Authors Note: Credit to Jonathan for the second Macbeth quote.

Killer

After Ash killed Alex's parents for Scorpia, he made the decision to never care about anyone again. But, how did he really feel after he murdered his best friend and his wife, new parents to Alexander Rider?

I looked at John Rider, my best friend as he spoke to me.

"Stay out of trouble, Ash. We'll see you when we get back-play squash or something" he nodded to me. Then he embraced me quickly, my best friend. Thumping me on the shoulder, he turned to his wife.

Helen moved forward, her long blonde hair swept back into a neat bun and smiled atme. He's always loved her eyes the most. The clear as crystal blue, the long dark lashes and the way they sparkled when she laughed. That was what John had told me, and I could see why. I smiled back at her, if slightly guardedly.

"Take care, Ash." she told me warmly, then giving me a large hug, followed by a light kiss of the cheek.

My fingers moved to where she had kissed me, nodding blindly as they left me standing there. My hand, still lingering where her lips had touched the cool skin.

It would all end soon enough.

I had forgotten.

A moment later the small plane trundled down the private run way. And then it's over.

A fist of fire punches it's way through the plane's bodywork, accompanied by a large explosion. Debris rains down like fading ashes on a coal fire, and the rising sun pulls at the lips of the pitifully torn metal, folding it inwards against it's heat and cracking the rivets. There is no way anyone is anything but charred remains, I know. Friends who were once living, now corpses made from glittering coal, never coming home.

I should know. I killed them. Hands which placed the device under the carriage of the plane, subtly, unnoticed. No blame to be on my shoulders, no suspicion, I'm a friend after all. Some friend.

Dead.

I looked down at my hands, the lines of Lady Macbeth flashing before me, lying on my lips. What had I done? A bloody murder was on my head-but weren't many others? Hadn't I killed before? Yes, of course I had. This was no different. Then why, was a feeling of black of depression creeping over me like an eclipse? Why did I feel the stains of my best friend and his young wives blood on my hands? I had killed them.

I gulped down air quickly, trying to stay calm. I couldn't believe what I had done. It was the worst crime I could have committed. My best friend...

I bit my lip hard, trying not to scream, the idea of my friends innocence and his wife dying. It had been my fault, my heartless fault. I drew blood a moment later, and the sick, metallic taste of the scarlet made me feel sick to my stomach.

What's done cannot be undone...

I coughed, watching dazedly, as other friends rushed towards the still burning fireball which had been their plane moments before. All I could do was blink, standing in place, feeling the blood in my veins pumping wildly. I knew I would never again see my two friends, and nor would their baby son ever know them. I felt bad for it, I really did. Worse than bad, I felt the ground tumble towards me as I collapsed forcefully to my knees on the hot tarmac.

Many of the others thought it to be from shock-after all; many would react that way, and be shocked that their best friend had been murdered. But of course, they didn't know that it was because I had killed them. As good as.

Retching on my knees from the taste of blood, a guilt still thick on my lips, I looked away from their deaths. I couldn't stomach the fact, that I knew I was guilty of something wrong-not work, something terrible and underhanded-of the worse crime. Breaking of trust. The ultimate breaking of trust.

I was the worst sort of monster-the double sided agent. But my side was now with Scorpia. Poor little Alex, to lose his family before he even knew them, I choked against my signed confession- it was as good as writing one to be regretting. Oh, but I did. I knew I would, today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life-how ever long that would be.

I couldn't control my stomach anymore...

--

When I staggered back to where the plane had exploded I was met by a group of other agents, expressing their grievance to the couples loss, and someone was worrying over what would become of Alexander Rider.

Everyone turned to Ian, his face was ashen, and his eyes red-rimmed, but he nodded.

"Alex will live with me, of course. He's my nephew after all." He was the only family Alexander Rider had left after what I had done after all...

" I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none"

After I saw Ian, he stared at me intently, I had the feeling he knew. Leaving swiftly, I ripped away the threads of humanity still clinging to me like determined limpets. You couldn't feel guilt. Couldn't feel pain. Couldn't be anything but steel. Not where I was headed.

I made a vow that day, to never care more than I should, never attach myself to anything, or anyone. It worked too. Until the day I died. That day, I realised I'd only managed to fool myself. I realised my failure. I cared. Cared for Alex rider, like the God father I should have been. Never would be. Welcomed to the arms of death like an old companion and friend. Sometimes, I think it was John, telling me he forgave me.

It doesn't matter what happened anymore. I can deal with his hate and burning eyes I took to my grave, I understand, because I cared all along. The scars of what I did never really left me, cut me open time and time again, made the stab wound haunt me-it wasn't that, it was my guilt that pained me daily until I returned to the end. Alex is a good kid, he'll be fine. I'll be watching.