Warnings: Language, reference to Character Death, Depressive Thoughts, Panic Attack symptoms, Self Harm references.

Chapter One: Discomposure

Alex was irritated.

Maybe he should have felt privileged that they decided it would be safe to leave him alone, but he knew better. Or at least, he preferred to believe in the rationality of his paranoia; it was too familiar - of course the therapist was trying a new angle. In a normal situation, he'd trust Ms. Young and due to believing she was treating him as a normal individual as an equal to her (allowing him freedom), he'd even enjoy the sessions more. However, he couldn't ignore the fact that Ms. Young was recruited to San Francisco* for his specific circumstances, by them.

He didn't believe that she was some rogue hit woman whose somehow gained a personal agenda against him... but there was something about therapy that he didn't enjoy, and he felt like she realised that.

She didn't verbally seem to force him to do or say anything, but the whole thing felt like a mind game and he was too tired to try and stay ahead. He needed an MI6 therapist because rationally, he understood that he couldn't spill the beans about the world to some unprepared soul in this profession across the street from him. What irritated him was about how she subtly handled the situation - because of course she'd know that he knows, that she knows about him, his past - and yet she's letting him go through all this explaining, still managing to confuse and fluster himself. It's condescending.

The fact that she had to fly overseas as her job to help him, a stranger, was annoying, like Alex was that pitiful. He's just barely accepting the Pleasure's attempts at comforting him, because he needs to know he's in safe hands of somebody who genuinely cares. Not some older authorial figure 'who knows best' to get him to open up about things that he honestly just wanted to move on from. As childish as Alex was feeling, he comprehended that he did need the help.

So he attended... every... single... session... so far, and without complaining to the Pleasures about it. He needed the assistance to find some ground under his feet: he didn't want to think about strategies on his own.

Thinking about strategies alone meant that he had to analyse the past and situation.

That wasn't an option.

Yet, it didn't surprise him, when he had to wake up at 7o'clock each morning for the third week of attending counselling that morning - as much as on the first, second, third and forth day he had to. Since the MI6 doctor from before he left England, had rambled on with 'possible diagnoses' and 'high warnings' he was waiting for the day MI6 would contact Edward Pleasure. A semi-rouge, used-to-be-top agent with all the secrets and high probability of mental instability, was a risk factor that the British Intelligence wouldn't want to bother gambling.

It seemed like the world had frozen for a little while, originally. Alex had a first week of almost out of his mind, insomniac week of nothing-much-happened when he arrived to the Pleasures' House.

The second week at their house was where reality settled in, a little bit. Alex was left alone whilst Sabina returned to high school and the parents focused on their responsibilities. Desperate, Alex looked back at the drawer Edward shown him nights earlier. He found that Elizabeth had kept a small collection of science fiction novels, at least three of them he could handle.

Reading and music had allowed Alex to slacken a little; in the day he taught himself how to cook new things, and would spark up conversation about it at the dinner table. Talking still took energy, it required Alex to want to try and motivate himself to feel real, in present conversations. Yet it was easy to start the topic, and then just listen to them continuing it. The ambitions and charisma from the Pleasures by this action had convinced Alex that perhaps he could be okay, that this care and support is what family is about.

He didn't let himself think any further than that. He didn't even let himself be doubtful like he had the first week, because his goal was forward, keep moving forward. He didn't allow himself a second to think, or breathe it in, because then he knew he wouldn't be able to get back up again.

So, when Edward announced a special phone call, mid-second week, Alex's composure almost crumbled. Almost.

Despite not feeling 'up to' attending therapy and dealing with anything, he wasn't surprised. First, he had to attend a brief check up on Thursday, and then have the first 'introductory' session on that Friday - afterwards, his sessions were scheduled for every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 8am for two hours.

Despite attending six sessions already, he was still hesitate to dive into any form of 'intense venting or opening up old wounds with salt.'

When Alex had settled down in the second week with the Pleasures, his sleep pattern slightly changed again - it was what created the domino effect of him attempting to consume proper meals again (even though his appetite didn't return yet), and with nutrients back in his blood, he accepted the idea of recovery. The idea seemed like utopia.

Routine remained more or less similar. Sabina was still entering his room to check up on him before midnight, and they'd listen to music (after the first week, the song Tangled In The Great Escape felt too raw for him, so he let Sabina shuffle through his songs) until they fell asleep. He respected the fact that she never once complained about his music. But perhaps she enjoyed it; he was too hesitate to question it. Instead of heading out of bed at two in the morning to eventually collapse semi-naked (also with a towel as blanket) in the bathroom, Alex manages to fall asleep next to her around one o'clock, waking up two hours later. Then he'd give himself a warm shower, and continue his reading.

He never got too attached to reading in the past (despite Ian's attempts), but the way he relied on it so many silent nights, he understood the attachment and world that readers enjoyed, now. He'd stay up reading the book until he'd end up falling asleep on the couch (usually around five or six in the morning).

By 8am, he'd be woken up by Sabina, who was getting ready to leave for school, or by Elizabeth who was getting ready for work. That would mean the boy would manage an overall of no more than five hours sleep (and no less than two). It was vaguely an improvement from the prior week, but his body seemed to protest at the delusional concept.

When he attended his first therapy session that week, the therapist wouldn't get him talking much about personal topics - and it concluded with him falling asleep, whilst she called Edward to pick him up ten minutes earlier than the session was over.

So, of course, the next session Alex had to explain why he was so exhausted. The therapist seemed to recognise that he was trying to cooperate, and agreed to take it slowly. Instead of working in-depth on sleep, for example (because Alex was adamant that he wasn't going to change any time soon - to which he couldn't exactly figure out why he was behaving like that) she provided him with prescription to sleeping medication, 'for the time being'. If it wasn't for the fact that Alex was really, desperately trying to want to recover from everything, he would have given into the just arguing - ignoring Sabina's attempts to assisting him - to forget it all and get everybody off his case. But every night, before she'd enter his room, she'd practically stuff a pill down his throat.

And he wouldn't complain.

Being spring in April, Alex could see the light from the sun very strongly behind the shutters in the room, mocking his brain that just wanted to shut off into the dark comfort of sleep. He sat on the couch, silently waiting for his therapist to return (something about a quick morning errand - maybe she just needed to gather coffee before dealing with this teenager).

The smell of perfume alerted Alex that she had returned around the corner, and seconds later, she became visible through the doorway again. Regardless of his 'spying experiences', he was caught off guard when she held coffee in her hands, but they were in two cups - he took one.

Condescending feeling: she was pretending to stifle through whatever paperwork she needed on her desk, not looking at Alex- but he felt she knew, that he hesitated. A stranger was offering him a drink (one he didn't ask for)...

But Alex hadn't consumed coffee in so many months, the smell was too 'homely' to resist.

With a slow sigh, Ms. Young finally sat in the chair in front of him. As usual, she held a notepad and pen in front of her. Alex was curious as to what would happen if he asked her to help him, with her own training, without needing to record everything he says. He knew she probably wouldn't listen, but it'd be a dream - he rationalised that it could even be beneficial, because without the concept of her job just writing down his replies, he'd be more inclined to talk to her about something. Have her full, genuine attention.

The moment Alex took another drink from his mug, she wrote down something and asked, "how're you feeling today, Alex?"

"Like usual," Alex replied easily, after swallowing the coffee, gratefully.

She smiled softly, but refrained from moving her pen, "I'm not quite sure what that means?"

Yes. You do. It's not like it's the first time you asked... "Tired, somewhat placid-"

Once Alex confirmed that Sabina was still helping him with his sleep medication, and no, he still didn't have any nightmares. It didn't make sense to Alex; after his missions he used to remember all of his dreams, nightmares or not - and so far it's been a month anniversary...

"So does that mean you're still reading?"

Alex nodded, suddenly feeling cold, despite the hot mug in his hands.

The therapist was on a completely different universe than his mind - asking questions about the book, but... the different conversation still wasn't much of a distraction. The sudden revelation that it's been literally 32 days since the day, struck him regretfully... Alex was willing to talk about some things - he needed somebody with experience in this field, and the training to understand and work through it - help him out of the labyrinth...

But there was no way he was going to talk about it.

No. He didn't even want to think about it.

Using the hot liquid of coffee as an attempt to 'wake' himself out of his brooding, he wondered how Ms. Young didn't notice. Or why she didn't interrogate him on it.

Slowly, he realised she was psycho-analysing his progress on his opinions of the book (City of Bones, by Cassandra Clare): why he chose this book to read, what he thought of it - what he thought was going to happen - why - what was his favourite character, why defend him? - 'do you see yourself as any of the characters Alex?'

'Do you think maybe it's because you subconsciously hope to be like the story in this book? Or a character, to take away what you feel like now?'

Personally, Alex could fathom what Ms. Young was trying to do- but the problem was that Alex wasn't reading to 'understand' himself. He was reading because wanted to do something, and it was enjoyable. Reading is a hobby to buy time until Alex would inevitably be hit with responsibilities again... and it was a bonus that it allowed him to be distracted from his past and reality.

"Have you already decided what book you'll be reading next?"

Alex couldn't figure out if Ms. Young had something against books, or if she was expecting too much from him. For the first time between the two, it was the therapist who was over-thinking everything. She probably imagined that he was drowning his sorrows in each book - jumping from one to another 'without giving himself time to digest it.'

"I literally don't have anything to do back at the Pleasure's house - I'm not in school yet; I need to waste time somehow - otherwise I'd fuck myself over and then your job would be harder!" Alex had snapped the previous session. However, the lady (who seemed to be in her twenties; which had gave Alex false hope that she could correlate with him) basically ignored half of his criticism, and then further questioned him on why he was calling his adopted home in reference to the 'Pleasure's house' and not personalising it for himself.

"No, I haven't decided yet," Alex repressed a indignant sigh and continued to drink his coffee. Ms. Young had barely wrote anything on his notepad during this session, but she just sat there quietly waiting for him to state or say anything - it was a different approach from the other six sessions. "There's only six other books that I got from her drawer, to read... excluding 1984** because I finished that last week."

Ms. Young nodded, "that's right, did you enjoy it?"

Alex shrugged, nearly finishing the coffee. For some abruptly irrational feelings, he didn't want to finish it so quickly - because he liked the feeling of the warm mug between his fingers.

"Did you want to tell me the books you're thinking of?"

There was a pause in the room. The blond briefly wondered about the discussions reached in this session; it was un-necessary, really, but Alex felt more irritated than vulnerable in comparison to his previous sessions. When he realised that Ms. Young was giving him a break from it - it was a Monday, 21st of April, perhaps she herself was tired and wanted the lighter approaches today.

"I was thinking that... at least two of the books, Elizabeth might've brought for me. I mean, before or after the... adoption," he took a breath and added before he knew she'd have to ask, "because two of them were published just a few months ago. From her collections, I know she reads a range of books but it just seems..."

Slightly sheepish, Alex couldn't handle the waiting stare the therapist had and had to remind himself that it's a good thing to open up, and explain his thoughts... Right? It was important for recovery. As he let his eyes drop, and land on the cup of coffee Ms. Young kept at the foot of her chair, he was suddenly struck by the realisation that she hardly touched it. It would be cold by now.

"That's a positive sign, Alex," Ms. Young finally replied. She wrote in her notepad something, but Alex could vaguely see the sketch of a question mark or two, which struck him as slightly worrying. "If you're right, it shows that Mrs. Pleasure is trying to show that she cares. And care right now is the most critical thing to keep you going, do you agree?"

Alex flinched, but somehow managed some nod that Ms. Young accepted and continued, "I want you to try something new: before I see you next, I want you to talk to Mrs. Pleasure about your readings. I'd like to know if she did buy a book for you."

It wasn't much of an offer, but a demand, Alex could perceive. Vaguely, he wondered what would happen if he didn't do as he was told.

"Alex?"

He cleared his throat and replied, "well... I know there's another book after City of Bones, but I don't think she has it. But... I think it's a series that I want to get into. The other books are more of a one-off..."

"Do you think you could list the six for me?"

Alex listed off The Haven by Carol Lynch Williams, Sleep Donation by Karen Russell, Unwind by Neal Shusterman, The Stand by Stephen King, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury and Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, to be told by the therapist that his sense of memory wasn't affected by his recent diagnosis.

Two weeks after his first therapy session, Alex was finally diagnosed with Major Depression - and a written risk of a possible cyclothymic disorder.***

Nobody mentioned PTSD yet, but Alex was just waiting for the axe to fall...

"Sab?"

"Yep, it's me," she whispered, closing the door. Her parents had abnormally fallen asleep in the living room, so they decided to whisper to not wake them up.

Sighing, Alex rolled over onto his bed, faceplanting the pillow. Openly, he admitted, "Sab, why is it so hard to sleep properly?"

He was expecting a laugh from her, and glanced over when she was silent for a moment. "It will get better. Come over here."

Sighing again, he mumbled, "I am not a dog" but he stood up and took the sleeping pill from her palm.

Once Alex was ready to go into bed and wait for sleep, Sabina stopped him from moving away from her. The hug was the first actual physical sign of affection that Alex was given since the reunion.

From it, he froze.

He waited for Sabina to say something, explain, or come up with something brilliantly philosophical that will lighten his spirits. But the only response he received was her embrace, and so he tried to be okay with it - he tried to be okay with her caring nature. They were friends, after all, he tried to remind himself that it was normal.

When Sabina finally let him go, he felt drained like all his resolve had withered into the River Styx. He watched her as she turned the light off and saw her silhouette jump into the bed. "God," she laughed vaguely, "you'd think you'd sleep like a child, sleeping next to a female for so many days, as a young male."

In the dark, he knew that Sabina took longer for her eyes to adjust, so he rolled his eyes purely for his own benefit.

He was trying to think about anything but life. The way he held onto hope for change, since the end of the first week was a distant feeling for him as he tried to recollect memories of the hug that he felt so disconnected from... and yet it was just seconds ago. Hugs were supposed to be comforting, so why was he desperate for something to hold his heart together, from slipping into a black hole of existence? He felt like it was draining and impossible for his brain to even try and cooperate with ideas of the future. His whole life felt so fragile and distant that night, as he could feel the life of Sabina next to him, such a delicate being of humanity - he couldn't understand why she'd handle with his fucked up life into her own.

He closed his eyes the second the song Hospital For Souls tuned on, ready. It wasn't until the third song, when Alex realised that Sabina was playing a Bring Me The Horizon playlist - and it wasn't until about the fifth song, when he realised he mind wasn't shutting up. Despite craving for sleep to claim his consciousness, gradually he felt like he could pinpoint exact moments his mind was spinning... Until he couldn't handle it any more.

Making up his mind, he held his breath and slowly leaned his body upfront. Sabina had put on the blanket over herself, but it was only covering Alex's legs so it was easier for him to slip out. His aim to get out of the bedroom quietly had worked, until he was inside the too-bright-locked-bathroom, that felt so much further away from the comfort of his 'adopted family.'

Slowly, he realized his fingertips were trembling (after staring at them for a minute) and his chest was tight. Confused and slightly disgruntled as the sight - he wondered when it started and why.

That was the first mistake - an unnecessary mistake that made Alex lift up his arms in despair and escape an unwilling wail.

His focus on the trembling and physical restrains only made the problem intensify with panic. Much quicker than he expected, his chest suddenly constructed and he was forced to crouch over. Alone, before half past midnight , with his own bodily functions opposing him - he was at a lost.

Alex Rider didn't even register that he had started hyperventilating by the time he forced his legs to pace - the 15 year old didn't know what panic attacks were (let alone that they existed). So he was unaware of it's effects on him as he considered ways to get the world to stop spinning out of control - to. Calm. Down.

When he tried to understand this moment, days after, all he could fathom was his feeling of despair and need for relief.

He was almost completely delusional - he wasn't even sure he could see fairly well, when he finally opened the door of the bathroom. Whatever was happening to his body, it was making him feel like he needed to lie down and squeeze his eyes shut until it let him go. But it wouldn't end, his thoughts were frazzled and he knew he needed to keep moving; whatever he needed wasn't in the bathroom.

He barely even registered that Edward Pleasure wasn't in the living room this night; and that's when he remembered how he could stop it. He needed to trigger endorphins. From Alex's memory, endorphins are neurotransmitters - chemicals that are the body's response to- God, Alex almost heaved, he couldn't formulated logical full sentence thoughts.

Stumbling into the kitchen, he only half hoped that he wasn't making too much noise- before his thoughts drove into how dark the kitchen was - if I turn on the light, will the Pleasures come to me? - and that he was fairly certain his brain just popped - what are end... endorphins? fuck -

The light switched on, and Alex grabbed his forehead, frantic before he slowly comprehended he was getting heat flashes - from the sudden light?

Vaguely, he wondered if this was just his body trying to cope with his environment; he had been straining it for so long. His body is overcompensating; he needed to restore itself. He considered sleep - before realising that he was wasting too much time in the kitchen arguing with himself - and reminding himself that sleep doesn't work - he's in this position because he couldn't fucking shut down.

Slow breaths, slow, deep breaths, Alex.

Focus, he tried repeating, you can this - but just as quickly as he tried to calm down, his mind cowered at the fact that he shouldn't even need 'fixing', but of course he does because - you're a fucking stupid baby that got yourself into this mess!

In the end, he didn't understand how it happened.

He couldn't remember having to (or deciding, or moving) to lean onto the kitchen counter-top, but there he was, desperately clinging over the drawer with utensils. When he took out a knife, with shaky fingers, he couldn't for the love of goodness, figure out where he learnt this fact - or how he remembered: release of blood out of skin, stimulates that something has 'attacked' the body, and awakens the immune response to fix the problem - endorphins, it's like a drug, it should feel okay- like a paper cut, but I've been through worse than that -

In a fractured sequences, Alex understood he was caught.

He put the knife on the bench, instead of in the drawer like he could've easily done if he wasn't experiencing... experiencing this!

He thought he saw Sabina walking into the kitchen, her hair in a bun frazzled from the pillow - but this time, he was fairly sure that the world he could see was actually shaking, and he wasn't sure if he was delusional... Did he hope he'd get caught by Sabina, preferably over Elizabeth - or Edward?

"Oh," god, he heard himself, and dropped to the kitchen floor in self pity.

References:

* I couldn't find/remember exactly where the Pleasures live - and I didn't want to search for it at the end of my Scorpia Rising book... So I'm not sure if San Francisco is the right location, sorry.

** 1984, a dystopian novel by George Orwell - Alex read first (during his second week with the Pleasures).

*** Cyclothymic disorder is a milder form of Bipolar, which is a form of depression, with fluctuating moods of high highs, and low lows - it's more complicated than that, but you can google it to understand it better yourself.

Author's Note:

Hello again... from 2 o'clock in the morning!

*coughs* ahem, sorry for complaining (kind of)... This is my note though, I'm typing it up, and I'm fairly positive not many people actually care to read this (I understand though - that was an intense chapter, and I've read fanfiction before when something happened so suddenly I couldn't handle reading an author's note - I needed a moment), I'm just almost out of my mind because I'm so tired, but so stressed- I have an assignment due in two days I should start *dejected sigh*

I hope your week has been more pleasant than mine, sweethearts. If not, I'm proud of you for making it here, and I wish you better luck for the next week.

In this chapter I had made references, indicating to self harm - I want to fully be clear here: I do not promote self harm. I do not promote suicide. I do not promote mental illnesses, or anything negative that impacts the health of individuals. Alex Rider has gone through a lot of, for lack of a better word, shit: you cannot realistically come out of everything he has been through squeaky clean and healthy without it influencing some things, or impacting your life drastically (this also means character development, he may be acting differently to what he'd do and say in Storm-breaker, but humans adapt in this way, so I'm writing him from my own perspective of it). Unfortunately for Alex, he's going to have to deal with that - and it's not going to be easy, or pretty - so some confronting situations (which may be triggering - but I will warn you in those chapters as best as I can) is going to be written in this story following his journey.

Personally... If you don't understand or like self harm, that's completely fine and reasonable. Nobody is supposed to 'like' self harm; just because I wrote about self harm in this chapter doesn't mean I like it or I agree. That's another reason why I put it in the tags of warning at the beginning of this chapter - but please restrain from insulting, using hurtful and disrespectful terms in relation to it in reviews, because it's pretty much ignorance to other people's feelings here, and I care about my readers' health and happiness more than my review count - so I would immediately delete the hurtful reviews.

If anybody ever needs to talk or vent - please trust that I'm honest when I say you can Private Message my account here. I'll just listen, offer support and advice as best as I can, about anything, such as self harm (this is an offer, but I'm under no means pretending that I'm a professional here). I've dealt with things such as self harm before, and it's still a struggle today - so all of this effects me as well (it was a part of the reason I started writing this fic - I was triggered and it was so late, under my bed covers I didn't want to bother getting out of... so instead, I started writing).

Actually, technically - typing. The prologue I typed up on my computer - but this chapter I typed up on my phone (so yeah, I'm aware it's not too brilliantly structured and done but I'm trying to get back into the rhyme of writing, I don't know how long it'll take).

A special thank you to everybody who reviewed my first upload here; would you believe me if I said I wasn't expecting any response? It's been so long since I've been on fanfiction, I honestly was worried about... well, everything. So thank you for your kind words, and being patient - I hope this chapter was up to your hopes and standards, please review and actually let me know what you thought, what you think might happen, any comments, questions - criticism (polite and constructive) is also appreciated.