A/N: this has been bumping around my wips for about a year now. I don't really know where I'm going with it but I really like the idea so. here it is!
Alex would like to think that he isn't a prisoner, but there are a few things he can't deny.
First — they've refused to let him speak to Tom or Sabina or — no, not Jack she's-
Second — between the hard bed, rough concrete walls, and tiny, mirror-less bathroom, this room feels an awful lot like a cell.
Third (and this one is probably the most deciding factor of all) — he can't see a lock, but he definitely can't open the door.
The only human contact he has is when he's brought food three times a day, always by the same blank-faced agent who refuses to answer any but the most basic of questions. Alex has no idea why he's here, but he does generally know what time it is (for all the good it does him).
Mostly, he stares at the wall and does his very best to not think about anything at all that happened in Egypt. He tries not to sleep for long enough to let the nightmares come, but Jack and Julius haunt him even when he's awake. Both of their deaths are seared into his mind forever.
He hopes he'll never forget Jack. He wishes he could forget Julius. His face — Alex's own face, as much as he hates it — covered in blood and dirt and brains and death terrifies him to the point that he had had a ten-minute panic attack after his last nightmare (not that MI6 seemed to care).
Every part of him wishes he could go back to that day, that he could save Jack and let someone who wasn't fifteen years old take care of Julius, but he can't. Alex is a murderer now. Sure, he had indirectly killed people in the past, but he had put a gun right to Julius's — his — face and pulled the trigger.
Knowingly. Easily.
Willingly.
It's probably safe to say that he's slipping into depression.
He's never really understood that phrase, but now it makes sense. He feels like he's falling into some giant hole. The farther he falls, the less likely it is that he'll be able to pull himself back up. And there's no one around to help slow his descent.
Maybe it's more of a freefall than a slip — after all, the last person he considered family is dead, and he's a murderer.
And still, MI6 keeps him here and tells him nothing.
He thinks it's been about a month since he was first put here — assuming the meals are actually coming three times a day — when the routine he had gotten used to changes.
Mrs. Jones shows up at the door.
She attempts what looks like it's supposed to be a smile. "Hello, Alex," she says.
Part of him has to restrain the urge to punch her right in the face.
"Hi," he says instead. There are a lot of other things he'd like to say, but his sudden anger is making it hard for him to think of them. "What the he-"
"I understand that you're angry," she interrupts smoothly.
"That's an-"
"But," she continues, louder, "there were lots of things we had to do."
"That's not-"
"For one, we had to make sure Scorpia wasn't going to come after you." Her voice is still getting louder, and she's still ignoring him. "Or anyone else, for that matter."
"I don't-"
"The global intelligence community wasn't thrilled to learn of your existence. Alan Blunt is no longer head of MI6."
Alex stops short for a moment. He had assumed that he was here because of Blunt. "Who is, then?" he asks.
"I am."
At that, Alex can't hold his anger back anymore. "You? You're the one who's been keeping me here?" he exclaims, furious, after a moment of pause. All of the emotions he had had no outlet for in the room are suddenly making an appearance. "You could have told me something. Anything! How long was I in there, Jones? How long have you been keeping me prisoner?" he demands. His hands are shaking in anger, and he's incredibly close to letting punches fly.
"We weren't keeping you prisoner, Alex, we were keeping you safe," Mrs. Jones explains, still incredibly, impressively calm. "Also, we didn't have another place to put you. You didn't have a legal guardian."
Jack. The car. Alex shuts his eyes for a moment, fighting a flashback with every inch of his being. "Thanks for the reminder," he remarks, doing his best to cover the shake in his voice with sarcasm. "So, where am I headed? Prison?"
"Absolutely not. We made sure. You aren't even going to be prosecuted."
"I killed Julius Grief. I murdered someone."
"In self-defense."
Alex doesn't have the energy to argue this right now. "Where, then? An orphanage? The Pleasures? The Harrises?"
"None of those would give you the protection we need you to have."
"Then give them the protection."
"You know as well as I do that that would be a massive inconvenience."
Alex hears the words she doesn't say, too: it would be a death sentence. "Well, then, where?"
"A safehouse. Guarded by Ben Daniels — Fox, if you prefer — and the rest of K-Unit."
Alex stares blankly. "You do know how absolutely terrible they were to me at Brecons, right?"
"Are you acquainted with any other units of elite soldiers?"
"Just checking," Alex mutters. "Fine, whatever. I assume I don't get a say in this?"
"I'm afraid not. Your safety is the highest priority."
The tone of her voice makes it sound like she's actually doing him a favor. Alex can't stand it. "When?"
"Right now," she says. "I had an agent get some of your things from your house."
"You got into my house? That's not...you can't-"
"Actually, Alex, with Ian Rider and Jack Starbright dead, the house legally belongs to the bank."
"Can't I go back?" he pleads, fully aware that he sounds like a whining toddler. "At least once? Please?" He just needs to see it, needs to smell the air freshener and see the last place he ever had a family one more time.
"As your known place of residence, it's going to be under heavy surveillance from anyone who might want you dead. I'm sorry, Alex."
"I thought you said no one was after me."
Mrs. Jones shrugs helplessly. "I did my best, but deals can always be broken. Now, are you going to come with me or do I need to get some agents down here?"
"I'll come with you. But," Alex says disgustedly, "I hope you realize you sound like Blunt."
Alex doesn't say a word the entire drive, and, after a couple of conversation starters, the woman driving seems to get the message and does the same. Alex leans against the window and watches the buildings flash by until he falls asleep.
He isn't sure how much later it is when he awakes, echoes of Julius's dead face mocking him until he opens his eyes, but the scenery is vastly different than it was before. No longer is he surrounded by dull gray buildings but sprawling countryside. He can only see three houses—the rest is just empty green field.
He doesn't like it. There's nowhere to hide. He feels exposed, vulnerable.
He'll be able to see anyone who comes, though. Assuming people are after him — and he doesn't really doubt it.
The car pulls in front of one of the houses and stops. "Well, we're here," the driver says.
"And where is here?" Alex looks around. They really are in the middle of nowhere.
"MI6 safehouse," she replies.
"That's not what I meant."
She shrugs. "That's what I can tell you. Do you want help with your things?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Alright. I'll wait here until you get inside. Be sure you lock the door."
Alex almost snorts. Right, like a lock would keep out anyone who really wanted to put a bullet in him.
Like he put a bullet in Julius.
He stops short for a moment before forcibly tearing his thoughts away from that. It doesn't do him any good to think about it. He grabs his bag from the back and heads for the house, thanking the driver on the way there.
Just before he opens the door, he hesitates. If K-Unit's already here, he isn't sure what he'll have to do.
Alex opens the door. No voices. He looks inside. No one.
He enters the house and closes the door behind him. Having him by himself probably isn't MI6's best idea ever as far as his safety goes, but he appreciates not having to deal with K-Unit yet.
Alex absentmindedly locks the door, then jumps a little as something heavy-sounding clicks and a medium-quiet electrical hum fills the air.
Okay. Maybe locking the door does do him some good.
He takes a look around the main floor — well-stocked kitchen, two couches, and a TV in the largest room, and a dark wooden table in a room attached to the kitchen — but he doesn't get a chance to go upstairs before he hears the security on the door disengage.
Alex freezes and quiets his breathing. K-Unit or an enemy?
"This is by far the worst assignment we've ever had."
"Pretty sure Baghdad was worse."
"Protection duty. We're sitting around all day doing nothing, Fox. That's a pretty awful assignment."
"Who are we here to protect, anyway?"
Alex breathes a sigh of relief. K-Unit. Definitely. Casually, he walks back to the main room. "Oh, hey, guys."
All four of them jump at once, though Ben does a better job of concealing it. Wolf swears for at least twenty seconds straight.
"Kid, what the h-heck are you doing?" Snake asks, stuttering over what he obviously doesn't want to be a swear word while he's in front of Alex, which is especially entertaining considering Wolf is still going. Alex might have laughed at that if he had the emotional energy for it. "Where are your parents?"
That legitimately surprises Alex. His parents? "What?"
"Aren't we here for one of them?"
"Uh-"
"Do I know you?" Eagle interrupts.
"What were you thinking?" contributes Wolf.
Alex, caught up in mild disbelief that they neither recognize him nor know that they're here for him, doesn't think before he replies, "Wow, you're all just as annoying as ever."
Wolf's jaw actually drops in shock, while Eagle makes a quiet choking sound. "He just called Wolf annoying," he says faintly. "I've wanted to do that for years."
"Who are you?" Wolf demands.
"I think he's the agent we're here to protect," Fox says calmly.
This time it's Wolf who almost chokes. "We're here to protect a f-" –Snake shoots him a glare and he hastily corrects himself—"frickin' teenager? You are a teenager, right?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm fifteen. Alex Rider. Though you lot know me better as Cub."
"Cub?"
"The one and only. Now, if you're done gaping at me, I'm going to go to the bathroom. Someone should probably lock the door."
He walks away, oblivious to the vaguely horrified stare he's getting from Wolf behind his back.
In the bathroom, Alex takes his time washing his hands, hoping to avoid K-Unit for as long as possible. The soap smells like cotton, like the kind Jack likes — liked — and suddenly he misses her all over again. He closes his eyes, fighting back tears.
In the other room, he can hear the members of K-Unit arguing, probably about him, though he doesn't bother to listen to their words. How did they not recognize him? Does he look that much different than before? He opens his eyes and looks in the mirror.
At his face.
At Julius's face.
At-
-there's blood everywhere and eyes are so empty and-
-no, no, this isn't happening, he's just Alex and he's fine but-
-murderer you killed me you're a monster and-
-he's vaguely aware that he's stumbled back into the wall, but he can't stop looking at-
-Julius. Alex. Julius.
He tears his eyes away from the mirror just in time to stumble to the toilet and throw up what little there is in his stomach. His eyes are sticky, his breathing ragged, his chest aching, and K-Unit has stopped talking.
They had heard him. He'd be more surprised if they hadn't.
There's a quiet knock on the door, followed by a, "Hey, you okay?" from Snake.
Alex wipes his mouth and replies, "Yeah, Just give me a second." He swishes some water around his mouth in an effort to get rid of the taste and then spits it out, being incredibly careful to not look in the mirror. He rubs his bullet scar lightly. It does nothing to ease the pain.
He opens the door, and the first thing he sees is Snake's worried expression. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, it's nothing," Alex lies. "I've been feeling sick all day."
For a moment, Alex is afraid Snake will question him (there's no way he can explain this), but the soldier just nods. "Alright. Well, there are only four beds and I think they're fighting about who gets the couch now. You should probably go participate if you don't want to get it by default."
"What about you?" Alex asks. He's still incredibly shaken by what had happened in the bathroom, but if he gives anything away, he'll have to explain it all. He just...can't.
"Oh, I'm the medic," Snake says dismissively. "It's in everyone's best interests to keep me happy."
Alex can't find it in himself to laugh.
A/N: feedback would be wonderful and might help me figure out how to continue? :)