A/N: Ok, so I should be working on Duty to the Dead, but this was just begging to be written. This chapter switches points of view quite a lot, but I promise it won't last. After this there are going to be two main points of view, with maybe a bit as seen from Jack too... Anyway... This story is all planned out anyway, so I thought I may as well post it to see what you thought. Not much action in this chapter, but I promise there will be a bit later on... ok rather a lot, irregularly dispersed with angst and fluffsiness...

DISCLAIMER: As usual, I don't own squat.

***

I knew something had changed as soon as I walked through the door. People were whispering in the corner. Rumours about gangs and drugs were flying through the school like bullets. It could only mean one thing: Alex Rider was back.

I looked at the gossiping masses with undisguised distaste. Yes, I wondered where he went, everyone did, but I was not stupid enough to seriously believe that he was actually doing anything those rumours suggested. Did no-one else notice how his eyes became just a little colder with each absence? How his shoulders would tense at loud noises? He watched everything. I haven't seen him relaxed since that first absence. I have to admit it – I'm worried about him.

We used to be friends, before he started pushing everyone away. He only talked to Tom seriously now, everyone else he was almost painfully sarcastic with. I couldn't say I blamed him – they were like a pack of rabid wolves after a stag. But it was Tom's reactions to him that scared me most. Tom knew where Alex went, I could tell by his face, and the look of relief that flooded his features when he saw Alex walk through the gate - it was almost as if he had never expected to see him again.

It always followed the same pattern. Alex would come back and that momentary expression of relief would appear. For the next few days, Tom would be louder, funnier and in general just more over-the-top than usual, then Alex would pull him aside and they would talk, Alex stumbling over the words as if desperate to get them out as fast as possible. When they rejoined our year, Tom would look shaken and Alex... well, Alex would look empty. The tension and pain that had been present, unnoticed, since he came back would vanish, to be replaced by resignation, weariness and a curious mix of hope and despair. When they came back, I couldn't look into his eyes, scared of what I might find there, scared of falling into that same, dark abyss where Alex seemed to reside.

I didn't understand how no-one else could see it. It was as clear as day that whatever he did was killing him.

I checked my timetable. We had games together this afternoon. I resolved to talk to him, not to try and weasel out of him where he went or what he was doing, just to let him know that I was still his friend, whether he wanted me or not, and that I would always help him, no questions asked, if he needed it.

***

Tom watched Alex sadly as they changed for gym. He had thought that his best friend being a super-spy had been cool, right up until he heard about Alex getting shot. After that he had started to notice the other side, all the cuts and bruises Alex returned with, the ever growing bags under his eyes - as if he wasn't sleeping - and the deadened look on his face whenever he returned. Today was his first day back and Tom could see he was tense from the odd set of his shoulders. He kept his distance and kept up his act. Alex needed time to realise that he wasn't on a mission anymore and motivation to remember he was just a teenager, with every right to laugh and mess about and annoy the hell out of every other age group that exists. After all, what else are teenagers for?

Tom watched tensely as James Miller approached Alex. He better not pick a fight with him today, thought Tom angrily. Not that James normally did. He had seemed almost regretful, almost concerned, this morning when he had realised that Alex was back. He was one of the few people who only left Alex alone because that seemed to be what Alex wanted. Tom could see that losing his friends was hurting Alex- he didn't seem to see that with some of them it was only because he himself was pushing them away. James seemed to be a case like this, so Tom decided not to intercept him. There was a small flame of hope buried inside him that said maybe James could make Alex see how he was forcing himself to be an outcast, maybe James could help Alex.

James tapped Alex on the shoulder, and Tom's hope turned to horror as Alex spun around, a leg already striking out in a Karate kick. Time seemed to slow as he turned. Tom could see Alex's eyes widen in realisation and shock. He could see Alex's foot connect with James' unsuspecting stomach, sending him staggering harshly backwards. It was then that Tom realised: Alex hadn't meant to do it; he hadn't even thought about doing it. Whatever his last mission had been, it had yanked his reflexes firmly out of his control.

***

Alex stared at where James lay. He had hit his head as he fell over and was now unconscious. Alex hadn't meant to kick him. Hi body had registered his gentle touch as a threat and reacted before Alex had even had a chance to think about where he was. He was dangerous. He had to get out of here. He could hurt someone.

***

Tom saw Alex's face turn white. It held an expression Tom hadn't seen on it in a long time: fear. Instinctively, Tom knew that it wasn't fear of what would happen now, rather fear of what he could do. The boys around were staring and whispering, but Alex didn't seem to hear them. Tom saw the decision forming in his eyes. He ran out of the room.

Tom started and followed, sprinting out of the changing rooms after him.

He ignored the Coach's angry yells and swore as the figure of his best friend pulled further ahead. Tom was good at sport, and had no problem with endurance running, but full out sprinting like this was not his forte. He pushed his legs to go faster, ignoring the burn in his thighs. He saw Alex start to climb up the high fencing, the metallic crash as he hit it echoing around the fields.

Alex was half way up when Tom reached him and pulled him back to the ground.

"What the hell was that, Alex?!"

***

It was a sign of how distracted Alex was that Tom was able to pull him to the ground. No, distracted wasn't the right word... He was scared.

Absolute mind-numbing terror had slipped its icy fingers into his brain, freezing him where he sat, at least until Tom slowly sat down next to him. When he realised how close they were, he tried to scramble to his feet, but Tom's hand on his shoulder kept him firmly rooted to the spot.

"I-I didn't mean to do it," he croaked eventually, glancing up at his best friend. "Shit! I didn't even realise it was happening... I think I really hurt him, Tom. I mean... he was fucking unconscious!..." He trailed off, staring out at the games fields. "Shit," he muttered.

It was times like this, he reflected, that smoking would be really beneficial if only to give him something to do with his shaking hands. Tom stayed silent, watching Alex carefully.

"I can't stay here."

"You can't leave, Alex!" exclaimed Tom, shocked.

"Why not?" Alex questioned, harshly, "What on earth is keeping me here? School? I'm failing anyway. My job?" He let put a short derisive laugh, then paused, some of the steel in his stance leaving as he added, "If I stay because of you or Jack... well, I'll probably just end up hurting you... It's better for everyone if I leave."

"Jack won't see it like that."

Alex paused, standing up and looking over to where the rest of their class was finally coming onto the fields. "She'll understand," he whispered softly, more of a reassurance to himself than an answer to Tom. His voice hardened as he continued. "She has to. I'm dangerous, Tom. And I can't lose control again."

Before Tom had time to reply, Alex had leapt at the fence and climbed swiftly over it. Tom raised a hand to it, a gesture halfway between reaching for Alex and a sign of farewell. He touched the cold metal links and sighed. Yet another barrier that Alex had placed between them. And though this one was physical, Tom knew it was the least of them.

***

Alex was not religious. He had grown up with Ian, after all, and spies were quickly disillusioned. Ian had never taken him to a church and the few times he might have gone- Christmas, Easter Sunday, and such – he was rarely there.

Jack had once taken him to Westminster though. He had been awed by the sheer size of it, but with tourists traipsing in and out, cameras around their necks and gabbling in a foreign language, he hadn't felt any hint that this could be more than just another building.

But when they had been walking back, they had heard music coming from behind a small set of rundown wooden doors.

It was a small church, but exquisite. The pillars were the same pale, rough stone as the ceiling, which was beautifully carved with cherubs and vines. The walls were of carved wood and the alcoves of saints were painted with gold. The light of a thousand candles had flickered off that paint and the saints seemed to smile forgivingly.

But it was the sense of peace that stayed with him. The sense of tranquillity and beauty that permeated the air until it was almost tangible, mixing effortlessly with the heady incense.

It was silent now, and the candles had gone out, leaving in their wake a melancholy, silent darkness. He remembered how he had sat and prayed, sending all his hopes and dreams out to that unknown, but longed for, deity who could make everything better. Now, he wasn't so naive, but he could still recall the peace he had felt afterwards. It was this recollection that made him fall to his knees in the darkened room.

"Lord..." he whispered in the darkness, and then paused, biting his lips. What should he say? What could he say? In desperation he reached for a prayer book and leafed through it.

"O Holy Spirit," he began, "Most merciful Comforter: You proceed from the Father in a manner beyond our understanding. Come, I beseech You, and take up your abode in my heart. Purify and cleanse me from all sin, and sanctify my soul. Cleanse it from every impurity, water its dryness, melt its coldness, and save it from its sinful ways. Make me truly humble and resigned, that I may be pleasing to You..."

Alex trailed off, a hand rising to the sardonic smile on his lips. It was just words, words to beseech a non-existent deity for help that would not come. The prayer book fell from his hands as he rose, silently, and headed towards the door.

***

The night possessed a stillness that was only broken by the occasional swish of headlights as a car passed him on the road. He kept his head down and hood up, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, out of habit more than any real desire to remain unnoticed. His feet automatically guided him along familiar paths, and before he knew it he was standing outside his house. The light was on in the living room, and he could see Jack's silhouette pacing against the curtains. He felt a stab of guilt. It was about two in the morning with no word, of course she would be worried by now... but he couldn't go in. It was too dangerous for her to be around him; he had to leave and he knew that if he entered his resolve would weaken. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialled the number.

The phone rang inside the house and Alex watched as Jack stiffened, before hurrying through to the kitchen, her progress marked by the sudden light pouring out of the previously dark window.

"H-Hello?" Alex winced. She sounded awful.

"Hi, Jack, it's me." He said, softly.

"ALEX!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. "Are you ok? Where are you? Why aren't you home yet? Has something happened?"

Alex suppressed a small grin. Just like Jack, always speeding right ahead.

"I'm fine," he reassured her, "but..." he trailed off, not knowing how to tell her. He may have told Tom that she would understand, but the reality was completely different. She would hate him for this.

"But what?" she asked suspiciously. "It's not MI6 again, is it? They can't use you anymore! I've renewed my visa; there is nothing for them to hold against you!"

"No, Jack... It's not..." he paused again.

"Well what then?" she asked, obviously confused.

"I'm not coming back," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, what?" said Jack, faintly. "I think I misheard you."

"No, Jack, you didn't... I'm not coming back."

"Why not?!" she yelled, suddenly angry.

"It's t-too much of a risk," he explained, cursing his voice for shaking. "I... I really hurt someone today; I didn't even mean to! I... I couldn't bear it if I hurt you."

"Oh, Alex," sighed Jack, forlornly. "Please just come home. I promise it'll be ok."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"Alex, please," she begged. "Just tell me where you are, I'll come and get you! I-"

He interrupted her. "No, Jack. I'm not coming back."

"But-!"

He hung up. Trying to ignore the strange ripping sensation inside him, he repeated his mantra over and over...

It's for the best.

***

A/N: Sooooo?! What did you think? I'm not going to bribe you, blackmail you or try to motivate you to review by being funny... I'm just going to say that decent, kind, intelligent people ALWAYS review what they read... wait... that was emotional blackmail, wasn't it...? DAMN!

And Thanks to the fantabulous Sheluby94Dreamer for help with the plot... And may I just insert a shameless plug here for her story Project SAS – it's really good, you should go read it!

Wow... scary... apparently fantabulous is an actual word according to my spell check...

Anyway... REVIEW!