I'm back again with another chapter, as promised. No promises, however, for the next update.

~oo0oo~

The Four Fifths Spy, Chapter 4

Something felt off.

Maybe it was the extra chill to the air, that alluded him to it, or perhaps the putrid smell of paint that wafted throughout the house, but Alex knew that something was wrong.

He sat straight up in his bed, stiff as wood, and slowly reached for the handgun he kept tucked under his pillow. Checking the ammo, he quietly clicked off the safety and slowly made his way through the house.

He stepped into the living room, muscles tensed and heart beating wildly. It never got old, the adrenaline rush and the sense of danger.

Maybe he really was meant to be a spy.

But Alex sucked down the thought and locked in deep inside his chest. He was just a schoolboy, one who just happened to be holding a gun in the middle of his living room.

He pivoted, pointing the gun around the room, looking for an intruder.

Nothing.

Lowering his arm, Alex wiped a bead of sweat off his brow.

He really needed to calm down.

Alex slid the gun into the waistband of his belt and walked into the kitchen. He'd make some toast, drink some coffee, and everything would be okay. He could still have a normal day.

And then he saw it.

The glass scattered all throughout the room, and the empty window frame. Biting down the swell of anger rising from his stomach, he quickly moved the door.

He'd kill whoever did this.

Swinging the large oak door open, his eyes were greeted by the sight of an absolute disaster. The grass was a bright purple and obscene words littered across the wall to his house.

Alex cursed under his breath.

How, exactly, was he supposed to deal with this?

It must have been someone from school. Nobody else would have done something like this.

His real enemies would've done much worse.

Just as he was about to stalk off to school in his pajamas, and give the students a piece of his mind, a sleek black car pulled up.

Alex immediately recognized it as one of the bank cars. Why were they here? They had already cut off all ties with him, hadn't they? He wanted nothing to do with MI6 anymore.

But he kept his face neutral as Crawley rolled down the window, and beckoned for him to come.

No. He wouldn't. Not anymore. He owed them nothing.

So he stared, impassively, right into Crawley's emotionless eyes.

The man's lips moved quickly and a surge of frustration welled up inside Alex's stomach. He didn't have his glasses on.

Didn't Crawley...know?

Alex slammed the door and stalked back over to his sofa. He grabbed the black frames from where he had left the the night before, and shoved them onto his face.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Peeking out the window, he saw that Crawley was still there. Couldn't that man take a hint?

Alex knew he should go out and talk to him. Maybe give him a piece of his mind.

Tell him how Alex was would never go back to MI6 on any circumstance.

But as he got up from the sofa and began to make his way to the door, Alex spotted his phone in the corner, right where he had throw it earlier.

It was blinking, a new message most likely.

Alex turned it on, and his heart dropped to the pits of his stomach.

He quickly dressed and went out to the car. Nodding to Crawley, they drove off.

Throughout the car ride, one thought swirled around in his head, eating up all this thoughts.

Someone knows.

~oo0oo~

It was almost aggravating, the way that everything still seemed the same.

How he had changed so much since he had first arrived at the bank, and yet the same sight still greeted him as he pushed open the intricate glass door.

Even the receptionist looked the same. Maybe a bit older, and a bit more tired looking, but she wasn't any different.

Crawley nodded to her as they passed and she gave a wry smile. Alex wondered how well she knew what was really going on upstairs.

Sure, she would have to know that the head of MI6 resided upstairs, but did the receptionist really know that she was working for such a conniving, heartless, jerk…

Alex cut off the thought. He couldn't afford to let his anger towards Blunt ruin everything. He was here to fix the situation, solve the problem, and nothing more.

It was them who kicked him out, and Alex couldn't hate them more for it. It sent chills down his arm just being inside the building, acting as if it was just a normal day in the spy business.

Acting as if MI6 hadn't ruined his life.

The elevator arrived at the floor all too soon, and Alex couldn't help but regret his decision to come. Checking his watch, he realized school would be starting in a few minutes.

Just another absence for the books.

Stepping out into the hallway, he forced his features into an expressionless mask. Crawley gave him a look, one saying "that's not going to fool anyone," but Alex kept his face straight ahead.

He rolled back his shoulders and straightened his glasses, before pushing open the door.

Alan Blunt was seated at the desk in the center of the room, staring intensely at him. He didn't look shocked at all that Alex had just entered the room. In fact, Alex wouldn't have been surprised if the man had been watching the security cameras the entire time.

"Alexander." His face was impassive and uncaring, and Alex didn't have to hear him to know that it was equally emotionless.

"Blunt." He spat the words out, the syllable feeling like stiff and cotton-like on his tongue.

"Have a seat."

Alex bit back a rude remark. How dare he act like nothing had changed!

But he sat, swallowing his anger and locking it deep inside his chest.

Control.

He just had to stay focused. The situation was more important than any personal qualms he had about being in this office. Alex had to keep his priorities straight, focus on what he needed to do.

"I assume you received our message?"

Alex nodded sharply.

Blunt opened a drawer, pulling out a plain manilla folder, stamped with "highly classified" in bold, red ink.

How stereotypical of them.

"We are doing our best to handle the situation. Almost all active agents are working on it currently, and we are following a few leads."

Blunt handed him the folder, and Alex gripped the stiff paper tightly, crinkling the edges.

"You, however, should still be informed." He motioned to the folder, and Alex forced himself to open.

And then he read.

The pieces began to click together, fastening into place and revealing part of the bigger picture. The stalker, the uncomfortable feeling he had walking home. He had been right.

Someone was watching him.

They were taking pictures, too, by the looks of it. A print out of the supposedly published article was at the top of the stack of papers, and it displayed a blurry image of him.

A wave of nausea ran over Alex, and he suddenly wanted to run out of the room. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

The whole thing could be moments from becoming public knowledge. All his missions. All his sacrifices. The fact that he wasn't really a completely normal school boy.

He couldn't let that happen.

Alex had kept the secret for more than a year now. It wasn't time for people to know. It would never be that time.

Because once it was out, it could never go back.

He would never be viewed the same.

The only comfort he had was knowing that the picture revealed nothing. It was a blurry picture of a blond haired boy, a common hair color, and it could be anyone.

The article didn't reveal any essential facts about him, nothing that could hint people to his identity.

It was just the way that the article was written that unnerved Alex. The way that the author seemed to be holding back.

Alex knew that this guy, Edward Hawkins, knew. He had to.

The facts, his missions, were scarily accurate. The only thing that hadn't been mentioned was his name.

Alex had a feeling that that was intentional. This guy was playing a game, and Alex didn't know the rules. All he knew, was that he couldn't afford to lose.

His whole life depended on it.

Looking up at Blunt, he saw the man's lips cease their movement. He had said something, and yet Alex the ex-spy, had absolutely no idea what.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't watching you. Could you repeat what you said." Alex's voice dripped with anger. What idiotic ruse was this man playing at?

Blunt had debriefed him after the...incident. He knew that Alex couldn't understand him without using the glasses.

He knew that Alex was de-

No.

He wasn't.

He was still okay.

He could still function perfectly fine.

Alex reached up and pointedly adjusted his glasses, keeping eye contact with Blunt the entire time.

"My mistake." The man's grin stretched wide, just like a crocodile, and Alex understood in that moment that Blunt knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't make mistakes.

He was trying to unnerve Alex, but for what reason, he couldn't fathom.

"Do you have any further questions about the situation?"

Alex began to shake his head, but then stopped suddenly.

"How many people did the article reach before it was taken down?"

Blunt's face flickered for a split second, and Alex felt a sliver of shock. Since when did Blunt, the head of a spy organization, slip?

"Too many." Blunt clasped his hands on top of the desk, knuckles turning white. "It won't happen again."

Alex nodded, and stood, still clutching the manilla folder close to his chest.

"Remember, MI6 has this under control. Don't do anything. We don't need you involved."

Wasn't that helpful? He was supposed to act utterly incompetent and not lift a finger to prevent his secret from getting out. It was all because they decided he was useless.

It was because he no longer worked for them.

"I don't suppose you'll be giving me a school note?"

Blunt just gave him a sharp stare.

Alex nodded and left the room. Crawley was waiting outside the door, and together they walked to the elevator in silence.

Not that it would've mattered, anyway, if the man decided to talk.

Alex punched the button to the elevator, wishing that somehow he could do something. But it was out of his control.

Normal schoolboys didn't go and take down stalkerish journalists.

And he was normal.

Wasn't he?

~oo0oo~

It was just a standard, bland day. Nothing interesting, and nothing abnormal.

Mr. Browning called roll, automatically found from one name to the next. The room rang with sounds of "here" and "present," and he barely paused after calling each name.

And then he got to Alex Rider.

He almost passed over the name, marking the boy as present and moving on. After all, he had heard the rumors and stories, but Alex had a spotless attendance so far.

"Alex?" He called again, wondering if he had perhaps missed the boy's response.

The classroom remained utterly silent.

Sighing, he put a checkmark by Alex's name. The flu was going around this time of year, perhaps that was the cause?

He hoped it wasn't one of the other rumors that he'd heard.

So Mr. Browning continued to call the roll, trying to ignore the whispers that erupted throughout the classroom.

The whispers of Alex's whereabouts, where he had gone again, and bets being placed on the amount of time he'd be absent.

But there was nothing he could do.

Teenagers were harsh, and it'd only be worse for Alex if he tried to refute some of the rumors. So he continued on with the lesson.

Everything was normal.

At least it was, until Alex Rider came barreling into the room twenty minutes late.

~oo0oo~

"Sorry that I'm late, sir." Alex panted, sucking in air between clenched teeth.

Looking around, the entire class had lapsed into silence as they stared at him, and Alex realized that he had completely interrupted the lesson. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"Sorry." He repeated, edging towards his seat.

Mr. Browning just looked at him with slight interest written all over his face.

"Do you have a note?"

Alex shook his head, wishing that he could just sit down and be done with it all. The longer he stood in front of the class, in front of his classmates stares…well, he wasn't sure how much longer he could handle their scrutinizing gazes.

"See me after class." Mr. Browning's face was hard, and his expression had a look of finality to it.

Alex gave a slight nod, and sat down quickly, ducking his head and avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. He knew, deep down that Mr. Browning wasn't going to take the usual excuses; "I slept through my alarm" or "my bike broke on the way to school." And honestly, Alex was tired of lying.

Tired of pretending.

The lesson, some boring explanation of grammar, passed by far too quickly, and Alex felt the familiar coil of dread rise up in his stomach.

He had done so much worse, and yet, a simple chat with a teacher felt like the end of the world.

Ironic, wasn't it?

A slight tap on his shoulder set his senses and muscles into alert. Turning around wildly, he fingered the gun tucked inside his belt, and began to slip out of his chair.

Alex looked up into the kind, but slightly startled face of Mr. Browning.

The man's lips moved slowly, and Alex assumed that he had taken on a calming tone of voice. "I apologize for startling you; I had called your name, but you seemed to not hear me."

The teacher took a seat in the desk next to him. "Are you okay, Alex?"

No.

"Yes." He forced the word out, nodding slightly along with it. He didn't need this...this sympathy.

Mr. Browning just stared at him, long and hard, and Alex almost felt like the man was seeing through him. Like he was stripping away all of Alex's barriers, and attempting to get to the truth.

Alex hated it.

"Pardon me, sir, but if that's it, am I free to leave now?"

The words seemed to jolt Mr. Browning out of his stupor. "No, we need to talk."

Alex sighed.

"This was your first absence, or rather, tardy of the year, but I looked at your records and you had an inexcusable amount the previous term-"

"I was sick." Alex interrupted. He was done with MI6, and that year was in the past. He'd be better about attendance this year. "My uncle had recently died, and my immune system was weakened from that. I have the doctors notes to prove it."

Mr. Browning nodded. "Yes, and those absences are accounted for. However, you need to be more careful about your attendance this year. We can't have you falling back into the same habits as before."

A sense of disgust welled up inside Alex. What this teacher seemed to be implying….

Apparently, the rumors about Alex - the ones about gangs, drugs, and all that stuff - had spread to even the teachers.

"I'm not involved in any of that business." Alex spat, trying to keep his tone even. "Today was a mistake, and it's not going to happen again."

Mr. Browning nodded again, keeping weirdly calm. "You're free to leave now."

He beckoned to the door.

Alex rose warily from his seat. That was it? No punishment, or referral? No talk with the headmaster?

Just as he reached for the door handle, Mr. Browning spoke again.

"I'll see you tomorrow after school, for detention."

There it was. Detention.

It was stupid really, he didn't deserve detention just for being late to class. Alex was pretty sure that wasn't how punishment worked.

"For how long?"

The teacher just calmly walked over to his desk, arranging a couple of desks on his way.

"Until you're done."

~oo0oo~

Tom Harris was completely, and utterly done with Alex's crap.

Yes, he understood that he needed to give Alex time. He didn't want to be pushy, and he had given Alex the space he had needed.

And yet, it had been weeks...months even, and Alex had only seemed to push him further away.

Tom wanted his friend back.

So, the minute the school bell rang, he sprinted out the door, and went straight to Alex's house, hoping to greet him as he arrived home.

Instead, Tom was greeted by the sight of disaster.

The yard was entirely trashed and obscene words littered the wall. A sense of horror filled him as he stared at the shattered window.

He knew it was the boys at school who did this. Who else called Alex a druggie and a convict?

Tom bit down the nasty words that rose to his lips, and pulled out his phone.

"Hey, Jerry? Can you meet me at Alex's in five?"

Tom picked up a shattered garden gnome from the ground.

"Yeah. Bring a rake, and some other cleaning supplies." Tom paused. "Do you know how to get spray paint off of a wall?"

~oo0oo~

I'd like to thank all of you for taking the time to read my story, like seriously, thank you. And to all of you who reviewed and gave feedback, you all are absolutely wonderful human beings. Twenty-three reviews is a pretty amazing number for only three chapters. Like wow. Just wow.

I hope everyone has a fantastic New Years! ❥