Check out my newest story, This Is the Altar. It's about John and Helen, Ian, Ash, and most likely Yassen in the pre-Alex years.
Also, this chapter is a lot of dialogue. I'm trying something new with one of the scenes, where it's only dialogue (let me tell you, it was weird to write), so some feedback on that would be appreciated. But don't worry; you'll get more action in the sequel!
Whoops, did I let that slip? Yup, I'm doing a sequel. It's going to have a strong focus on Alex and his interactions with his classmates, but there will be a nice plot going on, if I do say so myself. Look for it pretty soon!
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.
Voices faded in and out of his consciousness, snippets of conversations reaching his weary brain. None of it sounded very encouraging, he half-realized.
"Stabilise him—no, be careful you idiot! Look at his back!"
"Well I can't exactly put him on his stomach—did you see the bruising? I would bet money he's got internal damage."
He only vaguely noticed when he started moving. This sort of half-consciousness was really odd, he decided. Sort of like falling asleep but not really being asleep. It happened to him on airplanes sometimes—he would take hour long naps, which wasn't long enough to dream; but at the same time he remembered dreaming.
There was probably some medical term for it, he decided. But then thinking became too difficult, and it was easier just to drift off to sleep...
"Shit, he's stopped breathing! Get the bag!"
"Kid's okay, right?"
"It was touch and go for a while, but he should make a full recovery."
"Good. Umm, what actually happened to him?"
"From what I've gathered, he fell from a pretty tall height. Did you see that?"
"From far away. But what was wrong with him?"
"A sprained wrist, which looks minor compared to his other injuries; lacerations from a whip on his back; and a condition called pneumothorax."
"I don't speak doctor."
"Well... basically when he fell, he cracked a few ribs. The activity afterward put too much stress on them, and one of them ended up breaking."
"Ouch."
"Yes, but that's not all of it. The broken rib punctured one of his lungs. For a while in the helicopter, he stopped breathing."
"Sounds bad."
"It was. They were doing rescue breathing for more time than I'm really comfortable with. But they got here, and we went right into surgery. He'll live."
"Well that's always good. Long term effects?"
"Fortunately, he's still young. He should bounce back fairly well. Of course, it will take some time for his ribs to completely heal, and he shouldn't do anything too physical for a while, but he'll be okay."
"Good to know... Listen, I've gotta get out of here. Tell the kid we wish him luck will you? When he wakes up?"
"Of course. Who's 'we'?"
"Just tell him it's K Unit. He should get it."
Alex woke to the sound of a woman yelling. He swallowed experimentally before opening his eyes, and grimaced to feel the soreness. He had probably been unconscious for a while.
"This has gone too far, Alan. I'm simply not comfortable with the level of danger Alex was in. There has to be a limit."
A pause. "Yes, yes, of course I understand. I'm not a complete idiot, thank you." Her voice sounded bitter. "Don't 'now...' me, Alan. I know you too well. No more excuses."
Alex heard a tinny voice coming out of a phone but couldn't make out what it said. It intrigued him that Blunt was getting yelled at. Or at least he assumed Blunt was the one getting yelled at, with Mrs. Jones doing the yelling. He didn't know too many Alan's. He wished he could be a fly on the wall in that office.
"I am perfectly aware of the statistics, Alan." Her voice was cold; as harsh as he had ever heard it. "Now if you would excuse me, I believe Alex has woken up."
She hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
Alex opened his eyes, blinking the sleep out of them. Mrs. Jones—severe haircut, peppermint and all—was standing near the foot of his bed, mobile in her hand. She made an effort to smile at him before she turned to grab the nearest chair. Alex thought it might have looked more sincere than usual.
"What was that about?" he asked, startled at how weak his voice was. How long, exactly, had he been unconscious?
"Oh, nothing..." she began, before she bit her tongue. "Actually, it was a lot of things. I won't lie to you, Alex. A lot of important things."
"Such as?" he asked, using his good arm to push himself into a sitting position.
She sighed and adjusted her skirt. "I don't know where to begin... I guess I'll start with what you heard."
"I haven't agreed with these missions in a long time, Alex. I don't approve of sending you out when you don't consent to it, and I do not think that these missions are in any way, shape or form acceptable for a boy your age. The thought of anyone subjecting my own children to this makes me shudder. If you were to consent it would be a different story; I would agree to that, with its own limitations. There would be psychological debriefings, for instance, as well as regular appointments with a psychologist.
"The problem is, Alex, that you're simply too good at what you do for your own good. Alan cannot bear the thought of losing our most successful agent—"
Alex broke in, startled. "Your most successful agent? What does that mean?"
She pursed her lips. "You have the highest success rate, by far, out of any of our agents. This includes agents twice your age—and more. You have yet to fail a mission, Alex. I hope you realize how startling a statistic that is."
Alex gave it a thought. He rarely felt successful—oftentimes, he felt personally as if he had failed. But it seemed that his missions were considered a success if hundreds of thousands of people didn't die. The smaller casualties in there didn't seem to matter.
She continued, "Alan would never give you up voluntarily. I'm afraid he sees your involvement as permanent. If he were to have his way, your only escape would be death."
That made Alex pause. "What about when I turn 18? Wouldn't I be an adult?"
"Technically, yes. Legally, yes. But think about it, Alex. Alan could no longer threaten you with an orphanage, but Miss Starbright has yet to renew her visa. But even if she moved away of her own accord and you walked away, he would leave you with no options. He could blacklist you—even fabricate an arrest so that no one would hire you. And how are you doing in school? How do you think you'll do on your GSCE's?"
Alex gaped. "Is that all I'm destined for, then? I have no option but to do this until I die?" It was a depressing thought. All the same, he could picture it... trying to walk away, but being forced back in by circumstances. (1)
She shook her head. "Not if I can help it. I'm done with standing on the sidelines—you have an ally in me, Alex. I can't sit back and watch him destroy your life any longer."
"And if he fires you? What then?" He couldn't let himself hope. It sounded too good to be true.
"I know too much for him to fire me—I could go to the news and completely discredit him. Even to the Prime Minister. He would despise a publicity scandal such as this. I get the feeling he would do almost anything to avoid one like it."
Alex stretched out, wincing at the pulling of the skin on his back. "So what happens now? How do you plan on saving me from a life of eternal misery?"
"I was going to get into that," she said, making a strange face at him. Alex got the feeling she wasn't too used to sarcastic humour.
"The first thing I need to mention is your class."
"Oh," Alex said weakly, pausing mid-stretch. "Them. I had forgotten."
She put a new peppermint into her mouth. "I had thought so. Unfortunately, the way Takami told your story, there was very little room for a cover. So, we told them the truth."
Alex could do very little but blink at her for a very long moment. "The... truth?" he asked, hoping his voice wasn't as weak as he felt it was. "As in, you told them what I do?"
"We confirmed what you do," she corrected. "As they already knew, based upon what Takami told them. They have also all signed the Official Secrets Act. Their parents know that they were kidnapped, but we told them it was random; an unfortunate coincidence. Your classmates are the only ones that know everything."
"That should be great fun," he mumbled. He got the feeling that school was going to turn into hell. Not that it wasn't already pretty bad, but his two lives were supposed to be separate; contained into their individual spheres. Not mixed up like some crazy science experiment gone horribly, horrendously wrong.
Mrs. Jones frowned. "Hopefully they can provide a sort of support system for you," she said. "Miss Starbright mentioned that you've been having some problems in school with unfortunate rumours and uncouth classmates."
Alex desperately needed to change the subject. "Where is Jack, anyway?" he asked. "I know she would want to be here..."
She looked at him like she knew what he was attempting, but answered his question anyway. "Passport problems. We're in Qatar, so she wouldn't have been able to re-enter the country if she had come to visit."
Alex looked at her sharply. "Would that be something you would fix?" he asked. "To help me out, so it can't be held above my head?"
"Yes," Mrs. Jones said, nodding. "We could even offer her dual citizenship, if she so wished."
Alex let out a loud breath. "And you would be expecting me to stay with MI6, correct?"
She nodded again. "Just because I am more... moral than Mr. Blunt does not mean that I do not take my job just as seriously. And, to be honest, I can't see you doing anything else with your life. What was it that you wanted to do, before your first mission? Be a football player?"
Alex let out a hollow laugh. "I can't really imagine it either. But...I just can't do this forever. It's already killing me."
"As a part of my discussion with Mr. Blunt, I brought up the benefits that most MI6 agents receive—he agreed that you should also receive those benefits. You would essentially be a fully-fledged agent as a fifteen year old."
Alex blinked a few times before he remembered. "Oh, yeah. My birthday must've gone by. What day is it, now?"
"February 18th. You've been fifteen for five days now."
"How exciting," he said dryly. "How long was I out for, anyway?"
"A little more than a week," she replied. "The doctor said that they had to keep you unconscious to speed the healing process. And there was the fact that you underwent a very serious surgery."
"How much longer do I have to be here?" he asked, already restless. And to think he had been awake for less than an hour.
Mrs. Jones stood up. "I'm not sure," she answered. "Would you like me to find you a doctor?"
Alex shrugged. He didn't particularly care about talking to a doctor, but anything that got rid of the awkward woman was fine with him. She was going for empathy, but it was obviously new to her. She didn't quite know how to handle herself.
As she walked out, her sensible shoes making the room echo behind her, Alex leaned back in his bed, his head spinning.
He was going to go back to school. His class was going to know what he did—who knew how they would treat him. Mrs. Jones was trying to make life easier for him. It felt like his life had somehow been inverted in the weeks he'd been away.
It was a hell of an adjustment to make.
(1) Check out amitai's story Attempt, if you haven't already. It's a great example of what I mentioned up there.
I'm not really happy with the ending, but be sure to leave your reviews! This is officially the last chapter of Repercussions; remember to look for the sequel soon!