A/N: So, this is my first (and hopefully only) short little crack!fic. Lately, I've been reading bunches of Alex Rider stories, and it seems in nearly all of them – well, a good majority, anyway – there's always the K-Unit-finds-out-that-Alex-was-shot-in-the-chest-and-freaks-out scene, and, due to a conversation recently with my sister, this short little drabble was birthed. Enjoy!

Scars

Wolf, Snake, Eagle, and Fox hovered over Cub's bed.

Much to Cub's chagrin, I must add. That is, if he were awake to actually witness the mothering hen moment. But no, as of then, Cub had slipped into the void of bliss and nothingness, the void of unconsciousness, namely.

Well, all good things to come to end.

At that precise moment in time, the horribly blank look that had earlier conquered Cub's young face twisted into one of pure agony, well, pure pain, at least.

The K-Unit members, seeing this, stepped back a bit, acquiring impassive stances that greatly rivaled their worried looks they held not five minutes prior.

A few moments later, Cub blearily blinked opened his eyes, focusing in on his surroundings and, more importantly, his "team" members.

"What happened?" Cub asked quietly, pain and weariness clearly evident in his newly deepened voice.

"An accident on the assault course," Snake responded, shooting a quick – and nearly inconspicuous – look in Wolf's ashamed direction.

"Oh." Eloquent.

"So…" Eagle was never one for awkward moments.

"What's that on your chest?" Snake blurted, the doctor-y side of him allowing him to wallow in bubbling curiosity no longer.

It was the first time Alex realized that his shirt was off. After a moment, he noticed his pants were gone, too.

Oh, bloody – Wait! Thank God, he had shorts on. Now that he was ensured he was of, at least, some decent clothing, Alex readjusted his face to a neutral expression and nimbly answered,

"A bullet wound."

"Yes, thank you," was the sarcastic return. "I figured that much out! How old is it? Who gave it to you?"

"Classified."

"Oh, come on, Cub." This time it was Wolf who spoke. "We're a team, and as your team leader, I command that you tell us right now."

Alex snorted. "Convenient time to beginning acting like a team, eh?"

"Stuff it."

"Where did you get that scar on your stomach?" He indicated the bluish-tinted line with a point of his finger.

"Some freak with a knife was in the mood for tic-tac-toe."

"And that one?" Eagle pointed to another

"Biking accident." In Alex's defense, it was relatively true.

As they continued this little activity, Alex felt himself getting increasingly irritated his teams' sudden interest in their fifth member. He was trying to be polite, really. But in no means able to walk out of the infirmary, Alex relayed his aggravation in harsh glares and clipped tones, trying to make his motives clear.

"Can't I rest in peace?" Alex finally muttered, much to amusement of three of his four team members. Said fourth was still intrigued by the museum of abrasions – old and recent – that littered the lithe body of the fifteen year old.

"Where did you get that one on your leg?" Eagle continued innocently, indicating a particularly painful looking cut that covered about half of his calf muscle.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back, per se. In a voice dripping of pure annoyance that spoke volumes of his wishes for solitude, Alex simply answered, quite calmly and straight-faced,

"Shaving."

A moment of incredulous silence. And, then -

"WHAT?"