A/N: This is the first chapter of a short story that I am doing on Alex. Thank you anybody who read my last story and please do tell me what you think about it. And sorry I must say this, but Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz and not me.
14 year old Alex Rider found himself in the hospital yet again. He wasn't even remotely surprised. Count on his luck to end up in the hospital when every other teenage boy and girl in Britain was just coming home from school, grabbing something to eat from the kitchen and tossing their books and homework aside as they flipped on the television to watch some TV.
Alex had his eyes closed. He knew he had been shot. He had felt the bullet hit his arm, had felt the numb yet at the same time, sharp sting and the numb feeling afterwards.
He didn't want to glance down. He didn't want to imagine what his arm looked like, because he was afraid that he might puke of faint or something remotely embarrassing like that. He could feel the wet stickiness of blood on his sleeve, the metallic smell unique to blood, the fact that his breathing was rattled. A oxygen mask had been forced on his face he didn't know how long ago, but despite this, he felt like he couldn't breath.
Alex wanted to lift up his head, but it felt like a hundred pounds. Jack was there with him, being stated as his legal guardian, although it had required a bit of a legal hassle considering that Jack was not his relation nor his parents or uncle.
The doctor, a man who looked to be about 50 years old with a greying beard and unnaturally soft hands, was currently measuring Alex's heart rate. This was a necessary step as Alex might be in shock, and a surgery could potentially kill him.
A nurse came into the room as soon as the doctor was done checking his heart rate.
" He can go to surgery now."
" Thank you." The doctor didn't bother buttoning up Alex's shirt. Instead, he gently removed Alex's arm's from the sleeves so Alex was entirely bare chested.
As for Alex, he was too exhausted and tired to be embarrassed. All he really wanted to do right now was take a nap. His eyelids started drooping…
" Alex!" A voice snapped his eyelids open, just as he was starting to reach a level of unconsciousness required for sleeping. It was the doctor.
His eyes and tone softened a bit. " You can't sleep yet. We were going to give you a sedative and than you can sleep."
For the millionth time in his life, he cursed MI6. This would have never happened had it not been for that mission in Germany.
" Come on, Alex," they had said, " it's not even an official mission. We promise you won't get hurt."
Well, how about that? He had come back shot in the arm and with what appeared to be several cracked ribs. He couldn't tell for sure, but the fact that the skin surrounding his ribs was blue and black and purple and there appeared to be odd shapes that poked out of his skin and stung whenever someone touched them suggested that at the very least, a cracked rib, and at the most, a broken rib.
Another nurse entered the room. Alex tried to turn his head to see her. It felt like lifting a 200 pound sphere. He eventually gave up trying to turn his head and instead tried to focus on his breathing.
" Here's the sedative, doctor." Alex could hear with startling clarity the exchange of a needle. He didn't like needles, and considering that he got at least one injected into him every month, he really should have been used to this by now.
Alex had memorized the drill. A alcohol swab, followed by that moment where Alex did his best to distract the doctor, and than followed by struggling to avoid the inevitable-the needle plunging down into his skin.
Alex shuddered. If he ever got to it, he swore to invent something do children like himself had to never get another injection in their life. Maybe a pill? Yes, a pill could work. Or a skin patch, although ripping it of would probably hurt and it would take a longer time to deliver the antibodies.
The doctor's face loomed over Alex. He tried to calm down. He could see the needle, loaded with a canister of clear liquid. It was like the movies. The doctor squeezed out a little drop of liquid, looming on the needle for a second before the doctor prepared to plunge it down.
Alex shut his eyes, expecting a sting followed by slipping into unconsciousness, but than the doctor said-
" Ma'am you do know that you will have to wait outside for him while the surgery is being administered right?" The doctor asked Jack. Alex was thankful for the distraction, however momentary.
"Yes." Jack nodded. " How long will the surgery take?"
The doctor looked at Alex. " Anything from forty five minutes to two hours. We still don't know how deep the bullet's gone or how much damage was caused to his muscles and surrounding tissues."
Great. Just great. He was going to be cut open and poked and prodded for two hours. At this rate, it hurt less to get shot than to actually get the bullet removed.
" Alex, your arm please." Oh no, the moment he had been dreading. Alex wanted to strangle Blunt right now. Blunt didn't know how it felt to get stabbed with needles at least once every month. Or what it felt like to be shot. If he knew, Alex doubted that he would ever send another teenager like himself on a mission.
There was a pinch; than uncontrollable drowsiness started creeping in. He felt someone stroke his hand reassuringly; probably Jack, and than there was no more.