Everything Alex Rider-y belongs to Anthony Horowitz (jealous) but we love him for it :)

Only One Way Out

Jack looked to the wall clock again: 9:30. Alex wasn't late as much- Hell, he didn't even have a curfew. So she wasn't worried. Nope, not worried at all. After all, he was a big kid now, and God knows he'd handled more than she would ever have to. Or know about, thankfully. Some things you just don't want to know. But ten more minutes and I'm calling the Royal and General- the door slammed softly from the hall and Jack heard the 'ching' of keys hitting the decorative bowl by the front door. Then the thump of a schoolbag on the floor and footsteps on the stair carpet.

"Hey- Alex!" Jack shuffled into the hall in garish fluffy rabbit slippers (with some difficulty) to face the teen. Alex looked at her through tired eyes from the staircase. "Aren't you gonna say hi at least?" A pause.

"Hi." He said. Jack pouted, she wasn't used to Alex being so withdrawn, and his behaviour had been so different the past fortnight. Something was definitely up.

"Ya gonna tell me where you've been, chuck?" She ventured, leaning forward in her pink sleepers as if she were peering at an animal in a cage. "You haven't got a girlfriend, have you?" she said with a knowing smile, hoping that's what all the mood swings were down to. Teenagers, huh! Who needed them?

Alex shrugged in his uniform, his face a perfect picture of 'miserable'. "I've been out. With no-one in particular." He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I just needed some headspace after school, so I went for a walk" This seemed quite reasonable to Jack, and almost honest, too, but he didn't seem in the mood to be scrutinized. "Okay?"

"Hm." She didn't believe it, of course. And he knows this. What's he hiding exactly? Maybe I should call The Bank... "Do you want a cheese sandwich or something? You haven't had your tea yet!" she called after him after he crept up the stairs, and was rewarded with a muffled "No thanks" from upstairs.

Jack sighed, kicked the schoolbag into a corner where it wouldn't be tripped over and collapsed into the settee, feeling moody with a dash of rejection. Were all teenage boys this awkward and withdrawn? If this is just puberty, it's come on pretty bloody quick. Besides, I've lived with him for seven years and he's never been like this. This is MI6 stuff. I bet it's finally taken its toll on him. She thought of the Special Operatives within the Royal and General Bank. Would they have their own psychiatrists? She nibbled a fingernail thoughtfully- she could phone them in the morning, and book an appointment for tomorrow- one more day of missed school really wouldn't affect Alex's grades much at this point-and hopefully get this all sorted out by the weekend.

"Boys!"She exasperated, and turned the TV to the comedy channel.

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Jack really wasn't a morning person. She wasn't a cooking kind of person, either, which was why she was nuking her bowl of instant porridge in the microwave when Alex slunk down the stairs, fully dressed. "Want some breakfast, Alex?" Jack asked, still in her pyjamas and notorious slippers. She took in Alex's attire and arched an eyebrow. I'll be damned if he gets away again! "Going somewhere?"

Alex shuffled past her to retrieve his jacket from the cupboard. "I was thinking of catching a movie or something," he murmured, avoiding Jack's eye. "Maybe Tom wants to see that new Quentin Tarantino ..."

"Oh, um, well, the thing is, Alex, we, uh, have an appointment."

"Appointment?"

"With MI6."

Alex stopped short, one arm in his jacket. He was momentarily speechless. "But we had an agreement. They promised me they wouldn't bother me for at least two months!"

"I know, but the thing is...I asked them to see us. Well, you." She looked up bashfully. Maybe I went a bit far...? Alex's stare burned into her and she was suddenly on the defence. "Look, you need to see someone, Alex- you've been-"

"What the Hell, Jack?" His voice was shaking and when she tried to put her hand on his shoulder, he knocked it back. "How dare you? Since when did you want me to become more involved with MI6?"

"I want you to see a psychiatrist!" She reasoned, porridge forgotten and slowly melting in the microwave.

"Jesus, Jack, you really are something else. So now I'm crazy!?" He stormed past her into the hall, and reached for his keys to unlock the front door.

"No, Alex, listen, sometimes we just need to talk to someone who knows how to deal with these things- you've been through a lot, and you need to express yourself properly!" Or something...psychiatry really isn't my bag. "You're not crazy, you just need someone to listen sometimes, you know?" Jack laid the sisterly-love tone on thick, but it had no effect.

"We'll you're obviously incapable of listening to me, because I'm not going. Seriously, I thought you knew me better than that, Jack. Thanks for nothing."

The door slammed and Jack was stunned, unable to move. Never- Alex had never talked to her like that. He'd freaked out so much when she mentioned the psychiatrist; since when did he have a problem with shrinks? But she thought it had more to do with MI6 than anything. But Jack had caught a last glimpse of her best friend as the door slammed: regret, and shame, and something made sense, but not a lot of it. He wants to stay away from MI6 desperately right now- that's why he bit my arm off. But it's to help him, they're not going to enlist him- they agreed on two months breathing space...so what is he hiding? Jack sighed- just what was going on in that boy's head?

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"Oh, hello, Jack. I was under the impression Alex would be with you. Is there something you want to talk to us about?" Mrs. Jones, and MI6. There hadn't been many opportunities to visit the headquarters of MI6, and Jack was thankful; the place freaked her out. A shrink from the medical team had joined them, expecting to interview the elusive Alex Rider, only to be faced with a frantic American woman.

"Yes, there is something I want to discuss. And it's Alex." Mrs Jones kept her face impassive, but reached into her handbag for a peppermint. A nervous habit?

"But when is it not about Alex? Why isn't he here today? We booked Riley especially- he's the Chief Psychiatrist at St George's hospital..." The shrink- Riley- nodded nervously in his ill-fitting suit and Jack wondered if he'd ever dealt with MI6 before.

"Let's just say Alex wasn't all too thrilled at the concept of coming back...here" She was going to say 'back to work', but didn't want to think that saving the world was Alex's job. The deputy head of MI6 looked up thoughtfully, then back at Jack.

"You did remind him that we've agreed to give him some room for a while?"

"Of course," Jack replied sourly. She didn't much like the "for a while".

"Has he been his usual self lately?" Mrs Jones, perched on the desk edge, opted to sit behind it in her office chair, making Jack feel suddenly under scrutiny. Does Alex feel like this everything time he comes here? No wonder he doesn't like it. Well, besides the life-threatening situations they put him in...

"Yes," Jack breathed, relieved to be telling someone her worries, even if Alex wouldn't be too happy about it. "He's been so reclusive, he comes home from school and I don't see him all night because he's stuck up in his room. That's not like him at all."

"It could be psychological," She waved a hand meaningfully at Dr Riley. "In which case, I really want to get him in to see us."

Jack shook her head. "I don't think that's all there is, though. He's not eating and I don't think he's sleeping well- he won't speak a word to me anymore that isn't avoiding my question."

"This has been going on for a while? That would suggest mental deterioration over a long period. " Riley ventured, glad to add his two cents. MI6! That would mean promotion, surely?

"No, quite recently- we were fine last weekend, and before that. It's been like living with a different person this past week." Jack said and Riley deflated.

"Have any other behavioural patterns changed?" Mrs Jones seemed deeply concerned now, but Jack wondered if she was just weighing up Alex's future use. Did she have problems with her own children?

"I suppose he's been going out an awful lot lately- I mean not with friends or anything , just...out. I don't know where, he won't tell me, or else he just lies."

"Drugs?" Riley dipped his ore again and Mrs Jones had the decency to look offended on Alex's behalf.

"You obviously don't know him, Doctor," She said coolly, dismissing him to look Jack square in the face. "Do you think he's been meeting with anyone?"

Jack balked. "I...I don't know, he could be. But...who would be meeting him that he had to hide it from us?" Mrs Jones though, before taking out a desk phone from the bottom drawer.

"We haven't had Alex tailed since the whole Scorpia business, but desperate times...Grey?"

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Alex was nervous. The confrontation with Jack that morning had shaken him. How stupid he'd been! Of course she would notice all the little changes in his behaviour, and that made him feel a rush of affection towards her, something like brotherly love. He was sorry to worry her, but at least he wasn't on drugs or anything. Yet, which was quite ironic. He just hoped she would forgive him after everything blew over. He was doing the right thing- wasn't he?

The bus slowed, and he pushed the bell to disembark. He knew the way to the meeting point, although it had changed the last three times he'd spoken with him. It wouldn't be long before MI6 were taking a closer look at how he spent his time- had Jack gone to the appointment she'd made alone, or rescheduled? If she'd gone, Alex could have a tail sooner than anticipated. I'd better hurry.

Sooner than he was comfortable with, Alex had arrived: the painted sign declared the cafe to be Old Jack's. Alex mentally chuckled. He was sure Miss Starbright would be flattered.

And there he was. The man drank something that looked like beer form a tall glass in the shade of the umbrella outside. The other customers paid no attention to them. A coke was placed in the only empty seat at the man's table. Alex sat down, and took a sip. The coke would not be poisoned. Alex trusted the man fiercely. He trusted him with his life. He had many times.

"You're here," the stranger said simply, his voice strong with relief.

"I am." Alex felt himself shake with nervousness and –adrenaline?

"You must know that there is no going back after this, Alex. This is the end...of one life. You have to be sure wholly and completely about your decision. I was bound by the same shackles as you, and I know how it feels.

"What about Jack?" Alex had tried not to think about what would happen to Jack- her Visa was permanent, but would the house revert automatically to her ownership if the last legal owner died?

"MI6 will lose interest in Jack once she's disassociated with you. Why would they keep watching her after you're gone? In time it'll be safe for me to make contact with her."

"Isn't there another way? I hate to have to do this to her," Alex truly felt wretched, for Jack, and for himself.

"We're bound by the same shackles, champ. Don't waste twenty- odd years like I did. Take this chance now," And the man in the shade slipped a tiny plastic packet under the Formica table. Alex took it, and weighed it in his hand.

"Pills?" Both were a pinky red, and slightly bigger than a sesame seed.

"One now, and one in three hours' time."

"And you're sure about this?" Alex didn't relish any kind of substance abuse; it was a mantra Ian had drilled into him from an early age: drugs are bad.

"The question is, are you? Remember, Jack will be able to join us if a few months' time, maybe a year." Alex thought hard. Was it fair to be dead to Jack for months before magically whisking her away to God- knows-where? Alex could imagine it now- "Oh, hey Jack, looks like I'm not dead after all! How've you been?" Well, I wouldn't be the first person to do that.

"Cheers, Ian."

Ian lifted his own glass.

Alex threw back his miniscule pill.

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Jonathan Grey, MI6 operative and- aha- international superspy of sorts. So why was he stuck trailing some fourteen year old kid? And what were Special Operations doing with said fourteen year old boy? They'd certainly skimmed over those details in his brief. As far as he could tell, this was a regular, run-of-the-mill assignment for the day. He knew that the boy had been targeted by both Scorpia and Snakehead at one point, but there was only him, Jonathan, keeping tabs on Alex Rider today, so the threat to him obviously wasn't high or Alex would probably be on house arrest or something. So what the hell was going on?

The operative lit a cigarette under the bus shelter, watching the teenager across the street board the bus. If he remembered correctly, the bus stopped shortly before the Rider house and he assumed he would take it all the way there. Grey followed in a black cab- God bless the anonymity of London's black cabs- and told the driver to stick to the bus route. The driver didn't care- that route was longer and he'd get a bigger fare. Which Jonathan would be claiming back as business expenses if he had anything to say about it.

He was disappointed he could only follow the boy back home- he'd only gotten his brief ten minutes ago directly from the Deputy head of Special Operations and Alex was already making him way home- he would have liked something interesting to put in his report. As it was, that would turn out to be very shallow indeed: Got on the bus, got off the bus, went home.

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Jack took her time getting home; Mrs Jones had reassured her that they would get the bottom of Alex's strange behaviour and meetings with this anonymous person, and for once Jack felt as if she could trust her. Even if she was only securing Alex to use again in the future- no one wants a dead operative. There was no need to use her keys- the door was unlocked and she threw them in the bowl, as usual. They met with a louder chink than she expected and saw the other set were already in the bowl. "Alex?"

Maybe he's changed his mind. I can still make another appointment for him...at least it was save someone traipsing around after him all over London if he just tells us what's wrong.

Jack didn't find Alex downstairs, so she went to search the sanctuary that was his room. Alex's room overlooked the front of the house, and the late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the open windows. The stereo gave out a quiet but catchy track- was that Foo Fighters? Megan Fox glared though heavy lashes from the poster behind his desk, perfect legs, perfect face, and the picture of health. Alex, however, was far from it. Alex was slumped on the floor by his bed, partially propped against the wall, eyes closed.

Jack didnt move; some primal urge kept her locked in her place and whispered to her: He's hurt, something's hurt him, it's not safe here! "A-Alex?" Disembodied, she moved over to him, feeling as if someone was controlling her limbs to make her move. This isn't real. This isn't happening. Alex isn't dead.

Tenderly, she reached out to touch him face, which hung limply forward. It was cold.

Jack screamed.

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Woooah I always write the depressing ones ^^'

I'm so excited for Crocodile Tears, I had to write something to occupy the countdown XD

So what do you guys think? Poor Jack, right? :D I didn't mean for her to play such a big part at first, but there ya go XD

In the next part: Less Jack, probebly. Moar Ian? :D More of K team possibly, and my favourite bit takes part in the morgue...:3

Please R&R to get that next part churned out faster if you liked it! :)