A/N: Like many, I've been an Alex Rider fan for a long time. There are, however, a couple things that have always bothered me. One of which being that Alex gets hurt...a lot...but we very rarely get to see how he heals. This scene-scribble is one of those times where I wish his healing was included. It takes place directly after the film studio fire in Crocodile Tears, in dealing with the injuries Alex received there. In the book, he was in pain one minute and fine the next. I hope you enjoy. Review if you'd like. Thanks.

Disclaimer: Neither Alex nor anything(one) associated with him belongs to me.

Burn Cream
By: StriderX

Of all the taxis in London, it figured Alex would find the only one to obey—no, go slower—than the speed limit. Maybe the Indian driver saw the pain etched in the boy's face; maybe he thought any bump or jerk would knock out the dirtied kid all together. Either way, he just couldn't bring himself to rush any faster than necessary with that odd and clearly injured child in his backseat.

'Course, he never thought to consider that what was necessary was really as fast as his ancient old taxi could muster through the bustling streets. Alex winced at every slow turn and bit back irritation at every backwards glance he caught the cabby sneaking. Just the simple fight for consciousness was nearly more then he could bare; he couldn't take the loaded questions of a nosey taxi driver too.

When ages passed, Alex lethargically reached into his back pocket for the cash required to pay off the taxi as it whined to a stop before his Chelsea home. Pulling himself out of the car and slamming the door before the driver could say a word, Alex sighed. If there was one thing he'd gotten out of the last year, it was a great, indescribable appreciation for the simple sight of home. After the day he'd had (and the many he'd had before), there was nothing he'd rather see then the one place he felt truly safe and the smiling face of the woman who made it that way.

He was somewhat disappointed however when, as he started to climb entry stair, the front door flew open to reveal Jack, anything but smiling. Anyone else would have drilled him instantly with questions and accusations, but Jack simply stood there by the door with a worried frown marring her features, leaving just enough room for Alex to slip through. In truth, Alex didn't know if her silence relieved or bothered him.

As he passed her through the hall, pushing the door shut, she gasped lowly. Alex could only imagine what his back must look like. Even after the roll in the grass and cool leather of the taxi seat, Alex still gritted his teeth from the burn searing his back and shoulders.

*

Jack watched her young charge drop his bag on the floor aimlessly. She was no stranger to seeing him hurt (she almost came to expect it in some dark way…especially after that call from the school principle) but the sight made her heart drop all the same. Alex wasn't just some kid she looked after. He was her family, her best friend; her little brother. Every injury she ever saw on him, burned right into her own flesh just the same.

Inside, she was angry. Angry at the school, at MI6, at Alex; maybe more than anyone she was furious at Ian for setting his nephew up for all of this years before. But right that minute, she knew none of that mattered. All that mattered was her Alex standing in the hall, bruised, burned and leaning too heavily on one leg, waiting patiently for her to speak.

There was a whole lecture in her head. She didn't know what he'd been up to, but she had a feeling he'd done this one all on his own. He was hurt, but he'd gotten himself into it…she was sure of it. He was no better than…

The thought left her even as Alex swayed and fell softly into the wall. She bolted forward and wrapped a strong arm around his slender waist. He said nothing and didn't resist when she pulled his arm over her shoulder and lead him through the hall to the couch in the living room. Gently, she laid him on his stomach and leaned down to meet his glassy, tired eyes. "Alex? Are you hurt anywhere but your back?" her lecture could wait till morning. She hardly believed he'd even hear her now anyway.

He appeared to think hard about her question, then lifted the hand closest to her (the other was tucked under him, somewhere between half-burned fabric and couch cushion). "Hands…knees, too. That's it…Jack,"

She knew he was dying to explain himself, to apologize like he always did. But as much as she was dying to hear it, now wasn't the time. "Later, Alex. Just rest here…I'll get the burn cream."

Alex sighed deeply as the wiry American he loved so much left his side. He knew she was disappointed. Even if he may have discovered something important in that studio before it exploded, he still felt ashamed. Jack didn't deserve what he put her through time and time again. Part of him wondered why she bothered to stay—it was a dark thought he didn't think he could ever admit.

Consciousness drifted around Alex's brain like a bumblebee: landing one minute, flying away the next. Only vaguely was he aware of Jack's soft touch tending to his scorched flesh; he had no control over the soft whimpers that whispered through his lips when the cool cream soothed the wounds.

With the skill of any fine nurse (trained through a very clever 'how-to-be-a-home-nurse' dvd), Jack wrapped Alex's shoulders and upper back. They weren't as serious as she had a feeling they easily could have been, but still…in such a quantity, her heart melted for the pain her boy must be feeling. Tenderly, before he passed out completely, Jack helped Alex roll gingerly onto his back. His eyes were barely open and slightly unfocused. No concussion, she surmised, but exhausted to the core (a trait she sadly found more and more common in the teen). She handed him two painkillers and steadied a glass of water before his lips. She couldn't help but smile softly at his muttered thanks.

By the time she wrapped his hands (being cautious around the still-swollen spiderweb wound from the day before) and tended to his red knees, Alex had long since fallen asleep…or passed out, maybe a mix of both. She'd rather him sleep in his bed, but not having the heart to wake him, Jack pulled off his shoes and draped a quilt over his form. She left the water and pain killers on the coffee table for when he needed them later.

There were tears in her eyes as she watched him snuggle unconsciously into the soft fabric. Here, and only here, he could be a child again. Here he could be a normal fourteen-year-old schoolboy with nothing on his mind but next week's project. A tear slipped down Jack's cheek.

With a great sadness, she knew (and so did he) that even if MI6 and everyone else left him alone from that day onward, Alex could never be just a boy ever again.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to leave the room, turning the lights off and double-checking the locks on the front door before trudging to her upstairs bedroom. Lord knew she loved Alex as much as any mother could love their child or sister could love their brother, but even that so, that boy was going to have a lot of explaining to do the next day.

Oh yes, she was worried and felt deeply for him, but something in her told her this particular incident could have been avoided by anyone but a son-of-a-spy.

End.