Title: The Fountain of Youth
Summary: Alex will never fully recover from his time of being a spy. Even a year after his career came to an end, he doesn't know how to be happy. Post-Scorpia Rising.
Setting: After Scorpia Rising. Starts on Alex's 16th birthday, and Stormbreaker - Scorpia Rising as having occurred over approximately 15 months. This differs from Canon, slightly.
Warning: Violence, sex, suicidal thoughts. Probably more. Leave if you are triggered easily.
Chapter 1 - February 13th
A dull grey dominated the early evening San Francisco sky. It was 7pm, the arrival of late winter's night hidden by overcast.
In the past, Alex Rider hated weather like this. He was always a sunshine and warmth kind of guy who enjoyed days at the beach and sun warming his skin. The harsh burn of the sun had never once marred his skin. A bitter thought these days, as Alex now knew that even something as innocent as learning how to use sun screen at the age of three was part of his training to be a spy. Sure, he was glad never to feel the scorch of the sun that would leave his skin red and peeling that all his friends assured him was miserable, and it was certainly a positive he wouldn't grow up to have skin cancer. Still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His entire existence was based around being a spy. A spy against his will. It was the reason the last two years of his life had been hell. It was the reason he couldn't figure out how to be happy ever since he came to America to live with the Pleasures.
He drummed his fingers along the window seal, a small smile beginning to cross his face as the first drops of rain began to pepper the window. The trickling thumps brought a peace to him that was new. As a child, a rainy day was a bad day. Now, he could feel some of the tension leave his shoulders at the pitter-patter.
A lot had changed in two short years. Perhaps it was a natural result of growing up, like Edward said. Sabina's father told him once when they had a heart to heart that as one aged, the years became shorter and shorter as they made up a less significant portion of one's life. He has also acknowledged that the type of life Alex had led those two years did a lot to make it seem too short, but also longer than it had any right to be.
Alex gulped, a feeling he didn't quite understand in his heart as he recalled his talks with Edward. Dad, he thought. He rolled the word over his tongue without letting it leave his mouth. It didn't sound right. Too personal, maybe. Father. It sounded better, slightly. He wouldn't be using it anytime soon, if ever, but it was nice to have a father figure for once. A real one.
He had been in San Francisco for almost a year now, and so far, nothing bad had happened. For the first few months, he has fully expected someone to come and kill him. Now, that fear was almost gone. Almost. He told himself that if anyone wanted him dead, they would have done it already.
"Alex!"
He blinked as he heard his name called, returning himself to awareness of the world around him. He chuckled sardonically. It wasn't very spy like to get lost in his thoughts, but then again, he wasn't a spy anymore, was he?
His stomach growled. He was hungry apparently, though he hadn't been aware until he was reminded by Liz's call. Alex shook his head. Another reminder that he had been permanently altered by his time as a spy. At least he would never again feel the pain of being hungry during history class.
Alex left his thoughts in the room as he headed down stairs, not wanting to keep Liz waiting. She was a nice woman who cared about him deeply, but a small part of him felt guilty that he could never think of her as a mother. He couldn't even think the word mom. Where Edward was someone he wanted to see as as a father, the thought of a mother was foreign to him. He never knew his. At least with his uncle, it felt like he had a father for a time, at least until he was old enough to realize he was an uncle, and further still, it hadn't been a void inside until he died and left him alone in the world. A world in which he had been raised to be used. A world that he had saved too many times.
He threw a smile on his face as he walked into the dining room, letting his face fall into one of shock - performed - as cries of "Happy Birthday" filled the room. He was happy, certainly, but he had seen it coming a mile away. Sabina dragging him to the mall after school, dinner was an hour later than usual, the slight air of secrecy and excitement that permeated the house. They were all cues that something was up, that something was being hidden from him. He knew the date was his birthday. How could he forget when Facebook and most of the girls and half the guys at school had reminded him?
Con #117 - not that he was counting - of being a spy: there was no way that he would ever have a pleasant surprise again. Sure, he could be surprised with another sniper, perhaps a bullet through his heart, but that was hardly pleasant. But a joyous surprise for his birthday? No chance any civilian would be able to pull it off. Mrs. Jones herself would have to plan it, and it would have to be in the middle of October to truly catch him off guard.
His open mouth closed into a solid smile, and he let himself blush. That was real, at least. People cared about him enough to throw him a birthday party. After Jack was… he felt his smile falter, but then relied on the tried and true performance to keep it straight. He still had people who cared about him enough to throw him a party. That counted for something.
He smiled and forced himself to focus. A part of him wanted to withdraw until the voices and faces were a blur in his head, but he had to at least try to be happy. He had to want to be happy. It was what everyone told him. And he did want to be happy. Mostly.
He walked over to the table that was surrounded by friends and family… yeah, the Pleasures were family, even if he wasn't comfortable with the words 'mom' and 'sister.' Some of Sabina's friends were there, and even one guy that he was friendly with in class. It was a surprise, really, as he preferred to keep to himself. It wasn't that different from how he was back in London, before he learned the true nature of the world and his life, but now it was because he wanted to protect them from being involved. Protect himself from the pain of their deaths.
His body was following all the motions. Smiling at everyone, approaching the table, and blowing out the sixteen candles on the cake. One blow was all it took. The control and precision to achieve that was nothing with his training. Compared to holding his breath for ninety seconds while dodging bullets under water, a solid exhalation through puckered lips was nothing
The cake was pretty. Nothing fancy short of the large one and six in the middle. Otherwise, it was white icy with blue script saying "Happy Birthday Alex!"
"Happy sweet sixteen, bro!" he heard one of Sabina's friends yell. Lance, probably.
Alex took a step back as Liz cut the cake. It seemed to be the motherly thing to do, if his viewing of sitcoms was anything to go by.
He made small talk with Sabina's friends - his friend too, though there was a barrier that stopped them from becoming as close as Sabina or Tom ever were. Probably his fault, but they didn't need to know that.
Liz cut the cake into approximately thirty pieces, and distributed a slice on paper plates to everyone. Twelve people in all.
Alex continued his small talk, nodded occasionally to remind himself that he was listening and occasionally forking some cake into his mouth. It was sweet, almost to the point of being gritty. Not that that was a bad thing. Coke was his favorite drink after all.
"Ahem," Edward cleared his throat. Alex nodded as he chewed the food, grateful for the relief from small talk. It wasn't that he disliked talking to Sabina's friends - his friends, he had to remind himself - but that he had a hard time caring. It was hard to pinpoint the moment in his life where things became about performing the motions of life, but all that really mattered was that it was fact. One good thing about his mission was that they made him care. Made him not want to die. Made him fight to live.
Alex shook the dark thought from his head. He wanted to hear what Edward had to say.
"Alex has been with us for almost a year now, has been a friend of our family for nearly two. As you know, Liz and I became Alex's guardians last summer. We have talked about it for a while and prepared all of the paperwork. Our birthday gift for Alex, a gift for our whole family, is that we have finalized the adoption process."
Alex nodded. The world was a haze around him. He kind of knew that it would happen, suspected it in fact, but it still took him by surprise. It was good news. Great news.
He was shocked, and the sounds of cheer around him were only echoes.
He let a smile find a home on his face. Despite everything, this happiness was real.
The party ended half an hour ago and everyone had gone home. Alex was back in his room now, the sky darkened to night. The pitter-patter at the window was now a solid downpour.
He was adopted now. He had mother and father. A sister too.
"Yay," he said aloud. His voice was dull, not liked the normal dry bite. The only word he could think to describe it was 'lifeless.' Just like him.
He rested his forehead against the window, chilled by winter's night and rainfall. He felt the chill, to his relief. He felt his heart beat in his chest. He pulled up the left sleeve of his shirt and brushed this thumb over the veins, blue rivers that passed under smooth skin.
He reached down to his socks and pulled out a knife. It wasn't exactly a military grade knife, though it was meant for combat. He had bought it at Wal-mart a week after arriving in the States, when his paranoia was at its height. He thought he would need something to protect him and his new family, but nothing had ever come of it. He still kept the knife in the sock on his right foot, safely in a sheath that came with it. Luckily, he didn't go to a school with metal detectors, and he knew how to act like he wasn't wearing a weapon.
The paranoia never went away, not entirely. He had to consciously tell himself that there was no one hiding behind the half closed bathroom attached to his room, waiting to gut him for taking down the most powerful criminal organization in the world. He had to tell himself that there was no bug under the tea cup that he used every day. Some nights, he had to tell himself in a mantra that he wouldn't wake up with a knife in his throat.
He removed the knife from its sheath before placing the plastic cover onto his desk. He rubbed his fingers over the flat sides of the knife, and looked down at his wrist. It would be so easy to end all his fear.
He had thought about it many times before, some nights spending hours looking at his wrist. Others poking at skin to remind himself that he could feel. It had been a while since his 'career' came to an end, but all the sudden it felt like he had never felt better at all. He should be happy that he was adopted and had a family. Instead, he felt a dull ache vibrating inside.
He brushed the knife over the veins that always captivated him, blade perpendicular to his arm. It was chilly, almost like a shard of glass from the window. The veins were so vulnerable, yet not. Much like a human itself. Full of weak points, so many ways to cause pain both physical and mental. It was never that easy. A person always acted in ways to best defend oneself. He had been on the bad end of that enough times, whether it was Conrad's meaty hands around his throat, or his racing mind struggling to find a way to escape as Dr. Grief threatened to dissect him alive.
Right now, he could take the knife and gouge it into his wrist. It could be a cut so deep into the veins and the artery beneath them that when he decided that he wanted to live and cried out for help that it would be too late. It should be so easy, but it wasn't. He couldn't do it.
He brushed the knife over the veins, enough to tickle, enough to cause the sting of a paper cut, but not enough to leave even a mark. He shifted his grip until he held the knife like a pen, placing the tip on a vein and tracing it. And then he push. First a millimeter and then another. A little further and blood started to pool. It would be so easy to just end everything now. End the dull ache in his stomach that made him want throw up, the weight that felt like the world on his shoulder. The image of Jack dying in his head.
But he lifted the knife. It was never that easy. So he opened the window, held the knife out, and let the rain rinse the blood away. He placed the knife on the desk before putting his write outside and washing the blood away from there as well. The blood would trickle out for the next few minutes, but then it would be done. No scar, no blood. No worse than a paper cut.
He heard a knock on his door and a voice calling his name. "Alex?"
Liz. "Come in," he called as he closed the window. He slipped his sleeve back down over his wrist. It was nothing, but best to avoid questions. "What's up?" he asked as he took a seat on his bed.
"It's dark in here," Liz said as she walked to his desk and turned on the lamp. If she saw the knife, she didn't say anything. Probably expected the spy kid to have something lying around, and a knife was the least that an imagination could create. She looked around the room, though Alex had to tell himself that it was a passive, motherly action trying to pick up details about his life because she cared.
Alex looked up at her expectantly.
"Is Tom still coming to the States this weekend?" she asked.
Alex nodded. "Yep. He's, like, obsessed with me after all."
Liz chuckled. "Good good." She was quiet for a moment. "You are going to have to miss school tomorrow."
Alex felt his whole body freeze. And then he blinked and felt his heart continuing to beat. This was Liz. His… mother. She wasn't about to tell him about a mission. Whatever she had to say was going to be entirely normal.
"We have to to go to the doctor tomorrow morning," she said.
"The shrink?" Alex wondered. He knew that he was bad about attending his session, and felt guilty that she was going to have to take time out of her day to make sure he went. Perhaps he should do a better job of attending. He couldn't deny that he needed the help at this point.
"No, no," Liz said. "The doctor from last week called. There was an abnormality in your test. They wanted to see you again, and specified that your guardian attend."
Alex snorted. "Abnormality, huh?" Was it HIV from a bad water source he had been desperate enough to drink on some mission? He checked for blood, body fluids, and any other contaminants he could think of, but sometimes he had been to desperate to care. Or perhaps the waters in Venice had been dirtier than they looked? Or perhaps he caught some weird, crocodile-based disease. Crazy thoughts that he couldn't tell Liz about.
"It is probably nothing," Liz said pleasantly. "Most of your records are from England, after all. Probably just a vaccination difference."
"Probably," Alex agreed. And then he yawned.
"Tired from your birthday?" Liz asked. "You should get to bed early."
Alex nodded faintly and removed his socks lazily. "Yeah. Kind of a head ache too."
"Too much sugar?" Liz laughed.
Alex chuckled as he stood up to walk to the bathroom. "Gonna brush my teeth and get to bed early. Good night," he said as he began to close the door. Then he stopped and rolled a quick word over his tongue. "Good night, mom."
Liz smiled. "Good night, sweetie."
Well, my first Alex Rider fanfic. I have a full length story planned, with a romance, villain, crazy plan, dinosaurs, and one other surprise... But I just wanted to post this first chapter to make sure I had the drive to write the rest of it :) Let me know what you think. On the off-chance I never finish this story, this chapter stands well as a post-Scorpia Rising one-shot, even if the title doesn't make sense for a one-shot (hint hint)!