally come out of his hallucination. It was such a relief that they’d all gathered around to hug her and shed happy tears, and then they settled into the overstuffed chairs and couches to lounge until they were allowed to see him.

Kyra had been busy the last few days. First she’d been busy thinking, then scheming, then putting her plans into motion. She’d spent more time on the phone than she was comfortable with, but messaging with a broken finger was worse. She hoped Alex was okay with everything she’d done. It was a bit risky and could technically be termed ‘meddling’, but it had been absolutely necessary, and had already paid off. Thanks to her, MI6 had been kept at bay for the last five days. They’d been insisting on moving Alex to a hospital in London as soon as possible. No doubt somewhere they could keep a close watch on him and make sure he stayed well within reach. So she’d sent her lawyers after them. The lawyers had found a way to stop MI6 from getting their hands on Alex, at least temporarily. Jack had been grateful.

A nurse came to tell them that Alex was ready for visitors. Kyra let Parker and the others go ahead of her and then followed. Jack wasn’t in the room. She’d probably gone to take a much needed nap.

James gave Alex a fist bump. “Glad you’re awake man,” he said. Kyra was shocked he hadn’t made a stupid joke about it. Looking at Alex’s face, however, it was hard to find any humor in the situation. Relief, yes. Humor, no.

Almost the whole right side of his face was a mottled shade of purple. The massive bruise started at the base of his jaw near his neck, crossed up over his cheekbone and nose, circled his eye, and then bled up into his hairline. Kyra was reminded of when he’d opened his door to her a week ago, but that time his face had been creased from sleep. These marks wouldn’t disappear so quickly. His hair was sticking up wildly, and he had more monitors attached to him than Kyra had ever seen. Wires snaked out of his shirt and down from his head, but at least his arms and legs were free.

That had been the worst — seeing him strapped to the bed, out of his mind with fear. After everything he’d gone through, he still hadn’t escaped. He’d been trapped in a nightmare.

She hadn’t witnessed much of his days-long hallucination. Jack and the doctor had insisted that she and the others stay away, and frankly it had been too horrifying for them to watch. Hearing from Jack that he’d finally come out of it was possibly the best news she’d ever had in her whole life.

Alex gave them all one of his half smiles, and Kyra released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She smiled back.

“Sounds like I missed a bit of the fun,” he joked. “Is everyone okay?”

“Mostly,” Parker said. “Gigi and Andrew are recovering. They got the worst of it after you, but they’re alright. Kev killed the security team.”

Alex frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“You know who else wasn’t fine?” James said. “The goons who attacked us. Thanks to you and Kyra here, they’re wishing they’d never set foot on Parker’s island.”

Alex huffed in half-hearted amusement. “What happened?” he asked. “I mean, the parts that I missed.”

Kyra told him about getting everyone off of the boat, and then Parker filled in the rest of the story from what Mark and Hugh had told him.

Blue Eyes had been waiting with a gun when Andrew and Ruby carried an unconscious Gigi out of the house. He’d shot at them, but his aim had been bad, probably because of whatever Alex had done to him.

“What exactly did you do to him Alex?” Parker asked.

“Um,” Alex hesitated and looked at Kyra. She gave him a small one-shouldered shrug as if to say, Why not?.

“I sprayed a fire-extinguisher in his face, hit him on the head, took his gun, and then made him sedate himself.”

A heartbeat of silence followed.

“Yeah, that would do it,” James said. “It’s a miracle he could even pull the trigger.”

Parker laughed and continued with his story.

One of Blue Eye’s wild shots had grazed Andrew’s head, but Andrew returned fire and killed him. Mark found them near the pool, used his own shirt to staunch the bleeding from Andrew’s head, then went back to get Hugh.

Hugh helped move Andrew, Ruby, and Gigi away from the burning house and down to the beach. Meanwhile, Mark went back to retrieve Kev because he realized he’d left the man handcuffed to a tree right in the path of the fire. He’d tried to get to Nose as well, but he’d been too close to the flames.

Alex took all of this in without comment. When they finished, he pressed his lips together nervously and asked, “So Scorpia...?”

“They never came,” Kyra assured him. “Or at least we never saw them, the Marines got there first.”

Alex closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, something in him had eased.

“So we’ve been thinking,” Parker began, “Of making the Point Blanc Alumni Association an official thing.”

Alex snorted. “What, like, with t-shirts or something?”

“Oh, we’re definitely getting t-shirts,” Parker laughed, “But more than that too.”

“What do you mean?”

Parker gestured for Kyra to take over. She tried not to roll her eyes at him. She wasn’t sure she was ready to tell Alex yet, and she’d been hoping to do it in private, but... she supposed the rest of them were involved now too. They’d all wanted to help.

“We know you’ve been having some legal trouble with MI6,” she began.

Alex raised an eyebrow at her, or tried to and winced at the pain it caused. “Legal trouble?” he asked instead.

“That’s what I told them, I wasn’t sure... I figured if you wanted to elaborate further, you could do that yourself.”

Alex frowned a bit at that. Kyra wasn’t sure how to interpret the gesture.

“She made it sound like you got arrested,” James added helpfully.

“What?!”

Shit. Kyra seriously wanted to strangle James. She glared at him and he just smiled that infuriatingly smug smile of his. She turned back to Alex. “I know, I’m sorry. I tried to keep it simple, but the level of crazy you’re dealing with is just... stupidly impossible. And I had to tell them something.” She held out her hands in apology.

“No, it’s okay,” Alex said, his outrage deflating quickly. “I actually did get arrested, so...”

“What?? By who?” And why had he not told her this? There was still so much she didn’t know; it was maddening.

“MI6.”

Of course. Except how the hell had he managed to get arrested by the people he supposedly worked for? That level of insanity was mind-boggling.

“Damn, Alex! What did you do?” James asked, clearly impressed.

“Anyway,” Kyra interrupted, “Let’s come back to that. The important thing is that I’ve been looking into who would be the best firm to handle your specific um, issues, and I’ve found them. At least I’m pretty sure I have.”

“I’m not following…”

“Look, Alex. You need a lawyer. Actually you need a giant team of really excellent lawyers if you want to have any semblance of a normal life.”

“Um...”

“You know I’m right.”

“Do I? I’ve actually never thought of that particular approach. It sounds really expensive.”

Kyra, Parker, Sasha, James, and Laura just stared at him.

“Did he just use the word expensive?” Sasha asked.

“Yes,” Laura answered dryly, “he did.”

James laughed, Kyra raised an eyebrow, and Parker smiled hugely.

“You know Alex,” he said, “We may not have super skills like you do, but between the five of us, we have access to an ungodly amount of money. If you wanted to go live in a mansion on the moon for the rest of your life and play low-gravity tennis, we could make it happen.”

“Uh…” Alex clearly had no idea what to say to that. Parker wasn’t wrong, but Kyra had a solid feeling that Alex would not be happy on the moon, so they didn’t actually have to worry about the logistics of that ridiculous idea. Low-gravity tennis… Parker was so weird.

“So,” Kyra continued, suddenly feeling like the ringleader of a circus, “Money is a non-issue. Obviously. What you need are the right people, skilled people, and I’m pretty sure I’ve found them. They’re sending two representatives to talk to you tomorrow.”

“Where? Here?”

“Yes.”

“What about MI6? I’m surprised they haven’t, like, broken down the door and carted me off to London by now.” He looked around. “Where are we, actually? I hadn’t thought to ask.”

“Nassau. And I got my lawyers involved too. They served MI6 with a bunch of hastily concocted cease-and-desist something or others, and much threatening of lawsuits to keep them away. At least for now. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold them off. This is why the experts are coming tomorrow.”

“Lawyers,” Alex said. It was almost a groan. Kyra’s heart sank. She couldn’t let him throw this chance away. She wouldn’t.

“Look, I know it’s not sexy or exciting. It’s probably not as satisfying as beating your enemies to a pulp either, but Alex, think about it! Who else is going to be able to get MI6 off of your back? And make sure those bastards give you what you need — like proper security? Because allowing Scorpia to shoot you right outside their office was unforgivably lax of them.” She still hadn’t gotten the full story of that either.

Alex looked down and nodded slowly. Kyra hoped this meant he was seriously considering it.

“And if you decided you ever wanted to work for MI6 again, they could negotiate for you. Make sure you got the training you needed, and whatever else you haven’t been getting that you should have. They would keep MI6 in line, make them play by the rules.”

“Can they really do it?” he asked. “I mean, I signed the OSA. I’m not supposed to be talking about any of this. MI6 will not be happy with me if I go blabbing to a bunch of lawyers. I could get in serious trouble.”

“More trouble than you’re already in?” Kyra wondered aloud, thinking of the panic attacks and the barely avoided suicide mission to Bangkok.

Alex thought about this for a solid minute, and thankfully no one interrupted him. “Maybe not,” he said finally.

“The way I see it,” Kyra added, “you have to at least try. Otherwise, what’s the alternative? Things can’t keep going the way they have been or you’re going to wind up dead.”

There it was, as blunt as she could possibly make it. She’d never been able to sugarcoat anything anyway. Diplomacy was not part of her skillset.

Alex seemed to agree with her assessment of things. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll meet with them and see what they say.”

Kyra wanted to throw her arms around him. It was an awkward thought, so she settled for a relieved smile and squeezed his arm.

Chapter Text

Kyra came to visit on her own later that day. She slouched down into the chair next to Alex’s bed, tucked one knee under her chin, and wrapped her arms around it.

“Spill,” she said. “I need to know what happened with Scorpia. Who they are and what they did. I can’t stop dreaming about Nose guy and what you said to him when…,” she grimaced. “I mean, right before you blacked out. And it’s freaking me out. I need to know if it was true.”

“It’s really fuzzy,” Alex told her. “I don’t remember what I said to him.”

Kyra chewed the inside of her lip for a minute. “Can I tell you?” she asked.

Alex was relieved to hear that she believed him at least. Not that he’d been lying. He really didn’t remember, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. “Sure,” he said trying not to sound as resigned as he felt. Kyra needed him to explain, and he couldn’t without knowing what he’d said.

She tilted her head slightly and looked at him. “Here, how about this? Just tell me about Scorpia — who they are and why they want you dead.”

It took a lot of effort to keep from sighing. But this was Kyra, and if anyone deserved the truth, she did.

He started at the beginning — giving her the basics of what Scorpia was and what they did. Then he moved on to his family’s history with the organization, Ian’s death, and his own experiences with them — ending with the story of getting shot outside of the Royal & General.

Kyra was quiet for a long time after he finished.

“They were the ones who killed your uncle,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“And they killed Parker’s dad?”

“Yeah.”

“They killed my parents too,” she said quietly.

Alex could only nod.

“MI6 never gave me a name. They just said Greif paid someone to do it.” She looked down at her lap and scratched at a spot on her injured hand. “So then you went to Venice and joined them. You let them train you to be an assassin?”

“It wasn’t one of my smarter decisions.”

“You thought MI6 had killed your father.”

“Yeah.” Alex couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’d been manipulated by Julia Rothman, but knowing that didn’t make the whole sordid story any easier to deal with. It didn’t make him feel any better.

“And that’s why MI6 arrested you?”

“Because I joined Scorpia, and then I almost killed Mrs. Jones.”

“Wow.”

“I think she’s forgiven me though.” Alex couldn’t help joking about it just a little. It eased the sting of what had been one of the more traumatic experiences of his life thus far.

Kyra snorted. “Yeah, well, she kind of had to. You saved MI6 from falling on their ass again. How incompetent are they? I mean, you’re pretty good and all, but shouldn’t they be able to do it without you? Aren’t they the trained spies? What the hell is your government paying them for?”

“Wish I knew,” Alex replied.

The next morning, Alex was dozing when he heard the door to his room open. He expected it to be one of the nurses, but it was Kyra letting in two people he didn’t recognize — the lawyers she had mentioned yesterday. She gave him and Jack a small wave, and then she left.

The first person to enter was a woman dressed in a perfectly tailored dark purple suit. Her black hair was braided into elegant cornrows that swirled into a large bun at the back of her head. She carried a briefcase, but set this down almost as soon as she was in the room.

Jack put down the magazine she’d been reading and Alex started to speak, but the woman placed an immaculately manicured finger to her lips. Her hands were ornamented with several very large rings that glinted in the lights of his room. Alex shut his mouth and watched as she crossed to the windows and closed the curtains.

After her, a man entered and closed the door behind him. He had red hair, rather large ears, and was also wearing an expensive suit. He took a device from his pocket. Alex recognized it as a bug sweeper when he started pointing it at the walls of the room. Alex watched as the man performed a thorough scan and found two listening devices — one on the underside of the bed rail near Alex’s shoulder, the other attached to the bottom of the table on the other side of the room.

He took out a small phone, snapped several photos of the bugs, then pried each of them off and put them into a tiny case. He clicked it shut and stuck it into his pocket.

The man continued checking the room for another five minutes, this time using a flashlight to manually inspect the undersides of furniture and inside of the vents and outlets. Finally he straightened and turned off the flashlight with a decisive click. “All clear,” he said, stuffing it back into his pocket.

Jack had moved to stand next to Alex’s bedside, and watched the lawyers warily.

The woman smiled. “I’m so sorry for making you wait, Mr. Rider, Ms. Starbright. But as you can see, it is always wise to make sure the room is secure before we begin any kind of conversation. My name is Belinda Garrow.” She shook their hands. “And this is my associate, Jefferson Tinsdale.”

“You can call me JT,” the man added and shook their hands as well.

The woman’s accent was difficult to place. It was British, but muted somehow, as if she spent a lot of time speaking another language, or perhaps suppressed it on purpose. JT was American.

Alex nodded fractionally, annoyed but not at all surprised by the bugs in the room. He wondered which of the hospital staff had been bribed to place them. Or had MI6 managed to sneak in an actual agent?

“We represent the firm of Stevenson, Stevenson, Lloyd and Associates, and we specialize in helping victims of government overreach, especially those targeted by intelligence agencies. We are a legal firm, however most of our work happens behind closed doors. Very, very few of our cases ever end up in traditional courts. We understand Mr. Rider that you may be in need of our services?”

“Um... possibly,” Alex said. “I’ve signed the OSA though, won’t that be a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Belinda replied. “British law allows for authorized disclosure to legal counsel provided necessary security clearances are obtained, and we have them. There will be some maneuvering, but we can sort it out. It’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Oh.”

Wow.

He hadn’t realized it was so… easy.

So it was possible that Kyra’s crazy idea might actually work? He and Jack looked at each other in mild shock.

“MI6 is well-acquainted with our firm. It is MI6 you are having the most trouble with, correct?”

“Yes, though I’ve also worked with the CIA. And there are other… um, interested parties.”

Belinda nodded thoughtfully, and her large earrings swung over her shoulders. “Do you mind if we sit down, Mr. Rider?”

“No, that’s fine. Call me Alex… please.”

She smiled. “Alex it is.”

JT fetched the chairs, bringing one to Jack, and then setting out two more for himself and his partner. Belinda grabbed her briefcase and settled into one of them, crossing one leg over the other.

“Before we start, could I see some identification?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Belinda said. She nodded to JT and he dug into his suit coat to pull out his passport. Then she opened her briefcase and fished out her own passport. She handed both of them to Alex.

Hers was a UK passport and looked real. JT’s also looked legitimate, but he knew that didn’t mean a whole lot. An MI6 agent would have a passport. Hell, a Scorpia operative would have a passport. He couldn’t really trust it. He couldn’t really trust much of anything these days. Not even the memories in his own brain apparently.

The worry must have shown on his face because Belinda offered him a small smile and then said, “You look like you’re wondering if we are who we say we are.”

Alex nodded.

“I’m not surprised. Most of our clients are... distrustful. And with good reason. Perhaps I can put your mind at ease. You are not required to tell us anything. At any time, you can decide to send us away, and we will leave. No questions asked. We are here solely at your pleasure and with your permission.

“I will not be recording our talk today, either electronically or on paper. Today’s meeting is purely exploratory — to see if my firm can help and if you want us to do so. Is that acceptable for now?”

Alex considered for a moment. “Alright,” he said, handing the passports back.

Jack looked at him again searching his face for something. “What do you think?” she asked.

Alex turned to Belinda. “What do you need to know?”

The lawyers stayed for over an hour, and by the time they were done, Alex was exhausted. He was glad Jack had been there to help him. Telling his story was still almost impossibly difficult, and dealing with all the emotional baggage the memories brought up was more than he could handle on his own. He let Jack do most of the talking.

By the end, Belinda sounded confident in Stevenson, Stevenson, and Lloyd’s ability to take on Alex’s case. Paperwork would be sent by special courier later in the day.

Belinda gave him express instructions not to speak to MI6, the CIA, or anyone he didn’t know until they’d had a chance to ‘iron out the details’.

She also handed him and Jack several emergency phone numbers to call in case MI6 (or anyone else) refused to take no for an answer.

Alex wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about the whole thing. On one hand, knowing he wouldn’t have to deal with MI6 all on his own anymore was a huge relief. However, he now had another group of people that was going to interfere with his life. A whole team of lawyers, if Kyra was to be believed. But at least this one would be working to keep him alive rather than the other way around. After all, Stevenson, Stevenson, and Lloyd wouldn’t get paid if he died.

It was a comforting thought actually. A whole team of people whose job was to keep him alive. And not just alive, but able to live his life the way he wanted. The more he sat with the idea, the more he liked it.

Alex Rider was going to have people. It was a strange concept, but for the first time in a long time, he felt …hopeful. Maybe billionaires weren’t that weird after all.

Jack came into the lounge after the lawyers left.
“How did it go?” Kyra asked, looking up from her computer.

She nodded and smiled and then burst into tears. Kyra was floored. She had no idea what to do. Fortunately, Sasha came to the rescue and wrapped her arms around the woman.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said after a minute, pulling back from Sasha’s shoulder, sniffing and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. James brought over a box of tissues.

“Is it not going to work?” Kyra asked as Jack blew her nose.

She wouldn’t let this stop them. She’d find someone else. She already had two or three backup firms in mind. They weren’t as good of a fit, but maybe…

“No, they will. They will,” Jack smiled through her tears. “Thank you. I don’t know how to thank you all. I’ve been so lost and so afraid for him. And now…” she covered her mouth with her hand as another sob escaped. “It’s going to be okay.”

Sasha hugged her again. Jack looked up and held her arm out to Kyra. Hugging wasn’t normally Kyra’s thing but she let herself get pulled in. It felt kind of nice actually.

Tulip Jones smiled to herself as she walked the short distance to Blunt’s office, but she carefully tucked it away before rapping on his door twice and walking in.

Alan looked up from his computer.

She pulled up the photograph on her tablet and laid it on his desk. He picked it up and inspected it. It showed a man and woman leaving the private hospital in Nassau where Alex Rider was recovering. Alan zoomed in on the figures. There was no doubt as to who they were.

“Kyra called Belinda Garrow,” Tulip said, and Blunt handed the tablet back to her. He tapped his fingers on the desk and scowled.

“It’s all bad news, I’m afraid,” she continued. “They found the bugs in the room and disabled them, so we weren’t able to hear what was said during their meeting.”

Alan exhaled angrily and gestured for her to continue.

“And it looks as though Alex is going to sign with Stevenson, Stevenson, and Lloyd sometime within the next few hours.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I’d say 95%. They’re drawing up the paperwork right now. Our contact within the organization confirmed it.”

“Dammit. What can we do to stop him?”

Tulip found a chair and sat down. “At this point,” she said, “I don’t think we can. They exited through the front door on purpose. They wanted to make sure we saw them. To send a message. Any interference on our part will be viewed as hostile. Garrow is brilliant, vicious, and well-connected. She can’t be bought. At least, not by us. And one of her associates would pick up Alex’s case were she to become... incapacitated. Anything we do will be used as ammunition against us.”

Alan ground his teeth. “We should have insisted on his coming here, to St. Dominic’s, where we could have done something,” he growled.

Tulip tried to keep the flare of anger she felt out of her voice. Alan had always had a self-imposed blind spot where Alex was concerned. He saw the boy as a tool. He’d never allowed himself to think of Alex as a person, much less as a child. Tulip understood the reason for it, but it still infuriated her.

“He was in a coma, Alan. A trans-Atlantic flight was not medically sound or justifiable. Also, Kyra’s lawyers have proven to be surprisingly competent at keeping us out. If we’d had more time we could have managed it, but they must have known that also.”

Alan leaned forward on his elbows and bowed his head, tapping his fingers against his mouth. He was furious, Tulip could tell — desperate to figure out some way to keep from losing their only teenaged agent. Though how they could call Alex an agent when he wasn’t on the payroll — officially or otherwise — was a mystery she would never unravel. She waited for Blunt to speak.

He sat up. “I want updates as soon as we receive them. And send Garrow’s demands directly to me. No other eyes. I’ll handle them personally.”

“Right,” Tulip said and nodded once, then left.

Walking back to her office, she couldn’t keep the small smile from reappearing. Alex Rider was finally breaking free from Alan Blunt, from the CIA, and hopefully from SCORPIA as well. She knew there would come a time when they would desperately need his help again. She couldn’t worry about it now. For now, she would be glad his fate was no longer in her hands. Glad that he could begin to rebuild his life far, far away from the murky world she inhabited. It was, after all, no place for a child.

Chapter Text

Later that day Alex opened his eyes to see Tom sitting next to his bed. He was buried in his phone.

“Hey man,” he said groggily. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Tom looked up and smiled. “Yeah, well, Happy Christmas, and all that,” he said. “I heard you were in a coma on the actual day.”

“Suppose so,” Alex replied.

Tom put his phone in his pocket. “You look like shit.”

Alex grimaced. “Yeah, well, I feel like it too.”

“Jack said you got some lawyers.”

He nodded.

“Thank God, you know? Because this last year has sucked big time. MI6... the whole lot of them belong in jail for what they did to you. I mean, if it were up to me.”

Alex smiled gratefully. Tom had stood by him through the whole mess, and now he was here too. “Thanks man,” he said. He knew he didn’t need to say any more. Tom would know what he meant.

“I met the real Parker,” Tom said after a minute. “He’s uh, he’s really different from the one that tried to kill me. He’s kind of funny. I feel like we could have actually been friends in another life. You know like if I hadn’t been nearly murdered by his clone first, and he wasn’t a billionaire.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah... I could see that.”

“He was the one that brought us here. Sent his private jet and everything. That part was pretty cool, actually. Not gonna lie.”

“Us?” Alex wondered who else would have come along. Jack had flown in days earlier. Tom’s brother?

“Sabina and her parents came along as well. I got first dibs on seeing you though, since we’ve been friends the longest.”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Sabina’s here?”

Tom laughed. “She said she was planning some kind of surprise for when you got home, but then you had to get yourself blown up again and ruined it. So she came here instead. You should have her tell you. She’s all, like, indignant about it. Like it’s your fault or something,”

Alex wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or groan. “That sounds like her,” he said.

“Nah, don’t be too hard on her. She’s just worried, like we all were.” Tom bounced in his seat.

“So what’d you do for Christmas?” Alex asked.

“Tried to avoid my parents,” Tom started. They talked for a while longer until a nurse came in and interrupted them.

“I should let Sabina have her turn,” Tom said. “But I’ll catch you again soon.”

“Alright.” The visit with Tom had lifted him. They’d talked about plans for the next term at school and it felt so normal, Alex had almost forgotten he was stuck in a high security hospital room in the Bahamas recovering from a head injury.

The nurse finished her ministrations and tucked Alex back into his bed, then left. Moments later he heard, “Alex!” Sabina’s voice came into his room as she opened the door. She must have been waiting out in the hall.

“Oh my gosh, look at your face,” she said as she saw him.

He laughed. “That bad huh?” She’d left her hair long and was wearing a bright patterned sundress that looked like it had come from one of those tourist shops that dotted the avenues of every island he’d ever been to. It was not her style.

She looked down at herself and waved off his questioning glance. “I packed for a month in England and Scotland in the winter. Jumpers and jeans do not work in this climate, so Mum and I did some very quick shopping literally on the walk from the hotel to here, and this was all I could come up with. It’s hideous, I know.”

“It beats hospital clothes,” Alex said, though that was a lie in his case. The trousers and shirt they’d dressed him in had probably been made by some world-famous designer, and they were the most comfortable clothes he’d ever worn. Nothing about them pulled or itched. He was half-tempted to ask if he’d be able to take a few sets home with him when he left.

“Why were you in England?” he asked. When they’d said goodbye months ago, he hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again.

She sat in the chair next to his bed, slipping off her sandals and tucking her feet up underneath her. “Dad’s working on an article about some guy named Desmond McCain. He used to be in Parliament, but now he’s bankrupt and running a charity?” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve never heard of him, but Dad’s all engrossed. You know how he gets. The good part was that he took me out of school early and we all went with him to London. I was going to surprise you, but then Jack said you’d gone to the Caribbean for Christmas. So then I was going to surprise you when you got home and take you with me to Scotland for the New Year, but then you had to end up in the hospital, and you really shouldn’t be doing this anymore Alex! I nearly died from worry. And poor Jack, you should have seen her.”

It was a whole lot of words in a short amount of time.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “It wasn’t part of my plans, I promise.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But you’re like a magnet for trouble. And not, like, little things either. Like, big, nasty, we’re all going to die kinds of trouble.”

Alex grimaced.

“I’m sorry, that was pretty harsh, wasn’t it?” She looked down, smoothing her skirt with her hands.

“True though,” he said. “Sorry about ruining your plans for Scotland.”

She smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Dad got invited to this fancy party in a castle. It sounded really stuffy. Like, it was a charity event. Lots of rich people paying thousands of pounds to get a ticket so that they can then pat themselves on the back for attending a party. Except Dad of course. McCain gave him his tickets for free. It probably would have been really dull.”

“If you say so…”

“No, it’s much nicer here, believe me,” she paused and leaned forward, reaching for his hand. “I’m really, really glad you didn’t die Alex.”

He smiled as she squeezed his hand and let go. “Me too,” he said.

“But seriously, this has got to stop. I have nightmares about attending your funeral and there’s no body in your casket, and all MI6 will tell us is that you died in a car accident.”

Alex cringed. That was way too close to the truth for comfort. “I’m working on it. I promise. Kyra called some lawyers to help me figure it all out.”

Sabina’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you think it will work?”

“I think so. The lawyers told me it would.”

“Well hurrah for that!”

“Have you met Kyra?’

She shook her head. “Not really. Not more than a brief introduction. She was buried in her laptop and barely said hi.”

“That’s her,” Alex chuckled.

Sabina pursed her lips and cocked her head. “You like her, don’t you?”

“What?” Alex felt like the question had come hurtling at him out of nowhere.

“Kyra. You like her.” She smiled mischievously.

He wasn’t sure where she was getting her information. “Do I?” he asked, lost.

“Mm,” she affirmed. “Your whole face lit up when we started talking about her. And that’s pretty impressive since half of it is currently purple.”

“Um… I…,” Alex didn’t know what to say. Did he like Kyra? He supposed it wasn’t entirely impossible. He definitely liked being around her, and the thought of her leaving for Hong Kong without him in a few days was making him rather… uncomfortable… so… maybe?

“Don’t worry,” Sabina said. “Your secret’s safe with me. Do you think she likes you back?”

“I really… um… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No worries, Romeo,” she said impishly, “I will investigate.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary…”

“Oh, but it is. It most definitely is,” she laughed.

“Sab…,” he pleaded.

She laughed again. “Look at you! You’re blushing! I think. It’s hard to tell under all those bruises. And here I was wondering if you were gay. Not that it matters either way, just to be clear.”

Alex groaned. “Just don’t… piss her off, okay?”

Sabina let out a little squeal of delight.

After dinner, the nurses shooed everyone away, insisting that Alex needed a break from all of the commotion. He wasn’t going to argue. It was wonderful having his friends close by, but it was also exhausting.

The room felt peaceful with the lights dimmed, and Alex found his thoughts drifting, not quite able to sleep. He did his best to steer away from memories of guns and handcuffs, the look on Blue Eye’s face when he’d smashed the fire extinguisher into it, stepping through a pool of blood…

He’d been able to dredge up one fairly clear memory from the time before he blacked out, and it was of Kyra. Kyra holding his hand and telling him not to leave.

You’re my only friend, she’d said.

Alex wasn’t sure how to feel about that. First of all, it wasn’t true. He wondered if she’d accepted that by now, if she’d noticed that she fit in with the Point Blanc crew as well as anyone. He hoped so.

Did he like her?

He did actually, and he had no idea what to do about that.

She was leaving right after the New Year; going back to school in Hong Kong — and he was going home too, he supposed. Once the doctor gave his all clear. Home to school and the possibility of a normal-ish life now that MI6 was out of his hair.

Maybe he would join the football team again.

Maybe he would visit Kyra in Hong Kong.

A whole world of possibilities was open to him now. He smiled as he closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Alex studied himself in the mirror as he got ready for school. His bruises had faded completely and the face staring back at him looked... normal. Well, a little tired still, if he was being honest.

The new school term had started nearly three weeks ago, but everyone had agreed that Alex should wait until he was stronger.

Everyone was a lot of people now. It included his doctor of course, but then there was Dr. Lidia Bray — whose opinion mattered nearly as much — Mr. Bray — who actually knew the truth about why Alex was absent this time and who had been working with his teachers to make sure he didn’t fall so far behind — Jack — who had become as protective of him as a mother bear — his lawyers — chiefly Belinda Garrow — who called him most days to check in and make sure Blunt and his people were behaving themselves — and finally Tom, Kyra, and Sabina — who all reminded him in their own ways and on a regular basis not to do anything stupid. Occasionally, he’d also hear from Parker and his grandmother as well as the other members of the Point Blanc Alumni Association. They were all keeping tabs on him now.

He’d thought having so many people involved in his life would feel suffocating, but it had been just the opposite. Their support and care was like a warm blanket. For the first time since Ian died, he felt… safe.

He finished brushing his teeth and went back to his room to get dressed. Jack was waiting for him downstairs in the kitchen with a hot breakfast.

Alex stopped in the doorway, looking at the feast. “You didn’t have to cook...” he said.

“Today is a new beginning,” she countered, smiling hugely, “I figured it deserved a celebratory breakfast.”

Alex sat down at the table and piled his plate with sausage and eggs. Jack brought him a glass of orange juice.

“Are you sure you want to walk today?” she asked. “I can take you.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not five…,” he groused. What he really wanted to do was ride his bike, but that was out for now. Doctor’s orders.

“Alright, grumpy,” she said, squeezing his shoulder and sitting down to her own plate. Alex smiled at her apologetically. “Just remember what the doctor said.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. No running, no jumping, no biking, no fighting, no crawling through the vents, no flashing lights, no loud noises, nothing fun or even remotely interesting.” He stuffed a sausage in his mouth and chewed irritably. This whole ‘taking it easy’ thing was really starting to grate. He knew if he didn’t follow the doctor’s orders, he risked causing himself permanent damage, but he didn’t have to like it.

Jack pointed at him with her fork. “Exactly,” she said. “I expect you to come home in one piece.”

That reminded him… “Speaking of coming home, I’m going to stop by the cemetery on my way back. Visit Ian.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Tom was waiting for him in the yard.

“Welcome back mate.” Tom pounded him on the shoulder.

Alex smiled. “Cheers.”

The schoolyard looked exactly the same. It was hard to believe so much had changed since he’d crossed it last. He felt like a different person, and no one but he and Tom — and Mr. Bray — knew it.

Alex visited his locker and then headed up to Bray’s study. The headmaster had wanted to see him first thing. The door was open and Alex knocked on it as he walked in.

“Ah, Alex! First day back. How are you feeling?” He gestured to a seat.

Alex sat down a little reluctantly. He hated these chairs. “I’m fine.”

“I have your modified course schedule.” Bray said handing Alex a slip of paper. “You’ll join your year in the mornings for classes and then afternoons in the library with your tutor. We’ll give it a month and then see how you’re doing. No football for now, but Coach Ludlow says you may try out for the team as soon as your doctor has cleared you for physical activity. He also said you’d be welcome to assist him during practices in the meantime.”

“Brilliant,” Alex grinned. That was the best news he’d heard all week.

Bray smiled in return and then arched one eyebrow. “I expect I don’t need to remind you to stay out of the vents?”

“…No sir,” Alex said, tempted to roll his eyes. Bray was never going to let him live that down.

“Alright then. Off to class.”

He got up and started to leave.

“Alex,” Bray said.

He paused.

“My door is always open if you need me. And Lidia’s as well, of course. We’re glad you’re back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Alex cut through Brompton Cemetery on his way home. Once inside the gates, he turned off the path and wandered through the gravestones until he found Ian’s. Someone had laid a bunch of roses on it. He bent down to examine them further. The petals were browned and curling, but it couldn’t have been more than a week since they’d been set there. Jack hadn’t mentioned coming, and it would have been a little strange for her to leave roses anyway.

Something was wrong.

He stood, suddenly on edge, and turned around. Three men were coming at him from different directions. Alex didn’t recognize them, but they had the general appearance of hired thugs. He immediately got out his phone and turned on his video camera, panning it across each of their faces.

“Alex Rider?” one of them asked. The group was trying to surround him. Alex stepped back, and his legs bumped into Ian’s gravestone. Shit. If this turned violent, Jack was going to kill him.

“What do you want?” Alex said.

They all pulled out wicked looking knives.

“Give us your phone. You’re coming with us.”

“No, actually, I’m not.”

“Freeze! Put your hands up!” The call came from behind the three men. They turned to see two plainclothes officers with their guns drawn. “Drop the weapons!”

Swearing, the men tossed their knives away.

“On your knees! All of you! Now!”

Alex watched as they knelt on the damp grass and put their hands on their heads. The officers approached, patted them down one by one and locked their wrists into zip tie restraints.

A third officer came down the path towards him. It was Crawley, and he was hauling a fourth handcuffed man by the upper arm. The man was broad and blond, with shoulder length hair. He was impeccably dressed, however his gray slacks were rumpled and grass stained at the knees.

His face twisted in an angry snarl. “Tell your dogs to stand down, Rider. I’ve done nothing wrong!” Then he forced his expression into something calmer. Alex knew that look. The man was calculating. “I know who you are Alex,” he said, “I know what you’ve done, and I can help you! We’ll both be rich!”

Alex raised both eyebrows. Another psychopath wanting to use him. Of course. Where did they all come from? Was there some kind of sign over his head? A homing beacon for insane criminals? He looked up at the sky for a moment. How the hell did they all find him?

“Do you know this man?” Crawley asked.

“I’ve never seen this idiot before in my life,” Alex replied.

“That’s what I thought,” the agent said.

The blond man started to talk again but Crawley prodded him in the back with his gun. “One more word out of you,” he said, “and I’ll have you face down in the mud. You no longer have permission to speak.” The man shut his mouth and glared.

Crawley continued, “He was watching you from over there. Taking photos.” He pointed to a small mausoleum twenty yards away.

“And what are you doing here?” Alex asked. Crawley was not normally part of his security detail.

“We heard some chatter. Decided to up your security a bit. Seems it was a good idea.”

“Right, well… thanks.”

“See you around.”

“See you.”

Crawley and the other MI6 agents gathered up the four men and marched them away to waiting cars out on the road.

Alex turned back to Ian’s grave and brushed the flowers aside. “That was interesting,” he said. “Do you think this Rider luck will ever let up?” As usual, Ian was silent on the subject. “Thought you’d like to know that things are going well. They’re letting me help with football practice until I’m allowed to play, and Bray’s found me a tutor. I may actually pass my GCSE’s...”