Version 2.0 11/26/11

Note: The second piece may be a long time in coming because I've decided to companion it with Caught In The Crossfire. In chronological order, this follows the events in Caught in the Crossfire. Strangely there aren't really any spoilers here for that story. Yeah, go figure.

Anyway when Caught in the Crossfire is complete, the other half of this will follow. I know I write painfully slow but bear with me please. You know I won't leave you hanging to long, right?

Right?


It was exceptionally cold outside that day and the endless cerulean dome of the sky, rimmed on all sides by window studded grey, only served to enhance the acuity of a cruel ethereal chill whose intent was to further sadden the day.

The chill pervaded the emotionally sweltering atmosphere of the sitting room, reducing the small mass of mournful souls to a huddled group of wretched persons, longing for a draft of warm air that would not come.

Jack refused to turn on the heat, for she would not be comforted.

When Wolf stepped out of his mostly neglected, but clean blue truck, his left hand full of a carnation bouquet, his colleagues from work had already arrived at the picturesque home of the deceased in its row of tiring similarity.

He slammed the door with unnecessary vigor and shrunk into his coat as he jogged up the steps and knocked on the door.

Eagle surveyed the cold room before him; the small white coffin, trimmed with blue, a point of particular interest. Nearby sat the guardian of the child's rest, haggard but vigilant in her constant presence at its side. As she sat, she solidly watched a compilation of childhood moments on the Telly that stood before her. But as soon as anyone ventured too close, her manner towards them was weary at best.

Eagle walked closer to see for himself as Snake gave him a curious look. He studied a picture of the boy in the coffin as he had appeared in his tenderer years and as Snake approached to have a look as well, the red head sentinel snapped.

"What do you want with him?" Eyes flashing as she stood to defend, the woman regarded them with contempt.

"We were all team mates." was Fox's steady reply, appearing nearby. He found it preferable to ignore her livid tone for the moment.

"We trained together and we helped him out of a tough spot now and then. Last we heard he was fine."

Wolf graced the overwrought scene with his rudimentary sensibilities and laid his bouquet among the others on the coffin. "But now he's dead."

His insensitive declaration had the unexpected effect of calming the fiery woman, who up until then appeared ready to remove the men who stood before her by bodily force if so provoked by their continuing presence. But the solid truth silenced her spirit well in agreement.

"Yes he is" only to be rekindled by the sudden sight of a blameworthy, contemptuous soul "Snuffed out by your fucking company!"

The few people in the room looked about from their quiet murmurings to identify the object of Jack's intense disgust. The four men glanced up to see a woman they remembered as Mrs. Jones.

"Your company did this?" Wolf stepped over to the stoic Deputy Head of MI6 with unconscious refinement and purposeful intimidation.

Her heels brought her head to the level of his eyes but her steely resolve was cracking under his gaze.

"We spoke about protection last time we met, correct?"

"Yes we did and those measures were put into place but we can only provide so much back-"

"And the agreement was that he would not be subjected to such situations again Jones, am I right?"

She delicately removed a star striped peppermint from it red colored wrapper; the sound of the cellophane, ominous in the silent room.

"We should go elsewhere to discuss this, perhaps my office, you too Ms. Starbright, that's why I came, we're-"

",fine right here." Snake interjected smoothly "Perhaps you should sit right here" he easily produced a chair "and explain how the violation of our agreement came to be."

"We can not discuss such sensitive information publicly."

"Can't or won't?" Wolf scuffed

Mrs. Jones remained standing despite her growing fear of the men's possibly limited self control. "I will not reveal such classified information to the general public."

Tom Harris found his tongue loosened by her insolent insinuation; to call Alex's present grievers the general public. "What the hell do you mean by the general public; we deserve to know what your bloody organization did to get him killed you know!"

Jones was on the brink of becoming forceful with her negotiations, using the brute force of her small, hidden entourage to prevent a bigger problem.

"I am not at liberty to disclose classified information to civilians. When we are in a secure location I will say all that I'm allowed."

By this point in their fruitless argument Jack had crept closer, wondering furiously if according to the words of these similarly angered men, Alex's death could have been successfully avoided. The peppermint woman's stubborn refusal to reveal the events leading to his death was becoming a target for much pent up frustration.

"Every damn thing that you have to say will be said in THIS HERE FUCKING ROOM with them present!" She gestured wildly to the unsettled audience behind her "Because I'll be damned if I let you come in her to HIS funeral with your hints and suggestions, bullshitting about why you can't tell us and carrying on as if you run things in here. Cause you don't!"

"Then I have nothing to say but that I am sorry for your loss."

The mother of one of Alex's classmates, a woman whom he'd helped more than once in the times before his erratic absences from society began, stepped around a wayward chair and drew close to the official looking woman as she turned to leave.

"What exactly is so secretive about Alex Rider? Why can't he be remembered properly? Why can't we know what happened to him? His friends at school, my son and others, tell me he hardly ever showed up since his uncle died; they'd like to know what happened to him; why he died."

"A young friend doesn't just die one day and you have no idea what happened. When I asked a few days ago some official looking men told me he was hit by a car. But that's not true." An older, compassionate fellow felt compelled to mention. "I was his uncle's friend" Subtler strains of grief bled through the baritone notes of his voice. "The conspiracy surround his nephew's death is shamefully scandalous.

"He was a good child the few years that I knew him, and it grieves me to know that his death can't even be handled with a little bit of honesty."

The room was devoid of its previously charged atmosphere as her words absorbed the fight and the emotional heat from the room, bringing that ever present chill to the fore again.

Another young girl nervously swept her black braids from before her eyes and asked "Was he really hit by a car?"

The piercingly undivided attention of all the people in the room was not unnerving enough for Mrs. Jones to submit to their demands; to abandon protocol and tell the truth. She was prepared to provide a perfectly woven lie instead.

"The circumstances causing his death are sketchy at best, and we are looking into them but according to our sources a run in with a car was definitely one of them. He may-"

Jack's eyes burned with overflowing tears as she relinquished all self control. Jumping at the woman she slapped her across the face in such a manner that the members of the elite forces behind her were impressed enough to wince.

"Oh shut up you bitch ! Do you seriously expect me to believe that a car did that to him!" Tulip Jones rubbed her tender cheek as her guards appeared behind her, armed and ready but Jones sent them back.

Jack took no notice of them as she screamed and bewailed her heart to those who listened.

"A car doesn't do that kind of damage unless it ran him off a building! He was MURDERED, BRUTALLY! Do you want to know why I don't open the coffin for the others to see him for the last time? It's because I can't. It wasn't some friggin' gunshot wound to the chest this time Jones! He fell from some where after he was shot in the damn face! And from the looks of it he didn't fall off a bench! So don't you stand here and tell me it was some fucking car accident, he was murdered! MURDURED!" Overwhelming grief overtook her righteous anger as Jack slumped to the ground, rocking against the wall as she hugged herself, sobbing for the lost young man.


Let me know what you think. I'm experimenting with a more poetic style of writing but I'm not sure how I did.