Disclaimer: Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz
A/N: I know, you don't have to say anything, I'm just amazing :D three updates in a week? Bizarre. Don't expect it to happen again . . .
'In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer'
(Albert Camus)
Alex slipped silently into the kitchen at eight o'clock the next morning, stifling the yawn that told him how bad an idea it had been to stay up the whole night.
"Breakfast?" Ben asked quietly from his position at the stove. Alex nodded, muttering a quick thank you, and sat down at the table.
"Where's Wolf?" he questioned, realising that the soldier was not anywhere he could see.
"Having a shower, I think," Ben replied, reaching down to pull the milk out of the fridge. "How did you sleep?" Ben was looking at him closely, his eyes shrewd, and Alex realised with a jolt that the man may well have heard the shower going at two o'clock in the morning.
"Fine," he mumbled, staring down at the table. He heard Ben sigh, but when he next looked up, the man was busy stirring the pan of whatever-it-was, sprinkling in some salt.
Feeling awkward at the silence that was hanging over the kitchen, he got up to make a cup of coffee. He knew he desperately needed one.
"Forgoing the British tradition of tea in the mornings, are we?" Ben asked, slightly amused.
"Huh," Alex answered, "I spent three years of my life in foreign countries." He shrugged. "I picked up their habits. Like having coffee instead of tea."
"Three years?" Ben said, surprise clear in his voice.
"My uncle travelled a lot," Alex muttered, before changing the topic to something less emotionally stressful. "What's for breakfast?"
"Scrambled egg," Ben grinned, holding up the pan for Alex to see. "It's one of the few things I can actually cook."
(-Jack smiled, a giggle erupting from her lips at the sight in front of her. A piece of burnt toast lay on a plate, an eight-year-old Alex standing sheepishly next to it.
"You need to learn to cook," she said-)
Alex nodded, pushing the flashback out of his mind. He sat down again with his mug of coffee, sipping it gently and blowing on it when he discovered it was too hot.
A few minutes later, just as Ben was piling the food onto three plates, Wolf stumbled into the kitchen. His hair was damp and his expression warned people to 'back off'.
"Morning," Ben said cheerfully. Wolf grunted.
Alex didn't say anything, not needing to be psychic to figure out that Wolf was not in a good mood. Obviously, the man didn't deal with little sleep well.
The soldier flopped down in a seat, glancing briefly at Alex. The spy had already decided not to mention their early morning meeting again, and hoped Wolf would do the same. When Wolf's head dropped onto the table, Alex guessed that the man wouldn't be having an in-depth conversation that morning.
Ben handed out the plates, and sat down at the table. Alex noticed Ben eyeing him meaningfully, nodding slightly at his plate. Alex glanced down, realising that yet again, his plate had more food than anyone else's did. He rolled his eyes, but starting eating without commenting. Wolf managed to raise his head up long enough to scoff the food down, and so breakfast passed without incident.
When everyone had finished eating, and the plates had been cleared away, Ben turned to Alex.
"Your psychiatrist is booked for eleven," he informed him quietly.
Alex nodded, saying nothing.
"Be ready to leave at quarter to, ok?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, heading over to the sink and filling it up with water.
"Hey," Ben said, "you don't need to do that."
Alex shrugged. "You did the cooking," he replied. "I'll wash up the pan. I'm used to it, anyway. Jack, my . . ." he took a deep breath, "my last guardian, she always made me do the washing up by hand."
Ben was looking at him carefully, no doubt having noticed the pause.
"Wolf can help dry things up then," he said sternly, accepting Alex's explanation. Wolf groaned, but got up. He looked slightly livelier now that he had eaten, in Alex's opinion. Alex grabbed some washing-up liquid, squirting it generously into the water, and started scrubbing the pan clean. His mind relaxed as he began the familiar soothing movements, and even the low chatter of Ben and Wolf behind him didn't break him out of his calmness. Until, that is, Ben decided to ask him a question and put his hand on his shoulder, without Alex realising.
(-screaming, pain, that crimson blood soaking his T-shirt, falling, scared, "tell us, Rider, tell us", the shimmering silver of a knife, more pain, more blood-)
"Alex?" he heard a voice call worriedly. He struggled to get his breathing under control, gasping in air like he had just been drowned-
(-water flowing over his head, drowning, no air, he couldn't breathe, "don't like water boarding, hey, Rider?", trying desperately to scream with the water over him-)
"Cub," a man's voice was saying, over and over and over.
"Come on,"
"You're safe here,"
(-gasping, choking, he couldn't breathe, water again, "no, no, no", pain, a fist hitting him, spiralling down down down-)
"Alex," he heard Ben say again. Ben, he thought, Ben wasn't with Scorpia . . .
"Hey, Cub," Wolf was murmuring, "you're safe, you're at home,"
He valiantly attempted to get his breathing under control again, pushing forcefully against the images flooding through his mind. No, he said firmly, I'm not there any more.
"Come on, Alex," Ben was still saying, "come back to us."
He was aware that he was sitting down, vaguely feeling water dripping down his arms-
(-water over him, flooding, can't scream, can't breathe, need to-)
-but no, he was at Ben's, not there anymore, and he could hear Wolf and Ben's voices, feel the wooden surface of a kitchen cupboard against his back, and he was ok, he was ok.
"That's it, Cub," Wolf encouraged, "keep breathing."
He was trying, trying to draw in that vital air that seemed so elusive, and he fought down the panic that threatened to rise at any moment that he even thought about- no, he wouldn't think about it, he was at Ben's, he was safe, he could hear the gentle murmurings of Ben and Wolf, and he knew that he was ok, he was fine, he wasn't there anymore. . .
He felt his breathing settle a small bit and the dizziness faded. He could see that he was on the ground, Ben and Wolf crouched a little distance away, speaking to him in calm voices. He was grateful that they'd had the sense not to crowd him, and he searched their eyes for any pity he might find. He was surprised to see none, just concern and compassion and worry, and he breathed a little easier.
"Alex?" Ben asked, reaching out a hand and leaving it hanging in midair, ready for him to accept it when he was calm enough.
Taking a deep breath, and firmly pushing all the flashbacks as far away as he could in his mind, he unsteadily raised his hand, shaking a little when he touched Ben's, but not withdrawing.
Ben grasped his hand tightly, smiling reassuringly at him. "You ok?" he asked gently. Alex nodded, weakly pushing himself up using the side of the cupboard for help. He sucked in his breath when he felt pain shooting through his leg, protesting against the cramped position he had been sitting in, but didn't fall. He pulled his hand out of Ben's, noticing absently that the two men had risen too, and turned to walk out of the kitchen.
"Quarter to eleven, right?" he said softly, his voice slightly shaking still. He hated himself for showing weakness for that, and he was deeply embarrassed that he had had a breakdown in Ben's kitchen. He hadn't ever let the flashbacks have so much control over him, he'd let his guard down. . . He focused on his breathing again, aware that he was constantly on the edge of descending into another panic. Hearing Ben's reply that yes, they were leaving at 10.45, he walked up the stairs and into his room as casually as he could manage, unaware of Ben and Wolf's surprised and concerned expressions behind him.
"What was that?" Wolf said at last, shocked by the events of the morning.
"That," Ben said quietly, "was the first time Alex has let us see a flashback."
"You reckon he's had more, then?" the soldier questioned, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table and resting his head on his hands. He was dimly aware of Ben doing the same thing, both exhausted from trying to retrieve Cub from wherever his mind had taken him. Sadly, Wolf had a very good idea of what he was remembering; having seen the conditions the young spy had been living in for those few months.
"I think so," Ben replied tiredly. "Dr Foster thought he had too."
Wolf was quiet, his mind still replaying the scene of a few minutes ago. He had never seen Cub like that before, so vulnerable and so panicked, and he hoped that he would never again. It had been scary, seeing the confident teenager like that, and it was only Ben's calm instructions that had stopped him from ringing up Snake in a panic. The medic would've known what to do.
"How did you know what to do?" Wolf asked, realising that Ben wasn't trained as a medic like Snake.
"I talked to the psychiatrist MI6 has assigned to Alex," the man replied, getting up to make a cup of tea. "I thought something like this might happen, and I decided it was best to be prepared."
"Clever," the soldier mumbled.
"Tea?" Ben asked, holding up a teabag.
"You Brits and your bloody tea," Wolf replied, an edge of teasing in his voice. He was glad to change the subject; he had no desire to keep revisiting the scene.
Ben shrugged. "Everyone knows tea cures everything," he smiled. "Just because you're foreign and don't understand."
"I've lived in England most of my life," Wolf pointed out. "I'm technically a British citizen, even if I was born in Spain."
"Whatever," Ben drawled. "Is that a no to tea, then?"
Wolf thought about it. "Oh, just give me some of the bloody stuff," he grumbled.
Ben snorted, placing another teabag in the teapot. "If you're sure . . ." he said with a grin.
"Bloody Brits," Wolf muttered. Ben laughed, seeing the contradiction in Wolf's words.
"Bloody Spaniards," he returned.
"What have I done?" Wolf replied with a fake wounded expression.
"Thought you were a British citizen now?" Ben asked, catching out the soldier.
" . . . Shut up."
"Alex!" Ben called out a while later, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He and Wolf had given the teenager some space after his flashback, understanding the embarrassment and uncertainty he would have been feeling. Ben knew that Alex prided himself on control more than anything else, and he was probably mortified that he had let that lapse, in his eyes. Personally, Ben thought it was amazing that he had lasted as long as he had without some sort of incident.
Alex appeared at the top of the stairs, slowly making his way down using only one hand to cling onto the banister. Ben longed to give him a hand, but knew that the fiercely independent teenager wouldn't take kindly to it.
"Where's Wolf?" he asked when he reached the bottom.
"In here!" Wolf called from the lounge.
"He's not coming," Ben explained to the confused looking spy. "There's no point in us all going, but since I'm your legal guardian, I have to go."
"Ok," Alex answered, shrugging on a coat that he had had draped over his shoulder as he had descended the stairs.
"See you later, Wolf," Ben called as they walked out of the house. "Don't let any strangers in!"
"He does that often?" Alex asked, amused, walking towards the car.
"It's Wolf," Ben explained simply. "You never know."
Alex smirked, climbing into the passenger seat of the car. "Wish I could drive this," he muttered, looking longingly at the steering wheel.
"No way," said Ben straight away, then paused. "Wait, you can drive?"
"I'm a spy," Alex replied, still smirking. "What do you think?"
Ben had no reply. He just stared at the teenager in amazement. "How . . .?"
"My uncle taught me," he said, understanding the unspoken question. "It's been a while though."
"Your uncle . . .?"
"Was a spy too," he answered, glancing at Ben's face in amusement.
"Your uncle was a spy," Ben repeated, looking a bit shell-shocked. Alex had an interesting past . . .
"Yeah," Alex said, his face darkening. "Didn't know that for a long time, though."
He cast his mind back involuntarily to that time before he had known about Ian's job, to that period of his life when the man was simply an eccentric, unreliable, uncle, who never seemed to be home. Jack had been his saving grace then.
(-"He'll be back soon, I'm sure,"-)
Until the time he didn't come back at all.
"What happened?" Ben asked softly.
"He died," said Alex shortly, twisting to face out of the window. Ben, realising that the teenager didn't want to talk about it, turned his attention back to the car and pulled out of the driveway.
The rest of the drive was silent.
"Alex Rider to see Dr King," Ben informed the receptionist when they reached the psychiatrist's office. Alex was glancing over his shoulder constantly, calculating how long it would take him to get to the door if he made a run for it, and what the chances of Ben catching him were. Pretty good, he deduced with a sigh as he realised that Ben was tense next to him, ready to jump into action. The man obviously didn't expect him to stay in one place, either.
The receptionist hummed, looking at something on her screen. She glanced up finally, and gestured to one of the plush sofas. "Please, take a seat," she told them. "Dr King will be ready for you in a few minutes."
Alex and Ben did as she directed, sitting down opposite a young girl and her harried looking mother. Alex looked around in fascination, taking in all the fancy artwork and posh sculptures. He supposed MI6 only got the best, after all, even if there were many people from outside the organisation who used these services as well. Like the girl and her mum, who were currently engaged in a whispered argument. The girl was frowning, her face twisting in annoyance. Alex wondered what she was there for.
"You alright?" Ben asked quietly, noticing his distraction.
"Yeah," Alex replied, turning his gaze back to the floor. Neither spoke again as they watched the people in the lobby slowly filter in and out, waiting for their turn. Finally, after what must have been only a few minutes but what felt like hours, their names were called and they were directed to Dr King's room.
"Ah," the man said when they walked in. "Mr Rider, I presume?" he asked Alex. He nodded, taking in the man's odd outfit – jeans and a T-shirt, declaring 'hugs not drugs', with a jacket over the top.
"And hello again, Mr Daniels," he carried on, reaching out to shake Ben's hand. He looked only a few years older than Ben, with brown hair that was just beginning to recede.
"Dr King," Ben said in greeting. "It's nice to see you again." Alex watched the exchange, wondering when the two had met before.
"Please, take a seat," the psychiatrist said, gesturing to some chairs in front of his desk. They did as they were asked.
"This is just going to be an introductory meeting, I believe," Dr King said. "Just so I can find out some more about you, Alex, ok?"
Alex said nothing.
Dr King pointed to a connecting room. "If you would wait in there, Mr Daniels, while Alex and I talk. I like to conduct these sorts of things individually if you don't mind.
Ben agreed, getting up from his chair.
"It's pretty much sound-proof," the man reassured Alex. "He won't be able to hear us talk."
Alex didn't reply, looking down at his hands.
"I'm sure you'll find it comfortable," Dr King told Ben. "There's a sofa and some magazines and even a TV. Feel free to use any of it, make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you," Ben smiled at the man. He looked at Alex, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I'll see you in half an hour," he said quietly.
Alex nodded, looking up at him quickly before dropping his head again. Ben sighed, and moved to the other room, the door swinging shut behind him.
"Now, Alex," Dr King said gently. "What do you want to talk about?"
Alex said nothing.
Half an hour later, Ben was startled by Dr King walking into the room and standing opposite him.
"Well?" Ben asked. "How'd it go?"
The man sighed wearily. "He won't talk to me," he admitted. "I thought it was just because he was intimidated at first, but I don't think that's it."
"Alex isn't intimidated," Ben replied. "He's just stubborn."
"How has he been at home?" Dr King questioned.
Ben crossed his arms. "Quiet," he said at last. "He doesn't talk much or give anything away."
"I guessed that," the man said.
"He had a flashback this morning," Ben continued. "He panicked when I touched him and it took him a while to come out of it."
"Well," the psychiatrist mused, "we're just going to have to hope that he talks to us soon. Keep bringing him back, I'll try some different methods of getting him to open up next week."
"Thank you," Ben said quietly, standing up and moving into the other room.
"Hey Alex," he greeted the boy, who still sat hunched in the chair.
Alex nodded.
"I'll see you next week, ok, Alex?" Dr King said. Alex ignored him, rising up and putting on his coat.
"Come on," Ben sighed, leading him out the door. "Bye, Dr King," he called back.
The door shut before he heard the man's reply.
Back in the car, Ben pondered how best to broach the topic with Alex. The young spy was staring out of the window, his eyes closed, and Ben wondered what he was thinking about.
"Alex?" he asked tentatively.
The boy turned round to face him, his expression blank.
"Are you ok?" he said, cursing the uselessness of his line of question. Of course Alex wasn't ok, but there was no way he would admit to that.
"Fine," came the short reply.
There was silence for a few minutes. Then Ben sighed.
"Wolf was right," he said in a low voice. Alex looked at him curiously. "I don't know why I bother," he carried on, "you're just going to keep on lying to me."
Alex looked down, saying nothing for a while. Finally, he muttered, "sorry."
"I know you are, Alex," Ben said wearily, "I'm just going to have to get used to it."
"I- I- I don't mean to," Alex said quietly, his head down, one hand picking at a thread in his jumper. Ben reached out and stalled the movement, causing Alex to look up at him.
"I know," he sighed, never taking his eyes of the road. "I do know you're trying."
An unidentifiable emotion crossed Alex's face, too fast to be recognizable.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled again. "It's- It's hard," he said at last, breathing deeply. Ben glanced at him, understanding how difficult it had been for the strong young spy to admit that, to acknowledge out loud that he was struggling. He was beyond grateful that Alex had finally opened up a little. Small steps, he knew.
"You're doing ok," Ben reassured him softly.
Alex looked out the window again, blinking heavily. Ben didn't speak; he just allowed the boy the distance he knew he must need, after taking that first step. Alex was going to be ok, he knew, now that he had started to let people in again.
Even if he did blank that psychiatrist for half an hour. That was just plain rude.
A/N: This is for all the amazing people who have reveiwed, added my story to favourites, and put it on story alert. Thank you all!
This chapter was aimed at those people who said they would like Alex to be a bit less stubborn - here you see his mask crack a little bit. It's a slow process for all those involved, and believe me, there will be set backs, but he's on his way. Just to let you know, while I have the main plot regarding Scorpia & Menarc set out and everything, I haven't planned out the moments in between. If there's anything you particularly want to see, an interection between K-Unit and Alex, or with Tom or something, tell me and I might include it, you never know!
Thank you all for reading,
ForeverChasingDreams
