Summary; Alex Rider joins the SAS. Under the alias Thomas Smith, and code name Eel, assigned to D Unit as the new dark haired guy claiming to be somewhere in his twenties, a crazy shooter and immature prankster.

And only he knows this is all a facade.

And only he knows that facades are temporary, and in his heart of hearts he's just waiting for his to fall apart.

1/10/2014:

Oh my god so.

It's been almost two years since I put this fic online and the response I got (over 500 reviews, guys! I can't even-) was so overwhelming and amazing. I did take a hiatus for a bit and in that time I feel I evolved a lot as both a writer and a person, so now when I want to come back to writing fanfiction and look over my old stories- they are terrible. It's not just the cheesy chapter titles or immature A/Ns or unrealistic scenes or utter befuddlement at real life that shows through every other chapter, but the overall horrific quality of the thing.

If you're reading this because something I've written post October 2014 has caught your interest and you've come here looking for something else of mine, I strongly encourage you not to read. I am quite frankly embarrassed by this fic and anyone who is reading, I beg you, do not judge me on this or the other stories I wrote when I was foolish and young. (Okay now I'm sounding really dramatic-) But, if you are reading this because you love Alex Rider fandom and feel up for a 94k embark for cheap angst shots, go the hell ahead.

The only reason I'm not deleting this fic is because it has helped me so much to transform and, mostly, you guys. I could not ask for better, more understanding, more loving or giving or helpful or plain wonderful fans because everyone- from those who were there to the very first chapter to people who follow and favourite this story even up to this day- is more incredible then I could have ever possibly imagined when I started this account in 2012. I really love you all so much, which is why I will try and finish the story- infinitesimally, maybe, but try all the same- and I'm not going to take it down.

So. If you are going to read (or reread) Facades that Hide Us, please just see it as writing lessons from when I was young. Try and squint against the plot holes and grammar mistakes, and- enjoy-

I saw the light (saw the light) just for fifteen seconds
It burned so bright (burned so bright) I was medicated...
15 Seconds, Belasco

Prologue;

The boy was in solitary confinement.

They wondered about him, the staff, the other criminally insane locked inside the goddamn steel institution. He'd come in with MI6's best, a mere teen shaking and flinching from anything that moved, with bedraggled blonde hair and frightened blue eyes, and the black suited men with dark glasses had gruffly escorted him to solitary confinement and given strict orders that he should not be touched, moved, talked to, interacted with in any way other than to give him daily exercise and three tasteless meals.

So despite the precautions that had been trained into the staff about the pressure that does to a mind, the legality of doing it to an underage mind, they took the boy and put him in a plain white room and shivered while he screamed and screamed and screamed.

Alex Rider escaped three months later, leaving behind three unconscious security guards and a trail of smashed cameras.

0

CHAPTER ONE

Eel took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fiery ache in his arms. It was fine. He could do this. He could. It was a matter of life and death and he couldn't begin to think of the consequences if he failed. His muscles screaming in pain he unclenched his left hand from the hard iron bar and swung it to the next. Chancing a look down, he gulped as the ground swung closer as he dropped but somehow he managed to flip over and hook his legs around a pole on one side. Taking a rest for a moment, he took a deep breath before hauling himself up by his leg muscles and grabbing onto the bars again with his fingers. Then he took his legs off the pole and hung for a moment. With another deep breath, he slid his right hand up then his left so they both had a proper grip. Faster, his body told him.

In the distance there were gun shots. Gulping, Eel tried to move again but found himself paralysed.

His arms weakened and for a perilous moment he hung by a finger to the burning metal. Then he fell.

The air was knocked out of him as he collapsed, gasping, onto the dusty ground below. Groaning, he squinted up at the bright sun before hauling himself up, still clutching his ribs which had been bruised from the drop.

"Hand it over. Twenty quid." smirked Rat, running up to him. Eel looked back at the assault course he had failed miserably, and spat on the floor.

"S'not fair." he sulked, handing over the money. "You cheated."

"C'mon, Eel, grow up. How did I cheat? You were the one who made the bet."

"You still cheated." Eel protested stubbornly. "I know you did. I can... see it in your eyes."

"Sometimes I wonder how you managed to join the SAS, Eel, I really do."

"So do I." agreed Eel thoughtfully. "Might've been something to do with the fact I'm an escaped mental institute patient and that was the only way they could keep an eye on me- but wait, they don't know that yet, so it must be something else."

"Very funny." grinned Rat. "C'mon, let's go eat dinner."

"If you can call that dirt dinner."

"I don't understand how you still can't digest it after just over a year of eating it. Every day."

"Don't remind me. Hey, do you know anything about that new unit coming in a week?"

"New? Nah. This unit's coming back from Iraq. Apparently they're the best. Ever."

"D-"

"No, Eel, you're not pranking them. They're hardened, vicious, in-desperate-need-of-therapy SAS soldiers."

"But-"

"Forget it, Eel. Now let's go."

"Jeez, someone's stressy."

"Not too much, after getting an easy twenty quid."

"You cheated!"

"Sure, sure. Now come on."

The two soldiers walked back to the camp, Eel covered in dust from the fall. They made for a curious pair; Eel was short and thin, with unruly black hair and startling blue eyes, a childish nature and boyish face- he looked more a teenager then the 23 year old he claimed to be. Rat, however, was muscled and tall, with long, sandy blonde hair and tanned skin, a face with chiselled features and blunt grey eyes. Though they both had the childish nature in common- any pranks in the SAS camp could usually be traced back to the pair, though the more daring and stupid ones usually belonged to Eel. This was a reason why the pair were not among the most popular in the camp even though if it was ever put to vote, they could probably make the most detested; a stark contrast to their team mates, Lion and Scorpion, the leader and medic in D-Unit, who were liked well enough.

Creeping into the cafeteria, so as not to unnecessarily alert some of their more recent victims of their presence, they slid into place in the queue of men lining up for the dirt some idiot named edible. Eel looked at the wad of notes- his hard earned money- poking out of the back pocket of his friend. He sighed as he resisted the temptation to just...pull it out...

It wasn't his fault that his hand twitched towards it and pocketed the money. No, definitely not his fault.

Eel got the usual scowl from the cook as she harshly shoved at him a minuscule amount of dirt. Okay, so a few months earlier he'd had a rant at her about the foulness of her cooking- he didn't mean it. It slipped out.

After all, he was Alex Rider, fifteen year old boy, former MI6 agent- sometimes his body did things he couldn't control.

He was officially insane.

000 0 00

Eel and Rat slipped into the bench in front of their team mates. "This is disgusting." groaned Eel, lifting the stuff up with a spoon and letting it fall back into his bowl with a plop. The rest of his unit looked at him despairingly.

"Eel, you've told us that every time we've sat down here to eat. Can you never learn to shut up?" Lion asked him scathingly.

"But it's-"

"-inedible muck, I know." finished Lion wearily. Eel looked at him with wide eyes.

"How did you know I was going to say that?"

"Because you say it every single time. Jesus, Eel, just eat the damn stuff."

Eel looked at the murkiness with a sigh and picked up the tiniest amount, nibbling it before spitting it back into his bowl.

"That's disgusting." scowled Leopard.

"It's disgusting." Eel whined. He continued to moan through mouthfuls, accompanied by a disgusted expression, until the end of the meal; the rest of his unit, for most part, ignored him, used to the same annoying routine which happened every time they ate at the mess hall.

When dessert came Eel finally shut up and hungrily scoffed the (according to him) tiny amount of ice cream. Then he stared at everyone else's portions with longing eyes until they sighed and slid the remainder of their food over to him. "Thanks." he grinned.

Lion sighed, looking at his youngest unit member. He said he was 23 but they all doubted it- more 18 or 19, they guessed amongst themselves- and they were all 25 or 26. And Eel acted like a child, or come to think of it, a typical teenager; with his short attention span, disregard for authority, appetite, long sleeps... that was something that had troubled the unit ever since they had come to care for Eel. His sleep. He had nightmares which they didn't want to think about, which would end with him screaming in terror and blindly reaching for something, or clutching a non existent wound- though it could be something old, since he never let them see his upper body, which was usually where the places he clutched desperately were.

But nightmares were the least of the young man's issues, Lion observed. He had the occasional... flashback, which always ended disastrously. Though the unit had an unspoken rule not to talk about them, they knew how to deal with these sudden episodes by now. The flashbacks consisted of Eel seeing someone from his past- who were dead, judging from Eel's scared questions of 'how are you still alive?'- and Eel reacting to them. Reacting. What a gentle word to use for the way the man would swing punches and kicks and if a gun was near loosen a few shots...

They had tried to get him to see a therapist but at the mention he had run away into the woods for a week. And despite the fact he obviously had issues, he was part of their unit and they would not grass him up. Luckily, they had settled on a compromise; pills to make his sleep dreamless. Though making him go into a deep sleep, so nothing could wake him other than Leopard's hideous socks near his face, and causing a slight head ache in the morning, they worked perfectly. The flashbacks they had no cure for, but they had lessened in frequency recently: the last had been near five months ago.

He was weaker than them in speed and strength, another reason for doubting his age. But the main reason he had gotten into the SAS without any former army experience was because of his amazing skills; unbeatable fighting techniques, seemingly endless stamina and of course his amazing sharp shooting skills. The sergeant had told him to apply elsewhere as a sniper, he was so good at shooting. Especially the way he did it; instinctive shooting, Eel called it- and though he had never revealed how he had learnt it, his unit was pretty sure it was in some illegal way. But Eel had refused the sergeant's suggestion to become a sniper and persistently returned until he was granted a place as the final member in their unit.

Lion remembered when he had first come to them. They had thought he was a visiting son, or brother, of some other soldier because he looked so young and quite frankly terrified- of what, at the time, they thought was them. He'd explained he was their final unit member, Eel. Mortified at the mistake they'd tried to make it up to him, but he was so closed off it was hard to pry anything from him. Come to think of it, it was the flashback that had caused him to open up to them; that was when he had started trusting them, and revealed his true, unfortunately mischievous nature. And habit of making foolish bets with Rat. And stealing the money back off him. A thing Rat did right back to him; it was a ritual, much like the complaints about food, that the unit had gotten used to after a year and few months of living together.

"C'mon, let's go back to the barracks now." Lion announced at the prospect of a food fight became unfortunately evident. "Rat, put that down now. Eel, if you dare throw it it's fifty times on the assault course."

Eel stuck his tongue out childishly but bounced up and followed Lion out to their shared barracks. Rat and Leopard followed, the unit trooping across the dusty ground with the rare heat of English sunshine pounding down on them.

Their barracks were notoriously public to each-other with hard beds (another thing Eel frequently complained about and begged duvets off the others to lay over the metal) and a small radiator being the only source of heat- not that, in this blistering summer day, it was needed, but knowing British weather that could change into a cold drizzle any time- and personal pictures plastered on the walls above each of the men's bunks. Noticeably, Eel had nothing but a Chelsea poster and some author the 'uncultured' other unit members had never heard of.

"I'm crashing." announced Eel. Lion, Rat and Leopard muttered goodnight, used to the youngster's lengthy sleeps.

0 0 00 0 0 00 0 0 00 0 00 0 0

Alex tossed in bed. He was tired, he knew that from the burn in his eyes, but he just couldn't get to sleep.

Frustrated, he leaped out of bed to go and rant at Leopard (despite his name, the most friendly of the unit) because.. he felt like ranting. There were just those times when he needed to shout at someone friendly about his current state of mind, depressed or insanely happy or melancholy or as he was now; stupidly tired, unable to go to sleep and with no one to blame but himself.

And whoever else he could think up to blame. There was Rat, for making the assault course bet which now made him tired, or the cook, for not giving him enough nutrients... actually, he could blame the Sergeant for that... and Lion, for being the only one not to give up most of his ice cream-

Their sleeping quarters was empty. Confused, Alex padded silently outside, slipping on a pair of trainers."Guys?" he said loudly. "You there?" No one was around. Alex frowned. There was absolutely no one. Usually he could hear someone training, or other units talking... but there was no one around. "'Kay, jokes over, guys." he said uncertainly. He strode towards the shooting range and peered cautiously in the store where the guns were kept. Usually there was someone guarding them but this time there was no one. A feeling of foreboding overcame him as he suddenly felt cold despite the warmth of the July humidity (which was.. was it crystallising? Into a thousand shimmering crystals hanging suspended in the air around him, just what the hell was happening?)

Something was wrong.

With senses on high alert (how cliché that phrase was, he thought absently to himself) Alex- or Eel, depending on how much you knew- crept forwards, searching for someone, anyone, in the camp as the sun began to set. As the golden rays turned to darkness (too fast thought Alex, the first beginnings of suspicion beginning to snake up his spine) Alex broke into a run, throwing open doors and lifting up tent flaps, his breath coming out faster as his worst fear had been realised; they had all left him.

"No, we haven't." said a quiet voice. Alex whirled around to see-

"Jack?" And she was there, in her beautiful liveliness, red hair drifting up (how could it, though?) and skin pristine and white (but she was darker then that, just a bit... she wasn't that pale, right?) and the best thing was that she was alive. Alive.

"Alex." her face brightened into a smile (why did it seem so fake?) "You've no idea how much I've missed you... god, you went to America? And you didn't tell me?" she was still smiling. And that statement was just so... Jack. She ran towards him and suddenly they were hugging and this wasn't a hallucination because he could feel her, her wonderful warmth and her fingers were grasping him and she was saying "Oh Alex, I've missed you so much," and he was saying "I thought you were dead, I missed you too, I can't believe you're back," and that was the thing, he just couldn't quite believe it... but she was there, alive, so he forgot about his suspicions and just hugged her and let the tears run down his face. Because she wasn't, because she didn't die. Here she was and-

-and something was tearing through his shirt with a ripping sound. A more gruesome ripping sound which he knew only too well, of flesh, was heard as something sharp was carving it's way into his back. When he looked down there was a tip of bloodied metal poking out from his stomach and despite everything he had to close his eyes for a moment to hold in his disgust.

"Jack?" he gasped as what had just occurred made itself fully comprehensible to him. Something hot was soaking his shirt. Almost in slow motion, she stepped away from him, a bloody knife in her hand. "Jack?" he repeated again, his voice still not fully betrayed, still holding the notes of surprise. And there was still relief, that she was alive... but she had stabbed him?

Her face contorted into a scowl. "You killed me, Alex." she hissed. "You made me stay to look after you and I ended up dead. It's all YOUR FAULT." Alex stumbled forwards, wanting her to catch him, but she stepped away again. Another stab of betrayal struck him. It was worse then the physical pain because this was Jack. Alex sank to his knees with a thud. He felt distant and light headed as he stared up at his former guardian. This was just like a film... except there would never be a happy ever after, no explanations because this was Jack, and...

"It's... not my fault.." he managed. It wasn't. It wasn't.

"Yes, it is." her face contorted again and seemed to morph into Ian's.

"Such a failure." his uncle was saying morosely. "Faking yourself, living a lie... your team mates trust you, Alex. How can you betray them like this?"

But he wasn't the one betraying, no, it wasn't his fault. How could they twist this round? And where had Jack gone, Jack who betrayed him... he was dying. He was dying. He might have contemplated suicide once or twice but he didn't want to die. He was too young... "Never too young to die." Ian said mercilessly. "And your unit..."

"No..." he croaked. "Lion... Lion, I'm sorry. Rat? Leopard? I lied, okay... please forgive me..."

"Tell them the truth." demanded Ian.

"But I- okay, I'm not who you think I am, I'm Alex... no, they can't know.."

Then suddenly he was in a glass cage and Ian (or was it Jack?) was gone and water was pooling around him and no it was blood, blood from the people he had killed and it was so hot, scalding hot, and it was burning him and it hurt so bad and no it was rising so fast and it was on his chest and he was thrashing about and bumped into something round and lolling... it was the head of... it was Yassen and the deceased man was staring lifelessly with blank eyes which Alex couldn't tear his own horrified gaze away from until it went back under the surface and, oh god, the blood was rising and it was over his head and he couldn't breath oh god he didn't want to die but he couldn't breath he couldn't breath