A/N: I don't own Alex Rider.

This is for SpyFest (Revival), Week TWO! If you haven't voted for week one, go on my profile page, and vote for your favorite story!

PROMPT: Post-SCORPIA Rising

Colors

Red.

Sunrises. The color the paints the dawn a vivid scarlet. The symbol of a beginning. It proclaims the birth of a new day. It is soft and mellow. It calms him when the gnarled claws of his nightmares clutch him. It wakes him when the terror of his past chases him.

He wakes to red.

Red.

The color of her hair. The vigorous russet that glows when he closes his eyes. The color he misses the most. He sees the red sometimes. He sees it in random strangers that pass him on the street. He sees it when he falls asleep. He imagines it when he's alone and craving for the presence of his family.

He misses red.

Red.

The color of spilled blood. The lucid substance, reflecting the dying men that he had killed. He sees her face in the red, too. Sometimes, she smiles at him. Sometimes, she's terrified, her face contorted in pain, screaming as she burns up in flames.

He loathes red.

Pink.

The color of the half-healed scars on his body. The color of the painful scar, just above his heart. It reminds him of how lucky it is that he is living. But he remembers: he isn't living. He is barely surviving. It reminds him of the pain he has been through. The pain of each and every scar – both visible and invisible.

He wishes pink would go away.

Orange.

Fire. The ball of flames that swallowed her whole. The screams that tore out of his throat as he struggled against his bonds. He knows she must have felt the pain before she died. The pain of the flames, licking away at her skin. She must have felt the searing heat. She must have felt her body, being blown to bits.

He feels orange inside of him.

Yellow.

The color of her dress. He remembers it well. The light that bounced off of her clothes used to blind him. He quickly glances up to the sun from time to time to check if it's still yellow. It's his reminder of who he used to be.

He longs for yellow.

Green.

The color of the football pitch. He walks there to pretend he is young again. He recalls the times that she sat in the stands, cheering for him. He smiles when he sees his past self scoring, the perfect image of a confident, normal teenager.

He envies green.

Black.

The color he wore to her funeral. The color he seems to always wear. He remembers her family's accusing eyes as he stands in front of the gravestone. He feels a knot in his stomach coil, and he can't help the tears that well up in his eyes.

He mourns for black.

Brown.

The color of his last friend's hair. The long, dark hair that cascades down her back. He finds it hard to respond to her when everything she does reminds him of his dead sister. He stares at her, unmoving. She finally gives up, moving away with a swish of her brown hair.

He is abandoned by brown.

A/N: Hello! This was written in celebration for the end of my exams! ...though this doesn't really sound like a celebration...

Do you know who "he", "she", and another "she" were? It was kind of hard to not use their names, lol.

Anyway. Go vote! SpyFest Week One's poll is on my profile. If you liked this, vote for me when Week Two is posted!

-A