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Alex knew before the shot was fired something was off. The atmosphere had stilled; no noise, wind or animal alike. A feeling of dread hung about in anticipation for the coming death. The sound of the bullet being released from the chamber was so quiet that it was deaf to all but the trained ear. In fear for his friend's life and with impeccable speed and agility Alex threw Tom to the ground as the bullet came barreling toward his own heart. His mind subconsciously registered the impact of the bullet, but he couldn't feel the pain; not yet. The adrenaline of the moment made Alex jump up immediately from where he had previously thrown Tom and pull out his own weapon. The gun was beautifully made, a gift from Smithers after Cairo. Instinctively shooting, Alex pulled the trigger and allowed the instincts to overtake him. A second later the assassin came tumbling down the building it was previously perched at. With practiced ease, Alex re-holstered his gun on his hip and cleared his eyes. The coldness and blank look disappeared, as he learned to control it long ago.

Without a second thought Alex turned back to Tom and immediately went in search for injuries on his best friend. Hysteria, something rarely found in him, rose as he feared for his last remaining friend on earth. His movements became frantic as he saw blood on his shirt, and he demanded Tom to take his shirt off so Alex could see it better. Confused Tom tried to calm his friend down, knowing he was not hurt; but the other way around. Alex still hadn't registered it was himself that was injured, not until Tom jumped up and spun Alex's head toward him did he realize the blood seeping from his shoulder, through his shirt, jacket and spreading like a wildfire. With a curse, Alex pushed his hand hard on the wound to stop the onslaught of fresh blood. He hadn't even realized it, in his worry for Tom; to him, as long as Tom was safe, Alex would take twenty bullets. If only to save his last friend and family.

Tom saw these thoughts flicker though Alex's eyes, not believing his friend would just shake off something so deadly as a common occurrence. He could see the pain hidden through years of practice though; no matter how much he tried to hide it, his friend could see through the façade. At that moment, Tom didn't care if Alex had been through worse, this was enough for him to be ticked. Ticked and then some. He turned to his friend that had walked slightly away to pick up his school bag, Tom shook his head; unbelievable! Shot in the bloody shoulder (literally) and he won't go to a bloody hospital?!

He laughed slightly and stepped toward him, a threatening scowl playing on his features, "You know, Alex, right now, I don't really give a crap if you don't want to go to a hospital. In my eyes, and anyone else's, you have a bloody bullet in you, possibly tearing muscles and bone, and you don't give a dime about it. That is grounds enough for a hospital."

His friend whipped around in shock, surprised by the sudden outburst; so unlike Tom that it made Alex look down in shame. "You know well enough Tom, my reason for not wanting to go." He looked up and Tom could see the terror welling up in his eyes. He stayed firm in his original burst of anger and ignored the look.

"Too bad Alex, an assassin just tried to well, assassinate you; your losing a lot of blood and, no. Just no, I don't care about your fear of hospitals and past terrors at the moment. I think your delirious and don't know what you're talking about. So shut up, stop those looks, I seriously am going to call them." The words came out halfheartedly as he kept thinking of how, no matter his threats, he wasn't even calling them yet. Darn puppy-eyes. No! He was at the end of the line, he was just about to literally drag Alex to the hospital when Alex stumbled as he stood and fell to his knees in a dizzy haze. Tom ran to where he was,

"Hey! Mate, dude; your seriously not okay!" He bent down to put his arm through Alex's. He looked pale-ish/grey; lips white-ish and his eyes were half closed. His shirt sleeve was soaked through; a tear from where the bullet entered. The spy looked up at his only civilian confident, in his mind the only one who cared, to try to speak,

"Tom, my arm…the bullet, it," a fit of coughing erupted from the boy sending tremors through his body and pain through his head. " I think, … it was poisoned Tom." Doubling over in pain Alex finished the sentence he dreaded to say,

"Call MI6, ask for…" he took a deep breath, his chest exploding with pain from the unknown assailant,

"ask for Jones. Use my work phone, it…s the on..ly way you won..t ge blocked ou…t" His breaths started coming out in gasps as his lungs worked for air that wasn't there. A last tremor sent Alex into unconsciousness, chest barely rising in breath. The sudden change in LOC sent Tom diving for the phone secured in Alex coat. Digging through the bloody fabric he drew out the sleek, black device that held Alex's future. In swift movement Tom contacted the one place he wished never to speak to.

"This is Royal and General Bank, how may I help you?"

"Shut up! For once can someone not lie to me! I know this is MI6 HQ, so just hand the darn phone to Mrs. Jones." It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, and he was sure Alex would've smacked him for such a play, but panic was setting in and Tom couldn't curb it. Luckily his anger, and the fact that it was Alex's phone calling, the lady sent the call up to Jones. She figured if it was someone that had taken Alex, Jones would want to speak with them anyway. There was a silence, and a silent beep until someone spoke.

"You know Alex, that wasn't a nice way to speak the lady. You should know better!" Her tone was slightly admonishing, other than that it was emotionless.

Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing, the head of MI6 thinks HE'S Alex, talking about MANNERS, when Alex is DYING. Well of course, she doesn't know that yet, does she Tom? He mentally slapped himself for getting distracted. "No, idiot! This is Tom Harris speaking, on behalf of one Alex Rider, who just happens to be lying on the ground; bleeding out and DYING at the moment. So no, he can't worry about manners at the moment!" The outburst surprised even himself and he mentally applauded him for his audacity to yell at the HEAD of MI6! What would James say now? Hah, oh wait…he can't know. Augh. With a start he realized what he was doing and mentally face-palmed, or maybe literally he didn't know at the moment…for once in your life, can you not be serious! Darn it Tom, your best friend is DYING right next to you! His attention was brought back to the person on the other end of the phone as instructions were given out to him and others; he assumed that were near her.

"Listen Tom, I have an ambulance under way, we will be taking him to St. Dominic's. Do me a favor and don't let him die huh? He's too important to lose."

Tom swore vilely, curing MI6 to the deepest pits of hell, his voice rose with each word until he was screaming, voice cracking, with rage and bitterness "You don't even bloody care that he's dying! All you care about is your next mission," His voice lowered to a menacing whisper as he continued cursing the government "you're all sick; perverted, emotionless beasts. Curse the day Alex ever met you. I swear, if Alex dies, you will find yourself in a shit-storm of media coverage on your little 'experiment' and all your twisted games."

With that Tom hung up, exhausted by her voice and with the day. How could one simple Thursday turn into this? He knelt back down to his friend and continued putting pressure on the wound that he had foolishly abandoned in his rant. Silently praying, Tom waited for Alex's only life line to hurry up and arrive.

(AN. Considered stopping and then decided to keep going anyway. Enjoy)

It took five minutes, five precious minutes that could've and still might be the death of Alex. How can an ambulance even take that long?! The pool of blood continued to grow ever larger as the minutes ticked down. His breaths were barely visible and they were irregular and ragged when released. No amount of pressure would stop the endless onslaught of blood pouring from Alex's shoulder; it was as though the poison wouldn't allow the blood to thicken and scab. Every breath would send Toms head up in search for the ambulance, yet to come. Memories from their childhood spilled into Toms vision as his friend slipped further away.

They spent the night celebrating, it was cold and brisk, with flurries hanging in the still air. The flood lights still showered the field with white light as the last of the players and audience left. Tom and Alex ere of the last to leave, it was year nine and they happened to be the co captains of the JV football team. They played their first game that night; which they won. Both boys had grins on their faces, but Toms was particularly big when he saw how happy his friend was. Ever sense a few months ago, when Ian died, Alex had become so quiet and strange. It wasn't until Italy that he finally found out why. He still couldn't believe his best friend was a spy for MI6! When he was told he had a sudden urge to be happy and say…'think of all the Bond moves and fun missions could can have!'…then he realized the troubles and pains of a spy's life and grew to be the rock and companion the solitary teen so desperately needed.

The flashback ended as sirens approached the back alley where he knelt and Alex lay. Tom decided no matter what happened, that that memory would be what he would carry throughout his life. The memory of happier time for Alex. The boy that never wanted a spy's life, who only wanted to go to school and maybe one day get married to the right girl and have kids. To see their smiles and hear their laughter. The boy, that because of MI6, was now dying in his best friend's arms.

Note: No this is not slash…as I said, I don't write that. ?

I hope you enjoyed! Please review, it only takes a minute, really! Plot ideas are welcome!

Know as well that this is only a MINOR setback to the main plot…remember I promised a mission and America!