Title: Half an Inch
Spoilers: Stormbreaker to Scorpia Rising
AN: So, I had just finished Scorpia Rising, and I was thinking about something. In Ark Angel (the American version at least, not sure about the British one), it is mentioned that the bullet had entered Alex's chest half an inch from his heart. I'm not sure why I saw the connection, and it might not even be one, between that fact and the chapter "Half an Inch" and "Cairo Storm" in Scorpia Rising. But I saw it, and I wrote it. Plus, it was the last book, so I felt like writing something. =D Hopefully, it is clear who Alex is thinking about. *Not betaed, so all mistakes are my own* Oh, and I am very much American, but I tried my hardest to use some British English. Not sure if I succeeded. Reviews are appreciated!
Half an Inch
Half an inch. That was all it took for everything to change. It was ironic how that small distance mocked him still, months later. His chest hurt just thinking about it. But then again, at this point thinking hurt. Because Alex Rider had just killed himself.
The gun felt heavy in his hands, and he stared blankly at the limp figure at his feet. A neat red hole was prominent in the boy's forehead, and the clear rain had turned into a foul puddle of red underneath his head. The familiar eyes were almost a mirror of his own- blank, dead.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed as he stood under the pouring rain, shivering despite the fact that he couldn't feel anything anymore. Curiously, he just stared, taking in the figure's features. Fair hair, dark brown eyes, athletic build, handsome slender face, young, single bullet hole in the forehead. It was him.
The urge to reach out and gently close the figure's eyes was strong, but he resisted. If he did that, it would be real. What he had just done, would be real. He did not want to humanize the teen. Making him real would mean he had just killed someone, and that wasn't right. Hadn't he tried that before, and failed? Hadn't he tried to be an assassin for Scorpia, and been unable to shoot a target that looked even remotely human? What had changed?
He figured the short answer was everything, and nothing. A year ago he had been a normal British school boy, worried more about making first string for the football team. Then he became a British spy, while still a school boy, and had been more worried about surviving until the next day. He had vowed that he would be done with spying, but eight missions later, absolutely nothing had changed. Yet everything had changed. His head hurt.
Quietly, not that it mattered, he bent down and picked up the discarded Vzor 27 pistol. He felt a strange familiarity with the weapon, despite the fact that he had never held it personally. Or used it. Gazing at the teenager on the ground, a flicker of hatred so vicious that it caused his vision to go red, flashed through him. He didn't want to see the teenager like this. What he really wanted was to see was the boy burning to death in a fiery explosion, all consuming and deadly. Like Ja-
His mind stuttered over her name. No. He couldn't think of that right now. He needed to find Byrne and tell him about Razim. About everything. He wanted to be done with this. To finish it once and for all.
The teen's empty face swam in his vision, obscured by rain and tears. He hadn't realized that was what those were. Angrily he raised a hand and wiped them away. Something was building in his chest, an uncomfortable pressure that he didn't want to let escape. Not yet.
It took a colossal effort to look away from the grotesque copy of himself. Had he looked similar when he had been lying on the ground lifeless outside of the Royal and General? Probably, but he had been missing the hole in his forehead. The one in his chest, half an inch from his heart, had made up for it though. That's what it all came down to.
Half an inch had saved Alex Rider once before. But, now he was dead. Because half an inch was all it took to pull the trigger, and he wasn't sure if he could ever feel truly alive again.