All in the Faculty

Chapter 3: Mr. Beckett

"Of course. Punctual Tom is late the one time it matters most. That is so brilliantly me," were some of Tom's irritated ramblings as the man swept about his home, picking at his messy hair in front of the bathroom mirror in resignation. He had ten minutes to get to the school before the bell ran, and it was a ten minute drive.

Tom threw himself at his wardrobe, dancing around on one foot as he struggled to dress at an unreasonable speed. He moved onto brushing his teeth and splashing some cold water on his face, eventually pausing only to inspect his own reflection. He frowned in obvious distaste.

"Oh, God," he grumbled at the panda-like purple bags under his eyes. His cheek was bright red from sleeping on his hands, and creases from his pillow case were embedded into his forehead, making him look much older than he was. Perhaps that was a good thing.

Tom had tossed and turned all through the night, thinking not of the assistant teacher, but of his former best friend. To see Alex turn up on his doorstep after eight years of having nothing to do with each other had obviously not been something he'd been able to mentally prepare himself for – there were too many emotions left over from empty-feeling football practices in year twelve and times when Tom had just wished he'd had someone who he could vent to like he used to have, someone to give him advice and encourage him and laugh at his jokes despite Tom's odd sense of humor. Of course he couldn't forgive him right off the bat…

… No matter how sorry he'd looked…

Ugh, stop it Tom! Persist! He has to realize how angry I was! Or – am!

But, in truth, the anger had drained away a long time ago. And even if Tom would never admit it, seeing Alex after all that time had instinctually brought, of all things, a smile to his face. He'd suppressed the instant reaction, of course, but it had been there. See, where many people struggled to forgive those who wronged them, Tom struggled to stay mad and maintain his authority on the matter. He wasn't an angry person, and he didn't naturally hold grudges.

He had to really make an effort to. It wasn't easy!

He snatched his keys off the bedside table, glancing back at the clock in the process. Five minutes past the bell. He hoped the assistant teacher was at least punctual, or the school would be really annoyed.

Tom awkwardly speed-walked through the lobby, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Alison shot him a sideways glance, and he sent her a cheery wave before leaping up the staircase two steps at a time. His classroom door loomed into view, held wide open by a rock painted to look like a ladybug just the way it usually was. As Tom sped toward the opening, a voice hit his ears.

And not just any voice.

"… Mr. Beckett, but you guys can call me Alex if you've got the nerve. Couldn't tell you where Mr. Harris is; he used to be so punctual…"

Tom's hand slammed down against the doorframe, pulling his body into view a second later. Standing with his entire body tense and quivering from the adrenaline rush of his quick venture, the students had never seen him look so ruffled. Figuratively and literally.

"Did you sleep in, Mr. Harris?" a student piped up. He didn't bother sparing her a glance with his gaze set widely and firmly on the carefree blonde leaning casually against the whiteboard. The name "Alex Beckett" had been scrawled on the serene white surface in surprisingly elegant script; construction had to have been undertaken since high school had ended, because Tom certainly couldn't recall Alex's notes ever looking so organized.

"Uh," Tom cleared his throat, balking across at his ex-friend. Alex smiled politely, giving a short wave.

"Alex Beckett, your new assistant teacher," he introduced jovially. "Charmed!"

"Charmed…" Tom repeated slowly, less like a reply and more like an utterance of bafflement. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't they tell you I was coming?" Alex asked, the picture of surprise.

"Didn't they – you – I…"

"Mr. Harris?" a different student prompted. "Alright?"

"I – I need to talk with you outside the classroom for minute!"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? The class has already been delayed twenty minutes, wouldn't want to… y-yes okay."

Alex's argument had faded away from the look Tom had sent him. Shuffling forward, he moved through the door and paused against the opposite wall in the hallway, smiling uneasily. Tom didn't take his gaze off him the entire time. The door was shut, and then Tom shot himself across the three foot gap between them, his hand closing around Alex's tie as he harshly yanked it forward. Alex had his fingers wrapped around the loop milliseconds after Tom surged forward, so there was no choking – just a nose-to-nose confrontation between a furious teacher and his unrepentant "assistant".

"So this is the real joke, huh?" Tom ground out, shaking the tie and jarring Alex's balance. He stumbled, hands still attached to his neck. "Come to get me fired?"

"No!" Alex protested. "Let go of my tie!"

"You – you let go of your tie! What do you think you're doing here? 'Assistant teacher', now, are you? Like history, do you? Mother of all that is sacred…"

"Tom," Alex butted in quickly. "Come on…"

"Don't you 'Tom' me–!"

The classroom door opened, and Olivia's head appeared in the opening. "Mr. Harris…"

She broke off when she saw the way Tom was handling Alex, who looked between his victim and his student before hastily releasing the taller man. Alex readjusted the accessory with his index finger, shifting on his feet and grinning at the girl.

"Ah, hello. What's your name?"

She stared at him, and Alex received the distinct impression that his soul was being examined. "Olivia Young. What was he just doing to you?"

"Nothing!" Tom's hands spasmed at his sides, and Alex shot him a mocking look at the incriminating physical response. Olivia snorted.

"Yeah right, I saw you! You were holding his collar!"

"I was inspecting it for… oatmeal."

She did not look convinced. "It's true!" Alex chimed in. "I had oatmeal for breakfast. Oatmeal and sliced strawberries, a very balanced breakfast."

Olivia rolled her eyes at the words. "You don't have to attempt to get us to eat healthy. Honestly, teachers think they have to be saints…"

"You don't understand," Alex broke in, jamming a thumb in Tom's direction, "Tom really is a saint."

"Alex!" Tom hissed furiously, prompting Olivia to glance between them again.

"Did you guys already know each other?" she inquired suspiciously.

"No," they both said at once, with Tom immediately reddening. Pausing to think about how flustered he must be looking, Tom took a deep breath. Then, after a second's rest, he used his hands to sort out his messy hair, occasionally licking his fingers throughout the organization. The remaining two people watched him blankly.

"Listen up!" he said when he was done, straightening and looking twice as menacing as the average school teacher. He adjusted his "reading glasses", which he actually didn't need and only wore to make himself look more intimidating and sophisticated. Half the class had figured this out already; half had not.

The look seemed to be working for him then, at least, since both Alex and Olivia snapped to attention. Tom glared intently at the pair.

"Olivia. Go back into the classroom and wait for me to return. Alex! Aim to get most of your breakfast into your mouth next time!"

Alex paused, shrugged, and then nodded furiously as Olivia stared up at the men in clear disapproval. "Yes, Mr. Harris…" she ground out, disappearing behind the door again. Tom whipped around to face Alex once more, but he was interrupted for a second time.

"Ah, Mr. Harris. Nice to see you've finally arrived! And in time to meet our guest as well…"

Tom shivered at the sound of Brookland's superintendent's high-pitched voice. He turned to look at the approaching man, who had his salt-and-pepper hair pushed back with gel so that it swelled like a fifties' businessman. He focused his disgruntled gaze across the hall, where the darkly-clad man's face had appeared.

"Ted," he grunted, eyes despairing. "Hullo."

It was a somewhat of a secret that Tom hated the headmaster, but it was no secret that the headmaster hated Tom. He didn't respect Tom's teaching ability due to lack of experience, after having insisted that his school receive only the most tried and true of the teachers seeking employment. Alas, his pleas went sorely ignored, and so he deemed it the next proper course of action to treat Tom like dirt for the entire duration of his employment.

Theodore "Ted" Tanner smiled disdainfully at the man.

"What do you think?" he inquired jovially, mashing his teeth behind that wide grin. "Mr. Beckett is an esteemed teacher of nine years! He's going to supervise you and help you adjust to the responsibility of educating twenty or thirty children at once."

Tom reigned in the defensiveness that desperately wanted to make itself known, smiling uneasily. "Nine years, is it?"

He met Alex's gaze before roaming over his clear, youthful face – there was no way Alex had been teaching for nine years. Not unless he'd been doing his education degree in a nineties arcade.

"Well, eight and a half," Alex conceded modestly, offering a demure smile. Tom sighed in resignation.

"I hope this will improve your performance, Mr. Harris. Really." His eyes seemed to sharpen beneath a shaft of light bleeding down from a window.

"For your sake."

Then he breezed past Tom, patting Alex's shoulder good-naturedly before turning a corner and fading from their sight. Tom gazed after the man with eyes that had glazed over at some point, until Alex's voice brought him back.

"Well. That was… direct."

Tom shook his head, placing a hand against the wall and leaning on it heavily. He used the other to rub his face. "Ugh, I hate that guy! He's so… old-fashioned! He's forty-freaking-four and he acts like some ancient conservative grandpa! You know the only female teachers that have been hired here since he took over a decade ago have been fit young women? And he's constantly on my case for being new!"

"Sounds like a really shady guy."

"You don't know the half of it!" Tom exclaimed. "On top of that, he's a complete idiot! He actually believed you'd been a teacher for nine years? How old did you tell him you were?"

His whispering was loud and angry, painting him more as a pissed-off cat and less of a real threat. Alex shrugged. "Something like thirty-three?"

"Thirty-three?" Tom exclaimed, dropping his head into his hands as his shoulder met the wall. "Oh my god. You look like you could be a bloody student."

"Hey!" Alex objected. "I don't look that young!"

"Oh, you do – wait a minute, why are we even having this conversation?"

"Look," Alex cut in quickly, "the way I see it, this is a huge opportunity for you! If I spend a little while supervising your classroom before turning in a blazing report of praise and goodwill, it'll force him to openly respect you more as a teacher!"

"I – that's – well…"

Alex's voice was fast and consistent, hammering each point home. "It's the perfect plan, since he already respects me and my word. As long as he doesn't figure out we're secretly friends or that I'm not who I say I am, you'll come out of this looking like some kind of teaching genius!"

What did it for Tom wasn't the excitement in Alex's eyes as he made the "plan" come alive with hand gestures and grins, or even the proposed benefits of playing along with Alex's "plan". No – what made the decision for Tom was hearing the words "we're secretly friends" leave Alex's lips as he relayed the scheme to Tom like a twelve year old with their own new version of capture the flag.

"So…" Tom made the mistake of looking back at the source of the idea and spotted the pleading look in Alex's unsteady smile. He had the expression of a puppy with its ears pressed back against its head, as though he was bracing himself for the inevitable retaliation that would surely follow.

"How about it?"

He was so going to regret this.

"… Okay. But this doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

Alex's entire face lit up. He was nodding again. "Sure, 'course! I'd still be mad at me, too! I'll give you the best review ever, Tom. I've already got a billion killer one-liners – the kind they'd put on the back of your autobiography, y'know, or your tombstone."

"Alex…" Tom complained, reaching toward the door and easing it open.

"Sorry!" Alex whispered as he caught up, grinning at the sea of chatty children. They all quieted upon the two men's return, with Olivia looking particularly expectant.

"Ah," Tom began, reaching back to scratch the back of his head. Alex rolled back on his heels, flicking a strand of hair from his eye. Isaac Smith coughed into his elbow. "It seems that… Mr. Beckett has already introduced himself. I expect you all to treat him with the same degree of respect you would I."

Lauren Adler giggled.

0o0o0o

For anyone who doesn't know, Beckett is Alex's mom's last name. He used it so that the Brookland faculty wouldn't make a connection between him and Alex Rider, former Brookland student, beyond familiarity and the same first name.

Also, an anon asked when Alex's hair is described as light brown. This happens a couple times in the later books (post Scorpia/Ark Angel, I believe).

Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a review for me! I really really really appreciate it. And so many fav's and follows already! Ah! I'm so flattered…

Next chapter: "Mr. Beckett. Outside. Now."

PS. Sorry for the late update but I have had a lot going on. Thank you for understanding and being kind to me anyway c: