Here is the sequel to The Trouble With Spies. You do not need to read it before reading this, as the chapters are individual one-shots, but I would recommend it. That way you know the format for the chapters.
Thank you to everyone who supported me through the long months of TTWS. You kept me going!
im no fool - Do you mean my more popular stories in TTWS or my actual stories like Things Change?
FateOfChaos - Sorry about that. Alex was going to survive, but then one thing led to another...
Anyway, on to the sequel! I do not own Alex Rider and I hope you enjoy!
This takes place in Jack's pov when Alex was shot.
Jack Starbright jumped, startled, as a ringtone broke the silence. Fumbling with her purse, the redhead reached inside and retrieved her phone. Glancing at the TV, relieved to note the muted soccer - Ian and Alex never could get her to call it football - game had yet to start, Jack turned her full attention to the caller.
"Hello, this is the Rider residence, Jack speaking. How may I help you?"
The American woman was rewarded with a crisp voice containing no emotion stating, "Go to St. Dominic's immediately. Alex was shot."
Then the man hung up, preventing him from hearing the rest of Jack's scream.
Thirty minutes later, a large red van spun to a stop in St. Dominic's parking lot. A woman with hair redder than the car leapt out, sprinting through the front entrance. She skidded into the reception desk and demanded, "Alex Rider, fourteen years old. He was shot."
"He's still in surgery, Miss. If you would wait, the doctor will call for his visitors when he is settled in a room," the woman replied, remembering the boy's details because she had watched in shock and horror as he was wheeled in covered in blood.
Jack nodded stiffly and spun around, plopping down in the first open seat she found.
Jack awoke with a start to someone shaking her gently. Blinking the sleep from her eyes and wondering how she fell asleep, she looked up to see the receptionist from earlier.
"Miss? You slept through the doctor's call. Alex Rider is available for visitors. Room 349."*
"Thank you," the redhead said, then leaped from her seat and dashed to the elevator.
Jack had to wait a week before Alex awoke. It was the most stressful one she had ever had. She was lucky if she managed three hours a day in the hard plastic hospital chairs and when she was made to go home - "We're sorry, Miss, but visiting hours are over" - she was too worried about Alex to even close her eyes. Without his obviously living, though coma-like, body in front of her, Jack couldn't help but imagine his heart giving out and the doctors unable to start it again. Then she saw him being carted off, covered in a long white sheet, to be hidden in the morgue until it was time for his funeral.
Seeing Mrs. Jones and Mr. Blunt at the hospital the second day didn't help either. The head of MI6 ignored his deputy's silencing motions and stated flatly that the fault lay with Alex for first getting involved with Scorpia and then not noticing the sniper. Jack proceeded to punch him in the face, relishing in the satisfactory feel of his nose breaking, and screamed at him about where he should stick his accusations and who's fault it really was until her voice broke and she was escorted from St. Dominic's. She wasn't allowed back in until the next day, and she spent the rest of the second nervously biting her nails and cleaning the house from top to bottom.
When Jack entered Alex's room on the fourth day it was to see Mrs. Jones, who apologized for Blunt's actions and said that if there was anything the American needed, she would do her best to provide it. Jack said Jones could stick her apologies the same place Blunt should stick his accusations and that the one thing she wanted - Alex, safe and sound in her arms waiting for Ian to come home after he finally retired from MI6 without dying first - wasn't possible. Mrs. Jones left as quickly as she could.
Jack also lost count of the amount of times she broke down and cried. She did it anywhere and anytime. After dinner on the kitchen floor, lying in bed late at night, waking up from a short nap in the chair beside Alex, in the bathroom, it didn't matter.
Her dreams - when she managed to sleep - were plagued with nightmares. The normal one was Alex dying an excruciating death. Other times she delved into what she imagined Alex saw in his coma; watching Alex cry over the bodies of his loved ones because he was only in a coma and not completely dead, blocked from going and holding him as he cried because she wasn't even half dead yet. Occasionally Jack saw herself watching over Alex's body as the years went by, eventually saying the doctors could pull the plug. She imagined what Alex went through on his missions from what he described to her. The American always woke up screaming, a nurse shushing quietly and handing her a cup of hot tea.
And then, on the seventh day, Jack's living and sleeping nightmares ended. Alex woke up, and when he did, she had never been more thankful. "The good thing about spies," she sobbed as she hugged him, "is they always arise."
* I don't remember what room he was in in Ark Angel, so I made one up. I also don't remember any details about when he woke up, so sorry if it's wrong. Ark Angel is one of the books I don't have.
So, originally, the paragraphs between 'It was the most stressful" and "Jack's living and sleeping nightmares ended" didn't exist. Then, as I was typing this up, I thought 'This is really short. As the first chapter, it should be longer." And tada! The rest of the chapter was created! So, I hope you enjoy it. Please review!