Not a happy story; don't get your hopes up. I hope you like it nonetheless.
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.
Alex wasn't quiet sure what had woken him up. The yacht was rolling calmly, the slight movement peaceful rather than sickening. He didn't feel ill anyway, just wide awake. He sat up at rubbed at his eyes with a yawn.
He lifted his feet out of the bed and put them on the carpeted floor. He could smell the salty sweetness of the Mediterranean even from inside his cabin.
He still hadn't figured out why he was there. When Sabina had invited him, a vacation had been the very last thing on his mind. Jack was dead. Who was he to have fun? But she had convinced him, even bringing her parents for a visit. Mrs Pleasure had taken one look at him and decided that he didn't have a choice in the matter.
So there he was, on the Pleasure's yacht off the south of France. Sabina had tried talking him into swimming a few times, but he politely declined. His back was still sore. He didn't like to think what the salt water would feel like. And he had yet to explain to the Pleasures exactly what had happened. They knew Jack was dead—but they didn't know that it was Alex's fault. So in hopes of avoiding the awkward questions that would come with a swim, he mostly slept on deck or played cards with Mr Pleasure. He had to admit, it was very relaxing. It was almost as if he had sailed away from all of his troubles.
But he wasn't so naïve. He knew it was only a matter of time before MI6 came back for him. Once his injuries were fully healed—or at the very least, no longer debilitating—he would be back on missions before he had time to blink.
He made his way out of his cramped cabin and onto the deck, hoping some fresh air would help clear his mind so he could fall asleep again; hoping some fresh air would fight away the nightmares.
Jack was dead. The realization kept striking him, lying like a ton of bricks on his chest. Without her, he didn't know where he would live; let alone how he would survive. The thought of staying in his old house all alone wasn't appealing.
He had a feeling Blunt wouldn't follow through on his threat to put Alex in a home...there would be too many people to notice when he disappeared; too many people who would care. They would be liabilities—security threats. He couldn't see them appointing another guardian. Who would they subject to that? It was more convenient to leave him with no one at all.
He would live alone in his haunted house, with only Jack's and Ian's ghosts for company.
He was standing by the yacht's railing when he heard something; something deep, rumbling from within the boat. His hands tightened around the railing, his muscles reacting instinctively. It took his brain another second to catch up. He knew that sound.
An instant later, the whole world was in flames.