Prelude's end.
Author: blackroserising
Rating: T
Summary: Not with a bang, but a whimper. How does a prelude end? A one-shot character profile of Kermitfries' story Prelude. I would recommend reading that first. Set at no definite point of time within Kermitfries story. These are my own thoughts and impressions of the story and this work is posted with permission sort for and granted by Kermitfries.
Warnings: None.
First Published: February 6, 2008.
Disclaimer. I do not own the Alex Rider series. Anthony Horrowitz created it.
The quote "not with a bang, but a whimper" is by TS Eliot.
They're supposed to be a group, but they're not.
A moody almost man, an overanalytical geek genius, a haunted girl, and a boy. One whom Oz rather suspects is broken. A rather comical bunch of misfits.
They circle around each other, lies and half truths and smoke and mirros and bluffs. And isn't it ironic that their interactions with each other are the most normal thing about them?
Peyton has nightmares she wakes gasping for breath from. She hates the fear the creates them; thinks it makes her weak. She wants to be strong, and all she needs to do is find something to hold on to, anything really, and then she'll be strong. She will.
Oz doesn't say anything, and doesn't permit himself to finish any thought about how pretty... no. He hides his secrets and holds his lies up for the world to see and inside he laughs when they get it wrong. He's empty and hollow beneath everything. He just wants something to hold on to. Anything will do.
Bart watches all of them. The ones they're supposed to watch, and his team. Basic human patterns aren't that hard to figure out. Peyton is the easiest to read, but then, she's not trying to lie. She can't be bothered to lie about herself, so she leaves the way clear for the truth. Stupid for spy. But she isn't really a spy. She just has a couple of secrets she wants to keep.
Bart understands that. He has his own. He watches, always watches, because it has to be there somewhere, and he'll see it if he keeps looking. Something to believe in, something to hold on to. Bart doesn't lie to himself, because if he's going to be honest with one person, it's going to be himself. Lies are the game for spies, and if you aren't fully commited to the game, you're a stupid spy. A stupid spy is a dead one. What does that say about him? But Bart doesn't need to analyse himself. He's not actually a spy. He just wants to survive. Really.
Oz is harder. All broody and mysterious and gruff inability to communicate. Which is really what lets Bart understand him. Oz lies about everything usually. But sometimes he lets little truths slip, and you can form the puzzle of his truths from those small things. He's good, but he's not the best. In the spy game, you're the best or you're dead, but Oz isn't really a spy.
He thinks he has Alex pegged too, but then Alex turns the tables on him. And it doesn't only happen once. At first, he's the random factor. A son of a diplomat, perhaps, sent with the rest of them so that they don't stand out, and to try to help them blend. But he's just as uninterested in teamwork as the rest of them, Bart thinks, because he's always avoiding them if he can. Alex always mixes truth and lies and you can't quite ever tell what's real. Dangerous in this game. But Alex isn't really a spy. He's just a boy, another one of them, playing out the game.
Then Peyton mentions the injuries, and Bart has to reassess. Alex never quite fits. He tries hard, has a clear desire for normal, but he never quite manages it. Not like Peyton, or even Oz's rebel teen norm. Bart doesn't bother to try fitting in himself.
Just when he thinks maybe he's got it, soldier's child, raised for the army, Alex surprises him again. Asking questions Bart isn't prepared for. No soldier boy this, not even think tank. He just doesn't fit. How can they trust him, if he doesn't fit? Without trust, he's not part of their team. Can't fit in, won't fit in, and suspicion is the name of the game now. Without the team, each one of them is dead. Without trust, they are nothing.
But they all listen to him. He's logical and concise, and just makes sense. All by himself, he fits. They trust him.
Trust him with their lives, because they don't have a choice. Trust him with their weaknesses, because he is one of them, part of their team, part of how they build themselves up, over time, and he is always there to help. Trust him with themselves, because he holds them together; angsty teenage sarcasm and quick wit and deadly skill and luck.
Oz listens to him say "You don't always have a choice" and doesn't believe him until he's watching Rider about to give up his life to get the rest of them out of there, and then he understands. Alex is complicated and strange and a misfit, even amoung them, but that's because they don't understand him. Alex Rider is all about honour. It's such an integral part of him that he can't separate it from the rest of himself the way they can. When Oz or Bart or hell, even Peyton can see the other option, Rider's honour blinds him to it. Oh, he's a sneaky, twisty, lying bastard, just as much as the rest of them (Camouflage, Bart explains to him one night when they're drunk on danger and sugar and exhaustion and Oz complains that Alex really should have seen that double-cross coming, because that guy was a liar just as much as they are.) but there are lines he simply can't see, let alone cross. It makes him dangerous, because if he's backed into a corner, he'll find a way out, one you never saw, but he speeds through like a truck on fire. (Never, ever again, Bart swears, while Peyton laughs teasingly and Oz nods grimly at his side. Alex looks at them and says fine, but they all know it's a lie.)
They don't say it aloud, but Alex is their bond, in the end. Each of them will follow wherever he leads. He draws you to him, like a moth to a flame. Too bad, Oz thinks, that the flame is just an after echo of the gun fire that started his life. Rider is a bullet. He cuts through life like he's already been shot, and all he's seeking is the target. He always gets the mission done, but when you look in his eyes, all you see is disappointment and confusion that he hasn't hit the target yet.
The psych files (of themselves that they nick on a dare from K-Unit after that mess of mission when they're all hiding out together in Burmingham of all places in a safe house so small and cramped Bart complains it's just another way MI6 is trying to kill them; an accidental death when the place falls over because it's so crummy.) say he has a death wish. They laugh as they read that. Oz has a death wish. Peyton throws herself at death like a child running to a beloved parent. Bart watches and calculates trajectory and time and half a million other things and wonders when it'll all end. They all know the secret. Alex Rider is a bullet already shot, lead already flying through the air, an object already dead; he just hasn't reached the target yet, that's all.
But they'll follow him.
Just as well really. Blunt wouldn't have it any other way. They may be a team of sorts, and hell, they could even have assigned themselves another leader, but Alex is the only one he ever really focuses on. Even when he's talking to all of them, his attention is all for Alex Rider.
Alex Rider hates him, of course. He's a bit like a feral animal in this, Peyton thinks, and it always surprises her when they walk out of meeting with Blunt still alive.
Bart watches, and he wonders if Alex is even aware on a concious level about the trap he's laying. It's brilliant of course. Most of Alex's ideas are. Even when they're insane. Each time he leaves Blunt alive, Blunt thinks he's winning. His child-spy is just letting him lower his guard. One day, Alex is going to kill him. Bart wonders if he'll be around to watch. He hopes so.
He's figured Alex out, he thinks. He's a charmaeleon, always changing to blend with his surroundings, while still remaining Alex; a complicated boy with a core of honour and rage and lies. They watch out for him, Alex's team, because each of them in their own way is totally loyal and committed to him; this honour bright man-boy-spy weapon, because he's the best thing they have in this crazy mixed up world he glides through like a force of nature. He's Peyton's strength, and Oz's longing for a someone to be there and Bart's hopeful wish for something. And he needs them, because he's bit reckless really, and he needs them around to watch his back and solve those pesky honour problems. He's all their childish fears and longings and secrets and hopes and fantasies and wishes combined, these brightly burning children. They're spies and liars and all they have is each other and the truths they know.
They aren't children anymore, or so they say and think and hope. They're playing a game where the rules always change and you have to be the best and the only prize is survival and sometimes it seems everyone they meet tells them that they're children playing an adult game. Everyone is against them, but they're strong and smart and together they can do anything. No one can defeat their team, and all they are is a team. Trust binds them together, and they will set the world on fire with their dreams and hopes and desires. Because they've learned that together they can be themselves; games and fears and lies discarded for precious moments before the masks go back on. Peyton isn;t really a spy or liar. She's just a haunted girl. Oz knows he can't be a spy or a liar. He's just a moody almost man. Bart thinks he's not a spy or liar. He's just an overanalytical geek genius.
Alex looks at his team and sees three kids who would follow him anywhere and do anything for him because he'd do the same for them. Alex is a spy and a liar. One day, he's going to prove them wrong.
Author's note:
Thanks for reading. Anything you have to say will be taken into consideration. If you haven't already done so, I recommend reading Prelude by Kermitfries, which was what inspire this one-shot. I honestly believe that without having read Prelude you won't really understand this. The story Prelude can be found here: number is 3814948