Disclaimer: Sorry, I do not own Alex Rider. Or any of the other characters.
Chapter 1: XX?!
"Ben?" A slightly familiar voice whispered from the other end of the line. "Can you spirit Smithers away from HQ and come pick me up?"
Ben stared at the mobile in his hands and - for only a second - wondered if the voice belonged to who he thought. "Alex?"
"Yes. Me. And we might want to... talk to Mrs. Jones ASAP after. Look, I don't know when they'll come back so..."
The former SAS-soldier memorized the address given to him. A short while later, Smithers willingly hurried to the car, alongside the older spy. The inventor even acknowledged the request for women's clothing even though neither of the two agents had any idea why on earth Alex would need them. Maybe he freed some poor woman along with himself?
Ben drove like a maniac until they reached their destination. The dull orange from a lonely street light lit the area only enough for the spy to find the outlines of a hunched-over body close by. He approached the stranger in the hopes of discovering Alex.
"Alex?" Smithers wondered cautiously. What had happened here?
The hunched-over stranger looked up, apparently startled by the noise. Then he straightened up and let a sigh of relief escape through his lips. "Finally! The clothes?"
Ben threw him the spares.
Alex caught them expertly. "Turn around. I will explain in the car," ordered the teen.
A bit worried, they obeyed him.
"Alright. Let's get the hell away from here."
Smithers and Ben helped Alex into the vehicle. When the automatic door-light was turned on, both men suddenly were very aware of why exactly Alex had requested women's clothes.
It was not some odd crossdressing-moment.
Not really.
At least when considering the bruised, exhausted and with blood splattered young woman sitting next to Smithers now.
Alex noticed their utterly shocked expressions and regarded them with a sad knowing half-smile. "It takes some getting used to, I know. Don't ask me how they did it, but please disguise me so I can get into HQ. Mrs. Jones needs to be informed immediately. They are still after me and... Let's just say, I would rather not spend any amount of my time in a cell in the near future."
"Of course, old chap," Smithers muttered absentmindedly, "I think I can get you inside without much of a hassle."
"Thank you."
Silence reigned for the rest of the ride.
When they arrived Smithers quickly led him - er - her to his lab. An assistant cleaned Alex's wounds so she was deemed appropriate for a debriefing. Smithers provided a bulletproof shirt and a pair of grey sweat pants that were a little too big for his - her new body, but better than nothing. Actually, that was the only item Alex did not discard right away, because it had neither flowers - goodness forbid - or was any color ranging between rubber duck yellow to pink.
Pink! Imagine that!
The helpful, unfazed assistant fixed Alex's hair and gave him - her a few pointers concerning make up and such unheard of girly things.
In the meantime, Ben tried to overcome his shock while he waited for his adopted - charge to emerge from the concealed dressing room. Smithers and he exchanged a few uneasy glances. What were they supposed to do now?
Alex looked into the mirror. A quite attractive - well, minus the bandage in the blonde hair and the bruises - teen girl stared back. She had his eyes, his face, his unruly waves and his trademark smirk. But now until forever he was a girl.
Or however short his lifespan would eventually be, he thought.
The assistant seemed to be happy with her handiwork. She was about ten to fifteen years older than Alex. Right then she looked as if she was a proud big sister helping her baby girl/sister with make up for the first time. Or what Alex pictured someone would look like on such an occasion.
Ben grinned at Alex when she came back out. He jokingly checked Alex out and got playfully slapped for his troubles. "You know, you are quite the cute tomboy, Alex," Ben commented.
"I am way too young and innocent for that! You just scarred me for life. Thanks, Ben!" Alex retorted, mock-offended.
"Sure. Follow me, oh innocent princess," Ben laughed good-naturedly at his charge.
They continued to bicker until they stood in front of the head's office. Alex took a deep, calming breath and knocked for the first time ever in his three years old spy-career. Then Ben and Alex entered hesitatingly.
Mrs. Jones could not refrain from showing her surprise by hastily grabbing a much-needed peppermint as soon as her eyes met the visitors'.
Alex raised an eyebrow, slightly insecure about the shocked reaction. "That bad?" he wondered aloud.
Fox grinned, obviously quite unrepentant. "Believe me, you are quite the eye-catcher. I won't be surprised if - additionally to the few terrorist organizations you managed to piss off - I have to fight hordes of hormone crazed teenage boys."
Mrs. Jones cleared her throat to remind them of her presence. She could still not belief that Alex was truly transformed into a girl. Evidently, she was not the only one.
"Boys? I am not gay!"
"Calm down. They don't know you were a boy three weeks ago. Plus you can kick their butts to next week if they try something. With my full permission, by the way," Ben reassured Alex.
"Alex? Care to explain?" Mrs. Jones interrupted, trying to steer them back on topic.
"Some militant feminist maniacs thought it was funny to shoot me with radioactive DNA-changing darts - here is a sample - and then left me to die. Apparently that did not turn out the way he wanted and so I escaped. I have the intel on that. It's on this flash drive. Then I accidentally blew up their super-secret compound. Sorry." Alex remembered all too clearly the angry flames against the darkness. It certainly made up for some parts of his imprisonment. "After that I tried to get away, as far as possible, and contacted Agent Daniels. As far as I can tell, the change is permanent, irreversible. At least it feels like it. These slightly mad militant feminists never planned to dominate the world. Only to mess with the lives of some unfortunate men who apparently 'ruined everything female'."
"Why haven't you fled sooner?" Mrs. Jones wanted to know, apparently not quite certain how to interpret his - her deadpan report.
"If I could have fought the way I wanted to, then there would have been no problem. Since the female body is built differently than the male one, it took me some time to get used to it. If they were not careless as f*ck, I would be dead or still a hostage. I need to accommodate my training to my new body first, before I can go back in the field," the blonde spy explained methodically, shrugging a too-slender shoulder.
Mrs. Jones silently agreed with his- her assessment. She considered everything Alex had just told her and nodded eventually. "Yes. Your new gender will be kept secret for now. It could be an advantage in the field. Nobody would expect a teenage girl, now that you have a reputation as one of the best male agents."
"So... What am I supposed to do now?" Alex questioned, feeling slightly lost and strangely vulnerable.
"For now, I want you to try to heal, and adjust properly. No arguments!" Mrs. Jones decided calmly. "In the meantime, you will need to learn everything...er...'girl'. Maybe Daniels should reunite with some friends until we can put some order into everything. You need protection as long as you are unable to fight at your usual level."
"Oh, this just keeps getting better..." Alex grumpily muttered under his breath. Her breath.
Nonetheless, both of the other agents heard her.
The current Head of MI6 then added: "For now we will tell everyone you are an orphaned girl Daniels took in to get over loosing you. You will need Smithers to disguise you."
They were dismissed.
Smithers did not seem to mind. He selected a pair of forest-green contacts for Alex and the insanely helpful assistant chose a matching strawberry blonde dye for his - her hair. Then she sorted some more (navy, black, grey and green) clothes out and promised Alex, with a sly wink, to go shopping together some time when they were both free.
Whatever that meant in girl talk.
Alex slipped a green jacket over the simple white shirt and put comfortable sneakers on. He thanked every known deity that he was spared the horror of wearing high heels. (For now, at least.)
A little while later, Ben drove them back home, to his nice, homey flat. It had three bedrooms, a study, an open kitchen, a comfy living room and two bathrooms. It was quite large, but you can only share a crammed flat for so long if you're constantly held hostage due to your status as a government-employed spy.
Or so they had told Mrs. Jones.
Alex was clearly exhausted from her most recent trials and tribulations. She fell asleep in the car, listening to the quiet jazz music the radio was playing softly in the background.
After parking, Ben carefully carried his charge inside. After tucking the sleeping seventeen-year-old into bed, an action which was accompanied by a rush of paternal warmth, he soundlessly closed the door to Alex's bedroom. If anybody ever called him on that, he would more than convincingly deny it. (Or simply silently dispose of the annoying person doing the reminding.)
Grinning slightly, he moved to the living room, trying to let Alex sleep as peacefully as possible. She definitely needed it more than anything. Sighing softly, successfully ending his pointless musing, he picked up the house phone.
Time to call in some old friends.
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Love, W
Edited: 06/03/2015