First time writing Alex Rider but it probably won't be my last. The shortest thing I've ever written but I hope that you like it.
Disclaimer that won't save me in court: I do not own Alex Rider and am making no money off of this.
The surface of the pond shimmered in the moonlight.
Alex ran his hand through the water, destroying the image of the moon that had faintly shone there. The water was cold and he shivered involuntarily but kept take his hand in the water.
In a way the cold was nice. It reminded him of the times when Ian would take him to the mountains and teach him how to snowboard. How simple things were then. How he wished he could go back to that time.
But no. The times of simplicity and innocence and safety were gone and would never be coming back. MI6 had made sure of that. And, though he always pushed the thought away and refused to think about it, Ian had too.
After all, wasn't he the one who had trained him to take over for him in the first place? Wasn't he the one who had taught him and quizzed him, over and over, about things that, while seeming unnecessary at the time, now saved his life? Wasn't he?
And yet despite that Alex couldn't bring himself to blame his uncle for everything that had happened to him over the past year. Ian might have been training him his entire life, and he might not have always been there, but when he was, he was the best uncle Alex could have asked for. It hurt to blame him for anything, for everything. It wasn't his fault.
Alex was even starting to doubt if it was really MI6's anymore. They were the ones who had sent his life straight to hell and forced him to be their spy, but if he was being honest they weren't really forcing him anymore.
They'd left him alone for longer than they ever had after Snakehead. And the next time they had contact it was because he went to them. And they only thing they had asked him to do for them was to get information off a computer. He'd been the one who had decided to investigate farther and stumbled upon everything that McCain was doing. They'd never asked him to do that.
When it came down to it, was MI6's unwilling spy really so unwilling anymore?
His hand was numb and he took it out of the water. He placed it on his knee but couldn't feel the rough texture of his jeans. It was completely and totally numb, immune to everything.
Soon, Alex was sure, he would be too. And for some reason, which he knew but would never admit, that didn't fill him with the fear that it should.