A/N: This is set when Alex and Tom are both eighteen, they are attending a 6th form College (ages 17 to 18), which is more often than not a part of a secondary school (ages 11 to 16). The secondary years wear school uniform and the College years wear their own clothes.

DISAPPEAR

The hallways of King's Hill Sixth Form were as busy as usual, students gathering round their small lockers changing over their notebooks and text books. Most of the younger years' uniforms were different states of untidy; the older years didn't look any better, they wore their own clothes, most going for a pair of jeans and a hoodie. The same went with Alex, who had his jumper slung over the top of his canvas messenger bag sat on his shoulder. His top three buttons lay open on his blue and white checked shirt. Tom who sauntered along next to him, complaining (as usual) about his maths teacher whom he claimed to be evil but really Tom just never gave in his homework and then suffered the consequences, wore a pair of grey cargo trousers and a plain white t-shirt.

"I simply do not have the time to do the homework. I mean, surely playing FIFA 14 is so much more productive." He stated in his most matter-of-factly tone.

"Yeah, sure." Alex replied, turning his head to Tom. "Playing Xbox is more important than homework."

"Whatever, just 'cause you're trying your hardest."

"You didn't miss months of school."

"Too true, too true." Tom turned towards a blue locker to the left of the corridor and pulled a set of bulky keys out of his pocket. He opened up the locker which was a state inside. Three empty lunchboxes and one half full, several textbooks and his P.E. kit were stuffed haphazardly inside. As he stuffed more into his locker and took out his English Literature book - Of Mice and Men - Alex was giving him a look.

"You got a body in there as well?" He inquired playfully.

"Shush. It's my locker and none of your business. I bet yours is no better."

"Actually-" He was going to say that it was totally empty but Tom cut him off, knowing what he was going to say.

"Don't bother…" He rolled his eyes at him, closing the locker blindly, not realising that the strings to his kit bag were hanging out.

"Dude, you're hanging out." Tom darted a disconcerting look at Alex who laughed. Alex pointed to the navy blue cord that was dangling from inside the locker.

"Oh…" He said, very unimpressed. Alex wandered off chuckling. Entering his first lesson of the day seemed unnatural, yet so ordinary all at the same time. He sat down at his usual desk next to a girl whom he rarely talked to.

History wasn't one of Alex's strong points and even before the whole MI6 palaver he had not been very good at it. Sure, it was interesting and Alex loved hearing about all the amazing glorious parts of WWI and WWII but it was writing up the essays and remembering all the dates that bothered him. Alex's eyes flicked over to Tasha's book as she rifled through, scouring her notes for something. He scanned the pages getting the gist of what they had been doing in the past two months he'd been gone; the Cold War by the look of it. He turned to the section of his textbook and marked the page with a piece of paper he tore from the back of his exercise book. Homework for break time, he thought to himself. The teacher began to take the register and paused when he saw that Alex's name had been marked in.

"Nice to see you back, Alex." Alex didn't dignify the comment with a response, just looked back down at his textbook and carried on reading.

Lunch time came around after what seemed like an age, he'd struggled with his morning subjects as he'd been desperately trying to catch himself up. He wrote down in his homework planner what he needed to catch up on so that he could spend his evenings making up time. Alex and Tom ate their lunch in their tutor room as they used to, chatting away, basically meaning that Tom was complaining about the latest Chelsea match scores and how they could've done better this season. Alex hadn't watched any of their games in the last two years. He suddenly felt jealous of Tom, not jealous because he'd watched the Chelsea games but jealous because of his life. Normal. A normal life, doing normal things. Alex barely even knew what normal was anymore. Carted from mission to mission, losing things he'd never thought he'd lose, all starting the day his parent's had died. He should have been with them and then none of this would have happened. Everything would be normal.

Bad thoughts aside, Alex tuned back in to Tom's one-side conversation. He put his lunch back in his bag, he no longer felt hungry. Tom had stopped chatting.

"Alex, are you alright?" He asked. Tom saw Alex's hand lingering in his bag, like he was deciding on something. "What's up?"

"I don't know, I just don't feel hungry. That's all. I'm going to head up to English, you coming?" Alex asked, they both had English next but in different classes, it wasn't so bad, he sat next to a boy called Lewis who was quite anyway, just what he needed right now.

"Sure," Tom packed up his bag. "Let's go." He stood up and shoved the chair back under the desk and exited the classroom with Alex following. They had to walk across most of the school grounds to get to English which had classrooms on two floors. They were both situated on the top floor. The English building was the oldest structure on the grounds and gave Brookland its name. It had been converted from an old church and one of its windows was still in place on the top floor. Sunlight shone through it over the top of the high-rise flats that faced the school.

Alex began to walk towards his classroom, but never made it. A bullet crashed through one of the clear panels in the stained glass window and impaled itself into Alex's chest. He yelled out and before he knew it he was on the floor, clutching the bleeding mess with his now bloodied hand. He rolled himself onto his back and pressed down as hard as he could on the bullet wound. He was sure that it had missed his heart as he was still living, but it was getting harder to breathe. The sniper's round had pierced through his lung. His eyes began to drift shut just as he noticed Mr. Atworth dashing out of the door.

Then the explosions started and he forced himself to open his eyes, only to see his teacher being flown across the hallway from the blast. When the excruciating noise hit his ears, the bullet wound was forgotten as he concentrated on covering his ears tightly to protect them from the blasts. He curled himself up into a ball as bits of plaster wall covered him. Parts of the lockers that lined the walls were thrown into his direction. Three detonations and then nothing. Alex's ears rang with a constant bell, similar to when he'd seen Jack die on that TV screen, only this time it was from the noise and not shock.

Tom scrambled through the rubble, he had to find Alex. Had to make sure he was still alive. He'd heard the smash of glass as the bullet pierced through the window. He'd watched as he tumbled to the floor. He'd run towards him but the explosions had him down and he'd lost sight of him. Water was pumping out of what was left of the ceiling. Cold, winter air leaked in sending chills to his bones. He coughed several times, only achieving in inhaling more of the dusty smoke into his lungs.

"Alex!" He shouted, desperately. He picked up pieces of concrete and ceiling tiles and shifted them out of the way. He shouted his name again, but there was no response. The fire alarm was whirring away, people were screaming and shouting from the floor below, Tom could hear sirens in the distance. He imagined the several fire engines heading their direction to put out the fires that dotted the area from the bomb.

A large chunk of ceiling lay in the path he was clearing towards where he last saw Alex. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he took hold of it and did his best to budge it out of the way. Blood trickled down the right side of his face, and without thinking he wiped it away smarting the fresh wound on the side of his head. His face was grubby, his blazer had burn holes in and his shirt was only partly white. The rest was covered in dirt and blood. Tom's eyes blurred and refocused, searching for Alex in the debris. Poking out from behind a section of ceiling tile Tom could see a black shoe.

"Alex?" He stumbled forward half-blindly. He wiped the blood from his eye and blinked it clear again. Heart pumping madly, Tom pulled up the broken ceiling tiles, tossing them to one side, he reached for the shoe. It rolled away, nothing attached, just an empty shoe. It gave Tom hope though, surely if there was a shoe there must be a foot. Pulling away at the rest of the rubble in the vicinity that he found the shoe, he quickly discovered a body underneath. "Alex!" He shouted, he cleared his body from the rubbish and knelt down beside him. He tapped him, but there seemed to be no response. "God Alex, not now, not here. You're not dying in school!" He whispered harshly. He picked up the top half of his body gently and held him tightly. "Come on, Alex!" He placed the back of his hand up against Alex's mouth and concentrated really hard on feeling for the warmth of his breath. There it was, the fine hairs on the back of his hand tingled as Alex breathed out. Relief washed over him in a dizzy spell. He pressed down on the bullet wound that was just above where his rib cage ended. "It's alright Alex, they'll find us, don't you worry."

Shouts behind them indicated that the fire-fighters had done just that. Found them. Three of them, clad in their big fire proof suits came up behind them. One of them took Tom by the shoulders, forcing his to put Alex back on the wet floor. "No!" He shouted, coughing and spluttering. "Alex!" He flailed in the fireman's arms. "Please, you've got to let me stay!" The fireman shook his head and lifted the boy into his arms.

"I'm sorry, we've got to get to out to safety, they can look after him, I promise." He said, his voice muffled by the mask.

"His name is Alex, he's been shot." Tom informed them. The fireman turned round and told the other two.

"That kid's been shot; we need to get him out. I'll radio for the paramedics to be there at the entrance for us." The taller of the two firemen picked the unconscious Alex up in his arms and followed the fireman carrying Tom down the bottom of the building.

"He'll be alright, won't he?" Tom asked.

"I can't answer that, I'm no medical expert." He told him carefully. He turned round to the fireman behind him and saw the pale, dust covered boy in his arms and really hoped that he would be okay.

They reached the entrance to the old school building, the fireman carrying Alex immediately went to the paramedics who were guiding a gurney towards the door. He placed him on his back and they carted him away, checking vital signs and all the normal things whilst applying pressure to the bullet wound.

"It's Tom right?" The fireman asked. Tom looked up at him from staring after Alex.

"Yeah,"

"Do you think you can stand up?" He wondered, Tom nodded and the fireman began to set his feet on the floor. Tom placed his feet on the solid concrete ground and slowly stood up, grabbing hold of the fireman's sleeve, his legs felt weak. "Come on, I'll give you a hand to the ambulance." Tom agreed silently and they began to walk across the playground. He could see the other students lined up in their tutor groups behind a set of evergreen bushes.

"Sit here," He pressed down on his shoulders, directing him onto the step at the back of the emergency vehicle. A woman came round the side of the ambulance clad in the green uniform of the paramedics. She pulled a red blanket from a hatch inside the door and wrapped it around Tom's shoulders.

"My name is Julie. How are you feeling?" She asked, crouching down in front of him. Tom shrugged. "Let's have a look at your head then, it's quite a nasty gash you've got there." She placed her gloved hands under him chin and turned his head to the side. The laceration was deep and went from the edge of his eyebrow to the beginning of his hairline. She put saline onto a cotton pad and dabbed the blood away so she could clearly see the extent of the wound. Gasps and winces came from Tom. "Sorry, I can offer you some morphine? Sound good?" She wondered, Tom nodded and she put the bloodied pad into the bin and set up an IV. Wrapping a piece of elastic round his upper arm, she was able to insert the needle and give him some morphine, to take the edge off the pain.

"Do you know if Alex will be okay?" Tom asked sullenly.

The paramedic shook her head. "I don't know," Tom coughed, resulting in the paramedic reaching into her bag and pulling out an oxygen mask. "Here," She placed it over his nose and mouth. "Better?" Tom nodded. Another paramedic came round the side of the ambulance, motioning for Julie to come and talk to him. "Nice, deep breaths, Tom. I'll be back in a moment and we can get you off to the hospital."

Once they were out of earshot, the male paramedic spoke. "We have a bigger priority than this boy; there were three students and a teacher in the classroom where the explosion occurred."

Two of the three students were taken away in the first ambulance, the teacher and the remaining student in the second. Alex had been flown to the hospital by air ambulance after the paramedics realised he wasn't going to make it otherwise. Tom had watched, red blanket hung round his hunched shoulders and mask covering his worried expression, as the helicopter had taken off and disappeared into the sky.

Now, he sat on a hospital bed, a blue curtain to maintain his privacy, but he'd heard nothing of Alex despite his asking. A nurse checked on him periodically and each time he'd ask him if Alex was okay.

Once the nurse left him for the fourth time, he lifted his aching body from the bed and knelt down under his bed to retrieve his dirty and bloody school clothes. His phone was in one of the pockets but he couldn't remember which one. He checked both of his grey trouser pockets but they were empty except for a sweet wrapper. He checked his blazer pockets starting with the outside ones which had bits of rubble in. The inside pocket was his jackpot and he pulled out his phone. The small black Samsung had a cracked screen, he must have crushed it when he hit the floor. He pressed the power button on the side and the screen glowed into life. It worked, that was a bonus. Standing up too quickly made his head swim but it soon righted itself and Tom pulled out the IV from his arm leaving a stinging sensation momentarily. He crept towards the curtain where it separated in the centre and peeked out. A couple of nurses and doctors were bustling around, tending to patients and completing outstanding paperwork. The good news was that the doctor and nurse that were checking up on Tom were around. He opened the curtain a little more and stepped out. There was a large sign on the wall on the opposite wall and Tom could just about read it from where he stood next to his cubical. He scanned the names, half of which meant absolutely nothing to him. Then, just over halfway down the list, 'Operating Theatres', with an arrow pointing towards the staircase seemed the most likely case. Where else would they take someone who'd been shot; aside from the morgue, but Tom didn't want to think about that. He double checked the area and made his way slowly across the open space. It took longer than expected just to get over to the staircase and he considered taking the lift up, he thought against it at the thought of seeing his doctor or nurse in the lift. One step at a time, he climbed up the stairs, his lungs working hard after the smoke inhalation after the seventh step. Tom stopped, clinging onto the handrail. He took deep intakes of breath and when he finally thought he was able to carry on he walked up the last few steps. He stopped again once he'd reached the top of the first flight. Just one more flight to go until he reached the first floor.

Reaching the first floor seemed like the biggest achievement he'd had since he went on the Duke of Edinburgh expedition with his school two years ago. Steadying himself against the pale ivory coloured wall, he peered around for any indication as to where to go next. He saw the edge of the sign on a wall further away but not before one of the nurses spotted him. He stood up as straight as he could and made his way towards the sign.

"Can I help you?" She asked after him. Tom stopped dead in his tracks. Maybe he could make this go his way.

"I'm looking for someone." Tom said, the nurse came towards him.

"You're looking for a doctor?" She wondered.

"No, my friend, he came in here earlier, I was brought in a bit later, no one will tell me anything, I just need to know he's okay." Tom stepped backwards.

"Tell me his name, I'll help you; here, come with me." Tom stepped back again, but thought against it and then, clutching his ribs, followed the nurse to the nurse's station. She pulled over a wheel chair for Tom to sit in while he waited.

"Alex Rider," Tom told her and she tapped it quickly into the database. Something beeped and she looked on the small map beside her to see where the room was.

"He's still in surgery, you won't be able to see him for a while-"

"But he's still alive right?" Tom asked. "I need to see him."

"You can't, I'm sorry; perhaps when he comes out you can, I'll take you back to your room, what's your name?"

"I don't want to go back, I'm fine!" Tom stood up out of the wheelchair just to prove it. Worse decision he'd made thus far. Pain shot through his left side and pretty much everywhere else. "Ah." He gasped.

"Look, let me take you back." The nurse took a hold of Tom to keep him upright for the moment before settling him back down in the chair. "I can see you care for your friend, but you're not going to be any help if you hurt yourself more than you already are. I'll take you back downstairs."

"Um... Thanks." Tom said, feeling suddenly embarrassed about the whole situation. Alex would be okay, wouldn't he?

Alex hadn't regained consciousness since the fireman had removed him from the scene of the explosion. As soon as Alex had arrived at the hospital the doctors and nurses had done their best to stabilise Alex's vitals before taking him for x-rays to see where the bullet had settled as there had been no exit wound. The bullet had bounced off his ribs and caused a lot of internal bleeding and even the doctors were astounded that a mere child would be able to survive this. An adult would have a much higher chance of survival but for an eighteen year old, the odds were low.

The doctors examined the x-ray films and noticed that there were several fine pieces of shrapnel scattered throughout his chest. So, taken into surgery, the surgeons spent hours trying to remove as much of it as they could and patching up the damage as they did so. They were able to reinflate his lung, that heightened his chance of survival, and five hours later they had done as much as they could.

One last check of his vital signs as they had been doing all the way through Alex's surgery and he was ready to be bandaged up, only the most severe cuts and incisions were bandaged, the smaller ones were best left undressed to allow them to heal. The three assistant nurses wheel him into the post-anaesthesia ward and transferred him from the operating room's gurney onto the more comfortable bed. The room was very quiet save from the mostly quiet beeps and hums of the machines of both Alex and the other patients in the room.