Chapter 1: Denial

AN: Hello. I used to have this story up before, but I decided to take it back to edit it and make a better and completely different version. I hope none of you mind.

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider

"Alex Rider, welcome back." Mr. Benson greeted in surprise. He gave the boy a quick concerned glance, but went on with the rest of attendance as soon as he did so.

He was one of the younger teachers; a handsome face that still looked to be fresh out of college. His boyish features made him popular among the female students, yet he showed no notice to the attention he was given.

Eric Benson was what many called a workaholic. His lifestyle left him with few relationships. In fact, a coworker warned him the day before that he would burn out if he kept on going the way he was. Despite being a dedicated teacher, he also worked at a local pub most evenings for some extra income. He would be lying if he said he didn't find himself exhausted by the end of the day. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

It was unusual for Mr. Benson to be enthralled with another life other than his own as expected, but Alex Rider was a curiosity he couldn't get out of his mind.

The teenager didn't seem as fragile as his excuses suggested, and he seemed more on guard every time he returned and definitely more worn. Benson knew the excuses were valid, but he felt an odd sensation that something was missing.

Today, Alex seemed more deflated and simply sad. He remembered losing a family member before, but he couldn't quite remember it affecting him in the same manner. To be sick so many times was odd to say the least, but for him to come back with a slight tan and a presence of 'I saw the world and barely came back with my soul' was grounds for suspicion.

It bothered him more that the rest of the staff found no reason to question what was really going on. He wasn't one for conspiracies, but the inconsistencies were overwhelming.

After the roll call, Mr. Benson began his lecture of the day depicting the last days of World War II.

At times when he looked up from his notes, he couldn't help but notice the way Alex looked ready to leave any moment.

His student sat hunched over on the very edge of the chair and his expression occasionally displayed apprehension. It was like he was waiting to run for it if something bad happened. But nothing bad could happen.

At least, nothing bad could happen in this classroom.

The teacher was then so immersed in his own lecture that he didn't even notice the fair-haired teen until the bell. He enjoyed his lectures and was very focused in the details he gave his students.

He quickly assigned an essay to his students before they scurried out of the room like usual. They were always in a rush as if hoping he would forget to assign them anything at all.

"Rider!" he called before the boy could leave.

Alex turned a little stiffly to look at him. The man was taken aback by the guarded look in the boy's eyes.

"Mr. Benson?"

"Are you doing okay?" he asked as he went back to stacking his scattered papers lying messily on the desk.

"Yeah, of course," he smiled tightly, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Mr. Benson only nodded in understanding as he situated his things in his russet leather bag.

"You didn't seem too happy to be in my class today, you seemed bothered," he explained without looking up, "But forgive me if I'm mistaken."

The boy's expression was slightly perplexed as he answered curtly, "I'm fine." And then he added more pleasantly, "I'm not sick anymore."

Alex seemed to be defending himself by the uneasiness in his voice.

"Sorry, Mr. Benson, I'm going to be late," he excused himself apologetically into the still congested hallways.

Near the end of the school day, the young spy found himself heading towards the restroom. He left a few minutes before the end of his last class with the typical excuse that he wasn't feeling well.

He went to the sink and looked down at the drain as he turned on the cold water. He washed his face feeling momentarily refreshed before thoughts bombarded him once again.

Mr. Benson wasn't the first person that day or that week to call him out as 'unhappy'.

Jack had questioned him about his feelings, but he rejected the topic immediately.

And Tom had relentlessly commented on his apparently lost expression. It wasn't like he was avoiding anything. No.

He thought it to be pointless to wonder whether he looked 'happy' or not because he could be happy, couldn't he? Or fine to say the very least.

Sure, MI6 had used him one too many times. And sure, his Uncle, godfather, and many others had died just in the last few months. He had also been injured countless times, but he could take care of himself. He never needed a father, and his godfather was less than desirable.

All in all, he'd rather take care of himself. He always had that choice.

Sarov raised the gun… he winced as the shot rang out…

Alex grimaced at the involuntary image. He tried not to think of why a seemingly old memory now haunted him. There was nothing he could've done to change what happened that day…right? Did he even remember what was said before the shot?

No, it's best not to think of it.

Either way, he was okay now. His injuries have healed, the world was saved, and it wasn't like he had any control over the events in his life anyhow. No one did. So it just felt too absurd for Alex to think that he needed any attention for it.

Besides, wasn't it selfish to think such things when there was so much worse in the world? He would know, he had seen plenty to prove it.

So why?

Alex kept his eyes fixed on the drain of the sink while he contemplated all of this. His hands were tightly clasped at the edges of the porcelain sink.

He found that he couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror.

The young man began to feel something raw emerging from the pit of his stomach. Much like a wild animal tearing at his insides, he was filled with desperation to escape his own skin.

He hated the fact that he could still hear students in the hallways. He hated how noisy and crowded this school was. And he felt like an open wound, the air itself becoming painful to breath.

He stepped away from the sink, turned around and kicked one of the stalls out of impulse. He felt himself wanting to scream as he kicked it again.

"$^#&!"

After seething, he dared to look back and glance into one of the mirrors.

The face he saw was contorted in unrecognizable lines. He felt himself swallowed in fear.

His face barely softened, but he saw the brown eyes fall and the lines begin to disappear.

The face.

The face was sad. Hurt. And worst of all it begged for attention. A beacon for help. It was so simple to see.

'No.

That's not how I feel,' Alex thought.

'What about everyone you were supposed to trust? Isn't the reason you distance yourself from Jack is because you are expecting her to hurt you at some point?

How do you feel that everyone in your life sacrificed your happiness? Those who left you to hell? Or was it not enough hell for you? Blunt? Jones? ' A voice provoked, 'Ian? He left you to this, didn't he? Do you enjoy being the victim? I bet you asked for all this. You could've sent Jack home. But you're selfish, aren't you? Poor Jack.'

An unnaturally vulnerable sensation soon drowned him. The words waved over his mind, giving him a sickly feeling.

The usually resilient spy felt weak and unable to argue.

"I have Jack, I have Tom," Alex whispered.

The provoking voice said nothing, though Alex still felt it was quietly mocking him.

Alex was taken jarringly from his own thoughts as a few classmates entered, gossiping obnoxiously as they did so. Alex left before he could even guess what they were talking about.

As he entered the hallway, it didn't take long to find Tom.

"Hey, Al," Tom greeted gently as he placed a hand on his mate's shoulder. "How about some football? A few of us are playing at the park this afternoon."

Alex gave half a smile in return. "Thanks Tom, but I think Jack wants me home tonight."

Tom's expression fell slightly as he seemed to debate on how to respond. All the while he was biting his lip- an old habit his mother tried to kill. Alex was confused by the confliction his friend showed.

"Yeah, mate," he finally responded, giving his friend a pat on the back, "Just don't be a stranger. I'm here you know?"

AN: Thank you, and please REVIEW!