Inspired by 'What I've Done' by Linkin Park. Requested by Wheel Then
FFSAS stands for "Fanction Special Air Service". Check out author Doppler Effect's profile for more information, and please consider using it yourself!
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Operative: Alexander Rider
Date: 13/2/2006
Time: 0900 hours
Location: Chelsea, London
The sound of the white door closing sounded final, like it would never be opened again. Alex supposed that there was a chance it wouldn't; in fact, every time he left the house that had been his childhood home there was a very real risk of not coming back alive. His job, the reason why he was leaving this time, saw to that.
The blond twenty year old turned and made his way down the steps to the car waiting for him in his driveway.
Let the fun begin.
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Operative: Alexander Rider
Date: 20/2/2006
Time: 1400 hours
Location: Classified
Alex's current state of mud and bruises was a familiar one; no less than he had expected from the FFSAS training camp. He was at a training base somewhere in Northern Ireland – exactly where in Northern Ireland he didn't know, but that was irrelevant.
His week had been hell – well, not quite hell (he'd been through far worse after all), but it certainly wasn't a relaxing vacation at a spa. No one there remembered him, which was probably for the better given his task, but it would have been far more pleasant if he hadn't been required to prove himself all over again to newbie recruits who thought they knew everything despite never having been in real conflict. He didn't care about getting to know the other FFSAS members and really didn't give a damn about what they thought of him, but unless he wanted to spend all his free time doing demeaning chores, their 'approval' was necessary. The completion of his assignment also depended on them trusting him enough to not be wary around him, at the very least. The more they liked him the easier his job would be.
Emotional ties were something Alex had learnt to let go of a long time ago.
The twenty year old levered himself to his feet and jogged to the finish area of the course, making a face upon realising how dirty he was. It was to be expected after army crawling through a field of mud and razor wire, but he still preferred cleanliness to…this. Falcon, a member of the unit he'd been placed in for the duration of his time at the training camp, clapped him painfully on the shoulder as they passed.
"Nice work, kid."
Alex gave only a nod of acknowledgement before continuing, obeying the instructor mindlessly when the man yelled for him to join the recruits who had already completed the course in doing push-ups. His thoughts were occupied by the memories that had arisen from Falcon's choice of words. Wolf had once told him the same thing – albeit in a far more sarcastic tone, but that was entirely beside the point. It made him feel almost nostalgic for the past. Almost.
On that note, his relief at not being placed in K-unit again upon his arrival at the camp was immeasurable. He had known that the odds of it happening, even the odds of them being in the same camp at the same time, were astronomically small, but…his luck was notoriously bad at the best of times, and the possibility was still there. Thankfully, however, they were all on leave after their latest tour – somewhere in the Middle East, he knew, but he hadn't looked any further into it. He wouldn't be seeing them unless they decided to come in to teach and that, if he knew anything about Wolf, was as close to impossible as it could be.
He checked the time discretely. Only twenty-eight hours until extraction. If he wanted to complete his goals, he needed to get his head out of the clouds and get down to business.
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Operative: Alexander Rider
Date: 20/2/2006
Time: 1745 hours
Location: Classified
Alex walked towards the shower block, humming absentmindedly under his breath as he readjusted the shower bag under his arm. It was slightly heavier than it should have been thanks to its illegal contents – the necessary components to create the equipment for completing the operation – but no one would notice the difference from a casual glance. Even if they did, why would they care? They wouldn't bother stopping him and searching his bag. He was just another soldier going to or from the shower block, and they all had more important things to be doing than being suspicious of the men that were their comrades and brothers. From careful observation, he also knew that now, fifteen minutes before dinner would be served, was the time in which the camp was the most chaotic. Almost every unit was back at base, running between between the cabins, shower blocks, hall and med bay as they hurried to get everything done before dinner, and Alex was just another face in the crowd.
Upon nearing the shower block, Alex plastered a small, realistic-looking smile on his face and cast a casual glance around the camp without changing his stride, pretending to take in the controlled chaos. In reality, he was using the opportunity to perform a last, unnecessary check that no one else was rushing for a last minute shower. If they were, he'd need to start working on adjusting his plan – he could work with it, but it would be a fairly significant setback.
Thankfully, however, there was no one heading in his direction with what was obviously a shower bag. He'd doubted there would be – tonight was pizza night, a rare occasion for any FFSAS camp, and everyone was keen to finish up in time to get a good slice. Of course, 'good' was relative given the pizza was healthy crap, but it was still far better than what they usually ate. The normal food might have been the most nutritious things you could find anywhere, but it was prepared with no consideration for flavour. Too bad if it was like cardboard – tastebuds were for the weak. He himself he been looking forward to the break in routine before realising exactly what sort of opportunity that offered him.
Alex sighed lightly and entered the shower block, slinging his bag down onto the bench that ran down the centre of the shower block between the two rows of open 'cubicles'. What was the set up even called? Alex wondered pointlessly, stripping off his shirt and starting on the laces of his boots. From the corner of his eye, he observed the men who were all in various stages of leaving. They were cutting fine on making it in time as it was – Alex wouldn't have managed it at this point even if he'd wanted to, but no one seemed surprised to see him cutting if this finely. It wasn't an uncommon event, truthfully. Even during his first stay at an FFSAS camp when he was fourteen, he'd always showered after everyone else. He far preferred showering whilst not in the full view of twenty other, equally as undressed males who were all older and stronger than him. He liked stalls. There were less questions about his scars there, a lessened feeling of vulnerability. They'd also have made his job now a lot easier, but he supposed he'd just have to make do.
Pretending to be in a rush to get to dinner on time, Alex hurriedly stepped out of the remainder of his clothing. He noted the room had further emptied to just himself and one other soldier – a man he was reasonably friendly with. Alex racked his brains for a name as the older male eyed him with amusement.
"Good luck getting there on time, Cub," he said with a wide smile. Alex mirrored him, his cheek muscles struggling to hold onto the unfamiliar expression as he fought to keep his distaste for the name from his eyes. He'd been suspicious about the way he'd been lumped with his first ever FFSAS codename and had investigated thoroughly, but even he had been forced to admit defeat after several weeks and nothing incriminating. There wasn't an unlimited supply of animals: it made sense that they'd have to reuse them sometimes. It honestly seemed like it was just a coincidence – a thought that made him twitchy. Coincidences didn't happen in his line of work.
"I'll do my best," Alex joked back, answering the earlier question. "The Sarge had me running all over camp until five minutes ago. I'm telling you, he hates me."
The other soldier – still no name, Alex frowned – laughed. "Mate," he grinned, clapping him on a bare shoulder as he passed him, "he hates everyone. It might help if you stopped being late."
Alex snorted and threw him a mock salute as the man exited the room. "Sir, yes sir!" he yelled after him, forcing a teasing note into his words.
The door swung shut behind the other and Alex relaxed, finally stepping under the freezing cold spray. Just because he had a job to do, didn't mean he needed to walk around covered in mud. He wasn't lying about the errands he'd been ordered to run, or the fact that the Sergeant truly did hate him. The man had good instincts – he knew Alex wasn't all that he seemed.
Alex watched the grit and sweat swirl around his feet and flow towards the drain before stepping out of reach of the water and pulling some chewing gun and a few rubber bands from his pants pockets. Two minutes later found him clothed in a clean uniform inside a shower block that was both eerily silent and, impossibly – because the door had no keyhole – locked. It would raise suspicions if anyone attempted to enter the building, but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't run the risk of someone simply walking in.
Alex cracked his knuckles, checked his watch, and set to work.
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Operative: Alexander Rider
Date: 20/2/2006
Time: 1950 hours
Location: Classified
Alex strolled into the dark kitchens, bag over shoulder. He'd finished in the shower block reasonably quickly, but had been delayed on his way to his current location by the announcement that K-unit would be arriving some time that night. The news had nearly made cracks in his impeccable mask for the first time in years: K-unit couldn't be here. K-unit meant old connections and emotions and, most of all, Ben. Not only was his relationship with Ben the biggest emotional mess out of anyone alive, but he was also MI6. That meant it was either a coincidence or they knew.
He didn't believe in coincidences.
Alex dumped his bag in a corner and began removing the necessary items from it, hands steady and sure despite his impaired vision as they began assembling his masterpiece. The mess hall, which was joined to the supposedly locked kitchens, would be teeming with soldiers ready for their monthly game night in only ten minutes. He needed to be gone by then. Already he could hear the loud chatter and occasional bouts of laughter drifting through the closed roller doors – corrugated metal ones that could easily have been found in any cafeteria around the world. They weren't very effective at blocking noise, but they couldn't be seen through and that was all he needed.
The last piece of the deadly, complex puzzle snapped into place even as he heard the door open. Alex clamped down on his instinct to swear, mind working furiously on alibis and excuses. As long as the lights stayed off…
"Alex?" a familiar voice called into the darkness. Ben.
Alex tasted bitterness on his lips when he licked them. He didn't reply.
"Alex?" Ben tried again. "There's no point in pretending you aren't here – your unit told me they'd seen you come this way after you skipped dinner."
"How'd you find me?" Alex asked casually, voice displaying the emotions Ben expected from him. Surprise at his being there, childish grumpiness at being found where he wasn't supposed to be, happiness mixed with suspicion over being tracked down when he'd covered his tracks.
"I've tried to keep an eye on you, Cub," Ben laughed. "When a friend told me they'd seen you leave your house in SAS uniform, I decided to check in with all my old trainers to see if I could find you. You're a hard person to get a hold of, you know."
Alex had nothing to say to that, but Ben didn't seem to mind.
"There are rumours that you betrayed us all, that you've done some terrible things. Did you know that? I know they're true to some extent, I suppose, but after that it's all a little crazy. They've got you as a psychopathic mass murderer bent on getting revenge for the people who ruined your life, which is the most popular one, but it's obviously not true. Then again, next to the evil genius mutant one, it's sort of understandable why people think it's the story with the most truth…"
"An evil genius mutant." Alex repeated blankly, a smile threatening to distort his face again. Damn Ben and his stupid ability to know how to say all the things he needed to make him smile.
"Yeah. Crazy, huh? When I first heard it, I kept thinking, 'if Alex was here for this, he'd be laughing so much he'd be crying right now, or plotting humiliating pranks'."
Alex chose once again not to respond and Ben, like the previous occasion, filled in the silence for him.
"I tried to contact you, Al, but I could barely track down where you'd been, much less where you were and what your phone number was. I know you're off doing your whole badass, vicious assassin thing, but couldn't you at least have kept in touch?"
Alex's mouth twisted, the bitterness coating his tongue tasting like blood.
Silence fell.
"Alex?" Ben ventured after a few long seconds. He waited, received no answer, and began talking anyway. "Why are we even standing around in the dark anyway? Lights were invented for a reason."
Alex's hand strayed to the small of his back and his mouth opened to say something – anything – to stop him, but then the lights were flooding his vision with a painful brightness, the room vanishing in a wash of sterile white.
When his vision had cleared, Ben was staring at him with his hand still resting on the light switch.
"Alex?" Ben questioned behind eyes the size of oranges. "What the hell is that?
"This?" Alex gestured to the bomb, a glance informing him that everything was where it needed to be. He'd learnt from the best, after all. He turned back to Ben to see him staring at him in a way that was sort of heartbreaking.
"It's a dead puppy cross whale robot," he said, deadpan in a way that left no doubt as to just how stupid he thought the question was. "What does it look like, Ben?" The twenty year old fixed his ex-partner with an exasperated gaze, demeanour the exact same as it had been when he was a snarky teenager.
"Alex, what are you doing?!" Ben yelped, ignoring Alex's theatrics.
Alex raised an eyebrow at the man who had been his guardian for a short time, the same period in which they'd been partners. They'd been close, almost inseparable before MI6 had realised how much of a liability such a strong attachment could be and forced him to work solo.
He hated them for it.
"Uh, what does it look like, Ben?"
Ben fell silent, hand still on the light switch. Alex doubted he was even conscious of it. "…why?" came the muted question after a long period of silence.
"Those rumours about mass murder and revenge?" Alex pointed out lightly. "Yeah, most of them are true."
Ben blinked at him. "So you're planning on blowing this place, filled with the people who've been your comrades and brothers in arms for the past week, sky high?" Alex stared at him, and Ben correctly interpreted the lack of expression as a confirmation. "God, Alex, why? What have they ever done?"
Alex lifted a shoulder, uncaring. "They're government. What more reason do I need?"
Ben wisely chose not to point out that every SAS man in the room next door was a son, brother, uncle, nephew or father and instead scrutinised his ex-partner's face carefully.
"You have another reason," he guessed. Alex didn't answer, and Ben knew he was right.
"Whatever it is, Alex, please. Dismantle the bomb. Walk away. You can still start over with me." By the end of the short speech, Ben's voice had neared a plea. Alex's previously blank face crumpled instantly, mind flashing once again back to the times when Ben had been the closest thing to a father that he'd ever had. Involuntary tears gathered in his eyes.
Ben missed none of it. It was clear that he could easily read the younger man's thoughts instantly by his expression, and his own tense features softened in response to what he'd found. Something in Alex's stomach shifted at the sight. "Alex," Ben repeated, "you don't have to do this. You can come back, switch sides."
The intelligent, unemotional part of his brain was yelling at him to stop stop STOP, but Alex's mouth was moving before he'd even decided to respond. "They wouldn't trust me. They'd never let me out of their sight, Ben."
His old partner had relaxed a little at the use of his name, and now he grinned. "Does it matter? I trust you. I always have. I know you'll make the right choice."
Alex's mouth twisted bitterly, something else he could seem to control. "I know."
"So come back," Ben almost begged. "Stop this. Defuse the bomb, drop the villain persona. We can run away leave MI6 and everything else behind; be like the family we were when we had the chance. Please, Alex."
Alex's hands trembled by his side; strange given how steady they normally were. He hesitated.
"I… Ben…"
Ben saw that his words had penetrated the younger man's defences and made one last push. "I trust you Alex: I've always trusted you. Please."
Alex's shoulders held firm for another long second before slumping. "Okay," he said. "Okay."
Ben let out a joyous laugh and moved to embrace him, but Alex's right hand was at the small of his back. The small handgun was in his steady grip in only a second, not long enough for the other's realisation to move any further than his eyes. The betrayal there was as tangible as the gun at his head, as cold and hard as Alex's face without the faked emotion.
Ben looked at Alex, and Alex stared impassively back.
Ben's mouth opened, desperation and shock in his eyes.
Alex pulled the trigger.
The bomb went off.
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A/N: Thank you to Wheel Then, who turned me on to Linkin Park, which is now my second favourite band. Apologies for literally taking over a year to get to this – I'm currently writing a million and one other things, most significantly my own original novel. I was going through my old reviews and became inspired… it only took me a few hours once I got started and did some fact-checking.
A/N (2): Okay, so I might have lied. The last time I touched this, at the time of writing the above note, was April 2014. I'm writing this in January 2017, though I finished the chapter in mid/late-2015. You see the issue – it did not, in fact, take me only a few hours. I got distracted and well… I may or may not have lost the document for a while there. Whoops? SORRY
I will be rewriting the other chapters at some point because, frankly, they make me cringe. This may be the only thing I'm happy with, and that's because it was written so much later than everything else. But be on the lookout!